#and they were platoon mates............ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

python333 · 1 year

Note

im in love with your content omg😭 your writing style is just chefs kiss

can i req a reader with the tf141 being on a mission and hearing an enemy say something in british slang and they just go "what did they just say.." in comms? like a reader who doesnt know anything about slang like not even that bars in the uk r called pubs (if im not wrong) and just nods whenever a private talks in slang, and their brain is just trying to figure out what they just said?

its just a really silly plot with a silly reader :3

pardon? — python333

— — — —

synopsis just as the req says, you know nothing about british slang and on a mission the enemy speaks british and you dont know what theyre saying :3

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 2.6k

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note HI YES I LOVE THIS REQ!! i take every opportunity i can to make fun of british people so this is right up my alley!! tysm for the compliments hjfhdjskf recently ive been getting more praise on my works and it makes me so happy i love yall. again, sorry if this sounds a little rushed or if any parts are incoherent, i wrote this at 12/1am and im both more productive and write more nonsense at this time + this one is wayyyy shorter than ones i usually do because i didnt know what else to write for it so i apologize for that as well! this is pure fluff and humor (i like to think im funny) so enjoy!!

“—eah, and now we have to camp out here ‘cause he can’t be arsed to do it ‘imself, so I feel like we should have a chat with the others, see if they’re willing to leg it out of here with us,” An enemy soldier suggests to you, his British accent thick enough that you think it might be cockney.

You cross your arms to hide your shaking hands and nod in agreement, as if you understood anything he said, and put on the same shitty British accent you’d been using for the past five minutes you’d been talking to this guy.

“Yeah, yeah, totally,” You agree, clearing your throat before asking, “You know where the others are stationed?”

“You don’t?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you suspiciously.

“Mate, all the orders I was given went in one ear and out the other,” You sigh, holding back a wince at your desperate attempt to sound more natural using British slang, “I just know I’ve got to stand out here and shoot the enemy.”

The enemy eyes you suspiciously and he takes a moment to try and read your face before he says, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, actually. Which would be weird, if we’re in the same platoon, don’t you—”

You sigh and quickly pull out the small switchblade you had hanging on your belt, stabbing the enemy in the neck before he can say anything else and grabbing him before he can drop to the ground, putting a hand behind his back as you half lead half drag him into a dark alleyway beside the building he was stationed outside of.

You quickly set him down into a sitting position and take your knife out of his throat, tucking the blade back into the handle before adjusting it to latch onto your belt once again, letting out a frustrated huff as you stare at the now dead man in front of you.

“[c/n], how copy?” Price’s voice crackles through on your ear piece.

You push in the PTT button and lower your voice, “Copy, I fucked up a little bit. One of the guys was onto me.”

“You were there for five bloody minutes,” Gaz’s voice rings through, his tone both disbelieving and amused, “How’d he already catch onto you?”

“The British are smarter than I thought,” You breathe out, standing up and looking around for a ladder to climb to get to higher ground before anyone spots you. You go farther into the alley and find an old, rusty ladder with rungs that look like they’d snap if someone sneezed on them too hard—perfect for climbing up.

You wrinkle your nose as your hand makes contact with one of the rungs but don’t say anything otherwise, instead wordlessly hauling yourself up onto the ladder.

“Reminder that there’s three British people with you, currently,” Ghost’s deadpan tone crackles, his breathing heavy, as you can tell he’s whispering into his mic, “All of which are very smart.”

“I caught you reading the instructions on a box of tea bags the other day, don’t fuckin’ talk right now,” You grumble, slowly climbing up the ladder, hating the creaking noises it makes as you do. It sounds like it’s going to snap at any minute, and you try to go up as fast as you can, but one wrong move and you’ll easily slip, some of the rust that flakes off of the ladder enough to make you slip up.

“They were circles,” Ghost says, exasperated, “I didn’t know if that made a difference.”

“I thought British people were supposed to know everything about tea,” You roll your eyes, putting your hand on the next rusty rung up on the ladder.

“Yeah, L.t,” Soap agrees with you teasingly, the wind hitting his mic, making it obvious that he’s running, “Thought ye Brits were s’possed to ken everything ‘bout tea.”

You laugh quietly to yourself as you finally make it to the top of the building, the top just high enough for you to look at the few soldiers below and hear a majority of their conversations without them noticing you.

You get to the edge of the rooftop and pull the sniper rifle you’d been carrying around off of your back, glad to finally be back in your element rather than trying to get in undercover, and set it up.

You pull the stand out and set it on the edge of the roof, and look through the scope of the rifle, lining it up so that it’s aiming directly at one of the soldier’s heads, specifically the one that was standing directly out of the entrance you originally were meant to try and get into—but doing this didn’t change much.

Regardless of if you got in or not, he would’ve died, and the others would’ve gotten in too. You getting in first was just meant to make it more efficient.

You press down on the PTT button on your earpiece as you look through the scope of your sniper rifle, keeping the aim on the soldier in front of the entrance, “The guy in front of the entrance is just standing still, so whenever you need me to, I can shoot ‘im down.”

“I don’t think we need to get in just yet,” Price hums, “But maybe in a minute.” “M’kay,” You hum, taking your eye away from the scope, instead just looking over at the enemy soldiers. You lay on your stomach, leaning your head down a bit to try and listen in on the enemy’s conversations easier, trying your best not to make yourself too obvious.

The conversations were pretty boring and almost the same for every soldier you’d eavesdropped on, for the most part. Enemy soldiers joking around, talking about what they’ll do once they’re on leave—like they would be able to do that after you completed your assignment—and just some general team camaraderie.

The lackluster subjects of their conversations weren’t bad at all, no, in fact, you could care less what they talk about.

It was their stupid accents you hated.

Are you surrounded by British people everyday? Yes. Does that stop you from hating on the British everyday? No. Okay, maybe the accents aren’t stupid, but God, they had the thickest cockney accents you’d heard in your entire life, and it was making your eavesdropping so much harder, and had almost been the reason you were given away earlier.

They used slang words that you’re certain you’ve never heard before in your life, and used analogies that didn’t even make sense—you heard one of them use the words, verbatim, ‘Don’t get stroppy’. Stroppy? Stroppy?

You narrow your eyes down at the soldiers below you, listening to a conversation they’d just started up.

“—eah, ‘cause he can’t be arsed to do anything about it, so now we have to camp out here and wait for somethin’ to happen,” One of the soldiers scoffs, “I’m telling you, man, if I see that skull-masked bloke runnin’ ‘round out here, I’m legging it from ‘im immediately.”

You draw your eyebrows together in confusion, but you stay silent for now. Isn’t that exactly what the other soldier said? Are they like a hive mind or something?

“You’re legging it?” The other soldier asked, sounding almost incredulous, “What happened to you chattin’ to some of the others about your loyalty and what not?” “All that’s irrelevant when the fuckin’ grim reaper rolls around and starts murkin’ people like he’s been doing for the entirety we’ve been here, mate,” The first soldier laughs, “You think I wanna be here when he does that?”

“Don’t act like a prat about it, man—fuckin�� talking’ like you can outrun him.” “A prat? I’m not—” You tune out the rest of their argument and instead try and figure out what they were saying.

A prat? Legging it? Can’t be arsed? What the fuck? You push the PTT button on your earpiece and as quietly as you can, you ask, “I need some help. Serious help. Life or death situation.” Immediately, Price’s voice rings through, “What? What is it? What happened?” “The soldiers are British and I can’t tell what they’re saying,” You answer, ignoring Price’s relieved sigh on his end, “I need help.” “Jesus, fuck, don’t scare me like that,” Price sighs, taking a few breaths before continuing, “Alright, what do you need help with?”

“Figuring out what they’re saying.” This time, you hear Gaz’s voice crackle through, “Well, you’ve got three British people here—tell us what he’s saying.”

“One of the guys was talking about ‘legging it’ if he saw Ghost heading towards him, and talked about Ghost ‘murking’ people, and then the other guy he was talking to told him he was being a ‘prat’ about it and he got all offended,” You eloquently say into the earpiece, watching as the argument gets a little more heated. You can hear an amused huff from Ghost on his end and a scoff from Soap in return.

“They’re just saying they’re gonna run away if they see Ghost because he’s been killing a lot of their soldiers, and the other guy said he was being a prat, which I guess is like…” Gaz pauses to think of how to explain the slang term before settling on, “Someone who’s kind of full of themselves, I guess. Or ignorant. Either or.”

“They couldn’t just say that?” You muse quietly, still staring down at the enemy soldiers.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that,” Price’s voice cuts through, “Go ahead and shoot the guy down. I’m ready to head in.”

“Got it,” You hum, quickly putting your eye back up to your scope and readjusting it a bit before quietly warning, “Shooting him now.”

You pull the trigger and the enemy goes down immediately, and through your scope you can see the small twitching of his body as the other soldier starts to freak out.

You quickly aim the gun at his still-alive friend and shoot him down as well, silently congratulating yourself on your good aim and continuing to look through the scope, watching as Price runs in with Gaz and a few other soldiers.

They struggle with the door for a moment and you sigh before pressing in the PTT button on your earpiece and quietly saying, “Price, Gaz, move away from the door for a sec.”

Wordlessly, they do as they’re told, and you take the opportunity to line up the gun’s aim with the complex electronic panel on the outside of the door and pull the trigger, shooting the most crucial part of the panel, causing it’s functions to disrupt and as a result, the doors open.

“Thanks for that,” Gaz breathes out as Price kicks open the door, his voice cut off a bit at the end as he takes his hand off the PTT button too quickly in order to follow after Price.

“Uh huh. Of course,” You say offhandedly, taking your eye away from the scope of your sniper rifle and listening to the loud sirens go off in the facility the others break into, and push yourself up so that you can sit up straight to properly watch it. You grunt as you sit up, stretching your arms out for a moment before letting them fall into your lap.

“Are they in?” Soap asks, curious, his voice a little strained and breathy. There’s no loud gusts of wind coming through his mic anymore, and you look around for a moment, before your eyes catch on to him climbing up a ladder to get to the rooftop adjacent to yours.

Your lips twitch into a smile at the sight of him completely clueless to your presence and you press your PTT button to talk.

“Yeah, they’re in,” You say, watching as he finally gets to the rooftop, “Didn’t you hear the sirens?”

You can see Soap’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion for a moment, and he looks around for a moment before finally seeing you on the rooftop directly next to his, and he looks surprised for a moment before a grin splits across his face. You see him press the PTT button on his mic as well.

“I did, yeah, just wanted tae be sure,” He says into his mic, looking right at you as he does, “It’s a surprise seeing you here.”

“Imagine how I feel,” You muse, almost to yourself, before looking away from Soap and speaking up, “Ghost, you don’t wanna join us on the rooftops?”

“Absolutely not,” He replies almost immediately, making you huff out a small laugh and Soap’s grin grow, “I’m perfectly fine on the ground.”

“Where are you?” You ask, scanning the area around you for Ghost, “I feel like I haven’t seen you this whole time.”

“I’m just behind the facility,” Ghost hums, voice still a low whisper, “I’m gonna be heading in once Gaz and Price make it to the second floor to clean up the first, in case there’s anyone left.”

“You’ve been behind the facility this whole time?” Soap’s voice cuts through, surprised by the fact.

“Mhm,” Ghost hums.

“It’s a bit boring back there, innit?” Gaz’s voice crackles through, his voice a little breathy, “You can sweep the first floor, by the way. Should be nobody left, though. Pretty sure all the soldiers were just faffing around, not doing much.”

“Fucking faffing around?” You ask incredulously to yourself, though apparently your voice is loud enough to make Soap chuckle.

As if he can read your mind, Price’s voice comes through, “Faffing around is just doing nothing or doing nothing particularly productive, [c/n].”

You sigh and push your PTT button this time, talking into your mic, “You couldn’t just say that, Gaz? You had to say something silly like faffing around?”

“It’s not silly,” Gaz says, his frown audible, “They were faffing around.”

“Jesus, fuck,” You breathe out, laughing lightly, “It’s totally silly.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah it is.”

“No it’s—”

“I just want one day where you two don’t start up stupid arguments like this,” Price’s tired sigh comes through, “Just one day, I beg of you both.”

“Aw, Captain, we were just faffing around,” You whine playfully, the misuse of the slang making Soap cover his mouth with his hand to muffle his laughter and you hear Ghost groan into his mic.

“That is absolutely not how you use that,” Gaz says, though you can hear some laughter in his voice—from your very non-British accent saying British phrases, you presume, a small grin gracing your lips at the thought.

“It sounded natural to me,” You lie straight through your teeth, shrugging even though only Soap can see you.

“You’re insufferable,” Gaz groans, making you laugh quietly, “Never use British slang again, please.”

“What if I get a British accent? Will that fix it?”

“Nothing can fix what you’ve said today, [c/n].”

“Well that’s dramatic,” You scoff, “I’ll learn British just for you guys.”

“Holy shit, please stop talking,” Price’s exasperated voice interrupts the both of you, “You’re both insufferable. Drop it.”

“… I don’t think I will,” You say defiantly, making all three British people in the same voice channel as you groan in unison, the sound sounding like some sort of middle school choir trying to sing in harmony, “I’ll use Duolingo or something to learn it.”

“British isn’t a language you learn, you muppet,” Price grumbles, making you snort.

“Muppet?”

“It’s someone who’s dumb and clueless and can’t take a hint, like you,” Ghost defines, “And Soap, most of the time.”

“Daen’t go draggin’ mae into this,” Soap’s voice quickly cuts through, “I haven’t said onything.”

“Uh, yes you absolutely did, earlier, remember?” Gaz argues, ignoring Price’s protests for him to stop arguing, “About Ghost being stupid with the tea thing?”

“Oh, I’ll have you all know—”

“Ghost, don’t start—”

You listen as the once casual, teasing conversation turns into an argument and chuckle quietly to yourself, knowing that they’d be arguing about this until you all finished your assignment.

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ltash · 25 days

Text

Pest Control 141

Taskforcexfemalereader

You were ready for anything—armed combat, hostile extractions, stealth missions. But what Ghost just called you for? Well, it wasn’t in the job description.

“Oi, get to the common area,” Ghost’s voice crackled through your comms. “We’ve got a... situation.”

You rush in, ready to face some unknown terror. Turns out, the "situation" is an eight-legged monstrosity clinging to the wall, looking like it’s planning world domination. Ghost is standing in the corner, arms crossed, keeping a good six-foot distance between him and the spider.

“You serious?” you say, trying not to laugh. “Ghost, the guy who can take down a platoon single-handed, is afraid of a little spider?”

“It’s not little. Look at the size of it!” Ghost says, nodding toward the creature. It’s huge. You’ll give him that. But still, the irony is too rich to ignore.

“Fine,” you sigh, grabbing a broom like a true warrior. “I’ll take care of it. Stay back, tough guy.”

You inch closer, broom in hand, ready for the mission. Ghost watches closely, clearly not trusting the spider to stay put. With the grace of a seasoned soldier, you raise the broom and swipe—only to miss entirely. Instead of falling to the floor, the spider launches itself… straight onto Ghost’s chest.

The next few seconds are pure chaos.

Ghost lets out a noise you’d never expect from him—half a growl, half a yelp. His hands flail as he tries to bat the spider away, but it’s too late. The thing is clinging to him like a special ops agent on a stealth mission.

“Get it off! Get it off me!” Ghost shouts, running around like he’s under enemy fire.

“Hold still!” you yell, trying to catch up to him with the broom.

“Hold still?!” Ghost snaps, dodging your first broom swing as you chase him around the room like a scene from a slapstick comedy.

In the middle of the commotion, Soap walks in, immediately bursting into laughter. “What the hell is going on in here?”

You barely glance at him, still in hot pursuit of Ghost. “Spider. On Ghost. Stand clear!”

“On Ghost?” Soap is doubled over now, laughing so hard he’s struggling to breathe.

Ghost is still running in circles, arms flailing. “For the love of—just hit it already!”

You aim another swing at Ghost’s chest, but he dodges, and the broom whacks him in the shoulder instead.

“That’s me, you bloody idiot!” he shouts.

“Stop moving, and I’ll hit the spider, not you!”

In one desperate move, Ghost trips over the couch, falls backward, and lands flat on the floor, the spider still crawling around like it owns him.

“Now’s your chance!” Soap shouts, cheering you on like it’s a championship match.

You raise the broom like a gladiator about to strike the final blow and bring it down. This time, you hit the target. The spider goes flying across the room, landing on the window with a satisfying *splat*.

Ghost lies on the floor, panting. “You hit me at least three times, you know that?”

“Yeah, but I got the spider, didn’t I?” you grin, offering a hand to help him up.

He swats it away, muttering, “I’d rather face a whole squad of enemies than deal with that thing again.”

Soap is practically on the floor laughing at this point, tears streaming down his face. “Oh, mate, this is the best day of my life. Ghost, scared of a little spider!”

Ghost pulls himself up, glaring at you both. “Say one more word about this, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Soap wipes a tear away. “Noted. But I’m definitely telling Price.”

You shake your head, trying to contain your laughter as Ghost storms out. Mission accomplished, but you’ll never let him live this one down.

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austinbutlerslovers · 8 months

Text

Bucked & Fxcked

Label Mature 18+

Finding out there is a military deployment party at the live music hall across from your college immediately entices you and your room mate. Bored with college boys you each excitedly plan to snag and shag a handsome soldier for the night, but when you lay eyes on two of the most handsome and suave majors you have ever seen in your life you can’t decide which one you want more. They both tease and seduce you in ways that get you so hot between the legs you flirtatiously admit you wish you could have both.

Upon hearing your words and realizing they won't get an opportunity like this with such a beautiful dame again they come to an agreement, they'll share you. They bring you back to their base in one of the Majors offices locking the door and double tapping you with pleasure the entire night.

No established relationship

Groping•objectification•degradation •fingering• biting• gspot fem •nippleplay •clitplay•restraint •threesome•oral sex m/f• P in V •sex on a desk• oral sex f/m• multiple orgasms •simultaneous orgasms•squirting • bukkake (2 males ejaculate on female )• cum eating• after care

Inspo: needing to be Fxcked by both Bucks 🥵

~*Bucked & Fxcked*~

You and your room mate get dressed in form fitting low cut tops and A-line skirts putting on lip stick and heavy mascara before leaving the dorms at 7:30 in the evening.

You are taking the half mile walk together with dozens of other girls from the college campus to have some fun at the live music dance hall.

All the girls are in their prettiest dresses giggling excitedly walking arm in arm gossiping because a platoon of soldiers will be there for a special military event dancing the night away before they deploy.

You and your room mate have already had quite the sexual experiences sneaking college boys into your dorm room after midnight for quick romps going through the roster never feeling completely satisfied.

You were both very excited to try something daring and new.

As you approach the establishment you hear the swing music getting louder. People surround the well lit dance hall talking, laughing, some coupled up already kissing. You see cars parked in the distance with couples inside making out.

You nudge your room mate pointing it out to her and she smiles mischievously, you both thinking the same thing, it's the pure debauchery you are expecting. The double doors to the dance hall swing open as a couple walks out arm in arm the music is blaring and there is a surge of excitement in the air as you enter.

The space is enormous red white and blue fan fare hanging everywhere. American flags stars and stripes draped colorfully on full display every where you look.

The dance hall is so loud, the brass band is deafening as you look to the players on stage. The floor is packed with a sea of men in green and brown uniforms holding colorfully dressed young ladies giggling, swirling, dipping, twirling, its orchestrated chaos. They nearly miss colliding with each other doing dangerous and provocative dance moves dizzy with excitement and booze.

You are so excited in this environment until your friend is immediately swept away by a handsome soldier who smiles at her twirls her and pulls her onto the dance floor with him. You smile at each other as she giddily waves farewell.

You head to the bar feeling your mood dip without her, she got swept up so quickly, you want to see if you can bump into anyone else you know from campus as you make your way through a crowd of dancers near the blaring trumpets being played on stage.

You are stopped in your tracks by a pair of dancers almost knocking into you, just as they clear your path, your eyes lock onto two of the most dreamily handsome Majors you've ever seen in your life.

They are standing with their elbows rested on the high tables in the drinking area near the bar. They are overlooking all the actions of the lower ranks.

Your gaze must have lingered a little too long because they both look over at you and make eye contact smiling so gorgeously you are shocked and wave politely.

One is a tall blonde with a gorgeous face, plump lips, strong jaw, perfect nose, and big blue eyes. The other is a towering brunette with a handsome face, broad nose, full lips, angular chin, and flirty blue eyes.

Your heart begins pouding as they wave back. The brunette making the signal he wants to meet you at the same time the blonde points to you to gesturing hes coming over. You laugh to yourself in shock as they both head your direction.

It's probably the sexiest thing to have two handsome men walk across a room and approach you. They are taller than you expected, you look up to them when they are standing directly in-front of you. They both smile at you making you blush, they are so clean cut and neat, they smell amazing.

When they try to speak to you over the music they begin laughing unable to get their words across you are all too close to the stage and can't hear a thing with the saxophone blaring. Finally the blonde leans into your ear "Come to a table it's quieter" he says holding your gaze nodding and gesturing you to come, you nod smiling and follow them.

They pick a table at the back corner farthest from the stage in a more secluded area.

Once you all settle down the music is at a manageable level and you can finally hear each other speak. "Hi!" you say cheerfully just happy to look at their handsome faces up close.

They each take a turn shaking your hand " I'm Gale" says the blonde "Im John" says the brunette, their eyes full of attraction as they stare at you.

"The boys call me Buck and him Bucky not to confuse you, the nick names are a long story" Gale says and looks at John to confirm but hes too busy giving you the dreamy eyes. Gale smacks him lightly on the chest for staring at you like that.

John snaps out of being mesmerized by your beauty and flashes you his normal pretty smile his flirty eyes still making you blush, heat creeping up your neck as you smile back politely.

Gale just shoots John a knowing look, it's the night before deployment so there is only one thing on all the men's minds at the dance hall, securing a girl for the night and now he and John are both set on the same one, you.

"Can we get you anything to eat or drink?" Gale asks politely as John rubs his fingers across his lips and chin admiring you. "Oh no l'm fine I'm actually a student at the college so they feed us supper every night, and seeing its Friday my friend said all the military were having a deployment party here so we wanted to get out and have some fun." You smile innocently and look away hiding your lustier intentions.

John rests his elbow on the table covering his mouth he turns away from you hiding his smile thinking you are so naive coming to a bar full of sexually deprived soldiers for fun looking this good.

"Well where is your friend?" Gale asks perking up thinking maybe he can introduce John to her and secure you for himself because you are clearly the most stunning girl they've both ever seen and he doesn't want to compete with John the entire night.

You scan across the dance floor and spot her just as the solider from earlier is holding her with both hands twirling her around panties flashing as he dips her.

"There she is, and wow that soldier is a really good dancer!" you say excitedly.

