#home grown terrorist

[warriorbrother]

[danzainosolitude]

Why did they never elaborate on the fact that there are *presumably* human versions of all the characters in Japan

[books-by-gauss]

Two Awesome Short Reads That Shed Light on Current Events

[nekrosmos]

Nik and Price try to build an Ikea wardrobe, proceed to lose their minds

cw: slightly NSFW towards the end but nothing too explicit

...

“No - Nik, this part goes here, not there.”

“Nyet John, I’ve looked at the plan, it says we need to screw this part at the top of the plank you’re holding, not the one on the floor.”

Multiple pieces of wood, glass, screws, nails and other furniture parts were scattered on the floor of Price’s apartment. Three hours. Three hours had the two men been fighting over this wardrobe, a new one the two had decided to get so that Nikolai could leave more clothes at Price’s place. What had started as a sweet and symbolic sign of their strengthening relationship had however turned into a logistical nightmare.

“Nikolai. How can a man this smart be this bad at reading a furniture plan. This obviously goes here, it says right there!”

Price was trying, and mostly failing, to keep his voice down, not wanting to sound like a right prick for being unable to build a fucking wardrobe, but feeling his nerves truly start to be tested by the damn thing.

“This “plan” is ridiculous, how are we supposed to build this with such unprecise instructions ? It doesn’t even show which screw we’re supposed to use. I’ve flown planes that were easier to understand than this bullshit.”

Sitting on the floor like they were, surrounded by signs of their defeat, must have been quite the sight, John realized. He chuckled at Nik’s last remark, and dropped the plank he was holding, unwilling to let this go on any longer.

“We’re screwed.”

“Da.”

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the sound of a screw rolling down the floor and under a nearby heavy furniture, making this particular screw a lost cause. The silence held a little longer, before the two men began to laugh almost at the same time. Their bodies were tired, sore from all the bending and moving and shifting they had to do while trying to build this wardrobe. Price came back home from some ops less tired than this.

“Alright, what’s the plan, then?” He asked, head turned towards Nik who was still holding the instructions right to his face.

“Hmm …. I could call some people.”

“Nik, we are not calling people to build a fucking wardrobe for us.”

“Why not?”

“It’s bloody humiliating. Two grown men, soldiers, who can’t even build an Ikea wardrobe ? If word gets out, I’m never hearing the end of it.”

Nikolai pondered the argument for a second, a grin on his lips.

“And how would word even get out, John ? It makes no sense. You are just stubborn.”

A loud grunt echoed in John’s throat at that, before quickly grabbing the plan from Nik’s hands.

“We are building this bloody wardrobe together, even if it kills us, alright ? We took down an entire terrorist infested building two days ago, we cannot be defeated by a piece of furniture, Nik, this is ridiculous.”

“Hmmm” Nik chuckled, still smiling. “If you say so.”

His eyes still fixed on the plan, Price stayed quiet, trying very hard to understand what the drawing was showing. Two screws, nails maybe ? Going into holes on the side of one plank. Which plank ? Which holes? There were about 15 of them on the biggest plank. He was losing his mind, not noticing the large hand that was now grabbing the back of his neck, until a long hum left his lips instinctively.

“Nik …”

“Da, John ?”

Nik’s hand played with Price’s skin for a bit, thumb caressing the side of his neck, right under his earlobe, the back of his scalp, grabbing him at a spot he knew Price was sensitive.

“I really don’t think this will help …”

The large hand left his neck, now going under Price’s shirt, sliding further down, past the waistband of his boxers, fingers teasing his ass while Price relaxed.

“I think it will, actually.”

Before Price could even respond, Nik’s lips met his, the kiss quickly deepening as Nikolai’s larger hands grabbed Price, pulling him closer until he moved to straddle Nik’s hips while he laid on the ground, careful to avoid any wandering screws. In seconds, Nik had already opened Price’s pants, big hand teasing his cock while he was too busy kissing Nik and grabbing his chest.

This would have gone further had Nik not suddenly yelped in pain, surprising Price so hard that he almost fell back with his semi hard cock out of his boxers.

“Bloody hell, what was that ? What happened?”

Nikolai was growing in pain, trying to sit back up with Price’s help, although the captain still sat on his hips. When he finally managed, the clear view of a nail sticking out of Nik’s back made the situation a lot more clear.

“Ah.”

There was a single drop of sweat on Nikolai’s temple and a frown on his face. Despite this, the two men glanced at each other, Nik’s dark eyes meeting John’s blue, and before they knew it, they were back to laughing together, Price gently grabbing the sides of Nik’s face and planting a kiss on his cheek.

“If this is not a sign that we need help with this, I don’t know what it is, John.” Nik’s voice was soft but joyful, clearly not minding the nail embedded in his left shoulder all that much.

“No, Nik, this means war. The wardrobe drew blood. This requires retaliation. From us.”

“John, let me just call Gaz, I am sure that he will be happy to help us, no ?”

“Absolutely not. Gaz would tell Soap, Soap would tell Ghost, and they won’t ever let go that their captain couldn’t build a fucking wardrobe on his own. Now, let’s get rid of that back nail of yours, patch you up, and then we’ll finish this. Together, Nik.”

A long sight was Nik’s only response. Captain John Price may have been the love of his life, but he also was as stubborn as they came.

The day was far from being over.

[mina-org]

Part one

His hands tremble as he opens the letter, he prays it’s an elaborate be right back note but his hope dies as he sees the ink smears, no calligraphy or stickers, not even a gel pen. Just a biro and a stray journal page is what you used to condemn him.

Dear Kyle.

I’m sorry I couldn’t do this in person, im not as strong as you, I’ve never been as strong as you.

I thought we had lightening in a bottle but it’s been dashed out by the way we’ve both grown. I know you’ve grown away from me and I’ve tried to keep pace and be beside you but the last few months I feel like you no longer want me there, which is really hard because I thought we were like written in the stars, like we were designed to be together like fate. Which I know it’s silly because that stuff isn’t real but I’ve been feeling so out of place, where’s my place if it’s not with you?

Sorry this is convoluted but I’m breaking up with you, and i can’t be your friend but I need to be heard this time and I know I wouldn’t be able to do this in person.

I know you’ll move on, I’ve seen how you gawk at roads you could’ve took and now you can! Sorry that sounded bitter and I’m not trying to be, I just hate how this ended. I would’ve followed you into any war zone or hell site. I’ve imagined our wedding a thousand times and I still so desperately want you happy and I’m sorry I want good enough and i turned your love sour but I never meant to. I can’t reinvent my self again, you wouldn’t like it anyway

It hurts to say goodbye to the warmest place I’ve ever known but I know this is what’s going to be good for us, not like us as a unit anymore but like us as individuals if that makes sense. I hope Erica makes you happy, I don’t know the extent but I know you guys are texting and you’re hiding it from me. I wasn’t snooping your phones still linked to the Mac so I see all the notifications and I know I’m deeping this too much and I may be sensitive but your mean and that’s worse and I don’t care that I’m too sensitive anymore.

I hope you find happiness, goodbye Kyle

No. No. No

Kyle’s never felt this alone.

Vases soon bounce off walls where framed pictures had been and shatter into pieces, sprinkling the flat in sharp shards.

By the time dawn comes his flat is thoroughly destroyed, mirroring the war zones he’s called home for months but now he has far less hope. At least when he was interrogating terrorists he had his captain to lead him through it.

That’s an idea.

[fluff-lover]

Four times | Logan x fem!Reader

Four times Logan tried to propose to you. And the one he finally did it.

This is a little story inside the “Healing touch” universe. It can be read as chapter 7 or by itself.

