#finally got to writing her joining the 141

[the-whispers-of-death]

New Member

When the 141 were told they'd have an IT Specialist from the U.S. Navy joining them since all of the SAS It Specialists were too busy and the 141 needed their own IT Specialist instead of being put on the back burner with the rest of the SAS squads, they all were apprehensive at adding someone new to their squad. Especially because it had only been eight months since they've been lent Fleet Marine Corpsman Mishra, aka Stone, and honestly one American was already enough for them.

But Laswell told them that there was no negotiating this and Price had to look through military files on potential IT Specialists to find the right one. It took him a week to pick one and two weeks for them fly her in.

One day, Price gathered the 141 in a conference room. He took a deep breath and said, "I know we all don't want someone new, but we had no choice so I'm telling you all to at least act professional with her. Okay?"

With those words, he went to the door and ushered in the new IT Specialist. She was the shortest of them all at five-foot-six and she had a burly build, looking a bit tiny surrounded by larger military men. Her skin was a warm brown tone, not marred with scars but rather decorated with a tattoo sleeve of vines wrapping around her right arm that barely hid beneath the sleeve of her uniform from where it stopped at her wrists. Her black, wavy hair was pulled up in an elegant bun, bobby pins pinning it into place and her dark brown eyes that looked like pools of chocolate were framed by thin-wire glasses.

"Hello," she said with a naturally bright smile on her face, her voice soft and lyrical. "I'm Petty Officer 3rd Class Vasanti Singh. I'm honored to be working you all."

Soap eyed her warily, still burned by Graves and Shadow Company's betrayal. "What's your callsign?" he asked, curious but still cautious.

"Ladder," Stone answered for her, his cold voice bouncing off the walls as always as he stared at the woman he knew.

Ladder's smile widened. "Stone, it's good to see you again," she replied, to which Stone graced her with a respectful nod in response.

Gaz was intrigued by that, since there weren't many that Stone respected. "You know each other?"

"I've served with men that Stone used to serve with when he was still only a Navy Corpsman instead of a Fleet Marine Corpsman, we met during one of the hang-outs five years ago and we've known each other since," Ladder explained, still looking at Stone. "It had been a while though, at least a year. I'm glad to see you're still alive, Stone."

Stone merely grunted in response, a normal response from him. "You and me both, Ladder."

"How did you get the callsign "Ladder"?" Ghost asked, his eyes narrowed beneath his white skull mask and balaclava. He didn't trust her just yet, which was typical from the man.

Soap smirked at her. "Is it because you're so short?" he asked, intently watching her reaction.

"Soap," Price said, but Ladder just laughed.

She nodded and replied, "That, and because I can lift a ladder with one hand."

Ghost scanned her short but burly frame up and down, assessing her. "I look forward to seeing that."

"You will. I promise you that."

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 10: Treat Me Gently

Summary: You and Price take your relationship to the next level. It might be the best decision you've ever made.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, p in v sex, fingering, oral, first time sex, unprotected(ish) sex, reader has an implant, creampie, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, the author is a bit rusty writing smut.

A/N: It's finally here. It's finally arrived, the moment we've all been waiting for! Uh, yeah, it's mostly badly written smut with just a little plot thrown in there. So...I hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

Your attention is pulled from your book as the couch sinks on either side of you, two bodies joining you. You glance up from your book as an arm drapes itself across the back of the couch behind you. Your eyes flicker between Gaz and Johnny, mischievous grins on their faces. 

“We heard you have a date this weekend.” Gaz says, leaning in closer. 

Your face warms at his words. “Well, I don’t know if I’d call it a date...” 

“What are you wearing?” Gaz asks. 

“Do ye have anythin’ to wear?” Johnny asks. 

Their questions give you pause. The most formal thing you have are jeans and, though you doubt Price would care if you showed up in sweatpants, you would like to have something nice to wear. 

“Come on.” Gaz says, slapping your thigh before standing. “We’re going shopping.” 

“What?” You glance between him and Johnny as they stand over you. 

“Already got permission from Price.” Johnny says. “So come on.” He grabs your hands, lifting you to your feet easily. “Let’s get goin’, kitten.” 

Your cheeks warm at the pet name, Johnny’s hand settling on your lower back to steer you from the rec room. You don’t have much of a choice but to follow, grabbing a couple things from your room before you leave the barracks with them to a car parked outside. It’s different from the car you and Price had taken to town last weekend. Of course, they probably all have their own vehicles, or at least a few at their disposal. 

“I’m driving.” Gaz says, plucking the keys from Johnny’s hand. 

“Aww, ye never let me drive!” Johnny pouts. 

“Yeah, because with our luck you’ll traumatize her so badly, she’ll never want to leave again.” Gaz says, opening the driver’s side door. 

You can’t help but giggle at the dejected look on Johnny’s face as you get into the back, Johnny muttering the entire way to the passenger side. 

“I’m no’ that bad of a driver.” Johnny says, buckling his seatbelt. 

“Yeah, but both you and Simon seem to be in agreement that the speed limit is a suggestion, not a law.” Gaz says as he turns on the car. “I’d like to make it there and back in one piece, thank you. Besides, Price would have both our heads if anything happened to our girl on our watch.”

Your cheeks warm as you meet Gaz's gaze through the rear view mirror. Your heart flutters at the look in his eyes, the dedication and protectiveness shining in them. 

“I wouldnae let anything happen to ye.” Johnny says, reaching back to squeeze your knee for a moment. 

You stare out the window of the car as Gaz drives towards town, half listening to the conversation in the front seat. You're beginning to recognize landmarks, buildings, areas between the base and town despite it only being your second trip. They'd be proud of you, you think. At least if something happened, you'd be able to give a landmark. 

The farmlands fade into the city and soon Gaz is parking on the street in front of a shop. You take Gaz's hand as he helps you out of the car, lacing your fingers together. Soap holds the door to the shop open, letting you and Gaz walk through first. 

It's a nice boutique filled with all sorts of formal wear. You wonder how they even knew about this place, or if they had done some research beforehand. Both make you feel honored that they would even go to those lengths just for you. 

They are going to be your pack soon. 

Packs do this sort of thing for each other. They take care of each other, spoil each other, make each other happy. It’s hard to be a good pack if one member is unhappy. 

“Good afternoon.” One of the workers approaches you. “My name is Emily. Is there something I can help you find today?” 

“Our omega has a date with our alpha this weekend.” Gaz says, smiling down at you. “She needs something to wear.” 

The worker, Emily, smiles at you. “How exciting! Did you have anything in mind? Style, color, anything like that?”

“Probably nothing too fancy,” You say, eyeing the racks. “And, probably a dress.”

“Alright, we've got lots of options for that. Let's take a look and you can try some on.” Emily says. 

Gaz keeps hold of your hand as you follow Emily through the racks, looking at some of the options. Johnny goes off on his own, perusing the racks himself. 

“Is there a certain color you have in mind?” Emily asks you.

You hum in contemplation, looking at the many racks. You're not sure what color Price would like, or if he even has a favorite. 

“His favorite color is blue, like a dark navy blue.” Johnny answers for you. “Though, I think he'd like you in any color.” 

You can't help the way your cheeks warm a bit at Johnny's words. You realize you don't even know their favorite colors. There's still so much about them that's a mystery to you. 

“What's your favorite color?” You ask, looking up at Gaz. 

“I don't think I have just one.” He says, running his hand over a sequin covered dress on the rack in front of you “I like warm colors. Reds, oranges, purples.”

“Like a sunset.” You say, looking at a tag on one of the dresses, nearly choking at the price. 

Gaz gently removes the tag from your hand, giving you a look as you meet his gaze. “Don't even worry about it, love.” He says quietly, leaning down to kiss your cheek. 

“My favorite color is green.” Johnny says, appearing next to you suddenly. 

“Let me guess, Ghost’s is black.” You say. 

Johnny's mouth twitches. “Now how'd you come to guess that?” 

You shrug, unable to hide your grin. “Call it intuition.” 

Emily takes you to the changing rooms, the boys taking seats outside to wait for you to try on the dresses you've chosen so far. You pick a sleeveless, blue, knee-length dress first with a ruched skirt. You already don't like it, but you know the guys will want to see it regardless. 

You feel nervous, strangely exposed as you step out of the dressing room and make your way to where the guys are sitting. They both straighten up as you approach, Johnny’s eyes immediately on your legs. Gaz let's out a low whistle as his eyes scan your figure, ending on your legs as well. 

“What?” You ask concerned as you stare down at your own legs thinking the worst, like how you might have missed a spot shaving or something. 

“Nothin’ love,” Gaz says, unable to lift his gaze from your legs. “Just never seen you in anything but long pants before.”

Your cheeks warm at his words. It's true, the climate had yet to allow for anything but long pants. Even to sleep, you found yourself too cold without long sleep pants. 

“Christ, you've got gorgeous legs, kitten.” Soap says, letting his eyes trail your form. “Keepin’ those hidden from us?” 

Your face feels like it's on fire as they stare at you, and quickly turn to face the large mirror across from them in an attempt to steady the butterflies in your stomach. 

“What do you think?” Emily asks, stepping up next to you. 

“It's a little too...churchy for a date.” You say smoothing your hands over the skirt. “Definitely need something fancier than this.”

You try on a few of the others, but none of them are right. Too short, too long, too formal, not formal enough. Johnny brings you more to try, a couple sticking out, but you're not sold on any of them. 

The last dress you have yet to try on catches your eye as you pull it off the hook. It's a deep blue color, almost black. It's long sleeved and covers your front entirely, but the back is open. It's short, the skirt hem long enough to cover your ass, but you wouldn't dare bend over. It hugs your figure, accentuating the curves and lines of your body. 

Your cheeks are warm as you step out of the changing room, both Gaz and Johnny going slack-jawed as they stare at you. Even Emily looks in awe as you stand in front of them. 

“I think you've found the one, love.” Gaz says, his eyes trailing your form. “Give us a spin.”

You do a slow turn, not missing the way their eyes widen in the mirror when they see the back, Johnny still frozen as you turn back to face them. 

“How do you feel?” Emily asks, stepping up to you. 

“Good.” You say, your face still warm. “Really good.”

“Yeah,” She says, looking you over. “I think you've hit the mark with this one. Let me grab shoes and we'll put the whole look together.”

You turn to face the mirror as she steps away, your eyes meeting Gaz's as he steps up to you. 

“You look fantastic, love.” He says, leaning in close over your shoulder, his breath fanning your ear. Goosebumps form on your skin as his fingers slowly trail up the line of your spine. “Price is going to want to devour you instantly as soon as he sees you in this one.”

You shiver at his words, biting your lip as his fingers splay out across your upper back. “You think so?”

There's a mischievous glint in his eyes as he holds your gaze through the mirror. “He won't be able to keep his hands off you. Gonna drive him insane, making him sit through dinner looking like a delicious dessert.” 

You fear you might start smoking from how warm you feel, glad for Emily's reappearance. You try on the shoes she brings, opting for the shorter heels for the sake of your own dignity. 

Johnny distracts you as Gaz pays for the items, spending far too much on you but neither will let you complain. It's what they're supposed to do. 

They are your pack after all. 

“What about lingerie?” Johnny asks, turning to look at you as you sit in the car. 

Your face burns at his question. You hadn't thought about that bit. 

“Gotta dress up the whole fit.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

“Lay off her, perv.” Gaz says, smacking Johnny's chest. “He's right though, gotta make sure the whole outfit matches.”

You feel like you might implode in the backseat. You might not make it to Saturday at this rate. 

You wake early on Saturday. You don't have to be up early. There's nothing going on until tonight, no need for you to rise earlier than the sun. Yet, you can't help the anticipation burning in your stomach, the nervous fluttering in your chest. Tonight you're going to sleep with Price for the first time. Tonight you'll allow him closer than you've ever allowed anyone. 

You have an outfit, you have fancy underwear, even new shoes. You're not sure how you want to wear your hair. You're not sure on makeup either, though Price has seen you plenty without it and has yet to offer any complaints. 

You grab your phone, laying in bed and scrolling hair tutorials until the sun comes up and you start hearing movement in the hallway. You don’t bother changing, pulling on shoes before stepping out. You are hungry, even after spending half the day in town and eating dinner out with Gaz and Johnny yesterday. You slip out the door, coming face to face with Ghost. You tilt your head back, staring up at him. 

“Didn’t expect to see you.” He grumbles. “Figured you’d be busy getting ready.” 

“I’ve got like ten hours until I have to be ready.” You say, blinking up at him. “It doesn’t take that long.” 

He lets out a huff, rolling his eyes. “Come on.” 

You follow him out of the barracks, but you find yourself not having to speed walk quite as fast to keep up with him today. 

“Are you upset?” You ask, kicking up your pace a bit so you can walk side by side with him. 

“About what?” He asks. 

“Price and I.” You say. 

“Why would I be?” He sounds genuinely baffled that you’re asking him. 

You shrug. “You’re an alpha in the pack too, and I didn’t really ask anyone but Price.” 

“Price is your alpha.” He says, as if it’s the most straightforward thing in the world. He’s not wrong, Price is the only one that really matters when it comes to you, since he’s the pack alpha, and he’ll be the one claiming you. 

“Would you ever want to be?” You ask, looking up at him. 

He meets your gaze as he opens the door to the mess, not answering as you slip into the hall. He stands closer to you than he normally does as you get in line for food, tailing you like a shadow as you find Johnny among the drowsy and hungover soldiers in the mess. 

You take a seat across from him, Ghost taking his spot next to Johnny. You can feel the nerves beginning to take hold as you eat, thinking about your date tonight. It’s not like you really have to impress Price much, though you suppose you could make him dislike you rather easily. You’d rather avoid that situation, as there’s no getting out of mating and being claimed by him. You’re going to be part of his pack whether he likes you or not. 

What if he finds you boring? You’re not even sure what you could talk about. It’s not like you do much, and he already knows most everything he can about you. The only thing you have to talk about are things you’d rather not discuss during your first date. You’d prefer not to discuss them at all. 

“You’ll be fine.” Johnny says as you walk back to the barracks. “Just get ‘im talking, and ye won’t need tae worry about gettin’ a word in yourself.” 

Johnny’s words do make you giggle. You’re sure Price has so much more to talk about than you do. You barely know anything about him in general. 

It’s ironic that you’re more nervous about dinner than you are about the fact Price is going to take your virginity tonight. 

You did ask for this. It’ll be good, getting to know him before your heat starts. The idea of going through your heat with a virtual stranger is terrifying to you, and Price had so willingly offered to do this so that doesn’t happen, so you feel more comfortable with being mated and claimed by someone you at least somewhat know. This is your chance to get to know your pack alpha, your alpha before you’re forced to. This is your chance to make your own decision, to have some control over a life that’s been dictated for you this far. 

You spend the morning in a nervous panic, looking up tips online, tutorials, possible questions he might ask and thinking up answers that will make you sound interesting at least. Answers that won’t just be parroting things that he already knows. Gaz brings you lunch, letting you continue to prepare for your date, knowing the chances of you having a breakdown if you’re forced around people are high right now. 

You give yourself ample time to get ready, showering and moisturizing, making sure you smell clean and look nice. You do your hair, taking your time to make yourself look decent. You opt for minimal make up, wanting to make yourself seem like you at least put a little effort into your looks. 

You're strapping on your shoes when the knock comes at the door. Six o'clock sharp, just as you expected. You take a deep breath, adjusting your dress before you open the door.

John is standing on the other side, dressed in a button up shirt and slacks. You look him over, the fresh scent of cologne reaching your nose. His eyes rake your form, his scent slipping through the cologne as his gaze darkens a bit. Gaz was right. He does look like he wants to devour you. 

“You clean up nicely.” You say, looking him over again. His shirt hugs his muscles nicely, his pants obviously tailored to fit him. You haven't seen him in anything but fatigues and civilian clothes so far. 

“Was going to say the same to you.” He says, lips pulling up into a smile. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.” 

Your cheeks warm at the compliment. “Thank you.”

“Hungry?” He asks, offering you an arm. 

“Always.” You say, taking his arm, letting him lead you towards the rec room. 

The lights inside are dimmed, the table usually reserved for games set up with a tablecloth and candles, along with two plates covered with cloches, and a bottle of wine. You're not sure when he managed to procure the wine, or maybe he had it saved and decided this was as good a time as any. 

“Wow.” You say, impressed by the effort he obviously put into everything. 

“I bribed the boys out of here for a few hours.” He says, leading you to the table. “Wasn't easy.”

“I bet.” You say, sitting down in one of the chairs, letting him push it in for you. 

He pours you both glasses of wine before taking the cloches off the plates. You blink in surprise at the meal on the plate. Spaghetti, a salad, and bread. It's so simple, yet it takes you right back to weeknight dinners at home. 

“You made this?” You ask as he takes the seat across from you. 

He nods. “I've amassed many skills over the years. I'm no five star chef, but I can throw things together in a pinch.”

“Well it looks good.” You say, picking up your fork. 

It tastes good too. It's so simple, yet it's one of the best things you've eaten in the last month. You miss a lot of things about America, and the food is starting to be one of those. 

You and John make small talk as you eat, the wine warming your body and easing your nerves. 

“How long has it been,” You ask him as you clear your plate. “Since you were with an omega last?”

“Two years.” He says, taking a sip of wine. 

Your eyes widen in surprise. You know they've been with omegas in the past, taking advantage of barrack bunnies and the swaths of willing omegas you know populate near military bases. You just hadn't thought it would be that far back in the past.

“Right around the time the task force was created.” He continues. “We were too busy bonding and working on the task force, by the time we had a moment long enough for anything like that, we didn't need them anymore.”

“That must have been torture.” You say, staring at him wide eyed. 

“We're trained for that sort of thing.” He says with a smile. “How to fight off those urges, those needs. When you're in the field, something like that could get you killed. You don't pass selection into the SAS until you can show mastery over those skills.”

“Damn.” You say, taking a sip of your wine. “Still, it couldn't have been easy.”

“It can be hard, once you've been with an omega, to go without. But that's just part of the job.” 

“Well, I suppose that's partly why I'm here.” You say, huffing out a laugh. 

“Perhaps.” He says. “I'm certain we're not getting the full story.”

The double meaning isn't lost on you. There's a lot they don't know about you, things that are safer buried deep where they can't hurt anyone. Things you'd like to keep buried for the rest of time. 

“It’s nothing...bad is it?” You ask, searching his gaze. 

“I’d like to think not,” He says. 

But... 

You don’t need to hear him say it. You know it’s there, lingering at the end of that statement. You wonder how many times he’s been in these situations, forced to place blind trust in someone and hope they have the best intentions in mind. You’re all too familiar with those sorts of situations. Putting blind trust in strangers was your life purpose as soon as you presented as an omega. 

“We’re not going to let anything happen to you.” He says, staring at you with such conviction you can’t help but believe him. “You’re part of our pack, which makes you part of this team, even if bureaucracy says otherwise. We take care of each other, and that includes you. You’re our omega, regardless of whatever the endgame is for this initiative.” 

You feel almost breathless at his words, at his declaration of loyalty to you. You know how much loyalty means to someone like him, the kind of promise words like that uphold. They’d give their lives to defend you. You’d fight to defend them too, if it came down to it. Not that you could do much, but you’d try. 

“You’re my omega.” John says, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. “I take care of what's mine.”

You nod, trying to fight the tears welling in your eyes. “I know. You've...you've been a better alpha than I could have ever hoped for. Despite everything you've been kind and caring and understanding. I know some things we learned at the institute weren’t right, but...I was expecting a lot worse.”

His thumb draws circles on the back of your hand, his fingers gently squeezing yours. “I'm glad I could prove that wrong. I know this situation is weird and less than ideal, but I fear I'll have to tell Kate she was right. She did pick a good omega.”

You smile, preening a bit under his praise. “That’s all I can try to be.” 

“You can be so much more than that.” He says, lifting your hand to his lips. His beard tickles your skin as he presses a line of kisses across the back of your hand before turning it, kissing across your palm to your wrist. He presses his nose against the skin there, inhaling deeply. “You’re sure, about tonight?” 

Your fingers brush his cheek as he holds your hand against his face. Your heart is thudding your throat at the proximity, those nervous flutters starting in your stomach again. He’s giving you an out, a chance to take back what you had asked for. You know he wouldn’t blame you. He was more than willing to wait for your heat to start, for when you had no choice, when it would mean less because you would be desperate and needy for him. 

You don’t want that, though. You want him to want you before his instincts tell him he does. You want to know he’s not just fulfilling a duty, scratching an itch that’s been tickling him for two years now. You want him to want you as you are now. You want him to choose you. 

“Yes.” You say, pressing your palm flat against his cheek. “Just...be gentle with me?” 

“Of course.” He says, kissing your palm again. “You change your mind at any time, you tell me, yeah?” 

You nod. “Yeah.” 

“Good.” He takes your hand in his again, standing from his seat. 

Nerves mix with excitement as he pulls you to your feet with him, stepping up close to you. His hand lifts, tilting your chin up. Your stomach flutters as you meet his gaze, his eyes warm and soft as he stares at you. Affection shines in them as his thumb brushes your lip before he’s leaning down, pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is short and sweet, like the ones you’ve shared with him before. Yet, at the same time it feels different. There’s warmth beginning to blossom under your skin, the kiss not just a simple sign of affection this time. It’s the overture, the appetizer, just a teasing taste of what’s to come. 

