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lovifie · 8 months ago

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Well, I Wasn't On That Tunnel 🩷

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Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 (6.5k words!)

LAST CHAPTER

Pairings: Ghoap x Reader.

(if you are in the mood for some Ghoap smut just go ahead)

Warnings: Poly, where do I begin? Oral sex (m and f receiving), anal sex, vaginal sex, meany Johnny, bottom Ghost, a squint of body worship to reader, threesome (duh), Ghost gets sandwiched for a bit, and Johnny doesn't shut up for a minute

It would be a reach to believe that everything was settled between the three.

It has been “talked”, but there was still an awkward film over them; that whenever they would lock eyes felt like they were teenagers talking to their crushes.

Gladly, for everyone, work was still work, and it kept them busy as always.

The med bay keeping you away from them, on the completely opposite side of the base; taking care of whiny recruits and concealing your smile when they would tell you to tell their loved ones they love them after giving them local anaesthetic.

The days usually going uneventful and alone. Well, not alone. The medical team worked, ate and stayed together. But feeling lonely without the two men.

On the south side of the base, everyone could tell that Simon and Johnny were a bit… snappy.

It was almost as if everyone had made a deal to keep them from going to see you.

Price telling them to organise the training session.

Recruits asking them to help with the training.

Laswell asking Johnny to prepare a lecture on explosives.

Like? Why was the world making it so hard to slope off? Why was everyone expecting them to do their job they get paid for?

Absolute nonsense.

Instead, they had to keep sending recruits that kept getting hurt to you. Seeing them whine as they walked, about how they were in pain. Lucky bastards.

So text messages it was.

“Morning!🩷” Texts, voice notes as you worked on something else, GIFs and Stickers back and forth.

Reminding Johnny how the newest smartphones worked was the funniest of the afternoon you had spent, especially when he turned on the front camera and he could only see from his eyes up.

“Shite, that's a big ass forehead. Could land an heli there”

Cue to Simon and you playing tic-tac-toe on his forehead via pics back and forth.

It was far, really far, for a conventional relationship, even for a poly relationship. And although whenever Johnny would managed to send a pic of Simon it made you feel you were an outsider to them; you had to remind yourself that he had taken the photo just to send it to you.

Slowly but surely, your gallery was filling up with pics of their faces, an obscene amount of Johnny's forehead pic as well, and when finally, the inexhaustible flow of scratched soldiers finally started to subdue; you bolted to Simon's room.

You don't even think of an excuse as to why you are going to see them, and you realize, half way there… that you don't need an excuse. And that simply wanting to see them is a reason good enough.

It hasn't been easy after the conversations, your mind still telling you they were using you; it was not something you simply forget after a good night sleep. But you still pushed yourself to believe them, that there wasnt any hidden intentions, that they were telling the truth.

The messages, the little calls, the sassy winks from across the training grounds, it all help to ease the feeling of intruding you had been feeling since catching them. Slowly but surely travelling to the back of your mind, to the box of things to be forgotten. Except the box spilled suddenly when you open the door to his room, and find them sitting on his bed.

With Johnny sitting on top of Simon's lap, grinding down against his groyne while their moans and whispers fall on eachother mouths.

Their head whip in your direction at the sound of the door opening. You can see the panic in their eyes, thinking they have been caught; relaxing only when they realize it is you.

“Shit, wow, sorry, I need to start knocking, ah?” You ask, with an awkward chuckle, you hand still on the knob. “S-sorry, I'll leave you to it.”

You barely move the door an inch before Johnny calls for you. “Bonnie, wait!’

“What?” You ask, still from the door, cheeks red from embarrassment.

“Do you… do you want to join?” Johnny asks, a shyness so improper of him. Looking at you, with a hand on Simon's shoulder and the other extended to you.

You feel frozen in place. It was something that was going to happen, sooner or later. It shouldn't have caught so much surprise, but you only find your voice when Johnny stands up to walk towards you. “Do… Do you want me to join??” You ask, looking up at him with a timid voice.

“Yes, fuck, yeah we do.” He answers, a deep chuckle flooding between words. He licks his lips, probably wet from Simon's mouth. His hand still waiting for yours, his eyes soft, awaiting your answer.

“Oh…” You answer, you know, like an idiot. “Okay.” You finally hold his hand and he pulls you closer, a tiny smile on his face.

From the corner of your eyes you can see Simon move to lay down on the bed, his back pressed to the wall, laying on his side and patting the mattress next to him. Johnny nods with his head towards Simon, telling you to lay down without words and you do. Almost skipping to the bed, crawling to move next to Englishman.

“I like your uniform, lass.” Johnny comments, his wide hand caressing your ass over the clothes.

You lay down, hugging Simon closely with your head in his chest, buried safely in his arms. And you turn your head to look at Johnny, faux offence in your look. “Respect the uniform, MacTavish.”

Simon's chest rumbles when he laughs deeply, his hand finding his way under your shirt to rub the skin of your back; just like when he found you in the house, pulling you even closer.

“Darling…” Johnny says, laying himself next to you, sandwiching you between the two men. “I'm about to disrespect your uniform… a lot.”

He uses the lifted shirt from Simon's hand to get his own against your skin; caressing your tummy up to your chest, but still innocent when he only uses it as leverage to push you against him when he feels the need to kiss your cheek squishing your face against Simon's chest.

You giggle against Simon's chest, whining about being squished and slightly pushing Johnny back. He raises his head, being levelled with Simon and looking down at you; they then look up to each other before Simon leans in kissing Johnny.

You are seeing it upside down, but still clear as day the desire in the kiss. Simon leaned in, eyes closed and you felt his hand on your back lift a finger to hook it on Johnny's sweatpants to pull him closer. Johnny has his eyes just the slightest bit open, barely enough to see the other and he smiles into the kiss.

“Eager, aren't ya?” Johnny whispers, making Simon groan.

“Shut up, Johnny.” He mumbles back, the hand on your back moving to Johnny's back pulling him closer squashing you in the middle. “I finally have you both”.

When Simon pulls Johnny closer, you feel both of his bulging erections against your body; the make out session clearly intense.

It makes you turn, switching to lay on your back, still looking up. Simon moves to kiss down Johnny's jaw, kissing his neck, licking up to his ear; Johnny catches you staring, head falling back and mouth open as you shamelessly look at the two men making out, and he winks at you.

You quickly look down, ashamed of getting caught, and you realise then what the weight on your thighs was. On each side of your body, and still trapped in the confines of their sweatpants, both men's growing boners rest over your thighs.

You feel small between the two massive men, and your hands move on their own when you rest them over the tents on their pants. You press them against your body, making both men groan. You move your hand up, grabbing the waistband pulling it down with their underwear. The thick, uncut member resting freely over your body.

It's not the first time that you have seen either of them, but it is still a sight to see them side by side. Bobbing at the lack of attention, a tear of precum glistering on Simon's tip.

You hear Simon talk above you, making you look up to see Johnny looking at you. “Let her do her thing…” is what Simon whispers to Johnny, cupping his face to pull him in for a kiss again.

Using your elbows to push your back off the mattress, you slide down the bed; your legs hanging from it when you get your head on the same level as their hips. You turn your head, setting your lips around the pinkish tip of Simon's shaft; hearing a grunt at the same time you feel a snap of his hips, not being able to prevent himself from moving.

You use your hand to massage Johnny's too, feeling the warm feeling of his skin in your hand; while you use the tip of your tongue to lick on Simon's slit, tasting his precum as you hear him whimper into Johnny's mouth.

With a loud pop, you let go of his shaft, only his head glistering with spit; and your turn your head to give the same treatment to Johnny. Except he lays his wide hand on the side of your head, making you lay your head back on the mattress.

“Stick yer tongue out, love” You do as he says, keeping your mouth open and your tongue out, the muscle twitching trying to stay still. Johnny fists his length at the base, giving it a whip for it to slap at your tongue.

The wet sound is nasty, the head of his member slapping your tongue. Johnny can feel your warm breath against his dick, feeling your saliva get stuck to him as well. Whenever he lifts it he sees the string of spit from your mouth pulling him back.

He switches motions, starting to glide his hips back and forward against your mouth. Simon's doesn't take long to join, only adding to the mess. You have your eyes closed, blinding tasting both men's scent, the musky smell leaving you lightheaded as they thrust smoothly back and forth, against each other and your tongue.

There is drool falling for the corner of your mouth, only making it more and more nasty. And the moans, grunts and whimpers coming from the men beside you has you sliding your hand down your body, towards where you feel your body crying for attention.

Except Simon, still in his pleasure driven mind, catches the movement, calling your mind. “Love, how are you going to have the two of us dying to touch you and still private us from it?”

The sound of his voice has you opening your eyes again, looking up at them and you can feel them twitching at the sight of such a blasphemous look. Your eyes blown wide and pitch black from arousal, a mess of spit, precum and sweat all over the middle half of your face, their wet and painfully hard members resting now over your chest, rising up and down harshly and your hand under the waistband of your pants. “I don't know…”

“Do you want us to touch you?” Johnny asks, his hand petting your head again softly and you nod timidly. “Words, bonnie.”

“Yes, please…”

“Let's take that respectable uniform off then.” Johnny jokes, patting the bed to motion you to move back up between them. You push yourself up,nestling between their bodies once again, and as if they had practised it before, they undress you at the same time they kiss you.

Simon is the first to have his lips on your, his hand cupping your jaw drawing circles with his thumbs. You hum into his mouth, feeling Johnny lick your neck, his tongue slipping between Simon's fingers as he starts to lift your shirt.

He moves down, sitting on his knees and kissing your tummy. His warm tongue getting a taste of your skin with each kiss. He pushes the fabric up, letting it wrinkle over your chest, groaning at the look of your sports bra.

Simon peels from you when he feels Johnny grumble about wanting to take them off. He takes the hem from Johnny's hand, pulling it over your head and Johnny doesn't waste the opportunity to do the same to your bra, leaving you bare from waist up.

And like a chain reaction both of them make their way to your breasts; Simon's kisses travel from behind your ear down to the swell of your breast, kissing your ribs before finally sucking your nipple into his mouth moaning at the feeling. While Johnny kisses your stomach again, burying his face on the softness of it, as he swiftly goes north, dragging his tongue from the underside to the side of your boob, before mimicking Simon and kissing your nipple.

Is also Johnny's hand the one that starts to run down your body, if it wasn't for the filthy sounds of kisses, licks and slurping filling in the room, you could hear the sound of the callous skin of Johnny's hand rubbing against the soft skin of your body. It is only when you feel his fingertips go under the waistband that you speak.

“Wait!”

And as if they had been electrocuted they both peel back, looking at your face. Except instead of explaining you stand up, jumping over Johnny to walk towards the door.

Johnny is quick on his feet, panicking that you will run; not because you couldn't go out but because they were afraid of having pushed you too far.

Still, he stops on his track when instead you lock the door. That was still unlocked. And turn to them, looking over your shoulder almost bashful. “You are not expecting anyone else, are you?”

Simon sighs relieved, sitting on the edge of the bed, that they had not overstepped. “Nah… got everyone we need in here.”

He motions you to walk to him, wanting you to stand between his legs and you oblige; pulling Johnny's hand when you walk past him.

You stand between Simon's legs, Johnny standing behind you hugging your middle. Simon kisses your stomach on the parts not covered by Johnny's hand and slowly lowers your pants. You kick off your shoes at the same time, standing completely naked between them.

Simon leans forwards, pressing his nose against your mound and sliding his tongue between your folds making you shudder. Johnny's hands travel higher, kneading your boobs in his hands while he buries his face on your neck.

You let your head fall back on Johnny's shoulder, moaning when Simon's tongue rubs against your clit. Johnny pities Simon, pulling one of your legs up to the side, giving full access to Simon who doesn't waste a second before diving in and dragging his tongue from your entrance to your clit giving it a harsh suck making you buck your hips as you fist his hair on your hand.

Johnny shushes in your hear, his other hand travelling to your core from behind; touching you along Simon's tongue. And while Simon's focus is on your clit, sending shockwaves up your body, Johnny slides one of his fingers onto your weeping cunt.

“Fuck yer tight…” Johnny moans into your ear. “Are you gonnae choke my dick this hard or is it only cause Simon sucking you off, hm?”

Your only response is a moan in the shape of Simon's name, making both men chuckle. Johnny fits a second finger inside of you making you whimper as you start to move your hips from Simon's mouth to Johnny's hand and vice versa. Johnny starts to move his hand, finger getting sucked in whenever he tries to get the out; your wetness rolling down between his fingers when he scissors them inside and Simon notices, moving down to lick Johnny's hand, tongue dragging between his fingers and inside of you.

When you look down, the only part of Simon's face you can see is his eyes, closed in blissful satisfaction at the feel and taste of your cunt on his mouth.

Both of them feel you clench, your first orgasm of the night approaching. And it doesn't matter how happy he is to finally be together, of you forgiving them, of wanting to pay you back for saving him; Johnny is not skipping an opportunity to tease you. “Coming already, lass? Bit needy, weren't ye?”

You chuckle between moans, biting back. “Yeah… unlike you two little dickheads, shit! I-I haven't gotten laid in a minute… fuck…”

Simon chuckles against your cunt, knowing perfectly fine he deserves way worse than that and focusing on keeping you mind off of it. Johnny does just the same, curling his finger and kissing your neck helping you fall over the edge with a loud moan.

You slide down, Johnny helping you rest on your knees between Simon legs with your head resting on his thigh. Simon pets your head, moving your hair out of your face. You open your eyes, coming face to face with his still rock hard member, and you look up to Simon, questioning.

“Back for more already, love?” He asks, deep chuckle on his chest when you nod blushing just a bit. Johnny laughs too behind you, pulling Simon's hand slightly.

“I have an idea. Stand up, Lt.” Johnny says, kneeling beside you and helping Simon take off his pants. “Two heads are better than one, ain't that right?”

