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lucid-loves · 8 months

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Taste Like Venom ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 1

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x assassin!reader (fem!reader, no use of y/n, callsign “Hex”)

Word Count: 3.4k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, enemies to friends to lovers trope, slow burn, plot, clear attraction and sexual tension, smut later on, reader POV and ghost POV, minors dni, Soap lives in this AU

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Synopsis: After Makarov gets away again, Laswell decides to force a favor from you, the world’s greatest assassin and best-kept secret. You are now expected to help the 141 with taking down Makarov in addition to playing nice with them. It’s hard to play nice when you have always worked alone. It doesn’t help that one of the team members, Ghost, gets curious about you with each interaction.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10

You’ve always been a light sleeper, if you could even be called that. The truth was that you hardly slept at all. Bedtime was always more like cat-nap time. Light, soundless, ready to pounce at the sound of dust falling to the floor. That’s how you trained yourself and the habit stuck, even if you don’t take missions anymore. It was hard to deprogram a killing machine.

The two years have been peaceful even if you were always on edge. Semi-retirement has been kind in only giving you the sounds of the forest trees in the wind, the gentle rush of the creek, birds singing every morning, and most importantly, no visitors. The world didn’t know that you existed and you preferred to keep it that way for as long as you could. While you did feel the phantom blood dripping down your hands every now and then to an unsettling reminiscent degree, you did like this little slice of heaven that was your off-grid cabin. It was a good place to be before you undoubtedly go to hell in the end.

You were in your bed when you heard the rustling of the forest floor just outside your window. Steps. But not the steps belonging to a fox or bear you have learned to recognize over time. These were the steps of a man. No, multiple men. The way the foot falls of a man walking is an undeniable melody you have heard thousands of times. In the dead of night, you bolted up out of bed and reached for your throwing knife and a pistol, always kept at your bedside. Like a thief in your own home, you silently followed the sounds outside along the walls until you reached the living room. They were going to come in through the front door.

Under the cover of darkness, you readied your aim at the door. To your surprise, they were messing with the keypad that locked your house down, inputting codes with a subtle click and then beep of a correct code. No one should know the code except for two people. Laswell and yourself.

As soon as the door revealed moonlight and a silhouette, you fired your gun. A warning shot. Grazing right past neck. The men stopped and immediately aimed their own rifles, but the one in front held his hand up in surrender. Following orders, the rifles were lowered. You were the first to speak, your voice dripping with venom. “State your purpose and maybe I won’t kill you all where you stand.”

A gentle yet deep Liverpudlian accent voiced back. “Easy now. We don’t mean harm. Laswell sent us here. Code Swan.”

“Song?” You replied, your muscles still tense, unwilling to lower your defenses until the full code was complete. It is what ensured both yours and Laswell’s safety.

“Black Death.” He replied back. You stayed in position for a few moments before finally sighing and lowering your weapon. You turned on a table lamp next to you to get a better look at the intruders. Four men stood in your doorway. One with a fishing hat, one with a mohawk, one with a baseball cap, and one with a skull mask. They were all tall, big with muscle, and seemingly not American from their patches. An interesting bunch to say the least.

“Fucking Laswell.” You cursed Kate’s name. She should have contacted you about this. You were just about to paint the porch with her mens’ brains. You hated surprises. You often killed them before finding out the intentions.

With a wave of your hand, you invited the men to come into your cabin. They cautiously came in, surveying the layout and now understanding what Kate meant when she said that you were “belligerent.”

You turned on the main lights and tried to get a fire going to relieve some of the autumn chill that had crept through the house. Their leader began to unload his things on the kitchen table, sighing from the weight relief. His men joined in, save for one. You could feel his eyes on you as you encouraged the fire. You didn’t even have to look back to know that he was watching your every move.

“It’s rude to stare.” You warned curtly as you stood and turned. The man in the skull mask and balaclava didn’t avert his gaze.

His voice was rich and gruff like gaboon ebony. His Manchester accent came clear as day. “You’re half naked.”

He was referring to the large band shirt and boyshort panties that you were wearing. What did he expect from someone that thought that enemies were breaking in? You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “I’m in my pajamas. Besides, a good soldier shouldn’t get distracted by any amount of nudity.”

His blue eyes narrowed at your dig. He was a good soldier. An excellent soldier actually. One of the best. But excellent, good, or bad, no one would be able to resist staring at your figure. The exposed thighs, the large neckline of the shirt hanging off your shoulder, various scars scattered across skin like an abstract painting. He’s never seen anyone like you before.

Too bad you had a combative mouth.

Before he could get a word in, you had walked off into the kitchen, not bothering to go get pants on. It was your home for fuck’s sake. Besides, there were more pressing matters than your clothes or lack thereof.

You began to pull out all the food you had out of your fridge. Everything from deli meat to leftover lasagna was being laid out on the large quartz island. You weren’t going to heat anything up or make something new, but the laid out spread would be enough. You weren’t a completely heartless host. Just a bare minimum one.

Once the food was out for pickings, you headed back near the dining room, leaning against the doorframe. The boys had maps, blueprints, and laptops covering every surface of your table. Your beautiful, hand-made pine table. This was to be their new safehouse for now. Hopefully not for too long.

“Captain, it’s connecting now.” The one with the mohawk called out. The captain came right over to greet the screen.

“Laswell, can you hear us?”

“Loud and clear, John. Did everything go well?” Kate chipperly asked. You haven’t heard her voice in a long while. You almost forgot how nice her voice actually was.

“She nearly shot my fuckin’ neck off.” Mohawk-guy grumbled.

Kate gave a light, short laugh. “Sounds like it went smoothly then. The best that it could be. She there?”

All four men looked up to you, expecting you to come over and face Laswell through the screen. However, you stayed where you were. Instead, you spoke loud enough for your friend to hear. “Kate Laswell.”

“Hex, I’m sorry that I couldn’t warn you about this beforehand. You know I wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t an emergency situation.” She began to apologize and justify. It was always an apology followed by a justification. You wondered if she even ever means her apologies, but in the end, you never really cared enough. However, now it is different.

“I don’t exist, Kate. And now four new people know that I do. . .” You retorted back.

It was silent for a moment, the tension in the air thick. She was on the other side of the screen, but it felt like you were going to get into a physical fight with her anyways. “They’re trustworthy. I trust them with my life and the lives of millions upon millions. Just like I trust you. And as the only people that I trust, I need you to help them.”

“They have already taken over my home. What more do you want from me?” You clenched your jaw, trying to prepare yourself for an answer you probably wouldn’t like. Like hell were you going to play dorm mother to them and like hell you were going to just move out. The last thing you wanted was to take care of these men longer than necessary. This was already pushing that line for you.

“Athame.” She bluntly said. That was the worst answer she could have said. The confused looks the men gave each other made you grateful for a fleeting second. They didn’t understand your secret codes and languages. But they will soon.

Your jaw was clenched so hard that your teeth ached. You damn near cracked them. While your voice before was dripping with venom, it was now drowning in it. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Hex, I-”

You finally came over, nearly pushing the captain out of the way in your warpath. Through the screen, Kate could see how angry you were. Not just angry, furious. She steeled herself, ready for your onslaught of curses, stopping herself midway through her explanation. “I don’t do this shit, Kate! I work solo for a very particular fucking reason. And now you want me to work with four strange men?! Now you want me to play nice?! I’m not a fucking soldier that can just be ordered around!”

“I know! I know. . . But. . . we’re desperate. I’m desperate, Hex. Please, this is the last favor I will ever ask from you. This is an awful target we’re talking about. Someone that is better off in this world dead.”

“You mean Makarov, right? Why should I clean up your government’s fuck-up? Again, might I add.” You spat. You lived off the grid and weren’t a citizen of anywhere, but you still watched the news. You always knew what was going on in the world among other secrets. Makarov was a threat to the world, but as far as you were concerned, it wasn’t your problem. If anything, the government needed this lesson as a direct consequence of their negligence and incompetence.

“Because Chalice.” She simply stated, knowing that her final word was a last ditch effort. Chalice was an agreement that you two had made long ago. It could only be used once in your lives, a truly desperate resort for help. If one of you uttered it, then the other would have no choice but to help, no matter the request. That was the law between your friendship, among other things. The other code words were favors, but this was the ultimate one. Life or death.

You considered punching the laptop in anger. Right at Kate’s face. You didn’t like her call for Athame or Chalice, but now you didn’t have a choice but to comply. It didn’t mean that you weren’t still furious though. “Fuck you, Kate.”

“Thank you, Hex.” She breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted to tell you more about what she needed from you, but she knew that you had to cool off first otherwise you would burst into flames. That would've made things harder for all of you. So, she nodded as a signal for dismissal which you gladly took. You retreated to your room, locking the door shut and basking in the darkness.

You could feel the blood boil within you. It burned your insides and choked you. Grabbing your pillow, you pressed it against your face and screamed out your frustration. When that didn’t help, you punched the exposed logs of your cabin wall until your knuckles were splintered and bleeding.

Ghost sat on the couch, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty. The rest of the meeting with Laswell was brief, wanting them to try to decompress for the next several hours. Sleep, eat, process. All in the comfort of an assassin’s home.

Compared to your personality, the cabin was decorated warmly. Everything was cozy, earthy, and fresh. The fire crackled comfortably, the plush couch was broken in, and every wooden piece of furniture looked hand-made. Bookshelves were filled with classic books and another shelf collected various music records. The only thing that seemed out of place was the lack of real personal mementos. No pictures, no art, not even knick-knacks. The others didn’t seem to notice or care as they picked through the food left in the kitchen. But for Simon, it left him uneasy.

He recalled the briefing before they were sent to the middle of nowhere to you. Kate said that you were an old friend of hers from high school. You have been friends ever since, but you were different than most people. You were a deadly assassin unknown by the world. No records, no pictures, not even a birth certificate. You handled delicate problems with grace and grave justice. You always worked alone, you didn’t trust others, and you were deadly. Everything about you was a secret until Kate made the crucial choice to ask for your help. Hell, they didn’t even know your call sign until Kate said it over the video call.

“You should eat, Lt. There’s a lot of options, but they’re dwindling fast.” Soap patted him on the shoulder, awakening him from deep thought. Ghost looked up at the sergeant, watching him stuff a sandwich into his mouth. It looked like all the deli meat from one packet was in between the bread. No lettuce or tomato.

“In a bit. I’m gonna talk to Hex real quick and ask some questions.” He replied and got up from the couch.

Soap swallowed nervously. “Kate said that she’s gonna need time to cool off. . .”

“Our new member is part of the team now. She’s gonna have to get used to us even if she wants time for herself.” He justified it with a shrug of his shoulders. Soap shook his head and walked back into the kitchen, knowing that what Simon was about to do was most likely going to be a bad idea.

Ghost walked down the hall, observing each door as he passed them. Most of them were slightly open revealing extra bedrooms, an office, and a bathroom. Only two of them remained closed, both locked with keypads. For a second, he wondered which bedroom was yours before he could hear the sound of light music behind one of them along with swearing. It made him wonder what was behind the other door that was locked down.

Deciding to let it go for now, he approached your door and knocked. “Hex, open up.”

He heard you let out a frustrated groan before the door opened up. It was only just enough to see you, the pure darkness behind you, and the blood dripping down your fists. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and quirked a brow that you couldn’t see behind the mask. It didn’t take a genius to realize what you had done. “Are you done throwing a temper tantrum?”

You scowled at him, a fire in your eyes that made Simon’s heart skip a beat which confused him. He wasn’t afraid of you, so why would his heart alter its beat for you?

“If I knew that you were just going to insult me, I would’ve shot you dead on my porch.” You bitterly snapped, moving to close the door in his face. However, Ghost stopped it from slamming and took your hand in his, observing the damage you’ve done to yourself.

Your breath caught in your throat. Electricity ran through you at his touch. When was the last time someone has touched you? You attempted to pull back, but his hand firmly gripped yours. “Hey! What the fuck? Let go of me!”

“Calm down and let me see. It hurts, doesn’t it? Stings?”

You narrowed your eyes, but eventually nodded. It did sting and the dripping blood already stained your carpet. However, you could take care of it yourself. You didn’t need some man coming in to try to fix you. “I’ll be fine. I can tend to it myself.”

“First aid in the bathroom?” He asked, seeming to ignore your clear hint that you wanted to be alone.

Understanding that he probably wouldn’t drop this until he saw gauze around your knuckles, you headed to the hall bathroom with a huff, opened up the cabinet, and took out the first aid kit. You then took a seat at the edge of the tub and began patching yourself up. Every now and then you looked up towards the doorway, making sure that the skull man was watching you take care of yourself. Without his help. Without anyone’s help.

Finally, your hands were wrapped and the bleeding had stopped. You held up your hands towards him. “Happy now? Will you leave me alone now?”

“Hex.” Ghost simply said as a warning. God, you were infuriating. An attitude problem was something he would normally be able to snuff out immediately. He did it all the time when training new soldiers. Not you though. New soldiers were like little candles, easily blown out of their fire with just a breath. You? You were like a raging forest fire. One that clearly had its own traumas over years of service that the world may never know.

You didn’t like how he studied you. How his eyes trained on you were a mix between hatred, curiosity, and something else that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. A magnetic pull that begged for you to look at him too. You also didn’t like how he was trying to treat you like one of his rookie soldiers. The only thing you wanted to do to make it all stop was to push him away. “Don’t talk to me like some new recruit straight out of school. I’ve already earned my place in the world with the amount of scars I have. So, don’t treat me like I’m under you. I won’t even let your captain talk to me like that.”

After putting the first aid back where it belonged, you attempted to leave the bathroom and retreat back to your bedroom. Yet, Ghost wasn’t giving up just yet. His hold body blocked the bathroom exit. He was tall, strong, and sturdy. It wasn’t hard for him to completely fill up the space. However, that didn’t intimidate you. You got up close, and looked straight into those icy blues. Even with the black warpaint, you could tell that his lashes were meant to be blonde. Some of the paint had flecked off revealing some true color. You wondered what the rest of his face looked like for a second. Just a second.

You stood your ground, engaging in a heated staring contest. It was like lightning crackling between the two of you. After a while though, Simon finally gave in and held his hand up like a handshake. “Lieutenant. They call me Ghost.”

Hesitantly, you took his hand and firmly shook it, refusing to back down from a battle of wills. “Hex. That’s all you will know me by.”

Suddenly, he pulled you in closer, your chest almost touching his. On instinct, you pulled a knife from the waistband of your underwear. It was the one you took with you earlier for the showdown at the door. You held it to his neck, blade dipping in until you could feel the push back of skin. Ghost didn’t flinch or jump back at your defense. Instead, he whispered into your ear that he wanted to get close to in the first place. “As hard as you may try to fight it, you’re going to know me. And I’m going to know you.”

