CommanderPink

I really like to write and draw. This page will probably just have fanfics and one shots, but I might post the occasional sketch or drawing. I take requests but not any commissions. Talk to me at any time! ✨✨✨✨

Please DO NOT:

Bully or rudely criticize anyone one this page. (You probably shouldn’t at all, but please not here)

I feel like ☝️ Probably says most of what I need to say, but I’ll give a few more detailed rules. 🤷‍♀️

If you wouldn’t say it to somebody’s face, don’t say it behind their back, anonymously, etc.

This should be a safe space, so please don’t make it a war zone. (Only 141 are allowed to fight.)

Almost forgot. DO NOT, AND I MEAN DO NOT, USE MY WORK FOR ANY TYPE OF AI!

Main fandoms:

Call of Duty (cod)

Thank you for reading!

Might make a Masterlist eventually, but I’m still pretty new here and don’t have many different topics or anything. (Yet!)

-Pink

P.S. Fine, I’ll make one. 🤦‍♀️🤣

(Ghost x Reader)

It doesn’t happen often. Usually it sneaks up on you. It’s usually so sneaky, you don’t realize what’s happening until it’s happened.

And that’s how you find yourself tonight. A mess. A panic attack.

You had been writing when it started creeping up on you. Now you’re on the floor beside your bed, unable to make yourself get up and sit on it.

It’s hard to breathe. The pain in your heart and your mind and your soul is unbearable. It’s like they’re being suffocated and stabbed and drowned all at once. On fire and freezing.

And what makes it worse is you can’t let it all out. You suppress your sobs so no one can hear you. You hug your knees to your chest, shaking.

Ghost is off on a deployment and you don’t know how long he’ll be gone. You don’t want to wake the whole apartment complex with your crying.

Sometimes pacing helps. You stand up, still choking back sobs as you begin pacing. You want to scream and cry. Curl into a ball. Punch something. You want the pain gone.

Clutching the stands of your hair, you continue to pace, your legs shaking. Your whole body is shaking.

A hug. You just want a hug, you realize. You want to be seen. To be reminded you are loved. But Ghost, he’s not—

“My love, what’s wrong?” Simon is in the doorway, duffle bag in his hand.

You spin to face him, relief flooding your pained expression. You desperately hope he can read it in your eyes what you need. Because you don’t think you can get the words out.

He drops the duffle to the floor and goes to you, wrapping his strong arms around your trembling frame and pulling you to his chest.

You finally break against him, sobbing and crying and knowing you’re not alone.

I was just reading an article about woman on their periods in jail or prison. It’s honestly sad how they are treated. I can’t even put into words how messed up and twisted our system is.

The article

We need awareness and justice for all these woman. They are being sterilized without consent. Pregnant woman are being induced against their will. Guards will tear open tampons and pads to make sure they aren’t hiding anything inside. They are strip searched every time they leave and enter their cells. They have to take out their tampons during these searches.

:(

(Reader x Ghost)

Simon will be home soon. You are excited for him to get back, so you decide to clean the apartment.

You scrub the dishes, wash the laundry, wipe down the counter tops, dust, and sweep. You make sure everything and every surface shines.

Then you spray some air freshener. You take a big ole sniff of it and feel it fill your lungs.

“Wow that stuff is strong,” you mutter as you bend down to put it back under the sink.

A few minutes later, Simon walks in. He drops his stuff and takes off his mask as he approaches you.

“Simon!” You exclaim, rushing into his arms.

He grins and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. “Missed you, love.” He rumbles.

“I missed you too.” You sigh, melting in his arms.

Ghost takes a big whiff of air and makes a face at you.

“What?” You chuckle. “I just cleaned. That’s the air freshener.” You clarify.

He just laughs softly and shakes his head. “Nothin, lovely.” He leads you to the couch so you both can snuggle.

“How was work?” You ask as you settle against his side.

“Eh, same old, same old.” He replies.

You nod and close your eyes, your head throbbing a bit.

“What about you, baby? How’s your day been?”

“Good,” you mumble, half paying attention.

“You ok?” He asks, concern lining his tone.

You nod again, keeping your eyes closed. “M’fine.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes, but with no real irritation. Only worry.

“Talk to me,” he murmurs. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“My head hurts,” you say reluctantly, bringing your hand up to your temple. “A headache..”