Simon stands before the two of you, looking down and finding both you looking up at him; getting distracted by his mouth watering length just in front of you.

And at the sight of his two little zombies, back from the grave, the two only person that Simon has given himself the freedom to love, the only two person Simon let himself cry for after burying you, the two only person he has truly love; Simon can't contain the tear that drops from his right eye.

He tries to hide it, throwing his head back; but you see it, see the tear glisten as it drops on your cheek. But you don't say anything, and neither does Johnny when he wipes it with his thumb.

You lean forward, leaving open mouth kisses at the base of his shaft while you feel Johnny suck on his tip. It makes Simon groan, the angle of his neck making it sound raspier.

You move towards the tip, feeling Johnny's hand rest on your nape. When you are face to face with him, you feel his tongue move under Simon's dick, looking for your mouth. Pushing towards the tip to be able to finally kiss you, the open mouth kiss revolving in kissing Simon’s tip almost like it was a third tongue involved. And although it almost feels like excluding Simon, the sight of his two lovers kissing around his cock has him moving his hips against your lips; smearing the spit over both of your cheeks again.

Johnny pulls back, making you whine against Simon's dick. “Open wide, love.” Johnny tells you, moving behind you and cupping your face from behind.

Johnny holds your head as Simon lets his dick easily slide over your tongue, and when you close your lips around his length Johnny pushes his thumbs on your cheeks, making Simon feel the pressure on his length. He groans, feeling your throat open around his length to accommodate him as he moves deeper inside of your mouth.

“Easy now, you both.” Simon mumbles when he sees your eyes water as he moves down your throat. Johnny chuckles letting go of your head as he moves, switching to stand behind Simon.

Simon follows him with his gaze, aware already of his plan and the scot has the nerve to wink at him before diving between his cheeks. He rests a hand on the back of yours and Johnny's head, moaning at the double stimulation.

Johnny is ravenous on the way he eats him out, fingertips digging on the meat of his asscheeks spreading them, his unquenchable thirst for making Simon moan driving him to push his tongue deeper.

While you on the other side keep pushing forward, your nose closer and closer to his pubic bone, your soft hands massaging his heavy balls screaming for release as you keep sucking him in making him whimper.

There is a point, when Johnny's tongue is so deep and your nose is squished against his happy trail, your tongue sticking to lick at his balls, that Simon feels his knees buckle.

“Wait, wait, darling.” He whimpers, pulling your head back with a hand on your cheek pushing back softly. “You too, mutt!” He says, grabbing Johnny's mohawk to pull him back without actual strength. “I want to switch… Lay down on the bed for me, love. On your back, raise your legs.” He says, petting your head and you nod as you start to move, stealing a kiss from Johnny's mouth as your crawl passes him.

You lay just like he told you, propping on your elbows to caress his face when he kneels before you. You smile. “In need of some more, pussy boy?” You ask, overconfident in yourself; quickly falling back when Simon runs his hot tongue from your ass to your clit, flat, splitting your lips and making you moan.

Simon chuckles, before turning his head back to look at Johnny over his shoulder, using his hand to spread his cheeks. “It ain't gonna prep itself, Johnny.”

“Fuckin’ hell…” Johnny says chuckling, slapping Simon's ass before standing up and going to his bag. Both Simon and you look at him, wondering what his intentions are and you smile when you see him pick the lube bottle from his back.

Simon rolls his eyes when Johnny shakes the bottle at him, teasingly. Johnny kneels behind him, slapping his ass again but keeps his hand on the taut meat to pull it apart. He moves down, kissing down his back to his already spit covered hole.

Simon sighs at the feeling, leaning on your touch when you pet his head, kissing your wrist before diving back into your folds. Sliding his tongue in circles around your clit, softly sucking it into his mouth.

It is quite the sight to have Simon on his hands and knees in front of you, eating you out and drinking your juices up like a puppy while you see Johnny's head peek over the curve on his ass.

You keep your hand on Simon's head, brushing his hair back as he hums against your cunt. Ah… Johnny's tongue… you are familiar with the feeling.

So you don't blame him when he stills on his movements, tongue falling out of his mouth without care as he moans at Johnny's tactics. Instead, you plant your feet on the edge of the bed, using your hand to grab Simon's hair and slowly start to grind against his face.

You see his eyes widen for a second when he looks up at you, not expecting being downgraded to a ribbed mat to grind against. Not that he cared too much, not with the moans falling so prettily from your mouth and not with the way you so desperately cling to his hair.

He's embarrassed of himself, of the weak excuse of head he's giving you. He should be lapping up your weeping cunt like a parched dog at its bowl, and instead he is just slobbering all over your pretty folds, barely able to suck at your clit.

But he can't focus any better, not when Johnny's tongue is curling inside of him in a way that has him wanting to push himself back onto his mouth, eyes threatening to roll back in his skull. He tried his utmost effort not to whine when he feels Johnny retrieving his tongue, moving back to his knees.

Johnny pops the bottle open, splattering a generous glob of lube between Simon's cheeks, making him grunt at the coldness. Johnny chuckles at him, his fingertip teasing at his entrance, pushing the lube in and he leans on Simon's shoulder. “Aww, bit too chilly for ye, Si?”

“Get at it already.” Simon grunts as an answer when you pull his head back, the tip of his ears red with embarrassment and lust. Johnny lands his free hand on the back of his head, pushing his face back against your cunt.

“You get at it, eejit. Got bonnie bored out of her mind, making her do all the work.” He teases Simon. You slap his hand, scolding him; not wanting Simon to feel bad. But Simon notices the way your ankles are shaking from holding yourself up grinding against him, and he moves his hands from the ground to around your hips, pushing you against his face.

He is resting on his elbows, holding your cunt at level with his mouth as he dives him right between glistering folds. Shaking his head in, his nose smushed against your clit, bending with each shake making your legs buckle; he slides his tongue in, curling it and feeling every rib of your walls drowning down on your taste.

Johnny smiles when your moans rise in volume, your head falling back, he lets go of Simon's head while petting his head like a dog. “Atta boy.” He rests his hand on Simon's shoulder, leaning to kiss his back as he slides a finger in.

Simon's eyes flutter closed, feeling his ass suck Johnny's finger in. He moans against your core, not relenting on his assault and soon enough Johnny is sliding a second finger. The stretch making him arch his back; and Johnny starts to pick up the pace, smiling when he notices Simon roll his hips to meet his fingers.

“Look at you, Simon… getting all loose and soft for us… you can’t wait to get fucked stupid, can you?” Johnny smiles, kissing Simon's shoulder.

But Simon is struggling, he desperately wants to get you off before doing so himself. He really is trying his best, but when he tries to keep himself from coming he clenches around Johnny's fingers only making it worse.

He can feel you are close, sucking his tongue in when you grip him, just a couple seconds more, he knows it. And then Johnny curls his fingers sneakily and Simon is coming all over the ground, moaning loudly against your awaiting cunt, unable to move and ruining your orgasm making you want to cry.

He feels bad, he feels really bad for doing you dirty like that. Johnny only laughs softly, just for him to start moving his fingers at light speed making Simon whine as he crawls towards you, away from Johnny who only follows him.

Simon hides his face in your stomach, moaning loudly at Johnny's attack, his fingernails digging into your thigh at the overstimulation. You whine Johnny's name, your cunt still spasming with the ruined release and Johnny finally pulls his hand back, slapping Simon’s ass.

“Move to the bed, Lt. You so fucking massive I can't even reach our girl.” Johnny says, teasing him even further as he moves to lay on his back on the mattress. Johnny stands up to finally take off his clothes, moving to kneel between his legs, grasping Simon's softening dick on his hand making it slap against his abdomen. “Look at you, Lt… I thought you promised our girl a nice fuck, what are you going to do with this?”

“Shut the fuck up, Johnny.” Simon says, moving his hand to caress your leg from where you are sitting next to him. “Just need a minute…” he mumbles.

Johnny spreads his legs, collecting the lube sliding down Simon's crack with the bulbous tip of his length before probing at his entrance. “In the meantime… Fuck, Si… C’mon, pretty boy… Open wide for me.”.

He starts to push forward, pushing Simon's legs as well against his chest, bending him in half. It knocks the air out of him, making throw his head back with the mouth open on a silent scream of pleasure.

He feels filled to the brim, and he hisses when Johnny starts to move his hand up and down his shaft. And although it is borderline painful, he can help the moans that fall from his lips when Johnny rolls his hips against his.

“Singing like a pretty bird, you are, Si…” Johnny comments, looking at you and seeing how you discreetly try to slide your hand between your legs, desperate for the release. Their poor girl, their poor sweet girl. Her two lovers right beside her and still feeling neglected of the attention she so badly deserves; too sweet to even ask for it. “Ride his face, darling. Don't mind if he can't breathe, that's what he gets for leaving you hanging.”

At the sound of his voice you instinctively close your legs, moving when you see him move his head to point to Simon's head; only to be met by his heart shaped pupils with his hand extended to you calling you in.

You move, sliding your legs over his head as you hoist yourself over him and look between your legs, seeing Simon laying with his mouth wide open, tongue resting over his lower lip waiting for you to sit down on him. When you take too long to do so, Simon grabs your hips, offended by the distance, pulling you down against his face, making you rest your hands on his chest.

He doesn't care to breathe, and if this is the way he dies? Well, he can't think of a more glorious way to go out.

Johnny snaps his hips, making Simon move and therefore grind his face against your cunt. And the harmonious moans sound to him just like a starting shot. He starts to roll his hips, picking up the pace and making the thrusts hard enough to make Simon bounce at them.

The moment Simon mouth is back on focusing on your core, you feel your orgasm turn around embarrassingly quick, moans and whines slipping past your lips in abundance. Grinding your hips once again against Simon's face who's moaning back just as much. Your body easily forgetting the offence of having gotten your release pulled away so harshly.

Johnny leans forward kissing you feverishly, making you cling to his shoulders as you moan in his mouth. He feels guilty too, it was his doing what made Simon unable to function, even if it makes him proud how easily he can get the man undone. So to silence his guilt, he lowers his hand, dragging it down on your body, until he reaches your clit; rubbing tight circles making you wail into his mouth.

“Fuck… Fuck, I'm gonna… Shit!” You close your eyes, letting your face fall into his neck, your legs shaking around Simon's head against his tight hold of your thighs with anticipation and you finally feel the coil in your inside snap. And out of everytime that Simon has been waterboarded this is definitely his favourite, drinking up every drop you are willing to give him.

You gasp for hair, your body shaking with the aftershock of your orgasm and Johnny moves his hand to your waist, keeping you up. “Good girl, what a fucking good girl you are, love. We are so fucking lucky to have you.” He slows down on his pace, helping you lay on Simon's body and letting Simon's legs rest around his hips so you can rest your head; your legs still over his neck, not that he minds it; leaving kisses on the back of your thigh wetting your skin with the moistness of his face.

Johnny pets your head resting on Simon's abdomen, stilling on his movements to wait for your answer. A shiver runs down your body as you mutter “fuck”, making both chuckle and you look up to Johnny.

“You broken, baby?” He asks, smiling.

“Not yet, Johnny.” You answer, wrapping your hand around Simon's still soft dick to lazily lick his tip; pulling back the skin to slide your tongue over his slit to taste his salty seed that ended up wasted on the floor. Johnny looks up to Simon, seeing how he tightly closes his eyes, throwing his head back with a deep groan.

It's the mix of Johnny's ridiculously thick cock rubbing against his prostate on each thrust and your warm mouth engulfing him in that makes him start to chub up at a record speed of refractory period.

You feel it in your mouth, how each bob of your head has your jaw stinging more and more. You look up to Johnny, staring at you in awe at the way you swallow the massive dick of Simon, timing his thrust with your movements. “Yer a fucking eye candy, love.” He says, caressing your cheek. “I can't fucking wait to see yer pretty face every morning.”

He moves his hand to the back of your head, keeping it in place when you have Simon's dick stuffing your throat and he rolls his hips deeper, as deep as he can; leaning his body forward just to feel your forehead rest over his pubic bone.

He pulls back, letting you move back as you pull Simon's cock out of your throat letting it fall on Simon's abdomen with a wet thud, his length finally on his full size again, spit connecting it to your lips as you breathe harshly. Simon groans, the air of the room cold in comparison with your warm mouth.

Johnny picks you up, making you sit over Simon's dick with your back pressed against his chest. “Are you gonna ride his dick like a good girl, love? Hm? Gonna help me fuck him silly?” He asks, making you nod as you whine at his words.

You move a hand down, wrapping it around Simon's base and sitting down on it. The wetness of his length and the arousal still dripping from your cunt the only relief of the stretch of his dick.

You sit down smoothly, moaning incoherent words as you use your hand to rest on Simon's chest. And for Simon it is too much, never has he felt this full and wrapped so tight on his life. The only reason why he hasn't cum already being his dick being barely back to life.

He looks up, at how Johnny is hugging you from behind, hiding his face on your neck and whispering praises while he keeps thrusting forwards. At how you have your head resting on Johnny's shoulder, the prettiest noises falling from your mouth as you slide up and down his length.

His two lovers, finally with him, and as close as he can. He wants to cry again, except this time is also for the overstimulation. He whines, weakly moving his hips to meet both Johnny's and your movement.

But he can't, his balls stuck between you and Johnny clenching with the need of release. He can hold it much longer but he needs to hold it, for you, for Johnny.

Johnny was right when back in th car he told him he was going to break the moment you joined the picture, how the two of you were going to fuck him stupid. Fucking Johnny.

But Simon is not the only one affected, he sees how Johnny's eyebrows furrow, trying his best to keep himself from coming undone, holding himself back so nicely like the good boy he is. So Simon can't let him updo him, resting his hands on your hips; moving his thumb lower to circle your clit.