You bit back the shiver that went down your spine from the whisper, aching to slice his throat in retaliation. Chalice had you pinned, though. You had to avoid killing the people you are going to be working with at the very least.

Ghost slowly backed up and headed back towards the kitchen for some food, leaving you to process what just happened. You silently walked back to your room without looking back at him, ears turning red and heart racing unnaturally. You didn’t want to give him any satisfaction by giving him any more attention. However, Simon was already somewhat satisfied.

Yet, there was a part of him that wanted more.

Soap was eating a piece of lasagna when he walked in. Gaz and Price were quietly conversing at the other end of the island. It took a lot of food to fill up men like them. It wouldn’t take long for them to eat you out of your house and home unfortunately.

“So, how did it go?” Soap nosely inquired. As Simon surveyed the food before picking out a tupperware full of stew, he shrugged casually.

“She almost sliced my head off.”

Soap suppressed a chuckle and did his best impersonation of Laswell. “Sounds like it went smoothly then.”

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nocturnesmoon · 10 months

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Safety Nets

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x GN!Reader Wordcount: 6k Tags: Polyamory, established relationship, Hurt/comfort, a LOT of comfort, the guys take care of you, that's the fic CW/TW: Military inaccuracies? canon typical violence, insecurities, heavy self doubt and self blame, minor character death, A/N: This is probably inaccurate mission and military wise but idc i wanted to write something like this for so long- though i am open to constructive criticism if you got some notes. (Read on Ao3)

-You come back from a mission that shook you to your core, the boys help you back on your feet as they always do-

The wind raged like a storm in your ears, despite the heavy earmuffs which sat too tight on your head, you could hear it clearly. When you closed your eyes, you could imagine it being a hurricane, a wind so strong it would scoop you up and carry you to who knows where. One that would tear you apart and leave no remnants of who you were.

The thought seemed nice, to be taken away and to never return. To be freed from not having to face your own failures in the disappointed stares, that awaited down on the rapidly approaching platform. Your body rocked with every little swerve of the helicopter, no longer having the strength to go against the motion.

"Lieutenant?" Your head snapped up to the soldier in front of you. You ignored the crack in your neck and the ache that pooled into your muscles. He'd been calling on you a few times now, his concerned eyes searching your face for an answer. "We're about to land sir," the soldier let you know, you couldn't muster up a verbal response, only a nod to acknowledge you'd heard.

Ever since they had picked you up on the site, they had that look of pity. It made you squirm, feeling all too self-aware of the way your clothes were caked in mud and blood. Your bones hurt, and your joints felt like snapping in half. You had spent the majority of the mission running, believing that you wouldn't make it out. You had fled, and you had left them behind.

The size of the heli was too big for just you, the soldier, and the pilot in the front. The space felt like caging you in, reminding you of your failure, of who you had lost. Your eyes threatened to shut, the exhaustion whispering in your ear that it would all feel a little better if you let yourself drift away into sleep.

Except every time your eyes slipped closed it wasn't darkness you saw, it was their screams, their blood, and their gore. The cracks you heard when one of the bullets pierced someone's skull echoed in your ears, as if you were still down there on the battlefield.

You were pulled back into your own head, your mind running laps to go through the mission once more. Every single second accounted for so you could dissect your failure. How each one of them had fallen, one by one they dropped like they were nothing. How you had ran with what was left of your team, until one got caught in a bear trap and pulled under falling debris, and the other was shot in the stomach.

You had hoped your head would fill with fog, that it would help you forget and suppress the last few moments of that soldier’s life. His name had been Jacob, his callsign Wisp, he had been difficult to deal with but his progress under your guidance had been noticeable. You hated how it was only now you could remember every little thing about him. Before you didn't care, you did your job in training him, guiding him, but you never made an effort to know him. You wished your brain would stop remembering every little thing now, making you feel all the more guilty.

You wished your brain would do that thing it's supposed to do, block out the traumatic memories so you didn't have to deal with them. Yet they were there still so fresh in your mind, like an open wound, his last words repeated over and over in your mind. You'd think someone's last words would be scared, or sentimental or a sweet last wish. Not his, no he decided his last wish was to let you know just how much you had failed them all.

Over and over again you replayed that memory, how his blood had mixed with the dirt and gravel under you both. You remember how his hand had clutched onto your arm, digging his nails through your sleeve and into your skin. He had pulled you down with him in his final moments, uttered those words into your ear with so much disdain the tone would have rocked your core on its own.

"This is your fault, you led us here."

There was more to his words, you were sure there was but maybe your brain was doing part of its job now. You could only cling to every part of the memory you could before it slipped away into the fog. It was only when someone gently nudged you that you snapped out of your own mind once more. "Sir?" your body went rigid at the touch and the voice, and you fought the distinct urge to disarm the person that was in front of you.

It was the same soldier that had been with you ever since they found you. He had been careful around you ever since he saw the casualties, walking on eggshells around you as if you were a loose cannon, maybe you were. "Sir?" he repeated, being a little more patient now that he had your attention, "We're here."

You felt your stomach drop, nodding slowly and glancing towards the opening doors, the platform outside. You could already glimpse at the two people that were waiting for you, they had probably been on edge for days. It only made you more guilty how you must have worried them, ever since your call for immediate evac. You weren't even sure you could reassure them once you got down there, you weren't sure you wouldn't just collapse to your knees the moment you were within their vicinity.

"Do you need help Lieutenant?" the soldier in front of you hadn't moved, it surprised you slightly, having been sure he would be just as eager to get off and way from your stench of death. For a moment you want to say yes, tell them to get someone to carry you, because your knees would give out the moment you went to stand, but how would that look for you. A new promising Lieutenant, the first op you led after you got your new rank and it turned out like this.

You didn't dare look up at the soldier, too afraid that your own eyes would give you away. You considered for a moment, to tell the soldier to go get the only two people who would know what to do. The only two people you would trust enough to become vulnerable with. "No..." your voice barely comes through, but he seems to register it, his legs moving quickly to get down on the platform. It was time to face them.

It had been a long few days ever since you said goodbye to the two of them. 72 hours since you had left on the plane with the promise of being back sometime the next day. 24 since Johnny had started complaining about your absence. 6 since Simon had been alerted of the fact you had called for immediate evac, that the supposedly simple mission had gone wrong in every way possible.

He hadn't relayed all the grueling details to Johnny, just that the op had gone wrong and that you might come back a little rattled. Simon wasn't entirely sure what had gone wrong either, he just knew there was casualties, and the team wasn't coming back in one piece. The scot next to him was restless, practically jumping in place from anxiety, watching intently as the heli descended and the doors opened.

Simon kept one step in front of him, knowing the man all too well, and even though his eagerness is shared within Simon's own veins, he knows that you might not be in a state that could positively receive that. He knew the both of you inside and out, the years he had spent with both you and Johnny allowed him to know you in ways he didn't think possible.

He was quick to find out exactly what made you both tick, what set you off, what made you happy and what would comfort you. He didn't like the uncertainty; it was a rocky start when he was still mapping out your emotions. By now you all knew each other well, like three puzzle pieces that fit together, you had found each other and filled out the holes in each other’s lives. Certainty was assured when he was with either of you because you both knew he needed it.

This was new, this was an uncertainty he didn't like. He had no idea what you would be like when you came down to the platform, down into their arms once again. Not to mention the fact you and nobody else had come out yet only churned that unsettling anxiety in his stomach further.

"L.T?" the sound of Johnny's accent filled his ears, his shoulders managing to relax just a little. He wasn't alone in this, he reminded himself, Johnny would be here to figure out how to help you as well. Johnny's pinky curled around Simon's, his urge to pull them both away from the public area would have overpowered if it wasn't for the fact, they were waiting for you.

The pilot had gotten out almost as soon as they landed, but you were still nowhere. He could just peak inside, trying to look for you or anyone else he would recognize. He only caught a glimpse of your form, hidden behind another soldier who was speaking to you. "What's taking 'em so long," Simon mumbled quietly, his mask obscuring his already quiet speech.

Johnny let out a heavy sigh, the hold his pinky finger had was surprisingly strong. They shared the anxiousness, the uncomfortable knowledge that you weren't okay. "Ah dinnae ken" he answered, trying to angle himself so he could get a better look at you. Unfortunately, there wasn't a lot he could see at the distance.

They waited, as patiently as they could, the inconspicuous grip they had on each other also served to hold themselves back. Their resolve was wearing thin, and they both knew it, that soldier was talking to you about something, something they didn't know about, and they didn't like it. Simon almost completely lost it when he saw the soldier emerge without you, but his attention was quickly turned when you appeared not long after.

Your walk was slow, in no hurry to get back to them, it should've been the first sign. You looked around as if you were confused, as if you hadn't walked down this path a hundred times before. Johnny wasted no time bolting forward, closing in on you with the clear goal that you were his target. It startled you and Simon almost wanted to berate Johnny in that moment for being so quick with his movements.

Though what Simon saw almost made him want to have a little more time to prepare. The look in your eye rattled something foreign in his bones. It was something familiar, something he had seen in himself once upon a time. Something terrifying he'd never have wished upon you, how it felt when his bare soul had been chipped away at. He looked behind you, expecting some other members of your team to perhaps clue them in on the horror that had occurred.

The hit felt even harder when he realized, you were the only one.

By the time they had gotten you inside and settled in the tub you were a little more present. Your awareness a little higher from when they were on the platform. You had barely spoken a word to them, so vary of threats on every corner that you didn't even let your guard down for them as you usually did.

Only when they had managed to drag you inside, convinced you that your report could wait for later, and gotten you safely inside the space of your own quarters, did you settle. Johnny had carefully helped you out of your clothes, taking the task of cleaning you up and settling you into the safe atmosphere that was them.

He had whispered soft praise in your ears as he removed layer after layer, meanwhile suppressing the want to berate you for each little wound he found on your body. He knew you didn't need the extra scolding, the pure shock from the mission would be enough for you. However, he still felt that sting of hurt in his heart, knowing that neither he nor Simon was there to look after you, to take care of you.

He was well aware that you were capable on your own, you wouldn't have made it this far if you weren't good at what you did. If your rank wasn't enough to go from, then your other various accomplishments on your resume was. But when he saw you like this, with the silent knowledge that you could've been wiped out along with the rest, it put a dark cloud over his mind.

He helped you slowly lower yourself into the bath Simon had previously prepared. You winced in pain when the warm water touched your wounds. None of them were severe enough to cause major worry, but that didn't mean they didn't hurt just as much. Your movements were sloggy, relying on Johnny to not lose yourself completely.

"There ye are," Johnny mumbled quietly, forcing a soft smile on his lips in hopes you soothing you. You let out a shuddering sigh, doing your best to relax into the warm water. You pulled your legs close to your chest, resting your tin atop your bruised knees. "Oh leannan," he gently presses his lips to your temple, cradling your head in an attempt for comfort.

It feels like you're not fully present, watching the world from a third person view that doesn’t exist. You have half of your comfort with you, his hands grabbing the washcloth and slowly moving it over your skin. You look around the small bathroom, trying to locate the other half of your comfort, the missing equation.

"Si..." You're taken aback on your own voice, the croak and soreness of it all leaving you wondering whether you had yelled or screamed more than you thought. You tried to think back on it, settling your mind into the mission again but it made a headache form.

Johnny's motion came to a slow stop, his eyes catching your pleading ones. He knew what you wanted, but he wasn't the one that could give it to you. "He's comin' soon," he does his best at keeping your calm, "S'ok jus' relax." His free hand finds your cheek, making you focus your vision on him.

You lean into it, your body trembling slightly beneath his touch. It was warm and safe, two things you hadn't felt ever since you left. He moved the washcloth over your face, rubbing at the dirt that had infested itself on your skin. His eyes never left your face, his attention and devotion completely yours. His eyes fell on your trembling lips, before quickly flickering upwards to see the tears prickling at the corner of your eyes.

"S'ok love, yer okay" He lets the washcloth rest on the edge of the tub so he could take your face in both hands. His forehead leans against yours, bringing you close and gently coaxing you into more contact. "Just breathe with me aye, he'll be back in no time" your eyes fluttered closed, listening to his instructions, glad that you were able to let go of the part of your brain that needed to make decisions.

Fortunately, he was right, as he often is.

Heavy footsteps could be heard and then the creak of the door, it made you snap your eyes open, their searching beginning once more. They landed on the tall brute, Simon's eyes fixated on you since the moment he made his way into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and made his way towards the tub, planting himself on the toilet seat right next to it.

He was still wearing his mask, tired eyes searching your body and gliding over the wounds in your traumatized state. He lets out a deep sigh, reaching his hand up to his mask and slowly sliding it off. You had seen his face so many times, by now it shouldn't affect you anymore, yet still you can't help that feeling you get when you see him shed the mask in front of you and Johnny. The trust he has in the two of you makes your heart flutter.

The look he's giving you almost makes you feel ashamed, even though you know that he's just concerned. He's always been, that's why he's so harsh on you, on Johnny, even on occasion Garrick. You're pretty sure the only reason he isn't like that on Price as well is because of his higher rank and better experience. He's trained you hard so you could overcome anything, but no amount of training could prepare you for this kind of thing.

Johnny leans back, allowing Simon more space to move closer. You move before he does, leaning your body slightly to the side. The sound of splashing water went deaf on your ears, even as Johnny yelped from some of the water going overboard. Your chin ended up nestled atop Simon's thigh, his eyes never leaving you as you moved. His hand coming down to rest on the back of your head.

"How we doin' pet?" his voice of gravel is like a blanket for your soul, the years of smoking giving him a voice that makes you shiver. In truth you don't feel like speaking, you don't feel like answering at all. You know you have to; you can't hide forever but you still hope they won't inquire about the mission just yet.

You let out a huff, almost hoping that the answer would suffice for Simon, but he keeps looking at you with those expectant eyes. "I don't know," you whisper quietly, letting your eyes fall, your body going slack against the side of the tub.

Simon nods in response, a hum of understanding going out to you. "S'fine, you don't have to know right now," he tells you, giving you the peace of mind to just have a non-conditional existence between them.

Johnny picks up the washcloth again, guiding your arms in his direction so he could continue his work of getting you clean. They're both quick and efficient with cleaning you up, Simon's rough voice filling the room as he updates you on things that's happened since you were gone. It's not much, mostly trivial things you don't care about and will likely forget, but it keeps your calm, giving you something else to focus on.

