#and in love with how much soap loves ghost

[girlsoutlate]

tf141 meet prices girl

part one

suggestive themes, alcohol consumption, loser simon, if you can see my favouritism for gaz no you bloody can't xx

today- well tonight was the night. you'd been psyching yourself up from wednesday, john springing the plans on you casually over breakfast. you expected it, just not so soon. all too quickly saturday night had rolled around and you were staring absentmindedly in to your wardrobe. your ever so loving boyfriend had been making fun of your hysterics all day until he became slightly concerned at your lack of appetite over dinner. you chose to nibble on two sides instead of whatever small meal you had originally planned. as you left the table and placed your plate on to the counter john grabbed you by your hips and hoisted you up "love, it's natural to be nervous but yer gettin' yerself worked up for nothin'". brushing a calloused thumb across your lips that were nibbled raw he felt you take a small breath in to talk "i know but what if something goes wrong? what if they think im too dumb for you? they won't like me". the last words out of your mouth were quiet and resolute but hung heavy in the air.

steely blue eyes never leaving yours, john spoke with reverence "sweethear' don't say tha' about yerself. i'm the lucky bastard tha' gets to be loved by you. wha' those muppets think about ya' doesn't matter, least of all to me". a small smile on your face wasn't missed as you looked down to johns hands splayed on your lap. he continued "they'll love ya', i promise- not as much as me though" a gravelly chuckle emanted from his chest. "you're beautiful, do i need to remind you again today? tha' lot will lap up any hint of kindness, so theres no reason a' all why they won't like ya". your arms wrapped around his bulking figure, pressing your face in to his defined chest you whispered "thankyou".

after finishing the rest of your food you jumped off the counter and scuttled upstairs to get ready. coming back downstairs you showed john your outfit, him grunting in appreciation whilst you did a spin, speaking about how you think you've perfected doing this hairstyle. after a silent journey you found yourself stepping out of a cab and standing in front of a pub you could only identify by name. at some point in the car ride your nerves turned to excitement and you were all to eager to meet the men your boyfriend trusted his life with. stepping in to the pub with johns large paw on the small of your back, a wave of warmth and chatter washed over you. warm lights reflecting off the red walls and oak ceiling basking you in a golden light as you scanned the pub. for a moment the hairs on the back of your neck stood as goosebumps rose across your arms; you shook off the feeling; john seemed to had spotted where his task force was, grunting in to your ear "just in tha' corner, doll" he guided you to the left.

with the soft tread of sticky carpet under your feet your eyes landed upon three men in the corner of the pub. a man with a mohawk caught your attention first, raucous laughter causing your steps to falter. lips fluttered against the shell of your ear "'m righ, behind ya", john gave a reassuring squeeze to the fat of your hip. your eyes flicked over to the man being spoken too. his brown eyes met yours, welcoming and soft yet calculating. he flashed you a dazzling smile, dimples appearing on his slim cheeks. by the time you had gotten to the table (nerves causing the journey to feel longer) all three men had their attention on you and john. "captain, nice to see you" the man with the brown eyes said, his velvety voice contrasting with johns gravelly "love, meet gaz, soap and ghost". giving a polite smile you looked them assessing, finally putting faces to what little you know. soaps eyes tracked up and down your body once, he couldn't help but take in your appearance. he knew your face was beautiful from the snooping he'd done, but god did your body live up to it. sharp blue met yours, twinkling with something. gaz pulled out a seat and gestured for you to sit down, price slipped your jacket off and put it on the back of your chair. as you settled while they greeted each other, your attention was drawn to ghost. you couldn't help but notice him.

a hulking figure in the corner of the booth, he blended in with the shadows despite the almost orange light of the pub. his balaclava was covering his whole face, bar dead eyes devoid of any emotion. as his gaze landed on you from across the table, you registered what that sudden nervous feeling was when you first stepped in to the pub. it was him. he'd watched you and john since you arrived, despite his companions remaining oblivious. you tried not to overthink it. just as you were about to tear your gaze away, his near black eyes caught yours. ghost gave you a curt not before gaz spoke to you. "its so nice to mee' you. you've been a well kept secret, eh soap?" nudging soap with his elbow, an impish grin on his face. you let out a small chuckle while soap jokes "ah dinnae know how cap' found ya", a soft rumble of a laugh reverberated from john. "yer a real bonnie lass-" soap let out a soft yelp. curiously you looked around the table and saw ghost staring at him. with a faint warmth to your cheeks you let out a small "thankyou". a voice even deeper than johns makes you slightly jump as ghost instructs "mactavish, go get tha' first round in".

after telling soap the drink of your choice you feel johns warm paw smooth up and down your leg "you alrigh', beautiful?" you nodded and replied "they're just like you said". gaz turns to you with that same dazzling smile "i'm guessing you know more about us than we do about you".

"i supposed so, john told me all about the phonecall incident". at that he turned away, hiding a bashful smile. a husky wheeze, which felt more like a vibration, came from ghost. john squeezed your thigh in hearing that. ghost remembered the day of the 'phonecall incident' well. his sergeant was practically running down the hallway, excitement coming off him in waves. as he told ghost and soap what he heard he wore a smug grinon his face- of course. for the rest of the day that's all ghost bloody heard from his sergeants, although he would be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued. the next day the captain spoke to them about meeting his girl, so gaz felt entirely responsible for solving the 'mystery' as well as getting to meet you. when soap came with the drinks, he started a line of enquiry surrounding yours and johns relationship. his warm hand brushed against yours as he passed you your drink, lingering to ensure you had a proper grip on it.

"so how did you an' price meet? ah cannae imagine him dancing on ye at a club" your boyfriend barked out a sharp laugh. you giggled at the image, deciding he would be reminiscent of an endearing if awkward dancing bear. at the melodic sound of your laugh you caught ghosts eyes, an unreadable stare. your ability of storytelling had the boys rapt, including john who never tired of hearing your view of events. you recounted that somehow your schedules matched up, and after he helped you in an awkward situation you began to talk whenever you saw each other. soap poked fun at his captain after learning that he had a habit of stumbling over his words when asking you anything important, like when he asked you for his own number. after you had finished your anecdote soap directed another question in your direction "wha's tha' captain like? bet he's ah lovesick puppy", guffaws rounded the table. more followed when you retorted "you'd be surprised, he's like a limpet some days".

slowly but surely you grew more comfortable in the conversation, bantering back and forth with soap and gaz, laughing when john interjects about some absolutely absurd guesses about him in your relationship. naturally they ask you about work, all three being pleasantly surprised finding out you don't work a boring office job. you explained that since being with john you can have a job you can enjoy, instead of burning out constantly just to live. gaz nodded in agreement, even though john had told you he had joined the army quite young. he commented "would've probably worked in my dads business if i hadn't joined the army". you hummed in response, filing that away for later analysation, noticing his slightly furrowed brows. soap piped up from the end of the table "ah cannae say ah enjoy gettin' shot at fer a livin, but-"

"tha's enough. remember wha i said" johns gravelly voice cut soap off. it was slightly raised, sending a small shock down your spine. he rarely raised his voice at you, let alone shout. it was strange seeing that authoritative side of him seep through, though some small part of you was interested. "sorry captain" soap quickly responded, "sorry love" he added. as gaz deftly redirected the conversation you quirked an eyebrow at john. "what did you say?" you quietly enquired, picking up your drink, condensation cool against your skin. you noticed john glancing away as he cleared his throat "you shouldn't know what.. what really 'appens when i'm gone." his large hand slides up your leg and down, a soothing action. whether its for you or himself is undecided.

warmth seeps from his hand to yours, adding to the slight flush you feel throughout your body. as you finish up your drink you push your chair back, lukewarm liquid sliding down your throat. "'m gonna go to the bathroom" you quietly mumble, hand on the table for support. you briefly wait for john to follow, used to him 'keeping an eye on you' whenever you went out for drinks. but before he can, gaz stands up. "i'll go with her sir, and get the next round in". price grunts in consideration, with a near empty pint in hand "love?". your eyes flick over to gaz, noticing the light being reflected in a small stud in his ear. "sure" you reply, grabbing your bag in case you needed to fix your makeup. placing his now empty glass on the table john grumbles "keep an eye on her".

gaz guided you over to the bathrooms, his large palm hovering over the small of your back. you could feel the heat radiating off him, an accidental brush feels burning hot even through your clothes. he wasn't as tall or broad as john, but that just made his proximity to you even more apparent, he was different than what you were used to. his physique was well above average, confirmed by the bulging bicep that pulled a chair out for you earlier. his lean torso was evident, even through his baggier top. something enticing radiated off gaz, drawing your attention to him when you first sat down. at the table you noticed his eyes upon you when you spoke, even if he wasn't replying. ever attentive not just to you, but to the rest of the task force. he caught what was said under someones breath, or what was said if someone was being talked over. reaching the door he muttered "i'll be right outside, no rush". entering the bathroom you feel rather giddy that everything is going so well. apparently soap shares the same sentiment.

the remaining three men at the table watched you walk away, john noticing the sway of your hips exaggerated by your tipsy state. ghost noted the details of your outfit, and thanked his mask when he realised his gaze had drifted further south than intended. soap was practically burning holes in to the back of gaz's head, annoyed he wasn't in his place. seems as though the 'competition' to know more about you hadn't ended yet. as soon as you were out of earshot soap turned to the table with a dramatic sigh. "lord 'ave mercy price, where did ye find her? yer one lucky man". ghosts body shook slightly with mirth at johnny's theatrics, yet agreed with him "he's right, captain". john sat in silence, a small smirk growing. hearing the bathroom door open, the table watched as you and gaz walked over to the bar.

he stood slightly behind you as he ordered the drinks. with interest, john watched as his sergeant lent down and whispered something in to his girls ear that made you giggle. the apples of your cheeks were dusted with warmth as you replied with an appreciative smile. unable to hear due to a particularly rowdy group of punters, gaz leant down, motioning for you to repeat yourself. resting a hand on his defined shoulder to balance yourself you did just that. johns eyes became incredibly focused once he saw his sergeant softly brushing your hair out of his face, whispy strands tickling him. pulling away gaz laughed heartily, your face lit up at garnering such a reaction.

soap was practically smoking, itching to talk to you more. ghost and john however, watched with interest, focus never wavering. the latter two shared a glance, something vaguein both their expressions. you and gaz both returned with two drinks each, placing them on the table. the group heard a snippet of your conversation "kyle that is absolutely not true". he laughed as you you turned around back to the bar to retrieve your drink. sitting back down with an oomph, gaz remarked "her sarcasm's worse than yours lt.", wide smile on his face. snatching up his drink soap snarkily said "on a first name basis are ye?". john had never seen someone drink a pint with so much attitude. gaz replied "what? you jealous mate?" with a shit eating grin on his face. before the squabble could continue ghost cut them off with a very pointed sigh.

as soap complained about gaz 'stealing of your attention' john watched you talk with a bartender. you lent lightly on the counter, back slightly arched as you sipped on your drink. with a comically soppy look on his face john reached for his cold pint. despite being nervous tonight you had found your place amongst his men. he couldn't be happier. you conversed with the bartender like she was an old friend, john had always admired your kindness and compassion. it was nice to be looked after, though he'd never admit it. his countenance hadn't been lost on his task force. here they were watching their captain look at his girl in a lovestruck daze, completely dead to the world. the boys would've laughed in shock if they weren't genuinely happy for him. it could be said that price more so than anyone deserved to be happy- oh and if they had the chance to be in johns position, all of them would totally look at you like that too. "i really am lucky to 'ave her" john mumbled to no one in particular, yet they all heard him.

returning to the table you pressed a small kiss on prices cheek, his beard scratching your face a little. a glossy, faintly red mark was left. "y' alrigh' doll?" you nodded in response, squeezing his hand under the table. sipping your drink you carried on with whatever point you had left the conversation at. soaps petty complaints continued, "s no fair he's taken all the credit fer us meetin' yeh, 'n now he's just takin' ya!". you let out a rather boisterous laugh "i promise you'll all get a go". as you turn to look at john after hearing his exasperated sigh you missed soaps wolfish grin towards gaz. you found the formers complaining highly amusing, and so did ghost apparently. he hadn't said much apart from a grunt in agreement and, well, disagreement. but when you poked fun at soap, saying that you "didn't know the army let five year olds be sergeants", that black mass in the corner added "five year olds wiv shit 'aircuts". unfortunately for soap you burst out laughing, insisting through a fit of giggles that you thought his mohawk was incredibly beautiful. much to johns disappointment it sent soap in to a tirade of defending his 'crowning glory'. ghost would be lying if he didn't feel an odd warm feeling flood his chest at producing such visceral reaction from you.

another hour or so passes by, conversation flowing from one topic to another. letting out a small grunt john slapped his thighs and stood up "m goin' out fer a smoke, wanna come for fresh air sweet'eart?". nodding, you slipped on your jacket "could you keep an eye on my bag please? i'll be back soon". pulling your chair in kyle replied "of course, i'll look after your drink too". smiling appreciatively you turned while john guided you out of the pub. as soon as your figures disappeared into the night soap exclaimed "steamin' jesus" and ran a hand down his face. gaz nodded in agreement while ghost stared at his drink.

