#been a WHILE military is a nightmare sorry

[jackassbroadcast]

Totally happened in the movie guys trust

[mockerycrow]

UNDER THE SURFACE (Ghost x GN!Reader)

ghost masterlist — ghost icon by @yumethefrostypanda concept post here!

authors note; this is not my best work tbh, i wish i could improve it somehow, but i’m hoping you guys will like it anyway. Pretty sure this is my longest singular post, too! 4.7k words :-)

[WARNINGS: angst, spiraling thoughts, near panic attack, hurt/comfort, inaccurate medical stuff, vague descriptions of physical violence, very brief mention of possible self harm.]

YOU WERE USED to Simon being gone for long periods of time; you have been his roommate for two years now, nearly three. You know he’s military, it’s part of the reason why you were able to score being his roommate in the first place. At first, it was a very awkward arrangement. Simon himself wasn’t a very awkward person, no—he’s actually quite charismatic in his own way, a way that you could get along with. One of the reasons why the arrangement was strange at first was because you weren’t exactly able to get a one on one tour of the flat before agreeing, but you were a bit more trusting of this mysterious man because a mutual friend—Kate—sent you his contact information, considering you were looking for a new place to live since your lease was up.

Simon’s flat was void of any personality, really. Yes, you could tell by the way he organized everything that he had been in the military, probably for quite a while—but there weren’t any photos. No gaming systems; you discovered he did have a bookcase of quite a few books, but it was covered in a layer of dust. Despite this, when examining the books he owned, you could tell they were worn down—definitely loved. It made you smile a bit, seeing the different variety of books. A bit of personality, you think. Besides his room, it was like a completely furnished, no personality flat. You weren’t allowed in his room, not unless he gave you explicit permission, which you honored his boundaries. Simon was kind enough to offer you a space in his home—but you know he was quite weary of you, which was understandable. He helped you move in and you could tell he was watching you and your body language. Searching you for danger—but he slowly warmed up to you.

Another thing that you discovered that Simon was quite emotionally.. constipated. Over the first few months, you could tell he didn’t sleep as much as he probably should. He was always awake before you, and you would always find him in the kitchen, sipping on a hot cup of tea. After a few weeks of this routine—Simon rising much earlier than you, you figured maybe he couldn’t break the military’s strict routines.. Until one night you woke up from the sound of his heavy footsteps walking down the hall. You tensed in your bed and you sat up because Simon was silent as a ghost all the time. You didn’t even know if it was him at first, so in your half-asleep panicked state, you felt for your phone and you texted Simon’s contact, asking a messily texted “is that you walking around?” You blink your sleepiness away and wipe your eye as your phone vibrates with a “yeah. sorry.”

That was the first time you got some notion that Simon was thrown off guard from something, after another week of awakening from his noises, you began to realize that he was experiencing night terrors every couple of nights. His nightmares were never a thing you two discussed, exactly.. It was more of an unspoken rule to not talk about it. You would occasionally find yourself in the kitchen around the time you calculated when Simon would wake up—and you were right nearly every time—and you just.. coincidentally made him a cup of tea. To Simon’s pleasant surprise, you managed to get his tea right every single time. You’ve had your fair share of night terrors, so you knew how it could be sometimes. You wanted to do something nice for him, and he seemed flustered every time.

It took you a while to get used to him being gone for long periods of time. Simon appreciated that you never questioned too deeply into his career, even the times he would come home sporting a new injury, you were always willing to play doctor for him. Simon saw the concern in your eyes and sometimes he would share small stories of what happened, or maybe to get you to stop thinking about his injuries, a small story about his teammates. You slowly learned their names over the course of a year and a half, and you learned Simon’s rank as well. He is a lieutenant, and there’s a man called Captain Price, another man named Sergeant Kyle Garrick, and one more man named Sergeant John MacTavish, who Simon referred to as “Johnny” fondly.

It wasn’t common that Simon talked about work, which is the reason why it took about a year and a half to even get the information you did out of him. Over the time you’ve lived with him, you had decorated the flat to feel more comfortable and home-y. Simon only had a few requests, which you honored, and one of them was no pictures of him with his face showing. You shot him a curious and questioning look, but as always—you didn’t question him, and he was very thankful. You had gotten a few indoor plants as well that didn’t need much caring for and you wanted to liven up the place, y’know? You were okay with Simon not sharing much about his past or his work, because he was willing to listen to your little rambles about your interests and work. You were a bit hesitant, but Simon was very emotive and he never seemed annoyed or brushed you off.

Despite Simon’s reluctance to share anything of his own, he always heard you out if you needed to vent about something. He made sure you knew you could talk to him, even on days where you felt like you had no one to go to. You spent an entire night with him, just talking about anything and everything. It was the first real conversation you felt like you have had with anyone in such a long time. It was also the first night Simon really saw you. He watched as your eyebrows furrowed from uncomfortableness, the vulnerability being nearly too much to handle; something he could relate to on a personal level. So when you started showing these signs, he knew exactly when to change the subject. Simon quickly realized how to read you, and he somehow knew what you needed at different moments.

Simon flies into the airport late at night with a small duffel bag, tagged as a military bag. He sends you a quick “be home soon.” text. Simon doesn’t expect you to answer due to it being around 3 in the morning, and you indeed don’t answer him. He catches a taxi to your shared flat. Simon collects his things from the taxi before paying the driver and sending them off, and Simon lets out a slow breath as he takes in the achingly familiar sight of the place he lives in. He tugs the hood that remains sitting over his head closer to his face, which is covered by a black surgical mask. His hand tightens on the straps of the duffel bag before he approaches the flat building, taking out his keys as he approaches the elevator. Once Simon reaches the third floor, he wastes no time getting to the front door, and he isn’t sure why, but his heart is pounding inside of his chest.

Simon unlocks both the top lock and the doorknob to enter the flat—something he had taught you to do every single time. He pockets his keys as he enters and Simon pauses for a moment because he can’t put his finger on it, but something feels off the second he glanced inside. His eyes trail the living room which is clean, not one thing out of place. Simon takes a deep breath and he doesn’t brush off the weird feeling, because even when there’s no evidence something happened—he’s usually right. The blanket on the couch is perfectly folded and laid over the back cushions, the mini bookcase by the TV is dusted as always, your shoes.. Are not by the front door, but a different pair are..? These either are not your shoes, or they are new. You always warned Simon about bringing people over, and you definitely would’ve told him this time. The lamp is on in the living room, but it seems the lights are out everywhere else. Simon silently goes through his routine when he gets back late at night—taking his jacket off and hanging it up, he leaves his boots by the door, and he drops his keys into the dish.

Next step to his routine is to step into the kitchen and get a cup of actually good quality tea, unlike the shit the military provides him. He fills up the electric kettle and sets a timer on it, grabbing his favorite mug and the box of his favorite tea from the cabinets. Simon glances down the dark hall—he’s seeking for a sign of life from you because you’re usually getting up around this time to greet him. No matter what, you always seem to know when he returns—yet you aren’t leaving your room. There’s no light emitting from the hall nor underneath the doors, and fuck, it’s eating at him. Something is wrong—and what the fuck is it? Simon stands there for a moment, turning his head to watch the blue light blinking on the electric kettle. He watches it blink slowly as he tries to rack his brain for what could be wrong—maybe those shoes are someone else’s, but he could just have a stern conversation with you about it later. Maybe you came back from drinking with friends—no, if that was the case, he knows for a fact your belongings would be everywhere, maybe even a spilled glass of water in the kitchen. He’s had to clean that up a couple of times.

He raises his wrist and pulls up his sleeve a bit to look at his digital watch; it’s nearly 0400 now. Simon puts his hands on the counter, leaning his body weight against it. Did something happen at work, maybe that’s why it feels off? You’ve always had a commanding presence like he has, so maybe— “Fuck.” Simon hisses quietly, hooking a finger into the strap of his black face mask and he rips it off, tossing it without care onto the counter. He leans forward and checks the kettles timer for a second, and then he’s walking towards the hall. Simon passes by his room and he walks up to yours, and he tries to turn the doorknob to peak in to check on you, but—it’s locked? Simon lets out a harsh breath before trying the door again, and yeah, it’s locked. Simon swears under his breath and he knocks on the door, his stomach twisting and turning. Something is wrong, very very wrong, very fucking wrong—

You unlock the door and you open it just enough for you to peak out, and you use your phone flashlight to shine it in Simon’s face. He squints and puts his hand up, his voice rumbling in his chest. “Hey—you locked your door.” He points out quietly, and you’re just staring at him, your eyes wide and alert. Simon’s anxiety lessens, but your reaction doesn’t make it go away. “Y’alright?” Simon drawls out, his hand on the wood panel of the door. You let out a harsh breath and you let go of your phone, letting out a quiet, “Simon..” before you suddenly pull your door completely open, and you wrap your arms around his thick torso into a hug. Simon swears his heart jumps into his throat and then into his stomach, bouncing back into his chest because you hugged him. You two were never particularly touchy like that, maybe a fleeting touch here or two, usual drunken affection from you—but you barely ever hugged him like this, even when he returned from deployments. Your touch burns hot through his clothes, and he knows you wouldn’t touch him without asking, so when you do? He wraps an arm around you, his free arm resting on your shoulder. “Hey..” Simon breathes out, lost for words.

You don’t hold on long enough for the uncomfortable worry to creep up his spine just yet. You rip yourself away from him like he burned you, his hands falling to his sides. You offer a tight, weak smile—one that you could easily play off as a sign of fatigue. Simon’s breath stutters as he watches your hands linger near your chest in a subconscious defensive gesture, your fingers closing into a fist for a moment; as if you’re uncomfortable, almost overstimulated. Simon feels the way for the light switch and he flips it on, and your room looks normal—but you look.. off. You look a bit clammy, almost like you’re sick or bouncing off the walls with anxiety. His eyes flick to your fingers and the skin besides your thumbnail and your middle finger are picked to all hell, and you just.. don’t seem right. All of these.. signs, you’re showing are actually very subtle—he just notices everything about you. Simon knows what food you favor, what your favorite color is, what social situations what you tick, what makes you mad—he knows it all. “Three months went by slow,” You murmur, trying to start a conversation. Simon’s eyes narrow at you for a moment as he watches you back up to your bed; no, you don’t turn around, you back up. You don’t turn your back to Simon at all. Fuck. He watches you lift your mattress, causing him to lift an eyebrow. “They did,” Simon confirms. “What happened while I was gone?”

This wasn’t an unusual question for Simon to ask; but it had a completely different meaning to you this time. You feel your muscles tense as you grab something from under your mattress, and you put it back down. It glints from the overhead light in your bedroom—a.. pocket knife of some sort, a switchblade perhaps. Simon’s eyes narrow at how you pocket it oh so quickly into your pocket. “Nothing much,” You reply quickly, smoothing out your shirt. “Same old same old, work has been fine, uh..” You trail off for a moment, clearing your throat. “Look, let me take a shower—I’m sure you’re itching for something to eat, huh?” Simon watches you open your drawers and pick out some pants and a shirt. The knife comes to mind—why are you taking it with you? “I can make it myself.” Simon responds, his feet planted firmly where he had been standing the whole time. You shake your head and close the drawers once you collect your clothes.

“It’s tradition, Simon. I gotta.” You offer a stronger smile as you make your way towards the door, still avoiding showing your back towards him. Simon watches as you glance at your bedroom window before exiting your room, muttering a quiet “close the door when you leave”, which Simon obeys. He shuts the door with a click, and he watches you quickly scurry down the hall towards the bathroom. “Just let me shower first.” And with that, you step into the bathroom, close the door and you lock it before Simon can interject. He stands there for a moment, stunned. His chest tightens for a moment because you just felt so far away. You’ve created such unwanted distance—even as you’re not very touchy with him, you still bother him for every detail he’s willing to give up when he returns. You are constantly making jokes, inviting him into the kitchen when you’re about to make a welcome home meal—but this time? You were hiding in your room, locking your door, bringing a knife with you—in front of him. Did you think that could slip past him? Did something happen whilst he was gone, to cause you to bring it with you? Is it for self defense against something or someone?— Is it to use on yourself?

Simon feels his stomach turn at his thoughts. He shakes his head and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He walks past the bathroom, his footsteps stuttering for a moment in front of the door before he presses his lips into a thin line, returning to the kitchen to make himself some tea, the electric kettle had beeped long ago.

The next late morning, not much was different. Simon only slept a few hours, three or four—as per usual, he still woke up before you. He threw on a pair of sweatpants, and a black hoodie. He made his tea, made you a cup of what you prefer to drink in the morning, and he made a light breakfast for you both. Despite being in the military for a while and relying on cooks as well as MRE’s to get through his days, Simon is a decent cook. He made himself some sausage and fried eggs, and he made a plate or a bowl of what you prefer to eat in the morning. Simon sighs for a moment as he glances at the time—around 1100, and you still haven’t emerged from your room which is odd, especially now that Simon just came back home. He takes a moment to look at his food, and he decides then and there he will drag you out if he has to. Simon scoops up his plate as well as your food, and he heads down the hall towards your room. With his hands full, Simon balances for a second as he gently kicks the door as a way to knock, and then he stands on both of his feet again. “Oi, wake up!” Simon shouts, leaning close to the door to listen for your movement.

It takes a good minute and when Simon is about to knock again; he hears your doorknob unlock and you peak out the door, your eyes wide and alert again, although it’s obvious you had just woken up. You seem to relax when your tired mind’s gears turn and you realize it’s just Simon. You open your door wider and you rub your eye, and he spots the knife in your hand, partially obscured by the door. “Mm, sorry. I overslept.” You say, your voice heavy with sleep, vibrating in your chest. Simon makes a noncommittal noise before holding out your food, which you stare at for a moment you take it, your lips twitching into a weak smile. “Thanks, Simon.” He waits a few seconds, and you nearly shut your door on him.

Thanks, Simon. That’s all??

“Can I eat in your room wit’you?” Simon gruffs out, feeling sudden determination from this weird act you have going on. You blink for a moment and then you nod. “Just give me a sec.” You murmur. You shut the door in his face and he hears you shuffling about, moving something—sounds like your mattress. Are you putting your knife away??—and then you open your door, gesturing for Simon to walk into your room. Surely you don’t think you can hide this type of thing from him of all people, right? Why are you hiding it from him?

Simon enters your room, and you close the door behind him. You never used to do that—“What happened?” Simon stares at you for an answer, watching your face contort in a bit of confusion. You don’t say anything at first, and when you were about to open your mouth, Simon speaks. “I mean this in the nicest way possible—do ya take me f’a wanker?” Your jaw drops for a moment, your eyebrows furrowing. “What? No, of course not, Simon. Nothing happened, I’m not sure why—“

“Don’t,” Simon interrupts, putting his plate of food on your dresser. “Something has happened, and you’re lyin’ to me. You’re jumpy, you’re carryin’ a blood knife around, lovie—don’t think you can get that past me—and you won’t turn your back on me.” His lips press into a line as he watches your shoulder hunch up a bit, in an all too familiar defensive, tense position. The pit in Simon’s stomach begins to grow as you avert your eyes from, too. “You are barely talkin’ when you bloody damn near talk my ear off when I come home—you said, ‘Thanks, Simon.’ Not an over the top reaction about me doing something for th’both of’us, not a invite in, and last night—you’ve been locking your door.” You put your food down near yourself, and Simon catches the way your fingers are trembling. “I.. I’m allowed to lock my door, Simon. You don’t need to question me.” You say, attempting to hold a steady voice which barely works, your voice nearly cracking on the last word. Your heart is racing out of your chest and all you want to do is bolt at the door; which Simon catches on to. You watch him as he slowly begins to step in front of the door. “You tell me everything—even how your damn showers go. Why won’t you tell me this?” He demands, and his heart is pounding against his ribcage, too.

He watches your face contort into several different emotions and feelings; panic, sadness, anger, relief—the whole nine yards. Simon walks towards you when you begin to sob, and you sit down on your bed to avoid collapsing. His chest tightens as he murmurs name, wondering if he went too far. You reach your hands for him and not for one second does Simon hesitate this time. He wraps his arms around you, sitting right next to you on your mattress, your thighs touching together. He reaches up and rubs the nape of your neck as you openly sob and shutter into the crook of his neck and in his arms. His skin burns from your heat seeping into his clothes, a lively warmth that burns so hot but he welcomes so much more than he remembers that he used to. Your tears are hot, burning his skin with every drop that slides onto his neck, but he welcomes the sensation. “It’s alright, lovie. Let it out.” Simon murmurs, one of his arms tugging your body closer to his. He holds you in almost protective stance, like someone is threatening to drag you away from his grasp. You grab at the back of his hoodie, your chest beginning to heave. “Mm, no, c’mere; look at me, yeah?” Simon beckons you, his voice smooth and soft—which is extremely rare. Simon cups your cheek and lifts your head from where it rests in the crook of his neck, his hand instantly getting covered in the wetness of your tears that are streaming down your cheeks. You inhale sharply as you try to look at Simon, your eyes unfocused and you try so hard to focus on his pretty brown eyes, but you can’t seem to get ahold of yourself. You let out a panicked sob as your hand now tug on the front of his hoodie, and his voice is so far away, but his hand is molding to the curve of your jaw, like it belongs there.

You shut your eyes for a moment and you let Simon move you around as he wants, which he ends up guiding your head to his chest, and his grip loosens some so you don’t feel trapped. It takes you a moment to catch your breath, to catch your bearings; you can hear a faint ringing sound that you didn’t notice before, but you do note it’s slowly fading away, and in fades is Simon’s voice. He’s murmuring praises—and oh, he’s laying against the headboard of your bed frame now, with you laying on his chest. You feel yourself trembling against him, and embarrassment hits you hard. You’re tense—you don’t want to talk about any of it at all, but you know Simon. He will push you until you snap, even if it’s in your best interest to tell him. You reach up and play with a hoodie string of his, listening to his soft breathing. You hesitate for a moment before your lips part. “It was a week after you left.” Simon’s heart skips a beat, which you hear—you vaguely find it amusing, but he’s silent to allow you to continue. One of his hands is on your back, his thumb moving back and forth. “I..” You swallow spit so you don’t croak, as you’re convinced you might sound pathetic. As if Simon would ever think of you that way. “I was walking home from the pub, y’know, the one only just a few blocks away? It was late at night, I think the police said it was around 2 am. I stayed until closing, I was with some of my friends, uh..” You trail off for a moment, trying to recall everything that happened. Your hand pauses, and Simon senses your state. He begins to rub your back full on, murmuring, “It’s alright. Go on, then.”

You let out a shaky breath before continuing. “I was absolutely wasted, and there was this guy—grabbed me and I tried to get out of his hold, but he ended up fucking stabbing me. Robbed me of my shit.” Your voice cracks and the silence is deafening. Simon feels his heart drop into his stomach. You got stabbed? “Fuckin’ hell.. Why didn’t you call me? Or at least let me know?” Simon’s voice treats carefully, knowing that you’re still freaking out by the way you’re incredibly tense against him. “I know how important your focus is when you’re gone,” You respond, your voice staying quiet as well. You don’t look at Simon’s face because you know that you’ll break once again. You pick at the fabric of his hoodie, seeking comfort in his warmth, despite how you usually aren’t like this with him. “I didn’t want to take your focus because I know you, Simon. You would’ve backed out of whatever you were trying to do to come and help me.” Simon presses his lips into a thin line, staying quiet because you both know that you’re correct. Simon would drop everything to come home to you, to help you. “The guy nicked my lung, was in the hospital for a while.” Simon’s hand stutters for a moment, the smooth pattern of his palm rubbing your back being interrupted from shock. “Jesus—“ Simon hisses, and he can’t help but tug you closer. “You should’ve told me anyway, lovie.”

You sniffle and you rub your face into his hoodie, a muffled noncommittal noise coming from the back of your throat. He doesn’t say anything further, nor do you. Simon lays there with you on top of him, one of his hands caressing your back, the other wrapped around your body, sometimes coming up to rub the back of your neck. You don’t mention the way he doesn’t seem to tell you to move, and he doesn’t mention how touchy you’re being. Simon doesn’t want this moment to end—one where you’re vulnerable and trusting with him, one where you’re alive and well. He can’t help but wonder if he ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell him something? Simon feels simmering, muffled anger in his stomach because you didn’t want to interrupt his work for being stabbed, nicking a vital organ no less—he makes a mental note to sit you down and make you promise to call him if an issue or an injury like that ever arises again. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to push away what would happen if you didn’t do that—if that guy were to come back to try to finish the job and Simon wasn’t here, would you call him? Would you pick up your phone and dial his number? Would you text him? What if you got hurt again—would you call him?—Or would the hospital? He always imagined you’d be getting the call of his death, and not the other way around. Simon swears under his breath for a moment and opens his eyes; he doesn’t want to think about that anymore. He wants to stay in this moment with you—both himself and you alive. He glances down, your tear stained cheeks slowly drying, your eyelids closed. His fingers slide from the nape of your neck to the side, and he presses his fingers against your pulse.

Being here with you—he wants you to trust him, too; like he trusts you. That’s all he wants.

tag: @zzzennin

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign Down on Me - Part 10

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

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

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

A/N: sorry this took so long, but i hope y'all enjoy! Can't wait to hear what you think of it 💕

-🐺-

“Gaz.”

You pretended to still be watching the TV while you called on the sergeant. Up till that point he’d been scrolling mindlessly on his phone, but out of the corner of your eyes you could see him look up. Meanwhile the couple that had been on the screen were still locked in a passionate embrace - giving you a perfect excuse for your question. 

“You’ve had like…girlfriends or boyfriends or whatever while you’ve been serving, right?”

At first he snorted. 

Finally you turned around and met his gaze properly, steeling yourself against the grin that was threatening to break out on his face. He quirked his lips for a moment while his eyes remained fixed on you, alight and shining at the idea of you wanting to talk about relationships. It froze you in place for a moment, tense at the idea he’d see right through your reason for asking or had overheard you and Rudy talking throughout the week. 

“I have. Why you askin’?” He finally said, actually turning his body fully into the conversation. 

“I just wondered if it was difficult. You know - to maintain a relationship.” 

“It’s not easy. Our jobs make us unreliable, not present - even if we’re in the same place sometimes, tired, grumpy. I reckon my exes could write a book with things to moan about,” he laughed. “To be fair though I could’ve tried harder with em. I think I’m just a bit too deep in the job right now to make something properly work outside of all this, you know?”

“So none of them were other soldiers then?” You asked, tilting your head. 

“Nah. That’d be a fuckin nightmare! Imagine trying to find time for each other while you’ve got two different fucked schedules, then there’s having to make sure you’re not in the same units so you don’t get hit with punishments for fraternisation and all that shit.”

You instantly turned away and nodded, zoning back in on the TV again. The couple were trading sly smiles while they passed by each other at work, the fuzzy music played softly and sent your ears flicking at the sound. It was your hope that the subject would be dropped then, but even you weren’t stupid enough to think that would be that. 

“Why the sudden interest in relationships then?” Gaz asked, leaning his arm against the couch and propping his head on his hand. 

It didn’t matter how much you pretended to love whatever the show was, or how far forward you sat, you couldn’t evade Gaz’s sites. He was there in the corner of your eyes, filling the space like a prowling jungle cat. The only way you were getting out was through the conversation. 

“Well…I’ve never really been in a relationship or had the chance to be in one. None of us hybrids really got on that well at Branhaven and I sure as shit wasn’t gonna shack up with any of the handlers. Now that I live with you guys though, I thought maybe I’d have a shot at having…something someday,” you said quietly, giving him a brief glance back.

“And I’ve just shat all over your parade,” Gaz said, raising his eyebrows. 

“Pretty much,” you answered with a faux huff. “Dick.”

Gaz’s breathy laugh brushed past your ears. It forced you to turn back to him fully, so that you could properly behold the soft brown hues of his creasing eyes. Even in the dingy space that made up the los vaqueros rec room, his eyes were so warm. 

“Have you really never been with anyone?” He asked, letting a hint of a frown settle on his face. 

“Nope,” you shrugged. 

“Ever kissed anyone?”