"Ye should've seen Cap he was livid," Johnny's laughs and you muster a smile, hearing about his latest misadventures, and the dumb thing's he'd rode Gaz into. His hands run over your scalp, working in the shampoo and grimacing when he takes out a small clump of dirt. "Aye darling, how the hell did ye get so caked in mud anyway," he sighs, parting your strands to get to the nape of your neck.

You bend your head down to allow him to work through your hair without straining his arms. "I..." you do your best to think back, but the number of times you fell down and scraped against things were a blur. "I think i tripped a lot...it was a muddy area," You held back a pleasured groan, as Johnny worked his fingers over your scalp, small goosebumps going down your back and arms.

"I don't really remember," you admit and let out an exasperated sigh. Johnny finishes up your hair, going for a little longer than necessary in hopes of keeping your enjoyment going awhile longer. When he pulls back to reach for the shower head, he boops your nose, leaving some soap on your face. His mischievous grin is infectious, and it manages to tug the corners of your lips upwards. The way his eyes light up when he sees your half smile makes your heart hurt, you've worried them so much, you're still worrying them.

As soon as they got you out of the water you were clinging to them like a leech. Refusing to let go of the precious contact you've already established with them. They move you around between them, molding you to them as they do the teamwork of getting you dry. Simon peppers soft kisses to your lips and cheeks while Johnny moves the towel over your back.

Even after they're done getting you as dry as they can, they keep you there. Sandwiched between them they hold you tight, and in tune each other. Johnny's head nestled in the crook of your neck and Simon's chin resting on top of your head. It's a stance that squeezes you tight, your own head getting light from the amount of love they try to squeeze into your bones.

It makes your heart burn, and your eyes sting with tears. Your breathing coming out in small gasps, as you end up choking back on a sob. Every single little thing coming crashing down on you now that you know you're safe in their arms. They've always got you, ready to catch you in case you fall. That hasn't changed, and being so subtly reminded by them brings it all out.

"Breathe," you aren't sure who says it, the disorienting feeling not alleviating even as they accommodate you. "Good Good," you recognize Simon's praising voice when you manage to take a few deep breaths. The tears never manage to fall but you don't doubt that they both know just by looking at your pathetic state.

"Love, we need to treat your wounds," he starts off quietly, not having any haste to move you, "Johnny'll go get you some food, and then we can get you settled into bed, okay?" He's making it sound more like a question, but you know it's just to make you aware of their next movements.

Even so you can't help but cling to Johnny's presence as he starts to unattach himself from the cuddle. You look up at him with pleading eyes, hoping he would stay if you just used puppy eyes enough. You almost think he'll budge as he moves closer to you again, his lips descending onto yours for a chaste kiss. Reluctantly he pulls away again, "Be back soon, ah promise ye."

Before you can protest and force him to stay, Simon scoops you up and places you on the bathroom counter. Distracting you from Johnny's quest of finding food that will be easily digested. He holds your face in his hand to keep your eyes on him, while the other one rummage through a cabinet.

You had gotten extremely lucky all things considered, the worst of your injuries the long scrapes on your back from sliding down a hill with sharp rocks. The rest included rough bruises, sore joints, and jumbled mind. Your other teammates had been much less fortunate, led right into their death by your own incompetence.

You're softly called back to reality, Simon gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek and calling your name. You don't know how long you were zoned out, but it was long enough to give him that worried glint in his eye. "Sorry..." you croak, swallowing thickly to hold it all back but this time it's not as easy.

The tears come slow and quiet, the shake in your body forcing them out of your waterline and down your cheekbones. He gently wipes them away, pulling you in closer to his body again and cradling you against his chest. "You survived," he reminds you, "You're still here."

You want to nod along with him and take in his words to keep close. But you don't know if you agree with him, you survived but should you have? Why did you survive and not Jacob, not any of the other soldiers who trusted you to see it through.

Simon placed a soft kiss to the top of your head and then leaned over you to get a look at your back. He gave no reaction to whatever he saw as to not make you panic, though from the bleeding warmth in your back told you it probably wasn't looking the best.

"Lean back for me pet," he instructs you, slowly plucking you from his chest. With a reluctant sigh you lean back and look down at yourself. Your eyes trailing over every little bruise that littered your body. Simon was silent as he took care of you, giving you gentle squeezes over small kisses after every little wince you made.

When he was done treating the visible wounds, you could hear Johnny rustling around outside the bathroom. The only thing left was your back, the one you dreaded the most out of all your wounds. Simon leaned back just as Johnny came back into the room, a set of your clothes hanging over his arm. He places it on the counter and picks through it, handing you a fresh set of underwear, sweats, and t-shirt.

"Wait with the shirt, need to check over your back," Simon reaches over for the underwear and sweats, helping you into it and lowering you back to the floor. You stretch out your limbs, groaning as you feel the exhaustion in your body, your joints popping when you stretch your arms above your head.

Johnny takes your hand in his own, smiling at you and leading you into the bedroom. "Ah found ye some soup, there wasn't a lot to choose from at this hour," he told you as you crawl onto the bed. You glance at the nightstand, the soup bowl steaming and looking good enough to make your mouth water. The little chocolate bar next to it makes you smile, just until Simon guides you to lay on your stomach.

The real pain is about to start, you think. His hands smoothe over your back, avoiding the ridges of your wounds and grabbing the salve. "It'll be quick, am sure" Johnny lowers himself onto the bed next to you, mimicking your way of laying. His head right next to yours, his loving eyes staring into your own and the giddy smile he wore made you huff out the air in your lungs.

"Hi"

His hand reaches out and caresses your cheek, gently running his fingers over your scalp. He does his best at distracting you from the pain in your back. "How ye feelin'?" he asks quietly, his thumb running over your cheek and fixating on your lip.

"Like shit," you scoff and turn your face into the mattress. You feel Simon's hand run over your back, the aching pain making you whine into the sheets. His hands hesitate, smoothing over unscarred skin as an apology before going back to his work.

The work on your wounds is tedious, and when he finally pulls away your eyelashes are wet. The clutch you have on the sheets beneath you is starting to hurt your knuckles. Simon's touch leaves you, but you don't take any action to turn or move. Someone else guides you to move, the difference in touch leading you to believe it's Johnny.

He moves you closer to him, slowly turning you up so you're sitting and leaning against him. He gently helps you into a t-shirt before moving you around like a ragdoll once more. You're settled between his legs, your back to his front and his big forearms wrapped around your waist. He buries his head in your neck, squeezing you and inhaling your scent as if it's the only thing he ever needs.

"C'mon, you need'ta eat," the bed dips as Simon gets back on it, this time having the bowl of soup in hand. He settles in front of you both, reaching forward and gently rubbing your calf. "And we need to talk," he knows you don't want to, that you'd rather bury it deep. Unfortunately for you, he also knows where that will lead you, and the sooner you put it into words for them the easier you'll be able to process it.

You take the bowl from him, agreeing to at least eat something. You couldn't remember when you last had gotten something nutritional, your stomach felt like a gaping hole that was trying to eat itself. You brought the spoon to your lips and savored the taste. Despite the limited options Johnny had still managed to get the things you liked.

"Don't wanna talk," you mumble between your bites, trying to ignore the look Simon is giving you by staring into your swirling soup. "There's nothin' to talk about," You swallow thickly, ever since you had been back you had been fighting the thoughts that urged to trap you. They were just waiting for you to trip in your careful state, they would pull you under the bridge, drown you into the water until you couldn't breathe through your panic.

Simon didn't let go of your leg, rubbing slow soothing circles into your calf. His full attention was on you, and there was nowhere to hide from the man in front of you and the man behind you. Johnny placed a soft kiss to your neck, and mumbled into your skin, "We know ye don' wanna, Leannan, but when ye came back ye were like a Ghost."

When you didn't answer they elected to let you eat in silence for a while longer, unaware to the emotional storm inside your body. You knew that you would have to make that report eventually, that they would hear about the details eventually. But actually, being met with the demand was something else entirely.

You didn't know if you could bear their reactions, the thought of them being disappointed in you made the anxiety roar. You didn't want them to realize that all the time they had spent being proud of you for your achievement had been wasted. That you were nothing of what you promised to be.

You only realized how shaky your hands had become again when you raised the spoon to take another bite. Simon let out a soft sigh, before taking the spoon and bowl from you so you didn't spill on yourself or Johnny. "Darling?" the question was laid bare for you, he gave you the opening to start talking, to confide in them like you always did.

Your hands fall to your lap, right along with your sight. You try to calm your own nerves, trying to rationalize the stirring thoughts in your head. After an elaborate breath, that is more like an exhausted sigh, you find your words. "It was supposed to be a simple op, and it was in the start, find the target and neutralize him," you start quietly, grasping your own hands together.

"But once we were there and set up, nothing went as planned," you lightly shake your head along to your words, "They knew we were coming and hunted us like dogs." You swallow thickly, noting how the shakiness had nestled into your voice. "I tried to reroute our objective; we tried getting out of there, but this was unlike anything I had ever been up against."

Johnny's hand came to encapsulate your own, stilling your shakiness and you freeze up. Feeling all to self-aware all of a sudden, how the attention was on you, as they listened like you were the most important thing in the world. It was both a warm and agonizing feeling, their protectiveness was nice, but it was also scary.

"We were so close to getting out but...they were faster and I...I couldn't..." you choked back on your own voice, feeling the hotness burn on the back of your eyes. "They were better..." you admitted in a whisper, "If I had taken a different route maybe we could have avoided the trap, maybe we could have gotten the drop on them before they got to my team but...."

The feeling of Simon's hand cupping your cheek made you halt, teary eyes meeting his in temporary shock. "It wasn't your fault love," the sincerity in his voice rocks something deep in you, "There was no way anyone could've known." You tilt your head to the side slightly, you wanted to argue, to tell him you could've done a thousand things better.

"Aye, ye acted just how ye were supposed to, ye kept a level head and guided the rest to the best of yer ability," Johnny briefly took over. His voice was hot on your ear, his quiet whispers just as reassuring as the hand on your cheek, "Ye did everything ye could, and ye survived because of it."

"But they didn't..." You sank further into Johnny, sniffling as you held his thumb inside the little cocoon, he made of both of your hands. "They died because of me," you try to argue, despite being grateful that they didn't seem mad you almost wanted them to lash out, to give you right, to let you feel like a monster.

"They didn't die because of you, they died in action, trying to complete the mission they were given," Simon's voice turned a tad harsh, the determination to get through to you all the more prominent. "They knew this was a possibility when they signed up, you did everything you could for them, and the way you make it up to them is to keep going," he told you sternly.

"I know what it's like, to have people fall under your command," he sighs, "S'never not tough, and it's all too easy to fall into the spiral of whose fault it was." You paid close attention to him as he spoke, he always had a captivating way of speaking, just like when he dished out orders, he commanded authority in his mere presence. "It's somethin’ that happens love, it's important to mourn and assess," he looks you directly in the eye, "But it's also important that you know, it makes you neither monster nor failure."

You never knew whether to love or hate the way he could read your brain like had he telepathy, or personal access to your every little fear and sorrow. "It doesn’t make it feel any better," you said quietly, tilting your head into his palm, nuzzling against his skin.

"I know" he puts the half-finished bowl on the nightstand, "Gonna hurt for a while, but we'll be here with you through it." He gave you a half smile, moving closer so he could place a kiss to your forehead. "We're not going anywhere, ain't that right Johnny?" he glances to the man behind you.

"Aye," Johnny's chest rumbles with a hum, his lips placing a trail of loving kisses over your neck. "Not gonna let those nasty thoughts get to ye," he whispers and slowly moves you as Simon directs. Johnny gets you on your side in the bed, your back pressed even further into his chest. Simon gets out of the bed but only for a brief moment. The lights turn off above you, and soon after the bed dips.

You sigh when you feel Simon's skin on your own, his lips find your cheek as he settles in with you and Johnny. His arm supporting both you and Johnny's heads, his other hand coming over you to hold onto the man behind you after moving your hair out of your face. Compressed between them like this always felt like heaven, the pressure they put on your body was grounding and reminded you that you weren't alone.

"Sleep now," Simon's voice rumbled, "We'll be here when you wake up, and we can try again."

They were always here for you, even when you didn't know you needed the extra support. They had worked with you for so long, you had changed a lot with them and for the better. You felt safe with them, no matter how many times you would fall, they would always be there to catch you and get you back on your feet.

Reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated<3

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artofbuddybaker · 5 months

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Odds and ends for a sci-fi project that’s been in development hell for a bit on my end. Wanted to get my skills up to where I had more confidence in them, but figured now’s as good a time as any to try anyway.

#artists on tumblr #my art #character design #character art #original character #art #sketch #sketchbook #buddy’s art #sci fi #sci-fi #polaris #vainglory #lara #callsign bear #callsign mad dog

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callsign-mayhem · 4 months

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heartbreak feels so good (part 2)

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader Word count: 3861 CW: Shitty ex-boyfriends, slow burn, angst, fluff

Part One Part Three

Your boyfriend's callsign is Viper, which is fitting. Bradley doesn't know how much longer he can watch this man destroy you, but luckily for him, he doesn't have to wait too long.

Use of Y/N, but no description of reader. THIS IS A MULTI-PART FIC.

The eerie silence of your apartment woke you that morning. Either it was never usually this quiet, or you just hadn’t noticed it when Elijah stayed over. There had been a few occasions over the weekend where you’d noticed differences like this, and you wondered when and if it got any easier to deal with.

You had awoken with your childhood teddy bear tucked beneath your chin. Somewhat disoriented, you sat up and glanced around the room. Your phone was charging on your nightstand with a glass of water and a Post-It next to it. That’s when it hit you that Bradley had been here the night before. You must have fallen asleep on the sofa during your wallowing sesh, which meant he’d carried you to bed. Ted was staring at you accusingly as though he’d noticed how your heartbeat stuttered once, twice, and then righted itself.

Burning with curiosity, you reached over and grabbed the orange Post-It, reading what you could only assume were Bradley’s words hungrily. His handwriting was atrocious, as wonky as his voice was raspy.

Getting Starbs. Be back soon x

Well, that explained that one. For the second morning in a row, you’d woken up feeling rough, although you didn’t feel as bad as yesterday. Yesterday, crawling out of bed had felt more like crawling out of the pits of hell. Today, you knew that Bradley was coming back with coffee—after having slept over—and while this was confusing, it gave you something to think about aside from Elijah.

You took a cold shower to reset your central nervous system, using all your fancy products in an attempt to make yourself feel better. It only partially worked, so you decided to put on one of your favourite outfits, which had the tendency to make you appear more confident than you actually felt. Now seemed as good a time as any to buy into the fake it till you make it movement.

