#but the original price ghost and soap

[deunmiu-dessie]

he misses you. he misses you like a flower misses the sun. like the desert misses the rain. like you are the entirety of his being. as if you hold the key to his fierce, thumping bloody heart within the palm of your hands, like he is nothing without you— and perhaps he isn't. he doesn't feel like himself, no, in fact, he feels empty. like a shell of the man he used to be before you. he feels as though the world has lost its color, its meaning, and it makes him feel bare— it makes him feel.

he misses you. he misses the warmth of your perfume, a sweet and spicy blended aroma of saffron and sugared lavender. he misses your smile, all wide and pretty— genuine and charming, and always all for him. he misses the sound of your laughter, raw and boisterous, but sometimes soft and breathy, intimate. he misses your kisses, shy and cloying— yet fierce and angry at times as well. he misses the small things, like the scatter of moles across the expanse of your body that he finds himself counting when he can't fall asleep. or the way you fuss over him, mumbling curses and your love for him all in the same sentence.

he is nothing without you, and he knows it all too well.

the soft jangle of your keys in the lock makes him look up from his journal, the door swinging open. and despite himself, he finds that he's softened underneath your warm, loving gaze. ah, he also misses the sound of your voice, euphonious and soft, a tone you use for him specifically.

❝why are you looking at me like that?❞

he can feel his heart dance within his chest, pounding fiercely as you slant your hip to the side, the very same hips he adores holding onto when swaying with you to music. your eyes, which always seem to sweep him under with their intensity with no fail, are glittering with mirth, it knocks the breath from his chest. ❝ i adore you,❞ he utters— he sounds like a fool in love, and he doesn't particularly mind it. your cheeks flush with color and you playfully roll your eyes. that's alright, you don't need to say it back, he knows.

❝help me with the groceries?❞

he? ⸺ SIMON, gojo satoru, DAMON SALVATORE, soap, older!TANJIRO, scott mccall, GAZ, clark kent, EMMETT CULLEN, leon kennedy, STEVE HARRINGTON, giyu tomioka, JOHN PRICE, loran, ULYSSES, rick grimes, KÖNIG, dick grayson, SPENCER REID.

honestly it can be anyone you envision.

[gaybirdnerd]

Soap: *covered in black lipstick kisses all over his face and neck and a stupid lovesick look on his face*

Price, behind the camera: "who did that to you?"

Price: *turns to Laswell, wearing bright red lipstick* "did you do that?"

Laswell: "nope"

Price: *turns to Ghost, whose mask is above his nose and his lips are stained black and heavily smeared*

Ghost: "then who did?"

Gaz: *throws an arm around Ghost to jump into frame, also with black stained lips that are heavily smeared* "yeah, who?"

[lologoinsolo]

In The Shadows

Main Masterlist, In The Shadows Masterlist, Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Triggers: mentions of cult but there’s none, briefly describing a body torn, anxiety, cussing, and if I missed any tell me!! MDNI

-———————————————————————-

How long has it been now since you’ve been stuck in this town? Too long it seems since the days have started to blur together. The tally lines you’ve etched onto your wall next to the window marks at least over 20. You stopped etching the lines when you realized it wouldn’t matter if you marked a year or a decade. You’re not leaving, none of the people are leaving unless you die a natural death or you kill yourself.

There’s a third option though.

The third option is something you took a couple days to fully grasp. The day you arrived to this godforsaken town on your bike with no intention of a destination was the day things no longer made sense.

A town lost to time? A town with no end and no outs? A town full of people raving about the monsters that wait outside your windows and doors. Enticing you to open, charming you to let them in. Doing so leads to death but not one that’s easy. No, no, they hunt you down if given the chance. The thrill is what gets their blood pumping in their veins and the screams of their victims are heavenly to their ears. They’ll rip you apart and eat your whole if given a chance.

You originally thought the town was full of psychos, crazy people in a cult with how they spoke about these creatures. Whispered about them in the day and muttered prayers at night to a god that no longer listens in this pocketed town surrounded by heavy trees. The woods seem endless and boundless, stretching farther than you’ll ever be able to escape it. God isn’t here and hasn’t been here in a long, long time.

“Faces like men.��

“They only come out at night.”

“They’re animals.”

“Don’t open your doors to them.”

It was hard to understand at first, hard to grasp what the town’s sheriff was telling you. You didn’t take the man seriously at all the day you came. Didn’t understand the reasons as to why the windows are boarded up and nailed down in every house and store. Confused as to why the doors have more locks and chains than needed. Why the need for this little black rock to hang next to the front door to every house and business. It supposedly wards you from those beasts. Keeps you safe when something comes—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The day you came was a pure accident. You never intended to go anywhere, never had a place in mind. You were going to ride your bike as far as gas and money would take you. Maybe years from now when you manage to leave this place you’ll look back and laugh. You don’t know if that day will ever come.

The self proclaimed sheriff of the town saved your life, though at the time you thought he was just an asshole pig. Forced you off your bike when the day started to bleed into the night and dragged you to a rundown police department. The first thing you noticed was how outdated everything looked. Like those LARP groups bought a town just to pretend to be back in the 1950’s with how everything looked. Course you yelled and screamed and hollered at the sheriff. Spitting at him when he handcuffed you to a chair, his right hand man blanching a bit from how they were “cutting it close” but you didn’t give a damn about that.

They seemed intent on ignoring the knocking noise at the front of the door. You asked if they were gonna get it. Someone probably in need of talking to their sheriff but… the sheriff looked visibly worried. When the knocking finally stopped his right hand man let out a long breath. That’s when the sheriff started speaking to you when he felt it appropriate to do so.

You laughed loudly and kept laughing when the sheriff explained what’s going on in the town. “Listen, kid, you’re trapped here. No one leaves. Ever.” You didn’t listen to him or his right hand man either when they stressed about how damning this place is. You thought maybe he was the leader of a cult, some fucked up man that lead his followers to blindly believe the tale he told.

“How can you be trapped here?” Letting out a loud scoff as you waved your uncuffed hand around. “Motherfucker, just take a car and drive!” But the looks those two men gave you told you that they’ve tried that. Your eyes widen just a bit, “this is insane. You’re both insane.” Just as you’re about to start ranting the other one comes near you.

“Did you see a downed tree when you were driving up here?”

That question halts you. Visibly stiffening as you give a confused, short nod. The right hand man, George from the name tag he’s wearing, lets out a short breath before continuing. “I saw it too.” He makes a motion with his hand to point out. “I was driving up in Northville, Michigan. I was taking a little road trip, a bit of me time.” He laughs bitterly, “and that’s when I saw a downed tree. Instead of calling for someone to come move it I just… Well, I just went around it.” Your head shakes at his tale because that’s what it has to be. A tall tale.

“That’s not possible.” You say, there’s no way. You were driving pass Conroe. As in Conroe, Texas. “That’s not— there’s no way.” Looking from him to the sheriff for him to get a load of the bullshit his right hand is saying.

The sheriff only gives you a solemn look, “I was driving pass Ferndale, California.” His arms cross over his chest as he leans back against his desk. “I saw the tree too.” A map is nailed to the sheriff’s wall, color coded pins tack the cities that the other towners must’ve come from. All from different parts of the US, all saw a downed tree and drove post it which led them here. At least that’s what he told you when you gave him the chance to.

The whole night you debated them. Tried to make sense out of what they were saying. None of them knows where this town is exactly, there’s no name or sign that indicates where. The sheriff tried to pinpoint it from where some of the people came from but it’s all sporadic. All happenstance, a luck of the draw that you saw a downed tree on the road. You didn’t believe in luck, didn’t believe in the “everything happens for a reason” ideology. You’ve made your own luck before and you’ll do it again.

The morning of, once the sun was fully out, the sheriff uncuffed you and you grabbed your bike that was left unceremoniously on the street. Thankfully no bad scratches on it. Once on, you flipped him the middle finger and drove and drove down the roads. It seemed endless and you almost believed you’d be far from their little cult by now till you started driving on a familiar road. You won’t lie when you say you started feeling crazy after the fourth time you drove through the town.

Every single time, without fail, you’d be right back where you started. Driving right past the underdeveloped police station like clockwork. You took different roads, took a left where originally you took a right. Took a right where you used to go left and every single time. You came back. Right to the start with no way out in sight. An infinite loop with no way out.

After the seventh time you called it quits. Your stomach’s been growling up a storm, you’re tired and exhausted. Damn near kicked your bike in anger when you parked in this diner’s parking lot. The sheriff merely shook his head when you waltzed into the dinner with a defeated look. “Told you,” is all he said before he got you a plate. Ordered a simple breakfast and a coffee for you. It’s probably the afternoon with how the sun was beating down your back but you’ll take what you can get.

“Ready to listen now?” He asked when the sweet old lady gave you a warm plate of breakfast for lunch. A sad look in her eyes when she passed you the ketchup. A Debbie’s Diner hand stitched into her apron and you think she might be the owner with how she’s the only one serving and cooking.

You send her a smile but she doesn’t return it when she goes to leave. “What’s up with this goddamn town? Why can’t I leave?” You fire off rapidly, barely picking at your over easy eggs and semi burnt toast. You’re hungry but you're more confused and angry than anything else. “I took different roads and still landed back here. I can’t find that stupid fucking tree.” Maybe this is a prank, a really elaborate prank.

“No one can, kid.” He says as he sips his black coffee. His plate long since finished and pushed to the side. “Once you go past it, you never see it again.” His elbows sit on the table while his fingers interlock. “You can drive till you run out of gas but you’ll get no closer to the exit.” The man reluctantly shakes his head like he himself has done that. Who else has tried before you? “This town… you won’t be able to scratch its surface.”

“I don’t want to scratch the surface. I want out.”

“We all do.” His tone just as forceful as yours is. “You think any one of us wants to be here?” Looking and nodding off to the other people that are eating at the 1950’s themed dinner. The others seem to tense up, their shoulders tight as even some of the kids stop talking now. “You’re stuck here.” He leans forward. “Whether you like it or not.”