Logan couldn't remember the last time he was this stressed, this nervous. He had been terrified of the idea of marriage, yet there was no doubt in his mind you were the one for him. 

The first time he tried to propose, he decided to do it the classic way: at a restaurant, after a fancy dinner. Getting down on one knee and going the whole nine yards. Not really his thing, but he wanted it to be perfect for you.

So the whole thing was nerve-wracking: taking the next step, getting you a ring, planning the date, getting reservations, all that without getting you to suspect anything. 

That was harder than any mission he’s ever been on…

That night you looked stunning. You put on a dress and got all dolled up just for him. In all honesty he felt like he fell short next to you. Even in his best clothes, he didn’t come anywhere close to being as elegant as you. What did he ever do to deserve you? His little angel on earth… 

That didn’t keep him from showing you proudly as he walked into the restaurant with you by his arm. He held out the chair for you, the waiter took your order, and you had a lovely dinner together.

It wasn’t until dessert that Logan started getting really nervous. His palms were sweating, his heartbeat skyrocketed, his mouth went dry. Just as you were enjoying your chocolate he decided it was the right time. 

His hand reached the box in his pocket and went to get up when…

The fire alarm went off.

The sprinklers in the ceiling activated and water started coming down like a summer rain.

Some kid had set a napkin on fire with the candle in a centerpiece. 

And that’s how you and Logan ended up outside the restaurant, Logan looking like a grumpy, wet cat, while you tried to squeeze the water off your dress.

“What a way to end the night, huh?” You asked, trying to keep things light.

Logan sighed, defeated.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, this is not what I had planned for us.”

You took his hand and kissed his cheek.

“Hey, it’s okay. Tonight was perfect, actually. You really planned a beautiful date.” You said and smiled.

To Logan you never looked more beautiful before: hair wet, mascara running down your cheeks… He could propose right there and then, but he wanted it to be perfect. 

You deserved a perfect proposal.

So Logan took you back home with no ring on your finger.

-

The second time he tried to propose was during the 4th of July. The Professor had the staff plan an amazing party in the backyard at the mansion. Food, drinks (a few beers for the grown-ups) and fireworks. In fact there would be a firework show at the end of the night, and while Logan hated loud sounds, the idea of him going down one knee while the sky lit in a dozens of colors was too tempting to pass.

He just needed to act normal until midnight, which was starting to feel impossible.

Logan was helping the other guys with the BBQ when suddenly you appeared with a scowl on your face.

“James Logan Howlett!” you called out, and the group of men went silent.

“Oh-uh…” Scott whispered.

“You asked the Professor to leave me out of the Alaska mission?!”

For months the X-Men had been tracking a group of anti-mutant terrorists until they found them hiding in Alaska. It was the right time to hit so they boarded the jet and left to catch them. You were supposed to go with them but the Professor held you back, telling you there were other matters you needed to take care of, which was a complete lie.

In reality Logan had begged Xavier to leave you out of the mission, too worried that you could get caught in the crossfire. This group was known for being extremists and they never left survivors. Logan wouldn't let his Angel come anywhere near them.

You weren't supposed to find out.

Logan sighed and gently pushed you away from the group, as this should be a private conversation.

“Who told you?” 

“Oh, so you’re not denying it!” you said.

“No, I'm not.” Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was too dangerous, I couldn’t risk it.”

You huffed and crossed your arms.

“You're unbelievable! How long will it take for you to realize I can take care of myself?”

“I know you can take care of yourself, but this was different, alright?”

When the mission was announced Logan told you you weren't coming with them, saying it was too dangerous. That led to one of the worst fights you ever had, and now it felt like it was repeating all over again. You had been so adamant that you could help the team that Logan felt like he had no other choice but to ask the Professor to pull you out of the mission.

And by “asking,” he meant threatening. Logan told Xavier that he would leave the mansion and take you with him, dropping the X-Men entirely just for your safety. Xavier knew better but decided to indulge him. 

Sadly for Logan things don't usually remain a secret for long at the mansion. Xavier told Jean the truth when she questioned his order, then she told Scott, who told his brother Alex. And of course Alex went straight to you with this information.

That little shit...

And that's why you marched to Logan at the party and started a scene.

“Different how?”

“It was too much of a risk! I can't lose you!” Logan insisted.

“You're SO unfair!” You stomped your foot like a kid.

“Why? Because I don't let you play hero with the rest of them?” Logan scoffed, knowing damn well you wanted to be a useful team member to the X-Men.

“You asshole! Don't you get it? You say you can't lose me, but I'm supposed to be okay with you going? I'm scared of losing you too, you dumbass!” You were yelling at this point. “You don’t think I worry when you leave for a mission? I want to be there too, to make sure you're okay.”

“I can heal.” Logan said.

“So do I! Why is it different for me?!” You insisted. 

“Because I love you!” Logan replied.

“I love you too, you idiot!”

“I'm confused…” Scott said while watching from afar. “Are they fighting or what?”

“But I never loved anyone like this before!” Logan said. “If something were to happen to you, I don't know what I would do! I wouldn't want to live anymore, and it's a fucking joke that I can't die!”

Your lip trembled at the weight of his confession.

“I get what you're saying Lo, I really do. But you can't keep me here locked up. You need to trust that I'm capable of doing my part. I'm an X-Man too and my place is next to my team.” You watched as Logan hung his head low. “Talking to the Professor behind my back was wrong. You went too far.” You shook your head.

“Sweetheart…” Logan reached out for you, but you stepped back.

“No, Lo, I need some space tonight.” You said sadly before walking away.

Proposing to you that night was out of the question.

You watched the fireworks from your bedroom window and cried as you held the stuffed panda Logan won for you at the fair.

Logan didn't stay to watch.

It's safe to say that Logan worked hard for your forgiveness. The proposal was placed on hold until he was sure things between the two of you were okay again.

-

The third time happened a while after. Logan waited to make sure your relationship was strong and steady before trying again.

It didn’t take you too long to patch things up with Logan: he apologized, you had mind blowing sex, and everything was right in the world. But Logan needed to win your trust again and he worked hard for it. He supported you during missions but didn’t meddle in your work—and even let you lead your own team when necessary.

Still, he waited a few months until your next anniversary to pop the question. For the occasion Logan planned a little picnic in the garden, close to your usual bench.

Everything was going well: candles were lit, food was served, and you sat on the blanket looking pretty and all dolled up for him, Logan could die right there and he would die a happy man. He just needed to ask you a question first.

But just as he was about to prop himself up on his knee and pull out the ring, Ororo and Scott showed up in a hurry.

“We have to go! There’s an emergency!” Scott said.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, quickly getting up.

“Mutants under attack, we’ll tell you more in the jet, let’s go!” Ororo said. You quickly followed them, leaving Logan looking confused and annoyed.

“You coming?” You asked, seeing he wasn’t getting up.

“Do we have to?” He groaned.

“Since when are you one to pass on a mission?” you asked, both teasingly and confused.

You had a good point.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” Logan said while getting up.

Just as he stood up you walked to him and kissed him hard.

“What was that for?” Logan asked breathlessly. You smiled and played with his dog tags.

“To thank you for this lovely date.” You shrugged. 

“Which we didn’t get to finish…” He said.

“That’s fine. All I see is the effort you put into it, and I’m so thankful.” You pecked his lips. “I love you, Lo.”

“I love you too, angel.” He smiled softly.

The proposal would have to wait.

Again.

-

By the fourth time Logan had learned his lesson: no interruptions allowed.

So as soon as you came back from the mission he whisked you away to a secluded cabin in the woods by a lake. It was always a dream of his to take you to a place like this.

