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the-californicationist · 11 months ago

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The Simple Mistake (Ghoap)

Ghoap fluff, hurt/comfort (please be nice i dont write ghoap)

Johnny wasn’t often the smaller man. In most situations, he was the aggressor, or at least the larger of the pairing. But, he felt himself being lifted as if his body were mostly air. He was being carried like a sack of flour, hoisted over a huge, mountainous shoulder, and tossed into arms that cradled him with ease. The sergeant could feel the way his captor’s muscles bent and twisted, even under all his black gear, and although the gunfire and the flashbangs were deafening, he could hear the hollow, steady swell of the man’s breathing as it filled his wide chest.

“C’mon, Sergeant. Just a few minutes and you’ll be right as rain. Hold on,” the dark, muffled voice told him.

The man had been making these threats the whole time, promising him freedom and safety, telling him he’d be alright. Johnny didn’t much care either way, not anymore. Right now, all he wanted to feel was more of the same, more of these shoulders, more of this expansive back whose lats were pulled wide like spread wings. A great bird of prey, or a vulture come to claim its carrion.

Bullet wounds were always a fucking mess, that was for sure. Luckily, the pain of it was being covered by an immense layer of shock. Johnny could feel the symptoms; chills, loss of sensation, trembling… it was all there. But, he was thankfully lucid, so they may not have hit him in a vital spot. Because of the vest and all of his gear, he hadn’t been sure exactly which bullet had landed the blow, but he felt the punch of the projectiles in his leg and chest, so something was bleeding… that much was clear.

It wasn’t his symptoms that concerned him; it was the tone of his Lieutenant’s voice as he reassured him over and over and over again, killing Makarov’s men as he made his way out of the warehouse with a series of pistols that he procured from the piles of dead terrorists. Having to stop and murder more Konni operatives made their journey a slow one, and Johnny could tell Ghost was becoming more and more frustrated.

“Where are these fuckin’ bastards all comin’ from?” The strong English accent was a comfort to the Scot, as much as it was an annoyance.

He didn’t reply to the question, not even with a snarky jab, and he stayed as still as he could, trying to make it easy on his carrier.

“You alive, Sergeant?” The concern had increased by an octave.

“Solid,” Johnny managed to respond, but it was getting a little hard to breathe.

“Almost there, mate. Almost… there,” Ghost rushed into a heavy, lockdown facility and shut the door behind him.

There were three inches of steel between them and their enemies and absolutely no communication service. The silence of the safe room settled around the two men like a dark blanket, shielding them from the outside world. The light was dim, the floor was mostly sand, and there was a marked lack of furniture.

Johnny felt himself being gingerly laid down on a desk, all of its contents fiercely strewn on the floor of the room, and Ghost began to remove the sergeant’s gear.

“Jesus, LT,” Johnny panted, “Feels like you didnae even break a wee sweat, sir. I wanna be just like you when I grow up.”

The lieutenant was too focused for his jokes, his voice flat and cold, focused on ripping Johnny’s gear from him piece by piece,

“You’ll be better than me, Johnny.”

Johnny felt like he was being mauled by a bear. His body was jostled around like a ragdoll as Ghost pulled plate after plate from his chest. Eventually, his vest was ripped away, and then Johnny saw the glint of a huge knife. He barely had time to gasp when Ghost sliced up through his shirt and sleeves, yanking it off of his body, revealing his chest, sweaty and hairy, tanned in odd lines where his tank top and tee shirt had been. The sergeant chuckled a bit, nervous, smiling up at his commander,

“Maybe I already am, sir.”

Ghost didn’t reply. He was too focused on the task at hand. His eyes were wild, checking and rechecking Johnny’s body for the source of his blood. Finally, the sergeant was turned, lifted with ease from the desk, so that Ghost could inspect his leg.

“Trousers have to come off, Sergeant,” the lieutenant explained.

It was barely a warning. In one swift rip, Ghost shucked Johnny’s pants down to reveal… all of him.

Johnny wasn’t really one for underwear, but he was kicking himself for that habit today.

“LT! Christ!”

“You’re hit in the side of this leg. Need an XStat here. Deep breath.”

Johnny didn’t have time to breathe at all. The searing pain from the insertion of the wound-sealing device made his face twist into a wild grimace, and he shivered from the hot flash of agony.

“Fuuuuckkk…” Johnny moaned, writhing and fully naked on the shitty desk.

Ghost was on the ground, digging in his gear bag, and he produced a foil shock blanket. He unwrapped it, ripping through the packaging, and lay it over his sergeant, tucking it around him.

Johnny was shuddering, and his voice shook, but he tried to smile,

“Th-thanks, LT… Wish I had a wee bit more warmth, though. Cannae seem to stop shakin’.”

Ghost pulled off his gloves, and then, to his shock, Johnny watched as he removed his mask. He didn’t see Simon’s face often, but when he did, he tried not to stare. It was just a face, after all. There were no odd deformities, but it was as if some version of Zeus had just revealed himself through a swan or a bull; it was meant to be witnessed.

The lieutenant didn’t meet his eyes, but he scooped him up, his huge arms curled under his back and in the crook of his knees, and brought him down to the ground. Then, he just… held him there.

Johnny tried to remember the last time he had been held. A wee lass from high school, perhaps? But, she had not cradled him like a bairn. Perhaps it was his ma, when he drug his knee climbing through nettle at his uncle’s farm, burning up like the idiot he was, sniffling about the sting.

Now, here he was, a grown man, cradled again in the same way. The bulk of Simon was warm against him, but the gear dug into his naked flesh. Ghost could sense his discomfort and moved him aside for a moment, shrugging out of his vest, and replacing Johnny right back into his arms.

“Are you warm?” Simon asked quietly, a little under his breath.

“Aye, sir, thanks for tha’.”

“Are you in pain?” This question came out like a prayer, and it unsettled the younger man.

“Aye… but, it’s better now, sir.”

“Good. Help’s comin’. Sent Laswell a ping before we got locked in.”

Johnny chuckled, resting his head on Simon’s shoulder,

“She’ll find us in a right state.”

Simon shifted a bit, and there was a long pause before he muttered,

“I’m sorry, Sergeant. When they arrive, we can —”

“Haud yer wheesht,” Johnny interrupted him, pressing his forehead into Simon’s warm, bare neck, “It’s a fine state.”

“Aye.”

“Aye?” Johnny’s blood rushed through his veins, “So, you have taken a shine to me, then.”

“Aye,” Simon said, finally turning to meet Johnny’s eyes as he lay in his arms. He pressed his nose into Johnny’s space, close enough for a kiss but speaking to him instead,

“I’ve taken a bloody shine. It’s bright enough to keep me awake at night, and it’s blindin’ me now. Everything in me says that I should leave you alone. Your rank, your future… you rely on me. But, I can’t stop staring at the shine of you. So bright. All the time.”

Johnny’s arm crinkled through the foil blanket as he reached a hand up to touch the coarse shadow on Simon’s jaw, drawing those full lips into his, petting his cheek, tasting the cigarette smoke on his tongue. He moved against him, feeling Simon’s enormous strength respond in a generous outpouring of affection, like a statue once frozen now come to life. They sank into each other, melding together, melted like hot wax, fusing, tumbling until there was only the shine of love between them.

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 2 years ago

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(Un)bearable

Pairing: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), Enemies to lovers, kinda dom!Soap, rough, lil bit degrading but nothing horrible, use of the nickname "puppy"

Summary: Reader is new to the 141 and despite coming in hand picked by Price, Soap can't seem to get his head round the fact that you're on his team. Soon silly little arguments turn physical and well...there's more than one way to decide who's top dog.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

A/N: Happy haggis day folks! Hope you enjoy this lovely Soap smut.

-🧼-

When you first joined the unit, you and Soap took to each other like rats to poison. It’s not that you went into the 141 with a bad attitude or were looking to make enemies by any means - but from the first moment you meet John “Soap” Mactavish you can’t help but grit your teeth and hope that you get a chance to wipe that smug smirk from his face. Preferably with a blunt object, but generally by any means necessary.

It all started when you walked into a meeting room, ready for your first briefing as a part of your new unit and the only other one there was Soap. His legs were crossed and propped up on a desk, hands resting on top of head and smoothing down his mohawk. He was sitting there casually looking as if he was about to start a nap. It made you raise your eyebrows, but you quickly shook off your surprise and said hello, introducing yourself.

“Aw, eh…nice to meet you? Are you lost?” He frowned.

You blinked at him, taking a second to figure out what he meant. Was he teasing you? Was this some kind of weird hazing thing? Though, after a few seconds of silence pervading the stuffy little room, you realised he wasn’t joking.

“No?” You answer back, just as confused. “This is the room Captain Price booked out, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is. Are you here to bring coffee or somethin’?”

You immediately felt your back tense up and suddenly all the dumb, slack jawed voices of recruits from your past flare up in your head, your body practically vibrating with anger. People look at you and they never assume very much, but when it comes to letting you loose in a fight they’re suddenly very glad to have you on their team. And after a few breaths to calm yourself down, you realised you’d have an opportunity to prove yourself later.

“I’m here because Price asked me to be,” you said sullenly, taking a seat as far away from the soldier as you could manage.

He raised his brows but he didn't question you further. Thankfully, he didn’t get a chance to. Everyone else started filtering in and taking their seats silently and Price stood at the head of the room, eyeing you and your lingering glare with his usual measured look. He knew that Soap probably pissed you off. Hell, you figured Soap probably pissed the Captain off most of the time.

It was when he finally introduced you to the rest of the team as “Sergeant” that Soap finally clocked why you were there for the briefing, and yet the Scotsman didn’t look embarrassed or even apologetic. No. His face erupted into a cocky grin and he would sneak looks at you every so often, measuring you up and looking like he was in complete disbelief.

When you were finally released from the meeting you could hear him and Ghost when they retreated down the opposite end of the hall. He didn’t even try to quiet his stupidity obnoxious voice, which was allowed unbidden, to bounce down the corridor like a waving red cape to a bull.

“Fuckin’ mind blowing that that is our new team member,” he laughed, “We’d be better working with Mickey Mouse.”

“Soap,” comes the Lieutenant’s voice, growling a warning.

“What? Aren’t you even a little bit shocked?”

“I’m sure Price took them on for a reason…Just fuckin’ leave it, alright?”

“…You’re probably right.”

Though, Soap didn’t leave it. He took every opportunity he could to rile you up, and that included fucking with your callsign.

You’d been out on your first mission together when he’d seen you getting into a tussle. Though just as Johnny had been about to step in and help, you’d managed to get a lucky kick at the guy's ankle and finally took him down when you regained your grip on your knife - Leaving Soap standing staring at you, gun at the ready with nothing to shoot.

“Get you, scrappin’ just like a wee bulldog,” he’d smirked, voice crackling over the comms for all to hear.

“Shut it, Soap,” you growled, already looking to fan out and move away from him.

“Ooft,” he chuckled. “You’re like one of those bad tempered ones, the little yappy horrible bulldogs. What are they called again?”

“Frenchies,” someone says through the line.

“That’s it. Wee frenchie, nippin’ at the enemy’s heels.”

You couldn’t tell who it was that provided the answer, but from then on you vowed that if you ever found out you’d pay them back for it tenfold. Soap had proceeded to tease you with it for the rest of the op and then, because everyone found your reaction so entertaining, it stuck. You were Frenchie for the rest of time.

As if that wasn’t enough, you got into some amounts of back and forth during missions, sometimes to a point that Price would threaten to bash your heads together when you got back. Though, it never deterred you both. It was like a horrible little game that you played, trying to one up the other and not lose control, a test of wills, a battle you waged privately. One that often ended in you going to sleep vowing you’d be the last one to see him through a scope one day.

On your latest mission you’d been traversing a small town one night, picking off your targets quietly and trying to avoid an all out firefight. You, Ghost and Soap were working your way through buildings like a vicious pack of wolves, picking off the men like mice. Occasionally you’d mutter through the comms link, but tried to stay off it, content to leave Ghost and Soap to their stupid jokes and chatter.

“What do you do when your doctor gives you a year to live?” Ghost asks, voice raspy as he steps away from a kill.

You sigh, knowing you’d be subjected to another one of the boys’ awful wisecracks. It was at times like those you thought of better days, days where you worked with people that didn’t clog up the comms with their shite chat. Days that you liked all of your teammates (or at least could go without wanting to seriously maim any of them)

“I dunno,” Soap replied in an almost whisper.

“You shoot them and a judge gives you fifteen years,” Ghost deadpans.

Both you and Johnny groan over the line, for once united in something. Ghost liked to tell truly awful jokes, though, had he told genuinely funny ones then it was unlikely you’d be alive to enjoy them much longer. You couldn’t afford to burst out laughing when there were still plenty of men out there in the shadows that would love to discover you and rain bullets like a monsoon.

“You’re awfully quiet, Frenchie. Still with us?” Ghost rumbles.

“Your jokes are just too funny LT,” you murmur, sighing as you realise the house you’re in is clear. “I’m laughing so hard there’s no sound coming out.”

“Cheeky cunt,” Ghost chuckles, disappearing for a moment until he speaks again. “You got anything better?”

“Maybe.”

“G’on then,” Soap urges you snarkily. “Give us your best.”

“Alright then…where’d Soap go after getting lost on the minefield?” You say, smirk dancing on your lips

“Where?” Ghost asks.

“Everywhere,” you whisper darkly.

“Fuckin’ hell, Frenchie,” Ghost snorts, covering the sound of Johnny’s sharp inhale.

They both knew you were thoroughly enjoying the mental image that swam around your head. It was distracting, but you think you still have your head on straight. You still managed to pace around the little dirt roads like a spectre, moving silently and unseen through the the dark purpling night. That is, you think so, until you’re about to be surprised.

Just as the guy was about to swing for you, he flew back and onto the ground with a thud, struggling as he let go of his last breath. The weapon he held in his hands is released as his body goes limp and it crumbles down the hill, kicking up a little dust as it goes. A piece of debris heavy enough that it would’ve bludgeoned you to death on first try.

“What's brown and bad for your teeth?” Johnny grins.

You groan quietly.

“The brick that was about to get smashed across yer smug. Fuckin’. Face. Frenchie.”

-🧼-

In the end you’d all come back from the mission alive. Despite the fact that you had to begrudgingly admit that it was, in part, due to Soap, you didn’t come back too sour. In fact you even joined drinks for once and sat with the team. It was nice to unwind together rather than laying in bed alone, head filled with all that you’d done and could’ve done better.

Though, after a few drinks and plenty of nonsense chat later you’d started to feel tired. The guys had gone from shouting and laughing up a storm to quietly chatting about this and that, going into ‘remember the time…’ stories that you had nothing to contribute to. With that realisation, you’d figured you’d just call it a night and quietly say your goodbyes.

