#and into military offices and ball rooms

[sassydefendorflower]

As much as I want Roy and Riza to spearhead the restoration of Ishval post-canon, I want Roy to be barred from going to Ishval to do the work himself even more.

Hear me out.

There is something incredibly selfish about Roy wanting to be the one to return the Holy Land to the Ishvalen people. It makes sense for him to strive for that goal - he feels personally responsible for the destruction of Ishval, he sees its restoration as part of his path towards becoming the Führer of Amestris, he considers it to be the rightful way to ease some of the guilt weighing him down.

It is also the easy way out.

Because if you think about it, Roy being the one to do all that, is not a narrative that centers the Ishvalen people. And I think they deserve to be the driving force behind their own salvation.

There is a reason General Armstrong doesn't try to take on the Ishvalen restoration at the end of the show - and it is not just that she has no personal investment in the matter. No, if anything, she entrusts it to Major Miles. She entrusts the future of the Ishvalen people with a man who shares their past.

(her blind trust into the military state be damned)

And who does Miles choose to help him rebuild what was once lost? Scar. He chooses the feared serial killer. The Savior of Amestris. The Scarred Monk. The One Who Killed A King. The Hand of God Striking Down a Monster.

He chooses someone who suffered through the Ishvalen genocide, who was raised not only in the culture, but was an active practitioner of the most common religion of the region.

These are the people who rebuild Ishval for the future.

I think Roy would only ever do it to escape the past.

And if we're being honest, I don't think anyone in Ishval would greet him with open arms. These people might hold a great ability to forgive within their hearts, but I think many of them would consider it an insult to let the man who burned down their cities back into Ishval to become their savior.

To become the public face of the restoration of their Holy Land.

And being denied the ability to spearhead this campaign, it would hit Roy hard. Because in a way, hard labor and the arid desert air, would have felt like a just punishment. Being hollered at by the survivors of the genocide he participated in would have felt good. Getting blisters and sunburns and swallow down his own spit... pain was always a sign of hard work. Of doing the right thing.

But forcing him to stay in Central? To pull the ropes behind the scenes? To be denied this public repentance? To be kept from the most straight-forward way of repaying his sins?

The restoration of Ishval was never the end-goal, and it is just one part of a long list of things both Roy and Riza want to fix before facing a trial, but I think Roy hoped he could pay for that in blood. Cut-up knees and burned hands, dry throats and countless hours spent digging up wells.

But facing up to what he's done isn't that easy - and the people of Ishval deserve to live a life free from Roy Mustang and his damned flames.

[venus-haze]

Lay All Your Love on Me (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: A communication breakdown has unintended consequences, but it’s all because Homelander loves you.

Note: Gender neutral reader and no descriptors are used. This is based on a request from @judyfromfinance and the ABBA song which is so Homelander coded. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Jealousy, possessive behavior, violence (not toward the reader). We love miscommunication for plot reasons here! Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Homelander had no reason to believe you were hiding from him. Your job kept you busy, and ironically enough, working for the same company didn’t guarantee that you’d see each other nearly as much as he’d like. When his texts went unanswered and he couldn’t so much as hear you during the day, though, his mind went into overdrive presenting him with every worst case scenario it could possibly conceive of.

Cheat. Cheat. Cheat.

His gloved hands balled into fists at his side. You would never cheat on him. He knew that. He did. But sometimes, it seemed like your heart didn’t ache for him the way his did for yours. You had a life outside of him, and as much as you tried to include him in it, he resisted. Things would be easier if it were just the two of you.

Trying your phone again, he called you, frustrated when it went straight to voicemail.

“Hey babe, it’s me. I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Give me a call back as soon as you can. I love you,” he said, adding a quick. “Call me back" for emphasis.

He groaned, throwing his phone aside and folding his arms over his chest. It was fine. He didn’t care that much anyway. At least that’s what he told himself as he glanced at his discarded phone every few seconds in hopes you’d call or text back. No dice.

As a last resort, he headed to the crime analytics department. You managed a small team of analysts who consulted with the state and federal government on Vought’s behalf. The two of you had met when Vought was trying to get supes in the military, and as far as Homelander was concerned, it was love at first sight.

Never mind that it took a few weeks to win you over, frustratingly committed to your job and hesitant to date a coworker. Even though he’d hardly consider the two of you coworkers. Sure, you both worked for Vought, but that was it as far as he was concerned. In his determination to woo you, he’d made some valuable connections in your department. At least, people who he knew would have some kind of scoop on you when he needed it.

“Hey Annika,” Homelander said, startling the young crime analyst as he approached her desk. “How’re you doing, pal?

“Hi Homelander,” she said, not quite able to keep eye contact with him. “Sir. I’m good. H-How are you?”

“You haven’t seen Y/N around today, have you?”

She shook her head. “Sorry.”

“Alright,” he said tensely, a painfully fake smile spreading across his face. “Keep up the good work.”

His smile faltered as he heard your name come up in a conversation on the other side of the room. A masculine voice, younger than his, far too much mirth for his liking when he spoke about you.

“Dude, I was in Y/N’s office for like an hour yesterday. I could barely concentrate. They are so fine.”

“You’re insane,” someone else laughed.

“What? Have you seen them?”

“They’re dating Homelander, dumbass.”

“Whatever. It won’t last. He and Maeve will get back together, and yours truly will be there to pick up the pieces.”

“If you say so.”

Homelander hadn’t noticed his eyes glowing red until Annika squeaked. Letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, he looked at his…acquaintance.

“See you around,” he said, his chipper tone clearly strained.

Since you weren’t answering your phone and he still had no clue where you were, Homelander had all the time in the world to wait around for your sleazy subordinate to take a bathroom break. He wondered if you were aware of the man’s interest in you. It was a possibility, but he had to assure himself that you wouldn’t do anything to encourage it. He knew you wouldn’t bother with a miscreant like that, of all people, but the point needed to be made. No one could speak so vulgarly about you and expect him not to do something about it.

Fifteen minutes or so had passed, and Homelander spotted his name badge. Josh.

“Hey Josh! You have a minute, buddy?” Homelander asked, voice booming through the hallway, causing Josh to flinch. Homelander smirked a bit.

“Homelander! Is there something you need?”

“Yeah, actually, I just have a question about the crime analytics office.”

Josh nodded. “Sure, anything.”

“Did you see any Greek letters in there?”

“Wh-What?”

“Did you see any Greek letters in there? Maybe a keg and some drunk idiots wearing togas?”

“I don’t—“

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Then why were you in there talking about my partner like you were in a fucking frat house?” Homelander asked, cornering the slimy analyst. “You know Y/N and I are dating, right? Your idiot friend told you as much.”

Josh’s mouth flopped open and closed like one of the disgusting fish The Deep crusaded for. “I—I didn’t mean—“

“So either you’re incredibly stupid, or you have a death wish. Which one is it, buddy?”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Homelander.”

Homelander chuckled, empty and hollow, reveling in the way he could practically smell the fear radiating off of the man in front of him. “You will be.”

With the way Josh was carrying on, Homelander would’ve thought he’d actually killed the guy. All he’d done was snap his arm and throw an elbow to his nose. He’d just bought the asshole a free rhinoplasty, far more generous than he deserved after what he did. 

Homelander sneered at the blubbering crime analyst, work shirt covered in his own blood. Pathetic, really. And he had the audacity to act like he was worthy of you. Throwing one final glare Josh’s way, Homelander walked off, wiping the blood off his gloves and onto his suit. It could be dry-cleaned out.

The outburst made him feel better than he had all day, though it didn’t answer the question of where the hell you were and why you weren’t answering him. Besides, he swore he heard the familiar sound of your footfall in the lobby. 

He supposed you wouldn’t be too happy if you came back to see one of your subordinates brutalized in the hallway. Just his luck, he spotted an intern in one of the unoccupied offices.

“Hey,” Homelander said, pausing a moment to read the intern’s badge, “Sammy, there’s a mess over by the crime analytics office, can you get someone to clean it up?” 

“Sure,” Sammy responded cheerfully.

“Thanks, it’s the little things that make this place run. You’re doing great,” he complimented, giving her a friendly pat on the shoulder.

Sammy returned his smile, obviously not questioning his sincerity. Homelander knew if he framed the whole thing as a favor, she’d be more likely to follow through. It was always good to have reliable people in his back pocket for things like that, worker bees who thought they were friends or something. She walked off, strides purposeful as she set off to complete her personal mission from Homelander.

Rushing over to the elevator, he listened for you, getting out on the fifteenth floor where he saw you just as you walked out of the bathroom. 

As soon as he made eye contact, he melted, making a beeline for you.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around Homelander. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Where were you?” he asked, almost painfully returning your embrace.

“I told you I was presenting for the security council at the UN all day. No phones, remember?”

He huffed, releasing you from the hug. Fuck. “I guess—maybe that rings a bell. You shouldn’t tell me something so important while I’m distracted.”

“How much did you miss me?” you teased, holding up your pointer finger and thumb to pinch the air. “This much?” You spread your fingers wider. “This much?” Wider again, except before you could ask, Homelander scooped you up in his arms.

“Why don’t I show you?”

“Please do,” you said, tilting your head up to kiss him.

He retreated into the elevator with you, his lips capturing yours in a desperate kiss laced with longing. You giggled at him. You’d only been gone for a few hours, yet he was acting as though it had been days. 

You missed him too, resolving to focus your attention on him for the rest of the night.

Until your phone rang.

“I should get this.”

“Now you’re able to pick up a call?” he grumbled, setting you down.

“One minute,” you whispered, grabbing your phone, “then I’m all yours.”

He pressed the button to his suite, having forgotten to do so in the heat of passion. “You better be.”

You picked up your phone, amused at Homelander still clinging to you, kissing your neck. “Hello?”

“Josh from crime analytics?” you asked, tensing a bit when Homelander grazed his teeth on the crook of your neck. “I haven’t heard from him since he gave me the homicide report yesterday.”

Homelander hummed against your skin, and you let out a whimper only he could hear at the way it vibrated through you. He was smug, and it took you a moment to piece together why.

“Okay, talk to you tomorrow,” you said before hanging up. “What did you do?”

“Something chivalrous to defend your honor,” he mumbled, his lips unrelenting on your shoulder as he pulled your shirt down to expose it.

“I guess I should thank you properly, then? My knight in shining armor?”

He lifted his head, grinning, “If you insist.”

[sorchathered]

Let’s do IT for our country

Pairing- President!Robert “Bob” Floyd x reader

Warnings- smut smut and more smut, breeding kink, language, mentions of pregnancy, us politics, I think that’s it?

Summary- Robert Floyd had never wanted to be the president, but here in the Oval Office on inauguration night with his First Lady? He could get used to nights like this.

A/N- It’s that time again! Another IBFFM, but this time with an older version of our sexy WSO. Mr. President is about 45 here, his First Lady is in her mid 30’s.

Also it’s @bobgasm ‘s birthday present!! Happy birthday to my precious Steph, love you so much baby!!

For as long as he could remember, Robert Floyd had been told he would be great.

His family name was synonymous with the likes of Kennedy and Roosevelt, the Floyd’s were some of the most influential in political history, and with that came high expectations. You must go to a prestigious college, you must serve your country (whether that be as a civil servant or military member), and you must marry the right kind of person. They talked about it as if they were breeding horses, and it never made any sense to him, so long as he found someone kind and supportive all of the bullshit that his family expected mattered very little to him. He would tick off whatever boxes they wanted, but it would be on his own terms.

He went to the US Naval Academy after high school, refusing to hop onto the Ivy League lifestyle his grandfather so desperately cherished. Moving on to aviation as a WSO and then becoming one of the top 1% in the country in his field. It was a distinguished career to be sure, but he’d been adamant that he had no interest in pursuing a political career, and certainly not the presidency.

He still wasn’t sure what had brought him to this point, or how he’d somehow managed to bag his dream girl in the process. A feisty junior senator from Delaware, good family, strong morals and drop dead gorgeous to boot, you’d been his match in every way. Sure you had hated his guts, he was the golden boy and you had dealt with his kind your whole life. But after a particularly long day in the senate he’d asked you to dinner, and while you’d had half a mind to tell him no the prospect of a free meal wasn’t worth passing up. So in a dingy dive bar with greasy burgers and cheap beer, you took a chance on him and fell ridiculously in love.

Four years had passed since you’d both sat in the creeky wooden booths of that shitty bar, and it felt simultaneously like yesterday and a lifetime ago. His family had pushed him into politics and while he had been adamant in the beginning that he would never pursue the presidency, the world had changed dramatically since he first refused the mantle. He may have hated the pageantry of it all, but at his core he truly did want to help people, and they certainly took notice. He’d run a clean and honest campaign with his best girl by his side, and won in a landslide. Everything moved very quickly from Election Day to Inauguration Day, it almost felt like he had blinked and he was here, wandering the halls of the west wing after skipping out on the last two of 10 gaudy inaugural balls he’d been forced to attend. He’d been going since sunrise and still couldn’t seem to get the jitters under control so he could rest; he suspected it would be quite a while before that feeling went away. Shaky hands moved to open the door to the Oval Office, completely renovated and designed by his beautiful wife to fit his style and personality, you’d made sure he would want for nothing, he’d be spending so much time in this room and it seemed only logical to make it a calm and safe space for him and his thoughts. It felt so much like his office at home, even down to the worn leather chair and the soft scent of sandalwood and tobacco from the candles you bought because it reminded you of him. You had told him you’d be heading to change and wouldn’t be gone long, he had plans to unwind with a bottle of bourbon and maybe a game or three of checkers, but as you slipped into the spacious and hallowed room belonging to the commander in chief, he nearly jolted out of his skin. There you were, his First Lady, in a skimpy little silk robe, intricate updo long gone in favor of soft curls, and the adorable little fuzzy cat slippers that he’d bought you for Christmas.

“Good evening Mr. President” you said with a smirk as you locked the door and padded over to his desk. You’d chosen well, the beautiful mahogany writing table had belonged to Theodore Roosevelt, and while it hadn’t been used in many a president’s term, you had made sure it was painstakingly restored and ready for his first day. Now that you were here, all he could seem to think of is how much fun it might be to test the sturdiness of the surface, perhaps he did need to blow off a little steam after such a stressful day…

“Sweet girl, you do realize there’s cameras everywhere right?” He said as you pushed his chair back just enough to fit between his thighs, very gently sitting on the edge of the antique escritoire. This desk had seen many a scandal, so many historical events, and you were quite sure she should handle the weight of what you had planned next.

“Already got that covered, Phoenix is on surveillance right now, you can go ahead and go dark Nat!” You said in the general direction of where they’d mentioned cameras were placed, a notification on your phone let you know she’d confirmed that the two of you had thirty minutes all to yourselves and you broke out in a blinding grin as you leaned forward to press a kiss to Bob’s jawline. The sharp intake of breath and his hands immediately going to your hips let you know he’d need this just as much as you, it had been embarrassingly long since the two of you had been together, and you filed away the notion that you would need to make sure you had the right security in play to make quickies like this a regular occurrence, policy be damned.

You’d drawn his lips to yours as you untied his tie and began unbuttoning the front of his dress shirt, his hands had drifted to palming your ass as he licked the seam of your mouth, a gasp from you was all he needed to slide his tongue against yours, squeezing you a little more roughly and all but pulling you into the plush office chair.

“Fuck I missed you,” he breathed into your mouth, you’d nearly gotten his dress shirt removed when he slotted his knee between your legs, large hands gripping the back of your thighs as he placed you back on the desk, this time swiping whatever loose papers off the top and sending them cascading across the plush carpet that held the presidential seal. You squealed and giggled, watching with rapt attention as he removed his dress shirt and exposed the defined freckled skin of his arms, pulling his undershirt off with less finesse as it joined the pile of papers on the floor. “I’ve never found a president to be sexy until just this moment, I have to admit, you look damn good in this office, sir” you said as you leaned back on your palms and ogled him, heat crept up his cheeks and chest at your praise, but his eyes had darkened at the honorific, you knew exactly what you were doing to him, and he could feel his dress slacks getting uncomfortably tight as you ran your bare feet up and down the back of his legs.

“You wanna be a good girl for me Madame First Lady? Let me lay you out and devour you where anyone could walk in?” His voice grew impossibly deeper and you let out a whimper in response, shifting to try and get some relief. You did want that, you wanted it so badly you could scream, it was the very thought of being dirty and unladylike for the man you loved that had you so hot and bothered, and he trailed one long finger down your sternum to remove your robe, fire in his eyes as he opened the sash and found you completely bare for him.