You hold his hand as he leads you down the hallway, heels clacking on the tile floor. It makes your face warm, the thought that they all know what it means, they can hear it and they know what’s about to happen. They know where you’re going, what you’re about to do. 

John opens his door, motioning for you to enter. You haven’t been in any of their rooms yet, you haven’t invaded their own sacred spaces. Your steps are slow and cautious as you breach that barrier, John’s scent washing over you as you step into his room. 

It’s neat and tidy, just as you expected it would be. It’s not laid out all that differently from your own, though perhaps a bit more organized and clinical than yours. There’s a shelf next to his nightstand, stuffed with books and what you can assume are souvenirs from places he’s been. There’s stacks of papers on the desk, his clothes and shoes tucked away neatly in their places. His bed is slightly bigger than yours, and you wonder if that’s a perk of his status, or if he pulled some strings once he learned he was getting an omega. 

The door clicking shut draws your attention back to John, the click of the handle a finality. You’re doing this. There’s no going back now. 

Not that you want to. 

John steps up to you, staring down at you. You stare up into his eyes as his hand comes to rest on your waist, his touch hot through the thin fabric of your dress. “You’re sure you want to do this?” He asks, voice rumbling in his chest. 

You nod, your hands slowly sliding up his arms, feeling the muscle hidden beneath his dress shirt. “Yes.” 

His lips meet yours, beard tickling your skin as he kisses you. You let him lead, leaning into him as he pulls you closer against his chest. He’s so warm, so firm under your hands as you grip his shoulders. His hand slides from your hip to your back, a gasp parting your lips as his calloused fingers touch the bare skin of your back. Goosebumps raise on your skin, a shiver running down your spine at his touch. He tilts his head, taking advantage of your parted lips to slip his tongue into your mouth.

He tastes like wine, a quiet sound leaving your throat as he pulls you tighter against him, pressing your body into his. You can feel all of him, the hard ridges, the strength in his body as he cages you in his arms. Your head is spinning, intoxicated purely by the smell and taste of him. 

Something rumbles deep in his chest, your entire body shivering in response. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, your hips pressed flush against his. You can feel him, the bulge in his pants pressing against your stomach. You’ve been able to smell the musky tinge of arousal in his scent all evening, and you wonder how long he’s been hard. Has it been since he saw you? Or has he been thinking about this all day? 

The thought thrills you, makes your omega preen in the back of your mind. You did this. Your alpha is all worked up because of you. 

A whimper leaves your lips as his hand slips lower, smoothing over the curve of your ass. He mumbles a curse against your lips before they blaze a path down the line of your jaw to your neck. You tilt your head, bearing your throat for him. A low rumble of approval vibrates through his chest, his hand squeezing your ass. The sound has your omega practically belly up, the dampness between your thighs intensifying as your scent gets heavier in the air. 

John groans against your throat, teeth nipping at your neck just over your scent gland. “Such a good girl for me.” He groans, his hand on your ass guiding your hips to grind against his. “Such a good omega.” 

You whine at the praise, hands blindly sliding down his chest to pull at the buttons of his shirt. Your fingers are trembling slightly from excitement, fumbling as you attempt to get his shirt off. You need to feel him, his skin against yours, the warmth of him pressed against you. 

“Easy pup.” His voice rumbles against your throat, teeth nipping at the delicate skin before he pulls back, hands taking over to strip him of his button up and undershirt. 

You lick your lips as his skin is revealed to you, your hand automatically lifting to touch him. You hesitate for a half a second but he makes no move to stop you. Your eyes trail over his form, over the many, many scars that decorate his skin like some kind of macabre painting. Lines and jagged slices, the telltale star shaped marks of bullet wounds. Cuts and nicks from knives or bullets, you can’t tell the difference. 

Your fingers settle on a rather large scar on his side, starting at the base of his ribs and curling around his side. It’s an old scar, but the skin is still rough and uneven. Whatever had caused it, it took a chunk out of him. You don’t want to think about it, about how every scar could have been a close call. How many times he’s been on the brink of death. 

“I’ll tell you about them later.” He says, taking your hand in his and lifting it to his lips. He kisses your fingertips, his beard tickling your skin. “Tonight is about you.” 

He pulls you close again, leaning down to press his lips to yours. His hands are warm against your back as he wraps himself around you again, trapping your hands against his bare chest. Your nails dig into his skin as his hands sink lower, grabbing handfuls of your ass. He groans, sinking his teeth into your bottom lip. He presses you backwards, and you trust him to guide you until your legs hit the side of his bed. 

“Gonna be a good girl for me, yeah?” He growls, his voice rough around the edges as his alpha slips through. 

“Yes, alpha!” You gasp against his lips, your head tilting back in submission. 

“Always such a good omega for me.” He praises you, teeth nipping at your throat. “Good omegas kneel for their alphas.” He says, pushing you backwards so you plop down on his bed. “But a good alpha,” He slowly lowers himself before you, dropping to one knee, then the other as his hands wrap around your ankles. “Kneels for his omega.”

Your face warms as you stare down at him, unable to do anything but watch as his hands make quick work of your shoes, setting them neatly beside the bed. His skin is rough against yours as his hands drag up your legs, slowly parting them. He moves himself closer, kneeling between your parted thighs. His beard scratches the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he reaches up, pushing on your stomach until you're laying flat on his bed. He can see up your skirt now, and you're silently glad for the lacy panties Johnny had insisted on. 

“Do you trust me?” His lips brush your inner thigh as his hands pause just at the hem of your skirt where it's ridden up almost to your hips. 

“Yes, alpha.” You say, lifting your head to stare down at him. 

He meets your gaze as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, his hands continuing to press upwards until your dress is hiked around your waist. Your heart is fluttering rapidly in your chest as you stare down at him, his gaze leaving your eyes to stare at the soaked lace barely covering your most private parts. 

His hands leave your hips to curl around the lace, giving it a sharp tug. The fabric snaps easily, the shreds falling to the floor. Your lip part as you stare at him in shock.  

“I'll buy you a new pair.” He says, his hands gripping your thighs to pull them further apart. 

The cool air in the room hits your slicked folds, making you shudder. He's barely touched you and already you can feel how slick you are. His lips press against your inner thigh again, blazing a path upwards. His gaze meets yours again as his hands shift to grip your hips, adjusting your position on the bed before he leans in, dragging his tongue through your folds. 

You gasp at the foreign sensation, your thighs pressing against his broad shoulders. His mouth is warm as it closes over your pussy, his tongue licking another slow stripe up your folds until he reaches the spot that has your inhale turning into a gasp. 

He focuses his attention there, dragging slow lines across your clit with his tongue. You let your arms give out, laying flat on the bed again. Little whimpers leave your lips as he teases your clit, your thighs already trembling. It’s been so long since you’ve touched yourself. Not since before you left the institute four months ago. 

You don’t last very long. 

Your thighs squeeze around his shoulders as your orgasm is ripped from you suddenly. You let out a cry that’s probably too loud, but you don’t care who could have heard you as your back arches off the bed, pressing your hips closer to John’s face. His hands hold your thighs, keeping you still as his tongue continues to tease your clit, working you through your orgasm. 

It’s not until you’re writhing in his grasp, letting out little whimpers that he relents, lifting his face from between your thighs. His beard is shiny with your juices, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. It’s obscene and yet, it has heat pulsing straight between your legs again. He lets out a chuckle, the scent of your arousal washing over him. 

“Fuckin sweet as sugar, love.” He says as he pushes himself up from between your legs, his body folding over yours on the bed. 

His face presses into your neck, inhaling deeply. Your pussy flutters at the thought of him claiming you now, sinking his teeth into your skin to mark you as his forever. He could. It would be so easy for him to do it. His tongue laves over the skin covering your scent gland, a shiver running through you. Your arms wrap around him, holding him against you as your scents mingle, musky with arousal. 

“Alpha...” You whine, your hips pressing up against the bulge in his pants. He’s fully hard now, the fabric of his pants providing delicious friction against your folds. 

He shushes you, pressing a kiss to your throat before he pushes himself up over you. “Soon, love.” He says, moving until he’s standing in front of you. “Think you’re a bit overdressed still.” 

Your eyes dart down to his pants. “So are you.” 

He smirks, his hands dropping to your waist, slowly pushing your dress up higher. You let him slip it over your head, lifting your arms to help him. You’re bare before him, warmth spreading through your veins as he stares down at you. Your hands lift, coming to rest on his thighs. You can feel the muscle through the fabric, the strength of him beneath your hands. How easily he could take control, pin you down and take what he wants with little regard for you or your pleasure. How easily he could hurt you, snap your bones like they’re toothpicks, bruise and batter your body without even straining a muscle. 

Yet he stands here, patiently watching as your hands move closer and closer to the prominent bulge in his fitted pants. He doesn’t even twitch as your hand cups his hard length, your breath stuttering at the sheer size of him. He’s big like most alphas are, or so you’ve heard. 

His eyes stare into you as you undo his belt, popping the button on his pants open. He finally moves as you pull down the zipper, helping you tug his pants and briefs down. His cock stands at attention, almost as stiff as he is. You stare at his veiny cock with wide eyes, the tip flushed almost red with how hard he is. 

“Christ.” You breathe, staring at him in awe. 

You did that. 

“Easy, love.” He says, leaning down to wrap an arm around your waist. “I said tonight was about you.” 

He moves you so you’re laid out on the bed, your head hitting his pillow. The scent of him floods your nose as he joins you on the bed, the frame creaking as he kneels between your legs. Nerves twist in your stomach as you continue to stare at his cock bobbing between his thighs as he runs his hands along your legs. It’s going to hurt, you know that. It suddenly seems daunting, this request. At least during your heat you’d be so out of it with need you wouldn’t really feel anything. And you’d have plenty of slick to help. 

“None of that.” He says, squeezing your thighs gently. “I told you I’d take care of you.” 

You nod, swallowing thickly. 

“We’ve got more work to do before we reach that point. I’m not just going to stuff my cock into you like some needy pup.” He stares at you. “You tell me and I’ll stop, alright?” 

You nod again. “Yes, alpha.” 

Your breath hitches as his hands reach the junction of your thighs, one moving to your stomach, the other dragging through your folds, gathering your wetness on his fingers. They’re so much thicker than your own, your pussy clenching as he presses against the entrance. 

“Relax for me, love.” He says, rubbing gentle circles on your stomach with his thumb. 

His finger presses into you and your lips part at the intrusion. You clamp tight around his finger, making him groan. 

“Easy.” He says, his thumb moving to circle your clit. 

A breathy whine leaves your lips as his finger presses deeper into you, reaching further than you ever could. Your hand reaches up to thread through his hair, letting the short cropped strands slide through your fingers. It’s softer than you imagined, though you expect he too had spent the afternoon preparing for tonight as well. The mental image of him lathering himself in moisturizer would have made you laugh if his finger hadn’t brushed against a spot inside you that has your hips lifting off the bed. 

He leans down, lips blazing a path up your stomach, between your breasts to your throat. He swallows your moans as he works you open with his fingers, the lewd sound of his fingers thrusting into your wet pussy only adding to the pleasure coursing through you. You can feel it building within you, heat burning through your veins. Price groans against your lips as your nails scratch his scalp, his cock leaking against your thigh. You want him, need him inside of you. You need to feel him, you need to be close to him. 

“Alpha, please.” You whimper, tugging at his hair. 

He stares down at you, eyes blown with lust. “Please, what?” 

“Need you.” You whimper, grinding against his hand. “Please, sir.” 

Price closes his eyes, letting out a groan. His cock twitches against your thigh, his fingers slipping from you. He breathes out a curse, shifting to open his nightstand. He pulls out a bottle of lube, sitting back on his knees to squirt some into his hand. You’re plenty slick, but you watch as he rubs the lube on his cock, tossing the bottle back into the open drawer. 

He kneels between your thighs again, staring down at you as one of his hands comes to rest on your hip. You feel intoxicated, your head spinning from the intensity of his scent around you and the knowledge of what’s about to happen. 

Price folds his body over yours again, the head of his cock brushing your folds. You moan into his mouth as he kisses you, parting your thighs further for him as his tip catches on your opening. Your hands grip his shoulders as he presses into you, the stretch stinging a bit as he works you open. This is it. There’s no going back now. 

You don’t want to. 

You whimper quietly as he pushes into you, nails biting into his skin. It’s too much, yet you can’t get enough of it as he sinks further in. You let out a shaky breath as he pulls away from your lips staring down at your face. 

“Alright?” He asks, stilling where he is. 

You nod. “Just need a moment. You’re really big.” 

His lips twitch up into a smile, a pleased growl rumbling through his chest. “Don’t start talking like that, love.” He says, leaning down to press kisses to your face. 

“Or what?” You ask, your nails digging harder into his skin. 

“I might not be able to control myself.” He growls, his alpha slipping out around the edges of his voice. 

Your pussy clenches at his words, walls clamping down around him. He lets out another growl, hiking your leg up over his hip. It forces him deeper into you, your breath catching at the feeling of him spreading you open. 

“Fuck,” You breathe, rocking your hips to take him even deeper into you. 

John’s arms frame your head as he presses his body against yours. Your arms slip around his back, legs locking around his waist as he begins to move slowly, working himself deeper and deeper into you until he’s pressed flush against you. He stills for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours as you both breathe. You’re trembling just slightly, overwhelmed with being so close to him, to your alpha. The pain and discomfort is gone, replaced by burning heat as desire pulses through your veins. 

“Please, alpha.” You whimper. 

He shushes you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I’ve got you, omega.” 

Your skin is slick with sweat already as he begins to rock his hips into you. Your hands press into his back, feeling the muscles shift and flex as he moves. It feels good, the friction of your bodies, the way he stretches you open with every thrust. Your head is spinning with pleasure at the thought of being so close to another person, being so connected with someone else. 

Not just someone else, with your alpha. 

The wet squelch of your pussy as he thrusts into you is loud, the mattress creaking as he picks up speed. You’re trembling, your thighs squeezing around his hips as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. You’re not sure how he’s lasted this long, especially without any sort of release for himself yet tonight. 

Perhaps it was the training he spoke about earlier.

You’re not sure how he manages it. You couldn’t have that kind of control. Not after this. Not after knowing how good it can feel, how good he can make you feel. 

“Fucking feel so good.” He grunts, his breath fanning her ear. His own skin is slicked with sweat, muscles twitching under her hands. “So fucking tight and warm.” 

“John!” You gasp, digging your fingers into his shoulder blades as he picks up the pace even more, his hips snapping against yours. 

“Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum like a good omega? Need you to cum for me.” He grunts, staring down at you. 

You let out a whine, arching against him as you seek your second high of the night. His cock brushes that spot inside of you, stars nearly erupting behind your eyes. 

“Right there.” You gasp, thighs shaking around his hips. “Fuck, right there!” 

You’re being loud but you don’t care, nails dragging down his back as he focuses his thrusts right at that spot inside you. You cum with a cry, pussy squeezing around him. He lets out a loud groan, his hips stilling as he twitches inside you. His muscles go lax, his body falling on top of yours. He manages to keep himself from squishing you beneath him, his face pressing against your neck. 

The smell of sex, arousal, sweat, and your own combined scents are heavy in the air. You’re shaking, still wrapped tightly around John as he lays on top of you. He’s breathing heavily, warm breaths fanning against your neck. You don’t want to move, your mind buzzing with the aftershocks of your orgasm still. 

“Alright?” He murmurs, lips pressing a gentle kiss against your throat. 

You nod, slowly unwinding yourself from around him. “Yeah. ‘M good.” 

“Fucking Christ, a man could get addicted to that.” He says, lifting his face from your neck. “Sweet little omega.” 

Your face warms more than it already feels, and you lean into his touch as his fingers brush your cheek. 

“Let me go get something to clean this mess up with.” He says, pushing himself up so he’s kneeling. 

You can’t help but giggle as his joints pop and he lets out a groan at the effort. “Need a break, old man.” 

His eyes flash playfully, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Going with the old man insults again, huh?” 

You give him a look. “You’re the one grunting while getting up.” 

You let out a surprised yelp as he brings his hand down on your thigh, the skin tingling as he gets up. “I’ll show you old man.” He murmurs as he heads for his en suite. 

You bite your lip as you begin to feel his release slipping out of you, the feeling causing desire to stir in your stomach once more. 

John tsks as he comes back, wiping the mess between your thighs. “Needy little thing.” He practically purrs, stepping away to toss the rag into the bathroom sink before he returns, climbing back onto the bed.

You press as close to him as you can, nuzzling into his neck. Your limbs are still twitching a bit, your mind buzzing from the aftermath of what had just transpired. John wraps his arms around you, holding you close to his chest. You press a gentle kiss to his neck, earning a rumble in response. Your own rumble starts up as you purr contently, tossing a leg over his hip to allow you to get as close to him as possible. 

He huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Comfortable?” 

You purr louder in response, sleep beginning to fog the corners of your mind. 

“Good girl.” He says, pressing another kiss to your head. “Sleep. Alpha’s got you.”

NEXT ->

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph 

[forsworned]

I just got a great idea. Imagine the teenage dirt bag trend with 141, where reader is chill and laid back, and as 141 and reader are in the break room, gaz or soap ask reader about her life before the military and she just goes to her office to get some photos of her and her friends in their teens, smoking weed and in some she has some sick piercings and a skater, or maybe even a motorcycle. I don't even know. I'm just rambling. You can write it if you want but if you don't want to then feel free to ignore me 🫶🏼🙆🏻‍♀️

author's note: and a great idea you have indeed :) i gotchuuu and im so sorry this took me forever to get to

tags: poly 141 antics, cheeky banter, and a lil flirting with the boys ;)

Breakfast is a fan favorite amongst the 141, especially when it involves the sweet and savory aroma of coffee, pancakes, eggs, and your famous potato hash—a dish that's practically a cult fave within the team. As you settle in your seat between Johnny and Kyle with your coffee mug in your hand, the group is chatting about their former glory days before they joined the military.

Johnny nudges you with a playful smirk, still noshing on a piece of toast. "So, hen, ye look like ye had a bit of a wild streak back in the day, aye? Bet ye were a right wee devil." His tone is teasing, laced with curiosity as his cerulean gaze lingers on you.

You roll your eyes at him, but before you can respond, Kyle chimes in, his tone equally teasing, "Yeah, you look like the type who got up to all sorts of dodgy stuff. Proper troublemaker, I reckon. C'mon love, spill the beans." He nudges with a grin.

Price looks over his newspaper at double trouble across the table, before turning the page, causing you to chuckle. "Well," you fish out your phone from your pocket and everyone leans forward in their seats as you scroll through your camera roll. You stop at an album and tap on it before rotating the screen to face them and they can't help the excited noises that leave their mouths.

"No way!" Johnny exclaims, his grin widens as he spots a photo of you leaning against a cherry red muscle car. "Is that a 1967 Chevrolet Camaro!?" Kyle chirps, taking your phone from you and you laugh at their reactions. That gets Price's attention and he leans over to get a gander of the rebellious glint in your eye and the streaks of red fashioned into your hair.

"Christ," He beams down at the photo and then up at you. "looks like you were quite the rebel, eh? No wonder these two pillocks won't stop botherin' ya."

Kyle lets out a whistle as he swipes to the next photo, showcasing you with a cigarette hanging between your lips, clad in a skimpy bikini, leaning against your palms on a beach on a sunlit beach with the sunset casting a tangerine glow. "Cheeky."

Johnny's eyes ream at the photo, taking you in your exposed form. "Aye, look at ye!" His cheeks flush as he tilts his head, peeking up at you. "I gotta give it ya, lassie, yer quite the stunner."

"And still are." Price adds, raising his eyebrows at you. You fluster at his kind words, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Thank you,"

"Oi! Look at this one!" Johnny points to the screen again, having a good laugh. You lean into Kyle and giggle at the photo. Grin as wide as your face with an alligator's jaw clamped shut between your hands. "That cannot be real!"

"It's really not as wild as it looks. I was on vacation in Florida, and a local wildlife park had this little show where they let you hold and pose with a baby alligator. They made sure everything was safe and supervised. Super fun."

Price cocks an amused brow at you, sipping his coffee. "Baby alligator, eh? You're quite the thrill seeker."

"Yeahhh, not much has changed." Kyle ribs and the others laugh. It's true though. You were actively pursuing that adrenaline rush, so it didn't come as much of a surprise to them, especially not Simon.

As the laughter dies down, Simon, who was quietly enjoying his tea and observing the situation unfold finally speaks up, "You lot are gettin' too chuffed over this, but I gotta admit..." He leans back, his dark eyes fixate on you and you can't help but take notice of how his mask is scrunched up under his nose, revealing the pale pink of his lips. "Never quite pegged you for a lil rascal. Bet you gave your folks a right headache."

He prods the phone out of Johnny's hand and takes a look at the other photos they were scrolling through and softly snorting at what looks like an image of you on stage, strumming at a guitar and singing your heart out. "But I reckon that's what makes you fit in so will with these bunch of nutters." His lips quirk into a faint smile as he hands you back your phone and goes back to munching on his eggs. "Ain't it always the quiet ones you gotta watch out for?"

Your cheeks blossom with warmth at his comment and the cute little smile that adorns his handsome face. "Well, I didn't think I was all that quiet." You poke your tongue in your cheek, gently prying the phone out of his hands.