“Let me get you something.” He says softly. “Medicine and water?”

You nod again, the pain in your head intensifying.

Simon carefully stands, helping you lean against a pillow. Then he walks off to the kitchen, muttering, “Artificial air fresheners. Back in my granddaddy’s day, they had roses and pine needles.”

You hold back a whimper, brows furrowing as his words—even soft—make your head vibrate.

He seems to sense it and says, “Sorry, love,” in the softest voice he can.

“S’ok,” You say.

He returns and sits back down beside you, carefully helping you sit up. “Got them.” He says, placing the two pills in one of your hands and the water bottle in your other.

“Thank you,” you murmur gratefully, placing them on the side table.

“Just rest.” Simon rumbles, guiding your head to rest on his lap.

You close your eyes and wait for the headache to go away. Simon gently strokes your hair, trying to soothe you.

Some time passes and the headache isn’t getting any better.

“How long does it take for the medicine to kick in?” You finally ask, voice shaky.

“Bout thirty minutes.” He says quietly, looking down at you. “Why? Has it not worked yet?”

You shake your head.

He sighs, trying to think of a solution. His eyes manage to catch something. With a chuckle, he reaches over you and to the side table. “Love, for the pills to work, you have to take them.” He places them in your hand.

Blush flushes your cheeks. “I thought I did,” you grumble unconvincingly.

“Just take them, baby.” He chuckles.

You frown and reach for your water, taking them and lying back down. “I blame you for this, Si.” You huff, head still throbbing.

“Go to sleep, stubborn thing.”

“I’m not stubborn,” you retort sleepily.

“Yes you are.”

“No…” you trail off, mind going hazy.

It’s almost two in the morning and you are awake. Not wide awake. You want to sleep but you can’t.

“Can’t sleep again, love?” Ghost asks softly.

He always knows when you’re awake. When you’re in pain or discomfort. When you’re happy or excited.

You nod but don’t turn to face him, feeling uncomfortable in your own skin.

“Are you starting soon?” He murmurs.

“Does it matter?” You whisper, voice trembling.

He sighs softly and sits up beside you, not moving to touch you but leaning over his side of the bed to grab something from beneath it. “It doesn’t.” Simon says.

You turn your head slightly to see what he’s grabbing.

“I bought this for you a couple days ago,” he says gruffly yet softly as he hands it to you. “I know how you get. I hope it helps.”

It’s a big, weighted highland cow stuffed animal. You could honestly cry. “You got this for me?” You whisper as you hug it close. “Thank you.”

He smiles and watches as you lie down and cuddle it. “No need to thank me. But you’re welcome.” Simon settles back down on the bed beside you.

You turn your back to him, still snuggling. A few minutes later, sleep finally washes over you. Peaceful and deep.

Sometimes they are different, sometimes they are the same. But the meaning and end never change.

You fail your team. You can’t protect them. You made the wrong choice. The wrong move.

You wake up gasping again, tears streaming down your cheeks as you recall the dream.

“Love?”

You flinch when Ghosts voice rings in your ears.

“You alrigh’?” He asks, sitting up beside you. “Another nightmare?”

You sniff and nod, turning away to hide your tears.

He gently places his scarred palm on your cheek and turns you to face him. “Don’t hide your tears from me, baby. You know I’m here. I have you. I won’t judge you.”

You know that. You just can’t bear to see his face after the nightmare you had.

“I got you all killed.” You whisper, breathing shaky. “Again. Every night, it’s the same. Killed, captured, tortured… I always end up making the wrong decision. I always end up hurting you. All of you.”

Simon shakes his head. “You won’t.” He says firmly.

“But what if-“

“You won’t.” He cuts you off. “You are very smart. Wise. If anyone can keep this unit safe, it’s you. Ask any of us.”

You look around the tent where the other unit members are sleeping. Except for Gaz since he’s on watch duty.

“How do you know that?” You frown as he wipes away your tears.

“No.” Soap shakes his head again. “You cannot dye my mohawk.”

“Please? I’m a professional,” you insist.

“Lovely, you nearly went bald last year when you tried to bleach your own hair.” He counters softly.

You pout, turning with a pitiful huff and walking to the kitchen.

John sighs and you know you’ve won.

