exitingmusic

[exitingmusic]

Dog Tags

AN: Just a little blurb before bed, got this idea during the Super Bowl and I couldn't stop thinking bout it. I won't lie this idea made me tear up earlier so i only felt good if i could make other people feel the same way :)

Warnings: blood, death, angst

You were exhausted from running around, patching up soldier after soldier, not having enough time to even look at the dead one's faces before her watch pinged you of someone else needing help.

Right now, you were sprinting through tunnels underground, this one farther away than most. Dead bodies littered the halls, none you recognized in your quick passing.

The 141 had teamed up with the local forces to stop Makarov's forces from blowing up the tunnel. There had been more troops than expected, turning into a massacre, you having to watch your step to avoid all of the bodies.

As you were nearing your destination, you could see a clearing between two tracks, instantly recognizing one of the figures as Ghost. His mask making him easy to identify.

Your stomach dropped. One of the 141 was hurt. Was it Price? Gaz?

You sprinted faster, slowing as you saw them surrounding a body on the ground, the all too familiar face of Soap, your Soap, looking blankly at the sky.

The men instantly parted for you, guilt flashing in their faces as you could see your soldier clearly.

Nonononononononononono.

You dropped to your knees next to his head, desperately feeling for a pulse even though you knew there wasn't one.

Tears blurred your vision as your hands fumbled around, trying hopelessly to find any source of life from the man lying in front of you.

You felt someone's hand touch your shoulder and heard Price's gruff voice, "M' sorry but he's gone hon'."

Shaking your head, you cradled Soap's head in your lap, his beloved mohawk squished and covered in blood from where the bullet was shot into his head.

It wasn't possible, maybe it was just some prank. Maybe he'd suddenly blink and laugh and brush away your tears while holding you to his chest, apologizing for how dramatic he was.

But the longer you stared into his empty baby blue eyes you knew he wasn't going to blink.

You knew he'd never give you that beautiful smile that lit your whole world up. You knew he'd never laugh so hard he'd clutch your shoulder, crying. You knew he'd never carry you to bed after falling asleep watching a movie. You knew you'd never wake up with his arms around you, his face nestled into your neck.

Letting out a choked sob, you pressed your face into his bloody shirt, not paying attention to your pinging watch. They didn't matter anymore. No one mattered anymore. Not when your soldier, your love, your life was gone. No one else deserved to live when he was gone.

The men let you grieve as long as possible, keeping watch for any enemy soldiers, any that threatened to take you, knowing they already failed their brother in arms once, they wouldn't fail him again by letting you go with him.

You didn't know how long you stayed there, your body shaking with sobs before Ghost picked you up, Soap's body being taken away to somewhere else. Somewhere away from you.

Price was kind enough to tuck Soap's dog tags in your hand, your fist immediately grabbing hold of them and tucking them into your chest.

You didn't feel the rumbling of the car as you took off, didn't feel Ghost carrying you out, didn't feel him putting you in your bed.

No.

You felt the dig of the metal dog tags in your hand. You felt the cool sheets, normally warm from Soap's body.

But most of all, you felt the absence of him. The absence of your other half, forever.

[exitingmusic]

Two Slow Dancers

Warnings: death? nothing really just some slight angst :)

It was mocking you.

Taunting you.

That little goddamn star, reminding her every damn day of the man that would never breathe again.

Of the man that would never lay with you again.

Your Johnny, your soldier.

The man that would never meet his son.

His son who was transfixed by the shiny piece of metal, staring up at it on its place on the mantel. He didn't know what it meant, only that it was shiny and it made you sad.

But you weren't sad, no, you were angry. How was this little scrap of metal supposed to fill the gaping whole in your life?

How was this little supposed to make up for the family you couldn't have with him? Of the father your son would never have?

Oh how different it was then your engagement ring, that piece of metal you cherished with your whole heart.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by your son's incoherent babbling, his fatty hands scrunching the air.

Sighing, you got up and took the medal down from the shelf, handing it to your cooing son.

He clenched it in his grubby fists, staring at it with wide eyes.

"That's for your daddy," you said quietly.

Your baby shrieked, a toothless smile on his face as he waved the medal around.