You swallow thickly, picking at your eggs and eating the toast. The sheriff doesn’t stop staring till he mutters something you can’t hear. Running his hand through his graying hair and then downs the rest of his coffee. “You got questions but I don’t have all the answers to’em. Been here 2 years and I still don’t know a damn thing about this town.” He pauses a little, mentally thinking over what he’ll say next. “I’ll answer what I can but there are rules. Rules that you have to abide by.” He probably would’ve gotten to them when you were cuffed but he doubts you would’ve listened.

“What rules?”

“For starters,” he clears his throat. “Never go outside at night.” Waving his finger side to side for emphasis. “No matter what you hear or think you hear. Don’t ever go outside.”

The knocking on the door from last night comes to mind. The way they acted, scared and tensed. It makes you wonder, “why?”

“There are things out there, kid.” He looks a bit towards the window. The wind breezes by making the trees and some of the signs on the shops sway along with it. There were other noises when you were in the sheriff’s office last night but it could’ve been rats. “There are things that’ll hunt you down and tear you apart.” Some of the people that are still in the dinner nod wordlessly to what he’s saying. “Next rule,” he sits up a bit, “when night comes around keep all doors and windows shut. Things will come knocking.” Looking back to you, “ignore it all.”

“Don’t go outside, don’t open the doors. Let me guess, don’t talk to strangers at night as well?” You roll your eyes. This is what parents tell their young kids, this isn’t something new to you. So why is he drilling it Into your head so much? “What is this? Is there a boogeyman that’ll come to steal me away or something.”

He huffs a laugh, he remembers when he didn’t believe it either. “Yeah… something.” Moving out of the booth. He taps his knuckle on the table and motions for you to come. “Come on, I’m gonna give you the tour.” Sarcasm hangs off his words, “a real lovely town. So much to see and so little time.”

The sheriff takes you down all the main spots. Infirmary, farm, produce store, houses that begin to line the streets. You meet a good amount of people, some old and some young. All look tired and exhausted but smile still. The kids, the few that are there, seem blissfully unaware of what’s going on around them. Kudos to the parents for guarding their innocence. There’s a small school for the kids, even a neat little playground that the parents take them too.

Everyone greets the sheriff warmly and they all give you sad looks. No one’s happy to see a newcomer it seems. After a good hour of walking, the sheriff leads you back to the police department. He opens the door and you walk in. His right hand, George, waves to you from where he sits reclined with his legs on his desk. He seems bored till he spots you. “Welcome back, had fun joyriding?” He remarks with a knowing look.

“Fuck you,” hissing at him, not in the mood at all for jokes but he just laughs. He takes no offense to it, has probably heard it so many times beforehand.

“I miss that,” George sighs.

You snark immediately, “what? Getting fucked?”

“No,” he shakes his head with a smirk. “No, well… yeah… but, I just miss having that fire.” He tugs his legs off and then stands. “I’m gonna make my rounds, sir. Check to make sure the animals are all safe and in their pens for the rest of the day.” He and the sheriff bump elbows when they pass by each other. A little greeting that seems like a little ritual of theirs. “I’ll check in with the infirmary too. I know Doc’s been needing some extra help.”

“You do that, George. I’m gonna get our newest resident set up.” Nodding to you to come follow him back to the chair he had cuffed you to last night. You look wearily at it and to his credit he notices your slight discomfort. “You aren’t getting cuffed again, you can sit.” He smiles when he takes his own seat behind his desk.

Taking your seat, you yawn loudly. Been up all night and almost all day, every new information stacks on top of your shoulders creating boulders of stress that you can’t shake off. You lean back, kicking your legs out once you do. “What’s really out there when night comes?” A serious question he hasn’t really answered. Your head falls back, looking up at the ceiling like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. You sit and wait until he speaks, he seems to be mentally putting a speech together.

He then speaks once he’s ready. “Monsters that look human,” ‘look’ being the keyword that he stresses. “They talk like us, dress like us, but they aren’t us.” You tilt your head just a little to stare at the sheriff that looks like he’s aged another year just talking about these ‘humans’. “They can’t come in when you have this,” he pulls from his pocket a black rock. A foreign insignia carved into the rock like a rune. “Place this rock over a door, make sure all other doors and windows are shut and they can’t get in.”

“That's it?” Looking incredulously at the rock. “A rock?” It’s comical and you laugh. “A rock keeps me from becoming these things— what? Their dinner?”

“Dinner? I don’t know about that but this rock will keep you safe.” He simply says, “this one’s the police’s department. Took it off to show you.” He swings a bit side to side in his chair. His index finger dragging over the jagged marks that deface the rock. “It’s why they didn’t come in last night.”

“But—“

“Even with the doors and windows shut.” He looks serious now, “no rock means there’s no safety. Means that they will get inside and find you no matter where you hide and they will kill you.” His eyes hold a certainty that’s hard to not notice. You wonder what he’s seen, what he must’ve gone through to look like this.

“Can’t I just carry it?” You ask after you put some thought to it.

“… no,” his old eyes flicker down. “Last person to try that… we only found her chest that was ripped open.” No head, no arms, no legs, just a chest that had deep claw marks embedded into her skin. “The rock was placed where her heart was supposed to be.” He told her to not risk it but she did it anyways. She wanted to play hero and see what the rock could do if she walked out with it… Sometimes he wonders what the monsters took off first. Maybe the arms? Maybe the legs? He doubts her head went first, those fuckers find joy in causing immense pain and misery.

You sit up now. Your head no longer looking mindlessly at the ceiling or at the rock. “Jesus Christ.” Murmuring softly, the severity of your situation starting to sink in.

“He’s not here,” the sheriff laughs bitterly. He stands and walks to the front entrance. Leaving you alone for a bit as he places the rock back on the little pedestal above the door. “Hasn’t been here in who knows how long.” You barely hear the muttered words that he speaks. You might’ve missed it if you weren’t so focused on him. He eventually comes back to you in his office. “It’s my job to keep everyone here safe. I take that seriously but some people will try their luck.” His hands land on his hip. “This place,” he sighs and you can only assume that he’s looking at the map that hangs on the wall instead of the faraway look he has. “This place’ll chew you up and spit you out if you let it.”

He turns to you now, “don’t let it.” He says for your sake and for his. “We’ve got two places for you to stay.” His voice sounds lighter now. Ready to get you situated so you’ll not be another thing to worry about. Falling back into his seat as he takes out a makeshift map of the town. Houses drawn just as crudely as the storefronts. “I got a house that’s a bit on a hill and we got the Townhouse. Well… it’s not really a townhouse but it holds a good chunk of our community in it.” He grabs a pencil to erase a name, a woman’s name, from the house drawn on the hill. “No pressure on where you want to live but… if you decide to live in the townhouse then you gotta be roommates with 15 people.”

“The house then.” You say quickly but he raises his hand. If all of this bullshit is true then you want your own place.

“But,” he starts, “you stay in a house by yourself you might be more susceptible to being enticed to open your doors.” The bit of worry throws you off slightly. “It might be best if you stay with people in the beginning. It’ll help you acclimate bet—“

“I ain’t gonna open any doors.” You huff softly after you cut him off, “I don’t really like people anyways.” Assuring him as best as you can, “I’ll be fine. Promise.” Sharing a room or a bunk with 15 people that you don’t even know? Yeah, that ain’t gonna fly. You’ll take your chances on your own. Besides, “last thing I need is to be in this Townhouse and someone stupidly opens a door or window.” You know yourself, you don’t know them. The sheriff merely nods.

“I doubt someone would open anything but,” he sighs, it’s not exactly rare though. Some people like to think they’re invincible with all the bravado they have. “I can understand why you wouldn't want to be with people you don’t know.” Safety isn’t always in numbers after all. “I’ll get the keys so you can get situated in your new home.” Rummaging through the cabinet in his desk. Pushing away some papers till he hears a jingle and he lets out a victorious “ah hah!” Tossing the keys up and then snatching them. “Now for the rest of the rules.”

“There’s more?” Quirking a brow as your fingers tap on your knees. You can’t believe this. The suddenness, the whiplash of it all. Here’s a town that you can never leave, oh, and here’s these keys to your new home and also, there’s monsters that’ll kill you for sport. Enjoy! Try not to lose your mind while you’re at it too!

Rubbing your hands over your eyes, you would’ve thought you were dreaming but this is too extensive for a dream. “Alright, lay it on me.” Popping your knuckles as you give him your attention.

He nods his head up and down, tossing the keys up every now and then. “Everyone chips in,” he stops tossing them for a second, “everyone helps out. Do your part and don’t cause trouble. That’s all I— that we,” he stresses, “ask. No one’s ever been bad but we’ve had some arguments and some in fighting. It all got resolved easily, mind you.” He says as if to toot his own horn, “it’s gonna be hard to adjust here. Most people take about a week so if you need anything, anything at all…” giving you a kind smile, “come to me. I’ll help out however I can.”

Finally he tosses the keys to you. You catch them quickly and he stands up to come around to help you up. “Let’s get you home, yeah?” Moving to the door and opening it for you. “We’ll get you a weeks worth of food and clothes. We’ll try to find things that’ll fit you, if not then we got some elderly here that knows how to sow.” You don’t know if he’s taking a dig at you but he sounds genuinely sincere. “We tend to dole out the food rations every 7th day. Everything is equal so long as you’re not elderly, sick, or pregnant.” Walking beside you once your feet take you down the road you walked on earlier when he gave you the tour. “We try to give more food to the ones that need it most, you know?” He says it as if he was expecting an argument, you wonder how many have argued before about it.

The house on the hill starts to come into view. A two story home with a wrap around porch, the windows to the first floor are boarded up but the ones on the second floor are not. You don’t say much as the sheriff chats, making remarks about rules to follow and what he expects from you. Even making mention of little get togethers and book clubs. How quaint that even though there’s a chance of death you can still go gossip with the neighbors. You just keep looking ahead as the house comes closer to you. “… bring your bike around tomorrow, okay?”