“Hm…does kissing someone on the cheek in nursery count?”

“Hell no,” Gaz laughed. “Who were you kissing in nursery anyway you little Casanova?”

“His name was Shawn. His family was moving away and he was the only other hybrid in my class, so he was the only one I really played with. We both gave each other a kiss on the cheek goodbye. I was far from a ‘Casanova’,” you said indignantly, already crossing your arms in protest. 

“I’m sure it was very sweet, but that’s definitely not a real kiss,” he shrugged.

“Didn’t realise you were the arbiter of kisses.”

“I don’t need to be the arbiter to say you gotta do it like them,” he said, signalling at the lovers on the TV, “to have it really count.”

“Well shit, I’ve never had that happen at my job.”

The couple were now fucking quite ferociously in the supply cupboard at their work. Paper and trays were flying and shelves were being rocked, but nevertheless they faced no interruption despite the storm they were creating. Even just breathing as heavily as they were would’ve had them kicked out in real life, you thought. 

“So you’ve never fucked anyone either then? You’re like a full proper virgin, apart from your Shawn love affair of course.”

You rolled your eyes at him. 

“Didn’t say that,” you shrugged.

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’?”

“You shagged someone, but you never kissed?”

“It wasn’t like we were doing it because we really liked each other,” you supplied. “We both just agreed we’d scratch a mutual itch and go our separate ways after.”

It went almost exactly as clinically as how it sounded too. Even thinking back to that night where you’d both snuck off to the bathroom together, you could only remember the giddy joy you felt at actually getting off with someone else instead of feeling anything for the other hybrid. Which was a good thing too because it wasn’t like you’d ever seen him afterward. You’d never been sent back to Norway again. 

He’d shucked off his clothes and told you to do the same, confirming you still wanted to do it. He’d so nicely asked “you still want to fuck, yes?” And barely said a word more, only a few “harder”s or “no, like this”. You’d both been pressed up against that cold concrete corner, hands grasping through the dark, and trembling bodies quietly drinking in each others attentions while making sure to stay as quiet as possible in fear of waking up your superiors. He’d been more experienced, so he’d gotten you off first and then he finished, only taking a moment's breath before wiping himself off and putting his clothes back on. He’d left you alone to collect yourself soon after. 

“Well that shouldn’t count either,” Gaz said, after you’d given him an overview of your experience. 

“What? But we actually did it! We both came and everything.”

“Came and then went! Sounds shite,” Gaz groaned. “Shaggin’s meant to be fun. Not just ticking each others boxes and then walking off.” 

“Damn, you’re really not letting me have anything here,” you smirked, refolding your arms again. 

“Because you’re supposed to really want it off the person you’re with, like be able to kiss them and talk and laugh and stuff. If I’d had someone bark instructions at me and then leave me straight after I’d feel like it was part of our job or something.”

“Almost my whole life’s been this job, it’s not like I ever thought I’d get anything like you’ve probably had. When I finally got old enough to even have sex I’d already been working for years. Sex like that is the only way I get to get off with someone,” you explained, trailing off a little at the end when you thought back to Rudy revealing more about he and Alejandro. 

So what you were saying wasn’t strictly true. However it wasn’t like you were going to reveal to Gaz that you’d been picturing you and various match ups in the 141 to a degree where you were struggling to concentrate at least daily now. Every interaction with Price and Gaz had felt charged with a thousand volts of electricity where it hadn’t necessarily been before. 

Price could be shifting you out the way while he walked by you, putting his hand against your back and you’d practically melt into it. Gaz had ruffled your hair condescendingly after you’d gotten the all clear for your hip from the doctor and your scalp had tingled for the rest of the day after. Then there was the phone call you’d had with Ghost…hearing his voice rumbling down the line made your stomach do weird little flips and had your tail wagging the whole time even while he was chastising you for losing control. 

You blamed it all squarely on big stupid Rudy. Rudy who had been training with you on the matts the day before, targeting your sore hip the whole time while divulging little details of he and Alejandro’s relationship.

He’d told you about how they grew up together on the same street. Trained together. Fought together. One day Rudy had almost been killed, trying to protect Alejandro so fiercely he’d jumped in front of a bullet for him. Then after he’d had his shoulder patched up, he’d apparently gotten tired of Alejandro’s lecturing and found a creative way to shut him up. 

When Rudy had suggested you try something similar with your team, now that you were constantly getting heat for your injury, you’d gotten as hot as a lava rock before tumbling off the edge of the matt. Your distraction had been fully taken advantage of by your smarmy wise-ass opponent who’d decided to throw you from the fight. 

“So now that you’re with us, you think you’ll be able to find someone to fuck you properly then?” Gaz asked, pulling you back into the room so hard you were left blinking back at him without response. 

You tried to respond to that with anything other than a high pitched whine. Though you decided to stay silent when you realised that was impossible. 

“Jesus, your face. You’re getting all embarrassed just at the thought. You’re such a virgin.”

“I am not embarrassed! And I’m not a virgin!”

“Yeah you are, you’re doing that thing with your ears!” Gaz grinned. 

“What thing with my ears?” You whined.

“They always go lopsided when you’re embarrassed, one always points up and the other one folds back all awkwardly. Juuust like that,” Gaz said, quickly snapping a picture with his phone. 

“Hey!”

Gaz turned the phone so that you could see. The ear situation was exactly as he described, while your mouth slanted into a displeasured frown and your eyes were set hard into the screen. 

You smacked his phone from his hand so that it landed on the couch. From there you used the opportunity to snatch it up, quickly scrabbling against the old material to prize it up. Just before you could delete it however Gaz dove on top of you, easily overpowering you and prying the phone from your clawing hands. Your back was pressed flat onto the couch cushions, your body straining as his full weight sat on top of you, angled so that he could fend of your legs with his body, hold back your hands with one arm and use his one free hand to secure his phone. 

“Gaz, get off! I’ll bite you!” You protested, voice going squeaky as he kept you pinned underneath him. 

“You wouldn’t dare,” he laughed, holding his phone high above your head. “Price would go mental at you.”

“What are you doing?” You huffed, almost getting a bit of leverage over his forearm until he shunted it back fully into place and squashed your arms in the process.

“Taking some lovely pictures for Ghost. The man’s been desperate for  updates while we’ve been away, you know,” Gaz said, clearly typing something while he still fended you off. 

“Don’t send him pictures! Ah, Gaz! That’s it, I’m going nuclear.” 

You flung your head up and licked all down the length of his arm, slobbering down the full bulk of it and sending him recoiling. A satisfied grin lit your face when his phone fell down the back of the cushions. You then twisted your body, managing to use the nasty surprise and the momentum so that you could reverse the position, landing on top of him while he was squashed to the couch. Though you almost faltered when you saw him below you, you still kept a good drip. You managed to hold him there a moment, looking down at him with all your mixed feelings twisting their way through your gut. 

“That’s fighting dirty, Pup,” Gaz huffed, not bothering to struggle now that you were on top.

Both of you breathed heavily, you could feel Gaz’s heartbeat rattling quickly below you. It was pounding heavily against your legs from where you sat above him. Your own heartbeat hammered erratically, growing more wild at the compromised position. 

“I’m a hybrid! I need the element of surprise to have the upper hand,” you said, trying desperately to keep to the topic at hand. 

“Colour me surprised then.”

“And me. What the fuck are you two playing at then, eh?”

Both you and Gaz whipped your heads round at the same time, meeting the irate eyes of Price. You felt your ears lower immediately and clambered off of Gaz, awkwardly looking away while you fixed yourself. Gaz’s smile had dropped, but he didn’t worry about looking sorry. He flipped himself up and tilted his head. 

“Nothin’, just messing around. What’s up, Cap?” 

“I’ll thank you both to not get yourselves injured doing anything stupid, please,” he said sternly.

“Sorry, Sir,” you mumbled, ears still laying flat against your head. 

“None of that,” Price grunted. “I need to send you both off today. I’ve got some contacts I’m going to get in touch with, but I trust that you two can manage some reconnaissance without me. That alright?”

“Course, Sir,” Gaz answered.

You nodded along with him. 

“Good. Go get something to eat and get ready to head out.”

“Is it just the two of us going?” Gaz asked. 

“No. Your company is waiting in the canteen for you,” he said, a sly smile beginning to form across his lips. 

Immediately you got a sense that you were going to like the group you were going out with. Your tail twitched and your ears perked up, Gaz and Price couldn’t help but laugh at your reaction. Though when you shot Price a look to confirm your suspicions he leaned back and sobered, nodding his head at you as if to answer your question. 

It’s him. You thought. 

You raced up from the couch and away from the booming laughter, who’s echoes followed you down the hallway. After bolting like a wild stallion and flying past multiple shocked people you burst into the little canteen and looked around slowly until your eyes zeroed in on your target. 

It didn’t take long for you to find the black balaclava, the familiar scarred mouth below revealed so that he could eat the steaming rice and vegetables on his plate. His big body was angled away from you, talking to his mohawked companion and blissfully unaware of the presence about to attack him. 

“Ghost,” You whispered to yourself. 

You couldn’t hold yourself back. As conscious as you felt of all the other people spread throughout the room, you weren’t able to let them stop you from running up to Ghost and wrapping your arms around him and whining.  

“I’m gonna assume that’s you, Pup. Otherwise Rudy’s gotten awfully sweet on me.”

Hearing the low timbre of his voice was enough to get your tail into a frenzy. He was really there and you were getting to hug him. Even better - he soon stood up and brought you round to his front so that you could snuggle up under his chin. His scent filled your whole body, your lungs burned with him. 

“You’re here,” you sighed, adjusting into the bulk of him. 

“Jeez, I’m feelin a bit left out, Pup. I’m here too,” Soap said from behind you. 

“You don't appreciate my hugs, MacTavish.”

“Says who?” Soap said, a smile evident in his voice. “Get over here, you wee shite.”

He grabbed you then, forcing you from Ghost and wrapping his big stupid barrel arms around your body. Even while being crushed you had to admit that you loved the attention. It also meant you got to face Ghost, even if you had a silly grin plastered all over your face and a wag in your tail that wouldn’t leave. Nothing got you more excited than seeing the coy smile he wore just for you. 

“Missed you too, Pup,” Ghost said, angling his head toward your tail. 

“Really?”

“Mhmm,” he murmured, his voice silky smooth in your ears. “Been lonely walking around without my little shadow.”

“Then you should’ve come sooner,” you huffed, finally breaking free of Soap’s arms. 

Soap flashed you a cheeky smile, his eyes glimmering brightly at you as if all his past fears had been allayed. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder, huh. Though you didn’t get to dwell on that for long.

Soon enough you were yanked back onto Ghost by the collar, forced to sit astride his massive lap and face him directly in the eyes. The fact the top half of his balaclava was still secured only made his stare more intense, the bright pools of his eyes practically spitting off heat they focused so hard. No matter how hard you scrabbled against him, he kept you like that, pinned onto him with no other choice but to face him down. 

“You shouldn’t have taken yourself off to the kennels, naughty Pup,” Ghost said lowly, breath hot on your cheek. “The reason I wasn’t here sooner was because I was busy undoing Price’s mess these past few days. You don’t ever make decisions like that without me there again. You’re my responsibility, mine to look after - not Price’s, not Gaz’s, not anyone else's. Do you understand?”

Your mouth went dry, you were still actively squirming in place. You didn’t understand the sudden shift in his demeanour. He’d never treated you like that before. He’d never grabbed you or spoken to you with such a menacing tone. Nevertheless it felt like he was holding your collar like he was about to stick a gun to your head.

Your ears had flattened and your tail had calmed, nervously twitching as it dangled to the ground. After taking a nervous gulp, you nodded. Mood thoroughly soured.

“I just thought it’d be better if I got it over with… Price tried so many ways to get me out, I thought they’d make it worse if I fought it.”

“Yeah? Well I've Sorted it now, I was never gonna leave you in that little prick’s care so that he could hurt you and do whatever he wanted just to prove a point. This,” he said, jingling your handler tag, “means that I have a duty to you, and you have a duty to me. We look out for each other - we’re legally bound together for as long as we live. Part of that means that you don’t go off taking orders from whoever slings their rank around. Okay? Don’t put yourself in a position to get hurt just because you’re used to assuming that’s the right thing to do.”

“Ok,” you said meekly, nodding hard despite the grip Ghost still had on your tag. 

He huffed out a breath, finally exhaling after his tirade and releasing you. All the heat in his eyes died and suddenly they were back to crinkling jewels. You had to blink back at them just to know that you weren’t seeing things. He’d looked so angry…no,that wasn’t really it, was it? He was hurt, annoyed maybe. The way he’d been speaking was desperate, in only the way Ghost could sound desperate. Making sure that his point hammered home. 

Your shoulders sagged and you let your ears cautiously spring to a neutral position, finally summoning the courage to look away from him. The noise of all the other diners floated back to you, forcing you to look around to see if anyone had paid much attention to your scolding. Apparently not, Ghost had been quiet enough so as not to attract much attention beyond a few stray stares. 

“Hey,” Soap said, reminding you that he was still sitting across from you. “You know he’s only getting on at you because he was running around like a mother goose tryna keep you from those wankers in 104.”

You turned to him, grateful for an excuse for someone else to look at. Even while remaining heavy hearted at upsetting, his words had perked you up a little. You could feel your ears raise a little more above your head. 

“Mother goose?” you repeated back, a smile rising on your lips.

“Oh yeah, he was flapping around like crazy. Giving it ‘If anything happens to Pup, I’ll shoot the fucker responsible. I don’t care if its just a hair out of place, mark my words, Johnny. They’ll be bloody unidentifiable!’,” Soap said, doing one of his dreadful Ghost impressions. 

It made you laugh if nothing else. Ghost groaned from behind you, but pulled you further into him, and further into his scent. You breathed him in and sighed, nuzzling underneath his chin and into your favourite spot. Even if he had just told you off like a bad dog, you couldn’t hold it against him. All that mattered was that you were back together again and he had somehow managed to solve your little situation. 

Which did make you wonder…how the hell did he manage to pull that off? And how lastingly mad was Ghost going to be. 

“Ghost?” you mumbled into his collarbone.

“Mm?”

“How long are you going to be angry with me?”

Most important question comes first naturally. 

“I’m not angry with you. I just needed to get my point across. Somehow I’ve got to look after you, but you make it really bloody difficult when you’re always off flying into trouble,” he grunted. “First I’ve got to deal with the kennel debacle and then I’m getting a call from Price telling me you got yourself shot. Feel like I’ve hardly had a minute to breathe with everything going on.”

“Not to mention you’ve got that fuckin’ parade thing to look forward to now,” Soap snorted, pointing his fork in Ghost’s direction.

“Parade thing? What?” 

Ghost was about to explain, but Gaz and Price turned up before he could open his mouth. Gaz took his place next to Soap, setting his tray down on the table before bumping his shoulder. Price sat between you all and smiled to himself when he saw you curled into your handler. He handed you a tray of steaming hot chicken and rice after he’d set his own in front of him. 

“Happy now?” Price asked. 

“Mm, almost,” you dead panned. “Apparently Ghost has to go marching off to some parade though.”

“That’s a negative. We have to go marching off to the parade and demonstration day, Pup. Both of us.”

Your ears dropped back again and you drew back from Ghost’s side just so that you could eye him directly. What did he just say? You couldn’t work out why on earth anyone would want you in a military parade. Your tail was broken. You were awful at drilling. How on earth was this going to work? 

“Uh…say what now?”

“Time to polish up your dancin’ shoes, sparky,” Soap grinned. “Face left! Forward! Stop! Find your center!” 

Soap’s drill sergeant impression, complete with leg movements, landed like a lead balloon. Gaz elbowing him did very little to relieve its weight. You breathed out a bone weary sigh and collapsed against Ghost. 

“Just leave me in the kennels to rot.”

“Now, now, Pup. That’s not the attitude,” Ghost chuckled. “Where’s my - ‘oh thank you Ghost, you’re my hero’ speech?”

“I musta left it behind in my non-parade trousers,” you glowered. 

Price laughed a rich laugh, luckily just in-between eating. The others all sported smiles that did nothing to make up for the annoyance that was plastered all over your face. 

“What’s the big deal? All you gotta do is a little frog marching and a bit of demo on how you work?” Gaz said, trying to reassure you. 

“The ‘big deal’ is that I don’t wanna be a spectacle for the general public to gawk at,” you said sourly. “Ive seen parades, because I’m usually too beat up to be called into them mind you, and they suck for hybrids! We have to dress up all fancy in those silly little harnesses and dumb berets and then we get dragged around like animals on stupid gold rope leashes. Then as if that’s not embarrassing enough they’re gonna make me growl and bark in front of everyone to show off the ‘fearlessness of our fair British troupe in the face of agression’ - no thanks.”

“I hate the growlin’ thing,” Soap muttered, sticking a forkful of chicken in his mouth.

“Well it’s still better than getting beat up by the 104 for a week, Pup,” Price said, directing his fork toward you. 

“You say that, but i bet if you were in my shoes and after doing all that drilling had a bunch of stinking civvy kids tryna touch your tail and their dumb parents tryna ruffle your ears - you’d say something different.”

“I won’t let anyone touch you, Pup. I promise,” Ghost soothed. “We just need to get through the day and then I’ll get us out of there.” 

“And how are you even gonna be in the parade when you can’t show your face?” You asked, throwing up your hands at his balaclava. 

“They’re permitting me a neck gaiter.”

“You allowed to wear a skull one?” Soap asked, his lips curling into a bemused smile

“Unfortunately not, I was told it had to be plain,” Ghost shrugged. 

“Of course you asked,” you said, rollling your eyes but smiling despite everything. 

“Well it’s only down to me asking that got you this replacement gig in the first place,” Ghost reminded you before shunting you onto a spare seat. “Now eat your lunch and stop your whining. If I have to hear anymore complaints I’ll make you wear a muzzle. I’ll find a pink sparkly one with charms on it and all.” 

You folded your ears back at that, mouth gaping at the threat. He wouldn’t dare! Or would he? You looked between him and Price and huffed when they gave nothing away behind their serious expressions. 

Only when you started shovelling food in your mouth did they both start laughing and shaking their heads between each other. It made your cheeks burn, but you kept quiet and busied yourself with the delicious canteen food that you were sure to miss on your return home. It was better to focus on that than earning yourself a telling off for glaring at your superiors over your plate. 

“I’m surprised they let you off with a little parade instead of sacrificing Pup for the week,” Gaz said thoughtfully. “Who’d you have to go asking to get that kind of trade off, LT?”

“Well it wasn’t just the parade, I was supposed to go apologise to the father and do a little grovelling too.” 

“And how’d you worm your way out of that one, ay?” Price asked, already groaning before hearing the answer. 

“Who said I wormed out?”

“You said ‘supposed to’ Ghost.”

“Well you see, Captain - the benefit of never showing my face is that no one really has any way of telling that it’s really me when I ‘reveal’ myself,” Ghost said smoothly, a smile apparent in his voice alone. “Ergo, doesn’t necessarily need to be me that turns up to apologise.”

“Oh, you bastard,” Price chuckled. “I’m not covering for you if they work out what you did.”

“No need, I got a message to say it’s all handled.”

-🐺-

The light was just starting to drain from the land, the orange glow of the sun smattered the ground with withdrawing tendrils of light. They washed across the pale dirt, stroking it with their warmth before retreating somewhere behind the darkness. Slowly and then all at once the sky went from orange to black. 

“I assume you’re excited to go home now that you’re not going back to the kennels,” Rudy said, breaking the easy silence that had fallen between you. 

You nodded an answer, but didn’t say anything back. 

The other hybrid had been relatively quiet since you’d arrived, apart from asking what the news was from Soap and Ghost, he hadn’t said much else. He’d instead made a point of exaggerating just how tired he’d been from the night before, only showing you the hickey that flamed up around his collar bone as he yawned and stretched. 

He’d been sleeping for most of the rest of the journey to the watch point. After being out and actively looking for the target for a few hours however, the two of you had gotten more restless, fidgeting and shifting how you sat every few minutes. 

Still, you kept your eyes across the horizon and your ears pinned forward. You didn’t want to mess up anything else after everything you’d been called out for so much already. You were especially aware of the fact that Ghost and Soap were only a few meters from you both as well. This was the last situation you wanted Rudy baiting you in. 

“You ever been in a parade before?”

“No,” you answered, shifting the leg you were sitting on and flicking your eyes out over the ground. 

“They’re not too bad. The ones here anyway, you do a little showing off and then you get some free food..” 

“Do they make you guys walk on a harness and bark at the men too?” You asked dryly. 

Rudy threw his head back and laughed. The sound caused a small smile to break out on your face and you shook your head at him for the disturbance. Nevertheless the smile stayed on your face while you continued to keep watch. 

“You British hybrids have to put up with a lot, hm?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” you said sourly. 

“I know enough…” Rudy replied, seemingly trailing off as he spoke. 

You looked away from the spot you’d been boring a hole into with your eyes only to glance at Rudy’s face. It took on that serious hard look again, his lips stony and his eyes cast far away. 

“You’ve worked with a lot of us then?”

“A decent amount.”

“Take it you’ve not met anyone half as charming as me, yknow - since you were all grumpy about working with me the first time.” 

He snorted at that.

“None of them have been anything like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You have some life about you, it’s a good thing,” you saw him shrugging in your peripherals. “Most of them are quiet, angsty. Half of them look like they’re glad to die when their superiors send them off just to protect themselves. The other half just seem dead already.”

His words stole anymore words from coming to your lips. You knew exactly what he meant - that used to be you after all. The old you would never have done anything like you’d done on your last mission for any of your previous superiors, would never have let the beast inside you rage. You had to be clear enough to protect yourself. You spited them too much to be willfully suicidal, you’d rather see them die instead of you. 

Now that had all changed. Ghost had only just reprimanded you because you put yourself in harms way, but even still you knew you’d rather die for any of your team than have them go instead. With that thought in mind, your back prickled with a chill that shivered through your whole nervous system. 

“You don’t have to tear yourself apart just to be a good soldier, Pup. I hope being with the 141 for any amount of time has taught you that all that doesn’t even matter. We get to have lives too, you know? Get your job done and keep yourself and your boys alive, fight so that you get to come home and actually live. Find out what makes you happy and do things that you like because there’s so many of us hybrids that are used like bullets and so many humans that are so happy to discard us once we’ve hit our targets. Fuck anyone that tells you you’re disposable. We have just as much right to be here as anyone - remember that.” 

You blinked back at him. A faint buzzing rang through your ears, a shrill little hum that tried to force tears from your eyes while it snatched at your heart. A low growl threatened to loose from your throat, bark at the enemy, fend off those pesky emotions. 

No, he wasn’t attacking you. He was just speaking the truth. 

“Do you wanna take over as my therapist?” You muttered, having to clear the lump from your throat before you could spit even a word out. 

He laughed wryly at that and muttered something under his breath.  “I’m just saying… you could’ve ended up like anyone else you got trained up with, but you didn’t. Don’t waste your new life stuck on what things were like. Make something good out of it.”

[penelopepine]

Elephant in the Room Pt. 4

Part 3 Part 4

Summary: John and you hooked up after a night at the bar. You two after that never saw each other again. At least until 12 years later when Price discovers that 9 months after your time together you had given birth to not one baby, but two. Word Count: 2309

Price continues to avoid you even after getting back to base. That seems to be what you want right now as well if the glare you shoot his way when he attempts to carry a few of the bags inside was anything to go by. With that in mind he swiftly made his retreat; leaving the rest of the team to help the two of you get settled while he excused himself on account of needing to do some paperwork.

His mind was racing far too much for him to truly focus on that though. Price tries to stay away, but after a few hours he can't help but find himself at your door once more today. Things like this do require space, but they also need to be discussed as soon as possible lest resentment and anger continue to grow. Ghost's words from earlier echoing in his mind. 

He knocks firmly on the door, and waits to see if you'll open the door, and surprisingly you do. You don't seem surprised to see him either. The two of you stand there in silence for what feels like hours before your moving, and gesturing for him to come inside. 