Quiet mornings, fire burning in the fireplace, hot cocoa and marshmallows… It was like a Christmas card. It reminded him a little of the bed and breakfast you two stayed at in Alberta. And the best part? you were completely alone. It was perfect!

But the very first night Logan almost had a meltdown. He placed the ring in his toiletry bag, thinking it was the safest place to keep it, since you never went through it. But somehow in the hurry to get you out of the mansion he seemed to forget the bag at home.

“What? No…no no nononono…” Logan panicked as he went through his bag without success.

“Everything okay?” You asked as you stepped into the bedroom, having heard him panicking.

Logan sighed and rubbed his face.

“Yeah, everything’s fine…” He replied tiredly, hands on his hips.

You frowned and stepped closer.

“Talk to me.” You said wrapping your arms around his waist.

“S’nothing, I forgot something at home.”

“Maybe we can drive to town and get you a new one? Whatever it is…”

“Nah, it’s fine. It can wait.” Logan said. He waited this long, he could wait a bit more. He was just disappointed in himself.

-

Despite the failed attempt, the cabin didn’t go to waste. You and Logan had a very romantic week ahead. Long walks around the lake, looking at the stars at night, roasting marshmallows by the fire. Logan pulled all the stops to make sure you had a wonderful time together.

As a result you felt like the luckiest person in the world. 

One sunny morning you woke up before Logan, which didn’t happen often, so you took your chance to watch him for a moment. He was breathtaking, painfully beautiful, and you couldn’t believe this god of a man was laying next to you, one arm wrapped around your waist. You just couldn’t stop yourself, after a moment you reached up and kissed him on the lips, slowly waking him up.

“Mmmorning.” He whispered sleepily.

“Good morning, handsome.” you smiled and pecked his lips again. “Slept good?”

“Very good.” He hummed. “After so many years plagued by nightmares, you’re just what I needed.” He said pulling you closer for another kiss. “How about you?”

“I slept very well.” You sighed happily. “Mostly because you tired me out last night.” you added in a cheeky tone.

Logan smirked and gave your ass a playful pinch.

“I didn’t hear you complain last night.” He said.

“Never.” you smiled and nipped at his chin playfully. “Oh! Your beard is getting out of control.” You added while caressing his jawline.

Logan sighed and rubbed his face.

“I know. I was planning on shaving here but I forgot my bag with my shaver at home.” He said annoyed to himself, leaving out the part about having your ring in said bag.

“Oh! No, I forgot to mention it, I brought it, it’s in my suitcase.”

Alarms went off in Logan’s head.

“What?” He said sitting up on the bed in a panic.

You blinked, confused by his sudden mood change.

“I saw you left it on the bed, so I just put it in my suitcase. I totally forgot to tell you, I’m sorry.”

“Did you look inside?” Logan asked as he kicked the covers off his legs and rushed to your suitcase.

“No… why?” you sat up as well. 

Logan found his bag and quickly went through his things. At the very bottom of it was the little velvet box and Logan felt like it was mocking him.

“Is something wrong?” You asked with a frown.

Logan pulled out the ring box, but you didn’t see it, since he had his back facing you. He opened the box and stared at the ring.

After so many failed attempts Logan didn’t know if he could go another day without asking you. He wanted you to be his wife, and if he kept waiting for the right moment, that moment may never come.

He looked at you over his shoulder and fell in love with you all over again.

There you were, sitting on the bed, hair all messy and sleep still covering your eyes. Your skin glowed with the warm morning light. Your lips were red and bruised after last night's activities.

You looked perfect. The moment was perfect.

“Fuck it.” Logan said before walking to you and sitting on the edge of the bed. You gasped when you saw the ring box in his hand. “Sweetheart, my angel…” He took your hand. “I tried so many times to tell you how I feel about you and ask you a very important question, but I don’t think I can wait any longer. I wanted to make sure I did it right, that it was a proposal you’d never forget.”

By then, your eyes were filled with tears, and your lips trembled in anticipation.

“I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you… however long that is.” He said and you giggled. As far as you knew, Logan could reach the 500 years mark. It remained to be seen. “Darling, would you marry me?”

“YES!” You said before pulling him for a kiss. You wanted to say yes the second you saw the ring, but you also wanted to give him time to ask properly.

Once you broke the kiss, Logan rested his forehead against yours and sighed happily.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t a romantic proposal after a fancy dinner…”

“It was perfect.” You reassured him. “It was… you. So very you. A bit impulsive.” You giggled. “Very romantic, even if you don’t agree.” You caressed his face and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Logan pulled the ring out of the box and placed it on your finger. You looked at it lovingly and smiled.

“I can’t wait to be your wife.”

Logan got on the bed and pulled you down with him.

“And I can’t wait to be your husband. I think I waited way too long.”

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[maladaptivewritings]

Personal Jesus

Simon has a tattoo artist he favors, and in his boredom while home becomes a superhero for a single person

tw: general Simon Riley behavior, general C.O.D topics, stalking for the cause?

Y/N : They/them, female anatomy implications, tattoo artist, oblivious loser , slightly more emotionally intelligent, nickname of lamb by Simon

word count: 550

Pt.2

Every time he got back into that Manchester suburb, the bell on a simple tattoo shop rang. A deep breathe shared amongst the two as music hums in the thick air.

The needle buzzes against Simon's shoulder blade as you followed amongst the stencil. A new style you had convinced him to try and updated the dingy sleeve he had, cyber sigils now outlined nipping just at his collarbone. His gruff voice breaks the silence he had asked for when he entered.

"Man just blew up in'front of me," The breathes uneasy as the needled hummed with the lines. He knew he shouldn’t of said anything, but the young man who’s life disappeared in less than a moment was haunting his thoughts.

"That why you’re here and not hiding from the world?" You sighed, trying to understand what may going through this brick-wall- of-a-man's mind. You didn't know much about him besides that he may be military, what snacks he got from the shop, his favorite musicians etc 'maybe you knew a bit about him.' He was your favorite customer, let you free flow and practice against the tough skin he had built. Layers of muscle that tensed and relax underneath your touch, enticing you further. He also tipped well, and brought snacks despite the length. You worked on his shoulder blade as he rambled about this past deployment. A simple mistake of some stranger messing with him.

"Wouldn't've been older than twenty," His breathless nature made you second guess if you needed to stop. The fresh scars littering his broad back contorting with every hitch. Should this stranger know any of this, would the government 'Men in Black' you? The joke dashed across your mind.

"Just a boy, and he stepped on a land mine, not a soldier just a kid getting groceries." He finishes the thought, and it's wrenches your heart in the worst way. His realization of what he saw hitting him as you finish the stroke. sharing the mutual silence.

"You didn't know he would be there." Your attempt to help him cope and coax his desperate need for any sort of comfort. Simon turns towards you his obsidian like eyes burn like daggers, they are glossy but he doesn't cry. He just sits there in frustration.

"I should’ve, simple as that. Kid looked like he had no clue what was goin' on, like the idea that a fuckin terrorist was livin' next door was less likely than winning the lottery." He leaned back, arms flex as he supported himself against them. He had seen some of the worst bits of war, and this one kid was messing with him. His mousy blond hair tussled at his grown out buzz cut, a huff escapes his mouth as you return to tattooing him.

You just simply nodded for the next hour or so, as he ranted and raved as if reciting exactly what he knew what he could say. Pushing the limits, as he finally finished his whole moral dilemma , you finished your task.

You continued the conversion at the front desk, handing him a flyer for a group meeting. The two of you understood that despite your best efforts he would never go, but he would remember this act of kindness.