You shake your head a bit. You blink a bit when you realize that you’re standing at the front door of the house… your house now. How long were you out of it? “I uh… sorry, what?” You say a bit slowly.

He sighs, first days are always rough so he cuts you some slack. “I said I’ll bring your bike around tomorrow along with your food.” He waits patiently before you get the hint to unlock the door. “Hope you don’t mind about that. I’ll need to get with Debbie about the food. Want to make sure you’ll have enough for the week to come.” He steps in first and you take a breath in. The house looks like someone really loved it. Painstakingly took time to knit soft blankets for the couch and have some forest lil paintings that line perfectly on the walls that lead up to the second story. The furniture and decorations are pretty old, very 1950’s but they have an air of expert craftsmanship. The paint on the walls is a little faded but the character is there. Just needs some polishing up.

“The water and electricity work, don’t ask me how.” He says when you give him a questionable look. “One of those things that I don’t know how to answer, kid. All the appliances work perfectly save for the landline. You can dial any number but you’ll get nothing save for the dial tone.” He points to the useless thing before waving it off. “Internet seems to be the main thing that doesn’t work around here and,” he nudges you to turn to your front door. A black rock is placed firmly over it with the same runes you saw from the one at the police station. “I feel like I shouldn’t have to say this but,” staring into your eyes directly, “don’t ever take that off at night. Keep it over the door, okay?”

You nod to him, “and don’t open said door or any window either, right?” You say without really needing an answer.

“You catch on quickly.” He looks proud, albeit it’s a little condescending but you’ll take it. “Night shouldn’t be coming for another two hours. I suggest you look about your home and then try to get some sleep, okay?” He starts to move towards the front door to leave. “Oh and,” he pauses. “Remember. No matter what you hear, no matter what you see. Close your eyes and ears and ignore it.” He leaves without another word.

All alone now. You shut the door. Locking it and then shoving the couch against it. You go to the back door of the house and push the kitchen table against it. You only begin to settle in when you’ve triple checked everything before looking around your new home. Trying to get a feel of where you’ll be staying for the remainder of your days it seems. There’s dish sets meant for at least a family of four. A sponge in the sink, used prior since it’s a bit wet still. There’s some dishes in the dish rack that you try not to worry about. Wood cabinets that have glass doors so you can peek inside. Little bits of character that make the home feel less suffocating.

You leave the kitchen area to go upstairs. Having passed the living room and you’re not that interested in the dining area. There’s three rooms and two full baths upstairs. The first two rooms are bare with only a mattress and some suitcases in either room. One of the rooms has no windows, might’ve been a study once upon a time. The windows that are in the other room and restrooms are nailed completely shut and won’t budge no matter how hard you try. Good.

The master bedroom though… someone lived here beforehand for sure. The bed’s blankets been tussled a bit. The dressers have stickers on it and some names etched into the side of it. Those names were crossed out and a new one had been written under it… a woman’s name that you remember the sheriff had erased earlier. You’re tempted to cross out her name on there to write your own but you just can’t do it. It feels like an omen to do so. You don’t believe omens but with the way your life is now going… you might just start.

The closet has some board games, a good amount of books surprisingly. Notebooks too and journals. Some are written in, some aren’t. You found only one picture with a name on it when you were looking through some books… the same name that matches the very first one at the top of the dresser. You leave the picture where you found it.

There’s not much clothing in there that looks like it’ll fit you. A varying degree of mens to womens to even childrens clothing in it. Some shoes as well. You can probably mix and match the mens and womens clothing to fit you in the coming days.

The two hours seem to go by faster than you thought it would from all your exploring. There’s not a single clock in the house so you’re relying on your internal one. Just before the sun starts going down you hear a hand bell ringing faintly. You poke a head out your window, you press your hands around your eyes as you look hard enough to see the sheriff’s the one ringing it. A warning for everyone to get home and stay home.

You’re glad that the master bedroom has a window that leaves a perfect view of the town. You can see damn near everything and if it weren’t for the warnings, and the fact that the window is nailed completely down. You probably would’ve sat on the roof to look out.

You keep the curtain back once night really comes. It gets dark, incredibly dark even with the little street lamps flickering to life. You wait and wait for something to come. Anything at all but you see nothing. You hear nothing and you're glad that you had triple checked all the locks and windows before you had went upstairs. Your anxiety starts to bubble up so you shut the curtains and leave it be. Going to sleep on the bed feels wrong so you sit on the floor near the window. Maybe you shouldn’t have but you used to do this when you were younger on the nights you couldn’t sleep.

Owls seem to hoot along outside and there’s some noises but probably just animals scampering about. You’re reminded of your grandfather’s home in Conroe by the sounds. A nice trailer with a good amount of land and trees. You remember how he’d take you outside to look up at the stars when you struggled to sleep. You wish you could do that but… you don’t want to risk it. Can’t risk it, you don’t want to be another name to the list of ones on the dresser.

Everything is quiet in the house save for the gentle hum of the fridge downstairs. You wished the room had a ceiling fan, you’d kill for some white noise right now. That for sure would help you fall asleep but every time you’re ready to do so you hear something. Some creaking here and there but nothing you can’t find a reason for. You don’t want to jump in that deep end yet. So, you start to list off what it could be that’s making the walls creak a bit. Could be rats since this is an old home or maybe mice scurrying into the kitchen. You haven’t seen a cat nor dog when you were with the—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Something’s knocking at your front door. You know it’s the front door because there’s a bit of fencing to the back. If the house wasn’t so quiet then you wouldn’t have heard it. To your credit, you don’t speak, don’t say anything save for the short breath you take. A fluke maybe? The sheriff coming to check up on you? It’s night though? Why would he risk it if he believes wholeheartedly in this shit? No, no… your instincts are warring inside you. One part wants you to go downstairs and tell whoever it is to fuck off while the other wants you to hide in your closet.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Again you hear it. You huddle closer to the corner now. Pulling your legs up to your chest as you count your breathing. Focusing on that instead of whatever is outside knocking. They seem more insistent now, the knocking sounds louder. A heavier hand getting impatient.

“Go away, go away, go away.” You say quietly to yourself like a mantra. Willing whoever is outside to just leave you alone. Even going so far as to mutter a tiny prayer, you haven’t done that in a long time but everybody prays in the end.

After a bit you strain your ears to listen. Even going so far as to lean a bit forward as you do. As if sitting up will make you listen better.

You wait… and wait… and wait.

Nothing… nothing knocks again. “Maybe it left?” You ask yourself. Taking a deep, long breath in and exhaling slowly out. Relaxing as your heart rate, which was beating fast, starts to calm after some time. “Maybe the asshole got bored.” Or maybe this town is full of idiots and the sheriff is playing the biggest joke on you. You’ll demand an apology from him tomorrow for fucking with you tonight. But, right now you’re really sleepy and you’re ready to just go the fuck asleep. “Been up all day and all—“

Tap. Tap. Tap

Your blood freezes in your veins as your heart comes to a stand still.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Your head slowly turns to the side as your eyes flicker to your window. A shadow begins overcasting it. The shape is vaguely human as it taps at your window. Each tap stays longer than the last. You didn’t even hear anything move on your roof, nothing made a noise to warn you that something was there. Your hands have pressed hard against your mouth as you try to force yourself to control your breathing. Keeping impossibly still as you have no choice but to wait it out. The shadow moves every now and then, swaying side to side like one would when restless. Sometimes it’ll tap three times or just once but it remains there. Tapping in intervals to keep your attention.

It remains there for what feels like an eternity before it probably gets bored again and goes away. The shadow of the human slowly disappears from view. Only now, you can hear the roof shuddering under your night visitor's weight.

You don’t get up immediately. You wait some more, wait longer than you think maybe you should before you move. Curiosity begs you to look but something deep in your gut tells you “not yet.” A prey instinct that’s buried deep in your DNA tells you to not stay near the window anymore. You take to crawling to the other side of the bed. There’s only one window in this room anyways… at least you won’t have to worry about another shadow coming to haunt the space.

You toss and turn a bit as you try to get comfortable on the floor. Your back aches but you won’t allow yourself the bed just yet. Don’t want to sleep where someone once had laid. You feel sleepy enough despite how you flinch at every noise. Your body pleading for rest and you are not able to forgo it any longer. Unable to hold out anymore when your eyes have no more strength to open and look.

You dreamed of nothing on your first night. Nothing had come to terrorize you, no monsters taking root to tear you apart. All you heard in your dreamless sleep was the sound of a small, soft

Tap. Tap. Tap.

[noisydelusionlove]

Chapter 2: Meeting the Pack

Pairings: GhostxSoap, PricexGaz, Poly141xOrignal Character

Warnings: sexual situations, oral (male giving and receiving), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, military inaccuracies, medical inaccuracies

The rec room is loud, a football match blasting on the TV while Kyle and Johnny sit on the couch and yell at the screen. Ghost is sitting in his usual spot, a chair in the corner, he’s watching the two Betas as they drink beer and scream at the match. 

The smell of tobacco and pine fills the room as John makes his way inside. He stops in front of the TV causing the two Betas to groan. “Cap, come on!” Kyle yells before sitting back after a glare from his Alpha. “Conference room in ten minutes.” John says gruffly before he heads out the door. 

Johnny and Kyle look at each other curiously before turning to Ghost. “Is it a new mission?” Kyle asks the other Alpha, assuming he has an answer. “Beats me” Ghost grunts as he stands up, making his way to the conference room. 

Inside the conference room, John sits in the usual spot at the head of the table, Kyle on one side with Ghost sitting opposite him with Johnny to his side. The two Betas and other Alpha look to their captain expectantly. 

“Tomorrow at 0700 our new medic will be arriving.” John says flatly as he tosses a file onto the table. Ghost is the first to reach for it. His eyes widen behind his balaclava as he looks at John. “Seriously?” He growls out slightly, his scent growing stronger with irritation, the smell of tobacco and gunpowder starting to fill up the room. “That’s enough Simon.” John says, his voice projecting more, his Alpha coming out. Simon grumbles as he leans back, relaxing himself, the scent of rain and citrus coming from Johnny causing him to relax slightly. John shares a look with Johnny, a small thank you. 