His finger seems to biff at your screen as it clatters out of your grasp because his onyx eyes widen at the photo. Skin exposed, revealing the ink that embellishes your lower left hip in delicate, intricate patterns as you're posing sexy for the camera. Your heart plunges to your ass at the realization of it not being in your hidden album.

"Oh—that's, uhhh" You stammer swiftly, locking your phone and shoving it back into your pocket. Your tongue swipes at your lips as you avert your gaze, but Simon takes note of how you nervously twiddle with the spoon as it clatters against the walls of your mug.

Simon's eyes linger on you for a moment longer before he returns to his tea, "well, well, well..."

The rest of the team is still buzzing with the excitement of your heydays as they detect the slight change in atmosphere.

"Oi, what's all of this about, then?" Johnny asks with a mouth full of food. "Give us the scoop!"

But the Scotsman is getting scolded by Price and Kyle for not keeping his mouth shut while he eats. A sheepish smile adorns his lips, rubbing the back of his neck as he apologizes. Simon chuckles, and shakes his head, "Nothin' worth spillin', Johnny. Just a bit of a laugh."

Of course that earns some groans from them, but you can't help but bite your bottom lip and grin when Simon gives you a knowing look. Some secrets are best kept between friends.

masterlist

[celenawrites]

pretty when you cry

pairing - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

word count - 2.4k

warnings - Ghost is a bit of a dick but he gets better, Reader is a bit of a crybaby here but it's just cuz she's very in tune with her emotions, Simon is emotionally constipated and cannot handle feelings, some fluff, heavy-ish (?) angst, open ending, etc.

Note - Kinda got tired of writing fluffy stuff all the time and my mental health is fraying atm, so I decided to (hopefully) hurt some folks with this little piece. Enjoy!

AO3 Version

Divider by @/firefly-graphics

You cry easy. 

That's what Ghost thought of you when you first joined Task Force-141. 

While he has always been skeptical of any new additions (often temporary) to the team he has come to love and trust after going through hell and back, Price was convinced that your impeccable record on stealth ops, your physical agility, and your skills as a sniper were much needed. 

Reluctantly, Ghost silently accepts his Captain’s decision.

However, time and time again, your sensitive nature had him worried that you might prove to be a heavy liability to the team. 

When you stub your toe against the leg of the table, you let out a few tears of frustration and pain, cursing everyone and their mothers while you hold your injured foot in the air as you comically jump around the kitchen, even though your lack of spatial awareness was to be blamed here. It is almost always a comical sight, Gaz rubbing your back in comfort while you curse and cry, failing to hide his amusement. Soap is not afraid to laugh at your face for it, while Price has this twinkle in his eye as he asks you to sit and eat something for breakfast. 

Simon ignores the flutter in his stomach when you take a seat next to him on the table, your wet hair letting out wafts of jasmine - all for him to smell and keep to himself. 

You cry when you accidentally let the door close on your pinky, dramatic hiccups leaving you as Soap ties up your little finger with white bandages, stroking your hair as he consoles you, "That's a brave lassie, yeah? You got this". (Soap has always been good with people, Simon notes.) Sometimes, Soap will be ‘kind enough’ to offer you to kiss your injuries better and you’d shove him, your face giving away the embarrassment and the humorous jest you feel around the demolition expert. 

You weep uncontrollably when you watch Marley and Me with Gaz in the rec room. Price and Ghost had been passing by, discussing the aftermath of a mission they had just returned from when they heard loud sobs coming from the usually empty room. They peer in to find both of you huddled close in soft blankets, a bowl of popcorn propped up in your lap and a box of tissues in Gaz’s lap, as you munch on the buttery snack and cry over the adorable dog finally being put to rest. You lean into Gaz for comfort and Ghost wonders if you still smell of mud and caked blood like you did on the field. 

Price decides to break up the party as he enters the room, clearing up his throat to grab the attention of his Sergeants. Your lip wobbles as he lightly scolds you, his brow laden with concern as he looks at you and tells you both to go get some much-needed rest. You pass him by as you leave the room, your hand being a feather’s touch away from his and he almost holds onto you. (He still has no idea why he almost reacted like that to you)

One time, Price had been sent to help Laswell out on a crucial mission and all you had accomplished during those three and a half weeks was mope around and wish your Captain were here. You’d be lying on the sofa in the common room and you’d whine to your companions. “I’m so bored. I miss Captain. I wish he was here”, you’d pout and Soap and Gaz would gang up on you, teasing you as they asked you whether you had some unresolved feelings for dear Price. (The idea of you coveting Price like a lover seemed ridiculous to him, really. You and the Captain? Not a chance)

And then there was that one time when you had to go on a solo mission (the first of you being on your own since you joined the task force, really) and when you had come back to him them, battered and bloodied and disheveled but still safe and sound and Price lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging as if all the weight of the world has disappeared now that you’re back home, back to your team (where you now rightfully belong). You rush to them, running as if you cannot close the distance between them fast enough, and Price hugs you with steady arms as he lets you cry into his shoulder, wetting his uniform as you all but sob in relief, leaning on your Captain for support as your legs turn like jelly, unable to support the weight of your weary body. 

It must’ve been terrifying - being out there on the field, hostility and death surrounding you in all directions and the only person you could possibly rely on is yourself. Keeping yourself safe and sane as you navigate unknown terrain and fight off the monsters who wear the skins of humans and pollute the very Earth they have been raised on. Blood and gore and gunpowder clinging to you like a second skin as you pray to survive another night and make it back home safely. Back to your team. 

Back to your kind captain, and sergeants you have befriended and a cold Lieutenant who sometimes fails to hide the care he carries for you in his brown eyes. 

Price has a look of sympathy and understanding on his face as he drags you to the infirmary, even holding your trembling hand in his warm palm as you flinch at the sight of the large syringe needle and hiss in pain whenever the alcohol-soaked cotton is applied to your cuts. He soothes you with a gentle pat on your back, mindful of your treated injuries as he softly tells you to clean up and maybe get some much needed sleep, asking Gaz to supply you with something to eat before you doze off due to fatigue and the morphine still floating in your system. 

Ghost found it annoying for the most part - sometimes snapping at you to "Shut up and focus" on bad days and while he’s still irked at the sentimentality you possess, something that he and his comrades have willingly allowed to wither and die in their souls, a small part of him - a part of him that still resembles who Simon was, a mimicry of the humanness he hasn’t felt in his dead soul for years, worried about you. Worried sick about you and your emotions and the lack of lid you have on it. Worried if he had been too harsh on you because he doesn’t do emotions, and clearly he is out of his depth when it comes to dealing with people, but especially when it comes to dealing with you. 

He realizes he doesn’t mind you crying all that much. 

You go out for drinks to celebrate your successful solo mission and you spend the time you had lost on the field with your teammates - you play billiards with Gaz against Soap and Ghost and lose sorely, and then you try out a peg of whiskey the Captain has ordered and Price laughs heartily as you sputter and whine as the drink burns your esophagus. You somehow convince Ghost to teach you how to throw darts and he tries to not lean into your warmth as he stands behind you, his gloved hand holding your wrist as he positions you and teaches you how to throw the wooden dart you hold between your smooth fingers, and tells you all he knows about making sure that the little thing hits the dartboard without fail. 

Simon can smell your jasmine shampoo and your citrus perfume on you as he uses his hands to correct your posture. He can feel how soft and pliant you are under him, eager to obey and please him, and all he can think about is what it’d be like - being your confidante, being the voice of reason for you when you’re drowning in emotions, being a sturdy shoulder for you to cry on. 

And he knows for a fact that you’d be all that and more in a heartbeat if he allowed you to. 

You lean onto Simon for support, your head lolling onto his shoulder as he quietly guides you to your bedroom. You hum quietly as he carefully makes you lie down on your bed, removing your shoes for you and when you beg him to help you remove the little makeup you had applied for the night (Price blatantly ignoring the use of contraband because it’s you), he surprisingly complies. Years of applying camo paint on his face give him the needed experience around using micellar water and makeup wipes as he helps you prepare yourself for a night of mindless sleeping, which will be followed by a hangover in the morning plaguing almost all of them. (He swears he’ll force you to drink the ginger tea he’ll make, no matter how much you’d whine about it tasting ‘yucky’. He’d rather not have you hurling over everything like a cat with a persistent hairball stuck in its throat).

“I’m so happy”, you hum to yourself as Simon tilts your head up. 

“Close your eyes, Sergeant”, he orders and you comply, feeling the soaked cotton pad rub against your eyelids as your Lieutenant removes your pink eye shadow. It’s a pretty color on you, Simon thinks but he never says it out loud.  

You stay silent as he finishes up with your work, his calloused fingertips tilting and moving your head to look at any missed spots he might’ve overlooked in the dim bedroom light. 

“All done”, he scruffs, getting up on his feet and he hears you call out to him as he leaves the room.

“What is it?” he asks, wishing to be in his warm bed on this cold night. 

“Thank you, sir”, you say earnestly with your eyes shining with sincerity and an unrecognizable emotion. 

Simon observes you - you lying on your bed in the clothes you wore to the bar, with most of your makeup removed and your eyes struggling to stay open as intoxication and tiredness tempt you to forget the world and sleep.

A moment too late, he asks you, “What are you thanking me for, rookie?”

Only to find you out cold.

He sighs, draping the thin blanket over your shivering body and leaving you alone in your room. 

When you wake up the next day with a hangover headache, your makeup removed and your blanket draped over you tenderly, you make your way to the common kitchen and you ask your moody superior if he remembers anything from the night before - your hazy memory failing to cover the gaps in your memory. 

He gruffly says out, “No” and then hands you a cup of ginger tea, looking at you intensely as he waits for you to whine about the bitter taste of the tea he’s made for you. Knowing it’s a lost fight, you let out an exasperated sigh and thank your Lieutenant for the hangover cure. He looks at you a beat too long before leaving you to your own devices, exiting the room, and going God knows where. 

It takes him time, with all that he is and all that he has been through, to come to a new conclusion for his first impression of you. Steadily with time, Simon realizes that the reason you cry so easily is not because you're weak. 

It’s because you’re brave. 

Brave enough to express yourself and not fear rejection from others. Brave enough to show that you care, to show that you love life and people and everything life has to offer. Brave and kind and valiant in everything you do, Simon is almost jealous of your ability to be so open and free. He wonders what it would be like to let go and just allow himself to feel. 

It’d probably drown him alive. 

It might set him free. 

He’d never get the chance to know though. 

Now again, you sob as you put pressure on his abdomen wound as you talk to him with a wet, unstable voice, “Stay awake for me, Lt. We will all make it”. You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself more than him. (You need that reassurance more than him anyway).

He’s sluggish, the blood loss and pain makes it hard for him to focus on your blurry face and the skull mask on his face doesn’t help him either. He’s immobile, despite trying his level best to raise his hand up so that he can wipe away the stray tears on your cheeks. He parts his lips to tell you to please stop crying, to tell you how he’s not worth the worry, he’s not worthy of your tears - not when he has vehemently admonished you for them all this time. 

But all he can do is let out a low moan of pain, his eyes rolling back in his head. He can hear your voice, can hear the worry and fear and panic as you call out to him, but everything is hard and he can hear you but comprehending your words is near impossible with the ringing in his ears and the whirring of the helicopter that came in to rescue him and his team. He’s aware of his teammates sitting beside him - he can imagine their solemn faces as they cope with the possibility of him succumbing to his wounds before they make it back to safety. But he focuses on you instead - sweet, radiant you who worries about everyone and everything; who wears her heart on her sleeve and still holds onto the hope that he will make it out of this ordeal alive, even though he can feel his life slipping away from him like the sands of time.

Each breath of his is labored, and Simon wishes for nothing more than to wipe away your tears or to maybe hold your soft self against his injured body, cradling you close to his heart as he vows to survive this for you. Only for you. 

Through black spots and dryness, he blinks up to look at you and he has this realization, a moment of pure ‘Eureka!’ as he observes your worsened state of being. 

You have never been prettier than this instant, crying over him and praying to any kind of deity who’d grant him the boon of life. 

Satisfied with his discovery and suddenly extremely tired, he allows himself to close his eyes, letting the fatigue win and the last thing he sees is you crying for him to stay alive and fight. 

The last thing he hears is your sobs as you beg someone, anyone to save your Lieutenant. 

Note -

Title is thanks to the song 'Pretty When You Cry' by Lana Del Rey, although I wasn't actually listening to the song while writing this.

[mistydeyes]

lavender secrets and whispers

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summary: You'd laugh when your civilian friends would crush on your team. You've seen them at their worst, tear-gassed, sweaty and disgusting from days in the field, and beyond drunk from the pub. That's why when your female partner is revealed, the boys step up as your older brothers.

pairing: 141 x platonic! wlw! afab!Reader

warnings: SWEARING, mentions of homophobia

a/n: i love my 141 boys but women are just UGH CHEFS KISS

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You tried to keep your personal life to yourself, not wanting to risk the dangers associated with revealing it as well as wanting to avoid the offers for a threesome

Eventually, your partner was revealed when you landed in a hospital back in the UK

It was just a minor gun shot to the thigh but of course it needed proper care to heal

Your partner joined you by your bedside, holding your hand and keeping you company

After your first day in the hospital, the 141 boys showed up to see how you were doing

“The rest of the mission went smooth- well hello there, miss” Price began to say, locking eyes with your partner. Only Price had known her existence, just in case something ever happened to you.

“I’ll leave you alone, it’s time for some tea anyways” your partner said and exited the room

“I didn’t know you had a sister” Kyle commented before you rolled your eyes and replied, “She’s my partner idiot”

Suddenly it all clicked, your disinterest in all of the offers for romance from young recruits and people from all over the world was because you were in a relationship

They felt stupid, realizing the flags they missed—what straight woman would get Sappho’s writings tattooed?

Suddenly you had an onslaught of questions from Soap and Gaz

“Where did you meet?” “Cambridge, she was on exchange from the states”

“How long have you been dating?” “Six years now”

“You gonna marry her?” “Eventually, definitely not now with my leg”

“How long have you uh—“ “It’s okay Gaz, I’ve liked women my whole life really, I’m not afraid to say it”

Finally Ghost asked, “Why didn’t you tell us?” “Well, some people get weird about it and making some inappropriate comments. You're my teammates but my personal life is, well, personal”

After what seemed like forever, your lovely significant other returned with a tray of drinks

“It’s not much but the local coffee shop was still open so I got you all something”

She handed them to each of the men, remembering how Price likes his coffee strong, Gaz enjoys floral teas, Soap takes it with bucket of sugar, and Ghost always orders earl grey

“Thank you, ma’am” they said and she smiled giving a quick, “welcome home, soldiers”

Eventually after some more friendly conversation, the men were ready to return into their own homes and bed—your so said goodbye and thanked them for generally keeping you safe

As they walked out, Ghost said, “She’s a good one, keep ‘em close Y/N”

During your free time, they always ask to see pictures of her

You’ve shown them a few of your favorites—the two of you at pride, her with your pet cat, and ones from the few dates you went on

Price confides in you as to what to get his fiancée at home, you gladly help him knowing the troubles of finding the perfect gift

Gaz points out every rainbow to you, you can’t help but laugh as you joke about rainbow capitalism that companies do every June

Once Soap asked if you ever had double dates with Laswell and her wife

“No Soap, I know we both love women but gay people aren’t friends with every single gay person”

You do have to tell them that you don’t wanna hear about their rendezvous, you like women but not the sex talk

When you go to bars, the boys make sure to protect you from anyone—knowing your partner would have their heads if something happened to you

One time, a man came up behind you and tried to hold your waist

Ghost whispered in his ear “get your fucking hands off of her” before punching his lights out

He quickly became your girlfriend’s favorite out of the squad

Just know they’ll clock anyone who makes a homophobic comment to you or outs you

Price made one of the recruit’s life a living hell when he heard him say, “Dumb bitch probably doesn’t like dick because she can’t handle it”

Let's just say everyone knows not to mess with you now

If you aren’t close with your family, Price is more than happy to walk you down the aisle and the boys will definitely be in attendance

Soap and Gaz = flower girls! No one questions when two strong military men are stoically throwing flowers down the aisle

It was a beautiful day and you have a picture on your mantle of you and your wife along with your boys surrounding you :)

[rascal-xo]

Hi ! I hope you’re doing well, I wanted to request the 141 & perhaps Los Vaqueros (I am a sucker for Ale) with y/n (preferably for her to also be in the military with these fine men) whose ex boyfriend ends up recently joining either the military or tags along a mission (I would love if their rank was below the 141/los vaqueros just to see how they would react, not intimated by the ex but more like cocky because they know they are better than them). Also maybe add a bit of NSFW… (pls & thank you). I’m sorry if it seems too specific or detailed but this plot has been nagging at my brain and I love the way you write so I was like okay, I know who can write this perfectly ! I appreciate you taking the time to read my request ! Have a good one !

Loose Ends | Alejandro x Female Reader |

Chapter Summary: You find self face to face with a toxic part of your past…

Warnings: Angst, violence, language, fluff, some minor smut |READERS CALLSIGN IS “RED”|

Word Count:

Tags: @satorisgirl

A/N: Ahh sorry it took so long but it’s finally here! I hoped you enjoyed the fic :))

——> Some stuff is not canonically accurate to MW2 or CoD in general

“Alright, gather around!” Price calls out to the team, There’s maps and documents sprawled over the top of the table where you and the rest of the team stand around it. “We’ve got one hour until we’re back out in the field, thanks to our lovely General Shepard, we’ve got our work cut out for us.” He says, with a hint sarcasm on his tongue.

You exchange a knowing glance with Soap, both of you aware of the tension between the Task Force and Shepard.

“We’re joining forces with Los Vaqueros for this one,” Price continues. “As you know, we’ve been tracking Hassan in the city for weeks now, and we’ve been tasked with assisting them in finally taking him down.”

The 141 and Alejandro’s men were hand in hand the past few weeks hunting down Hassan and the rouge missiles.

In the few times you had the pleasure of working with Colonel Vargas and his men, you always enjoyed it a little more than you liked to admit. You look over at Colonel Vargas, and he meets your gaze, nodding a smile.

But then, Price's voice interrupts your thoughts. "Another one of our company contacts will be joining us on this mission. They’ll be leading behind the operation alongside Colonel Vargas."

You feel your stomach drop as Price gestures towards the door. The man walks in question walks in, and you immediately recognize him as Phillip Graves, your old commander and ex boyfriend.

You had worked with the Commander side by side for 3 years, when you were recruited for the Shadow Company by Shepard.

The last time you saw him was when you announced your decision to leave. You had a huge fight, and things ended on a more than sour note. Hitting closer than personal between you and Phillip. You never expected to see him again so soon, especially not on a mission like this.

“Commander Graves, good to have you and the Shadows here.” Price greets him. The rest of the team seems oblivious to the history between you and Dom, but you can't help but feel awkward and uncomfortable.

You try to make a quick exit as soon as the briefing comes to an end, but Graves catches up to you, “Hey, Red, it’s been a while.”

You turn to face him, trying to keep a calm demeanor, “Not long enough, unfortunately.” You say before you have time to really think it through.

The commander smirks, “Don’t worry, Y/N, I’m just here to do my job.” He pauses, looking you up and down. “Hopefully you won’t be too distracted.”

You internally roll your eyes and walk away, not wanting to engage in any more conversation than you have to with him.

As you gear up and head to the chopper, you can feel the weight of the mission and the added tension of the Shadows presence weighing on you.

“What’s got you quiet, Roja?” Alejandro says, leaning closer to you.

“Just thinking.” You answer, “Don’t have much time to do that in peace lately.” You chuckle.

“Say I’ll buy you a drink once we make it out of this shitstorm alive, huh?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I’d like that.” You smile.

Once you're on the ground, you and the rest of the team move quickly, working alongside Los Vaqueros to track down Hassan's whereabouts.

The mission is intense, with gunfire ringing out and explosions rocking the city. Despite the chaos around you, you stay focused, your training and instincts kicking in as you move with precision and purpose.

It's only when you and Graves are alone, working together to take down a group of insurgents, that things begin to take a turn.

You look over at him, out of breath from taking a hard blow to the ribs, taking in his features. He looks older, more weathered than you last saw him. But he’s still annoyingly good at his job.

“Not like you to take hits.” Graves suddenly says, breaking the silence between you two, once the coast is clear. You two are alone in one of the emptied buildings, awaiting clearance to evac.

Like you’re perfect.” You reply, trying to keep your annoyance at ease.

Graves smirks, “I never said I was perfect, just better than most.”

You roll your eyes, “Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?”

He chuckles, “No, that’s what you used to tell me.”

You feel a pang of memories hit you, remembering the times when you and Phillip were together, laughing and messing around during your downtime. But the memory is quickly replaced by the bitterness of the person he’s become, or was all along.

“So, this is what you left our unit for, coverts?” He says, leaning against a broken door. His demeanor suddenly shifts, and you feel the hostility radiating off of him.

“That’s one less person you can have at your disposal for good old Shepard.” You scoff, meeting his dark expression.

“You know, Y/N, you always did have a problem with authority. It's no surprise you didn't last long with the Shadows.” You feel your blood boiling.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" you snap. Graves takes a step towards you, his voice lowering dangerously, “Watch it. Don’t wanna start anything you can’t finish, Soldier.”