The silence continues even after the door shuts and you lead him to the living room. Price sits across from you, and only then does he finally speak, "I know the things that have been happening are my fault, and I'm- I'm sorry. I am going to fix things though. The only thing I'm begging of you is that I get a chance to talk to Amelia and Andrew." 

“No, no this isn’t your fault John. I shouldn’t have implied that I thought it was earlier. It’s just- everything is happening so fast; I mean just a few days ago everything was perfectly normal, and now it feels like I’m in an unending nightmare.” You explain to him before taking a calming breath, “Would you … like to talk to Amelia tomorrow? She was asking about you earlier, and I admittedly didn’t have any answers for her” 

“May I ask how much they do know about me; about us?” 

It's here where he sees a wave of sadness hit you. "They know just about as much as I do. I told them your name, that you were a lieutenant when I met you, and that you were kind. They also know that we weren't any official. Would be a bit hard to lie about not knowing your last name if I said we were."

Price softly whispers your name before continuing, "I shouldn't have left like I did, love. You didn't deserve that. Maybe things would be different now if I did."

"I tried to find you John, I wanted things to be different." 

"There was only so much you could have done. Heaven knows there are hundreds of 'Johns' in the military." He pauses here thinking about the conversations he's had with you today, "I still haven't properly introduced myself to you."

You let go of a soft laugh at his words. This might be the first time seeing any sort of happiness on your face since meeting you again. "Well go on then! I'd love to finally know my children's father's name." 

"John Price, and it's captain now."

"Captain John Price." You look at him with a soft smile, "it suits you." 

He likes the way you say his name. It only makes him wish he could have told you it all those years ago. You both sit in comfortable silence for a moment before he asks, "Were you serious about letting me talk to Amelia tomorrow?"

"Maybe- maybe you could come by for lunch; talk to her then." 

"I'd like that." He answers you with a gentle tone. "What is she like; what is Andrew like?"

Your eyes are soft and smile sweet as you reply to him, "Amelia … She's a good kid; smart too, but a little spitfire that one. I don't think that girl has ever been afraid of confrontation. Very blunt, I'll warn you now about that. I'd prepare yourself for some hard questions from her."

"Good to know," Price nods at the information you've shared. He can only imagine right now what a kid who's meeting their father for the first time in 12yrs could ask. "And Andrew?"

"Football is life is a phrase I'm pretty sure he actually lives by with how much I've heard him say it." You lightly chuckle at your words, and wipe a fallen tear from your cheeks before continuing, "He's a sweet boy though; always wanting to include others in whatever he does." 

"They sound like great kids." He pauses for only a moment, "You're a good mum." 

Your eyes snap up to meet him when you hear this with surprise shining through your face. "Thank you," your voice cracks out.

Price takes a moment of silence before speaking again, "It's late and I don't want to keep you up any longer, love."

You walk him to the door, and before you shut it you whisper, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." Hell or high water he'll be here tomorrow. He won't let you down again.

-

It's the next morning and only a few hours until his first conversation with his daughter when Laswell decides to make a sudden appearance in his office. “John.” 

“Laswell,” He addresses her, “what you got for me?”

She steps up to his desk and immediately hands him a folder, “Information about who took Andrew.” 

Instantly opening up the folder Price sees the name of the same group who had managed to take him captive for a few hours months ago. He had always thought that the interrogation had been odd. They didn’t ask for any information, any codes, or any future plans the team had. Instead they had swabbed his mouth, and left him alone for most of his time there. 

Looking back on it now though their intentions are becoming more clear. They didn’t want to simply torture information out him; they wanted to take something seemingly much more important to him. This was in the plans for much longer than he realized. 

Flipping through the other pages he sees a printed scene shot of a DNA test website. It shows a profile with his name being listed as father above Andrews’. That's how they found Andrew it seems; by a stupid online genetic test. 

"Where are we now on getting him back?"

"We have a basic location on their base of operation as of now. Be prepared to be sent out on a moment's notice; even for today. We're getting this kid back as soon as we can."

"I can agree with you on that. Has anything else been sent to us since the video?"

Laswell shakes her head at him, "Nothing as of yet. Which we should take as a good thing. Hopefully that means Andrew has been left alone for the most part."

"We can only hope."

She takes a step closer to him, and gives his shoulder a quick squeeze, "We're going to get him back, John.” With a slight pause she continues, “What about the girls; how have things been with them?” 

“Well I’ve been allowed to have a conversation with Amelia today so things are doing good, all things considered.” 

“Yeah? Are you ready for that?”

“Laswell.” 

“Yes, John?”

“How do you talk to 12 year old girls?” 

Laswell gives a small chuckle at Price’s question, “Don’t treat her like a soldier for one, and two … I’d just be honest about whatever questions she might have. She probably already feels like her life has been turned upside down. The last thing she wants right now is to be treated like she can’t handle knowing the truth.” 

“So just be honest about everything?” 

“Well she is 12 so there are going to be things you’ll probably want to explain in a more age appropriate way, but 12 year olds aren’t babies; they can handle having a serious conversation.” 

“And what if she’s angry?” Price can’t help but ask. Of all things, that is the one that he’s not sure how to properly react to or handle that.

Laswell merely sighs at him, “She’s going to be angry. You just need to stay calm, actively listen to what she says, and don’t take everything she says out of anger to heart. Especially with how crazy her life is right now.” 

He doesn’t say anything else right away; thinking about what Laswell had just said to him. As always she’s right; Amelia is most likely going to be angry. He knows if he was in her position he would be. “Thank you Laswell.” 

“No problem John.” She then turns around and walks out of the office.

Once alone he takes out the photo he had taken from the first folder Laswell had given him; the one that showed all three of you smiling together. Price thinks about how once he gets Andrew back he'll make sure all of you can be together like that again. 

-

It was noon right on the dot when Price stepped inside your house once more. The first thing he noticed was how delicious it smelt inside. It really made him think for a moment about how long it’s been since he’s had a meal that wasn’t from the base cafeteria. 

You both exchange slightly awkward greetings with one another before you lead him into the dinning room where Amelia is already sitting at the table; a notepad sits in front of her. Price stops in the arch way as he watches you walk over to her, and give her shoulder a squeeze. 

“Lunch is almost ready; it’ll just be a few more minutes.” You move your head between Amelia and him, “While I’m finishing up you two can have a talk. Amelia, come get me if you need to.” You say before nervously exiting the room.

With you gone now it just leaves Price and Amelia alone to have what he can already tell is going to be a hard conversation. He makes his way further into the room and sits across from her with a hand extended, “Hello, Amelia. I’m John; John Price.” 

He watches as his daughter takes a calming breath as she extends her hand to shake his as well, “Hello, … John.” 

She sounds unsure saying his name which he can understand. Price didn’t come in here expecting her to call him any sort of partial name; that is something he hopes later on she’ll be comfortable giving him. That time is not now though, now is the time to build trust. 

“I heard you had some questions for me, and I promise to do my best to answer them for you,” He slightly motions towards the notepad. 

At the mention of questions Amelia seems to immediately perk up; even flipping her notepad open to reveal several lines of text. Price unfortunately couldn’t read it from this distance. It seems all nervousness from her has been thrown out the window though. 

The first few questions were basic get to know you questions. Things like age, birthday, and where did he grow up. Price noted how this felt more like an interrogation rather than a talk which actually eased his nerves a bit; she strangely reminded him of Laswell at this moment. 

Those kind of questions could only last for so long though before you started asking about things currently going on. “Have there been any updates about Andrew?” 

“We’re hoping to retrieve him any day now.” Price hesitantly answers; unsure of how much he should really be discussing with her. “You’ll get your brother back soon.” 

“And afterwards?”

“Hmm?”

"So like … what's going to happen afterwards then? You keep saying you're going to get Andrew back, but what about after that?" Amelia questions him, "Are you just going to save the day and all these years without you don't matter anymore because of that, or are things going to go back to when we never knew you?"

“Amelia!” Your voice rings out from the other side of the room. 

Price doesn’t know how, but you had managed to come into the room with him noticing. He puts a calming hand up to you, and softly says your name before continuing, “No, it’s ok it’s a valid question to ask,and the answer truthfully is that I don’t know what is going to happen afterwards. That is something your mum and I have yet to discuss.”

"What do you want to happen?" You are now sitting next to Amelia with a comforting hand on hers.

"I- I don't know." She says as her head hangs low and picks at her nails.

"That's ok; You don't have to know." You stand up and gently help Amelia out of her chair, "Why don't you come and help me bring out the dishes?" 

Price watches as you both leave; knowing that you wanted to have a private conversation without him present. It only takes a few minutes for you both to return, Amelia mood seems to have risen based on the easy smile on her face. 

The conversation that follows is stilled in the beginning, but quickly becomes livelier as Amelia talks about her friends and upcoming school year. Everything for just a moment feels calm, but of course nothing can last forever. 

A loud rapid knocking sound rings through the house; stopping any conversations in an instant. Price is the first one to stand and walk towards the door. He knows that whoever is on the other side is most likely looking for him anyway. 

“Captain.” Gaz stands before him, a serious look on his face. “Laswell needs us in the debriefing room. It’s time to get your boy.” 

Taglist: @zarsghost @lulurubberduckie @mafer383 @7thsthings @sazifer

[aestas---estas]

A conversation

Part 2 of this | MDNI 18+ | Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | ~900 words | fem!reader, assistant!reader, protective!Simon, probable military inaccuracies, mentions of previous creep behaviour of an unnamed character | divider by @cafekitsune | Read on AO3

Simon's in his office, it's early Monday morning and he thought it best to get an early start on his paperwork rather than toss and turn in bed. He had always been an early riser, even before the rigid schedule of military life, not to mention the insomnia and nightmares. But this time, it hadn't been bad, twisted memories or the unexplainable inability to get his body and mind to relax that had made sleep elude him — it had been you. You, in that perfect dress. You, calling him in the middle of the night for help. You, hugging yourself tight to ward off the cold. You, in his jacket.

A knock on the door startles him from his thoughts, and he just knows it's you — he recognises the pattern of the knock, and a glance at the clock on his wall tells him the timing would be right. He grunts in the affirmative, just like always, and watches as you enter his office with a steaming cup of tea and a small biscuit.

“Good morning,” you greet, the smile in your lips as ethereal as ever as you place the cup and saucer on his desk.

“Morning,” Simon says back, following your movements out of the corner of his eye, not truly giving in to the satisfaction to stare. He can see though, that despite the radians of your smile, you look… bashful almost. 

“I, uh… I wanted to apologise again for my behaviour last night.” Simon says nothing, keeping his face down as if concentrating on the files he had been working on. A sharp, singular nod was all the answer you got, which only makes you ramble even more. “He wouldn't leave me alone when I said I wasn't interested, as if my no wasn't answer enough.” 

You scoff, shuffling a little on your feet as you remember the annoyance you had felt over that.

“So I, uh… I called you. Had to lay it on thick, that's why I called you baby. I'm sorry.” Once again, Simon says nothing, but he raises his gaze to your face. “Should've probably called someone else. You don't deserve to be dragged into my bullshit.”

“Why did you?” He asks, effectively cutting your rant short, and leans back a little in his chair; thighs spread wide and hands cupped in his lap.

“Call you?” He nods, waiting for your explanation with rapt attention and a raised eyebrow you can't see due to the mask. “I don't know. Needed a guard dog, I guess.”

“A guard dog? That what I am to you?” 

“N-no, that's not what I… fuck, I'm fucking this up.” You take a deep breath, straightening your posture and finally meet his eyes. “You were the first person I thought of when I felt uncomfortable and unsafe. When you walked me home from the pub that one time… it was the first time in a long while that I didn't feel the need to look behind me. I felt safe. I don't think I ever thanked you for that by the way, so, uh, thank you.”

“Thought you wanted Johnny to walk you home.” It's not said maliciously, and it only serves to confuse you. Sure, you'd had a great time talking and laughing with both Johnny and Kyle, but if you had wanted either of them to walk you home that night you would've said so.

“I never said that,” you supply with a soft yet confused smile. “I'm a grown woman, Simon. If I didn't want you to walk me home I would've told you. If I wanted Johnny to save me this weekend, I wouldn't have called you.”

“But you did call me.”

“I called you.”

It's quiet for a few moments as you both observe the other, something that can't truly be named flowing through the air. “And the kiss?” Simon eventually asks.

“Just a thank you gesture,” you answer with a shrug, feeling your cheeks heat in embarrassment. 

“That all it was?” He prods, hands still clasped together as he leans forward with his arms on the desk. He's unconvinced, you can tell, and his penetrative gaze sends a shiver down your spine.

“No. It's something I wanted to do,” you finally confess, hoping the admission won't be shut down or make your work environment uncomfortable going forward. But with the way his eyes have never strayed once from your form, the way he brought the kiss up and keeps prodding for a truthful answer, you don't think it will.

Simon lets your confession hang in the air for a moment, but you don't back down, only meeting his gaze head on and waiting patiently. “Alright,” he eventually says at length before going back to his paperwork. You don't really know what to make of his response, or lack thereof. It's only when you're halfway out the door to his office that he speaks again and stops you in your tracks, “I didn't mind it. Neither the call nor the kiss.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” you answer, throwing him another bright smile over your shoulder. “Oh, and your jacket. I was going to wash it before returning it but my washing machine is acting up and I haven't had the time to fix it.”

“Keep it. Looks better on you anyway.”

--- Masterlist

[cactusisconfused]

I HAVE AN IDEA :O

Cw: homophobia (brief), fluff, not beta read, he die like Roach.

-

Soap has a stuffed rabbit when he was child, a gift from his mother.

Growing up, the stuffed rabbit was one of Soap’s favorite things in the world. He’d take it everywhere- the park, grocery shopping or even any outings that his family went on.

He had slept with it too, kept his nightmares at bay. But as he grew older he felt ridicules for having such ties with some inanimate object- at least that’s how everyone else felt.

“Don’t you think it’s time you’ve moved passed that stupid thing John? You’re growing up to be man, you got act like one.” His father had told him one night, as Johnny cradled his stuffed bunny in his arms. He was six at the time.

He still slept with it, but he hated the glances his father would give him. He hated hearing the conversations between his parents. How his mother would always say “John’s just a boy, let him grow up on his own.” His father would always just scoff and say that it would be her fault that he would have a gay son.

John didn’t really know what that meant at the time, but he was scared of disappointing his father, so he stopped.

He stopped carrying the stuffed bunny everywhere, stopped sleeping with it. And sure, maybe the nightmares became more prevalent, but he was being more of a man now, right? He was being what his father wanted, right?

Eventually, John found himself thinking less and less about the stuffed bunny, somewhere in his closet.

Life went on. He got through school, watched his older sisters go off to college and he himself into the military.

It wasn’t until a long while later, that Soap remembered the stuffed bunny once more. He had been part of the 141 for a little longer than a year, and dating ghost for five months.

They had a gap between missions, about a months worth of down time, something incredibly rare for their line of profession. This time off landed, in a dark ironic way, perfectly as Soaps father finally kicked the bucket.

Soap would be going back to Scotland for the funeral, and with the best puppy dog eyes Ghost could muster (a sight that will never get old given it’s coming from a walk of a man) Simon would tag along.

Soap was relatively quiet about his dad, but what he did speak about made him realize he really didn’t like the guy. Growing up, Soap tried not think about his father, about the disappointment that always seems to radiate off of him, how he was never good enough for his father. And you know what, yeah he is gay, so what?!

Soap showed up for the funeral and was filled with an almost sense of joy at how neither his sisters or his mother looked distraught over the ‘loss.’

Of course, Soaps mother was over joyed to see her son and be introduced to Simon, which was a fun scenario to watch Simon maneuver around in.

The night, despite the day of the funeral, was cheerfully fun. Soaps mother made a wonderful meal, that screamed nostalgia for Soaps, and his sisters who shared every single embarrassing story about Soap’s youth to Simon.

By the time they all felt their energies zapped from them, they retired for the night. For the first time in years, Soap stepped into his childhood room. The posters are still the same, along with the bedding and the books on his bookshelf.

“Never knew you played football.” Simon says softly, his eyes carefully looking over the few medals Soap has acquired from his school years.

“Aye.” Soap started, moving their luggage into his closet to make more space.

“Was a goalie. Coach didnae lemme’ play offense, said I was ‘too rough. Wasnae all bad though, I actually-…” Soap had started with a light tone the memories flooding back to him. He hadn’t meant to create a lull in his words, and really only realized he did when Ghost called his name, now behind him.

“Johnny?”

“Ahm fine, sorry I just…” At this point Simon’s eyes drift to where Johnny’s are looking- at a worn, slightly dust covered stuffed bunny.

Soap felt like he was a kid again as he saw it. Felt that same happiness, but felt that same tension. If he picked it back up, would he still be good enough. He knows his father was a dick, but it’s hard to erase the words from his mind.

What catches Soap out of his thoughts, is when ghost carefully picks up the stuffed bunny, so gently he might as well be holding a new born baby.

Soap ready’s himself for some comment making fun of him for having a stuffed animal, but instead he’s met with Simon’s soft look. Of course Simon would never say anything like that to him, now that he thought about it.

If Soap ends up taking the stuffed bunny back with him, his mother says nothing but gives a knowing smile.

And if and when Johnny and Simon retire Johnny sleeps with the bunny hugged between the two men, that’s for him and his husband to know.

-

Lmao this was actually so wholesome. I also typed all of this out on my phone and I’m tired so please ignore typos, I’ll fix those in the morning.

[beautifulfuckup99]

ok ok i just got this random idea bare with me

Chubby mid size cute reader, she is very confident but gets inscure from time time

Namjoon is her BF 😉😉and they are camping with their friends. ( some of them are not that nice to her abt her looks).

One girl then says a comment pitting her that she cant be carried or manhandled due to her wait.

Later Namjoon carries her with one arm out of the blue in front of everyone and then a nice spicy time in the woods

Very random 😂😂😂 only u can make it happen😂😂😂

I feel blessed to have so many Namjoon requests!!

Title: For Me...

Warning(s): Insecure!Y/N, Slight B0dy-Sham!ng, Hurt/Comfort, Smut! And of course Fluff!

Author's Note: Obviously set in an AU where Namjoon has his license and drives lol. Enjoy!

*****************************************

"Yes!" Namjoon cheers the second he throws the car in park. You look up from your book, blinking the sleep from your eyes.

"We're here?" You ask, feeling the surge of relief that you no longer have to sit in this car anymore.

"Uh-Huh." He says fast as he gets out of the car, pausing to breathe in deep through his nose. "Baby! You smell that? That's nature, baby!" He cheers excitedly and you close your book, giggling softly as you get out of the car while watching your boyfriend of just six months spin around giddily.

He was a giant dork, and it made your heart flutter in the best way possible.

"Ay! Namjoon! There you are, man. Took you long enough to show up!" Dae laughs as he walks over from where the tents were set up.

When Namjoon had told you about this camping trip with his friends, you were pouty, you had to admit, but you were understanding that he needed time to cut loose with his friends. Especially before he had to run off to the military. BTS being on hiatus meant he had more time to roam and explore and the one thing he's been looking forward to is getting back into nature. When he invited you to join the camp trip, you hesitated. You knew the members of BTS, yeah, but these were buddies of his from back home. Guys who knew him from way back when. School days.

You wanted them to like you, that's all. You slowly get out of the car as Namjoon starts hugging his buddies who run over to greet him. You fix your shirt and hold the sweater more around you. Your sweatpants now feel like a bad idea since all his friends look actually put together. You had done the bare minimum of getting ready, and now you couldn't help but fuss at your hair a bit.

"Oh! Guys, this is my girl. Y/N..." Namjoon smiles proudly, dimples on full display. The four guys surrounding him all eye you up and down.

"This is Y/N?" One guy says slowly as if you're not who they expected. You smile sheepishly as you walk over to grab Namjoon's hand that he's holding out for you.

"Hi, guys. Sorry to interrupt guys' camping weekend. I promise, you won't even know I'm here." You try joking as they continue to just look at you.

"Ay, it's all good. My girl came with too." Dae shrugs as he nods to the campsite where a girl still sat, flipping through a magazine. You nod, kind of relived that you wouldn't be stuck in these woods with just guys.

"I'll go get the bags." Namjoon says and squeezes your hand to assure you before he goes back to the car.

"So, what are you guys thinking for lunch?" You ask to try and start a conversation. The guys all share a look and one finally snickers.

"Too easy." He says before walking away while shaking his head as if humored by something. You feel your heart drop at that moment.

Fuck, this was a mistake...

***************************************

The next morning, you're woken up by Namjoon kissing all over your face as he wraps his leg around your waist. You grumble playfully and open your eyes to face him. Last night had been a nightmare for you. It was full of backhanded compliments and little glances from everyone in the group around you, as if everyone was in on a joke that you didn't know about.

But you DID know the joke. You knew your body, you knew the difference between you and Namjoon, you knew the irony. 'Ha-Ha, Namjoon is all about the gym and health and look at him dating a plus sized girl'. You weren't dumb or blind. You knew your body weight and type, but you also knew that you had one of the best leaders of K-pop wrapped around your finger and drooling over you at any given second. It didn't full stop the self-doubt, but it helped a bit.

You've been chubby since you were a kid. You've heard and dealt with it all. A weekend with jerks like your boyfriend's friends wasn't gonna hurt you too much. And you definitely didn't wanna bring this to his attention either. After this weekend, you'd never have to deal with these people again...

"Morning, baby. We were gonna head to the lake. You're coming, right?" Namjoon whispers finally after a moment of just rubbing his nose with yours. You hum softly at that and stretch a bit.

"That sounds nice." You nod tiredly. You hadn't slept much due to how hungry you were. You picked at your dinner the night before as to not be a cliché plus size person. You watched though as Namjoon had three bowls of the ramen and his buddies all drank and had about two to four each. It was a bit unfair. You wondered for a moment why you had to act carefully when slurping up noodles when your boyfriend sat proudly right next to you, eating and drinking away. Why you had to take small sips of water and after a few bites of food claim you were full when everyone around you shameless enjoyed themselves. Could it be because you had something to prove? Yup, exactly.

"Hey. You okay?" He asks softly as he eyes you closer, hand pushing your hair back to really look at you. You look up at him and the urge to vocalize your uncomfortability is strong, but you shake it off. It was Saturday and you'd be saying your goodbyes Sunday morning. You could do this.

"I'm all good. It was just so hot last night. I couldn't get comfy..." You lie softly and Namjoon nods, pecking your nose.

"Maybe we can sneak away after swimming for a bit and take a nap." He offers softly as he rests his forehead against yours. It makes you blush as you nod along. You two get up soon enough and throw on your bathing suits.

You make sure your black one piece is on right since it was kind of strappy in a few places. You step out of the tent real soon and see all the guys and Dae's girl all look over at you, eyeing your body. Dae's girlfriend gently tugs at Dae's shirt and whispers something in his ear, making him laugh and nod his head in agreement.

The overwhelming feeling of regret swallows you whole and you grab one of Namjoon's shirts to put on over your shirt. You try and act none the wiser to all the snickering which only makes your self anger grow more.

"Okay! Bag is packed and ready to go!" Namjoon says as he steps out of your tent and pauses. "What's funny?" He asks his buddies and they all laugh before shaking it off.

"Nothing, man..." Dae says before walking off with his girlfriend. The other boys follow and Namjoon eyes you and smiles a bit as he tugs at the shirt you had on.

"What's with the cover up?" He asks and you shake your head.

"Just don't wanna get sunburned..." You say softly, not wanting to put a damper on Namjoon's vacation. Just one day. Just one day...

He nods and offers you his arm for the short walk to the lake...

When you get there, the water is cool and clear which is a great contrast to the sun that was beating down on you all today. You get in the water and focus on swimming with Namjoon when Dae grabs his girlfriend from her tanning spot on the dock. He lifts her with both arms as she screams for him to let her down and not to throw her. He doesn't listen and chucks her right into the water.

When she surfaces, she starts yelling at him for throwing her while all the guys laugh expect for Namjoon. He holds you a bit closer to his chest as you both bob in the calm lake. She finally sees you looking at her and glares at you.

"What?" She asks.