Johnny hesitantly reaches for the file, his own eyes widening as he opens it. “Sir-“ Johnny starts but is cut off quickly. “It’s our only option. Kate speaks highly of her, her classification shouldn’t put a damper on things. Kate seems to think this medic can handle this team and I’m willing to give her a chance.” John says, staring at Ghost pointedly. “We need a medic, who won’t run when Simon bares his teeth.” John states, causing Kyle and Johnny to nod. 

“We are a pre-established pack. No one is sending this Omega in with hopes of one mating her. She is here to do her job and work on this task force.” John sighs as he leans back in his chair. “That being said, if something is to arise, as is nature, it would be allowed.” He sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose. The other men around the table nod, but Ghost has his eyes set firmly on the file, reading through it, shocked at the skill results and recommendations this young Omega had received.

“Everyone get some rest. We will meet our new teammate in the morning and we will see where things go from there. You’re dismissed.” John says as he watches Ghost and Simon leave. He closes his eyes as he relaxes in his chair. The smell of linen and spearmint fills the room, a presence moving behind John’s chair. John sighs as he feels two hands run down his chest.  “Long day Alpha?” Kyle practically purrs, his inner Beta longing to make his Alpha comfortable and to ease his stress. 

“You have no idea pup.” John growls out and opens his eyes to stare up at his Beta. “Let me make it better sir?” Kyle whispers, easily slipping into the more submissive side of his classification. John releases a low rumble, his scent darkening with arousal as he stands up and leads Kyle down the hall to his quarters. 

As they walk past Ghost's door the sounds of Johnny whining and Ghost grunting can be heard. John smirks as Kyle’s scent darkens as well, his arousal shining through as he hears his packmates. John opens his door and practically drags Kyle inside before shutting it. 

John’s scent is much stronger in his room, permeating every inch. A small lamp is on the bedside table casting a faint glow over the tidy room. Kyle only has seconds for his eyes to adjust before John leads him towards the large bed in the middle. 

John takes a seat on the edge of the bed and fixes Kyle with a smoldering stare. “Make your Alpha feel better pup.” John practically growls as Kyle smiles. Kyle sinks to his knees between John’s spread thighs, his nimble fingers making quick work of the belt and fly on John’s pants. 

John releases a pleased rumble as he is finally released from the confines of his military-issued pants. His eyes close and he lets out a small growl as Kyle’s hand reaches inside his underwear to pull him free. 

His member is so hard it’s practically swollen. Kyle purrs slightly as he pulls back the skin to reveal the red and leaking tip. He leans forward and teasingly licks over the head causing John to growl as he grabs Kyle by the back of the neck his thumb running over the mark on Kyle’s scent gland. “Don’t play with me right now pup or you’ll suffer for it.” He growls out, causing a small shiver to go down Kyle’s spine. 

“Never Alpha.” Kyle purrs as he finally leans forward to lick a stripe up his Alpha member. John groans in pleasure as Kyle slowly begins working him into his mouth. The grip he has on Kyle’s neck hardens as he uses it to force him down further until the tip of Kyle’s nose touches the pubic hair at the base of him. 

Kyle lets out small moans as John begins to thrust into his throat, taking what he needs to get his stress out. After a moment his grip loosens and Kyle pops off his member, a string of saliva connecting from his mouth to the mess he made. 

John grabs Kyle gently by the neck and pulls him to him for a heated kiss, all teeth and tongue before he pushes him toward the bed. “Now what I need is to bury this knot inside my Beta,” John growls causing Kyle to shiver as he quickly undresses and gets on the bed on all fours. John smirks as he watches him, thinking about how lucky he is and trying to not think about how everything will soon change. 

The next morning task force 141 as well as Kate ate standing at the airfield as they watched the plane touch down. The five of them are wearing scent-blocking patches, thankfully, otherwise, the scent of annoyed alpha would surely be overpowering. 

The plane lands and the hatch opens. Kate smiles as a small figure appears. She is small, but most Omegas are, with obvious curves and dark hair tied in a high ponytail. 

“Aurora!” Kate calls out over the noise at the hangar, her tone friendly and fond. The young woman smiles as she walks towards the group. There is no scent coming from her, an obvious sign she is wearing scent-blocking patches. 

The woman stops as she approaches the group, her bright eyes taking in the task force. John is the first to step forward, offering his hand for a handshake. “Captain Price.” His gruff voice states as Aurora takes his hand in a confident grip. “Sargent Lee. I hear you have a problem with running medics away.” She says, her eyes shining with humor. 

“Not me specifically but yes.” Price says with a smirk, her bluntness appealing to him. “Ah yes, I forgot it’s Lieutenant Ghost who has them running for the hills.” Aurora smiles as Ghost prickles slightly behind Price. “Well, I will be changing that.” Aurora says matter-of-factly as she looks at the other pack members. Kyle steps forward to offer his hand. “Sargeant Kyle Garrick.” He says with a smile. “Gaz.” Aurora says with a smile. 

“Did your homework I see.” Kyle laughs slightly. “I just understand the proclivity for nicknames and call signs.” She laughs. “I’m Aurora, or feral if you’re so inclined.” She smiles as Kyle laughs. “I can’t wait to see why you have that name.” Kyle says as he steps back so Johnny can step forward. 

“Sargeant John McTavish but I go by Johnny since there’s two of us Johns here.” Johnny says offering his hand and a bright smile. “Soap,” Aurora states causing Johnny to beam brighter. Johnny casts a glance at his alpha, noticing that Ghost hasn’t made a move to introduce himself. 

“That’s Lieutenant Ri-“ Johnny starts but is cut off by a growl from Ghost. “It's Ghost.” He says as he stares down at the new Omega, a look that typically has even other Alphas cowering away. Aurora

Smiles as she squares her shoulders, seeming unaffected by his demeanor. “Nice to meet you Ghost.” Aurora smiles, his eyes narrow slightly at her lack of reaction.  

Aurora turns to Price with a smile. “Show me my office and quarters?” She says as he stares at her in slight shock before he nods. “Of course, I’ll lead the way.” He says as he looks at Kate who is smiling with an ‘I told you’ look. He begins to head to the large cart to carry them back to the Task Force building. 

Johnny quickly places a hand on Ghost's arm, feeling the unease and tension radiating off of him. He feels unsure of how this new addition will be with his Alpha but he’s interested to find out. 

<<<Previous Chapter

Next Chapter>>>

Masterlist

@no1runawaymilkdad

Silver heart knot divider by @tsunami-of-tears

MDNI divider by @arlerts-angel

Header by me

[indigosunsetao3]

Masterlist

Not many people choose to live in a tourist town. Aside from the busy summer months though, it’s mostly quiet which is exactly what the 141 needs. A secluded spot on an expansive lake to escape, somewhere to recover physically and emotionally. It seems they aren’t the only ones with this idea. A woman who keeps to herself lives in the small cottage next to them. Some locals whisper about the distance she maintains from everyone, assuming she prefers solitude or just doesn't like them. They don’t realize that she’s trying to piece herself together again after a loss; too hurt to let anyone in, too scared to be shattered again. The 141 realize. They see the exhausted shuffle of her steps, the vacant eyes that stare but don’t really see. They know it well. It’s the face of someone who’s seen battle, who’s fighting a war alone and barely surviving. So they try to help. Push against the barriers she’s built, offer a hand to lift her from the pit. It’s a fight, each step a struggle as they break down her walls. And as they help her, they realize she’s healing a part of them, too—a part they thought was long gone, too dead to bring back to life. But even in this small corner of the world, life doesn’t stop; war doesn’t wait. They’ll all be faced with a choice that will either break them further or make them whole again.

Chapter 1 It's always interesting when the new neighbor(s) move in. Chapter 2 Waging war over the trash bins. Chapter 3 Biscuits and favors. Chapter 4 Yardwork and yearning. Chapter 5 Surprise visitor. Chapter 6 Friends and Intrigue. Chapter 7 Rainstorm Chapter 8 Repairing old wounds and making new ones.

[thejohnlockedfemboy]

∇ ☉ ∇ ☉ ∇ ☉ ∇ ☉ ∇ ☉ ∇ ☉ ∇ ☉ ∇ ☉ ∇

Songbird on a Wall

this is my first full-length fic. please be kind. this isn’t beta’d

[ tw for references to death and grief ]

The military didn’t leave time for many hobbies.

Sure, the men all went out for drinks most Fridays, and sometimes after they finished drills for the day, they’d have a couple hours to catch an episode of Jeopardy or read a chapter or two of a book, but for the most part, their lives were strictly dominated by missions.

Sometimes, though, the 141 would find time for their own little slices of life. Soap had his journal, Gaz had his computer games. Roach loved fantasy novels, Ghost had taken up knitting. And Price– did chain-smoking count as a recreational activity? It seemed to relax him, anyway.

Sergeant Paul “Scanner” Hamish Mander, however, seemed to be a soldier and only a soldier. He woke exactly at lights-on and went to bed at exactly lights-out. He followed the schedule down to the letter and most days the team had to physically drag him away from the training field.

Scanner was quiet but not closed-off, reserved but not standoffish, polite but not overly social. He was a crack shot with an automatic rifle and had nerves of steel, making him a valuable asset on the field. Every order he was given was executed with precision and without hesitance.

What the team didn’t know was that he also loved music. Scanner had learned to sing and play the guitar from an early age during a summer spent with his uncle in County Clare, though he hadn’t picked up an instrument since before he enlisted nearly eleven years ago. God, he’d been young, hadn’t he? Just a pup, really, with no idea what he was getting into, being fed off of convoluted songs of glory and honor.

He knew now that there was no honor in war. When it was down to him or the enemy, he would fight like a pit-bred dog, tooth and nail, to protect himself and his team.