Gale and John shoot looks at each other knowing shes dancing with the number one play boy on the base before John blurts out "Yea she's not coming back to the dorm tonight!" and they both burst into laughter.

Your face flushes a little hot from them making fun but you remain calm and you show some assertiveness

"Well that's the plan gentlemen we don't want to go back to our dorm tonight" you retort and they both fall slack jawed.

"You don't say" Gale says in amusement, his eyes flashing attraction now as he looks at you. "What are they teaching you young ladies in college these days now anyway?" He asks intrigued, his voice turns sultry.

You feel the heat rising in your core as he locks in on your sexual deviancy wanting to know more. You look away hiding your sudden shyness as you answer "All sorts of things" your voice softer feeling you've just admitted to all the sex you've been having. "Is that so?" he says leaning closer staring at you so intently you return your eyes back to his. John clears his throat to interrupt the sexual tension and blocks Gales advances by speaking up.

"Well if you're not going back to your dorm, and you are planning to leave here with one of these fine gentlemen." He says extending his arms to show just how many you have to chose from in the dance hall before continuing "Which one are you choosing to leave with?" He asks with intent, his eyes full of all his hidden thoughts about you as he smiles.

When you smile back at John and then Gale, your face flushes as you feel the heat creep up your neck again.

You bite your lower lip trying to regain composure.

He and Gale flash each other looks, they've been serving in the military together long enough to be synchronized communicating with just a glance or a gesture. They have both decided it is now a competition. They sit back looking debonaire and cool awaiting your answer of who is the victor.

"If I had to chose one?" You say scrunching your nose cutely uncertain of which one you want more. You feel the arousal pooling between your legs as they both stare at you so seductively.

You decide to play with them "I wish I could have you both" you admit flirtatiously. Their faces look shocked making you giggle. "Both? " Gale says stunned. John looks around in disbelief holding back his laugh that you couldn't decide. "Yea just for one night" you say nonchalantly actually really liking the idea now seeing how competitive they are, all the attention would be on you.

Gale and John look at each other as they realize you are serious. Then it sets in that you really aren't going to choose and that they'll never have an opportunity like this with a beautiful dame like you again. "Would you excuse us just one moment." Gale says his face flushing red as he tries to act unfazed. You bashfully nod secretly wondering if they'll both agree to take you at the same time tonight, you squeeze your thighs together wet at the thought.

They stand and walk only a few steps away turning their backs to you lowering their voices "I think she's serious." Gale says with a stunned expression on his face making John start chuckling.

"Shes definitely serious and I kind of want to do it just to see the surprised look on her face when she realizes what she's asking for." John says smiling mischievously. "Getting fucked by the Bucks?" Gale says making them burst into laughter.

Gale comes to his senses and gets more serious

"Alright the ground rules then; if it get awkward we stop, if she starts screaming for her life we definitely stop, I get one side you get the other, and I think it could work." John smiles and agrees to the plan going insane with the fact you've already astounded both of them.

Gale peeks over his shoulder and sees you sweetly smile and wave flirtatiously at him, you like how they are being so shy and cute now.

"Yea look at her John she gets finer by the second, let's go get her." They break their huddle and return. Gale extends his hand to you and as you take it he wraps his arm around yours John extends his arm to your other side and you wrap your arm around his too. You try to contain your giddiness and excitement as the three of you leave together.

You exit the loud dance hall into the quiet night arm in arm with two handsome strangers. You are laughing inside of your head how crazy the idea is and how it's coming in to fruition.

You approach the military car and Gale gets his keys as John gets your door. You sit in the back seat and John gets in to sit next to but Gale pulls him back by the collar of his military jacket. "In the front" Gale snaps sternly with a look of 'don't touch her yet'. John laughs he really wanted to sit and talk and get to know you more, but Gale can’t have that.

During the short drive to the base Gale keeps peeking in the rear view mirror at you. "If you need anything let me know" he says actually feeling anxious that you left the dance hall with them rethinking the whole thing.

John on the other hand is fully invested "So what's the real reason you have to have both of us? What are you expecting us to do once we get here?" he asks peering back at you over his shoulder.

"Just have a little fun" you reply casually. You've already had so many trysts you assume if one can't satisfy you the other one could. "Is anything off limits or is it a free for all" he grins cheekily elbowing Gale who's focusing so hard on the easy drive that John knows he's too worked up in his head over this.

"It's just sex" you roll your eyes gently. For you it's a basic missionary hump for 2 minutes like all of your encounters they would definitely be top 10 for most handsome though.

"It's... just... sex" John repeats your words deliberately getting Gales attention shielding his lips discreetly mouthing ("I don't think she's had good sex") Gale tries and fails to hold back a quick laugh, finally breaking his nervousness. He realizes you think one will take you and then the other, having no idea of all the sexual things he and John are going to make you experience tonight.

You look out the window and see the entrance to the military base, its gigantic so many barracks and buildings it's practically its own town surrounded by barbed wire fencing. Gale slows the car down and shows his ID to the guard who salutes him and lifts the road block.

They drive in through the rows of buildings until they reach an office structure Gale hops out and comes to get your door. The base is unusually quiet all the men still at the dancehall partying the night away.

John gets his keys out first and unlocks the front entrance to the building the three of you walk inside through the lobby to an office door. You read the name plate 'Major Gale Cleven' as he unlocks and opens it.

Once you enter Gale clicks on the lights and John locks the door bolt behind you. They immediately begin to toy with you letting you know you are their plaything to be shared.

Gale steps in and kisses you as he gropes you all over your dress around your derrière and up your chest squeezing your breasts in both his hands.

John watches getting hard and jealous seeing Gale get to touch all over your body. Gale gives him a show that you'll let them do anything to you and firmly squeezes his hand around your derrière before pulling your dress up over your waist holding it there to show John your panties.

Gale breaks from the kiss with you "Come take her panties off and finger her” he says. You are so aroused loving how they speak to each other taking charge over you. Gale begins kissing you again holding your dress pinned up in the back for John.

When John kneels down behind you, his fingertips touch up your soft thighs reaching to your hips and hooking his thumbs in your panties sliding them down.

He looks at your perfect derrière and kisses across your exposed cheeks in worship. They’ve already done more than you've ever experienced your panties cling to your wetness as he pulls them lower. "Gale shes fully soaked" he says pulling your panties all the way down. Your pussy is glistening in his face, he trails his finger through your folds collecting your arousal gently rubbing your tight entrance making you clench around nothing.

He takes two fingers spreading you open like a book massaging your inner folds inches from his face getting drunk with arousal on the sight of your pussy. He slowly inserts his two long fingers inside of you making you moan into Gales mouth breaking his kiss "How does she look?" Gale asks through ragged breaths his cock already solid.

John whistles "It's one of the most pretty pussies I've ever seen" he says sliding his large fingers in and out of you amping up your arousal tilting his fingers to reach toward your navel and curling them back down making you moan loudly into Gales face.

Gale pulls your top halfway down exposing your breasts and rubs them gently in his hands. He trails soft kisses up your neck then pinches your nipples so hard it makes you bite your lower lip stifling your moan in your throat as you clench on John's fingers.

"I know I know" Gale coos at you "We're giving you things you never even knew you needed" you nod feverishly you love it your core pulsing as you feel your climax start. You are getting so wet with arousal it begins leaking out of you down John's hand as he fucks you with his fingers.

"Gale she's going to cum she's already dripping down my hand how should we take her?" When John says it, your face flushes and your knees buckle from pleasure.

"Make her cum on your fingers, I want to make her cum again on my tongue " Gales looking in your eyes as it registers what he said you moan from his dirty words. You’ve never experienced anything like this before, it makes them smile they are turning you out in so many ways.

John cups his large hand holding your bottom cheek kneading it as he plants kisses then gently bites into it.

When you feel the pinch of his teeth in your flesh it makes you clench so hard inside that he knows your about to orgasm. He begins pummeling his fingers into you so feverishly it makes your body shake as you feel the force of his knuckles wetly smacking against you.

Gales looking you in the eyes but you aren't able to focus back anymore just moaning lost in the pleasure of John's fingers about to make you cum. Your brows already knitted with your mouth panting and deeply moaning, your core clenching. "You like it when he fingers you?" He asks a little jealous.

"Yes Yes YES YES YES!" You repeatedly yell in his face triggering Gales jealousy. He reaches his hand between your legs finding your clit and rubbing it in time with John's finger-fuck. It makes you have an earth shattering orgasm instantaneously between both men.

" OH GOD OH G.." Gale cups his large hand over your mouth muffling your repeated moans and continues his assault on your clit making you cum so hard. It was so easy for them to make you orgasm he knows he can get one more. "John keep fingering her I want to make her cum again" he says it looking you in your blissed out eyes. You already feel the tightness building inside of you ready to be released again when he says it.

John turns his fingers inside of you from curving up to facing downward. He slides them up toward your navel this time hooking a squishy spot inside. Your body jolts when he finds it making you shiver and see stars. He pulls his fingers over it in a 'come here' motion pushing his fingers deeply in and out of your soaking entrance until your thighs are trembling and you are almost crying moaning into Gales hand.

He rubs his other two fingers over your wetness into your clit strumming it until your body tenses and you can't catch your breath. Tears rim your eyes as Gale removes his hand from your mouth seeing you so blissed you are unable to even breathe .

Your body gives in and your core snaps giving you such a powerful release from the orgasm that you feel like you are on cloud 9. John is still slowly hooking that special place inside until your shoulders shudder and you come down collapsing against Gales chest. He shushes you petting your hair as you breathe rapidly onto his neck the orgasm draining your energy entirely.

John slides his fingers out of you and sucks them clean licking his lips enjoying the sweet taste of you. He stands up his thick cock erect and strained in his pants as he begins to undress.

“Your doing so good for us” Gale coos and begins to make out with you cradling your head in his hands probing his tongue in your mouth. His cock is so hard he brings your hand down to touch him and you gasp in his mouth realizing both of these 6ft tall men are going to be so big between the legs it makes you whimper.

Once John is fully naked Gale passes you to him

"Hold her for me" Gale says as he gets undressed.

John holds you at your waist trailing his hands up your pulled down top to your exposed breasts. He softly circles his thumbs on your nipples.

You look at his wide chiseled chest, placing your hands there looking down farther and audibly gasp seeing the size of his length as he presses it against you without taking a step. His girthy cock a dark pink color just beneath his abs between his thick thighs. John smirks at you seeing the reaction he’s been waiting for.

"Turn her around " Gale says after he heard you gasp from Johns size. John turns you to face away from him holding your upper arms firmly.

You watch Gale finish undressing down to his boxer shorts, he slides them off revealing his long thick cock with a big round tip that makes your knees go weak.

"Hold her tight" Gale tells John and he grips your arms so you can't move.

Gale approaches you and continues pulling your top all the way down cupping your breasts in his hands. He leans in and slides his tongue out licking circles around your nipple until you start to moan then he licks the other. He switches back to the first nipple and slowly sucks it in his mouth twirling his tongue around the bud until you begin to squirm rubbing your knees together then he pinches the other one hard making you moan.

He alternates between each breast with either love or torture until your core begins pulsing from all his flicks and licks and pinches. You begin moaning deeper and rubbing your thighs together for sexual relief, you are absolutely soaked. He releases your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop the sensation hitting right to your core as your knees buckle and John keeps you standing

Gale reaches behind your waist unzipping your skirt letting all your clothing fall to the floor. You stand between the two men all three of you completely naked.

Gale looks you over head to toe nodding in approval stopping to stare between your legs, your thighs trembling drenched with your own arousal. "John you are right this is one of the prettiest pussies l've ever seen" He says smiling as he slides his hand between your legs cupping your folds. He forces you back into John's hard cock, the tip firmly pushes through the back of your thighs rubbing against your wet heat . You let out a high pitched shaky moan and shudder having hit your peak of pleasure.

The sound makes both of their cocks twitch at the tip.

"Put her on the desk" Gale says as John picks you up, his giant arms setting you back down on the desk and spreading your legs apart with his hands holding your upper thighs. John is so greedy for you and begins passionately kissing you lining himself up to push himself inside of you.

Gale snaps at him "Lay her flat on the desk and hold her down she needs more" Gales unspoken rule is he gets you first. John goes around the desk as Gale takes his place standing between your legs caressing your upper thighs. John helps you lay flat on your back and holds your hands above your head pinning them against the wood holding you by your wrists. You look down to Gale poised between your legs and then look up to John pinning your hands above your head to the desk. You are completely at their mercy.

"It's just sex huh?" Gale asks repeating your words from earlier to show off his prowess. He kneels down between your legs spreading your thighs wider until your knees are against his desk, he parts your pussy lips open and latches his mouth on your wet folds sucking and slurping them with the tip of his tongue and the suction of his mouth you completely give into him loving it so much.

He flicks your clit so hard with his tongue your back arcs from the table. You moan loudly as your hips jump up almost unable to withstand what he's doing. You look up and see John's eyes staring darkly at you loving seeing how aroused you are getting and wanting to give you more.

He pins your wrists with just one large hand taking the other to squeeze one breast at a time caressing your nipples with his flat palm then pinching them repeatedly until you begin writhing and moaning on the desk due to the sensations from both men.

You are panting and moaning loudly feeling so tight in your core as John pinches your nipples and Gale thrusts his tongue deep inside your pussy. Your moaning intensifies into a stronger tantric rhythm of “YES YES PLEASE OH GOD YES YES "as you are lifting your hips into Gales mouth. Your wetness slipping all over his lower face.

He stops to wipe his mouth and pins your hips firmly to the table with his hands so you can't move. "John she's noisy when she's about to cum make her be quiet" he says diving back down between your legs.

John presses his soft plush lips on yours in an upside down kiss eating your moans as Gale eats your pussy.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your body clenches so tight your back arcs from the table body tensing until your core snaps releasing clear liquid arousal all over Gales mouth, you moan into John's as you orgasm for them both.

Gale removes his mouth from you, his lips and chin covered in your clear slick cum. He licks his tongue as far around his lips as he can he can't get enough of your taste then he grabs his shirt from the floor wiping the rest. He throws it back down returning to his position between your legs.

Your vision is blurry, hearing distorted legs trembling body shivering. You feel so high from the pleasure you are delirious. "I've never felt like this before, Ive never cum like this before " you whisper to both of them your body feels like you are floating off the table. John leans in and kisses your mouth, seeing you in such pleasure he wants to be inside of you so badly. Gale pulls your body to the edge of the desk flush against him slipping you out of John's grasp breaking the kiss. "We haven't cum yet" Gale says making your core start throbbing.

John gets impatient you can see the flash of anger that he wants relief but Gale keeps taking you. He moves to your right, looking over your pretty body his giant cock pulsing as he's getting ready to pleasure himself over you but you reach out and grab him around the base first making his abs clench and his face flush as he locks eyes with you and you stroke him off.

"Are you that needy?" Gale snaps watching you give John a hand job. Gale in a newfound competition for your neediness runs his tip up and down your wet folds making you moan loudly "MMMM YES YES PLEASE!" you cry out wanting him inside of you. "Quiet her with your cock" Gale tells John.

John shudders from arousal staring at your pretty mouth open and moaning not planning to use you like this. He takes your head turning it to the side to face his pelvis and you release your hand from his base as he slides his heavy cock into your wet mouth filling it up.

You feel his tip squish at the back of your throat but he can't fit completely in your mouth due to his size. A small gasp escapes Johns lips at how amazing your mouth feels on him. He gently slides his large cock in and out of you mouth coating his length in your saliva.

Gale stops rubbing his tip through your folds as you leak arousal all over his desk from sucking John's cock, he wants finish you with his and places his hands on your hips lining up and pushing himself between your legs. Your moans are stifled with your mouth full of John's cock, and your entrance makes Gale slow his pace immediately. " Fuck she's tight!" he says loudly and begins working his length half way out, half way back in until he can begin smacking his hips between your legs burying his cock fully inside of you.

John is already blissed out eyes lidded his adams apple bobbing. He places his large hand on your head holding it in place as he thrusts into your mouth his powerful thighs flexing as he uses you.

You feel so aroused having both men satisfy you and themselves at the same time. The familiar tightening of your inner coil begins. The more each of them rams their cock inside of you the tighter your core gets until your moaning on John's and clenching on Gales. The tightened coil springs free inside of you giving you a sweet release that’s is so euphoric you don’t want it to stop . Your moans of extreme pleasure are muffled on John's cock but your fluttering walls gripping Gale tightly are the tale tale sign for him, once he feels you orgasm on him he wants to cum.

He slides his heavy cock into your tight soaked entrance faster and harder until it's making obscene squelching sounds. He starts pounding his hips between your legs making you scream on each hit vibrating John's cock in your mouth. Once you earn the first moan out of John feeling your mouth suck and vibrate on him he can't stop.

They both begin groaning in tandem getting off at the same time their deep guttural moans sound so good its cataclysmic to your ears and rattling your brain.

"I'm gonna cum" Gale yells as John shouts "fuck fuck fuck" thrusting in your mouth quickly and slipping his cock out unloading hot spurts of cum all over your chest. Gale pulls out of you too pumping his shaft vigorously making depraved moaning sounds as his body tenses and he spreads his silky warmth all over your naval.

They take several seconds to calm down staring at you covered like a sexy pastry "Should we make her taste us?" Gale asks already knowing the answer John grins they each dip a finger in their cum and bring it to your mouth. You suck Gales finger first then John's. Gale goes to get a towel to clean you up.

John grabs your jaw turning you to face to him caressing his thumb on your chin, he wants you more and to himself. He stares into your pretty eyes making him fall for you instantly a shiver running through him thinking you are the sexiest thing in the world.

Gale returns from the sink with a warm wash cloth gently wiping over each breast and down your naval cleaning you completely of their combined cum.

Gale sits you up slowly on the desk checking on you

"Are you alright?" He asks. You look up at him smiling weakly " I feel really good" you say smile spreading bigger across your face. He already has to have you again, he holds your waist caressing your naval with his thumbs. He's feeling things that he doesn't know how to process because he and John will never get over this.

John sees you both having a moment and feels crestfallen thinking he should just leave. He collects his boxers putting them back on as Gale looks around and finds his.

You slip off the desk and collect your clothing stepping into your skirt. "Where are you going?" they both say in unison. "I thought you would ask me to leave" you say thinking it's easier to leave as quickly as possible and never see them again. "You're staying the night I'm taking you back in the morning" Gale says. He goes to a blank wall of his office tugging a cord and releasing a pull down queen size Murphy bed.

"Oh" you say surprised. Gale enters his office wash room retrieving a tooth brush and a towel with one of his boot camp shirts handing them to you finalizing the stay.

You smile to yourself that Gale wants you to stay. You enter the bathroom brushing your teeth listening as Gale and John debate outside about the sleeping arrangement because John wants you to stay in his office instead and they can't come to an agreement.

You emerge from the wash room looking cute to break the tension " Do you guys want to take a shower with me?" You ask sweetly and they both drop the argument. Gale enters and starts the water, when it gets to temp he moves out of your way letting you step in first.

You rinse your hair and body as they brush their teeth.

Gale finishes first getting in the shower with you, John enters second. They tower over you in the small space as they take turns rinsing their bodies off. Your eyes can't stop staring at either of them feeling like it's heaven on earth. Shiny wet muscles, large hands, smiles, abs, large cocks, strong thighs.

They satisfied you so completely you can't even think about sex your body is only craving rest.

John finally gargles playfully and spits water out from the shower head finishing first. He takes a quick flirtatious peek at your body before exiting the shower. Gale turns off the water and hands you your towel and you use it to get dry.

Both of them dry off and wrap around their waists. As you finish drying your hair Gale helps you pull his boot camp shirt over your head. "Thank you" you say shyly in appreciation "It suits you" he says admiringly. He takes you by the hand and leads you to the bed

He turns down the covers and ushers you in you crawl and sit in the middle. John is putting on his boxers getting dressed to leave when you lock eyes with him

"Can you stay?" You ask nicely and he smiles at you then looks to Gale whose his lips are pursed in a definite no. "Weve already done ...everything else together...might as well actually sleep together " you smile at Gale sweetly to persuade him.

Gale doesn't respond he just goes to click off the main light in the room. You lay down and look at John patting the bed for him to come lay next to you, he smiles and climbs on top of you and planting a small kiss on your forehead to say thank you. He lays on your left side getting under the covers spooning you from the back holding you to him by your hip.

The remaining bathroom light clicks off and Gale joins a second later settling in front of you face to face placing his hand on your waist pulling you to his chest, John pulls you back to his side and Gale pulls you back to his side once more until they settle with Gale placing his hand on your waist and John placing his hand on your hip, you lay directly between them cuddling in the dark as you all fall fast asleep.

~*End*~

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mistyresolve · 1 year

Text

| Malicious Compliance - Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count - 6k

Summary - After a near-miss on a mission Diver (reader) decides it might be time to reconcile with Ghost the next time they get a chance. Unfortunately (very fortunately), the next chance they get is when they are forced to take refuge in the world's smallest safe house. And Ghost had never been one for words so he shows his forgiveness in a more unorthodox way.

Tags/Warnings - 18+ ONLY (mdni), explicit language and content, foreplay, size kink, slight breath play, he’s your superior and he’s all about you, p in v,

A/N - yup, more porn with plot because it’s fun and i’ve been ✨inspired✨

Masterlist ❤︎ Tag List Form

Ghost wasn’t in the wrong for being angry with you. He was one of the more reasonable LTs, but you tested his patience, questioned his authority, and disobeyed his orders. Not only that, but you disappointed him. You had completely disregarded his orders and nearly got yourself and a crew mate killed in the process.

You were angry with yourself too. If it were just your life on the line you would have been smug, but you put another at risk. You prided yourself in your ability to get yourself out of any sticky situation, sometimes it was by the skin of your teeth. Hence the alias “Diver”. You received it from your first platoon leader because you dive into every risky situation. Usually, eyes closed. Usually, with no plan. And somehow came out the other side every time.

Usually, you got a yelling at and the occasional latrine duty.

This time was different. As soon as the team landed back on base Ghost stalked over to you. He ripped the rifle out from your hands and shoved you with enough force that you stumbled, barely catching yourself from falling. Oh, he was livid.

“You forget yourself, Dive,” he tossed your gun back into the chopper and pressed onto you again, “Your recklessness is going to get someone killed one of these days. And you better hope that someone is you before it's anyone else.”

The words stung, but he was right.

“Get on the ground and give me a hundred,” he barked. He would write you up later tonight and inquire about other punishments.

You dropped to the ground, your fingers splayed out on either side of you and waited for his go-head.

“Hands together.”

You shifted your hands closer together, creating a diamond shape with your fingers. The change would make the push up’s only a little harder but it would catch up with you eventually.

“Down.”

You lowered your weight.

“Up.”

You raised yourself, arms snapping.