Before things can escalate any further, Alejandro suddenly appears comes through the doorway, pausing in his steps when he takes in the tense atmosphere between you and Graves.

Without hesitating, Alejandro strides forward, stepping between you and Graves.

"Graves," Alejandro says, his voice low and controlled. "You need to back off of the Sergeant. Now."

Graves sneers, "What, you gonna protect your little girlfriend?"

Alejandro's fists clench, but he remains composed. "I'm not playing games, Cabrón. Back off."

Graves takes a step forward, his face contorting with anger. "You don't know what you're getting into, Vargas. This has nothing to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me when you're threatening a member of my team," Alejandro says, his voice sharp. "If you can't handle working with Y/N, then you can leave."

Graves looks like he's about to say something else, but the sound of the C-130’s engines outside interrupts him. "Don’t butt in where you don’t belong, Vargas." Graves says through gritted teeth, before turning and stalking out of the room.

You take this as an opportunity to brush past Phillip as you move towards Alejandro.

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding as he turns to you, concern etched on his face. "You okay, Roja?"

“Yes i’m okay. We just have a long past.” You exhale, fixing your red bandana that seems to have slipped a little from your forehead.

“Let’s get out of here.” You say, relieved to finally have an excuse to get away from Graves.

Alejandro nods, and the two of you head out of the building together. Once you're outside, the weight of the mission and Graves' presence finally lifts off your shoulders.

“I need a drink.” You say, trying to lighten the mood as you head towards the evac.

Alejandro chuckles, “I remember promising you one earlier.”

You smile, “Lead the way, Colonel.”

As you make your way back to base, the two of you decide to leave the the post-mission bar celebration earlier than the rest of the team, and you decide to go back to your quarters, which Alejandro happily obliges to.

As you walk through the quiet halls, you can feel the heat and electricity between you and Alejandro, and you know that you're not the only one who's been thinking about it.

Finally, when you reach your door, he turns to face you, his eyes meeting yours in a way that makes your heart race. Granted you too are reaching tipsy at this point.

“Y/N…” He says, his voice low and husky.

Before he can finish, you reach up and pull him down to meet your lips in a heated kiss. The passion between you is electric, and you can feel the heat building as you explore each other's mouths.

As the kiss deepens, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he presses you against the wall. The world around you fades away as you lose yourself in the heat of the moment

Eventually, you pull away, both of you gasping for breath. You look up at Alejandro, seeing the desire and intensity in his eyes.

The moment you enter the room, he presses you against the wall once again, his mouth claiming yours as his hands roam over your body.

You feel the heat building between you, the need for each other growing with each passing second. Without breaking the kiss, Alejandro begins to tug at your clothes, revealing more and more of your skin.

Soon you're standing there in nothing but your underwear, your body flushed with desire. Alejandro steps back to admire the sight before him.

You reach down to palm him through his pants, eliciting a low groan from his lips. He breaks the kiss to look at you, his eyes dark with desire.

His hands slide down to your panties, tugging them down your legs and throwing them aside.

With one swift movement, he lifts you up and carries you to the bed, laying you down gently before climbing on top of you.

Your bodies are a tangle of limbs and heat, desire and passion taking over.

[ythankucaptainmccoy]

CoD: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader - Found

I felt inspired to write this today after being fired from my job that I put my heart and soul into for nine years. I don’t know why but all of the sudden I was like I’m going to do this. So here is the finished version of what I saw in my head. I hope you all like it and my inbox is open for asks or requests right now. I’m stuck on CoD men at the moment. This one will be featuring König as well.

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It was late when Ghost woke up with a start as he came out of his nightmare. He had been having the same nightmare for the past week after (Y/N) had gone missing. It was a standard mission of retrieval, but when he had taken a round in the leg Soap had to help him walk. That was when she had split from them to draw the enemy away. When they made it to the evac site she didn’t arrive.

Ghost was adamant that they wait, but Soap had convinced him they should go and that she would be okay. He slowly got up and made his way to the kitchen going through the motions of making his night time tea. As the kettle was placed on the stove he could still see her eyes and the worry in them when she made the decision to draw the enemy away. How he had begged with his own eyes for her to stay. 

It was the last time he would probably see her again, and that thought alone reminded him of his mother and brother's family’s murder. The thought of her dead and discarded made him suck in a breath as he felt the panic rising. (Y/N) would know what to do when he had a panic attack, but she wasn’t here. She wasn’t here because he wasn’t man enough to beg her to come with them, and that he couldn’t do this without her.

The screaming in his head was getting louder, and his chest felt like it was constricting. This attack was getting worse by the moment as he imagined her corpse coming towards him wailing at him. He jumped and fell backwards onto his ass scrambling for his knife. He held it in front of him shakily until his vision and hearing started coming back to him. “Simon drop the knife no one's gonna hurt ya’ here”, a voice he should know soothed.

The voice started getting more recognizable, but he was still trying to get his bearings. Then he recognized Price, the old man was holding up both hands when Ghost realized what was happening. He dropped the knife as if it had burned him and listened as Price talked him down. The wailing he thought was her was the kettle going off, and the panic attack had played with his mind.

After he had come back around Price had him sit at the table as he made the tea. Price was telling him that Kortac had a lead on (Y/N), and that König had volunteered to go retrieve her. That would make sense as (Y/N) and König had been good friends back before she joined 141. He nodded along as he listened to Price talk about how they coudn’t go in, and that's why Kortac had taken the job. 

After Price had made sure he was going to be okay he went back to his room to try and get more sleep. He rolled over several times trying to get himself to sleep, but it wouldn’t happen. He got up and went out for a walk around the base noticing all the spots he and (Y/N) would go to be alone. His favorite spot was the sniper training tower where they had had sex the first time.

She had been angry about Soap getting the better of her on sniping and he volunteered himself to help her. They had been dancing around each other for a year when he finally made the first move which led to them shagging in that tower. He smiled remembering how she had moaned and called his real name. How she writhed under him and how afterwards she lay there in his arms until Soap had called up making mentions of how no more shots had been fired. 

His smile quickly fell as he thought about how she may never come home. He kept walking, coming to the mess hall where he remembered her taking a ketchup packet hitting it just right to make it explode in Soap’s face and how they had all laughed. She was the light to his darkness and no matter what, she was always in a good mood until someone made a joke about how she should be home in the kitchen. He made his way back to his room praying Kortac could find her and bring her home to him.

***MEANWHILE IN SOME RANDOM ASS DESERT***

It was a hot afternoon and (Y/N) was trying to stay alive in a hostile environment. She had been captured right after Ghost and Soap had made their safe extract, but escaped and made it into the desert outside of the major city. She had to wait for nightfall before she could go into the city to steal some food or anything else she may need. To be honest she missed them, but there was no way she could get word to her team without possibly compromising them. 

(Y/N) missed being on base, missed the others, but she truly missed Simon. She wanted to be at base sneaking into his room or him into hers to help each other sleep. She thought back on the first time she had sex with him in that sniper tower, and how he had her writhing and moaning. (Y/N) wanted to lay her head on his chest and relax because she knew that right now he would be having a hard time sleeping.

The sun slowly set and soon she would be making her move. She needed more water so her first stop would be the well at the edge of the city. Then she needed to get food and more bandages. (Y/N) knew where she could get the bandages, the food was going to be tricky. She started making her way towards the city. She checked with her binoculars to see the well only to find it guarded. 

“Shit they got wise”, she murmured. Well she would have to sit and wait to see if they would leave or stay. It got dark and they stayed, making her decide to go back to her small encampment. It was far enough away to get a fire going. If she didn’t die of dehydration the night would certainly make her freeze to death. She sat at the encampment praying that she could go into the city the next night to scavenge.

The night passed by and (Y/N) tried to find shade in the small dilapidated stable. It was where she would sleep during the day. Her stomach kept waking her up as it cried for sustenance, but she didn’t have anything to satiate it. If and when she made it home she was going off base to her favorite pub to have a burger and good bourbon. If Gaz and Soap were here they would at least be cracking jokes and trying to cheer her up. She fell asleep again and didn’t wake until right before sunset. She got up and started the walk back towards the city.

The city seemed clear as far as She could tell. The men who had been guarding the well weren’t there now. (Y/N) watched for a couple more minutes just to be sure, and once sure she raced to the well. The water rippled when she bent down cupping her hands, and sucking down water. She drank until her stomach started to cramp. Once her thirst was quenched she darted from alley to alley until she reached a drug store. 

(Y/N) knew that the back store room didn’t lock because she was the one who had broken it the first time she broke in. Under the cover of darkness she slipped in and scoured the shelves grabbing what she needed and filled her pack even taking some bottled waters. She made her way to the back pharmacy where the locked door was, but couldn’t get in. The fridge back there had to have some penicillin which she could use, but she would just have to go without. 

She slipped back out into the alley and started taking note of where she needed to head next. There was a market a couple streets over that sold some raw meats. Some of the shops would be closing up so she had to be quick. She made her way to the markets, but they were all closed. They must have had them close up to keep her options limited.

There was nothing left, not even scraps that she could pick from. This was a failure, but she had to move on. Just as she started back the way she had come from a truck pulled up across the street and armed men climbed out. “Shit shit shit”, (Y/N) cursed. She was going to have to be careful making her way back to her camp unless she wanted to be captured again or worse.

She rounded the last corner when she saw a man looking in her direction. She ducked back into the alley, but he had already alerted his comrades to her position. When the man rounded the corner she ducked down and went for his legs making him fall over her. He dropped his rifle and they rolled in the alley trying to get to it. She could hear the other men approaching when she finally headbutted the man. 

(Y/N) scooped up the rifle and fired a round into the man's skull. She encountered two more men that she quickly dispatched. There was another truck still running, and seeing her opportunity she took it. She hopped into the driver's side and tore out of the city as fast as she could. There was no way she could stay near the city now that they were certain she was there. She continued on for several miles hoping to come across a small village.

There was no such luck, and she was starting to get tired. When she looked at the truck's dash she saw that it was around five in the morning. She continued for a short amount of time when she saw a small house in the distance. The road had disappeared a long time ago and hopefully this small house was unoccupied. When she pulled up she shut the truck off, and grabbed the rifle. 

After clearing the house it was in fact abandoned. It wasn’t all that dilapidated and the bed looked inviting, but her paranoid brain wouldn’t let her sleep there. She took the cushions on the old couch downstairs, and took them to the pantry that unfortunately was empty and placed them on the floor. She drank some water as she grabbed an old curtain covering a doorway and put it in the old pantry on top of the couch cushions then placed the backpack in the far back.

(Y/N) watched the sun rise as she checked on her wound. It needed new bandaging, and she wrapped it with the bandages she had taken. The wound seemed to be festering as it oozed some. Once it was wrapped she went back inside to crawl into the pantry closing the door behind her. She lay her head on the backpack and pulled the curtain over her like a blanket keeping the rifle beside her just in case. The hunger pains were growing, but there was nothing she could do as she slipped off into sleep.

Little did she know that a friend of hers was looking for her in the city she just fled. She woke a few hours later, shivering. She knew she had a fever since she was shivering and it was the hottest part of the day. She lifted her shirt and unwrapped the bandages to see the wound was red around the edges. It also had some discharge and she knew that it wasn’t a good sign. (Y/N) knew she was more likely to die of infection at this point. 

She should have broken into the pharmacy for the penicillin after all. She pulled the makeshift blanket higher and relaxed back in her makeshift mattress. Sleep came easy as her fever got worse. Mumbling in her sleep as the fever continued to ravage her body. A noise and her eyes slowly and lazily fluttered open. It had to be a hallucination she definitely didn’t hear footsteps through the house.

The footsteps were going all around the house, but then they started towards her hiding place. She sat up with a lot of effort that had her breathing heavily, and grabbed the rifle. Lifting it made pain sear through her, and she had just pointed at the door where the footsteps stopped. She held the rifle up as she listened for the person to walk away, but her body gave out causing her to drop the rifle. 

The clattering and her gasp from the pain had the stranger on the other side almost ripping the door off its hinges. She reached for the rifle again, but the stranger was quicker and stepped on it as she tried to pull it from the floor. Pain erupted in her body as the adrenaline left her and weakness hit her like a truck. She collapsed backward as her world spun and started to darken. She tried to keep the darkness at bay, but it consumed her.

(Y/N) started to come around as something cool touched her brow. When she opened her eyes she could see someone with their back turned toward her. One small lantern sat in the corner set on the dimmest setting. She had to get out of here not knowing what this person had planned for her, but when she went to move her strength was almost non-existent and let out a groan. The stranger whipped around and quickly shone a bright light into each eye.

(Y/N) tried to focus her eyes as the figure started talking in a language that sounded familiar, but quickly switched to English. Then a name hit her as her vision cleared some more and she could see the blue eyes and sniper hood. “ König?”, she rasped. “Easy Mause you need to rest”, he told her. “How… how did you find me?”, she coughed. “Your new friends asked me to come fetch you, but you are not fit for travel, and I don’t want to risk you dying on the trip to the extraction zone”, he relayed. 

“We should move now” she told him. “No Mause you have had a high grade fever and you need to rest. Not to mention you have stopped breathing on me twice already to the point of needing resuscitation”, he argued. “I feel… fine”, she said, sitting up with a harsh wince. “No Mause I thi…”, König didn’t get to finish as she got up and walked out of the tent. He quickly followed as she walked towards the truck he had hidden under a desert camo tarp. 

He watched as she got half way and swayed on her feet then down to her knees. He raced forward sliding to her as her upper body fell sideways. He cradled her against him as he looked her over. She was a ghostly pale color and shaking even though she was sweating. He quickly hauled her up and took her back into the tent where he checked the wound. He changed the bandages and made sure the wound was clean. 

When she woke again this time she was alone in the tent, but she could hear König moving around outside. He seemed frantic with his movements so (Y/N) pulled herself up and slowly got out of the tent. “What are you doing?”, she questioned. “I should have listened to your advice last night, Mause. They have some small patrols looking for you”, he relayed as he packed the gear into the truck. She swayed slightly as her strength started waning. 

König took notice right away quickly scooping her up and putting her in the passenger seat of the truck. “Stay here while I get the tent put away”, he ordered. She sat and watched the horizon when she noticed a cloud of dust. “König leave the tent there’s a patrol headed straight for us. He whipped up looking in the direction (Y/N) gestured to. He leapt into action running to the driver side while she started the engine. Flooring it caused the truck to lurch forward and (Y/N) groaned.

She watched as König radioed in for extraction and that there were enemies gaining. Confirmation came over the radio back to him as a Pave Low appeared on the horizon. Gunfire whizzed past their heads, but König pressed on. Sliding to a stop he pulled his gun out of the truck returning fire as he yelled at (Y/N) to head for the heli. She was almost there when she heard the grunt and impact of a body falling behind her. 

When she turned König was on his back still firing back as he yelled again for her to go. “I’m not leaving you behind damnit!”, she yelled above the heli. She grabbed him and dragged him as pain lit up in her side. She was sweating from the pain as he continued returning fire. She heard the ramp lower and gunfire coming from the ramp. She could feel the blood starting to ooze from the torn stitches. Tunnel vision had started and she could feel her strength fading, but she was so close. She couldn’t do it. She screamed in frustration and pain as she felt the impact of the ground. 

Somewhere she could hear a familiar voice as König was yelling at her to leave him. It all happened so fast she saw someone grab König as someone else provided cover fire. Then she felt weightless as her vision wavered. She lifted her head briefly and was met with another masked figure, but those eyes looked so familiar, but why she didn’t know. 

The weightlessness left as she was placed on some blankets, but she could still feel the cold metal under her from the heli. She could hear more yelling as she tried to get herself to sit up. She reached out trying to find something to help her when a hand held hers. She felt the heli lurch upwards and away as her vision and head swam trying to make sense of everything.

Then she heard a voice shouting and she knew that voice it was Soap, but he shouldn’t be here then she recognized Nikolai yelling back to him. She wanted to confirm that it was in fact Soap and Nikolai she heard, but she blacked out as she felt her shirt being lifted and heard the fabric being cut. Those deep brown eyes she saw earlier while being carried into the helo followed her into her darkness. 

Waking up was a complete bitch if (Y/N) was being honest the bright lights were killing her already pounding head. She took in her surroundings slowly noticing she was in a hospital bed and that there was a man in the hospital bed beside her. He was awake and looking at her with those blue eyes. “Hey Mause”, he whispered. Her eyes went wide as she realized König was maskless. 

He was handsome with black hair and those piercing blue eyes. “König your hood”, she gasped. “It’s okay Mause I trust you and your team”, he chuckled. She was about to say something else when she realized something on her other side moved. Her head whipped around to spot Ghost in the chair beside her bed. His shoulders were moving and holy shit was he laughing. “Simon”, she breathed in a whisper. 

“Hello love”, he said as he leaned in pulling up the bottom part of his mask. “Simon we have an audience and I haven’t brushed my teeth yet”, she mumbled. “It’s alright love”, he told her as he kissed her hard and rough. This went on for a few minutes until (Y/N) remembered König was trapped in here with them. Ghost went in for another kiss as his hand traveled down her side skipping over her wound. “Ghost! König is here”, she hissed. 

“It’s fine love, besides I think he is enjoying the show isn’t that right König?”, Ghost asked. When she looked, König was trying to readjust himself discreetly. “Maybe I should let him join us so we can share you when you're healed hmmm”, Ghost hummed. (Y/N) whimpered, causing Ghost to smirk as he looked at König. “What do you think, König, should I let you share her with me once she is healed to thank you for saving her?”, Ghost questioned. (Y/N) looked over at him with a smirk as he responded, “Once you’re healed Mause then you're ours' '. 

The nurses came in to check on both patients while Ghost watched from his chair. He had his woman back and the discussion that he and König had while she was still asleep was coming to fruition. He had known that König was attracted to her when they had worked together before, and (Y/N) had always made mention that she would trust him if they brought another person into the fold. He watched over (Y/N) and König as they both drifted in and out of sleep. 

—--------------------------

That's it, I hope you all liked the little twist at the end and maybe I’ll make a part 2 of this with the three of them. Until next time, I hope you all have a lovely day!

[daisygirlwrites]

TF 141 comforting you after a heartbreak (drabble + headcanons)

note: continuation of this fic but can be read on its own. No use of (Y/N)

pairings: Task Force 141 x fem!Reader (Platonic), König x fem!Reader

a/n: hey hey, i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you all enjoy reading this! thanks for your support <3

taglist: @bobfloydsgf , @warenai , @devilsfoodcake22 , @imalovernotahater , @cutiecusp , @allen-444

They watched you with sad eyes. Even with your hood on and mask pulled up, they could see through you. For months, they knew about your relationship with König and honestly, they should have said something to you. But they would be lying if they said they didn’t go through the same thing at some point. This wasn’t a punishment or a lesson to you; it’s not selfish for wanting something happy and normal in the kind of life that they live. 

The task force came out on the tarmac to say their goodbyes to the KorTac team. Thankfully but painfully for you, it was short and sweet. You weren’t sure how long you could hold yourself together. König was the last one in line and the only one that you pulled down your mask for. Both of you gave each other a smile before going into a hug. At that point, you didn’t care and you held onto him tight. His hands quickly find themselves on the small of your back and your waist. König closes his eyes, taking in your scent. But after a few seconds, you had to let go. 

“Ich liebe dich,” he said quietly as he pulled away. 

“Ich liebe dich auch,” you whisper back. 

The team watched the plane start up. And as it rises, they begin to walk towards the buildings but you remain in the same position. As the aircraft got smaller as it went farther away, you felt your heart sink, the stabbing pain feeling too much to ignore. You finally broke. 

Before he entered the building, Soap looked over his shoulder. He only sees your back but he watches your shoulders tremble. Without a second thought, he starts walking back towards you. However, it was Ghost that pulled him back. 

“Let’s give her some time,” he says. The team takes one last glance at you before heading inside.

Price:

The first person that talks to you about it after a few days. You get called into his office, thinking not much of it. You greeted him with a small smile but he sees how exhausted you are. Price thinks carefully of his next words, not wanting to make you more upset or uncomfortable. 

You don’t make eye contact with him at first, knowing that seeing his worried expression would make you break down. But eventually, you do tell him. You kept it vague, not wanting to take the risk. However, when Price tells you a story of his younger days on the field, you finally spill the whole thing.

It was painful to recount memories, causing you to start crying. 

He gives the best hugs. And he holds you tight, letting you sob on him. He gently pats your back, muttering, “It’ll be okay, love.”

Once you’ve calmed down, he’d either get you some water or tea. 

“Am I in trouble?” You ask him in between sniffles.  “No, love. I won’t report on this,” he informs you. “If you get punished, I should have been punished years ago.”

He continues to give you advice, talking about his past and the lessons he’s learned about relationships.

“Sometimes things work out and sometimes it doesn’t, that's just life.”

Price gives you one more hug, quietly telling you that he’s always there for you.

Gaz:

It was a few days after your talk with Price, you only came out of your room every once in a while with the exceptions of missions and training. Oh, and picking up the guys when they went out to drink. 

It was like the first few months of you joining the team; you didn’t talk as much and even when you smile at the boys, they can see a hint of sadness in your eyes.

You hear a knock on the door one night and you open to see Gaz and a set of keys in his hand. “I was told to go on a supply run, wanna come with?” He asks you. 

Kyle knows you well enough that you wouldn’t say no to helping someone out, especially if it’s your team. He did feel a little bad though, it looked like you haven’t been sleeping well. But you went with him anyway.