You hummed, your lips twitching into a small smile at your baby boy clutching his father's medal.

The happiness was short lived when you thought about how joyful Johnny would be, here, alive, with his son.

No matter how brightly that star shined, it would never compare to Johnny's grin, the same grin your son has.

The same grin that would light up a whole room. Oh how much brighter it would be with him.

But no, you had to make due with that stupid medal.

[exitingmusic]

Goddamn Roaches

AN: first fic, req's open, please ignore any spelling mistakes :)

Warnings: language? (bugs if your worried)

This was a godawful mission. First, you had to wake up at the crack of dawn to get to the airport where you spent 6 straight hours crammed next to Mactavish on plane. A plane where you got no food, no rest, and no space.

It was safe to say you were pretty pissed. The feeling only growing stronger as you saw your rooms weren't prepped, the shitty hotel not even cleaned from the last occupants. The sheets were thrown around and trash strewn throughout the room.

So, the two of you got assigned to a single room, with a single full bed, not nearly big enough for the both of you and too uncomfortable to sleep well enough on.

“I sure hope ya packed your own stuff,” Soap grumbled from where he rummaged through his bag, “I ain’t sharin’.”

You roll your eyes, too tired to argue with him, “I’m gonna grab a shower," you said, unrolling your sleeping bag on the floor.

You tuned out his complaints and grabbed your bag with your toiletries, carrying it into the small bathroom, your limbs heavy as you turned on the water and got in.

Instantly, you recoiled as the freezing water hit you, cursing as you pressed yourself to the far wall to get away.

A couple minutes later, it had warmed up a tad, but it was still cold. Grumbling, you gave up, craving the idea of being clean more than getting out.

You quickly showered, relaxing slightly as you scrubbed your scalp, your hair greasy from the exhausting and irritating day.

Shutting the water off, you climbed out and dried off, slipping into a pair of comfortable clothes and putting the towel around her shoulders.

Much more relaxed than before, you gathered your things and went back to the excuse of a bedroom, Soap giving you an irritated glance up from his phone, thankfully staying quiet.

After putting your belongings away, you climbed into your sleeping bag and opened your phone.

A couple minutes passed and you turned around, facing the wall when you froze, eyes going wide.

Multiple cockroaches were less than a foot away from your face.

Oh hell no. Absolutely not.

You jumped up, letting out a quiet shriek. Soap bolted up at the tone in your voice, narrowing his vision to try and make out your form in the darkness. “What? What is it?”

"Look, right goddamn there, in the corner!" You pointed to where your head was laying.

Soap spun around, peering at the corner. “I don’t see anythin.” He stammered, eyes darting from corner to corner.

"There's like 6 cockroaches right there, they were right next to my fucking head!"

He immediately relaxed, a slight smile on his lips, "Oh, I thought it was somethin' serious."

You looked at him incredulously, "The fuck you mean something serious? Are you slow?" Your eyes widened at a realization, "Oh shit, what if some are in my hair?"

You started yanking fingers through your hair violently, determined to find the stupid bugs as she ran to look in the bathroom mirror.

Soap rolled his eyes, leaning up to watch you from his sleeping bag. “You’re gonna to go bald if you keep that up.”

You ignore, still yanking and scratching your scalp frantically.

“Just stop pickin' at it.” He huffed, standing up and walking towards you. “You’re going to tear your hair out at this rate.” Soap said as he stood behind you, grabbing your hands.

"I don't want roaches in my hair," you turn around, close to tears from frustration.

“Ey! They’re not in your hair!” He assured you, his eyes slightly wide. “Just stop pullin' on your hair and let me freaking brush it."

He gently turns you around to face the mirror and grabs a brush. Soap gently ran the comb through your hair, watching your form in the mirror. “You know, I wouldn’t be scared of some roaches.” He teased, starting near the bottom of your hair. “They’re just little bugs," he said, gently working through a tough tangle. “They won’t hurt you.”

"Well some little bugs do, and have you seen those things? They are NOT little," you shuddered.

“They’re small compared to you, lass,” he argued, moving the comb to a new area on your head. “Besides, they’re not like those stinging insects. They won’t give you any pain.”

"They give me emotional pain."