the three men had met a good amount of women between them, all being some degree of beautiful. a fair amount had similar ease of banter and wit as you and some could rival you in intellect. a few even had the same interests as you. the men could recognise that, yet you seemed so different from any other woman. perhaps it was because you were with their captain, but this spark was apparent in relation to no one but you. they couldn't lie a finger on it yet but they had an inkling. your compassion and sincerity. any woman could be beautiful, alluring, funny, snarky or an airhead bimbo if they wanted to. but you were so unapologetically yourself, from the clothes you wore to how you carried yourself. in a life of secrets and covert operations it was refreshing to meet someone who took pride in being themselves no matter how people reacted. you were sincere, the task force could understand why john loved you for that.

it was even more enticing that you were kind to everyone, for example that young bartender dealing with a group of rowdy punters. you didn't have to be kind, but you were. one of the things price told them about you was your kindness, only elaborating to the point that some people used it against you so "they'd better not piss about and upset his doll". this aspect of you was evident as soon as you joined their table. you made sure to address everyone and listen to what they said, simply because you cared not because it was expected. they could easily see why john loved you, to such a far extent that a small part of them was jealous. jealous that the numerous bodies that woke up beside them in the morning were gone in an hour, no one in the kitchen to share breakfast with. dinner was the same unless they went out searching for someone. the home they returned to was empty, jealous that you weren't waiting for them. with that thought ghost broke the silence between them "m goin for a fag". he left soap and gaz with the same obscure look on their face.

the cold night air enveloped ghost as he stepped outside, a welcoming change from the stuffy pub. he spotted you leant against the wall, arms wrapped around yourself, as john stood next to you. he nodded for ghost to come over. as he rolled up his balaclava and lit his cigarette you averted your gaze. you understood he wouldn't do it unless he was comfortable, but you didn't want to push your luck. noticing this, ghosts husky voice said "s alrigh'". your eyes slightly widened and you nodded. fuck. simon wanted to make you feel at ease, even tried to soften his voice. he's always had the worst luck with women out of the task force- not that he was attempting to chat you up or anything. his rather disastrous train of thought was broken with price flicking the butt of his cigarette on the floor "m goin' back inside, y' joinin' me dove?". you shook your head, drawing you coat tighter "want my head to clear up a little more, i'll be in soon". he grunted in acknowledgement, pulling you in for a kiss, the taste of sour smoke still in his mouth. it was short and sweet, but simon noticed the way your eyes fluttered at johns hand on the nape of your neck. a sharp pang was felt in simons chest. it could be jealousy, but he was well acquainted with that feeling due to the bad hand he was dealt by the universe. this was different, and simon doesn't like change. john gave ghost a stern look before he returned inside, look after her.

you and ghost stood in silence, only interrupted by a passing car or the rustle of clothes when he took another drag of his cigarette. he glanced to you, expecting to see you awkwardly looking at him or the ground, instead you were gazing at the night sky. it was a dark velvet, remarkably clear with a small sprinkling of stars. a few moments passed before you softly said "the skys pretty tonight". poor simon didn't know what to say, you seem genuinely enraptured. before he gave you his usual reply of a grunt you spoke up again "john tells me about sky he sees when he's gone, said that sometimes theres more stars than sky". ghost had heard snatches of these sporadic phonecalls, always leaving to give his captain privacy. he noticed a difference in price after each one, relaxed brows and a straighter back with a lighter mood no matter the state of the mission. now simon knows it was you making that difference. whilst a plume of smoke left his scarred mouth he turned to face you. you did the same, meeting his eyes with a small smile. "price is lucky to 'ave ya'" he quietly admitted. he left out a thought that had been rolling inside his head since first hearing you speak i would be lucky to have you too.

your eyes sparkled, the first full sentence ghost had said to you was that of approval and praise. you knew he was a lonely man, the 141 was the only semblance of family he had, so his approval meant the world to you. you reached out and gently squeezed his forearm "thankyou ghost". he simply nodded, eyes fixed upon you as you returned inside. your touch was a surprise. ghost expected himself to recoil, yet he stood incredibly still. simon knew it was a simple touch- so why did his blood run incredibly warm under your hand? electricity jolted through his skin almost painfully, despite this he wanted to feel it again. wanted to have your attention, look at him with those pretty eyes and feel himself wilt under you. wanted you to touch him again. fuck. you were his captains girl. ghost shook his head violently, it would be comical if he didn't feel so guilty. flicking his cig to the ground with spite he stalked back inside.

the topic of conversation had turned to cooking. your nose wrinkled in disgust hearing some of the food at the mess hall, wondering what possessed people to make that. soap piped up "but ahve smelt prices lunch an' its bloody delicious, did ye make it?". a collective groan rounded the table as you described the last meal you made. traditional spaghetti bolognese with pasta you made yourself. "making the pasta was a little disastrous because someone can't follow instructions". you shuddered at the thought, who knew dough was so airborne? "aye so price don't listen to ye?" soap continued in a suggestive tone. you shook your head and replied "most of the time he takes orders well, but for some reason he assumed he could cook this better than me" your suggestive language and johns red face earned peals of laughter. gaz enquired "so, is it true sir?". ashamed, john mumbled "affirmative". in false shock you exclaimed "what? that you can cook better than me, or that you take orders well?". unfortunately johns protests couldn't be heard over the laughter. the image of the captain john price being bossed around by you was hilarious, probably saluting you before mopping the floors while you lounged on the sofa.

their thoughts wandered further, wondering if price took orders well in all aspects of your relationship. you seemed like a woman that knew exactly what she wanted from the man she loved, they liked that. before their thoughts got collectively dirtier john cut them off in an accusatory tone "i've caught these lot poking around my lunch more times than i can count, 'specialy after you gave me those brownies". you were particularly stressed that week, and baked a little too many. so you packed loads for john, instructing him to give some to his task force. for the rest of that week he was begged to bring in more despite his false admission there was none left.

back at the table gaz declared "your cookin' is the best i've had in a long time, any chance of getting some more?" he wiggled his eyebrows in a bad attempt to persuade you. you beamed at his praise and awful persuasion "i normally give john any leftovers from dinner the night before for lunch, but theres hardly any- he loves to eat". john nodded in agreement "don't want any of you greedy buggers takin' my food". soap had noticed the slightly light hair on his beard near his mouth months ago, he could already tell john loved to eat. soap downed the rest of his drink in an effort to get his brain to shut up. he almost felt bad having such depraved thoughts of his captain eating out his girl bent over the kitchen counter while he was sitting opposite them in the pub.

noticing that the tips of soaps ears were slightly pink, kyle asked you with that dazzling smile "so how would i- hypothetically- go about getting more food". catching on to what he meant you replied "well you would have to ask the hypothetical man if you were allowed over for dinner. the decision lies solely in his hypothetical hands", a drunken giggle escaping at the silliness. price grunted, weighing up the odds of letting his task force over for dinner. it wouldn't be the first time them coming to his house, but you hadn't lived there then. from the corner, ghosts voice rumbled across the table "i'd like to visit too". you looked in his direction, nodding your head in appreciation. john glanced to you and saw a large cheesy smile plastered across your face, which was replicated by both his sergeants. what has he done. you and his task force had really taking a liking to each other. "i'll think abou' it" he said with finality. you clapped your hands and gave him a big kiss on the cheek "i'll take it". a dopey smile spread across his face at the kiss.

conversation carried on for another half an hour before you let out a yawn. stretching and standing up john sighed "come on dolly its time to get you home, before you turn in to a pumpkin". as john quickly booked a cab you finished the rest of your drink. busying yourself with getting your coat on john said goodbye to his friends. even though it wasn't clear you think you heard "m so happy fer ye mate", "she's gorgeous, treat her well" and "m proud of ye". you'll live in your cloud of plausible deniability quite happily.

"ghost, ahve called ah cab fer us three. it'll be here soon" soap called out, alcohol making him forget his inside voice. kyle replied "m proud of you mate, last time you were barely upright". the melodic sound of your laughter filled their ears for the final time that night. addressing kyle first you pulled him in to a hug "it was so lovely to finally meet you kyle". his lean arm wrapped around your waist, hand resting on the fat of your hip, you felt his breath on your ear "it was nice to meet you darling". kyle pulled away just before soap slightly barged past him. he swept you up in to an enthusiastic hug, chests flush together. you giggled in to his neck before a loud cough from behind you prompted him to hold you at arms length. "nice meetin' ye bonnie, when are ye next free?" before you could reply you felt a familiar arm corded with muscle hold you by the waist and pull you away. johns voice rumbled against your back as he said "mactavish you will know when we are free, if tha's alrigh' with the little lady". you nodded in agreement and replied "i'd like to see you all again, if thats okay with all of you?". the last part of your sentence was said in a mild manner.

for just a second the 141 saw a glimpse in to your second-guessing, price had told them to be extra nice to his birdie. before the sergeants could reassure you with grandeur, ghost resolutely said "of course". you beamed at all of them, teeth glinting and cheeks round, the widest and truest smile you'd worn all night. simon felt his heart swell slightly with pride, he did that. "cabs nearly here, you ready?" you nodded and waved a final time, john continued "good catchin' up with ya, see you horrible lot monday". the sergeants gave a very disorganised salute while ghost nodded his head.

stepping in to the night, a slight drizzle had started. despite that you abruptly stopped and pulled john in, cutting of his question with a kiss. you pressed your lips to his slightly harder and sloppier than you wanted in your drunk state, but john didn't seem to mind. his warm mouth opened more, bitter taste of beer on his tongue and slight scratch of his bed earning a soft moan from you. in return he gripped the fat of your hip pulling you impossibly closer, chests flush. at the whistles of onlookers you both pulled away, your eyes twinkled in the stars as a feeling of pure content filled both your bodies, "i'm so happy john". you both clumsily climbed in to cab that had pulled up beside you. your eyes were fixed upon the passing scenery outside the window and johns eyes were fixed on you. the reflection of streetlights on the droplets of the window looked like glitter, the perfect backdrop to the perfect view. sighing contently john replied "i'm 'appy too, doll".

in the other cab the rest of the 141 weren't happy, they were ecstatic. the mystery of their captains girl had finally been solved, the theories developed over their 'detective' period had been proven true or false. even ghost had joined in with the sergeants vigorous discussion about you, all singing your praises. although they had 'solved' the mystery, the new information had presented them with a new set of questions, a want to know more about yours and prices relationship. whilst discussing these questions passionately there was a thought none of them would vocalise, they wanted more of you. to spend more time around you, learn more about your likes and dislikes, get the recipe for your cooking and replicate it at home. they wanted to listen to your music and know about the memories related to each song. greedy hands grabbing at pictures of your latest holiday or your final day at school. they wanted more more more. they knew they were a bunch of greedy bastards, but john had let them at something so kind, so different, so sacred to any other woman they had met.

they knew this wasn't a normal reaction to meeting your superiors girlfriend. but years in the military caused disconnect between them and the world they couldn't quite explain. they know their eagerness is odd and unusual, but how else did price expect them to react. he had noticed the looks his task force had given each other, that had flew right over your head. not looks of malice, but something obscure and vague. like being drawn down a path despite not knowing where you may end up.

none of them knew that today had changed something within all of them, it just wasn't apparent. yet.

heloooo long awaited sequel, thankyou so much for being patient and thankyou even more for reading :)) i appreciate every single person who likes, comments, reblogs and follows!! any interaction is greatly appreciated <3

these big dumb stupid men living in my head have gotten me through my breakup. ive been feeling really bummed out so thankyou for being patient while i write this

[eyelambspider]

hey I love ur writing.

Can you please do like any other the cod men x a chubby reader who's rlly self conscious and stuff??

idk it's rlly self indulgent

ty ♡ and its alright, I write readers like this! as for the characters and content, i sort of put a bit of everything for you soooo- here ya go!

♡ Hold You || COD Hcs

┊pairing : gn!reader x price, gaz, soap, ghost ┊content warning : fluff, hurt/comfort, nsfw, angst ┊a/n : the last hc zaps my brain so fiercely

soap! unprompted would always compliment you. its assurance, sure, but he genuinely loves your body.

soap! will always steal glances at your hips, waist, arms and hands. he would love physical affection in anyway. cuddling, or always having a hand on you gently. (it happens so often that he doesn't even notice he's doing it)

soap! is speaking to someone but his fingers are gently rubbing formless circles on your thigh or brushing his knuckles against your soft hands as if he wants to hold it.

price! would love your thighs. to feel them warming his ears and over his shoulders, his face nestled in your heat and savoring you with his tongue.

price! doesn't let you try to squirm away or try to hide if your shy. his hands are always on your hips and sides, skimming up under your shirt to feel your stomach.

the taskforce men who especially love to trace the stretchmarks on your skin. fingertips gently marveling at how soft the skin is.

ghost! just picking you up like nothing despite your worried protests. his hands sliding under your thighs and ass to hoist you up onto a counter to kiss you and smother your mumbles.

ghost! likes when you wear what you like. he might not say much when he first catches you wearing a shirt that's not baggy and actually fits you well. his brown eyes always linger a bit too long in their usual 'nonchalant' manner before they soften, like he's smiling under his mask.

gaz! this man would love sleeping with you. you are the warmest damned thing he's ever held and it shouldn't surprise you when you wake up the morning to have him practically laying on you. his head on your chest or stomach, arms on either side of you and body between your legs.

gaz! has boundless patience and time solely for you when you're having a really bad day. crying and so unsure about your body and how you look. anything you need, he'll get it for you. sitting with you, tucking a blanket around both of your laps and letting your head rest on his chest until your mind is off of it. whisper assurances that you're perfect into your temple... but most importantly, just hold you close.