Johnny's hands move lower, interlocking his fingers with Simon's on your hips; using you to push Simon back against his hips.

And like a chain reaction, when you finally fall over the edge with a silent scream as little white dots fill your vision, Simon spurs thick ropes of his seed deep into your cunt when he feels you clench. Leaving Johnny freedom to snap his hips fast against him looking for his release, moaning beautifully when he also spills deep inside of Simon.

You lay over Simon's chest, Johnny laying next to Simon and pulling you in the middle, kissing your shoulder. The warmth from both bodies surrounding you making you feel the safest you have ever been.

It’s a comfortable silence, basking on the afterglow of an amazing session that has left the three of you unable to move right. Three pairs of legs tangled together, Johnny's arm over your body keeping you close to Simon and him. The silence only breaks when you speak.

“Does this mean we are dating now?” The question making the both of them chuckle.

“We haven't gone on a date.” Simon points out.

“Do you want to go on a date?” Johnny asks behind you.

“Yeah! I would love to.” You say smiling widely.

And after learning all his life how to hate, Simon finally had reasons to teach himself how to love. Because all this new range of emotions, of wants, of needs, of reasons to smile, to wake up in the morning; the origin of it all are lying right next to him, talking about where they want to go on said date.

Simon Riley was a man that died years ago, the soldier nicknamed as Ghost pulling his corspe out of his grave. And after so many years of killing, torturing and ignoring every human emotion from his cold heart; he is finally starting to see himself in the mirror.

The three of them having their own strange death, still coming back with more of their pieces intact, and getting drawn together like a magnet. Maybe it was just normal, no one can understand what is like to die as good as somebody who has done it too, maybe it was destiny way to apologise to almost actually killing them; or maybe it was simply and normal attraction that started the moment every one of them met the rest, and the three were too prideful, too coward or too insecure to actually recognise the feelings as such.

And maybe, in the future, when Johnny’s memory is complete again; he will admit to them how he started to have slim flashbacks of them before the accident. Glimpses of their faces, of nicknames, of kisses on the cheeks, of sighs leaving his mouth when watching them. But for now, he will keep them to himself, and rather that reminiscent on those past memories; he will build new ones, as his, and not as the man he was before the accident.

Many things could have gone differently if the tunnel had fallen on him, and luckily it didn't; because after all, well, he wasn't on that tunnel.

That's all, people.

Hope you enjoyed the "mini" serie, mini because in 5 chapters I wrote almost 25k words. But I hope you enjoyed every one of them just as much as I did. 🩷

@crashtestbunny @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @waiting-so-long @mothymunson @cod-z

@lyralein @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @dumb12bvtch1212

@thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock

@arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk

@reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat

@lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @fraserbraw

@rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting

@dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708

@katreintjie @sacvh @thesinsoflust @sodavrr @yuki2129

@idk-justkane @shanhalen @dukeofjjune @crinoid90 @thatoneslvt

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qwimblenorrisstan · 5 months ago

Text

Surprise | Soap x Reader

Summary: After a mission that they barely survived, Ghost leads the team to a safe place to stay, his half-sister’s apartment.

Word Count: ~ 1.6k

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, missiles, etc

A/N: first time writing for cod…hope you enjoy, lmk what to do for part 2!! (also here is what I had in mind for the apartment layout, if you’re like me and can’t picture buildings in your head)

Requests are open!

Masterlist | Next

Their mission had gone to complete shit.

It had started relatively simple compared to the other missions they’d been doing, with Russians, cartels, Mexican forces, and whatnot. They’d been shipped out to America, a suspected terrorist group that had been working for General Barkov when he’d been killed.

A group that had now gone rogue, and rumor was that they were headed to Britain, holding a missile for transport that had been stolen from a covert American base. The Americans weren’t taking it too well, but that was to be expected.

“We don’t have enough information to know who they are, you just need to get that missile transported, and get out of there.” Laswell had told them.

“Sounds easy compared to what we do every mornin’, right Lt?” Soap had said with a grin, nudging him with an elbow slightly, and he had only given a grunt in response, still processing information.

“Easy” his arse.

Sent to one of the states at first, they’d tracked down this supposed terrorist group, apparently it being a lot larger than they originally expected. A lot larger.

It was only because of the intel Gaz had gotten his hands on that they’d been able to locate the missile while it moved, it being located in a broken-down warehouse near Galveston, Texas. Right near the Gulf of Mexico, if they were planning on taking it to sea to travel with it.

And when they’d stormed the warehouse?

A total mess. Unorganized and sloppy.

Soap had blown the door, and they’d planted charges around to detonate for the men guarding the missile but had underestimated just how many there would be. It was crawling with them, more confirmation that they’d been informed somehow beforehand of Task Force 141.

Men in vents, ceiling panels, underneath desks, and hiding behind cabinets, doors, anything.

The missile had only been taken out because of air support, the same air support that had nearly been shot down and taken out, when a heli had finally come in to reprieve them while snatching that missile up and getting the hell out of there.

That didn’t solve the problem of the men everywhere, though. The charges that had been meant to blow some to pieces had been botched, and with all the gunfire, they would attract unwanted attention. Police were already investigating, conveniently turning a blind eye to Price and the rest of his force. It wasn’t a coincidence. Not when Shepherd had a history of paying people off to keep them quiet.

But that wasn’t their problem, right now, Ghost was trying to devise a way to get them the hell out of America, or at least out of goddamn Texas. Of all the places to be stuck in.

“Laswell, where the hell is our exfil?”

He radioed over, crouched down on the roof of a building, taking out whoever he could from it. Many of the men in the terrorist group weren’t a bad shot either, so he decided to keep his head relatively low.

“Negative, Ghost.” Price’s voice responded.

“The hell does that mean?”

“We aren’t leaving. Too many men still here, Kate wants us keeping eyes on ‘em.”

“Bloody fucking hell..”

They had decided to regroup at an old church down the road, Soap was a little banged up, with more than a few cuts and bruises, and Gaz dealing with a minor head injury he’d gotten when someone had tried to smash his skull in with a gun, and Price donning a decent sized cut to the arm.

“This is a covert mission. We can’t stay at a hotel or anything of the like, so where are we going?” Gaz asked, and Price paused for a moment, looking a bit unsure, which made sense considering this had been a get-in-get-out mission before it had changed. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Ghost spoke.

“I know someone, but they’re a long ways away.”

~ 3:48 A.M.~

A knock that was more like a banging on your door woke you up from your light sleep as you quietly sat up in your bed, standing and tiptoeing over to the front door of your spacey apartment.

It was large, for the price. But considering you were working for the landlord at a local restaurant, as he was the general manager there as well, it made sense.

The apartment held two spare bedrooms, and a nice living room connected to a kitchen with a table in it you liked using. Two bathrooms, one in the hallway where your room was in, another connected to a guest bedroom. A little balcony, which came in handy when one of your friends wanted a smoke break when over at your place.

Palming the closed hunting knife still connected to your pants and hanging loosely, you figured you were safe enough to answer the door, and looking through the peephole, you saw four men.

Military, and the one in the Ghost mask…

Opening the door, your face now annoyed, you stared him dead in the eye. Didn’t even glance at the others.

“We need a place to stay. A month or two at most.”

His low and rough voice, donning a British accent, said. It was louder than you remembered him being, but then again, he wasn’t the scared little Simon that you’d known anymore, scared of the abusive father you’d both shared. He wasn’t the Simon who mumbled or spoke quietly anymore.

A silent conversation passed between you two at the door, a thick silence passing over the entire group. The other men stared. Your eyes narrowed, a nonverbal question.

Are you on a mission?

He didn’t move for a moment, no doubt thinking of the information he could share with you. Another reason for your eventual fallout, the fact that he wouldn’t ever share with you anything if what he did. It was always to keep you safe.

Eventually, he gave a tiny, near imperceptible nod. On a mission. Of course, he would come to you while on a mission, dragging you into it. It wasn’t like you were helpless against attackers, not at all, but they’d had some crazy shit happen to them over the years, and that was just from what you’d overheard.

With a resigned sigh, you looked over at the other men he’d brought.

A taller man, with a beard, and a bucket hat. He looked like he had authority. A man on the shorter end, with some scruff, a mohawk, and a poorly restrained cheeky smile. The last man was darker, an almost caramel brown, with short hair, cleanly shaven, and a hat on.

Military men, clearly, but if Simon was willing to trust them around you, then you didn’t count them much as a threat right now.

“Names.”

You said flatly, and the Mohawk-one’s brows raised before replying.

“You can call me Soap-“

“I mean your name, not your shitty military nickname.”

You interrupted bluntly, clearly not in the best mood after being woken at 3 AM because of Simon Riley. “Soap” raised his hands in a mock gesture of innocence.

“Easy, lass. It’s Johnny, if you must know.”

Scottish, then. You could tell by the accent. The taller one spoke.

“John Price.”

The prettiest of the group spoke with a little smile that could’ve fooled you for not being faked.

“Kyle.”

Giving them all one last flat, surveying look, you jerked your head into the apartment, walking in.

“Two guest bedrooms down that way, bathrooms down the hall, there’s a balcony if you want a second exit. Don’t break anything.”

You said simply, and they walked in, looking tired as hell and covered in bandages. However, you weren’t going to let this go. Not right now.

You grabbed Simon by the arm, and he stiffened, stopping.

“You and I are going to have a little talk, Simon.” You said, dragging him into your room, and shutting the door behind you as he sighed, pulling his mask off. Blond hair and lashes came into view, as well as baby blue eyes.

“What the fuck were you thinking, bringing-“

You began, pissed as hell. He hadn’t contacted you in years, not since his mom had died, and with your shared father already dead, you’d been shoved into foster care.

“We’re all injured. We can’t stay anywhere we can be easily found. This area isn’t as well registered, and we’ll be gone in a month.” He spoke simply as if it wasn’t anything to get upset or emotional about.

You took a breath and breathed it out. Stay calm.

“I’m not talking about the mission, Simon.”

He seemed unused to being called his real name. At least, by the stiffening of his shoulders, you guessed so.

“There’s nothing else to talk about.”

He said gruffly, turning to open the door and leave. You stepped in his way, and he stared down at you, unamused. You were barely 5’6, and he was 6’2, so it was quite the height difference.

“You can’t run from your problems forever, Simon.”

You said, hands on your hips, and he simply picked you up, placing you beside him as he opened the door and walked out. Always running from his problems.

It was surprisingly unsurprising.

~ 4:07 A.M.~

“You want to explain who the hell that is, Simon?”

Price asked gruffly from where they were all gathered in one of the guest rooms. Simon paused his quiet pacing for a moment to reply.

“My half-sister.” He answered, and a silence fell over at that. The only sibling they knew he had was Tommy, and Tommy was long dead at that. A few seconds passed, before Soap, in the bathroom connected to this particular guest room, combing his Mohawk and going through his haircare routine, spoke up.

“She’s a real bonnie lass.” Johnny said with a grin, and Simon sighed.

“English, MacTavish.”

“She’s hot as fuck, sir.” The Scotsman said, and there was a small, disappointed sigh from Gaz, who already knew he’d have to patch up Soap from Ghost, who was fuming silently.

#cod mwii #ghost cod #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #task force 141 #tf 141 #johnny x reader #soap call of duty #soap x reader

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babygirl-riley · 1 year ago

Text

What’s a Soulmate?

Ghost never thought he would have came this far in life

“It’s a person who knew you, accepted you and believed in you before anyone else did.”

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst

“Who’s ya soulmate?” The question rang in his mind as he stared down at the child. What does he say? How does he say it? The little girl was smart for being 8, he didn’t know what to say. He stared at her before looking up at his wife. Both of them waiting for a response.

Everyone was afraid of Ghost, his demeanor always the same. Cold and rash. Always the “bad cop,” always the hard ass Lieutenant, always the one to make sure the drills are harder if you disobeyed orders. Until you happened.

Bright eyed Sargent that was kind in the eyes yet deadly with your hands. Deadly in turning a cold hearted man into a soft teddy bear. Yet it wasn’t fast, it was slow for Ghost to start even talking to you. When you were introduced to the team Ghost felt that skip on his heart.

No.

That was his thought at first, no way in hell. You looked innocent, almost innocent enough to not even be here. You fit in pretty well, made jokes when things got heated, barked orders to privates, and skilled with your sniper. At first when talking to Soap you mentioned how you thought Ghost hated you. You would always try to talk to him, he would only respond if needed and when he didn’t really need to he would stare and nod.

It wasn’t until 2 months later both of you were ready and waiting for a heli. Watching cadets training on the tarmac, some of them having the worst time of their lives as the drill sergeant yelled at them. That’s when he leaned closer to you from the side. “What do you call a group of kids who enlists in the military,” You slowly looked up to him his eyes barring into your. “The INFANTry.”

You blinked a couple of times before chuckling. “That’s a good one. Why didn’t the troop tell anyone about their rank in the military,” Ghost looked up towards the team coming up. “It was PRIVATE.”

Ghost shook his head before walking away towards the group. After that he was more closer to you, both of you in sync at all times. He would eventually join the group during downtime, sitting next to you, or close to you. Ghost finally was able to talk to you not just about military things but also just random shit.

Ghost learning you love bourbon just like him. How you love meatloaf and he hated it without some cheese in the middle. Little did he know you surprised him by cooking him some and brought it to work. Ghost glared at you and you shrugged. “I’m alone Ghost I can’t eat all of it myself. So I split it.”

When he ate it, his heart sunk. It was like how his mom made it, almost the damn same just different seasoning. He stared at the food for moment grumbling to himself as he ate more.

Months later you came storming in. “Whats your deal?” You said slamming his office door.

Ghost snapped his head up glaring at you. Before he went back to his paperwork, you stood there for a moment. “Hello?” You asked walking to his desk placing your hands on it.