“Goddamn it, should have known you’d do this, you know exactly how to wind me up don’t ya? Whole world wants to know how to bring me to my knees and all they’d have to do is weaponize you and this perfect pussy.” He was completely fixated on your arousal glistening between your legs, and while normally you’d let him take his time, you knew it wouldn’t be long before some aid or agent came by to make sure he had everything he needed for the evening. If they only knew.

“Bobby, please? Don’t have a lot of time baby” you said as you squirmed on the polished wood and searched for some kind of relief. He seemed to snap out of his haze as lust clouded eyes fixed on yours, letting his index finger trail down your stomach and through your folds, watching your head fall back and chest heave at his teasing.

“Need to hear you say it sweet girl, you know what I want.” You blushed in earnest, he loved how dirty you could get, but that had always been behind closed doors in the comfort of your own home, you’d be mortified if anyone heard some of the things you’d said in the throes of pleasure; but it was his big day after all. If he wanted it, you’d give him the moon.

“Need your mouth on me Daddy, want you to make me cum and then fuck me with your big dick. Please? Please give it to me, ‘s been too long, fuck - I-“ you babbled at him as he continued to rub that one long finger up and down, it was maddening and had you choking on your words, thankfully he didn’t make you wait, spreading you open and pressing two fingers into you as he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around your clit. The relief was immediate, you moaned out into the empty room as he went to work on your aching pussy, drawing tight circles with this tongue as he scissored his fingers inside you. It had been weeks and he knew he’d need to get you ready, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was going insane over the little noises you made and the iron grip you had on his hair, tugging at his scalp as you bucked up into his pretty face to search for your release.

It was startling how fast he got you there, you were certain you were dripping down onto the desk now, wet smacks and moans coming from between your thighs as you peeked down to look at his deep cerulean eyes. He was too damn good at this and he knew it, had the audacity to wink at you as he nibbled on your clit and with a gasp you came all over his face, watching as he wiped his mouth with his arm and smirking like the cocky bastard he was. He controlled the entire free world now, but he would still consider it his greatest accomplishment that he could render his pretty wife to a babbling needy mess with his tongue. Disheveled looked good on you, blush spread across your cheeks and chest, hair a mess, and your release all over your thighs from what he intended to be one of at least three mind blowing orgasms.

You looped your heavy arms around his neck and kissed him languidly, you didn’t seem to be as worried about the time anymore and for that he was thankful. He wanted to take his time, and if somebody walked in they would find out very quickly to knock, he couldn’t give a shit about anything other than getting his cock inside you.

You knew the rule all too well; no visible marks. It had been that way from the very beginning, which was unfortunate because you wanted so badly to mark his pretty neck up and make sure everyone knew he was yours, but the compromise was that you could leave them anywhere below the collarbone, so as he fished for the condom he’d stashed in his pocket (hoping to end the night just like this), you licked down his neck and began nibbling on the flesh of his pecks, sucking a nipple into your mouth and looking up at him as his jaw went slack. “Oh Christ, you gotta stop that baby or we’ll be finished before we even get started” he panted out and tried not to buck up into you, the hand gripping your thigh was sure to leave a mark but you couldn’t give a shit, there was something so powerful in being able to bring the most powerful man on earth to his knees, and even better knowing that he was insatiable for you.

“Then fuck me Mr. President, and you don’t need that condom either. I think you should put a baby in me, fill me up so good that I’m dripping with you all day tomorrow.” You grinned at him but he looked completely debauched, he ran a hand through his graying sandy locks and blinked down at you, almost at a loss for words.

“You little minx, you’ve been just waiting all day to drop that on me haven’t you? Need me to cum in that pretty pussy and get you good and knocked up? Fuck you’d think it was my birthday or something, I don’t know how I got it so good.” He said as he spread you out and ran his hands all over you, you were whimpering and grinding into him and he was sure he’d pass out if he was any harder, slipping himself out of his briefs and sliding his length through your slick. You were trying hard to be quiet, sure it was late but there was bound to be someone on watch, Bob gripped your chin as he slid into you and kissed you sloppily, all teeth and tongue and moans, shallow thrusts to get you ready turned rough when you sucked his bottom lip and pushed your hips up to take him to the hilt. You gripped the front of the desk behind your head and let him pound you into it, the need for quiet long forgotten as you alternated between crying out and calling him daddy.

It didn’t take him long before he was close, the aftershocks of your second orgasm seemed to keep him gripped so tight that he could barely think straight, he was furiously rubbing your clit to get you there again as he watched tears drip down your flushed cheeks, he’d never forget tonight for the rest of his life. Not all the fanfare, not even the immense weight of the mantle he was about to take, but this moment right here, wrapped up in his gorgeous wife as he fucked her silly in the Oval Office. You wailed out “I’m cumming” as you gripped him tight with your pulsing heat and he tumbled over the edge right along with you, warming you from the inside out as he filled you up.

You cradled his sweaty form in your arms as you both came down from your high, giggles erupting from him as it really set in what you two had done.

“Ah shit, well everyone’s gonna know that we can’t keep our hands to ourselves after this, I imagine the press will have a field day.” He kissed your nose as you grinned at him, both of you still joined together but neither of you ready to separate.

A loud ring came from his phone and it sent a jolt through both of you, wide eyes trained on his as he leaned forward and grabbed it off the hook. His eyes were full of mirth as he nodded his head once, twice and bid them goodnight, pinching your cheek with his free hand before hanging up.

“What was that all about?” You said, trying to push him up so you could get decent and off his desk.

“That was Nat, she said we need to hurry the hell up before me going MIA causes a national emergency.” He was joking of course, but the secret service agents at the door couldn’t look either of you in the eye as you shuffled down the hallway with Bob’s hand in yours, and it was no surprise to anyone when you turned up pregnant by the state of the union.

Tagging- @bobgasm @attapullman @bobfloydsbabe @floydsglasses @sebsxphia @roosterforme @sunsetsimpsblog @seitmai @auroralightsthesky @withahappyrefrain @hangmanapologist

[callofdudes]

So, uh, I was watching Bad Boys 2 with my dad and when the shootout scene happened and Marcus accidentally got shot in the ass I couldn’t help but wonder after I was done LMFAOing; how the COD boys (or the guys from 141 if you have a character limit) would react to and deal with having been shot in the ass? Especially if their S/O or best friend was there?

Ouchie ouchie. Here ya go anon! Sorry it took so long!

Getting shot in the ass.

Fucking humiliated.

First off, it hurt and oh boy he would not talk to anyone. If you're not in the immediate vicinity of medical attention he is going to have to be taken care of by one of you.

He'd probably trust either you or Price. He loves Johnny but not enough to touch his whole ass.

If you're his spouse you will 100% try to make jokes to calm him down, and it doesn't end up making it any better. Simon laying on his stomach writhing in pain while you've got him pantsed.

He's never speaking to any of you again. He'd rather be buried alive than have you bandaging his whole asscheek so he doesn't bleed everywhere.

"Are-fuck! Are you done yet!?" He growled, turning into a whine near the end because he's in pain. Come on man...

"Almost Simon, just hang in with me ok?"

He whines, and you continue to as gently as you can patch the wound. And like a meanie you're trying not to laugh the whole time.

When you're done you'll pat his butt gently and help him up. "Fuck you, and fuck that last 20 minutes of my life." He winces, attempting to stand.

"It's an occupational hazard y'know-"

"In my ass. MY BLOODY ARSE!"

"Well it's not bloody anymore...??"

Yeah he's never speaking to you. Or the others. He'll go back to that coffin where he was safe and his beautiful ass wasn't being threatened 24/7.

When you get back if you tell anyone he's suffocating you in your sleep. Not like the medical team will let him go. Surgery to get the bullet out of his arse and then was hurting for weeks.

Glaring constantly because now he has one of those butt pillows that you'd sit on after a BBL. And the recruits are bugging him because, "Got a lift Lt??" "Thought it was already big enough."

His arse is a point of contention for him and now he's being pointed out for the masses.

"You... You want me to help??"

"Nope." He dragged his leg, limping his way as blood spilled.

"You've uh, got a hole in your-"

"I'm very well aware!" He grimaced, trying to ease down on his side. "Other room." He demands.

"I can help-"

"OTHER ROOM."

"Yes sir."

You step away and let Price undo his belt and survey the damage himself. The last time he was bleeding from his arse his military dad was spanking him upside down and sideways.

By the time he realizes he's going to need a little help he's already regretting his life. He's nearly had his balls shot off before, this shouldn't be news to him, but also, why....

Begrudgingly he calls you back in after messing with it enough it hurts twice as much as before.

So you grab some bandages and get to work.

"Don't-"

"I'm very well aware of where my hands are going captain, you're fine."

"Gross."

"You're bleeding."

"Thank you for stating the obvious." He rubbed his forehead, sighing.

You feel less inclined to snicker at Price because the poor man is just trying to make a living fighting crime. He doesn't deserve this. His beautiful soft ass doesn't deserve this.

When you get back he is just wanting the bullet out by that point so he doesn't fight medical. They get the bullet out and he is taking painkillers like they're going out of style. (No, not in an unhealthy way)

Will probably stay between his room and his office. He wants to do work very badly and hasn't enjoyed sitting around doing nothing for long periods of time.

Can't wear his favorite pants now because they're tighter and the seam cuts right into the stitches. Sweatpants and butt pillow it is until he's out of this hell.

Most recruits know not to poke the bear, unlike you. Or Simon.

"Whew, that was close." You panted and looked at Johnny with relief. "No kidding." But as the adrenaline wore off, Johnny felt lightheaded, and fell to his side.

"Ow-" He winced, his leg feeling numb. You quickly rushed to him and looked him over. He wasn't shot anywhere... Oh. Oh, no never mind, yes he was.

"Johnny..."

"Yeah..?"

"You're shot."

Johnny followed your gaze and saw.

Surprisingly calm. Like, out of everyone he doesn't panic as much. Pulls up his shirt into his mouth and tells you to get it out.

You're hesitant because it's trying to pull a bullet out of someone's ass. And pulling a bullet out is never... Fun. But he trusts you, even if his cheeks are glaringly red from utter embarrassment.

But he doesn't want anyone else to do it for some reason, so you do your best.

Long story short, it did not go well. You ended up messing with the wound that his right ass cheek was so swollen. He looked like an idiot. Laying on his stomach in pain while waiting for Evac.

"I'm sorry..." You rubbed his shoulder.

You'd pulled his pants down further, while still being respectful. But man if he didn't look stupid, and it looked like it hurt. One cheek much bigger than the other, red and swollen.

Johnny promised to never get shot in the ass again. After he was put on bed rest because he had an infection. So uh... That was a fun adventure.

"Why the hell did you try to dig the bullet out of my ass??" He looked over at you when you visited him.

"You told me to do that! I told you it was a bad idea."

"Oh yeah..." He sniffled and crossed his arms, pouting his lip.

"Johnny.. come on, it'll get better."

"Well it can't get worse. Can it?"

"Ow!! Bloody- shit!" He slid down a wall and looked down at his side, expecting the stinging pain he felt to have hit his leg, he was dismayed to find the bullet had got him in the ass.

"Oh fucking of course!" He groaned and tried his best to hold something over the wound while still getting bullets pelted at him.

"How're we looking, sergeant??"

Kyle looked back briefly and then adjusted his gun. "Fine! But I've got a bloody hole in my arse!"

"Say again?"

Kyle groaned. Falling out of helicopters, getting shot in the ass, what was next huh?

"I've. Got. A. Bullet. In my ass!!"

Mortified when the others get to him and see he was not lying. Kyle must have just about the worst luck because what the hell is this?? They got him to medical and they did indeed confirm he had a bullet where the sun don't shine.

His perfect, pretty, unscarred butt was now about to be dug into to get a bullet out. How humiliating. He had bad stuff happen to him, but this he refused to talk about.

"How're... How're you feeling?" You asked after he came out of surgery. Still high on drugs, Kyle glared at you. "Don't even..."

"Don't what?" You snickered slightly.

"Oh fuck off..."

You smiled a little and sat down. "Hey, you'll recover. It sucks, but you've gotten through worse."

"Bullet in the ass."

"Had a bullet in the ass."

"It was still there at one point. That was my reality, y/n!"

You lovingly shushed him with a glass of water.

Kyle did not say a word about it. Even when he needed a pillow to help him sit after the surgery, he never pointed it out. And the others saw the look, if they said anything Kyle would drag them behind a shed and suffocate them with said pillow.

And therefore, for everyone's collective safety, it was never brought up.

[lucysarah-c]

Mounting Spring Ch. 4

Summary: Paradis has opened its doors to the world, and the Rumbling has not yet occurred. The military board insists, "We need more Ackermans!" to avoid ruining Mikasa's life. Levi agrees. Arranged marriage, explicit consent, Omegaverse. Alpha! Levi x Omega! Y/N. Mentions of underage marriage but it doesn't happen, the reader is over 21.Age gap but they are both adults. (I would say enemys to lover but they don't even know eachother to be enemys lol.) Author note: I've had this idea for so long… Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure, and I decided to treat myself with it. From the creator of "Not in season?" I bring to you "Mounting Spring" lmao haha sorry it's just that my first omegaverse was rather a success… so I decided to do another. Masterlist to the previous parts! Ao3 link in case you prefer to read there!

A weariness clung to his body, one he couldn’t quite explain beyond being so utterly drained that even taking a shower felt like a monumental effort.

With a weary sigh, he pushed himself up from where he’d been slouched against the desk and slowly blew out the candles scattered around the office. Darkness didn’t bother him. He was used to it—had spent years orienting himself in the black void of the underground. The faint moonlight spilling through the window was more than enough. Compared to those shadowed depths, this was child’s play.

That night, the moon seemed unusually bright. His tired gaze drifted to the large arched window behind his desk. Waxing moon… or was it full already?

‘Don’t they say some bullshit about omegas going into heat during the full moon?’

He scoffed. “Urban myth,” he muttered. It sounded like something out of a witch’s tale. But, come to think of it, wasn’t she supposed to be in season?

The stack of paperwork on his desk taunted him with the reminder that he’d probably have to pull an all-nighter. The thought made his jaw clench. After everything that had happened that day, he muttered a curt, “Fuck it,” and extinguished the last candle. The room plunged into shadow as he dragged himself toward the bathroom.

But then his attention snagged on the slightly ajar door leading to his bedroom. It wasn’t wide open, but it wasn’t shut either—a hesitation in its placement that mirrored her presence in his life. Maybe she didn’t feel she had the right to close it entirely. Or perhaps she didn’t want to invite him in.

Levi wasn’t sure what possessed him to check. Maybe he wanted to ensure she was asleep. Maybe it was just an excuse, though he hated the idea of coming off as some kind of creep.

The silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by the sound of his footsteps. His sharp ears picked up no stirring from the other side of the door. She was asleep—curled into a small ball beneath the blankets. Her face was peaceful, framed by a tangle of hair splayed across the pillow.

‘She looks young,’ he thought absently, then corrected himself: Younger.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and tore his gaze away. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he muttered, retreating into the safety of the bathroom.

As he stripped off his clothes, a faint scent clung to the fabric. It wasn’t unpleasant—not even close—but it was strong enough to make his body react in a way he resented.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, frowning deeply. “It’s not my fault,” he groaned, trying to shake the thought from his head. She wasn’t in heat, after all. If she had been, he’d already be climbing the walls. He grimaced at the thought of what that would’ve meant—both a curse and a convenience. Her hormones would have made her eager, desperate even, and he… well, he wouldn’t have had the luxury to hesitate. Instinct would’ve taken over, and by now, it would all be over—messy, but over.

But she wasn’t in heat, and that was both a blessing and a complication. On one hand, it spared them both the humiliation of fumbling through something neither of them wanted. On the other hand, he was standing half-naked in his bathroom, trying to keep his thoughts clean while the girl he barely knew slept just a room away.

‘It’s like jerking off to the thought of a coworker,’ he thought with disgust. ‘Not illegal, but it feels like it.’

He needed a clear head—desperately. Most of his squad had gone through their ruts recently, their youth amplifying every primal urge. She smelled too good for a group of young, horny alphas to ignore. A cold shower might’ve been the smart choice, but the chill of the rain earlier still clung to his skin, and he just wanted to collapse into bed.

His bed wasn’t an option, though—not tonight. Instead, he grabbed a pillow from the couch in the corner of his office. He propped it against the armrest and sank down, throwing a thin gray blanket over himself. His head rested against his arm, and his other hand lazily scratched at his stomach, the hem of his shirt riding up. The dim glow of the moonlight played across the room, and he stared at the ceiling, eyes heavy but his mind restless.