“Fine, you can dye my hair.” He mutters.

You spin around excitedly to face him. “Really!? Thank you, baby! You won’t regret it!”

He grunts in disapproval, but it lacks anything except playfulness. “What color?” He asks.

You smile and shake your head. “It’s a surprise.”

You pull out a chair for him at the kitchen counter and pull up a stool since you are short. Then you begin putting the die in his hair.

“No looking in any mirrors until after you shower.” You say when you finish.

He frowns playfully. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

The time passes and then he goes to shower.

“RAINBOW!?” Soap exclaims from the bathroom.

In reality, you feel like stress ball. You’re on your period and cramping. A lot.

You almost cried last month when Ghost told you to “stretch” and it would ease the pain, at least a little. And of course, he was probably right, but you didn’t listen.

“Are they that bad?” Simon asks when he sees you on the couch. He just got back from work, still decked out in gear.

You nod. “I know, I should have listened.” You grumble.

He gives a soft smile as he pulls off his mask. “Yes, you should have-“ You almost burst out in tears again, “-but it’s alright, baby. We’re both stubborn.” He winks, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

You blush, feeling ugly and unworthy as you pull the blanket over your face.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “don’t do that. Don’t hide yourself from me. You know I think you’re beautiful. Everyday, 24/7.”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Tears are pooling in your eyes, your face still hidden beneath the blanket.

The floorboards squeak as footsteps retreat with a small sigh. The tears finally slide down your flushed cheeks.

You can’t help it. You feel alone. Unloved. Unseen-

“Stop hiding, love.” Simon says as he walks back, moving the blanket to show your beautiful face. “There she is.”

You blink away the tears and give a small smile.

“It’s ok to not be ok.”

You notice then that he’s carrying a present bag. “What’s that for, Si?” You ask curiously, all previous emotions momentarily forgotten.

“For you.” He sits down beside you and places the bag in your lap. “Open it.”

The bag has some weight to it in your lap. You raise a brow but open it. There’s a big weighted cow inside, some chocolate, and period products. The tears return to your eyes.

“Don’t cry. I wanted this to make you happy.” He says, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

“I am happy.” You whisper, picking up the cow.

“Good. I love your smile.”

Your blush deepens and you smile wider. “Thank you. This is perfect.”

“You’re welcome.” He says. “There are even rice bags in the cow that I can heat up. For the cramps.”

“You’re the best, baby.”

Ghost:

-Bookstore

-Nightly Question

-Pre-Period Pains

-More Pre-Period Pains

-Period 1

-Nightmares

-Headache

Price:

-Reader Birthday

Soap:

You and Simon decided to asks each other a question each night. Any question. Whatever you wanted to ask, then the other would answer truthfully.

You nod. “I’m ready.”

Ghost thinks for a moment, considering what to ask. “What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?”

You pause, not expecting such a deep question.

“You have time to think, baby.” Ghost says when he sees the gears turning in your eyes.

You think about it deeply. “Well, I know most would think loss. But as hard as loss is, I feel like you can also rest easy knowing they are in a better place, or at least peaceful, right?” You ask.

Simon nods, encouraging you to continue.

“And then there’s loneliness, which is also terrible. I feel like a good variety would pick that too. Feeling like you are alone, unseen, not loved. That can be truly awful as well.”

“But?” He asks.

“But I feel like being betrayed is the worst possible thing anyone can endure. Being lonely, can at least be fixed. I know it’s not that easy, but…” You shake your head, getting very worked up.

Simon gently takes your hand, bringing it up to his lips and gently kissing the knuckles while you continue speaking.

“Betrayal hurts. It’s agonizing. Especially when it’s something you don’t expect. Or someone.” You finally settle on, heart pounding, cheeks flushed in anger.

He leans forward and kisses those same cheeks.

The reason you always sent them to him, is because he hates going in public and he hates you going in public alone.

The situation escaped him and he lost track of the books he was supposed to get you, finally giving in and taking you to a bookstore.

“Get as many as you want.” He says, voice gruff.

Your eyes light up. “Really? What about all the ones you ordered?” You ask.

He frowns beneath his mask. “Don’t worry about that, love’.”

You jump up and down in glee, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him. “Thank you so much, Si!”

His arms wrap around your waist and he draws you close. “Anythin’ for you.”