Scanner realized that his moods had been off as of late; the stress of their work got to everyone eventually. The Scouser had finally hit his limit, so, with what pay he’d had put away for later, he bought himself a guitar and some extra strings, hoping that the music would help to temper his disquieted psyche.

He’d been slipping away to practice whenever he could. He was already good, but he strove to improve, just like in his work. He fancied himself a Michelangelo… now to make sure his art was as good as his reputation.

Now he was awake before the first pale grey light of dawn, perched like a songbird upon the half-wall that surrounded the entry point of the officers’ quarters, hoping to snag a few precious minutes before the daily bugle sounded and he had to listen to Soap groan about the hangover headache the Scotsman would doubtlessly have from the previous night’s intoxication.

Scanner slipped off his gloves to reveal dexterous hands mottled dark pink with burn scars. He almost always kept them hidden– they brought up old memories that he would rather forget. His fingers, though discolored, were still nimble as they plucked out a slow tune on the guitar.

Meanwhile, Soap, who had woken up to take a piss, had overheard the folk-ballad style music and peeped out the door to investigate. Though he was bleary from sleep, he recognized Scanner’s scrawny form up on the wall. Against his first instincts to just barge right into the scene, Soap remained quiet and paused to listen. His piercing blue eyes widened after a few moments, and he trundled back into the building.

Like a whack-a-mole in an arcade game, Soap popped back up about a minute later, trailing a sleepy-but-interested Gaz and Roach. Ghost loomed behind them like a ghoul.

Scanner had begun to sing while Soap was gone. The Scouser had a fine tenor voice, just the right amount of husky as he crooned out a chorus to a song that sounded like something from a Dungeons and Dragons campaign. Old-souled and heartfelt.

“When the rounds of bullets fire,

Keep your heads down.

When the brave ones pass on by ye,

Keep your heads down.”

“Bloody ‘ell,” whispered Soap. Gaz elbows him in the side to keep him quiet, but the Scotsman couldn’t resist another low remark: “Got a fine set of pipes on him.”

“When the hero’s blood runs red,

And you’re scared to raise your head,

Just be glad that you ain’t dead.

Keep your heads down.”

The song was on-the-nose for their soldier’s life, hitting perhaps a bit too close to home for the men. Soap shifted, looking vaguely uncomfortable. Roach’s brow furrowed in concern.

“You won’t win no medals here,

Keep your heads down—“

It was true— none of them were awarded recognition for their black ops. With it being strictly confidential, it couldn’t be risked. The men were under-appreciated by everyone except for Laswell.

“—Don’t be fools who know no fear,

Keep your heads down.”

Soap especially felt called-out by that line. He had a tendency to let his Scottish hot-headedness flare up like a bonfire left unattended and rush into a hostile situation guns-blazing, hackles raised like an angry mongrel. More often than not, it was either Scanner or Ghost who saved the Sergeant’s arse from being handed to him by two-to-one odds.

“We can all lay low and sing,

Duckin’ grenades and bullet’s zings.

Let ‘em chuck most anything,

But keep your heads down.”

“D’ye think he wrote this?” Gaz murmurs to Roach, who just shrugs helplessly. Scanner is still facing away from them, completely unaware of his audience.

“You won’t get no martyr’s send-off,

Keep your heads down.

Just a bullet as your payoff,

Keep your heads down—“

The men collectively winced. It was a grim reality for them. Any mission, any breath, could be their last. Playing the hero or the martyr just threw away the life of one more number on some general’s spreadsheet, accomplishing nothing even when done for the sake of their country.

“You ain’t gonna win the war,

You ain’t gonna make it home,

Cursed; forever more to roam,

Keep your heads down.”

Gaz’s dark-bright eyes were shining with unshed tears now. Soap swallowed hard.

The thought that someday they’d all be removed from the field in a body bag was something that they’d had to accept long ago, but it made their stomachs churn nonetheless. In Task Force 141, there was no such thing as retiring. They fought until they died, the end.

“Thought I’d go out with my team,

Kept my head down.

Captain drilled it into our brains,

Keep yer heads down—“

Ghost frowned behind his skull mask. Was the Captain in the song Price? The Lieutenant wasn’t sure, but he had an unsettled sense that he would find out.

Soap, however, stifled a quiet chuckle, thinking it clever and amusing that Scanner would quote Price in a song. The tough-as-nails, hard-arsed Captain certainly was the kind of CO to berate them for not keeping their heads down and taking proper precautions in a war zone.

Price did it out of care, of course. It was tough love, but Price wouldn’t lose more men than he had to. If that meant a good, old-fashioned hollering session, then so be it.

“Now they’re rotting in their graves,

And I survived, or so they say—“

The men’s eyes widened as Scanner continued the macabre lyrics. The song wasn’t about the 141, then, and the Captain mentioned wasn’t Price. The 141 were definitely not yet dead, despite the carrion birds that flocked in their wake after every op.

“—wish I’d taken mortar with my mates,

But I kept my head down.”

Roach looks like he might be ill. He felt for certain that Scanner had been the one to write the dirge. The speech patterns lined up exactly with the slang-throwing Scouser that Sanderson had come to see as a brother.

But with that realization came another, far more sickening.

They all knew that Scanner had been in the Ranger’s Regiment before being reassigned to Task Force 141. Most of his file was blacked out, requiring a higher level of clearance to be viewed. There was little about his former team or why he had been accepted into the Special Forces.

This song was clearly that story. The men were perceptive— they had to be to survive in their line of work. They could put two and two together.

Wish I’d taken mortar with my mates.

Scanner’s team had been killed in action.

“Bounced around from base to base,

Kept my head down.

Doctors sayin’ I need space,

Keep my head down—“

“Och, Paul,” Soap breathed out, his expression pained. He knew what it was like to lose mates, aye, but to lose an entire unit at once, and then have to be placed with a brand-new team to start over? It would be an unimaginable grief.

Gaz looked shocked to his roots. His hand was gripping Roach’s sleeve. “It’s just a song, right? Maybe he’s just singing to be singing.”

“He’s not the kind of man t’say something just for the ‘ell uvvit,” Ghost gruffed out, his Manchester accent thick with repressed emotion. “Never ‘as been.”

“Now I’m with the 141,

Though I thought my life was done.

Maybe learn them through this song

To keep their heads down.”

Scanner strummed the final chord and the note faded into a shimmering echo in the still morning air. Sunrise was painting the horizon with pale pinks and oranges, the clouds streaks with lavender as if the rosy fingers of Lady Eos herself had taken up a watercolor brush to delicately layer over the foggy grey of pre-dawn.

Soap took a step forward, his heavy combat boots scuffing against the concrete. Scanner’s gaze snapped up and he swiveled, one hand reaching for his empty holster so quickly that he nearly dropped his guitar.

“Easy, now.” Soap raised a placating hand as Scanner exhaled in relief. “S’just me, laddie. Tha’ was a right pretty tune ye was warblin’.”

Scanner hesitated momentarily, already swiftly setting his guitar aside to pull on his usual black gloves, hiding his patchworked hands. “I, er, didn’t know anybody else was listening,” he muttered gruffly. He pulled up his gaiter scarf and plunked his helmet down over the messy crop of his greige hair.

“Ah heard ye an’ couldnae help but come tae listen,” Soap explained, rubbing the back of his neck almost apologetically. He had the decency to look sheepish, at least. “Yer right good. Where did ye learn tha’ song?”

Scanner hopped nimbly from the wall, cracking his lower back with a low groan of relief. “Wrote it. Just a wee ditty. S’nothing special.”

The team’s hearts sank to the pit of their stomach. Roach’s guess had been correct; the events of the song were the events that had led up to Scanner being placed in the 141.

Gaz wiped at his eyes, sniffling. “S’really good. You’re a proper Ed Sheeran, mate.”

Scanner gave a low chuff of laughter. “You’re talkin’ a load o’ shite.”

Gaz sniffled again, but managed a weak smile. “I’m not takin’ the piss, really.”

“Yeah, mate, you’re bloody talented,” Roach added, but Scanner just waved a dismissive hand. As if the Scouser had no idea how the other men were crumbling on the inside thinking about his past.

But Scanner wasn’t quite so clueless as he appeared. Admittedly, he hadn’t known that they were listening, but now he did and he recognized that they would have deciphered the meaning of the words. The lyrics certainly weren’t subtle, by any means. Bordering on blasé, really.

But Scanner was a proud man, even if he didn’t like to admit it. He had once been more open, but an adult life of hard training had overrode whatever natural instincts towards emotional vulnerability that he might have once possessed. He’d built up walls, similar to the one he’d just been sitting on, and like that wall, it would take a helluva lot to knock ‘em down.

So instead of acknowledging the questions that were clearly bubbling just under the faux-calm facade that Soap, Gaz, and Ghost were just barely maintaining, Scanner turned and walked inside.

“Go ahead to the mess hall without me,” he called over his shoulder, as it was their usual routine to eat together before being given their orders for the day. “I’ll put away my guitar and be there in a bit.”

Gaz and Soap shared a helpless glance. Ghost looked as if he wanted to follow Scanner, but was holding himself back, the muscular tank of a man withholding his concern behind his balaclava.

“If yew two are so worried about him,” Ghost said after a long moment where they were all collecting their thoughts and smoothing over their emotions, “then go see Price. ‘M sure he’ll know about whatever this lil performance was.”

Soap looked up at the Lieutenant. The Scotsman was biting his lower lip in the way he always did when he was anxious. The man had a heart as big as Mother Terasa’s herself.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Roach interjected. “Going to talk to Price, I mean. He’s the one who recruited Paul in the first place.”

Ghost gave Roach a withering look. “Callsigns or last names only, Sanderson. Don’t make me report ye for breach o’ protocol.”

Roach gave a small huff. “He’s the one who recruited Scanner in the first place,” he corrected with all the sass of a thirteen-year-old girl.

Soap clapped the smaller man on the back. “Aye, Roachie. Let’s go see if the boss man is in his office, eh?”