When you ventured into the living room, you noticed that the nest you had built on the sofa was still intact, although it had been moved around slightly to serve as a makeshift bed. This must have been where Bradley spent the night after he’d tucked you in. Something about this was hard to accept, and as you stood there staring at the pillows and duvet, you tried to come up with an explanation as to why he’d stayed. As you cycled through the possibilities, the same part of your brain that believed you weren’t worthy of anyone better than Elijah started trying to convince you that Bradley was going to do the same thing he had. Or worse, he was just pitying you.

These were the kinds of tricks your brain liked to play on you, and usually, it was successful, but this time you were interrupted. Someone was knocking on your front door, presumably Bradley, who didn’t have a key. It dawned on you too late that you’d given Bradley your spare yesterday evening when he’d told you he might go out and grab coffee in the morning, and you were turning the handle before you could really register what this meant.

It had only been a few days, but you’d forgotten just how disarming Elijah was. He was standing in the hallway with a bunch of beautiful red roses, dressed in your favourite outfit of his: black cargos, one of his band tees and his beat-up Docs. You could smell his aftershave from where you stood, and he’d obviously had a haircut and beard trim before coming to see you.

Both relief and dread flooded you simultaneously, and you were torn between slamming the door in his face or collapsing into his arms, flowers be damned.

‘El,’ you croaked. ‘What’re you doing here?’

He smiled sheepishly, holding out the flowers so you could take them. They smelled like second chances and summer romance. ‘Went to that market we used to go to this morning and saw these. They made me think of you, so I thought you should have them.’

‘T-thanks?’

‘I know it’s out of the blue, but I thought we should talk.’ He said all of this so calmly— cool as a cucumber—as if this were the most natural thing in the world. As if you were going to discuss the weather and not his narcissistic tendencies. ‘I might have overreacted.’

You scoffed. ‘What was your first clue?’

Elijah rolled his eyes. ‘I didn’t come here to fight. I came to apologise, Y/N. Maybe there’s something here worth salvaging.’

And didn’t this happen every single time? He fucked up on a monumental scale, only realised because of your reaction, and apologised because he knew that’s what he was supposed to do, not because he saw any issues with his behaviour. He’d promise to work on it, you’d believe him, and then the cycle would start all over again. After dealing with it for a year, you were only just becoming aware of the ways he manipulated you, ways that would probably still work if you gave him enough time.

The scary part is that you were considering letting him despite the newly reawakened, sane part of your brain screaming at you not to.

‘Y/N?’

Oh God. No, no, no, no.

Bradley Bradshaw had materialised behind Elijah in all his golden glory, two coffees in hand, aviators perched on the tip of his perfect nose. He was wearing shorts and a black tank top, so clearly, he’d popped home to change clothes. To top it off, he was doused in a light sheen of sweat that glistened underneath the lights in the hallway.

The sane part of your brain was relieved to see him, but the part that Elijah controlled was about to implode. Your hands felt clammy, and your throat was thick with nerves, making it incredibly difficult to talk.

Elijah spun around. Even though he now had his back to you, you had a pretty good idea of what his face looked like. His shoulders tensed up and you watched him squeeze both of his hands into fists.

‘What the fuck?’

‘El, it’s not what it looks like, he-’

Elijah spun around. His anger was an almost tangible thing. He’d always struggled with it, what with having undiagnosed and unmedicated ADHD, and it could be terrifying. He also liked using it as an excuse when he acted out, claiming he couldn’t help it.

Bradley seemed relatively calm. You knew it was a front, that he wanted to rip Elijah’s head off, but that would end up hurting you, so he was reigning it in for your benefit.

Elijah was glancing between you and Bradley, nostrils flaring and jaw set with anger. Briefly, you locked eyes with Bradley but couldn’t determine what emotions were hidden there.

‘Not that it’s any of your business, Viper,’ Bradley started. ‘But I’m here helping Y/N through a tough time. We’re friends, and that’s what friends do.’

‘Not sure why she’s having a tough time.’ Elijah spat. ‘I’m the one getting sent pictures of his girlfriend walking down the beach with another guy. Do you have any idea how that made me look?’

‘Maybe it should’ve been you, then. Oh, wait,’ Bradley smiled sarcastically. ‘You were too busy ghosting her because she went out with her friends.’

‘I don’t need to stand here and listen to this. Who the fuck do you think you are, man? This has nothing to do with you.’

‘Elijah.’ You warned.

‘And you’re defending this guy now, Y/N? What the fuck is wrong with you?’

‘That’s enough.’

‘No, I’m not done. Because I wanna know what you think gives you the right-’

Bradley sidestepped Elijah and handed you the two iced coffees. You stood there dumbly, unable to do anything.

‘I’m her friend, that’s what gives me the right. I’m the one who’s gonna pick up all the fucking pieces.’

Elijah was trying to square up to Bradley, but he was a fair bit shorter, so it just looked pathetic.

‘Pick up all the pieces of what? Her broken heart?’ Elijah laughed bitterly. ‘Boo fucking hoo. If she weren’t such a slut, we’d still be together. It’s her own fault.’

Bradley Bradshaw wasn’t a violent person. It was a last resort for him, so when he slammed Elijah into the wall, you knew it was because he’d been pushed way beyond his limit by that last comment.

Elijah shoved Bradley off him and swung, clipping the side of his face and causing him to stagger back. Bradley took a second to right himself and, with a great heaving breath, swung back hard. You squeezed your eyes shut, but the sound of Bradley’s fist meeting Elijah’s nose was loud enough that you could still picture it vividly. It reminded you of the sound of gravel getting crushed underneath the tyres of the Bronco or the eggshells you’d spent the last year walking over to spare Elijah’s feelings.

The sound seemed to snap you out of your helpless daze.

‘That’s enough!’ You yelled.

The bin bag containing Elijah’s belongings was next to the front door so you’d remember to take it to work the next day. You grabbed it and threw it at Elijah, who just about managed to catch it before it hit him in the face.

‘I don’t wanna see your face around here again.’ You said bitterly. ‘And I don’t want any rumours going around base about Bradley and me because this breakup is all your fault. You’re the one who couldn’t get his act together.’

‘And if you ever call her a slut—or anything else—again, I’ll make sure you never fly for the navy again.’

You meant every word of it, but it was still difficult to look Elijah in the eye one last time before he walked out of your life for good. It was hard because you’d still loved a version of this man, laughed, cried, and talked for hours with him. And if he’d managed to admit to a few of his shortcomings, work on them and maybe go to therapy for his unhealed trauma, you’d probably still be laughing, crying and talking with him.

You would have probably married him.

But he would never admit to having shortcomings, never take the time to work on things, and therapy was out of the question. Love is only a small part of what makes a relationship work, and when it came to your relationship with Elijah, your love for him was the only thing keeping it going. Most days, this wasn’t even enough.

You half expected him to say something else, but he seemed to know better. Clutching the bin bag full of his belongings, Elijah skulked off down the hallway, and you watched uneasily until he disappeared around the corner, finally leaving you and Bradley alone.

You released a shaky breath, and Bradley pulled you into a hug so comforting that you just about melted. He smelled of sunshine, clean cotton, and Bleu De Chanel, and you had to refrain from inhaling.

‘I leave you for half hour, and that dick shows up.’ Bradley murmured.

You could hear the smile in his voice, which was also a comfort. After a scene like that, the last thing on Elijah’s mind would have been comforting you. Even though Bradley was the one physically hurt, his priority was still taking care of you and keeping the mood light so you didn’t start spiralling.

Reluctantly you pulled away from Bradley, not because you wanted to, but because you thought he deserved some breakfast after his morning heroics.

‘Did he get your eye?’ You asked, concerned.

‘No,’ Bradley smiled reassuringly. ‘Almost, but no.’

Once back inside, you set about making breakfast. Bradley was glancing around, somewhat disorientated, and you briefly worried if he had a concussion.

‘You good, Roo?’

‘Yeah, what happened to the coffees?’

‘Oh, they’re on the side where I keep my car keys. By the door.’

Bradley fetched the coffee and sat in his usual spot at the kitchen island. He was unharmed, but it was evident in the way he wouldn’t meet your eye that something was on his mind. While you cooked the bacon—having deja vu from yesterday—you thought about the best way to approach the situation. Bradley was entitled to feel some type of way about what had just happened, and he was under no obligation to share said feelings with you if he didn’t want to. After all he’d done for you, he was entitled to a few private thoughts. But something about the brooding look on his face made it hard to leave well enough alone, and all of a sudden, you found yourself wanting to know every thought—good and bad—going on inside his pretty little head.

You lowered the heat on the stove and turned around to grab your coffee, making a point of trying to meet Bradley’s eye. The contact lasted about three seconds before he refocused his attention on his coffee cup, which had suddenly become very interesting. This man had tells, and you were going to learn them all.

‘What’s wrong, Bradley? You can talk to me, you know?’

He shook his head slightly. ‘Nothing.’

‘Bullcrap. You can tell when I’m not being honest about how I feel, and guess what? It’s a two-way street. And just like you encourage me to talk about what’s bothering me, I’m encouraging you to do the same.’

‘I’ve created a monster.’ Bradley grinned.

‘You have. It’s your own fault, Bradshaw.’

‘It’s not a big deal,’ he said, sipping his iced latte. ‘I’ve just been trying to imagine what would’ve happened if I didn’t come at that exact moment.’

Your stomach twisted. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You were holding roses. That look on your face, Y/N… I think if I didn’t come back when I did, you would’ve let him in.’

‘That’s…’

He was gazing at you expectantly.

‘...Ridiculous.’ You finished.

‘See, I really wanna believe that,’ he smiled sadly. ‘But I know you well enough to know that you’re lying.’

You turned back around to face the stove, partly because you needed to flip the bacon and get started on the eggs and partly because you couldn’t keep the agony off your face. Because Bradley was right as usual—as much as it pained you to admit it, you would have eventually let Elijah in.

‘It’s not as black and white as that.’

Bradley’s eyes were burning holes in the back of your head. It was extremely off-putting.

‘I know, Y/N. Nothing is.’

This caught your attention. You spun around and pointed the spatula at him accusingly.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ You asked.

Bradley held his hands up. ‘Nothing, doll. I’m just agreeing with you.’

‘Nothing in life is simple,’ you murmured, opening the cupboard above you and taking the packet of bagels out. ‘No matter how much you wish it was.’

‘Just to be clear, I don’t blame you for wanting to let him in. He’s a manipulator, and he’s good at what he does. And you love with everything you have.’

‘Even when I shouldn’t.’

You heard Bradley sigh. ‘Y/N, I’m gonna tell you something, and I want you to really take it in, okay?’

‘Okay?’

‘Loving hard is never a bad thing, and you should never shrink your love to make it easier for people to digest. If you find yourself doing that, then the person you’re doing it for isn’t meant for you. The right people will always take your love as it comes, and you won’t have to change anything.’

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. ‘Like you. And Nat.’

‘Yes,’ he breathed, seemingly relieved that you were beginning to understand. ‘Just like me and Nat.’

Bradley Bradshaw was not in the business of denying you of anything, which is how he found himself curled up on your sofa for the second afternoon in a row, watching reruns of Gilmore Girls. The two of you had watched so many episodes that he knew the theme song by heart, and as catchy as it was, he only liked it because you sang it each time without fail. This was the happiest and calmest he’d seen you all weekend, which was surprising after Elijah’s surprise visit earlier that day. After quite the internal debate, he’d come to the conclusion that you needed to see him after the breakup, no matter how briefly, in order to start the process of moving on.

Bradley was starting to fancy himself a love and relationship expert despite not having experienced it many times himself. Something about you and your particular situation made him feel he needed to monitor it, as though it were his job to make sure you emerged relatively unscathed.

He glanced at you sideways, wrapped up in a pumpkin-covered throw with a mug of tea keeping your hands warm, and felt this innate need to protect you from the world and everyone in it. Especially Elijah. He couldn’t explain it, but it went further than friendship, possibly even further than love.

Bradley was just about to suggest going for a walk to stretch your legs and get some air, but then the intercom started buzzing, causing the both of you to jump out of your skins.

He reached and took your tea from you so you could get up without ending up wearing it. Whoever was waiting to be let in was pretty persistent, constantly buzzing until you managed to get to the front door and click the intercom.

‘Who is it?’ You asked, panting from the exertion.

‘Natasha Trace, you know, the best friend you’ve been blanking all weekend.’

You cursed under your breath, pressing the release for the door. ‘Sorry, Nat. Come on up.’

It suddenly dawned on Bradley that he hadn’t updated Nat since sometime yesterday and that she was probably worried sick. She knew nothing about Elijah showing up at your apartment or the fact that Bradley had stayed over. The fact that he’d slept on the sofa wouldn’t matter to her when she found out. He’d never hear the end of it.

You were hovering nervously by the door, clearly anticipating the same telling-off as Bradley. ‘I was supposed to call her last night,’ you told him. ‘And then I passed out on the couch.’

‘We’re both done for, Y/CS,’ he grinned. ‘It’s been super nice knowing you.’

Somehow—in the time it took her to get up the three flights of stairs to your front door—he managed to convince himself that she wouldn’t be that mad at the two of you. But when you opened the door, he could almost feel her anger, like heat rolling off her in waves. Before you could get a word out, she was pulling you in for a rough but well-meaning hug.

‘I was worried sick, Y/N.’

You relaxed into the hug and put your arms around her middle, squeezing reassuringly. ‘I’m sorry, Nat. I should have called.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘You should’ve. Last time I saw you, you were half-cut and running away from us at The Hard Deck.’ You stepped aside so she could come in. ‘You’ve got some explaining to-’

When Natasha noticed Bradley reclining comfortably on your couch, she stopped speaking. Bradley had a shit-eating grin plastered across his face, and he wiggled his eyebrows at her teasingly.

‘Hey, Nix.’

Briefly, she glanced at you and then back at Bradley. Then back at you, then back to Bradley.

‘Don’t ‘hey, Nix’ me, mister. You’ve been here all weekend?’

He shrugged apologetically. ‘Pretty much.’

‘No text? No call?’

‘Sorry. We were kinda preoccupied with wallowing and fighting Viper off.’

‘What do you mean fighting him off?’

With a great sigh, you traipsed over to the couch and collapsed back into your spot. ‘He showed up this morning with roses and the usual fake apology.’

Natasha was incredulous. She didn’t sit down, she just started pacing in front of the couch, Gilmore Girls still playing on the flat screen behind her.

‘Are you serious?’