“Down,” he repeated and you listened, eyes searing into the ground beneath you. When he you gave the command to continue on your own you did. Lowering yourself down, nose almost touching the ground. The breath that pushed out with every extension of your arms blew at the dusty pavement. Your movements were practiced and full of power. This wasn’t the first time you had to drop and give 100 since you had a bit of a reputation.

You were on 30 when he growled, “Stop.”

You paused, your nose to nose touching the floor and maintaining your body weight in the down position.

“Restart and make sure you count this time”

“One,” you blow out, not because of the exertion but because you yourself were angry. Each breath felt like it was stolen, “Two. Three. Four…” The muscles in your arms began to burn something sweet. You leaned into the pain, using it as a crutch to remain levelheaded. You earned the pain. You glared at the black boots that were planted two feet in front of you, “…Sixty nine. Seventy.”

“That’s enough,” he was still angry, but he had places to be and watching you wasn’t a priority. He would take care of the rest and you later.

You didn’t stop, wrenching your gaze to his. Temper simmering. Sweat beaded at your temples and dripped down your arms. Sweat droplets stained the pavement. You continued counting. He said 100. You were going to give him 100.

He matched your glare, his own eyes narrowing on you, but he didn’t try stopping you again. Instead, he pivoted and left you there. Counting. You watched him leave, watched as he rolled his shoulders, trying to rid himself of his own fury. In the chopper, he looked like he wanted to throw you out the side and watch you freefall back to earth.

You didn’t stop even when his form disappeared. Your teammates had been kind enough to leave with him, knowing you didn’t want the company. The last 15 push ups were the hardest and the slowest. For the last 5 you shook, strained, and ground your teeth together, gathering the last dregs of strength. When you hit the 100 you brought yourself to your knees, allowing time to catch your breath.

The pilot was sitting on the side helicopter, your gun resting in her lap, “You deserve it?’ she questioned and held out the rifle for you.

Breathless you say, “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

She might not have been there for the actual incident but she most definitely didn’t miss out on the aftermath, “Kinda wish I brought popcorn with me on missions. You guys always leave me with a show,” she kicked off the platform and added with a wide, fox-like smile, “Especially when he’s on board.”

It wouldn’t take a genius to discern that she was talking about Ghost, who had a certain affinity for the dramatics. You shrug a shoulder at her, grabbing your gun and picking up your day pack, “He and I don’t get along on the best of days, and I’m really good at pissing him off.”

She hummed, “You better figure that one out before it gets to the point where he starts grounding you.”

“What, give him flowers and an apology card?”

“He seems like a chocolate kind of guy,” she started walking with you towards the hangar. She gave off the vibe that she thrived off the drama. Not in a nosey, malicious kind of way, but she would have no qualms about being a spectator.

“He’d kick my ass if I did that,” and he would. He would kick your eyes just for bothering him with your presence.

“If that’s what it takes for him to come around, let ‘em,” with that she parted from you, twiddling her fingers over her shoulder as a goodbye.

Mud splashed beneath your feet with every running step, it splashed up your pant leg and covered your boots. You had lost your guy's tail hours ago but it was still raining hard enough that you started running the last miles to the supposed safe house. You used the term house loosely because as you came up on the fire watch tower you had to double check with Ghost to make sure he had the right location. He assured you with a nod.

The latter to the spiralling stairs had since been removed and he had to intertwine his fingers to give you a foothold and hoist you up to the platform. You reached for his day pack first, then extended a hand for him. He’s heavier than he looks because you were far from weak but even with your free hand clamped to the railing you struggled to heave him up with you.

“What do they feed you?” you groaned, rubbing at your shoulder.

“Children. Let’s go,” he quipped, grabbing his bag and taking off up the stairs two steps at a time. When you reached him at the top he was already thumbing the key out of the whole carved out of the wooden railing.

The fire tower was decommissioned years ago, but all the maps and posters were left behind. The Osborne Fire Finder in the center of the room was left on the coordinates of whatever last fire was called in. You scanned the room and Ghost closed and locked the door behind you. There was a rounded table pushed into a corner, and a small counter and a sink adjacent to it. A desk that was littered with old reports and notes, remnants of what must have been the radio station, and a tool. And a singular bed.

“Cozy,” you dropped your bag onto the desk and started drawing the curtains to the millions of windows, “What’s your plan, LT?”

“We need to get our radios working and contact HQ for an exfil,” he was already removing his radio from its pouch, its antenna was missing and the headset that usually accompanied it was left behind. A bullet clipped its’s earpiece and ripped it off his head to be exact. Adrenaline was too high for anyone to bat an eye at the fact that a couple of inches to the left and he would have been dead. That was also moments before he called a withdrawal and you and he got separated from the rest of the squad. Your radio has also seen better days, it took a direct shot. It saved your life but the fact that both of your radios were damaged was beyond unlucky. You tossed your radio to him, or whatever was left of it.

“Were you trying to get shot?” he examined the device before setting it on the table next to his. He turned on a propane lamp, it hissed to life and its unmistakable smell quickly filled the room.

“Were you?”

“Shh.”

You started to remove your vest and soaked jacket. Ghost hung his vest on the chair opposite him and got as far as unzipping the top of his jacket before he got distracted. He squinted at the desk, searching the radio parts when he spotted what he thought he could use. Finding what he was looking for he grabbed it all and returned to the table.

The rain hammered against the glass panes and the wind whistled through the cracks around the door. This tower wasn’t the best insulated and combining that with the years of neglect meant it wasn’t retaining heat like it probably use to. You searched the cupboards and chest if see if someone stored blankets here beforehand.

“Aha!” you pulled out a green military issues blanket out of one of the chests, “How long think that’ll take you?” You asked as you leaned against the desk, the blanket wrapped around your shivering shoulders.

“If I can,” he sighed, “I’ll have it figured out by morning. Just have to improvise…everything,” he already disassembled everything and he was inspecting each component. This wasn’t the first time he’s had to rebuild his radio or the first time he’s had to improvise. It was just that every time he caught a glimpse of yours he lost his train of thought. That bullet was meant for you and it was meant to be fetal. That fact was nagging at him, pulling at his chest.

You chewed the inside of your cheek as you watched him fiddle about. The last couple of weeks you had been preparing what you were going to say to him about the last mission. Practicing how you were going to apologize to him. You cleared your throat, “I, uhh,” he looked up from the table, sensing your unease. For a brief second, you considered going and sitting out in the rain just to get away from him, “About our last assignment. You were right about me and I was out of line.”

He rested his temple on a fist and glowered at you from beneath his brows, his expression angry.

“Would you stop mad dogging me so I can get through my speech,” you snapped, throwing the blanket onto the bed.

He threw up a hand in the what? gesture, “I’m not mad dogging you.”

“You are.”

“’m not.”

“Just,” you waved a hand at the radios still disassembled before him, “glare at that so I can concentrate.”

He rolled his eyes but lowered them to the table, pretending to be considering the materials and parts.

“Thank you,” you blow out a breath, recollecting your half-prepared speech, “I didn’t think he’d run in after me,” you confessed, “People aren’t usually dumb enough to do that—”

“You are.”

“Yup. Let me finish. I understand that you as a superior have to consider everyone’s safety, and I haven’t exactly made that easy for you. The last thing I want is to put you and my team at risk. On the other hand, I work better on my own. Like you,” he looked back up this time some of the anger had dissipated, but he looked like he was rallying to say something so you put a hand to silence him, “I’m not asking you to relieve me from the squad. I’d miss them too much. I’m asking you to give me a chance to prove myself. Let me prove to you that I can go solo. Or atleast let me join you every once in a while so I can learn.”

“Dive, you have no idea how much paperwork you’ve cost me,” he pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I have a little bit of an idea,” you mumbled shamefully.

“I can’t take you on my assignments, and I can’t send you on solos,” he looked uncomfortable. Or maybe uneasy, “You need to prove to me that you can follow the orders I already give you.”

“I will,” you almost started pleading, “I promise, and if I’m alone I won’t be putting anyone else at risk.”

“It’s not just about your squad, Dive,” he picked up the casing from your radio, the plastic and metal left a mangled mess from the bullet, “I need you to stay alive, and I can’t make sure of that if I let you run off on your own. One day you won’t make it back.”

You blinked at him.

I need you to stay alive.

He wasn’t mad at you for being brash, he was scared that one of these times your luck was going to run out. He was scared you were going to die on him. That you were going to leave him behind.

He tossed the casing back onto the table, defeated.

“Ghost, I didnt—” you hesitated, searching for the right words.

I didn’t know that you cared that much.

If you did your interactions with him would have been very very different.

“Don’t,” he shook his head. This was not how he was planning on exposing himself. Not that he ever planned on confessing in the first place. He was going to take it to his grave. He was planning to get rid of the sickly warm feeling in his chest every time he saw you. Every time he was around you or thought of you.

You pushed off the desk and made your way to stand in front of him, in between his legs. He tilted his head back to look up at you, his hands twitching in his lap. You took one of his hands and crouched before him. Even in the dimly lit room, you could see his pupils flare as you placed his hand on your chest, right about your pounding heart. The heat from his palm soaked into your still damp shirt, warming the skin underneath.

“I’m alive, no?” you placed your other hand on top of his, the size comparison between your hand and his made your toes curl in your boots.

“Yes,” he was utterly still as he searched your face. He was all analyses and contemplation. He touched you like he was afraid you would dissolve before his eyes; like if he spoke too loud you’d slip through his fingers like smoke.

“Go ahead,” he didn’t need to verbalize whatever he was thinking because you could see it in the crease at his brow, the tightness in his jaw.

He glided his hand up to your face, his bare thumb drawing a line from the side of your mouth and across your cheek. His fingers curled around the back of your neck, diving into the mess of wet hair. The sound of the rainstorm outside faded into nothing when his other hand cradled the other side of your face. You reached up to his mask, fingers finding their way underneath to pull it up over his mouth and nose. You half expected him to stop you, for him to tell you all the reasons he shouldn’t be touching you, but he didn’t.

He didn’t give you time to admire him before he was leaning down and his soft mouth was on yours. The kiss was sweet and innocent, nothing more than him wanting to feel you closer. Something about the kiss was tentative and unsure and in an attempt to soothe his uncertainty, you entangled your fingers into the lapels of his jacket, pulling him even closer. He tilted your head to open the kiss and allow him better access. He nipped at your bottom lip when you didn’t immediately open your mouth to him. His tongue swiped at the same spot on your lip as if to apologize before delving in to explore. You moaned into him as his tongue found yours and as he licked and kissed his way with you.

The kiss may have started off as a manifestation of tragic tormented desire, but it very quickly morphed into something desperate and hot. He kissed you like you were opium and he was chasing a high. He tasted you like he was craving you.

A hand dipped down to your waist and he tugged at you till you were straddling his thigh. He ran his hands up and down your body before gripping at your hips. His thumbs dug into the sensitive flesh there. Not once did either of you pull away. Not even for a breath. You tug down the zipper on his jacket, and then immediately dove under the bottom of his shirt desperate for the feel of his bare skin. He groaned at the contact, his muscles tightening at your chilled fingers. Heat and pleasure shot down to your core at the sound.

He could feel your cunt pulse against his thigh, and he thought his soul had left his body. He fantasizes about having you in this exact position before, riding his leg. Riding him. He’s thought about you underneath him, begging for more. If he wasn’t so desperate for you he would have been giddy.

His grip tightened and it was sure to leave marks that would last for days, “Go ahead, Dive. Grind on me,” he kissed a constellation from your lip across your neck, sucking bruises into the delicate skin.

You rolled your hips once and the unhurried pace only amplified the pleasure that shot up your spine. You mewed at him when he guided you into a slow gentle pace and leaned back into the chair to get a better view. His lips were red and swollen, and his lids were heavy with lust. You pushed a side of his jacket off his shoulder, a silent command that you wanted it off. He took his hands off you just long enough to shrug off the jacket and yank off the shirt underneath. He was all hard muscle, golden skin and ink. Scars mottled his skin, some old and some new enough that they were still in the healing process. Each one was a near-miss and a miracle. You would find time later to kiss every one of them.

With tender hands, he lifted the thin material of your shirt. The speed and precision at which he removed your bra were enough for you to make a mental note to ask him just how many times he’s done that maneuver afterwards. If only to get a rise out of him.

“Lemme see you,” his eyes roamed over your body leisurely, his rough hands scraping against your supple skin, “You’re fucking beautiful,” his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head when you started rocking your hips again. What he wouldn’t give to be in this moment with you forever.

A lewd haze made your head heavy forcing it to fall back, your mouth hanging open with a moan. A hand reached up to catch the back of your head, fingers curling, “Keep your eyes on me, Dive,” he laid his accent on thick. You locked eyes with him, his pupils were blown. You braced your hands on his leg, nails digging into the fabric and the muscle underneath. The friction was just where you needed it, and every motion was like electricity in your veins.

Heat flooded your cheeks as you realized what exactly you were doing. You were grinding your wet pussy on your lieutenant's thigh, while he murmured obscenities into your skin; and it should have made you feel ashamed it instead made you feel like every nerve ending was firing. It was naughty and deviant but it only made it more thrilling. The probability of someone finding out, or the sexual tension that was sure to follow was exhilarating.

He dragged his mouth from your neck to your breast, sucking a hard nipple into his mouth. His teeth nipped at you, only for his tongue to follow to alleviate any pain. A hand reached up to knead your other breast, his thumb flicking over the sensitive bud.

He felt like heaven and each point of contact was absolutely divine.

Small pants turned into throaty moans and your hips stuttered as you chased your climax. You were teetering on the edge with eyes closed when you heard, “Atta girl, come for me,” and you crashed into the orgasm. Your mind went blank and all you could think about was him, all you could feel was him. Ghost helped lull you through it with strong hands holding you down on his leg and guiding your shuddering hips.

“Oh my god,” he groaned. Pure electricity was streaming through your veins. More. You needed more of him. You could feel the slickness between your legs and it was most likely seeping through your pants and wetting his. Good. You wanted to be all over him. Moving in for another kiss and immediately opened his mouth for you, letting your tongue dominate his. He buckled his belt with one hand as he adjusted your positions, shuffling you backwards until the back of your knees met the bed. He pulled down your pants and undergarments before settling you back onto the bed. Leaving you completely bare for him. You were at the perfect height to lick a long, sloppy line up his defined stomach. His wide shoulders and narrow waist made him look delectable.

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered, pulling the belt from the loops, and going for the zipper next.

“I want you to fuck me,” you bleated. You would have said anything he told you to.

The wolfish smile he gave made you squeeze your thighs together, “You’re going to have to prove to me you deserve that first.”

When he didn’t move to pull his pants down you reached for them yourself, you wanted to see what he hid under there. Licking your lips, “How do I do that? Want me to suck you dry?”

He grasped your wrists, stopping you, “Touch yourself for me. Show me how you do it when you think of me.”

Of course, he knew. Of course, he knew you whimpered his name while you touched yourself at night. He knew from the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. The way your attention lingered on him, on his

“I thought you weren’t going to send me on any solos?” you retort, spreading your legs even further apart. His pupils flared as he watched your arousal drip down into the sheets and the groan that followed sounded like he was in distress.

“You’re a brat,” he knelt on the bed, one knee in between your legs to block you from closing them on him when he dragged a hand up your leg, stopping just before your cunt. The proximity and promise were intoxicating, and you worried you would cum again before he even touched you, he brought his lips just shy of a kiss, “Touch. Yourself,” it was a command. He held onto his self-control like it was a living, breathing entity. He teased it just to the point of discomfort before reigning it back into submission.

“Are you going to pull rank on me, LT?” you lifted your hips towards his fingers, and he allowed for the contact. He dipped them into your arousal, drawing a line from your core back to your thigh. His head dipped down to look at your mess, and his next breath was short of a gasp.

“Do you want me to?” he questioned, although he sounded far away. Not far in physical distance, but his mind was someplace else entirely. He was imagining the taste of you and the way you’d push his face further into your pussy if he dropped to his knee and eat you out. He would have done just that if he hadn’t already set his foot down, “Now, Dive. Or I leave you like this,” This time when he met your eyes you were met with sadistic honesty. He would. It would nearly be the death of him, but he would leave you wanton on the bed. He would turn around and finish fixing the radio.

Your breath caught in your chest and then your hand slid down your stomach before reaching your center. Still sensitive from your earlier climax you jolted at the first bit of contact. You bit down on your lip to keep from crying out when you pushed a single finger in with ease. You were already ready for his cock, you would have taken all he had to give you, and more. He palmed the thick bulge through his pants with a hand as he watched, matching his strokes with each pump of your fingers.

Your fingers were nothing compared to how he would feel but knowing he wouldn’t give you his frustrated you beyond belief. You rubbed tight, swift circles around your clit, while your other hand worked your cunt, needing every bit of stimulation. He hooked an arm under your knee, holding it up and to the side to allow him a full view.

“Such a pretty little thing,” he shook his head in disbelief that you were actually beneath him and pulled his cock free from its confines. He was massive. Long, yes, but he was thick. The head alone would hurt going in. Pre was leaking from the tip and his thumb swiped it to coat the underneath of his shaft. You were expecting him to be big but he was next level. He was going to tear you apart.

No wonder he wasn’t preparing you so thoroughly.

You practically pounced on him. Well, tried to. He moved faster than you and shoved you back onto the bed, his teeth flashing in the dim lamp light, “Did I say stop?”

“Please,” you could only hope you didn’t sound as pathetic as you felt.

You did.

“Please, Riley,” your wet fingers wrapped around the arm that held you down.

“Say my name, baby,” he tilted his head to the side, his chest heaving in anticipation.

“Please, Simon. I need you to touch me,” please, please, please.

With one hand still holding you to the bed, his other hand replaced yours. Shoving two thick fingers into your weeping cunt and the wet squelching sounds it made were offensive. But, oh my god, he felt like sex itself. Long awaited and godly. He wasn’t rough but his fingers were snug and every pump was fast. His fingers curled and he hit the spongy spot inside you. He brought you to the edge fast and hard. You bowed off the bed, hips raising. If it was to get away from him or to somehow get him closer, you couldn’t tell if your life was dependent on it. You choked out a sob and another climax threatened.

He moved with your every jump and shake, he heeded to your body and listened to every sound that escaped you. He cataloged every expression and reaction.

As your orgasm suffocated you the moan that followed morphed into a scream from the force of it. Your vision evaded you for a second, and stars swam. Your legs gave out on you and trembled as he rode the high with you, his movement slowed and tender.

If he so much as asked you for your name you wouldn’t have been able to remember it. Faintly you could feel his hands rub calming circles onto your thigh, murmuring affirmations. He had his fingers in you mere seconds and he had to dumbified. He was too good at it.

At base, there was a group of girls that gossiped about how some of the men are be in bed. You’d be lying if you said you haven’t taken part in some of those conversations. All out of boredom and fun and Ghost was a subject in those conversations a couple of times and just as you expected his reputation precedes him. You knew he’s been with other women, you’d heard from those same women the specifics, but you couldn’t help the jealousy that bubbled up like soda.

He slid his cock into your pussy and bottomed out before you could comprehend what was going on. He slowly stretched you out deliciously and you were so full of him it felt like he was in your stomach. You felt a hand brush away hair from your face, the action bringing you back to your body.

“Tell me when,” he murmured into the space between you, his voice was like velvet. You felt him twitch inside you, his own restraint taut. Every muscle in his body was tensed, readying for your approval. You made a cautious roll of your hips. The discomfort liquefied into sensual heat, and you sighed at the release.

He moved methodically and with unhurried thrusts. He listened and watched to know when he needed to stop and give you a moment to collect yourself. He was so careful with you. So gentle.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

His strokes went from languid to rhythmic snaps. He leaned down for a kiss, bracing himself on the bed with his elbows. In between kisses, he whispered to you about how good you were doing taking him. Honey dripped from his tongue and coated his words.

The head of his cock knocked against your cervix and you clung to his tattooed forearm, teeth sinking into the flesh and ink there. He growled at the sudden pain, his fingers fisting the sheets. He would accept whatever marks you gave him, and he would show them off. He would come crawling back for more before the old ones could fade away.

“Fuck me,” he huffed into the sheets and gritted his teeth, as your nails raked across the span of his back in an attempt to bring him closer. A thin sheen of sweat coated your bodies.

“Faster,” your hand disappeared under the back of his mask to find silky hair and tugged. He was more than happy to do as he was told. He shifted back on his knees, throwing both your legs to one side so you were still on your back but he could enter you from behind. Somehow, Somehow he was able to stroke deeper inside of you, with an angle that felt euphoric. The moan he unleashed from his chest was downright obscene.

You were practically drooling and your eyes rolled, “Yes, yes, yes,” you weren’t going to last. Your skin felt too tight and your blood was too hot. Judging by the downright obscene moan he unleashed from his chest, he was close too.

Again his hand found your breast and squeezed hard enough to bring attention to it, before sliding up to your throat. His fingers encircled and tightened just enough for it to become a little difficult to breathe.

He’s killed grown men with that very same hand around their throats. He could do the same to you in an instant and yet you didn’t shy away from him. Your trust in him drove him absolutely wild. His thrusts became sloppy and irregular.

“Cum with me,” you begged, not just with your words but with your eyes. You needed him like air like he was pleasure itself.

It broke him, your words broke him. It was all he needed for the tether to sanity to snap and he drove himself into you, his fingers digging into flesh and muscle in an attempt to ground himself to his own body. His new vigour was merciless and forced whimpers from you, ripped them right from your chest.

Your thirst climax was devastating, so intense not even a sound could escape you. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, your cunt spasming around him. If he didn’t pull out to release himself on your ass when he did you probably would have kicked him off you from overstimulation. His groans and ravaged pants conveyed his own fatigued and satisfaction before his words could. Strength betrayed him and he plopped onto the bed beside you, taking your achy body with him so you were laying across his broad chest. You laid silently for a time and you traced the lines of his tattooed arm and the bite mark you had given to him. His heart hammered against his chest, and his voice resonated against your ear as he spoke, “You felt exactly how I imagined you’d feel,”

A sheepish smile spread across your face, “You felt better than I imagined you’d feel,” and he did. A man hasn’t made you feel that good in…well, ever.

He made a sound that resembled a laugh, “We better get you cleaned up,” he delicately moved you off him, offering the blanket you found earlier for warmth while he dressed. He wet a tea towel with the canteen of water underneath the kitchenette and helped you clean up his and your mess. Then he tossed you a clean shirt from his day pack, “Get some rest. I need to finish fixing this damn thing so we can get the hell out of here.”

You don’t know how long it took him to fix the radios (or if he slept), because you fell asleep shortly after but when you awoke in the morning he had already packed everything up and called in an exfil. They were going to pick you two up in 20 mins, and you and Ghost spent that 20 sharing hot, sloppy kisses with your body trapped between him and the door. If the chopper took any longer you were sure he would have taken you right there.