(with love from @lady-boketto) ghost! sending you a video of him bench pressing your weight when you try to worry about him carrying you all the time.

[str4ngr]

will you be mine?

cw: fluff, various character and different fandoms, gn! reader. synopsis: dates that they would take you on for valentines day <3 notes: making me jealous of ppl who don't even exist, bruh. divider by @bernardsbendystraws.

dinner. the rom-com, perfect night with a flutter of laughter in the air. soft, flickering light of candles as the aroma of dinner wafted in the air. the gentle clatter of utensils and plates, the murmur of other couples and patrons around you. even with such company, it was as though only the two of you existed, your eyes never leaving each other, your cheeks flushed with shy smiles. the food, although delicious, was secondary to the sweetness of conversation, of the connection that blossomed as the night progressed. neither of you wanted the night to end, for the tingle of love that made your cheeks ache with grins to leave.

⋆˚࿔ geto suguru, higuruma hiromi, reo mikage, micheal kaiser, kita shinsuke, oikawa toru, malleus draconia, john price.

movies. cuddled, wrapped, and warm in each others arms, a thick, soft blanket tucked under your bums as your breaths mingle together, the familiar setting of home making the night all. the more comforting. your eyes are trained on the bright light of the t.v., the dramatic dialogue, music, and intense plot making you gasp together, whispering to each other, trying to predict the plot. your hands intertwined, squeal at the plot twist, limbs flailing out as he groans when you accidentally knee him, your apology a hushed giggle as the movie continues to rumble in the background. he laughed and shook his head, scolding your chaos as you both huddled back together, continuing your occasional conspiracies on the plot and reactions to every twist and turn of the story.

⋆˚࿔ toji fushiguro, gojo satoru, yuuji itadori, meguru bachira, tendou satori, kuroo tetsuro, isagi yoichi, sukuna ryomen, simon 'ghost' riley.

baking. he never knew that baking could be so utterly chaotic. seriously, why was there flour across the table, on the floor, and all over his... butt? you laughed behind him, and his bum stung as he deadpanned, slowly turning around to glare at you. his gaze softened, no matter how hard he tried to scold you, his lips twitching into an affectionate smile as he threw a sprinkle of flour at you. you squealed just as the oven rang, ready to be loaded with cookies, muffins, and more galore. he hesitantly turned back around, brushing off the hand-print that stained his sleep pants, quickly pushing the pans into the oven. turning back to face you, he rolled his eyes again, playfully fighting with you as he tugged your hand from the bowl of brownie batter—not that he ate some as soon as you turned away—smiling into your flour-y hairline.

⋆˚࿔ nanami kento, shoei barou, ryuisei shido (he would throw the whole bag and spank you back), bokuto kotarou, leona kingscholar, johnny 'soap' mctavish.

museum. shoulder to shoulder, you walked through the expansive, slightly chilly, room, pausing every couple steps to gaze at the displays. his hand squeezed yours occasionally, his voice low and breathy as he explained small details about big pieces and their even larger meaning. he listened to you as you talked about the ones your recognized and understood. your shoes softly clicked in unison as you went room to room, taking the occasional photo of an absolutely enthralling piece. you weren't silent, but the quiet company of each other was more than enough, the feeling of your weight leaning against his should as you took a break. the way he rolled his eyes as he took your bag, carrying it without shame no matter how much he was 'reluctant' about it. he adored how you gushed over a exhibit that you particularly loved, his eyes momentarily stopping on it, before turning back to you.

⋆˚࿔ megumi fushiguro, hyoma chigiri, sae itoshi, hajime iwaizumi, kyle 'gaz' gerrick.

aquarium. there was a pep in your step as you two walked together, eyes wide as you gasped and pointed, pressing close to the glass as you two tried to find the fish the little plaque beside the glass spoke of so eloquently. ooh-ing and aah-ing over the strange and beautiful creatures that swam around you. walking through the tunnel was ethereal. the deep blue glow from the aquarium lightly tinting your skin his eyes stuck to your face, barely able to comprehend your words as you read of the placard about that specific tank of fish. his arm wrapped around you waist as the both of you walked through the dimly lit indoors, slow smiles creeping onto you lips while pointing out fish you recognized from previous tanks. oh, and don't even get started on the petting pool.

⋆˚࿔ choso kamo, yuta okkotsu, rensuke kunigami, rin itoshi, seishiro nagi, wakatoshi ushijima, akaashi keiji.

notes: mmm some of these kinda dont fit but like... you can just twist it a little in you head; there was a vision, promise.

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Conversation Hearts

Requested: No

Warning(s): Implied nsfw, mentions of condoms and lube, mention of nightmares, humping, biting

Summary: Little blurbs for CoD men based on some conversation heart words

Characters: Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Alejandro Vargas

Ghost - All Mine

“All mine.” You whispered in his ear, your hands crawling over his skin, a blessing. The touch of a god of love, something so pure and beautiful caressing his mangled flesh. He wasn’t worthy of it, but he craved it all the same. Your touch, your scent, your presence, your love. He wasn’t worthy, but he’d kill everyone else who got close, so that he could keep your attention for just a little bit longer. Ares with his Aphrodite, war and brutality against the soft and beautiful, the disgusting against the perfect.

“Yeah, Luv, I’m all yours.” He echoed, his hands gently cradling your hips, desperate to keep you as close as he could. Aching for your touch like an addict, like he’d die without you so near to him. He didn’t know how he survived before you and he knew he could never do so again now that you were in his life. “Always yours. This heart of mine is yours, til the second it stops beating. When I’m nothin’ more than a pile of ashes and dust in your hands.”

“My my, quite the romantic today, Mr. Riley.” You say with a chuckle, and it rings in his skull like wedding bells. Mr.Riley. He never much cared for his name, not the name that he shared with scum like his father. But you made it sound almost…pleasant. He wanted to hear it more, wanted you to never stop saying it. And maybe, one day, you’d call him by your last name instead. Your name attached at the end of his. He sounded it out in his head, loving every meshed syllable. Wanted to engrave it on his skull so that whoever eventually killed him knew who to send his raw bleeding heart back home to.

Gaz - Cutie Pie

“Cutie pie.” Your voice coos in his ear as he starts to wake up, scratching an itch he didn’t know he had, just by speaking to him. Calming him from the lingering panic of his nightmare before he could even get himself any more worked up. “Angel boy, love of my life.” You whisper again, peppering kisses against the rounded apples of his cheeks, along the line of his jaw, on the bridge of his nose. “Come back to me, Sweetheart. It’s all okay.”

“I’m here.” He whispers, his lips twitching into a smile when he feels your hand slide into his, linking your fingers along his own. “I’m right here, Lovey. I’m okay. Sorry to worry you like that.” He says, running his thumb over your knuckles, feeling the pulse in your palm beat against his own. He could almost convince himself that they were perfectly in sync, as they were meant to be.

“Ain’t gotta be sorry, Sugar Cube.” You tell him, your voice as soft and delicate as the baby feather of a dove. Tickling at his heart, at his soul. Every syllable from your mouth like a love spell made just for him. Perfect in every way that he could think of. Irresistible. More tempting than the secrets of Pandora’s box, and even more satisfying to indulge in. He would die happy, if you were there to talk to him until his eyes shut forever, and he slipped into the dark abyss. “It’s what I’m here for, Baby. Here for you, whenever you need me to be. Now and always, you got that?”

Soap - I Love You

“I love you.” Soap whispered against the curve of your throat, trailing his lips down your clavicle, over the slope of your shoulder. “I love ya so much, mah bonnie darlin.” He ran his hands down your sides, in the dip of your waist and over the arch of your hips, over your trembling thighs, your body shaking with emotions that you couldn’t even begin to place. Couldn’t begin to put names to. You weren’t sure you’d even be able to place them if you had a perfectly clear mind.

“I lo-love you too, Baby.” You whine, hips jerking against the soft pudge of his belly when he squeezed the fattest part of your thighs and runs his teeth over your collarbone in the faintest imitation of a bite, so unlike the deep feral ones he usually left along your body. Your legs kicked uselessly against his thighs, your back rising in a perfect arch, mouth agape with a soft choked noise that made him chuckle against your flesh.

“I love you more.” He says, grinding his throbbing cock against the bed, so violently that the whole mattress shifted up, just a little. His lips rolled up, baring his teeth in a facsimile of a scowl. A beast in the midst of a rut, and you were the prey he’d chosen to pin beneath the weight of his paw. “Love you more than you could even dream, my darling. My love. My perfect little fucking minx.”

Alejandro Vargas - Kiss Me

“Kiss me.” You giggle, eyes peering at him like you could find the secrets of the universe resting in his eyes. He smirked, tilting his head and arching his brow at you, staying silent for a long moment just to make it seem like he was thinking about it when you both knew that he was just going to dive in anyways. “Ale, kiss me.” You say again, with more force in your tone, grasping at the collar of his button down shirt and pulling him closer. “I need you to kiss me, Tesoro.” You whisper, brushing your lips against his.

“Te amo, Mi Corazon.” Alejandro snarled against your lips before fully leaning in, his teeth knocking against yours for a moment, your noses squished together before he righted himself, turning the action more pleasant, more sweet. Moans and gasps shared between you, out one mouth and into the next. Eyes squeezed shut until he pried himself away, making your whine. But he didn’t go far.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He whispered, making your eyes flutter open just in time to see him pull out a tube of chocolate flavored lube and a thick stack of condoms from his back pocket. “How about we celebrate this day the right way, huh?” He says with a wink and a dirty grin, barely even giving you a chance to process his words before he was grabbing at your arms and herding you to the bedroom, laughing the whole way there.

[thatoneautisticshark]

Hear me out:

Simon is shy, like really shy because he thinks he's scaring everyone and is just too much yk. That's why he doesn't talk. (Ghost is just grumpy and killing everybody because that's how it is.)

Except for his team. We all know Price is like a dad to him, Kyle is like ... kind of a little brother. But Jonny?! Our sweet Jonny boy is the only one he dares to laugh with and the first time he does laugh at some fucked up joke Jonny made, this boy falls head over heels in love with Simon.

Can you write something like that? Just some pure fluff, maybe with some dirty thoughts if you feel like it.

Ta da!

Soap, frankly, did not trust Gaz’s word. For many reasons, even though Gaz was his new best mate, he liked to mess with Soap.

He had done quite a few things in the three months that Soap had been here. Most notably, tried to tell him that Ghost was just shy. That fucking Ghost, the 6’4 giant, was simply shy.

Soap did not fucking buy it. The man never ever spoke if not mission necessary. Even on missions he barely spoke. If you touched him you got punched, and he was always glaring.

Not to mention the great big fucking skull on his face. If he was shy, why would he wear something to attract attention so much? Also he was one of the UK's most dangerous soldiers, he was a killing machine.

Soap had personally seen him gut a man in one movement.

So yeahhh. Gaz was being a little shit, as far as soap was concerned.

At the very least he wasn't always walking away the second Soap walked into a room anymore. He had been doing that for the first month, and the scot knew Ghost didn't like people. But it had still kind of hurt, because at least he was fine being in the same room as Gaz and Price.

Granted he was still getting glared at more than anyone else, but progress was progress. He was going to make that man- Maybe not a friend, he didn't even think Ghost did those- but have ghost at least tolerate him decently.

Soap was sure he'd make it someday, just not today. Today they were stuck with some pompus arsehole talking about how they needed to respect elders or some shit.

When the man finally left, Soap sighed, not even realising Ghost was next to him. “Bloody ‘Ell. The stick is so far up his arse it's poking out his esophagus!”

He only realised Ghost, the sneaky fucker, was there when he heard the snort, quickly turning to laughter.

Soap whipped around with complete confusion, staring at Ghost with wide eyes, and a mouth hanging open.He stared as the man laughed.

No, not even a laugh, that was a giggle, it was soft, high, and full of mirth. A gloved hand coming to cover the mouth of his mask as he giggled.

And oh fuck… maybe he was shy… and also hot, but Soap could unpack that later.

Following that day, Soap had a lot more success befriending Ghost. He actually trusted Gaz's word about Ghost now.

And sure… Ghost still wasn't talking much, but he was less… reclusive. Ghost would sometimes even seek out the scot. Just sitting in his presence and it was adorable.

[beloveds-embrace]

🧼 Soap Anon here; NOONAAAA !!! I read the fic you linked YOUR BRAIN YOUR WRITING!! I loved how effortlessly you move between the softness and warmth from the scenes of the 141 with reader to the more action packed, tense moments when they stop the intruders! I'm feeling better, thank God :D !! I saw your latest thing with emotional support Omega reader and my heart went WABAM cus reader was finally accepted 🥹 AND your birthday happened, so I'm giving you a gift for all the nice things you write for us 🎁 (I am in a Ghosty mood today, so please excuse if you wanted someone else 😭 but I saw you said you wanted someone to tell you to sleep and screw your professor!!)

You typed away at your laptop, the only noise in the room other than the same Lofi playlist looping in your headphones being the click clack of the keyboard. Your eyes drooped, eyebags heavy, your movements heavier as you slugglishy write something down in your notes, your heart heaviest as you look back to your class syllabus and see the sheer amount your exams mattered.