‘Yup, and it’s lucky I came back when I did,’ Bradley chimed in. ‘Y/N was gonna let him in.’

Natasha stopped pacing to glare at you. ‘You were gonna do what?’

You launched a throw pillow at Bradley’s head, which, fortunately for you, he didn’t manage to dodge.

‘Hey!’ He huffed. ‘I’m not blaming you! We talked about this earlier.’

You rolled your eyes. ‘It wasn’t my finest moment, okay? I’ve been drinking his Kool-Aid for so long it’s gonna be a while before it’s all out of my system. So I guess Bradley really did come back at the right time.’

This didn’t seem to satisfy Nat, so you launched into a more detailed account of the past weekend, filling her in on everything except a few details about Bradley. Those you would save for when it was just the two of you. Halfway through, she perched herself on the edge of the coffee table, facing you and listening intently to what you had to say. By the end of it, she was literally seething with rage. This time, directed at your now ex-boyfriend.

‘He ought to watch his back,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘Cause if I see him on base, he’s gonna wish he’d never been born.’

The three of you ended up ordering pizza. At one point, you got up to go to the bathroom, and Natasha took the opportunity to grill Bradley some more. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest. Only surprised that it had taken her this long.

She started the interrogation by smacking the back of his head.

‘What was that for?’ He hissed.

‘That’s for going after your best friend when she’s just had her heart broken.’

‘What makes you think I’m going after her?’

Nat pretended to think about this. ‘Hmmm, let me see… Maybe because you’ve slept here two nights in a row, and I walked into you cuddled up on her couch drinking fucking cocoa!’

‘It was tea, actually. And I slept out here both nights. Just didn’t want her to be alone.’

She relented, but only slightly. ‘Still, you need to cool it. She’s probably feeling all kinds of confused right now, and she doesn’t need you and your big puppy dog eyes making things even more complicated.’

He smiled despite himself. ‘You think I have big puppy dog eyes?’

She glared at him witheringly. ‘Is missing the point a personality trait of yours?’

‘Nix, will you calm down? I’m not going after her, I’m not confusing her, and I’m not making things difficult with my big eyes. I’ve been giving her advice, helping her through the worst of it. That’s all.’

Natasha softened, satisfied that Bradley was telling the truth. The toilet flushed, and the bathroom door opened, so they’d have to finish this conversation some other time. But before you came back, Natasha whispered one last thing…

‘I know you love her, Bradley. I know you always have. But you have to give her some time.’

End of part 2. Final part coming soon!

Taglist: primroseluna eloquentdreamer sgt-barnesveins daybleedsintonightfa11

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averagewriter-inthedark · 6 months

Text

His Reason to Fanboy 🦸‍♀️ | Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia imagine

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia x MovieStar!reader (romantic) Dagger squad (platonic), Marvel actors (platonic)

Content Warnings: fluff, slight profanity, pop culture references, timeline events not completely in order | Female!reader (she/her) | wc: about 7k

Requested 📨 yes/no for Anonymous (tagging @eternalsams though cause I know how much you love Mickey <3)

Premise: Little was known about the private life of energetic WSO Mikey 'Fanboy' Garcia to his fellow Top Gun alum. He was a walking encyclopedia when it came to all thing's superheroes and Hollywood's biggest stars. So it's the biggest surprise of their lives when the face behind his call sign Fanboy is revealed after years of wondering who claimed his heart when he was just a teenager.

Note: gosh writing this reminded me how much i love writing famous!reader x dagger pairings. this was so fun and long awaited so big apologies to the person who requested this last summer 🥰🥹. I hope it was worth the wait and I did it justice!! 🫶🏼

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If there is one thing the Dagger squad knows about their energetic WSO, Mickey Garcia, it’s that he lives up to his callsign Fanboy. Everyday they bear witness to his knowledge of all things superheroes and who’s dating who in Hollywood. The man’s apartment--or dorm on base depending on where he is--gives away all his interests and pop culture loves. Anyone who becomes friends with Mickey would have no trouble finding a birthday gift. There'd be endless ideas.

Each room of his home had its own theme. Go to the bathroom and you’re hit with his love for Star Wars. Doctor Who memorabilia coats his kitchen. Then his living room looks straight out of Avengers tower. Throughout the apartment there’s knick knacks from attending a multitude of conventions, including a wall dedicated to signed pictures and movie posters.

“Damn, Garcia,” Hangman whistles, roaming the vast collection. “You sure are a collector.” The WSO laughs, waltzing to his fridge to collect a case of beers for the squad.

“My pride and joy.”

“I can see that,” Jake stops in front of a glass case filled to the brim with Funko Pops and figurines. One striking detail was the majority being characters of a certain actress hot in the Hollywood scene. “I see you also got a crush on Y/n L/n.”

The name sent a large smile on Mickey’s face, filling his chest with warmth and butterflies, though his friends were too occupied to notice. “You can say that.”

“C’mon, Mickey!” Y/n shouted at him from the sidewalk, waving a hand frantically toward the movie theater. “We’re gonna miss it!” It was a packed house, Mickey weaving through a horde of people after his mother dropped him off, promising to pick the two teenagers once the film ended. Listed in bold letters on the showings were “Spider-Man 2”, along with several others but they didn’t matter to them. They were there for the newest Spider-Man, having anticipated it all year.

Y/n stood with a cross body bag filled with candy, holding up the tickets. “You’re lucky I already got our seats.” Mickey fell into step as she led them inside, rolling his eyes playfully.

“At the very least we’d miss the previews, Y/n.” He held the door open, “not the end of the world.”

“Speak for yourself,” she teased, thanking him in the process. Together they beelined for the concessions. With a soda and popcorn bucket in their hands the teens made it to their seats right as the lights dimmed. Y/n visibly excited during the trailers for National Treasure, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Then when it came time for the movie to start, she barely touched the popcorn. Leaving Mickey to enjoy it for himself. They shared candy and gasps during intense scenes.

When the film ended the teens made their way out immersed in a debrief, “Harry is going to be a problem in the next one,” Y/n predicted with confidence, “Now that he knows Peter is Spider-Man, he’s gonna go after him to avenge his father.” The girl threw her hands up, “Which wasn’t even his fault!”

Mickey laughed, popping a few leftover skittles in his mouth, “I’m kinda sad about Octavius. He had a change of heart in the end.”

“Yeah,” she agreed with a sigh. They walked in the direction of the Dairy Queen next to the theater. Craving some ice cream while they waited for Mickey’s mom. “I hope one day I can be in one.” Mickey peered at her, frowning at her tone which was a mix of longing and sadness.

“A superhero movie?”

“Any movie really,” she chuckled, pushing her hands in the pockets of her denim jacket. “A superhero one would be amazing--just because I love them so much.” Since they became friends at eight years old and their shared interest in comics, Y/n and Mickey watched pretty much every superhero movie to exist. Only when they turned 10 did their parents allow them to go to the theaters on opening weekend with supervision. It was the past year they were able to go alone now that they were fifteen and in high school.

Living in California, on the outskirts of Los Angeles, Y/n had always had a desire to go into acting. Begging her family to take her to auditions. Which was difficult considering they had full time jobs. Y/n’s mother a paralegal and her father a mechanic. When Y/n turned 10 her parents agreed to take her to commercial auditions on weekends. She landed several jobs, including ones for well known brands like Coca-Cola, Cheerios, and Motarola to promote their new phone. Children's toys, and hotel marketing. Recently came guest roles on popular tv-shows, like That’s So Raven, House, and voice acting on Danny Phantom. She had her agent to thank for that.

But she was itching for that big break.

“You’ll make it, Y/n,” Mickey put his arm around her shoulder, the girl leaning in. “You’re the most ambitious, hard-driven, working person I’ve ever met. You’ve got family and friends who support you. An agent who cares about you.” If there was one thing he was right about it was her support team. Y/n’s agent Tanya had been with Y/n for two years and worked endlessly to secure her projects. The two were introduced in 2002 shortly after Y/n had a small role of a young vampire in Queen of the Damned. Her first feature debut, but it was so small she wasn’t listed on the credits.

Tanya believed in Y/n more than anyone else. She was the reason Y/n appeared on more tv-shows than commercials within the last two years. While getting movie roles proved difficult, Tanya was determined and had Y/n pumping out auditions left and right.

Mickey squeezed her shoulder gently, adding a friendly kiss to her cheek that made her heart flutter. “It’ll happen.You just have to be patient.”

If only the two had made a bet that day. Mickey never lost faith in Y/n’s potential. And when they finally entered a relationship junior year after years of mutual pining it only heightened. They both attended University of Southern California, Y/n pursuing acting while Mickey studied aeronautical engineering. While finishing high school, Y/n auditioned consistently for L.A productions, accumulating credits on Constantine (which had her loss for words getting to work with Keanu Reeves), Ugly Betty, Bring It On: All or Nothing, and her personal favorite, X-Men: The Last Stand. Then in 2006 she had credits on Transformers, Knocked-Up, and Freedom Writers which were released in 2007. Those roles would benefit her in the years to come for the connections she made with co-stars.

Her building resume those years resulted in Y/n getting that big break she dreamed off. One crisp January day in 2007, having just wrapped on a guest appearance on Suite Life of Zack & Cody, Y/n received a call from Tanya. Changing the trajectory of her career forever.

“I’ve got you an audition to play Robert Downey Jr.’s daughter in this new Iron Man production.”

Y/n literally spit out her soda, choking as she tried to say, “I’m sorry, did you say Iron Man.” Of course she heard correctly, but Y/n being the massive comic fan she had to be sure.

“Yes,” Tanya chuckled, Y/n could hear her typing away on her laptop. “I’m emailing you the scene--you’ll read for Jon Favreau, Kevin Feige and the casting director. There’s a chance Robert might be there for you two to do a chemistry read.”

Y/n rushed to her laptop, nearly running into the wall of her dorm when she cut the corner too fast. The *ding* of the email coming through sounded, Y/n sliding into her chair at a rapid speed to open the document and print it out.

“So you’ll do it?” Tanya’s voice reminded the girl she was still on the phone.

“Where do I meet you?”

Now if Y/n were being honest, she wasn’t too confident of her chances of getting the role. It was the inaugural film of this highly anticipated Marvel franchise. Not to mention an L.A set so who knows how many up and coming actors are fighting for a spot. Y/n knew her odds were slim. But she was going to give the best damn performance ever.

She planned to tell Mickey about the audition once she knew the outcome. As much as she loved and trusted him and his faith in her, Y/n didn’t want to disappoint him. Not that she ever could, Mickey adored her and supported everything she did. But since he loved superheroes as much as her, this was important to him as well.

The audition process was a long and painful process. Following the initial reading, Y/n had been called back four more times as the team narrowed down their choices. They did several scenes, particularly the ones with Robert since the character would be on screen with him the most. Each time Y/n read with Robert it was nerveracking, but she handled it well and really put her acting capabilities to the test. The man complimented her after every session to which she was grateful for. It boosted her confidence. Even if she didn’t get the role, Y/n was thankful for the experience and hoped to work with Robert in the future.

After a grueling month-long process, Y/n received the call she’d been waiting for. From Kevin Feige himself. “We want you to be our Jordyn Stark.” It took everything in Y/n to hold back her screams of joy. Releasing them the second they ended the call. She nearly woke up the entire dorm hall, thankfully no cops were called.

Mickey was over the moon when she told him the news. Jumping from his side of the booth to pull her up into a massive hug. Kissing all over her face, “Oh my God this is amazing!! You’re gonna be a superhero--I knew you could do it! Holy shit!” They looked like little kids in a candy store, bouncing up and down in a fit of excitement.

Proud of his girlfriend, Mickey dragged her to the nearest comic store. Purchasing a comic that featured her character and figurine. “Will you do me the honor,” he held up a sharpie, grinning at the look of joy on her face, “of signing this for me. I want to be the first person to have THE Jordyn Stark aka THE Iron Lady,” he winked, and finished, “aka THE Y/n L/n’s autograph.”

Tears formed in her eyes. Both from the overwhelming amount of happiness and because of Mickey’s whole show. People passing by gave confused looks, unaware the girl was about to become the face of a whole generation.

Iron Man’s release sparked a new era in Hollywood. Marvel Studios got the green light to begin plans for a whole phase of projects in the universe. Reception to Y/n’s performance of Jordyn Stark was well received. Fans and critics praised her, fellow actors committing she was the scene stealer.

Rosario Dawson, a massive comic book fan, stated in an interview when asked if she saw Iron Man, “Are you kidding? I saw it three times in theaters--I was blown away! And the girl who played Tony’s daughter, I believe Y/n is her name, oh my gosh she was amazing,” the woman talked with her hands, “Every scene she was in had me either laughing, on the edge of my seat, or simply going ‘wow, this girl is talented’. She matched Robert’s energy on screen so you’d think they are a father-daughter duo in real life.”

Samuel L. Jackson, who would go on to be Y/n’s co-star in future Marvel films and Hollywood projects, said, “Look I don’t say this lightly, but that girl is gonna go places. And to think this is her first big supporting role in a motion picture!” He smiled brightly, “what a talent.”

Y/n was full of excitement, not hesitating to sign her name on the dotted line for a multi-picture contract--but not before her agent and lawyer read over it. The success she garnered from Iron Man occurred rather quickly. In the following year Y/n found herself attending award shows for the first time. Winning Best Supporting Actress in an Action Movie, Best Scene Stealer, Best Duo with Robert Downey Jr. and Best Breakthrough Actress at the MTV Movie Awards. She also won her category for the Kids Choice and Teen Choice Awards.

Before long her agent was blowing up her phone. Iron-Man 2, 3 and The Avengers were already accounted for and Y/n wanted to lengthy her filmography to prevent being typecast. Obviously she loved Superhero/Action movies, but she desired to be a versatile actress. Countless auditions, but Y/n soon became a staple name in the early 2010s with performances in Tron: Legacy, Black Swan, Insidious, Grown Ups, Contagion, teaming up again with RDJ and Jude Law in Sherlock Holmes. Then in 2012-2014 Y/n added Men In Black 3, The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn, Enemy, The Hunger Games: Mockinjay and Interstellar to her list. Working with amazing directors and popular franchises pushed her into international stardom. Plus making lifetime collaborations.

Oh, and can’t forget being nominated for Best Supporting Actress at the Oscars and Golden Globes. Winning the latter and making Y/n one of Hollywood's most desired acts. Now whenever she appears in a project, the Golden Globe Winner precedes her name.