You readjusted your satchel for the third time, tightening the straps till you couldn’t anymore. The pilot was the same woman from your last mission, her all-knowing eyes widening when she saw you, “You been working out more, Ghost? Or did your vest shrink in the wash?”

Oh, shit.

He looked down at the badge on the chest, before jerking his attention to the badge on yours, of the lack thereof.

Somehow you’d mixed up your vests on your way out the door.

“Honest, mistake,” he shrugged and removed it with expert efficiency switching it with you for his.

“I’ve never made it,” the pilot teased, not even trying to hide her smile.

Masterlist ❤︎ Tag List Form

A/N - he’s so yummy

Taglist - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎ @purplefishingline ❤︎ @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @dog55teeth ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod #ghost x reader #cod ghost #cod fanfic #MW2 #mw2 x reader #mw smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #MistyGhosties

965 notes · View notes

callofdudes · 18 days

Text

141 + Rodolfo & Laswell general headcanons

Before he was Ghost (and still sometimes after) he was the guy you'd go to if you had a rip in something or wanted something stitched/embroidered.

His brother was the type to bully him like he did, but if anyone outside the home tried to hurt Simon Tommy would beat them.

Had a schedule where he was to be home straight after school but would sometimes get to go dirt bike riding with Tommy.

Was a prime bullies target because he was very small before his growth spurts. And after said growth spurt has a lot of stretch marks around most of his muscle area.

Is the favorite child of Laswell.

Loves squishmellows, has many.

Will eat Thrills gum just to spite everyone even though it tastes like dish soap and he hates it.

Brings all Gossip to Gaz first.

Because of trauma and stress Simon gets constant migraines and everyone knows to avoid him because he gets insanely cranky.

Knows spanish from how long he was kept in mexico.

Used to play those computer games where you had to input the command of what you wanted the simulation to do.

Doesn't like VR. It's cool but he gets motion sick inside.

Huge mama's boy.

Had braces when he was younger but it didn't stop him from showing off his amazing smile.

Used to bug his older sisters with nerd guns.

I like the idea of Johnny being the youngest chaos gremlin but being the middle child also works for him. (Of two or three sisters)

His parents let him be in football because he was a very smart kid. Topping his science and math classes and becoming valedictorian of his class.

He thinks he's the favorite child of Laswell.

Gets scared when Simon tells him about pixel command prompt games.

While his sisters were watching Frozen he was dealing with the weird crush he had on the king.

Steals pick up lines from Kyle.

Doesn't voice his achievements a whole lot because he wasn't enough for his dad when he was younger no matter what he did. Which has led to his snarky form of confidence and Rizz.

Even older people with take credit for his work and he will fight.

Was 100% a theatre kid.

And an only child.

Is scared to come out even to people close to him after what happened when his platoon mates first found out and wouldn't let it go.

Also thinks he's the favorite child.

Almost got his eyebrow pierced once.

Started to learn what a good father should be because of Price.

Brings all gossip to Ghost first.

Massive people watcher. People credit Ghost for his people watching but it just gives Kyle more opportunity to also people watch.

Has a mentor/big brother little brother relationship with Ghost and they're actually very close.

Used to be a menace when he was younger, and to be fair he still is.

Can't have kids because his balls don't work very well 😅

He was in history in school and was also very good at math.

The Duolingo bird hates him for some reason so he's taken to learning languages from interrogations, now knows 7 languages.

Is Nikolai's permanent backup plan if some shit goes down in Russia and has gotten used to waking up with the man asleep on his couch.

Attracts girls looking for older rich men and it pains him to tell them he is not old, nor is he rich.

Had a strict Military dad who currently still works for the military as a higher rank than him and they do not have a good relationship.

Spends most of her leave time up in the mountains camping. She loves being out in nature.

Has older brothers who are really into rock climbing so she'll accompany them and their friends for rock climbing and camping when she can.

Simon is the favorite child.

Everyone thinks she's married to Price but she'd actually scold him like a child half the day and encourage his antics like a good friend for the rest.

Was in the history and chest club.

Keeps gifting Simon his squishmellows.

Mother to all her 141 children.

Brings her wife to base and Johnny had taken to calling them the "moms".

Will bully people for 141.

Have you ever seen the crazy taser girl?? Yeah, that's him. He has many tasers and he loves them all.

He's actually crazy.

Very capable of yelling and defending himself but Alejandro has bestie senses and usually beats him to whoever did it.

Rudy is quiet but don't bark at him because he barks back.

Alejandro and Rudy used to skip school and go hang out on the cliffs they now trek for military.

His father made a joke once that he was going to get milk and Rudy never recovered mentally.

(and then he left for real-)

He was in photography and sports team manager in school.

After checking out each other's turf, Simon and Rudy are now chronically insane besties.

(had this in my drafts for a while, decided to post because I'm bored.)

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #call of duty headcanons #john mactavish headcanons #simon riley headcanons #john price headcanons #kate laswell #Kate Laswell headcanons #rudy parra #rodolfo parra #rodolfo parra headcanons #john price #kyle garrick #simon riley

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porcelainseashore · 7 months

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The Lost Tapes (2)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

General Note: One-shots for my series Where We’ve Left Our Love. Encapsulated moments within the past and future lives of Leon x Reader in no particular order. Follows the Resident Evil Remake timeline.

Chapter Summary: Leon traded in his life for Sherry’s. Now, he has to deal with his past trauma and the harshness of military training under Krauser. He finds strength in his memories of you, but will that last for long?

Content Warnings: Hurt no comfort, angst, swearing, psychological trauma, suicidal thoughts, blood and violence, minor Jack Krauser.

Shoutout to RainyKennedy for suggesting the topic of Leon going radio silent for this one-shot!

AO3 Link

Chapter 2: Things We Lost in the Fire

Splosh.

He fell head-first into the mud for the umpteenth time to the roars of laughter of his platoon mates. They despised him, and they made sure he knew that.

What the hell was a baby-faced rookie, with his cherubic blonde hair and blue eyes, doing in special forces training? No prior military experience, not even basic training, but fast-tracked into the program because he had survived Raccoon City.

He just got lucky, they all said.

A brawny, well-built man hulked over Leon imposingly. He wore a red beret and sported a striking scar on his face. His thick soled boots squelched in the soggy earth, leaving behind a defined imprint, as he tutted mockingly, “What a disappointment.”

“Get up,” he ordered, without a hint of sympathy for the boy who lay exhausted in the puddle of dirt, mingled with his own blood and sweat.

Leon gritted his teeth, attempting to push himself up to his knees but his arms gave way, as they collapsed from fatigue, causing him to fall back with another splash.

“Looks like he’s just not cut out for it, Major Krauser,” one of the soldiers jeered.

Krauser ignored the comment, but his right eye twitched in impatience. With lightning speed, he hurled the knife Leon had lost in the previous sparring match. It landed with a schnk, embedding itself upright in the ground directly in front of the boy.

Leon flinched, dread sinking in as he understood what was coming next.

“Listen up, rookie,” Krauser called out, pacing back and forth like a predator marking its prey. “I’m gonna count to three. If you aren’t on your feet by then…” He trailed off with a veiled threat.

Get up. He tried to command his limbs to move, but they weren’t listening.

“1…”

Get up! It resounded in his eardrums. Every single time those two words were used to direct him to do something against his will.

Derisive.

Contemptuous.

Scathing.

He heard it now, as if it were a tarnished stain that could not be rubbed away from his mind. Get up! But his body remained motionless, like a broken doll on its side.

“2…”

What was the point? He was fucked either way.

Fucked the minute he had turned his back on you and headed to Raccoon City. Fucked the moment he had set eyes on Ada. Fucked when he had convinced Claire to leave Sherry with him.

Closing his eyes, he braced himself for the worst. Except, there was silence and then, your voice - tiny, unassuming, but so distinctly you. Leon.

Tender.

Caring.

Sweet.

Just as he remembered it. Leon.

He imagined your warm, radiant smile illuminating the shithole he was in. You were reaching out with the palm of your hand, coaxing him gently, Get up.

Slipping his hand in yours, he found renewed strength to pull himself to a standing position, just as Krauser counted, “3…”

The vision Leon had of you disappeared, just as quickly as it came. And once again, he was left alone, surrounded by the people who were charged with toughening him up, through means of brutality and humiliation.

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” Krauser remarked. Without hesitation, he barked out another order, “Again!”

One of the soldiers from the squad stepped forward, licking his lips and leering at him while he brandished his sharpened weapon menacingly. The rest of the team nodded and grinned at each other in approval. In modern warfare, there was no such thing as a fair match.

Leon peered at his reflection in the cool, metallic blade of the knife he had grasped to support his weight on the way up. Staring back at him was a boy resigned to his fate.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Soft.

Careless.

Sloppy.

Leon was used to the criticisms doled out to him on a regular basis. That, along with the taunts about his pretty boy appearance and how he was too naive for own good. They spared no effort to stamp out his idealism, which was treated as a weakness, unlike back in the days with you, where you saw it as his greatest strength.

Naive. He couldn’t argue with that one. He was naive to a fault. Naive to the point where it cost him his life.

As he lay on the scratchy bunk bed, with a cut lip and his ribs swollen and bruised, the recent events that had come to pass replayed incessantly in his head.

How could he have fallen for her, that lady in red, who was a total stranger? Why did he still feel something for her, even though she had betrayed him?

The guilt and shame festered within him, eating away at his conscience. Did his relationship with you mean nothing at all?

No, that wasn’t it. Like you, Ada was there for him when he needed her. Like you, she had a rebelliousness about her that was thrilling and kept him on his toes. It was almost as if he was trying to find you again in every woman he met, from the day he had left you. But he shouldn’t have left. He should’ve stayed there beside you.

When he’d been trapped in the city rubble, he wasn’t sure if he’d make it out alive. So, he clung on to any source of comfort he could get. Someone who would understand what he had been through. A fellow survivor. Except, she had played him like a fiddle.

Maybe all of these reasons he had come up with for going after Ada were just pitiful excuses to make himself feel better. He was a fucking asshole and deserved the treatment he got now. Every insult and every blow. He deserved all of it.

As his thoughts swam around endlessly, he beat himself up internally again and again, before silently crying himself to sleep. However, it never lasted long. He dreamed of buildings engulfed in flames, frenzied creatures ripping and tearing at flesh still fresh and steaming from the bones, putting bullets through the heads of innocents, and yet failing to save each and every one of them, time and time again.

Waking up in cold sweat from the night terrors, he trembled uncontrollably and nothing would help, save for the small photo he had of you hidden in his wallet. He fished for it, holding the edges delicately between his fingers as he traced your face, your jaw and your lips, hoping to feel your presence next to him. You were the only sense of normalcy he had left to go on these days.

You reminded him of the sultry Indian summers and bitter piercing winters of the Midwest. Eating cotton candy on dates to the town fair. Competing in sporting events and basking in the crowd’s jubilant cheering, where you’d winked at him flirtatiously in your cute little outfit, and he wanted to take you right there and then. Trawling through old record shops and frequenting the local drive-in cinema. All these things he cherished and lost. But you reminded him of home.

His breathing calmed and he stopped shaking. Sometimes, he prayed to you like a mythical being when it got too much, where he was tempted to splatter his brains out and end it all.

You’re a good person. Remember that, he’d hear you say. And he knew he had to keep going, for his sake, and the sake of others.

It made him think of Sherry. Poor Sherry. A little girl caught between a conflict of arrogance, filthy profits and coverups. She had no one, except him and Claire. He needed to be a good person for her. It was his fault he had trusted the government too much.

One couldn’t fathom the embarrassment and devastation he felt in that instance, when he had surrendered their lives over to them. Especially after he had promised Sherry that they would take care of her, only for them to turn the tables around and say, Checkmate.

They always took what they wanted. If they had to raze the ground, trample on and exploit the vulnerable, so be it. He had been utterly blind to their indiscretions all this while.

Despite that, there was no question about it, when they’d asked him to work for them. It was a done deal from the start. He would sign away his life for hers willingly like a goddamned martyr. His performance would ensure her safety, or rather, how well they treated her.

Would you have been proud of him now? Seeing him in this state? He often wondered about that, as he was no longer the bright-eyed rookie cop you had made him out to be.

Did you still think of him? Or had you left his corpse behind, moving on happily to a new start in a foreign country?

He didn’t know anymore and frankly, he didn’t care. All that mattered was that he missed you, to the point where it was driving him crazy. It had been months since he last saw you. Even though his last memory of you was when your eyes were red and puffy from the tears streaming down your face, you still looked beautiful as ever. If he could, he would take it all back and hold you in his arms.

God, what he would give just to hear your voice again. Even if it was a simple “Hello.”

However, his wish couldn’t have been granted sooner. As an incentive, the higher-ups had offered him a phone call to anyone he wanted if he showed improvements. Up until then, he hadn’t been allowed any form of contact for valid reasons. For now, it was a choice between you or his parents, though ultimately, he decided on you. You’d understand him, you always did. You’d know what to do and relay this on to them. He trusted you fully.

In the most excruciating month of his training, he endured an infinite amount of grueling drills under the scorching heat of the sun. Sweat dripped from his brow and his lips were parched and chapped. It was punishing, and the thirst and hunger nearly got to him, but he continued on. He had to, for you.

It wasn’t long before the changes started to show. In what could be considered an astonishing turn of events to his military peers, he rose up and fought back. Instead of “Weak!”, “Poor!”, “That's all you got?”, like he had been so accustomed to hearing, Krauser rewarded him one day with a “Not bad.”

He didn’t know he had it in him, but then again it wasn’t exactly a surprise. When he put his mind to it, he caught on quickly. After all, he was a survivor through and through.

Swish. This time, it wasn’t his neck that was pressed against the other end of the blade.

His opponent dropped his knife in defeat and Leon let go, stumbling backwards as he heaved a heavy sigh of relief. He couldn’t believe it at first, that he’d finally emerged victorious in a match.

Air escaped his lungs as Krauser gave him a firm pat on the back. “Guess you really wanted that call, huh?” He huffed. “Well, you earned it, rookie.”

As he stalked off, he turned around briefly to face Leon with a smirk. “Wonder who’s the lucky gal?”

Before Leon could raise any questions, the older man had already disengaged, retreating into the background like a shadow.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon’s hands were quivering again. He’d received a token for the payphone in the building for that special call. Anxiety and nervousness gnawed at his insides. If he wasn’t careful, the token might slip from his hands, which were wet with perspiration. Every step he took was tense and jittery, but finally, he had made his way to the plain, black phone installed against a blank wall.

As he inserted the token into the coin slot, he exhaled deeply, recalling your home phone number from the recesses of his mind. Punching them in, he waited for the tone to ring. It felt as if time had slowed down and he was experiencing tunnel vision as he listened to the familiar Brrring.

What if you weren’t in? What if you didn’t pick up? Would he get a second chance? He pushed away those thoughts and swallowed thickly.

And then he heard something odd. There was a constant buzzing sound during the call, reminiscent of static feedback from an amplifier, or as though a fly had been trapped in the machine. It irritated him and gave him a slight headache.

But as he ruminated on it, an icy fear paralyzed him and his blood ran cold. The call was being tapped. Those bastards! He should’ve known. He had fallen for it again and led them straight to you. Life was playing a cruel joke on him and he was constantly being handed the role of the fool.

“Hello?”

Your voice snapped him out of his reverie. It was everything he had dreamed of. He’d almost given in then, opening his mouth to speak to you, but he caught himself before anything could spill out.

I love you.

No, he couldn’t implicate you in this. He had to protect you.

“Who’s this?”

You sounded both sad and hopeful at the same time, and he knew you had waited for him. He just didn’t expect that this was how his first call to you would pan out. Tightening his grip on the phone, he closed his eyes, wishing it were just another nightmare, and that he’d wake up and find you in his embrace again.

I love you.

He clenched his jaw, his mouth contorting in agony as he eventually hung up without saying a word. It felt like his heart had been wrenched out and all that lingered was a crushing weight against his chest.

“How did it go?” Krauser asked him, as he trudged back to the barracks dejectedly.

“Wrong number,” Leon mumbled out a reply without looking at him.

“Shame.”

It had only just begun to sink in that he’d never see you nor his parents again. Not if he wanted to keep all of you safe. He would have to pretend he didn’t know you, and that you had no shared history together. Nothing had prepared him for this moment, just like nothing had prepared him for what had happened over the course of the past few months.

It’s just how life works out sometimes. He snorted cynically, suddenly struck by how true that statement he had made to you during the break up rang in his ears.

Whipping out a lighter, he burned the only picture he had left of you, just in case they searched his stuff at some point. Tears clouded his vision as he watched the yellowish flames lick at your face, and your image curled up and blackened into nothing but ash and soot.

I love you.

From a different wing in the building, a gravelly, baritone voice instructed, “Gather all information on the number he had called. I want details of everyone linked to him.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy angst #resident evil #fic: the lost tapes #porcelainscribbles

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girlpanthera · 3 months

Text

CW// SH, drug use, military/war, mental health

Deciding to expand on some lore for my little AU. (none of this is exactly time/ historically accurate) Anyways, this takes place in India during / around the war in Vietnam. The Beatles headed off to India, deciding to take a break while political conflict heated up around the world. They wanted time to brainstorm more music ideas and bond with each other. during their time in india, they experimented with hard drugs, and they all had almost normal reactions to it except for Paul. he seemed to be specifically affected by it, beginning to act erratically and showing self harming behaviors. he was very short tempered and instead of being bossy, his angered reactions would result in hitting others, or harming himself before devolving into hypersexuality. most of this was taken out on John, since they were closer, while ringo and George left john to manage this new mentally fragile paul at most times, keeping to themselves.

As war broke loose, The Beatles were all spared from the draft, except for John and paul. (in connection to how i won the war and Sargent Paul in magical mystery tour)

Paul, due to his extreme self harming habits, was dishonorably discharged from his sargent position only a few months into the war, as his habits tended to not only disgust the other platoon mates, but also cause risk of him getting infections and effected his overall performance during war time. He returned back to India, leaving John, causing even more tenseness in their relationship. John was focused on anti war propaganda and trying to find a way to protect the platoon mates while paul was self absorbed within himself, his own image, and what he wanted.

When Paul returned he spoke about what he saw in Vietnam at night, He talked about “cats of every color” who would stand on two feet and play trumpets, making the platoon loose sleep. He said these cats came from the knots of the trees and would play tricks on them, each kitten had fur the color of a primary color. he mentioned the odd happening about how one of his platoon mates had grown the lower half of a leopard and returned to the platoon shortly after he had lost his legs to a bouncing betty and had been left in the fields to die. he blamed the self inflicted scratches on his neck on that specific platoon mate, stating that he would carry him like a kitten by the scruff to the fox hole at night, the same hole where a french soldier from ww1 had been buried, but seemed to be only in the first stages of decomposition oddly enough despite how long ago he had died.

Ringo passed this off as the acid and trauma getting to paul’s head, but George was specifically intrigued by paul’s story about the women in Vietnam. about how they were all leopards. They were generously curvy and didn’t speak, but kept the soldiers nice and clean and offered them tea. he said these women existed in india, and the uk, and America, too. he said all women were secretly these patheras. he called them “the wild women”

Paul began wearing only womens underwear and button ups, he would take George to the fields to get high and he would talk about how “Paul was dead: and that “the original Paul flew out the windshield of a weaponry jeep earlier that year, the second week in India” and this Paul didn’t seem to be pleased with needing to act like someone he wasn’t.

Paul began getting much closer with George, even getting physical with him despite george’s hesitation and disgust at paul’s actions. George hated this new Paul, yet admired him deeply. his actions disgusted him but his charm and allure and stories made him stay wrapped around paul’s finger.

soon George even began getting gifts from these wild women. he would see the cats of every color, losing sleep at night to their trumpets, and he would check the feet of the soldiers that would knock on their door, just to assure they had no leopard feet. George began losing it as well, he gave into paul’s touches and rough sexual behavior, whereas ringo watched them slip out of it, spending most of his time trying to make them take meds and hide sharp objects from them. John was scheduled to come home within a week, as he had blown off his own foot. He needed escape from the war as well,and from what he wrote, the platoon thought so as well. they made excuses for him, and one member even took the blame for blowing off his damn foot.

THIS IS ALL I HAVE FOR NOW SOOOO. i’ll be making more art for it :P

@littlemiss-noname

#the beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon #the beatles fandom #art #george harrison #ringo starr #mclennon #mcharrison #lore #au

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s0ft-d3cay · 2 months

Text

Of Course My King

Shigaraki x Male Reader | I'm back!!

WARNINGS: Omegaverse, omega reader, mentions of reader having a child(not explicitly explained to be an orphan), oh yeah found family trope, from the period when Shigaraki was in the tank, only he was fully incubated and had time to plan an attack, mentions of patriarchy and talking down of the reader, Shigaraki reminds you of your worth, mentions of up coming war, y/n used

WC: 2,038

Two weeks before the breach, both Shigaraki and Y/N were now in a meeting with deemed leaders and their group platoons. The omega taking the conversation and main points as both a leader and on sight healer. A large table surrounded by 15 people, Shigaraki right beside the omega as he instructed the set plan.

The alpha stayed silent and attentive as he watched his mate, more than impressed at the omega's leadership and the way that he was able to handle everyone around him so well. The alpha would keep an eye out of the villains, not allowing attention to stray away from the job at hand. The alpha would observe how everyone would interact with the omega and how the meeting would progress.

"…with all that being said, we’ll have one last meeting two days before our attack. I will see you all there." Y/N closes the meeting with that statement, the rest of the villains simply replying with a nod or ignoring him entirely before exiting the room. The omega now collecting his notes, organizing the mess of papers on the large desk before him.

Shigaraki couldn’t help but look over the omega, admiration blooming through his chest at the sight of him. "You worked quite fast while I was gone, didn’t you?" The alpha chuckled softly at his own words and the smile on his face became wider. Y/N’s gaze flickers up at the white-haired alpha, smiling smugly. Shuffling the papers in a folder as he replies.

"I do what I can.." He seats himself on the large table, legs crossed at the ankle and arms draped down the tabletop, eyes admiring Shigaraki closely as he continues. "All things considered, they actually were listening this time around instead of questioning my authority as an omega."

A rocky feeling within Shigaraki sinks from Y/N’s words, "They can see that you have a genuine leadership quality, they should be grateful that you to lead them.." He looks away for a second to think for a bit in which he would come to the realization that the meeting had gone smoothly. "You did an amazing job, so you should allow yourself to be very proud because you truly deserve to be."

Y/N shakes his head, gaze hollow and dismissive. "I’m not the reason why they were attentive. It’s because you’re here. If you weren’t, I would’ve had an ear full of what I should be doing instead of leading an army." Shigaraki's eyes would widen in surprise for how dismissive the omega was about it all, he was just too humble and kind for his own good.