[bunnyinvanilla]

hi my lovee, reader receiving flowers and assuming they’re from price? He gets home and is LIVID

hiii my dear babyyy </3 im in love with this request wanna scream kick my feet giggle girlishly

💐| lil fluff, sugar daddy!john price x sugar baby fem!reader, laaarge age gap, john is in his mid 40s n reader is 21,

it wasn’t your fault :( due to your upcoming exams, you told john that couldn’t go to the bar, hence why you’ve been home all day, studying, what you didn’t expect though, was to find a postman ringing at the door, holding the cutest flower bouquet for you.

your eyes instantly softened at the sight, immediately thinking about john, who’d often make sure to send you flowers when he was away in deployment, or when he couldn’t see you for a long time, getting them delivered to the house.

your cheeks turned the same pink of the flowers, and you quickly thanked the mailman, taking the bouquet from his hands and holding it close to your nose to inhale the fresh, sweet fragrance. 🏷️ | for the sweetest girl in town,

the softest giggle bubbled from your throat, and you quickly ran to the kitchen, filling an empty glass with water to place the flowers into.

and a few hours later, when john came back from the bar just to check on you, see if you needed anything, you practically jumped at him

“thank you for the flowers, daddy, they’re so pretty” you smiled at him, and it seemed like the sun itself had revealed its rays, your warm, blushing cheeks and doe eyes revealing your bashfulness as you stood on your tippy toes and planted a kiss on his mouth, pressing your lips against his.

john just blinked at you, cluelessly, as he returned the kiss, remaining still — his buff, marble crafted body as rigid as a statue “what flowers, doll?”

you plopped back down and tilted your head, smiling in compliance — “the ones you’ve sent me today, sir, i love them, you always remember pink flowers are my favorite”

but that didn’t clear his mind not even a bit — he was sure he hadn’t sent you any flowers today, and it couldn’t even have been one of those monthly bouquet subscription plans he’d signed up for when he was deployed and far away, occupied with long missions, because in that case he would’ve received an email.

so who was the fool that dared to send his girl flowers? to their home?

as if something had switched inside of him, you could see his jaw clenching, muscles flexing in a way that reminded you of a grizzly bear that tried to tame his temper — a shadow of annoyance crossed his eyes as he spoke, “I haven’t sent them, doll”

your smiles faltered briefly, thinking he must’ve been joking, wanted to keep the surprise effect, but when he moved closer to the table, scrutinizing the bouquet like a challenge, a wave of embarrassment flooded over you.

“what do you mean? you always send me flowers, sir..” you spoke meekly, not wanting to fuel the already heavy discomfort you could feel in the air.

john had been through a lot, he’d faced terrorists, had fought the horrors of battles and wars, but nothing had ever spurred that boiling feeling of anger within his chest that was slowly coming to surface now, roughening the edge of his growly tone “not today, sweetheart”

his fingers touched the little envelope tucked around the bouquet’s stem, “a secret admirer, eh?”

his voice was low, teasing in a way that felt both playful and possessive way — he was a grown, confident, adult man, he knew you were all his, and yet, the sight of another man's gesture, especially one so thoughtful, unraveled something inside him, a possessiveness and jealousy that boiled within him.

that jealousy didn’t come from insecurity, but from a certainty of a man who knew what he had and what he wanted to keep for himself, being the seasoned and confident leader he was, he mastered control over any situation with outmost quiet assertiveness.

he didn’t lash out or yell, oh no, he simply looked down with a dry, dark stare “who the fuck sends flowers to a taken girl?”

you opened your mouth and closed it right after, your cheeks blooming red, and walked closer to him, looking at the flowers differently now, since the note didn’t have a name on it. “I supposed they were from you, sir, as usual..”

“no, angel, some bloke thought he could try and win my girl,” he chuckled, a deep, short, chilling laugh that screamed silent anger. “foolish kid, could use some military training in his life and learn how to fookin’ know his limits”

his mustache twitched, like it always did when he tried and keep his anger in check, and he turned towards you, who’d already begun to play with your hair nervously, eyes narrowing worriedly.

“didnt know sir, im sorry, i genuinely thought they were from you..”

you were like a calming, comforting balm to him, poor sweet girl, you were just so innocent and naive :( but whoever had sent them, hadnt left a signature, which now left you wondering how could have possibly been.

he held your chin with his whole hand, lifting it up towards his face, and planted a forceful, heavy kiss on your mouth, feeling you squirm against him when he bit on your bottom lip, “not mad at you, doll, i know you did,”

when he pulled away, he grabbed your chin with his fingers, squeezing softly as he looked down at you with darkened, half lidded eyes — it had probably been a kid from college, and he didn’t feel threatened by that at all, just pissed.

“hes just giving me more things to do with my line of work, princess, just wait until I find out who that bastard is, gonna send him something special,”

you shivered at the silent threat behind his words, his thick British accent lowering to a dangerous tone, a growly and lethal edge to it,

”i can send them back if you want-“

“oh nono, love, know you’d feel bad, let me take care of it, princesses don’t get their hands dirty, their daddies do”

[xmalereader]

Simon Riley X Male Reader

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|| Masterlist ||

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Authors Note: Here is the first request! I did make a few adjustments to this shot and I hope you enjoy it! I tried to extend it and instead left it short :( but I hope you enjoy it!

Requested: Hi! I hope you have been doing well and not being to kich stressed<3 If you request are still open I was hoping you would take this one where Simon Riley introduces his boyfriend who is a total sunshine to the team after the boyfriend comes to visit him in secret to their fake base. The boyfriend is a normal civilian and the total opposite of Simon so it's weird seeing them as a couple(you can throw Alejandro and Rodolfo if it's okay with you)

Warnings: Fluff, relationship goals, grump x sunshine dynamic, black cat x golden retriever dynamic, reader is a florist, dark humor, Alejandro is a flirt, sweet moments, short, language, Spanish words, mentions of wedding, ghost is embarrassed, mentions of past trauma.

Word count: 1.7K

Tags: @nobodylivesson

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Simon wasn’t one to tell people about his past nor his personal life, keeping it hidden from his enemies and those closer to him. Throughout the years he had grown afraid of bringing someone into his life, even though he looked like a stoic and scary man when working in the military, deep down inside he showed that he cared for the people he worked with or lost during action.

After losing those he cared for he went back to being his stoic self, shouting demands at his own soldiers and killing his enemy in the most brutal ways imaginable. No one ever approached him unless out in the field or during a mission, but for a normal conversation he kept his distance around others until one unexpected mission he met him.

Y/n was the total opposite of Simon.

He met the man during one of his mission. He was a normal civilian with a normal life who owned a flower shop. Every time Simon saw him in the streets he shined brighter than the sun and always made his day better, knowing that he was safe. Simon didn’t know when these feelings towards the civilian started happening, but he can guess that it started when Simon was uncover, dressed out of his gear and without his mask, feeling so exposed and naked without it.

He was keeping an eye on his target and couldn’t draw any attention towards his way and had to get rid of his mask. He didn’t expect himself to bump into the ball of sunshine during his time out, watching as the other man carried a box of carnations and dripping on his own laces, before havoc occurred, Simon had stepped in without thinking and caught the man with one arm and with the other he caught the box of carnations.

Simon had come face to face with the florist that day and was received with a flower and a dinner date after the accident. Who wold have thought that the most serious man in the military would be dating someone much sweeter and brighter than him? Simon wasn’t suppose to get attached to him, but as dates and meets up occurred the poor man had fallen into the florists trap and couldn’t leave him alone without getting worried.

Both Simon and Y/n started dating after that until it bloomed into something serious.

The florist knew that Simon was busy with his own work and never questioned him and only told him to be safe and to comeback to him. Those simple words always encourage Simon to get through his mission in order to return back home to him.