“What the hell am I going to do,” he murmured to himself.

The sharpness of his fags could be perceived by his tongue that, under the foreign texture couldn’t stop feeling it. That, the thickness of his saliva and the clear feeling that his loose pants were perhaps a bit tight. It was obvious, she smelled too good, his own nature being highlighted by the time of the year and, in particular, the lack of exposure. Frowning and sighing loudly, he rolled over to a side searching for a position comfortable enough for him to fall asleep into.

Sleep came eventually. For Levi, sleeping on a couch with a makeshift pillow and a mission-worn blanket was a luxury compared to the alternatives. For once, exhaustion was kind.

On the other side of the room, her mind kept replaying the scene.

“Die. Just go. You’re making this harder for me,” she whispered, gripping the edge of the small French balcony of the borrowed household. The late-night air was cold against her skin as she stared down at the street below. It was late, the streets below barely lit, and her eyes darted nervously toward the door of her room before returning to the darkness beyond.

The young man standing below, dark-haired with striking gold eyes, still wore his military uniform. He looked up at her with an pleading expressing, “Come on, Y/N,” he called up, his voice a mix of desperation and imploring. “Are you really going to let it all go? I can talk to someone—someone higher up that with what’s going on. We can change this. You don’t have to do it.”

Her grip tightened on the balcony’s iron railing, her knuckles white with tension. She shook her head sharply, pressing her forehead to the cold metal. His words only deepened the ache inside her. Referring to her loss of the season to “what’s going on” made it sound trivial, dismissive, when it had torn her apart. “Stop it,” she whispered. Her voice trembled as she added, “I’m doing this for my family.”

“You don’t deserve this,” he said softly, his eyes locked on her. “You deserve the life you’ve worked for—just as much as your siblings do.”

“Y/N!”

The shout startled her, and she flinched, slamming the window shut as the door to her room swung open. She spun around, pressing her back against the glass, hands behind her to brace it closed. Her heart thundered in her chest, afraid of being caught—not by her two-year-old sister, but by someone who might hold more authority.

“What is it, Mae?” she asked, forcing calmness into her voice as the toddler raised her arms to be picked up. She obliged, hoisting the little girl onto her hip before sitting on the bed, her exhaustion evident. Her tangled hair framed her face, damp from the cold towels she’d used to try to soothe her pounding headache.

“Are you leaving because I used your makeup?” Mae pouted, her large, curious eyes searching Y/N’s face.

Y/N managed a tired smile. The memory of her two younger sisters destroying her makeup a few days earlier flickered briefly in her mind. Back then it had infuriated her, now it seemed like a distant worry. “No, Mae. I’m leaving because I’m getting married. Remember?” she said, her tone soft, trying to explain in a way the toddler could understand.

“What about being princesses?” Mae pouted harder.

It broke her. Tears welled in her eyes, and she pulled her sister into a tender hug. The pounding in her head and the dull ache in her lower belly were relentless, her body rebelling against her refusal to conceive this season—as if she’d had a choice.

Mae was innocence incarnate, her wide-eyed questions too pure for the weight they carried. But her older brother, on the other hand, had been no help. She’d found one of the WANTED posters of her soon-to-be husband plastered on her dressing table as a joke.

“You think this is funny?!” Y/N snapped, shaking the boy by his shoulders. Her anger surged, raw and unrestrained, but she bit back the urge to slap him. “I’m doing this for you, idiot! For you, for Ed, for Mom!”

“You’re not in charge,” the boy spat, his voice cracking but defiant. “Dad’s home, remember?”

The arrogance in his tone made her blood boil. Ever since their father’s return, the boy had become insufferable, emboldened by his status as the favored child and the budding dominance of his alpha nature.

“You want to be a man so badly? Then act like one and know your place!” she hissed, shoving the crumpled poster into his chest.

“You’re marrying a subversive,” he sneered with disdain, parroting words he clearly didn’t understand.

“I’m marrying someone who’ll make sure you don’t have to live off scraps and pity from the military, you little fool!” she snarled. Her hands trembled as frustration and heartbreak collided.

That memory dissolved into another—curled on her bed, her body wracked with cramps. The bathroom light, still on, spilled into the room. From the cracked door, she could hear her parents arguing. The light from the corridor illuminated the carpeted floor by the ajar door, casting her parents' distorted shadows like a muppets show against the ground.

“She needs to rest,” her mother said, trying to placate the man’s rising fury. “These things happens —��

“She’s ruining us!” her father screamed. “This was our chance, and she’s screwing it all up!”

Her sobs grew louder, muffled only by the pillow she pressed against her face. She lay with her back to the slightly open door, as if trying to shield herself from the conflict. They had been arguing for a while about the possibility, the events all pointing in one direction. That alone had fueled this outrage. ‘How am I going to tell them?’ The thought made her chest tighten with anxiety.

They argued over a possibility, now she had to confirmed them that it was a reality. Only minutes ago, she had walked to the bathroom—the golden light of the candle still flickering there. When her fingers came away stained with blood, the confirmation of what she already knew—her heat had passed, her body rejecting what it was supposed to do.

“She’s not doing it on purpose!” her mother argued.

“Then fix her! Give her some calming tea, call the damn doctor, do something! You think he'll keep her if she’s not useful?!”

She gripped the pillow tightly before tossing it over her head and pressing it hard against her face, as if she could make the world vanish for a moment. Silently pleading for the shouting to stop. ‘Please… just stop.’

None of the memories from the past week came to her in order; they just replayed chaotically in her mind. When her tired eyes fluttered open in the dim light of the room, she realized she had been tearing up in her sleep. The shadows cast inside the room weren’t her parents', and the voices weren’t theirs either. Sitting up slightly, she became aware of her surroundings. The sheets felt rough, and the mattress was smaller than what she was used to.

The memory of when she had fallen asleep completely eluded her, but the clock on the nightstand indicated it was already morning. She couldn’t tell by the window; the rain was still pouring heavily outside. The hushed whispers of two people on the other side of the room made her debate whether to sit up or feign sleep. She quickly chose the latter as the sound of someone opening the door reached her ears. Curling up in the bed, she pulled the sheets over her face, nearly hiding herself entirely.

With her face almost fully covered, the scent of the bed surrounded her. There was something subtly unsettling about the lingering fragrance of someone else on the sheets—a constant reminder that this wasn’t her bed. Yet, it wasn’t unpleasant. Quite the opposite, it was oddly soothing. Her decision to pretend to be asleep shifted into the realization that she could drift off again. Perhaps her subconscious was taking over, responding instinctively to the alpha's scent that enveloped her—a primal comfort, making her feel safe and protected.

—

“Hi~” came Hange’s singsong voice as they opened the door without knocking. “Knock, knock,” they added playfully, as if mocking the concept of knocking before barging in.

Levi, standing in the middle of the room with his uniform half on and a toothbrush in his mouth, turned to glance at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, I thought you’d be less ready at this hour,” Hange remarked, stepping fully into the room.

Levi spit out the toothpaste and wiped his mouth with a towel before muttering, “What are you doing here?” His eyes landed on the tray they carried. “And with a tray?”

“I brought breakfast for the newlywed couple!”

“Shh!” Levi hissed, moving swiftly to grab the tray before Hange accidentally dropped it. He motioned for silence, his expression stern. She was still asleep, and the message was clear.

“Sorry, sorry,” Hange whispered. As Levi set the tray on the coffee table and resumed getting ready, an unusual silence settled between them. It didn’t last long.

“So…” Hange began, their curiosity bubbling to the surface. “How was it? How is she?”

Levi ignored the question, muttering a vague reply through clenched teeth as he moved about the room, clearly trying to avoid the topic.

Hange’s sharp eyes followed him, their face shifting into a grimace as the tension grew. “I’m not exactly a purebred alpha,” they finally said, “but… you don’t smell very taken to me.”

Levi, who had just sneaked inside his room a little while ago to pick up his stuff, sighed loudly and stopped moving, giving himself a moment to respond. “… I couldn’t,” he admitted finally.

Hange pressed their lips together, unusually quiet for a moment. When Levi turned to face them, their expression said it all.

“Come on,” Levi snapped. “You’re a non-stop talker, and now you shut the hell up? Say something.”

“I’m… finding it.”

Levi rolled his eyes, grumbling in frustration.

“Oh boy…” Hange finally ventured. “Well. Maybe she was just tired? Tonight, after she’s settled—”

“We agreed I wouldn’t do it if she didn’t want to.”

The blank stare Hange gave him was enough to make Levi snap. “What did you want me to do?!”

“I don’t know?!” Hange exclaimed, throwing their arms in the air. “Claim her? Maybe?!”

From an outsider’s perspective, the exchange might have been hilarious—their expressions exaggerated, their words intense, yet still whispered fiercely to avoid waking her.

Levi scowled. “Well, excuse me. Excuse me for not being a fucking rapist.”

Hange’s attempt at a lighter tone wasn’t helping. “Some would argue that you are—you’re an alpha, after all.”

“You’re an alpha too, you idiot,” Levi shot back, finding no humor in their dark joke.

“Hardly. I’m more beta than alpha.”

Levi ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “You should’ve seen the puppy eyes she gave me. I’ve got fucking lots of kinks, but that’s not one of them.”

Hange clicked their tongue and shook their head. “Omega puppy eyes… the deadliest weapon of all.” They crossed their arms, leaning back thoughtfully. “Zackly’s going to kill you, though.”

“Tch.” Levi rolled his eyes. “He can suck my dick.”

That made Hange laugh more than they should have. “Seriously, though—what the hell are you going to do with an unclaimed omega in the middle of a military facility? I can catch her scent, and I’m a low-breed alpha.”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d help me with,” Levi admitted, reluctant to ask for help but clearly out of his depth.

Hange didn’t answer, instead moving toward the door.

“No, no, no,” Levi muttered, darting across the room to stop them, but they had already cracked it open to peek inside.

“You’re going to wake her up,” Levi hissed, his whisper dropping to an even lower register.

Hange ignored him, their eyes fixed on the small portion of her face visible above the sheets. “… What about a convent? Maybe I can talk to a priest.”

“A convent?” Levi echoed in disbelief as his exasperation grew “That’s your solution?”

“Either that or bars on all the windows. No one gets in, no one gets out.” Hange turned to him, smirking.

Levi shot them his best deadpan expression. “We’ve gone from a convent to a prison. And you’re supposed to be the brains here?”

“I gave you a solution,” Hange retorted, leaning closer as their whispered argument continued. “Claim her.”

“I can’t!” Levi snapped, his frustration boiling over.

“Then trust,” Hange said, spreading their arms in a gesture of faith. “Then trust our soldiers. I trust them—they’ll behave,” though their tone sounded less certain with each word. “Maybe Jean will get a little too excited, like a puppy with a new toy, but he’s a good kid.”

Levi’s flat expression didn’t waver. “You trust Floch around her without me in the picture?”

The brunette, who had been sporting a confident, almost cheerful smile while defending the few original members of the Scouts before they were nearly wiped out, suddenly shifted to a serious, defeated expression. Waving a hand in the air, they muttered, "You made your point loud and clear."

The silence that followed was thick, as both stood by the door frame. Levi, arms crossed, was deep in thought. Meanwhile, Hange continued to stare at her, their eyes scanning her face across the dimly lit room.

"I’ll just… lock her up here for a couple of days until her scent calms down. It’s not ideal, but—"

Levi’s quiet musings, spoken with a defeated tone, were abruptly interrupted by Hange muttering under their breath, "She’s hella cute, though."

Levi’s hand moved to pinch the bridge of his nose, clicking his tongue in frustration.

"What? Can’t I compliment your wife?" the brunette asked jokingly, still admiring the sleeping girl. They tilted their head to the side, trying to get a better view. "You’re one lucky bastard."

"Four-eyes!" Levi snapped, using the old nickname he hadn’t used in years out of respect for his friend’s new position. The commander chuckled. "Stop staring at her," Levi ordered.

"I’m doing nothing," Hange shrugged, though their eyes remained fixed on the sleeping girl.

"I can fucking smell you, idiot!" Levi growled, clearly indicating that he could easily detect how Hange’s body reacted to his new wife. The spicy, interested aroma they gave off was more than enough for Levi to know that Hange found her more than just pretty.

Hange barely contained a laugh, forcing a straight face to speak. "Question, and this one’s serious," they said, their eyes twinkling. Levi’s tired expression only seemed to amuse them more. "If you two… ever get down to business, would you consider a threesom—"

"DON’T HIT ME!" Hange quickly added as Levi’s hand moved with lightning speed to smack the back of their head.

"Shut the fuck up. You’ll wake her up," Levi muttered, but Hange was already caressing the back of their head where Levi had smacked them. "And over my dead, cold body. You heard me?"

"Ugh," Hange groaned, rubbing the back of their head with their left hand. "You purebreds… are so territorial. You’re missing half the fun."

Levi remained with his arms crossed, eyes narrowing. "And you’ll be missing your only remaining eye if you ever bring that shit into my room again."

When she woke up again, the clock on the nightstand read 11 am.

(I'm sorry if this chapter was shitty, I'd been so stressed with work lately but I didn't want to let you all down another week in a row T-T)

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out.

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[konigsblog]

Price would put his cigar out on your ass while balls deep :(

of course, he would. he has to mark you up and leave scars along your pretty body so everybody on base sees and understands that you belong to him... 🚬

it's his signature, pretty much. the captain with a very obvious and noticeable smoking addiction. he's the type to brush it off, excusing himself and saying it soothes his anxiety and the pain of lost soldiers, and that he could quit if he really wanted to. it's a complete lie; everyone knows it.

so when captain price has the new recruit bent over his office table, he feels that it's right for him to mark you up, to put his cigar out on your tight rear while he's stuffing your sticky asshole with his meaty girth. you sucked in a sharp breath, holding back tears at the burning, nipping feeling of his cigar against your cheek. you don't want to seem weak and pathetic, especially in front of your captain. you're a soldier for crying out loud! you have to appeal to him and meet his standards.

his rough and scarred hand grasps at your hip tightly, his blunt fingernails leaving indents as he digs his fingertips into your flesh. he slowly drags himself out of your pulsating, gummy hole before sinking back inside, his head thrown back, the cigar causing the room to stink of smoke, tobacco, sweat, and sex. your hole burns with his pace quickening, your thighs trembling as you fight tears, forcing them to sink back into your eyes and not spill down your cheeks. 

captain price will tell you to keep quiet, to prove yourself as brave, strong, and worthy of the military, as he quickens his pace, the sounds of his skin clashing against yours filling the gaps between your cries for more.

[erensonly]

thinking about sweet data analyst!reader being quiet as a mouse always scaring the boys. scares them so much they think abt getting her a bell. lets get into some backstory bc this may be a mini series 😈

contains: extreme fluff, ooc writing, love is used as a pet name, no pronouns used, references to DV pls read at your own discretion.

you were the new data analyst for the 141. before, you only worked with Kate, gathering and analyzing data for her but she thought you would be so much more helpful to the task force since their old analyst had retired. you were hesitant at first, not really wanting to be around a group of men. why should you leave your comfort zone?

this did not work with laswell. she had taken you in after you stumbled to the gates of the base, attempting to stop crying to give them an explanation and sporting bruises on your face and hands. luckily she had been there to meet with john when she had heard the guards complaining about a crying woman refusing to leave. she had helped you in more than one way. even allowing you to stay with her until you could find a job and move by yourself.

when she had found out you knew your way around computers, her face lit up like a christmas tree, telling you she had the perfect job for you. you were hesitant to take the job, knowing the work she did involved the military, you didn't know if you wanted to take the job. you had tried to convince her that it was fine, but once laswell has her mind made up, that's it.

thats how you ended up here, wanting oreos. you didn't mean to scare them at first. they were a little scary and you wanted nothing to do with them at first.

you just wanted the oreos but ghost was in the way, facing the opposite way with his head in his phone. you stood there awkwardly at first,not wanting to ask the big man to move but you really wanted those cookies. you stand there for a bit debating if you'll wait for him to leave the room or grow some balls and just ask him to move. you decided on doing neither.

you made your way towards him as quickly as you could; the plan was to just reach up and grab the chocolate cookies so you could go back to your desk before ghost could say anything. trying to get closer to the cabinet, you find yourself pushed up against the counter, a large hand wrapped around your wrist. when he realized it was you, he let you go with a big sigh. "scared the shit out of me. when did you get in here?"