With a sigh, he stands up from the desk reaching to grasp Shigaraki’s hand with careful fingers, leading the two out. The alpha would just smile lightly at Y/N's comment, his voice becoming soft as his hand was now clasped with the other man's hand. "I know that…because of me you get so much more respect, my presence alone commands the attention of everyone but…to be completely honest, your words and commands always carry more weight than mine."

The omega knew better than to believe what the alpha had said, sure he had some good ideas and ways of attacking, but he also knew that no one would truly listen to him. No matter how true and correct he was, they only saw him as an omega. "I’ll just take your word for it.."

Shigaraki took quick notice of Y/N's tone, hush and dejected than the usual. This situation truly bothered the omega and the alpha couldn't help but feel a spike of annoyance towards the villains for dismissing the other man's efforts in terms of leadership. "Hey…" The alpha's voice came out soft and gentle as he got Y/N's attention.

The man’s head turns to face Shigaraki, eyes gleaming in question yet dulled by thoughts of doubt. He stops walking in the long hallway, awaiting the white haired leader's words. Shigaraki turned his entire body to face the omega, his gaze gentle and fondly held in the Y/N's eyes as he began to speak. "The way they act…it bothers you."

"What bothers me is that I provide housing for them and food on their table only for them to defame me, tell me to go back home and make more pups.” Y/N answered, annoyance at the difficulty he’s been facing for the past few months as leader. Shigaraki felt nothing but slight disgust rise inside his rib cage, the poor omega is giving them a place to stay and food to eat. Yet, all he gets for it is complaints and insults.

The alpha's voice reverberates in a sharper tone. "And what would happen if you actually did leave and left them to fend for themselves? What happens if you finally put your foot down and make them see the consequences from their actions?"

Answering with aggravation entwining with his words. "I have, I ripped a few to pieces and left there heads on sticks outside their living compounds. And they continued to tell me how overemotional I was being and how I was acting more like a child than a leader-“

Y/N then released a heavy sigh, shaking his head. Cutting himself off before continuing. "Sorry…I-I just want them to listen and respect my words wholeheartedly.” Shigaraki would shake his head slightly at what an ungrateful group of individuals the villains are, he couldn't believe how rude they were despite not only your good intentions.

“What if I offered you an alternative?"

"What kind of offer?" He asked curiously, taking a few more breaths to calm himself down. The alpha would stay silent for a bit, he was still thinking of how to put it into words without sounding too rude, it was a bold offer after all.

“What if I told you that you can have something more, something where you can truly be a leader and a king.” Shigaraki's red eyes would be filled with nothing but confidence, he knew his offer would entice and interest the omega. But, he wanted to take his time to explain everything so that his offer would be heard without any misunderstandings.

"You know how we've discussed taking things to the next level…to bring our plan to action and do what we set out to accomplish originally. That is still our goal, right?"

Y/N nods, confusion still etched on his face as he tries to piece together the man's words. "Big reset on the world, I remember.” His eyes squinted at Shigaraki's question. "What are you planning, Tomura?” The alpha's eyes would now be filled with excitement at the idea of Y/N being on board with the plan. Shigaraki would then lean forward into the omega's space, wanting to get his attention to show the full magnitude of his words.

"Then you also remember how I said that I would love it if you wanted to come and play with me, to be on my side during this plan, right?"

"Yeah, that hasn’t changed. What are you getting?” Y/N answered honestly. The alpha let out a small chuckle at the stubborn confusion of the omega. Shigaraki smiled, taking a small step forward before reaching out his hand to grasp the Y/N's face before looking down at him with a serious demeanor.

"I want you to lead my army. You can be the next leader in our new world, the omega that will lead us to victory.” Shigaraki paused, his hand on the omega's face as he looked into his eyes. Hand moving to the Y/N's shoulder before speaking up.

"You would be my general, I would keep you safe, support and give you everything necessary to lead us into victory. You won't have to lead those ungrateful villains just because that is what they expect you to do, you can do it your own way.” The omega was silent after the offer, the warm of radiation of the other man's hands moving from his cheeks to his shoulders tethered his subconscious to not overthinking. He blinks, weighing out the pros and cons.

"I…I’m not made to rule, sure I’ve been a leader for a handful of months. But I can’t rule over people, that would defeat the purpose of what we’re fighting.” Y/N gently answered back, slight hesitation in the omega's words. A sadly normal occurrence for the omega.

"But you're not ruling, you're leading. Sure, people might listen and obey my words, but they would listen and would obey yours as well. You have the qualities of a leader, not only that but you’re kind."

“I-" The omega cuts himself off, his gaze lowers to his fidgeting hands. "What about Mel…with us both leading?" He brings up apprehensively, eyes flickering back up to Shigaraki. His protective instincts flaring up at the idea of leaving the small pup alone during the beginning of the war. The alpha would chuckle to himself a little bit after hearing the omega's concerns about Mel, it was normal for the omega to be concerned about the young one. Shigaraki would nod his head slowly before speaking up after a few moments of silence.

“Mel still doesn't have much fighting skills yet, he might be a smart and fast learner, but that doesn't mean he can lead an army. Plus, I'm sure he would understand if you were given the position of leading the army.” Y/N shakes his head. "That’s not what I meant…" He whispers, his eyes dull over in guilt. "I don’t want him involved."

A moment of surprise would show itself on Shigaraki's face after hearing what the omega had just said, it was true that he had noticed the omega's worry over the young one. Finding out Y/N truly did not want to bring him into the conflict. "We don't even have to put him in any dangerous situations, he would still be safe with us and would still be by our sides…” Y/N scoffs out a laugh, his lips pull in a small smile.

"If you were his age, would you listen to your parents and sit out one if not the most important fight of the century?” Shigaraki didn’t have to think before a slight grin appeared on his mouth. "I would want to be with us, even if it would be dangerous for me to do so. I guess you're right, he wouldn't listen to us if we told him to just sit this one out."

Shigaraki would then move a hand to brush his fingers through the omega's hair, a small gesture of affection before he spoke up further about the topic. “He doesn't have to be out there in the front-line of the battle, but we can't have him sit out from this fight.” Y/N’s ears perked up at the soft brush of fingers, his chest rumbling out low purrs as he nods. "I’m sure we’ll find a perfect place for him.” The omega added his arms soothing over the alpha’s waist.

“There's one last thing…” The alpha would then raise a hand, he would slowly take the omega's hand into his. Shigaraki gazes tenderly towards the omega. "When I make my speech for when this plan takes place, you will be right by my side. I want you to be acknowledged as my general and I want everyone else to know that you're leading them into this final war…okay?"

Y/N's lips lift up to a heart-soaring smile, he chuckles airily. Eyes beginning to gloss over in happy tears before he leans in to kiss the man. Their shared lips pressing tenderly for a moment, purr erupting from both chests as hearts fall in synced. "I’m with you until the end, my king."

Shigaraki's face would turn into a soft happy smile, it was nice to see Y/N's reaction of happiness instead of the usual doubt and distant gaze. The alpha's hands would then move back down to the omega's hands before grabbing his wrists and pulling the man into his arms, holding him tightly and securely. His voice was warm at the touch of the Y/N's lips, he was looking forward to the future the two of them would have.

"Until the very end, my general."

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights of any of the characters I write about, all the rights go to their respective creators.

#male reader #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x male reader #shigaraki tomura x male reader #tomura shigaraki x male reader #omegaverse #Seraphimsbrainwritings

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fixfoxnox · 1 year

Note

I don’t mean to add to your never ending list of drabble requests, but how do you think the NicPrice kiss went down??? I’d like to get a better gauge of papa Price lol

ANON I LOVE YOU FOR ASKING THIS JSBFJFJFNF AH

Setting Us Up For Failure - Price/Nikolai

Description: A young Lieutenant Price meets, befriends, and falls for a Russian pilot

Word Count: 9k (I may have gone a little overboard)

My Masterlist

"Captain MacMillan," Price had to resist the urge to roll his eyes as he trailed behind his Captain, watching him greet the jovial Russian man ahead of them. It was an interesting sight, seeing his Captain wrapping the other man up in a hug, "It has been too long, how is your wife?"

"Still begging me to come home," MacMillan answered with a resounding laugh. The two men exchanged another hug before MacMillan was stepping back and motioning Price forward, "This is my Lieutenant," Price puffed up slightly at the use of his new rank. He'd worked hard for the promotion, sue him for being proud of it, "John Price."

The man held his hand out to him, a bright grin on his face, "Ivan Orlov," his gaze turned back to MacMillan briefly, "I see you've found yourself a protégé." He pulled back, crossing his arms across his chest and smiling in a way that didn't seem fully genuine to Price.

"Yes," MacMillan answered, meeting Price's eyes briefly before continuing, "He's a good lad, rather skilled."

Orlov eyed him up and down for a moment, a smirk on his lips that had Price flushing red in embarrassment and anger. It was clear to see that the other man didn't believe MacMillan's words.

Price knew that he was smaller than a lot of people expected of him. He'd been a skinny, lanky, underweight thing when he'd joined the military, most of that from his time on the streets after he'd run away from home. Over the years he'd managed to put on some weight and muscle, but it didn't come easy to him. It was exactly why he looked how he did. A lieutenant in the military, still a skinny thing with a layer of lean muscle over his body. His clothes hid most of it, making him look weaker than he was. With that and his affinity for random hats that he'd picked up in nearby towns, MacMillan had commented several times that he often looked more like a kid than a lieutenant in the military.

"Right," Orlov said finally, a chuckle pulling from his lips.

Price wanted to say something to the man, prove that he was more than he looked, but he didn't. Instead, he just ground his teeth together and clamped his mouth shut, letting MacMillan change the topic.

"You said you've put together a team for us, but do you have a pilot?" He raised a brow at the man, "No offense, mate, but you seem a bit too out of it to be offering us support these days." The words were a jab, an answer for the clear remark that the other had made about Price.

Price watched Orlov's jaw clench as he forced a smile. He suddenly understood why MacMillan had gruffly commented that he hated working with Orlov. It was clear that the man turned everything into a competition. "Yes," Orlov gave a cynical smile, "I've taken on a protégé as well," he gave a low chuckle, "come, I'll introduce the two of you."

He turned, starting off toward the airfield where several different planes were going through routine checks. As they walked he pointed out various things on the base, pride radiating through his voice as he spoke. Occasionally he would throw in something like "bet you don't have one of those in England, eh?" The patronizing words grated on Price's nerves, but he kept his frustration to himself.

The walk was almost agonizing with his constant speaking, it felt like it took them thirty minutes to finally make it to their destination when, in reality, they'd likely only been walking for five. Orlov had stopped him in front of one of the larger planes, one that would carry an entire platoon if need be.

There was a man standing outside of the plane, a clipboard and pen in his hands. He would call something out in a loud barked Russian and, moments later, a deeper voice from inside the plane would respond, also in Russian. Orlov turned to them as they came to a stop in front of the transport, "I think you will like him," his eyes turned to Price with a smug grin, "He is around your age I believe. Quite accomplished too." He turned then, calling something out in loud Russian. The only thing Price could make out was a name. Nikolai.

The voice responded quickly and there was a brief pause before a man, around Price's age, appeared at the entrance to the plane, quickly dropping down and walking over to meet the group with a smile. Orlov spoke to him in quick Russian, pointing to Price and MacMillan as he spoke before finally turning back, "This is the pilot. Nikolai."

Price tried not to stare, but it was difficult. Nikolai was, well, gorgeous. Black hair that was grown out to his chin, split with a middle part that showed his widows peak. He had to be using some sort of gel in it with the way it was slicked back, all but one loose piece neatly out of his face. Price knew it was likely to hang down at the sides more messily when it wasn't slicked away.

Nikolai had a strong, sharp jaw and defined muscles down his entire body. It wasn't hard to see that he was strong. His shoulders were quite broad with bulging biceps and pecs made only more defined by the tight white shirt that he wore. There were several buttons at the top of the shirt, two undone showing a bit of his chest. Price tried to avoid looking, but the silver of a chain around the man's neck kept drawing his attention back. At least, that was what he told himself.

He ended up having to divert his gaze completely from the other man, trying to avoid being caught ogling him. His face went a bit pink at the thought. He was a Lieutenant in the military! He did not ogle at cute bulky Russian pilots!

"Captain MacMillan," His captain stepped forward, shaking the Russian's hand before motioning for Price to do the same, "This is my Lieutenant, John Price."

Price hesitantly stepped forward, taking the man's large hand in his own and giving it a firm shake. He risked glancing up at the man, his cheeks flushing red when he met the other's eyes. They were a soft brown. He stepped back quickly, moving his hands to fold together behind his back as his gaze fixed itself on the ground.

"Nikolai," he responded. His voice was deep, the Russian accent adding something to it that had Price's ears tingling and his hand clenching tight behind his back. He took a deep breath in, he needed to get ahold of himself. This was work, not some bar where he could openly stare at handsome, muscular, nice-voiced Russian pilots!

"You know the mission?" MacMillan asked the man carefully.

"I do."

"Think you can handle it?" MacMillan crossed his arms, "you'll be leaving the plane and joining us on a raid, not many pilots are up to that."

Price glanced up, watching Nikolai from under his lashes as he puffed up slightly, "I can handle it, sir." Price spotted the way that the man glanced at him, though he couldn't quite understand why, "I've been trained in ground combat just the same as air combat."

MacMillan nodded to him slowly, eyeing him carefully, "Good," he landed on finally, "I'll have Price here run you through some drills," Price's gaze turned to MacMillan then, his face likely showing how startled he was by the assignment. "Not today, 'fraid Price and I could use some rest. Expect to see him tomorrow though. I just want to be sure you can handle it."

Nikolai nodded, his eyes moving over to meet Price's again. Price had to look away quickly, unable to hold the other man's gaze for long. "I understand. I will look for your Lieutenant tomorrow."

"Good lad," MacMillan chimed with a grin. "Well if the two of you don't mind, Price and I are going to get settled. We've a busy few days ahead of us men."

"The pilot, Nikolai, you should try to befriend him." Price whipped around quickly, meeting MacMillan with confusion in his gaze. He'd been unpacking his things, left to it by his Captain while the man went to get himself settled. The Russians had been gracious enough to give them separate rooms.

"What?" Price stood taller, tilting his head at his Captain and crossing his arms over his chest, "Why?" He really hoped that his Captain hadn't picked up on the way that he'd been looking at Nikolai. It was an awkward conversation that he did not want to have with the man who had become something akin to a father figure for him.

MacMillan tilted his head at him, an amused smile tugging at his lips, "It's good for you to make friends. Have an ally with the Russians and it will make dealing with them much easier for you in the future."

"What," Price asked, a lump forming in his throat, "Like you and Orlov?" He could feel nerves racing through his system. He always got nervous when MacMillan started talking about his future. He hadn't even thought he'd ever become a lieutenant, but MacMillan was always aiming higher for him. He had a lot of faith in his abilities and a lot of faith meant that it would be easy to let the older man down if he didn't live up to that potential.

"No," MacMillan gave a chuckle as he stepped further into Price's room. He closed the door behind him, blocking their voices from any nosy people who might pass by. "Orlov and I tolerate each other. We work together when we need to and we pretend to like each other."

"He is a bit of an ass," Price grumbled out, still a bit sore from the way he'd been eyed up and down by the other man earlier.

"More than a bit," MacMillan agreed with a chuckle. "I want you to be different. I want you to actually befriend this Nikolai."

"Why?"

"Because," MacMillan gave him a smile, "It pays to have people you can trust around. If what Orlov says is true, then both you and Nikolai are extremely skilled. He'd be a good ally to have. Someone good to rely on." He stepped forward then, lightly smacking Price's arm before turning to head back to the door, opening it fully before turning to add, "Tomorrow when you're running him through the drills, make a friend, John." With that he stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him with a thud and leaving Price by himself, silence echoing around him.

Price hesitantly moved into one of the large open garages on base, glancing around himself nervously. He knew that stepping into the garage was more than allowed for him, but it still felt somehow taboo. He figured it was because of the almost personalized nature of the small area. Tools on the walls, little pictures hung about, a jacket slung over a chair. There were little bits of the pilot he'd come to see all around the room. It made it feel almost like he was stepping into someone's home unannounced. Though, if Orlov's words about Nikolai practically living in the small garage because of how much time he spent there were true, then it was to be expected.

After a quick morning check-in with MacMillan and Orlov, Price had set off to retrieve the Russian pilot and take him through the drills his Captain wanted to see. Orlov had given him quick directions of the few places where he'd be most likely to find the man before taking off with MacMillan to start prep for their mission. He had to pretend that he didn't see MacMillan's pointed look toward him as the men were walking away. His words from the previous night about making a friend still echoed around in his mind. He knew it wouldn't be as easy as his Captain made it out to be, making friends could be difficult for him, and, even now, he had no one in his life who he considered a friend.

He'd gone searching for Nikolai, checking every place other than the garage first, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn't have to step into a room where he would be completely alone with the other man. Of course, his luck wasn't that good, so he'd found himself marching toward the garage. He'd knocked on the little side door at first, trying to maybe put some separation there. He tried twice, but the sound of tools being used on the other side of the door seemed to swallow the sound of his knocks, even where he stood, so he pushed quietly inside.

He couldn't see Nikolai, but based on the various tools that littered the ground and the sound of the man muttering to himself, he could assume that the Russian was currently underneath the small car that was parked in the garage. It seemed that the Russian was good with things other than planes as well. Price stood still for a moment, just watching and listening as he tried to work up the energy to let himself be known. He really hoped that Nikolai wasn't anything like Orlov.

Finally, he cleared his throat, hearing the man under the car go silent, "Nikolai?" He took another step toward the car, "It's-"

"Price, from yesterday, right?" Nikolai was suddenly pushing himself out from under the vehicle, stopping to sit up on the little roller he'd been laid back on. He gave Price a wide smile, "Here to run me through my drills I'm guessing?" He gave a short chuckle and Price couldn't help but let a smile tug at his lips as well.

"Sorry," Price folded his hands behind his back again, looking down at the other man with a smile of his own, "I know I'm pulling you away from work."

Nikolai waved him off and pushed himself to stand from the ground, taking a confident step toward him as he responded, "Nonsense, this is work too. Besides, I could use the break."

Price was taken aback as he was, once again, faced with all of Nikolai. He could feel his face flush again as his eyes scanned over the man's face and chest, moving all the way down to his hands. They were large, large, and covered in some type of oil or grease that the man was currently trying to wipe off onto a small rag in his hands. That same substance was on the man's shirt and covering bits of his skin, mixing in with a layer of sweat to create a temptingly disheveled look on him. With every slight movement he made, Price found his eyes drawn to something new, whether it be his face, his chest, his arms, or those hands.

"Um," Price tried to refocus his mind, looking back up to meet Nikolai's eyes and noticing the amused smile that now graced his lips. "I don't," he tried to remember what they were talking about, his brows furrowed and he bit his lip for a moment before finally settling on, "I don't plan on going too hard on you."

Nikolai gave a low chuckle in response to that, "We can go as hard as we need to, don't worry, I can keep up." Price flushed red again, mentally cursing himself for the way that his mind had immediately turned to something less than innocent. He didn't trust that his voice wouldn't give him away, so he didn't speak. He just gave the man a quick nod of his head, taking a step back while the other man watched him, that smile still on his lips. "Hmm, cute."

"What?" Price blinked suddenly at the man, unsure if he'd actually heard him speak or not. Certainly, the man hadn't just called him cute?

Nikolai gave a hum in response, turning away from him to walk toward a free-standing sink in the room to begin cleaning up, "What?" The man responded casually.

"Did, did you say something?" Price asked, trailing behind him slightly.

"No," Nikolai responded with a glance over his shoulder. Price opened his mouth to respond to the man, but quickly shut it. He looked away from the other man, embarrassment burning at him. His mind must have been playing tricks on him.

"You're good," Price complimented the taller man with a smile. He'd just watched Nikolai tear apart several different targets on the range, his aim impeccable as he hit every target that he called out for him. Nikolai puffed up with pride at his praise, turning toward him with a bright grin on his face.

Price had learned rather quickly that having a smile plastered on his face seemed to be the man's default setting. It was only a little endearing. Only a little.

"Yeah?" Nikolai leaned toward him, trying to get a peek at the clipboard he held in his hands. Price was quick to tuck it against his chest, leaning away from the man as he received a playful pout in return. "Good enough to join you on a raid?"

Price lifted the clipboard up, just enough to hide his face as he grinned at the papers in front of him. "Hmm," he responded, pretending to look at the paper in front of him harshly, "I don't know," he pulled the clipboard down just enough that he could meet Nikolai's eyes over the top. "You could be cheating."

Nikolai gave a chuckle, seemingly pleased with Price playing along with his teasing. The smile that the man sent his way had Price's chest tightening and his heart squeezing a bit beneath his ribs. It wasn't the most professional reaction to have to someone he'd be working with, but he supposed it was fine so long as the other man didn't notice. "Cheating? Come now, you say that only because I am the best shot you've ever seen."

Price scoffed, lowering his clipboard back to his arms, "I've definitely seen better," he teased.

"Who?"

"Me," Price gave him a smug grin and was pleased to see that Nikolai didn't seem annoyed with his self-confidence, but rather amused at his words.

The man stepped to the side pointing to the base of the shooting range where he'd just been standing, "Care to prove it then?" He held his gun out carefully to Price, a challenging smile on his face.

Price only hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, his chin tilted defiantly up as he set his clipboard face down on the ammo table and took the gun from Nikolai's hands. It was Russian-made, one that he'd never used before, but with quite a few similarities to many of the weapons that he'd used back home.

He checked his ammo quickly, loading in a new mag before stepping up to the little shooting window. "Ah, ah," Nikolai called as he raised his gun, Price turned to look at him with a raised brow. "Ear protection and eye protection, Lieutenant. I'd hate for you to get yourself hurt."

Price rolled his eyes at the man's teasing tone, but listened to his words and grabbed one of the pairs of safety glasses from the table. He tapped the side of his head as he turned toward Nikolai, "I've been wearing ear protection the entire time, you're too loud not to," he was met with another laugh from the other man and he couldn't help but grin at him. He could tell his face was flushed, but this time it seemed to be more from his own enjoyment of the other man's presence rather than his mind running wild while he looked at him. "Call my shots?" He asked after a moment, turning back to the range to lift the weapon up into a ready position.

"Gladly," Nikolai replied, stepping up beside him. "Two by the car," he was starting him off easy, Price wanted to scoff at the man. He took one shot, adjusted for the recoil, then took two more shots, hitting both of the targets by the car with a headshot. Nikolai gave a low whistle before calling, "Three by the shack." Three more headshots. "Two by the wall." These two were fairly far away, still, Price hit his shots. Finally, Nikolai called, "One at the back, by the barrels." This was the farthest target at the little firing range. Price took a moment to aim before he shot and once again hit his target.