You hadn’t really realised how sleepy you were until you’d stood up. It was only when you’d sluggishly taken a few steps that you felt a familiar heaviness descending over you, and resolved to get to bed as soon as you could, rushing to get out. Though when you’d shouldered your way out through the heavy wooden doors of the pub, you were greeted with an extremely unpleasant interruption to your plans. His smile and breath curled out into the cold air like a dragon's smoke, and he didn’t look like he was letting you go without a passing comment.

The mental warfare continues, you’d thought bitterly.

“You leavin’ already, French?”

You groaned and rolled your eyes, folding your shivering arms around your middle.

“Figure I’ve had enough. What about you? I didn’t know you smoked,” you frowned, looking at the half smoked cigarette that was dangling in his hands.

“Social smoker. Ye want one?”

“Doesn’t look very social to me,” you smirked, gesturing to his lack of companions.

“Would be if you joined,” he shrugged.

You shook your head instead of replying - thinking better of continuing the conversation. You just wanted to head inside and roll up into your sheets, in no mood to deal with any more for the day. Escape the nicotine clouds that threatened to stick to your body and cloy at your throat, the thought of anything containing his breath sticking to you in any way was enough to have you wincing.

You were just about to walk away when he piped up again.

“Why is it we don’t seem to get on very well, eh?”

You stopped in your place and felt every fibre in your body shaking. Was he seriously asking that? You had about a million answers to his question, but most of all you just wanted to strangle him and tell him it was because he was incapable of shutting the fuck up and leaving you alone.

Even after the amount you’d drunk, you managed to summon some self control and stay in place.

“You’re annoying as fuck,” you said instead.

You had still had enough liquid courage that your social filter failed, however.

“What do you mean I’m annoyin’,” he laughed.

“I mean you’re the most obnoxious fucking dickhead I’ve ever had the displeasure of working with.”

Well apparently the beast was unleashed.

“Bit harsh,” Soap choked out, laughing out a gust of smoke.

“It’s true - you’re unbearable.”

He rolled his eyes at that, but his smirk remained.

“Fine, I’m an obnoxious arsehole…what’s that make you then, wideo?

“What about me?”

“Takes two to tango, doesn’t it? I’d say it makes you as ‘unbearable’ as I am.”

A rush of white hot fury flooded your veins and you marched back up to him, attempting to invade his space as much as you could bear. You met his gaze and glared up at him, shooting daggers and whatever else you could manifest. It’s on motherfucker.

“I’m not the one that called someone out for being unworthy before they got a chance to prove themselves. I’m not the one that constantly acts unprofessional. I’m not the one that picks on people for no good reason. I’m not the one-“

“You been keepin a list of grievances on me or somethin’,” he teased, cutting you off.

You growled and before you could even think, you watched yourself bat the cigarette from his hands like a feral cat and watched it fly. It arced through the air and landed with a bouncing finish, scattering red ash into the quiet wind. It took a second of silence till either of you did anything else.

“Childish much,” Soap snorted. “I’d rather be an arsehole than a little brat.”

You’d never whipped your head up so fast. Blood vessels you’d hardly been aware of before were boiling and your heart beat was in your eyes, it raced and pulsed and had you dizzier than drinking a bottle of vodka. All you saw was red. Soap had taken every opportunity to tease and push you and finally you’d decided he’d taken it far enough. In all your drunk wisdom you felt like this was your time to make a stand and show that you wouldn’t put up with it anymore.

With what you felt was a rallying warcry, you pushed Soap back and sent him stumbling, almost knocking him into the jagged bushes behind him, their leaves stripped bare from the winter weather. He’d huffed out a hiss, hand lanced through by one of the thorny branches.

“What the fuck!” He roared, coming to his feet again.

Suddenly it felt like all that anger really had boiled your blood, and it had unfortunately nullified all the alcohol out of it. The full withering cold of the night soaked through your skin and suddenly you were standing there sober, wide eyed and stupid, wondering what you’d do next. What could you do?

Fight or flight, a sharp edged voice whispered, echoing through your mind. The man had recovered quickly, and he was soon to make the decision for you. So, you went with what you felt was best for you and your kneecaps.

Flight it is.

You ran. Not even the road runner could have competed with you that night. It felt like Hermes had imbued you with power, you sprinted so fast that you practically flew back to the base on winged feet. Your lungs burned and your throat felt like you had accepted a smoke from Soap, but even so, with all pain you came to acknowledge once you were safely locked in your room, you remained unharmed.

And when the cramps in your thighs tangled through your legs and the full craziness of the previous events crashed down on you, you similarly fell to your bed; huffing out a massive Breath. This was one to deal with in the morning, you thought.

-🧼-

If only you could be so lucky.

You’d recalled thinking you could sleep everything off with a soundless laugh, and shook your head. It wasn’t happening. Instead, you were left staring at the demonic red numbers of your alarm clock with narrowed eyes. Apparently time had a way of slowing down when it came to the sobering mind. It could only happen to you, of course.

You’d woken up an hour later with a pounding headache and dry tongue, and even after taking painkillers and a decent glug of water you still remained awake and tortured. The scene of MacTavish falling to the bushes and shouting bloody murder at you was replaying in your mind like an old timey movie, static ringing through your ears as your anxiety tore through you.

You’d accused him of being unprofessional, and there you’d gone and shoved him like a toddler in a tantrum. Right after he’d called you childish as well!

You felt sick with worry, wondering if he’d tell Price, wondering what his revenge would be. You sighed and took a deep breath, realising you weren’t going to get any sleep. There were only two options once again, either you sat and suffered till you found out or you could face up to him and go apologise before he could dream up some particularly brutal revenge. Besides, you reasoned to yourself, even if you hated him and even despite the things he said - pushing him was a bit out of order.

Everything in you wanted to go for option A, but your need to get things out the way won over and soon enough you were in your sweats and baggy pyjama top, waddling down the halls.

The walk to Soap’s room felt like a long one, like a trek through the arctic. Every painful passing minute had you digging your fingers into your thighs and thinking better of your choice. You’d turned around to go back to your room three times before you reached his door. Even then, you took a minute before you knocked softly, fists coming down on the wood like soft paws.

The silence rang out for a moment, and you’d closed your eyes for a second, praying he was asleep. Though, as your unluckiness would have it, you’d heard someone rustling about not a second later. There were a few grumblings and noises more, before the door flung open and there stood a particularly surly John MacTavish, standing in his boxers and t-shirt with a face like thunder.

“You!” He groaned, running a hand through his splayed out mohawk. “The fuck do you want?”

“I uh…Came to apologise for earlier,” you mumbled awkwardly, mirroring him and swiping a hand over your head. “Sorry.”

You watched as he craned his neck and attended to a knot below his skin, hand harshly palming it while he thought over your words. Then, in your desperation not to meet his eyes, you found yourself casting your gaze downward and realised far too late you’d made your second mistake of the night.

His thighs had completely transfixed you, they were impressive laid bare like that, and before you were able to stop yourself you tilted your head and visibly looked from his thick muscles and further to the material of his boxers - coming to land on the half hard bulge that stood out from them. It wasn’t full-on morning wood, but there was something that’d been stirring there and now your eyes were glued on the sizable tent; and you couldn’t find it in yourself to look away.

Fuck, just how big was he?

You heard a familiar snort and looked up guiltily, briefly wondering if you’d be running away from Soap for a second time that night.

“Let’s review the situation here. You wake me up at three AM with your pathetic little knock and get me out of my bed, for what’s probably the worst apology I’ve heard in my entire fuckin’ life, and now you’re staring at my cock like a shaking bitch in heat. Are you for real right now? Do we need to drug test you?” he said incredulously.

“I am not staring at your cock like a bitch in heat,” you hissed, looking around you like a caught criminal. “And keep your fucking voice down!”

“What? You don’t want anyone finding out that you’re a pervert?” He laughed, leaning against his doorframe.

“Do you want pushed again?” you growled.

“Do you want to push me again?” He cackled. “Any excuse to get your hands on me, eh?”

“No! It’s not like that. I wouldn’t- I didn’t-” you fumbled, not allowed to continue.

“Didn’t what? Didn’t want to just come out and tell me the reason you like fighting so much is because you can’t get me into bed?”

You dropped your mouth open, gawping at his leering tone. You absolutely did not like fighting with him in order to do…that. Whatever that would be like. You’d resolved that he’d be an awful lover, a selfish one, he was so shitty to you he’d probably just take what he wanted and-

And now you were thinking about sex with Soap! Yuck!

Not that the thought didn’t stir something in you. (you’d tried to plead with yourself that it was burning - throbbing - hatred)

“Your lack of an answer tells me that’s a yes,” he chuckled, going to close the door.

A phantom force willed your hand forward, and soap soon stopped trying to close it when he realised you were going to stay resolute. Your hand was shaking with effort. You couldn’t let him win this encounter, you’d thought to yourself, you couldn’t let him have the last word. You couldn’t bear to picture him lying in his bed with his stupid semi, grinning to the thought of you sitting and stewing the rest of the night.

It wasn’t happening.

“It’s not a yes. And you wouldn’t even fuck me properly even if did allow you within an inch of me,” you said proudly, hoping to turn and be on your victorious way.

No such luck.

Soap grabbed your arm before you could go and pulled you into his orbit, having you practically feel the heat radiating from his chest. His brows were pulled tight and his eyes were darker than onyx, staring at you like a dragon before it breathed fire. You gasped and blinked up at him, suddenly realising you’d bitten more than you could chew.

“I’m a lot more than an inch,” he growled.

“Doesn’t mean you know how to use it,” you fired back, not knowing why you’d continued to push him.

Perhaps all the blood that was flowing from your brain and down below might’ve had something to do with it. Maybe it was the iron grip that had your arm feeling like it might crack in his unrelenting calloused hand.

“You’re bein’ a daft cunt.”

“So are you.”

“Do you actually want fucked?” he asked, a sly smirk escaping through his lips.

“Doesn’t everyone,” you replied, trying to deflect his question.

He bit his lip and looked away, peering down into the hallway and looking for any stragglers. No one was there, just the shadows, the frigid air and empty silence.

“If you want me to show you just how well I can use this,” he said, palming his crotch with his free hand, “then tell me right now.”

It felt like all the oxygen in the hallway had filtered out and your brain was floating lifelessly in your head. It had to have been for you to have answered the way you did.

“You can show me, but try not to cry when it doesn’t work,” you sniggered.

Soap nodded his head, releasing your arm at the same time. He looked the same way that he did whenever you challenged him in training, the same way he looked when he usually found a way to throw your ass on the floor. In short, you knew you were fucked from that gritted jaw alone, but you tried not to let it show.

“Get on the bed and sit pretty, Frenchie. Be a good dog,” he goaded, opening the door up wide for you to enter.

This was it, no going back. You had the option to turn and run, but your pride wouldn’t let you do it. You’d talked a big game by that point and you couldn’t turn around then. It was the same thing that got you into the 141 that had gotten you into Soap’s room - your stupid pride. (Although maybe it was the way he was looking at you so intensely as well). You gritted your teeth and did what you were told, trying not to let the little voice in your head that said you actually really wanted him to overpower you.

Not likely.

No, you’d do what he said, but only so it would speed the process up - you reasoned. Not because when he’d made the order his voice had rumbled deep with authority and the purr had run down your spine like a bolt of lightning. No, that wasn’t it at all, you thought as you’d sank down into his messy sheets and lay your hands back behind you. That wasn’t it at all.

“Look at that, wee puppy follows commands afterall,” he said condescendingly.

He shut the door with a harsh click and locked it, your last chance of leaving gone. You couldn’t bear the embarrassment of running out at that point. You were following through with it. Only because you’d said you would, not because of the tingles of anticipation running rampant round your body and not because Soap sounded hot as fuck when he was being demanding.

There was a force pushing you back, something unseen that made you lie back on the bed as Soap took torturously slow steps toward you. It felt like you were under a spell, unthinkingly sinking into the sheets and breathing in more of his scent, catching notes of him that you’d never thought much of before, gunpowder musk filling your senses.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked, finally coming to a stop as he hovered over you, tracing his thumb over your cheek.

“Y-yes,” you said, voice wavering as you felt his warm breath on your neck.

“Then beg for it,” he smiled, cupping your jaw. “Say please Johnny, please fuck me.”

“Get fucked,” you sneered, shoving his arm away.

“Thought that’s what you wanted.”

“Not like that! I’m not begging you.”

“Oh yeah? You sure about that?” he asked, restoring his hand to your head and weaving his fingers roughly through your hair. “I think you will be.”

You were about to come out with another quip but it died before you could, suffocated as he planted his lips on yours and stole your breath.

He wasn’t like other guys you’d kissed, he wasn’t sloppy and his tongue didn’t flop around like a dying fish. He was sure of himself, he kissed you roughly, but not forcefully. A notion that maybe he knew what he was talking about before entered your mind, but only fleetingly as you found yourself fading out.

All it took was Johnny’s hands on your body and you were lost to static and floating clouds. One hand roamed your thighs while the other trailed up your neck ever so gently. It had you stretching to give him access and unknowingly you’d given him exactly what he wanted, because now he was refocused on your sensitive flesh, kissing your neck and sending it tingling like hot flames were licking up it.

“Mmm, poor little puppy. No wonder you’re wound so tight, you’re desperate for it,” he groaned.

“Mm?” you moaned, lost to bliss and confusion.

“There’s a wet patch soakin’ through your sweats,” he teased.

You froze, horrified that he’d come across it and tried to look for yourself, but you were stopped, stuck to the bed as his hard chest prevented you from getting up. Unstoppable force had finally met an immovable object, and now you were realising just how stoppable you actually were in the face of Johnny. Just how pliant you could be under his hands, the right hands.

“Don’t do anythin’ that I don’t tell you to do,” he ordered, whispering into your ear. “Just do what I say.”

You moaned pathetically, whining like the shivering dog he said you were, before you could fully stop yourself. He caught it - and your wide eyed expression.

“Except that,” he amended, laughing harshly. “You’ll do a lot of that.”

“And if I don’t listen to what you say?” you asked, voice shaking as you tried to reclaim some kind of authority over yourself (failing pathetically).

He yanked you up and had you sitting up facing him, manipulating your body the exact way he wanted; before he stared you in the eye and all but growled. His jaw tensed and untensed, and the heat of him burned into you like an explosion.

“What do you do with a dog that misbehaves?”

“You give it what it wants before it gets bored?” you tried.

“You grab it by the collar and set it right,” he growled, taking your neck in his big hand and forcing a commanding, but not choking, grip on it.

You whined, and before you could process it he was manhandling you again, this time throwing you face down on the bed and trapping you under his solid frame. His legs pinned you down and his arms were around your sides, locking you onto your hands and knees. Little whimpers were set loose into the room and soon Johnny had your sweats down to your feet and was yanking your top off of you, leaving you bare and shivering below him.

“Mm, you’re a pretty thing,” he growled appreciatively. “So soft too.”