Ghost couldn’t look up to you, two nights ago he fucked up. Morbidly fucked up. The team was drinking late one night, having some drinks at a pub. Ghost felt it, the way you laughed, danced, teased him with your eyes.

There was tension that built the small touches from both of you. The glances. The tension in the air. Hell the team felt it as well, watching Ghost become more nicer towards you, subtle of course. They didn’t really notice until he would give compliments like “Not bad.” “Doing good Sargent.” Things that the Lieutenant wouldn’t say out loud.

When the night came to a slow down, you wanted to go home. It was just a couple of blocks, so why not walk you home. When reaching your apartment, Ghost looked down at you. His heart racing. Hands becoming wet. Your eyes just barring into his. “Thank you Ghost.” Ghost nodded once before you looked away. Both of you not moving. “Would you like to come in?”

After that you made tea, it was all over once your hand made a little touch of his. Clothes being thrown off, moans and pants being filled inside your apartment, skin to skin contact. It was a mistake. It was wrong. Yet it felt right. When you fell asleep he left.

His mind racing, Ghost never felt that way before. Wanting more. Loving it. Especially fucking his teammate. The only way to fix it, making sure they were apart. You noticed almost immediately, he would avoid, he would be gone instead of coming with the team. He even made sure that you wouldn’t be paired up with him.

Ghost longed more for you however, craved more. He missed your laugh, voice, hell even just your presence. He didn’t understand why it fucking scared him. So instead letting Simon take care of it he pushed him lower away. “You going to answer me or be a fucking coward.” You snapped leaning closer.

Fuck how he hated your determination, your spicy attitude. He snapped his head up. “Coward?” He questioned straightening up.

“What the sex was just what you needed? And instead of being an actual man you just push all of it,” He was silent glaring at you anger starting to course through his veins. “I thought we were at least fucking friends.”

Ghost laughed standing hp. “I don’t make friends kid.”

Kid. You rolled your eyes. “Bullshit. There is something deeper in that fucking heart of yours, you’re scared.”

Ghost scoffed. “‘M not scared.”

“Then look at me in the eyes.”

Ghost didn’t even notice that he wasn’t even looking at you. Yeah he was looking at you but not AT you. When he did his heart softened, sure there was anger but there was concern that were in your eyes. He kept looking between both of your eyes, not knowing what to do.

“I don’t know what I did to make you hate me but I want to be at least professional.” You shortly explained, trying to stuff the feeling that came up through your throat.

“Ya did nothin’.” He whispered.

For a couple hours you both sat some in silence some of him apologizing and explaining. Not too much into detail but enough to get his point across. You were patient, empathetic, letting him talk while you listened. Ghost slowly was taking bits of the wall that cover Simon, not enough right now but enough to know he wanted to see you more.

You agreed to keep it on the low, that it was just sex. Even though both of you deep down knew it wasn’t that. You would hang out, outside of work, be around each other, you even had him smile or laugh. Which was rare to see, the more you both got to know each other the more Ghost got comfortable.

One night when you both decided that going to star gaze in the middle of no where together. You shared a story about how your father would take you camping and do this all the time. He never talked about family and that was okay for you. He would just nod and listen. As you kept going you said Ghost for his name.

“Simon.” He mumbled looking at you, as you slowly turned your head from the sky. “My name is Simon.”

You carefully watched his eyes, learning how to know what he felt through them. He meant to say it he had to. “Simon.” You whispered.

Ghost nodded slowly before inhaling deeply. “Only you get to call me that when we’re alone ya?”

You nodded. “Of course.”

Months went by when slowly your things would be on his apartment. You were allowed to stay the night, cuddle, have dinner with. Never have you pressed on what both of you were, even though it was obvious. You offered to cook tonight as you moved around the kitchen.

Simon watched you as you bite your lip in concentration. His heart fluttering, he learned to love the feeling. Love to know that he could feel what he is feeling still. Simon walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you. You leaned up against him as you stir the pot of noodles.

“Smells good.” He mumbled mesmerized in the stir.

“Thank you.” You whispered looking up at him smiling.

You both stared for a moment. “Move in with me?” He asked having you place the spoon down and face him.

You smiled at him placing your hands on both of his cheeks, rubbing the balaclava. “I would love to Simon.”

Now he lays in bed as you were asleep. All the times you held him when he would wake up from a nightmare, once he got comfortable. One night it was the worst he had in years, he shot up sweat covering his side of the bed. Sticking to his clothes like a wet napkin. His breathing was rigid and hard, his heartbeat erratic.

He snapped his head to you and felt your pulse immediately, going slow and trying his best not to wake you either. It wasn’t his luck as you stirred. “Si?”

“Shh lovie go back to bed.” He whispered about to get up but felt your hand grab his wrist gently.

“Another one,” You sat up as you felt the sweat through his shirt. Saw how his hair clinging to his forehead. He looked away, shame through his veins. “Come here.” You whispered softly.

Simon shifted as he went between your legs and set his head on your stomach. You sat up to lean against the headboard as you rubbed his back and hummed a sweet melody, his breathing was regulated as he wrapped his arms tighter. It could have been hours, both of you laid like that. You said nothing but hummed and whispered sweet nothings to him.

“You died.” He suddenly said which almost made you jump, due to thinking he went to sleep.

“Oh.” You said stopping your stroked as your fingers went through his locks.

It went quiet again. “I can’t loose you.” he voice was lower tiredness creeping in.

You inhaled deeply, still playing with his scalp. “Simon you will never loose me. I’m right here, alive and well. I know it doesn’t make it any better but you can feel me right now.”

Simon sighed as you felt his body relax more. “I love you.”