And Mickey was there every step of the way. He was living his dream of working in aviation, completing OTS and flight school to become a weapons-specialist officer in the Navy. The backseater to the pilot, but just as important. Y/n was beyond proud. Thinking of all those times Mickey randomly gave plane facts or begged her to go to the air show in high school. Anytime she traveled and saw a figurine of a plane he was missing from his collection she got it. Luckily the Navy kept him on the west coast. Making it easier to see each other during her days away from set. He loved his job. And Y/n loved him.

Maintaining a relationship while in high-demand careers was no easy task. Especially when one’s a movie star and the other goes on classified missions for the government. Add on the fact they wanted to keep their private life a secret to prevent media scrutiny. Y/n worried in the beginning Mickey would view it negatively. Not posting about him on social media or bringing him to premiers and award shows. Like he was some dirty secret. But Mickey, the wonderful man he is, never was bothered. In fact he liked the idea.

They talked consistently, sometimes everyday unless they were occupied with work. Y/n kept him updated on every audition. Sharing the excitement with him each role she landed and comforted by his voice when rejected. And while he didn’t go to the premieres, Mickey was at every opening weekend for her movies. Dragging his friends along each time. It’s no surprise he earned the callsign Fanboy for his endless passion for movies. Specifically the superhero ones. While drunk the first weekend in flight school he gave the entire lore of the current MCU projects. To anyone he would just be labeled a superfan. Unaware of the true reason behind his love for the MCU.

The mid-to-late 2010s did not disappoint. Y/n’s contract for the MCU extended as Jordyn Stark became a prominent figure in the franchise. And with her strong chemistry and bonds, Y/n collaborated with several of her Marvel co-stars in projects outside of the MCU. Jeremy Renner in Arrival, working with Denis Villenueve again starring in his Enemy and Sicario. Brie Larson in Room, Tom Hiddleston in Crimson Peak. Both of whom, with Samuel L. Jackson, starred in Kong: Skull Island with Y/n. She worked with Tessa Tompson in Annihilation--who would go on to cite inspiration from Y/n’s performance in MIB when she joined the franchise in 2019. Then after working with him in Men in Black 3, Y/n teamed up alongside Josh Brolin in Sicario, Deadpool 2, and eventually parts 1 & 2 of Denis’ adaptation of Dune.

“Oh she’s one of my favorite people to work with,” Josh said during the press tour for Endgame after the interviewer mentioned all the times the two collaborated. “I had first seen her in Freedom Writers back in 2007 and thought she was just spectacular. Then of course in Iron Man, what can I say,” he shrugged while beaming, “It’s because of her and Downey that we have the MCU in the first place. They really set it in motion and to capture that feeling of, ‘this is going to be something’ so early on is incredible.” Josh crossed his legs, grinning wide as he added, “I love working with Y/n, I’ll say yes to any project if she’s attached and I’m excited for this next thing we got going with Denis after this.”

Besides movies Y/n continued to land jobs on shows whenever she was back in L.A. Tanya, her agent with an iron fist, booked her guest appearances on The Good Place, Black Mirror, Hannible, and The Americans. Her gig on Daredevil stirred major discourse in the Marvel community. Especially after it was announced years later the MCU would be buying the rights to the Netflix Marvel productions. In 2017 she had a recurring role as part-time companion to the 12th Doctor on Doctor Who. Becoming a fan favorite, the actress was constantly asked by fans and reporters if she had plans to return for the upcoming 60th Anniversary special. Y/n enjoyed her time in England and met up with several friends. Christopher Nolen, in fact, had called her up with the offer of a role in his upcoming work, Tenet.

How could she pass that up?

2019 from the start was going to be an interesting year for the actress. At the height of her career Y/n felt the train was non-stopping. Traveling around the world. Press tours and interviews. Finding time to decompress was a task in itself. In between projects Y/n visited Mickey at his base in Northern California. Just like old times they’d go to the movies together. Only in disguise to hide from fans and the paparazzi. Sometimes they’d see her movies--usually at Mickey’s request, but Y/n always felt weird watching herself on screen. She’d think after over fifteen years in the industry she’d be used to it, but nevertheless she’d tend to think, ‘I could’ve done that better,’ with every scene.

By September of that year Y/n was gearing up for a major project with longtime friend and collaborator, Denis Villenueve. Endgame had taken over the globe, concluding 10 years of buildup between characters and storylines. Tears upon tears were shed at the premiere. Unsure of what Marvel had planned for Jordyn Stark, Y/n prepared for the next chapter in her career. On top of Endgame she’d been in Greta Gerwig’s Little Women and the rom-com, Isn’t It Romantic. She’d signed on for a three-picture deal with Deadpool, but now he was also going to join the MCU, so the future of her character was in question. Ryan, however, assured her she’d remain in the universe, already texting plans of potential dialogue and jokes.

Then there were countless interviews and promos.

“Hi, I’m Y/n L/n!” her excited tone was directed to the camera, sitting criss crossed on a pastel purple fabric that lifted into the backdrop. “And I’m here with Buzzfeed to answer some questions sent in from Twitter and play with puppies.” She rubbed her hands together, “Bring them in!”

Dream come true if she were being honest. Surrounded by tiny four-legged creatures that caused her heart to sour. Answering the questions was actually the difficult part, pulling the slips of paper from the bowl and reading aloud, ‘What has been your favorite role to play?’

“This is probably obvious,” her laugh was light and genuine, “but it has to be the one, the only, the absolute icon herself, Miss. Jordyn M. Stark.” Y/n visibly awed as a beagle pup climbed into her lap. “Anyone who knew me growing up--.” she instantly thinks of Mickey, smile widening, “knows my love for superheroes and comics in general. I was always at the movies opening weekend, sometimes even opening night, to watch the newest release. Getting to play Jordyn Stark has been an absolute dream come true. Not only has it fulfilled a longtime aspiration of wanting to play a superhero, but it’s opened the door to so many opportunities,” she points out the obvious, “she put me on the map. It’s crazy to think it’s been over a decade since I brought Jordyn to life on the big screen and until Marvel lets me know what’s next for her, it’s a bittersweet end to an amazing chapter in my life.”

‘What’s been the most challenging part of your career?’

Y/n thinks for a moment, petting the husky pup biting her shoelaces, “I think having to migrate from what my life was like before booking Jordyn--which is ironic considering that’s what every actor's goal is. To get that big break that shoots them into stardom if you say…” her hands move to emphasize her point. “Going from a freshman in college working a part-time job at a hotel and getting tiny gigs on L.A productions,” she lifts her left hand up, then her right, “to the train never reaching its stop…it was a big shift. I definitely was the type of actor calling up co-stars with questions like, ‘is it always like this?’” she ends it with a chuckle, “I think I managed it well, but I still think about it from time to time.”

‘Favorite actor/actresses to work with?’

She doesn’t hesitate, “Downey of course, that’s my ride or die. His name on my phone is literally, ‘Work Father/Iron Dad’.” She laughs with the crew, “And Josh Brolin--love that man so much. I’ll actually be seeing him soon and I’m excited to catch up.” A pup barks for attention and Y/n lifts him in her arms, “I love working with Tessa Tompson. She and I got close on set during Avengers and I gave her advice on joining the Men In Black family. If there’s one actress I’d love to work with again it would be Viola Davis.” Y/n clutches a hand to her chest, “We had to do so many scenes over because I could not stop staring at her in awe and would miss my cue or forget my line. Ah! I was so embarrassed--but she was great about it and I freakin’ love her. I really really adore Keanu Reeves--in fact,” a wink is sent to the camera, “I might actually have some exciting news to share soon regarding a certain action franchise he’s in.” Seconds after the interview was released Twitter was buzzing. Excited about the potential of Y/n joining the John Wick series.

‘Is there another superhero, or possibly villain, you’d be interested in playing on the big screen?’

“Ooo I like this question,” Y/n grins, clapping a bit only to have the puppy in her lap playfully take a bite at her fingers. “As I mentioned I love comic books, so any chance to play a character in one I’m taking. If I had to choose….” she scratches her chin before smirking, “Poison Ivy is one of my favorites from DC--if I were to play her alongside Margot Robbie’s Harley Quinn I think that would be so iconic. I’d love to play a villian/anti-hero in general,” she shrugs nonchalantly. “ The closest I got to playing one was Shock in Daredevil. Every other character in a superhero setting I’ve done has been heroes. There’s so many villains in X-Men I think are intriguing--Dark Phoenix, Fatale, and Copycat. But for sure Poison Ivy is my top choice.”

‘Do you have any advice on romance?’

The question fills Y/n with heat, giggling under her breath which the camera catches. “I don’t think I’m the best to answer this question, because when it comes to romance I just wing it--,” her hands raise in defense, “which had worked to my advantage.” The topic of relationships was rare for Y/n. No surprise there since she’s been known to keep her private life private her entire career. Not to mention she’d been with Mickey for half her life. “My partner on the other hand is very romantic. He loves to plan dates, surprise me with my favorite candy, and will send memes at the most random times of the day because they remind him of me. He’s not in the industry,” she is quick to point out, giving viewers a first time look of her personal life, “but he knows a lot and is my biggest supporter. I love him dearly.”

The video went viral on twitter and, as expected, people had a lot to comment on the clip of Y/n’s love life.

@/Lokidarling: awed so many times watching @/SuperY/n talk about her partner. I hope to love someone like that one day.

@/TheDoctorsWife: So we can all agree Y/n L/n’s partner is the luckiest man on the planet.

@/MTV: currently sobbing that our wife @/SuperY/n is off the market.

@/Slick_like_AgentK: @/SuperY/n heard the rumors about her and Sebastian Stan and said ‘NOT TODAY!’

In the weeks leading to fall Y/n made plans to read Dune at Denis’ request. Had auditions lined up for Succession, Ghostbusters: Afterlife, and The School for Good & Evil. And desperately needed time with her fiance. The two recently engaged following their 30th birthday.

Technically they were legally married under California’s common law. They’d been together since 16 and while no rings were on their fingers, they had assets. Including cars, apartments, and dogs. Still they wanted a wedding and proper marriage documents. Both agreed to sign each other's prenup. A scene almost comical when they approached both their lawyers, who along with their families and Y/n’s agent knew of their relationship.

Admittedly, the engagement was a result of upcoming events. Ever since Mickey informed her of his orders to return to Top Gun for a classified mission Y/n had been stressed. Thoughts plagued her mind of the dangers Mickey could face. Not just the mission but the training itself. She’d heard of incidents of technical malfunctions in the air that led to someone’s death. The thought of Mickey hurt or worse, dead, in the line of duty was her worst nightmare. And since she was not his wife, medical professionals were required to not share any information of his status if he were admitted.

So before he shipped out, they did what the typical military couple does on a time crunch: they went to the courthouse.

Did Y/n’s publicist bribe and threaten to sue the official if TMZ got word? Only God bore witness to that interaction.

By the grace of a higher spirit Mickey came home to her. They had little to no contact while he was off shore so the second he called her up saying he was back in Fightertown Y/n was packing a bag. Speeding down the next morning.

Their time together was private, and unbeknownst to both it would be the last. In a sense that is.

Because they pulled off the impossible, Mickey and the rest of the Dagger Squad were declared an official strike squad for the Pentagon, basing the team at Fightertown. A good thing for the couple. Now instead of a four-hour drive it was cut down to just over two hours.

“How long will you be gone?” He brushed his fingers down the length of her arm, the two cuddled on the couch watching The Bachelorette.

“A few months,” was her reply, nibbling on a twizzler. Sighing, she nuzzled against his touch, not wanting to think about the long flight to Budapest ahead of her. She’d planned to use that time to read Dune before her first day on set. “Maybe less if all goes well. How long will you be offshore?” Y/n referred to his pending mission with the Dagger Squad. She felt him shrug against her.

“I’d say no more than a couple weeks. Rooster is team leader and Mav’s supervisor. It’ll be a piece of cake.”

Tilting her head up to look at him, Y/n smiled, “I want to meet your friends. They sound like great people.”

“They are,” Mickey grinned, matching her gaze, “You’d love them--but I have to warn you they can be a handful. Especially Javy.” He laughed as the memory popped in his head, “It’s amazing we can get stuff done at times.”

Y/n thought for a moment, laying her head back on his shoulder, “Maybe when I get back we can talk about going public. What do you think?” her tone was nervous, butterflies in her stomach for his reaction. This was the first time in a while the idea of disclosing their relationship came up. And considering they were now legally married, keeping it secret was harder by the day.

Mickey tightened his hold around her, pressing a kiss to her temple. It made her instantly relax, “Whatever you want, mi amor.” He smiled at her sigh of relief, “You know I won’t object--so long as you’re sure about it.”

“I am,” she doesn’t hesitate, “we’ve kept it hidden for so long--which I’m amazed by with all the times we’ve gone out.” The fact her disguises worked made her laugh any time she thought about it. “Everyone at Marvel pretty much had their suspicions that I was in a serious relationship. Never said anything, which I’m grateful for. But I want to share you with the world,” leaning back up, Y/n cups his cheek, stroking his jaw followed by a sweet kiss to the lips, “because you are my world.”

If only there was a camera secretly concealed in Mickey’s apartment the day his closest friends discovered the secret he’d been harboring. It happened unexpectedly, completely taking them both off guard.

Wanting to surprise Mickey after months away filming, Y/n arrived in San Diego with their favorite take out in hand and headed straight to his apartment. As she was taking the items from her car she noticed a man with a very large camera across the street.

Pointing the lens straight at her.

“Fuck,” was the first word out of her mouth, beginning to grab things in a rush.

“Y/n! Y/n over here!”

Preparing herself, Y/n put on a brave face and turned on her heel. “Hello!” she smiled and waved, seeing the pap had moved closer but still kept his distance. “All I ask is please don’t take photos of my license plate, if you don’t mind.” Running into paparazzi while driving her own car always brought fear. Many celebrities had unfortunately dealt with fans showing up to their homes due to their license plate being leaked. Y/n tried her best to prevent that whenever she could.

Thankfully the gentleman was nice, waving a hand in return. “No problem!” He continued snapping pictures as she walked, following behind several paces. When she got inside, without her usual disguise because she was in a rush, Y/n caught the stunned expression of the doorman and receptionist. ‘Cat’s out of the bag.’

Ruffling for her key once in the elevator, Y/n shot a quick text to her agent and publicist, ‘sooooo we might have a problem…although it's not the worst if we’re being real.’ Quickly putting her phone back in her bag to not see the incoming replies--to spare herself the stress--Y/n hurried to the apartment. Not even giving Mickey a warning before she busted inside only to shock herself with the discovery of people inside.

“Oh my,” she said aloud, hearing the sound of someone dropping their phone followed by several gasps and a ‘what the fuck?’.