He ran a hand down your back, doubling the frisson that lit your body like a bonfire and kissed all over your flesh while he rutted slowly against you. His hardening cock was knocking into your ass with deliberate harshness, and just the sensation of him through the material was enough to make you feel like you were going to implode. What you’d seen was only a fraction of what was rubbing against you then. You were sure of it now.

“Johnny,” you whimpered, humping the air and searching for more sensation.

“Yes, puppy?” he asked softly, planting another kiss on your back. “Want somethin’?”

“I- I,” your face burned with humiliation, you couldn’t believe you were giving into him.

“C’mon, just ask,” he said, growling your name - your actual name - into your ear like the devil himself. “Give into me.”

“Johnny, please fuck me,” you pleaded, shoulders sagging with defeat as you stared into the sheets with embarrassment. “Want you inside me. Please…”

“That all you got?” he asked simply, taking his hands from your body and shaking the bed as he fumbled with something behind you.

You groaned out and stayed in position for a second, trying to muster up the nerve, or break yourself down enough rather, so that you could find the right words. You licked your lips and finally, with a shaking breath, looked around your shoulder and met Johnny’s eyes, blinking your lashes like you were a professional.

“Want you to fuck me hard, Johnny. Want you to make me cum,” you said breathily, feeling your heart beating like a war drum. “Fuck me…Please.”

“Mmm, that’s my good puppy,” he purred, opening the bottle of lube in his hands with a click. “Gonna show you exactly what you get when you come to my door telling me I don’t know how to use my cock. Gonna ruin you for everyone else and have you screamin’ my name.”

You practically panted at that, wobbling on your hands and knees for a moment until he pushed your head down into the bed and kept it there, fastening his hand into your hair. The cold sensation of lube hit your flesh, dripping down your ass and sending your heart into overdrive.

This was it.

“Just lie there and take it…just like that…”

#soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #jonny soap mactavish x reader #mw2 #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare fanfiction

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hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform · 1 month ago

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Kinktober 2024 Day Seventeen

Boot Riding

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/Capitan John Price

“Mind telling me where you’ve been?” Price questioned before Gaz had even finished closing the door behind him.

Gaz glanced at the clock. It was a minute, maybe two, past seven. He was barely late. At least, not late enough to warrant the hard glare Price was giving him from behind his desk.

“Just making my report to Ghost.” Gaz shut the door and walked up to the front of the desk, grinning down at the captain. “Got a problem with that?”

“Yes.” Price leant back and stared up at his sergeant. “I don’t recall telling you to give any kind of report to Ghost. Let alone, telling you that this report could make you late to meet with me.”

“I’m sorry.” Gaz leaned over the desk, one hand planted on the wooden surface, the other reaching out for Price’s face, until he moved his chair back, out of Gaz’s reach.

“You want to apologise to me, sergeant?”

“It’s two minutes, it’s hardly a big deal.” Gaz stood up, folding his arms.

“It’s two minutes you spent with Ghost—”

“And not you? I though we talked about you being jealous, John?”

“I’m not jealous.” John spat the word out. “Strip, now.”

Gaz rolled his eyes, but complied, leaving his clothes where they fell in a crumpled mess on the floor when he tried to go around to get to where Price was sitting.

John held up a hand to stop him. “Really, sergeant? Clean that mess up.”

Gaz stopped, frowning as he met the captain’s hard stare again. He debated it, then decided that now probably wasn’t the time to make whatever Price had in store for him worse, so he stopped and picked up his clothes, carefully folding each item before setting the pile neatly on the front edge of the desk, crouching out of Price’s sight, out of his stare, as he tucked his boots up against the front of the desk below it.

Price grunted in approval when he stood back up, and beckoned Gaz to come close, pointing to the ground in front of him as he swung his chair to the side. “Kneel.”

Gaz did so, sitting on his heels as he pressed his legs together in front of Price’s boots, his hardening dick resting on his thigh, half concealed by arms stretching down so his hands could rest on his knees. Price reached out and cupped his chin, tilting Gaz’s head from side to side as he studied his face. Gaz kept quiet, but shivered as he felt his dick continue to get hard against his thigh, thanks to Price’s silent stares.

“He’s at least had the decency to not leave any marks.” Price grunted, pushing Gaz’s head back as he let it go, his eyes flicking down to Gaz’s half hard cock instead. “Did he send you off with that?”

Gaz shook his head. “All your work. Sir.”

“What? Just telling you what to do?” Price chuckled low in his throat, leaning down towards him. “Anyone can give instructions, Gaz.”

“I don’t follow instructions from just anyone.”

“Right, just me, and Ghost.”

“You’d be surprised.” Gaz murmured, his breath bating in his throat for the grand reveal.

“How so?”

“Most of the time, I’m telling him what to do.”

“Sure, you are.” John chuckled, in a way that told Kyle he didn’t believe him. He indicated for Kyle to split his legs open as he pushed his right leg forward, nudging his black, leather boot between Kyle’s knees. “You’re going to grind on my boot, and tell me the truth, you understand, the truth about what Ghost does to you.”

“Yes, sir.” Kyle widened his legs, shuffling close until his dick was rubbing up against the leather boot. He wrapped his arms around John’s shin, shifting his hips up as he tilted his head to one side, resting it on the top of John’s knee as he looked up at him. “What do you want to know?”

“Have you let him jerk you off?”

“Yes.” Gaz started rolling his hips, rubbing his dick against John’s boot. He bit his lip at the initial discomfort, dragging his skin against the tough surface, until it faded and left him searching for more texture with each roll of his hips as he struggled to find the right angle.

“How often does he do it?”

“Uh, quite often.” Gaz tightened his grip on Price’s trousers, pinching the cloth between his fingers, dragging it out from where it was tucked into his tightly laced boot. “He’s willing to do it for us- me, whenever, rather than me jerking off.”

“Is that so?” Price eyes lit up at the ‘us’ Gaz let slip, before picking up a cigar from the ash tray and relighting it. “How does he do it? Left or right hand?”

“Right.”

“Fast? Slow? Tight? Or squeezing?”

“He goes fast. Doesn’t do too much, just grips and goes until you, uh, finish.”

“Does he make you clean his hand?”

“Usually wants to wipe it on your shirt.” Gaz grunted as his dick rubbed against Price’s laces, his hips bucking up as he remembered the harsh speed of Ghost’s hand jobs.

“Isn’t he generous?”

“Uh huh.” Gaz tried to shift his dick away from the laces, back to the patch of untextured leather he’d found before. He didn’t want to cum before Price said to.

“Does he ever get you to return the favour?”

“Sometimes. He wants, prefers, to get sucked off, though.”

Price grunted. “Good trade, with how well you suck dick, Garrick.”

“Thank you, sir.” Gaz preened as Price stroked his cheek, blowing smoke out of his mouth.

“Does he ever suck your dick?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“At his own pace. You just sit there and let him work.” He swallowed, clenching Price’s shin tight and slowing his hips, not missing the tinge of desperation that came into his voice as he continued speaking. “He doesn’t let you… No touching. Doesn’t let you touch him.”

“His rules, I suppose. Do you think he’s as good as you?”

“No, he’s nowhere near as good as me.” Gaz answered without thinking. When he’d processed what he’d said, he felt his face run hot, and his eyes widened. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“I won’t.” Price lifted Gaz’s head up, cupping his cheeks in both hands, holding his cigar between his teeth as he tugged Gaz’s face up, grumbling around it as he continued his interrogation. “Does he let you cum down his throat?”

“Insists on it.” Gaz jerked his hips to a stop, precum dribbling down the leather as his breath choked in his throat. Fuck, he was close to coming.

“S’alright. Take your time.” Price’s thumb stroked his cheek. “Tell me how he fucks you.”

“Right.” Gaz tried to gather his thoughts away from how good it felt to have Ghost filling his ass as the memories flooded into his mind. “Likes to have you prepped, finger yourself open. One time… he had me and Soap prep each other.”

“Did he now?” Price murmured, brushing a tear off of Gaz’s cheek, his eyes sparking again at the mention of Soap.

“Yeah. He likes to be able to just sink into a hole and fuck. Hard, fast. Manhandles you. Won’t wait for you to come before he does.”

“Does he now?” Price’s brow furrowed. If Kyle was in a clearer state, he might have thought it was a look of disapproval.

“Makes up for it, though. Excellent aftercare. Cuddles you close, slowly jerks you off. Always makes you a bacon sandwich.”

“Ah, that explains where all our bacon goes.” Price gently ran his thumb along Gaz’s lip. “And what about when he lets you fuck him?”

Gaz’s dick twitched, as he remembered how Ghost had ended up underneath him that one night. “He begs.”

“He…”

“Begs. Does it really well… almost too well. And he cums loads. Makes a difference to see it all over him rather than in… in you.”

“Go on.” Price’s voice seemed faint to him now. Like he was far away. Not that it mattered, Gaz was going to ramble on whether the captain told him to or not.

“He’s loud. Whiney. Goes all pink, all over. Tight and squeezes like a vice.” Gaz swallowed, rubbing his dick up against the laces again.

“Does he?”

“Yeah.” Gaz squeezed his eyes shut.

“Go on. Come.”

“Fuck…” Gaz came, spreading his come over Price’s boot as he thought about fucking it deep into Ghost’s ass, all while Price cupped his face, murmuring gently above him.

Eventually, Price drew his leg back and lifted Gaz into his lap, guiding him up as Gaz’s legs shook underneath him, wrapping him securely in his arms before he spoke again.

“Thank you for telling me that.”

Gaz leant into his chest. “You’re welcome. Am… am I forgiven for being late?”

“Of course. Just see that it doesn’t become a habit.”

Gaz looped his arms around his neck. “Course it won’t.”

“Good. If there’s a next time, I’ll be having words with both you, and Ghost.”

“Words? Or watching?” Gaz nuzzled into Price’s neck.

He chuckled. “It’s like you read my mind.”

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love-minor-poltergeist · 4 months ago

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A/N: I saw the positive reception that my Barbi hcs and I wanted to say, from the bottom of my heart, thank you kindly!! I always find myself feeling apprehensive on deviating from the fandoms I usually write for, so the fact that you all seemed to liked my Barbi content means a lot! (〃＾▽＾〃)

In the spirit of things, I decided to try my hand at baking a batch of hcs for our lovely, awful Police Sergeant Coyle! I will admit that his character was a little bit more difficult to write for since there's a lot uncomfortable themes and ideals related to his character. However! I welcome the challenge and hope that these turned out okay. Lemme know what y'all think!!

!Content Warning!: There's a passing mention of CSA/Childhood Sexual Abuse since the comics implied that it happened, and while it's only mentioned very briefly, it's better to play it safe

General Leland Coyle Headcanons:

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Ever since his father served in the military briefly in WWII, which subsequently left the older man an invalid– having lost a foot and permanently unable to walk normally– Leland was left to carry out most of the physical labor around him and his family’s cattle farm. Pa would still insist on bossin’ him around, though, and Leland usually had to be the one to help him walk the fields while dealing with the cattle. Of course, once he joined the local police force, most of those duties fell upon his ma.

Granted, in his ever charming views, he always thought Ma did a crap job of the physical work, so he’d usually take over anyway. All the while he and Ma argued back and forth on the fields.

An average day, if he wasn’t off dealing with police duties, he’d watch the cattle and make sure they’ve eaten and prod any escapees back into the fields. He was none too gentle, either, and he’s earned his fair share of bruises and narrowly avoided a few nasty kicks. Leland’s even got a particularly nasty scar on his lower abdomen from getting gored by a rowdy heifer. It luckily wasn’t deep enough to get him sent to the hospital, but boy did his parents ridicule him for being dumb enough to let it happen in the first place.

Cannot cook for the life of him. Pa drilled it into his head that cooking was a woman's job, so he never really bothered to learn. All of the housework was handled by his wives, and god forbid if they wanted a break from it… During the brief stints between each marriage, Leland’s survived off diner food, cigarettes, coffee, and the occasional frozen tv dinner.

On the other hand, however, he’s completely fine with a man cooking if it’s to handle a grill. Hell, Pa was the one to teach him how to prepare meat after they’ve sent their cattle off to the slaughterhouse, and goddamn can he cook a mean steak. Now that he thinks about it, Leland sometimes wished he paid more attention on how to make fried chicken when his Ma tried to show him…

The Coyle family were devout Christians and attended Sunday mass each week. Of course, Leland doesn’t practice the religion much as he grew older, but much of the values taught to him remained; most of them perverted to fit his ideals.

Thanks to his chronic smoking habit, Leland’s appetite is close to nonexistent. He does it so much that the other officers of the Blackwell Police Department often joked about how Sergeant Coyle’s office may as well have been an oven with how much smoke emanated from his office. However, given how he’s the one to handle most of the paperwork until the asscrack of dawn, and with only a cigarette and numerous cups of coffee littering his desk to keep him going, no one really complained.

Usually shaves his head during the summer time. Sure, he’s a vain man, but it’s become a habit after his time in the military. Not to mention that it usually helped him keep cool during the days where he toiled in the fields with the sun beating down on he and Ma. The habit followed him into the Sinyala facility, where staff usually had to shear him down since, though he’s a Prime Asset and thus has special privileges, he’s still not to be trusted with anything sharp.

Has extensive firearm training. Pa first showed him how to handle a rifle whenever the farm had to deal with coyotes and stray dogs that harassed the livestock. On the offtime there wasn’t anything to shoot, young Leland was usually spotted by the fence posts in the outer perimeter of the farm, practicing his aim with a few cans and empty bottles. Which eventually graduated to shooting at any unlucky birds or cats that wandered too close to the property. He was also put in charge of putting down any sickly cattle, too, after Pa was left crippled.

His aim only got better thanks to his time in Okinawa. He’s got more experience in rifles and pistols, but he has a natural knack for machinery, and he’s a quick learner. Not to mention that he follows gun safety to a fuckin’ T…. Which only made him even more offended when he learned that some deformed, baby-talkin’ runt got a gun before he did in Sinyala.

Usually has a sore back after trials. Sure, he can handle lugging around that pontiac car battery on his back for hours if he needed to, but goddamn is that thing heavy. First thing he does after a trial is stretch until he hears his back pop.

Suffers from really nasty night terrors. Going back to his comic and how it briefly touched on how Leland’s exhibited signs of CSA, it’s highly possible that much of the abuse occurred behind closed doors and at night, where everyone else was asleep. He’s avoided sleep like the plague since then. Both as a means of trying to protect himself and not have to deal with constantly reliving the incident. He’s never talked to anyone about it, and refuses to do so.

He’s also coped with it via hypersexualising himself and inflicting pain on others. It gives him a sense of control and a rush of power that was stripped away from him. Silently vowed to never let himself be that vulnerable again.