You flash him another smile before breaking away from him and picking books.

Dark romance, fantasy, dystopian, thriller, horror, and many other genres and tropes.

He holds everyone you place in his care, knowing you treat them better than babies. The stack in his arms grows and grows.

“Baby?” His voice is a bit strained from the weight of the books. He might have muscle, but not that much.

You turn to face him, looking up from inspecting a cover. “Yes?”

“Are you sure you need more? I think this’ll last you a while, love.”

You look at the stack in his arms. “Just one more?”

“Fine.”

You pick up a few from his stack, holding the last book and a few others to try and lighten is load as he checks out.

“$500.00!?!?”

You chuckle. “Love you.”

“This one is so cute!” You exclaim for the millionth time as you pass the millionth dog.

“Just pick one already.” He grumbles, trying not to rush you. The cute and sad atmosphere nearly kills him there. Years in the battlefield could not prepare him for the emotions overwhelming him at all the sad abandoned pets.

You pass by a cat with one eye and a bunch of scars. Price pauses when he sees it, heart clenching. You turn to him with a raised brow.

“What is it, daddy?”

“Nothing, sweetheart. Keep looking.” He reluctantly turns away and continues walking with you.

After an hour, you decide on a puppy. It’s a mix between a husky and a lab. “Thank you!” You say, overjoyed.

“You’re welcome.” His voice is gruff.

When the two of you make it home, he tells you he forgot his wallet at the pound. You offer to go back with him, but he shakes his head.

“Go get yer puppy settled.” He says, turning and walking out the door.

You tried to sleep. You really did. But you were just so… uncomfortable. Every time you shifted, your sore breasts would too. And make it impossible to sleep. You don’t want to wake up Ghost, so you try to suck it up.

“Want to tell me why we are both up at three in the mornin’ without sleepin’ a wink, baby?” Simon asks, his voice gruff and thick from disuse in your ear.

You tense, not knowing he was awake—the movement makes your breasts hurt again. “Si,” you murmur, “I didn’t know you were awake.”

“Well, lovie, every time you move—which is often—you let out a small huff of breath.” He says. “Should I be worried? I’m pretty sure I know my wif-“

“I’m fine.” You interrupt, hormones causing you to get angry. Regret washes over you and you shift to face him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Just tell me what’s wrong.” He says softly in understanding. “I can help you with whatever it is. Please just tell me.”

You knew he was desperate. Simon? Saying please?

“I’m just… sore.” You admit. “I’m going to start my period soon. My hormones are going wild—which is no excuse—and my breasts hurt. It’s impossible to sleep.”

He nods, expresses softening further. “It’s alrigh’. Let’s just find you a more comfortable position.”

“I’ve already tried!” The sob tears from your throat. You regret it but can’t stop. “I’m so tired, Si! I just want to get rest…”

He doesn’t even flinch, reaching up with his big, calloused hand to stroke your cheek.

A few minutes pass like that in silence. Before you know it, you’ve fallen asleep. Simon grins softly and pulls you closer.

Fun. Except it’s not.

You are extra exhausted, extra sensitive, and extra emotional. All things the battlefield never taught Ghost how to handle.

You are cleaning the toilet right now—because why not clean instead of resting? You shift, your breasts sore and let out a small groan. Ghost is behind you in an instant.

“Love’?” He asks in concern.

You turn and give him a small, reassuring smile. “I’m ok, Si.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “Don’ lie te m’.” He huffs, crossing his arms. “Tell’m e the tru’th.”

You frown, knowing he knows you too well. “I…” You hesitate, flush creeping up your cheeks. You and Simon have talked about it before. But you can’t help but be embarrassed.

His eyes narrow as he waits for you to answer.

“I’m tired. And hurting.” You sigh, finally deflating and spilling everything before you can stop. “My breasts hurt every time I move. I’m so exhausted. I want to sleep forever. But I also feel like I want to cry forever. And scream. And stare at the wall until I combust.”

Tears are streaming down your cheeks in rivers at this point and you somehow end up in Ghosts arms.

“Shh, lovie’,” he says, trying to calm you despite being unsure how to. “Do whatever you’ need. Scream, cry, sleep, I’ll be ‘ere.”

His words are like a haze over your soul, lulling you into a sense of peace.

“Just hold me, Si…”