'Why do midterms matter so much anyway?' You mentally groan, trying to maximize your homework grades as you attempted this homework assignment for the third time, trying to get a 100%. You couldn't risk getting anything other than a 100 right now when you knew you'd fumble the midterm - this was the only class that fit your schedule, so you decided to brave the Rate My Proffessor ratings and take this class. You wanted to go back in time and shake yourself! You finally submitted the last question and at last, a 100% appears on your screen and your smile is illuminated by the bright light of your laptop. Youre about to close your laptop but when you X out of the assignment you only see you have project due next week. Yes, despite it being assigned today, you only had a week even though realistically, even with your three other partners, it would take much longer. But no, your three partners are flaky and unresponsive to your texts and you gotta do all this work by yourself, and if you didn't start soon you'd have no time. Then you remembered that you had work for your other classes and you break out in a sweat, your head spinning with overwhelm. You don't bother texting your group mates, heaving a sob as you feel your body ache, your stomach hurting cus you stayed up too late after dinner, and you wipe your face after you click on the project rubric and-

"Oi, luv. Stop it before I take your laptop away." You hear from behind you, whipping around to see your partner who's already taking off his iconic skull mask. You stare up, sniffling and wiping your face. His blonde hair is flat after being underneath the mask for so long, but you smile when you see his dark brown eyes soften as they gaze into yours.

"You're home...!" You say relieved, but you sputter when he closes your laptop and takes away your pen and paper. "Hey, wait-!"

"Shut." He commands, swiveling your chair and leaning in with a pointed look. You know better than to protest. "You listen to me 'ere; you're going to eat this thai food I bought and go right to sleep. If I see you near your laptop again, I'll wrangle you myself."

"But Simon, the project's due in a week-" You meekly protest, but he only holds your jaw, silencing you as he tugs you closer.

"Fuck your professor, he's full of shite." Ghost scoffs, practically dragging you up and sitting you down over on the couch, handing you your food. "'S how you like it, extra chilli sauce..." He mutters, sitting down himself and digging in. You smile wide as you eat, your eyes glistening.

"You gon' eat or are you just gon' stare?" He says, causing you to chuckle as you eat.

"You're right, my professor CAN go screw himself." You agree with him, relishing as you hear a small huff from the lieutenant.

"Yeah, he's taking the piss if he thinks anyone can do all that work. You're going to write him an email asking for a extension, I'll do it myself if I have to." Your partner says with finality, and you smile wider, snuggling closer next to him.

"You're the best, Simon...!"

"Funny, I was gonna tell you the same..."

🧼 ANON YOU GLORIOUS GODSENDDDD 😭🫶🏻🫶🏻 this is so good. So delicious omfg i love love LOVE this sm, thank you so so so much ahh!!! This is absolutely wonderful!!

[spiderlilliess1]

can we talk about nikprice like just something about them makes me go absolutely feral.

the whole base KNOWS there dating even know they never announced it, but all the soldiers seen how much they touched each other, the hugs from behind, Price SHARING his cigar with Nik, no one would dare say anything they knew how Price liked to keep his private life separate from work,

but one day, Soap being the curious and cocky little lad he is, takes a picture of Price and Nik kissing, sending it to there ‘tf141’ gc, Price going absolutely ballistic while Nik finding it hilarious telling Price to ‘go easy’ on the lad. Soap was made to run the track until he couldn’t move his legs anymore (Ghost had to come pick Soap up from the ground and carry him back to the barracks.)

Nik and Price cuddling in their bunks (they pushed their bunks together so it fit both of them.. since they’re huge) Price laying on Nik’s bare hairy broad chest. Whilst Nik play’s around with Price’s hair “you think you may have went a little harsh on him любовь? (love)” Price let out a low scoff and grumbled. “little shit deserved it, you know i like to keep you all to myself, without anyone watching like little pervs.”

[writingoddess1125]

I feel like I've been skimping out of Soap a little-

Let's give him some love 💕

Love at ALDI

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x FemReader

Fluffy Fluffy Ass Fluff

When one thinks of their hometown, they think of warm welcomes and hugs from relatives. A nice cooked supper greeting them-

Not Johnny however, Returning to Greenock was quiet- Often with him sleeping in mostly on his Leave. He didn't come here often anyway even when he was away from work, Only really stopping by to wish well to old Graves and check on the condition of the old house he inherited and had been slowly renovating for years.

For such a loud and proud man- His trips home seemed to gray and dull.. Having slowly began to realize that Base had been his new home and Task Force 141 had become his family, which seemed just as depressing of a reality.

Only one thing seemed to bring back his more 'Johnny' Self that so many saw on Base when here was one thing and one thing only..

ALDI-

His food paradise that he loved to raid, he was fairly sure at least a third of his checks when he came back to these rocks was keeping this damn ALDI alive single handedly.

Rushing in he had his reusable bags in his pocket as he went searching for his evening meal.

The man practically skipping as he grabbed a few of his favorites- Knowing he would stash these for later when his leave would come up as well. Practically crying in joy when he saw his oh so precious Potato Waffles, His Super Noodles, Bourbon Creams? Oh he was damn near hot in the Pants.

"Oh Hello my friends- Yes you were well missed"

The Male started down the different aisle and almost sliding in joy as he filled up his cart. However as he near the front walked something caught his eyes-

Johnny stopping mid step, turning on his heel as he looked at the register. His heart almost skipped a beat at seeing her..

(Y/N)..

His first when it came to it all..

His First Kiss.

His First Time.

His First Love..

Oh how he missed her, he remeber when you moved away he had cried in his bedroom for hours- making sure no one heard him as his heart broke that day when he had kissed you goodbye.

His heart fluttering in his chest in a way he hadn't done in a long long time.. A smile ghosting his lips as he stared at you from around the aisle corner- Probably feeling someone staring you started to turn and Johnny managed to duck back in the aisle just in time-

Shit shit shit!

Johnny looked around wildly. Now grabbing as many random shit as he could to make sure he had enough time to talk with you as possible.

After more stuff then he really needed was in his cart he smoothed out as many wrinkles in his jumper and walked over to your Lane. Beginning to unload stuff carefully as you gave a well rehearsed smile- "Welcome In, Hope you found everything you needed"

"(Y/N)? W-Wow long time no see" He manged out, Seeing how you blinked coming out of your working mode immediately.

"Johnny? MacTavish?" You recognized him, barely as he had changed so damn much. His face well sculpted and even through the old jumper he had clearly been well built- Truthfully you wouldn't have recognized him if it wasn't for those eyes and the boyish wide smile that always went over his lips when he saw you.

He nodded enthusiastically as he dumped the rest of his stuff without care and slid up to the front were you stood there.

"Long time no See Johnny, Didn't expect to see you here" You couldnf help but smile, especially seeing how he seemed to be trying to act cool- Leaning a bit on the ledge of the register which was too low for him making him unbalanced.

"Just got back actually. Gonna be here for a while (Now- before it would have been 2 weeks now hes thinking pushing it to 2 months). What about you? When did you come back? Thought you moved?"

"Ah I just got back actually a few months ago- Needed to save up and hopefully get myself back together" You admit, Johnny nodding at hearing that as he felt his stomach doing tumbles.

"I'd heard that you got married?" He Said softly (Lies he went to find your Facebook once and had a drunk fit when he saw engaged) you shook your head as you scanned his items.

"Unfortunately to a guy who said he would be a rock star- Aka Cheating on me with hookers and dipping with one of them across the country-"

You deadpan, Johnny giving a grimace at that- now realizing why you were back here.

"Damn- well I'm sorry.. But hey you're smart and I know you were pulling yourself alright. Im happy youre here an all, but still- Im sorry"

You shrug and laugh a bit to yourself. Looking up to him with those pretty lashes he remembered made his knees weak as a teenager and now they did the same-

"Well thank ya Johnny, Im trying my hardest though life isn't always kind- and right now at least I've retreated and taking time to lick my wounds"

You say softly, Johnny nodding softly at this- remembering times in his life where he had to do the same. However those were days he no longer had the luxury for, his time to recover was when he had these short moments in the place that felt like the shadow of his home.

"When did you get a kid?" You ask suddently, Making Johnny damn near jump as his face scrunch up in confusion. You holding up the bottle of baby formula randomly mixed in with his stuff.

His face flushed red as he waved dismissively.

"Grabbed it by accident- Don't have kids, or even a w-wife just yet ya know" He almost stuttered out and even his voice crackling at the end, You giving him a big Kool-aid smile as you set the formula to the side to return to the shelves.

Inside he was panicking- He could t the last time he had stuttered out let alonge a voice crack!? He felt like he was really sweaty all the sudden as well, like someone had a gun to his ass ready at any second to fire.

"Yet? Oh what a shame, You always struck me as the Marriage and dozen kids type"

He smiled, Remembering how he had said that to you once when talking about the shared future you two would have.

"I do- Just always wanted that with the right Lass ya know?"

You nod and smile up at him, Scanning what seemed to be the 5th bag of mini marshmallows on the belt. "Well You look Good Johnny wont be hard for you to get that wife of your dreams" He grinned wildly at this, Giving a comedic flex of his muscles.

"Think I'm looking Good?" He said, Going as far as the flex his Bicep at you drawing a deep laugh from you.

"Yes You do, The Mohawk is new but I like it as well. Very Buff and Fit" You say with a playful wink seeing how he seemed to flush and give a dorky smile.

"Take it still doing the tile buissness your Dad left? Always did say it would make you buff" You said softly, however regret it at seeing the wince on his face.

"H-Ha no.. Um I sold it actually... not long after Mum died" He shrugged.

Your hands slow down a little. Continuing to check out the items.

"..I'm sorry.. God rest her soul" You say softly, Remembering Mrs. MacTavish while not fondly it was still his mother non the less.

"Well- Shes resting somewhere" He mumbled softly, Rubbing the back of his neck again. Feeling that same raise of the hairs on the back of his neck when he mention.. Her.

"Well, What do you do now?"

John stared at you for a second akin to deer in the headlights, Like his brain was trying to figure out what to say-

"Military.. I'm in the Military now. Nothing too much" He mumbled the last part almost to himself. Johnny felt his stomach drop, realizing that the shadow of Soap would always be there... Would you hate him for that? The things he's done? How use he is to blood and how he sleeps with a gun by his side at all times.

"Well it still suits you well, Not the scrawny kid with a Bowl Cut- Someone who protects with a good heart" You say genuinely, like a light in Johnny's life you make those dark shadows wisk away.

"What can I say, Worth it just to hear you say those words- Also dont remind me of the bowl cut days" He couldn't help but run his hands over his admittedly slight overgrown Mohawk- His eyes going to the belt and seeing how you'd almost finished.

So he went in for the Kill..

"Hey.. Seeing how I'm on leave for a bit- and you're back in town.. Why don't we I don't know, we can have a few drinks at The Willow?"

You looked up at him and you couldn't help but see that same boy from before- The one who swore he'd marry you, the one who ran into a pole on his bike to ask you to the Church Dance.

The one who had the biggest smile on his lips when he first kissed you and who you'd first spent the night with- Staring up at the stars together wrapping around each other.

How could you turn that down?

"Sounds like a Date then"

Oh how Johnny could scream up to the sky in joy! He wanted to thank God or whoever the fuck was up there that he got his chance back!

"But first. It's 75£" You say with a chuckle as you see his face drop and look around wildly. Realizing the random shit he had grabbed at drove up the price by a ton!-

Biting his lip and Swallowing his pride and handed over his card.

You laughed at the pout on his face as he payed for the random assortment of shit- However there was still this giddy look in his eyes of excitement.

Writing your phone number on the back of the receipt just to add a bit of salt to the wound you handed it over to the poor Mohawked man as he took up his cloth bags.

"Hope to hear from Ya soon Johnny. Oh and enjoy the Tampons and Fig Jam"

You say with a chuckle, as Johnny took the receipt with care and his bags of items. A blush on his cheeks as he held up the cloth bags as he walked towards the exit.

"Thank you (Y/N)!"

[cod-thoughts]

Proclaim eternal victory

Word count: 1.1k

Relationships: GazRoach, Gaz/Roach

Tags: love confession (kind of), first kiss, competitive Roach

Part of a project that has a tiny explanation here. Keep reading under the cut!!

AN: Happy valentines day @hexxedghost!! I actually really struggled to write something for you cause you like so many things but I did include Roach cause i just had to. Its how we started talking anyway so it had to be done :D I hope i got their dynamic right, it was fun to write smth a little random like this instead of hurt/comfort pffft. I wish i had the time to write smth horror based though those ideas were so goooood, definitely gonna have to revisit that :O You're always so nice and understanding, your DMs have always been open and a safe space to me and for that i want to thank you, genuinely <33

The rivalry had started as a joke.

Gaz liked to talk. Roach, despite his silence, somehow always had the last word.

It was infuriating.

At first, it had been small things—Roach raising an eyebrow at Gaz’s one-liners, shaking his head with mock disapproval when Gaz made a particularly terrible pun. But then, Roach started using his phone to reply, quick texts flashing on the screen with pinpoint sarcasm, perfectly timed to shut Gaz up before he even had a chance to counter. Sometimes, when he wanted to really drive the point home, he signed. Gaz had been making an effort to learn, but he still missed a lot when Roach signed. It certainly didn’t help that Roach had started deliberately making his signs quicker, more subtle, knowing full well Gaz was struggling to keep up.

It should not have been possible for someone who didn’t speak to be this annoying.

It wasn’t just training, either. Roach had developed an uncanny ability to disrupt Gaz’s focus at the most inopportune times. Briefings, field exercises, even casual downtime—there Roach would be, watching him with that insufferable smirk, typing something at a speed that suggested he had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The worst part? Everyone else was enjoying this.