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#the outlast trials #outlast fanfiction #headcanons #general headcanons #leland coyle #sergeant leland coyle #outlast trials headcanons #cw csa mention #tw csa mention

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yuyuwritesss · 5 months ago

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Repulsion

EmotionallyDysregulatedFem!reader x Simon Riley

Summary : Reader panics after being confronted by ghost.

A/N: Slight angst, fluff, reader is unexperienced and has a bit of a panic attack. Ghost comforts then teases her. This is my first work I hope you have a nice time reading it :') (Please let me know your thoughts).

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You were everywhere he looked.

Whenever he felt watched on base, more often than not it could be traced to your big judging eyes staring from a distance, barely holding his gaze before they are swiftly averted.

It wasn't anything out of the ordinary for him at first what with the sheer size of him, the mask and the reputation that preceeded him everywhere he went, but as time went by he found himself perplexed as to why your behavior persisted.

You two had never spoken for there was no need to, with him being a lieutenant and part of the scariest and most sought-after task force on base, and you being merely a recruit, still wet behind the ears and as far away as you can get from dealing with his crew.

He simply couldn't understand why you were so adamant on watching him when you thought he wasn't looking. Or maybe you didn't care that he knew you were. Didn't know what to make out of what lies behind your eyes the one second he gets to look into them before you take them off of him and set them in the complete opposite direction. You were a tough nut to crack and boy was he looking forward to hearing that sound while looking into your big doe eyes long enough to crack you.

You were shocked to say the least when you heard that he sent for you. On your way to his office you refused to think it was going to be about your little staring problem. Surely the big bad lieutenant had more things to worry about than a silly recruit who couldn't take her eyes of off him. But of course you were wrong. When did things ever go the way you expected them to.

"What's your problem?"

You heard as soon as you closed the door behind you after knocking and entering. It was your first time hearing his gruff voice and it sent shivers down your spine.

You turned around slowly hoping he couldn't see the slight stagger in your turn from both apprehension and incredulity.

He was sat on the edge of his desk with his hands curled on each side, his bulging thighs on display, his long muscled arms hidden by his uniform meeting the junctions of his equally hidden neck only by his mask instead, his slightly tilted head sitting on top and his brown eyes watching you, awaiting your response.

"Pardon?" you ask after it registered that he had asked you a question and didn't invite you to his office to ogle him as shamelessly as you do when you think he's not looking only to be met with the very same eyes that are closely watching you at the moment.

"Im askin' you precisely about what you were doin' just now" he says, straightening his posture as he gets off the desk and starts walking towards you.

He continues walking until he is as close as your sergeant gets when he's yelling at you to do your bed faster.

The truth was you were mesmerized by him. You couldn't help it that your eyes flew to him as soon as he was entered your line of sight. Not when he was physical attraction personified in your subconscious's opinion. His bulky form, muscles straining against fabric, the anonymous and mysterious air about him created by his mask and lack of information about his identity, all of this working together to make him out to be the perfect forbidden fruit and did you want to taste its sweet juice.

But you could never even dream about going there so you contented with the longing looks and the brief contact with his brown orbs whenever he caught you looking. It didn't help that you were helpless with men, they were akin to aliens that you denied contact, not for a lack of trying on their part, but simply for being what they are, and a man is a most dangerous thing, they've certainly proved that time and time again.

You couldn't help your attraction for the very few that met your criteria though, and it wasn't merely physical, it included allusions to the kind of people they were in a way you couldn't explain, and you unfortunately were so far from being experienced that you didn't know how to get what you wanted without everything else, never knowing the right thing to say or even getting as far as talking to them, your hitching breath and increasingly warm face at the moment a clear testimony of that. You were easily intimidated by them but just as easily prone to falling in love with them. And you couldn't stop the fantasies, the sweaty detailed daydreams of a warm body sticking to yours, his weight nearly crushing your organs and silencing your roaring thoughts. Bringing you up enough to finally feel the way normal people do for a few hours. You were surprised with how rampant your imagination could run for someone who has never known for themselves what a realationship of this nature entails, resorting to dreaming up fairytails that couldn't solve your problems and hoping to strike gold without ever picking up an axe.

Maybe he, the man standing so close to you right now you were envelopped in his deep nutty with a hint of cherry scent, could read the jumbeled mess of repulsion and disfigured attraction in your eyes, and it made him weary. He couldn't possibly understand why a stranger who didn't know him beyond the things that were said about him could harbor these feelings, your body giving you away, pointing towards a slight anxiety as you didn't know what to do with that attraction, you almost wish you didn't feel it at all but God did it give you something to look forward to everyday, even if it always went the exact same way with you not fathoming that it could even go any further than a stare.

What if he could easily read your mind, knew everything there was to know about about the kind of person you were, he probably thinks you're pathetic for feeling the way you do, and letting it grow so big. Sure enough it wouldn't be anything you hadn't thought about your self before, you blamed yourself enough as it is for your wandering mind and overflowing emotion, wished you were in control, but any semblance of it was torn asunder by your opinion of yourself and the way you felt which continued to bring it down.

More often than not you felt out of place on base, a place where feelings of every nature and especially romantic, if you could call yours that, were left at the door. You hated how disgusted you would become with yourself but the disgust felt justified when everyone seemed to have it together but you, sure it didn't get in the way of training, but why must you suffer for something that could never bear fruit.

"...'Ey, you alright?"

Now that he was so close to you, you just didn't know what to do, eyes locked on where his mouth is supposed to be under the mask, face betraying your unease and attraction, the latter a mirror of the former to the untrained eye, you didn't notice how your breath had picked up and your chest had started heaving. Suddenly you felt two giant hands on your shoulders, nearly fully envelopping them, they were shaking you gently, and looking up you came panicked eye to slightly worried eye with the lieutenant, you had forgotten where you were for a moment as you fell down the rabbit hole of self loathing, your head swimming in a pond of confusion and panic. You wanted to self destruct right then and there but his hands on you kept you grounded.

"Come on, let's sit you down." he said, moving you to one of the chairs by his desk and kneeling in front you, his hands which were on your shoulder, slowly started moving up and down your arms, and with them your breathing started calming down, your eyes fixed on your lap.

"Are you better now, love?" He asks, after your breathing went back to normal and you seemed to have calmed down, his hands halted their movement at your elbows and rested there, with a gentle hold on the upper part of your forearms.

"Yes, I'm sorry about that, and im sorry for staring at you all the time, i know itsrudebutican'thelpitbutIpro-" You said hurriedly in one breath, your eyes still fixed on your lap, but a gentle touch on your chin shut you up and nudged your head up, your eyes coming in contact with his once again, his beautiful brown eyes looking at you with such gentleness you didn't know what to do with yourself. So you settled for looking into them, and trying to memorize every pattern in them. His brown didnt seem as dark with slightly lighter radial streaks going around his pupils, and a few darker freckles decorating his iris. You were so engrossed in studying his eyes that you almost missed what he said next.

"Take it easy, will you? First tell me what made you panic." he said, taking his fingers off your chin and setting hid hand on the chair's arm right by yours, all while keeping his other hand on your elbow and your legs between his squatting knees.

"It's nothing really," you said while shaking your head and forcing yourself to look into his eyes, "Sometimes i get nervous while talking to new people, I'm really sorry you had to see that."

"Stop apologizing," he said his eyes firmer now but still so gentle, keeping you at ease with his proximity and the whole situation you found yourself in. "There has to be more to that.".

"I assure you there isn't" you say, with an earnest look in your eyes "i just never really talk to men." you say before you stop yourself and end up face-palming with heat rising up your hidden face.

Suddenly you hear a low chuckle "i usually dont talk to women either" you give him an embarrassed glare thinking he's mocking you "none on the task force" he adds and you see an outline of a smile under his mask which you stare at for a while before he says again "I probably would have approached it better if i did"

"approached what? "

"Your staring problem".

You quickly stand up in surprise your face getting more red than ever then you realize that your crotch is in his face so you sit down just as fast which makes him chuckle, you then lean towards him and say in a panic "I swear I dont do it on purpose, have you seen yourself?"

He sets his elbows on his thighs and says with a smile "what about me?"

Your face gets even more red which you thought wasn't possible anymore, your voice quivering slightly "i think i should head back, they'll probably think i deserted at this rate" he holds your gaze for what seems like eternity before he stands up and back, leaving you just enough space to move past him and go for the door before he reaches out and grabs your wrist gently,

"I'm not mad at it, i just wanted to understand, and now i think i do." His smirk apparent through his mask.

Your eyes widen and you move for the door but right as you hold the knob you look over your shoulder and say, your thoughts racing "you couldn't possibly get it."

A mix between surprise and amusement paints his mask-clad face and right as you close the door you hear

"We'll see about that."

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #ghost cod #cod #fluff #cod fluff #simon riley

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wantonlywindswept · 2 months ago

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10/10 fox day: forgotten fox bit

to celebrate fox day you get more of the next section of the forgotten fox au, which contains...zero fox actually present x_X

i am trying okay

---

Bucket, for the crimes of having an excellent sabacc face and a hip that seized up when moving any faster than a light jog, was often stuck manning the Guard HQ front desk.

They didn't get too many natborns coming through these days, at least, now that the CSF were forced to do their own jobs and had taken over guarding the prison. The Guard was back to being a protective, high-level military force instead of doing all the domestic policing and drudgework they'd been relegated to. They were still beholden to the Senate, but things had gotten better since Palpatine died and Organa took office, even if some of the Dome's denizens still saw them as little better than droids.

So Bucket didn't have to deal with that at least--he could, he got his name from being able to fit his demeanor to whatever the situation needed it, swapping faces like you could swap a helmet--but he did still have to deal with the regular comers and goers. Thankfully, that was mostly clones, plus the new addition of the pack of Jedi healers that descended on medbay once a week.

Interesting bunch, the Jedi. A lot more personable than Bucket had thought they would be. Surprisingly calm up until you admitted to using a soldering torch to close an acute laceration.

(It wasn't even a recent injury--it happened so long ago that it was already healed. But now Master Nema gave Bucket the stink eye whenever she saw him, like she was trying to determine how medically stupid he'd been in her absence.)

"--figure what they were going on about?"

Bucket snapped to attention as the exterior doors slid open, a placid expression settling across his features. He turned toward the voice--only to relax when he caught sight of the visitors.

"Just something about another shift in the Force," Marshal Commander Cody said, offering Captain Rex a shrug. "It's not as bad as when Palpatine died; nobody passed out this time, at least."

"Small mercies," Commander Gree observed, bringing up the rear behind them. He had four takeout containers cradled in one arm, and by the smell they were from the offensively good noodle cart that parked near the base of the Rotunda. Bucket took a deep, envious breath and decided he was definitely going there for latemeal.

This particular group of GAR troopers--along with Commanders Bly and Wolffe--were a familiar enough sight at Guard HQ. They didn't visit often, almost eternally deployed to the front lines, but whenever their leaves lined up they usually made an appearance. Bucket had never seen all five together at once, but maybe that would change now that the war was over and battalions were being called back to Coruscant.

"Commanders, Captain," he greeted, standing up behind the counter to salute. His second for the day, Kelari, hastily copied the action.

Cody waved the formality away with the sign for 'at ease', nodding at the two of them in turn.

"Sergeant Bucket," he greeted. "And I don't think I know..?"

"Private Kelari, sir!" Kelari chirped. She was still painfully shiny, wide-eyed and awestruck as she stared up at the Marshal Commander, and Bucket allowed the gaping with fond indulgence.

She was one of their most recent acquisitions, part of a squadron that arrived after the death of the Chancellor. The group didn't have any direct experience with the war or the suffering that came with it, and the entire Guard were doing their damndest to make sure they never would.

"Private Kelari," Cody acknowledged, one side of his mouth ticking up. "Good to meet you."

Kelari beamed; Bucket shooed her away so he could get back in front of the security screens.

"The Jedi up to shenanigans again?" he asked as he pulled up the admittance forms.

Rex sighed, heavily, and Cody shot him an amused look.

"Let's just say," Gree said, "That it will be nice to avoid more half-coherent explanations on how the Force works in the future."

Bucket snorted, starting to fill out the usual info. The Guard never got a Jedi--and with the reveal of Palpatine being a Sith, they now knew why--but he had to admit he was glad they never needed to deal with the often-inexplicable Jedi tendency to rely so much on some invisible cosmic power.

"Captain CT-7567," he recited idly as his fingers flicked across the keys, "Commander CC-2224, and Commander CC-1004, here to see Commander--"

Bucket blinked at the 'reason for visit' box.

This batch of clones had been visiting the entire war, either by themselves or together, whenever their rare leave allowed. They came often enough that if Bucket wasn't the one that would suffer the datawork hassle later, he would have just waved them on through.

He was familiar enough with them to know that Cody's infamous scar came from a sparring accident, that Gree had three half-finished xenobiology research papers that he hoped to someday publish, and that Rex had been forcibly adopted by the CC clones without being allowed any input in the matter. He knew that Wolffe had three implanted teeth from multiple attempts at biting trainers through their armor as a cadet, and that Bly sometimes mixed up his letters and numbers and had almost been decommissioned as a result.

And Bucket had no idea what to put in the box.

He slowly lifted his gaze from the half-finished form to meet Cody's eyes.

Missing memories weren't that uncommon, in the Guard, but as Bucket watched confusion steal across Cody's face--as that confusion shifted into rising unease and panicked alarm--he didn't think it was just a Guard problem, anymore.

#tcw fanfiction #forgotten fox #commander fox #clone trooper oc bucket #technically also #clone trooper oc kelari #but i don't really have much on her yet #anyway hey we're getting closer to The Reveal!#slowly #very slowly #this also marks a tone change from the Shenanigans from previous bits #which ngl is probably part of why i'm having trouble with it #i usually have a srs writing project and a shenanigans project at the same time #but the shenanigans have become the srs #it has Thrown Off My Groove

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callofdudes · 1 year ago

Note

Not the one that requested, but I think for the ace reader request’s wording, they meant the reader views the guys romantically but doesn’t confess as they are ace(not aroace) in fear of future rejection

Ooooh, oh that makes sense. Oops.... Well I might just write it all over again 🫣😬 that's my bad folks. That's my bad. So I'll just rewrite the prompt here and figure it out?? Same thing with the right prompt this time. I think I've got it this time.

It's literally almost the same writing of course I changed things, I just wasn't feeling trying to get creative all over again I'm sorry-

Telling them you love them... (Again)

Summary: Ace!Reader struggling to confess to the boys out of fear of not being sexually attracted to them.

Ghost 💀

You knew Ghost wasn't keen on love. He wasn't really keen on anything. So attempting to tell him you loved and appreciated him without being given a glare and a smack in the face was hard.

You usually kept to buying him gifts on the occasion, aiming to finish the paperwork he gave you early. But it all never felt like real appreciation.