"Nothing. Just... Sucks that he ruined your hair." You say back gently. She eyes you a bit and then puts on a false smile.

"Well, at least my boyfriend can pick me up." She says in a joking tone and the boys laughing makes your heart feel heavy in your chest.

"What?" Namjoon asks, having heard her right but shocked that those words even left her mouth.

"Oh, Nam, calm down. It was a joke." One of his friends chuckles and Namjoon glares, obviously pissed at this moment.

"Yeah? I'm not laughing." He says shortly before swimming over to the dock and getting out.

"Namjoon, come on..." Dae tries as your boyfriend grabs his towel and then one for you too. You swim over silently, knowing better than to do anything else but just go with Namjoon to get him out of this situation before he blows up.

He helps you out of the lake and wraps the towel around you before you both leave back to the campsite, ignoring his friends as they try calling you for you guys.

****************************************

You sit between Namjoon's legs, pressed back against his hard chest as you hold the newest novel you have to share cause if not, one of you will read ahead. The walk back to the tent had been silent, the shower at the bath house had been quiet, and now the reading time you two share was full of this tense silence. You knew Namjoon was still pissed and you just hoped you could keep him calm till you left tomorrow morning.

"Done?" You ask, so you could know if you should flip the page or not. When you don't get an answer, you turn your head to face Namjoon and see him deep in thought, jaw clenched and face hard set. You frown softly and gently grab his face to make him look at you.

"Babe. It was a dumb joke..." You try quietly and he looks you in the eyes.

"You didn't sleep well last night because of them, didn't you." He says quietly, putting it all together in his head. It makes you frown, but you couldn't lie to him.

"I was... A little upset. Yeah." You admit quietly.

"Why didn't you tell me? I never want you in a place where you're that uncomfortable, Y/N. You know that." He says as he looks at you.

"They're you're friends, Joonie. I-I just... Wanted you to have fun." You try as he looks at you with a frown.

"Well I'm in hell when you're being hurt." He says quietly. You sigh softly and move to nuzzle into his neck.

"I'm used to this, babe. I grew up plus size." You point out quietly and Namjoon shakes his head.

"And? It wasn't right then, and it sure as hell isn't now." He says.

"I know your body. I love your body. Because your 'body' is just skin. Skin that protects everything in you that matters most." He states seriously. "It protects your heart... Which is full of love and care for the world. It protects your brain... Which is always more intriguing to me than any book out there. And it protects your spirit. Which is what I fell in love with. These amazing curves are a bonus." He says softly and you snort playfully while rolling your eyes.

"I know. I'm perfect to you." You mutter playfully, as if you're annoyed by hearing it.

"You're not just perfect to me. You're perfect for me, Y/N. I love you. And I'm not gonna let anyone talk about or to you in anyway." He says quietly as he holds your waist.

You hum. "Tomorrow morning, we can leave." You assure.

"First thing in the morning..." He agrees.

*************************************

Later that evening, everyone sits around the fire, silently eating and drinking. The tension is thick, and no one dares to make a joke or try and break the silence in anyway. You wanted Namjoon to let go of the grudge and have one last dinner with his friends, but he had insisted that anyone able to make you feel shitty was no friend of his. You were still trying to fight off the guilt, but you knew if you had anyone around you that made Namjoon feel a certain way, they'd be gone ASAP too. You just had to stand by your boyfriend's choice.

"I think..." Namjoon finally says, his deep voice demanding all eyes on him, and they are. Everyone is looking at the five-foot-eleven Korean man as he sets his plate down and rubs his hands together slowly. "Before we call it a night, a few things need to be done.

"One. I'd like to remind you all... That she," He nods to you as you sheepishly play with your bowl of beef stew cooked over the campfire. "Is my girlfriend. The woman I love. And I expect nothing but respect for her." He says, his voice calm but with this dark edge to it. Like he was not expecting any argument to his statement.

"Two." He continues. "At the end of the day, you don't have to find her attractive. She's mine for a reason. Because I find her attractive." He states. "And thirdly, if you don't find her attractive? You're just lying to yourself." He snorts and you bashfully roll your eyes at him.

"You all... Need to apologize for what the hell went on with this trip, and you'll be lucky if I ever want to see any of you again." He states honestly. You gaze along the faces of all his buddies, and you feel slightly guilty, maybe even a little childish due to this lecture. You felt like a kid who just tattled to the teacher. But... You hadn't 'tattled'. Namjoon had heard it. You weren't being overdramatic, you weren't play victim, and you didn't deserve this treatment. And you just had to keep telling yourself that...

With a deep sigh, Dae is the first to speak. "Y/N, we're... We're sorry. We were just joking, you know. Giving you a hard time? That's what we do in this friend group..." He says and you look away from him at that.

"Yeah, well that's not what you do with her." Namjoon speaks for you, and you set the bowl down and nod once at Dae. "Don't accept that half ass apology." Namjoon says to you, and you keep your mouth shut. He stands up finally and dusts his hands on his shorts.

"We're leaving tomorrow morning, early. Y/N." Namjoon says, and you quickly stand up only to feel his arm, wrap around your waist from behind. You feel him lift you up and squat down a bit to put you over his shoulder as you squeal in slight alarm.

"Y/N and I are going to bed. Don't bother us." He says shortly before looking a Dae's girl. "And maybe Dae could lift you, if he went to the gym more." He says simply before carrying you away towards your tent that you had moved away from the others for the night.

"Joonie! Put me down!" You hiss as he gets you two into your tent and sets you on the small foam mattress inside your tent.

"What were you thinking? You could've hurt yourse-" He cuts you off by kissing you deeply, you instantly get lost in the kiss.

"Don't disrespect my lifting abilities like that..." He teases quietly against your lips before kissing you more passionately. You can barely react in time as he pushes you back on the bed freely, climbing on top of you.

"What... What are you..." You pant against his lips before he quickly sits up to take off his shirt and then lays back on top of you, covering your jawline and neck with kisses that made you shiver.

You shut your eyes, melting into the cot as he lowers his lips down towards your cleavage. He's quick to pull your tank top up and bra cups down, freeing your nipples as he grips your breasts in both hands.

"I'm showing you that I love this body..." He whispers before tonguing your nipples one at a time, sucking each one hard to turn them into sensitive buds as you arch your back, head rolling back to moan before you cover your mouth.

"Don't cover up. I want them to hear it. Let them know that I know exactly how to handle you. That I thoroughly enjoy you whenever I can..." He whispers before moving down your body, biting all along your tummy as you look down at him, body feeling on fire at this very moment.

"I'm the luckiest man on earth to have you..." He whispers honestly as he settles between your legs, making you blush hard.

He makes quick work of your shorts and keeps your underwear on, blowing softly on the wet spot and making your clit twitch.

"Joonie... Oh fuck..." You gasp as you reach down to grab his hair, needing to feel something against your soaked core and fast.

"Such a goddess." He praises softly before he gets to work lapping at your clit slowly at first. Your head rolls back as you shut your eyes, always enjoying these sensual moments. Namjoon never teases, but he also loves when things slowly build up, especially since the closer you get the louder you get. He had a thing about you being... Verbal.

"Namjoon..." You pant, keeping this in mind. You loved making him feel good over his ability to make you feel good. It was an exchange of sorts. Sometimes you even found yourself twisting and arching your body in different directions as you screamed out because it just egged him on more. Thank god for porn. It was the best teacher...

He turns sloppier the louder you get, and you lose track of where you are at this point as your moans and hard tugs at his hair egg him on more.

At a certain point, feeling how drenched your underwear is from both your juices and his saliva, you pull him up to kiss him, your tongue exploring his to taste yourself on him. He grabs your neck to hold your head still and proceeds to suck on your tongue, and you all but lose all decency at that second, flipping you both over so you're on top.

"You want them to hear? The let's make sure they hear..." You pant with a giggle as he grips your hips hard and sits up to pull you harder against his bulge that is very much present through his shorts.

"Fuck yes, darling..." He whispers in awe before kissing you hard.

**********************************

The next morning, no one can look you both in the eyes and that's fine, because you're still too blissed out from last night to care what they can or can't do. Namjoon says nothing as he packs up the tent and you know you can't force him to drop the attitude long enough for a proper goodbye.

"Joonie..." You say quietly when you two are finally in the car and driving down the dirt road away from the camping grounds. He hums, eyes stuck on to the road with one hand on the wheel.

"Don't stop being friends with them because of me." You whisper and Namjoon smiles slightly at your concern before he grabs your hand.

"Damn your good heart." He says softly and you pout.

"I'm serious..." You try and he brings your hand up to his lips to kiss it tenderly.

"I know you are. And so am I." He says softly. "You're my best friend, Y/N. And I wouldn't have it any other way." He says honestly and it stops your pouting for a bit as you look down at your entwined hands sheepishly.

"I love you." You finally mutter and lean over to kiss his soft cheek, feeling his dimple form under your lips and it just makes you giggle ever so quietly.

"I love you too..." He whispers, looking at you for a moment to show he means it, and you couldn't be more confident of that in this moment...

***************************************

From one plus size girly to another: You are ENOUGH! You are attractive, and you are indeed that bitch lol. Love you all!

[celenawrites]

₊˚ෆ soulmate au, wherein you get to see the world through your soulmate's eyes and experience what they're feeling at that moment

awful editing(no beta), a lot of pov shifts, loads of grammar mistakes, description of violence, smut below the cut. 

just an idea i have been marinating in my drafts this month. 

MDNI.

the first time Simon Riley realizes he has a soulmate, he's 24 and well on his way to becoming a lieutenant. it's an early winter morning, filled with white fog and chilly breeze that seeps through the balaclava he wears while off duty. he's in the cold, congested room that has been assigned as his office and he's trying to catch up on the stack of paperwork that had accumulated while he was risking his lives on the front-line just to feel something.

the scene shifts with a few gradual blinks and he realizes he's not in his office anymore.

he's she's standing in the kitchen, brewing up a cup of tea while humming an old melody. he's awfully out of place here, and he almost thinks his mind is tricking him with a sudden daydream and then she pours out the tea into a green mug, and exits the kitchen - finally sitting down in what he assumes to be a living room.

she turns on the tv to watch some melodrama he doesn't know, as she carefully blows onto the mug to cool down the steaming liquid before carefully taking a sip. he feels the green tea trickle down his throat, warming him from inside. he can feel the cushion behind her back and the glasses that rest on the bridge of her nose. he can feel the tag on her shirt scratch the nape of his nick uncomfortably so.

the scene is serene and unfamiliar and he feels out of place - it is homely and clean and pure, not tainted with blood, violence and avarice. it is uncomfortable for him to watch her be good and domestic and kind, almost feels like he doesn’t deserve it after the life he’s led. and yet, with time, seeing the world through her eyes is warmly welcomed after a dud of a day doing what he's best known for - being a ghost.

and he almost feels sorry for her, whoever she is. he’s sorry for the man he is, for the soldier he is. he’s sorry that she gets a one-way front ticket to seeing him kill people without remorse. 

most of all, he’s sorry she had to end up with him. 

for you, seeing the world through your soulmate's eyes has been nothing short of a grim nightmare. every time you'd shift, you'd almost pray to God and cross your fingers to avoid seeing any of the gruesome scenes that he encountered almost on the daily. you cannot see his face, but you can feel how heavy the protective gear is against his body, how taut his shoulders are and you can feel the synthetic fabric of the gun strap dig into his shoulders and chest. you feel his hands touch the steel barrel of the weapon and your blood runs cold. it’s not long before he’s aiming the said gun at a man before shooting him dead without hesitating. the first time you witnessed him doing something this abhorrent, you ended up having a panic attack - still able to feel the weight of the gun in your hands, convinced that you’re the culprit who shot someone in cold blood. 

it’s not long before the scenes you witness through your soulmate’s eyes follow you even in your sleep. you’re taking melatonin, chamomile tea, antidepressants - anything to help you cope with the fact that having a soulmate like him means being haunted by gruesome visions for the rest of your life. it’s not long before your co-workers comment on your baggy eyes and frail health - even uniting together to urge you that taking a break would probably do you some good, but you turn them all down with a gentle shake of your head. 

and then, you meet Soap through him. scottish, demolition expert, part of the military. wild mohawk, likes to draw, always the victim of your soulmate’s dry jokes. Gaz - british, a sergeant, youngest of the lot, always willing to help, but has enough snark to keep up with Soap about the most ridiculous of things. and Price - captain of his team, with impressive mutton chops and loud sneezes. 

you see them relax around each other, see them drink tea, see Soap and Gaz banter and compete with each other at the training grounds - and this change of pace is far more welcomed than seeing people die on the battlefield. 

and then there’s him, a pariah. everyone he comes across calls him ‘Ghost’, which just sounds ridiculous. no one knows anything about him, but there are moments when you are where he is and you see Price’s eyes twinkle with something - but your lack of physical presence always hinders your curiosity about the subject. no one has really seen his face, and you fear that you’d never get to know the man who’s destined to compliment you in all aspects of life. 

there are moments though, when sharing vision and emotions with you, gets awfully overwhelming for him. it takes a lot to get a man of his stature to waver in his step, but you do that job perfectly. he sees you one day, in your bed with soft satin sheets failing to cover your body. he sees your hands trail down your body and his breath hitched when he feels you play with your cotton panties - before sliding them to the side and rubbing soft circles on your clit. he swears under his breath, trying to hold onto his sanity as it slowly slips away from him when you use your other hand to tease your nipples with skittish touches. it’s not long before Simon has locked himself up in the bathroom stall, using his hands to relieve the tension he has all because of you - matching his rhythm so that he comes at the same time as you. 

he wonders if your hands would feel softer. if you’d kiss him before begging him with those doe eyes to make you feel good. if you’d tell him that you love him. if you’d love him enough so that he can be anew  - without his past dragging him through the mud. 

if you’d lose yourself to him and let him piece you back together with the adoration he carries for you. you’re practically a stranger, and yet you’re the only person who can get to him. 

divider by @/cafekitsune

[eowynstwin]

i have this fascination with price. hes sort of this unsulliable steel, consistently to nearly always making the (as the games frame it) correct decisions, even when hes playing fast and loose with the law. his plans always work, hes never truly failed in the sense of real negative consequences for a choice (until 3 but 3 was badly written and i did not like it). hes always (in the game's framing) right. he never shows a moment of weakness. i love him ❤ i want to see him suffer i want him to make an objectively wrong choice. i want that choice to have consequences that shake his steady foundations and rock him to his core. i want him to fail. is that weird? i want him to lose control of his carefully maintained stony exterior. i want to see that side of him that is barely acknowledged to be genuinely explored. i know people justify it by saying hes a military captain in a ridiculously tough branch to get into, so of course hes like that, but in real life those guys are just as human as the rest of us, just as capable of mistakes and taking fat Ls and making poor decisions. I do love his character, he is my blorbo, i just want to put him in a jar and shake him real hard. is that weird?

Deadass, when I heard what happens in mw3 (still haven't gotten around to watching it, I'm fond of my brain cells and I feel like it'll kill some of them)--my first thought was that they should've killed Price.

Price is always barely restraining himself but he manages to keep himself in check for the most part. I imagine he's learned the hard way that if he lets his feelings dictate his actions then a lot of people get hurt.

Gaz and Soap, however, do not have the benefit of his experience. Ghost does, but he doesn't wield authority like Price's, and I have the feeling that he believes the Price keeps him in check (in his origin comics, he has frequent nightmares in which he assaults and murders people, because he went through months of classical conditioning in captivity).

So, let's say Mak shoots Price dead instead. Suddenly there's no one there to guide the surviving 141. Suddenly the wealth of experience he had to offer, the instincts for warfare that he honed over decades, is gone. Gaz loses his mentor. Ghost loses the man who holds his leash. Soap loses the one commanding officer he had any faith in.

Can you feel how that would raise the stakes exponentially? Price's influence, throughout the reboot, has kept everyone in line. He knows how to break the rules effectively while minimizing the consequences. He knows how to ignore distractions. He is ruthlessly efficient, without being brutal. The other three just do not have those skills. They are not capable of doing what Price does. They have neither the experience (in Gaz and Soap's case) nor the disposition (in Ghost's case).

Price dying would send shockwaves through the 141--through the entire cast--in ways that Soap's death just does not. Soap should have been the one in Shepherd's office with a silenced gun, because assassinating a FUCKING FOUR STAR AMERICAN GENERAL IN THE PENTAGON!!!!! Is not what an experienced captain in the SAS would do, no matter how he feels!!!!!! That is what a sergeant with more aptitude than sense and an overwhelming feeling of rage and loss would do!!!!!!

Aaaaand this is a rant nearly completely unrelated to what you were talking about lol. Sorry. I do want to see that old man suffer don't get me wrong. It's just that the suffering he's been set up for now, in canon, is SO MUCH BULLSHIT.

[esmedelacroix]

20 days til' Christmas

militaryhusband!ghost makes snow angels with your son ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

cw: angsty(sorry got a bit carried away)

----------------------------------------------------------------------

It became a tradition for Simon to make snow angels with your son every Christmas Eve so Santa could know that everyone in the house was nice and not naughty.

"Come on mate, it's time to make our snow angels, gotta let the fat man know we've been good this year," Simon said as he helped your son Edward get his coat on.

You had a sensitivity to cold so you stayed inside. You watched the two of them from the windowsill in your living room. You watched as your husband held your son's hand throughout the whole walk to the backyard.

Watching Simon be so soft with his son was an endearing sight for you to see. He may be a military man, and one the most brutal people on the frontlines, but the fact that he can be gentle with his son, warmed your heart.

You could almost hear their laughter as if you were outside with them. As Simon lay in the snow, Edward followed. They began to flap their arms and legs like they were little birds. It was always cute to watch them do this every year. They got up and looked at their work and high-fived before running back into the house.

"Mama, we did it!" your son exclaimed running over to you, boots still on leaving a trail of water and dirt in his wake. Simon shook his head at Edwards's mess and took his stuff off before returning with a mop in hand.

You helped Edward take his snow gear off while Simon cleaned up the mess he had made before joining the two of you on the couch. "Alright little lad, you have got to remember to take your dirty boots off before you walk into the house after playing in the snow," Simon sighed as he got Edward on his lap and hit him with a tickle attack. You joined in the tickling until Edward started to tickle back.

You were all out of breath recovering from all the laughing you had been doing. "Okay, okay, I'll take my boots off next time," Edward breathed out.

"Thank you, young mister," you said, patting his head.

"Did you see our snow angels love? They're perfect this year," Simon asked, nudging Edward's arm.

"Yeah they're so cute, Edward's looks like an ant next to yours," you giggled.

"Yeah papa is huge, and he has big muscles, I want to be just like him," Edward geeked.

Simon looked down at his son, the only emotion playing on his face was love.

"Dad is pretty awesome isn't he?" you asked, running your fingers through Edward's hair.

"Yeah, he protects the country and he protects us," Edward boasted.

You looked up at Simon smiling at him ear to ear. Simon then kissed Edward on his temple. "I'm glad you think so highly of you old man," he replied.

The two of you cuddled up on the couch together with Edward in between the two of you bathing and marinating in the pure feeling of domestic bliss.

. . .

The next morning you woke up feeling a strange coldness creeping up on you. That's when you realized he was gone. Not gone like not in bed gone like he wasn't home. You prayed that he had just gone to the supermarket to get something.

You prayed that when you walked down the stairs you wouldn't see a letter from him and the government saying that he had been called back. You had seen it happen to friends and family, but luckily it had never happened to you.

The first place you thought to check was Edward's room. It wasn't a rare occurrence for Simon to be in there playing with him, watching him rest, or sleeping in there with him after he came to your room and told the two of you that he had a nightmare.

When you entered the room Edward was sound asleep, and Simon was nowhere in sight. Maybe I'm just overreacting. You thought to yourself as you closed his door quietly.

You went down to the kitchen, there was no one there either. Maybe he just went to the supermarket. You thought to yourself as you walked over to the living room. You sat down on the couch letting out a long sigh before feeling something under you. You felt paper under you.

You raised your bum slowly from the cushion of the couch and retrieved a piece of paper. It was a letter. You immediately put it down refusing to believe what it meant. Your hands and legs began to shake rapidly and tears stung your eyes. You shook your head frantically as the tears began to drip onto your lap.

You felt like there was a bolder sitting on your chest. You gripped the throw blanket sitting on the couch until your knuckles felt like they were going to shatter.

You took a deep breath and picked up the letter. You unfolded it to see Simon's fourth-grade-level handwriting. You chuckled to yourself thinking of the times you would always tease him about it. The letter read:

My love, my life, my whole world,

I couldn't bring myself to wake the two of you up. You just looked so peaceful. They called me at 4:00 in the morning, but you're too much of a heavy sleeper and you didn't hear it. I don't have a lot of time to write this letter to you but I love you. I hate that I have to leave you and our little one. Things are really rough on the frontlines. I was supposed to be off for six more months but there is a huge emergency. As you know sweetheart, my job isn't easy. I'm practically greeted with death every day. I know I'm not very good with words but if death does decide to take my hand, I'll hold you with my other. I love you more than anything. I'm going to miss you two so much. Don't forget to tell my boy I love him, and I will be back in no time. Say I love you every day. And Christ baby, stay warm, please. I know how easily you get sick when you're cold. I know you hate it when I'm not around, and you always wish I was home and that there were no wars or conflicts in the world so I could always be by your side but I can't. I hate that I can't change that. I love you, baby. Visit me in my dreams and I'll visit you in yours. I love you endlessly, I'll be home with you soon.

. . .

It was a heartbreaking Christmas for both you and Edward. You wrote him every single day and he would write back when he had the time. You and Edward sent him care packages and even celebrated his birthday and filmed it for him to watch when he came back.

This became a habit for the two of you. You filmed Edward's school concerts, his birthday, his first soccer game, his wrestling matches, and so many more core memories.

The year went by like lightning and it was Christmas Eve once again. "Ma, I'm going to go make the snow angel for Santa Claus!" Edward exclaimed.

You watched him waddle out onto the snow tripping over constantly because he didn't have his dad's hand to hold. He plopped himself down on the snow and began to flap his arms and legs around. He got up and admired his work before quickly waddling back inside. As always he ran straight to you forgetting to take his dirty boots off before joining you at the living room windowsill. "My snow angel looks great!" Edward exclaimed.

"Yep, Santa's definitely going to bring us gifts now," you reassured as you helped Edward get his snow gear off.

It felt incomplete looking out at the snow angel not seeing a giant one next to your son's smaller one. It didn't help that you didn't receive a letter from Simon in December at all.

Months after Christmas Simon still wasn't home. It had been a little over a year since he had left and you missed him every single day. You hadn't received a letter from him since November and you weren't too worried because it was normal but you couldn't shake this feeling that something was wrong.

Those worries were confirmed when you heard a knock on your door the next day. You opened the door to see Captain Price, a man who worked closely with Simon. In his hand lay a folded British flag with Simon's dog tag that he wore all the time. "We regret to report to you that your husband Simon Riley has been reported missing in action, only his dog tag could be found in his trail," Price started.

You couldn't even stand to listen to the rest of what he had to say. You fell to your knees with your face in your hands and began to wail. Your son quickly came to your side placing a hand on your shoulder. "What's the matter, mum? Are these guys being mean?" he asked innocently. All you could bring yourself to do was hug him tight.

That night you explained the situation to your son in the least frightening way possible. To your surprise, he received the information much better than you did. "Daddy is missing in action, he's not killed in action. That means he's still alive and he is coming home soon. We have nothing to worry about Mum," Edward reassured as he hugged you.

"You're right, love, your Daddy's so strong," you said as rubbed his back.

He was saying wise things but you knew Edward was just as scared for Simon as you were.

You received updates from their search for Simon. They say that there is a chance that they may be able to find him but not to get your hopes up.

. . .

Months passed by like they were just hours. As soon as you knew it it was Christmas Eve once again. It had been two years without Simon. You woke up and Edward had already gone outside to make his snow angel. The back door swung open and Edward ran in, boots not off making a huge mess of the ground as always.

You smiled to yourself thinking about how Simon would've hit him with a tickle attack for forgetting to take his boots off again. You gave him a big hug. "Your snow angel looks beautiful Eddie," you said, patting his head.