It wasn’t until he was recruited into 141 a special forces team with much needed skills that could handle terrorists missions the dangerous stuff that no regular soldier would be able to handle. During his time with his new team he didn’t think he would grow attached to them to the point where he grew overprotective of them, they were his family.

He kept his relationship about Y/n very well hidden from the others and never left hints of him being in a relationship. Whenever Y/n sent him flowers he always left them somewhere out of base where they could either keep growing or for any small animals to claim, when he would send him letters, Simon would make sure to memorize his words before burning them. It wasn’t that he didn’t want his lovers gifts, no. It was because he was being safe, afraid that his enemy could get their hands on it and use it against him.

When Y/n first found out about the ways that Simon treated his gifts the florist was upset, thinking that the bigger man didn’t appreciate his gifts and was probably embarrassed by the things he wrote but, Simon had reassured the man that he did love his letters and was simply being safe. It didn’t take long for the two to fix the miscommunication and clearing things up.

Their relationship continued on for a year.

When Simon was stationed in a base in Mexico he figured he would be there longer than planned, eager to get back home to his lover, but controlling himself. They were staying in Alejandros base, going over some plans and reminding themselves what they are to do. After the events with Shepard and Graves the 141 team had grown close with Alejandro and his partner, helping them when its needed.

The good thing is that they had a few days off, getting a break from all the chaos and being able to relax for a bit. Some went off base to be with their families while others stayed behind, like Simon did. It was no use getting back home, flying out will take time and for him to only be with Y/n for a day or two and then to fly out again was torture. He’d rather spend those days either locked in his own room or practicing his combat with those who stayed behind.

What Simon didn’t expect was a knock on his door, alerting him of someone’s presence and to pull the door open and see Soap on the other side with a small grin on his face. Simon didn’t like the look on his face and narrows his eyes under his balaclava.

“What is it Johnny?” His voice is deep when asking as the Scottish mans grin widens.

“We’ve got a lad up front, claiming that he knows you.”

Simon raises a brow confused at first until Soap speaks up again.

“He brought flowers.”

Those words are enough for Simon to storm out of his room, brushing past Soap as he makes his way towards the front entrance of the base. Simon doesn’t want to overthink and believe that its Y/n because what would that man be doing out this far from home? It was dangerous and Simon could not have him wandering around the streets.

When Simon finally appears near the entrance his eyes immediately land on Y/n who stood patient while staring down at the flowers in hand as one of the soldiers stood by and watched, being cautious of him.

“Y/n?”

Simons voice gets the mans attention, lifting his head up and smiling widely.

“Si—Ghost!” Y/n quickly corrects himself, not wanting to give away Simons identity out in the open as he walks up to him and wraps his arm around his torso, smiling widely before standing on his toes to kiss his covered cheek. “Surprise?”

Simon chuckles. “A surprise indeed, why are you here?” He asks, hands touching Y/n’s shoulders and arms, wanting to make sure that he got here safe without any problems. The other didn’t bother batting Simons hands away and allows him to check him over. “I’m here on a flower delivery, this beautiful couple bought a big order and had to get it shipped here on time for their wedding and the couple were nice enough to let me stay for the ceremony.” He explains.

“You attend a wedding?”

“Mhm! I also stole the center piece.” Y/n gives off a mischievous grin as he held out the small case of flowers while Simon rolls his eyes. “Stealing your own flowers isn’t really stealing.”

Y/n pouts. “Don’t ruin my fun.” He mumbled out while handing Simon the small vase of flowers which gets the man chuckling a bit.

“Was that a laugh L.T?”

Simon’s smile quickly falters when hearing the familiar Scottish man who stood over his shoulder while looking at Y/n with a knowing smile. “Hello.” Y/n greets with a small wave at the other man.

“Who do we have here?”

Y/n smiles as he sticks his hand out for a shake. “I’m Y/n, Ghosts boyfriend.” He says proudly while shaking Soaps hand who stares in disbelief. “Boyfriend? Who would have thought that Ghostie knew what love is?” He was clearly teasing the man and Simon wasn’t amused by his jokes, but Y/n was.

“I know right? He may look scary in the outside but in the inside he’s a softie.” Said Y/n.

“Who’s a softy?”

Simon wanted to groan when Gaz approached them next a hand on his hip as his eyes dart from Simon to Y/n, before figuring out the situation and turns to Y/n with a charming smile. “Gaz, Ghost and Soaps teammate.” The florist chuckled at Gaz charm and shakes his hand too. “Y/n, Ghosts boyfriend.” He introduces himself.

Introductions continue on when they move further into base where the finally meet up with Price who possibly already knew about Simon’s relationship, but pretends like he didn’t know when greeting the young man. Everyone’s was still surprised to know that someone so happy and bright could be Simons lover.

Simon who was always brooding and cracking dark humorous jokes that not many of the others laughed about. Funny to say that Y/n laughed at a few of them which always made Simon smile.

“Well, well, a quien tenemos aquí?”

Alejandros smooth voice cuts into the crows, making his way through as the man eyes Y/n up and down before taking his hand into his own and kissing the top of his hand, earning a soft blush from Y/n who chuckled in a flustered manner. “I see we have a romantic one amongst everyone.” He gently pulls his hand away while Alejandro chuckles. “Rumor has spread that fantasma, here got himself un amante.”

Y/n raises his brows in shock. “Wow that fast, huh?” He laughs out, looking over his shoulder to Simon and playfully smacking his chest before focusing back to the others. “It was very nice to meet everyone, Simon talks highly of everyone.” Everyone on Simons team slowly looked at him with mischievous grins and smiles on their lips while Simon glared at them in return.

“You don’t say?” Says Soap. “Got any embarrassing stories of him?”

“OH! I do! There was this one time when we were in bed together—!” It wasn’t until Simon quickly covers his lovers mouth with his large hand, stopping him from going any further. “Time to go, love.” Simon orders while wrapping his arm around his waist and dragging him away.

Y/n groans, but doesn’t stop himself from waving the others goodbye. “Bye! Hope to see you all soon!” He shouts from across the base while the others waved in return, watching as Simon dragged his lover away from his men, glad that he’s wearing his balaclava in order to hide the embarrassing blush on his face.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Surprise Pt. 2 | Soap x Reader

Summary: The boys are slowly settling into your apartment, looking for the terrorist group they’re hunting down, while memories begin resurfacing for Simon.

Word Count: ~ 3.8k

Warnings: Mentions of death, toxic relationship, toxic family, abusive dad, panic attack/ptsd episodes, guns, violence, prob terribly inaccurate to anything military (I’m trying my hardest ok😭)

A/N: this part is mainly for worldbuilding, I’m alr working on part 3 but felt like y’all might want a little update, lmk what you want to see, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

It was safe to say that Ghost and Price had a long conversation that night.

“How much does she know?”

The captain had asked, hat hanging over his head before he picked it off between two fingers, setting it on the bedside table in a guest room. The two available rooms were split with Gaz and Price in one, and Ghost and Soap in the other.

Simon thought for a solid moment. He hadn’t told you anything, other than he was going to the military. He’d stayed over at your place maybe once before, years earlier, and all he’d told you was that he had a mission, an important one, something he couldn’t tell you about. To keep you safe.

It wasn’t a lie. At first, you’d been angry that he wouldn’t tell you, but something must’ve clicked at 15 because that was when you stopped questioning it altogether. Then again, at that point, he’d rarely texted you or called you at all. It had been years since physical words were exchanged at this point.

He felt bad about it, but with the last words exchanged between the two of you…it made regret and grief flare up in him all over again.

~

You were pacing. Back and forth, and he wouldn’t be surprised if you burnt a trail in the carpet with how frenzied you looked. Shock, grief, anger, and pure disbelief mixed all into one, your body language reflecting as much.