You didn't want Ghost thinking that you were into him sexually. Yes you could admit he was attractive but it wasn't like that. That's where the struggles of your confessions lay... You were into him, so romantically swooned over him. And yet you wouldn't see him sexually if you were paid a million bucks. Because that just wasn't it.

It was easier just to write him a note, put down all your complicated emotions on paper and hope he would understand. And you dropped it in his office, worried he would freak out and yell at you for everything you said.

You were looking at documents on your computer when Ghost came into your office, completely unannounced.

"Sergeant."

"Oh- lieutenant!"

He holds up the note, placing it gently on your desk. You look down, immediately feeling ashamed of what you wrote. You wanted to cower away, not knowing how he would react. Would he be mad?? He obviously thought you liked him by the way he came in.

"I'm not mad, I'd just like to talk."

You flick your eyes back up, still feeling ashamed of the things you'd written.

"But I don't... Well, y'know."

"It's not like that..." You mutter, suddenly afraid to look up at him. Ghost's stance softens, voice getting a bit calmer.

"I hope it's not." He steps forward.

You frown, looking up at him. "I love you... Just romantically. I just didn't know how to tell you..."

He nods a little, piecing everything together again.

"And don't think its because of you, no no, I just-" Ghost stepped forward, his eyes locking with yours and he nodded. " I think I understand."

You smile, feeling relief fill you. "You gonna say it back??"

He huffs. "Maybe one day."

"I'll take that." You smiled and squeezed his hand.

The man hummed and nodded, squeezing your hand back. "Thank you I guess... You're not too bad yourself."

You chuckle and stand, eagerly embracing him. "I love you, Simon."

He tensed, but patted your back gently. "I know." He smiled softly. Embracing you firmer than before, resting the fabric of his mask against your forehead where you could feel the warm breaths against your skin. You knew this would work out. You weren't scared anymore.

Gaz 🧢

Gaz was quiet and reserved. Not like Ghost, but he was a private person. He preferred most of his time alone and you often wondered how Soap managed to drag him into such a tight knit friendship.

But you'd also grown close to Gaz. He wasn't as good with expressing his feelings in words he thought fit, so he just tried not to.

But you knew him for him. The music he liked, the movies and the bands. You two would spend hours just laughing and talking together in the quietness of the base, the best of friends.

You have wanted to express to Gaz how much you love him for a while now. Because you truly had fallen in love with him. But considering both of you couldn't get a grasp for proper words, you were afraid he would misunderstand.

Especially since you only saw him romantically. Funny little thing, but all you wanted was that soft, gentle affection and to finally be able to wrap your arms around him without fear. And yet you could never say it.

You were waiting by the cargo station, knee bouncing as you waited for the plane to open. Their mission had been met with problems and there was a slim chance they'd all come back alive.

When you saw Gaz you immediately ran to him, pulling him into your arms and hugging him tightly. "Oh thank goodness."

Gaz was a little surprised but hugged you back. You both stood there like that for a bit until you said it, you didn't care. You'd bottled it in in fear for so long, and you'd almost lost him. You almost lost your best friend. "I love you so much."

Gaz didn't question it. Didn't dig into it. He only held you tighter, reassuring you he loved you back, and he wasn't going anywhere. There wasn't any need for clarification, there just was. You pulled away enough to look into his eyes, and the relief filled you both to the brim, you'd sort it out later, go through the details later. For now, you were here and he was alive.

"You should get cleaned up. I'll make you some tea as well."

Gaz smiles. "You're awesome, thank you." He leans forward and presses a soft, almost feather light kiss to your cheek.

"Don't worry, I know." He whispered, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. You didn't have to worry, he knew about your sexuality. And he was perfectly ok with it.

And without a second thought you both parted ways for a time.

Sure, you'd sort the fine details out later, but right now there wasn't a question about where this was headed.

Price 🥃

Price was a warm yet harsh soul. You'd known him for a couple years and he'd been amazing guidance for you. Always a light you could follow. In the darkest of times you could always reach for his hand and be assured you'd find it.

You'd recently found yourself swooning over him. You wanted to be in his embrace, feel those reassuring and firm hugs. His beard against your forehead when he kissed your head while talking softly.

And yet. Because of your ranks the scandelousness of a relationship was a bit tedious in the work forece. Sexual or not. But you didn't have sexual feelings for him. You were swimming in the ocean of love. But that was it.

After a recent mission you'd come back a little scratched up. You thought you were going to die and were in tears when you walked over to Price, feeling his arms wrap around you to comfort you.

He hadn't been there with you that time. But you were relieved to be back. Even when he pulled you into his office to clean your face you were still softly crying.

"It's alright sergeant, I've got you..." Price reassured as he pressed the alcohol pad to your chin.

You sniffled, wiping a tear from your cheek. "Price??"

"Yes sergeant. I'm right here."

You sniffle. "You know I love you right?"

He looks deep into your eyes, taking a moment to process your body language and fully understand. "I love you too sergeant. I'm glad you're ok."

You nodded a little. "You... You know it's not sexual right? I'm sorry if..." You said weakly. The earlier regret of the mission had made you slip your tongue, and now you felt more anxiety.

"I know kid, I know." He patted your shoulder. "Come here, you're still a little shaken up aren'tcha?"

You nod and crawl into his arms, feeling him hug you tightly. "It's alright. I'm here." He runs his hand up to the your nape of your neck, reassuring you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "This alright?"

You nod, clinging to him.

"Alright. We'll sort all these feelings out together in the morning ok? But I understand, and its ok."

"I love you Price." You choked out again. He softly shushed you, keeping you in his arms. "I know Y/n, I know."

Soap 🧼

Johnny was not unfamiliar with your secrets. He knew you very well and had come to learn of your lack of sexual attraction to others. Didn't change how he saw you, you were still his bestie.

He himself was conflicted in if he should tell you that he loves you. He didn't know how you might take it and wanted to remain respectful of you and your boundaries.

You laid on his bed with him, listening and joking as he told you a story about setting off a small bomb near the recruit bathrooms.

He was laughing so hard his face turned red, smiling wide as his hand brushed across yours while trying to find air.

You smiled back, gently taking his hand in yours. You watched his cheeks tint red and it makes your heart flutter. You were so in love with him. But knowing Soap... You were so scared to confess to him. Especially with your lack of sexual attracion and knowing he wanted kids in he future.

You'd bothed talked about your ideal future relatonship, and though you were almot perfect for each other, the differences were staggering to say the least.

But the way he was looking at you. With tha lost look of utter happiness as he talked to you...

"Soap??" You look up at him with a slightly less whimsy gaze, contemplating the heaviness of your next words.

"Soap, I just want you to know... You're my best friend and.." you squeeze his hand. "I love you."

He slowly calmed down and looked at you. "Oh... you do?" He could see the look in your eye and shuffled closer, getting slightly into your bubble without realizing.

You felt comfortable with him. So incredibly comfortable. All those years fretting and worrying what he'd think. All you saw right now was the smile of your best friend and how much you were in love with him...

Soap is a little quiet for a moment. "Not sexual right?"

His frown makes you worry as you rush to explain as best you could all over again. You just really love him and everything about him. Just not sexually.

It makes a smile spread across his face. He takes your hand and places it against his chest. "You are the most amazing person in the whole world y/n. I don't know what I'd ever do without you. I love you too."

"You're sure... but, our futures?"

He leaned in, cupping your chin. "We'll figure it out, promise?''

You smile softly, happy to have said it. He leaned in, warm breath drifting over your lips. "Can I kiss you?" He asked. You nod, and before you know it, his lips are sinking against yours.

König 🐙

You sighed, bouncing your knee in agitation. The thought of your first solo mission... You'd be lying if you said it wasn't daunting. You'd always gone on missions with König or different members from KorTac. But you'd never been assigned your own mission.

You started to question if you'd be good enough and could get home ok. It made you worry, if you'd ever come back.

You were wrapped up in your thoughts, not noticing the large figure who sat down next to you, leaning over to look at your face. "What has you looking like that y/n?"

You looked up at the sound of his voice and sighed. "I'm just nervous about the mission..."

He nodded understandingly and took your hand in his. "You'll be alright. I do not doubt your abilities one bit you know. You'll do it."

You chuckle softly. "You say that now but... What if I get hurt??"

"Then I'll come find you." He squeezes your hand. "But you will be alright."

Your heart clenches hearing him say that. You'd found yourself falling in love with Konig after a bit of time working with him. And now you were contemplating telling him. The only thing keeping you nack was well... You weren't sexually attracted to him. And you didn't want Koing to take it the wrong way.

You squeeze his hand a little tighter.

"König? You know... You've really been a good friend. And you've helped me grow so much since I've been here... I really don't know what I'd do without you here with me."

He tutted softly. "Do not start writing the words for your obituary, y/n."

You sigh, leaning against his shoulder, relishing the last hours you have with him before you'll be sent off. "I... I love you König... You know that? You're everything to me. I know it hasn't been two years but-"

"Shh" he squeezes your hand. "Take some deep breaths." He smiles softly. "I love you too, but do not expect you to be going anywhere soon. Ok?"

You relax, seeing how it wasn't a big deal. "It's not... sexual though, but It doesn't mean I dont love you, I'm very attracted to you, but it's not... Like that."

He hummed again. "We'll talk about all this in detail when you get back. And you will return, alright?''

You nod once more. "Thank you König. Thank you."

He squeezes your hand again gently. For reassurance. To tell you no matter what he was there. No matter what.

Alejandro & Rudy.

Alejandro sighed loudly, flopping down on the couch next to you and Rodolfo.

"Well well, welcome back Mr. Vargas." You chuckle, putting down your phone to see his tired expression. "How did it go?" Rodolfo asked lazily, eyes still trained on his book, curled up on the couch, his thigh against yours.

"I'm so glad to be off my feet." Alejandro sighed, grabbing the tv remote and turned it on, flipping through the shows before finding something to play.

He gets back up again and wanders into the kitchen, grabbing three ice cold drinks, tossing the other two to you guys who eagerly catch them and crack them open.

Alejandro huffs when he sits back down, taking a swig and finally relaxing. "Glad to be back with my two favorite people."

You and the boys were close enough and comfortable enough that you were ok with their physical touch, so you were used to Alejandro wrapping a respectful arm around your shoulder and you'd usually end up snuggled up, giving Rodolfo the room to join when he wanted.

Today was no different as you snuggled up to his side and felt his warmth. "Geez, maybe you need a bath. And you smell fuckin' awful." You snort.

Rodolfo chuckles and nods. "I can smell you from here Ale."

The man only rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Ya both better appreciate my presence. It's a gift."

"We do appreicate you Ale."

Considering how romantically fallen down the stairs you were for these two you were surprised you hadn't confessed yet. Always relishing the times you got loving physical contact with them. But knowing Ale as the flirt you always hesitate confessing your romantic attraction. Especially as it wasn't backed by sexual attraction.

You snuggled closer. "You work really hard for us Alejandro. You deserve all the rest today." You smile and hug his waist. You really did appreciate him. The fear and the worry of what he might think, of how he'd feel if you ever expressed it... But you went for it. You wanted him to know how much you appreciated him. You really did.

"You know... I love you, Ale. Like I said, you're amazing and you support us so much. Working your butt off like this just so we get a few hours off."

But they both were aware of your sexual preferences. That being none, so hearing this from you, they knew it was nothing but soft affection you had in your heart for them...

Alejandro smiled softly, his arm wrapping a little tighter around you. "Is that so??" He chuckled. "Not even you could resist falling in love with this eh?"

You roll your eyes playfully as he pulls you closer by the shoulder and kisses the top of your head. "I love you too y/n."

You stick out your foot, bumping your feet against Rodolfo's. "You too mister!" He looks up and smiles. "You are good y/n, it's a blessing to have you with us."

"Then come here you, get in on the cuddles."

Rodolfo huffs and puts down his book, but curls up with you two as you all watch the show. He leans in and nuzzles his nose against your neck, kissing your jaw briefly. Soft affection. Nothing better than spending time with your two favorite people.

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peachfridges · 1 year ago

Note

Heyyyy how are you?? can I request a price x reader? 😭 TYSM

have a good day/night

late that night

summary: you return back from a mission and find yourself going straight to a certain man.

cw: fluff, pre-established relationship, can be read platonically tbh, price is a worrier, mentions of light injuries

pairing: john price x reader

word count: 558

notes: hey anon! i’m doing really well thanks <33 stressed over the mw3 trailer and wtf is gonna happen to soap and price?! i’m so sorry for taking so long to post this but i took a break from writing for a tad too long and now i’m struggling again lololol. ghost request hopefully (fingers crossed fr) will be finished soon but enjoy this short one for the time being!

exhaustion laced every muscle as you dragged your aching body through the base. it was quiet, peaceful almost. there wasn’t many people around, it was late at night and you knew that most would either be asleep or finishing off paperwork for previous missions. that was what you were supposed to be doing right now: paperwork. after spending four days on a ruthless mission that had taken a toll on you more than you cared to admit, you weren’t even given a chance to rest without having to relive the events of the last few days.

you decided it wouldn’t be tonight that you would do it. being a sergeant did in fact have its perks in a job like this. instead, your legs carries you in a familiar direction, one you took more often than you probably should, for one reason or another.

entering the rec room, you saw ghost finishing off his last mission’s report. happy to finally see someone you knew, you got his attention, “hey ghost.”

his eyes met yours and he visibly relaxed, his rough manchester accent filling the atmosphere around the two of you, “hey y/n. long mission?”

you smiled knowingly, aware that your dark circles had only deepened since you had been away. “you could say that.”

he chuckled slightly and signed off his report, “if you’re going to see him, mind taking this with you? i would take it to him myself but i don’t want to interrupt the two of you.” he looked slightly apologetic with his request, but you appreciated his sentiment.

“of course, now go get some rest.” ghost nodded at your words and made his way to his room. you got changed into something more comfortable than your previous gear. you looked over yourself in the mirror, your dark circles were in fact worse, but the faint outline of a black eye was forming around one. you sighed, fingers reaching to your busted lip which had only recently stopped bleeding. bruises and scrapes cluttered your skin in countless different places, but you knew you’d gotten off a lot better than you could’ve done.

you sighed, but still continued on your previous path towards the captain’s office.

you knocked on his door before opening it gently, as price glanced up at you with a soft smile on his face. you instantly felt better at the sight of him, placing ghost’s report on his desk and sitting on the chair facing him. he took a quick glance through the lieutenant’s papers before placing them to the side. his eyes met yours once again and studied your face, concern glistening in his eyes as he noticed the visible injuries.

you picked up on his concern, quickly attempting to put his mind to rest, “i’m fine, john. been through worse and you know i have.”

he stands up and sighs deeply, your eyes following his movements. “i worry about you.”

“i know you do, but i’m fine. i mean it.” you reach over to him and hold his hand, feeling him relax under your touch. his chest was rising and falling more steadily, and his shoulders had fallen into a casual stance. you smiled as you stood up and hugged your captain. “can’t get rid of me that easily.”

price’s deep chuckle filled the room, “oh trust me, i know.”