Mickey, however, was jumping from his seat, “Baby!” he shouted in glee, rushing to encompass her in a massive bear hug. Completely oblivious to the fact his friend's jaw dropping reactions behind him. “When did you get it? Just now? I thought you were coming on Monday!”

Wrapping her arms around him, Y/n remembers why she was there in the first place. “I wanted to surprise you,” lips meet her cheek. “I brought Sambino’s.”

Mickey moans like he just won the lottery, cupping her face, “You are a living angel. How did I get so lucky?”

Smirking, Y/n hands him the bag as they untangle and replies, “You didn’t make fun of me for being the only girl in our third grade class who liked comics.” She scrunches her nose when he ‘boops’ it, followed by a quick kiss to the lips.

By now the group taking up the entire living room had stood up, congregating in the kitchen. All wore matching expressions: flabbergasted, awe, and pure confusion. The man closest to Mickey who towered over everyone spoke first.

“Garcia,” Payback choked out a laugh, wrapping his head around the fact he just witnessed his partner kiss THE Y/n L/n. His hand waved in their direction, “When you said you and your highschool sweetheart preferred to keep a low profile…her being the actress you’re obsessed over was not at all what I had in mind.”

Jake scoffed, “speak for yourself, I thought he was bullshitting us about having a high-school sweetheart,” at Mickey’s look of offense he raised his hands in defense, “What? You hardly ever spoke of her and quite frankly--” hands wave around the place, “you have no pictures whatsoever.”

“Oh I do,” The WSO winds an arm over Y/n’s shoulder, to which she leans into. “Just they’re in photo albums and kept in a safe place. Away from prying eyes.” A playful smack hits his chest, Y/n rolling her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Javy cuts in with a confused chuckle. “Are we just going to ignore the fact we’re in the presence of an A-list actress--who is dating our Fanboy.”

Bob gives a friendly smile, “that makes sense why he’s always talking about the MCU and seems to know the direction it’s going before we do.” The fellow WSO then adds after chucking, “it’s because you’re really a big fan of Y/n.”

Rooster belts out a laugh, “Yo that’s kinda ironic. Fanboy dating his celebrity crush he never shuts up about. I couldn’t have predicted that at all.”

“Dating is putting it lightly,” Y/n finally speaks up, face full of amusement. Placing a hand on Mickey’s chest, their attention instantly goes to the ring on her finger.

“Well shit,” Jake whistles, causing Nat to nudge him with her elbow, though she matched his stunned expression.

“Damn, Garcia!” Javy goes to dab him up. Reuben does the same while saying, “Congrats man!”

“I know we may look like we’re calm,” Natasha chuckles, catching Y/n’s attention which makes her become nervous. “But I think I can confidently say for all of us we're freaking out inside--at least I know I am.” the pilot blushes, stunned to be talking to one of her favorite actresses of all time. The previous night she literally sat down to watch How to Get Away With Murder. Particularly the season Y/n was a recurring character on.

The squad knew Mickey grew up in the same town as Y/n after he mentioned the high school he attended in Orange County. It had been the first time they hung out at his apartment where they saw his entire collection--and pretty much shrine--dedicated to his favorite franchises. Following Jake’s comment of Mickey’s little ‘crush’, the WSO casually said, “Yeah, you can say that. We actually went to high school together.” This was then followed by Mickey whipping out his sophomore year book to show proof. Ever since the squad was envious and sometimes tried to ask questions but were brushed off.

But to discover the two were married? Now that was unexpected.

Once everyone departed after several hours of giving detailed accounts of their lives--plus mentioning to Mickey a Pap had spotted her and the likelihood of the internet discovering their relationship--,Y/n let out a heavy breath, unable to fight the grin off her face. Giggling when Mickey gave her a look of ‘What did you think?’ “That was fun--Ah!.” A squeal escaped her as he picked her up, spinning them in a circle.

“Been wanting to do that since you walked through the door,” he brought her into a passionate kiss, setting her down but keeping their chests pressed together.

“Why didn’t you?” she teased, kissing him again while combing her fingers through his short hair. A blush rose on his cheeks.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with it.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” she spoke with honesty, “but I understand. We were both surprised. I wasn’t expecting an audience--probably should’ve sent you a heads up.” Mickey shrugged, swaying them side to side.

“Honestly I’m glad you didn’t,” a light laugh escaped him, picturing his friends' faces once again. “If there was one way I was going to break the news to the squad that I'm married to the woman I keep dragging them to the movies to see, it would be like that.”

Y/n broke into giggles, thinking to all those times Mickey sent her photos of him and his friends in the theater with captions like, ‘You already know what’s going down.’ ‘Jake and Javy are trying to bet who would pull you if they got the chance.’ ‘Wish you were here…so I could steal your sour patch kids.’

“Which, speaking of….” Mickey stepped back a bit, hands landing on her waist with eyes full of wonder and question. “How do you think we go from here? Now that the whole world is about to know about us?”

Y/n smiled brightly as she pictured the future. Moving her arms to wind around his neck, feeling her belly fill with warmth and happiness.

“I think….it’s time we plan that wedding.”

E! News reported that evening, “It looks like Bruce Wayne isn’t the only superhero who’s good at hiding information--tonight Golden Globe winning actress Y/n L/n has confirmed via Instagram her marriage to longtime partner, Naval Weapons Officer Lieutenant Mickey Garcia. Turns out the two have been in a relationship since they were teenagers--sixteen to be exact! They officially became a couple in 2005 as juniors in high school and have kept it hidden from the limelight. Wow! Talk about a well kept secret.

“The news came following reports of Y/n spotted in San Diego several times outside of Garcia’s apartment complex. Photos then surfaced on Twitter of several occurrences where fans have speculated seeing the two in public. Cozying up at movie theaters, enjoying a weekend getaway to Hilton Head, and internet sleuths have even found an instagram account they believe is run by L/n strictly for close friends and family. Former classmates of the 30-year-old actress have come out saying they remember the two together like peas in a pod. We even have a photo someone shared of the young couple attending their high school prom. Y/n revealed in the summer of 2019 she’d been in a committed relationship, but has never given details until now.

“Y/n L/n first got her big break in Hollywood at eighteen years old when she was casted as heroine Jordyn Stark opposite Robert Downey Jr. in Iron Man. After years of small supporting roles and starring in popular commercials, the now critically acclaimed actress has appeared in several blockbuster films including Black Swan, Interstellar, La La Land and most recently Greta Gerwig’s Little Women. Besides Marvel, Y/n has been part of multi-billion dollar franchises--Men In Black, The Twilight Saga and The Hunger Games just to name a few. Then in 2016 she won the Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actress for her portrayal as DEA Agent Molly Coleman in Denis Villenueve’s Sicario. Coming down from the high of Marvel Studios record breaking release of Avengers: Endgame, Y/n recently wrapped on the upcoming sci-fi production of Dune--her fourth collaboration with Denis and has an ensemble cast with names like Timothee Chalamet, Zendaya, Rebecca Fergason, and Josh Brolin.

“In her instagram post--featuring several photographs of the couple over the years starting from when they were children to the most recent of their courthouse ceremony--Y/n thanked Mickey for his continued love and support of her, remaining her quote “cheerleader and shoulder to cry on as I progressed through this wild journey of playing dress up on the big screen. You never lost faith in me. You stood by my side, first as my best friend, then as my boyfriend, and now as my life partner. I am forever grateful for you, Mickey Garcia. And while the Navy may have given you the name, It’s an honor to be your reason to fanboy.”

..........

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan , @caitsymichelle13 , @poppyalice2001 , @cutelittlepotatofry, @luckyladycreator2 , @americaarse , @elenavampire21 , @back-tooo-black, @wildellaa , @artemissunn , @pinkpantheris , @kmc1989

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gremlins-hotel · 1 year

Text

Listen I’m telling you guys “do it for the bit” is the sleeper agent activation phrase for both Matt and Al. They hear it and suddenly whatever mischief they were hesitant about is now a matter of do-or-die. Also “do it no balls” but it only works if they say it to each other

Single brain cell between the two of them and sometimes it belongs to neither of them

#callsign gremlin checking in #mathieu & alfred // brothers earth and sky #mathieu williams // bear with me #alfred f. jones // daring to fly

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cod-dump · 8 months

Text

They weren’t paying attention to the conversations around them.

Ghost was leaning back against the couch, dead asleep, while Soap leaned against him dozing. Gaz took up the rest of the couch, head resting on Soap’s lap while he stretched out, playing on his phone as he debated on getting up to go to bed.

Nik and Price were talking in the kitchen connected to the lounge, it was hushed as they didn’t want to disturb the boys. Soap was half listening to what they were saying, choosing to mostly focus on Ghost’s steady heartbeat and the slight movement from Gaz as he messed with his phone. It was a lazy evening, no reason to move or not fall asleep.

“Oh? Is Bear coming back?”

For some reason, the hushed tease in Nik’s voice immediately grabbed Soap and Gaz’s attention. Soap blinked and leaned away from Ghost slightly, now fully interested on listening in on the conversation in the neighboring room.

“Shut the fuck up, Nik. Will you ever let that go?”

“Absolutely not.”

Gaz slowly sat up, turning his head to meet Soap’s gaze before they both look over the back of the couch.

“Why not? I miss him,” more teasing followed by Price’s less than pleased growl.

“Too fucking bad.”

The conversation ended after that, Soap and Gaz snapping their heads forward to focus on the long forgotten TV, Price quietly storming out of the lounge behind them. Nik followed not long after, a quiet laugh under his breath. Soap and Gaz sat in silence, the show that played before them still receiving none of their attention.

“Who’s Bear?” Soap asked, turning to look at Gaz.

“I have no idea, never heard of anyone by that name before.”

That intrigued them. Nik and Price’s shared past was full of adventure, stories that would keep them entertained for the rest of their days. But both were rather quiet about everything they went through before the boys came around. Well, except for one.

“Hey, Simon.”

Ghost was awake in an instant, there was no need to poke him to get him awake. He straightened up, on edge before he settled after noticing that there was nothing to be alarmed over.

“Fuck- What?”

“Do you know someone called ‘Bear’?”

Ghost blinks before he snorts, “Please tell me Nik isn’t trying to make Bear come out.”

“So you know him?”

Ghost grins, “Yea, so do you.”

They should’ve known better than to think Ghost was going to give them a straight answer. Instead he smirked before rising off the couch, grabbing his mask off the arm of the couch as he walked around it.

“Simon-!”

“G’night, gentlemen,” teased Ghost before he left the room.

Soap scoffed, “That asshole!”

Gaz just stared in front of him, thinking. Then his eyes widened in realization.

“Is… is Bear Price?”

“… Oh my GOD-“

“He is!”

“So he lied about never picking up a callsign in his rookie days? Why am I even surprised?”

They never heard anyone refer to Price as Bear, not until now. Which makes Soap and Gaz only wonder about why.

#call of duty #modern warfare #drabble #ficlet #john price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #cod nikolai #pricenik

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sopiao · 1 year

Note

could i request a human heat pack reader with our favorite 141 boys?

i’m very unusually warm. like every time i travel to russia to see family my mom and brother always use me as human heat pack.

have a great day!!

i just had this idea >:0

(great minds think alike >:)).

it would be so cute, they’d be so unconsciously touchy just to try to warm their hands during a mission in a cold area. where? Siberia. i don’t know that was just at the top of my head.

(Callsign: ‘Shark’ :3)

When they first land their all already swaddled like babies in layers of clothes. A long sleeve, whatever t-shirt, thin jacket with a thicker one over it, extra layers of socks. Whatever could spare them of the harsh winter of the country.

Their all huddled in a position to try and conserve warmth. Except for Price who insist that “It’s not that cold” and to “Get over it already”. But they can all see his subtle shake in his crossed arms pose.

“You got a heat pack or something?” Gaz asked, cupping his hands over his mouth, hoping to get some warmth from his breath. Seeing Shark’s still and relaxed figure like this weather was nothing. Gaz was hoping that they’d had an extra one and could toss one to him.

“No?” They shook their head and began to look around. Kicking snow to kill time when they hear their captain speak to a local about directions.

“Jesus, fuck. How are you not freezing you’re arse off?” Soap asks, pulling the collar of his jacket higher to cover more of his neck. Shark just shrugs. They really don’t know how. It just didn’t bother them as much. It was sorta cool since it fit their name, sharks can change their body temp to a certain range to adapt to their surroundings.

Gaz wasn’t even thinking, just desperate for warmth. Taking his chances for even a bit of comfort, he stood closer to your side, leaning on you with his cheek to your temple. Once he felt the small relief from the sudden cold, he leaned in more, covering more body surface. Relaxing, the more he did the more toasty he started to feel.

“Ahh-” Gaz sighed silently, Shark patted his back to further comfort him. Soap and Ghost looked at the two, who looked like a couple trying to keep themselves warm as an excuse to cuddle in public, then back at each other, silently questioning what to do or say, or if they should.

Soap shrugged and did the same to your other side, sighing in relief when the harsh and tight coldness of the snow felt like ice cream melting in the sun when he felt Shark’s body heat. Shark didn’t move but just shifted their eyes to see him. Couldn’t do anything but accept their fate.

Ghost is naturally a cranky and grumpy guy already and chilly, an understatement, atmosphere didn’t simmer him down a bit. He didn’t even try to fight it or reason with his thoughts and subsided. Wrapping his arms around their middle and resting his chin on the top of their head. Sighing when he felt his comrade’s warm back defrost him (hehe). Sighing for them was like the unconscious ‘ding’ to the microwave when your food finishes heating up.

Shark can’t really move even if they wanted to. Plus who wouldn’t wanna be sandwiched between three beefy guys?

“A’ight team. It shouldn’t be too far from here—” Price cut himself off, seeing his soldiers surround one like an overstuffed burrito. He crossed his arms, not registering that they were using Shark for warmth and just randomly decided to simultaneously bear hug them at the same time. Even Simon was joining in.

“Wha— Why?— What’s happening?” Price chuckled slightly, more out of confusion than amusement, crossing his arms once again with the subtle shake from the natural instinct of his body to find energy for heat.

“Warm” Only thing that Soap says, short but filling explanation. Causing Price to chuckle even more. Shark brings their hands forward, offering a fraction of their warmth to their captain, since it’s really the only thing that’s not occupied. Price holds their hands, at first to humor them, once he felt how unusually warm their hands are at this weather. He unconsciously lifted their hands up to his face, toasty palms pressed up against his cheeks.

—

“Fuckin’ hell” Price whispered under his breath before thanking the citizen for her time and cooperation, grumbling about the lead being a dead end. Price calls out for his teammates, signaling to continue on.