He hadn’t even taken his mask off yet, leaning against the wall behind him in the home his mother had grown up in. The home he’d grown up in. A home you’d visited before, only because of the court-deemed custody that your father somehow got.

“You didn’t come to the funeral.”

His harsh voice finally rang out, and your pacing stopped. You turned to look at him, defensiveness automatically rendering itself in your expression. Always so easy to read. If only you were like that now.

“I couldn’t make it in time. You know that, Simon.”

You said, and his temper flared. Every single lesson he’d had drilled into him in his military-deemed anger management classes went out of the window at that. At how you defended yourself, even when he knew you could’ve made it on time for that funeral. Or at least he thought you could’ve.

“Really? Or did you know about this, huh?”

He accused, anger building in his tone as he pushed off the wall, stalking closer to you, now pacing in his own slower, more predatory manner. Your eyes widened at his accusation.

“You think I was plotting to kill your mum? The fuck is wrong with you?”

Simon knew it was outrageous, there was no way in hell you would’ve done it. Not when you’d known her, even if only for a little bit. But Ghost….Ghost had been betrayed too many times. He was desperate for any answer, any way to get rid of you so he didn’t have to deal with any reminder of his mother, or Tommy, or his little nephew that had been so painfully young.

Maybe you didn’t understand, but if he made himself believe this…then you wouldn’t be around him anymore, and he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone killing you like they had everyone else around him.

“What about Tommy? Or Joseph? Didn’t make it to theirs either, did you.”

“Simon, I came as soon as I could, you know that. I was in that camp for a month, there was nothing I could-“

“That’s convenient, isn’t it.”

He said drily, stalking closer, hand moving to the hilt of his gun. You didn’t notice, probably because you had no military training or anything of the sort. If he wanted to kill you right now, make you disappear, he could. Easily, too. He could already think of how he’d do it, the silencer on his gun covering the sound as he would shoot you, once in the head, twice in the heart, then he would take you down into the sewers, and you’d disappear-

“You’re fucking crazy.”

Your voice, slightly scared now, and your body language showing just how intimidated and panicked you were, was wobbly at best. Tears welled in your eyes as you opened the door to leave out of the front, your car, a black jeep you weren’t old enough to drive yet, but did anyway thanks to the fake ID you’d made, parked in the rocky driveway.

He snatched your arm up, yanking you back into the room as he pressed you against the wall he’d previously been leaning on. He leaned close, breath coming through the fabric of his baklava and speaking softly, like the old Simon would, to you in your ear.

“I wouldn’t blame you, you know.” He began.

“He was your dad, he was all you had, wasn’t he? Maybe you were jealous, or angry about what happened to him. What I did to him.”

He almost whispered to you, as if it was some forbidden knowledge. Your small body was stiff against the wall, unconsciously leaning away from him. You were terrified. He could feel it.

“You’re insane. Completely fuckin’ insane.”

You said, trying to squirm away, and he let you gain an inch of room, only to force you another inch against the wall. One more and your breathing would be strained if you could breathe at that.

“I’ll let you off, but if I find out you had anything to do with this, with her…”

He didn’t get to finish the rest before you struggled free, and you made it to your car quicker than ever before, and drove off, not caring about any speed limits or anything.

~

“Simon? You here?”

Price’s voice snapped him out of whatever trance he’d been in, and he gave a little grunt in response. Shaking himself out of it, he tried to remember what the captain’s question had been. Something about what you knew.

“The bare minimum.”

“Good. She seems like a good kid, keep her outta this.”

Simon didn’t mention the fact that you had already faced minor charges multiple times, some for breaking and entering or assault and battery, most of which were dismissed by a judge he suspected was paid off. Or the fact that you’d used a fake ID for your car for multiple years. He would know, considering he’d asked Gaz to find you multiple times. You weren’t an easy one to find, almost as if you’d tried to wipe yourself off the grid before turning back on it.

You weren’t a good kid by any means, but by your age, he’d probably been killing people already, so he supposed there were worse things to be doing.

“Roger that.”

Price gave a small nod of confirmation, clapping him on the shoulder as he went to walk to the room that he was sharing with Gaz.

“Get some rest, Simon. We’ll get directions from Laswell tomorrow. Don’t stress over it.”

Despite himself, Simon gave a little nod.

If only he was stressing over things as simple as terrorists and covert warfare.

~

Soap, surprisingly enough, woke up first. It was around 5:30 AM when he did, and Simon was still fast asleep on the bed beside him.

“Scuse me, Lt.”

He mumbled while sliding out of the bed, and walking to where he thought the kitchen probably was, and after wandering around, he found one small dim light on in the general kitchen area. You were standing in the kitchen, wrapping some sort of spandex-looking bandage material around your left knee. The type to help support it, in the case of an injury.

You were wearing a pair of blank shorts that didn’t go nearly far enough down your thighs, and what looked like an old jersey, with a faded number ‘14’ on it. Your right knee had a knee pad on, your left knee pad laying on the table. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail that was braided.

You both just stared at each other for a minute, before he grinned and obnoxiously whistled.

“Lookin’ good, lass. Where ya headed?”

He asked, already watching the gears turn in your head as you tried to decode his thick accent. Surprisingly, it didn’t take you nearly as long as he thought it would. Usually, new people had to take a few seconds, but you responded almost immediately.

“Practice.”

You replied bluntly, either not a morning person, or just not a talker. By the blank look on your face, he was just assuming you were also a heartless bastard like Ghost. But even Simon Riley had his tells, and he was sure you did too.

“What the hell’ve they got you practicing for at 5 in the mornin’?” He asked, and you looked at him for a moment, as if trying to see if what he’d said was a joke. As if he was stupid. He was not stupid.

“Volleyball. I’m on the team. Got a scholarship.”

His brows raised at that. Another blunt answer. You really were Simon’s sister, weren’t you? And to get a scholarship in volleyball…he hadn’t even known you’d gone to a private school, let alone the fact that you played sports.

I mean, sure, he’d sort of assumed you might based on your muscular thighs and arms he was entranced by, or the sheer unmoving look you always had, barely changing. Volleyball girls always had nice asses though, and you weren’t an exception, that was for sure.

You were either telepathic or had seen him staring because, with a simple snap of your fingers, he had flinched out of his daze.

“Eyes up here, MacTavish.”

You said in a mildly annoyed tone, and he gave you a slightly pouty look.

“Can’t blame me for looking at it when it’s right there, now can you?”

You had only given him another annoyed glance, before slinging a bag over your shoulder and walking out. He didn’t fail to notice the way you checked the peephole before walking out. Or how your eyes darted to the windows consistently, or the nearest available exit.

He didn’t blame you, living alone as a girl in this end of town, you had to be cautious.

~

They had been at this all day.

Laswell had radioed them in earlier, probably around noon after they’d raided your pantry, which only really had bread in various forms in it. Your fridge wasn’t much better, only cheap lunch meats, lettuce, tomatoes, and a few miscellaneous vegetables and fruits.

Since then, they’d been on the hunt for any suspicious characters, any sign of the terrorist group that had gotten away. It had taken a bit of travel, but a few miles out, they’d passed a van, white, with four burly shadowy figures in the darkened windows. Windows too dark to even be legal.

“Armed men, four of ‘em, cap.”

Soap had said, and Price had only given a nod, taking a U-turn to trail the vehicle. It wasn’t every day you would see any military men driving in a white van with tinted windows.

It had only escalated from there.

The van had stopped near an old alleyway with no people around, failing to notice T141, who were now all trailing on foot. They’d left the car behind with Gaz, despite his protests. They needed someone able to drive, and Soap was needed to disable any possible bombs. They were dealing with terrorists here.