#modern warfare 2 #call of duty #captain john price #john price x reader #john price #modern warfare #mw2 #simon riley #simon ghost riley

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venigni · 1 year ago

Text

Lies of P Teacher AU

Mr. P: Instrumental Music

He prefers to express himself through music and conduction rather than words. He is very kind, soft spoken, and handsome, so a lot of people have crushes on him. His grey hair despite his youth is a mystery to the entire student body, who often circulate rumors about it. No one knows what the P stands for, either.

The Corday Sisters: Choir

The Cordays are a sisterly duo who teach choral classes and also manage the school's show choir.

Mr. Carlo: English Literature

He refuses to use his last name because of the association with his father who teaches at the same school. He is very casual with his students and jokes around a lot, but is also a very harsh grader and isn't afraid to be outright mean to misbehaving students, a similarity he shares with his father. However, he's so down-to-earth (and handsome) that most don't hold it against him. He's so different from Mr. P that most forget they're brothers even if they have identical faces.

Romeo: Language Arts & Drama

Romeo teaches theater history and LA to the younger students of the high school while Mr. Carlo handles the older ones. Their classrooms are next to each other and they're constantly hanging out in each other's. Some students suspect there might be something going on between the two of them. Romeo is easygoing and very casual, and asks to be called by his first name to create a more comfortable environment. He has a pride flag on his desk and also runs the drama club after school.

Signor Geppetto: Art

The second oldest but definitely meanest teacher at the school. Art is NOT a slack off elective. He runs class like a drill sergeant and has very high expectations most fail to meet. He's a world-renowned artist from Italy. It's considered a rarity to see him smiling and only a select handful can attest to ever witnessing it. People often transfer out of his class after the first week, and it's common to see students leave his classroom in tears. Some are stuck up and talented enough to get into his inner circle and always shittalk others' work while they eat their lunches in his classroom, or hang out there after school, which Signor Geppetto isn't shy about joining in on. This makes him revered to just a select few.

Mr. Giangio: Agricultural Studies

He's the newest teacher at the school and is considered very odd. He's always misplaced something and dresses overly formal. The students are convinced he has no idea what he's doing and are learning alongside them. The advanced students even seem more knowledgeable than he...Seriously, why is he at this school?

Belle & Atkinson: Physical Education & Health

A husband-and-wife duo that wear matching track suits every day. They're tough, but kind, and take what they do very seriously. Prefer to be called by their first names.

Mr. Alidoro: History

Despite his youthful appearance, this guy knows a ton and has the experience to back it up. He makes history interesting to students by tying in real-life stories about his adventures. Some insist they have to be fake, but he does have a ton of relics on display all over the classroom to prove them. He has a service dog that is with him in class every day. The kids love him!

Mr. Hugo: History - Student Teacher

Mr. Hugo is Mr. Alidoro's student teacher. He's studying to be a history teacher himself and is a big fan of Mr. Alidoro. Seems like an eager puppy himself. It makes for an interesting dynamic in the classroom that entertains students. Some people think he might have a crush on him since he seems so eager to bend over backwards. Mr. Alidoro seems oblivious to it.

Miss Monad: Basic Social Studies & Psychology

Miss Monad is very pretty and very kind. She is loved by all and students never misbehave in her presence. Those who do early on in the semester get so much hate from their peers, they never dare to do so again. She always wears a pretty butterfly brooch somewhere on her outfit. It seems very special to her, and she tells those who ask as much, but no one really knows what it means. She seems to have a very good understanding of her subject and her gentleness commands a certain respect from both kids and her peers.

Mr. Manus seems to have a crush on her and keeps visiting her classroom whenever he can since it's down the hall from his, but when he is around seems to be the only time she is a bit sharp. She's not afraid to tell him to bug off, even if it is in a very polite way.

Mr. Gemini: Robotics & Computer Sciences

Mr. Gemini is great with technology and anything computer-related. He talks a lot and is kind of a stereotypical nerd. He gets very excited when students take interest in his subject and geeks out right alongside them. He's a total chatterbox and spends his lunch hour in Mr. P's classroom listening to the music being played. They seem to be best friends and make a funny duo, since Mr. P barely says a word and Mr. Gemini can't shut up.

Mr. Venigni: Basic Sciences & Physics

A famous inventor who was invited to teach in Krat by Principal Cerasani so that he could spread his breadth of knowledge with the next generation of scientists. He dresses very eccentric, has a funny mustache, and at first, a lot of students have difficulty understanding his heavy Italian accent. Even though some can find his subject hard, he makes sure every student gets the help they need and is actually very thoughtful. He makes sure his students are prepared for Mr. Manus's classes, but something about the way his usual cheerful demeanor changes around him tells kids that they might not actually get along despite teaching in the same department.

Mr. Manus: Chemistry & Advanced Sciences

Mr. Manus is older, but is still considered one of the more handsome teachers at the school. He is very charismatic and is always friendly outside of the classroom, which encourages students to sign up for his advanced classes even if they're not the best at science. He playfully shittalks Mr. Venigni from time to time, which can rub some the wrong way. He doesn't seem to get along with the other teachers in general. He's strict but fair, and overall somehow kind of intimidating despite his outwardly gentle smile. A bit of an enigma.

Mr. Pulcinella - Home Economics

Mr. Venigni's adoptive father, though no one actually knows that. He's the oldest teacher at the school. He's soft-spoken and very kind, but a little boring to some. Others enjoy the calming and very peaceful atmosphere his classroom brings; it's a boon within an otherwise busy school day.

Miss Eugénie: Woodworking & Shop

She's young and very pretty. She teaches shop and because of her wit and general likability, a lot of students end up crafting gifts for her. Her little office is floor-to-ceiling project presents that have been given to her over the few years she's been teaching. Even people uninterested in shop take it just because they hear such good things about her. She isn't afraid to speak her mind, though, and if something is ugly--she'll tell it to your face. That doesn't mean she'll cherish it any less.

Ms. Cerasani & Mr. Polendina: Principal & Her Right-hand Associate Principal

Everyone loves Ms. Cerasani! She is very kind and has created a very loving environment in the school. She is always willing to listen to her staff and is patient with everyone. She actually was a famous pianist in her youth, and sometimes she stops by Mr. P's classroom to play a song for the students, who listen in awe and amazement. Mr. Polendina is a stickler for rules which sometimes makes him the butt of student jokes, just because he's so very uptight.

#lies of p #LoP #neowiz #lies of p x reader #lies of p headcanons #i have no idea what compelled me to write this but here you are #feel free to add on to this if youd like #long post #headcanon

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sheeple · 1 year ago

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I'm not the best at these kinds of things (headcanons) but I just had to put it out into the world before I go crazy. This is mostly inspired by DEATH by Melanie Martinez (link). It's half-baked and has no real end. Do with it what you want Warning(s): death / wonky use of past and present tense Part 2 (ish)

Okay so I've had this idea of a soldier (you) that's a human experiment done by the government

And through science or something you are immortal and heal really quick

Like a stab wound is nothing, a bullet is maybe an hour or two

Very indestructible

You get bounced around different squads and countries

And when it's time to move on, you get from their handler the signal that they have to fake their death the next time you go on a mission

It has been like that for years until the 141

At first, the boys don't trust this random soldier Laswell claims is needed until they actually see the absolute beast that is you (you know how to fight and fight well)

Price likes you because you're a fighter. You know how to follow orders and have great discipline

Ghost is iffy at first, but when you take a bullet and a knife to the shoulder for him he sees that you're not just some rando that's temporarily placed with them. He also feels like he owes you

Gaz and Soap are happy to have your company

I feel like they are the most likely to actually talk to you. They don't trust you immediately (Soap does after what you did for Ghost)

Soap is also happy to no longer be the youngest around

It's honestly a surprise to you that you mesh with the Task Force so well

Because most soldiers see you more as a hindrance than an asset

And you're honestly glad to have not received a message to move on

Days turn to weeks, and weeks turn into months that you're with the 141

This is the longest that you've been with one team and you feel at home

You train with Ghost and celebrate every time you manage to beat him. The man actually laughs when you flop him onto his back and you jump up and down

You help Gaz with cooking when it's his duty. He's a horrible cook, but with your help, his pasta doesn't taste like dog piss

You keep Price company while he does paperwork. He takes your cup of steaming coffee with a grateful smile before turning back towards the file. You take place on the chair in front of his desk and read

You and Soap are often found outside playing soccer together or on the shooting range. He teaches you about explosives and you improve his reloading speed

Everything is fine and you actually feel like a member of the 141. You even think they forgot about you until you've got called into Price's office for a secured phonecall

Price eyes you as you receive the news to get yourself KIA on the next mission and report to your handler

The captain raises his brows and you lie that it was a message from your family. Something about a cousin getting married.

You even joke with the guys before the briefing about how your parents felt the need to go above and beyond to bring you the news

The mission is simple; get in, extract the hostage, and get out.

You're quiet on the way towards the location, your mind racing a million miles an hour about how you're supposed to leave this

How you're expected to leave the first people who felt like home to you since... ever

You don't notice that a tear has escaped you until Soap has laid a hand on your shoulder. You quickly wipe it away and give the sergeant a smile, reassuring him you're okay

The mission went smoothly until Ghost radioed in that the hostage had a bomb strapped to their chest

You see your opportunity and make your way over to Ghost. He's concerned when you tell him you can free the hostage from their vest

And you do so, successfully

The hostage is free and Ghost is leading them away

You grab your chance and mess with the vest, making it display ten seconds until detonation

"Ghost... Run..."

He turns around, his eyes wide behind the mask. They flicker between you and the vest in your hands

Seeing that the lieutenant isn't moving, you take your own initiative and start running

Away from Task Force 141

Away from your guys

The vest explodes and it makes the building above you collapse and burn. You manage to crawl out under the rubble and get to the rendezvous point that your handler has given you

A chopper is already waiting for you once you get there

Teary-eyed, you watch the buildings grow smaller and smaller until you're too far away from them

Meanwhile...

Soap tries to dig you out from under the rubble but gets pulled away by Ghost

He fights the lieutenant as tears stream over his face

Task Force 141 is sombre once they arrive back at the base and give you an unofficial burial

One of the hardest things Price ever had to do was report your death to Laswell

Months pass before the boys are a semblance of okay. They are no stranger to death and they know they have to move on, but you were something else

There is a you-shaped hole in the team's heart that won't close for a very long time

You are being bounced around again to different teams all over the world

Until KorTac

You've received word that KorTac bought you and that you've got a new handler

That being König

At first, he isn't thrilled about taking care of you. That is until he sees how capable you are

Where König goes, so do you

It's one of those missions that the unthinkable happens

You're scoping a building, clearing a path for König when you spot familiar figures at the end of the hallway

"Shit", you curse, pressing yourself to the wall

König looks at you with raised eyebrows before peeking around the corner

At the end of the hallway stand Soap and Gaz, and you have no way of escaping without hurting them

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hastalavistabyebye · 6 months ago

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Hey wait. It's been two fics where I mention my B Squad, but I still didn't really told y'all about them ! Let's change that.

B Squad is Fox's squad, or well as much as possible with him being the Marshall and overworked to hell and back.

The "B" stands for Black ops. Their existence is a Guard secret because obviously the Coruscant Guard does no spying or other undercover missions :) If you ask a Corrie what the "B" stand for tho, you will never, ever lack answers. Banana Squad, Been there done that, Band of idiots, Brilliant and Beautiful, Brats, Boring, Bolo-ball.... (You can guess which suggestions are from the Squad themselves and which are from their guard siblings).

They absolutely are pranksters (as much pranksters as the Guard can allow themselves and as often as they can while being often into undercover missions and off world...). In a post war, no order 66 au, they will, absolutely and very dutifully, drive the GAR mad (without letting them know who exactly it is who's driving them mad).

So who are they ? A quick review of those idiots.

-Fox obviously (they always call him Boss. It might or might not have spread in all the Guard.)

-Sergeant Thunder (called the Captain). She died during the first year of the war, before being able to get promoted to the rank she deserved (lieutenant because she would have fight tooth and nails against being a captain). She was the one in charge of the Squad for Fox.

-Mick (called the Sergeant, or Sarge). The most level head and calm of them all. He was promoted to Sergeant after Thunder. All of the Squad hate it. Do not underestimate him, he's as much a little shit as the others. And a great pilot (only have the right to drive when under dire times. Let's say he has a tendency to love loopings). Also Howzer's vod'ika.

-Visor (called the Slicer). None of the Squad nicknames really correspond to their roles, especially not Visor and Marker's. All of them are great shots, know how to slice, masters at disguise (and always get their hands on nice civies things for the rest of the guard)... They all have a favorite but no real specialty. Visor thought that being the Slicer was stylish. They love crosswords and are the youngest.

-Marker (called the Bait, because baits are important. It follows the same logic as Visor really). He has a wild imagination and love to tell stories to calm down and distract his vode, especially the Shinies and the ones stuck in medbay.

The Squad don't do solely black ops, they also help with the rest of the Guard's duties (all hands on desk and all that). All of them also do their best to cheer up as much as possible their siblings.

They will have to find a new member one day, because they can't stay three (with the occasional, rarer and rarer, Fox appearance) during missions. But none of them want to just replace Thunder.

Edit : Oh shit I forgot one thing !!! Thunder was a little bit pyromaniac on the edges. Just a bit.

#i have quite a few guard ocs now #but i'm quite fond of B Squad (even if i have still quite a bit of fleshing up to do) so here you go #clone trooper ocs #sw #tcw #coruscant guard #heh I should talk about Nightmare (my guard cmo) one day!#hasta rambles #hi tumblr void

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guardkeywolf · 2 years ago

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🐀Rat Whisperer 2🐀

I enjoyed the first one so much that I just had to get another taste of it lol

Also, I have never had a pet rat before so this was all VERY NEW to me...

But yeah...we back at it again with a part 2

Hope yall enjoy!

Y/n was surprised at how easily most of the members of the 141 got along with the rats like him.

Soap and Lil' Ghost were seen often walking around the base, the Scottish man feeding him treats as he had a conversation with him like he would with the real Ghost.

Gaz and König would let their rats see each other from time to time every now and then too while Price and Alejandro questioned their decisions even more than before.

Meanwhile, Rudy and Horangi were beginning to get acquainted with the rats Y/n introduced them to...