As you double check the list, you almost missed Gaz walking through the ice cream aisle. Catching up with him, he turns around, holding your favorite flavor. 

You chuckled, “That’s not on the list.” “Come on, my treat?” “Now how can I say no to that?”

Gaz convinced you into a movie night, letting you pick. But neither of you were really paying attention, opting for a conversation instead

“Was it really that obvious?” You ask him “Honestly, yeah,” he looks back at you, “Both of you are surprisingly easy to read but what really confirmed it for us is when you two stayed back here the other night”  Gaz takes another spoonful of his ice cream before speaking again, “Hard to hide love, I guess.”

You kind of feel lighter. The not so secret is out and you can properly talk about it without the risk of getting in trouble. Gaz would ask questions and you'd answer. It was a relief

You couldn't help but tear up, recounting your memories with König, but Gaz was there to support you. Giving you the tissue box and seeing if you want to continue talking. He'd offer you advice but most importantly, he's the shoulder you can lean on.

Soap:

First and foremost, he gives you a great bear hug, the kind that slightly lifts you up from the ground

Like Gaz, he’d get you something sweet. Probably your favorite kind of chocolate or pastries. That’s how he helped his sisters through their breakups

Technically, what you’re going through isn’t really a breakup but Johnny knows heartbreak when he sees one

Like everyone else on the team, he lets you talk. He’s happy that you’re letting him in though hearing your voice crack a few times hurts him just a tiny bit. 

By the end of you venting, again, you were nearly in tears but you were trying to hold it together. 

Soap sees this, he knows enough that by letting go, you’ll feel better. So, he encourages you to cry. 

“I’m tired of crying and honestly, I look ugly doing it,” you huffed, hands coming up to cover your face. “Oh pish posh! Everyone looks ugly when they cry!” Johnny exclaims. “Plus, it’s better to let things out than in, like a fart.”

You look up at him, giving him a bewildered look as he smiles like an idiot. It was silent for a moment, but it was broken with your sudden laughter.

He hated seeing how miserable you were and the fact that he made you smile, hell, laugh out loud, it was like a weight being lifted from his shoulders.

You didn’t cry that night and you saw it as a good thing. Before he leaves, you thank him.

“Nothing heals better than time and laughing,” Johnny tells you and he gives you one more hug

Ghost:

After hearing the rest of the guys helping you and giving you support, he doesn’t see the need for him to come up to you. Like, what else can he say or do that the others already have?

Dude just gave you a pat on the head and walked away, leaving you a bit confused

But in all honesty, Ghost feels guilty. He clearly remembers that night, encouraging you to go after the Austrian. He thought you two were just going to hook up (hell, he even bet 50 pounds on it) but he didn’t expect for you guys to develop a relationship

Your mood doesn’t affect missions. Though, he hated how you were quiet again outside of the field. It was like a reminder of how he treated you during your first few months when you joined the team and now, in a way, it was his fault again. 

Neither of you bring it up during training or when you go out with the boys. Seeing how long it took for you to turn back to “normal”, if he said something about it, your progress would be ruined

But even when you feel like you’re getting better, there are just some days that are difficult

The team had a day off and Ghost wanted to throw knives, knowing that activity helped you guys have a proper conversation. Yet, he can’t find you in your normal spots

After asking around, he makes his way up to the rooftop. You had your hoodie on and a cigarette between your fingers. You mentioned to him that you quit smoking back in college but you had one every once in a while to relieve stress. This is the first that he’s seen

Forgetting about the plans for knife throwing, he joins you instead. It was a comfortable silence between you two and honestly, you preferred it that way. 

Eventually, he spoke up:

“I’m sorry,” he starts. You glanced at him from the side, giving him a puzzled look, “What for?” “Pushing you to him.”  You chuckled, “You’re very silly to say that.” It was his turn to look at you, staying quiet, waiting for you to explain. “You opened the door, I walked through it.” You turn around, back leaning against the railing. “It was my choice and I’m dealing the consequences,” you continued on “Still, should have stopped you,” he responded “Why didn’t you?” “Because you looked happy.”

[thewulf]

Hey love this might be a dark request. But one I've been needing however feel free to not write this or write it in a happier version for yourself. Who this fic is with I'm torn between John price, gaz, or aragon lmao. But let's get to it. Recently I was SA. Now I wasn't R@ped. But I was peer pressured/manipulated and intoxicated to verbally consenting to things I didn't want to do. I'm not asking for it to be relived but rather comfort. Everyone always talks about feeling disgusted but I want comfort for the guilt and second thoughts. "maybe it was my fault" "maybe I'm being sensitive" "it's my fault". How I came to terms of it being sexual assault was due to my mother and best friend telling me it was after I came to them about it. I just need comfort you know? Despite my family knowing, like most my issues a lot of things are brushed aside and I feel invalidated, which causes me to seek validation getting me into such problems. So I just need a hug and confirmation that I have someone. Even if fictional.

Have a lovely month hun, you deserve good things❤️🤗

Aww love I'm so sorry that happened to you :( people can be so cruel... but I can certainly write something comforting/sweet for you.

This one is giving big John Price energy. Idk he always seems like such a big teddy bear for the right person. Here's what I'm thinking - feel free to message me if you don't like the direction!

Captain Price has always had a soft spot for you (I'm thinking reader is 25-30 while Price is 35-38). You'd joined TF 141 a few years prior as their tech specialist (kinda like Penny from criminal minds!). You went on missions with them but didn't always go into the field. There so happened to be a mission you weren't required to go on so the guys packed up and shipped out. When they got back Price noticed something off with you immediately. Shying away from him and his usual touches you loved so much. Kinda keeping your head down when he/the guys are speaking. Not speaking up or bantering them as usual.

After a week of your odd behavior he finally decides he needs to talk to you. He catches you after a training session and the comfort insues. Kinda feel like reader has to breakdown and he builds her back up kinda thing. Hella heavy but supppper comforting/sweet at the same time.

Thank you for trusting me with your request! <3

[skelnexswriting]

Flowers

➪ | Pairing: | Ghost x reader

➪ | Warnings: | Fluff, 3rd person POV, “Y/n” used, shorter story, fluff ghost :]

➪ | Summary: | Words weren’t Simon riley’s thing. But maybe sending flowers was.

➪ | A/n: | I got sick and wasn’t feeling well so i wasn’t able to post :[ But now im better so hope you enjoy this short little story! (There might be a pt. 2 idk)

Part two

—

Flowers..They were many types, many with different meanings,

Everyone has dreamt of getting flowers from that certain someone. Even soldiers like Y/n.

She may have not wished it constantly but she always hoped that one day, the person she loved would get her a beautiful bouquet. One with a deep meaning behind it.

When Y/n enlisted, she had little hope that she’d find someone since she’d be across the world most of the time..

But that changed when she was recruited as task force 141’s medic.

She didn’t mean to fall for the mysterious solider who wore the skull mask. It just happened. Although, Simon riley wasn’t a man of many words.

He was known for many things, but word? no. The few words he said came off as monotone or harsh. Many times he meant it that way, but not all the time.

When y/n first joined she thought ghost just simply disliked her, but later she learned the solider wasn’t good with his words.

Ghost actually liked the medic..he just didn’t know how to express it.

He remembered her once talking about how she loved flowers. Not just because of their beauty but their meanings.

Ghost found himself looking up what the different type of flowers meant, trying to find the perfect ones. Making sure to note which ones he liked.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to woo the medic with words but he could try flowers.

First he got hydrangeas for gratitude. He put them on y/n’s desk to find with a simple note saying “thank you”

He didn’t sign or anything so that she wouldn’t know it was him. He watched as you smiled at the flowers and placed them in some water.

…

Next he got Y/n violet, representing his loyalty to her. Again he placed them on her desk, leaving a simple note with bouquet.

Y/n took care of the flowers, the hydrangea lasted quite a while. Y/n’s heart fluttered at the thought of someone leaving them. She’d just have to hope it was the person she longed for.

…

Sunflowers were next. Representing adoration. This time Ghost decided to leave them at Y/n’s door. Like the last two times, a simple unsigned note accompanied the flowers.

Y/n kept the notes, simply tucking them away in her drawer. She tried to piece them together seeing if it sounded like anyone she knew.

But she still had yet to figure out the mystery “florist”.

…

Then it was Zinnia. He’d read it meant respect, honor. Ghost had a lot of respect for y/n. She’d patch up the task force in the middle of a battle field without hesitation.

The flowers were again placed at her door, with a note.

…

This little “game” had been going on for quite a while. Ghost was surprised to see y/n hadn’t caught on to it being him.

He thought the lack of words would give it away. He wanted to confess with this next flower. But he didn’t want a simple rose..no that was too simple.

He needed one that was unique but still represented the deep feelings he had for y/n.

Asters.

They were perfect. Aster represented undying love. That exactly what Ghost felt after a year of having y/n by his side.

One thing would be different though. He’d sign the note he left, then y/n would finally know.

…

Ghost placed the flowers on Y/n’s night stand. The notes read, “These flowers can only express a portion of the love I have for you. - Simon Riley.

It was only a matter of time before you saw the note. Ghost couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous. He’d never done something like this.

He decided to hide in his room, as if that would stop the outcome.

…

Y/n had finally finished writing her reports, so she went back to her room for some rest. She couldn’t help but feel a but sad when she didn’t see the usual flowers waiting at her door.

But to her surprise, they were waiting on her nightstand, with another note.

Her eyes moved along with words but stopped at the signed name.

“- Simon Riley.”

[captianprices40thson]

Can you make a story for October, a male reader x soap. Where before the reader joined the 141 he was in a different military unit and one evening he got captured by the enemy and was murdered by dismemberment but some mad scientist there put him back together using the dismembered pieces. He came back by being hit by lighting. So now he kind of looks like frankenstein. he doesn't have all the bolts or dead skin, but he has one sliver gray eye. the other one is a light yellow, and he also has stitches on his face and his body. When he was finally rescued and back with his team, some were afraid of him and some belittled him. So he wears full body gear now so no one can fully see him. After joining the 141 he gets hurt really really REALLY badly and a some of his stitches rip, he tries to brush it off like it's nothing but soap refuses to believe him, so he kinda forcefully pulls male readers gear off and sees him body for the first time.

I'LL LEAVE THE REACTIONS OF SOAP TO YOU. Also can you do the reactions of the 141 too. Like maybe there in the room too when soap takes the gear off...

If you're not comfy with the dismemberment, you can just have it implied.

Happy early halloween, if you celebrate it🎃🎃🎃💖💖💖🙃🙃🙃

They took the credit for your second symphony, rewritten by machine and new technology.

Pairing: John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Male Reader

Requested: Yes

Word count: 5.4k

Pronouns used: You/Yourself. Reader referred to as Y/N and male titles/compliments.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, blood, gore, dismemberment to the best best of my ability, fluff, angst, so much death on god, brutal deaths, stitches, skin ripping, bad language.

Notes: Finished this at 1 in the morning and posting it during Japanese class at school, going to go over and review it soon, but I want to get this out soon as possible. I loved this request and just saying, my inbox is open! If you’re not sure on what I do and don’t write, check my page!

“Y/N?” “Huh? “Y/N, were you even listening?” Your commander asked, a stern look on her face. You didn’t even realise how zoned out you had been, oblivious to the fact that the vast majority of your team had already prepped up.

“Oh…Sorry, Captain.” You apologised, standing up from your seat on the bench and making way to go put on your gear. Of course you were going to be a bit freaked and zoned out, this was a deadly mission. You knew your Captain was going to need everyone to be in tip top shape for this mission to go smoothly, if you slipped up and did something wrong…it would cost lives.

“Come on, Y/N. I need my best man out there today, not distracted Y/N, okay?” Your Captain told you, giving you a small pat on the shoulder. Valencia was a nice woman, even let you call her ‘Val’ on the odd occasion. She was a good person, believed in the good of the world more than one person should. She believed in you as well, she knew you could be great.

You nodded, placing your helmet on and giving her a thumbs up. The rest of the team were just waiting for you to finish up before they would leave, an indicator that this mission was already unorganised. A bad feeling, like a black hole, had appeared in your stomach.

“Alright men! Let’s do this. You all know the plan. I want Oak and Close going in from the left, Wilson and Stampler on the right. O’Niel and Bennets are on standby back here and C/N will be heading in from behind as our sniper. We have MedVac ready for those who will need it. Remember, we are going after Andrei Kowalski and his men. This is capture or kill. All clear?” Valencia cut you from your thoughts of dread by announcing the mission was about to start. You’d all get into your helicopter and make your way there…then would come the warfare and violence. You had become null to it by now, the screams and bloodshed were all but nothing to you.

It was liked you had blinked and you were on the field. Time meant nothing to you as you ran through the warzone, the occasional screams of your team members were able to be heard from miles away, sometimes the radio would cackle and you’d catch them conversing with one another, but you were alone in your field…

Always alone.

“C/N? Do you have eyes on him?” Your Captain’s voice called in from the radio, bringing you back to the mission on hand.Your eyes adjusted to look through the scope aimed at the building the team was meant to be invadinging. The lack of your team members indicated they seemed to be receiving a little more resistance than expected.

“Not yet, Captain. I see some of his guards, but not him. I’ll try and get into a better position.” You responded, getting up from your spot on the floor. Your suit was heavier and harder to move in considering it was a camo sniper version, but it was better than being spotted and murdered because an enemy saw you.

You adjusted yourself and lay down on the wet ground. The mud helped cover parts of your gear that didn’t fit in with the terrain, but you still had that odd feeling. That sense of unease that you just couldn’t seem to shake. You had gotten this feeling before on other missions, but it never led to anything.

And it was never this bad.

“C/N. They’re breaching the building now. Mission’s been changed, we’re taking out Andrei at whatever cost. We won’t be able to capture him.” Valencia’s thick English accent came over your radio, startling you a bit. You were a trained sniper, but somehow you were always caught off guard by the one thing you can always expect. You radioed back, confirming you got the message and were proceeding with the instructions.

Your voice drowned out the sound of the footsteps behind you. The cackle of the radio concealed the heavy breathing of the soldier lurking just a few steps away from you. You moved your arms to push yourself up, the rustle of your clothing covering the sound of his body standing over yours, his feet either side of your torso.

“Boo.”

You knew that voice, that unmistakable voice that always seemed to have a smirk behind it. A witty tone that had no business being there. The stench of the cigarette that always seemed to follow the man standing above you. You quickly turned your body around, abandoning the sniper rifle you were holding and just focusing on the fact that he was standing above you. Your eyes snapped up to look at him, your pupils dilating as you processed that it was in fact him standing above you.

Creeper. You had given him that name. When you served as rookies together when you first joined the force, it had become a habit for him to appear out of the blue and scare the hell out of you. He was Creeper to you even after he betrayed your team and you’re fairly certain that's what he is to everyone else as well.

“Alons-” You whispered, but he cut you off, his gun whipping around from his side and now inches away from your eyes. Your breath hitched, knowing you were done for. You looked away from the gun and back up to him, his cold dark brown eye meeting yours. The other eye was a pure white, you cringed every time you thought of the incident which caused him to be blinded. You knew he blamed you…

Maybe that's what drove him to betrayal.

“It’s Creeper, Y/N. I don’t go by that name anymore.” He hissed, his finger on the trigger twitching as he spoke. He was serious, he was going to shoot you and have no mercy about it. This was it…you were going to die here.

“I’m not going to kill you with this gun, Y/N…” He began, lowering the gun a bit. You let go of the breath you were holding from relief, but that was met with a slap to the face that was what he did next. He placed the gun back into his hold and then reached for his back. His arm was up like he was stretching, but his hand quickly grasped the axe he attached to his back and brought it down so he could hold it in both his hands.

“I won’t regret this…at all.” He spat, bringing the axe up to his shoulder like he was about to swing a bat. Your eyes went wide and before you could say anything else, he swung. He swung right down to your neck.

You had heard alot about death. You had many ideas about it. You had heard it would be painful, you had heard it would be painless. You had heard you stayed conscious, you had heard it was over instantly. No matter what divine entity you did or didn’t believe in, it didn’t matter, death wasn’t the same for everyone. If you could still create thoughts after you died, yours would be praying this isn't what it was like for everyone who did. You didn’t want every kind soul to feel the red hot poker being pressed against your skin that was your death. 

After the pain, there was silence. If you were able to think, you would be grateful for it. It would be comforting, calming to your soul to finally be at rest after an impossible amount of years without it. For once, your soul rested unbothered, ready to let go of the fraying rope that was your life.

Then you woke up.

The light was blinding, you would assume you were in heaven, but that would be entirely incorrect. Your ears rang with the most awful noise one could hear, an ear splitting ringing that would drive you insane if it was played for more than five minutes. What felt like a jolt of electricity slammed through your body like a hammer down on a nail. The blinding light disappeared as quick as a snap.

The first thing you noticed was the pain. It circled around all your main joints and connections between the body. Your wrists, knees, ankles, elbows, neck…everything ached. Then you felt the feeling of something pulling on all of your skin, like that time you received stitches in the webbing of your thumb, but everywhere else on your body that ached, along with across your face.

You tried to move your neck first, turn it and try to figure out where you were. The only thing you could see from your head being pointed directly up was a sort of dark blue hue that made the place seem depressing and creepy, like the only light was coming from the moon outside. You were able to move it, but it was stiff and harder than it would usually be. That was your first sign that something was off.

Your head looked down to inspect where you were, taking in the fact you were laying down on a cold metal table. You weren’t restrained or anything, but you were getting major creepy vibes. It felt cool on your back, it was clear that you probably hadn’t been laying there all that long, or the heat from your body would’ve warmed it up. Then you looked down at your hands as you tried to move them.

The stitches and ever so slightly discoloured skin was your second sign that something was off.

You sat up, your body rigid and hard like a doll being used for the first time. You weren’t in your normal clothes, just a simple robe that you’d wear in a hospital if surgery was performed on you, and by the looks of it, it had. 

You were able to move your arm up and inspect it, cringing at the stitches and blood. Several questions ran through your mind, the main one being ‘How the hell am I alive?’ and the second being ‘What the hell happened to me?’ Everything hurts, especially your neck. Your bones felt like they had been removed and remoulded, it all felt too weird to you. Your skin didn’t feel like your own.

A cold and icy voice broke you out of your mesmerised trance of inspecting your body. It came from seemingly nowhere. It sounded…delighted. Your eyes flickered over to the shadows in the corner, one of them was moving towards you. 

It was a man, probably around 6 feet with a stupid grin on his face. His skin was pale, paler than the moonlight shining in through the window above. He slowly walked over to you, hands behind his back like a villain.

“Finally…finally it fucking worked!” He grinned, shaking his head like he had seen something he couldn’t believe. You couldn’t blame him, what was happening was unbelievable. You quickly slid off the table, groaning as you moved for the first time in what would feel like to your body.

“What…the fuck did you do? W-What is this? What happened?!” You called out, your voice cracking as it was used for the first time in ages. You coughed, trying to make it not as itchy. It wasn’t working.

“Y/N…You’re still as animated as ever.” He grinned, gesturing to you and your stitched up body. You wanted to strangle him, clearly he had done something awful to you that you were going to get him to explain, regardless of whatever threats you had to make.

“Answer me right now you…you madman.” You hissed, walking towards him. Every step hurt, like it wasn’t meant to be taken. He smiled, taking a breath before speaking again.

“Y/N…Let me explain. Do you remember the night you went on the mission to kill my good friend Andrei Kowalski…do you remember being killed by your old friend Creeper? You should…you should remember being decapitated. Well…I was given your body…or what was left of it after Creeper chopped it up into a million pieces. Under strict orders from Andrei…to bring you back. So…I stitched you back up. Like you were my very own Frankenstien’s monster. The plan was to bring you back to life the same way Frankenstien had…and it worked.” The man smiled, seemingly okay with telling you his entire plan. You couldn’t decide whether he was stupid or just overly confident in himself that you wouldn’t escape and go find your team. “What now?” You asked, feeling the need to get into his head. After all, this man had literally just reanimated your dead body. He brought back a dead man and just stood there like an evil little Einstein.

“Now…I will bring you to him. So he can kill you over and over again…and you’ll come back every time.” He grinned and before you could react, he grabbed your hand and attempted to pull you closer to him in order to trap you. What he obviously didn’t anticipate was that your years of military training and work would stay with you and chime in when you needed it most.

You grabbed his arm, pulling him towards you and then placing your leg behind his so you could throw his balance off and keep him on the ground. You slammed him down and placed your foot on his chest, grabbing a metal rod just a few inches away from you and raising it high, just how Creeper had done.

“Y/N. Y/N WA-” He called out, extending a hand out to try and reason with you, but you brought it down on his head, instantly crushing his skull. You slammed it down over and over, making sure that if anyone even tried to bring this monster back from the dead, it would be impossible. You didn’t stop until you could see the brain sticking to the bat, that’s when you knew it was done.

You dropped the metal rod and stood there for a moment, huffing and puffing as you figured out what you had just done. You looked up from his body and to your horrible convenience, there was a mirror just in front of you. You stood in front of it, observing what you looked like.

There were clear and major differences that you could see so far. The first one being your eyes, they didn’t look the same as they had done before. One of them, the one on the left was a light yellow and the right one was a silver grey. It was creepy and inhuman, there was no pupil or iris either…just pure colour. You would question how you could still see, but you were too distracted by everything else and too high off of fear to question anything.