“Back to bloody square one” Soap grumbled, cranky from all the running around they had to do to catch one guy.

Both Price and Gaz immediately reached for your hand. At this point they didn’t even care, or notice what they were doing. It was just a natural instinct to swarm towards anything slightly warmer. Shark didn’t mind though, swinging their hands as they walked.

Two girls walking past them. Having to do a double take when they see the three. Before looking at each other wordless message of ‘How lucky!’.

—

During the cramped car ride, both Soap and Ghost had their heads resting on Shark. Soap resting his head on their shoulder, having to slump down slightly, while Ghost rested his temple on the top of their head. Both soldiers clinging onto and hugging on their arm for more cozy protection.

—

As Shark, Gaz, and Price watched and waited Soap and Ghost from across the building. They finally got a lead on the perp but if they all went in at once it would seem suspicious. They all watched intently, Gaz starting to get more bored.

Price unconsciously wrapping his arm around Shark, pressing them close to keep himself warm, resting his head on theirs as he got bored too. Shark figured out a while ago not to be too bothered with how clingy their being, figuring out that their just a human heater for them.

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justabigassnerd · 7 months

Text

Surprise Arrival

Pairing - Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia x sister!reader

Word count - 1,464

Warnings - mentions of bad familial relationships, little bit of angst, mostly fluff

Summary - after turning up on Mickey's doorstep one night, you finally get to meet the Daggers

A/N - hey y'all it's been a while but here's a new fic! I really hope I did this request justice. I've never written for Mickey before so it was definitely new territory so I just hope it was good enough somehow. I won't ramble but as per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

While Mickey Garcia, better known by his callsign Fanboy, was one of the more talkative of the Daggers. They didn’t know a lot about his private life. He could talk for days on end about Star Wars and Star Trek and debate various topics on both franchises, but he never chose to be completely open about things that happened in his life outside of work.

What the Daggers didn’t know about Mickey was that he had grown up with a rocky relationship with his parents. He loved and respected them, but he soon figured out they didn’t extend a similar courtesy to him, especially when he told them about how he applied to the Naval Academy. The worst part of it all was having to leave his little sister behind when he moved out. You were the one person he was closest to in the family, and he hated leaving you behind, but he made sure to stay in regular contact with you, so you maintained the strong sibling bond you had.

Then one evening you showed up at his front door.

You hadn’t given Mickey any kind of warning that you were going to do such a thing. He had just heard a knock at the door and gone to answer it, assuming it was Reuben coming around to check in on Mickey like he did occasionally but instead he was greeted with the sight of you behind the door, teary-eyed and a bag slung over your shoulder.

“y/n? What are you doing here?” Mickey asks, eyes wide in confusion as he peeks out the door, expecting to see you with someone else.

“Can I come in, please?” You ask quietly, voice evidently thick with the tears you’re trying to hold back. Mickey doesn’t respond with words, just opening the door wider and ushering you inside when he hears the slight pattering of rain against the pavement.

“Okay, you gotta tell me what’s up? How’d you even afford a flight out here?” Mickey asks the moment you’re in the house, taking your bag and setting it down while you sit yourself on the sofa, winding your arms around your middle as if to protect yourself.

“I’ve been saving up money from my job for a while now. I couldn’t bear to stay there any longer it’s like they’ve gotten ten times more unbearable since you left, and I can’t handle it, Mickey. Please let me stay with you. I can’t go back.” You explain, looking at your older brother with tear-filled eyes that break his heart as he listens to what you have to say.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it had gotten that bad. Of course, you can stay. You’re my sister. And if they ask me if you’re here I can tell them you’re not if you don’t want them to know where you are.” Mickey says, moving to sit next to you on the sofa and watching carefully as you nod gratefully at his words before burying yourself into his side for a sudden hug he was quick to return.

A week after your sudden arrival, you had been settling into your new life. Mickey had managed to get into contact with your old school and arrange a transfer to a nearby school. Mickey had also noticed how much happier you were now that you were permanently living with him. However, despite all that, the Daggers still had no clue about your arrival. He had been declining regular hangouts outside of work with them in favour of spending time with you to make up for the time he lost. He felt slightly guilty for constantly turning down the Daggers since he was usually the one encouraging the others to hang out and now, he was hiding away. One day, Mickey decided to bring up the topic of meeting the Daggers to you.

“Hey y/n/n. How would you feel about meeting the people I work with? There’s no pressure if you don’t want to of course.” Mickey offers as the two of you eat dinner, carefully watching your reaction to gauge how you might feel about it.

“Are they nice?” Was your response, and Mickey nodded without hesitation.

“We tease each other sometimes but it’s in good fun. They’re practically my family. They’ll love you I can promise you that.” Mickey says, doing his best to explain how much the Daggers mean to him. You listen carefully to his words, staying silent for a moment after he finishes speaking before finally nodding your head.

“Okay. I’d like to meet them.” You say, giving your brother a small smile as he grins in response.

“I can’t wait for you to meet them.”

A few days later, the Daggers had arranged to meet at the Hard Deck for their weekly Friday hangout and Mickey had made sure to send you a message letting you know where they were meeting and at what time, making sure to let you know that you could arrive whenever.

“It’s been ages since you hung out with us, Fanboy. Did your lady dump you or something?” Javy jokes as he slaps Mickey on the back as the Daggers grab their first round of beers.

“My lady?” Mickey asks, glancing around at all the Daggers with a confused expression.

“You’ve been ditching us a lot lately, so we just assumed you got yourself a girl.” Jake shrugs as he lifts his beer bottle to his lips before taking a swig.

“No, it’s nothing like that at all. I’ll explain myself soon, I promise.” Mickey says quickly, internally cringing at the team’s assumptions. The team seem to back off then, muttering to themselves and drinking their beers as they all move over to the pool table.

Half an hour after the Daggers arrived at the Hard Deck, you arrived too. You enter the bar, carefully navigating around the groups of people as you search for your brother until you finally catch sight of him chatting with some people by the pool table and slowly make your way over to him.

“Hey, Mickey.” You greet as you reach him, smiling as he lights up, immediately grabbing you into a hug.

“You came!” Mickey exclaims happily, hugging you tight as the rest of the group becomes aware of the interaction.

“Who’s this Fanboy?” Someone asks as you pull away from the hug, instantly aware of the pairs of eyes watching you.

“This is y/n. She’s, my sister.” Mickey introduces you to the group, winding an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side as you smile sheepishly. At the introduction, the team bursts into questions, all talking over each other as they ask both you and Mickey various questions.

“Whoa calm down guys. If you let them speak maybe, you’ll actually get an explanation.” A voice says strongly as a woman with black hair steps forward, glancing around at the rest of the team who quickly quieten down, mumbling apologies.

“Thanks, Phoenix.” Mickey mumbles gratefully, smiling quickly at her before focusing his attention on the rest of his squadron.

“y/n has decided she wants to live out here with me. I know I never really told you guys anything about my family but that’s just because I didn’t feel like it had any place in our conversations.” Mickey explains, looking around at all the Daggers as they exchange looks before Bradley clears his throat and steps forward.

“You’re always welcome to talk to us about anything. Doesn’t matter what. We’re your team and we’ll always be there for you.” He says, clapping Mickey on the shoulder as Reuben takes a step towards you.

“Hey, there y/n. I’m Reuben, or Payback if you prefer. I’m your brother’s pilot.” He introduces himself, holding a hand out for you to shake which you do with a smile.

“So, you’re the one who has to put up with Mickey.” You say with a laugh as Reuben chuckles nodding his head, both of you ignoring Mickey’s faux gasp of shock.

“The one and only.” Reuben says before more of the Daggers step forward to introduce themselves to you and once the introductions are over, they integrate you into their conversations smoothly and you feel like you’ve known them much longer than you have.

“I think we should make y/n an unofficial member of the Daggers.” Jake says after you finish telling a story about growing up with Mickey as your older brother, which is soon followed by sounds of agreement from the rest of the Daggers. As you watched them all nodding and agreeing with Jake’s words, you felt your heart swelling with happiness as Mickey tugged you into a side hug, smiling down at you.

You had finally found your family.

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tradgedyinwaves · 14 days

Text

Touch - Ch. 3

Just a tad smutty, more like an idea of smut rather than the stuff itself.

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Two Weeks Later. Friday.

You stood outside under an awning, waiting for the bus to show up as you texted away on your phone. A soft smile had plastered itself to your face the longer you texted with the big Scot, but one thing you’d noticed is that he was always mentioning the other members of his team, not that he’d told you what they do.

“John is a pro at fixing up cars, never seen a car he couldn’t fix.” “Lordie, this pasta is good. Gaz is always making amazing food.” “Remind me not to bet against Simon again. Lost all of my money on that rugby match last night.”

He never referred to Simon by his callsign, not wanting to give you any reason to recognize or connect the dots. Eventually, they’d each come to you, injecting themselves into your life one by one. You’d told Johnny that your car had broken down a few days ago, complaining that the bus was always late and it never had any open seats, but you didn’t have the money to get it fixed. He’d offered for John to come take a look, but you’d insisted it was fine. Except it wasn’t. After a week of bus rides, you were ready to take him up on the offer.

🪻: Hey Johnny? Would your friend be able to take a look at my car? I can’t bear the bus anymore. 🧼: Of course. We can come tonight once you’re off work? 🪻: oh thank you so much! You guys are truly the best. 🧼: Anything for you, Petal.

You blushed at his message, stepping onto the bus in much better spirits than before.

A few hours later, there was a knock at your door and you jumped at the sound, getting up from the couch to open it and smiling shyly as Johnny’s face came into view. You hadn’t seen him in person since that day in the flower shop, exchanging pictures over the last two weeks, but nothing else. His scruff was freshly trimmed, bright eyes shining at you, but it wasn’t him that made your eyes bug. It was the man standing just behind and slightly to the left of him, wide frame blocking light from the hallway.

“Aye, this is Price,” Johnny’s thick accent sounded jovial as you stepped back, opening the door for these two men. Oh, Magda was going to have a heyday when you told her about this. “You can call me John if you like, little bird,” the older man stated, passing through the door to stand next to it. You stammered a bit before shaking your head and introducing yourself, closing the door softly. “I’m sorry, I thought you were gonna take a bit longer. I’ll go change and then take you guys down to my car,” you offered, giving them small smiles as they nodded to you before disappearing into your bedroom. You took a moment to lean against the door, fighting with your thundering heart rate as you closed your eyes and leaned your head back. Clearing your head, you moved from the door to change into some jeans and a simple shirt, tossing the shorts you’d been wearing into the corner.

While you were changing, the two men were having an almost silent conversation in your living room. “Cap, did you see-?” Johnny’s eyes met Price’s who only gave him a hard stare and the slightest nod. Between the pretty color on your cheeks and those damn shorts, both men were having their control tested. And you only served to make it worse, coming out in jeans that hugged your hips and ass in a way that left nothing to the imagination. They were just as bad as the shorts.

“Ready?” you asked, trying to stay chipper as to not betray your rapid heart beat or the way your voice wavered on the word. “Lead the way, Petal.” Johnny gave you one of his lopsided smiles and you had to switch to manual breathing.

A few minutes later, you were down on the street with them, rambling on about what you thought the problem could be. “It’s possible it’s the alternator, but it could also be the battery. I’m honestly not sure at this point. It was a hunk of junk when I bought it,” you babbled out, forcing yourself to stop after a few moments of long-winded speech and the soft looks the two men were giving you.

John had himself under the vehicle in minutes, thankful that his line of sight to you was blocked. You were unknowingly challenging both of them with your thick waist and that pretty look you got in your eyes when you were looking at either of them. He wasn’t even sure how Johnny was coping, standing that close to you.

But Johnny wasn’t coping. If you looked away for even a moment during your conversation, he was readjusting himself to make his obvious arousal even the tiniest amount less obvious. You’d caught him once but didn’t say anything, turning to watch John under your car while you struggled to hide the blush that covered your cheeks. Sometimes, you were grateful you were a girl, though your squeezing thighs weren’t as subtle as you thought they were and Johnny had to clear his throat to hide the groan that threatened to spill forward.

Finally, John was sliding out from under the car and standing before you, covered in grease and wiping his hands on a towel. Suffice it to say, if you’d been a man, your desire for them would have been just as apparent as theirs. With a soft grunt, John was directing you to try to start it, making you jump to action. Darting over to the driver’s seat, you slid the key in and almost cried when it started. You hopped back out, running over to John to wrap your arms around his middle, thanking him profusely for fixing it and how could you ever repay him.

“Let me take you out, little bird.”

Your eyes widened while your arms released the huge man, flipping between Johnny and Price, eyes filled with confusion when the former gave you a soft smile and a nod. You’d thought Johnny would ask you at some point, but you supposed that he hadn’t in two weeks, so why would he now? Chewing the inside of your lip, you nodded. “I’d love to,” you replied while your cheeks turned a bit pink and you could have sworn you saw them share a look over your head. “We’d best be going. I’ll pick you up tomorrow, 8pm,” John stated, a warm smile on his face as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head before moving to clean up his tools. Johnny joined you and you looked up at him with the same confusion, though you couldn’t bring yourself to voice it. He just gazed down at you with those pretty blues, a soft smile on his lips that looked a little more like a smirk than anything else. “Don’t look at me like that, Petal,” Johnny whispered to you as Price started to move his tools to his truck, hugging you tightly before walking away to get into the truck. “See ya soon, pretty bird.”

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Hours later, laying in bed, you reflected on your evening. You’d been touched more in the last few hours than you had in years and it made your mind a little hazy. If it wasn’t Johnny’s hand on your lower back as the three of you trekked down the stairs, it was Price’s arm slung over your shoulders as you explained what happened when your infernal car died. From there it was Johnny’s small touches like brushing your hair back and then finally Price’s kiss to the top of your head that had your body feeling like they’d set little fires down everywhere they touched.

There was a foreign feeling inside when you laid down that night. The ache between your thighs and the simmering flames they’d left behind creating a buzzing in your ears that you just couldn’t shake no matter how much chamomile tea you’d drank or how many breathing exercises you did. So finally, you did something you hadn’t even thought of in months. Sliding your fingers under the shorts you’d slipped back on when they left, you let out a soft moan as your fingers found the throbbing bundle of nerves and rubbed quick, precise circles on it. Your brain conjured some filthy images of the two hulking men taking you however they saw fit, not that you’d ever admit it.

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I hope you guys are enjoying this and thank you so much for the support! I promise I'm not forgetting Gaz and Ghost. It's just not their time yet. They'll get their shot, pink promise.

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