"Thanks, Mum," he said as he started to scarf down the breakfast you made while he was outside. The two of you watched Christmas movies all afternoon. You got up to get more popcorn and to wash your hands. As you lathered your hands you saw something strange in the window. You ran to the living room windowsill to get a better look. Next to Edward's snow angel was an even bigger one. Like the one that Simon used to make with him.

You were convinced that you were going crazy but you didn't care you had to get a better look. without thinking you ran straight outside with only your pajamas on. You saw it right in front of you, you put your hand out and touched the indent in the snow. "Hon' what'd I tell ya' about going outside without a coat on?" you heard a deep raspy voice say behind you.

You immediately looked behind you to see Simon there leaning against the door. You hadn't even seen him when you ran outside. You sprinted to him and immediately hugged him tight. "Come let's get you inside," he said as he dragged you indoors.

"Simon! What, how- when?" you stuttered. Your thoughts were running wild, you couldn't even get a proper sentence out.

"Surprise Mum!" Edward said, joining in on the hug.

"You knew??" you questioned shocked.

"Papa got here this morning when I went outside. He was there, but he said that he wanted to surprise you," Edward explained.

You playfully hit Simon's chest. "You boys are going to be the death of me," you scolded, pinching Edward's cheek.

"I missed you too love," Simon said as he planted a kiss on your temple.

"Feels great to be home," you said. You may have been in your house but home was always in Simon's arms.

This Christmas was one of the best because you watched the film you made for Simon documenting your lives without him. Santa saw two snow angels and brought extra gifts this year. And finally, you took a week off of work because you had gotten a cold from the two seconds you spent outside and you had your boys taking care of you.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist:

@aripet22

[ellewritesalright]

Second Best - Part 4

Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Masterlist --- Part 3

A/N: Buckle up folks, things are about to get wild.

Synopsis: When you were a child, the Lantsov king and queen arranged for their second son to marry you, a rich Ravkan noble family's only daughter. After many years, after all the destruction of the war, and after Nikolai was crowned king, Nikolai breaks off the engagement. But the complications of your past and your strict parents make it a nightmare to find a new fiance, so Nikolai promises to help you, yet he slowly realizes the mistake he's made.

Warnings: Angst! (fluff too) Strict and low-key abusive parents, self-image issues because of said parents, arguing/angry shouting, mentions of illness and death, kinda confusing and purposefully ambiguous details that will be important later in the story (bear with me please [we have almost reached this part of the story]), pls lmk if I've missed anything else.

Word count: 4000

..........

"And this is the lower deck," Nikolai said, motioning around the wooden cabin of the Kingfisher. He was giving you a tour before he left for another trip across Ravka tomorrow.

You grazed your hand along one of the hammocks. "How does one sleep while airborne?"

"I'm not sure. I never sleep while we're flying." He stood beside you, patting the canvas fabric and making it sway. "These are more for the crew."

You nodded, looking around some more.

"There's not much else to the Kingfisher. It's mostly utility, since flights don't take much longer than a few hours usually."

"How does it fly in the rain?" You inquired, eyeing the grates overhead, the blue sky poking through the gaps.

He smiled. "Not perfectly, but we make do."

"Why does that sound like it's a more harrowing experience than you're letting on?"

"Oh, hush," he laughed, "it's perfectly safe."

You walked back up the steep steps to the upper deck.

"Thank you for the tour," you said as you stopped near the boarding ramp.

"Anytime." He leaned against the railing. "I'm just sorry I'll be missing your birthday soiree."

You rolled your eyes. "You mean the parade of unsuitable suitors?"

"That's the one," he smiled, giving your upper arm a short pat. "Cheer up. It's not every day a lady turns twenty-one."

You scratched at your collar for a moment, then clasped your hands together in front of you. "She's going to be insufferable."

He instantly knew you were talking about your mother. "No more than usual."

You gave him a look.

"I'm just saying… maybe she'll be distracted with the hosting."

"She can multitask my misery, don't you worry."

Nikolai sighed, eyes empathetic.

"You'll have to have a doubly good time in East Ravka, to make up for the suffering I'll be enduring," you told him. "I command it."

"You're commanding the king now?" He smirked.

You gave him another look, and he laughed, his hand touching your upper arm again.

"Yes, ma'am."

……….

The house hadn't been this packed since you were a small child. The last time you remembered the Antonovs hosting as extravagant an event as this, you were young enough to be sneaking peeks from the servants' halls. But now, you were in it. Men were twisting you about in the ballroom, eyeing you up from the great hall, whispering in your ear in the dining room.

The man on your arm at present was General Halinsky. He was leading you through a rather stiff waltz. You moved with him, his one hand tightly clasping yours, the other a strict presence on your back. You had to wonder if it was because of the last you'd spoken to him; calling him less accomplished and worse at his military job than King Nikolai. He stared at you without hunger or lust, which was more than you could say for some of the other men your mother invited. But there was a hardness and annoyance to his eyes whenever they narrowed on you. He probably thought you were merely a petulant girl.

When the waltz ended, Halinsky didn't let go of your hand.

"Another dance?" He asked, putting on a charming smile that did not match his viper eyes.

"I'm feeling a bit parched, I could use a drink first," you excused yourself, offering him a polite shake of your head.

"Let me fetch you something," he said, leading you over to a table. He had you sit, then he left.

You kept your back straight despite how you wished to collapse into this chair. Saints, you were exhausted. It seemed like every man was staring at you, all lured in by your mother and her promises of your intention to marry. They all stared, and you were fearful to meet any of their eyes, else they might take it as a sign and approach you. So you kept your eyes on your gloves. The elbow-length white satin covered your little scar. It was the only evidence of the life you used to have.

Your mind went to Nikolai, as it often did. You hoped he was having a pleasant enough trip to East Ravka. He'd flown there, which you still couldn't quite believe; watching him lift off with his crew and a few of his political advisors was a marvel that left you more than a little slack-jawed. You'd have to ask to study the blueprints of the ship once he got back.

He'd sent a letter yesterday, not a singular mention of potential suitors in his swooping cursive. It was more about his journey, another apology for missing your birthday, and a promise of a surprise when he returned.

You smiled to yourself as you pondered the surprise. Perhaps shells from the eastern shore, or a new tool set? You hadn't a clue, and that thrilled you.

A throat cleared in front of you, and you looked up, seeing your mother clutching the forearm of a too-eager middle aged man wearing too much cologne. She introduced him as some northern count, then forced you into a dance with him.

So then you were stifling down sneezes as he had his arm around your waist and his odor overwhelming you. After four excruciating minutes of this, the song ended and you excused yourself as quickly as you could. You noticed Lord Alexei near the left wall of the ballroom, and you started towards his friendly face. It would be nice to speak to someone normal.

But before you were even two paces away from the dance floor, General Halinsky was beside you, a glass of golden bubbly in each hand.

"There you are, my lady," he said, a hint of impatience under his words.

You offered him a smile as you took a glass. "Thank you."

He sipped his glass and looked across the ballroom. "All these people, all here for you."

"It's a good birthday," you said with a convincing chuckle. Your polka-dot scar itched beneath your glove.

"You've many friends, it seems."

"It certainly does seem like that," you nodded drolly.

"You don't think so?"

"I think my mother invited a great number of guests. I'll confess, I don't know everyone here."

He looked at you, studying your face. "Girls like you don't have to know."

You blinked at him. "What does that mean, General?"

He tilted his chin at you as he noticed the sharp undertone of your words. His snake-like stare made you look just as closely at him, studying his cold eyes.

"You're soft," he said, not in an accusatory or insulting tone, just as an observation.

"Excuse me?"

"Soft. Unprepared for life. Like a baby bird in a nest."

"I'm no child, General."

"It's not an insult that you're young and inexperienced. It just means you need someone to guide you in life."

"And you think you're that someone," you remarked, trying and failing to hide the bite in your voice.

"I think you've a large estate that could use assistance. Once your parents pass on, you'll need all the help you can get."

"Forgive me if I am wrong, but my parents are barely ten years your senior, General. I should rather think I need a husband with less years."

He sucked a breath of either annoyance or amusement through his teeth. "That's not what your mother and father think."

"They don't decide who I marry, General. You'd do well to remember that." You cast a glare at him, then you glanced across the room at Lord Alexei. "If you'll excuse me, I have other guests."

You walked away, abandoning Halinsky and your glass with him.

"I sure hope that scowl isn't for me," Alexei chuckled softly as you approached him.

You hadn't realized you were still frowning, but you wiped it away, making your face pleasant again.

"Sorry. I'm afraid I'm nearing that point of a birthday where things aren't fun anymore," you sighed. As if your birthday celebration was fun to begin with.

"Too much birthday, as we call it in my house," Alexei nodded. "My Ana has always been prone to crying on her birthdays or on holidays. She gets so excited and then when one thing does not match that excitement it comes crashing down on her."

You gave a sympathetic chuckle. "Poor girl."

"She is learning to better manage her expectations," he smiled softly. He looked at you for a moment, then said, "I hope you won't find it too forward… but I was wondering about you and my cousin, King Nikolai."

You blinked at him. "Whatever for?"

"Well, it seems to me that you two are quite close. And I plainly remember a time when you two were betrothed."

You managed a smile. "We are no longer betrothed. The king is just a good friend."

"I see," he nodded, but his eyes had something else to say.

"You don't believe me?" You tilted your chin up at him slightly.

He raised his hands. "I believe you. I simply wanted to know if I'd be wasting my time with you, considering how my cousin so clearly likes you."

You scoffed in amusement. "He is a friend of mine. Besides, he has been helping me find suitors."

"And how is his success rate?"

You pursed your lips.

"A-ha." Alexei smirked beneath his mustache. "He's a poor matchmaker."

"He's done his best."

"You'd be married by now if he was truly trying his best."

"Lord Alexei, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this conversation," you said with a polite detachedness.

"Very well. I know when to quit." He glanced around the ballroom, at the swathes of men and their black suits. Then he murmured, "Too bad the rest of these men don't know they've been beaten."

With that, Lord Alexei bowed his head and moved on.

The evening remained a long and tiring event, but now as you faked smiles and acted charming, you also had to hide the hive of thoughts buzzing in your head. When the night finally ended and the last guests had been sent home, your mother made you speak to her.

"You were surprisingly well-behaved tonight," she remarked with a dry stare at you.

You nodded. "Thank you."

She wiped at your cheek, seeing some form of imperfection. "You look tired."

"I am tired."

"Then go to sleep," she said, leaning back in her chair.

"I wasn't aware I was allowed to," you said, standing up again.

"There's that tongue of yours," she rolled her eyes. She seemed too tipsy to be completely angry with you. She snapped her fingers at your father. "Darling, come see this one to bed."

"Sure, dear."

Lord Antonov sighed and offered you his arm. He walked out into the main hall, bringing you towards the staircase. "Where's your precious king tonight?"

You wanted to protest that he wasn't only your king, but you sighed and swallowed the remark.

"East Ravka. Novokribirsk, I believe."

Your father sighed again and patted your arm as you walked. "I recieved several offers for you tonight."

"Oh?" You said, your voice almost clipped.

"Lord Feng, that Kerch Banker Mr Van Sessen, General Halinsky, Viscount Ulrich…" Your father stopped outside your bedroom. "Which do you like best?"

"Most of those men haven't spoken more than a few words to me, how could I know?" You shrugged.

"Then who spoke the most?"

You stifled a groan. "Halinsky."

"General Halinsky," your father pursed his lips, appraising him. He patted your arm again. "Very well. Goodnight, daughter. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight," you nodded softly.

You watched him leave for a moment before you went inside your room. You shut the door and stripped off your long gloves, your big gown coming off too. Your heels ached nearly as badly as your head as Lord Alexei's words hummed like a swarm in your ears, the hive of questions, counterarguments, and wonderings still awake.

You collapsed in bed, trying to fall asleep, but you weren't immune to the revelation about Nikolai that Alexei made. You tossed and turned, every movement a question, an exasperated game of "he loves me, he loves me not." It was difficult to say if Nikolai had been giving his full efforts in seeking a match for you. But Alexei was certain in his words–Nikolai would have found you a husband by now if he wanted to--and you had no reason to doubt Alexei.

……….

A few days after your birthday, a letter arrived, addressed from Novokribirsk. Nikolai would be home Saturday afternoon, and he was hoping to come over for tea. You wrote back that he would be welcome, but that you expected to visit the Palace very soon and see his design plans of his flying ship.

You did not mention your anxiety after your birthday celebration, how his cousin had sent you into a tailspin of questions and high hopes. Nothing was worse than raised expectations, so you were trying to muscle them down and stop them before they destroyed your life and friendship completely.

Even so, Nikolai had a small bag with him when he arrived for tea on Saturday afternoon. He set the bag down beside the sofa as you brought him into the library. A belated birthday gift, you figured. He stood by the window for a moment as you walked across the room again. You felt bold enough to shut the door, leaving the two of you alone. You poured tea for Nikolai, preparing it with as much milk as could fit before overflowing.

You felt as if this was a moment you should remember. The blue rim of the teacups, the way he stood with his back to you as he looked out at the gardens, the near-shake of your hands, the glint in Nikolai's eyes as he slowly turned and approached the seating area. Then again, you tried not to build up this moment in your mind; Nikolai was your friend, and he would go on as your friend. That was all.

"I'm terribly sorry to have missed your birthday. I heard it was quite the event," Nikolai said as he sat a respectable distance beside you on the sofa.

"Yes. There were more bachelors and bubbly than anyone could have stomached. My mother went all out."

He raised a brow as he raised his teacup. "And I presume you danced with every last one of them."

"Just about." You rolled your eyes a bit. "One of the bachelors was the ancient Duke Shapovalov."

"The Duke Shapovalov who's wheeled around by nurses?"

"The very same."

"Saints, your mother is creative. He's got to be as old as Ravka."

You chuckled, and Nikolai seemed to lean closer to you.

"I'm sorry you were left to fend for yourself," he said softly.

"It's alright, I'm used to it."

"All the same, I have a surprise that might make up for my absence." He grinned at you, a sly glint in his hazel irises. “Close your eyes.”

You were wary, but you did as he said. The loss of your sight drew your attention to the fact that you could feel your heartbeat in your throat. What was he going to do? You heard him move, and there was a quick rustle of his bag, then he moved again. You could hear him take a breath.

"Hold out your hands"

Again, you followed his instructions, extending your hands. Something soft was set in your palms, balancing a little lopsidedly.

"You can open your eyes now," Nikolai said after a beat.

As soon as you did you felt your heart leap out of your chest. A grey stuffed bear sat in your hands, its nose round and eyes gentle. It was Viktor, your old friend and most trusted bear. This Viktor’s limbs weren’t worn like your old Viktor’s were from trailing the halls after you, but his arms and legs were just the lengths you remembered. And his fur was slightly darker than the original’s, yet it was just as soft and warm. While he wasn’t an exact copy of your childhood bear, he was damn close, and your eyes pricked with tears as you brought your new Viktor to your chest.

“Do you like him?” Nikolai asked.

You beamed, “He's the best gift I’ve ever received. How did you manage this?”

"Well, I used the drawing you sent me, then I asked the staff at the Antonov estate house about a stuffed bear that you used to carry around. It was difficult to track down anyone who knew of Viktor, but finally one of the cooks remembered."

This difficulty made sense to you, seeing as the Antonovs had gradually replaced most of the staff after the firepox outbreak.

Nikolai chuckled as he continued, “I may or may not have passed along your sketch and his description and to a fabrikator.”

"I don't know what to say, Nikolai, I…" You heaved forward on the sofa and draped your arms around his shoulders, doing the improper thing as you hugged him. If your mother caught you she would scream like she was being murdered but you couldn't be bothered. This was the kindest, most considerate thing anyone had ever done for you. Nikolai wrapped himself around you, squeezing you gently. It was difficult to pull yourself away from him. But when you finally let him go, there were tears in your eyes.

"Are you alright?" He asked, hands bracing your arms as he looked at you in concern.

"I'm excellent," you sputtered. "Better than alright. I just…" A grin spread along your lips and you quickly hugged him again. "Thank you."

"I take it I'm forgiven for missing your birthday?" You felt his question burble in his chest as you pressed to it. You sat away from him again.

"You are more than forgiven, Nikolai Lantsov. If we had the power, Viktor and I would declare sainthood for you."

He laughed. "I can see it now: Sankt Nikolai the Dashing and Bold."

"Not quite. I'd name you Sankt Nikolai the Kindhearted."

He smiled softly at you. "I can live with that."

The library door opened and you flitted away from him with dizzying speed. He raised a brow as you sat on an armchair a full coffee table away from him, but you ignored his silent probe, toying with Viktor's ears.

"Your majesty," Lord Antonov greeted with a sigh, balancing a stack of papers under his arm. "How long have you been here?"

"Not long, Lord Antonov. Your daughter and I were just having tea and then I gave her a birthday gift. Perhaps you'd like to see it."

You proudly held up Viktor, matching Nikolai's grin as you peered at the bear.

"You got her a stuffed animal?" Your father peered down his nose at Viktor. He grumbled, "It's a rather peculiar gift for someone her age."

"The bear is a replica of a toy she used to have when she was young, but if you don't remember him, perhaps I haven't done a very good job."

You wanted to say he'd done well, that it was the best gift you'd ever received and you were grateful even if the resemblance wasn't exact, but you were quickly over spoken.

"I remember a scraggly bunch of stitches she used to drag behind her, but we got rid of it and the countless diseases it undoubtedly carried after she recovered from a terrible, terrible illness. The memory is an unpleasant one, your highness, and I am appalled that you would dredge up such a horrid moment in our family's past."

Your stomach turned to lead.

"Father--"

"Quite frankly, I don't see why you've given my daughter a gift at all," he said coldly, eyes lethal as he looked at Nikolai. "She is not your fiance. You two are no longer engaged because you broke the tie between our families. You decided we weren't suitable to marry into your royal line. And despite how incredibly irresponsible your actions were, I forgave them. But I will not tolerate your blithe flirtations with my daughter when you have no intention of marrying her!"

Nikolai stood firm, his mouth pressed in a calm line though you were sure your father's lashing must sting. It was difficult to accept the fact that your father was right, but he had compounded a fear of yours. Knowingly or unknowingly, Nikolai led you on.

"Lord Antonov," began Nikolai. He rubbed at his chest, just over his heart, and for a moment it seemed he didn't know what to say, but he soon composed an apology. "I am truly sorry. I meant no offense--"

"I know what you meant, sending my daughter letters and giving her gifts and false hope. I'm tired of your meddling, boy."

Nikolai's lip twitched and his arms dropped to his sides. "Boy? I am your king, Lord Antonov. Regardless of what you think of me, you will uphold that respect."

"I couldn't respect you if I tried," your father spat. "Now, you'd better leave my house willingly before I have someone escort you out."

Nikolai glanced at you, perhaps wishing you would speak up for him as you had before. But when you folded your arms and looked away he got the message. You were done fighting for him.

He scoffed and shook his head at you, then he stormed from the room. His footsteps could be heard in the main hall, halting for a second to gather his coat, then continuing through the front door. It slammed behind him, the noise bouncing into the library.

You had little time to process the rather one-sided conversation that just played out before you. The realization that you were no better than a fish dragged along on a hook but never reeled in was the only thing you seemed to register. It made you a bit ill to ponder, but you were grateful to your father for pulling back the curtain and confirming your situation with Nikolai. After all, Nikolai had no defenses against it, nothing to say the contrary.

Your father walked to the library door and let it click shut before he whirled around on you.

"You stupid girl!" He hissed. "How blind could you be? Your mother and I share some of the blame for letting this drag out like it did, but honestly, how foolish are you?"

"I'm sorry." You absentmindedly tugged along Viktor's ear. You had clutched him tight the entire time your father aired his grievance with the king. "I was stupid."

"Not as stupid as telling him about this blasted bear! What else did you tell him, girl? Does he know the truth about my real daughter?"

"No, he doesn't know!" You insisted

Your father scoffed and you felt your chest tighten. Your eyes watered as you gave a weak huff.

"I didn't tell him. I promise, I didn’t say a thing,” you whispered. “I only said I had a stuffed animal that was burned after the outbreak."

His glare was as pointed as a needle’s tip. "You'd better not be lying to me, girl. If the truth got out… well, we would both be ruined, wouldn't we, daughter?"

"Yes, father."

He straightened out his jacket. "Leave me now." He pointed at Viktor. "And get that thing out of my sight."

You left without another word. It was a mindless journey to your room, and you wondered why you felt so numb. Five minutes prior you were the happiest you'd been in a long time. You were receiving a thoughtful gift from what you thought was a trusted friend, and now you sat collapsed on the carpet of your room, uncontrollable tears blotting your cheeks.

You should be stronger than this. You'd withstood a tumultuous childhood and lonely youth. You lost your mother to a pair of greedy nobles. You were denied friends and love and always made to feel lesser, like you were a vile sight and poor replacement for what was lost to the Antonovs.

You cried into Viktor's head, your chest aching with the weight of not being good enough–both for your supposed family, and for your once-fiance and former friend, Nikolai.

..........

A/N: Evil ending for this part, am I right? Anyway... Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment if you want to read more, I really appreciate the feedback! If you want to be tagged in the other parts of this series or to be added to the Nikolai taglist please comment on this part or send me an ask. And if you want to request a fic, please feel free to send in an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

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[yellowocaballero]

“I’m afraid I must call you out of retirement for a final mission.”

Cold ice shot through Tobi’s chest. Fuck.

Did he know? He couldn’t. If he knew, he wouldn’t show it like this. His visit with T&I would be a lot less cheerful, that’s for sure. Was he prodding Tobi, watching for his reaction? Did Sarutobi honestly think he’d slip up? Tobi was incapable of slipping up. He couldn’t tell the truth with a kunai to his throat at this point.

“What sort of mission is it?” Tobi asked excitedly, ripping open the folder. He held the paper up and slowly mouthed the words on the page, fighting to get through the page. Look at him, he filled out his mission reports in crayon and could barely read. “Mission report…assignment duration, promotion or release…pay…oh, ew…assignment…jounin sensei…”

Tobi trailed off.

Distantly, he heard himself say, “Um. Maybe this is a mistake?”

As promised in last post. Kakashi & Obito roleswap. Barely. It's complicated. Please pay no attention to how many roleswaps I have written. Just ignore it. Do me a favor and do not think about it. OK? Thank you.

Snippet from a much longer, much messier document. This part was the very first part writiten and very much a proof of concept. I'm trying to figure out if I should overhaul the thing and turn this into an actual story, so let me know.

Short beginning scene of Tobito's Wild Ride under the cut.

“Tobi. Thank you for coming.”

Obviously, Tobi didn’t bow or kneel. That wasn’t the sort of person Tobi was. He just grinned broadly, waving so broadly that his body swayed with the motion. “Gramps! Hello! Wow, you’ve gotten old since I’ve seen you!”

Sarutobi chuckled, raising a pipe to his mouth. The pipe - either ‘I’m thinking hard’, ‘I want to pretend I’m thinking hard and giving due consideration to your idea when I don’t really care’, or ‘I’ve already decided and I’m pretending that you have a say in this’. What was the point of the last one? This was a literal military dictatorship. Tobi forgot how exhausting this man could be. 

“It has been a while,” Sarutobi said indulgently. “Since…the T&I incident, I believe?”

Tobi giggled, high and childish. “Inoichi-san got sooo mad. But Tobi said he was real, real, real sorry, so I hope he’s not still mad…oh, no.” Tobi gasped, face falling in desolation. “Is Inoichi-san still mad at me? Oh, Tobi can go apologize again -”

“It’s water under the bridge.” Tobi exhaled gustily, wiping the back of his hand against his brow. It wasn’t his fault Inoichi hated him. Apparently his mind was absolutely impenetrable. Something about constant children’s lullabies just playing full blast in his head. Or songs regarding a specific time of day someplace in the world. “I have to apologize, Tobi. I always feel as if I should keep a better eye on you. There’s never enough time in the day for all of the people we care about. Please forgive me for my inattention to you.”