Your skin was neatly stitched together with a white thread, standing out against your skin tone. Most of the stitching wasn’t visible, but when it was it wasn’t too obvious, sort of the stitching you’d see on your friend’s hand when they’d get a deep cut or something. Just that, pulling your skin together. There was blood along most of the lines, the dried stuff was yours, the fresh belonged to Mr Crazy that you had never gotten the name of.

“Y/N?” A voice called out. Your eyes snapped over to the door in the corner or the room, the door was open. Standing in it, Valencia and the rest of your team. Valencia herself looked horrified as you stood over his dead body, his blood now mixing in with yours. The darkness in the lab made it look like you were a shadow, a ghost…a monster.

“Val-” You began, but were cut off by her running up to you and giving you a hug. You were caught off guard, she had never shown any affection to you, let alone physical. This was unlike her in so many ways.

“You idiot. We thought you died. We tracked your radio here but-” She spoke, cutting herself off as she made eye contact with you, or tried to. Your silver and yellow eyes had confused her, then she saw all the stitches. The one across your face concerned her the most.

“Y/N…what the hell happened to you?” She whispered, stepping back and raising her gun slightly. As the rest of the team looked over to you, they did the same. Placing their weapons in a hand that they’d be able to use in case you attacked them. You couldn’t explain yourself, you really couldn’t. Hell, even if you didn’t fully know what had happened to you, there was no way you could explain yourself.

“Captain…don’t…I-I’m not a threat.”  You whispered, stepping forward and raising your hand. To your surprise, she took a further step back, some of the men even raised their shields. She clutched her gun, raising it further to her chest. That's when you realised, you were not a human to these people you called your friends…

You were a monster.

______________________

“Why’d you join the 141?” 

“Huh?”

“Why’d you join us? You were a part of The Seekers, no? They’re a pretty elite team. Why’d you drop them for us?” Soap asked, shuffling a bit closer to you as you sat on the bench. It had been little over five months since you had joined the team and the connection between you and Soap had formed instantly. Unsurprisingly, the team members didn’t mind the fact your entire body was covered up. They had Ghost on the team, they weren’t going to judge you.

“Oh I…a mission went wrong. I didn’t feel like I could stay with them and neither did they.” You replied after a moment of thinking. For a minute, you had wanted to refrain from telling Soap the actual reason for it. Technically, it was the truth so that was going to lend a hand to your moral argument.

“Was it the same mission that…caused you to cover up?” He asked again. You thought about hitting him with the ‘that's enough’ that you had used before when he asked to see your face a while back, but you were close now. You felt he had a right to know now.

You gave a small nod, the glasses you wore over your balaclava covering your expression. You were glad he was respectful with his questions, never pushing you to answer anything you didn’t and never stepping over the line you had drawn. You didn’t want to get attached to this team as quickly as you had, but Mr MacTavish had broken down your walls quicker than you could put them up.

“C/N, Soap. We’re going to head out now, Gaz just got back with the all clear. Good to see you’re both in gear.” Ghost interrupted you two as he walked into the gear room. You were reminded that you were in fact, in the military and not some hangout session with Soap. You nodded, getting up and holding out your hand to pull the slightly shorter man up.

“Oooh, thank you M’lord.” He smiled as he took your hand, pulling himself up. You would roll your eyes if you could, so you just let out a small scoff. He chuckled as he walked with you to the deployment area, knowing they were in for a hell of a journey.

_____

“Y/N? You okay?” Soap’s voice cackled in over the radio as you made your way through the little abandoned city. The rest of the team were over in another section, leaving Soap and Gaz back at a small protected setup area. You were just so lucky to have Soap watching over you from the cameras that had been placed in all the buildings before it was abandoned. How your team had access to them, you had no clue. All you knew was that your man was here and you were to take him down.

“All good over here, Soap. Tell me if you see one of those fuckers hiding behind a corner.” You spoke back, pressing down on the radio with your gloved hand to respond to the man you were developing a small attraction to, whether you knew it or not.

“There’s a guy around the corner, knife him.” Soap informed you, shuffling from where he was laying in the safe room. You nodded, taking his advice and running round the corner, throwing and pinning the man to the wall, knifing the guy in the throat. You could practically hear the smirk in his tone when he came back.

“Nice kill. You should do that to me sometime.” He smirked, his Scottish accent only adding to his sassiness. You groaned at his painful attempt at flirting, firing back at him.

“You want me to kill you? Don’t worry, I'm already planning it.” You smiled, making your way through the destruction that was the ruined town of Norest.

“Do you have plans to kill every one of us?”

“Nope, just you.”

“I’m flattered. How’d ye do it?”

“If I tell you, I’d have to change my plan.”

“Fair play.” Soap smiled, checking the cameras to watch you move. He was so intrigued by you. He had never seen your face, never bothered to check your file. He respected you too much…along with the fact Gaz had caught him snooping around in the file area. But the respect came first.

Sometimes, he’d gaze at you and just wonder what it would be like to see what was under your gear. He wanted to see you, the real you. His sketchbooks were filled with a thousand pictures of what he imagined you looked like, each picture different from the last. Did you have bright blue eyes, ivory skin and wavy ginger hair, or did you have beautiful dark brown eyes, mahogany skin and medium length locs? Perhaps you had acne, perhaps you had a scar going across your left eyebrow. He didn’t have a clue what you looked like, but he knew you were handsome.

“MacTavish? Are you still with me?” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, not even realising he was kicking his feet like a schoolgirl (Gaz was utterly bewildered, but was unable to comment because he was actually doing his job and guiding his other teammates across the town in search of the man they had to find.) “Aye, I’m ‘ere.” “Good, thought I’d lost you. I need you to check around me. Pretty sure I heard our guy but I wanna make sure.” You told him, making sure to keep quiet. Your stitches were getting a bit itchy, but you could scratch them later when you were by yourself. It wouldn’t look natural for Soap to just see you scratch the middle of your face in a specific pattern and for him to not question it.

“Right, gimme a sec.”

There was a silence, what felt like an eternity of waiting before you got a response from the scott. It was like he was purposefully keeping you on your toes, wanting to see you squirm and hide for no apparent reason other than he was a chaotic man.

“Yeah, he’s there. I’ve informed Gaz and he’ll direct Ghost and Price over to you. He’s a few metres away, you could sneak up on him and take him down from behind.” Soap spoke, clearly moving as he did. He would be looking over at Gaz and getting his readings on Price and Ghost as he explained the situation to you.

You gave a nod, knowing he could see you. Peering round the corner, Soap wasn’t lying. The dark slicked back hair, tall physique and tanned skin let you know this was your guy. You slipped your hand into your 

You ran up to the taller man, placing your gun to the back of his neck and kicking his knee so that he’d fall and you’d be able to kill him nice and swift with no hassle or fuss whatsoever. Unfortunately, the man had different plans.

He quickly turned around, grabbing your gun and throwing it to the side. You were unable to press down on the back of his knees, because he had turned around and was now facing you. You reached for your knife, but were stopped when you felt his foot on your chest. It took a second to register what was happening, but by the time it did you were shoved into an already cracked wall.

You took a moment, knowing you didn’t have one. You had most likely gotten a concussion from the hit, but you couldn’t focus on that now. Just as you were about to grab your gun which had been thrown aside, the man stopped you. He grabbed onto your mask, his nails digging in past the fabric and into the stitched skin below, and shoved your head down to the floor once more. 

The screams of Soap came in through your radio, assorted word vomic that you couldn’t actually make out with everything spinning and your ears ringing. You’d hope he’d come to you and save you, but as soon as your mind stopped spinning, you realised you didn’t actually want him to save you. There was blood dripping and staining your mask. Your blood. It was an unnatural amount for something that shouldn’t have even drawn more than a drop of the red liquid, which could only mean one thing.

Your stitches ripped.

It seemed that your enemy had also been caught off by the amount of blood, giving you just a few seconds to grab the gun, aim it at his face and completely miss, hitting his shoulder instead. He grabbed it in pain and immediately resorted to grabbing out his own knife and stabbing it right into your stomach, ripping it through the skin and dragging a line down it. You cried in pain as your flesh was exposed and your stitches ripped, causing even further damage. 

Why wasn’t he killing you? Why not put you out of your misery and shove that knife right into your face. Why make you suffer? There were so many questions and not enough time to answer them. Well, there was probably enough time, but that would require knowing what the actual fuck was going on.

“Y/N!” You breathed a sigh of relief as you heard the sound of your Captain running towards you, Ghost right behind. The unmistakable noise of a gunshot colliding with someone’s head put a smile on your face, watching as the man fell to the floor.

“Y/N, You alright?” Price asked, kneeling down beside you as you pushed yourself up against the wall. Your hand was on your chest, covering up any exposed skin or blood. You nodded, trying to pass it off as if you were just shaken up. You couldn’t let them see…you.

“Y/N! You idiot!” The familiar Scottish accent put a smile on your face, watching the Scottsman run towards you was a relieving sight at first…but then you remembered what happened.

“Y/N, you alright?”

“Don’t look.” “Y/N, what’s going on?”

“You won’t like what you see, just step away. All four of you.” “I have a right to know. Are you injured?”

“No-No just go.” “Y/N, Let me see-”

You would’ve liked to protest more, but you were losing too much blood to fight him. Soap had pulled your hands back, moving your shirt so he could see the heavy amount of blood loss. He looked up at your glasses, noticing the blood on your mask. He knew what he had to do, even if he didn’t like it. 

When he removed your mask, your glasses came down with it. Gravity had decided to fuck you over more than you had already been fucked. There was a silence as the whole team looked over at you, the ripped stitching across your face…and your eyes. They were, if anything, the biggest indicator that something was different with you.

“S-Soap…” You began, but you couldn’t figure out how to finish what you were saying. You just wanted him to say something, say anything. Instead, he was just staring. You had no idea what he was thinking about, but you just knew he was horrified with you, along with the rest of the 141. 

“Oh…oh Y/N…What…what the hell happened to you?” He whispered and to your surprise, he placed a hand on your bloodied cheek. He looked concerned…but he wasn’t scared of you like you’d expected. He got closer instead of backing away, that’s what made him different from your old team.

“Soap…I’m sorry for not telling you…or anyone else about…” You trailed off, using an arm to gesture to yourself. You had no idea what he was thinking about, you could only hope it was something good about you. He was clearly about to say something when Price butted in first.

“You two, we should go. We can all have a…chat after Y/N isn’t bleeding out infront of us.” Price’s rough British accent made him seem more serious in all situations he’s in. This one especially. Soap gave a nod and turned back to you, his eyes not full of fear or hatred…just sympathy.

_______ “Do you think I’m a freak, though?” You asked as Soap walked around your hospital bed. It had been a few days ever since the incident had happened. Soap kept a close eye on you and reported back on your condition to the rest of the team. When you had woken up, the questions were slow and boring…but now you were finally opening your walls and so was he.

“No…I don’t think you are. I mean-I’ve got no idea what exactly you are, but you’re not a freak. Just…different.” He responded, careful to not say anything that might upset you. You took note of this, feeling a bit hurt that he was censoring himself, but knowing why he was doing it helped a bit.

“You don’t have to filter yourself, John. Tell me…any questions that you have.” You practically begged him. The whole reason you covered yourself up was not to be seen as different, but now that it was useless, it was useless for Soap to cover his questions up. It took a while for him to gather up the courage to ask you something, but he did.

“What…what happened to you? I’m assuming you weren’t born like this.” He questioned, trying to add a little humour to the end of the message but failing miserably. You took a breath and told him everything. The mission, what death felt like, killing the man who brought you back to life, not belonging to your team anymore because of what had happened. By the end, you were sure Soap was tearing up. He was an emotional man, you couldn’t blame him.

“I…I’m gonna be honest, Y/N…that’s really fucking depressing.” He expressed, placing a hand on his mouth. You stared at him for a moment, his eyes staring back into yours. He was fascinated by you, what you looked like. He was sure he had a sketch in his book that looked exactly like you…minus the stitching and the eyes.

“The rest of the team…what do they think?” You asked, closing your eyes and looking up. You needed to know the reactions of everyone in the team, you couldn’t live with yourself not knowing their actual opinions on who and what you were.

“Ghost and Gaz are…surprisingly alright with it. Price was a bit shocked, he was only shown a photo of you before…all that happened. But mainly..they don’t mind. When you come back to active duty…I don’t think you’d need to cover up as much anymore. You still can, if you want. Not gonna force you.” Soap told you, sitting down next to your bed. You were grateful for him in times like these, where he reminded you that you were no longer alone. He was always there for you…you loved him for that.

You loved that he was kind to you.

You loved that Soap was so understanding and patient.

You loved…

You loved Soap.

“I will say though,” his words cut you out of your sudden very gay realisation, turning to face him as he sat next to your bed. “You are way more attractive than anything I could even imagine sketching up.” (Happy Halloween!)

[crystlizabeth]

What happens in Mexico stays in Mexico‧₊˚.

Johnny ‘Soap’ McTavish x Garrick!blkfem!reader

Summery: After getting the HQ back LV and 141 decide to go out and party and get some drinks little dose Johnny know the girl he’s been eyeing all night is Gaz little sister. Oops!

Warnings: flirting, making out, suggestive, drinking, me trying to write a Brit accent! Not proofread!

Fuck she was fine that’s all Johnny could think as he kept watching you, across the bar with some friends. Simon and Rudy telling him just to go talk to you that worse could happen is you tell him off.

“No fuckin’ way look at her she’s gorgeous!” Soap laughed when Alejandro joined in.

“Common hermano, when was the last time you got laid?” Ruby asked.

Johnny choked a laugh it been a minute but that just because work got in the way “you all act like I get no pussy!”

The three boys laughed, “mon Johnny go talk to the gal, because she keeps looking over here.” Ghost said drinking on his whisky.

“No fucking way actually.” His head whipped twords you and you where.

She had been looking over her shoulder giving him a toothy grin, turning her back to him her friend’s giggling as they talked to her. Her back turned to him he got a good view of her back her back dimples pierced a nice tattoo sitting on her back right shoulder, she wore some short shorts low rise maybe couldn’t tell and he could see the pink swim bottoms she wore the ties hanging out the sides her braids covering her top but but it was a white tank with the matching pink top. Okay yeah but he needed to finish this because that malt liquor was gonna give him the confidence he needed.

“Ima do it.” Johnny said standing up.

Ale and Rudy cheered him on as Simon laughed at the Scott. He had finally gotten to her, she had turned in her seat and he lost his words fuck she is “Wow..”

She let out a laugh “yeah? Ya like what ya see whit boy?” She smiled at him.

She was not from here that for sure, English girl huh.

“Yeah— sorry! I could help but notice ya starin’ gorgeous.” He chuckled.

“Im Johnny!”

“(name)! Lovely meeting you Johnny.” She smiled giving her friend a look having her move as she offered the seat to him.

“Whatcha drinking?” He asked.

“Malibu Sunset..” she laughed lightly, he laughed lightly with her.

“Cant take your liquor?” He joked.

She let her hand come to her chest acting offended “please I’m a big girl just don’t like the taste of it.”

He nodded ordering him and her a drink, she was even better up close her dark skin looked so good in the Mexico sunset as the outside bar lights hit her skin aswell, her gold hoop nose ring sitting pretty on her nose.

“Where ya from Johnny?” She asked taking as drink.

“From St. Andrews but currently living in the outskirts of London, what about you?”

Turns out you were also from London, maybe this wouldn’t just be a one night thing..

The two continued flirting with one another, them finally close to one another their knees touching. She let her hands run down his arms looking at him through her eye lashes. “Hope ya don’t got a girlfriend Johnny—thinking I’m wanting wantin’ ya to myself.” She hummed her tongue licking her bottom lip.

That made the blood rush to his cock, “luckily for both of us I don’t.” He chuckled.

He could smell the alcohol in her breath, the coconut Malibu lingering on her tongue.. he wanted to taste her. He let his hand touch her thigh squeezing it lightly.

“I think you need a soda.” He said tilting his head.

“Not even.. I could do one more sunset..” her hand grabbed the collar of his t-shirt pulling him in close.

“Wanna go for a swim.” She spoke her hot breath hitting his ear.

They was a women he had only knows for 45 minutes had him wrapped around her finger so he got up with her, his eyes looking back at the three men who only laughed Rudy giving him a thumbs up.

Johnny pulled his shirt Ofer his head taking his shoes off putting his socks in them taking his wallet and putting it in his shoe aswell, lookin up he sw her in just her swimsuit no shorts or tank and “Steaming Jesus..”

“Don’t keep me waiting, they’ll watch your stuff.” She said pointing at her friend who sat on the pool side.

Her hand reached out to his the cold water causing goosebumps on his skin, she brought him him closer placing his hands on her hips. Pulling him in deeper her face was close to his the whole time soon he felt his back hit a wall. “You can sit here is it alright if I’m on your lap?” She asked her voice all innocent as her fingers trailed up his biceps.

He nodded feeling her legs lift up placing themselves on either side of him now she was in his lap, he left his hands travel a bit lower his thumb playing with the stringed bikini bottoms his fingers grazing the curve of her ass. The water moved around them the music and all the people in the bar being heard in the background.

“This a’right lass?” He spoke feeling her lips grazes his.

His liquor finally starting to make things feel slower. He felt her lips finally touch his kissing him, Johnny let his hands grip her ass pushing her closer to him as they made out in the pool. Neither of them caring about all the people around.

Soap knows is he could have her right now he would. She tasted sickly of Malibu, not that he hated the coconut rum but fuck it tasted good off her tongue. He could feel her nails digging into his neck as they made out her soft moans heard only to him. He wanted her bad, he started to feel himself get hard all it took was one pluse and he could feel her grin through the kiss.

“Whats got you all hot n bothered Johnny boy?” She teased placing herself right on his erection. This made him have to take a deep breath his eyes shutting harshly.

She let her hips move slowly on his cock as their lips continued to move in sync with one another.

“(Name)!” A male voice could be heard, johnnys only thought was fuck hope it’s not a boyfriend. Which is a bad thing to think but common.

She looked up and so did Johnny “Kyle?!” She yelled, her body not moving off Johnny.

“What the fuck are you doing in Mexico? Aren’t you supposed to be in your fall tri not making out with some ass!” He yelled.

Then his eyes fell on Johnny and the way price and Ghots stood behind him holding in there laughter “No fucking way. You’re actually fucking me right now Johnny.”

“You know him!” She interrupted before soap could answer.

“Yeah I Fouking work with him.” Kyle yelled.

“Wait how do ya know eachother.”

“That’s my Little sister Johnny!” Kyle said moving over twords them Kyle reaching down pulling her up off him.

“Get off me ya ass! I’m grown and I can do what I please what the fuck are ya doin in Mexico huh?” She asked covering her chest looking up at her older brother.

“Working lets go grap ya shit!” Kyle said.

“Fuck off kyle ya not the boss of meh.” She sassed grabbing her sorts and tank.

“Lets go.” He said grabbing her arm lightly, “I’ll deal with ya later and your stiffi.” Kyle glared at soap, Johnny looked between the two she had stupid grin on her face as her eyes made eye contact wit Johnny.

Kyle grabbed her she turned her body a bit putting her hand up to her ear like a phone mouthing ‘call me’ giving Johnny a cheeky grin as he got out the pool.

He looked over at the four still there “no fuckin way that just happened.” Johnny said absolutely speechless.

“Well hermano what happens in Mexico stays in Mexico let’s just hope your friend Gaz doesn’t kill you on Mexican soil.” Alejandro laughs slapping Johnnys back.

“Ya almost fucked Kyles sister, shit.. I hope to see ya in the morning.” Price said laughing a bit as Johnny starting putting on his clothes.

Ghost had stayed behind with him as the others walked out, when picking up his phone he saw a pice of paper under it. ‘Here’s my number! Hope to hear from ya!’ Is read with digits and her name and last. Opening his phone he was some pictures little selfies of her with her cleavage nice and out must had taken them when he went back to the guys real fast to grab his wallet. 

Yeah he’ll be calling her see you at thanksgiving Kyle

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

A/n: part 2? because this seems like it needs a part to maybe

[reds-skull]

Bringer of Demise - Chapter 6

[PREV PART] [AO3]

I was worried this chapter is gonna end up short as well, until the final day of writing, where I added like 1.1k words in one sitting lol.

I am so excited about the next chapter... When I say I've been waiting months to write it..... >:)

Anyway, this one is "The Abandoned"

… Farah has a brother? Didn’t she say-

“You-” Commander Karim wheezes, “I am not your sister, you are nothing but dirt, a lowlife dog-” she trembles as coughs cut her off.

The revenant doesn’t react like Soap expects. With a sad upturn of his brows, he says, “we will always be family, Farah. It doesn’t matter, that you hate me.”

Soap attempts to push off the floor with shaky arms, only to be stopped by a soldier cocking their rifle towards his head. The revenant, Farah’s brother, stops him. “Revenant of Destruction. Bullets don’t do much to kill you, do they?”

“Yer welcome teh try.” Soap snarls.

“I’ll take your word.” Farah’s brother walks away, crouching down beside her. When he reaches for her arm, Farah grabs his wrist, shoving it off with a growl. “Let me help you, sister.”