"uh.. not too long ago." that was all you could muster, the man was too intimidating. you awkwardly shuffled towards the cabinet with the cookies and reached up to get them. mission accomplished, you thought to yourself. slithering back to your desk, you leave ghost stunned and only able to mutter a quick "bloody hell" before going back to his phone.

----

the next time you interact with the 141 outside of working it's with gaz. from the small conversations you had, he seemed very nice with a kind smile and calming aura. this time you were trying to make your way to price's office to give him a manila folder with the information he requested. you had walked to the door but heard talking, maybe he was busy. you decided that you would wait to give him the folder so you wouldn't have to speak to whoever was in the office.

it felt like time was going so slow and by the time the person had walked out, you were leaning against the corner of the wall, head against the wall in a way that you had have to almost round the corner to be able to see you. you looked up, and the man look like he just had a heart attack. clutching his chest like he was clutching his pearls and purse and breathing heavily. "Jesus, love,gotta say something. have you been waiting out here long? you could've just came in, y'know?" all the questions were becoming overwhelming when you just gripped his lips to silence him.

it took his look of surprise and a bit of thought to realize what you did. you had just grabbed the lips of a soldier. not just any soldier but a heavily decorated soldier who was apart of The john price's task force. he could kill you faster than you can say you're sorry. "oh my god, i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to, you just kept talking and i didnt know what to do. please don't kill me." you had finished your mini rant only to see him doubled over in laughter. he was in tears.

"did you just silence me?" he asked between laughs. you didn't understand what the hell was funny, this man is going to kill you. while he was still laughing and trying to get soap on the phone, you tiptoed into price's office to give him the folder, telling him that if he found you dead on base it was gaz before scurrying out of his office. john was left looking confused because he had just heard kyle laughing a few seconds ago.

----

next was soap. sweet, sweet soap. he genuinely did his best to welcome you into their group, but you didn't really seem interested. he eventually just took any interaction you two had and replayed it in his head over and over again. you were just so sweet, how could he not? you still got lost on base sometimes since everything was one monotone grey and everything looked the same. and it was just your luck that the only people around were new recruits and other people you never spoke to. turning, you see soap heading toward the mess hall.

when you sped up to catch him, he's surprised. he even did that cartoon cat jump they do before running off. he started saying something in a language you don't understand when you cut him off. "not sure what you're saying but i agree. anyway, where's the gym? i need to ask ghost a question." he was shocked to see you turn around and wait for him to lead the way. he couldn't help the smile that came across his face. such a hasty girl; you always said everything you needed to say as fast as you could before turning away, giving him a look at allat movement back there.

he laughed again before helping you find ghost. and you still don't get why these men find you so funny. there is nothing funny about them being so scary.

----

lastly, we got my husband john. he was made aware of your situation and why you acted the way you did before you started working under him. he couldn't help but think you were a sweet, hard working little thing. never with much to say, and so skittish. he may have told you that he doesn't know how to access the files on his computer just so he can see you come to his office with a folder. is it a crime to want to see such a sweet face?

john had told you he would like to see you after debriefing and that he would just let you know. but you had already finished your work of the day an you spent your free time playing whatever games you could access on your computer. you eventually started to feel restless so you decided to sit in price's office until he got there. there was a couch in a corner of the room, worn but comfortable. you could imagine the boys laying on the couch talking mindlessly to john.

you had sunken into the corner of the couch, curling up in a way that you would have to step completely into the office to see you sitting there. it had been a good 10 minutes of sitting in silence before you heard footsteps approaching the door. you couldn't hear exactly what was being said, but it sounded like john was on the phone. he, not long after, walked into the room, holding his phone between his shoulder and ear with a stack of folders in his hands.

"-exactly. yeah i'll be on it right away. bye." and as he's turning around, you're sitting up straighter and he yells. and i mean one of those old people, "help i've fallen" type of yelps; and he drops his files on the floor. you just give him a blank stare.

"good God. when did you get in here?" you just shrug, brushing over the question. "what was it that you needed from me sir?" that's when he knew, you were going to be the death of the 141. literally.

[d0youc0py]

So, i've read through a lot of your stuff, and its giving me instant serotonin, and i already love your writing, I also have a rather interesting ask, and you can completely ignore it if you wish to, but!- TF141 + Alejandro and Rudy learning that the new addition to their team is a bit younger than them(around 17-19), and a bouncy ball of ditzy airheaded-ness, and actually sees a them as Brother/Father figures? A little bit of a comfort for those, and myself included, who have platonic attachments to these badass men!

Your relationship with Price comes the most natural. He has always had an overwhelming desire to nurture and mentor those who are close to him- or those that he believes could become close to him. Considering he recruited you, he definitely saw you as one of those lucky few. You are a bit of a mess, needing some serious fine tuning, but you have an obvious want to learn and you soak up every bit of information he shares with you. He sees a lot of himself in you. He was only 16 when he joined the military and he wished he had a mentor to guide him and teach him so he didn’t have to learn from his mistakes, (not that he would’ve listened).

He was also the gateway to getting the other TF members to trust you- especially Ghost.

There is a lot of uncertainty in your job, but one thing you can always count on is that Caps got your back. You need a place to crash on deployment? He has a guest room. You need life advice? He feels like he hasn’t done anything right- but he’s been through enough things to know a thing or two. You had a nightmare? He office door is always open.

He’s a bit over meeting new people. And he lets you know that. For a long time he saw you as a reckless pain in the butt- a risk. You were a powerhouse on the field, yet you lacked that certain refinement. It wasn’t till he saw you and Price during a training. The Captain had your full attention and he saw an eagerness to learn that he hadn’t seen for a long time. He decided to give you a shot, throwing out tidbits of wisdom to see how you would respond. It would always surprise him when you not only listened but implemented what he had told you.

It was like a switch had flipped in his brain and he became the older brother that he had always so desperately tried to push down. He knows all your little quirks. What gets you fired up. What calms you down. He’s incredibly observant and it feels like he knows what you need before you do.

“Keep sleeping, I’ll cover your watch.”

“If you forget your MRE one more time.” He huffed taking out the said MRE you forgot out of his bag.

He’s the definition of tough love. His toughness keeps you grounded and on track. His loving side makes sure you are always taken care of (even though he wants to strangle you daily) and the first time you introduce him as “your brother” he nearly had to excuse himself to dry his eyes.

You’d think that the two of you would be partners in crime. Running around, causing trouble, giving everyone a headache. While the two of you do have your moments, Soap understands his responsibility as not only the elder, but the ranking officer in your relationship. Outside of the work the two of you are as thick as thieves, but out on the field it a whole different story. He’s serious, taking his self appointed job as your mentor to heart. This is the first time he’s taken someone under his wing and he is not going to screw it up. He teaches you as much as he can, as much as you need to not only be safe but successful.

The change is a shock to the TF at first, but they admire the way Soap “ages up” and it inspires them to do the same.

He doesn’t treat himself of your “mentor” or “elder” he treat you as though you two are equals. He treats you with respect and never talks down to you and he makes sure everyone else does the same.

The two of you hit it off instantly. Snarky comments are constantly flying back and forth between the comms and despite their better judgment the rest of the TF can just fight back a chuckle. He teases you relentlessly (out of love). All you have to do is make one slip up and this man will never let you forget it. But he also makes sure that if he can dish it out, he can take it too. This results in the two of you laughing hysterically, doing your best impersonations of each other. After long missions the two of you can often be found on the couch fighting over a blanket, watching your favorite comfort movies. You really are the sibling he never knew he needed.

Like Price he sees a lot of himself in you. You have drive. You do have a tendency to be a little too aloof for your own good, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. He embraced you with open arms and makes you feel like you’ve been family for decades. He’s hard on you and demanding, but it’s just because he knows what you are capable of. He understands the trust you place in him and will do everything in his power to live up to the image you have of him in your head.

You have a permanent room in his house. He always makes sure to have the ingredients to your favorite dish on hand just in case you had a hard day. He makes sure all of your trainings are up to date so you have every opportunity to make it out alive. You are so important to him and he never lets you forget it.

He’s wary of you at first. Even after Alejandro welcomed you with open arms. He saw you as a flight risk and he didn’t want to end up dead because of it. It wasn’t until one night you confessed how much you looked up to him- how you wanted to be like him.

He had misjudged you, and he apologized for it. He made up for lost time by going out of his way to be extra kind to you until it just turned into a habit. You and Alejandro both wear him out, he wouldn’t trade either of you for the world. He’s the voice of reason when you get ahead of yourself and he’s always the one who slows down and explains things to you when you find yourself lost. His patience seems almost endless and you thank his everyday for it.

Thank you for your kind words! Hope you liked this.

[eggtartz]

a/n : i know i said i won't write smut for a while but... i blame it on these two i had to 😔

warnings : smut (you know what to do with that), uhm the basics stuff i guess?!, blowjob, implied open relationship

Eiffel Tower (f! reader)

it started as a stupid challenge from the internet. it was a dumb bet, one you had mentioned to both Konig and Ghost. "who doesn't jack off for a month gets a reward" you purred to the two. initially, both of men had it easy. they were military men, having sheer and concentration of steel. that was, until, in the middle of November, you bought big guns. you were parading around the base with a seduction of Persephone and the beauty of Athena. Ghost had to excuse himself to release some steam, fighting his raging boner to the point the dummy in the training room broke. Konig is fuming under his sniper mask, the bulge in his pants were obvious. it's the way you glance at him that made him feral and he was tempted to touch himself or just slam your body on the wall to fuck you to the point you pass out.

alas, the two made it.

you gnawed your lip, determined to sabotage the two the best as you could. you slid to Ghost's office, making sure the uniform is showing some skin to him. his groan was muffled and he had to reposition himself. when your hands went to linger on the area of his crotch, he looked at you. a warning. "no touching, remember?". another failed plan.

you took matters in your hands, going into Konig's room and waiting for him on the bed, your hair down and pants gone. he entered and almost stumbled. still, he picked up your clothes and wore it back on you. he handled you like a toddler as you scowled. "wait!" you said when he left with a boner straining his boxers.

it went on and on, this sabotage of yours. none of them worked. you were getting annoyed, glancing at the calendar to see it's already the ends of November. the clock rings it's December and your door burst, two men towering over you.

you wanted to chuckle at their desperate actions as Ghost turned off your laptop and Konig carried you to the bed. you yelped as he threw you on the bed, biting your lip in excitement. "fucking hell, never going to entertain your ideas again princess" Ghost voice was deep, his hands hastily unfastening his belt. Konig gripped a fist of your hair "Ja, next time we're fucking you whenever we want to" he whispers as your insides tingled with excitement. he lifts his sniper mask as kisses your face but not on the lips. he rips off your uniform and discarded it on the floor. Ghost has already pumped his fist around his cock, observing how your pretty neck is getting strangled by Konig. Konig brings big hands to your neck as you giggled, his hands groping the flesh of your boobs. you panted in excitement and want as Konig latched on one breast, grazing his teeth on the nipple and with his tongue swirling the areola.

Ghost groaned, spitting on his hand and bringing it back to his cock. he pants, trying not to cum just yet. he slaps the other boob of yours and flicks the nipple carelessly. "put that lovely mouth to a use lovie" he nudges the tip on your lips, the other hand under your jaw. your drool drips on his slit as he pushes it in with a grunt. "hah.. feels so good" he rasps. he thrusted with no pace, sloppy as he fists your hair and using your mouth as he pleases. his vision grow blurry as you hollowed your cheeks to take in his length more and naughty hands fondled his balls.

Konig has moved down, placing himself right between your legs. he licked the underwear you had on as he pushed them aside, not shy to plunge two fingers inside your salivating pussy. you whimpered around Ghost's cock as he bought his hand to your throat. "focus now". Konig chuckles, going straight to your clit, sucking it. you whimper again as his fingers moved in and out of you as his mouth works wonders, generous. he latched his mouth on the mound, leaving the area wet and slick as precum drips from your weeping pussy. your throat vibrates with pleasure as it got violated deliciously by Ghost. two men were making you feel good and you loved it. laying there and being used like a toy for their own. "don't get lost yet we're hardly finished" Konig whispers, cruelly slapping your pussy as your hips shifted. you screamed around Ghost's cock as his cum gurgled in your throat. "fuckkk.." Ghost pumped the last bit of cum, tapping on your tongue. "you got to try her throat, Konig. works far much better than your bloody hands" he says, not giving a care as you panted, dazed with heart in your eyes. Ghost and Konig changed positions as Konig turned your body, 69 style.

the Colonel wasn't going easy, immediately placing his cock into your mouth as he slurps on your pussy. getting cockdrunk, you made kitten licks on the tip and licked the whole length as he ate you out. you could see Ghost sitting nearby, his cock still hard and he's still pumping it out. you smiled, slobbering around his cock and loving the affect you have on both men. they were inpatient and hands couldn't stay away. Konig spits at the entrance of your pussy, his tongue thrusting in and out as you take his whole cock that was big just like he is. you choked as Ghost held your hair up and tying it with your hairband. "keep it up, Schatz" Konig raised his hips, suffocating you with his cock and bullying your pussy.

one thing was Konig always had to edge you, he was sucking your clit but when your insides pulse with need, he stops. "ah.. keep going please.." you whined, his cock in your hand. Ghost smiles behind his skull mask "this is what you get for sabotaging us. take it like a good girl yeah?".

at the cue, Konig brings your body up from the bed and on your knees. he brings his body behind you as Ghost went in front. their hands roamed your body, making it tingle and leaving you sweaty, moaning mess. it was slow as Ghost penetrated your mouth again with his cock as Konig spears your pussy with his. your eyes widened as Konig holds to your hips since your knees buckles and Ghost holds on to your jaw. the hold was firm as you take in the pressure, getting stuffed in each hole. they didn't moved for a bit before Ghost gently thrusts and Konig moves as well. it was heaven bliss as your hands moved to Ghost's thighs for stability as your insides are getting stirred. left vulnerable and naked, the two men used your body and was going to dump inside a month worth of cum. "taking us so good Schatz. this pussy misses us, huh?" Konig whispers, deep and shallows thrusts. "bet it does. she's a greedy one alright" Ghost voice dripped with tease as him and Konig punches their fists in victory.

victory of making you a sobbing mess that is. "mmh more! Konig.." you whined, Ghost's dick springed out your mouth as you huff. "hm, are you sure you're the one making rules here?" Ghost looks down to you, his brooding presence making you shrink as Konig pulls your hips back in a bruising grip and Ghost plunged your throat. you gagged as tears stain your cheeks and Ghost wipes it with his thumb. it was bruising and animalistic, how the bedframe shake with feral thrusts. Konig grabbed a handful of your ass, making sure it's sore by the end.

the two switch places as they flipped your body, this time on your back and cranes your neck, Konig viciously choking your throat as he could see the bulge. he looks to Ghost who's enjoying himself between your legs. your sweet nectar mixed with Konig's precum licked away by the lustful man, eager. Ghost taps your clit making your hips buck as the torment went on. you were sore all over as your limbs went out. you babbled as the two passed you over like a doll and the two were far from finished.

[yjhariani]

warnings: angst, zombies.

When you saw the newly promoted captain walking over towards you in the mess hall, you stopped eating. The hair on the side of his head had outgrown in a messy way, turning his mohawk into a sorry excuse of a mullet. His face looked more exhausted than anything.

Soap stopped next to your table and nodded. You stood up, welcoming him.

“Sir,” you greeted.

“So,” he started, voice heavy.

Soap swallowed a chunk of saliva and looked down briefly.

“They’re M.I.A.,” he stated.

A ball formed in your throat out of nowhere.

By they, Soap meant Simon, Price, and Gaz. Their team was backup for the team that initially left to collect an important figure to the camp that you were staying at the moment. Neither team had been reachable since the last they were in the light—precisely sixty eight hours ago.

You had been waiting for Soap, specifically, to come to you. You knew the time would come when Soap would give you one out of three news. One, that the team had returned. Two, that the team was killed in action. Three, the team was missing in action.

It was option three. Meaning Soap came here to put you in a search team.

“When are we leaving?” you managed to ask.

“In five minutes,” Soap answered. “Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir,” you nodded.

“Meet me in the hangar, gear up,” Soap nodded.

Soap did not need to tell you more.

About five minutes later, you were on a chopper with Soap and three disposable soldiers that the base was willing to give you, save for the pilot.

You were not the only person who hated that it took them almost three days before deciding that they should send out a rescue team for their best personnels. All you could hope was that Soap did not punch another superior officer for this.

