#averagepricesimp

[brewed-pangolin]

not thirsty or anything, but i’ve had this in mind for ages and basically soap has a pregnant gf (reader) and at the end of mw3 he ‘dies’ while she is around 4-5 months pregnant and basically ends up getting close to the rest of 141 while grieving BUT! soap is not actually dead. he is alive but he has to pretend to be dead to protect him from makarov and only the rest of 141 and kate knows. anyways, after healing soap starts stalking/watching over reader and he wants to go back home to her but he can’t because he is supposed to be dead. i don’t exactly know where i am going with this but i am in deniable of his death, and it ends with fluff and smut ofc! i would also imagine johnny would def be a twin baby maker

This one made me feel angsty, so that's where we're going with this one.

cw: mentions of loss. Angst no comfort (sorry)

--

You sat at the corner table at the bustling coffee shop. Your back to the sidewalk as you stared into the void that was black Americano in a white porcelain mug.

You had barely touched your chosen beverage. Electing rather to rather to trace your fingers around the rim while silently studying it's chipped texture.

The gentle pressure of a warm hand on your thigh pulled you out of the lonesome trance. Meeting the welcoming honey gaze of one Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, who for one reason or another, had become the gravitational rock within your world of uncontrolled chaos.

"It's alright, love." He said, voice low and soothing like a weighted blanket on a cold night.

"We can go home if you want. No need to stay if you're not feelin' it today."

"Kyle's right."

Kate's voice interjected quietly from across the table.

"And you need to rest. If you so much as sneeze at this point, those two mini Scots will come flying out."

You feigned a kind smile. One you had practiced over the last few months to keep your torrid of emotions at bay.

Kate's humor was always a welcome reprieve.

Yet with the constant churn of life within your belly, you were finding it harder to laugh at anything as you were repeatedly reminded of the light that was so unceremoniously ripped away from you.

"C'mon, love. Let's get you home." Gaz pressed with a gentle tone as he stood from his rod iron chair and extended his hand.

He could read you like a book. And your pages were strewn in tumultuous heartache and unshed tears.

"I'll get the tab." Kate added. Just as she pulled out her wallet her phone began to ring.

"Shit. You two head out. Gotta take this."

"Price, again?" Gaz inquired with a raised brow, pulling your fur line coat over your shoulders.

"That's classified." She answered. Turning on her heels and matching back to her car.

You had begun to take note of her use of the world recently.

That was the thrid 'classified' call in two days.

Not that it was uncommon, of course. Something just seem to familiar about the way she spoke to said 'classified' recipient on the other line.