Price

Sat in his office trying to do work often and took notice of one of the rats coming into his room

The others in the 141 decided to build a little system for the rats to get around the base and pop into anyone's room (who were chill them) and just kinda say hello

Price saw Lil' Ghost come in and walk over to his desk while not even looking at him

If Price was lucky bro only got 7% Rat Rizz

It does not match Ghost

Not even for a second

So Lil' Ghost just decided to sleep on one of the papers he's working on

Price STARES at him

With the cigarette in hand

Just a dead stare

Is really about to consider either calling Soap or Ghost to get him

Maybe even Y/n

But he also enjoys the scene a lot

Does find it quite cute

Almost reacts out a hand to stroke Lil G's fur too

But pulls away since he doesn't know if he's used to his touch yet

So he never got any of the other work to do done that day

He and Lil Ghost just chilled in his office

They both took naps

When Price woke, Lil Ghost was sleeping on his chest silently

Price nearly gasped

Like ALMOST GASPED

A rat surprised this man

This man with hardly any rat RIZZ

This man who gets his hands DIRTY SO THE WORLD STAYS CLEAN

Lil Ghost did that

After that, Price and Lil Ghost became Nap Buddies

If Soap or Y/n wasn't around to look after him, Price would volunteer to watch him on and sleep with him

They became best buddies

Ghost

The King of W RAT RIZZ

He definitely walked with a chip on his shoulder when it came being this famous with the rats

Y/n was even a little jealous

He introduced the rats and they all just became in sync with Ghost so fast

Some of the recruits watch amazed and start telling TALES of this man

Someone even said, he might use them as an army

Ghost laughed at it

Like actually CHUCKLE

Even the rats looked up at him

THEIR GOD

This man did not just have W RAT RIZZ

He was...

THE RAT GOD

Bro could literally COMMAND THE RATS

He was the RAT KING

Anyway, Ghost had started taking his rats with him to places more often now

He had a white and black rat named Remi and just loved her

He even built her own little ghost mask too

He even put a GPS, somehow, inside it too

He kept his eyes on her 24/7

Doing work? She was there with her own little space on his desk

Training recruits? She was there snuggled up in his hoodie

During debriefing? She was there chilling on the table and eating the snacks Ghost had brought for her to keep her occupied

Remy and Ghost were ALWAYS together

Called her his "Little Girl"

Bro WENT INTO DAD MODE IF OTHER RATS CAME NEAR HER TOO

Y/n and the others had to start teaching his rats to sometimes keep their distance from Remy if Ghost was around

So yeah...Ghost became Remy's dad more than owner after that

Soap

Seeing that Lil Ghost decided to now spend his time with Price, Y/n let him chill with his brown rat, Chuck

Chuck and Soap were...something

After getting him, the first thing MacTavish did was make him a REALLY REALLY nice cage for him to live in

He wanted to go all out for him and show Lil Ghost what he was missing with Price

Y/n said he was jealous once and Soap growled at him

Chuck just stared at them for the table while eating his meal

Anytime the Sergeant did see both Price and Lil Ghost together, my guy turned his head the other way

Y/n laughed at him when he did so, saying he was just proving his point even more

Soap denied it as he and Chuck began to hang out more

This man was deadass overreacting lol

If they could, he and Chuck would have conversations after a mission

Soap would talk about his day and expect Chuck to respond back

Chuck usually had food in his mouth but otherwise listened

But they got along really really well

Gaz

THIS MAN

THIS GUY

HE LIVED FOR THE RATS

Y/n was a little concerned at first when Gaz said he had an idea to build "something"

Bro had drew out a WHOLE blueprint of a house for the rats

A HOUSE

A RAT HOUSE

Y/n stared at him

Price stared at him

Ghost stared at him

Soap even started at him

EVEN THE RECRUITS STARED AT HIM

Not only did he have that in mind, he also had a whole goddamn calendar of events they could do with their rats

Movie nights would be on Fridays

Pinics every 3 weeks on Mondays

Spa Day, apparently, once every 2 weeks on Tuesdays

The rest he hadn't planned out

YET

this man was nearly the Rat SECRETARY

The whole team was concerned

Very concerned

They knee Gaz loved the rats but this was a bit much

But they all weren't entirely against one of his other ideas

The Rat Tunnel that traveled throughout the whole base

Within a few months and lots of hard work, the 141's base was now decorated with color plastic tubes that stretched from one end of the complex to the other

Each one weaved through the hallways and into each room that the rats were allowed in

Some recruits were concerned about if the rats were to get stuck but Gaz apparently also thought of that too

He made them big enough for them all to travel through it

Not only that, but also made it easy to clean

Anytime a newbie acted out, he made them clean the entire tunnel system by themselves

The rats would watch from afar as the unlucky candidate was expelled to this grueling task

Gaz went EVEN FUTHER THOUGH

He made little stations for the rats around the base too

Little human-type things like couches, beanbags, carpets, and anything that was small and cute to him

The others watched but decided to not intervene unless it became too much to handle

So Gaz continued to make things for the rats

Bro even made an elevator for them...

AN ELEVATOR

It was mechanical of course BUT STILL

Price had to talk to him after that

The man was going on an innovative rampage just for the rats

Though he had to slow down on the projects the others did enjoy letting their rats use them daily...

Alejandro

Colonel still has yet to not freak when he sees the rats

He got up on top of his desk when Soap brought in Chuck one day

He swore Chuck was staring holes into him

Rudy called him crazy

Y/n called him paranoid

Soap laughed at him

And Chuck...

Well that little brown rat started keeping Alejandro up at night

Rudy shook his head at this man

Y/n tried to explain many times that Chuck was a super nice rat

Alejandro refused to believe it

He thought Chuck was definitely ploting on his downfall

Let's just say, if Alejandro even caught sight of Chuck, he was dipping

At MEETINGS

In PUBLIC

During a date with RUDY

On the FIELD

Just being in close proximity of Chuck made Alejandro cautious

Then he heard about how Ghost was the RAT KING

Rat King?

Lordy...

This man was hellbent on believing Chuck could take him out in his SLEEP with Ghost's command

Yeah so...Alejandro mostly spent time with Price and Lil Ghost, which he did manage to bond with quickly since he was usually sleeping on Price while the man worked

Alejandro saw him in his lap and just gushed at the sight

When Soap came in with Chuck bro skidaddled

This man really became a Looney Tunes character

Alejandro literally disappeared

Thanos snapped type shit

⬇️

König

Was pretty much trying to keep Rosemarin SEPARATED from all the rat drama going on

They had their own private pinics themselves

Sometimes with Y/n or Ghost if he allowed it

Rosemarin and Remy saw each other A LOT too

Remy was pretty much Rose's BRF (Best Rat Forever)

König didn't let Chuck or Lil Ghost near her though

My guy said they were too DANGEROUS for his little "Holländerin" (Dutchess)

This man continued to spoil her

He started buying her jewelry

More exquisite outfits

Bro wanted her to look like a QUEEN

When he was with Ghost and Remy, they went on a shopping spree for the girls

He and Ghost would meet up when they had a break from work and look online for things to accompany the rats

König ended up coming upon a VERY VERY pricey object...

He found a castle...

A castle for rats

A Rat Castle

This thing looked GLAMOROUS

It had rooms big enough for most of the rats to stay in

5 Queen Suites

A big dining table

Just a LOT of stuff for the rats

Bro nearly brought it

Rodolfo

He is still dealing with Alejandro freaking out

He has to be around this man 24/7 from now on lol

If Ale sees a rat, he runs to him

Rodolfo will pick up said rat

Walk to Y/n

And give it to him

Y/n would laugh when Rudy would walk away speaking Spanish and shaking his head

Rudy doesn't mind them one bit

He likes their company

Is very open to them...

Horangi

Finally Horangi...

Pretty chill with the rats as well

Is very close with Rosemarin

Helped find her when she got lost and returned her to König

Rosemarin loves both her dads

Also spoils her a lot

Mostly likes to read to her at night sometimes

If he can't sleep, he'll get up and work on paperwork and bring Rose with him

They'll probably also end up sleeping with each other in his office he share with König too

König has so many photos of them too

° ° ° If you liked this piece please feel free to REBLOG with the TAGS on! Using tags makes it easier to navigate y'all's pages! Thank you again for reading!

-Guards

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links-in-time · 6 months ago

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Hero's Scars

Trans-Masc Hyrule Warriors Link

@hyruledwarriorr @crazylittlejester

Not sure how long this fic is going to be, or where it's going at the moment. But I had an idea for this fic a while ago and Warriors Link lives rent free in my brain in a variety of ways.

Hope people like this iteration of Warriors Link.

(Conversations and ideas have been vetted by my trans girlfriend)

Warnings: Mature themes, language, future sexual encounters.

Content under cut.

Sara walked along the long corridor which housed the Hylian army barracks. To the left and right were doors leading into the bunks for the various battalions of the army, as well as the officer's quarters. Sara had been sent to retrieve Captain Link for a meeting with Princess Zelda and the generals. Link was usually pretty prompt at attending meetings. However, last night he had returned well after midnight, following a particularly harrowing raid on a monster encampment.

As she reached the door to Link's room Sara stopped and knocked.

"Just a moment!" She heard Link call out.

The door however was unlatched and swung open a little as she knocked. Sara opened it a little more and put one foot inside the room.

"It's just Sara, Sir, I've come to get you for the meeting." She assured him as her eyes swept the room.

It was a modest chamber. A small room with a window and bed at the far end, a desk covered with documents and a trunk containing Link's clothes and personal items.

Link was already up and half dressed. He had put on his trousers and was sitting on the bed in the process of pulling up his boots. He jumped to his feet however when he realised Sara was in the room. She couldn't help but stare at his half naked form. He was slim but very muscular, his torso tapered a little at his waist above his belt. As Sara's eyes wandered upwards towards Link's flushed face, she noticed two crescent shaped scars below his chest. They curved around his pecks like pink shadows. Link's arms folded around his chest instantly when he caught her staring, and he turned his back on the door.

"I said I needed a moment! Get out!" He barked back at Sara, his surprise and embarrassment quickly turning to anger.

"I'm so sorry!" Sara replied, flustered as she tried to close the door. "The door was open, I just... I'll wait for you outside."

Sara quickly slammed the door closed with a little more force than she meant to. She slumped against the wall and let out a long sigh. She squeezed her eyes closed and bashed her fist against her forehead.

Sara and Link had become friends a long time ago. Not long after the start of the war she had been assigned to his squad. Though Link was fairly cagey around most people, Sara had got him to open up on more than one occasion. They bonded over their dislike of their adolescent drill sergeants, and their mutual love of sweet treats. Although they were difficult to come by these days, Link often managed to share his rations of cake and biscuits with Sara. She hoped beyond hope that this incident wouldn't spoil their friendship.

***

It was a few days until Sara got the opportunity to see Link again. They had just finished clearing out a new monster encampment on the Zora border and were taking a well earned rest in a nearby town. The Inn had offered to house the officers while the rest of the troops were camped outside. That didn't stop the soldiers from making use of the Inn's bar however.

Sara had just come off patrol with a few other soldiers, when she stepped into the Inn. A wall of noise, warmth and light hit her like the broadside of a bokoblins mace. The Inn was full to bursting with jolly soldiers and a few of their superiors dotted about, as well as a handful of locals. Some of whom seemed pleased to have the army visit their small village, others were glaring over their tankards.

Pushing her way to the bar, Sara caught the barkeeps attention. Some barrels of cider had been paid for by the General and set behind the bar for the troops. The barkeep poured a pint into a pewter tankard and passed it across the bar to her. She gave him a nod rather than try and thank him, it was too loud for him to hear her anyway.

Turning around to face the room, Sara caught sight of a familiar flash of bright blond hair at the far end of the bar. Leaning forwards she could see Link, drink in hand, two young women and a red headed boy practically hanging off his right arm. Sara studied his face. Link clearly wasn't engaging with them and was doing his best to ignore the trio. His cheery smile failed to reach his bright blue eyes. One of the women, a pretty blonde with large green eyes, leant against the bar talking almost constantly. The other woman who had brown hair was trying to muscle in between her friend and Link to try and get his attention. The red headed boy leant against an elbow on the bar, sipping his drink while occasionally adding a comment to the conversation.

Sara rolled her eyes at them. She'd seen plenty of people in towns all over Hyrule swooning over the Captain. The Hero of Hyrule came with a lot of caviats she had realised. One being a lot of unwanted attention from people seeking the Hero's favor.

Sara enjoyed her cider in relative peace for a while. Some of her squad came over to talk about the battle but she was only half interested in reliving their latest victory.

When she found herself alone at the bar again, her attention wandered back to Link. The two women had gone but the red headed guy was still hanging around him like a bad smell. Sara assumed he was a farm hand or some such, judging by his muddy and patched clothing. But going by his sly expression, he could have fit right in at Hyrule Castle with the other slippery nobles. Sara's eyes flicked to Link's face, but it was difficult to make out his expression beneath his bangs which hung down low over his half bowed head. When the red head trailed a hand down Link's upper arm, he flinched.

"That's it!" Sara announced to no one in particular, slamming her tankard down on the bar with more force than she meant to.

Sara got to he feet and pushed her way towards her Captain. He didn't see her coming but the interloper did. He scoffed at her and raised an eyebrow as she elbowed her way towards them.

"Can we help you with something sweetheart?" The man asked condescendingly, looking down his pointed nose at Sara, who was only half a head shorter than he was.

"Hmm?" she hummed behind a false smile. "No, but you can help yourself avoid a black eye and go home," she stated plainly.

The man blinked at her and Link half turned to look at her, the corner of his mouth curling slightly.

"Excuse me darlin'," he drawled, a little taken aback by her afront.

"No, I will not excuse you. I think my Captain has had enough of your chatter for this evening. And unless you want me to announce to every one of HIS soldiers in this tavern that you're bothering him, I suggest you make like a bokoblin and fuck off!"

Sara emphasised her command by pointing towards the door. The man glanced once at Link, who gave him no sighs of encouragement. A few soldiers near by had stopped their conversations to listen to the commotion. Clearly outnumbered and not really wanting to face Hyrule's finest, the man slunk away from the bar, left the Inn and disappeared into the night.

Sara was about to go back to her drink when she heard Link speak.

"Thanks Sara," he uttered.

Sara gave him a respectful nod.

"You didn't look like you were enjoying his company Sir," she replied.

"Not particularly, I just can't seem to be able to tell people that myself," he sighed.

Sara laid a hand on his back. Link froze beneath her touch and she quickly withdrew it again.

"Sorry, um, do you wanna get some air?" She suggested.

Link glanced around at the bar full of soldiers and villagers. A few peple kept shooting him curious looks or whispering to others while staring at him. He turned back to Sara and gave her a weak half smile.

"Yeah, that might be a good idea."

The two of them slipped out of the Inn and walked a short distance out of town where a bubbling river passed it's boundary. Link stopped walking and settled himself on a rock beneath a willow tree. Sara came to a halt when she realised Link was no longer beside her and walked back to lean against the tree beside him.

"So can I ask what all that was about back there?" She asked, inclining her head back towards the Inn.

Link sighed, he wasn't looking at Sara, his gaze was fixed on the water as it hurried by. He rested his elbows up on his knees and rubbed his hands into his eyes, messing up his fringe a little.