“You’re a drama queen.” He grumbled, starting to work on a different section of hair. “All that racket over just some roaches.”

"Kind as always," you mumbled, closing your eyes briefly, relaxing at his surprisingly gentle brushing.

“I’m just saying, you’re the biggest pansy when it comes to bugs.” He chuckled, continuing to work on your hair.

"Not really, I like bugs, just not roaches," you insisted, "It's like how you're scared of dogs."

He rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath.

You stayed silent, relishing the feeling of the brush running through your hair, his careful hands separating her hair.

Soap chuckled behind you, "If I knew you got this quiet if I brushed your hair I would've done this a lot sooner."

"Don't even start MacTavish," you warned, your eyes still closed in bliss.

He laughs quietly and brushes your hair for a couple more minutes before setting the brush back down and clearing his throat, "No roaches in your hair, lass."

You open your eyes to meet his blue ones in the mirror, nodding.

Soap takes a step back for you to move around him, watching you with an odd look in his eyes.

Avoiding his gaze, you start to walk back into the room, pausing where the tile turns into carpet, squinting.

"What's wrong?" Soap asks from where he stands behind you.

"I don't want to step on a cockroach," you say quietly.

He chuckles before grabbing a couple paper towels and gently moving you over. Soap walks out and to the corner where the roaches were, squatting to squish and clean them up.

Soap returns quickly to flush the bugs, brushing his hands off and looking at you.

"You want me to carry ya over there?" He asks suddenly, looking just over your shoulder.

Surprised at the offer, you hesitate but nod, gratefully accepting his offer.

Soap's lips twitch into a small smile and he turns around for you to jump onto his back, "Well hop on then lass."

Flustered, you climb onto his back, arms wrapping around his neck while her legs wrap around his waist securely. His hands immediately go to your thighs to hold you in place as he turns the bathroom light off with his shoulder.

You settle your chin onto his shoulder, higher than you normally were as he walked around the bed, checking for any more pests before gently unwinding you from around him, setting you down gently on his sleeping bag.

You give him a confused look as he stares at you expectantly.

"Well get in," he says, gesturing to his sleeping bag as he unties his boots.

You comply with his words, still confused as you slip into the bag, inhaling his scent.

He crawls in right next to you, his scent growing stronger as he lied next to you, his body pressed against yours and his scent filling your nostrils.

"Why did you want me to do this?" You asked, not too unhappy with your situation.

Soap's response is pulling you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you, "Well someone's gotta protect ya from the roaches."

You open your mouth to say something else but get interrupted by Soap's firm voice, "Get some sleep bonnie. Ain't no roaches gettin' in 'ere."

You couldn't really argue with him with your face pressed against his chest, so you just burrowed farther into him and wrapped your arms around him, finally getting to relax, as surprising as the situation was.

The last thing you felt before you fell asleep was a kiss to the top of your head, his fingers gently combing your hair as you stayed in the sleeping bag, with him.

[exitingmusic]

"Girls like it when men ignore em"

LIEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSS

I WANT THAT MAN OBSESSED WITH ME

I WANT HIM THINKING ABOUT ME LIKE A PRAYER, EVERY BREATH, EVERY MOVE, EVERY CHOICE HE MAKES ANCHORED TO ME. I WANT HIM LOSING SLEEP BECAUSE THE IDEA OF ME IS TOO LOUD IN HIS HEAD TO LET HIM REST. I WANT HIM TO LOOK AT ME LIKE I’M THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS—LIKE THE WORLD COULD BURN TO ASHES AROUND US AND HE WOULDN’T CARE AS LONG AS I’M STILL STANDING THERE.

I WANT HIM TO SPEAK MY NAME LIKE IT’S SACRED, TO LOOK AT ME LIKE I HOLD THE UNIVERSE IN MY HANDS. TO BE HAUNTED BY THE SOUND OF MY LAUGH, THE TRACE OF MY SCENT ON HIS SKIN, THE MEMORY OF MY TOUCH. I WANT HIS OBSESSION TO BORDER ON MADNESS, TO FEEL ME IN EVERY PART OF HIM LIKE A HUNGER HE CAN’T EVER SATISFY.

I WANT TO BE HIS FIRST THOUGHT