You wanting to cry right then and there but didn’t. Held back the tears as you inhaled. “I love you too.”

~~~~~~~~

Never would Ghost be here. Standing at the end of an aisle hands shaking, Price came up to him placing a hand on his shoulder. “Ya know I knew you two for years before you told me?”

Simon turned to him smirking. “That right?”

“Soap, Gaz, and I bet on it. Then that year when y/n came to retire I asked her why and she told me that you were havin’ a kid.” Price smiled.

“Ya he won the pot.” Soap mumbled looking straight at the door.

Simon glared at all three of them. “The pot?”

“We bet ya were together but he bet pregnant AND together.” Gaz added looking at Price. “Fuckin’ cheater.”

Price chuckled as he nodded. “I know my crew is all.”

Simon sighed rubbing his eyes before he heard the soft music play. Snapping his head up. Never would Ghost be standing here. Oh but Simon is. He watched as a small child in a pink and white dress throw small petals on the ground. With the help of your sister. She had his eyes and your nose, his favorite your smile.

The child beamed as she saw him, giggling as she looked at the flowers and him. Never would Ghost be able to see that. Never would he even thought to have a child. When she reached him, her tiny body grabbed up to him as she hugged her and kissed her temple.

Then you came. You were beautiful in your white gown, smile beaming brighter than anything he has seen. You had tears and secretly he did too. He watched as your father walked you down. It was small aisle. Only your family and 141 that is all that we needed. When your dad handed you off to him he gripped Simon’s arm. “Thank you son.”

Never would Ghost would think someone would call him son again.

“Well princess,” Simon spoke looking at you. “My soulmate would be have to be ya mum.”

#Spotify #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #dad!simon ghost riley #dad!ghost

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burstinn · 10 months ago

Note

I need more krueger fics (anything) 👉😔

Stalker x Stalker

(Part 1/?)

KRUEGER X M! READER

Notes And Warnings:

- Stalker x Stalker trope

- Stalking on both sides

- Masturbation and jerking off

1.To people without their awareness

2.To a dirty piece of cloth

- Sexual innuendos and thoughts

- NSFW

- no proofreading

- made in a short span of time meaning probably an hour or shorter so this is probably not the best way to yknow..

- made short on purpose because I got lazy

- This is a work of fiction made because I was bored, This should not be followed or replicated or else I will kill myself (>o<)

-made this cuz I didn't write for a good while and I felt bad

You don't know how this even started, He wasn't even acknowledging you the first time you guys met.. Was it his eyes? His accent? Maybe he reminded you of someone.. Shit you didn't care, you stopped caring for a long time now. It's an obsession at this point, You are hidden in your closet. You made a small hole inside of it like a secret room.. Just so you can keep trinkets and everything about.. Him.

Nothing but heavy breathing fills your cramped secret hole.. You need more pictures of him, this is getting out of hand, you're so desperate to feel him in some kind of fucking way it's unbelievable you held back for so long. Smelling one of the missing boxers of his wasn't enough to even satisfy you anymore.

Krueger, Sebastian Josef Krueger.. You scan your wall of pictures.. Pictures of him sleeping, working out, talking, eating, bathing.. Jerking off.. Those pictures were when you got lucky enough to take them and by God do you masturbate to those every night. Wishing one day you'd finally able to make him yours.. You know everything about him, His likes, his dislikes, his family, relatives, who he dislikes, what he does every morning and every night..

And recently you've only just started breaking into his room just to touch him, his face, tracing your finger tips against his jaw line, pressing your thumb against his soft lips.. Fuck,the thought of it makes you so hard.

But right now, you have a mission you need to attend to and the only thing that can calm your nerves is Krueger. Since you couldn't find him anywhere, Your shrine is the best place. You softly press your lips against one of the pictures of Krueger. One day, You will have the balls to actually try and talk to Krueger. You walk out of the closet, leaving with a slightly less grouchy mood. Hopefully the mission would go off without a hitch.

•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•

You're gone, The helicopter you got in with your other mates had just left and he watches intently and carefully to see that you actually did leave. Once he sees the heli leave the vicinity he wastes no time walking over to your room.. Not without precautions of course he made sure nobody saw him walk in there.

Fucking finally, Your room empty.. Everything in this room is just you, Your clothes, Your pictures, Your bed, your dirty laundry.

Krueger can't help but feel a short adrenaline rush come over him as makes his way to your desk which was right across from your bed.. He shuffles for a moment under the desk, pulling out a small camera.. He can't wait too watch this later, he doesn't care if you were doing nothing, reading a book, scrolling your phone, jerking off.. He didn't give a single shit he was gonna jerk off to whatever was recorded here anyway.

He pockets the camera, walking over to your bed and just.. Smelling, hugging everything.. You are so intoxicating. How could you do this to him? He knew it was wrong but he was in love, more than in love. Why else was he doing this? He loved everything about you.

Even if this obsession started over nothing special he didn't give a damn, what happened, happened and he's in love with you.

He stands up and grabs one of your dirty briefs from the hamper, making his way back to the bed laying back down and slowly lifting your brief to his nose. Krueger flinches his body getting hot just by the smell of you, He could just.. He shuts his eyes keeping your boxers to his nose.. His other hand shuffling to unbuckle his belt. His hard cock almost immediately throbbing out when he pulls his pants and boxers down.

He rips his gloves out of his hand with his teeth, slow breaths. His mind drifting off to you, naked on your bed.. Your cock out and lonely, desperate for his touch. Bothof you just whining and grunting out his name as you rubs your cocks together, moaning in each other's mouth, your tongues fighting against each other..

He didn't even notice he already came, his cum staining his uniform and on your bedsheets.. Goddamit, He promised himself he was supposed to make sure to not cum on your bed this time. He takes a breath, pocketing your brief as well as he gets up, zipping his pants up.. He should clean this.

Next time he'll be careful, It's only a miracle he doesn't get caught in your room while your sleeping, jerking off to your sleeping figure.

#gay #call of duty x male reader #call of duty modern warfare x male reader #cod mw2 x male reader #cod x male reader #cod x reader #x male reader #krueger x male reader #sebastian krueger #cod krueger #krueger x reader #part 1/?

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littlemissclandestine · 11 months ago

Text

Soft!Russell Adler x Reader pt.2

Note: Hello again my fellow Adler enjoyers! Just thought I'd add some more hcs because tbh this list is endless. He knows exactly how to treat a woman and you can't tell me otherwise. Look at him! GRAHHH!! Enjoy my lovelies... - Star ✰

🤎 Soft!Adler who has a habit of doing everything for you and you tell him to stop but he says that you've been a strong, independent woman all of your life and that it's one of the reasons he fell for you but now it's time for his girl to relax and enjoy life a little, and for you to let him take care of you

🤎 Soft!Adler who has the cutest pet names for you such as sweetheart, darlin', doll, honey, beautiful, gorgeous, tiger, princess etc

🤎 Soft!Adler who loves calling you his girl and gettin' all possessive

🤎 Soft!Adler who stands behind you while you're in front of a mirror as you're almost ready to go out, putting the necklace that he gifted you on for you, planting kisses on your neck, his hands tracing the outline of your body as he looks at you both in the mirror, in awe of you

🤎 Soft!Adler who always picks up your favourite things when he's out shopping and you're not with him, your likes and dislikes ingrained in his brain

🤎 Soft!Adler who understands your needs, both physical and emotional and fulfils them in a way that makes you adore him even more everyday

🤎 Soft!Adler who craves intimacy but denied it for far too long because of how his last relationship ended and underneath all of that bravado, America's monster needs to be reminded he is, in fact, human

🤎 Soft!Adler who takes time out and makes a conscious effort to visit your family when you finally introduce him even though it's something that makes him slightly nervous but he does it for you whether they like him or not

🤎 Soft!Adler who buys you flowers, chocolates, bath bombs etc. when you least expect it

🤎 Soft!Adler who makes you breakfast in bed during slow mornings, insisting he cleans up the plates and you have a nice soak, coming up to massage your scalp, scrub you gently and read a book to you as you hang your arms over the edge of the tub, your chin resting on top of your hands, listening intently

🤎 Soft!Adler who catches a whiff of your scent on his shirt or jacket at work, smiling to himself, leaning back in his chair as he remembers how you wore it the day before and he closes his eyes, inhaling it once more before getting back to his job

🤎 Soft!Adler who lets you apply his war paint for him on missions

🤎 Soft!Adler who offers to give you massages, claiming he is an expert and nobody would pass up on it, not even Woods or Mason

🤎 Soft!Adler who secretly loves skin on skin

🤎 Soft!Adler who picks you up bridal style or throws you over his shoulder whenever he feels like it, carrying you around the house

🤎 Soft!Adler who kisses every part of you that you don't love and cherishes it because he knows the pain of low self esteem and in his eyes, every inch of you is beautiful

🤎 Soft!Adler who opens car doors and pulls out chairs for you like a proper gentleman would

🤎 Soft!Adler who playfully smacks your ass when nobody's looking as you're boarding a heli or getting into a SUV if you work together

🤎 Soft!Adler who admires you for who you are and feels inspired by you, making him want to be a better person, not just for him but for you

🤎 Soft!Adler who won't get up and move when you've fallen asleep on him, even if his limbs are feeling numb, out of fear of disturbing you

🤎 Soft!Adler who's only vulnerable with you

🤎 Soft!Adler who tells you how you make him feel alive again after all of the trauma he has endured over the years due to the requirements of his job and the toll it takes on him, no matter how much he denies the extent of it

🤎 Soft!Adler who always wonders if he's doing right by you, how he managed to pull a girl like you in the first place, if you'd stay in his life no matter how long he's away for, how hard it gets and if you'd accept his hand in marriage when, not if, the time comes

🤎 Soft!Adler who lets his tears fall when he finally gets to see you walk down the aisle

dividers by @chachachannah <33

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piratesfromspace · 1 year ago

Text

After the rain (141xReader)

Pairing: Reader x Soap (& implied Reader x 141)

Rated: Mature

Word count: 900

Summary: After being kidnapped and rescued, Rain needs to make sure Soap is still alive

Note: In the same universe as my "Rain or Shine" fic, it is the epilogue of the part 4. Some people requested this chapter, and I was happy to write a little something to offer some comfort to our poor Soap. Reader callsign is "Rain", she's bi and autistic (I am autistic myself).

Content: angst, hurt/comfort, aftermath of torture, medical setting, happy ending (kinda)

MASTERLIST // PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4

Rain has a hard time opening her eyes. She’s not quite sure where she is, she’s slow to wake up, her brain still foggy from the sleeping pills. But then she moves in the bed, and everything starts hurting. Her muscles are so sore, bruises are painfully blooming under her scratched skin. Her head is heavy, throbbing. She feels like she’s been run over by a humvee. With the pain, everything comes back to her in a second. She rises with a gasp, a shot of adrenaline wringing her guts to the point she thinks she’s gonna puke.

The light of day is peaking through the half-opened curtains of her room. She’s back on base, and everything is so vividly painful she’s sure it can’t be a dream. The memory of the past few days invades her - their capture, Johnny’s sacrifice to protect her, her crawling on the floor to rest her cheek against his bloody leg when their captor finally stopped. The sudden thought that Soap might not have survived the torture is suffocating her, she can’t breathe, it’s breaking her mind and her heart. Last she saw him he was laying on the heli floor surrounded by medics.

A flash of white in the corner of her eyes attracts her attention when she finally gathers enough strength to get out of her bed. There is a crisp white strip of paper on her night-stand. It only says “he’s OK” in black ink, and she instantly recognizes Simon’s angular writing. Soap has made it. Tears wet her cheeks without her realizing she’s crying.

—-

She tucks her fists inside the pocket of her hoodie. A black one that belongs to one of the boys, she can’t really tell which one. She keeps her head down, doesn’t want to cross the panicked gaze of colleagues at her face. She’s sporting various scratches, a mean bruise on the side of her jaw, her skin has a sickly yellow-ish undertone - she looks like shit and she knows it.

She crosses the base in a hurried bee-line for the medical bay. She probably should call up her captain for further instruction, report to debrief or go see a doctor. But the only thing on her mind is finding Soap. She had always liked him - it was hard not to, he was funny, kind, quite handsome, always laughing. But she knew that he was growing obsessed with her, and it had frightened her at first. Situations like those could easily delve into unpleasant territories for everyone involved. Except it was Soap, smart-ass Soap, kind-hearted Soap, and he made it work even when it was obvious he was sad Rain had chosen Simon instead of him. After Siberia, things didn't really change, they rather shifted. The group was tighter, Rain was not shy with her attraction to the other guys, with her attraction to him. She let Johnny more into her bubble, into her heart.

And here she is, the wet tracks of tears drying on her cheeks as she leaps through long corridors in search of Soap, when she should get checked for her own injuries, when she should maybe not stay alone like this. Her brain is still drowning in diluted stress hormones and the end trail of painkillers, the mix giving her a distant headache that will probably force her down in a couple hours. For now, she persists.

When she finally finds him, she’s simultaneously disappointed and relieved to find him alone. Ghost, Gaz and Price must be somewhere else, maybe they just went out for a quick break. She doesn’t know how much time she has on her own with Soap, before someone, a nurse, or one of the boys, comes back. He looks like he’s sleeping. Bandages are wrapped around all his visible limbs, snaking around fingers, his wrists, part of his right arm. Around his head also, his already short hair clearly shaved for access to wounds. One of his eyes is hidden by a plastic shell. His lips are swollen, split in a few places. Skilled hands have been at work here, in dressing his wounds, wiping out dried blood, setting up electrodes and drips. It’s easy to forget how simple it is to destroy, and how labor-intensive it is to heal. The regular bip of the heart monitor is the thing that prevents her from spiraling further down. Alive. Her sergeant is alive. No need to explore the devastating thought of him being gone.

She climbs on the bed, finds a place against him. His warmth makes her want to cry again. Her own scratched fingers hover over his cheekbones - the skin there is purple - then over his neck, she needs to feel his pulse under her scorched skin. Alive. She tucks her face next to his shoulder, tries to find the familiar smell under the antiseptic. Rain holds him the best she can without risking hurting him more, and decides that’s all she wants to do for the time being.

That’s how the boys find them when they arrive some time after that. They had been looking for her after Simon had discovered her empty bed. They weren’t really scared. They knew she would be here. Where else? They swore to take care of each other - and that’s what they will keep doing, no matter what.

MASTERLIST

#ghost x reader #cod fanfiction #soap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #price x reader #gaz x reader #poly 141 #141 fanfic #task force 141 #141 x reader #tf 141 #poly tf141 #polyamory #hurt/comfort #whump writing

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dtrghost · 2 years ago

Text

closeness and proximity part.3

pairing: ghost x f!reader

synopsis: callsign is sunshine, because you're anything but. team 141 thought ghost was bad? at least they could crack a smile out of the guy from time to time, you? you were stone faced, all day, every day. until one day you're not, not with a certain someone anyway.

warnings: inaccurate military language and sequences, angst, allusions to mental illness (reader has sociopathic tendencies) you get the gist. Finally some fluff and emotional stuff between them so yaaayyy.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT:

word count: 2.6k

The drive back was quiet. Price drove back with Gaz and had Soap drive Ghost and Y/N. He sat in the backseat next to her, growing genuinely concerned for her mental wellbeing. The more she thought about it, about the sudden flood of emotions from a small moment in a dirty, humid bar, the more she remembered. The quicker she'd sent herself back into that room to relive those moments again, the ones she never told a soul about.

Simon had to pull her out once more in the duration of the car ride, talking with Soap and forcing her into the conversation to take her mind off of it by asking her weird, off topic questions that she answered. They got back to base and she attempted to split away from the group to her room, only to be yanked back with a serious look from her comrade.

They sat her down at the dinner table, and she suddenly felt small. She felt like she was being interrogated with the eyes of 4 staring at her intently, waiting for her to say something. Yet she didn't, she stayed quiet for 3 minutes, glancing around the room and sighing irritatedly.