The team that Soap led for this search was dropped off on a roof of the building where Price’s team was last known to be. Judging by the crowd of zombies surrounding it, it seemed they could not leave.

The door that gave access to the inside of the building from the roof was not locked. However, as soon as it was opened, about half a dozen zombies screeched from the inside and ran out towards your team. That batch of infected was easily handled by precise headshots that Soap delivered through his suppressed rifle.

The captain led the team in with you on the far back, making sure you had everybody’s back. When his round was empty, the second in line would take over his position as Soap moved behind you. The cycle went on like that.

Room after room, your team cleared all the infected. Dead bodies falling limp to the ground, being piles of new furniture. Everything went well, the flow your team had was a flourish of perfection. It did not take your team too long before you started making your ways downstairs.

About three floors down, you were finally upfront in the marching order. Unlike the upper floors, this floor was cleared. Infected were already on the ground, save for the half dozen that was roaming around the hallway.

Your heart, if it had not already, beat faster. You gripped your rifle tighter. There were hardly any infected in any of the rooms. By the state of it, whoever it was must have made quite the ruckus that caught the attention of the remaining zombies.

You pushed forwards, feeling nervous of what you might or might not find.

By the end of the hallway, you saw a zombie that seemed to be out of place. The other zombies wore either civilian or scientist uniforms whereas that one wore a military uniform and he seemed to be Gaz’s size.

Before that zombie completely turned around, you shot a bullet through the back of its head and watched it fall to the ground.

You gazed back at Soap, sharing a knowing look that your friends might have met the end of their lives here.

Soap, then, nodded you to go ahead.

You walked up, passing that last zombie in the hallway, feeling your heart being held by a taunting, invisible hand. When you looked down, however, you felt a breeze of relief seeing that it was not Gaz.

Soap knelt down next to the body, fishing the fallen soldier’s dog tags. He took a moment to look at it before pocketing the metal. He looked at you before signing at you to go ahead and check the remaining door.

The taunting, invisible hand returned to hold your heart in its palm, tight and ready to squeeze.

You stood to the side of the door while Soap stood on the other side of it. You reached a hand towards the knob and after making sure that everyone was ready to go, you twisted it.

It was not locked, but the door was not opening. As if there was something heavy blocking it from the inside. You looked at Soap.

Soap pounded the door twice with the side of his fist. There was no response.

“Price?” he called out.

Still no response.

After a moment, Soap looked back at you.

“Do you want to crowbar it or axe it?” you offered.

“Crowbar seems safer. One violent whack instead of multiple,” Soap said. “Or we could just push. There’s five of us, who’s conscious and have the ability to give a push with full force.”

“Pushing it is, then,” you nodded.

Soap took a moment, scanning the team.

“Four of us push. You stand by the opening in case there’s infected inside ready to eat us alive,” Soap stated, looking at you.

“10-4,” you nodded, raising your rifle ready.

The four started pushing the door. A squeak of heavy wood against the floor echoed as the door started parting. You held your rifle steady, ready to shoot or put your weapon down if needed.

Your heart beat faster as your breath pumped faster. Nothing was showing up from the other side. So, as soon as the door was opened enough for you to slip through, you did.

Starting from the immediate corner, you scanned the room until you caught the gaze of a pair of milky eyes. Reflex went ahead of you and your finger pulled the trigger, shooting a bullet in between the pair of milky, dead eyes.

The corpse fell in slow motion. Or at least it was what it felt. The tall corpse with a skull mask seemed to be staring right into your soul as it limped to the ground. At that moment, the taunting, invisible hand turned into a twine of thorny vines that had your heart wrapped in it and it started squeezing so hard that you felt your heart might be bursting.

The thudding of that zombie falling was layered by a painful squeak leaking out of your throat. You ran towards the recently dead zombie and knelt next to it.

It was him.

It was Simon.

Thinking that you might have made a mistake of killing him by accident, you slipped his mask off. His face was not his anymore. It was something else’s. Rotten, paled, infected.

You ran a gentle hand through his hair, holding back tears. You slowly looked up, ready to face the field captain. However, before you could turn to face him, you saw the dead bodies lined in the far wall of this room.

The dead bodies were laid down, set as if they were peacefully sleeping with their arms folded. Two of them had a bucket hat and a cap on their chest.

You looked at Simon’s dead body again. This time, you noticed the bite wound that was on his arm. 

By now, Soap had shown up and knelt in front of you. The two of you looked at each other, not being able to say anything. The most he could do was put a hand on your shoulder and squeezed it in hope to reassure you.

Carefully, you fixed Simon’s body to be positioned just the way the others were. You folded his arms before putting his mask on top of it. Then, you slipped his dog tags off his neck.

After taking a moment, you and Soap stood up and walked over to the lines of dead bodies. You approached Price first. There were multiple bite wounds on his arms that you could see. His dog tags were put on top of his hat. Gaz, with a huge bite wound that tore a chunk of flesh on his neck. His dog tags were next to his cap.

The remaining dead bodies also had bite wounds. Other than that, they all had perfectly aimed bullet holes in their heads. Whatever thorn that squeezed your heart earlier now did it again.

“He was the last one,” Soap sighed.

“He couldn’t do it himself,” you said.

You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. It was a while that you and Soap shared a look before he raised his radio.

“Base, come in,” Soap said.

An instant reply said, “This is base. Anything to report, Captain MacTavish?”

“We found them,” he stated. “They’re gone.”

The radio was silent for a long time.

“Sorry to hear that. Get back here immediately, we have a situation,” the person on the other side of the radio stated before the line went dead.

Then, as if it was natural, Soap got you in his arms as you let out whatever gush of water your eyes made you let out.

Regardless of that order from the higher ups, regardless of dozens of talks that Soap gave about not having time to grief, Soap took a moment for him and for you. Just a moment of grief while you stood in the room littered with your dead friends.

a/n: should i apologise for this?

[hyperactively-me]

fancy holiday party with simon 💃🎁🍾 warnings: alcohol consumption

Simon, as well the rest of the 141, being an integral part of the military, was invited to the annual holiday military ball. You practically had to drag Simon to the event, even though he was the one who received the invite and asked you to go with him. It’s a rather posh occasion, having to dress up to the nines for the event. The towering venue, adorned with shimmering lights and the murmur of conversations alongside ambient music, reflected the grandeur of the occasion. You had worn your best attire, adorning your body with velvety and warm fabric. Simon wore his tuxedo, adjusting his mask over his face until he was content. The room was adorned with glittering decorations, officers and their dates swaying to the rhythm of the music. The snowfall outside the large windows added a touch of coziness, a serene contrast to the festivities bursting within the ballroom. 

As the night wore on, the atmosphere shifted. The clinking of glasses and the lively conversations picked up, fueled by the spirit of celebration and the generous flow of alcohol. The guests and officers embraced the new atmosphere with open arms, a welcome contrast from the previously stuffy formality of the early evening. The room echoed with the sounds of holiday cheer, a blend of laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses. 

You and Simon continue to navigate through the crowd, approaching familiar faces and getting introduced to new ones. The lively energy of the alcohol-infused celebration coursed through the air, and you found yourself picking up flutes of champagne every couple of rounds around the room. The layers of formality that usually infiltrated military events melted away, displaying an atmosphere of genuine connection and celebration. Even the most stoic officers found themselves caught up in the festive spirit. The dance floor was flooded with slaphappy party-goers, soldiers and their dates spinning and twirling to the holiday music. 

Simon, usually quite reserved in social settings such as this, revealed a different side of himself in the moment, a few drinks coursing through his veins. His rigid exterior softened, and a smile played on his lips as he led you in a dance that had everyone swinging and laughing with merriment. He even pulled up his balaclava to rest comfortably on the bridge of his nose. The camaraderie amongst everyone in the ballroom made your heart swell, and you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly grateful for Simon having invited you. 

It’s midnight now, and the party is nearing its end. Simon guides you through the sea of uniforms and elegant gowns, his gloved hand firmly holding yours as you both approach the doors to the outside. You can’t help but blush as his hand engulfs yours in a vice grip. 

“Wait, wait, we can’t forget our coats before we leave!” you giggle, yanking him back towards the direction of the coatroom. 

“Right, right,” Simon says, his voice laced with amusement as you pull him back. 

You two approached the coatroom, but no attendant was there to be found. 

“Guess we’ll have to find them ourselves,” he grumbles slightly, dragging you into the coatroom. 

The two of you stepped into the coatroom, engulfed by the lingering scent of rich, thick fabrics. The hushed rustle of coats enveloped you as Simon cracked the door behind you. Simon, ever the gentleman, found your coat and helped you into it, his touch gentle. As he adjusted the collar, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment and warmth.

You look up and his piercing brown eyes meet yours, a mischievous spark dancing within them. 

“What?” you giggle, tugging at your sleeves. 

Simon’s smirk deepens, his gloved hands lingering on your coat. “Just thinkin’ ‘bout how glad I am that you convinced me to come to this thing,” he says, his eyes holding a warmth that you’ve rarely seen. 

“Well, I'm glad I did,” you reply, a genuine shine in your eyes. “Otherwise, we would have missed all the dancing and,” you paused, your tone turning more mischievous, “our little stop in the coatroom.”

Simon chuckles, the sound resonating in the closed space. “Best decision I made tonight,” he admits, his fingers tracing a pattern on your coat.

A playful grin tugs at the corner of Simon’s lips as he pulls you closer. The distant sounds of the party seeps through the walls, but you’re too enraptured by the man standing in front of you to care about potentially being caught. His gloved fingers come up to delicately trace the contours of your face, and you grab onto the front of his tuxedo, pulling him closer to you. Simon’s touch was both gentle and possessive, his gloved fingers pushing into your hair.

Simon leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “Y’know, this has been the best damn military ball I’ve ever been to.”

You chuckle, the warmth of the compliment spreading through you. The air between you crackles with anticipation, and Simon finally leans in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. The soft fabric of his tuxedo beneath your fingertips, the taste of his lips, the way his heartbeat felt against your own chest – every sensation felt intensified in the dimly lit coatroom. You tighten your grip on the front of Simon’s tuxedo, deepening the kiss. A muffled giggle escapes you as Simon presses you gently against the wall, his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses along your neck. 

Lost in the moment, you pull Simon even closer, the barrier of fabric and gloves doing little to diminish the intensity of the kisses. As his lips find yours again, the lingering taste of champagne on his tongue makes you shiver with warmth. You start to wrap your arms around his shoulders, hiking yourself up higher to press your lips against his harder, closer. Simon grunts as he brings his hands around your waist, beckoning you for more. 

The sensation was both familiar and new, a heady mix of sweetness and warmth. With another shift, you feel coats and furs tickling your skin, causing you to squirm in his grip. 

As the final kiss lingers, Simon pulls back, his brown eyes meeting yours with a mixture of desire and affection. The hushed rustle of coats and the muffled sounds of the ball just outside reminded you of where you were. 

With a gentle smile, Simon tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “We should probably get going before someone wonders where we disappeared to,” he whispers, his voice husky and low. 

“Yeah, we probably should,” you whisper back. “But we need your coat!” 

“Right, yes,” he says, suddenly snapped out of the moment. Simon glances around the coatroom, spotting his coat hanging on one of the hooks. With a quick step, he retrieves it and slips it on, securing the buttons to keep himself warm. 

You both emerge from the coatroom hand in hand, clearing your throat as though nothing just happened in the small room. You had to bite back a silly smile as you passed a few couples shooting you both questioning looks as you exited the coatroom. 

The cold night air greets you as you step outside, and the snowflakes continue to fall gently, creating a serene ambiance. Simon’s hand remains securely in yours as you walk through the snowy landscape towards the base entrance. You snuggle closer into his side, trying to stay warm in the freezing temperature outside. The two of you walk through the snow-dusted grounds, the echoes of laughter and music fading into the night. 

Simon’s breath creates puffs of mist in the crisp night air as he looks down at you. “Thank you for being my date tonight,” he murmurs, his eyes softening.

You smile, falling snowflakes catching in your hair. “And thank you for inviting me, I had such a fun time,” you reply.

As you both make your way through the snowy landscape, the venue behind you begins to disappear, its twinkling lights becoming smaller dots in the distance. Hand in hand, you and Simon embrace the quiet beauty of the snowfall, the events of the night warming your heart.

[afoxintheuniverse]

Merry Christmas everyone and happy end of 2024! Good father in heaven help me this year has been a lot… but for now I’d like to share with you all a gift that I wrote for one of the best friends I could have hoped to make this year and in this new fandom: Transformers War Chronicles. Please check out her content on both instagram and YouTube as she is seriously so overwhelmingly talented! She loved this gift and insisted I share it with the world. So, without further ado, I hope you all enjoy this little geeky gift from me to you! Happy Holidays and God Bless!

“Mistletoes’ meaning” An Opilita Christmas fic Inspired by Transformers War Chronicles! Merry Christmas Bestie!!! Written By CJ The Fox

“Finally…” Elita groaned practically slumping through the door as Optimus held it open for her. “Thanks…” she sighed pulling together enough strength to smile up at him. He smiled back though not able to hide the exhaustion in his eyes any better than she could have. He slid the wooden door closed behind them before sweeping a bit of the fallen snow off his shoulders and arms. He glanced back at Elita who immediately flashed a look that paused his hand in the air beside her. “Fine…” she relented quietly, aggressive smirk fading into a soft smile and head tilting to the side, plumes of the snow to falling off and onto the ground. The faintest blue glow flushed against her cheeks as she quirked her eyebrow up at him. Internally, she fought to decide if she should avoid eye contact or maintain it harder. They both knew if he’d brought it up, she would try to blame it on the cold. They had just come inside after all! Oh, she would try~ They also both knew even with his battle mask still pulled up above his sinuses Optimus was no doubt giving her a delighted scrap eating grin beneath it. She huffed, smile still on her face as she jabbed him in the stomach with her elbow. The two chuckled quietly together as he finished brushing the last little bits of snow off the top of helmet. His digits slid down the side of her helm just a bit to hold her chin up between his fingers. Elita gulped at his touch the glow of her face brightening ever further as he looked at her. Seemingly satisfied, eyes still alight with his hidden and certainly smugger smile, he slid his fingertips back up the side of her helm brushing the last bit of snow off her glowing cheek.

“The erm… The festival hall truly is something special…” He pondered aloud glancing to the side at the room they now stood in. Elita followed his gaze falling into silent agreement. It wasn’t any of the meeting halls of Cybertron. Hell, it wasn’t even one of the castles these humans had, but she couldn’t deny…they’d definitely put in some work for their guests. According to Optimus or at the very least what he said the officers had told him; this had been a bomb shelter that had been refurbished into a deluxe garage. What was once an obscure base in the middle of nowhere had become where farm equipment, racing and show horses and military balls would be held. The building had been decorated for just such an occasion and then some. Despite the minimal to nonexistent furniture, the room had a removable wooden floor placed covered in faded footprints of occasions come and gone. On both sides of the building were thick panel windows showing the regrowing storm outside. Since they were still bulletproof, the howls of the wind instead became whispering ambience against the swirly sky outside. Finally, there were the lights, hundreds of thousands of twinkling white bulbs wrapped around the cornering support beams and wooden roofing. Alongside more lights, a stone fireplace had been hollowed out in the final thicker support beam at the center of the room, glowing with the warm blaze crackling inside.

“I’m not sure if you bots need beds or anything but uhhhh here…” Optimus had remembered the building director saying as he’d showed him the giant gymnastic pads laid out in front of the fire. It was no recharge slab, but the thought was considerate. And sure, there was enough room for them to have their own mats to themselves… Optimus glanced back at Elita as she still slowly spun staring at the humble yet festive display surrounding them. Maybe it was that the snow had melted, making an already glistening paint job that much more reflective. Maybe it was that the humans had truly outdone themselves with the decorating for a place intended for mere safety. Maybe it was that it was just the two of them. Maybe… Maybe it was just her. As if in a trance he took slow yet purposeful steps toward her. The beams danced across her figure, like the fireflies they had seen in the summers on this strange new planet. Or the neon ribbons that decorated buildings almost matching Iacon’s own advertising. The shimmer seemed to accentuate all of the strength and beauty that made Elita well… Elita. From the scars and scrapes to the way she carried herself with the authority of a leader alongside the wonder of seeing this world for the very first time to the gentle elegance of what it meant to be a femme. She smiled again up at him before he even realized he had crossed the room over to her. She returned her optics to the wooden rafters now covered with glittering beams and fake yet lush foliage. Her expression and physique together were giving the glow of the fire and even Op’s own spark some serious competition. Yeah… separate mats… like that was gonna happen.