“Because he’s got some explaining to do,” added Gaz, his expression determined. “We ought to have the right to know the past of our own teammate, don’t we?”

The four men nodded curtly, almost in unison. Whatever had occurred in Scanner’s past that would warrant the words in that song, they would uncover it. You couldn’t run a team without honesty and trust.

And they all felt a bit hurt that Scanner hadn’t trusted them enough to tell them what had happened himself.

What do you think? Should I continue with a part two?

note:

The tune to the song and the first two lyrics + chorus is adapted from “Keep Your Heads Down” by Brian Jacques. Here is the audiobook version for those wondering what the beat of the song is. ( link will take you directly to YouTube and is secure )

The rest of the lyrics are of my own creation.

pt.2 here

[cod-dump]

Soap, waking up with a gasp: FUCK

Soap, turning to Ghost: Babe! We overslept! We need to get up-

Ghost: *cuddles closer to Soap*

Soap:

(Later)

Price: The reason you were three hours late to the meeting was because, and I quote, “Simon cuddled me”?

Soap: Price, I don’t think you understand what kind of situation I was in

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

@siilvan asked me to remake a MW3 scene adding our OCs so...three days on this

Changed Laswell outfit because I find it stupid that in two games that are a year apart chronologically she wears the same clothes.

From left to right: Ghost, Riot (mine), Nikolai, Zhar ( @nrdmssgs ), Gaz, Yuri, Petra ( @siilvan ), Laswell, Soap, Mini ( @sofasoap ), Nightfall ( @siilvan ) and Price in the foreground.

[sai-int]

pro tip for people with cod ocs that actually want to make an effort to make their ocs seem as realistic as possible (as far as military service goes and what not):

join r/militarystories and spend some time reading people's stories on there. some of them are funny, some are deep, some are horrifying. these are real life experiences written by the people that went through them first hand. it's valuable information to have when it comes to writing an oc that would have been in their shoes.

[spadesandshovels]

Why did the hand fan excel in military drills?

Because it never lost its cool under pressure.

— says @debilsposts

The illustration is what I did for homework for drawing class, where I was tasked to combine ghost and fan. It was a very lucky coincidence, and I hope yous are happy with the outcome, too :)

[dragons-flare]

I’m sorry to Gaz and Johnny... Now that I'm a little more comfortable drawing them/men I'll do some individual studies. Who should I do first? Also artists! I'm having issues getting some of their core traits. Any and all constructive criticism welcomed <3

P.s. it’s so obvious I didn’t use a reference x.x

[jeanzoriley-cod]

Jeanz had been at paperwork for hours, grumbling under her breath. She had forgotten about the paperwork for a couple days and it was coming back to bite her in the arse. The redhead was so focused on her paperwork she skipped dinner, again. When her stomach rumbled, she let out a sigh, but then remember the cookie that one person had left, and without thinking, she grabbed it, munching it down as she continued paperwork. She swallowed the cookie and continued without another thought, before she started feeling odd. Pausing for a moment, she paled at her realization. "Cacamas," she muttered. That was a laced cookie and she was high, something she hadn't been in years.

[noisydelusionlove]

Chapter 1: We Need a Medic

Not edited or beta read or anything, just getting my idea out I guess.

Pairing: Poly141xOriginal Character (I might turn it into a reader but I don’t know)

Warnings: military inaccuracies, medical inaccuracies, COD inaccuracies, A/B/O dynamics

John Price looks up from his stack of papers as a frantic knock sounds on his door. “Enter” he calls out, the door flying open almost immediately. Gavin, the most recent Beta medic comes in, his moves frantic as he stares at the head Alpha of Pack 141. “I quit, I’m done. I’ve met a lot of crazy Alpha’s but he tried to rip my throat out!” Gavin yells as he stares at John. John gives a sigh as he nods.

“I’ll have your papers sent by the end of day.” He says as the Beta leaves quickly, the scent of fear and panic permeates the office causing John to crinkle his nose.

John stands from his desk with a groan as he makes his way to the side of the barracks that houses the medical office.

When he enters the medical office the smell of burning rubber hits his nose, angry Alpha. John’s nose crinkles as he breathes it in, followed by a calming smell of rain. When he enters the room completely he sees Simon sitting on the medical bed with Johnny pressed to his chest, in an attempt to calm him.

“Scared another one away huh Ghost?” John sighs as he meets the angry eyes of Simon behind his black balaclava. “Trying to poke around when I told him I was fine.” Simon grunts out, causing John to shake his head. “How copy?” John sighs as he runs a hand through his beard. “Solid cap, it was just a scratch.” Simon responds as he motions with his chin to the wound on his arm where a bullet grazed him on the last mission. John nods as he turns and heads back to his office. John shuts the door behind him and sits at his desk with a sigh. He reaches for the cigar box on his desk, quick to light one to attempt to calm his nerves.

The shrill sound of his office phone takes his attention as he sighs again and reaches for it. “Price” he says only as he places the receiver to his ear. “Trouble in paradise I see.” A female voice comes from the other end. “Hi Kate” John grunts as he leans back in his chair. “Ghost chased away another medic I see.” Kate sighs as John grunts in affirmation. “Word travels fast, poor pup just quit.” John says as he ashes the cigar into the tray on his desk. “I have a suggestion.” Kate says, her tone serious. “and that would be?” John groans as he rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “You’ll see when I land ETA 15 minutes.” Kate simply says before the line goes silent. John places the phone back on the receiver and lets out a loud huff.

John sighs as he stands at the hangar watching at the helicopter descends to the landing pad. Once the helicopter is stopped the door open and out steps Kate Laswell. “Good to see you old man.” Kate calls, causing John to roll his eyes as he takes her hand in greeting. The two of them head off of the air field and into the cart to take them to his office. “I hope this suggestion of yours is going to solve my medic problem.” John states as he glances at Kate. Kate gives a small nod as the cart stops and they step out, heading to his office.

Once the door is closed Kate pulls a file out and drops it on John’s desk. “Former sniper, marine trained medic, more than capable of handling all of your men especially Simon. Feral gives just as much as they take. I guarantee they’ll survive here.” Kate says matter of factly. John eyes the file suspiciously. He opens it and notices the first page, the profile page is missing. “Kate-“ he starts but is silenced as Kate shakes her head. “Read it first before I give you the profile. Make your decision based on skill before anything else.” Kate says, her tone shifting, her inner Alpha coming out. John sighs as he reads through the file, his eyebrows raising at the scores and recommendations this medic has received.

“Sniper to medic huh?” John says as he eyes Kate curiously. “Wanted a change of pace.” Kate says, but it’s obvious there’s something she isn’t saying. “Look, this medic seems great but I know there’s more to it. I can’t have another Alpha here. It’s already difficult with me and Ghost. Ghost is an apex, his instincts are stronger than even mine, a third Alpha could be dangerous.” John says as he stares at her. Kate shakes her head. “Not an Alpha, I promise.” She responds. “Would you hire them?” Kate watches as John nods. “They look like a dream come true but I know you’re not telling me the whole story.” John leans back as Kate nods. “So, feral, Sargent Lee, will be here tomorrow to start her new job.” Kate says, causing John to nod. “Here’s the profile.” Kate smirks as she tosses a paper down causing John’s eyes to widen. The profile shows a young woman, barely 30, the name Aurora Lee underneath and in bold letters it states ‘Classification : OMEGA’. John’s eyes shoot to Kate as she stands there smirking. “Your new medic is an Omega and I promise you she isn’t like an Omega you have met before.” Kate states, causing John to growl slightly. “This won’t end well.” He says as he shakes his head. “I think it will end perfectly.” Kate smiles as she turns to leave his office. “I’ll see you tomorrow when she arrives.” Kate calls as the door shuts. John stares at the picture of his new medic, his new omega medic with a sigh. “The boys are going to flip.” He mutters to himself.

Next Chapter>>>

Masterlist>>>

Silver heart knot divider by @tsunami-of-tears

MDNI divider by @arlerts-angel

Header by me

[indigosunsetao3]

Chapter 5

Surprise visitor

AO3 (Full list of tags/warnings. Please check them.) Masterlist 4.5k Words

Chapters 4 | 5 | 6

Simon was sitting on the back porch, half laid with the flooring and the skeleton of the built-in seating when he heard the car pull up. It wasn’t unusual to hear cars on the street as of late. The true tourist season was just around the corner, but closer living locals were already coming in on the nicer days to get their properties set for the season. Or to drop their boats in the water and get them in their slips before the more coveted marinas were fully sold out.

But it was odd to hear the crunch of gravel in Celeste’s driveway as the vehicle came to a rolling stop and the car sat there idling. It wasn’t a delivery, too small of a car for that, and it definitely wasn’t Celeste either. He had seen her leave a few hours before for work, and it wasn’t nearly enough time for her shift to be done.

Curiosity peaked, Simon pushed up from the spot where he had been reading, stepping carefully over the exposed support beams to peer at the trees that split the property border. There he spotted a small SUV, brand new and shiny in the sun, and a woman sitting in the driver’s seat texting on her phone. He stayed where he was to watch what she was up to. Perhaps she was lost and had wandered to the wrong address for her rental. Or she was attempting to sell something. If that was the case, he would be promptly going inside and ignoring the knock on the door until she went away.

But then the woman climbed out of the car, tucking her phone away, and went to the trunk to dig out a suitcase—two suitcases, a large backpack, and a tote bag that was threatening to bust with how overstuffed it was. Clearly, she had the wrong address for the rental. Still, Simon watched quietly as she dragged her things over the gravel to the backdoor instead of the front. Interesting.

Digging out his own phone, he sent a quick text to Johnny asking him to swing by the café to see if Celeste was still working. He had gone into town with Kyle, taking pity on the guy who was moping around the house. Simon looked pointedly the other way when Kyle climbed on the back of Johnny’s bike and slipped his good arm around his waist. Not for jealousy of the closeness, Simon had watched the two of them together much closer than that, but because he knew it was reckless.