"Well. Are you going to tell us or not." Ghost pressed, leaning forward in his chair next to her. She scoffed, chuckling out of anger, the sound running shivers up their spines.

"What the hell is this. You're not my fucking therapists, so quit trying to act like it." She spat, her eyes full of fire and rage.

"You listen here muppet. It's one thing for you to be angry and violent out on missions, but it's a whole other when you lash out at us." Her eyes narrowed at him, watching the flames of determination and vexation dancing, growing. She was lost in them for a moment, the others completely confused about the sudden moment they were sharing. Simon couldn't describe the urge to help her, to get her to open up to them.

Maybe he was just too curious, but what about the slip up in the bar?

love?

She had none, that he felt sure of. Sympathy maybe, a simple attempt to ground her, that's all it was.

He saw something as he read past her rage, it was small and fleeting, a light. A flicker of a candle, but this one wasn't out of anger, it was soft, gentle.

The phone rang, interrupting them as Price pulled out his phone.

"This is Price how copy?" He listened before his eyes landed on her, and just like that, the candlelight disappeared, blown out and left like it was a figment of his imagination. Now there was a void, a shell of human ready to serve and follow her orders. All of her anger dissipated as she rose from her seat. "Rog." He hung up and sighed, looking at her with a sorrowful look, one that she didn't register nor care for.

"You and Ghost have orders to be shipped out to a distribution hub in Amsterdam, you'll fly in a heli and drive the rest of the way. Your chopper will be here in 20 minutes."

"Affirm." She stormed out after that, pissed off by what had just occurred. She angrily threw her civilian mask off to the side and yanked on her work one, strapping on her vest and clipping her gear.

"This is Sunshine, Bravo 0-7 confirm channel." She spoke into her radio, adjusting her gear to her liking, making it tight and in hands reach.

"Bravo 0-7 confirmed." His voice echoed in her room, earning a sigh of irritation as she turned to look at him. He was geared up, making him look thicker than he already was with the extra padding. Instead of taking him she shoved past him, earning a 'tch' as he grabbed her arm, yanking her back to look at him.

"What the fuck is your problem?" She was angry at him. Not at the team, not at headquarters, at him. Why after all these years he suddenly cared. After all the missions they went on together, all the looks she didn't understand or the fleeting moments where she felt something more than anger or a void nothingness. He could see her confusion, making him sigh and put a hand on his hip as a hand lifted to try and sooth her down.

"I'm just trying to help-"

"I don't need your fucking help. So back off." He watched her stomp away.

"Bloody Americans." He muttered, falling into step with her. She remained silent the whole ride there, from when they landed, she was to carride. He watched her, watched as flickers of emotion passed through her gaze. 6 years of pent up feelings did something to people, he knew that better than anyone, and because of that he knew she was going to crack soon, and it was going to be his fault.

He would continue to push until one day she snapped, whether she'd cry or scream or throw a punch at him, he would be there, he had to be. He recalled the nights he'd spent with her in the last few years, where they barely talked but rather absorbed each other's presence as they cleaned their weapons or read through mission briefs. When they did talk it was meaningless, it served no benefit, no new information learned about each other, but it was comforting. He felt comfort in her coldness at the time, maybe because there was someone just as fucked up as he was.

She thought about it often too, the time they spent together on missions, how it ran smoother with him around. She didn't understand the sensations she'd get around him, the heat that burned in her chest, her face. How if she thought about him at night while he slept on the hard floor next to her, she'd press her legs together because of the heat that festered there too. She knew what desire was, she was aware of the need for pleasure, but she never indulged. What was the point if it were not with him? And in her mind she would never be with him, she wasn't good enough for that, she wasn't there, enough for something so intimate.

She knew that maybe she could live a more normal life if she had let him help her, but everything was so on and off. During the ride there she'd think, maybe she would let him help, that wouldn't be so bad. Then she'd snap out of it and be angry with herself for even allowing that thought to cross her mind. She watched a safe house appear from beyond the trees.

"We're stopping here for the night. Intel says the shipment doesn't come until tomorrow." Their driver informed them. They filed out of their cars and distributed themselves to their assigned rooms, and lo and behold, she was forced to share with Ghost. Simon watched her sigh deeply and nod, following her to their shared room.

"Go shower first." He commanded, and she obeyed without a word. She was too exhausted to fight with him. She'd spent the whole way there trying to figure out her shit before it began to affect her performance, and it killed her. She was far off the mark, easily irritated, snappy. She hoped it would wash off in the shower, and she took deep breaths while staring at herself in the mirror, hoping to turn it all off like she did before.

But she couldn't, she'd look and see anger, or a foreign feeling she didn't have a name for. Sadness? No, she had nothing to be sad about. So she huffed, exiting the bathroom to see Simon waiting patiently on his cot. She didn't spare him a glance and laid down on hers, staring up at the ceiling as he analyzed her for a moment, getting no reaction to his intense stare.

He left for his shower, and she listened to his clothes drop, letting her mind wander to what he looked like underneath them.

It was a better distraction than negativity, it made her feel something more enticing, until she was left sexually frustrated. She listened to him shower. The way the water would hit the floor in ripples, imagining how his skin shined and dripped, the coolness of the substance and how they hit his scars. Yeah, this was a better thought. She stayed there, in that moment, even after he walked out.

He snapped his fingers in front of her face, earning a glare from her.

"What're you thinkin' about now then?" He questioned, grunting as his big frame hit his bed. She didn't respond, and he didn't expect her to, likely because she was still mad at him.

"You in the shower." His head turned to her slowly, flabbergasted by what he was hearing. He listened to the melody of her voice as her shoulders shook. For the first time since they met, she laughed, truly. She found his reaction hilarious, how wide his eyes got in horror and... hope? She found that funny too, so funny she doubled over the side, cackling like a mad woman.

"Jesus fuckin' christ." Simon sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose for a moment before laughing himself. He couldn't help it, she just had one of those laughs that forced you to laugh too, the wheeze, the gasps for air as she hit her stomach and fell onto the floor.

"Sunshine, you're gonna die of a heart attack at this rate." He spoke to her, watching her wipe the tears forming in her eyes as she took a deep breath, sitting on her floor.

"I hate you, ya know." She confessed suddenly, surprising him as he looked at her curiously.

"You piss me off, you fucked me up. Don't understand anything anymore. Spent the whole day trying to put myself back together and it's just-" She mimicked an explosion, her hands dropping heavily onto her lap. He sat up, sitting down on the floor in front of her with his knee facing up to rest in his arm on.

"Well if you tell me about it, maybe I can put some things into perspective for you." He offered. He watched her mental battle, the conflict blazing through her skull. He could practically see them floating around her head like a thunderstorm.

"Oh fuckin' hell, just say it. You're thinking too much." She huffed, letting her head fall back as she stared at the ceiling for a moment.

"I can't. I can't explain it. After I got out, I didn't understand much of anything, they tried to wipe me, break me in a way others couldn't by making me forget myself and replace it with what they wanted. But I was rescued before that could happen. I was thrown back in before I could fully recover, because I had a skill set others didn't."

"Things came back in fragments, pieces of my past came back to me, and I realized that maybe it was better that I didn't remember. That if I stayed a shell I wouldn't have anymore emotion burdens than I already did. But it was too late, and it all came back to me one night in shambles. From birth to that moment, everything. I couldn't handle it, so I turned it off, I reverted back to this technique I learned while I was kidnapped, and from then I could never turn it back on." He knew what she was referring to.

Autopilot, where your mind went blank and your body operated on it's own. You couldn't feel anything, you just did what you had to.

"Then I met you. And at first that was fine. You were just another soldier that I had to work with, and then we talked that one night, and talked some more the next. And feelings began to surface on their own. I don't know what it is, excitement maybe? All I knew was that I wanted to talk to you, I looked forward to it, I got these weird feelings in my gut whenever I did."

Was she confessing to a crush... on him? She didn't care. What she did or did not confess to wasn't a concern. He asked and he was receiving.

"And then you started caring, out of nowhere. Years went by and suddenly a few days ago, after I skinned someone alive and you found out some rough shit happened to me, you changed. It made me angry, because I hate feeling, especially things I can't understand."

He noticed that too, that he cared more.

"New information can change your approach, and you have to adapt and improvise." He explained vaguely. He saw something reaching out in her, even through this dump of emotion and information, he noticed the cry for help deep inside her. The part she buried underneath years of mistreatment and being used.

"Stop talking to me like a soldier." She snapped, earning a soft gaze from him that she hadn't received before. It made her chest feel weird, and he could tell by how she grabbed at the shirt covering it.

"You're pissing me off."

"No, I'm breaking you." They made eye contact. All the breath left her lungs in that moment, from his gentle tone and low volume to the look in his eyes that made her eyes water, it was too much. She couldn't take it. Her stomach lurched, and before another word could be uttered between them she scurried to the bathroom, emptying the contents in her abdomen into the toilet.

He was by her side in an instant, shushing her quietly and rubbing her back. His heart sank at the feeling of her shiver and the sound of her retching.

"I gotcha Y/N. Always have right?" She could feel her mind cracking, tears welling in her eyes from the pressure of the vomit and being an emotional wreck.

"I can't." She muttered weakly, sitting against the shower door, grimacing as the air entering her lungs burned with the raw feeling in her throat.

"You can. In all my years being by your side, there's nothing you can't do love, you and I both know that more than anyone." Her eyes met his, seeing his seriousness and true belief in his words. His hand came up and brushed away her tears before her mask absorbed it, the rough pad of his thumbs leaving sparks in the areas he touched. She didn't say anything at first, taking his hand into hers and giving it a squeeze of reassurance, more for herself than for him.

"After our mission. Please." He couldn't say no to a plead like that, so with a curt nod he agreed and held out his other hand to her. He watched her hand envelope his, finding the size difference amusing as his basically swallowed them in his grasp.

"Let's get some sleep yeah. You've done enough for today." She let him bring her to bed, his arm secured around her shoulders, feeling her hand on his waist. He sat next to her until she fell asleep before laying on his own cot. He looked at her for most of the night, making sure she didn't wake up, pondering about what she could be dreaming about as her eyelids flickered ever so often.

He followed her steady breaths to lull him to sleep, praying that tomorrow would go by without too much of a struggle so he could have another moment as intimate as the previous with her, even if it was small.

And that's part 3!! Finally some fluff and opening up, but I wouldn't get too comfortable with it just yet. I have some plans, not sure how I'll execute it but we're getting somewhere. Thank you so much for reading!!

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butterfly-stitches · 1 month ago

Text

BLUE MONDAYS.

[ Mature ]

AO3

Masterlist

Pairings: Russell Adler x Bell, Russell Adler x Reader Russell Adler & Bell, Russell Adler & Lawrence Sims, Bell & Lawrence Sims, Russell Adler & Helen A. Park

Warnings: Brainwashing 🧠 Psychological Torture 🧠 Torture 🧠 Mind Manipulation 🧠 Medical Experimentation 🧠 False Memories 🧠 Flashbacks 🧠 Loss of Identity 🧠 Prisoner of War 🧠 Medical Torture 🧠 Medical Inaccuracies 🧠 Military Inaccuracies 🧠 Vietnam War 🧠 Propaganda 🧠 Pining 🧠 Crush at First Sight 🧠 Unresolved Romantic Tension 🧠 Unresolved Sexual Tension 🧠 Older Man/Younger Woman 🧠 Developing Friendships 🧠 Possibly Unrequited Love 🧠 Stockholm Syndrome 🧠 Denial of Feelings 🧠 Pre-Canon 🧠 POV Second Person > Other Additional Tags to Be Added <

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

Chapter 2: rewind the clock.

Words: 7,535 Summary: In which you are tried …

We’ve known each other for years. Fought together, bled together. Been through the hell of Vietnam together.

Together.

Together…

=========================================

— Script 01 —

=========================================

You remembered when you first met him. All those years ago.

You were fresh off the huey; jet-lagged, motion sick and completely exhausted. The majority of your morning had been spent by long, draining hours of travel. With nothing to do but to sit still in your heli seat and mindlessly stare out beyond to leagues and leagues of endless jungle. You had grown restless during it; uncomfortable and fidgety. It was not in your nature to be so inactive and stationary for so long, although it was only for now.

Even so, it was grueling for you. Zoochosis for a captive animal, idle hands for a person with calloused palms. Your tailbone ached, your muscles stiffened. The earmuffs of the aviation headset were starting to make your ears hurt. The sound of static in your eardrums echoed in your head. But it was the only thing that blocked out the chopping winds and sounds of the rotor blades from the open cabin. Hours of constant travel that felt stagnant, stuck in a never ending loop. Trapped in a limbo of an all-encompassing jungle. A glue trap for vermin such as you. And it was all beginning to drive you mad.

There came a sudden drop in your gut, a rising crest of nausea. Then all at once, the irrational feeling of claustrophobia. As the urgency to escape from the cramped feeling of your helicopter coursed throughout your body. Bile was in the back of your throat, a burning pain behind your eyes. You stood up, gripping the handrails tightly as you swayed on the edge from shooting up from your seat so quickly. Heels just on the precipice of the open cabin’s fuselage. Winds howling all around you, whipped against your face as you stared out. The panoramic blur of jungle greenery was starting to pull you in like a gravity wellspring, a riptide. Maw open to swallow you whole.

A traitorous thought, a nipping need. From a desperation that entailed recklessness. Muscles primed to take the plunge and jump out. Alarm bells drowning out all logical thinking, overwhelmed instead by the fight-or-flight instinct. To run, to escape. Escape? Escape from what?

You didn't know.

(Oh, but you do. Don’t you? Deep down where the wounds are still fresh. Nothing forgets the feel of teeth and claws.)

There came a crackling of voices in your headset between the pilots and air control. It was incomprehensible in your current state, too stuck in your own headspace to fully grasp what was said. But you knew what it meant, you were close to your destination. Closer still to being out of the air and off the helicopter. Your eyes shut as you leaned your head to the side against your forearm, and took lungfuls of air. A process to breath out the feelings that beset you. To calm the turbulence in your head and ease away the tension in your limbs. You opened your eyes. And there, you saw it. Right as it bloomed on the horizon in the far distance. A single splotch of civilization among all the wilderness. One you recognized from your dossier. Your reassignment, your new place of conduct.

Camp Haskins.

A base built on top of an excavated and flattened peninsula. Jungle and hilltops in the distance. A boundless murky lake surrounded it all. With wide winding rivers slithering through the expanse of overgrown verdure. Sunbeams streamed through the plies of clouds across a clear blue sky, reflecting off the water surface in an sparkling array like that of a shining prism. Hypnotizing, entrancing.

(But you could see past the surface level beauty, can’t you? Look closely, to where all the ugliness and madness lies just beneath the skin. To the false ideology that poisons the land. The hearts and the minds.)

Like ants, the shapes of soldiers and personnel were all but small dots beneath the view from your huey hovering above. You were eventually forced to sit as it started to slowly descend downwards to a stretch of land serving as a makeshift airstrip. From your view above there were other helicopters sat aside on dirt spots lined with sandbags and grass patches. Their rotor blades spun idly like weathervanes, disturbed by the sudden dusty squalls generated by the wing blades of your own.

As your steel bird landed amid the rest of the flock, without a moment of delay, your boots met the ground. Legs shaky like a fawn’s, duffle bag over your shoulder. Hot dust swirled around you, the harsh glare of the sun was in your eyes. And you squinted, shielding your face with your forearm from it all. But all you felt was relief. Eased by the feel of solid ground underneath your feet. From the cloudiness, a marshaller ducked underneath the helicopter blades. The aviation helmet and clouds of dust obscured his features. Voice muffled by the hum of the chopper blades but you understood his gestures.