“You’re a menace,” Gaz muttered after Roach absolutely obliterated him in a training exercise, landing a clean shot before Gaz had even spotted him.

Roach, ever smug, pulled out his phone and held it up: Get good.

Gaz swatted the phone out of his face with a huff, only for Roach to catch it effortlessly, flashing a shit-eating grin before pocketing it.

Soap and Ghost, the ever-present audience to their nonsense, watched on with far too much amusement.

“Y’know, Gaz,” Soap mused, stroking his chin like he was deep in thought, “for someone who’s meant to be the witty bastard on this team, you’re lettin’ Roach run circles round you.”

Gaz rolled his eyes. “I am not letting him do anything.”

Roach, with the worst timing imaginable, sent a single message to his phone. Gaz felt the buzz in his pocket and, with a sinking feeling, pulled it out to read it.

Yeah, but you still can’t keep up.

Gaz turned to glare at Roach, who merely tilted his head with an expression of pure, innocent delight.

“Oh, that’s it—” Gaz began, but then Roach signed something quickly to Ghost. Whatever it was, it sent the normally stoic man into a low chuckle, shaking his head as he walked away.

“What? What did he say?” Gaz demanded, looking between them. Ghost just patted him on the shoulder.

“Nothin’ you need to worry about, mate.”

Gaz turned to Roach, eyes narrowing. “That’s dirty play.”

Roach smirked behind his mask but didn’t deny it.

Fine. Two could play at that game.

The next time Roach got the drop on him in training, Gaz decided to fight dirty. He grinned, wide and slow, and stepped right into Roach’s personal space, leaning in just enough that their noses almost brushed.

Roach, who had been infuriatingly confident up until now, immediately stilled, blinking at him with sharp, surprised eyes. Gaz didn’t miss the way Roach’s fingers twitched by his side, like he was debating stepping back but refused to give in.

Gaz smirked. “What, cat got your tongue?”

Roach’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of something dangerous in his gaze, but Gaz saw the faintest dusting of pink across his cheekbones and oh, this was brilliant.

Gaz was just about to revel in his small victory when Roach, moving faster than Gaz could react, reached up and flicked him on the forehead.

“Oi—”

Roach pulled out his phone, typed something quickly, and held it up for Gaz to read.

Try harder, pretty boy.

Gaz’s brain short-circuited.

Soap cackled. Ghost actually laughed, which was worse. Gaz was left standing there, ears burning, fists clenched, as Roach just walked away, supremely satisfied with himself.

Gaz seethed.

Alright. Fine. Roach wanted to play this game? He’d show him.

The next few days were war. Gaz spent every moment he could trying to get one up on Roach, but every attempt only seemed to amuse the other man more. Whether it was sparring, training drills, or even meal breaks, Roach found some way to fluster him. He’d smirk behind his mask, tap a quick message, and watch with clear amusement as Gaz gritted his teeth. He started stealing Gaz’s seat at meal times, casually handing him his phone with a text that read mine now before returning to eating like nothing had happened.

Gaz had never wanted to throttle someone more in his life.

It wasn’t fair. Gaz was supposed to be the smooth one. The fast talker. The one who could charm his way out of anything. And yet, every time Roach smirked at him or sent a cheeky message, Gaz felt his stomach do flips.

One evening, when they were walking back from the gym, Gaz decided it was time for revenge. He waited for the perfect moment—Roach, distracted, stretching out his arms, looking smug as ever—and stepped in front of him, blocking his path and guiding him into a slightly more secluded corner. 

Roach quirked an eyebrow, amused, but before he could sign or reach for his phone, Gaz lifted a hand and hooked his fingers under the edge of Roach’s mask.

Roach stilled. His hands didn’t move to stop Gaz, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes—just a moment where he let Gaz decide what happened next.

Slowly, deliberately, Gaz pulled the mask down, revealing Roach’s lips, slightly parted in surprise. Gaz felt his breath hitch at the sight of him, and for once, Roach wasn’t smirking, wasn’t teasing—he was watching Gaz like he was waiting for something.

So Gaz gave it to him.

He leaned in, pressing their lips together in a kiss that was slow, deliberate—less about winning and more about the way Roach melted into it. Roach made a soft, startled sound against his mouth before he kissed back, his fingers curling instinctively into Gaz’s hoodie. Gaz let himself sink into it, into the warmth, the way Roach’s breath hitched when he tilted his head just so.

The world around them blurred. The distant sounds of the base, the ever-present murmur of other soldiers moving about none the wiser to the revelation that Gaz was having right now—it all faded to the feeling of Roach’s lips against his, the way his breath stuttered when Gaz moved just slightly closer.

By the time Gaz pulled back, they were both slightly breathless.

Roach blinked at him, lips red, pupils dark. For the first time ever, he had nothing to say.

Gaz grinned, victorious, his voice smug but warm. “Gotcha.”

Roach’s fingers twitched—half instinct, half hurried—before he pulled out his phone and typed furiously.

Gaz had barely a second to brace himself before Roach turned the screen towards him.

Do it again.

Gaz’s breath hitched.

Oh, he was in so much trouble.

[nocturnesanomaly]

Chapter 10: Prophet Girls

(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)

Series: The Divine Violence - chapter 10: Prophet girls

Wordcount: 5,7k

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader

TW: (View masterlist for full series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious Trauma, PTSD, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Anxiety, Paranoia, Disturbing themes, themes of indoctrination, themes of eating disorders

Description: You go hunting with Simon in the morning, and get invited to dinner in the evening.

A/N: Well….this chapter took a long time - Holidays took the life out of me, but I'm making my come back to my writing! - This one hasn't been read by my lovely beta reader as she's sick, I hope you get better soon love! :,( - I've proofread best I could so, I hope you have all enjoyed the chapter regardless, it's one I've been looking forward to write!

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"Relax your arm, you're holding onto it too tight" Simon gently adjusts your hold on the hunting rifle by your shoulders.

You grumble quietly, following his directions and exhaling a cloud of frosted breath. "I know what I'm doing," you shake his guiding touch off leaning further down into the snow and relaxing. There's no animal in sight yet, thank God. It's not like you'd hit it like this, all jittery.

At least that's how the suddenly very invasive man next to you so delicately put it just mere minutes ago.

You don't remember him being this pushy, or this confident really. A trait you don't appreciate so much when it comes to the correction of your apparent flaws. They only became flaws today for some reason.

"Are you sure? You seem really tense," his voice has been a constant stream of chatter in your ears this morning. When in the world did he stop being quiet again. "I mean it, you need to relax or you're going to miss it."

"I am relaxing!" you hiss out looking to where he's laying by your side.

His eyes narrow but he lets out an exhausted huff. "At least relax your trigger finger, you're going to scare away any of the animals before we even see any." He shakes his head.

Despite your protest you do as he asks and relax your body even more into the snow. A bit of it has managed to find the little exposed places of your jacket and make its way under, but you can barely feel it now.

"If you're going to be so picky, why did you even drag me out here," you ask a tad calmer resting your cheek against the cold polished side of the rifle. When he had woken you up that morning, it came as a surprise that he was only doing it to drag you out hunting at the ass crack of dawn.

You hadn't been at the liberty to decline.

"You can't keep staying in that room forever..." Simon says adjusting his position in the snow and keeping an eye on the moving bushes at the far end of your viewpoint. "You aren't coming out anymore, it's getting Price worried. Johnny too even if he won't say it."

You let out an annoyed huff. They shouldn't waste their energy worrying over something so trivial. You knew how to take care of yourself, even if it didn't look like it to them. What you were doing was most strategic.

"Great so it's a pity hunt."

"Don't do that," Simon grumbles. "We take care of our own," he gives you a pointed look when you make a noise of disapproval. "You're part of the team whether you like it or not Spider."

"Temporarily."

He shakes his head but otherwise makes no comment.

"Are you really that eager to get away from us?" there's an underlying meaning in his words, it’s less about an us, and more about a me.

You hadn't given it much thought, what you'd do once all of this is over. A part of you doesn't know if this can be done. They have a determination you lack. To truly see this through, you're going to need something that you still lack, you're going to have to dig a lot deeper than before, to resist, to complete the objective set before you.

"Where are you going when all this is over?" you ask.

"Wherever they send me next," he answers.

That's the part of his job that made sure you never got there. Sure, there were other certain factors. However, that point, the going from place to place with reckless abandon and a trust in your superiors that you'll never build again is what keeps you.

You move on your own terms, not someone else's. Not anymore.

"That doesn't get tiring?"

He goes quiet for a moment, leaning over to adjust where your gun is looking. He guides it towards the rustling bushes where he seems to have spotted something.

"There...a rabbit...keep an eye and take your shot when it's in view."

You let out a quiet steady breath as the white fur and pink nose sniffs out of one of the nearby bushes. It's cautious of danger, sniffing at the snow before taking a few uncertain steps out.

It's like it can feel it. That some quiet predator has it in its sights. The tense air around the clearing is almost suffocating, the expectation of the shot making your senses jittery.

"You get used to it."

It's all jumping around too much, and you start to crave the stability of the drug induced illusions.

Your finger itches on the trigger, your breath hitches. You look right into the red eyes of the rabbit, you see its terror. It's enticing, a rush like nothing else, that makes sparks fly off the synapses in your brain.

You pull the trigger with as much uncertainty as the scared rabbit.

You could never get used to it.

When you get back to the cabin, you find Gaz hauling a pine tree inside the house, right along with a mountain of snow. You can't imagine Price will be happy about that, but all he gives is a disappointed glare.

He directs Gaz around, moving the table a bit to the side to make space for the massive thing. You had never truly understood why there was even a need for a tree, even more so here. You didn't even have any decorations for the thing, it would quite literally just be a tree in the living room.

"Oh, you're back," Gaz perks up from behind the tree when he finally manages to get it into position. "Did you catch anything?"

Your empty hands should speak for itself. Simon closes the door behind you, kicking off the snow from his boots before looking quizzically over at the tree. "No," you answer curtly. "Not this time."

"Well, at least you're not being forced to carry a tree all the way from town," Gaz huffed with a smile on his lip.

"Zip it Gaz, you volunteered," Price grumbles. "Now put it a little more left."

"Do we really need a tree Cap'?" Simon passes you to stand next to the captain, observing from his viewpoint.

"It's festive."

You slip past the three of them, quiet steps placed towards your room. Simon might have brought you, to get you out of the room but that didn't mean you couldn't retreat as soon as you got back.

Halfway down the hallway, a wall in the form of Soap stops you from entering the room once again. You stop abruptly, startling yourself and him at the same time. "Joh-" you don't get to cut yourself off because he does it for you.

"Spider!" a smile spreads across his lips, and it startles you worse than bumping into him. "I was wondering when ye were coming back," he sounds endearingly excited. "Are ye ready for tonight?"

"Tonight?"

You take a step back, swallowing the thick of your spit back down. He's holding a notebook in his hands, a pencil case behind it. He's been drawing again then. Your wrists itch, curiosity winning its primary space in your brain as to what he could possibly be drawing now.

"Got invited by Mrs. Evans and her husband to dinner at their house tonight, ye and me." He shifts the weight between his legs, his eyes darting away from you and to the art on the walls. "Price agreed it would be good idea, get more intel on 'em."

"Of course they did," you say exasperated. "He's not wrong, if they're apart of anything major there'll be signs. Subtle but they'll be there."

He nods, falling quiet as he stands there. You look at him for a hot minute, expecting him to move but he doesn't. Your lips move to form the words you want to ask but nothing comes out. Your eyes go back to the items he's holding, and you gesture to it, trying to get him to say something, anything.

"Oh! ach that's right, I got ye something." He smiles and holds out the notebook for you to take. Hesitantly you take hold of it, giving him a questioning look. Your hands ghost over the edges before you flip it open.

It's empty, but the paper has quality and it's not just any notebook. He had bought you a sketchbook, one that's matching his own. A warmth blooms in your heart as you realize he remembered. Of all things you hadn't expected him to go out of his way and use his own money on you.

"John you...didn't have to..." you cringe a little when you catch your own slip up. He gives you a curious look. A tiny nod is the only signal you get. He's fine with it. It manages to relieve a weight in your chest, the one that's been bothering you about the balance between the two of you. Of what is too far. What is too much.

You gently take the sketch book out of his hands, and he places the little pencil case on top of it. "Nah don't mention it, thought ye might enjoy having something to do that isn’t just working." You feel your cheeks warm up a bit at the call out.

Your teeth latches onto your lower lip, your eyebrows furrowing along with it to create the difficult expression. He looks so excited about this gift. It sometimes feels a little like having a dog standing in front of you, his tail wagging excitedly at the mere possibility of you showing even a hint of approval.

"Just think of it as an early Christmas gift."

You can see why Simon has taken a liking to him. When you first meet him, he's an imposing figure. Even if he puts his good side forward, there's an underlying darkness. A thing you haven't been able to dig out of him yet, but you can see it in the way he moves, in the way he carries himself through social situations.

It's no doubt to you that every single one of the men living under this roof have a deadly touch. They've killed, and they'd kill again if they were ordered to it. It makes you wonder what their moral compass is like. How far is too far. Would they have done what you did, if they were in your position?

Would they understand.

Whatever Simon was put through it had been rough on him, enough to confine himself to a mask. John seemed understanding of him. He always seemed understanding of the things around him. He cared for things. He took care of things, even if that is in his own ways. You watch him love Simon like it's the easiest thing in the world. It's a quiet love, barred behind closed doors for safety but it's there. You see it, in their actions.