He turned back to Nikolai with a grin, already finding the man's eyes on him as he turned. He burned red at the look of amazement that he wore, but managed to stay calm as he smiled at him and teased, "Told you I was better."

"You've really never worked with cars before?" Nikolai tilted his head at him, watching Price with an amused grin as the shorter man peered anxiously under the hood of the car that Nikolai had been working on. They'd returned to the garage together from drills, surprisingly easy conversation flowing between the two.

Price had intended to leave once they'd reached the garage, though the thought did make him feel a tad bit disappointed. He was pleasantly surprised when Nikolai invited him into the garage to look at his latest project. Price had, a little too quickly, taken the man up on his offer. Nikolai hadn't commented on that though, instead, he'd just given him a big smile and guided him inside to look at the car.

He'd been talking about the mechanics of the vehicle for nearly twenty minutes, happily telling Price anything and everything as they walked around the vehicle. It was clear to see how passionate he was about his work, his voice going over every piece of the car excitedly, using words that Price had never heard in his life. He was content to just listen to the other man, even if he didn't understand what he was saying. Something about the happy look on his face and the excitement in his tone had Price's heart beating faster in his chest.

Of course, he'd eventually put his foot in his mouth. He considered himself to be a fairly good bullshitter, he had to be for half of the things that he and MacMillan got up to. Apparently, all of that flew out of the window when he was faced with someone as eye-catching to him as Nikolai. So he'd rather dumbly asked the man a question about something that was apparently common knowledge when it came to cars. Obviously, it wasn't common enough.

He'd felt his face go bright red when the other man had broken into laughs before asking him through his laughter if he actually knew anything about what they'd been discussing. Price had been forced to rather sheepishly admit that he had no idea what the man had been talking about the entire time.

That had led them to where they were now, with Price, rather embarrassingly, standing on a little step stool so that he could lean over the hood of the vehicle Nikolai had been working on. The man was explaining several things to him under the hood, trying to teach him the basics. "I've never had a reason to work with them before," he explained quickly to the taller man, "Nothing's ever fucked up on me before, so no reason to get under the hood."

Nikolai gave a snort, "You've never even changed the oil yourself?"

Price blinked at him for a moment, tilting his head with confusion, "You have to change the oil? How does that work?" Nikolai sputtered at him, a look of absolute horror crossing his face that only disappeared when Price let a playful grin cross his face, letting the other man know that he'd only been joking.

"Not funny," Nikolai muttered, nudging his side, "I was worried for your wellbeing you know."

"If it makes you feel better," Price leaned fully onto the hood, turning to look down at all of the complicated-looking things beneath him, "I don't actually have a personal vehicle, I only have my license for military driving necessities."

"That does certainly make me worry less," Nikolai gave a chuckle, that grin back on his face as he looked up at Price, "Anything you're curious about? I'd be more than happy to explain."

There really wasn't anything that Price was actually curious about, but he'd take any opportunity that he could to listen to Nikolai talk more, especially about something he was interested in. With that thought in mind, he just pointed randomly at something further toward the back of the hood, "What's that thing?"

The car, while likely taller on its own, was also up on jacks, meaning that Nikolai, despite his height, was forced to strain to try to see what Price was pointing at. After a moment, the man gave a sigh and turned, making his way toward him, "Hold on, I can't see it." Price went to step off of the little step stool, only to be instead pushed to the front of the little block, Nikolai stepping up behind him to look over his shoulder.

He could feel his entire face flush red, heat creeping up his spine as he felt the warmth and solidness of Nikolai's chest pressed against his back, his arms caging him in against the vehicle. "What was it you were asking about?" The man asked, his mouth next to Price's ear as he leaned over him.

Price took in a shaky breath, bracing himself against the hood nervously before pointing at the same spot again. "That thing." His voice sounded high and wrecked to his own ears, the sound pulling a wince from him. Thankfully, mercifully, Nikolai didn't mention it, only started explaining the little bit under the hood.

He really didn't mean to, but with Nikolai's chest against his back and his hands caging him against the car, it was no surprise that his mind began to wander. It was a dangerous thing, with the man his mind was focused on being quite literally pressed up behind him. He tried hard to focus on Nikolai's words, but instead, his mind latched on to the feeling of the vibrations of his words against his back.

"Price?" He realized suddenly that he'd definitely zoned out. His mind snapped back into place and he tried to take in a calming breath without the man behind him noticing. "Everything alright?"

"Yup," he responded slowly, "Just thinking. This is all rather complicated, I don't think I'd ever want to mess with any of this."

The words pulled a chuckle from the man behind him, "If you ever get a car, some of these things are important. You should try to learn."

Price wrinkled his nose at the idea, turning so that he could at least halfway look at the other man. He found the usual grin that Nikolai wore waiting on him, "I don't know about that. I think I'll just have someone else fix it up for me." He paused before giving a playful smile, "maybe I'll just have you do it."

He could feel Nikolai's rumbling laugh against his chest as the man responded, "All you'd have to do is ask. I'd be more than happy to help." He didn't quite realize how often he would come to hear those words from the man.

Price hadn't meant to hover around the front of the plane, really, he hadn't. He'd fully intended to board the little vessel with his Captain and take his seat by the man, waiting with the seven Russians, Orlov included, that were joining them on their mission as Nikolai flew them to their drop point. Really, that's what he'd meant to do.

He'd boarded the plane with MacMillan, fully dressed in his gear, one of his favorite beanies firmly in place to keep his hair out of his face. He'd followed MacMillan to his seat, sitting patiently as the back of the plane closed up and they took off into the air. It was a bit awkward, the entire back of the plane was filled only with the sound of loud Russian. Price could have spoken with MacMillan, but the man was chatting tensely with Orlov about business, which meant that Price was left to spend the ride essentially on his own.

Then, a loud voice cut through the noise, calling for Price and making most of the voices in the plane go silent. Price had gone bright red before slipping out of his seat and quickly making his way to the entrance of the small cockpit, leaning in to look at Nikolai. "Nikolai?"

Nikolai had given him a grin, motioning to the empty copilot seat next to him, "Sit with me for the flight?"

Price had blinked at him for a moment, shock sent through his veins. Sure, the copilot didn't have to actually do anything with this type of plane, but Price certainly hadn't expected to be invited to take the seat. He hesitated for a moment, the offer was certainly more appealing than sitting by himself in the back, "Are you sure?"

Nikolai gave a low chuckle, "I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't sure. Come, sit." Price wasn't going to say no to that so, with one last glance back (and choosing to ignore the looks that he was getting from both Orlov and MacMillan), he quickly moved fully into the front area, plopping down in the copilot seat. He was careful to keep his hands folded neatly in his lap, trying to avoid knocking against any of the controls and fucking something up.

"I've never really been at the front of the plane before," he spoke idly, looking around at all of the confusing buttons and switches before teasingly saying, "it seems almost as complicated as a car."

Nikolai gave an amused snort, reaching forward to flip a switch on the dash as he responded, "Trust me, dusha moya, this is far more complicated."

Price tilted his head at the man, watching the way that he so casually flipped switches on the craft, flying the plane as though what he was doing wasn't something unbelievably impressive, at least in Price's mind. The man looked quite good at that moment, his hair slicked back as usual, the headphones that he wore for the plane fit snugly over his ears, and the sunglasses he wore framed his face well. He was wearing another tight shirt, showing off his muscular arms. It was a tempting sight for Price, especially as Nikolai reached up to flip various buttons, his arms flexing with the movement. The man was unbelievably attractive and it was eating its way at Price something fierce.

In any other scenario, Price would have easily considered Nikolai a friend already. Really, they were friends. They'd spent the rest of the day after drills together, they'd been taking their meals together, and Price had taken to joining Nikolai in the garage, chatting idly to the man as he worked on whatever needed to be worked on.

The past week of Price's life had been him befriending the Russian man and, as sad as it sounded, he already felt like Nikolai was probably the best friend that he had. That should have been enough for Price, he should have been happy with the almost natural friendship that had formed between himself and the other man. But he wasn't. He wasn't happy, and the entire reason boiled down to the fact that in the process of befriending Nikolai, Price had also quickly formed a fucking crush on the man.

Sure, it was one thing for him to find Nikolai attractive. He was a gay man with eyes, he wasn't going to not find Nikolai attractive, but to have to admit to himself that he had a crush? It made him feel like a stupid kid in eighth year with a crush on the handsome boy in his maths class. It felt stupid. It felt childish. But fuck, he really wanted to kiss the other man, even though he knew he couldn't.

"It's kinda cool," he muttered lowly, watching Nikolai's hands flex against the steering for the plane, "Seeing you in your element and all."

Nikolai hummed, turning to give him a quick wink that had his face heating up again, "I'm excited to see you in your element," he responded playfully, "Lieutenant Price. I'm quite looking forward to taking orders from you." And fuck, if that didn't make Price squirm in his seat a bit.

"Well," Price turned away from the man, pretending to be interested in something on the dash in front of him, "You may not like it so much when I'm screaming at you to move your ass."

"Oh," Nikolai gave a chuckle, "No, I think I'll still like it just fine." Things were silent between the two for a moment, Nikolai quickly flicked a few more switches as Price tried to get the heat of his face under control and the stupid butterflies in his stomach to stop fluttering. "I like your hat," Nikolai said after a moment.

The comment, though simple, pulled a wide grin from Price, "Yeah? It's one of my favorites!" He reached up to touch the edge of his hat. He had quite an affinity for them and he was more used to people teasing him than complimenting him.

"You wear hats often?" Nikolai questioned, "I noticed the caps that you wore during the week. I was wondering if that was a preference or just because you were having some bad hair."

Price gave a small chuckle, rubbing at the back of his neck. He hadn't expected Nikolai to pick up on something so simple, just the thought that the other man had made his heart flutter again. "Yeah, I have a lot of hats, I usually pick one up every new place that I go. Captain says most of them make me look like a little kid though."

"I don't think so," Nikolai shot a quick glance at him, "I think they make you look cute, dusha moya." Price gripped tight to the fabric of his pants, his face flushing.

"Thank you," he managed to get out, his voice a bit too shaky and high for him to not feel embarrassed.

Nikolai gave a hum, "Have you bought a hat here yet?"

"What?"

"You said you try to pick one up every new place you go. Do you have one from here yet?" Nikolai turned to look at him fully, raising an eyebrow at him above the sunglasses he wore.

Price hesitantly shook his head, "No, not yet. I don't really know my way around the town, so I haven't had a chance yet."

Nikolai's lips curled up slightly at the words. He turned back toward the front of the plane again, casually saying, "Good, I'll take you out to get one when we get back from our mission, yes?"

Price could only agree with the man, those butterflies in his stomach coming back even stronger. He was fucked.

"Nik!" Price turned, watching one of the men who'd been on the mission with them run up to the man next to him, his cheeks tinged red and his breathing heavy as he spoke quick Russian to the man. Nikolai answered in Russian, though based on the way he'd motioned to him while speaking, Price could assume that he was telling the other man that he was taking him out.

The Russian in front of him furrowed his brows, looking Price up and down like he hadn't even realized he was there. It sent a flush of anger down Price's spine. Why were so many of these Russians so damn rude? Luckily the man didn't stay much longer, simply giving Nikolai a friendly slap on the shoulder and a few more words in Russian before turning and heading back to the bar that Price and Nikolai had just left.

Once he was gone, Price turned to Nikolai, his eyebrow raised as his mind turned back to what the man had called him. "Nik?"

Nikolai gave a chuckle, "That's the first time you've heard someone call me that?" He guided Price toward the car they came in, opening the passenger door for him and shutting it once he was inside. Price waited patiently for the man to come around and climb into the driver's seat.

"I like it," he spoke quickly, shooting the man a grin before repeating, "Nik. It's cute." He was surprised to see a bit of red rise to the tops of Nikolai's cheeks at his words.

"Well," Nikolai cleared his throat, "You're free to call me that whenever you want, dusha moya."

"What does that mean?" Price asked quickly. Nikolai had called him that several times now and the almost affectionate-sounding words had been eating at his mind. He'd thought about asking Orlov about it, but the idea of mispronouncing the words to the older man or getting them wrong somehow made him want to jump off a cliff. So he'd decided that was a no.

Nikolai didn't answer him, he just kept his eyes firmly on the road as he drove them into town. "I'm taking you to a clothes shop. I think we'll find you something you'll like there." Price nearly huffed at his question being ignored, but he respected the dismissal for what it was. He wouldn't press, no matter how curious he was.

The ride was short, though not uninteresting. Conversation flowed between the two men naturally, discussions of their mission and the shop they were going to taking up the majority of their conversation. Price also found himself occupied with the sights outside of their small vehicle, admiring the area as they drove through.

They made it to the shop about thirty minutes before they were set to close. It was clear to see that Nikolai was relieved that they'd made it in time, his face fixing into an easy grin as they got out of the car and made their way into the building. Price knew they'd probably stayed a bit longer at the bar than they were meant to, but when Nikolai had jokingly asked if he was able to handle his alcohol, he couldn't help but take the man's offer of a bit of whiskey to wash down a successful mission.

"This place looks nice," Price spoke lowly, trailing through the small clothing shop after Nikolai, "Not sure if it's my style," he wrinkled his nose at an overly flashy top that they passed, "but it's nice."

Nikolai gave a low chuckle, "Luckily for you, their selection of hats is much larger in styles." He motioned Price back to a large wall of hats of any and every kind that he could think of. It was an incredibly impressive sight and one that had Price's heart swelling with excitement. There were so many choices, so many new things that he would be more than willing to add to his growing collection.

"I don't even know where to start," he stepped closer, letting his hand run along the top of several different caps and beanies along the wall, his eyes racing around to try to take in everything. Eventually, he stopped hesitantly at one of the hats, pulling it off to get a closer look at the details.

After a moment, he plopped the hat on his head, turning to look at one of the mirrors along the walls so that he could get a good look at himself. He hummed at the sight. The color wasn't quite working for him and he already had several other caps, so he knew it wouldn't be a winner. Still, he turned to Nikolai with a small smile, "What do you think?"

Nikolai tilted his head at him, his eyes scanning over his face for a moment before saying, "It looks good, though something tells me you don't agree with that?"

Price gave a short chuckle, taking the hat off and returning it to its place on the wall, "I don't like the color," he spoke simply, "And I already have plenty of caps. I'm thinking a different style, like..." he looked over the hats before playfully pulling down one of those gimmicky propellor hats and plopping it on his head. He turned to Nikolai with a grin, already seeing the man trying to contain his laughter, "How about this?"

"Perfect," Nikolai responded, his voice laced with amusement, "Suits you very well I think."

"You don't think it makes me look too childish?" Price stepped closer to Nikolai, a teasing grin still on his face.

"Not in the slightest," the man responded, his lips pressed together tightly to try to hide his smile. After a moment of just looking at one another, Nikolai reached forward, flicking the little propellor on the hat to send it spinning. The two men devolved into laughter only moments after.

They went on that way as Price continued trying on various hats, cracking jokes to one another and delighting in every smile or laugh that the other gave. To Price, this was far more enjoyable than sitting in some Russian bar with MacMillan and a bunch of rude Russian soldiers. Still, they'd gotten to the shop late, which meant that they didn't have much time until a worker was coming up to them to let them know that they were closing in five minutes.

"Well?" Nikolai raised an eyebrow at Price, "Made a decision?"

Price gave a low hum. Normally he would have gone with the soft blue beanie that he had clasped in his hands. It normally would have been his first and only choice, an easy one to make. But there was something else that had caught his attention, though noticeably for a far more selfish reason.

It was a simple hat, something he never would have looked back at twice if it hadn't been for the man standing next to him. It was a brownish-green bucket hat, one that looked more similar to something a fisherman would wear than what he would ever even think of putting on his head. He'd tried it on absentmindedly, not really thinking anything of it. He liked how he looked in it, in an odd way it suited him, but that wasn't the reason why he was thinking about snatching the thing up.

No, the reason behind that was the man standing next to him. He'd turned to Nikolai, prepared with a little quip in mind about the hat. All of his words had failed him when he caught sight of the way the other man was looking at him. His face was soft and there was something that Price would have had to be a fool to miss shining in his eyes. He recognized that look, the pure adoration that the other man was sending his way. It sent a shock of joy through his veins and, just thinking about it had him snatching up the bucket hat.

"I think I'll get both of these actually," He muttered quietly, giving a shy smile to the other man. Though Nikolai only gave him a nod, he could see how pleased his choice made the other man. It pulled a grin to his face, one that didn't leave even as he paid for his hats and walked outside to climb inside the car with Nikolai again. He pulled the tags off and plopped the hat on his head as soon as they were in the car.

He could feel Nikolai's gaze warming him the entire ride back to base. There was something different between them on the ride back, like a shift that filled the air with tension between their light conversation. Maybe it was Nikolai's heated gaze or the flush that sat high on Price's cheeks the entire ride back to base. Maybe it was just that the two were done dancing around one another, bolstered by a successful mission and a week of friendship entwined with flirting.

Price felt closer to Nikolai than he'd ever felt with anyone else and he knew, even when he and MacMillan were forced to leave in the morning, even when he would be so far away from the other man, Price knew that they would stay like that. This friendship, romance, whatever the hell it was...it would just keep growing.

His face was still flushed when they finally arrived back on base, Nikolai pulling the vehicle he'd borrowed back into its space in the garage. Price clambered out, meeting him around the front of the vehicle. They stopped there, watching each other for a moment. Price knew that he needed to get back to his room. It was late and he'd likely missed his check-in with MacMillan, not that he could find it in himself to care. He needed to go inside, but he didn't want to.

"I guess," he cleared his throat, smiling hesitantly up at Nikolai, "I should probably get back to my room. MacMillan and I are supposed to leave tomorrow." He paused, turning his gaze away from Nikolai as he spoke. He wasn't asking anything crazy, and he wasn't making a request that would seem anything but friendly, but still, looking the other man in the eye seemed too intimate. "Please stay in touch and everything, I'd like to say goodbye tomorrow before I leave, but I know you're busy, so-"

There was a hand on his jaw, gently turning his face. Warm soft lips connected with his own, pressing passionately against him and nearly knocking him back with the force. He was pressed back against the vehicle quickly, caged against the metal by Nikolai's strong arms as the man stole the breath from his lungs. Price didn't hesitate to react, his own arms moving to wrap around the man's shoulders, yanking him as close as he physically could.

The feeling of the man's warm body pressed against his own sent shivers down his spine and pulled a satisfied little sigh from his lips. This, Nikolai licking his way into his mouth, his hands gripping tight at his hips to hold him steady, it was so much. It was so much, but it was so perfect.

After a moment, Nikolai pulled back from the kiss, resting his forehead against Price's as they both took in deep breaths. They didn't say anything at first, just looked at one another, occasionally diving down to press another short but passionate kiss against the other's mouth. Finally, after several moments, Nikolai pressed closer to him, slotting their lips together again so that he could mumble through the kiss, "See me tomorrow, before you leave. In the garage."

Price could only nod against him, his mouth far too occupied to respond with words.

Price was still high on Nikolai's kisses when he made his way back to his room. He could still feel the man's touches on his skin, tingling where they'd brushed against his arms or grabbed his hips. He was high on the feeling.

Of course, with every high came a crash. Price's came in the form of his Captain sitting on the bed in his room, a knowing eyebrow raised at him. "Captain," Price tried. MacMillan didn't let him finish.

"I told you to befriend the pilot," he tilted his head at Price, "Not seduce him."

"Sir," Price started, his voice small, "I didn't mean to, it's just he's so," he tried to find the right word, but nothing good enough came to his mind so he lamely settled on, "nice."

MacMillan watched him for a moment. "You like him? Really like him?" Price nodded his head hesitantly. There was a moment of silence before MacMillan gave a heavy sigh and stood up from his bed, "Listen to me, John. I want you to be happy, I do, but I also want you to be successful." Price winced a bit at his words, diverting his eyes to the ground quickly. "This goes beyond what is professional, if this doesn't work out for you? If the two of you only last a month before having a heated break? That's an ally that you've lost." He stepped forward, placing a hand on Price's shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze, "It's your call, lad. Just know what you could be losing."

The man stood for another moment, watching him before giving a quick pat on his shoulder and leaving the room. Price stood silently, his Captain's words eating at his mind. There was a heavy feeling that settled in his chest, a heavy feeling and a pool of dread that rose up his throat, replacing the high of Nikolai with the weight of the crash. It was consuming. It was heartbreaking. But, above all, it was enough to pull Price back to reality, a reality where he knew what he had to do.

Price felt sick stepping into the garage. He had his bag slung over his shoulder, all of his few things packed up. He was ready to leave Russia, but the thought made him feel sick. When Nikolai saw him, fixing him with that bright grin that made his heart stutter in his chest, he wondered if the sting in his chest was what a gunshot felt like. He was sure he'd find out eventually, sometime in his career.

Nikolai seemed to pick up on his less-than-stellar attitude, his smile falling into something more concerned as he stepped closer. He came closer, reaching out for him, but Price stepped back. He gripped tight at his bag, avoiding the look of confusion that the other man sent him. He looked like a kicked puppy. It broke his heart, the splinters of it piercing into his chest harder.

"John?" Nikolai's voice was soft, laced with concern, "Is everything alright?"

"I," Price bit his lips, trying to find his words. This was better for both of them, in the long run. It was right. "About last night. I think we should try to keep things professional."

"What?" Price winced at the sound of Nikolai's voice. He could feel tears threatening to rise to his eyes, but he pushed them down. He couldn't fucking cry over this.

"We're going to be working together for a long time," Price cleared his throat, "I think it would be better if we didn't complicate that. If we just stayed as friends and coworkers."

"Friends?"

Price winced again, bringing a hand up to readjust the hat on his head. It was the bucket hat, the one he'd picked last night. There was a bit of comfort that he took in the material, in the memories that it carried with it. "If you want to stay friends," he replied, "I understand if, with all of this, you'd prefer it if we just were coworkers. Nothing else."

He jolted back when hands grabbed his own, pulling them up and drawing his attention back to Nikolai's face. Price could feel his eyes going glassy as he looked at the other man, recognizing the confusion, dread, and heartbreak that was building there. "John," Nikolai shook his head at him, stepping closer, "Tell me that you don't want this."

Price shook his head, looking away from the man as he slowly pulled his hands away and responded, "It isn't about what I want. It's about what is going to be better for both of us in the long run." He took a step away from the man, feeling like he was fighting against his own body to actually move away. He didn't want this. He didn't want to pull away from the man in front of him. He did though. He did because it was going to be better for both of them. "I'm sorry," he muttered to the other man.

Nikolai didn't respond to him, his face frozen into a picture of devastation. Price wondered briefly if a lie would have been better. If telling Nikolai that he didn't want him would have saved them both the heartache of knowing what they wanted, but couldn't have. It was too late for that though. He readjusted his bag on his shoulder, "I'm sorry. I," he paused, taking a deep breath, "I have to go. I'm sorry."