Manipulative old fuck. Tobi panicked, embarrassed by the attention and affection. He waved his hands quickly, almost jumping up and down. “Gramps! It’s okay! Tobi’s not lonely or sad! He still has Sasuke-chan! Sasuke-chan wasn’t brutally murdered, so Tobi’s A-OK!” Tobi had to tell himself that a lot. Every morning after a nightmare, which meant every morning period. “And I met a really nice old lady yesterday and helped her down the street. She gave me an apple sweet. It was delicious! So there’s nothing to forgive, Gramps!”

“I’m glad,” Sarutobi said warmly. Ugh. Tobi knew objectively that Minato-sensei had tried to imitate that tone, but he still liked to convince himself that Sarutobi was mimicking Minato-sensei. That was a good one, he’d have to use it. “Sasuke-kun is actually why I called you here today.” 

That kid. Tobi sighed. “Tobi is sorry that Tobi cannot control Sasuke-chan. I’ve told him that punching Naruto-kun is bad, but he just doesn’t listen…”

“I’m sure you’ll find a method somehow.” Sarutobi pushed a thin file folder across the desk, and Tobi curiously stepped forward and picked it up. He’d know a file like that anywhere. It was a mission assignment folder. “I’m afraid I must call you out of retirement for a final mission.”

Cold ice shot through Tobi’s chest. Fuck.

Did he know? He couldn’t. If he knew, he wouldn’t show it like this. His visit with T&I would be a lot less cheerful, that’s for sure. Was he prodding Tobi, watching for his reaction? Did Sarutobi honestly think he’d slip up? Tobi was incapable of slipping up. He couldn’t tell the truth with a kunai to his throat at this point.

How did Tobi feel about this? Tobi sure as hell knew how Obito felt - desperately wondering if a T&I visit was in his future. Tobi was scared of the missions, sure. But he was a five year old. How would a five year old react to these things? 

Well. Tobi knew how he would have reacted. He would have sighed and rolled his eyes about yet another mission. Pretty impressive when you were burned out of your career at five years old. He blamed the two month graduation for years before he learned of Rin and Kakashi’s hell and eventually concluded that it could have been worse. At least Tobi was paid for his war zone. 

“A mission?” Tobi gushed. He clenched on the folder far too tightly, like a child clutching a wheezing frog. “I’m going on missions again?” He jumped a little, his usual little show of excitement. Kept his energy up. “Does that mean Gramps isn’t mad at me anymore?”

Tobi carefully snuck a glance up from the folder, checking Sarutobi’s expression. Sarutobi’s face was impassive stone, as usual, but he looked a little worn too. “We were never angry with you.”

Tobi fully looked up, tilting his head and frowning. “Nuh-uh. Tobi remembers. Everybody was so mad at Tobi. Just because his hand slipped…it wasn’t Tobi’s fault.”

“We know,” Sarutobi said gently. “Minato didn’t retire you because he was angry with you. He was only looking out for you.”

Well, Tobi didn’t want to be out of fucking retirement. It was objectively insane to put him on any mission. Tobi had gotten sabotaging every attempt to make him a useful member of society down to a fucking art. He had a shitton of inheritance to blow and a nice long civilian life to blow it on. Maybe he was too stubborn about it - Iruka was definitely convinced that he was the second laziest person in the village and sabotaged his assigned jobs on purpose, which Tobi would have resented if it wasn’t absolutely true - but spite was important. Spite woke him up in the morning. 

The only thing that helped him tolerate this stupid village was his hate for it. Ain’t that just the way.

“What sort of mission is it?” Tobi asked excitedly, ripping open the folder. He held the paper up and slowly mouthed the words on the page, fighting to get through the page. Look at him, he filled out his mission reports in crayon and could barely read. “Mission report…assignment duration, promotion or release…pay…oh, ew…assignment…jounin sensei…”

Tobi trailed off.

Distantly, he heard himself say, “Um. Maybe this is a mistake?”

“Trust me. You’re hardly our first choice.” Finally, they agreed on something. “But you’re the only one in this village with a Sharingan, Tobi. You’re the only one who can teach Sasuke how to use his power.”

“Nuh-uh. Um. This is a mistake. Ha ha.” Tobi ripped the paper from the folder, crumpling it into a ball and tossing it over his shoulder. “Because, um, I can’t use my Sharingan. Did Gramps maybe forget that? Ha ha?”

“But you still remember how to use it. Even if you can’t use it yourself, you can still walk Sasuke-kun through using his.” Sarutobi eyed Tobi knowingly, the dim glowing embers of his pipe reflecting a soft light in his eyes. “You were once a genius with the Sharingan, Tobi. They said you were the best since Madara.”

Yeah! Yeah, they did say that, old man! That was the whole fucking problem!

Mention of the Sharingan or Tobi’s old talents always upset him, so this was a great springboard into nipping this in the bud. He’d throw a hissy fit if he had to. Tobi had killer hissy fits. That was how Sasuke was given a seat as head of house in the Clan Council. Tobi’s wail could pierce eardrums and Sasuke had deserved that fucking seat. 

“Tobi doesn’t like the Sharingan anymore!” Tobi exclaimed. “Tobi wants to help Sasuke-chan, Gramps, cross Tobi’s heart! But Tobi doesn’t like the Sharingan and the Sharingan don’t like Tobi. And that’s just the truth.” Tobi crossed his arms, sniffling and scrunching his nose. “And don’t say what you’re gonna say. Tobi knows what’s up. Minato-sensei’s little boy is on that team too, isn’t he?”

He absolutely was. Tobi had speed-read the entire document while he was reading it out loud. But even the remnant of Obito’s genius was still considerable, and Tobi’s moments of keen insight were useful for pushing the enemy into a corner. 

“I thought you might appreciate the chance to look after your sensei’s son,” Sarutobi said mildly, removing a silver lighter from his pocket. Engraved, a gift from Biwako. Was that on purpose? A mind game on Tobi, an unconscious memory on his part, or a purposeful evocation of a memory just for him? Was he trying to remind Tobi of something or corner Obito? Damn this man. “Help him like your sensei helped you.”

The really great thing about Tobi was that he could get away with saying this. It was only to the left of cathartic, but at least it was in the zone. “I’m not stupid, Gramps!” Tobi yelled. The ANBU in the corners twitched, but when Sarutobi’s fingernail clicked on the silver lighter they subsided. “You’re giving Minato-sensei and Kushina-neechan’s little baby and his fox to the last Sharingan because you want the Sharingan to eat the Fox! Why are you doing what you want when you know it won’t work? Tobi’s tried, he can’t - he can’t, Gramps.”

It wasn’t the sort of thing any self-respecting Uchiha would admit. Half of them would kill themselves if they lost their Sharingan. Uchiha Obito, whose Sharingan was the pride and joy of the clan - who was the Uchiha’s Uchiha before Itachi-kun was even a twinkle in his mother’s eye - would never abandon his one point of value. 

And everybody knew how prideful the Uchiha were. There was no Uchiha alive who would pretend to be Tobi. Could you imagine? What Uchiha would humiliate themselves like this with a goofy smile on their face? A regular human being could barely do it. An Uchiha? Forget it. Impossible.

But Kushina-neechan’s favorite shinobi was always the most surprising of all. And Obito cared about that more than all the rest. 

The only ninja who would have ferreted him out was Kakashi. Kakashi and his dopey, stupid smile. His ridiculous porn books and his clumsy pratfalls. His laziness, lateness, and utter underachiever lifestyle. Only Kakashi ever said those words, with a wink and a smile: a true shinobi looked underneath the underneath. So save your energy and watch the clouds with me, Uchiha-kun. No? Maybe next time…

The next time never came. Being a good Uchiha had always meant something, and the useless son of a disgraced clan meant nothing at all. Nothing to anybody but Minato and Kushina and Rin and Obito.

“You’re better than nothing.” In that second, Sarutobi really did look very tired. He didn’t look like he was lying at all. “You’re the best we have, Tobi.”

Tobi was silent. Sarutobi knew it wasn’t much of a compliment. Even somebody like Tobi would know that. 

“As a favor to Sasuke-kun and Naruto-kun,” Sarutobi said, “and as a favor to me. Please give these children the help you can. Don’t worry - I’ll ask the other jounin to pitch in and help.” 

Tobi lowered his voice, and he allowed his tone to grow a little more serious. “I’m not strong. I’m not good at molding chakra and I haven’t really fought anyone in a long time. I can’t protect the children.” 

“We’ll be careful,” Sarutobi allowed. But there was something in his eye… “You may be rusty, but I doubt you’re out of the ring yet. Have a little faith in yourself.” The look in his eyes glinted and grew, and for the first time he stared right at Tobi. “You did hold your own against Uchiha Itachi.”

They stared at each other for a long second, two. A little too late, Tobi laughed and scrubbed the back of his neck. “Silly Gramps! I said a billion times. Tobi hid. I don’t think Itachi-kun thought it was worth it to kill me…I don’t think Itachi-kun ever thought I was a real Uchiha. But we’ve showed him, huh?” Tobi grinned, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Now there’s three whole Uchiha in the whole wide world! One third’s a serial killer, one third’s twelve, and one third is…drumroll please…Tobi! Konoha’s in good hands, ne?”

Tobi smiled at the man who ordered Uchiha Itachi to kill their entire family.

Sarutobi smiled back at the man who was currently pulling the most intricate and improbable lying campaign in a village of ninjas. In Obito’s defense, it was to save his own life. Sarutobi had murdered his family to - well, save the village, but Tobi didn’t have to like it. 

“Thank you for accepting the mission. I trust you’ll do splendidly.”

“Uh. Tobi didn’t -”

“The children ought to be waiting for you in the schoolroom at 1000 hours. You ought to head over - I expect you’re already late.”

Tobi squealed, looking at the unwound watch on his wrist and slapping his head. “Oh no! I’m late, I��m late, I’m late! Bye, Gramps! You promise-promise to get back-up for Tobi, right?”

Pleasantly, Sarutobi said, “I would not trust you alone with those children, no.”

“Yay! Okay, gotta goooo!”

When he left Sarutobi’s office, he was about ten minutes late to his meeting with the children. By the time he arrived at the school he was over an hour late. Lost on the road of life and all that. It didn’t matter - venting about this ridiculousness to Kakashi was way more important than meeting the brats on time.

This would be a disaster. There was no way this would end well. Tobi was a brain damaged, traumatized moron who couldn’t use his one skill and who hadn’t been on active duty since he whoopsie-daisy’d his sword into his best friend’s heart. If Sarutobi didn’t keep up his promise and drag in the other jounin to take up his slack then he’d riot. Did he want Tobi to do work? Tobi? He had resigned from capitalism and the military industrial complex. Pulling him into this shit again - as if he hadn’t suffered enough -

As if Sasuke and Naruto hadn’t. Maybe one of Sarutobi’s stupid-ass motivations was because he knew that only Tobi would be nice to Sasuke and Naruto. Damn Naruto especially. For that, at least…if only as a favor to Minato-sensei…

To make up for it…maybe a little bit of real work would be the least he could do.

Ugh. Hopefully not that much.

Tobi finally touched down at the school, following the Academy hallways to Sasuke’s classroom by route memory. He dropped off Sasuke’s lunch a lot. It embarrassed him so much. It was classic.

Tobi walked into the classroom and allowed a large basket of glitter to fall on top of his head.

A peal of laughter squealed throughout the room, and Tobi opened his eyes to see Uzumaki Naruto clutching his sides and laughing his ass off. Quite rudely, Sasuke had his feet propped up on a desk. That third girl was sitting primly in her seat, terrified. 

“What an idiot! Our new sensei actually fell for - wait.” Naruto straightened, squinting at Tobi. He yelled, jabbing a finger at him. “Hey! Number Two Ramen Fan! What the hell are you doing here?”

Sasuke almost fell out of his seat. He scrambled to his feet, panicked in his special Sasuke way - that was, eyes a little wider than usual. “Tobi? Did I forget my lunch?”

“Um?” Sakura Haruno hunched her shoulders in her seat, picking at the corner of a scroll. “Uchiha Obito’s our sensei. I thought you knew. Did you…not know?”

“Is this a joke?” Sasuke cried. “Who the hell thought this was funny? Tobi couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag! If they’re bullying us again, I swear to god I’ll strangle whoever -”

“Whoah,” Naruto cried, impressed. “Violent!”

“Everybody’s always bullying Tobi,” Sasuke snapped. “I’m an Uchiha. What sort of Uchiha would I be if I tolerated that?”

Glitter dripped down Tobi’s hair and sprinkled onto his clothing. He smiled, big and bright, and clapped his hands together. Sasuke was groaning, but Naruto and Sakura just leaned in closer - caught in a morbid curiosity, desperate to meet their own fate. Signed and sealed. “Tobi’s first impression of you all is…you’re so funny! Tobi likes you!”

The kids paled. 

[ladyelissarose]

‘More Beautiful You’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x partner female reader

Callsign; Delta

Summary; After a rough mission that you barely escaped alive from left you with new numerous scars, you’ve grown very insecure about your body. You’ve kept quiet about it, fighting your demons in silence, but how much longer can you hold it in when you have to attend a military ball and all you want to do it cover them all up and hide? Warnings: mentions of terrible scars, insecurities, some angst. Bullying words, Simon being a sweetheart :)

“DELTA!! DELTA-“

“-GHOST!! SHE’S HERE!!”

Ghost heart dropped and shattered into pieces when he saw your limp form all tied up with heavy chains and ropes on a wooden chair. You looked very small, and in terrible shape, nothing compared to what he had seen before. Your head was hanging down as your hair covered most of your face, but Ghost knelt down right away and pushed your hair away as he carefully lifted your face. Soap came close to Ghost to see you too, but he mid stop when he saw your face, and began to rake his eyes all over you, regretfully seeing the permanent damage. Your eyes slowly blinked but still stayed mostly closed as your tried to whimper out,

“I-I... I know nothing- I’ll say.. nothin-“

Ghost sighed sadly as he shook your head a little, trying to jolt you out of it as he cooed,

“-shh shh... it’s over-“

To his familiar British voice your eyes immediately shot open as best as they could, due to how bloodshot and swollen they were as you instantly began to cry,

“S-Simon?”

 “Yes lovie.. I’m so sorry-“

You shook your head violently, not wanting to hear him blame himself for something totally out of his control. 

“No- stop. Just help me out- I-I want to hug you.”

“oh.. ok hold on- Soap help me out!”

It only took minutes until you were finally let loose and now being cradled close to Ghost’s chest, as he carried you bridal style out of the basement, the one you had been kept in for the past 6 weeks. An undercover mission had gone wrong and they had taken you with them, and kept you hostage, beating the living daylights out of you, desperate for information you unwillingly gave. As the days passed the questions kept on repeating, and torture increased with every single question you didn’t answer according to their liking. It was always strong enough to make you pass out on them, but not enough for them to actually kill you. Everyday that ended and began, new bruises and wounds appeared along with the healing scars, you could never tell from day to night for the whole time was an entire living nightmare.

What kept you going was the faith you had in your team, and the heart you had for them. They were your only family, and you had grown extremely close, also you loved them all, much enough to the point where you now where sacrificing your well-being for them. But the biggest and number one reason to fight through it all, was for your love, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley. The man after your own heart. You had stolen each other’s hearts without realizing it, after months of working closely with one another, after nights of comforting talks or silent midnight snacks after heavy nightmares, after stitching the unreachable gunshots, after you both held each other’s hands after an especially hard day, and lastly... after confessing your love at the same time during a fight about not selflessly throwing your life away for the other. Ever sense that clarifying day, you two devotedly and openly loved and cared for each other.

So, a lot of the nights as you were crying for Simon after a torture session in the dark, haunting basement, Simon was back at base endlessly crying, while searching day and night for any signs of you, refusing to give up. Now he sobbed another night away alongside you, but they were grateful tears as he held you carefully close to him, kissing your hair or any place that wasn’t hurt while laying together on the hospital bed, safe and sound, but haunted and scarred for now.. or perhaps forever. 

After everything you had gone through, the Cartels weren’t able to get anything off of you, but you sure as hell got a lot of information on them. Hence leading the 141 to a successful rescue mission of dozens of women and children who were being hurt by these people too. You were able to remember what they had said, once you woke up from who knows how many surgeries. The first thing you did was write down on Simon’s hand the location place, and on his other hand you briefly explained what they’d find there. Laswell was extremely pleased and grateful with your help, although it cost much of you, that’s why she planned on a large ceremony, to award you for your loyalty to the team and your bravery. Simon kindly urged you to agree because as he said,

 ‘You deserve it, this you deserve. Please.’

So finally you did say ‘yes’, but thought it was going to be a simple ceremony at base, but you came to the conclusion that it wasn’t when you got the formal invitation to a large Gala looking saloon. It was in 3 weeks, close but not that close. You were ok with it only because you’d be wearing your dress blues, that covered 99% of you and your new scars. But, after you agreed to it all Laswell mentioned that there was going to be a large fancy dinner, that required for night gowns to be worn.. something that would probably show than you were willing to let go. Now that devastated you, because you so badly wanted to wear a dress again, claim that feminine part of you... but some new changes made that look ugly and impossible.

Simon had spent the last days and nights locked outside of your restroom as you cried in the shower, refusing for him to see all the deep, dark scars that covered your stomach, back, arms and legs.. even the large one that started at your jaw and came down to your collarbone. Once you came out you’d be dressed in his large black turtlenecks and loose sweatpants. Even for bedtime, you didn’t wear just his t-shirts anymore, or just your tiny shorts.. now it was his whole dress attire that covered every part of you. He had gently and slowly tried to coax you out of your insecurities, promising you that he’d love and accept you anyway, as you did him with his, but as fresh as your scars were, so was your shattered heart. It’d hurt you to see Simon frown a bit when you refused bath time with him or to change in the same room anymore, but you couldn’t help but agree and stand by your choices every time those clothes went completely off.

You at one point were the one who had devoted all your time to help Simon out of his dark thoughts about himself, teaching about self love and acceptance, but now you had forgotten about what all that meant, as you rejected and hid your new self. Simon wasn’t good with words ever, he was the more ‘actions speak louder than words’ kind of person, which you liked because his love language was touch and boy was it the most loving and gentle part of him. So at times when he didn’t know how to express with words how you looked ‘stunning’ in his large hoodie that practically covered all of you, he’d only come close to you and press a soft, balaclava covered kiss on your temple, and send you his best heart eyes that showed he was pleased with how you looked. You did understand what he didn’t say, and honestly it made you feel somewhat better, knowing he still loved you and feeling seen by him. Now came the dreadful day of the ceremony, you knew it was going to be an emotional, and stressful day for you, hence why you insisted Simon that you could go dress shopping on your own, and handle it. You could of gone dress shopping any other day that wasn’t on the ceremony, but it had been a battle with your inner self, which ended in your insecurities winning and you leaving it for the next day. And that next day stretched to being on the ceremony. You made it a point to go the most expensive place for evening gowns, thinking that the staff would be perhaps more professional and helpful to find exactly what you wanted, but you were so wrong. In heart wrecking tears you say in the ground clutching your self together like a ball, sobbing like a baby, feeling absolutely humiliated by the surrounding customers. At first you thought you had found the most perfect gown, forgetting all the flaws on your body as the gown spoke loudly with beauty and fine elegance, until a random mean girl called out in her bitchy voice,

“Awwww we got Frankenstein’s wife here!!” Soon after that comment many followed after, as her pretty friends joined in, thinking that their supposed low voices weren’t going to be heard at all.

“Does she really think it’ll look nice?”

“Oh my Gosh that one on her neck is so huge! No necklace can out do that look!”

“I think it’s a bad drunk tattoo? Cause it looks so freakin ugly!!”

“No she was struck by the ugly lightning, look at her arms and her leg through the slit on the dress!!”

Oh if you thought that a physical punch to the stomach hurt, this felt so much worse, like a punch went deep into you gut and into your heart. Now as you drank in their words and stood in front of the mirror, all you saw were your scars, peeking out everywhere, definitely looking like chopped up meat or like the lady had said, Frankenstein’s wife. If only they knew exactly how you got those, or what every single one of them meant to you, they would probably shut up or have new insults to release. This wasn’t even the dress you actually wanted to wear, but it was the one that covered most of your scars, so you were initially going to stick with it, but not anymore after that. There was only so far you could go to cover everything up, if not you’d look like a nun in the summer. You refused to let anyone in your changing room as you cried rivers away, not feeling up to moving or even trying to get out of the dress, too busy mind swirling your thoughts that were only hateful and sad.

‘They are so ugly... all of them. I’ll never be the same again or perfect. Just look at them. Oh god I hate this so much- I hate myself-‘

“Love? Baby it’s me Simon.”

‘Simon?’

Unbeknownst to you the store clerk picked up a phone call from Simon himself, being told that he would pay for your gown of choice. When she asked for your name or information so she could tell you, she realized that it was you of whom he spoke of. Without hesitation she told him that you had locked yourself up after a little scandal with some customers who they had kicked out due to their insults. She didn’t need to say more when Simon demanded to not let anyone near you and that he’d be on his way immediately. So it was indeed his soft voice that called out to you, and to which you replied too with a tearful cry,

“Si?”

“yes love... please let me in.”

“but-“

“-Delta.. it’s either a walking in, or a breaking in.”

You let out a whine as you lifted yourself off the go round and dragged your feet to the door, right away unlocking it but tucking your arms around yourself, as you still stood in your other dress, exposing everything. He carefully walked in and closed the door behind hm, locking it right away and keeping a distance, for just in case you weren’t ready for more. You noticed this and beckoned him closer with a small gesture with your head, wanting to have him close. Simon raked his eyes slowly around your face, sympathy was read all over his expressive brown orbs as he quietly asked,

“what’s wrong baby girl?”

With a small kick to the bottom of your dress you relied shyly while wiping some tears away,

“was going to wear this one... but not anymore..”

Simon nodded understandingly as he took a look at your dress, he couldn’t help but feel like the dress wasn’t you, it didn’t speak or represent you. But it still looked gorgeous, it really did, so he worded,

“why not? It looks beautiful on you-“

“Not with all the scars Simon.”

He shook his head at your words and slightly raised his voice to show he didn’t like where this was heading,

“what about the scars? They’re you and it’s ok!-“

You slapped your hands to your sides as you insisted with a tone that matched his,

“But they’re all so ugly!-“

“-who said they were ugly? Hmm?”

He lowered his head a bit to get at your level somehow, while you only shrugged, not willing to answer him.

He then extended towards you and ran his hand down your arm to get a hold of your hand, and intertwine his fingers with yours as he looked at you attentively and understandingly. You could feel your lips trembling and the heavy ball in your throat weigh even heavier, making it hard to say what you wanted to say. All that could escape was a broken sob and a new rush of tears as you now hid your face behind your free hand. You kept your head down as you wept sorely, all the thoughts of the worst nightmare of your life came back like a hurricane, drowning everything else that was in mind. You heard shuffling behind the sobs that filled the room, and soon Simon let go of your hand, and before you could fear him leaving you, you felt his warm and loving touch rest on your hips. He gently squeezed there as he cooed softly,

“Please, look at me baby girl.”

You shyly opened your eyes as he caressed you there, and you could only see pure adoration in his eyes as he was now kneeled in front of you and looked up to you. That only made your heart feel so many more things at once. You then found the strength to rest your hands above his, as he began to worship you,

“Listen love, I’m not good with words... but, what I can for sure tell you that I know will help you... is the fact that you’re a diamond in the rough. And when you pass through rhe fire and it’s all over, you’ll be the most beautiful jewel that nature has ever bared. You’ll be so strong and bright, that nothing in this world can ever break you, or consume your light. Ok?”

You were left breathless by the time his last word was said, as you took in and held onto everything he said like it was a promise. If there were words that you’d burn on your heart or carve them into your skin so you’d never forget them, they’d be the words that Simon just said. You wiped your tears away as you shook your head slowly, and whimpered,

“ok... thank you Si.”

He sent you a wink and squeezed you hips one more time, before standing up to his full height, that was of course way taller than you. But it didn’t look or feel intimidating, if not the total opposite. Simon then looked around you and asked,

“So angel face.. what do ‘You’ want to wear? Not what others say eh? You. I want to see what Delta wants to wear.”