He led you toward the outskirts where a Lieutenant awaited your arrival. Silent and stoic in the shadow of one of the roosting helicopters. You were greeted with nothing more than a curt nod and a firm handshake. No formal introductions or debriefs given. But his face said it all. Apathetic and haggard, thin mouth pressed tight. You were taken aback by the abrupt unfriendliness. You weren’t expecting any enthusiastic reception, or even a warm welcome by any means, but it seemed your arrival wasn’t as big of a deal as described to you. Mannerisms and rectitude… just civil things chipped away and lost to the jungle. He walked off ahead of you, away from the airfield and towards the entrance of the base. And you followed wordlessly.

But as you both reached the threshold of the base entrance, your steps began to slow until you eventually stopped in place. Wiping away sweat that already began to coat your skin. Your eyes went to the flagpole at the foot of the entrance gate, right along the barbed wire fencing. And up to where the sounds of whipping fabric snapped in the breeze. Above you, the star spangled banner soared. Something in you stirred at the sight of it, staring up at the domestic colors of red-white-and-blue. Of the stars and stripes in the air. You were attentive to it as it waved at you. Saluting to the soldier inside and out. Seeing those colors fly above was more of a welcome than anything, something sickly familiar.

But the longer you stared at it, the more something began to brew within you. An itch in the recesses of your mind as you tried to remember. A jolt shot down your spinal cord and your skin crawled. Something about it felt off.

(Don’t you see it? Look closely. To the false ideology that poisons the land. The hearts and the minds.)

Seeing those colors fly above you…

Was as sickly familiar just as it was sickly foreign to you.

The American flag distorted like a glitch, hemorrhaged before your very eyes. The red stripes bled. Poured out like cuts on the skin, staining the fabric darker. Until it was red, red, red. Soaked in sin, bathed in bloodshed. With only the taste of iron and rot to overload your senses. Of lies being force fed to you. Slowly, by the spoonful; easily masticated, easily digestible.

Sluicing rivulets of burning scarlet trickled down onto the dirt below, pouring out before your feet like flood waters. But before the spillage could wash over your boots, you stepped back. As disembodied, high-pitched screams came from all around you in all directions, from everywhere all at once. Pressure expanded in your head, a ringing hummed in your ears. And all you could do was look around aimlessly as your surroundings began to fade away. As if the world around you had been sepia-stained all along. Saturated and grainy like living through a photograph. Snapshots hung in darkrooms, pictures pinned onto cork boards.

There came another itch in the recesses of your mind, a jolt down your spinal cord once more. As an omnipresence settled in your head. With it came a cacophony that surged forward. A thousand voices that spoke with the power of one, loud and sharp in your ringing ears. Someone called to you, words unintelligible. Muffled as if spoken underwater. Until it grew louder and clearer.

The voice called out again. And you blinked.

Slowly, heavily. As if you just remembered you could.

You turned towards the voice. Craned your head towards the entrance of the base where the Lieutenant stood. Visibly confused and on the border of being concerned. Your eyes flicked back up to the flag, only to see that it was as it was before. Red-white-and-blue, American colors blowing in the wind. Your tongue swiped across your chapped lips and a coppery taste seeped into your mouth. You lifted your hand up, pulling it back to see blood smeared on your fingertips. A nosebleed, small and just beginning to congeal. You wiped away the trickle of blood with the inside of your sleeve. Gave one last look at the stars and stripes above before falling back in line.

Following right after the Lieutenant. Who only remained quiet as he led you through Camp Haskins. Stealing occasional glances over his shoulder at you. You brushed off his looks however, taking in the new sights and sounds of your new workplace. The FOB was bigger than what you anticipated. Uncounting for the expansive area of its grounds and perimeter that was more like a campground than just a resting campsite. Made of wooden pallet walls, metal sheets, stacked sandbags, barbed wire, and chain link fencing. Built from the ground up, Camp Haskins was a foothold in the predacious jungles of Vietnam. A paradise in the hellscape. A somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

And here, in such a place, you stuck out like a gangrened limb.

Eyes were on you, curious and watchful. Whispering to each other. Peeking out from the surrounding rows of field tents and makeshift pallet sheds. Sheltering away from the sweltering heat of the afternoon sun. Listening to cheery vinyls in the background to dilute the silent suffering that simmered over the campsite. But how could they not stare? You were fresh meat among the butchered bunch, just another body for the grinder. Just another cog for the machine. But you weren’t just some starry-eyed recruit straight out of bootcamp. Just as young, yes. But far more seasoned. Having had your fair share of field and combat experience. As well as a honed skill set based in subterfuge, intel gathering, linguistics, encryption and decryption — more specifically, cryptanalysis and cryptography.

Your experience and expertise were why you were here. And why you were reassigned to this place.

(A new change of scenery, a new set of challenges. A sacrificial lamb in a slaughterhouse. You belonged here rightfully, did you not?)

Even so, there was an efflux of uneasiness -- an acetic mix of both nerves and nausea. Lingering after effects from your journey here. But you remained composed. Unreactive to the looks and stares from the other soldiers. Quiet as a field mouse while you followed behind the Lieutenant on a plank path between the field tents. Head down, eyes averted. Focused instead to the sounds of your footsteps on the boards.

The wooden footpathing eventually cut past a gun range. Targets, crates, barrels, wood paneling and sandbags set up at different distances and positions. Behind cover and out in the open. A group of men watched from the sidelines underneath the shade of the camouflage net hanging over the shooting booths. Because of the rising temperature, some were shirtless. Others were still in their jungle fatigues with their collars opened wide and sleeves pulled up as far up as they could go. Instructors and quartermasters lingered nearby, observing the attempts and watching for progress.

From what you could gather it was a shooting exercise or rather a friendly competition. Soldiers cheered on as one of the participants standing behind the firing line quickly took shots at the targets. Missing more than a few, before his aim steadied a bit. But he wasn’t quick enough as a stopwatch rang out, signaling the end of his attempt. You slowed your stride and took a moment to watch. Analyzing and surveying. Your eyes focused on the next participant that stepped forward. A stocky man with a buzzcut, wearing a stained wife beater. A rifle hung over his shoulder casually, as if it was an accessory more than a necessity. He audibly scoffed at the time set by his fellow competitor, a cocky grin on his face. A deliberate display that caught the attention of the shooting instructors.

“What? Think you can do better, Miller?” One of them said.

The man’s grin only widened in response. “More than better, sir.”

Some of the men behind him laughed. More in agreement than doubt. Laughing with him rather than at him. From the crowd, you watched another soldier stride forward, clapping Miller on the shoulder with a hearty laugh. Then threw an arm around his neck, tugging him close like one would a younger brother.

“Gotta watch out for this one, Staff Sergeant. Fought off a whole ambush of those Vietnamese bastards down in the ridge. And all by himself.”

“Heard Miller did it all with just one mag left.” Another piped in, miming an assault rifle in his hands and taking aim at invisible enemies. “One shot, one kill.”

“Got them damn Vietnamese runnin’ at the sight of ‘im.”

The instructor only rolled his eyes, arms across his chest. “Didn’t know you had cheerleaders, Private.”

“Yeah. The best damn cheer team in ’Nam, sir. Just need some short skirts and pom-poms then it’ll feel just like home.”

Miller winked and the other men burst out in laughter much to the Staff Sergeant’s clear annoyance. By the way his lips flatten into a scowl.

“This ain’t high school football, son.” He said, stepping closer. Glaring down at the still smug Private inches from his face. “Just get your ass to the shooting stall. We’ll see just how good you are at killin’, Team Captain.”

Miller stood up straighter in a salute, a small smirk rising in the corner of his mouth.

“Yessir.”

But you didn’t get the chance to see the Private’s attempt at the marksman challenge. Having to hurry past the firing range instead. Just to catch up in time before he disappeared in the bustle. Only the echo of rapid gunshots and sounds of cheering were heard behind you. You were led further into the base’s center to a cluster of temper tents and pop-up canopies. It was busier this time of day. Personnel went in and out of the field tents carrying manila folders and field reports. Squads of soldiers prepared themselves for the field, packing up their ammunition and filling up their water canteens for the day.

While other soldiers sat underneath tarpaulin awnings that sufficed as an open-air mess hall of sorts. Full of endless chatter and laughing, and the scratching sounds of cutlery on metal platters. Scraping their plates clean, not leaving any morsel or crumb. From it came the smell of hot chow wafting in the air: chicken, pork chops, vegetables, rice, and boiled legumes. Being seared on flat top grills, served from their pots and pans onto wood tables. Even though you haven’t eaten since the early morning of your departure, the pungent smells of lunch only intensified the queasiness you felt. Your nausea hadn't diminished nor had your nerves. Even now as you were led to one of the canopy tents ahead.

Beyond the green tarp flap, a small gathering lingered inside. Surrounding a circular table, discussing quietly between themselves. But only to go dead silent as the Lieutenant approached the mouth of the tent with you in tow. From what you could tell they were all higher officers if their insignia patches and uniforms were anything to go by. But between them all, standing at the head of the table, the base commander eyed you both intensely. Stalwart, serious. Stiff postured. With sheared hair the color of polished gunmetal.

The Lieutenant was the first to proceed. Stepped forward and saluted the whole tent full of higher-ups with a polite ‘sir’. Standing so perfectly at attention it was like he was back in formation. With a simple gesture of dismissal, the gathering dispersed. Filing out of the tent like a row of waddling ducks. Walking past you as if you weren’t even there.

“Lieutenant Weiss,” The base commander nodded.

An acknowledgement more than a greeting. But his eyes were quick to land back on you. Standing a few feet behind the other soldier.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I’ll take it from here. You are dismissed.” He said, without turning his attention away from you.

Lieutenant Weiss moved aside, giving you one final glance before shouldering past you. You straightened your spine, conceding the superior’s seniority with a salute of your own. The base commander rounded the table and walked forward just as your arm fell to your side. He let the silence linger a bit longer between you two. Only made you shift your weight on your heels. But eventually he spoke, narrowing his gaze at you.

Disappointedly, you came to realize.

“So you’re the person I’ve been waiting all day for.”

The base commander looked you up and down for a moment, sizing you up. Processing your presence. Underwhelmed by first impressions.

“Hm, you’re not what I expected. Hell, you don't even seem to fit the damn bill. The way they hold you up as some sort of mastermind prodigy I expected well… more.”

He let his words settle. You knew he awaited a reply. To bite back and dissuade any doubts given about yourself or your skillset. You thought you would. At least disagree with him. But nothing rose, nothing conjured up.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say they sent me the wrong person for the job. But if there’s anything I learned over the years it's that taking someone at face value will only be a disservice in the long run.”

The commander sighed out more wearily than was intended as his composure fell. But he was swift to stiffen his shoulders again and correct his posture. “I’m sure I don't need to give you the rundown of things. You know what needs to be done and what is required of you. You’ll be working closely with Russell Adler.”

Something in you stirred, writhing.

The details of your debrief were foggy. But the name seemed awfully distinct. Too familiar. Like an old wound, there came a phantom pain. Skin prickled and cold sweat gathered down your spine. Empty traces of memories came and went. Too convoluted and obscure; too fleeting to fully grasp. Washed away like silt in a rushing stream.

“Adler?” You repeated. Whisper-like from your sudden breathlessness. Such a name carried weight. But on your tongue, it felt like an imprecation.

“Correct, you’ll be assigned to his team and will take direct orders from him from now on.” He eyed you, “Is that a problem?”

You paused, taken aback by the question. Licking your dry lips, you shook your head. “Of course not, sir.”

“Good. The man's a damn bastard. He’s got a particular way of doing things but he’ll bring out that potential in you I’m sure.”

From the way he paused again, the commander intended to elaborate more. But the sound of revving engines and heavy wheels crunching on dirt gravel behind the tent cut through the conversation.

“Speak of the Devil.” The commander said, chuffing out a dry laugh. You turned your attention back to him as he walked forward. Stopping in the entry of the tent and then turned to you.

“Let's hope you exceed expectations.”

With that, the base commander stepped outside of the tent. And a second later, you did the same. Followed behind him closer than you did Lieutenant Weiss as he walked between the rows of tents and onto a dirt road directly behind them. A convoy of vehicles were parked on the sidelines along the fencing. Offloading platoons that jumped off from the backs of them. Tired, sweaty, and dirty. Returning back from the field.

The commander stopped walking and you stood beside him as he scanned the soldiers across the way.

“Adler!” He barked out toward a group of soldiers hopping out from one of the vehicles in the back of the convoy. In that loud, stern military tone that made the other soldiers stop and grow stiff.

From the drove of soldiers, a silhouette emerged in the afternoon sun. And you faltered. Stunned suddenly by a concentrated sun glare. You shielded your face. Crushed your eyelids together, flinching away from the brightness. While the sound of heavy boots on the gravelled road stalked forward, getting closer and closer.

Until the footsteps came to a stop in front of you both.

In the glare of the sun stood an imposing figure. Tall and broad-shouldered. Framed entirely by an angelic glow that seemed to suffuse into your surroundings. Blinding, nauseatingly bright. It was hard to look up. Like the onset of an eclipse, it hurt to stare too long.

“Colonel.” Greeted a velvety voice; sonorous and smooth like silk.

And your stomach twists. A dread, unprofound.

(Nothing forgets the feel of teeth and claws.)

His large shadow fell over you, blocking out the sun. Still you struggled to see. Your eyesight bleached white. You blinked over and over, slowly opening your eyes. Squinting hard as everything started to take shape around you. Subsequently, gradually, the figure grew clearer. Stinging, watery eyes yet you braved a look. A single glance.

And all at once the world seemed to fall away, time itself slowed. Face-to-face with the man himself.

Russell Adler.

Dressed in olive green fatigues that reeked of the jungle. Sweat, gunpowder, mud and rancid water. Overtaken now by the stench of a lit cigarette balanced between his lips. The residual smoke caught in your sinuses, filling your lungs like a house fire. Instinctively, your eyes went straight to his. Only to meet the mirrored lenses of sunglasses perched on a strong Roman nose. Eyes hidden, though it didn’t shield you away from the intensity of his gaze. Or the asphyxiating feeling it churned deep inside your fickle, feeble ribs. To a rabbit heart that thumped wildly against its bone cage. Overcome with instinctual fear.

“Adler,” The base commander nodded, hands clasped behind his back. “Brought you something.”

Smoke fell from the man’s parted lips.

“Hm, better smokes?”

“A new member of your team.” The commander corrected. “I trust you’ll be accommodating.”

Adler took a puff of his half-smoked cigarette. Your reflection stared back at you in his dark lenses. A shiver shot down your spine like an ice spike, hair raised at your nape. As the corner of his lips rose into a small smile.

“I’ll be sure to find good use for ’em, sir.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He looked between you both. “I expect results.” You felt the commander’s ironclad stare on you as the finality left his mouth. Aimed at you deliberately.

Adler grumbled a low prusten, cigarette burning between his fingers.

With that, the commander stepped away. Within seconds of leaving, he was already pulled into other business. Guided away towards the field tents and lost into the crowd. Leaving you alone with Adler. You shuffled on the balls of your feet. As a tense silence befell you both. A beat came and went, then he moved. A body shift that made your head immediately shoot up, body tensed, startled by the movement.

Adler tilted his head to the side. Motioning for you to follow as he sauntered off. You watched him go, unable to move yourself. Feet rooted to the ground, limbs made of lead. When he noticed that you weren’t behind him, Adler stopped and turned. Eyebrows knitted together in a questioning look.

“You coming or what, kid?” He asked.

You stared at him for a moment. Sun beating down on you, exposed to it now with the absence of his shadow. You took an uneven breath. Despite yourself, despite your gut feeling, you stepped forward and followed him.

(How easily you are led astray, alongside a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Your fate is sealed. You walk with death now.)

The crowd between the tents parted into two, leaving a clear and undisturbed path for Adler as he strode on through. You trailed behind Adler, lingering with enough interspace put between you and him to not lose track of him while also remaining at a safe distance. Eyes were on you both, curious and watchful. Whispering to each other. Peeking out from the surrounding tents and makeshift pallet sheds. Sheltered away from the high noon sun. Vinyls played cherry sweet songs in the background to omit the unabating melancholy and despair of Camp Haskins. But how could they not stare?