Slowly crawling up the building to the right of the alleyway, Ghost let his gun peek down into it through some crumbling brick on the sides of the roof’s edge.

“We droppin’ em’?”

He asked quietly over the radio, and Price, on the building roof opposite of him, replied.

“Not yet. If we can get one alive, we’ll want ‘im for interrogation. Three of ‘em on my count.”

Soap, to the left of Ghost, nodded mainly to himself, his gun focusing on the man closest to a trash can, Price on the man to the right of him, and Ghost to the man leading the other two. The fourth was lingering behind a bit, examining the surroundings. Paranoid.

“Gaz, start bringing in our exfil.”

“Got it, Captain.”

“On your mark, Sergeant.”

With that, the first relatively silent shot went off, and two more followed until all that was left was the one man, who immediately took cover and jumped through the open window of the nearly abandoned building Price was on the roof of.

“Shit. Get him.”

Price’s voice cursed over the radio, and Gaz driving the car came into view only moments later, as Ghost and Soap hopped down from the roof of the building, taking the same route as the escaped terrorist through the building, and clearing it one floor at a time.

Hours later, it felt like they’d searched the whole damn city and come up with absolutely nothing. Whoever they’d missed had disappeared completely, and possibly contacted outside forces of their presence. They had to be careful with this.

“We headin’ back?” Soap asked, and Price replied.

“Affirmative. I’ll let Laswell know what happened.”

And so they headed back to the apartment, only to find you completely not there. Gaz got there first, gun still in hand as he cleared the apartment. Just in case.

“Clear.” He radioed over,

The rest of the boys filed in after that, taking the time to take showers, in the hope that you wouldn’t notice their bloodstained clothes. It was only after they had all changed into casual clothes that Soap remembered about you.

“Anyone know where the girl is?”

Gaz seemed to stir at that, immediately on his feet, when Ghost pushed him back down into the chair he was sitting in at the dinner table.

“She’s at school, lads.” His rough voice spoke, and Gaz and Soap both made an “ohhhh” sound at the answer. It was obvious, but they hadn’t gone to school in…a long time, and you were almost an adult now, so they tended to forget about that.

“Where does she go?” Price asked, taking a sip of his cup of water. Ghost shrugged.

“Some private school, said she got a scholarship for volleyball or somethin’,” Soap added, and Ghost shot a tiny glare at him. The fact that a random Scottish man knew more about you than Simon Riley, your technical brother, wasn’t making him too happy. Soap only gave him a cheeky grin in return.

“You seem to know an awful lot about her, Soap.”

Kyle then spoke up, carefully eying Simon and Johnnie. Even as Simon huffed out of his nose, taking a sip of water. His lips were chapped, Gaz noticed. Soap gave a little shrug, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Just curious about ‘er is all. We are living in her house, after all.” He answered, and Price stood up, mumbling something about a smoke break while walking across the kitchen to reach the balcony, where he smoked. The first time he’d tried to smoke inside, you’d grabbed it straight from his fingers, and thrown it into the sink before running cold water over it.

It took him a minute to realize that had only been yesterday night.

The week went by quickly, and the boys slowly got used to your schedule. More like they just started fitting into the routine you had, really. Having four random military men inside of your house wasn’t easy, especially when they kept leaving the toilet seat up in the bathroom in the hallway.

“Couldn’t just put the seat down, could they..”

You mumbled to yourself late into the night, slamming the seat down as hard as you could without breaking it. Every time they left it up, you made sure to put it down hard, making enough noise to wake them up. Distantly, you could’ve sworn you heard Johnny’s laughter from the room he was in with Simon, before a low “Shut it.” and a “Roger that, Lt.” was faintly audible.

You had practice almost every night, even some on weekends, which made sense considering you were the team captain for the junior varsity of your school. Once you became a Senior next year, you’d probably get team captain of the full varsity team. A big responsibility, but one you seemed to enjoy, even when some days you would come home, lock yourself in your room, and fall straight asleep without eating anything.

Where they went every day, you never asked. Didn’t want to.

One night, Price walked into the kitchen, where you kept a washer and dryer for the clothes as well, tucked into the room where it wasn’t easily noticed, and saw you pouring hydrogen peroxide on some bloodstains in their clothes. It was strong, stronger than anything you could legally get from a pharmacy, he could tell that much.

Your eyes both met, and you didn’t waver from his stare, and he didn’t from yours.

“You aren’t going to ask questions?” He asked, voice a deep rumble. Your eyes shifted away at that, back to the clothes. As if hiding whatever gleamed within them, the knowledge you had, or what you’d seen. What you knew they did every day.

“Better for all of us if I don’t.”

You’d replied simply, voice still relatively neutral, the barest amount of a British accent lingering even when you’d spent so many years in America. You almost mumbled it, as if used to speaking quietly. Based on the small fragments he knew of Simon’s past, and his father, one that you both shared, he wasn’t surprised. It would be a hard habit to break.

Whatever had kept you from interacting much with Price must’ve changed after that night, because you showed up more after that. It was late at night, and you looked beat, but he could still see the gears working behind your eyes.

“What is it?” He asked as you walked over to where he was sitting in the bed he and Gaz shared, and sat down next to him on it, showing him a notebook. He recognized what was on it, a court of some sort, a net in the middle, and a rotation of numbers, with all the enemy patterns and numbers on the other side of the net.

“Help.”

You stated simply, and he nodded before you explained to him the basics of volleyball. He only really knew the frequently adjusted rules he’d seen on the Olympics sometimes, so it was a lot of explaining, but after that, the both of you were straight to work on finding a rotation and pattern that would work to beat the team that you’d lost to twice this season.

“If 28 is your hitter, why not move them back row, to move in for the kill?”

“It would leave our defenses entirely open. A tip could lose the point and serve, and when we got the serve back, 14 would be serving. She doesn’t do well with serving under pressure. 28 needs to stay front row as long as possible to block.”

“Got it, so..”

He would admit, you were not stupid, and that was for sure. You knew everyone on your team’s strengths and weaknesses and used them to your advantage. It was almost like looking at a younger, female version of himself. Always taking charge, always thinking ahead.

And Johnny…he was obnoxious.

Always flirting with you in any way he could, making random jokes just to hear your tiny laugh or the snort you usually made instead. He couldn’t help it, even when the rest of the guys were getting sick of hearing him.

But, he had his uses, too.

When the remote would break down? Don’t worry, he only took it entirely apart, replaced and tweaked it so it would work, and put it all back together with his nails as a screwdriver.

When you were in an especially foul mood? His terrible jokes came in handy, not because you were laughing at them, but at how stupid he looked telling these jokes, chest puffed out like a proud bird when he saw you snort or your lips twitch, even though he didn’t know whether you were laughing with him or at him.

Johnny was smarter than you originally thought, as well. Had incredibly complicated math homework, and giving you a serious headache? Somehow, the bastard knew exactly how to do it.

“How do you know that equation.”

“It’s simple, really, I use it all the time for me explosives. Reminds me of the time I and the Lt planted them all over, you should’ve seen-“

“On topic, Johnny.”

“Right, sorry.”

But living with military men did have downsides, more obvious than them leaving the toilet seat up, forgetting to do the dishes when it was their day or the same for laundry, or messing up the guest beds. (Though Gaz never forgot about his responsibilities, even taking the time to make you dinner when you would get home late with what little ingredients you had.)

You were a quiet person, and Gaz had noticed it first. How you rolled on your feet, careful not to make noise, not even noticing how you were doing it. Or the way that unless you were slamming the toilet seat down for the umpteenth time, you took extra care in placing things down gently, not dropping them. It was an odd contrast with your blunt, slightly harsh demeanor that reminded him of Simon.