You wish you could be like that. Take responsibility in the same way. You've never loved normally, and part of you is sure you never will. Your love is an obsession. It's an all-consuming sickness, burrowing itself in the cavity of your chest. You are an all-consuming idea. You lick your tongue over bloodied ribs, you sink teeth into the heart. Your touch leaves marks and scrapes, that will hurt and destroy.

There's no part of you that should be loved in the way John loves Simon. Yet you crave that attention so viscerally, you'd do anything for it, to be the object of someone's eye once again.

"Thank you..." the words are quiet but it still makes him smile.

"Do show me what ye come up with, ah have a feeling inspiration will strike when it's just right" he speaks like he knows. He's so sure of himself, that you almost believe him just from that. He's the smart type, he'll figure it out.

He'll figure it out.

You shake your head. He won't unless you give him or any of the rest any reason to suspect anything. So far, you're just a weirdo, right?

"Yeah, I will," you try to give him an easy-going smile. Your thoughts should stay on the goal ahead. Whatever this dinner will bring, you have an objective now.

"Do we have to?" you turn away from their front door to face John again. You had gone along this far without complaint. The event of the evening hadn't seemed so daunting before you were standing Infront of the Evans family's lusciously decorated front door.

The first sign of their religion already came at the first glance. The giant cross put in the middle, surrounded by decorated plants and Christmas reds and greens.

"Yes, we do, and ye know that" he says with a soft chuckle, yet he remains still with you in front of the door.

"We could turn around now, Price doesn't have to know, there's a market in town we're just as likely to get information there than here." You aren't sure why exactly you're trying to convince him, when you're well aware you aren't getting out of this without the use of force. Which is definitely not ideal either.

He shakes his head, an amused smile flashing your way. "Price'll know, trust me he always somehow knows," he speaks from experience.

"It'll be over before ye know it, and we can always go to the market afterwards if ye'd like that," he offers as a middle ground. As if it was about the market in the first place.

You lean forward to press their doorbell with a sigh. If you were quick enough you could find the signs and leave. The shallow hope resides in your chest like an anchor to reality. You knew it wouldn't happen, not the way you wanted it to.

You take a step back when Mrs. Evans opens the door with half a squeal to make you wince. Her smile is so bright it borders something disturbing. "Oh my goodness, it's so good to see you two! Come in, come in!" she exclaims.

You step inside, giving her a soft smile and the friendliest greeting you can think of. Anything to make you come across as normal and not an anxious lunatic. She's wearing a beautiful floral print dress reaching down to her ankles, her hair done up in braids tucked into a bun.

Your hands twitch, muscle memory settling into your reflexes as you remember. The younger ones had loved that type of hair. You had been the best at doing it.

The signs will be subtle but they will be there

The Father's voice echo within your head as you step into the foyer.

I never abandon my children to the dark

The inside of their home is almost as obnoxious as their loud front door. Everything is Christmas times a hundred, but only the right kind. The one that praises God, the holy, the pure.

"Thank you for inviting us, Mrs. Evans" you give her your best crafted smile. She clasps her hands together and gives you one in return.

"Oh please, I always make it a point to acquaint myself with anyone new. So few come all the way out to our lovely little community, it's a blessing to see good new faces, and I told Frank you two make such a cute couple I couldn't resist inviting you over and getting to know you!"

You freeze at that. Couple? You hadn't said anything about that. Had John...you give him a look but he doesn't look back at you, his eyes focused on Mrs. Evans.

"And we're glad you did, we're both happy that the community is so welcoming, we were a bit worried at first," John doesn't correct her. Is he being serious right now. Did he really tell her that the two of you were together. What in the world was he thinking. What about Simon.

"Please, take off your shoes, settle in settle in! Make yourself at home," she encourages the both of you. There's little time to reflect on his choice, and even less to scold him about it. For now, you'll just have to play along, pretend as if you know what in the world she's talking about.

You discard your shoes and jacket in their rightful places, keep a respectful distance from most things in their foyer to avoid accidentally knocking over the copious number of trinkets they've got out on display.

"I hope you like roasted pork," she leads you into the living room where the warmth of the roaring fireplace encloses around you. "My husband made sure to get the best from the market this morning."

"It smells delicious, I'm sure you're a lovely cook" John stands closer to her. She giggles and waves him off with a bashful expression.

"Oh please, I'm just fine but you'll get a taste for yourself soon enough."

They've got a tree out, ornaments putting it in a white and golden light. Each one engraved with something. It's too small to read. Drawings around the room, done in crayon and childish paint, hung on the spaces on the walls.

John makes small talk with Mrs. Evans, some of relevance some not. It all becomes white noise as your eyes dart around the room. A pet bowl stands near the entrance to the kitchen, it's empty. Paintings of moments of importance from the scriptures are hung neatly on the walls. You recognize most of them, while a few are vaguer for your imagination.

"Excuse me," you try to be as polite as you can butting into their conversation. "Where's your bathroom?" you gesture awkwardly around the room with your hand.

"Oh! Just down the hall sweetie, the first door on your right" Mrs. Evans points back out towards the hallway you had gone through. You thank her, before retreating back out there. Away from the prying eyes of hers.

The hallway is almost worse than the living room. Decorations are splayed about, and it's probably the most visually interesting thing you've come across. Overstimulating almost. You come to a stop Infront the circular mirror, you ignore it in favour of directing your interest towards the display on the little table in front.

It's been decorated in many different colours, plants, pine, ornaments and Christmas cards. All of them coded in some way with the scriptures or religious practice that's been taught to them. Your hand traces over the little ornament, the words hollowing out inside your mind. Reactivating prayers that lay dormant.

'Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart - Proverbs 3:3'

You know words of prayer by heart. You've spent countless nights reciting them, practicing them, committing them to memory so you could receive a reward morning come.

And then you had spent countless nights crying them out in a prayer for help, for rescue. You had spent countless restless nights turning your throat raw, screaming to a god that never actually listened.

This home is oversaturated with them.

There's truth to be found in them, one you pretend to no longer care for. You walk further down the hallway, inspecting every ornament, every inscription. All the little signs that could distinguish this home from a loving religious household, to one that does the bidding of the collective.

There has to be signs. Tiny little things. Anything at all that can lead you towards the presence of The Father, of your home. He rarely goes anywhere without doing so, to lead his rightful children back to where they belong, no matter how far out they might have gone.

It was a lesson he taught you early on.

There'll always be a place for you in my arms.

The shadows still take his face, and use his voice. They still taunt you despite how much you try to fight it. You think they might not even stop if you were to finally give in to them.

You come to an open door. A child's bed room. It's clad in golds and pinks, blending together in the context of a princess design. The little kid is there too, her golden hair almost shining in the big lamp light above. A halo around her head. She's pure.

She would be so easily corruptible.

"Are you mommy's guest?" she doesn't seem nervous at all. "Oh! Do you wanna see my toys? Mommy says I can get more for Christmas!"

Let her be innocent. Please. Let her be free of it.

You walk closer wordlessly. An easy smile settles on your lips, exactly how you used to do with the young. "Yeah, those are some cool toys" you try to mimic her tone of excitement. "Are they new?"

You settle down onto your knees next to her. Her toys keep the same colours scheme as her room, except for a few baby blues and greens. She excitedly shows you her favourite.

You're careful not to touch her as she drags you through her collection of colourful ponies. She's too young. Let her be too young to know.

He starts young.

Let her be too young.

Your eyes search her body for scars, bruises, any mark at all but find nothing but the smooth skin you envied. "Do you go to church often little one?" you ask and settled down on the floor next to her in a more comfortable position.

"Mhm! It's a bit boring sometimes though, don't tell mommy I said that," she snickers and puts a finger over her mouth.

"Have you ever wanted more out of it?"

She shrugs barely interested in your words, clearly boring her about just as much as the lectures she would find within the church. You reach out, grab her arm with a force that gets her eyes to widen.

"Deus spes nostra," your eyes bore into hers searching for even the tiniest sign of recognition within her.

You spoke a tiny prayer within your mind, let her be innocent, let her be free.

"Deus lux mea est."

Your stomach sinks, your eyes searching for the source standing in the open doorway. She couldn't be much older than you had been. She had the same expression you would wear back then, masked by the anxiety swimming in your gut.

The family has two daughters.

The little one, uninterested in the religious practice being thrust upon her as she grows. She'll change her mind as she gets older, turn to the so-called light stained by the blood red sky above her.

And the older one.

He's raising a new angel.

It's the only thing that makes sense. A new angel to take the place you left hollow when you fled. He's starting from the bottom up, creating something better, something stronger. And by how she stares you down from across the table, it wouldn't be crazy to think she knows of you.

You can only pray she would keep her mouth shut. That she wouldn't alert your presence to anyone of importance. Or you could dispose of her. The plan formulates all too quickly in the back of your brain, how you'd do it, what you'd do with the corpse afterwards, the explanations of your absence to the team.

Depending on how deep in her training she is, you're unsure whether it's a fight you want to pick alone. She's so much younger than you, inexperienced but fresher without the pains of a weakened body.

"Love, could you pass me the salt?"

You freeze, your head whipping to John in surprise. Despite the agreed cover you hadn't expected him to pull out anything extra. Was that really needed? As if Mrs. Evans hadn't already fussed over the two of you enough.

"Yeah..." you pick up the salt and pass it to him. Your eyes leaving the new angel.

"Are the two of you settling in well?" Mrs. Evans speaks up clear startling her youngest. "I know the valley can be difficult to get accustomed to especially this time of year!"

She has a faux type of energy that rubs you the wrong way.

"We're settling in just fine, kind of you to worry" John responds with optimism. How does these people not rub him the wrong way, can't he see it? Or is he just that much better at masking it than you are. Likely it's the latter and it doesn't help your annoyance.

"Ah it's nothing, gotta look out for the young love in our community" her knife squeaks against her plate when she cuts a piece of meat. It hurts your ears. The table itself is clad in imperfect white frills, candles in the middle, surrounded by fruits, potatoes and meat galore.

"Isn't that right honey?" she elbows her husband in the arm. His eyes have been glued his plate since you took a seat. He's barely eaten a thing. When he doesn't answer her, she clears her throat and nudges him again.

"Mh..yeah."

She lets out an awkward little laugh, her uncomfortable stature satisfies something in you. John smiles unsure towards her as he takes another bite of his own food.

"Oh, darling you've barely eaten a thing? Do you feel ill?" Mrs. Evans directs her attention to you when she doesn't get the response she's looking for. You mentally curse out the man of the house for not taking up her conversation.

"No, I'm alright, just had a big lunch that's all" you give her your best attempt at a disarming smile. Let her buy it. Don't dig.

You pick up your fork and pick up the piece of meat you had cut for yourself. It doesn't go down easy. The heat burns your tongue, and the texture drags in your throat. It settles wrong in your stomach.

"It's such a good thing the two of you decided to come to church! The community is always so excited over newcomers, I'm sure you'll make lots of friends in due time." You have to give it to her, her excitement seems as genuine as it gets. Whatever lays beneath, she believes in it wholeheartedly.

"Yeah, we're happy to have found it so receptive. We have a lot to learn from a tight knit community like this, but I'm sure there's only good things to come. We've also been thinking about expanding our horizons, attend some things more than just the Sunday mass." John replies in an excited tone. He's good at mimicking the interest in their practice, but you suppose it's not entirely fabricated.

"Oh but of course! You absolutely need to come by Wednesday when the choir practices. My own two girls are apart of it, and they've got the most angelic little voices, do you not?" she glances towards them with hope in her eyes.

The little one smiles bright at you, nodding along rapidly to what her mother is telling. The elder remains quiet. "They both work so hard too! I mean you should have seen it when they first started, a bit uncoordinated but they sharpened up quickly. A few private lessons and it put them right on track with the others!"

She sounds proud.

Her happiness disgusts you.

The daughters are silent listening on to their mother singing their praises on a topic they'd clearly rather avoid. It's in their faces, even the younger one, the distaste, the compliance. The new angel still has her eyes on you, ever focused on your moves, your expressions, your reactions. She's too observant for your liking.

You make a mental note to ask Laswell for any and all information on this family, on her.

There'll be plenty of work to do once you go home from this. You doubt you'll get much sleep. You only hope your sleep deprived state won't cause you too much trouble, and that the 4 men living under the same room won't make too many comments. You got voices enough in your head to listen to.

The rest of the dinner is spent observing the family's dynamic, marking off mental notes of their reactions to one another. You've got down the mother’s devotion, the daughters forced contribution, the father’s detachment to the world around him as if nothing matters to him anymore.

He's been here

This place is filthy with his prints

He's planted the seeds and they've taken root deep within them

"Thank you for the dinner, Mrs. Evans. It was delicious."

"Oh, don't mention it Mr. Mctavish, it was my pleasure to host the two of you" she gushes as you move out the front door and back into the snowy town. John follows close behind, his hand holding tightly onto yours as if to keep you in check, so you don't go running off prematurely.

You guess he still doesn't fully trust you after your little stunt.

"We'll see you in church on Sunday! Stay safe now," Mrs. Evans waves you off and closes her front door with a prominent click.

You let out a deep sigh, finally being out of there. "You did good," John says and gives you a smile. His hand is still in yours, a warm weight you don't feel like letting go just yet. Luckily, he doesn't seem to want to either as he tugs on your arm to walk in tow.