If Johnny slipped, if there was a wobble, the chance of injury to both of them was high. But Simon also knew Kyle was so close to snapping at being handled like a child he kept his mouth shut. Johnny was an excellent driver, and it was just to town. He had to trust him. But John would definitely not hear anything about this trip.

We’ll swing by there next. Everything good?  Fine. Just has a visitor at her place. Don’t know who it is. Don’t want her coming home if it’s unwelcomed.  Softie  Piss off

The woman had ditched her bags by the rickety patio table set, and Simon had to step off the deck and walk toward the lake a bit to get a better look at what she was doing. She was picking up rocks in the landscaping by the door and flipping them over before sighing and picking up another. She was looking for a key Simon quickly realized. After a few more tries, she found what she was looking for, pulled the small tab on the fake rock back, and tilted it over to find no key inside.

When she dropped the plastic rock back into the dirt, she stood up, wiped her hands on her pants, and looked around as if to see if anyone saw her. Simon was careful to stay shrouded in the shade of the trees, and she didn’t spot him as she stepped into the garden and moved to push on a window that didn’t budge. Whoever this person was, she was determined to get inside the place, and Simon was about to find out why.

Simon kept his footsteps light and quiet, which was a feat that he was unusually skilled at despite his size. He sidestepped all the fallen branches under the trees and shuffled through the dead leaves that no one had cleaned up after last season before going around the back of Celeste’s garage. The woman had no idea he was even there as she shoved herself between a bush and the house and tried pressing on another window. Well, she may not have known, but the little orange cat locked in on him and stared unabashedly before pawing at the glass where the woman huffed up at him.

“Goddamn it, Celeste, since when did you become the epitome of house safety?” The woman complained as she twisted and attempted to get out of the bush. Her hair was tangled up in the branches and Simon stared at her with his arms crossed over his chest as he saw her flail about trying to get out. He was a few feet away from the backstep watching her, and when she finally saw him and shrieked, he didn’t flinch.

“Who the fuck,” the woman startled as she nearly fell over, crushing the bush under her as she lost her footing.

Simon didn’t bother to help her as he watched her, though his lips quirked up under his mask as he watched an embarrassed expression break over her face. She clearly had not been anticipating an audience, and a man that was nearly twice her size had scared the shit out of her. Perhaps that would teach her to not break into people’s houses.

“Who are you?” The woman asked once she got herself free and stumbled back onto the back steps so she felt like she had the higher ground. She was still shorter than him, even at this angle, but he had to give it to her that despite the startle and huge eyes, she was standing her ground. Most would have run. “And why are you on this property?” She added on before wiping away a leaf that was brushing the side of her face, ruining some of her bravado.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Simon answered as he sized her up. “Since you are the one breaking and entering into someone’s house,” he replied, “or attempting to anyway. Doesn’t seem to be working out that well.”

“I’m a friend,” the woman answered after a second, narrowing her eyes at him. “She must have forgotten her own keys at some point because the spare she keeps out here is missing,” she explained, pointing to the fake rock. “So again. Who are you?”

“Her neighbor,” Simon said simply. “Saw you rummaging around and thought I’d see what you were up to. The bush seemed to keep you occupied enough though. Clearly, she doesn’t need an alarm system if these are the type of burglars around here.”

“I’m not a burglar. Would a robber know where someone kept their spare key,” she hesitated, clearly realizing that, yes, someone breaking in would potentially know where a key was. She changed tactics quickly. “You’re lucky I didn’t attack you,” the woman snapped as she smoothed her hair a bit. “How do you know I don’t have a knife or something?”

“I’d say you’re the lucky one in that situation,” Simon replied flatly. This short woman would hardly be a challenge, and he knew she was all bluster because there wasn’t anything remotely intimidating about her. Physically anyway.

When his phone vibrated in his pocket, he pulled it out to take a look and saw a message from Johnny stating Celeste was still at the café. Then, another question about sweets that Simon ignored as he shoved the phone away again. “If you’re a friend, why are you here locked out when she’s at work? You’d think she would have left the door unlocked for you or the key.” He looked at the fake rock and made a mental note to promptly get rid of that. There were better ways to hide keys and secure a house.

“She didn’t know I was coming; I wanted to surprise her…I live pretty far away,” the woman answered, pointing toward all the luggage. “I wanted to try to get in, clean up, and surprise her when she got home. But it looks like I’ll be sitting out here until she gets off shift in,” she paused and looked at her watch with a huff, “four hours.”

“Give me proof you know her, and I’ll let you in,” Simon answered as he uncrossed his arms to not seem as intimidating. Though the woman hardly seemed like she would fall for intimidation tactics. After the initial startle, she didn’t back down from Simon’s stare, nor did she fumble in her words or actions. She was willing to stand toe to toe with him, a rarity.

“Proof? How about you give me some proof,” the woman snapped. “How do I know you’re not some creepy stalker or something?”

“I’m Simon,” Simon said after a second, “I live next door with Johnny, Kyle, and John. Moved in a few weeks back. I’m sure Celeste has mentioned something to you if you are that close of friends. John and Johnny managed to piss her off already.”

“Mmm,” the woman muttered under her breath as she narrowed her eyes. “Fine, yes, she has. Hasn’t said much about you aside from the fact you wear a skull mask.” She looked pointedly at the mask that was across his as if to indicate ‘exactly that’. She held her ground for a moment, testing him before sighing and digging out her phone. “What proof do you want?”

“Give me her number. I’ll see if it matches,” Simon bluffed. Celeste had never given any of them her number. As she rattled it off without having to even look at her phone, Simon typed it in his and hit save before looking up at her. “Anything else?”

“Fucks sake, this the inquisition?” She asked before huffing and tapping into an app and holding up her phone to show him. It was pictures of the two of them together. She swiped through them quickly to show how many she had before raising an eyebrow as if to ask if she passed the test.

“Fine,” Simon relented before gesturing for her to step aside. If this woman was a problem it wouldn’t be that hard to dispatch her. And he was more than curious to see exactly what Celeste got up to inside of her house. She barely spent any time in it, so he had a faint idea of what it was.

“You have a key?” The woman asked as Simon dug out his wallet and flipped it open before pulling out a card.

“Not exactly,” Simon said as he grabbed the small brass doorhandle and yanked the door up and to the side before shoving the card in the gap. It took two more shoves and a bit of wriggling before the latch popped and the door opened. “No deadbolt on the door,” he offered as the door swung open, and the woman stared at him slack-jawed.

“Solidifies you are a creepy stalker,” the woman answered giving him an up and down glance before moving to shove him aside. “I’ll be getting her a deadbolt, chain, perhaps a baseball bat, and alarm system before I leave,” she rattled off, looking over her shoulder at him.

“I won’t tell you the ten different ways I could get around those without breaking a sweat then. Let you sleep better at night.” He smirked behind the mask as she glared at him, her mouth falling open a little bit at his brashness. “Military,” Simon replied in explanation as he held out the card between two fingers for her to take. It was his military ID, conveniently missing his picture. “You learn a few things,” he smirked as she snatched up the card and read it over before shoving it back at him.

“Sure. Well thanks for letting me in, you can go now,” she said dismissively as she attempted to block the door.

“Still not sure you aren’t up to something,” Simon answered as he followed her into the kitchen, crowding her space. “What’s your name?” As if he’d know if that was a friend of Celeste’s or not, he had barely spoken to the woman.

“Listen. I’ve just gotten off a four-hour flight, one wrong train stop, a two hour drive and fought with a car rental place for that horrendous thing out front. If I was coming all the way out here to cause issues, I clearly am a shitty criminal with low ambitions.” When Simon raised his eyebrow at her for the unanswered question, she rolled her eyes. “Alice. I’ve known Celeste since we were kids. We have cheesy matching tattoos, I was in her wedding, and if you look hard enough I’m sure you can find our old yearbooks somewhere when we had braces and pigtails. We done?”

“Alice,” Simon answered with a nod as he leaned against the kitchen counter as Samson winded around his legs. The little thing had taken to hounding Simon when he was outside for scraps, and when no one was looking, he had slipped him bits of chicken and steak. Apparently he now thought Simon walked around with food in his pockets.

“Simon,” Alice shot back pointedly. “Are you just going to stand there and stare at me?” She asked as she looked down at Samson, who was brushing up against the hulking man's black jeans. When he didn’t answer, she huffed and twisted to continue her inspection. “This place is ten times worse than I expected, I’ve got my work cut out for me. Here I was hoping I could soak in the gigantic garden tub for a bit.”

Simon glanced around the kitchen for the fourth time, eyes lingering on the doorway to the living room beyond before going back to Alice. It wasn’t in bad shape. Dated. Perhaps a bit dusty atop the fridge and cabinets where Celeste wouldn’t be able to see or get to without a stepstool, but it wasn’t awful. Some plates in the sink, plants that needed watering but otherwise it seemed to be in relatively good shape. Stark but Simon wasn’t one for decorations either.

“You seeing something I’m not?” Simon asked as Alice pulled open the fridge, peered in then scoffed. It was barren inside as well.

“She’s lived here for a few months now,” Alice answered as she shut the fridge, moved to the kitchen pantry, and pulled open the door. “And it looks just as empty as when she sent me pictures from the day she moved in.”

“If that’s a sign of an issue, then I’d hate for you to see our home,” Simon replied as she started inspecting boxes of food and putting them on the kitchen table.

“She’s never been one to live like this. I bet all her things are still in boxes because she,” Alice paused with a sigh. “You know what? Not your business. So,” she stated as she opened the trash with her foot to throw away expired food. “Either you can go back to whatever it was you were doing, or give me hand hauling in my luggage and tell me where the nearest grocery is.”

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

Tomorrow. Tomorrow and the day Celeste had been dreading would be upon her.

It was on constant repeat in her mind. One more day and it will have been a year since he had left. A full year without him. She was a full year older while he was perpetually frozen at thirty-seven. She’d keep aging. Keep moving on, keep living, and eventually surpass his age while he’d still be that same man. The one that had bemoaned the stray white hairs that had started cropping up in his beard and questioned if his hairline had receded. Fuck. She’d never see him grey. Never see that bald spot she promised to rub for good luck as she teased him. And he’d never see the small streaks of grey that had started in her own hair.