“Alright I’ll admit it. This is pretty nice…” She smirked crossing her arms and tilting her hips to the side. Optimus closed the rest of the gap between them, placing a hand on her shoulder as she shifted her weight onto her other hip against him. She leaned her head into the side of his chest plate, closing her optics for a moment before looking up at him then passed him. “It’s… Beautiful…” She sighed as if admitting defeat to the beauty of their building. Optimus leaned back warm eyes ever present, sliding his hand across her back before letting it drape across the other shoulder, thumb gently rubbing where her shoulder met her chest. “Huh… What’s that?” Elita piped, suddenly pulling away from Optimus yet also grabbing him by the hand.

“Hm?” Optimus blinked trying to process her having been so close, pressed up against him to suddenly pull him to the middle of the room optics still on the ceiling.

“That! Right there That plant’s different from the others. Is it supposed to be there? Or is it a ‘weed’ as humans call it? Or is the plant just blooming?” While still slightly confused, Optimus followed her fingertip, sure enough on one of the rafters, the false foliage had come to a stop to leave a small section of bare wood. Tied on the bark was what appeared to be a small upside-down bush with white berries or seeds sprouting in the leaves. The base had been tied with a shiny red bow that looped up around the wood plank as if turning it into a present.

“Oh!” Optimus blinked again in recollection; he had seen this plant before as well had its meaning explained to him. “O-oh…” He repeated, needing to clear his throat a bit.

“What?” Elita perked up at him. “What is it?” I can cut it out if it’s invading the other plant life. Or does the whole bush need to be disposed of?” Without skipping a beat, she pulled her laser pistol from her hip and aimed it at the foreign fauna as it hummed to life.

“Ah! No no! No no no!” Optimus half yelped half laughed reaching up to stop her weapon. “Th-That won’t be necessary my dear!” Besides it wasn’t exactly like they needed to test the durability of this place from the inside. Even if they were still learning about how earth worked, shooting a hole in the ceiling didn’t seem like the most polite thing to do… “There’s nothing wrong I can assure you!” He spoke as calmly and cheerfully as he could manage, nervousness not quite hidden from his voice.

“Oh ok.” Elita shrugged nonchalantly giving the gun a quick twirl in her hand before sliding it back into her holster. “So, what is it then?” “Well…” Optimus put a free hand behind his head nervously glancing at the floor. The building director had explained the meaning of this plant to him when he’d been shown where he and Elita could be staying to wait out the winter storm.

“Sorry sir, I think that was just left over from our usual holiday decoration set up. But we can take it down! I didn’t know if you and your uh… your friend there- Well, is she? Uh- sorry I shouldn’t have assumed-”

“Its fine.” Optimus had laughed, albeit a bit flustered at the topic, but shame was never an emotion that registered in his sensors. There was nothing to be ashamed of. He could NEVER be ashamed. Not of her. Not ever. “She… She is.”

“Oh thank, God…” The director heaved more to himself than to the massive living machine now harboring an entire event hall like a hotel. Ever since that conversation, a small part of Optimus both expected and hoped that she would find the spirited sprout on that ceiling just to have this very talk.

“It’s called a Mistletoe.” Optimus began. Sliding his palm and fingertips carefully down her arm until it once again connected with her hand. “Obviously it’s a type of plant here on this planet but the ones in here are all fake as to not extinguish any resources as well as save time on cleaning. I’ve done some research on the real blooms though!”

“Of course, you did...” Elita giggled, rolling her eyes ever so slightly as she leaned closer letting the backs of their arms slide and softly bump against one another in their swaying postures. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less from you book bot.” She could tell he grinned that typical yet classical geeky grin beneath his mask. Bashful yet not embarrassed of his knowledge nor the work he had put in to gain it. For that her respect renewed thought she would never admit it out loud… at least not right now… No matter how much of a fighter he had become deep down he would always be that shy archivist and student ready to learn and to cherish anything and everything he could see. “Heh…” So that was how she’d fallen for a geek…

“It can actually grow on common human foods such as the apple trees we saw on the way here!” He continued his voice carrying that usual professionalism he had acquired from leading teams but unable to mask the genuine excitement as he gestured with his free hand. “Or oak trees which as you already know provide them with portions of their atmosphere. You weren’t completely wrong in calling it ‘weed like’ though, as it is actually an invasive species.”

“Really?”

“Mhm!” He nodded. “It can actually cause a disease for the base plant leading to weakened sprouts, that need to be cut out or…” He pointed back to her holster. “What you had suggested. Though shotguns are typically the human’s choices for removal.”

“Well damn! I guess it’s a good thing they’re all plastic then, huh? Elita laughed bumping her hip against the side of his thigh before leaning completely against him. The back of her head was almost nuzzling his chest as she made herself comfortable, hand never leaving his.

“Indeed.” Optimus laughed as well though softer, almost politely as he lingered his gaze on her before returning it to the plant. “Yet despite that, it’s become a symbol on this planet. A signal of tradition.”

“Oh yeah? What of?” Elita mused, finally letting her weight fully against him and lifting their intertwined hands up to her shoulder. Op smiled closing his grasp and leaning a bit of his own weight atop her though cautious to not become too heavy.

“It’s meant to be a sign of… of connection, good will… or love.”

“O-Oh?” Elita stuttered suddenly. Optimus could feel her grip twitch in his own at the last word her entire body engaging in a split-second jolt against him. She tried to cover it up and act as if it hadn’t happened with that firm voice remark. Oh, she tried. He had to fight the urge to tease her, not wanting to risk ruining the moment or receiving one of her impressive right hooks in his arm. His smile practically peeking over the mask he kept going.

“And… when two people who just so happen to love one another… at least romantically…” Elita’s eyes widened. Yet another key word seemed to strike her like a blow, her face illuminating instantaneously. “…Stand beneath this plant, it is customary for them…to also… exchange a kiss.” Elita tensed in his grip her hand tightening slightly again, not quite a squeeze. It was the noticeable pressure and stiffness of her body locking in place.

“Huh…” It was all she could manage to get out and it was still a hoarse squeak. The attempt at nonchalance failed worse than one of StarScream’s leadership endeavors. He could feel the hum of her spark as it began to quicken its pace against his palm. She stared intently at the plant desperate to not look at him. Her eyes practically burned into it as much as her pistol would have, maybe even more so. It felt so obvious now… During the entire conversation she could feel his pulse rising too! Slower and calmer than hers, yes but still… She had just figured it was because he always showed that sweet excitement when sharing his knowledge with her. Or maybe it was because she had been enjoying it, like every time he did so. No... she should have seen this coming... She should… She looked up at him, just like at the door, it was a sight to behold. The lights sparkling around them tracing his every distinguished feature from the tips of his antenna to the base of that sharp jaw. Yet of course those lights could never compare to those eyes as they glistened in the gentle darkness. The humans were right, eyes truly were the windows to the soul or in their case, spark. Those eyes could tell his entire legacy without a single word in any language in any universe. They showed the exhaustion of maintaining so much and so many at once. The hours upon hours of research, reading and learning. The knowledge of so much good and bad in the galaxy. Secrets and truths that belonged to both of them and probably all of their loved ones too. Information that he would take to his grave if that’s what it took. The quiet sorrow of knowing too much and not knowing enough and seeming to wish for neither and both simultaneously. And despite all of it, the blue glow remained bright, just as it had when she had first met that geeky archivist all those cycles ago. It showed the intense focus it took to be quick thinking and deeply pondering. The curiosity of always being ready to learn something new and to share that knowledge with others. It showed wisdom gained from periods of lessons learned in easy and hard ways. It showed kindness, patience and composure, though there was clearly a silent joy gleaming beneath all that stupid stoicism. So powerful… eyes certainly belonging to someone with this level of strength. Not just the physical strength he had obtained over the years, not even the mental strength he had had before that, but the strength of his character. The strength of what it meant to be Optimus Prime. And yet his gaze was soft as if the massive hulking strength he possessed was merely an illusion as he gently rubbed his thumb along the top of her hand. She had almost forgotten she was holding it. Almost…

“Optimus?” She spoke before registering the words leaving her lips. Swallowing again almost as if wishing she hadn’t said anything. Her face showed all of the indecision and jumbled thoughts her mind was trying and failing to organize as her eyes itched to look away but didn’t. Optimus stared back at her; face as serene as ever. He tilted his head slightly to the side allowing his antenna to wiggle slightly at the movement as he waited for her to continue in the silence following his name. “Uh…Do you think that… that uh…” Her mouth hung slightly open with unspoken words before she swallowed the rest of the sentence. He quirked up an eyebrow at her before looking down to their hands as slowly grabbed the other one. Elita followed his gaze, trembling slightly as he intertwined the second set of digits between his own.

“Yes…” Optimus knelt onto one knee, his face now level with hers. He cupped both of her hands within his and pulled her slightly closer to him. Keeping her hands wrapped up snugly in his grasp, he raised his other arm to place it on her shoulder. “…Elita?” If she wasn’t at a loss for words before, she sure as hell was now. “Strong enough to be gentle” he had said once… In this moment, those words described him perfectly. His eyes overflowed with the most overwhelming yet soothing presence in the universe: Love. And that love, that presence that power, was directed at her. The glow of her face was making a mockery of the surrounding bulbs and flames. She could feel her Energon prickling behind her cheeks and spark pounding wildly in her chest as it echoed in her audials.

“A- ahh… Uhm…” Her failing words were going to give Starscream competition at this rate.

“Are you alright?” His brow furrowed eyes glinting in concern, He leaned in pulling her almost completely to his chest as he placed his hand holding hers just above his spark. Elita shivered at the touch of him tracing his thumb up the side of her neck to cup the side of her face in his palm needing to bite her lip and squeeze her optics shut to keep from making any noises. Well… at least more than the squeak that slipped out…How could something tickle so badly and feel like a massage at the same time?! She was gonna be as good as a smelting pot… He tilted her face towards his own as she vented shakily letting her eyes reopen to be met with his worried visage. He studied her lifting her chin with his fingertips before returning them to his hand at the side of her helm again. Primus, he HAD to know how sweet it was! It was the same way he always checked on her after a battle, making sure she was unharmed before making sure Ratchet examined her anyway. He cared for all his soldiers and friends, yes. He didn’t even treat her better than anyone else, no favoritism or biases to the best of his abilities. And still, the urgency, the protectiveness the compassion, even if it was just as strong as he carried it for all his allies, a difference was there, and it was obvious.

“Yeah! I- I’m fine!” Elita practically spluttered taking a slight step backwards yet not removing her hands from his chest, nor tilting her cheek from his touch. “I just…” She stared up at him, feeling his spark thrumming against her hands, her own still echoing in her audials. Though his face had lightened slightly at her reassurance, his eyes still wore the weight of a familiar concern, almost sadness. Even if that look was familiar to her, she hated seeing it in his eyes. Maybe she hated it because it was so familiar to her. It wasn’t like either of them had ever been given a choice for what gave him that expression… “It’s nothing” she sighed breaking their gaze to glance at her hands on his spark then the ground. “I’m sorry I- I shouldn’t have said anything…” Optimus drew back slightly at this, seeming slightly hurt as she’d gone silent again. He let out a quiet vent, closing his optics as Elita squeezed her own shut before hanging her head further towards the ground, guilt growing more apparent by the second. Optimus shifted his hand slightly lower on the side of her face letting one of the tips of her helmet slide between his fingers as he worked the others beneath her chin tilting her face back towards him but not pulling it up again either. Gathering her resolve Elita looked at him. His eyes still had the same softness, but it wasn’t quite sad, not anymore. Her brows lifted in surprise as face plate slid neatly into their slots alongside his neck and helmet allowing a full yet still mostly neutral expression to be shown. He exhaled softly again lips sliding up into a soft smile, then a full-on smirk as he playfully arched an eyebrow at her again. It was softer than how he’d looked at her before, but this was a face she knew all too well, one she’d seen him make and probably even made herself more times than she could count. It was the face he’d made when Bumblebee pulled off an impressive trick but got himself hurt in the process. It was the face he made as WheelJack would ramble on about his ideas for inventions before he’d need to be reminded of budget, limited amounts of fire extinguishers and sometimes even what was and wasn’t scientifically possible, whether he had something to say about it or not. It was the face he made as Ratchet would rant and rave about how this entire team was ‘comprised of idiots’ then work himself to the core making sure his patients recovered. Optimus didn’t need to say a single word as his expression said it all not quite mocking yet still slightly teasing. Not feeling sorry for her in a condescending way but certainly obvious sympathy even potential threads of pity. Yep… Optimus was giving her his best ‘Oh what are we going to do with you?’ face. Son of a- He was doing the slow head shake and even had the GALL to let out that stupid soft chuckle! Elita scrunched her face back up at him, letting out a little grumble under her breath of words she hadn’t come up with yet. Optimus only laughed louder, failing to keep his entertainment to a closed mouth anymore and making Elita’s eyebrow twitch in irritation. He composed himself again taking in another deep vent as Elita glared, though he could see the sides of her lips twitching slightly. She was clearly desperate not to give him the satisfaction of smiling or cracking up too. So, didn’t give her time to do so.

She could only gasp as in one soft yet fluid motion, Optimus pulled her hands back into his chest with one hand lifting her face slightly again with the other before leaning in and planting a kiss on her cheek. He firmly pressed then held his lips there, sleepily closing his eyes. Elita’s jaw dropped, and eyes widened as far as they could go. She could feel her spark practically doing summersaults within her chest. Slowly and hesitantly, he pulled back, blinking his optics open. Even though she could clearly see him smiling at her with his nose almost brushing against her own, she could still feel his lips on her face. Wordlessly she slid her hands out from Optimus’s to touch it to the side of her cheek where they had been almost as if not believing it had really happened. Optimus brought his now free hand back to the base of his helmet glancing away for a moment before reclosing his optics and laughing. It was a joyous yet sheepish expression of delight and with his optics reclosed it was now more obvious the glow of his face wasn’t just coming from his eyes. Elita remained silent as he composed himself again and stared a bit behind him at the ground while lowering his hand from his head.

“Ha Ha Ha… Ahem… Ah... Merry Christmas Eli- mmMPH!” Elita had also given him no warning as she grabbed his shoulders and yanked him back down towards her, shoving her lips on his with a muffled grunt. It wasn’t quite ‘slamming’ into a kiss, but she definitely wasn’t being slow or gentle as he was either. Optimus’s optics snapped wide open while Elita seemed to be squeezing hers as tight as they could go, face pressed hard against his. She dared to peek an eye open slowly beginning to pull away as Optimus was now the one with his mouth hanging open, their lips still brushing against one another. She paused, opening her eyes the rest of the way as Optimus placed one hand on her hip the other slowly tracing its way back onto her arm and up her shoulder. Optimus’s own eyes were a question, a request for permission that he never would have needed to ask, yet he always did anyway. She answered with her smile and the whisper of laughter she finally let out. He smiled back before reclosing his optics and resealing their connection. Elita sighed peacefully, finally giving into him completely as he opened his mouth further to further secure the kiss. She reciprocated, soft mewls escaping between any gaps. Smiling against her, he pulled her closer to him their chests firmly pressed and sliding against one another. Elita arched her posture into the placement of his hand as he slid his open palm from her hips to glide across her back. She shivered again, not bothering to hide it this time. Her own arms slid down tracing her hands over his chest. His spark hummed strong against her caress before she reached back up his shoulders to wrap her arms around the back of his head. Whether the neck hug had pulled her higher or him lower couldn’t be deciphered, all they knew was that their chests were now perfectly aligned, sparks beating as one. Optimus tilted his head into the embrace, letting out a content sigh of his own. He shifted his weight slightly on his knees to lean further over her. Pressing his hand firmly between her shoulder blades, his fingers twitched as they tried not to curl and scrape against her plating. His other hand dragged down the side of her body, outlining the delicate form in his arms. Elita slowly raised her leg, starting to wrap it around Optimus’s waist as he continued his graceful glide from the top, side and finally to the base of her thigh. She leaned further into his supporting hand as he gave her thigh a gentle squeeze before lifting her into the air. The sudden rush of movement causing Elita to let out a surprised

“Oh!” Optimus laughed, leaning his helm against hers before raising his eyebrows in an expression that both teased yet also asked genuinely if she was alright. Elita blinked a few times before returning his laughter. She let out a sigh rolling her eyes. Whether the eyeroll was at herself or at him he couldn’t tell but didn’t care though. Her lips were on his again still slightly snickering against the contact. Optimus let out a half laugh, half exhale and continued to stand. In a single slow spin, he allowed both of their full weight to return to the bottoms of his feet. Both of their forms were silhouetted against the soft glow of the fireplace embers glinting against the metal figures. It was a dance that no one needed to see, not even the dancers. Especially not the dancers. He slid his forearm completely under both of Elita’s legs, lifting her to where she was now the one leaning over him. Optimus squeezed her legs snugly with the inside of his elbow while now supporting her uplifted leg below the knee. He arched his own back now as she leaned forward almost laying across his chest at an angle slowly lifting one of her feet. She wrapped her arms up and past his shoulders to hold his face in her hands. Elita murmured, her expression hardening slightly as she wrapped an arm around his head. She tilted her face to the side and pressed her face harder into his. She practically had his head in a locked hug, one arm wrapped all the way around to have her knuckles brushing her shoulder. The other arm traced up behind the first, lifting her fingers and twirling them around one of his antennae. Whether he was too polite or too shy to tell her how much he enjoyed it, the appreciative groan as she firmly massaged the tip between her digits was plenty. He slid his arm further around her back to better hold her up, his hand cradling the back of her helm. The two pressed in hard on one another one last time before finally breaking the kiss. Both bots held their optics closed as they slowly flickered back into their senses. Steam softly plumed from their vents and into one another’s gaping mouths, combining into single white puffs before fading into the air. Optimus opened his optics finally seeming to have caught his breath. His quirked, almost embarrassed grin perfectly reflected the irony in beings lacking lungs to have become so winded. Elita followed suit her eyes fluttering open now looking down at Optimus instead of up like usual. She took in a deep vent before blurting out the first thought that entered her mind.