You let him lead you, tugging your jacket further around yourself. "So are you not a fan of family dinners at all, or was that just as intense as it felt like back there," John says with a chuckle. You a crack a smile of your own. You could still feel your muscles tense state, at least you hadn't been completely alone in it.

"Would you believe me if I said both," there's amusement in your voice bordering a reciprocal chuckle. He looks to you with a fonder smile.

"Yeah."

His attention is taken off of you again when you hear the faint music down the street. Christmas carols, songs of joy. It seems to spark interest in him as he quickly changes course.

The closer you get the more extravagant the decorations around town seem to become. Fairy lights are hung from house to house, and across streets, becoming shimmering lights above you, like golden stars in the night sky to guide you to where you're meant to be.

"It's beautiful..." your voice is but a whisper, staring up at the marvel. A rough hand comes to graze against your jaw. The hand that isn't holding yours guide your eyes to the bigger display at the centre of the upcoming square, the giant tree in the middle, the band in front of it playing songs for a dancing crowd.

His hand squeezes yours, making you look down. His thumb rubs soothing motions over your skin, like it's meant to be there. Your eyes trail back up to his face, but he isn't watching you. No, that amused face is captivated by your surroundings. There's something unmistakably beautiful about him in this kind of lighting, and you count yourself blessed enough to be allowed to see it before your end.

Your teeth clench together as your mind drifts back to the dinner. The one question you want to ask lies on the tip of your tongue, and before you can stop yourself.

"John back there why did you make us a couple, we could've been anything to them you didn't have to-" you bite down on your tongue, looking away from him as his eyes come back to you.

"It was the first thing that came to mind, didn't think it would bother ye that much." John is quick to respond, his concern edging into his tone. You swallow uncomfortably, and the hand that lies in yours suddenly feels wrong, like rubbing your hand on a cheese grater.

"But you and Simon..."

"He doesn't mind."

Your brows furrow, because what does he mean he doesn't mind. He should mind. He should really, really mind.

"But-"

"Dance with me."

He comes to stand in front of you, blocking the view of the spectacle ahead and becoming the new one instead. Light shines around him like he was sent from the heavens, a beacon for you to follow. The workings within your mind are dangerous, the connections they start to make.

"What?"

"Dance with me." He's steadfast not taking no for an answer as he gently grabs your other hand and moulds you into the right position. He doesn't start right away, waits for your muscles to relax, for the surprise on your face to morph into something different.

Then he leads you, and you follow.

You haven't danced much in your life if at all, and it shows in your clumsy movements, in the way you look down at your feet as to not step on his. He doesn't say a word, not a single complaint is heard. He spins you around with a soft smile on his lip, hums along with the tune of the song in the back.

It takes you half the song but you start to grow more confident, your steps more bold, more assured. A smile cracks out on your own lips, and when he spins you around again you can't help the laughter that crackles from your throat, the tickling in your body.

"You don't have to worry so much you know," he whispers close to your ear, your back to his front.

"We've got you."

He spins you back around, guides your steps until you've successfully danced yourself over to the rest of the moving crowd. His hand finds a resting place on your waist, the other one aiding you to make sure you stay in place. Your steps become unsteady, trying to not bump into people but he doesn't let go. He doesn't let you fall.

You don't know what changed for you that day, but later on you've come to realize, the feelings within you have morphed into something else, and whether you liked it or not, they would continue down that path. It's too late to walk away.

Likes, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, love ya! <3

Taglist: @unlikelyaperson @ghostlythots @haipasa @woodlandgirl22-blog-blog @kaoyamamegami @ellabellabunny123 @chickennn-soupp @spicyspicyliving @lilynotdilly

[grimmroach]

my favorite soap is the soap that is so so soft and gentle toward ghost. like he LOVES that man and he will make sure said man knows it. he looks at ghost like he hung the stars. traces over the scars of Ghost’s body, committing each one to memory. draws him over and over again, sketchbooks lined with ghost’s eyes, hands, mask, lips- he fucking loves that man.

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Emotions are hard for Ghost

     Simon was staring into his cup of tea, it was barely warm at this point. He wasn’t a very emotional man, never have been, but lately he’s been having a lot to figure out when it comes to his emotions. Than he has to figure out what to do with the emotions. It was simpler when he didn’t feel much of anything, he glanced up to see Johnny skating in his journal from across the table. Simon thought that letting himself feel things again at least had it perks, he could admit to himself.

     “Johnny,” Simon spoke softly, just enough to draw Soap’s attention from what he was doodling.

     Johnny just hummed in response but did look up at him with a raised eyebrow.

     “I think-”Ghost started to speak.

     “Oi, there’s no I when it comes to our relationship LT, it’s just we at this point.” Johnny gave Simon a cheeky smile as if he was waiting for this moment.

     Simon gave Soap a look before continuing. “Fine, then WE have a crush on Y/N”

“You’re damn right we do! They’re everything we want and need in a partner. Now the question is how are we gonna get a date with them?” Soap had an excited look about him now that they were on the same page.

“Let me get a new cup and we can plan.” Simon stood up from his chair to get himself a new warm cup of tea. 

[temeyes]

Slip-Up

[stellewriites]

Hii! Can you do ghoap x reader fluff? Like cuddles with mild flirting (from soap, obviously) and like soap is the little spoon, because in return he gets head scratches in return, reader in the middle, and Simon as the big spoon just pressing his face into the crook of readers neck?

Would rlly apreciate it <3

-🌑

i loved this idea when i read it and then proceeded to take far too long to actually answer it lmao BUT!! here it is,, ghoap x fem!reader fluff - ty for the request 💓

you picked up the cheap jar of pasta sauce and compared it to the branded version stacked next to it. as far as you could tell, the ingredients were the same and the little veg chunks included weren’t any smaller.

you nodded to yourself. it was decided, you weren’t paying two quid extra just for a name, fuck dolmio.

you looked higher to the top shelf and frowned when you saw the pasta had been pushed away from the edge and you’d be unable to reach it on your own.

“need a hand, dove?”

you turned to see a handsome man with a mohawk beelining towards you, his eyes tracing your frame with hot familiarity. without waiting for your response, he bullied his way into your space to reach over you for the pasta. barely stepping back, he handed you the pack and looked you up and down.

“thanks, stranger,” you said, holding back a laugh at his amused smile. you saw the moment he decided to play along.

“pretty skirt,” he said and nodded down to your bare legs peeking out beneath the denim.

“hm, my boyfriend got me it,” you said, a little teasingly.

“oh? and this boyfriend, he’s left ye all alone to do the shoppin’ has he?”

“no, he’ll be back soon. and he’s kinda protective, won’t be happy seeing me talking to other guys,” you said trying not to smile.

“ah’m no’ scared,” he scoffed, his own smile breaking out as he looked around the aisle eagerly for the aforementioned boyfriend.

“i don’t know, he’s pretty big and strong, wears a scary mask,” you said.

“aye? reminds me o’ my boyfriend,” he said and you finally giggled, leaning in to kiss him and giving up playing pretend.

“dove, they got their tiger bread in stock again,” simon said as he rounded the corner of the aisle and interrupting your kiss. “i ha’n’t ‘ad this in ages.” simon barely paused at the unexpected appearance of johnny, his eyes turning up in the corners as he smiled under his mask. “johnny, look, tiger bread.”

“yeah, i seen, si,” johnny said fondly, crowding you back against the trolley. “only getting the one loaf?”

simon paused. “hm. you’re right.”

you snorted as he dropped the bread into the trolley before heading back to the bakery section and leaving the pair of you alone again.

“work was a fookin’ drag, dove, cannae stand all this paperwork they’re keepin’ me busy with,” johnny groaned into your temple. you petted his arm consolingly before turning back to your list and shopping trolley.

“you were injured less than a month back, john, you can’t have been expecting to be back in the field so soon?” you hummed as you continued shopping with johnny leant over your back.

his silence spoke volumes.

you shook your head as you made your way through the store and waved simon over as you passed him by, hoping he hadn’t harassed the bakery staff into making more tiger loaves last minute for him. the absolute fiend.

“wha’s wrong with him?” simon asked as he got back, hands full as he nodded to johnny’s slumped frame. you refrained from asking simon if you really needed three tiger breads and instead nudged your other boyfriend up from your shoulder.

“he’s bored,” you said easily, grinning when johnny pulled back properly to send you a betrayed look.

“fuck’s sake. c’mere,” simon huffed before dipping down to kiss him, chuffing a laugh as johnny sputtered at the woollen texture of the mask in between them. “you’ll be back in no time. just behave or it’ll be longer.”

“ye sound like cap,” johnny grimaced. he wiped a hand down his tired face. “when are we goin’ home, hm? fuckin’ knackered, could do with a nap before dinner.”

“y’drive ‘ere?” ghost asked while you grabbed a box of eggs, checking for any cracked inside.

“aye.”

“then you can leave whenever,” ghost said flatly, though the glint of his eyes in the overhead lights betrayed his amusement at johnny’s plight.

johnny pouted.

“yer cruel, si. tell him, dove, he’s heartless,” johnny bemoaned dramatically.

“you’re cruel and heartless, simon, would you prefer strawberry jam or raspberry for a change?”

“could be a treat,” ghost conceded.

johnny groaned at the both of you, pinching your hip when you laughed.

“you both know i cannae sleep without someone’s arms around me,” he huffed, turning his big puppy eyes on you both.

you caved immediately.

“aw poor baby,” you cooed, biting your lip when you saw simon roll his eyes. “let’s get this done quick then, yeah? go grab the burgers we like from the frozen section and that ice cream we got a couple weeks back.”

“yes, ma’am.” johnny jogged off.

“si, can i trust you not to make your way back to the bakery if i give you a list of items to grab?”

“no,” he admitted without shame. “i saw the lad in the back prepping more for tomorrow, think i could convince ‘im to cook ‘em now for me if given the time.”

“right. hand holding it is as we find the toiletries then. ‘s like herding cats with you two.”

simon hummed, his eyes trained on the section you knew the bakery to be hidden in.

—

once home, johnny packed away the majority of your shopping in record time, snatching the jam from simon’s hands and almost throwing it onto the work top before plying his mask up one handed and dragging him down into a rough kiss with the other. you watched, amused, with raised eyebrows as johnny dragged him back towards the bedroom desperately, waving a hand at you and gasping out a needy, “dove, c’mon, stop fucking around,” in between wet kisses.

you didn’t need to be told twice before attaching your hands onto simon’s thick waist from behind, guiding them from bumping into any furniture or walls as they stumbled blind to the bedroom.

johnny pulled back with a dopey smile and pushed simon none too gently onto the bed. you took advantage of his lowered height and pulled off his mask completely, rubbing a gentle hand over his buzz cut hair and down to his jaw. you leant in for a soft peck before feeling johnny’s hands and arms wrap around your soft stomach.

he clung to you, nuzzling at your cheek over your shoulder until you turned in his arms to share your attention.

you heard the bed creak as simon settled further up the bed as johnny kissed you. you shuffled back, parting from johnny just long enough to get your bearings and climb onto the bed, simon’s hands moving to guide you back as johnny hummed against your lips.

you flopped back into simon’s arms, got comfortable as he wrapped you up and held you tight against him.

johnny sighed in relief at the sight and shuffled down so he could rest his head on your chest.

you gathered him close and laughed when he started whining when your hands stayed on his shoulders.

“so needy johnny, have you ever heard the phrase ‘patience is a virtue’?” you teased as you started to run your nails through his hair, lightly scratching until he sighed and dropped his body weight against you and simon.

“too t’red,” he mumbled.

simon lifted his warm hand from your hip and draped it heavily over the back of johnny’s neck, keeping him close. soon enough, the scot was snoring.

you tried not to laugh, your chest bouncing johnny with your muffled chuckles. “i think that might be a record.”

“tired lamb,” simon said condescendingly, but he rubbed his thumb lovingly over the soft skin behind johnny’s ear.

“don’t be mean.” you grinned back at him.

simon hummed and rested his head into the crook of your neck, tucking you in closer with the arm still wrapped underneath your waist. “not bein’ mean.”

he nipped at your neck, a soft nibble that had you gasping and clenching your thick thighs around the one johnny had slipped inbetween.

“prick,” you huffed without malice when he stopped and let out a long tired breath in your ear. he hummed with closed eyes, clearly not listening.

you chuffed a laugh into johnny’s hair. the low thrum of arousal simon had brought on was easy enough to ignore but you’d have rather he’d finished what he started. instead, you tucked your cold toes between his large calves behind you in penance and tugged johnny even closer, enough to smother him. with your arse perched perfectly in simon’s lap and johnny nestled close to his second favourite place on your body, you were sure they’d give you what you were after once their nap is over. you closed your eyes with a smile; you could wait for them to get their energy up, and you loved your puppy piles just as much as they did.

[s0fter-sin]

ghost who was chemically castrated by roba and soap who wants to help him to regain his sexual autonomy

nsfw, angst, roba, unnegotiated unsafe but consensual gun play, hopeful ending

💀🧼

ghost walks like it hangs low.

there’s a tilt to his hips and a spread in his thighs and johnny’s never been able to stop staring.

and ghost’s never asked him to.

he knows he’s seen him; he’s not exactly discreet. he swears he’s even seen him cock his hips out before to give him a better view. but he always pulls back just as they toe the line; verbal cold water on the tentative heat they almost can’t help but spark when they’re together.

it’s never a no; johnny’s not so selfish of a cunt that he’d push when he knows he isn’t welcome. it’s always a reluctance; an “i wish i could,” never in so many words. an open ended “but…” as ghost circles the reason without ever actually saying it. johnny knows it’s something personal, something more than a difference in rank could ever excuse.

so he backs off when ghost does, jokes instead of flirts and holds his breath through the agonising wait until ghost lets him in close again. waits to know if he’ll let him close again.

it’s almost anticlimactic, the end of their dance; his delicate steps and looping logic to work out why bulldozed as ghost comes out and says one random night, “i can’t fuck.”

it’s not bitter. it doesn’t grate coming out of his throat; he doesn’t spit it like it’s something to be ashamed, not twisted with insecurity as if it’s an accusation by an ex.

it’s a statement of fact.