Like you, Adler wasn’t exempt from the attention of other soldiers. But unlike you, the looks and whispers given were derived more from admiration and camaraderie. You saw the way they looked at him. How they reacted to him and greeted him. With nods and smiles, waves and whistles; such simple recognitions to him. But to you, it spoke volumes. Adler was a man that was well-respected, well-received. And not to be taken lightly.

Adler slowed at open tents ahead. Stopping just before the mouth of one of the open tents, peering over his shoulder to make sure you were still behind him. Boisterous laughter and talking echoed from inside making you uneasy. Reluctantly you followed Adler inside. A group of men were strewn around the interior. Sat on cots, wood boxes and ammo boxes. Leaned on tables and against stacked crates. Half-quart beer cans and whiskey bottles gathered on a table top in the center where a card game was currently taking place.

Poker, you realized.

“Adler! Just the man we’ve been waiting on! Nice of you to finally join us. Was worried you got caught up in some more bullshit.”

Adler only hummed, cigarette idle in his hand.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like you did much waiting.” Adler gestured to the empty cans and bottles, then took a slow drag of his cigarette. “I see you got the party goin’ without me, Sims.”

“Yeah, well. Better to get it started than to sit around, twiddling our thumbs and waiting on you. S’like I said, I thought you —”

The man, Sims, went quiet when he finally noticed you. As did the rest of the tent. An uncomfortable moment passed before the man let out a laugh.

“So I was right. You did get caught up in some bullshit.”

Adler’s gaze narrowed, blowing out a rush of smoke. “Always the brazen type, Sims.”

The man, Sims, only shrugged with a wide smile, folding his hand. The action made the other players stop their staring and resume the game. “So… this the ‘new one’ then?”

“Something like that. Gonna be working with us from now on.” Adler declared. Spoke more to everybody in the tent than to just Sims.

“Goin’ to show ’em around. Try not to lose all your chips while I’m gone, Sims.”

“Got no faith in me, Doc. Just one good hand and I’ll win it all. You’ll see.”

But Adler wasn’t convinced.

He led you back out of the tent, crushing the finished cigarette with the twisting of his boot heel. Still you kept distance between you both, trailing a few paces behind.

“Welcome to Camp Haskins. Our little oasis in the middle of this godforsaken shitstorm.”

Adler introduced so casually that you couldn't take any other way but derisive, acrid. Nonetheless, he showed you the basic layout of the base. Pointed out what everything was and where everything was located, various facilities and all. But you barely categorized a lot of them. Occupied instead by him, by his presence. Watching, ever observant. The nature of espionage was instinctual to you. At this distance, at arm’s length, you couldn’t help but take in the sight of the man in front of you, despite yourself. Caution thrown to the wind. But you were simple in some regards; no one was immune to charisma. So you looked and stared, just like the other soldiers did.

Adler was the embodiment of an all American man. Clean-shaven, square-jawed, and… ruggedly handsome — despite the obstruction of his shades. His disheveled helmet hair was brushed to the side in a semblance of a groomed hairstyle. The color of it was burnished by the sun until it burned like an aureole, a crown of light.

(But you could see past the surface level beauty, can’t you? Look closely, to where all the ugliness and madness lies just beneath the skin.)

But the glory and gore of war was already skin deep. Into the trenches of a weathered face where camouflage paint was slashed across hardened features, smudged now by sweat and grime. It was nothing less of a battle-hardened, war worn soldier. There was beauty, there was madness in him. You saw it as Adler led you to your sleeping quarters, a tent shared with other soldiers. Even now as he bid you a farewell so you could get adjusted, unpack and get some rest for what tomorrow would bring. You laid in your hard army cot, your duffle bag untouched in the corner. Overwhelmed with a wave of exhaustion like you had stayed up for days.

You closed your eyes and dreamed of death.

◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼

It was getting hard to breathe.

No matter how much you wiped away the sweat streams and matted strands from your face. Took gulps from your canteen or pulled up your sleeves. The suffocation remained.

You were only a couple kilometers into the jungle and already you felt its bite. Cascades of sweat were already sheening on your skin, gathered on your brow. And already your uniform started to feel like a second skin, clinging to you from all the clamminess. You thought yourself prepared mentally and physically. But your debrief or specified training didn’t fully prepare you for this sort of misery. Of an inescapable and persistent humidity that didn’t take long to sink its teeth in you. A sweltering heat insulated by the density of all the trees. Canopies that were heavily intertwined in growth like tapestry; their branches woven together so tightly that they were indistinguishable from each other.

You weren’t the only one affected. So were the rest of Adler’s team.

From their footslogging, they were as miserable as you were. But they endured and continued, without a complaint or slowing down. So you did the same and kept on walking further into an endless jungle without an end in sight. But it wasn’t just for nothing that was for certain. You remembered earlier. Hours before. When Adler had arrived at your tent to fetch you in the morning. Seemingly surprised that you were wide awake and already dressed.

“You’re up early. Thought’d you be out cold.” Adler had commented while he walked you to the open-aired mess hall. “Hope you got decent sleep, we’ve got a job to do.”

You had sat at the same table as Adler’s team albeit at the far end of the table bench. Spacing still kept, at arm's length to everyone. No one had commented on the distance you put between everyone, especially him. But you didn't eat breakfast. That feeling in your gut had stayed and so had the nausea. You weren’t keeping up with the conversations. Only bits and pieces: how Sims lost all his chips last night then again by no other than Adler, how the eggs and ham tasted like rubber, or even how hot it always quickly gets. Mindless chatter to pass the time.

“Hutch and his boys got ambushed down by the ridge while out on yesterday’s patrol.” Adler had told everyone after breakfast. “That piece of land’s a prime piece of real estate. Too valuable to give up. Got orders to zap ’em. So gear up. We leave within the hour.”

You had followed steps behind Sims and some other members towards a provisional tent to stock up on ammunition.

“Heard Hutch got hit during the entire thing.” Sims had said.

“Yeah and got his ass saved by a single stripe Private.” One of the members had added, but you couldn’t make out which one.

“Think it's enough to send him back home?”

Another member had shook his head. “Nah, it's a through and through. They’ll have him back in the field within the month I reckon.”

You all had met Adler within the hour, on the dot. He was dressed in jungle fatigues, ammo, grenades and the rest of his gear strapped to his utility vest. M16 cradled in his hands, a boonie hat on his head. Tiger stripes across his face and arms. Without delay, all of you had gone to the airfield and hopped on a helicopter. A short ride later, you had been dropped off miles away from the destination. You and Adler’s team would have to trek the rest of the way there.

The assignment had seemed simple enough then. Go to the ridge, eliminate the enemy, and make it back just in time for dinner. But nothing was ever so simple in the hellscape of the Vietnam jungle you would soon come to realize. Adler took point, Sims at his right, and you at the back. Covering the team’s flank. But together you all moved as one through the underbrush. Carefully and silently, slow and steady. Wary for any booby traps and trip mines even this far out in the jungle. But you were all close to the ridge.

Still, the heat was getting to you. More than you thought possible. In the silence of the jungle, you heard it. Beneath the ambiance, in the background of you and the team’s trampling through the undergrowth. Voices in the trees. Smudges of shadow just beyond the treeline where the eye could barely see. Watching, waiting. For the perfect opportunity. Then beeps, a loud beeping. Like a ticking clock, a heartbeat. Your own? No, you recognized the sound. Of a hospital room, medical machines monitored in tandem. Then something softer. Wind chimes, the gentle ringing from a belfry in the far, far distance.

You wiped the sweat from your brow. Head pounding. . You placed a hand against a tree, but you didn't feel the rough texture, instead it felt papery and painted underneath your fingers. Like paper mache. And the undergrowth brushed against your arms, was nothing but fabric and plastic. You blinked. The jungle changed before your eyes, dissolving like an illusion. And all you saw was white. White walls, white flooring. A hallway. The sterile scent of peroxide and bleach. Shadows behind windows, peering through. Watching, waiting. You walked faster, panic and confusion fueled your steps. But the hallway grew longer, endless. You weren’t allowed to leave just yet.

Until you collided with something, someone.

“What the hell? — ” A harsh mumble through gritted teeth.

You looked up, wide-eyed. Shades filled your vision, as well as a downturned scowl. As your surroundings settled back in place.

“Get your head out of the clouds, kid.”

He grabbed you, hand pressed down on your shoulder, and pulled you down into a crouch. Only then did you notice that the whole team was crouched as well, hiding behind the boughs and piles of dead leaves and vines. And all staring at you.

“Since the new one’s so eager, could send ’em in as a distraction, Doc.” Sims, who was leaning against a tree trunk across from you, whispered. “Get them all focused on a single person.”

Adler seemed to consider it, his scowl turning into a thoughtful press of his lips. He turned towards you, making you flinch.

“I want you to get up there.” Adler pointed out a mound between the trees not too far from where you were all at. “You’ll get a better view of where those VietCong are hiding. Pick a target and on my say, take ’em out. That should flush them all out. Think you can manage?”

You swallowed. “Yessir.”

Adler nodded at you, sending you off.

Quietly and carefully, you snuck your way through the trees. Your rifle clutched tight in your hands, your helmet feeling heavier on your head.

The trees seemed to lean in closer and closer, closing in all around you. Squeezed and pressed around you like a tight fist, suffocating you.

White noise in your ears, static that clears into a voice.

“You in position?”

“Almost, sir.” You replied.

You bellied yourself towards the top of the mound, settling into a spot. You stared down your scope, but all you saw was green. “I’m in position.”

“See anything?” Adler asked.

“Nothing.”

“Stay focused. Won’t be long until they walk right into your sights.”

You shifted on your elbows, nestling yourself in the dirt and ferns. “Copy.”

But Adler was right. It wasn’t long before you noticed some movement below you. Figures emerged from between the trees, stalking out like big cats. You couldn’t gauge how many there were but from what you can tell, it was a group of them. Outnumbered Adler’s team — even with you included .

“See ’em?”

You blinked at Adler’s words over the radio. “Yessir, see a group of them walking towards you.”

“Good. Have a target picked out?”

You hovered your scope over one of them, walking just outside of the formation.

“I do.”

“Take the shot.”

With an intake of breath, you steadied your rifle scope. Finger hovered over the trigger, as your crosshairs align with the target’s head. Slowly, you released your breath and took the shot. The sound of it echoed throughout the trees, a finality that left a ringing in your ears. Watching as the soldier’s body slumped to the ground in the scope. Immediately, a firefight broke out as Adler and his team started their surprise assault. But it was a blur to you. Bullets flew around you, the flash of muzzles in the foliage. Yelled Vietnamese in one ear, team comms buzzed in the other. Screams of dying soldiers collapsing to the ground. With your advantage on the mound, you tried your best to take out as many enemies as you could. When they tried to reposition when Adler and his team advanced forward, gaining ground.

You moved down the top of the mound, taking cover as you were reloading your rifle. Hands shaky with adrenaline as you tried to insert a fresh mag. Something moved below you, just in the corner of your eye. The flash of a rifle in a stray sunstream, aiming right at you. You ducked as the rifle was unloaded towards your direction. Sweat poured down your face, stinging your eyes. Your rifle clicked, the hammer pulled back, reloaded. You heard running footsteps and yells behind your position. Coming straight for you. You heard them close in on you. From what you could garner, there’s a few of them. You laid still, finger ghosting over the trigger as the footsteps crunching against the dried leaves grow closer. As they crested over the top, without hesitation, you unloaded your mag into them. Taking out two of them, injuring another, before a fourth rushed forward. Body collided with body, as the enemy grappled with you. Your rifle pinned against your chest, the bayonet blade of his rifle sunk into the dirt beside your waist.

He tried to keep you still on the ground, an opportunity for his injured teammate to force himself up and aim his rifle at you. You pushed your hips up, boots on the ground, as you bucked the enemy soldier off of you. Just enough to lift up your rifle and shoot the injured soldier before he could get his shot off on you. As instant as your shot, your rifle was kicked out of your hands. You recoiled back, a punch colliding with your jaw as the soldier climbed on top of you again. Grappled with you again, as you tried to reach for your knife. Using all your strength to push, you shifted your weight, bucking him off. The momentum of the maneuver pulled you with him as he fell backwards and tumbling down the mound into the jungle ground below.

Body met the ground, dirt and twigs scraping against your skin. Your head throbbed, mouth filling with blood from a bitten tongue. You groaned, pulling yourself up. Your enemy was doing the same across from you. Your knife laid in the middle between you both. You lunged forward, grabbing your knife just as he rushed for you. You’re on your back again, hand clasped around your knife handle. It was a battle of might as you tried to push your knife into the soldier’s chest while he pushed against your arms, trying to twist the knife around and aim it towards you. Gritted teeth sneered above you, saliva falling from jowls. You felt your wrist bent, arms strained as your enemy used his weight to his advantage. Used it as leverage to pin your arms to your side, making the knife all that much closer to your chest.

A split decision as you loosened your grip, letting the knife fall from your hand and onto the ground. A foolish decision, sure. Letting go of your only advantage. But it was enough to make your enemy falter, stupefied by it. You mustered all your strength, a last ditch effort as you kneed his abdomen. Pushing up, flipping you both over. You hit him once. Then twice, then more and more until you felt his nose shatter beneath your fists. Teeth cracked and pieces rattled inside his mouth.

You grabbed a rock by his head, your knees pinning his arms down, as you brought it down. Over and over. Feeling how easily the stone cracked through bone. Until his head was caved in. All mush, skull shards, and mangled blood vessels. Like fish chum in an angler’s bucket.

You let the bloodied rock drop from your hand, right next to the crime scene. You moved away, falling backwards against a fallen log and trying to catch your breath. Your mouth flooded with blood, the overflow trickled out of the corner of your mouth. Staining your shirt. All you could do was sit there, even as the sounds of exchanged gunfire ended and the jungle went silent. You didnt how long you sat there against the rotten log. Long enough that the radio was nothing but white noise in your ears, the voices disembodied.

Soon you heard more footsteps in the distance. Approaching you from the side. You instantly went tense as a figure broke through the treeline in the corner of your eye. You took a breath. In your bleary vision was Adler. He stalked forward in a slow manner, gun raised. He eyed your kill on the ground, still twitching and bleeding. Brain matter splattered all along the ground just like a prion infected deer. Your eyes followed him, adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Danger still blared in your head. You watched as he stopped and looked down to your knife by his boot. He reached down and picked it up, brushing off the dirt on the blade. You could already tell he connected the dots on what happened.

As he eyed your unbloodied blade and the bloodied rock next to the dead VietCong.

He stood over you now. His rifle lowered to his side. He flipped the knife, catching it as it turned in the air. The blade in his gloved hand and the handle offered out to you. You grabbed your knife, putting it back in its sheath on your side. He extended an arm out to you, an offer of a hand up. You reached out, accepting his helping hand. Let him pull you back on your feet as he steadied you. His hand went to your shoulder, the weight grounding you. There was a knowing look on his face as it softened, just slightly. Something akin to a confessor that knew the nature of sins to a sinner.

Adler gave you a smile. Sardonic and sharp yet genuine. Proud.

“Welcome to Vietnam, kid.”

You let out a strangled breath, feeling something in your chest ache and stir, coiling around your heart like barbed wire until every heartbeat stung. The roots of guerilla warfare, much like jungle rot, burgeoned underneath his sun-kissed skin. And now it sprouted underneath yours.

(Hand-in-hand with the Devil. Look him in the eye and see how he looks like a long-lost friend.)

But for that single moment, the world around you seemed to disappear. Where only he, and that smile, remained.

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A/N:

Critique welcomed as long as it is constructive and polite (don't be rude/mean pretty please ◡̈ ).

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