Fisting her shaking hands to keep them under control, Celeste stared at her reflection in the bakery case to get herself together. She couldn’t start crying behind the counter in front of all these people; customers, her boss, and coworkers. She couldn’t take the stares but most of all she couldn’t take the questions. Some of them had figured out who she was, of course; they knew her husband’s family from having grown up here, but most treated her like a mystery, and she wanted to keep it that way. It hurt to see her old friends and family without him at her side and to see their pity. But it hurt even more to try and explain it to strangers and hear the condolences that were a year too late. A year. Fuck, no, she needed to get out of that spiral.

“What else do you need help with, Carl?” Celeste asked as the man appeared from where he had gone for yet another smoke break.

“Ah,” the older man replied as he glanced around the area. “Just refill the napkins and the coffee stand? It’ll just be me here tomorrow with you off,” he stated, his voice sounding a bit put out.

“Mmm, it’s mostly me here even when you are here,” Celeste muttered to herself, though she nodded and headed out to the floor to start checking the napkin holders on all the tables.

She worked on refilling everything, from the napkins to the sugar packets, the straws, cup lids, and any other small thing she could think of. It would keep her busy for the last bit of her shift and be one less thing for her to do when she got back to work. The rest of her coworkers did pretty much the bare minimum, only refilling when things were empty, and that would end up with her having to do it all anyway.

The busy work helped keep her mind occupied, when she was idle that was when the thoughts would creep in. That fact alone had almost made her not take the next few days off but after a very long phone call, where Alice had threatened to call out for her, Celeste had put in for it. She wasn’t sure what she would do all day though. Perhaps just try to sleep through them, stare at the water for hours, and avoid every single phone call and text. She knew his parents were going to the gravesite but that wasn’t something she had been ready for. It was going to be hard enough to face them for dinner.

As she fought to shove a pack of napkins into a container, the rumble of a bike caught her and half the café's attention as it pulled into the parking lot.

Bikes in town were normal in the warm months, but at the moment, they weren’t. The only ones Celeste knew of were her neighbors and sure enough it was them, though they had only brought one bike and were riding together. They lingered on the bike talking, and Celeste peered up a few times from her work to find both of them with their visors up, staring at her. Surely not. She was far from the window and not worth the attention, but as she made eye contact, one waved.

“Know them?” A customer asked as she walked over causing Celeste to jump a bit as she returned the wave halfheartedly.

“Oh, I mean…I guess? Not really well, though; they’re my neighbors,” she confessed with a small shrug. “We see each other around.”

“They moved into that broken down place?” The woman asked a bit shocked. Of course the woman knew where she lived, which wasn’t weird at all. “Flippers I bet, looking to make quick money.”

“Perhaps,” Celeste said as she watched the one with the injured arm, Kyle, as she came to learn against her attempts not to learn about any of them, climbed off the back of the bike first. “They travel a lot for work, could be their vacation spot.” Why did she know that? Perhaps because of the constant rotation of cars and the only person that seemed to stay no matter what was Kyle.

“As long as they are quiet,” the woman sniffed before handing Celeste her plates for her to take, ignoring that she was busy with other work. “Those bikes are horrendous.”

Celeste didn’t answer as she took the dishes to the kitchen and glanced at the clock. Ten minutes left. Surely she could ride them out hiding in the back. Take her time getting her things together, linger washing her hands, and make a show of double checking her time. She was too tired to get into anything else and was honestly afraid if she found something to do it would keep her past her shift. Then Carl would try to rope her in to cover yet another smoke break that could range from fifteen to thirty minutes.

Right at the four o’clock mark Celeste punched out and flitted right for the door. She avoided eye contact with anyone working and tugged her jacket tight around her shoulders, the spring air still a bit chilly. She knew she needed to stop at the store for food, her last bit of deli meat gone with dinner the night before, but the idea of going shopping was daunting. Maybe there was some cereal in the pantry she could eat and then shop tomorrow to get out of the house. If she even had the stomach to keep anything down.

While she started up her car she spotted Johnny and Kyle walking out of the small convenience store next to the café. They were chatting and she watched as Johnny snatched Kyle’s bag away to carry it before stuffing it in the bike bags and handing him his helmet. Despite neither of them was nearly as large as Simon, Celeste found herself fascinated at the fact they both fit on the motorcycle. Both were tall, Johnny stockier compared to Kyle’s more lithe form yet they made it work. Johnny slipped on first and Kyle behind him, adjusting a few times for his arm before he reached around to grab Johnny’s waist. It was an intimate enough position to sit like that, but as Johnny grabbed Kyle’s knee to tug him closer and didn’t let go, Celeste raised an eyebrow. Perhaps they were more than just joint investors in the house. Not that it mattered to her she told herself as she threw her car into drive to pull out of her spot.

She didn’t want to know anything about them, didn’t want to get friendly with them or allow them to know her. She vowed to keep her circle small after everything that happened. Death brought out the worst in people, and she truly learned who her friends were. The less people she had around her, the less heartbreak she’d have to deal with down the road.  Yet as she waited at the light, she watched them pull up behind her in the rearview mirror, and when Johnny gave her a polite nod, she returned it with a half-smile.

You home yet?

Celeste jumped as her car read out her text message and she sighed before answering. Alice had been checking in constantly. Despite the long distance between them physically, she never let that stop her from reaching out. She called, texted, video chatted and any other form of communication she could figure out to keep Celeste engaged. As of late Celeste hadn’t really been keeping up her side of friendship, not initiating conversations and letting messages go unanswered for a day or two at a time. But Alice didn’t begrudge her and still continued to stay ever present. The one real friend she really had left.

On my way mom. I left work on time for once.  Good. I’m starved.

“Shit,” Celeste muttered. She had forgotten they were supposed to have a video dinner date and movie night. Alice was going to chew her a new one for eating cereal out of the box. She was already on her for looking exhausted all the time and suspicious as to why.

The drive home was uneventful, though she kept glancing up as Johnny and Kyle followed behind. It was odd to have anyone around on the ride home, the cottage so far out of downtown. They kept a respectful distance, but she smirked a bit as she spotted Kyle pressed tight to Johnny’s back and let his other arm extend out in the wind. She noticed Johnny sped up a bit to toy with him and laughed a bit to herself as Kyle abruptly wrapped his arm back around Johnny and held tight.

She was so engaged in watching them, eyes darting between the road and the mirror, the SUV in her driveway startled her. Celeste had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting it and she rocked in her seat before glancing at her cottage. She didn’t recognize the car, running through the mental list of her former in-law's vehicles. Surely they wouldn’t surprise her with a visit, not like this. As she narrowed her eyes at the lights that were on inside her phone dinged again.

Dinner’s getting cold. Get in here.

And as Celeste pondered just what that meant she saw the front door open and her friend’s silhouette in the doorway. Alice was there. She had surprised her with a trip, a feat in itself because she was horrible at keeping any type of secret from Celeste. Her friend had dropped everything, made the trek out to the middle of nowhere, to make sure that she wasn’t alone. Knowing that Celeste would struggle through it in silence and wasn’t about to let her do that.

Alice had been at her side in less than twelve hours a year ago after the accident. She had been the only person who actually knew how to take care of her and had taken charge when Celeste was catatonic on the couch. Had curled her up in the guest bedroom and slept with her in the tiny rickety bed so she wouldn’t be alone because Celeste hadn’t slept on her own in almost fifteen years. And after a solid year of misery she was still there, fighting off the ghosts and trying to help Celeste find joy and life again.  

[certifiedcodbabygirl]

Alright my turn

I've had a COD oc brewing for a bit and wanna share her (this is my first time making an oc don't kill me)

Call sign: Ducky

History behind call sign: During her early days in the military, her platoonmates noticed she's a bit skittish (lack of sleep) and decided to scare the shit out of her. She let out a short scream that sounded like a loud duck quack and they never let her live it down.

Job: Sniper

Nationality: American

Age: 30

Personality traits: Blunt, slightly chaotic, loyal, caring, "get shit done" type of girl, strong morals, exceptional intelligence, able to temporarily turn off emotions when needed

Closest with: Phillip Graves

Backstory: She grew up in an extremely abusive household. She learned how to be extremely quiet, extreme pattern recognition, and spots movement extremely fast. As soon as she turned 18, she joined the US military as a marine as a means to get out of her household.

Due to being used to constant screaming and berating from her childhood, she has a smoother time adjusting to the shock of basic training than the others did. She's a quick learner and showed impressive marking in just about anything they threw her way. She wanted to be in infantry, but due to the USA military laws, she was unable to do so.

They set her up to train for becoming a sniper and she stayed there since. She managed to get past training without much issue, until she was transferred to another squad and found out her brother was in the same squad. They grew up close (trauma bonding) and had an extremely strong relationship.

On a mission in 2018 (age 24), her entire squad was taken out by IED while driving to their safe house. She was the only one to survive, but came out with shrapnel lodged between her ribs, a shard stabbing into her meniscus, and a fractured wrist.

After a year and a half of physical therapy and continuous training, she was able to get back into the force. In 2021, she met the leader of the Shadow Company, Phillip Graves. Reviewing her file, he offered her a position among his men. After a bit of thought, she took his offer and was with them for a good bit of time. After his supposed death in Las Almas, where she was absent due to being summoned in the US for familial reasons (funeral), she was placed in a temporary force. She has yet to find out he's actually alive.

[cod-dump]

(With Ghost)

Ghost: Price… am I ugly?

Price: You are the most handsome man in the world, so handsome that if you didn’t wear that mask all the time no one would get anything done because they won’t be able to stop staring at you

(With Gaz)

Gaz: Price, am I ugly?

Price: In a million years you will remain as beautiful and handsome as you are now

(With Soap)

Soap: Price, am I ugly?

Price, not bothering to look up from his paperwork: Without a doubt