“I don’t need your fucking help, Hadir.” she spits, eyes wide and furious, “I had hope, before, that you would see reason, but taking our own brothers and sisters, experimenting on them for- for an American bastard, you’re beyond saving.”

Hadir sighs. “We both know this war can’t be fought with only our forces, anymore. Price’s taskforce is here for a reason, no?” he directs a look at Soap. “The American has his uses. And so do the revenants.”

Farah barks a mirthless laugh, “is that how you see our people? Nothing but a tool for your gain?” she bares her teeth, voice barely restrained, “you’re no better than Barkov.”

That seems to finally set him off. Hadir rears back, breath hitched, endless flow of gas ceasing for a moment. He inhales slowly, exhales slower. Soap notices a new shine in his green eyes.

“There is no other way to face what lays in our future, sister.”

Farah scoffs, “there is always-”

“There is none. You know me. You know it pains me to do this as much as it pains you to see it. I would never even contact the General if I had a choice.” Hadir looks away, his breath picking up, “it is this evil, or a monstrosity beyond our comprehension.”

He offers a hand to Farah, with gentleness that is soured by the noxious gas filling their lungs. “With you, and the revenants of the 141, we may have a chance. Join us-”

“No.” 

Hadir winces, “sister, please listen to me-”

“No. You will let us go, and you will not intercept the evacuation of the revenants.” Farah’s voice lowers, “and next time, it will be you we are coming after, so I suggest you and the American scum you call an ally keep away from my people.”

Hadir frowns. Retracting his hand, he nods. “For the last of our family, I will do that. I have a request of my own, however.”

“You’re in no positions to make requests.”

He ignores her, “let me talk to Alex. I know he’s here.”

Farah freezes. She looks back at Soap, and he shakes his head. Whatever the history between these three is, it goes far beyond this facility. Giving intel to Hadir would be unadvisable.

The Commander seems to disagree, and in a move that surprises both him and Hadir, unclasps her radio and hands it to him.

At Hadir’s confused expression, she huffs, “Keller knows where the line is, and when not to cross it. Nothing you say will convince him otherwise.��

“I know.” Hadir clicks the radio on, and Alex’s voice comes through, “-Reapers damn it, answer me! We got the hostages out, we’re waiting on you-!”

“Alex. Farah is safe, you have nothing to worry about.”

“... Hadir.”

“I am not going to take long, though it has been… a while since we talked.” Hadir motions his men away, the soldiers leaving through the door they first burst out of.

“I will not ask you to join our forces, I understand your loyalties are blinding you at the moment. I simply wish to warn you. Makarov has in his ranks revenants that see through your powers. Do not attempt to infiltrate any of his bases.”

“And how do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“You don’t. But I have no reason to lie to you, brother. We may not be on the same side anymore, but I don’t wish to see you die to him.” he lowers his gaze, “I don’t wish to see any of you die by his hand.”

Hadir gives the radio back to Farah before Alex can answer. They share one last look, and he leaves.

Commander Karim lowers her head, heaving for breath. Soap allows her a moment, before speaking.

“What are your orders, Commander?”

Karim gets up, slinging her rifle over her shoulder with weariness, “the hostages are out, mission accomplished. Time to exfil, Sergeant.”

Alex meets them first. Appearing out of thin air, he startles Soap so much that he almost loses the precarious balance he barely maintained throughout their walk out of the warehouse. Farah is no better off in that regard, but she’s more used to Keller’s abilities than him.

He catches Soap before he can fall, “need med evac?”

“No.” he groans, “jus’ air.”

Alex keeps an arm around him, helping him along, “You’ll feel better in a few, first time is the worst.”

“You’ve inhaled it too?”

“Had the honor to, yes. The Russians use the same type of gas. That’s how he died.” Keller mutters under his breath. Farah scowls.

Soap pauses for a moment when they come across a group of Al-Mudahiyn’s soldiers. The hostiles, however, ignore them. Hadir kept his word. They move past them, silently, and he hears them whisper Farah’s name.

They manage to get to the helo soon enough, and Soap lets Keller go and help Farah, who has been listing to the side for a while now. Doesn’t matter if you’ve inhaled it before, can’t build tolerance to that kind of gas.

Seeing Ghost, Gaz and Price again feels like the band around his chest finally loosens, allowing him to take deep breaths once more. They look concerned, to put it mildly, but not surprised. Keller must’ve radioed in.

“Mate…” Gaz starts, getting out of his sit to help Soap up, but he shakes his head. He can walk, most of his wounds are healed by now.

He drops next to Ghost, whose eyes haven’t left him, still as a statue.

“What happened, Sergeant?” Price starts, but Soap shakes his head again. He’s tired, his lungs burn, head both light and heavy.

He lets his head hit the back of the helo with a dull thunk, and closes his eyes. “Can’t. Not now, sir.” the ‘please’ is left unsaid, but the Captain can probably hear it all the same.

Blessedly, Price lets it go, and the helo takes off. Soap opens his eyes only to make sure Gaz is fine, finding him holding the straps around his chest tightly, with his stare burning a hole in the floor. If he had any energy to, Soap might’ve felt afraid as well. As it stands, though…

He tries to rest, tries to find comfort in the still figure next to him. Never drifting into sleep, instead staying in a sort of limbo. Not the one that he wants to be in, not one that makes him feel safe.

All he wants to do is forget this mission, the images seared and reignited in his mind. He doesn’t deserve to forget.

Remembering his sins is the only way to make sure they are never to be repeated.

Ghost doesn’t talk when he drags him to medical. Doesn’t react when Soap tells him he’s fine. Once the medic checks him over, confirming that there is nothing she can do for him, Ghost takes his shoulder and stirs him away.

After a few turns, Soap realizes he’s taking them to the barracks.

Gently, Ghost pushes him through a door, into a dark room, lined with two bunk beds. He flicks a light on, the bulb yellow and flickering, and moves to stand in front of Soap.

“... Ghost?” Soap asks, worry bubbling up the longer he stays silent. Ghost’s fingers wrap around the straps of his tacvest, working on unclasping them and taking equipment off. “Simon-” he tries again, and snaps his mouth shut when Ghost growls.

More roughly than before, Ghost takes the vest off, his hands not leaving his body, instead moving to the holes littering his shirt. It strikes Soap after a few moments, that he’s counting them.

Guilt wrapping tight around his heart, Soap understands Ghost is angry at him. He takes the hands roaming his torso in his own burning ones, making brown eyes look at his.

“Ah’m sorry, Simon.”

Finally, Ghost responds, spitting the words, “don’t you fucking dare apologize.”

Soap frowns, “then why are ye-”

“I’m mad that I couldn’t stop it. Mad that I followed orders, when I knew it risks you more than anything. Mad at that fucking doctor, Mad at-” Ghost’s hands clasp his tightly, “I- fuck, Johnny-”

Soap cuts him off, dragging him into an embrace, singeing the fabric of his shirt. Ghost lets out a shaky breath, before burying his head in his shoulder.

“I’m not easy to kill, mo chridhe.”

“That’s not why I’m- I know.” Ghost struggles to find the right words, sentences ending before Soap can really understand what’s making him feel like this, “I’m just- I can’t-”

“I’m fine. With you, with Gaz and Price, I’ve never been safer-”

Ghost snarls, pulling back and forcing Soap to face him, “that doesn’t mean bloody anything! What they did to you before-”

“Then what is it? Talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.”

With a flurry of movement, Simon rips the mask off his face, pressing his forehead to Soap’s so forcibly that it almost hurts. In a low voice, so weak and defeated, he whispers through bisected lips, “this is what you were used to, right?”

“This?”

“Pain. To be hurt and heal, only to be hurt again. I can’t- I can’t stand by and watch you get used to it again.” Simon chokes out, his thumbs caressing Soap’s cheeks.

He blinks up at him, “you’re worried about that?” such a small thing, his comfort, when the rest of the world’s fate is on the other side of the scale.

Simon’s lips turn downwards. “I don’t know what you were before the 141, but if it was anything like me, I never want to see you like that.” he leans down, pressing his lips to Soap’s hairline. “To be made less human, to lose yourself.”

Soap shudders, his thoughts going back to a headless body. Control is something he has to maintain at all times, an unnegotiable fact about his powers. To lose it would mean to destroy without distinction, to lose himself would mean to lose Simon.

And he can’t lose Simon. He can’t. He can’t.

The memory of a headless body beneath his hands flashes in his mind. He did lose control there, for a moment, of the raging monster lurking beneath his skin. A wildfire that stops for no one. A black hole, hunger unending, has no limits.

He can’t let it happen again. For Simon’s sake, for Gaz and Price, for everyone here.

“It won’t happen.” he grinds between bared teeth, Simon’s lips grazing his cheeks, “Ah won’t let it happen.” fire crackles in his hands.

Simon’s voice is low in his ears when he answers, “I know you won’t. Because I will not let it happen as well, love.”

‘I got you’, slips between the words.

And it scares him, how easy it is to believe that.

“If we want to get to Shepherd, we’ll need to get to Hadir.” Farah begins, arms crossed and shoulders tense, “to get to him, we go through Al-Mudahiyn. It won’t be as easy the second time - they know we’re coming, and they know the revenants in our ranks.”

“Then we just find a place where the element of surprise won’t matter.” Price grunts, the Commander nodding in agreement.

The Captain fiddles with the laptop in the middle of the table, “have you gotten any intel on his location, Laswell?”

Laswell types something on her keyboard, face lighting up for the first time in weeks. Soap feels a pang of empathy for her, when he remembers she has to work practically 24/7 while her wife is still in the hospital. He hopes the CIA gives her some vacation time after all of this is over…

“If we can’t surprise them, we overwhelm them.” she brings up a few maps on the screen, the group of soldiers having to huddle together to see them.

“Those are the borders between Al-Mudahiyn and Russian territories…” Farah mutters, “you want us to capture Hadir while he’s fighting Makarov’s forces.”

“Correct.” areas marked by red and yellow flash on, Laswell continuing, “with his men spread thin by Makarov, you’ll be able to take Hadir easily.”

Gaz clicks his tongue, “that’s bloody risky, though. What if Makarov is there?”

“Makarov himself can’t hurt you, Sergeant.” Laswell stares at Kyle, oddly confrontational. Price butts in before Gaz can say another word.

“The likelihood of him being there is low, especially when we got reports of him in Finland less than a day ago. Konni isn’t like the ULF or Al-Mudahiyn, their leader doesn’t fight unless he has a reason to.”

“We could be givin’ him one…” Soap says, deciding to back up Gaz. “Bastard can see the future.”

“Do you have a better idea, MacTavish?” Laswell replies with a sharp tone. Soap opens his mouth to shoot back when Price stops him.

“Let it go, lad. Kate’s right, even if it is risky, we don’t have any other leads.”

Soap sighs. Fine. They better get that fucker Shepherd soon, or he’ll start saying some things Price will really hate-

“Better keep ‘em for later then, hm?” Price echos in his mind.

He shoots the Captain a side-eye, before remembering Laswell is waiting for an answer.

“... No. What’s yer plan?”

As their mission is planned for the following week, the 141 finds themselves with a bit of free time. After the debrief, Ghost and him go to their barrack room. Apparently, Gaz is also staying with them, but he had to go “cool off” according to Price. Which could mean a million things, but if he needs to be alone, Soap isn’t going to bother him.

A hand pulled him back as he was going to climb to the top bunk. Wordlessly, Ghost nodded towards the bottom one. It would be absolutely cramped, the tiny cot barely fitting one of them.

Soap finds himself with a handful of Ghost, the big bastard curling around him like a content kitten.

He drifts off to dreamless sleep, mind empty in a way he can’t achieve by himself anymore. He hadn’t known such tranquility can exist before Simon held him for the first time. It’s maddening. It’s perfect.

It’s hard to tell the hour in the mountain base. Unless you look at a clock or go all the way out, the lights are always on, soldiers always ambling around in the halls.

Soap has found Gaz after waking up, floating just above the treeline, staring off into the horizon. If he wasn’t muttering out loud, he wouldn’t have noticed him.

Kyle had a talk with Price, as it turns out. Told the Captain that he has a bad feeling about Laswell’s plan, in a way he never had before. That something’s off with her. Well, more off than it already is.

Soap didn’t have much to say about it. He doesn’t know Laswell like the rest of them, their shared history mere months to the years the 141 worked with her. Not for the first time, he feels that speck of otherness. It comes up occasionally, when Gaz and Ghost share a private joke, or Price recounts a mission from the past.

He shakes it off fast, though. It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t been here that long, when it feels more like home than any other place on earth.

So he does the only thing he can do for Gaz - distract him by shooting the shit. Which turns out to be pranking people, by having Kyle hang from the ceiling and scare anyone unfortunate enough to pass by.

“Wait- Gaz wheesht! Someone’s coming!” Soap suppresses his giggles, pushing at his friend’s back.

Gaz floats back up, and Soap goes to his hiding spot behind a corner, a hand on his mouth. Two highly-trained soldiers, and they can’t even keep quiet for one minute.

Just as their next victim turns to the hallway, Gaz drops with a little “boo!”, before freezing.

Soap can practically feel the smile melting off his face when he sees who it is. Commander Karim raises an eyebrow at them, her eyes turning to look at him, and back at Kyle.

“I was wondering who was messing with my soldiers. I know you have nothing better to do, but they do, so I’d suggest you find a different hobby.” Farah says, the message clear.

“Aye, Commander. We didn’t mean to do any harm.” Soap says, elbowing Gaz when he keeps staring at her.

“Y-yes! Sorry, won’t do it again.” Kyle startles.

Farah gives them a half-smile, “no need to be so serious, Sergeant.” she tells Gaz, who looks away. “I was actually searching for you, Soap.”

He perks up, “Samara wishes to talk to you. About your Reaper, I assume.”

“Samara-? Oh.” right. She’s probably been here since the rescue mission. “Where is she?”

“Outside. Was cleared by medical just a few minutes ago.”

He nods, clapping Gaz on the shoulder, “come up with a new thing teh do by the time I’m back, aye?”

Gaz scoffs with a smile, “fuck off. ‘Least you won’t be bored out of your mind.”

He’d rather be that, if he’s honest.

Samara hears him before he can gather his thoughts, his footsteps loud as they crunch branches and leaves. She motions to the remaining space on the fallen log she’s sitting on, and Soap settles, his knee beginning to jump up and down almost instantly.

He doesn’t look up from the ground, even when he feels her stare boring at him. “I don’t believe we had a proper introduction, John.”

Soap winces at the name, “right.” he offers his hand, “John MacTavish, Sergeant at taskforce 141, SAS. Ye can call me Soap.”

“Samara Jalal. Former ULF fighter. They called me “Pathfinder”, but I intended to leave that name in the past,” Samara shakes his hand, uncaring for the flames licking her skin. Probably doesn’t even feel them…

Soap inhales deeply, his leg shaking faster, “Commander Karim said ye wanted to talk about our- your Reaper.”

“It is ours. At least… I believe it is.” Samara frowns, “Destruction told me about you and another person, a ‘Simon Riley’, before leaving, but I haven’t been able to find them.”

Hearing Ghost’s name being thrown around so casually feels wrong. “Simon is… most people don’t know him by that name. Ah can pass a message to him, if ye want.” he registers the second part of her sentence, “wait, what do ye mean by ‘leaving’?”

Samara sighs, a short laugh falling from her lips, “after… what you did, whatever it was… I haven’t been able to talk to Destruction. It told me… it told me our deal still stands, but that we have to be abandoned.” she narrows her eyes at him, “I asked it for your names, how many of us are still out there. Didn’t think I’d have a chance to meet you, but I was curious.”

“I…” Soap’s leg stops bouncing. Destruction abandoned them? What could it mean, for Samara?

How could it just… leave them?

“I’m sorry.” he says, and it feels like it means nothing.

“Don’t be. I don’t care. Destruction… it has a way to make you feel…”

“Out of control?”

She smiles, “you got it. It probably goes for all Reapers, but Destruction’s gifts feel like a double-edged sword.” her expression becomes somber, “the things I survived… there are times I felt like I shouldn’t have.”

“... Feels like a curse.” Soap whispers, his chest squeezing uncomfortably.

Samara looks away, “there is an end to it, Soap. Retirement, family. Love. Things that give you a reason to live, beyond chaos and war.”

He huffs, “not to be an arsehole, but it didn’t end up well for either of us.”

“I suppose it didn’t, did it?” Samara chuckles, “but I believe it could.”

Soap doesn’t answer, letting silence settle between them. He wants to call Samara naive for hoping so surely, but he understands it doesn’t come from lack of awareness.

And a part of him can’t help but agree, when he thinks of his team. With them, he does see a good ending, among the million bad ones he conjures in his mind.

If he has to, Soap will carve that ending himself, burn any red string that dares stand in his way to it. Perhaps, his powers can be used for good, for once.

As long as it’s not over yet, they have a chance.

[ghostingaces]

The Night Is Dark And Full Of Terrors | 141 x Reader/OC

Synopsis; There’s blood in her mouth

Warnings; violence, gore, death, foul language, smoking and vague horror themes

Notes; Part Two to this piece here and is centred around Gaz and Soap this time. Also this is a secondary account so I can't reply in the comments but I see them and thanks for the support. This will be a series and I’ll probably write some for a normal human Glass as well.

▄︻̷̿┻̿═━ 一

Her back was to Soap when he stumbled out the door and into the dark.

The bar behind him was bursting with life and noise, the small establishment packed to the brim with rowdy soldiers celebrating the latest win against an arms and human trafficking ring that had dragged them across the globe in what had felt like a wild goose chase. Almost a full year of travel and bullets had built up frustrations and a desire to simply let loose. A desire which had culminated in now drunk and rowdy soldiers.

Soap loved them all, he did, but he needed moment to breath before he dove back into the fray and truly indulged himself in the liquor that had been flowing as free as a waterfall.

It seemed Glass had the same idea.

She sat a few meters deep into the gravelled car park, perched on a low brick wall near an old black Impala with clouds of thick grey smoke hanging in the night around her. She sat just out of reach of the lamp posts golden ring of light, body lingering in the shadow, while the tips of her black boots shimmered when the glow glanced off them. Her back was to him but even from here he could see the dull red of a cigarettes ember.

“Alright Soap?” His own voice called from the dark.

He jumped, the sensation of cold fingers crawling down his spine, but forced a smile and braved onward. Each step was heavy, the gravel crunching under his boot, while the air got more frigid every inch he got closer. By the time he reacher her, his breath was misting with ever exhale. Frost crept towards him from under her soles.

“All good, just needed a breather” He admitted with a forced chuckle, feet rooted firmly in the light “You?”

The cigarette bud glowed as she inhaled and something cat like shimmered where her eyes would be “Needed to clear my head before the pool tournament started”

A real chuckle slipped past his lips this time before they lapsed into a frigid silence that was only broken by the occasional passing car. Strobes of headlights shimmered by, flashes of bright white bouncing off the Impala and frozen puddles. The shadows around the woman remained as solid as obsidian. Glass seemed content, puffing on the cigarette which burned dangerously low against her gloves, while Soap leaned against the frost covered lamp post. 

He hated the silence that hung around them, heavy in the air like the tobacco smoke. He was usually unbothered if someone didn't feel like chatting, comfortable to fill in the silence himself, but he found it hard to breathe next to her; let alone talk. Every inhale was sharp while each exhale felt like a fist had been lodged in his throat. A shiver racked down his spine as he blew onto his clasped hands, desperate for some semblance of warmth.

“Was a good win” Glass spoke suddenly. This time, the voice was her own. Low  and raspy with a lilting accent that sent a more pleasant shiver up Soaps back. Cautiously, he relaxed back against the still freezing pole.

“You can say that again, just wish we got ‘em sooner.” His skin prickled with the touch of the cool metal and the feel of her unseen eyes piercing through him “Finally done with those fuckers though and I'm desperate for a drink at this point”

Glass chuckled lowly, stubbing her cigarette out before almost instantly lighting a new one “Then go inside before Gaz comes looking for ya, looks like you're freezing anyway”

Her hand reached out from the darkness, smoke cartoon in hand. A temptation to join her in sin. A temptation of self destruction.

Fingers itching in want, he waved her off with a tight smile “And leave you here all lone without a single drop of alcohol in ya? Couldn't call me a good teammate if I did that”

She laughed this time. It was a deceptively human sound. Through the thick smog of nighttime, he could see her lithe silhouette lean back, broad shoulders shaking slightly. His eyes followed the path of the cigarette bud as she lifted it to where her mouth would be.

“Trying to get me drunk Soap?” Her voice was still full of mirth.

Confidence boosted by the surprisingly easy conversation, Soap dared to joke as he cast a glance back to the pub door “More like trying to catch peek of that mug of yours, might even get lucky with L.T too”

“You could just ask me”

The rumble of a passing car was the only sound that echoed through the lot as a feeling of wrongness settled in the Scots gut. A hand, frigid and skeletal, had wrapped itself around his heart while the fist had lodged itself in his throat again. 

Do it

He watched Glass from the corner of his eye. She stood slowly, bones cracking, and turned on the balls of her feet to face him. Gravel crunched under her boot. Slowly, she stepped into the light.

Her balaclava was firmly in place, dark green fabric stretched taught over sharp bones. Two black pits, void like and bottomless, had infested the space of her eyes and Soap only watched as she exhaled a thick plume of tobacco. Grey wisps broke through from the fabric over her mouth while more slithered up and out the eye sockets. Something pulsated in the blackness.