“Merry Christmas Optimus…” she whispered, tilting her head to the side and tracing her fingers along the side of his face. Optimus beamed up at her, before closing his optics and smiling wider, leaning into her touch. Her faint smile began trickling its way further across her lips as she considered another silent conversation. His own raised eyebrows and questioning optics let her know just how little he minded the thought. “I love you…”

Thank you for making it to the end if you’ve read this far! I hope you got in some nice holiday opilita feels or even learned something new about mistletoe as I did writing this!

[l0v3tast3]

Heyyyy 🤭I really love your young! reader stuff they're what i actually need! Can i ask for a one with the 141 boys but instead of the reader being someone they work with she's a rescued hostage who had to be with them for a good while 🤭🤎🤎?

✎ first of all omg thank youuuu ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ second of all yes i love this idea !!

✎ tags: young reader, non-military reader, gender neutral reader i'm pretty sure, some violence and trauma, smoking, mostly fluff, not proofread im too cool for that as usual

♡ kyle finds you huddled in a corner curled into a tight ball during a firefight. he's frantic and a bit rough with you (to be fair, there are bullets flying pretty much everywhere) as he practically drags you with him to the team's rendezvous spot. except, once you both get there, he kind of realizes he doesn't know what to do with you, and you don't either.

♡ price is about to start yelling at kyle when he takes one look at you, terrified and practically clutching onto your rescuer, and backs down. he mumbles that they'll take you back with them and see that you're taken care of. simon and john don't say anything, just sharing a look between each other, both wondering how this would go.

♡ the safehouse is cramped, a small cabin tucked between cliffs in a dense forest. one rough path led for miles before it came to a better road. simply put, you were all going to be stranded there for a few weeks before they could get a pinpoint on your location and to retrieve the team. so, you all got to know each other.

♡ it takes you a fitful night's sleep (still close to kyle) and a quickly eaten can of condensed soup to start talking again. price coaxes your name out of you, and he smiles when you tell him quietly. despite his initial reaction everyone can see how quickly he warms up to you. ghost takes a little longer than price and john, but joins in on your card games with the other three soon enough (he waits until you've actually learned how to play the games to spare his patience).

♡ you tell them about who you were and they learn who you are over the worn card deck and more canned food. it takes you a little longer to talk about your hometown before it crumbled beneath lead, and longer still to talk about your family. they don't push you for it, and kyle sits with you and holds your hand when he finds you outside crying. price warns the younger man to not let you both get too close to each other, but it's hard to social distance in the tiny safehouse.

♡ it takes a couple weeks but you surprise them when you stop getting anxious when kyle leaves your side, and you stop looking out the window every few minutes when he leaves the cabin. price and john are hopeful while simon stays skeptical that the separation once you all get back to the base will be easy (on any of you, really).

♡ laswell manages to send out a helicopter to land in a clearing in the forest not far from the safehouse after three and a half weeks. your grip on kyle's hand is white-knuckled the entire time you're in the air. when you're all on solid ground again, the other three men walk ahead of you while kyle urges you further onto the airfield of the base.

♡ price and simon go off on their own while john joins kyle and you in heading towards the doctors on base. they explain everything you pass as you pass it, what's behind that door and who those people are and what's down that hallway. you keep a hold on kyle's hand the entire time.

♡ you finally separate from him when you're sitting on one of the beds in the doctor's office, a nice woman about a decade older than you talking to kyle and john in the hallway while you look around anxiously. after spending nearly four weeks surrounded by the 141 task force, you feel exposed and unprotected now, ironically.

♡ kyle comes back into the room by himself first to tell you how the doctor was going to talk to you and look over you for a little while until they can find you a new home. the hug you give each other is tight on both ends, and it takes a few moments for either of you to let go. john comes in to give you a short pep talk and ruffles your hair. he tells you you're stronger than half of the people here and gives you a pat on the back that lurches you forward slightly before the two men leave.

♡ the doctor can see pretty easily that you've become attached to kyle (and the other three, but more so the youngest). so before anything else, she works with you for hours over cups of tea and coffee and vending machine snacks to both establish what she's working with and to help convince you that you were safe here and safe without them by your side.

♡ it takes a couple of weeks for you to stop looking over your shoulder everywhere you went. people were nice to you when they weren't avoiding you; they treated you almost like a new animal, unsure of how you would react to anything (price had had a "word" with the recruits, basically saying if they did anything to you, it wouldn't be pretty for them). you still managed to make some new friends of some of the recruits. it spreads through base pretty quickly that people like you, and having the favor of the 141 task force certainly helps.

♡ it's still a huge adjustment for you to be without kyle and the other three men. you don't sleep for three days before they finally have to sedate you to make the dark circles under your eyes back off. you're jumpy and avoidant for a while, unsettled by the long hallways and the marching of boots everywhere you went. when you stray too close to where the recruits trained and hear barrages of gunfire going off, they find you hours later huddled in a closet behind a makeshift wall of cleaning supplies.

♡ the doctor works with you through all of it, and surprisingly still, you make good progress rather quickly. they thought it would take months for you to return yourself to a sense of normalcy, but within a few weeks you know the base layout and walk more confidently through it.

♡ the 141 men visit you when they can. kyle most of all, he finds whatever time he can to hang around you. he worries that his presence might not help you, but after a few weeks you're no longer reaching for him to cling to him whenever he's around. instead, you make him little gifts of cards out of printer paper or wood carvings that look a little wobbly but are still cute nonetheless.

♡ john and price still come around to play card games with you every few nights, and sometimes simon joins them. you don't see much of the ghost, but when he's around he sits next to you and helps you under the table to beat price.

♡ simon catches you alone trying to get a bag of chips unstuck from a vending machine in the middle of the night and helps you get it out (he nearly tips the whole thing over shaking it). he doesn't say much to you, but the hand lingering on your shoulder says enough, and you give him a hug and a quiet "thank you" for more than just the chips before being on your way.

♡ you stay on the base for a few more months. somehow john starts teaching you the basics of how to fight and defend yourself after everyone else has gone back inside for the evening. he says you're like a baby deer trying to learn how to walk with three legs at first, but you eventually start to be able to throw decent punches and keep your footing steady.

♡ at some point, you start venturing into the world off-base (chaperoned, of course). usually it's someone you don't really know very well going with you, but a few times kyle or john come with you. kyle goes with you shopping, being pulled along through the isles of shirts and pants and all kinds of accessories that your hometown's few stores never carried. he humors you when you take hours finding and trying on all types of outfits, and he puts up with your whining when he drags you out.

♡ john tries to take you to a bar to "socialize", as he deems it, but when he sees how anxious you are and how the loud bass of the constant music makes you jump every few seconds, he takes you on a walk along a quiet river. you both sit on a bridge for awhile, watching boats go past in the bay ahead of you and just talking about whatever crosses your mind. you tell him eventually that the doctors think you should be able to leave the base within the next few weeks.

♡ price keeps up your "training" with you. he teaches you plenty of different ways to take people down, which you figure you'll probably never have to actually use, but you like the time spent together. he gives you unsolicited fatherly advice a lot, and besides self-defense, he teaches you a lot of other practical things. you find yourself able to semi-reliably diagnose car problems and knowing the basics of how and when and where to go fishing.

♡ simon and you spend the least amount of time together out of the four men, but when you do, it's nice and peaceful. you find him outside smoking sometimes and stand beside him. once, he offers you a cigarette and you try it, only for him to laugh and take it from you when you cough up a lung. he finds you smuggling candy bars and other contraband to recruits and helps you figure out good places to hide your stashes.

♡ a few days before you're sent to your new apartment outside of the base, the team decides to throw a "little" party for you. kyle finds you in your room and tells you to follow him but refuses to answer your questions of why and where you're going. once you're closer to their common area, he makes you close your eyes and steers you forward.

♡ you hear scrambled movements and hushed whispers and when you open your eyes, everyone yells "surprise!" and starts coming up to hug you and congratulate you on your progress. there's colorful balloons and cheap party hats and streamers peppering the area, store-bought cookies and snacks and a cake in your favorite flavor with the word "CONGRATULATIONS!" written on it in icing all sitting on a table, along with plenty of alcohol. there's even a banner hung up on the wall above the way into the little kitchen (it's a "happy birthday" banner, john says it's all they had left at the store, it still makes you smile).

♡ the four 141 men are there, laswell, and some of your closer friends you made with the recruits, and a couple of nurses you had also befriended. the recruits and nurses get you gifts, a couple of plants, some cookware, mostly housewarming presents to take with you. laswell hands you a small well-wrapped box and card (she tells you her wife wrapped it for her), and when you open it, there's cash and a beautiful pocket knife for you to keep.

♡ after a few hours, people start filing out, bidding you goodbye and their best wishes. once it's you and the 141 men left, all slightly buzzed sitting around more cards, they pull out their gifts to you. price gifts you a box of expensive cigars (he says that if you don't smoke them you can still show them off), john gives you a poster of a movie you both had watched together and loved. simon gives you a hand-carved wooden figure of an animal you had once told him you'd had as a kid. kyle gives you a pin that you had pointed out at a store once, saying it looked just like the one your mother had always worn for formal occasions. you're already basically in tears when they hand you a list of their contact info for when you leave, then you're fully crying.

♡ the day you leave, they all escort you to the car that will take you there. they insist on carrying all your luggage to the car, not that there's much of it. you cry again, hugging them all tight. you'd said your goodbyes to them individually already, but now you were really leaving. john is clearly holding back tears and price keeps clearing his throat as if it were tightening with his own emotions. simon doesn't cry, but he hugs you extra tight. kyle hugs you last, telling you to not get into anymore trouble, to call them if you ever need anything, so on and so forth. he's the last to leave the sidewalk while they all watch the car drive away.

♡ as it turns out, the apartment they placed you in (a small one bed, one bath, but still nicer than your house before all this) is a reasonable drive from where price lives. he makes time for you whenever he can, and kyle often tags along. all four men and you meet up every couple of weeks for a daytrip in the area. somehow, you even end up bringing the four men closer to each other, too.

♡ they help you move new furniture in (with lots of cursing, but still happy to help you) and "oo" and "aa" over all the new decorations and pieces you get for around the place. they visit you at your new job after you get settled into it. you even stay friends with some of the recruits from the base, sending letters and visiting every couple of months when they're allowed.

♡ the new change is huge, but with their help, you become a full member of society once again. the team watches out for you, as always. they come to see you as part of the team itself, even if you aren't actually part of the military.

[snow--berry]

Roommate AU #1

Characters: John Price, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, John “Soap” MacTavish, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Gary “Roach” Sanderson

Context: For convenience reasons and future things I have planned, you‘ll be sharing this really big house with all of the characters I‘ll write these headcanons for. Why are you sharing this house? Just because I can. I’ll find a better reason later. This also includes Alejandro, Rudy, Graves, König and Horangi. This is kinda like a peaceful AU, where they don‘t work military jobs. This can be read as platonic or romantic, I don‘t really care.

John Price

•He‘s the peace keeper in the household along with Rudy.

•He can‘t go without tea in the morning and it‘s the first thing he does. If you drink tea and are awake just as early, he‘ll also make you a cup.

•Price is only half-awake in the morning, so he‘ll accidentally say yes to the stupidest things, because he isn‘t really paying attention.

•Maybe he could work as a police officer? I'm not sure if I can see him do anything else. Suggestions are greatly appreciated lol.

•I feel like he’d play chess. Or just like. Strategy games altogether. With anyone who’s willing to join :D

•But mainly with Ghost and Alejandro. And König if he’d have the balls to approach Price.

•If you decide to play with him and know the rules of whatever game you’re playing already, it’s no mercy mode.

•If you don’t, or are still learning, he’ll go easy on you.

•He usually can be found in the living room, kitchen or backyard.

•He isn’t home for most of the day, due to his job, but he enjoys having dinner with whoever is available. He obviously favours Gaz and we all know it. That his adopted son after all—

•Also, because he’s an old man, he goes on long walks for no reason

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

•He’s somewhere in between troublemaker and just kinda chills

•I know this sounds very contradictory, but hear me out.

•He doesn’t get in trouble often, but when he does he’s either having a mischievous day, he’s purposely messing with Price, his dad or the most common option; he’s being dragged along by Soap and Roach.

•Even if he’s being dragged along, he just films whatever bs Roach and Soap are up to though. They need a camera man!

•In the morning he also makes himself a cup of tea, but he’s awake later than Price is. Usually when breakfast is ready already

•He’s a little groggy and sometimes grumpy in the morning. (Soap advice to you when you join the household is to not talk to Gaz before he’s had his breakfast and tea!)

•I can see Gaz spending hours in the bathroom in the morning and he ends up pissing everyone off, especially because Horangi, Alejandro and Soap also take ages in the bathroom

•I’m not sure what he’d work as, but maybe a professional gymnast? Is that what they’re called? Help—

•Or maybe a daycare attendant?

•I think he’d like cooking, so he usually makes dinner and lunch for everyone

•He has two lists; one with everyone’s allergies, likes and dislikes, and one with the meals he makes for dinner for the week

•Sometimes he’s away for a week or two at a time because of tournaments he attends

•He doesn’t mind sharing a bed if you have nightmares, or just enjoy close physical contact altogether. Especially during movies!

John “Soap” MacTavish

•Chaos Gremlin #2

•Usually is the one to drag Gaz along

•His shenanigans usually involve but aren’t limited to: drawing on sleeping people, mixing up salt and sugar, turning off the light in a room where people are, climbing on random shit, hiding people’s stuff & so much more These are all Roach’s idea btw, but you didn’t hear it from me—

•Will happily involve you in his shenanigans as well, you usually don’t have a say lol

•Drinks coffee in the morning, hot chocolate if he’s feeling silly

•He’s upset when people come after him for taking ages in the bathroom, he needs to style his mohawk properly!

•Constantly misplaces his ADHD meds, they mysteriously reappear on his pillow sooner or later

•He has this joking conspiracy, that there is a shadow man cryptid thing or a guardian angel giving him back his meds because no one in the house admits to placing his meds onto his pillow

•Works as either a football coach, PE teacher or freelance artist

•Still has a sketch book full of sketches and full-blown artworks of all kinds of stuff

•Has sketched/drawn every household member at least twice

•Also doesn’t mind physical affection, especially not since he’s pretty touchy himself

•Also definitely mixes different shampoos together lol

Simon “Ghost” Riley

•Is always, and I repeat always the first one awake

•Also drinks tea first thing he wakes up

•Sometimes at ridiculous hours, like, no one needs tea at 2:53 AM! He disagrees

•Knows of Soap’s and Roach’s shenanigans, only watches them… usually, there are times where he does stop them

•You’ll rarely see him around when you first join the household, he doesn’t quite trust you yet He also doesn’t like change. ‘Tism who? He don’t know her—

•The more he gets used to you, the more you’ll see him around

•He likes to tell you his jokes if you happen to be awake around the same time as him, it’s a bonding experience!