You felt a small spark of confidence hit you as Simon made it clear that he wanted to see you in your dress of choice. So while still feeling a little shy though, you took his hand back into yours and cradled it close to your body, as you pointed towards the white flowy dress in the corner. Simon glanced at you and smiled warmly, then he followed your finger, and soon his eyes found what it was you wanted. He gently tugged you towards it as he complimented,

“It’s lovely... definitely looks like something you’d wear. Daring yet Delicate. Like you hmm?”

His rare but sweet words got you to giggle a bit as your nodded, he then took that moment of your mood to put forth,

“let me put the dress on you.”

“what-“

“-please... I’ll be gentle hm? What do you think?”

But this would be the first time you had him see you after everything. What would he think? What would he say? Once he saw them all and how real they looked and felt?

“I love you. Even if I haven’t seen the rest-“

“Exactly. You haven’t seen it all- what if you change your mind-“

“I wont. So let me fall in love with that new part of you too, all of you. I want to see and love all of you. Please baby.”

You don’t know what took over your body And mind , it was probably his sincere pleading and kindness, that had you shimming off your dress and letting it fall to your feet in one breath. You didn’t miss the way a breathy sigh escaped Simon’s lips through his mask, or the way his eyes lit up at what was beheld in front of him. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to see more, it scared you, the reality of what could actually happen in the next seconds as his eyes found one new scar after another. The new scars that overcame the small few ones that were there when he first had seen you. You didn’t realize you were holding a breath until it was released heavily when you felt a soft touch press against your leg. Your eyes opened in shock, and there Simon was still... now planting a sweet, uncovered kiss onto the first scar that rested on your leg, right under your knee. His hands carefully caressed you, his thumbs rubbing cute circles where they could reach, as his lips traveled all over under your waist. His eyes locked on yours for a second, while he let his lips stay in place, showing you love in unspeakable words. He then began to reach higher, getting close to the scar you personally hated the most, and before you could think or say anything he mumbled against it after kissing it,

“Ahhhh this one… this one is my favorite angel face.”

And there, he planted a soft sweet kiss. His calloused fingers drew imaginary shapes and things on your plushy thighs as he went on to kissing up his way up your soft tummy, where your longest and deepest scar laid. What looked so terrifying and sad to you, look so magnificent and beautiful to him, as he worshiped its meaning and dove deeper into its feeling. None of this felt sexy or hot.. it felt so adorable and healing. 

��“No lovie… magnificent piece of art you are… could hang you up to keep you safe and untouched by anyone else but me forever.”

 You shyly but the tip of your pointer finger as he continued happily kissing very part of your body, smiling against your skin when he’d hit a ticklish spot and you’d let out a cute giggle if not a full chuckle. Soon Simon was able to pull the dress above your hips, now focusing on your upper body as he carefully started to put your arms through the dainty, lacy sleeves. One arm at a time he devoted his attention on, he’d kiss his way from your wrist to your shoulder as he pulled it gently through the sleeve. He intertwined his fingers with yours as he pulled you close to him, so he could access your neck and plant sweet kisses there too. His true love and passion for you was beginning to take an emotional toll on your heart, tears began to grow in your eyes and without second thought you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly against you. Simon was a little shocked at the sudden change, but he nonetheless melted into your arms and cradled you close, whispering heartfelt promises,

 “I got you lovie… I got you.”

You let the dam of tears flow out freely when he went on with his sweet words and gentle touching, reminding you how beautiful and unique you were, no matter what had changed or stayed the same. Slowly he let his arms roam down on your back, to reach the zipper so he could pull it up carefully, so he wouldn’t pinch your skin or catch your hair. You held onto him tightly and kept your face hidden in his neck while he worked on dressing you up, swaying you side to side so slowly you barely caught it, but it was enough to feel the sweet move. With a soft peck to your head Simon called out to you,

 “Ok my love, your ready… let’s see it.”

You pulled back a little to see his loving eyes, and gulped down what was left of insecurities as you replied,

 “Ok… let’s see it.”

 Simon’s eyes crinkled as he smiled under his mask, and held your hand to spin you around.  Once fully turned around, you found yourself in front of the large 10ft mirror, adorning the white dress ever so beautifully. Your arms from the wrist up to your shoulders were exposed, and from your neck to the top of your breasts you were exposed as well. But seeing the scars poke out from different directions on your skin didn’t sadden or hurt you anymore, instead you felt.. like a tiger. Boldly wearing your stripes while holding such a pride of being different than any kind, and knowing that no one get through you. Simon must of seen the boost of confidence you held in your silence but in your eyes as he complimented,

 “There’s my brave girl…”

You smiled to yourself as you admired the view of you in white, in front of Simon who was way larger than you and sporting black. You didn’t want to say it or admit it, but you liked how it looked, how it appeared. Warm hands snaked around your waist as deep words were breathed against your ear,

 “Wear this one tonight… I’d want to see you walk in this one.. please?”

 How could you say no to his sincere pleading? 

 “Of course… thank you Simon.”

 Through the mask he kissed your head softly once more, before pulling away and said in a little serious tone while looking in your eyes through the mirror,

 “I paid for it already, so just pick up the change at the counter. Then I had one of the ladies make an appointment for you at their salon place… you just walk in under my name and say what you want. And they will give it to you. Get everything you need.”

 You spun around and held your hands on his chest as your protested with worry,

 “But Simon- oh… are you sure, please don’t feel pity for me and waste all your savings on me-“

 With a finger on your lips he stopped your worried rambling,

“No no no… I didn’t waste, or feel pity. I simply just want to do this for someone I care about. Hm? I want to see you happy and all dolled up… you deserve it more than you know.”

 A smile made its way onto your face as you teased lightly,

 “The Ghost wants to see me all dolled up?”

 He looked away from your eyes for a second before finding your collarbone more interesting to look at as he admitted,

 “yes. After seeing you being drag to hell and back… yes. I don’t like black and red on you… white… I prefer the white.”

 You took his words in seriously, as he was being sincere and vulnerable with you. You nodded and kissed his covered cheek,

 “I do too… I like white… Um, are you going to-“

 “Yes lovie, Johnny is taking me with Gaz to go find a tux they said. So don’t worry your pretty head. Just take care of yourself. And remember what I told you.”

 “I will… be safe.”

“You too.. see you tonight, beautiful.”

 “See you later handsome.”

With one last squeeze to your palm in his, Simon walked out, leaving you missing his touch but not forgetting all his words. Who knew the big bad Ghost… had such a pure and golden heart?

Later that night….

The ceremony for the rewarding of your works was the absolute best and tearful. Price and Laswell stood by your side the entire time, and Simon was the one to pin your new medal, holding his gaze on you the entire time, allowing you to find peace in his eyes as your emotions swirled around inside. Having him there kept you together for the most time, and you were most grateful when it was finally over. For many people wanted your attention and asked one too many questions, some that you replied too and others Price had dodged due to protecting you. But now that passed and officially came the actual challenge... the ball. 

Simon tugged at the collar of his tux, already regretting going with Soap’s choice of tux for him. It wasn’t ugly, no, but it was well fitted and very spiffy for him, who usually found joy and comfort with large hoodies and Henleys, with a pair of either loose sweats or dark cargo pants. What he was glad about, was the fact that they let him in with a medical mask, that covered him from his nose down, at least. Everyone there understood his reasonings and never questioned him about it, and instead did their best to treat him like one of them, and not stare at its difference too much. Johnny stood in front of Simon as he tried to re-straighten his tie for the one millionth time, because Simon kept pulling at it every other second. 

 “No mate, ye got to stop pullin’ at it, makin’ a mess of yourself eh-“

 “-fuckin hell…’

Soap stopped his movements when he heard Ghost mutter such, and he couldn’t help but turn around to see what had caught he usually quiet pal, but his jaw dropped as well, when he finally saw it.

“Damn thas’ a fine lass… wait… thas’ Delta-“

“-fuckin’ sure is. Now excuse me Johnny, thanks for the help yeah?”

Johnny was left speechless at the sight of you, so he only shook his head and half-assed a salute to his Lieutenant. Simon smirked at his reaction and tugged at his suit a bit as he took confident strides towards you, as you walked down the stairs, that led to the main ball room. Simon let a sigh of shock escape his lips when he came closer, and fully saw you. Your hair looked lavishly full and bouncy, beaming in the light in every direction, resting ever so nicely above your shoulders, your skin glowed like it was covered in glitter, appearing so soft and shiny. Your makeup was light, but enough to bring out your very prominent features that Simon found absolutely breathtaking. And your dress, damn that dress. Simon was more than proud to see you in it, as it hugged your gorgeous being adoringly. It flowed all the way down to your feet, and from your waist up it hugged you tightly and finished up with a heart shaped top, that had hanging sleeves resting on your upper arms. The simple but beautiful jewelry you wore couldn’t ever compare to how precious and bright you looked right now, if not ever according to Simon. You glided down the stairs in confidence and in grace, taking each step slowly but steadily. Simon could feel his face grow red and hot, when you locked eyes with him and sent him a sweet, toothy smile. He shyly looked down at his shoes for a second before you squeaked delightfully,

 “Oh Simon! You’re matching me with a white tux?”

 Your feet finally touched the ground after the last step and you came to a stand in front of him, taking in his overly handsome appearance. Simon scratched his neck nervously and asked,

 “Do you want me to change?”

 You reached out to him and held his cheek as you reprimanded him softly,

 “Where’s your confidence Simon? Hm? You look absolutely amazing, thank you for doing this.”

 He finally grew the courage to hold eye-contact with you as he chuckled at his words coming out of your mouth. He then followed your eyes as you quickly looked away towards the magnificent place before your eyes. Elegant curtains in a ruby color draped everywhere, golden statues stood here and there. The carpets beneath you were made with fine hands and had the most antique designs on them. The place was pretty lively and loud for some time, everyone gathering at every table to chat with one another, or some meeting old friends with cheerful greetings or scoldings. The casino tables were filled with the best gamblers of the military who had a beauty warming their lap and stealing their cigars for a whiff of it. Upbeat yet homey music filled the room in every corner, keeping the spirits up and the demons out, lighting up the face of every worn out soldier and soothing down the most worked up ones, matching everyone’s mood. Simon then caught your attention as he stretched his arm toward you and asked politely,

“Come with?”

You sent him a cheeky smile, doing your best to feel confident while taking his warm hand into yours,

“Where to handsome?”

“Let me show you?”

“Lead the way.”

The saloon itself was breathtaking, but where Simon led you too was far more beautiful. In the back they had the most decorated garden, covered with different kinds of flowers, and a sweet little stoned pathway that led to a nice gazebo, covered in lights that looked like fireflies. You then looked back and thought about being in the wrong for leaving the party behind, but Simon tugged you on as he truthfully said,

“A lot of them are here for the food and loads of gossip. I’m here for you. Come on.”

And he was right. Most of the people there you didn’t know, and those that had approached you only came close enough to see you in the flesh and ask about certain uncomfortable things, then they left. All the nice people were at the first ceremony, now it was just the rich that stood around pretending they participated in the military work, when they actually only gave some money at times to make themselves feel good. Anyways, you now stood under the lights inside the gazebo, loving how lit it was. You forgot you had let go of Simon’s hand as yo reached up to touch the flowers that hung around on the pillars, touching and feeling their different textures, yet admiring how uniquely beautiful they all were. Simon’s hands covered yours as you cradled a specific one, and you leaned into his touch as he murmured into your ear lovingly,

“You see how these are all so different?”

“Hm hmm..”

“And how they are still so beautiful?”

“Yes...”

“Like you.”

You chucked a bit as you felt a bit shy, looking at the scar that covered your hand, while holding the flower,

“But Simon... I’m not beautiful like them..”

A kiss was felt under your ear as he persuasively said,

“Of course not.”

‘Of course not-‘

“You’re more beautiful than them. And none of them look like you... no one ever will..”

You turned around and held your hands on his cheeks as you then asked,

“You believe so?”

A sweet chuckle escaped his lips,

“Of course... there will never, ever... be a more beautiful you- oomph!”

That was enough said, as you suddenly ripped off his mask and planted your lips on his, while embracing him tightly from the neck. Simon smiled through the kiss while he hugged you back, and deepened the kiss, proud to have finally broken through your barriers, and convince you to believe the truth. He could feel the way you melted into him and into the kids, finally let him feel and receive you, love and adore you. Truly he knew, that there could never be a more beautiful you.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman - Part 5

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe : Military School

Words : 5k

Masterlist

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Friday, October 16; 1:00 PM - Ona and Alexia's Room

The only good thing that can't be criticized about this camp is the school schedule. They know how to accommodate people living far away like me. Our classes are scheduled so that we have Friday afternoons off to enjoy a longer weekend. Unfortunately, this hasn't been useful for me yet. It's been two consecutive weeks that I've been stuck here, feeling depressed as I watch Alexia pack her bags. I'll be left alone again, facing solitude and boredom.

"You still don't have permission?" she asks.

"Still not."

"I'm sorry to leave you alone."

"It's not your fault," I say, smiling softly. "I envy you a lot."

"Oh, there's not much to envy," she laughs.

I smile sadly, remembering her recent revelations. Alexia is so sociable that it's impossible not to become attached to her. She's an amazing and incredibly strong girl. She's the only one who had the courage to explain to me why she's here. Despite her joyful demeanor, her childhood was disastrous. I learned that she has no memories of her father. He left the house, leaving behind a woman, a girl boy, and a baby. Her mother quickly faced a nightmare with financial problems. Alba, who I found out is a year older than us, did anything she could to save Alexia and herself during their childhood. They're here because Alba got caught by the law a few years ago. Camp Wiegman was a proposal that came out of the judgment after her lifestyle was described. It offered her both a way out and a second chance, with a clean criminal record as a bonus. Alexia, who didn't want to be separated from her sister, had the opportunity to follow her here to escape their unstable environment. At first, I thought it was crazy, but after thinking about it, I envy her. She has a bond with her sister that I'll never know . It's a very strong connection. Alexia is a role model for any young person in trouble. Since she's been here, she uses her abundant energy for good. She's serious, studious, and doesn't break any rules. She could have fallen apart like I did after her parents abandoned her, but she decided to fight and remain who she is. Maybe Alba has something to do with it. I've noticed that she's protective of her.

"My mother contacted me."

"What?"

I don't hide my surprise. She sighs and sits on the edge of my bed, looking completely lost.

"Sorry, you're the first person I'm telling, but I need to get it out. Does it bother you if I talk about it?"

"No, of course not," I quickly reply. "How did she manage to contact you?"

"She went through Wiegman. She passed the phone to me about three weeks ago, I think..."

"She wants to see you again?"

"Yeah..."

I pull my knees up to rest my head on them. She takes the opportunity to lie back. She seems to be thinking deeply.

"What would you do in my place?" she asks.

"I'm not on good terms with my mother, so I couldn't tell you..."

"The thing is, Alba might not like it."

"Did you tell her about it?"

"Are you crazy? She would tell me to forget about it right away!"

"That's understandable."

"She's still my mother. No matter how much she screwed up, she's gotten her life together. She just got out of rehab."

"All the more reason," I murmur.

"Why?"

I shrug, looking out the window. I'm the best person to know that every ex-junkie is likely to relapse at the first opportunity. If Bronze hadn't been there on Monday, I would have rushed straight to the dealer without thinking about the consequences. I remain puzzled by her attitude. She managed my panic attack, which was spreading throughout my body, as if she had already experienced it. Maybe she has, given the environment we're in. A dull noise from the door interrupts us. We expected Alba to come in, but it's my supervisor. Alexia sits up immediately, while a smile stretches across my lips when I see what she's bringing me.

"You're giving them back to me?" I ask excitedly.

"That was our deal, wasn't it? I can keep them if you prefer."

"No, no, no!" I say, reaching out my arms.

"Tut tut, don't be impatient," she responds, making me lower my arms and lose my smile.

"No nonsense this weekend, or I'll take everything back. Okay?"

I nod vigorously. I remember this punishment well enough not to risk having my devices confiscated again. It's the first time it's happened to me, and it was very hard to endure.

"I didn't think you would keep the deal after what happened on Monday..." I murmur.

That day was intense with emotions. Bronze made sure I organized the meeting by her side. However, the following days were another story. She continued to punish me for my behavior. I accepted without complaint, thinking I would have faced more trouble if she had caught me with the illicit product in hand.

"A deal is a deal. You've paid your debt for the rest. I keep my word, so do the same from now on."

"Promise! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I say, quickly grabbing my things.

"Well, I'm leaving. Since you're alone tonight, we can have dinner together if you want."

"You're not going home this weekend?"

"I'm staying until dinner, so we can eat together if you don't want to be alone."

"OK, why not," I accept.

I didn't know it was possible to eat with our instructors, but I gladly accept. Eating alone is boring, and I don't want to join another table. Even eating facing a wall would be more entertaining than eating without company. She smiles at me and tells me she'll come get me before leaving and wishing Ale a good weekend.

"I thought you hated her?"

"I still hate her."

"That's not the impression you give," she giggles. "Besides, the commander asking to eat with a student is unheard of!"

"We just talked at length on Monday night," I confess.

"Oh really?" she raises an eyebrow. "You, talking with her?"

"Yeah... Let's say she kind of forced me after I crossed several lines..."

She nods, understanding that I don't want to elaborate. I remember our discussion during the meeting preparations perfectly. She waited for the tension to dissipate before asking me questions. The first question was if I smoked. At first, I thought she was talking about joints given recent events, so I answered that I had stopped that stuff a year ago. However, she clarified that she was talking about cigarettes. The answer remained the same since I quit everything when I went to rehab. It's a detail I didn't share, not wanting to reveal that much. She then tried to talk about what happened at the supermarket, but I shut down. She promised not to say anything to Wiegman but that I would still be punished. She then continued, saying that it didn't amuse her to punish me for every little thing. She understands that I have my past, but that she can't do anything about it. That's when I understood what she meant when she said she wasn't against me. I felt that she cared, probably just as she does for all the students under her care. What no one understands is that I don't want to be helped. I was so exhausted that I just promised her to calm down. That was true this week when she exhausted me with punishments. She made me do an extra round in the dining hall after my evening meals because of my incident at the supermarket. It was probably a warning because I deserved worse for getting caught red-handed.

"Well, at least I won't eat alone tonight."

"Isn't Leah staying too? I think she didn't get her pass either."

"Really? I wasn't aware."

"I think so, yes. She mentioned it to Alba, I believe."

"That would be nice! It's really awful without anyone on the weekends."

"She'll be alone at the table then."

"No way! I'll ask Bronze if she can stay with us. Otherwise, are you going to be okay this weekend? With what you just told me."

"Yes, don't worry," she smiles.

"You can come talk to me if you need to."

Someone knocks on the door again. This time we know it's Alba because she waits for our permission before entering. It's time for their departure. I turn on my Mac while Alexia goes to change in the bathroom.

"Hey Ona," she greets me.

"We've seen each other at least three times since this morning, Alba."

"Yeah, well, um..."

I look up, sensing her awkwardness. I didn't know I had this effect on her. Was my tone too cold? I didn't pay attention. I glance at Alexia who comes out of the bathroom giggling. I smile, seeing her in her normal clothes. It's strange to see her dressed like this.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing, nothing," she replies cheerfully.

I furrow my brow, not understanding what's going on with the Putellas sisters . She'll probably tell me when her sisters isn't around, given how she's acting.

"Are you staying here this weekend, Ona?" Alba asks.

"Yeah, isn't it obvious?"

"Yes, yes! It was just..." she cuts herself off, meeting my eyes. "A question."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, yes!"

I raise an eyebrow. She's really weird. Do I intimidate her or what? I shake my head to get rid of that thought. I'm not an intimidating person. My mother or Bronze are. Alba can be too. She would have continued her antics with Leah and me if Ale weren't around. I put down my Mac when the latter approaches me for a hug. I don't like physical contact, but she caught me so off guard these past two weeks that I've gotten used to it. She's the type to jump on me and say "I've got a scoop!" only to announce that two people I don't know are dating. I've never understood her excitement for this kind of news, but oh well.

"My sister likes you," she whispers in my ear.

I freeze in her arms. Oh my God! Alexia kisses my cheek while I stare at Alba who, luckily for me, is looking at her watch instead of seeing my reaction.

"Ale, our taxi won't wait forever."

"Alright, I'm ready," she says, grabbing her suitcase. "Have a good weekend, Ona. See you Monday."

"Have a good weekend, Putellas"

"Nothing better than a weekend in the countryside at the grandparents'," she giggles.

"Show some respect, Ale!"

I chuckle at the authority Alba tries to have. Since they've been here, their mother's custody was revoked. The only home they have outside this camp is at their grandparents', who are now their guardians. Alexia loves them but hates the place where they live. She calls it, I quote, "a place lost in the boonies." They live on a farm, and it seems the reputation is not based on stereotypes. I sit back on my bed once the door closes and let out a sigh I've been holding until now.

"Just what I needed..."

I sincerely hope Alba loses her libido for me. I like her , but I don't feel ready to get back into a relationship at the moment. Besides, long-distance relationships aren't my thing. I plan to return to Barcelona once I get out of here. I understand better some of her actions, like inserting herself into my conversations with others. She was seeking my attention. I will need to set things straight if she continues. I don't want to give her false hope. The silence in the room weighs on my mind. Yet, I love being alone. Even more so since I've been here, as these moments have become rare. I stare at my computer, remembering that I had promised to call my little brother this afternoon. I should do it now, but I think a nap is necessary first. I decide to turn on my phone before that. A small smile appears when I see my notifications bombarded with messages from Mapi. I can already hear her laugh when I tell her the reason for my silence. I read a few messages before simply replying to let her know I'm alive. However, I don't have the patience to wait for her response. I put my phone on silent and drop everything on the floor.

Friday, October 16; 5:30 PM - Ona and Alexia's room.

I sink into my pillow when a little melody wakes me up. I was grumpy at first, but the reasons for my wake-up call quickly come back to me. I regret falling asleep on top of the comforter as a chill runs through me. At least I won't have to make my bed perfectly before Bronze returns. I get up for a moment to grab my uniform jacket and my Mac. The nice thing about this computer is that I can sync it with all my phone data. I open the FaceTime app where I find all my contacts. I call Samuel's number. Joan should still be up at the start of the weekend. I see my face on the screen until he picks up. It takes three rings before he does. Seeing him on the screen instead of in my head brings tears to my eyes. It's been two long weeks since I was cut off from them. It feels like an eternity since I was last home. His wide smile makes me smile. I smile even more when I see Sofia my governess coming up behind him.

"Hey, beautiful," he says. "It was about time you gave us some news! We thought you were dead! Ouch, stop that!"

I laugh when Sofia hits him on the arm. I've really missed this sight! Sofia has always been very protective, especially when Sam teases me like now.

"Hi, everyone," I reply, smiling.

« Ona ! It's so good to finally see your face! I'll go get Joan, he'll be happy to see you!" says Sofia. "He's been asking about you all week. It was getting hard to calm him down!"

I laugh even more. This little one seems to be giving them as much trouble as I used to. She leaves, and I take the opportunity to talk to Sam. I miss our morning and evening chats during my meals in the kitchen. We mostly talk about school, where my answers are short. He understands it's not my favorite topic. He switches to his puns and ridiculous jokes. They're still never funny, but I've missed them so much that I laugh heartily. He's interrupted by a hurricane named Joan who violently pushes him off his chair. My surprise quickly turns into laughter mixed with tears at the scene. I hate appearing weak in front of him, but I've missed him so much!

"Onii!!!" he shouts from the other side.

"Hi, sweetheart! How are you?"

"Much better now! Is it nice where you are? Why didn't you call earlier?"

"Sorry, let's say I had some problems last week that prevented me from doing so sooner," I say with a smile, recalling my punishment. "Otherwise, it's okay, I'm starting to get used to it."

"Is that a military jacket you're wearing? Have you made any friends?"

I've missed his many questions too. To think that two weeks ago, I was fed up with them. Now I'm happy to hear him so much.