Soap blinked.

Ghoulishly pale eyes stared back.

“Something wrong” A new voice warbled from Glass's mouth “ya look pale”

The cold hands returned, tracing patterns over his neck.

“I’m good” He coughed out, ribs shaking as he breathed “Just..., just gonna slip back inside”

He moved slowly, Glass locked in his peripheral. Each step was calculated and slow as if to not startle her into movement, likening her to a feral creature wanting to pounce on something it wanted to devour. Gradually, the further he got away from the woman, his steps quickened until he was jogging across the the gravel towards the glow that crept out from under the pubs back door. 

The door shrieked when Soap pushed it open but before he entered, something tugged at the back of his mind. A stray thought had lodged itself into his skull.

‘one last look’

Do it

Hesitantly, bathed in the safe and warm glow of the now open door, Soap forced himself to turn back to the carpark. Lingering under the now colder light of the lamp, Glass continued to smoke her cigarette as a plume of tobacco smoke curled out of where her mouth would be and through the thick fabric of her mask. Through that smoke, Soap could make out the moonlit glow of her eyes fixed on him.

Like nothing was wrong, Glass waved.

Soap shut the door behind him tight.

▄︻̷̿┻̿═━ 一

Gunfire rained down like thunder while the stench of blood was thick and fresh.

The vicious crimson liquid clung to every crease in the skin of his hands, staining them and everything he touched. More of it, older and a flaking brown, stained the from of his tac vest from where a mans head had been blown open standing to close. It was so thick that the embroidered Union Jack was lost under brain matter and skull fragments.

“Fuck!” Gaz hissed. Uselessly, he tried to swipe excess blood off his face but only smeared more across his cheeks.

“Gaz? Report!” The captains voice growled over the radio and broke through the barrage of mortar shells. The night around him was alive with firework like muzzle flashes.

“It's gone to shit, Sir!” The young sergeant yelled into the receiver “Informant was a rat and walked us into an ambush, fuckers were watching as we scoped out the drop point!”

“Informant?”

“Dead”

“Me and the boys are on our way to your position. Hold fast”

“Yes Sir”

“Where’s Glass?” The Lieutenants voice, low and dangerous, floated over the comms. Gaz jumped and the harsh sound before shuttering at the mention of the creature woman that had all but mauled the informant when he had tried to run. Like it was instinct, she had gone straight for the eyes.

“Gone, Sir. Lost sight of her when they opened fire” Gaz admitted as he ducked behind a burnt out car, long strides carrying him across open ground quickly. Most of the gunfire had stopped by now and was focused to randomised burst after they had lost sight of him in the dark. Occasionally, there'd be movement in a widow but they were more shadow than people and it was hard go tell if it wasn't a trick of the eye. 

“Shit...” Ghost growled.

“She's not answering the comms, unit must be shot” Price grunted out.

“Or she's ignoring us”

“She wouldn't-”Gaz tried to defend the woman from the Lieutenant but a window shattering drew his attention. He watched, almost in slow motion, as a body rag dolled through the third story window of the warehouse and plummeted onto a a car. The windows shattered, glass singing like a wind chime as it fell, before the metal frame screamed as it twisted around the corpse.

Glass stood and watched through the window.

Quickly, before she disappeared again, Gaz raised his rifle to peer through his scope at her. Thermal scope locked onto her, it took a moment to register that she was colder than everything around her. Lithe figure bathed in purples and blues, she lingered like a phantom in the window before stalking off and disappearing back into the depth of the building.

He scrambled for his comm “Captain, I just had a visual on her but I lost her again but I know she's in the building, third floor moving to the west side.”

“Fuck..,” the radio crackled “Gaz, I want you to pursue her and get her back on comms.”

The young sergeant hesitated for a second, the mission objective rising to the forefront of his mind “The target, sir?”

“Probably already gone, just grab Glass and regroup” Price growled “We’ll be on sight soon, eta twenty minutes”

“Roger that”

“Engage only if necessary”

“Yes sir”

“Good, see you soon. Over.”

The line went dead.

The night was deceptively quiet now, gunfire and mortars completely silenced. The only sound was his own ragged breathing and the crackle of the fires left behind from the explosions. Hesitantly, Gaz crept forward. With his rifle raised, he stalked past the man folded into the car roof and desperately tried to ignore what was left of his face. No eyes, throat mauled open

Inside was just as quiet.

Dust and cobwebs littered every surface, bullet casings more common than pebbles filling the ground. It smelt like wet mould, wood rot, and that familiar copper tang of fresh blood. A lot of fresh blood. 

Slowly, body trained to perfection, Gaz stalked through and cleared the first floor. Empty room after empty room greeted him. Blood stains marred the walls, smears and pools and spattered of it, but he couldn't find a single corpse besides the withered remains of rats and crushed bugs. The second floor was much the same. Desolate and quiet, gun posts just completely abandoned like the people had just dissolved into the ground.

Coming loser to the entrance of the third floor, that irony tang of blood somehow got stronger.

 A red pool of it oozed around the corner that Gaz was approaching, chunks of brain matter floating in the liquid like a demented and deformed lily pad.

He turned the corner slowly, gun raised.

The body was poised at the top of a small set of stairs, crumpled like a doll on its side with the top of its skull blown open. Thick viscous rivulets of blood oozed from the skull cavity and down the stairs. Carefully, Gaz took the stairs two at a time as he dodged past the dark puddles before he dropped to his knees beside the corpse.

It was a familiar looking man and with half his face missing, it took Gaz a couple moments to fully recognise him as the target.

Head blown open, jaw and throat ripped out, Gaz was left to stare into frozen blue eyes he had seen dozens of times in a photo pinned up in a briefing room. The man had had a sneering and nasty look in his eyes in the photo but now they're frozen over in what looks like terror, seeing something that had savaged him almost beyond recognition.

Hand shaking, Gaz reaches for his radio to call it in.

“What ya doing Gaz?”

His own voice came from behind him.

He spins so fast something in his back pops and his foot looses traction in a puddle of blood ,sending him back to his knees when he tried to stand. Pain rocketed up the joint, blood seeping into the thick fabric of his tactical pants, but he gets his feet under him quick enough and steadies his aim at where the voice had come from.

Glass stood at the bottom of the stairs.

Her black tac gear glistened under the flickering florescent lights overhead, the harsh white beams making the blood soaked into her gear shimmer like oil, while a steady stream of it dripped from her empty fingers. She stood directly in the puddle that had gathered at the bottom of the stairs, boots submerged in a way that made her look like she had simply emerged from the dark pool. Slowly, Gaz let his eyes trails up from her boots to her face.

Even more blood clung to the corded fabric of her balaclava.

Where her mouth should be was nothing but a mess of viscera and blood that dripped from her chin in a steady flow that caught on her tactical vest and further darkened the fabric. The once army green fabric was stained such a deep glossy black it looked more like a void.

“That's a lot of blood” Gaz pointed out, dodging her question while simultaneously holding his rifle steady.

“I know.” She panted, eyes crinkling in what could be perceived as a smile, more blood oozing through the fabric as it was released from behind her teeth “Its not mine”

“I know”

They continued to watch each other. 

Gaz was coiled tightly in trepidation, waiting for her empty hands to reach for the steyr AUG hanging around her shoulder or for her to start moving up the stairs towards him. He swallowed shallowly, sweat beading down his throat.

Glass simply watched him like one would watch a rat in a maze, curious of what it would do, which way it would turn. Curious if he'd squeeze the trigger or put the gun down. Watching as he shifted the grip on the rifle, muzzled aimed at the tricolour on her chest, hazy eyes tracking the bob of his throat as he swallowed.

“We should get going.” Glasss said before making a noncommittal gesture to the carcass by Gazs feet “I got everything we needed from him”

Gaz shifted his grip and used the muzzle of his rifle to point “You go ahead”

Something shimmered in her eyes “Scared I’ll shoot you in the back?”

He was more scared she’d go for his throat.

[luminous-writes]

Safehouse Secrets

Hallo! This is a random cod oc x oc I wrote for @toshidokii-writes and myself :3

Approx 2108 words

Siren and Wasp had been on a no-contact mission for over 48 hours; no contact with their team, no contact with any high officials besides their direct supervisor who was 500 miles away.

Wasp was used to Siren’s constant silence; she never spoke unless she felt like she needed to, honorable, really. Now, her mask covered up everything but her eyes, which were narrowed in focus as they made their way through the thick foliage of the Russian forest. However, Wasp couldn’t take his own gaze away from Clarissa as she took the lead. It was hard not to notice her hips, which swayed slightly as she walked. It was no secret of what he thought about her, he admitted his crush a few days after joining Task Force 141, but she was all about that “no romance at work” mentality. 

However, a week prior to this assignment, Ghost and Siren went on a solo mission. They were due back at base the same day but ended up staying the night in the car due to weather, when they got home, Ghost and Siren barely looked at each other…

One had to wonder.

“So…” Wasp swallowed his words and was instantly chastised by her phthalo gaze. “Right, so sorry.” He lowered his voice and spoke over comms, still a snarky asshole despite how gentle he tends to be. "How was the mission with Ghost?"

Siren seemed to pause in her stride momentarily before continuing. She shrugged.

Wasp wasn't fooled by her nonchalance. Ghost and Siren were close by working standards, he managed to read each look and movement like it was nothing but a children's novel, something Spencer found himself feeling jealous over. "Are you sure?" 

He felt another prickle of jealousy wring his neck as he watched the back of her head. "Nothing happened that's worth really talking about."

"Sure," Wasp scoffed, feeling petty. If she wouldn't say it outright, then he'd bait it out of her. "everyone sees how you two look at each other; it's all Soap gossips about." 

A wave of green flame overcame him as she spun around. "I don't fuck on the job." The smaller person snarled. "It sounds like Soap needs to do more work instead of gossiping."

Fury lined the edges of Spencer's eyes and he turned away from her. "Whatever you say," he snorted, "I'm your best friend and I just know something happened between you two on that assignment."

For someone so short, Clarissa acted like she was the tallest person in the room. He saw that hickey when she got back a month ago, does she think he's stupid? The way Siren looks at Ghost. Eyebrows scrunched, she continued to lead the way, irritation radiating off of her at the sight of his smug expression. 

They made their way to the safe house in silence. The only sound was the soft tread of their boots and the occasional brush of clothing. Once they got there, the two secured the area and ate two of their MREs. Wasp kept side eyeing his teammate when he thought she didn't notice, jealousy continued to tap at his spine like a hammer and when she finally caught him, the sniper glared. "Are you jealous? Why?" Clarissa growled the question at him, frustration clear in the way she furrowed her brow.

Spencer underestimated how well the shorter person could read emotions. "I'm not jealous." He lied through his teeth but it felt like poison on his tongue.

A swift exhale from her nose. "You are, Wasp." The black haired woman swallowed her food and dug into him. "You've been giving me dirty looks for two days and your questions towards my mission with Ghost are all fueled by your weird jealousy. Stop."

"It's not jealousy… it's just a concern."

"Don't be a dick, Spence." Siren growled, a low warning in her voice. 

Spencer sighed. "I'm not trying to be… you know how I feel about you, right?" He grasped for words like straws. "I'm just trying to understand what happened out there... why you had a hickey."

She stared at him a moment before sighing. "We…" Now she was the one that was struggling, admitting she was wrong was especially hard for the sniper. "We fucked, yeah. But it's not like there's any feelings there, it was just sex."

"Just sex?" Spencer asked flatly.

"Just sex." Siren looked away from him. 

Spencer stared at the cold cement floor of the safe house. "Do you not like me? I just want an answer; I know you don't date at work but we don't plan on staying in the line of duty until we're old and gray, right?" He smiled feebly. "I can wait for you, if you want me to?"

He missed the look of regret in Clarissa's deep green eyes. "I do like you, Spence."

Wasp looked up at her. 

Before he could blink, Siren's lips were on his. Surprised, Spencer leaned into her, placing his hand on the small of her back. At some point, Clarissa's hand traveled up his shirt, tracing his battle scars with careful fingertips. 

Clarissa's lips moved to his jawline, then to his ear, gentle hands tilting his head to the side to give her more access. Humming softly, she nibbled on him. "My pretty boy." 

Siren ran her fingers through his hair softly, tugging at it lightly. Lips like honeysuckle upon his skin left tingles in her wake; Siren's touch felt no less of a goddess'. "Shh…" Her whisper left Spencer begging for more. He squirmed needily in her grasp.

Clarissa's hands traveled lower and Wasp undid his belt with shaky hands. Was this really happening? His best friend, this gorgeous, intimidating, quiet girl wanted him like he'd wanted her all these years. His mind was spinning as she pinned his hands back and kissed his lips. 

Panting, Spencer raised his hips to her with glazed eyes, needing more of her. 

Unable to take it anymore, the man whimpered. "Please… please just take me, sweetheart.” Arching his back, Siren held him close as he rode out his orgasm. “Oh… oh, my sweet petal.” His Irish accent thick on his tongue like honey. “I’m so lucky to have someone who’s as soft as velvet with me.” 

Licking her fingers clean of his juices, Clarissa’s eyes were unreadable as she grabbed his hip and straddled him. “I wouldn’t call my touch velvet, Spence.” She rested her chin on his shoulder and he leaned his head to touch hers. 

Wanting more, Spencer found his hands wandering up her shirt, undoing her bra with one hand while the other explored her breasts, lightly applying pressure on her nipple with a forefinger and thumb. All this attention rewarded Spencer with a soft moan from his best friend turned lover. “Your sounds are foirfeachta, my love.”

“Perfection?” 

He lifted Clarissa’s shirt off and kissed her collarbone. “You’ve been practicing your gaelic.”

She huffed a sigh as he moved his mouth to her breast. “Been around you long enough to know what you call me behind my back.” Siren moaned. Her sounds are music to his ears, the soft and adoring way he looks up at her filling her with both guilt and yearning. Yearning, both physically and emotionally, for more. She wants desperately to be the person he sees her as, but she doesn’t know that she can, if she ever will be that person for him. Clarissa doesn’t know if she’s ever been that person. But here, in this barren safehouse, on this uncomfortable cot, she can be his, just for the moment. Even if��� even if it would break his heart. If he was honest with himself, he would realize that they weren’t built for each other, that their personalities clashed far too much for a romantic relationship to properly bloom.

Biting her nipple gently, he rejoiced in her sounds once again. Getting on his knees, he eased her uniform pants off with her help. Siren’s phthalo gaze not meeting Spencer’s mismatched irises could easily be mistaken for nervousness, in reality, it was full of nothing but the heaviest of guilt. 

Wasp kissed her thighs lovingly, they were soft like buttercream, they seemed unfit for someone of such tough nature. Spencer moved up, sliding her underwear down and exposing her to the cold air of the room. Wasp watched as Siren clenched and smiled to himself before pulling her closer to him so he could have easier access. "My, my, so wet already?" His fingers traced the damp pools that Clarissa had created. "So eager." He appreciated her pussy like it was a golden sunrise on the Pacific horizon. 

Like lightning had possessed her, Siren grabbed Spencer's hair in her grasp, with eyes that could intimidate even the toughest of gods, Clarissa Cole whispered her words. "Are you going to admire me all evening or are you gonna eat me out like a good boy?"

A smirk sparked at the edges of her lover's mouth. "I like to admire anything I haven't had before, my petal."

Something in her face changed, Spencer couldn't read it but if he truly knew her as well as he said, he would've seen the realization and shock of what he said. "I- I'm your first?" 

He chuckled. "And I would spend it with no one other than you."

Clarissa's grip on his hair lessened for a moment, as if regretting even being on the cot but regained her composure and returned Spencer's smile. "I'm glad you're sharing it with me, Spence." 

Sick of the anticipation, Spencer used what multiple videos had taught him and begun exploring her sex with his tongue. She tasted… not how he would've expected, which wasn't a bad thing. He used the pointer and middle finger of his left hand to pump into her, Spencer couldn't take his eyes off of her. Back arched, a hand in his hair and one on her breast.

Spencer moaned alongside his lover as he stimulated her clit, Clarissa's constant tugging made him whimper and he used his spare hand to finger himself, desperate for more friction.

"Spen- oh, god…" Siren gasped out, wrapping her thighs gently around his head. "Spencer, how- how is this your first time?"

As he lifted his head from her pussy, Wasp licked his lips. "Am I that good, love?"

Her green eyes were glazed and feverish, messy black hair strands that fell from her usually perfect bun framed her face as her walls clenching around his fingers like a cage. She was beautiful, something more than mythical, no woman was as perfect as she; a goddess in her own sense … in some fucked up way, he understood why Ghost wanted her so bad. 

"You're perfect." Siren said quietly, almost too soft for him to hear.

Blushing, he started again but with a newfound vigor. Her moans were a symphony to Spencer Marsh's ears. His fingers worked harder in her pussy, desperate to please her, to make Siren feel as wonderful as she looked to him. 

"Fuck!" The word escaped her jaws. Her breathing grew deeper and she dug her nails into his scalp.

Not that Spencer was complaining.

His tongue was careful and precise around her clit, not wanting to somehow hurt her. Wasp's own pussy was aching with his touch, breath hitching as he kept his mouth and hands busy. 

"Spence… mmh." Siren's eyes rolled. "I'm so close!"

Thankfully, so was Wasp. Feeling her cum around his fingers sent him over the edge, moaning in unison as they both climaxed together. Wasp gave her pussy one last kiss before getting up and reaching out to Siren softly. However, she got up by herself, legs trembling as the woman got dressed, faced away from him. 

"How was it?" Spencer suddenly felt as if something went very wrong. 

Siren smiled, he was unsure if it was real or not. "That… that was more than amazing, you're a natural, Wasp." She looked at her wrist watch and frowned. "It's time for the final part of our mission though." 

He approached her slowly, like a lion to his queen. "Are you okay?"

Siren nodded, leaning into him. She was faced away but Spencer was none the wiser. Giving him a kiss on the cheek, Clarissa put her armored uniform on and waited for Spencer to get his on. 

He followed as directed and they left but not before letting their higher ups know about their departure. 

It was time for the snipers to shine.

divider credit goes to these lovelies ♡

@anitalenia (18+ banner)

@saradika-graphics (blue stars & moon)

thank you!

[hunterbunter3000]

Question

Whats everyones heights? It kinda get confusing can you help a Black person ineed?? 😭

LMAOOO

Dw friend I gotchu (and I'm sorry it's confusing 😥 i should've made it clear)

Disclaimer: Alot of the heights have changed from canon because I said so, and I really had to think on this because this is set in stone for rest of the time I write for Sweetheart 🤭 so I have to go back to edit some posts🧍‍♀️ LOL

Shortest to tallest-

Roach: 5'8

Rodolfo: 5'10

Soap: 5'11

Gaz: 6'0

Graves: 6'0

Horangi: 6'1

Price: 6'2

Alex: 6'3

Alejandro: 6'3 ½

Keegan: 6'4

Ghost: 6'4

Sweetheart: 6'5

König: 6'10

Krueger: 7'1

AND just to make things clear, I'll also go into the backstory (because I don't want people to be confused)

Task Force 141 consists of: Price, Gaz, Soap, Ghost, Sweetheart, Alex, Roach, Horangi, König

(Keegan comes and goes)

Shadow Company consists of: Graves, Krueger

Los Vaqueros consists of: Rodolfo, Alejandro

--

Sweetheart met the OG team (Price, Soap, Ghost, Gaz) when she was a Private, meaning she wasn't a Sergeant yet. She was so professional for a whole year 💀

It was filled of

Salutes and straight backs everytime one of them comes around her

"Yes sir, no sir"

Only calling them by their ranks and callsigns

Being nervous around them

No joking with them

She was so serious, it got on their NERVES

Price kept telling her that she was apart of the team, therefore you can CHILL THE FUCK OUT- but she was so nervous around all of them (because she looks up to them alot and wanted to impress them- especially Price and Ghost) they saw how relaxed and fun she was around the rookies and her other friends (which I will go into detail on another ask) Soap was so jealous when he saw her smile and laugh with her friends. Like why are you like this with them and not us? Are we doing something wrong? Do you not like us? Soap was going thru it, poor baby

Soap told his team what he saw, and Price was a bit hurt. Ghost thought he wasn't worth her time and got salty 💀 Gaz was sad (he was still intimidated by her, but he wanted her to be comfortable)

UGH they were in such a longing to be her friend and make her comfortable around them. It took a bit, but she finally joked and smiled around them- my God they loved it. (And then they see the real her and they all fall in love 🤭) it still took Sweetheart five months just to touch Ghost LOL

Before Sweetheart was going to be a Sergeant, she met Krueger (I went over how they met already) and Krueger was- yk... really infatuated with her. Like he was thinking about her all the time when he was still apart of Chimera. When that disbanded, he asked (threatened) Graves to be apart of Shadow Company. It took him a bit to find where Sweetheart was located, but when he found out he acted on it immediately.

Then König joined 141, then Alex and Roach, and then Horangi. As I said, Keegan comes and goes in the team. He joins the team in missions and then leaves to go do other things. What things? No idea.

She then meets Los Vaqueros during a mission (which I already talked about as well) and now they just-- live life and try to woo Sweetheart! The end ✍️

Again, I apologize if it was confusing. 141!Sweetheart is made with each ask I answer, so things keep adding on. But I hope this helps! 🙏🫂