He hesitated for one more moment before turning, slowly making his way to the garage door. It felt like one of the hardest things that he'd ever done. Walking away. It wasn't until he got to the door, pushing it open to step out, that he finally heard Nikolai's voice. "John." Price hesitated for a moment. He prayed that Nikolai wouldn't ask him to stay, he didn't know that he'd be able to say no if he did. He turned to look at the man. Nikolai took a moment, steeling his face before saying, "If you need anything, just ask. I would be more than happy to help."

Price understood the weight of the words. He understood what the other man was telling him. He could feel his heart stuttering in his chest and he could certainly feel tears rushing to his eyes now. He didn't let them fall yet, he just nodded his head to the man before weakly replying, "Thank you, Nik."

He left the garage without another word, making his way toward the plane that would take himself and MacMillan back to their base. If his Captain noticed him wiping tears from his face he didn't say anything. Price felt sick. He could feel regret bubbling up in his chest. He'd done the right thing, but he knew that he'd also set himself up for a lifetime of wanting. A lifetime of looking, but never touching. A lifetime of pain when the other man eventually moved on. He knew, beyond anything, that he'd set himself up for failure.

Masterlist

#captain price #captain john price #john price #price x nikolai #nikprice #cod mw fanfiction #cod mw2 fanfic #cod #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #captain price fanfiction #cod nikolai #cod price

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cadet-aviator · 1 month

Text

Becoming an Army Cadet

The experience of the Elite Camp did linger in my mind, of course, and the words of the Admiral about my ‘true nature’, my love of discipline, my need to obey, resonated for months. They didn’t make me unhappy; they actually seemed to confirm what I had been feeling all along.

When I was in Thailand with Dad I had had a strong feeling to go back to the Admiral and sign up for whatever he wanted. I mentioned before that he had touched something in me at a very profound level. He had seen me for what I was: obedient. Submissive. Loyal. And he had put this in words, and no one had done that before.

All this had a strong influence on the relationship with my parents – my Dad, mostly. I already felt at home in the cadet life, the ‘brotherhood’ of my school cadet platoon, and I felt attracted to the extreme discipline of that Elite Camp (even though it was such a shock to fail at it). Now the Admiral had opened a door to … another home, basically, or even: another life, another family. Which is unkind to say, given the troubles my Dad had to cope with, but it was a fact. I didn’t mind having to kneel for the Admiral. I found that I was comfortable doing it. Even happy.

I soon found out what Dad had decided about the Camp, and the Admiral’s offer.

Once again I was summoned to appear at the Army Cadet office, this time in Army Cadet uniform. The dreaded green shirt, which I had not liked until then, but now I was pleased to put back on. The proceedings were a bit quicker, this time. I only had to wait half an hour and I was inspected only once.

First of all, I was told I was now going to formally enlist in the Army Cadet program. That was one step up from just being a school cadet.

Technically school cadets were also part of the Malay military, we had Army personnel doing the drills, but only in extreme circumstances did that actually mean anything – school cadets were called up once to help fill sandbags during a storm, but that was it.

Then I was told I was going to enlist for two and a half years, right up to my 18th birthday.

I would have to take an oath and declare that I was obedient to Army Cadet law and Army Cadet regulations. It was a serious thing.

Technically I could not be recruited into the Army, I was still an underage cadet, a schoolboy, and my parents still had complete legal authority over me (and they had to agree to all this) – but in practice I was now a junior soldier. Any superior, anyone of higher rank who saw me in cadet uniform could now order me around, inspect me, give me demerits. Refusing to obey an order could mean court martial proceedings, disciplinary measures, fines, even incarceration. They read it all out to me. The world around seemed to disappear.

My life was turned around. Cadets was no longer a school thing, a hobby; I was to become a full time ‘24/7’ Army Cadet, in permanent service, but with special permission to attend school and take part in school cadets. Any other activities had to be approved by the Army Cadet Program. Any demerit I got at school, any grade below an 8/10, would be added to my Army Cadet record and would be punished accordingly.

Wearing the uniform was now compulsory. I already voluntarily dressed in either school uniform or cadet uniform at all times, but this was now an absolute rule. ‘At all times’ meant exactly that. Any informal social event, every birthday party, every movie night at a friend’s house, any trip to the mall: in uniform. I could sleep and shower without it, but if I wanted to go for a swim with my mates, I’d have to have permission beforehand. I'd have to figure out precisely when I could be in school cadet uniform and when I had to be in Army cadet uniform.

It was all insanely strict (I later realised that the regime in most prisons was more relaxed) but I took it as completely natural. Bear in mind that the Army Cadets were a pretty big organisation. Kids in my school who were keen on entering the Military Academy after graduation were envious of me, that I was accepted 'just like that'. You could enter Army Cadets at age 12 - they had drill platoons of really little boys, and I realised those boys had been signed up to exactly the same system of discipline. It dawned on me later that I was not the only kid then who had no casual clothes, no free time, no free choices.

When I stood in that office to hear what was going to happen to me, there were three or four other cadets my age waiting to be enlisted too.

One of them signed his form alongside me. We didn't chat, of course: cadets didn't talk without permission. I had learned that the hard way, in Camp.

It was made clear that I was a bit of a special case. I expected that was because of the benevolent influence of His Excellency, but it was not just because of that: it turned out that my stack of demerits after the Elite Camp and the 240 hours of Disciplinary Service weighed heavily on my record. The Army Cadet Program accepted me with conditions attached; my punishment chores had been done satisfactorily, but they were still ‘suspicious’ as to my true motivation, and so they ‘suggested’ that they made this Disciplinary Service a permanent feature, and the 8 hours a week were increased to 16, so I could be called upon to serve longer hours, including in the evenings. This was necessary also, they said, as His Excellency had indicated that I was to get Mess and Household training, and I might as well get experience there before I was to go to Elite Camp over the summer, for seven weeks, and three more weeks over the Christmas period.

I confess that took me aback a bit, when I heard it: I hadn’t realised that was already decided for me. I couldn't quiet fathom what 16 hours of service per week would mean for the rest of my life, school work, things at home, but this was clearly not a place to argue.

Finally, I was again given the option of agreeing to corporal punishment, but I chose not to. I had seen other cadets receiving the cane, in Camp, and I was not having that. I could not refuse the option of having to wear a discipline harness during drill and marches.

They gave me the enlistment form and I signed.

I noticed that my Dad had signed it before me. He hadn’t told me anything, but I realised (with a bit of a shock) that he had finally and competely understood what I wanted. I did feel as if he was giving me away. He had actually left the option for CP open - left that for me to decide.

I laid down the pen and stood to attention.

I was now an Army Cadet. I was ordered to again go to the office down the hall and receive a full Army Cadet outfit. ‘Dismissed.’

I walked home with my arms full of new uniform items.

And exactly one hour and fifteen minutes later the doorbell rang. Mrs Lee opened.

'Excuse me, miss, please present Cadet N for inspection, miss.'

'You'll find him in his bedroom, sergeant.'

'Thank you, miss.'

They had me.

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reds-skull · 9 months

Text

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

I'm going back to my parent's house for the holidays, so I'm probably gonna post less in the next couple of days...

Soap’s eyes dart between the 3 revenants in the room, wide and fearful.

Ghost watches how he turns it into rage.

“I’m not a ‘revenant killer’, whatever the fuck they call it.” Soap snarls, glaring at the screen as if he’s looking at Laswell, “I wasn’t killed by a revenant.”

Laswell exhales, Ghost can imagine the smoke streaming from her mouth, “a revenant killer is a revenant that is made to combat other revenants. You were created to defeat whoever killed your squad - to kill Konchar.”

Johnny’s revenge… the reason they’re both stronger than they truly had to be. And yet, they’re different, Ghost muses.

Soap wanted retribution for his dead mates. Ghost? He wanted payback for his own.

Johnny clutches at his hair, hands burning bright, fire crackling dangerously. Ghost takes hold of his left hand, gently pulling it away from his warhawk.

“Johnny.” Soap glares at him.

“So much fuckin’ evil comes out because I lived that day, Simon. Sometimes I’m real feckin’ sick of it.”

Soap tries to fight his hold, but Ghost pulls him closer, towering over him, “then do something about it. The past is unchangeable, you’re already alive. What are you gonna do about it.”

Ghost squints, his voice lowers, “you wanted revenge? Let’s fucking get it, Sergeant.”

Flames dance in blue skies, anger and rage that knows no bounds, uncontrollable forest fire decimating everything in its path.

Johnny nods, determination fueling his flames.

Laswell was the last break they needed before they could truly form a rescue operation. She informs them of Graves’ power limits, his priorities, the reason he captured a platoon’s worth of revenants.

He aims for Soap. One giant bait the American knows Johnny would never ignore. If they could get their hands on the original revenant killer, they hope to be able to replicate his “success”. Create a pipeline of vengeful not-dead.

Gaz will cover the skies, radio in locations of shadows, suspicious movements, and if he can, the locations of their teammates.

Ghost, Soap and Rudy will take to the underground, tunneling under the prison and freeing Alejandro. From then on, it’s a race against time, Gaz and Alejandro using their abilities to find everyone, and Rudy and Soap clearing the Shadows from their paths.

Once everyone is outside his range, Ghost will use Limbo to annihilate any remaining Shadows. Before that, Ghost’s main objective is keeping Johnny safe. Limbo’s new docile state brings with it the long-lost control he had on the realm, the ability to create only a small circle of void around him, one that Ghost thought he’ll never have again. That means, if any Shadows try to grab at Johnny, Ghost will simply let his victims rip them apart.

They don’t have the element of surprise in that Graves is waiting for them, but what the Shadow Company revenant doesn’t know is how much they understand his limitations, as well as Ghost and Soap’s changed powers.

Laswell has to leave soon after they finish planning, Shepherd breathing down her neck. She promises to do anything that might help them, but their group is operating outside any government jurisdiction as of now.

Meaning, if they were to fail, no one will come to save them.

They have one shot. Ghost prays the Reapers that’s all they’ll need.

Johnny drags him to the back of the safe house right before they’re supposed to gear up, ignoring Ghost’s questioning hum.

He slams him against the wall, fingers digging into his shoulders, nostrils flaring with barely restrained anger.

“Let me get the kill on Graves, LT.” Soap says through clenched teeth, “this entire thing is my fault - I can fix this.”

Ghost tilts his head, mauling it over, “if the opportunity arises-”

“No.” flames grow in his peripheral, and Soap lets his hands fall away, “I need to kill him, I need-”

“Revenge?”

Ghost can see how Soap’s heart stops beating. How he stills. Ghost risks a hand, bringing it up to brush Johnny’s hair, wild and unruly from the previous days’ events. “I understand. But remember your first priority, Sergeant.”

Johnny closes his eyes, pushing lightly against Ghost’s hand, “get the others out alive.”

“The others and yourself, Johnny. Graves has his sights on you.” his hand travels down to Soap’s neck, pulling him closer, “if he catches you…”

Johnny nudges his head under Ghost’s. “I’m not easy to hold, Simon. Was made to destroy.”

Simon wraps his arms around Johnny, taking deep breaths of his smell, burning fireplace and safety.

Now that they practically disobeyed their Reapers, he’s not sure anymore that his Reaper’s prophecy isn’t null and void. If Johnny is still destined to kill him first. Simon’s mind conjures a million images, scenes of Johnny laying dead, body broken beyond repair, eyes vacant staring at the sky, never to meet Simon’s again.

“I’m going to be alright. I just told you I’m too strong for anyone’s good.” Johnny tries to joke under him, sensing his sudden tension.

Simon pulls him closer yet, “you’re still mortal, last I checked.”

A huff of breath tickles his neck, where the mask rucked up in light of Johnny’s wiggling. Simon brushes another hand over dark strands, ungloved hand tingling with the sensation, and he gets the urge to bury his face in it.

Simon is used to living in regret, in ‘what would’ve’s and ‘I should’ve’.

He doesn’t want Johnny to become another memory to fuel his aches.

Simon reaches above Johnny’s head, taking hold of the skull mask. With a deep breath, he slides it off his head.

“What are ye-” Johnny looks up in confusion, before his eyes soften, creases smooth over.

Blue eyes dart over his features, mapping the newfound grounds, tilling paths in their wakes. Simon can almost feel their weight, the burn, as they follow scars to landmarks.

A hand, white flames curling around it, raises slowly to brush over his skin, hot and cold, gentle yet firm. Simon feels tears gather in his eyes, and he lets his lids shut, head bowing to rest in calloused hands.

Johnny’s breath fans over his cheek, making him shudder, “didn’t know you had face markings.”

Simon opens his eyes, brows furrowing a little, “I don’t.”

Mirthful eyes follow a track down his cheek, “ye do… right here.” a thumb brushes from Simon’s lower eyelid, to his jaw. “They’re white, reminds me of yer eyes in Limbo…”

Tear tracks.

“They’re new…” Simon relaxes a little when he understands, “when you entered Limbo, I… my tears must’ve left them.”

“Fuck…” Johnny purrs, “You’re breathtaking, Simon.” he lifts Simon’s head when he tries to back away, “beautiful. Knew yer bonnie under that mask of yers.”

“Fuck off…” he turns away.

Johnny laughs, “I’m serious. Let me look at ye, please?”

Simon glares at him before relenting, Johnny resuming his examination, eyes and hands caressing him.

“Thank ye…” Johnny breathes, “thank ye fer… fer existing. Without ye, or Gaz, or Price… I wouldn’t have so many reasons to live.”

Simon inhales shakily, Johnny whispering now, “I couldn’t imagine wanting something more than repent before I met ye.”

“And now?”

He hears the small smile in Johnny’s voice, “now I want to be with ye, fer as long as I can. Fer as long as the Reapers will let me.”

Simon covers the hand on his face with his, “we don’t need permission from them. I’ll be here as long as you’ll have me.”

Johnny gives him that crooked grin Simon had come to love so much, “I’m afraid that will be quite a while, m'eudail.”

The dirt in Las Almas doesn’t smell too different from his grave’s, Ghost decides. The mask is the only thing protecting his mouth from its taste, and even that feels too thin.

There’s no place for panic on the field, no space for the soldier inside Ghost to raise his head and shout “I’m scared.”

Soap’s controlled explosions burn that smell, transform it into something more familiar.

Fuck, he could kiss Johnny’s insane exploding hands right now.

Their comms crackle to life, “Shadows didn’t notice you yet, clear to continue pushing.” Garrick’s voice barely sounds over the explosions.

“WHAT?!” Soap yells up front.

Rudy cups his hands to shout back, “keep going, hermano! We’re in the clear!”

“COPY!”

Ghost waits for Rudy, walking beside him to check the map, “how close are we to cellar level?”

Rudy taps a pen over a point, “this is our target…” the pen moves down, stopping about 2 inches away from the cellar, “and this is where we should be, according to my calculations.”

Another explosion shakes their tunnel, Soap rushing back to burn off oncoming debris from the ceiling, “we need teh move faster than this! Tunnel’s not gonna hold!”

Ghost nods, clicking his comms, “Gaz, we’re going to start running, be prepared.”

“Copy, good luck down there.”

Rudy mutters under his breath in Spanish, “may the Reapers keep us alive.”

Soap looks back, “on the count of three!” his body tenses in preparation.

Two…

One…

“NOW!” Johnny lets go of the ceiling, sprinting ahead and practically melting his way, Ghost and Rudy running right behind him as the tunnel collapses.

The three revenants continue running, Gaz informing them the Shadows have started suspecting something’s afoot, until Rudy rushes ahead to grab Soap’s shoulder and shout in his ear, “stop! Alejandro should be right here!”

His Sergeant instantly lifts his hands above him to hold the ceiling. Ghost notes they’re now surrounded by concrete rather than dry earth.

Rudy adjusts the light attached to his tac vest, trying to calculate where Alejandro is exactly.

Ghost instantly aims at the left wall when something goes through it.

Alejandro appears, Rudy and Soap gaping at him, before the Colonel grabs Rudy into a hug. The Sergeant Major returns it after a second of stunned silence, and Alejandro starts mumbling something in Spanish, before he lifts his head and notices Soap.

“You bunch of pandejos! What is he doing here?!” he points at Johnny.

Soap grunts, “can we get to the accusations later?? I’m still holding the steamin’ ceiling!”

Ghost shoves the two Vaqueros out of the way, and Soap stretches a hand to explode the wall to Alejandro’s cell. They all rush inside with Soap behind them.

“Ghost.” Alejandro nods to Soap, “you are aware Graves is after him, right?”

“Affirm. We got intel from Laswell.”

The Vaquero scoffs, “and you still brought him here?!”

Johnny walks around Ghost to confront Alejandro, “I’m here on my own volition. Unless you wanted Rudy and Ghost to walk through the front gates.” he casts a challenging stare at the man.

Rudy lifts his hands like he’s trying to calm an angry beast, “Soap knows the risks. We needed to save you. Do you know where Graves holds the rest of them?”

Alejandro’s face relaxes when he looks at Rudy, “probably on the top floor of the prison. I didn’t see anyone since we got caught.”

“Shadows are moving on your location, Bravo!” Garrick shouts through the comms, “strongly suggest you start moving, now!”

Ghost searches the cell for an exit, spotting a trap door on the high ceiling, “you’re not hiding a ladder anywhere here, do you Alejandro?”

The Colonel shakes his head as Soap follows Ghost’s gaze, noticing the door.

“I’ll get it, stand back.” Johnny’s eyes are locked on the ceiling as he positions himself under the door.

Ghost’s brow furrow, “what are you planning, Sergeant?”

Soap smirks in a way that brings only trouble, and turns on his comms, “gonna use the rocket technique.”

Ghost has to shove the bloody thing away when Gaz shrieks, “without me?! Oh, I’m gonna get you back for this, MacTavish.”

“Sorry mate, maybe next time.” Johnny snickers.

“Fuckin’ hell…” Ghost grabs the two extremely confused Vaqueros, dragging them back, Rudy muttering “rocket?” and sighs heavily, “get on with it, Sergeant.”

Soap smiles at him before looking back up, “with pleasure, LT.”

His Sergeant drops to a crouch, placing his hands on the ground, and inhales. The cell is too damn small for this “technique”, and Ghost has to cover his face with a forearm when Soap explodes up.

Ghost lets his arm fall when he hears a comically loud THUNK when Soap hits his head on the door, watching the Sergeant scramble to hold the edges. Johnny twists his body in a remarkable feat of agility, and kicks the door open before swinging out.

A moment later, a ladder drops down, Johnny popping his head out of the door, “all clear!”

When they climb up, Ghost notices blood trickling down Soap’s temple, and he calls, “Johnny, how copy? Solid?”

The Scot lets out a frankly concerning laugh, “aye, think Ah got a wee concussion, bu’ it’ll heal in no time.”

“It fucking better, Sergeant.”

Soap offers a hand and helps Ghost up, “of course, sir.” he has a dopey smile when Ghost lets go of his arm, “have I ever told you how beautiful yer eyes are, LT?”

Ghost grabs the back of his neck and shoves him forward, ignoring the giggling Vaqueros behind him.

He’s going to smack Garrick for putting this idea in Johnny’s mind next time he sees him, fucking hell…

You guys don't know how long I've been waiting to put the rocket technique in a mission

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ahungeringknife · 8 months

Text

Posting original stuff for the first time always feels like the top of a roller coaster just before the drop for me :,D Info links are all at the bottom

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The Zealous Servant | 1 | No place like home

====+====

If not for the feeling of his stomach in his throat Spayar wouldn't have even noticed when they came in for a landing. Two rows ahead someone threw up in a bucket and he was glad they'd waited until they landed. The small cabin started smelling like vomit almost immediately and several of Spayar's old platoon-mates started giving the person a hard time. They thought flying was bad they wouldn't have lasted one week in their platoon!

Before it could get too rowdy or a fight break out the doors were opened and the two flighters who'd brought them here started directing everyone out. Spayar got up and was out the cabin quickly to get out into the open sky. He'd seen it was gray skies from the window in the cabin and now landing the clouds seemed even lower than usual. He went over to the waiting area for his luggage with the rest of the passengers. It was already covered for the year for the rain. On the landing pad the two wyrms were stretching their legs from the flight and one was already starting to curl up like a sleeping cat, its bristles and razor scales and spines laying flat so it looked like a smooth dull gray stone. Porters were running around the back of the cabin, a aerodynamic cylinder with a couple of portholes and two doors, unloading the luggage.

A man he'd served time with knocked shoulders with him, "So you coming back for more fun, Hillsman?" he asked.

"As delightful as losing my gag reflex was-" he paused when the he laughed "- I have other civil work to do."

The man nodded slowly. "That was a dumb question, Fanger," another platoons-man said to the older man. She was Spayar's age. "Spayar's d'aelar to the Prince. You're lucky the Prince didn't pull rank to pull him out sooner." Spayar grimaced. She didn't have to say it so loudly as now some normal passengers were looking at him. It was too early in the morning for him to have to look dignified. He did square out his shoulders at least.

"Right. Forgot that. You talk way too normal to fit in with those stuffy nobles," the man clapped Spayar on the shoulder hard.

It's almost like I'm educated and know when it's better to dumb myself down, Spayar thought but didn't say. "Have to bring them down to my level sometimes," he said with his best charming grin.

"Hillsman?" one of the porters called as they'd brought the luggage from the back. He slipped out from the man's grip and collected his luggage, a back pack and a small carry trunk. He saw the faded buoyancy weave on both items put on there before the flight to keep the weight down and just reconnected the threads. The bag and trunk immediately weighed a third of their normal weight. He picked up the trunk one handed after slinging the pack over his shoulder and walked off the landing platform and down to the post office below.

It was busy already at the Central Office but mostly of postal people, the odd flighter boredly waiting around for their daily trips, or the bustling blue dressed messengers. A few people already were in line to send their mail. He paid none of them any mind. He just wanted to get home.

There were taxis waiting outside the post office after an air travel landing. He just took the first one, a petty cab pulled by what looked like an ostrich if not for a face like a rat and lacking any feathers and was instead brown furred and covered in a smattering of black and dark brown spots. The driver sat astride it while Spayar loaded in. "Where to, fella?" the driver asked.

"Synnerstock street, number sixteen, out in Bellringer," Spayar said and gratefully sat in the taxi.

"Roger," and the driver urged the Pol'cobb forward and they were off at a good speed joining the mostly foot traffic of the city in downtown Assarus.

The trip out to Bellringer was not short and Spayar just leaned back in the taxi and watched the city fly by. He hadn't been home in two years while serving time but everything seemed more or less the same. He'd have to feed the birds as soon as he got a chance. He'd kept in touch with his friends and accomplices via letter or Seeing spell when he could manage but there were some things you didn't want to talk about over something like letters or spell that could be tracked or spied upon.