“you can’t fuck,” johnny echoes anyway because even if it is the reason, the big why… it still doesn’t really answer anything.

“i can’t get it up,” he elaborates, this horrid blankness in his eyes like he’s reading from a script. “whatever you’re looking for, whatever you want- i can’t give it to you.”

johnny just looks at him, the chill air prickling his skin. “right,” he nods calmly. “because my interest in you starts and ends with your dick.”

that blank calm shatters. “johnny…” he warns.

“do you really think i’m that shallow?” he cuts in, curing himself for the way his voice breaks but he never thought ghost would think so low of him; that this whole time, ghost’s thought that’s the only thing he wants from him. “like i’d take you for a ride ‘n just drop you?”

“there’s a difference between not gettin’ it for one night and never gettin’ it at all,” ghost growls, turning his back on him to lean against the edge of the roof. his shoulders heave and the anger seeps from him in one long breath. “it’s not a hitch, johnny. not a performance issue or ptsd or whatever the fuck you’re thinkin’. it’s permanent. irreversible.”

irreversible.

johnny stops, cold creeping up his limbs and dousing his defensive anger. ghost is many things and when it comes to his words, chief amongst them all is deliberate. he didn’t say it’s unfixable. incurable.

irreversible.

johnny buries his selfish hurt and scuffs his boots, an unobtrusive warning of movement, and comes up beside him; just enough distance between them to catch their breaths. he leans back against the ledge and looks over the opposite side of the roof at the dark sky.

“mexico,” he murmurs. not an accusation. not even really a question but ghost collapses in on himself anyway; sinking into his crossed arms digging into the ledge.

“mexico,” he agrees just as quietly. “‘pparently, roba found it more entertaining to let me keep it but- cut the cords. more demeaning that way; cock’s gone, at least you don’t feel the urge. don’t have to look at the fuckin’ thing hang there when nothin’ fuckin’ works.

“it’s not ‘bout how i see you, johnny,” ghost promises and it’s almost apologetic. “but you like sex. eventually, you’ll want it. and i can’t give it to you. easier to just… not let it get to that point.”

johnny’s jaw flexes. everything in him wants to reject it, wants to protest that something as trivial as an orgasm is more important to him than ghost.

but he also knows words are useless here.

they stand there looking out into the gathering dark, tense silence hanging between them, and the only thing johnny knows is if he isn’t careful, he could lose the one person he cares about most.

💀🧼

ghost’s been uneasy since his abrupt confession.

he knows it was sudden, borderline cruel to dump his shit on johnny with no warning but he just couldn’t take it anymore; couldn’t take the back and forth when he knew it would never go anywhere, couldn’t take johnny’s hope when he knew he’d have to watch it twist into disgust and pity.

into disappointment.

he figures that’s the end of it; there’ll be no more flirting now, no more staring or heated looks, no more teasing him by spreading his knees out just to see the flash of hunger in his eyes. the control he felt playing with johnny knowing it was welcome, just because he could- he’ll never feel that again. not now that johnny knows the truth.

then he steps into his room to find johnny laying naked on his bed.

he’s not spread out like an offering, not throwing him some cheap sultry glance as he plays with himself. he’s not even hard; his cock limp over the cradle of his balls, his legs bent loosely together, arms under his head as if he’s settling down for the night.

ghost sighs and shuts the door behind him. “johnny…”

“i know,” johnny says and it’s gentle; not cutting him off, just getting his attention. “just… hear me out?”

there’s nothing else to say. there’s nothing johnny can say or do to fix his violated body. but ghost still crosses his arms and leans back against the door like he can anyway.

johnny pushes himself up and off the bed, closing the distance between them but still giving him enough space to breathe; to open the door behind him, to escape.

“i can never know what was taken from you,” he starts and ghost’s fingers dig into his arms. “i can never know what it means to you. and i can never get it back.”

he doesn’t break eye contact and slowly lowers himself to his knees. “but i can give you something else.”

“you?” ghost guesses flatly and as much as it warms his blood, as much as he’s imagined having johnny look up at him just like this… it’s still not enough to offset the sickening swoop in his gut when his cock doesn’t so much as twitch.

“i’m a nice bonus,” johnny purrs but his smile remains gentle. “but i’m not the main event.”

he lifts a hand and ghost readies to smack it away when he reaches for his thigh holster instead of his belt. he flicks the closing strap open and pulls his handgun, his favourite, free.

“you told me you can’t fuck,” he murmurs, popping out the clip. he taps it against the side and loads it back in with a practiced hit with the butt of his palm. “but fucking isn’t all there is.”

“johnny, what…” ghost starts just to cut himself off as johnny thumbs off the safety and loads a round into the chamber.

“you trust me?” johnny asks and it’s as loaded as the gun in his hand.

good then, that ghost knows the answer. “always have.”

johnny’s smile blooms with warmth, with pride, and it chases away any reluctance he could possibly feel. he lets him take his hands in his, wrapping them around the gun with his finger on the trigger guard. he brings the barrel up beside his temple, holding it steady before his hands fall away.

until it’s only ghost between him and a bullet.

johnny’s hands go to his belt, his movements slow enough for ghost to stop him long before he reaches his cock, forever hanging limp in his pants. but he just rubs the muzzle along his temple, almost nuzzling him with the gun as he pulls down his jeans and boxers.

he waits for johnny to take him in hand, maybe try and pantomime a handy, and his hips almost recoil at the thought.

but he doesn’t try to touch him.

instead, he takes his wrist and guides the gun to sit in front of his cock; angling it to follow the same slight curve he has then holds his hands behind his back like he’s standing at attention. he splays his knees wide, sinking deeper and ghost sucks in a harsh breath as johnny ducks under the gun; his eyes locked on his as he curls his tongue under the barrel and brings it into his mouth.

it takes every ounce of will he has to not let his hand shake around the gun as johnny gives it the slowest, messiest blowjob he’s ever seen; slowly rising higher on his knees, guiding the gun up with him as if it’s his cock hardening. his cheeks hollow as he sucks, tongue laving up the barrel and flicking out to play with the muzzle like a cockhead, moaning with every bob of his head until saliva drips off the metal and makes a mess of his chin.

ghost’s never felt so powerful as he does watching johnny hang off the end of his gun; watching his cock harden and drool between his legs without a single touch, knowing he could pull the trigger at any time and johnny would not only let him but he’d thank him.

the thought breaks him from his paralysis, drawing the gun from his lips and johnny immediately stills; rolling his wide eyes up like he’s trying to check on him. ghost pushes every ounce of heat into his gaze and cocks the gun to the side, slowly pushing it back in until johnny’s lips meet the trigger guard.

johnny whines as he fucks his mouth, thrusting his hips along with each long drag like the gun is an extension of his body; almost too rough as tears prick his eyes and his lips redden and bruise but he never asks him to stop; his cock leaking a puddle on the floor beneath him.

“you gonna cum for me, johnny?” ghost croons, holding back a groan when just his voice is enough to make him shiver. “gonna cum with my fucking gun down your throat?”

he gives a broken whimper, as close to an agreement as he can make, and ghost crowds in close. he grips the base of his mohawk, wrenching his head back until his throat is flush to the front of his thigh. johnny lets out a choked cry, eyes rolling back and he doesn’t hold back as he brutally fucks his face; feeling the bulge of his gun in his throat against his leg.

“come on, johnny; you wanna be my good little holster?” he growls and makes sure he’s watching as his finger moves from the guard to the trigger. “then take my fucking load.”

he forces the gun as deep as he can and johnny gags, his shaking body locking up as he cums untouched; painting the floor and ghost’s boot, cock twitching and pulsing hard enough to bump against his belly and leave a string of cum threading from it to his cock.

ghost watches him spasm and moan, his throat convulsing around the gun and a heated knot of satisfaction tightens in his gut; so close to the memory of an orgasm, he’s almost dizzy with it.

johnny slumps forward, his hands slipping from behind his back, and ghost quickly flicks the safety back on and drops to his knees. he slides the gun away and pulls johnny forward to collapse into his chest, taking his weight off his knees; his whole body trembling with aftershocks.

“you’re crazy, johnny,” ghost whispers, awed, and feels him smile against his chest.

“aye,” he agrees, voice raspy from his gun scraping up his throat. “how else am i supposed to prove that i mean it?”

ghost tries not to tense up; tries not to let hope sink its cruel roots into his chest. “mean it?”

johnny pulls back, his cheeks still flushed and sticky with spilled tears. “i’m yours, ghost; in any and every way you’ll have me,” he promises. “sex or no sex. this can never happen again and i’ll still never stop wanting you. it doesn’t matter to me as much as you do. you’re everythin’ to me, ghost. not your body; not what you can give me. just you.”

a knot crowds in his throat. “and you needed to deep throat my pistol to prove that?” he deflects.

and just like always, johnny lets him. “worked, didn’t it?” he winks. “you fucked my brains out.”

ghost rolls his eyes to hide the softness he knows is flooding them and helps johnny up and gets him into his shower; cleaning him of the sweat and cum and spit covering his body.

that ghost covered his body in.

his chest hitches at the reminder as he strips himself down to a single layer and all but falls into bed, tugging johnny in after him when he hesitates just slightly at the edge of the bed; splaying his still naked body over him, sated and loose.

“i really do mean it,” johnny whispers into the crook of his neck sometime later; when their breaths have settled and synced.

ghost sweeps his fingers up and down the length of his spine, skin he’s never seen. skin he now knows every inch of. “i know you do,” he whispers back.

and for once, he thinks it might be enough.

[thatoneautisticshark]

I'M BACK AGAIN

Okay so in response to you saying "Simon thinking he was being sooooooo flirty, but it's shit" it made me think about his flirting in general.

Simon's sense of humor is already something that most people wouldn't get and the rest groan at and try to hide that they find it funny.

I think Simon would 100000000% just SUCK BALLLLLS when it comes to flirting like he's so fucjing bad at it. He either says smth and they think he's being kinda creepy ("You used a different shampoo today, it smells nice") or dropping morbid scary facts (totally not projecting)("the epidermis layer of the skin isn't attached to any blood major blood vessels. If you skin someone alive carefully enough, they'll die of dehydration before they do of blood loss" trying to seem cool and smart) or maybe he says smth more normal but he's got that dead face and those intense eyes that make it look like he's glaring and the monotone voice and people think he's gonna kill them.

But Johnny fuckin MacTavish. That little freak!!!!!! It works. Of course Simon's God awful flirting would work! Johnny's a freak! I like to think he's a lil pyrophiliac or smth sometimes, he's kinky! But also, he just understands what Simon's trying to get across bc he knows Simon better than anyone else! People always say they can never tell what Ghost is thinking but Ghost just has to send one look Soap's way and Soap already knows that Ghost wants a specific brand of tea and a fucking biscuit or smth else ridiculously specific.

And it baffles the rest of 141 the way Soap reads Ghost so easily and how Soap blushes at Ghost's weird ass flirting. Bc what do you mean Soap is getting all hot and bothered over Ghost talking about how long it takes to strange someone to death or smth like that 😭🤣

Ghost doesn't even have to say anything he just walks into a room and Soap already knows. Call Soap the Ghost Whisperer from now on!!! It comes in real handy anytime Ghost goes nonverbal bc he's stressed out the wazoo

This is Ghost lookikg at Soap and Soap knowing that Ghost is craving *insert the most ungodly specific and random thing here* more than oxygen itself.

yes. Yup. Cannon now because I say so. Not quite sure how to make it into a fic,so you get more like little prices of it.

Soap genuinely believed Ghost was mute for the first three weeks, then He randomly spoke, and Soap was like. Okay then.

After mission, Ghost is obviously stressed and not doing well and non of the team knows what to do. Ghost just stares at Soap for five seconds, and Soap grabs his keys. "I'm going to get Simon banana milk brainwaves and KFC Fry's, anyone want anything?" And the team is going... What the fuck?

On their one month anniversary Ghost gifted soap a giant plushie spider that Soap keeps above his bed and it terrifies Gaz.

Ghosts flirting is facts. Like he tells soap about how, female hyenas have a pseudo penis, and it rips during birth. And Soap just goes. Good for them mate.

Ghost is either rambling or mute and soap loves him either way.

His observations of little things is so endearing to Soap. "You washed your hair". "your shoes are polished" "That's a new toothpaste." It also comes in useful when soap is injured because Ghost spots in a millisecond.

Freaky under the cut. Also TW Murder

The first time they fuck is in a storage cupboard on a mission, because Soap seeing Ghost slit a clean line down someone's throat to their dick got him going. (He is fucked up okay)

Soap blows up a base, and ghost is giving him bedroom eyes.

Soap has a much shorter mohawk for a while, because while palying with fire in the bedroom they set it on fire.

On days they are both horny, but Ghost isn't up for touch, Soap has sucked off ghosts gun, with the saftey off.