"Yes, it's a military jacket. Look, it even has my name on it."

I show him through the camera the patch slightly above my chest. All students have their names on the uniform to be quickly recognized by the instructors.

"I'll lend it to you if you want," I say, which delights him to no end. "Otherwise, I have a pretty cool roommate. You'd love him. A real little crazy, like you."

"Hey! I'm not crazy! Why are you crying, Ona?"

I smile at his pouty face. I quickly wipe away the tears that I couldn't hold back. Seeing them is exactly what I needed after these catastrophic two weeks.

"I'm not crying. Just got a speck of dust in my eye."

"Do you want to talk to Mom?" he offers.

"No, it's okay, thanks. I'd rather see your little face!"

"Hey, are you coming back to Barcelona next weekend?! It's your birthday on Saturday!"

A throat clearing pulls me out of my bubble. I hadn't even heard Bronze arrive. She stands by the door. I hope she just got here. I could do without her seeing me like this. I straighten up from the wall I was slouched against and look back at the screen where my brother is calling me.

« Oni ?"

"Sorry, sweetheart. I have to go, someone is waiting for me," I tell him reluctantly. "And about your question, I'm not sure if I can come back."

"But why?! It's been two weeks since you left! I had a surprise prepared for you!"

"I'm really sorry," I say, pained. "I'll do my best to come back, I promise. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"You promise you'll call me tomorrow?"

"Yes, I promise. Then we'll spend a whole day just the two of us when I come back."

"Yessss!"

"I love you."

"I love you too, Ona!"

"Wait," Samuel comes back on the screen. "Wait, huh? I thought you didn't want a relationship? At least, I'm repeating your words! Do you have someone there? Who’s the lucky girl ?

My mouth drops open before my cheeks flush, remembering Bronze's presence. Damn it! This was really not the time for him to tease me! He'll regret it when he's in front of me!

"Wh- What? Sam, you're such an idiot!" I scold, covering my red face with my hand.

"Batlle."

Bronze is still waiting, now with her arms crossed. I can almost detect a hint of amusement on her face. I blush even more. How embarrassing! I shake my head to compose myself as I hear Sam laughing now. He must have heard my supervisor.

"I have to go, we'll talk about it later!" I say threateningly. "Bye."

I quickly hang up and close my computer, putting it in my locker before turning to Bronze, who has a small smile on her lips. I’m so embarrassed she heard Sam’s hint about my sexuality.

"Who would have thought the little Princess has a heart," she comments.

"Shut up. You don't know me."

"Don't talk to me like that again," she frowns.

"Sorry..."

"Hmm. Let's go eat."

"By the way... Speaking of that..."

"What? Have you changed your mind?"

"No, no! Just that I learned Leah stayed too... Can we eat with her ?"

"Oh, yes if you want."

I'm relieved to know Leah won't be alone because of me. We walk to the cafeteria in silence, without her bringing up anything Samuel said. It allows me to think about Joan's words. I realize I completely forgot my birthday. Who forgets their own birthday? I must really have my head elsewhere to forget that detail.

"Was that your little brother?" she breaks the silence.

"Hmm?"

"Your call."

"Oh, yeah."

"Is he the little one in the photo on your nightstand?"

I'm surprised she noticed my picture frame. It's the only personal thing I have in my room.

"Yes, it's him."

"And the other girl?"

The only thing, along with a second frame with a photo of Mapi and me.

"My best friend. Anything else?"

"No. You just seem to care a lot about them."

"I do. They're the two people I care about the most, along with those I was on the phone with," I admit.

She nods without insisting. I've always been defensive when it comes to talking about myself. The fact that she might have understood I'm a lesbian doesn't please me. Few people know. I sincerely hope she misunderstood or didn't pay attention. We arrive at the cafeteria, which is sparsely populated. Many have gone home this week. We serve ourselves and join Leah, who is already eating at our table. She isn't surprised to see me, but it's another story when he sees Bronze sitting across from me.

"Hey. I didn't know if you were staying or not," Leah admits.

"She can leave when she stops getting punishments for a week," Bronze replies for me.

"Seriously?" I blurt out.

"Of course. I'll approve your leave if that's the case... Well, Wiegman gives the final authorization, but I also have a say."

"Ugh, I'll never go home then..."

My reaction makes Leah laugh and Bronze smile. This camp has no mercy. I'll never be able to do it! I turn my head toward the cafeteria. I notice that many are watching us. Ale is probably right in saying that Bronze has never eaten with students. Rumors will spread again. They will be to Bronze's detriment since everyone thinks she can't make me capitulate. If only they knew the truth. Even though I talk back or continue my antics, she's no less intimidating and frightening when I have to face the consequences. We talked about the rumors during our Monday night discussion. She's aware, but she doesn't seem to care. I find our relationship strange. I hate and admire her at the same time. I watch her out of the corner of my eye. Only the sound of cutlery echoes since my response. A smile comes to me when an idea crosses my mind.

"Hey, Bronze?"

"Yes?"

"Is there any way we can go out this weekend?"

"No."

My smile disappears at her answer, which leaves no room for negotiation. Leah holds back her laughter. I'm not giving up yet. After all, I'm Ona Batlle. I'm known for standing up to her - even if her refusal proves otherwise.

"Is there really no way?" I insist.

"None," Leah answers herself. "What do you think? If we don't have permission, it's not to go relax downtown."

Bronze smiles at my sulky expression. This camp is definitely a detestable prison. Thankfully, there's Alexia; otherwise, I'd spend my days depressed and crying every night like I did in the first few days. She helped me get my bearings, just like Bronze, who decided to keep a constant watch on me. I've come to terms with the fact that Bronze won't let me leave here until the end of the year. So, I have no choice but to get used to the environment to avoid going completely crazy by the end.

"Indeed, by keeping you here, it's a form of punishment. Besides, the camp is several kilometers from downtown, and there's no transport line from here," Bronze informs me.

"You could take us there."

"No. You're not allowed out, and I'm leaving after this meal."

"Why did you stay to eat if you're leaving?"

"I was supposed to leave tomorrow morning, but my schedule changed this afternoon. I stayed because I told you we'd eat together."

"At least you can go out," I grumble.

"It's not her fault we're not allowed to leave," Leah tells me.

"I have an idea!" I say, grinning.

"Oh no, I'm scared..."

"Go ahead, ask," Bronze encourages me.

"You could drop us off downtown when you leave. We'll spend the evening there and come back by taxi!"

Both of them mock me. Bronze's laughter stays with me. It's the first time I've heard her laugh, and it's very... strange! She's usually so serious. My idea doesn't seem as brilliant as I thought.

"Forget it, Ona," says Leah. "Even if we managed to get out, there's no way to get back without going through 'reception.' It's a lost cause."

"Anyway, the discussion is over since I'm not taking you out of here."

"Don't tell me you've never broken the rules?" I tease.

"Bronze is too attached to the rules to break them," Leah replies, to which Bronze agrees.

"Don't mess with me," I laugh. "Don't try to make me believe that!"

"Believe what?" she asks, tilting her head.

"That you were this model girl who never broke a single rule. I don't believe it!"

She raises an eyebrow for a moment, looking perplexed. Then she smiles as if she's collected her thoughts.

"Oh yeah? And how did you see me then?"

"Well, I don't know. Definitely not as this model girl."

"I totally see her like that," comments Leah.

Leah defending my supervisor, I've seen it all! Bronze's sly smile makes me realize she's different today. I wouldn't mind more moments like these.

"How do you see me? You must have an idea if you're saying that," she says, staring at me intently. "Tell me everything."

"Well, I don't know, I told you! A little rebel in a luxurious house? Maybe you were a terror in your old high school."

"No way!" Leah interjects.

Leah pushes while Bronze smiles sincerely. She continues to eat, leaving me in the dark. She has an Audi, and I don't think her instructor's salary is that high.

"Am I getting warmer?"

"Who knows," she shrugs.

"Tsss. Well, I'll stick with the little rebel girl then..." I say, making her chuckle.

"Really? You think that about me?"

"Hmmm... Yep!"

"The only rebel at this table is you. Finish your meal instead of trying to define me."

"You'll never answer me, will you?"

"No."

"You suck."

"So do you."

"Me too? Is an educator allowed to say that to a student?"

"I allow myself all the rights with you, you should know that."

"Even to insult me?"

"You do it well, so I allow myself to do the same."

"You make a good point."

"I know."

I smile as I bring my fork to my mouth. I don't regret accepting this meal. I'm discovering a different side to her usual coldness. Her kindness is slowly breaking the ice between us. I regret taking it out on her in the first few days. I was only lashing out because I couldn't do it to my mother and her position made her my only authority here. They have nothing in common, though. I feel a special bond beginning to form between Bronze and me. She has an influence over me that no one else does. Not even the other educators, except maybe Engen. The legend describing her as the worst instructor is true. Knowing I wouldn't obey them, her colleagues always direct me to her, with the excuse that it's not their job to handle me. They just don't want to risk a scandal they would surely lose. That's something I would never dare do with Bronze. The times I've dared to stand up to her, I've regretted it the second after. I'm bound to her whether I like it or not. It kills me to admit it, but I'm starting to enjoy this situation... It's been a long time since anyone took care of me like she does. I even find myself having funny moments, even if the consequences are always less so.

"We can't go out this weekend then?"

"You're still on about that?" Leah giggles.

"Stop always wanting more, Ona. I said no, and no means no," Bronze tells me.

"But we'll be bored here," I sigh.

"Do you want me to keep you busy? I can surely find plenty of things for you to do before I leave."

I give her a dark look, which seems to amuse her.

"Ha, ha, ha!" I laugh falsely. "Seriously! You may tire me out every day, but it's boring to go to bed at ten every night."

"You're not alone this weekend. Keep yourselves busy. I don't know, watch movies or read a book. You have access to the common room."

"That's just as boring. There's too many people to watch what we want," Leah cuts in.

"Nonsense. There's hardly anyone there. There are only about twenty of you here. There are usually over three hundred of you."

"That's still too many to get what we want," Leah adds, making Bronze sigh desperately.

"I can't do anything for you. I'm not staying here this weekend."

"We'll manage, as usual," I reply, disappointed.

"All I can do is lend you books or put a couple of movies on a USB stick. You have a computer, Ona; you can watch them on that if you don't have a TV downstairs."

"I already have a hard drive full of movies..."

"Well then! You know what to do."

"Hmm..."

"Stop sulking. I can't do more. Plus, I have to leave soon."

"Are you expected somewhere?"

"She has a life outside of work, Ona."

"Exactly, Williamson," she smiles. "And I realize I have to leave now. I wish you a good weekend, and remember that two days can go by quickly."

"Hmm... Have a good weekend too," I grumble.

"Stop sulking. You should be happy not to have me on your back for two days. By the way, let's agree. No nonsense this time, okay?"

"No," Leah responds immediately. "I want to have my next weekend."

"Same for me."

"Good," she smiles. "See you on Monday then."

"See you on Monday," Leah and I reply.

I watch her walk away with her tray, not turning around once. I think after this meal, her presence this weekend wouldn't have bothered me. Too bad she has other plans.

"Bronze is still cool," says Leah.

"Yeah, it depends on the moments."

"She ate with us and offered us movies. I think that's nice of her; she didn't have to."

"That's true," I sigh. "She's made things so hard for me lately, yet I see a completely different side of her now. I didn't even know she could laugh!"

"She's just doing her job during her hours, that's all."

"I was thinking the same thing... She must be so different outside the camp."

I don't know how she puts up with me. I would have a hard time doing it myself. I need to stop projecting all my resentment onto her. She bears the brunt of my mood and character, even though she has nothing to do with how I feel inside. This meal made me realize a lot of things. It woke me up and showed me Bronze's true face. She's nothing like the person I thought she was. It's time I made some new efforts.

"Well, after all, Bronze isn't wrong. Two days is nothing. Should we watch a movie tonight?"

I need to look at things positively. I'm not alone this weekend. Leah is with me, and I like her a lot. She's the second person I've gotten closest to here thanks to our shared punishment. She pretends to only care about her own interests, but I know that's not true. She was ready to take the blame for our water fight if Bronze had scolded us. We're very similar deep down, and that's why I appreciate her. I agree with her idea, which motivates us to leave the dining hall in a good mood.

[andreas-river]

Bullied!Reader gained the Courage to come to The 141 boys + König knowing they are all a scary bunch and of Commanding rank to hopefully stop the bullying they were experiencing for a bit. They feel guilty for being a Solider who couldn’t handle it by themselves, but they beg for their help despite it.

“ I didn’t want it to come to this…I swear…I just don’t know what else to do…”

TW: bullying, mention of misoginy, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, fem!reader.

A/N: hello Anon, thanks for your request, sorry it took so long. I decided to write it without separating the characters, I think it makes the idea better like this!

Disclaimer: Too many people are bullied, and sadly it happens too often, and I have fallen into this deep hole myself. It can be both physical and psychological, and it is an devius but unforgiving form of violence. I hope this can give comfort to those who need it: asking for help IS NOT a form of weakness, sometimes even talking about it with a trusted person can make a difference.

════════════════════════════

Asking for help is one of the hardest things in the world. Admitting that we cannot do it on our own with our own strength is like a display of vulnerability that not everyone allows themselves to do: there are to many sharks around, and they are all out for blood.

But every day it was getting harder and harder, and it was almost embarrassing knowing the context in which you had been living for many years. Numerous missions made you used to the horrors of a military life, and the sight of blood had not affected you for a long time. You don't remember exactly how or when it started, but the stares of the men around you became more and more insistent, not giving you any peace, voices murmuring in the hallways as you passed by when you might have just been on your way to the gym or Price's office to fill out the various papers and get them in order.

Fortunately, you shared the office with Soap and Ghost, and more recently, König, who had been temporarily reassigned to 1-4-1 for future missions. All three were certainly much better company than the other soldiers, between the various chats with Soap, Ghost's jokes – so awful they were actually funny – and König's charisma, it actually made the day better, at least for the hours spent at the desk.

The nightmare continued during the rest of the days, and with it grew the guilt within you: you never responded to all those comments that reached your ears – being a woman in the Task Force apparently was impossible, to the point of comments that made your skin crawl with disgust, nauseated at the very thought. You knew that you had worked hard to get where you were today, and that you had earned the rank of Sergeant on your own, with your own strength, always willing to give your all, even while doing chores around the base.

With a sigh, you had forced yourself to walk to your room, which was on the opposite side of the offices, knowing that you would pass anyone who would murmur about you, after all, it was just after dinner and the corridors were much more crowded than usual.

As expected, the stares didn't take long to arrive, and a few murmurs began to reach your ears. Quickening your pace, you found yourself panting in front of the door to your room – literally running away from all those people, feeling like you had no choice. The thought brought tears to your eyes, but you had no other choice.

-

Since you woke up, every movement around you put you on edge, the day started like any other, but the knowledge of admitting something like this made you nervous. You were sure they would understand, as they often asked if you were okay, checking up on you as a family. A strange one, but one of the best.

As you walked into your office like any other day, you found Ghost and Soap talking, both greeting you as you entered the room. You waited silently for them to finish their conversation, distractedly listening to the fact that they wanted to change some exercises about the training, sneaking closer to them, still wondering if it was the right choice – you were literally the same rank as Soap – and you handled worse situations better than this one, where your life or others were at stake.

You were so deep in your own thoughts that it took you some time to realize that both men were trying to get your attention, and you snapped back to reality when the door to the office burst open, revealing the tall and looming figure of König.

Soap placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently with a warm smile on his face, "Hey – are you okay?"

You took a deep breath and felt König's presence at your side. You had a knot in your throat and you hoped not to stutter too much with your voice. "Yeah, I mean - kinda." The three men frowned, a bit confused by your behaviour in front of them. "I... don't know what else to do. I swear, I..."

The knot threatened to break at any moment, and you weren't so sure you wouldn't cry in front of your squadmates. "Every time I leave this office to just go somewhere, everyone starts talking–" you swallowed the luno in your throat again, feeling on the verge of tears. "They murmur about me, even disgusting things, and I know they aren't the truth, but now it happens every single day, every single moment I spend outside my room or this office–"

"Hey, hey, slow down..." Soap blocked you and made you sit down, Ghost still watching intently as König handed you a tissue, blinking and noticing that you were really crying. "Since when?"

Blowing your nose, you managed to mumble "a few weeks", letting the room fall silent after your words, except for your own stiffles, until Ghost resumed the conversation. "For today, you'll stay here and help Soap. König, you are with me today."

They all looked into each other's eyes in silent agreement, leaving you alone with the Scottish man. "They'll take care of everything, okay?" he hugged you gently, and you finally felt the weight off your shoulders, enough to allow you to breathe a little more.

-

Walking down the hall to breakfast felt strange, there was so much silence and fewer people, it felt so different when you spotted the others sitting at a table, you walked towards them with your coffee and found a place between Gaz and Ghost, with the others around.

"Sleep well?" Ghost murmured, leaning in your direction. For a moment you couldn't answer – there was so much silence that the atmosphere felt unreal. "Yeah, but... what happened?"

Price smiled as Ghost answered you. "There were... training changes."

You stared back at him, absorbing his words. You've never experienced anything like this in your life, and everyone helped you so quickly that you didn't even realize it was happening. You thanked him, a warm smile on your face as you came back to sip your coffee, finally relieved as you realized this was the best decision you could have made.

[piratefishmama]

Forgiven not Forgotten | Part 3

Steve shared his shower with Robin.

He did for two years, watched her six while she watched his, there were no boundaries between them now.

At first, perhaps there’d been a quiet “don’t look at my boobs” from Robin, with Steve firing back “don’t look at my dick” which earned a very much expected “why would I look at your dick, Steve?” They’d fire quips back and forth until they were clean and ready to go. It was rare in the aftermath of the earthquake that they got showers, water had run out so quickly.

People assumed it was burst pipes.

It wasn’t. The government had cut them off. Barricaded them in, would have probably nuked the place or something had Eleven not been a continual menace to the military presence that lingered for the first year. Couldn’t get shit within half a mile of her without it being redirected elsewhere. They were still in there, they were still fighting.

They weren’t going down without taking that walking nightmare of a thing with them.

Steve still shared his shower with Robin.

Even at the house, the comforts of modern society feeling foreign, hot water burned for a moment, but in a way that seeped into their bones leaving them loose limbed and floaty, in a way that left them lightheaded when they stepped out, but laughing at the absurdity of how they never thought they’d forget what hot water felt like.

His parents weren’t kidding about the food either, after showers were had and clothes were changed, a feast of quick bite foods were laid out onto the modest kitchen table. Finger sandwiches that his mother seemed to be making at rapid speed, cocktail sausages, cheese, things they could grab and snack on quick.

It struck Steve a little stupid for a moment, just watching his mother there, two completely unrelated young adults stuffing their faces while his mother worked diligently to feed them.

It'd been a long time since he’d seen his mother doing anything in the kitchen. A long time since she’d been anywhere but following his father around, attempting to catch him in the act of adultery.

“Best grab something quick, kids, we’re meeting Harold at the hospital in an hour.”

“Harold?” Why did that name sound familiar? Robin didn’t question it like Steve did, content to hurry into a spot not occupied to gorge herself on finger foods to leave Steve running the name over in his head on his own. Groaning in delight over the cucumber sandwiches. Such simple things. She’d never take cucumber for granted ever again.

“Closest lawyer we have on the books thats any use, your father is in the living room on the phone with him now, he’s commuting from Indianapolis to meet us there.” Once again he found himself shocked. Who were these people?

“You’re actually…” they were actually going to help? Don’t question it, don’t question it, it’d just go away if he questioned it, just— “I’m sorry, but you’re actually going to help?”

Lynda paused in her sandwich spree, those gorging themselves on finger foods already prepared pausing momentarily as the atmosphere thickened with that one question. He didn’t believe it. Not for one second, he hadn’t believed that his parents would actually help. He’d just put the kids into the car because he knew it was better than staying at that hospital.

He knew a break from the sterile white walls, a break from the crying families, from the loss and pain around them, he knew a break from it would do the kids good.

“Robin… would you… would you take over for a moment, please?”

“Huh?” Robin startled, eyes darting to Lynda, before she stumbled out of her seat to take Lynda’s place “s-sure, yeah, got it.”

“Come with me, Steven.” She untied the apron from around her waist and hung it on a small hook by the door as she walked by, wordlessly, with the kids eyes on his back, he followed her out of the kitchen, out of the back door, into the spacious back yard where she stopped on the decking, her arms wrapped around her torso, fingers clutching her own biceps as she just. Looked out into the garden.

He closed the back door behind him.

“What’s going on, mom?” He half expected to be berated, how could he question her in front of people, make her look bad as though she wouldn’t help. How dare he allude to the idea that she wasn’t the perfect parent around people. What would they think?!

That wasn’t what he got. “…Do you remember when you were small?” He frowned a little, expression scrunching in confusion, she let out a soft huff of sad, short laughter at his lack of an answer. “No, I suppose you might not. Steven… we lost you. Your father and I. We didn’t mean to, but we did. There’s no excuse for it, nothing I say here can excuse letting my son disappear, so many should haves, could haves, and would haves. I could say we were young, stupid, didn’t have experience with a child to know what to do, but… it was as though one minute you were there, our bright, perfect little ball of sunshine, and the next…” she shook her head “you weren’t there anymore. Or you were, you were there, but— but that sunshine was gone. And we didn’t try to get you back. We didn't know where to begin looking, so we didn't.”

Steve swallowed hard, eyes diverting to the ground, that… wasn’t what he expected at all. He remained silent. Jaw clenched tight. He remembered. Of course he remembered. Remembered feeling wrong. Feeling dirty, gross, feeling… unclean.

Feeling like his parents had betrayed him by letting him be himself. By not nipping what people deemed wrong in the bud before it’d had chance to bloom.

For setting him up for heartbreak.

It wasn’t their fault. None of it was their fault. Time had just moved too quickly to fix what one stupid boy had so carelessly broken in him.

“Like I said, there’s no excuse… there’s nothing I can say that’d make up for letting you suffer like that, letting you suffer on your own instead of just… being there for you. Or trying harder to be there when I could have been, when your father and I could have been, I spent so long chasing him thinking… it doesn’t matter what I thought. It was stupid. I let stupid people feed my own stupid insecurities. But… we promised… we made a promise when we moved here, that if you came home… we’d try.”

“You’d try?” He failed to keep the waver out of his voice, she turned to look at him, a sadness in her gaze that seemed endless.

“To be there, in any way we could be, to stop just leaving you, to try and understand. I know it’s a little late to be your parents at this point, Steven… we missed you growing up, and now you’re grown, and the things you’ve been though… you don’t need us telling you how to live your life. We missed that chance to be impossibly overbearing and that’s entirely on us. But we still want you to know that we’re here… we’re not leaving you alone anymore. So, whatever you need… be it a roof over your head, a meal, or… or getting your friend out of a tight situation with the law then… we’re here. We’re going to help, and we’ll use every resource we have to do it.”

What did one say to that? How could he speak without his voice breaking? Without all those bubbling feelings overflowing? She was right, time had passed, too much had passed to simply ignore, and old wounds would always be there until he figured out a way to close them.

He never claimed to be emotionally mature. In fact he was usually pretty useless when it came to emotions.

Always feeling too much, never knowing how to control it.

So he breathed in sharply through his nose, and turned his head, swallowing harshly, jaw clenched, eyes stinging as he blinked away the water rapidly gathering, and he nodded. Nodded as she uttered a quiet “oh sweetheart” and crossed the short distance between them to wrap him up in her arms, wrapped his own arms around her and simply held on tight.

“Steven, your—” John cut into the moment unintentionally as he walked out into the back garden, but it didn’t break them apart, he offered a small smile to the two of them after taking the sight in, holding the wireless handset in his hand “It’s Nancy, she says the doctors are bringing Eddie out of his coma, she says they’ll wait for us, but we should head out. Harold will probably be there by the time we arrive too.”

“Right… right, okay” he wiped the side of his palm over his eyes, dragging the dampness away. He released a shaky breath, and then let his mother go. “Alright.” Time to face the man of the hour.

Part 5