"Urgh, they're fans of the Hero," he said, letting out a long deep breath.

"Fans?"

"Yep, all they want to hang around me, make sketches of me, or... Well, that guy wanted something else from me."

"Oh Hylia, they sound as bad as Cia!" Sara exclaimed, disgusted by the behaviour Link was describing.

"They're not so bad really, I'm their hero and there's a certain image of me that they're used to seeing by now. The stoic, handsome hero who swoops in and saves them all. But, I'm just," he paused, closing his eyes. "You know I'm not that person all the time, don't you."

"Of course I do," Sara replied. She kicked Link's foot with her own boot. "For example I know you insist on having three sugars in your tea because in your own words, 'four is excessive but two just isn't enough sweetness'!"

Sara did a poor imitation of Link's Captain voice, which he reserved for meetings or rousing pre-battle speaches. He chuckled and kicked her in return.

"Hey!"

"What I mean is, yes, I know you're a normal guy. Your troops know you're a normal guy, but I guess the people of Hyrule don't really know that."

"Mmm, that's my problem. I have to be Hero Link all the time around them, or else they get disappointed or disheartened if I don't live up to their expectations."

"And the people who want, something else from you?" Sara asked tentatively.

Link let out a haggard breath and his shoulders slumped.

"Even before I found out I had the Triforce of Courage, I'd never been very comfortable about people flirting with me. I never knew how to feel about it. Even if I liked them in return I couldn't bring myself to do anything about it."

Sara didn't know what to say in return, so she remained quiet. Hoping Link just needed someone to listen to him, not offer dating advice.

"I guess I sound like a stuck up ass hole to you don't I?!"

"What?! No not at all, everything you've said makes total sense to me." Sara assured him.

"But you have questions," he continued. "I can tell."

Sara stayed quiet. Of course she had questions about Link. Ever since she had walked in on him half naked and seen his scars she had had questions. But it wasn't her place to ask them. They weren't that close friends, were they?

"Hmm, I know what you want to ask. I saw your face the other day when you walked in on me. You looked just like Impa did when the same thing happened with her," Link said pensively. "Though she addressed it at the time. Impa has very little concern for other people's embarrassment."

"Well, I do. Which I why I didn't ask then, and I'm not asking now. Even if you hadn't yelled at me at the time, I could tell it's a personal thing and I'd never push anyone to talk about personal issues if they didn't want to." Sara said firmly, stepping away from the tree so that Link could see the resolve on her face.

He looked up at her then. Appreciation and tears sparkling in his eyes. He smiled sweetly and nodded.

"Thanks Sara. It's difficult to know who I can be myself around these days," he sniffed, wiping his face on the cuff of his sleeve.

"Of course you can trust me, you gave me your last bar of chocolate when our platoon got snowed into that cave! I'd never break a sacred bond like that!" Sara teased, however, behind her jokes she was being sincere.

"You're right!" Link laughed, a perfect release of joy which made Sara smile. "You know I'd almost forgotten about that misadventure."

"Sir, Link, I want you to know you can tell me anything. If it'll help you shoulder the burden of being our hero, you can trust me." Sara insisted, placing her hand over her heart.

Link got to his feet and faced Sara. He smiled and opened his arms, giving her a cautious glance. Sara approached and wrapped her arms around Link's waist while he hugged tightly around her shoulders.

"Thank you Sara," Link uttered close to her ear. "And you can drop the Sir when it's just us. Feels a bit wrong."

"Okay, and you're welcome Link. I'm not entirely sure what I did really," Sara shrugged.

"You listened," Link said, as he drew back slightly, his arms still locked around her body. "That's more than most people do for me."

"Well, if there's more you want to get off your chest, I'm never far away," Sara replied, giving him a smile.

"Maybe not right now. But I'll definitely keep that in mind."

Part 2 >

#legend of zelda #fandoms #fanfic #link #the legend of zelda #link hyrule warriors #hyrule warriors #warriors #link warriors #trans link #trans masc #lgbtq #queer romance

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softguarnere · 2 years ago

Note

Can I requests a oneshot with Ron Speirs x reader? everyone in easy thinks that big grumpy speirs holds a grudge against the reader bc he often gives her paperwork or smth but in reality he just wants to keep her around him out of protectiveness bc he likes her? But she doesn't know and thinks he doesn't like her either so shes kind of intimidated but also has a massive crush on him? But when he sees the reader with some other easy members he gets jealous and snaps so now he has to tell her that hes in love with her. Don't stress yourself, i just thought it could be interesting, thank youu

From Scratch

Ron Speirs x reader

Summary: No, what bothers you is that ever since he gained control of Easy Company, he’s done nothing but take opportunities away from you. You’re proud to be a lieutenant. But what’s the point of holding the rank if you never do any of the work that comes with it?

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, Anon! I swear I didn't forget about this - or the other prompts in my inbox. School has been keeping me busy this semester, so this took me a long time to write. But it's here now, and I hope you enjoy it! (This is written for the fictional depiction from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) 💕🕊️

Warnings: mentions of war

“Uh oh!” Nixon singsongs when you step into the command post. “Looks like someone is in trouble.” He flashes you a broad grin as you make your way over to his desk and drop a stack of files with a heavy thwack! “What’d you do this time?”

Anger boils in your chest. Not towards Nixon. It’s not his fault. For his sake you try to keep your voice just as light and joking when you shrug and say, “Oh, you know, just the usual sort of thing. Got the scouting mission that I was supposed to lead taken from me and given to one of the sergeants.” You shrug. “No big deal.”

Except it is, and you both know it.

Nixon lets out a low whistle. “Damn. And might I inquire as to who arranged this?”

You roll your eyes. “Do you really need to ask?”

Speirs. It’s always Speirs.

Which seems unfair, somehow. You can still remember the first time you saw him, way back in Camp Toccoa, when he was in a different company, but already gaining a reputation for himself as one of the best runners. One time you passed him as you were going up the mountain and he was going down. He had nodded at you as he passed, and something about the niceness of the gesture made your heart jolt so fiercely that you almost tripped as you started on the switchback.

Then he went on to distinguish himself in other ways – the ever present whispers of rumors and stories that follow him like a cape made out of mystery – and suddenly, after he was put in charge of Easy Company, he didn’t seem so nice anymore. The rumors have never bothered you; Ron is a good leader, and you trust that he’s making whatever choices he needs to in order to keep the company safe.

No, what bothers you is that ever since he gained control of Easy Company, he’s done nothing but take opportunities away from you. You’re proud to be a lieutenant. But what’s the point of holding the rank if you never do any of the work that comes with it? (Well, besides paperwork, that is.)

The most frustrating part of it is that as angry as you are with him, you still feel your heart begin to hammer away in your chest whenever he enters a room – or race into triple time if you think he’s looking at you. How dare your own heart still feel so fondly towards him when your eyes can clearly see the obvious fact laid before you?

The fact being: Ronald Speirs dislikes you. Which kind of makes it feel as if someone is crushing your heart under their shoe, like a cigarette being ground out on the sidewalk, when you think about it.

You push the thought – and the feelings – aside. Or try to, anyway.

“I hate paperwork,” you mutter as you take a seat across from the intelligence officer. “Almost as much as he hates me.”

“I don’t think Speirs hates you.” When you fix him with an incredulous look, Lewis holds up his hands in surrender. “I mean, he might hold some sort of grudge against you, maybe, but hate you? If that were true, I think you’d be dead by now, (Y/N).”

You roll your eyes; it’s a conversation you’ve had before, and one that never fails to fill you with the smallest shred of hope that maybe Nixon is right about Speirs not completely hating you. “Well, now I hold a grudge against him for making me do all this paperwork.”

“You sound like somebody else I know. Ah, and if you speak of the devil, then he shall appear!”

Quick, confident footsteps approach the desk from behind you. Neither you or Nixon can stop the smiles that spread across your faces when Dick appears. Even something as simple as his presence has always been able to lighten the mood, and today is no exception.

He returns the smile as he pulls up a chair from a nearby desk to join you, but not before glancing over both shoulders, searching.

“The devil?” He huffs a laugh. “Weird. You were already here, Nix.”

“Oh ha ha,” Nixon deadpans. He props his feet up on the desk and leans back in his chair.

Dick gently pushes his friend’s feet off the desk, which makes Nixon sit upright. For his part, though, Nixon doesn’t seem to mind it. Or mind that Dick sets more paperwork in front of him. Well, at least someone seems okay with filling out forms. Maybe if you’re extra nice, you can trick him into doing all the work that Speirs assigned to you.

Just as you’re trying to sneak your stack of files in with Nixon’s, Dick raises an eyebrow at you.

“There a reason that you’re stuck inside again, Lieutenant?”

You shrug. “Oh, you know how I just can’t stay away from office work. And how much I love to be bombarded with company gossip by Nix.”

Lewis puts a hand over his heart and gasps. “What?! You mean to tell me that you don’t hang around here because you enjoy my witty banter and winning personality?”

“Actually, I would rather – “

You’re cut off by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind you.

Slowly, you turn to see Speirs standing a few feet away from where the three of you sit. Upon first glance, he looks a bit like a child standing on the fringes of a friend group on the first day of school, nervously waiting to see if he’s going to be invited to join in. But when the shock clears off, it’s impossible to miss the look in his eyes – there’s a darkness lurking beneath the surface that suddenly makes it so easy to see why every rumor thrown his direction sticks to him like he’s covered in paste. It makes your heart drop.

“Good afternoon, Captain,” Dick says, leading the charge bravely, as always.

After a nod and a brief salute, Speirs turns his attention to you. “Lieutenant (Y/L/N), I forgot to give you this.”

Your heart sinks when you realize that he’s holding yet another file full of paperwork. It’s such a setback that your heart can’t even bring itself to run wild when your hands briefly brush his as he hands it to you.

“Oh.” The words feel rough as sandpaper as you force them out. “Thank you.”

When you manage to meet his eye, Speirs has furrowed his eyebrows, which makes him look thoroughly annoyed. Standing so close, it’s easy to see the striking features of his face – like a marble bust of a Greek hero. He’s so handsome, even with the lines between his eyebrows and the frown tugging at his lips. It makes you want to reach up and smooth them away, let him lean into your touch so you can soften his features, molding them like clay into the gentle man that you imagine he might be under his tough exterior and the cold armor of rumors that make every line so harsh and so jagged to everyone else.

But you can’t do that. Instead, you’re separated from him by his armor, just like everyone else. You hate that you’ve caused him to look this way – to look at you this way.

“You know,” Speirs says, his voice quiet and as cold as the look he’s giving you. “it’s a lot safer here than it is on the line.” He glances back at Nixon and Winters before looking you up and down. “Get to work, Lieutenant.”

Then, just as quickly and as silently as he appeared, he’s gone.

It’s so cold, so impersonal. Your stomach turns to a block of ice.

Behind you, Nixon lets out a low whistle. “Well then.”

Get to work. Part of you wants to scoff, brush it off, and go back to your friends. The other part of you is chasing after him, trying to figure out where it all went wrong. Instead, you’re stuck standing there, staring after him, looking forlorn.

No, you decide. You can’t carry on like this.

The file falls unceremoniously onto the desk in front of Nixon as you toss it at him. “Finish this for me, will ya?”

Dick can’t contain the small laugh that escapes him when he sees the surprised look on Nixon’s face. You’re out the door before either of them can offer a proper response.

Outside, you don’t make it far. The door clicks shut behind you, and when you look up, you see him. Ron is a few feet away, coming towards you, closing the distance between you. Unlike a few moments before, he doesn’t look mad. The hard edges of his expression have softened into something like concern.

You stop in front of each other, each waiting for the other to say something.

“Can we talk?” You ask at the same time that Ron blurts out, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

You blink. “You’re what?”

Voices fill the air as a small group of officers approaches the command post. Ron gently takes your elbow and guides you aside so that they can pass, not seeming to notice or care what it does to your poor heart.

He lowers his voice as the group passes. “Can we talk? Privately?”

The Ronald Speirs wants to talk, alone, with you. There’s no question about it – you follow him.

He leads the two of you into one of the remnants of a building that soldiers have been quartering in. The skeletal remains of the structure probably provide no protection for whatever words he wants to exchange, but at least you can be away from prying eyes.

Alone, his dark eyes look you over. The motion isn’t as harsh as it was back in the command post. No, this is . . . gentle. Like he’s studying you.

You find yourself nervous under his gaze. Clearing your throat, you try to find your words. “You wanted to talk?”

Ron looks unsure of himself – something that you never would have imagined was possible. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, the sound filtering through the hollowed out room you stand in like it’s the building’s last raspy breath.

“I was an accountant, back before the war.”

Whatever you thought he was going to tell you, it certainly wasn’t that. You raise an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

He nods. “I’m good with numbers; that’s my strong suit. Words . . . don’t work themselves out as easily. Some people mistake quietness for cruelness.” The dim light casts shadows on his face as he tilts his head. “You’ve heard the rumors, just like everyone else?”

Who hasn’t heard the rumors, the stories? Speirs can’t walk through a room without turning heads and leaving a trail of whispers in his wake.

“Yes,” your voice comes out as a whisper. Are they true? you stop yourself from asking, because with his sudden openness, you’re starting to question everything that you’ve ever known about Ron Speirs – everything you’ve thought you’ve known. Who is this man, really?

“I . . . didn’t mean to snap at you,” Ron admits, his voice as soft as the look that he’s giving you. “And I’m sorry about all the paperwork. I don’t have a grudge against you.”

You cringe. So he did overhear that part.

He wets his lips, not quite meeting your eyes. “I try to keep you off the line so that you’ll be safe. There’s no grudge or dislike or . . . I just wanted to keep you safe because – “ He cuts himself off with a deep breath.

With the quiet all around you, the frantic beating of your heart fills the silence. “You want to keep me safe?”

“Yes. If you’ll let me.”

Being in the same room as him felt impossible a few minutes ago. Now though, some inexplicable force draws the two of you together. You both step forward so that there’s hardly any space left between you. Something in the back of your mind wonders how things have changed so quickly. What else have you been wrong about?

“Who are you, Ronald Speirs?”

So close to him, you can see the smile tugging at the edge of his mouth when he replies, “There’s your answer: Ronald C Speirs. That’s all that I am.”

An accountant. Someone’s son, brother, friend who got drafted into the war. A man. The rumors and myths that shroud him fall away until someone you don’t know stands before you. You want to get to know him.

“Well, Ron, it’s nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N).” You smile at him, and it feels natural when he returns the gesture. “Can we maybe start over?”

Ron lets out a laugh and you could swear it was the sweetest sound in the entire world. “I would like that very much.”

#should I have written this when I could be working on my term papers?#in my defense - I am going to go insane if I can't get back to writing for fun soon #anyways 🤠#ron speirs x reader #ron speirs #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #my writing #lewis nixon #dick winters #hbo war #hbo war fanfic

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