"Can we go through South Garden?" he asked the driver as they were leaving the downtown area and it looked like the driver was about to take the longer, if more scenic, route along Riverside and Tradesmen.

"Roger," the driver said and took a different street. Spayar thought South Garden was a pretty neighborhood too. Lots of hanging flower baskets or grow boxes in their windows but the cramped quarters of the houses prevented those who lived here from having proper gardens. The awnings here over the street were more colorful than the ones downtown and caused the light on Spayar's dark skin to cast it into different glows.

Entering Belringer was obvious as South Garden's streets were winding but Belringer had been laid out by strict city planners. The roads were neat and straight and there was more room for gardens for the homes, more breathing room for the inhabitants.

"Thirteen was it, fella?" the driver asked over his shoulder.

"Sixteen," Spayar corrected.

"Roger." The taxi came to a stop a few moments later. "This place?" the driver clarified.

"Roger," Spayar said and climbed out of the taxi. He pulled out his wallet and paid the driver and once he'd removed his luggage the driver kicked the pol'cobb off again and they were trundling down the street once more.

Spayar looked at the building he'd been left in front of. The front was a workshop and store front of his father's and behind was a large two story house with a large connected garden hidden by a high wooden fence. The front door was through the garden unless he wanted to pass through the shop front and he really didn't.

Much to his annoyance the garden door wasn't locked. He remembered always scolding his siblings about making sure the door was locked when they left or came home. He bet it was Duren, or maybe Anora. She was the more forgetful of the Hillsman siblings. But it benefited him today as he didn't have to fish his key out and entered the garden. It was full of late summer growth and early autumn sprouts, some tended to in neat rows and others left to grow more wild.

He locked the door as he headed for the front door. It also wasn't locked. He walked right in and Spayar was greeted by the smell of his mother's cooking from the kitchen where he heard her moving around and probably making a mess of things. She was a good cook if not a very tidy one. Spayar closed the door softly and went around to the three quartered walled kitchen. She didn't notice him at first.

At least he thought she didn't. "Duren you just had breakfast, lunch isn't for a while yet, go back to helping your father," she said in her sweet accented Feylian, not looking at him. Spayar smiled to himself. She thought he was his little brother. Spayar hoped he hadn't gotten as tall as Spayar was already.

"I would but Duren's not here," Spayar said giving his mother such a fright she nearly threw the spoon she was using to tend to whatever was on the stove.

Relora spun and let out a cry. Spayar grinned when his mother rushed over and gave him a great hug. She felt slight in his arms when he hugged her back. She was saying something excitedly in Dirnine but Spayar hated to admit he had trouble following. "Let me see you my sweet," she proclaimed in Feylian and stepped back to take his face in both her hands.

"Amma," he said with a tired smile looking at her. She was a dark skinned Dirinnan with a few freckles on the sides of her face and around her temples framing sea glass green eyes. Her forehead was high and her long black hair was pulled back in a neat single pleat and then pinned into bun on the top of her head. Specific scars decorated the middle of forehead of a vertical straight line and two lines curved against the straight parts. Spayar didn't know the meaning of the scars but his mother usually touched them when she prayed. She said something in Dirnine. "Amma, I forget," he complained.

That made her laugh. "You've only been gone two years, Junior," she said, her teeth white in her smile.

"I'm a dumb foolish boy though, amma," he whined.

"Oh, my poor foolish mazuk," she said and fondly patted his cheek. She kissed him on the cheeks and between the eyes. "You just arrived?"

"Yes. Took a flight from Fort Fetari here in the predawn."

She frowned, "Isn't that dangerous."

"Mail wyrms fly in the dark, amma, it was fine," he said hoping to alleviate some fear. "I want to get some sleep before lunch? Before I have to get to work," he sighed.

She laughed softly. "And you work so hard, Junior," she said gently. "But try to take a few days off hmm?"

"I'll see how long I can avoid the Prince then," he told her like a secret and she didn't look impressed by that at all knowing such a thing was impossible. "I'll get that nap in at least."

"Alright. I'll have Duren wake you for lunch," and she hugged him one more time. "You can tell us all about your time served over lunch."

"Sure," he tried not to groan. He would much rather forget it if he was honest.

She let him go and Spayar scooped his trunk back up and went upstairs. Down the hall his door was opposite his sister Calli's and he could hear her in her own room. He went into his own room. It was as he left it. Bed made, things organized and put away, everything filed where it was supposed to go. His bookshelf was orderly and his mother had come in here a few times to refresh the room as there was no dust and it didn't smell like old cleaning. Two windows let in mid morning light despite the curtains and made the room very bright. An old mobile of the solar system hung from the ceiling in the corner. He set the lightened trunk and back pack down and went over to mobile. Lightly he reached up and touched the fifth planet on the mobile and connected an old weave on it. He half expected it to have faded but was pleasantly surprised it was still there. He didn't know why. Tassa had made this weave and she was the strongest weaver he'd ever met.

While nothing about the room changed it got considerably darker in the room as the magic sprang into life over the windows as an invisible spider web, not allowing as much light in as before. Perfect for when you wanted to take a nap during the day or if you were hung over from the night before and the suns were just too much.

Spayar didn't even bother taking off any of his clothes except his boots, coat, and belt before face planting onto his bed with a groan.

He was woken by a small, dense, body throwing itself onto him. He started awake as arms wrapped around him. "De-de, time to wake up!" Duren cried at the top of his voice making Spayar's ears ring.

"I'm awake," Spayar said with all the affection one would have for a problematic isopod. It wasn't that he didn't love his baby brother he just did not love being jumped on.

"Amma said it was time for lunch," Duren said brightly.

"So I surmised," Spayar said and tried to sit up, impossible with a small child clinging to his waist. "Duren-- we can't go to lunch if you don't let me go."

"But I like hugging you," Duren said looking at him with the same green eyes their mother had. "I missed you."

Spayar softened despite his desire to be annoyed. Duren had gotten bigger since the last he'd seen him, both taller and wider. He had to be what, seven? Eight? He thought it was eight. Still chubbier than a normal eight year old with baby weight. He was cute so Spayar didn't mind. "Yeah but I'm hungry. Aren't you? Working with dad doesn't work up an appetite? I should tell him he's slacking-

"No! We work a lot," Duren insisted and climbed off Spayar. Spayar got up and didn't mind when Duren grabbed his hand. "You didn't come through the shop," he said as Spayar left his room, Duren in tow. He didn't hear Calli in her room and figured Anora was at school.

"Doo'suvf talks," was all Spayar said, speaking of their father. "And I wanted to come home and sleep."

"Hmph," Duren wasn't impressed and Spayar let go of his hand so they could walk down the stairs. Duren trundled down the steps two at a time, hopping off the final three steps, "Amma! I got Junior," he proclaimed.

"Duren I've told you not to jump from the higher steps," Relora scolded Duren who pouted at her, puffing up his cheeks and lips. "It's dangerous, you could hurt yourself."

"But I didn't amma," Duren said.

Spayar left his mother to scold Duren and wandered towards the dining room and-

Sitting next to his sister was someone very out of place in a family home of dark skinned Dirinnans. Or it would have been if Von hadn't spent most of their childhood sneaking out of the Palace to come have meals and sleepovers at Spayar's. "You," he pointed at Von sitting next to Calli.

They both whipped around at his voice. Von pointed right back. "You. What are you doing here?"

"I live here!" Spayar cried and Calli giggled into her hand. "What's your excuse?"

"I was in the area," Von said with that annoyingly handsome smile of his that made him like a sunbeam.

"Lemp's ball sack you were," Spayar said and sat across from Von at the table. Vondugard Le'Acard was Spayar's best friend and the most beautiful man he'd ever laid eyes on. All fair golden skin and hair with the most intensely cerulean eyes he'd ever seen. When he smiled he had dimples and wore his hair at a fashionable length around the top of his ears with a long front fringe that today he had pinned back with a gaudy silver unicorn rampart clip. Spayar didn't usually go for white guys but Von was an exception. As he was with everything. He was also a Crown Prince of the Alliance.

"He always comes and has lunch with us on Siscest," Calli said thoughtfully, rightfully snitching on him immediately.

"Since when?"

Calli just shrugged. "A while? Probably since your presence was missed in the Palace."

"I get no peace with the two of you together," Von said, hand to his forehead. Calli giggled. Calli looked a lot like Spayar but took more after their mother than their father with a high forehead, graceful nose and delicate hands. She was also lighter skinned than Spayar like their father. Spayar got Relora's nearly eggplant dark skin while Calli was simply a rich deep brown. They both also had their father's black eyes. Duren was the only one who'd gotten Relora's green eyes. She and Von were the same age and he was suddenly reminded that meant they've both start their own time served this year.

Duren joined them then, sitting next to Spayar and flopped his head on the table, thoroughly chastised by their mother. "You never mentioned you visited so often," Spayar said to Von.

"Was it so important? You know writing long letters bores me," he said dismissively. Calli giggled again.

"Yeah well I--!!" Spayar ended in a yelp when he was nearly lifted, seat and all, up into the air from behind. "Doo--im, stop," he complained to his father who had enveloped him and was kissing him on the face. How utterly embarrassing.

His father released him with a deep laugh and patted Spayar's shoulder hard. "You snuck around the side then, Junior?" he asked.

"I'd rather die than let your apprentices see you do that," Spayar said, deadpan. Spayar Senior was a handsome man with a shaved head and was growing his beard out for winter. Spayar knew his father could look incredibly intimidating but when he smiled, like now, it was utterly charming and disarming. He wore a sleeveless shirt that showed off his wide shoulders and strong arms covered in scars too imprecise to be anything but weapon wounds. Spayar looked a lot like him except Senior's face had a more firm jaw and a wider mouth. He was missing a few teeth but had replaced them with gold making his smile flashier than even Spayar's.

"Ah but it is my job to embarrass you as your father," Senior said with a charming smile that Spayar could mirror, his accent less pronounced than Relora's.

"At least wait until after lunch," Relora appeared with a pot of rice and Spayar perked up. He hadn't had rice while serving time.

Senior said something in Dirnine Spayar parsed out as something like 'yes, my beloved' and was more horrified at how bad his home language was just after two years serving time than he was at his parents being lovey dovey. Senior sat at the head of the table as Relora went back into the kitchen and brought out a full baked goose stuffed with grains and vegetables from the smell.

"Now where is Anora, school should have-

"Amma, dooim, I'm home!" the front door crashed open when the last Hillsman child came home from school for lunch hour.

"You come here willingly every week?" Spayar asked Von over the commotion of Relora sweeping over to Anora who was excitedly talking about school. Spayar had to put up with this because he loved his family but Von was the crown prince.

Von just smiled his beautiful smile. "It's much more fun than having lunch with my sister." For a moment his face turned brittle but only because Spayar knew what he was looking for.

"Which one? The idiot or the bitch-

"Oooh, de-de that's a bad word," Duren said next to him.

"Junior," Senior said like a warning even as he was carving the goose.

"It's not bad. It's just a grown up word and I'm a grown up now," Spayar said and stuck his tongue out at Duren who did the same to him, making an extra gross face as he did to make Spayar snicker.

Anora and Relora arrived at the table with Anora being a whirlwind of excited voice and hands. She was talking to Relora non-stop even as Relora got her into a chair. She looked a spitting image of their mother with a lower forehead and Senior's dark eyes and skin. Her long wavy hair was done in braided pigtails today. She was completely oblivious to Spayar and Von at the table as she started talking to Calli next. Senior put some goose and stuffing on Spayar's plate.

"Are you just staying for lunch?" Spayar asked Von while three other conversations were happening. It was a pretty typical meal for the household and for Dirinnans and cross talk was to be expected.

"We could hang out," Von said as he was served.

"I need to feed the birds," Spayar scooped some rice onto his plate.

"Right. I forget you do that."

"You talk to our friends?"

"Everyone's still alive if that's what you're asking."

"Tassa around?"

Von grimaced. "I dunno. You know she isn't fond of me."

"I think you underestimate her," Spayar said casually. "Is she?"

"I haven't seen her. We don't run in the same friend group."

Right, you two don't talk unless I'm around, Spayar thought with an internal sigh.

"-- Junior? Have you been here the entire time?" Anora suddenly asked him.

He looked at his little sister. Middle child with way too much energy. "Yes," he said patiently.

"And you just sat there!"

"You were talking to Calli- oof," he grunted when Anora hugged him tightly. "Uh-huh," Spayar said when Anora started talking to him rapidly about school and math. Spayar was the only one she could talk about math too since he was the only one in the family any good at it other than her. Not for the first time he reminded himself to talk to Senior about getting her an apprenticeship with an alchemist. She was old enough. He was only half following though as he scooped lunch into his mouth, giving indications he was listening. Anora rarely wanted a full conversation, she just wanted to tell you about what she was excited about and she was excited about many things.

Anora had him captive the rest of lunch and he half listened to everyone else's conversations while keeping up with her telling him about algebra. Calli and Von were having a pleasant conversation about Calli's new job she was starting this week at a watch maker, the last one she'd had at a florist had fallen through. Senior was talking across the entire table to Relora in Dirnine that Spayar was vaguely aware was about work. Senior was also talking to Duren about what they'd be doing after lunch.

He was so glad to be home.

Von was sitting on Spayar's bed while Spayar was digging through his carry trunk. The sounds of the city outside were dampened and even the light seemed faded and diffused in the room as the purple sun of the mobile glowed softly with magic. The room was effectively sealed from outside viewing, hearing, or scrying by all but the most powerful magic users. Von was leaned back casually on one hand waiting for Spayar to find what he was looking for.

"You really going to feed the birds today?" Von asked as Spayar found what he was looking for.

"Mom wanted to go shopping. I volunteered," Spayar said peeling back a final layer of clothes. It was a simple locked box about the length of his forearm that he picked up and put on his desk. There was no key hole or any sort of actual mechanism to open it, where a key hole would be just a solid piece of metal. To open a safe box like this you needed to be a mettalurgist. It just happened metal ran in the family. Needing no spell or weave Spayar smeared the solid iron down from the lock opening and released the lid from the bottom. He opened the box and pulled out a letter in a sealed envelope from among the items inside. The envelope was sealed with magic that would also make them explode should someone not the intended person open them. The intended person being Spayar himself.

He opened the envelope. "From Councilman Milo Theron," he said as he handed the paper inside to Von. He closed the safe box after.

"Who?" Von asked as he took the papers.

"Sinso's friend in Galinsum," Spayar said as Von unfolded the letter. "Councilman, very high up. Sinso was working on something in secret along with trying to figure out the perfect formulae to make someone vomit on command," he ended with a sigh as Von started reading.

"Sinso was your contact in the Arm, right?" Von clarified.

"Yes. If you asked him I was his little stooge," Spayar said as he put the safe box up on a shelf where it had gone before he'd served his time.

"You're so good at it though I'm not surprised," Von teased him and Spayar rolled his eyes. Von read the letter and his brows slowly furrowed seriously. Spayar sat in his desk chair while Von read the multiple page letter. "Hmm," Von said after a few minutes. "That sounds quite like treason if I was the Governor of Galinsum," he said casually.

"So he fits right in with us," Spayar said seriously.

"Who's the Governor there again? Remind me," Von said even as he read the letter again.

"Jengin Albera," Spayar recited dutifully.

"Right, the 'immortal alchemist'," Von said distractedly. "He's not Feylon is he?"

"No."

"Have we met him?"

"I don't believe personally. He does attend some of your mother's balls and galas though," Spayar said. "We've been introduced at the very least."

"Hmm," Von was very seriously reading the letter again. "Never thought I'd see proper war alchemy."

"It's potentially quite devastating," Spayar said.

"Have you seen it?"

"It was something Sinso was working on yes. Him and other alchemists serving in the arm, away from Galinsum and their pacifism."

"Can you get a message to Theo reliably?"

"He accepts mail."

"Is it screened?"

"He's a Councilman, I imagine not," Spayar said thoughtfully. Von got up from the bed and came to the desk. Spayar turned around and shuffled some papers out. "Ink or pencil?"

"Ink well," Von said and Spayar knew what he was going to do. If Spayar knew Von any less he'd think it was a gross over display of power but Von's entire family was a gross over display of magical ability. The tips of Von's fingers glowed orange and became sharpened like needles and Spayar watched him stitch together a weave in moments and a few complicated hand motions. Then Von put a glowing finger to the page and ink jumped out of the well directly onto the paper. Von didn't have to speak or even write it, the words were transcribed directly to the paper at the same speed as his thoughts. He'd seen Von do this enough times to not be overly impressed but the speed he could construct a well spoken letter was more impressive than the magic.

Von paused, lifting his finger from the paper, just to check something in the letter Theo had sent before putting it back down and finishing the letter. Then he tugged on a piece of the weave and it snapped closed into the perfect size to fit into an envelope. "I'll send it off when I go shopping," Spayar said looking for an envelope.

"Pay for expedited. I want it in his hands tomorrow morning," stepping away from the desk.

"Of course," Spayar said as he hand wrote the staffs of the address with a pen.

"If Theo is courting me what's the odds other Councilmen are courting my siblings?" Von asked quietly.

"Sinso made it sound like most Councilmen aren't interested in treason for personal gain."

"Then why is Theo?" Von said and looked at the letter again. "And why me?" he was particularly surprised by that one.

"You have a d'aelar," Spayar said throwing his arm around the back of his chair to turn and look at Von.

Von whipped around, blue eyes wide for a moment, and then he smiled slightly. "I do," he said smugly. "Don't remind Teldin," he added. Spayar laughed. "Was that all the work for today?"

"Yes," Spayar said standing, grabbing the envelope.

"Good," and Von used a spell to light the letter on fire. It burned to a crisp into ashes but didn't even mark his perfect hand.

"You made a mess in my room," he said, looking down at the ashes.

"You'll forgive me," Von said with a cute smile like he never thought Spayar wouldn't. And damnit if he wasn't right. I'd forgive you anything, Spayar thought and it was both fond and frustrated with him. "So, feed the birds?"

"You're coming?"

"Probably not. It bores me. And I'm sure my minders are missing me-

Spayar put his hand to the bridge of his nose, "Of course," he said, squeezing. Von just snickered. He raised his hand and disconnected the weave around the purple sun of the mobile and light and sound returned fully to the room.

"Now that you're back home we can start work properly," Von said even as Spayar brushed the ashes up to throw them away.

"Again," Spayar sighed grabbing his rain coat and hat for the low hanging clouds outside.

"Yes. Again," Von said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I have ideas but I was waiting for you."

"Hopefully not on everything?" Spayar asked as they left his room.

"No. Just some big plays."

Calli's door opened as they were walking down the hall. "Junior," she called.

"Yeah?" he called back.

"You're going shopping for amma right?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm coming. Amma doesn't trust you not to take six years to do the shopping."

"I don't take six years," Spayar said with a slight roll of his eyes. But yes he did take longer to do the shopping only because he got the shopping done quickly and spent the rest of the day feeding the birds or people watching.

"Let me grab my coat," and she vanished back into her room.

"Still can't believe you came here every week to have lunch," Spayar mumbled to Von.

"Only for the cooking. I wouldn't bore your family with royal or court trivialities," Von said. "Even if Calli has raked me over the coals about it," he sighed.

"Why?"

"She has it in her mind-- ah Calli, is that the coat I got you?" Von asked, changing topics when Calli came out wearing a new rain coat of the sweetest pink color Spayar had ever seen, the outside shiny and waxed to keep the rain off.

Calli beamed even as she was pulling her long wavy hair up into a high tail. "Yes."

"You bought my sister a coat?"

"Seemed polite," Von shrugged.

"It was for National Day," Calli said quickly. National Day was a country wide holiday that marked the official first day the first Asuras, Sinou, had taken the throne almost two thousand years ago. It happened in high summer when the moon flowers bloomed along the Meltong. "He got Anora one too and Duren new rain boots."

"Didn't get me anything," Spayar complained.

"You were four provinces away," Von groaned. "What was I supposed to do?"

"I dunno, visit?" Spayar groused even as they headed down the stairs. Behind him Von was saying some groveling type of apology while Calli giggled. Spayar wasn't really upset but it was always a good time to tease Von. The prince needed it. "Mom, do you have your shopping list?" he called once down on the first floor, not quite sure where Relora was.

"It's on the table," her voice called from the sitting room.

Spayar scooped it up. "So you're coming," he pointed at Calli, "and what are you doing?" he pointed at Von.

"I'll find something to do. We're having a get together at Red Garter tonight, coming?"

"Maybe."

"Can I?" Calli asked.

"No," Spayar said immediately.

Calli rolled her eyes. "Why not?"

"Because it's a drug bar," Spayar said keeping his voice down so Relora didn't hear. He saw the tips of Calli's ears turn red. Unlike Spayar most of his siblings were quite sheltered and being raised by immigrants they didn't always have the same proclivities as typical Feylon. Especially at places like a bar. Also there would be boys there and Spayar couldn't get high or enjoy himself knowing some leech might touch his sister.

"I- fine," she huffed, cheeks puffing out slightly. She went and gathered up the shopping bags.

"Red Garter's not that bad," Von said quietly as they followed her.

"No," Spayar said again. "Unless you want to be the one keeping an eye on her?"

"What? No. She's your sister."

"Exactly. No."

"Will you two stop whispering and come on," Calli groaned. "The meteorologists said the rains were starting today."

"They say that every day starting the middle of J'dorr," Spayar said.

"And aren't they right?" Calli asked.

"Eh, sometimes," Spayar allowed and did follow Calli out. The clouds did seem much lower than earlier though so Spayar put the envelope into an inside pocket of his coat and put his hat on over his wavy hair.

"You didn't bring a rain coat Vondugard," Calli said as they stepped out from the porch and into the garden.

"Oh, I'll be fine," Von said cheerfully. "You know the rain doesn't bother me."

Calli just looked confused. "He's a warlock, Calli," Spayar said, unimpressed.

"So?" she blinked at them both even as a slight misting started to fall from the sky. She pulled up the hood of her rain coat. Von just once more coated his fingers in magic and made a complex weave. The rain began beading up on an invisible barrier he'd woven around himself. It was wide enough that any large enough drops didn't even touch him and just fell harmlessly off to the side.

Calli looked at Spayar, "You can't do that."

"I don't want to do that," Spayar huffed. "Show off," he told Von and headed for the street.

"Well what's the point of being Le'Acard if I can't show off sometimes?" Von said following after him. "And this is where I say farewell my Hillsman friends," he beamed all sunshine on a miserable day. Spayar hated his fool heart for fluttering. He'd known Von how many years and he still got all silly?

"Don't get into trouble," Spayar said.

"Me? I would never," and with a wave he walked off.

Spayar and Calli stood there for a moment watching him walk off, a spring in his step. "He's such a pain in the ass," Spayar declared and then turned and walked the other way. Calli laughed into her hand as she followed after Spayar.

====+====

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