•He works as a dog sitter or a bodyguard. There is no in between. I do heavily lean towards dog sitter though

•Don’t touch him

•Unless he explicitly tells you it’s okay, that is

•Accidentally gives the worst side-eyes in history

•He is the shadow man cryptid/guardian ‘angel’

Gary “Roach” Sanderson

•Chaos Gremlin #1

•No one out-gremlins him

•Don’t even try, you will fail

•I was thinking Party Planner, but my friend came up with Entomologist

•So, he’ll do party planning as a hobby because I can’t let go of that headcanon.

•90% of the parties he plans are insect themed birthday parties

•He also has a few pet bugs and Rudy hates all of them

•Also, all of the shenanigan ideas are his

•Usually can be found in trees in the backyard or in a random bush somewhere in the neighborhood

•If you don’t speak BSL or ASL, he’ll start carrying a notebook and a pen around for you

•Randomly stands in a corner of your room at night and T-poses because he thinks it’s hilarious

•He’s like an outdoor cat, he sometimes isn’t home for a few days but he always comes back home at some point

•Roach is also sometimes outside all day long and only comes back for dinner

[str4ngr]

golden syrup [ john price ]

i had a vision, i also want money

cw: suggestive [not any nicer than with könig] , foul language, age difference [hes like 40 or smth], objectification?, typical confusing sugar daddy behavior, toxic relationship, fem! reader.

Sugar Daddy! Price, always buys you chocolates when he gets back from work, no matter how much you complain about it being unhealthy or bad for you it is, he just holds your waist and whispers in his gruff voice, "I love you."

Sugar Daddy! Price, who buys you a pretty dress for each military ball, amused by your adorable shyness, clinging to his arm as your hips sway besides his, the bespoke dress making you irresistible to look at. Luckily, the Captain is intimidating enough to glare down any pathetic, greedy man away.

Sugar Daddy! Price, who is too focused and stressed by work to realize how needy for him you are. Even when you stand beside his desk. Confused by all the military mumbo jumbo, you simply rubbing your knee against his thigh, leaning down to smell his hair, as you trace your hands across his shoulder, looking for him to turn his focus. But he doesn't, simply handing you his black card and shooing you with his hand, making you pout, pulling on his sleeve, but he doesn't turn. You were his relief, not his lover.

Sugar Daddy! Price, who comes out of his office in fury, a mess made by someone or another, as he grasps your arm, ignoring the pout the sat on your pretty plush lips from earlier, yanked you over to the nearest surface, bending you over as he practically tears your clothes off, letting you moan into his hair and neck as his lips taste your sweet skin.

Sugar Daddy! Price, who loves to take you on dates, loves when you prance in front of him in the clothes you're trying on, loves to buy you every piece of clothing you fawn over, let alone glance at, loves when you let him tease your clit in the dressing room of a lingerie shop.

Sugar Daddy! Price, who always buys you pretty jewelry with any diamond, gold, silver, or gem that you want. His favorite pieces being first, the diamond medallion he gifted you the first day he fucked you, and the second, being the thin, delicate anklet with his name, adoring the way it dangled over his shoulders every night, kissing the hot metal to soothe you as his he fucks you dumb.

Sugar Daddy! Price, who always sends you more money than you two agreed on, knowing you'll never deny him. Always has an extra band ready for you, a, as he liked to call it, "little" reward for the times he liked to make his little sugar baby into a sobbing mess.

Sugar Daddy! Price, who couldn't fathom the bubbling venom growing in the pit of his stomach, watching you laugh and giggle with another man, knowing exactly the name of this bitterness, refusing to summon the devil. He rushes towards you, towering over you as he looks as both you, and the man he recognized to be a new recruit. "Not for much longer." He thought to himself, grabbing your hand slowly, his movements controlled as his fingers constricted around your wrist like a snake. Lucky for you, his extra band came in handy.

Sugar Daddy! Price, who was merciless that night, not to be confused with his usual roughness, adoring the blush that adorned your round ass, the flesh burning from the searing hot strikes of his hand, each movement after the next making your mind melt, your little messy cunt squeezing desperately for him. He laughed, laughed at the way you squirmed, laughed at how you reacted when he teased you, he was laughing at you, his cute little stress reliever.

Sugar Daddy! Price, who never pulls out, "might as well get my moneys worth, yeah, little girl?" treating your shoulder like a jawbreaker as he bites down, teeth sinking into you plush skin, ensure that pathetic recruit would never dare to lift his eyes again. The smell of his intoxicating cologne, combined with the smell of the cigarette still lit in his left hand, making you only mildly capable of babbling his name as he buries himself within you.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

this was so exhausting to write but it was soo worth it.

also i cant be the only one that thinks price lowkey looks like a puppy, yk? i think its the mustache.

directory

[cherrycola27]

afterglow

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol and drinking. Military inaccuracies. Allusions to and smut. Friends to lovers. Mutual pining. Unrequited love. Minors DNI. 18+. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

...........................................

Chapter 4: Punished You With Silence

The room was silent after Jake's omission. Everyone stood there with wide eyes looking between the two of you.

The shock of the confession cause Coyote, Phoenix, and Bob to lose the hold they had one you.

Before they could stop you, you pounced on Jake, taking him off guard and knocking him to the ground.

"You son of a bitch!" You screamed at him as you landed a few good blows to his face. It took Rooster, Coyote, Payback, Fanboy, Bob, and Maverick to pull you off of him as Phoenix, Omaha, Fritz, Halo, Yale, and Harvard watch on in horror. A few of them went to go get help.

By the time all was said and done, you were sitting in Cyclone's office with bruised knuckles and Jake's blood staining your flight suit.

"Well, Lieutenant Briller, I hope you're satisfied with yourself. Lieutenant Seresin has a broken nose and will have to be grounded until it's healed." He tells you.

"He deserves worse." You scoff and roll your eyes.

"Lieutenant Briller. This is no laughing matter. I could have you court martialed and dishonorably discharge, but for some reason, far beyond my wheelhouse, Lieutenant Seresin begged me not to. He seems to have more grace than you do. Now, I don't know what entanglement the two of you have been in to get yourselves in this situation, nor do I want to know. All I know is that you two will have plenty of time to work through your issues while you are grounded for the next six weeks at minimum." Cyclone states.

"But, sir!" You protest. "There will be no buts, Lieutenant. I've made my decision, and that is final. You'll report for desk duty at 0800 hours tomorrow morning." Simpson finishes before he dismisses you.

You storm out of his office and head to the locker rooms to shower and change.

Once you're clean, you jump in your car and speed over to the Hard Deck. You know Jake and the rest of the crew are probably over there.

You push your way in and find them in their usual corner.

You march right up to Jake, who looks only a little banged up and jerk the pool cue out of his hand.

"I hope you're fucking happy, Jacob. I'm grounded and on desk duty for the next six weeks because of you." You sneer at him.

"I wonder why? Oh, right, because you broke my fucking nose. Be glad that I talked to Cyclone and told him not to arrest you. Yet another reason you should be thanking me." Jake chuckles.

"You are such a fucking asshole Jacob Seresin. Do you get off on being such a god damn menace to the world? Like seriously, what is your fucking problem?" You yell at him.

"You. You're my fucking problem. And you lost the right to call me anything other than Hangman the minute you broke my nose." Jake sneers.

"Oh, I forgot you hated being called Jacob. You didn't seem to mind me calling you that when you were balls deep in me though, did you?" You click your tongue at him. The rest of the squad watches on, afraid to intervene.

Jake freezes, unsure how to respond. "I don't even know why I'm here. You don't care about anything I have to say. You've made that abundantly clear that you don't care about anyone other than yourself." You scream at him.

"I've spent a year and a half of my life hung up on you, hoping that one day you would change. I can't believe I let you string me along and waste my time." You spit.

"And you want to talk about how you're the reason I'm here. I'm the reason you're here, Jacob." You grit out.

"What are you talking about, Glow?" He demands.

"When the Navy was recalling people for this mission, they asked me first. They wanted me for the mission. I asked if I would be flying with you, and I was told they weren't taking pairs from squadrons. They were afraid that when it came down to it, the pairs would he more loyal to each other than to the success of the mission." You explain to him.

"I told them I couldn't fly with another pilot. I didn't trust anyone else in the box. They understood and moved on. Three days later, you tell me you're going back to Top Gun and flying a single seater. I was loyal to you, but you were more than happy to throw me under the bus and gallivant into the sunset on your own." You finish.

"Y/N, I—I had no idea." Jake breathes out, visibly softer than before.

"Of course you didn't. You didn't care to ask. So before you go and act like you did me some favor by having me transferred here, make sure you have all the facts straight, sweetheart. As soon as my desk duty is up, I am putting in a request to be transferred back to Lemoore. Hell, maybe I'll request somewhere on the East Coast, I don't care at this point, just so long as I can get the hell away from you!" You take a deep breath before turning on your heels and walking out of the near silent bar. Just before you leave, you yell over your shoulder. "Too bad I couldn't have knocked out a tooth, too!"

You let out a shakey breath when you make it to your car. You'd just pulled into your garage when you let the tears fall. Once you had composed yourself, you vowed that these would be the last ones you shed over Jake Seresin.

.............

Desk duty was the absolute worst. You hated pushing pencils and not being in the air. You hated it even more because Jake was stationed right across from you, and every day, you had to look at his stupid, no longer perfect face.

He was also the worst office-mate. He clicked and tapped pens, hummed too loud, slurped his coffee, and never sat still. Everything he did agitated you.

You did your best to bury yourself in the paperwork. Jake, however, spent most of his time trying to figure out how to apologize to you. How could he tell you that he was worried you would reject him? How could he face you and say that he'd been in love with you since the first moment he met you. How could he tell you that he couldn't bear the thought of flying without you?

He needed help, so he went to the one person he thought might be useful in this situation.

"Bob, how do I fix things with Glow?" Jake asked him one day after work.

"Bagman, please don't drag me into your drama." Bob sighed.

"Bob, please, I'm desperate." Jake pleaded with him.

Bob sighed. He knew he was going to regret this. "In my experience, when my wife and I get into a heated disagreement, a good romantic gesture goes a long way." Bob told him before leaving.

A romantic gesture? Jake could work with that.

While Jake was trying to win you back, you were trying to stay as far away from him as possible. You were currently at your house with Phoenix, pouring your heart out to her.

"So the two of you have been doing this for almost two years?" She asked you, shock all over her face.

"Yep." You replied, taking a sip of wine.

"It was fine at first, but then—my feelings got in the way. I tried to break it off. We said 'one last time,' more times than I care to count. A few weeks ago, I asked him to stay the night. I'd never asked him that before. He told me I would, but—he didn't." You breathe out.

"Do you love him?" Phoenix asked you. "I did. But he broke my heart. I let him break my heart. And the thing is, I'd take him back in a heartbeat. I'm not strong enough to tell him no." You sighed.

"Do you want to take him back?" Phoenix pressed.

"I just want him to care about me the way I care about him. But I know, even if he did, he'd never admit it. He's too stubborn. Plus, we could never go back to the way we were before." You admit to her.

"So, what are you going to do?" Phoenix asks you.

"I'm going to transfer. I can't be around him. I can't let myself be hurt by him again. He made his feelings clear. And I have to accept that." You tell her.

"I've already let the admirals know. In three weeks, when my suspension is up, I'll be able to go back to Lemoore. Got the papers today. My old captain said a spot is mine if I want it. All I have to do is sign them and turn them in." You say. She nods her head.

"You know you don't have to go, Glow." Phoenix tries to reason with you.

"I do, Nix. I've spent so long putting other people first. I have to take care of me." You assure her.

"Well, I guess we'd better make a bunch of memories these next three weeks then." She laughs. "I know everyone is at the Hard Deck right now. Want to go?" She asks you.

"No, I don't think that is a good idea. Plus, I have some packing to do anyway." You tell her. She hugs you before she leaves. You hang your head and turn to the pile of boxes in the corner of the room. You grab an empty one and begin to fill it. A few tears slip down your cheeks. You really didn't think you would be doing this again, packing up your life. You thought this would be your last station. But, life never goes according to plan.

..............

"Bagman!" Phoenix shouts at him as soon as she enters the Hard Deck. "Why must you yell Phoenix? My nose is already broken. Are you trying to bust my ear drums, too?" Jake groans. Natasha doesn't respond. She flicks Jake on the tip of his nose and grabs him by the ear before dragging him to a bar stool and forcing him to sit.

"Nat, what the fuck is your problem?" He asks her.

"My problem? Try what the fuck is your problem!" Phoenix tells at him.

Jake looks at her with confused eyes.

"Glow is leaving." She tells him. The rest of the squad had gathered around to see what was going on. Murmers that echoed the news Natasha had just given them swirled around the group.

"Glow isn't leaving. She was just mad and said that to be mean." Jake shrugs.

"No, she meant it. I saw her papers with my own eyes. She said she talked to your old captain and he said she could come back. All she has to do is sign her request papers and turn them in to Simpson for it to be finalized. She leaves in three weeks. She's already started to pack. Glow was being serious when she said that." Phoenix explains to him.

The blood drains from Jake's face.

"No, she has to be kidding. She can't leave." He stands up abruptly.

"She said she can't keep being around you. That it hurts too much because you'll never care about her the way she cares about you. She told me she had to put herself first for once." Nat tells him.

"But I do care about her. I've always cared about her." Jake defends himself.

"No, you don't, Jake. Not the way she deserves. You don't hurt the people you care about. You don't take them for granted." Phoenix tells him.

Jake wants to argue with her, but he knows that Natasha is right.

"I have to go talk to her. Right now." Jake exclaims before slamming some bills on the bar and running to his truck.

Think dark clouds hang in the air. By the time Jake makes it to your house, rain is pouring down.

He jumps out of his truck and runs to your door and pounds on the wood with his fist. It seems like he spends an eternity waiting for you to answer.

"Jake?" You say when you open the door. He moves to come in, but you block his way.

"What are you doing here?" You ask him. You take in the sight him him, out of breath and drenched from head to toe.

"Are you really leaving? Phoenix says you're leaving in three weeks. Please tell me she's lying." He gasps.

"She's not. I got my papers today." You tell him.

"Glow. Y/N, you can't leave. You can't leave me." Jake says, a sob threatening to crack his voice.

"Why not, Jake? You left me. You left me over and over again. It's my turn to do the leaving." You say. You see the hurt flash across his eyes.

"Y/N—I— please. What can I say? What can I do to get you to stay?" Jake pleads with you.

"Nothing. I've made up my mind. You should leave. It's late." You say as you try to close your door. He wedges his foot to stop it.

"Y/N, please. I'm begging you. Please don't go. Give me another chance. Let me make this right. Please, Y/N. I love you. I can't lose you." Jake begs. Tears streak his face and mix with the rain drops.

"Oh, Jake. You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that. But it's too little, too late. In case you forgot, this was what you wanted." You tell him.

"But—" He protests.

"All you had to do was stay, Jake. I wasn't asking you to wake up the next day and confess your undying love for me. You broke my trust, you broke my heart, and you broke me." You told him.

"Glow—" He reached for you.

"Stop, Jake. You made your choice, and now you have to live with it. Now, please, get off my porch." You said as you shut the door in his face, leaving him standing there in the rain.

Jake stood there in silence, staring at your door, rain pelting his skin.

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to the wood.

"Glow, please. Please open the door." He begged you.

He waited, praying you would open in and tell him you had changed your mind. But as the seconds went by, he realized that your door wasn't going to open back up.

After accepting his fate, Jake walked back to his truck. He climbed in and sat the silence and shivered from the chill that was setting in.

Never in a million years could he imagine losing you. You brought so much warmth and light to his life, and now that he could feel it fading away, he knew he had to do something—and he needed to do it fast.

Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!

Taglist: @thedroneranger @roosterscock @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @teacupsandtopgun @mayhemmanaged @lovinglyeternal @lovingbradshawafterdark @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hecate-steps-on-me @cassiemitchell @na-ta-sh-aa @milestellerlover @katieshook02 @mak-32 @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @ohgodnotagainn @diorrfairy @eli2447 @xoxabs88xox @potato-girl99981 @djs8891 @roosterbruiser @roosters-girl @sebsxphia @roostette @rosiahills22 @dempy @olliepig @seresinsweetie @linkpk88 @my-obsession-spn @eternalsams @callsign-magnolia