But it had been Gaz that made you fully remember what these men had gone through when you had been scared shitless because of Soap purposefully sneaking up behind you and scaring you, and accidentally letting out a small scream that was more like a yell. Instinct had kicked in, muscle memory as well, and before his mind even knew whose scream it was, his body was moving.

He’d tackled Soap straight to the floor, hands around his throat.

“The fuck, Kyle-“ Johnny had choked out, and it had been Price who’d snatched Gaz up, restraining his hands against his back while you watched in slight sympathy.

It had taken him only a few seconds to calm back down and figure out what the hell was happening, at which he sighed, giving Soap a regretful look.

“Sorry, don’t know what got into me.” He mumbled, and Johnny only stood up, brushing his knees off, and patted Kyle softly on the back.

“Don’t. I get it.” The Scotsman said, before walking out. When he glanced at you, it was the empathy for him that Kyle found most odd. The fact that you seemed to understand.

It was only weeks later that he understood why you could empathize with him over his actions.

Tags:

@yearninglustfully

@kazuyatokue

@kiwibao

@kurokitty6

[warriorbrother]

[allthingsfangirl101]

Deep Undercover – Timothy McGee

"Rise and shine, Mr. and Mrs. McGee!"

McGee and I jumped awake. We looked at each other and rolled our eyes. "Better hurry, Mrs. McGee. You're going to be late for work," DiNozzo jokingly taunted.

"Do you enjoy this, Tony?" Y/N asked as she got out of bed. McGee quickly looked away as she slipped her robe over her thin tank top and shorts.

"Enjoy what, Y/L/N?"

"Watching us play house?" She teased. "Or are you jealous that you don't get to pretend to be married to Tim?"

Y/N and McGee smirked when DiNozzo instantly stuttered an excuse. "Don't daydream about it too much, boys," Y/N teased as she entered the bathroom and shut the door. McGee's heart jumped into his throat when he heard the shower turn on.

He leaned against the bedrest and ran his fingers through his hair. He and Agent Y/L/N have been undercover as a married couple in a neighborhood heavily owned by Navy families. Gibbs put them here a month ago due to a tip NCIS received about an underground home-grown terrorist group. This group was full of civilian husbands, married to women in the Navy with big careers. Y/N and McGee's job was to make friends with the neighbors and get McGee an invite into the group. Getting an invite means looking like a proud Navy husband with a hint of anger and resentment. They had a plan in place to show that hint but they needed to build rapport with the neighbors first.

While Y/N showered, McGee went downstairs and made breakfast. When she came down, she was now in her Navy uniform.

"You don't have to keep doing this," she chuckled as she walked into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee.

"Keep doing what?" He asked as he put the pancakes onto a plate and turned toward her.

"You don't have to keep making breakfast every morning," she smiled as she took the plate from him.

"It's what I would do for my wife," he said. His eyes widened and he quickly added, "If this was real, I mean. I'm just trying to make all of this believable."

"I didn't say it like it was a bad thing," she chuckled. She smirked as she added, "If I was to make this real, I wouldn't have showered alone."

She walked away, fully aware of McGee frozen as her words sank in. She sat at the table and started eating the food McGee made them.

"If this was real, my husband would join me for breakfast, McGee," she called over her shoulder without turning around.

"Right," McGee stuttered. He cleared his throat as he made himself a plate and walked over to the table. He sat down across from her and the two ate without saying anything.

"What are your plans for today, sweetheart?" She asked, putting extra emphasis on the nickname.

"I need to run to the hardware store and pick up a few things," McGee said not sounding so confident. He lowered his voice and added, "Gibbs gave me a list. He thinks I'll run into some of our neighbors at the hardware store."

"We don't have to whisper in our own home, Tim," she whispered. Her voice went back to normal as she continued, "It's a good idea. If I wanted to talk to some of our neighbors, I'd go to the grocery store."

"Why can't I go to the grocery store?"

"Gender stereotypes, my dear husband," she chuckled as she stood up and cleared the table. "They suck but they are what they are around here."

Y/N leaned down and kissed his cheek before doing the dishes. They went through the rest of their morning as they usually do. Soon, McGee walked Y/N out of their house.

"Good morning, Kingstons!"

In the neighborhood, they were known as Kyle and Emily Kingston. Y/N's cover was a flight instructor for the Top Gun program based on her background as a Navy pilot before she joined NCIS. McGee's cover was as a computer forensics professor at MIT. To better sell their backstory, Y/N really did train pilots for the Navy while McGee taught a class at the local college.

The two turned to see the couple across the street waving at them. "The Nelsons," Y/N whispered. "She's a Navy lieutenant who works in IT. He works in some shoe store downtown."

"Morning!" McGee yelled as he raised his hand and waved. He and Y/N turned toward each other and let out small awkward chuckles.

"Show's on," Y/N whispered. She stood on her toes and pressed a gentle kiss to McGee's lips.

"Come on, McLoverboy," DiNozzo taunted into their earpieces. "Kiss your wife goodbye. You never know what will happen at training today. This may be the last time you get to kiss Y/L/N."

"I am going to kill him," McGee mumbled as they broke the kiss. Y/N laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Breathe," she chuckled. "He's just jealous he didn't get picked for this undercover assignment. You know how much DiNozzo loves dressing up and acting like someone he's not."

"I still think Y/N and I look more like a married couple than her and McGee," Dinozzo grumbled.

"McGee makes the more convincing husband," Gibbs countered. Y/N just laughed as she kissed McGee's cheek.

"Don't forget to get more of the paint we need for the baseboards," Y/N said, slightly raising her voice.

"I will," McGee said, matching her voice level. "As long as you don't forget to be careful and to make it home alive."

"I always do," she teased as she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. McGee watched as Y/N got in her car and headed to work.

Y/N was gone all day and McGee was home. Gibbs set it up this way so McGee would be the in. The group was made up of mostly husbands whose wives had big careers in the Navy.

While Y/N went to the base to train pilots, McGee did some digging on their neighbors. A little after noon, he decided to go to the hardware store. He walked through the aisles, grabbing the things from the list Gibbs gave him. His phone rang the same time it does every day.

"Hey, you," he answered it.

"Hi, honey," Y/N said sweetly. "How's your day going?"

"Oh, it's great," McGee laughed. "I'm at the hardware store now."

"Good," Y/N chuckled. "Gibbs will smack the back of your head if you forget anything."

"I'm terrified I'm gonna get the wrong wood or finish," McGee admitted. "I still don't get why you want the house fixed. We're not staying long."

"I don't care if the house is. . .Oh," Y/N said, her voice dropping. "If there's a neighbor nearby, try to talk but act as if I interrupted."

"I don't want the roof to cave in either, honey, but. . . We're not. . ."

"I think it's time to get your invite into the group," Y/N said. "Act as if I just told you I have to stay late. Be upset about it."

"Again?" McGee played along. "This is the third time this week, Emily."

"Wow," she chuckled. "Way to point out how many times I've been late. That's evil, McGee."

"Do you have to stay late?"

"What? My job isn't important?" Y/N laughed as she began to play along.

"I'm not saying your job isn't important, Emily," McGee sighed. "But we haven't had dinner together in what feels like months."

"I'm going to stay on the Navy base tonight. I'll run by NCIS and have Abby set things up. I'll be home early tomorrow," Y/N told McGee her plan. "We should move up our final act."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Having it go down when I get back after a night I don't come home can lead to a natural fight between husband and wife. That will draw the attention of the others."

"Whatever you say," McGee said. "Just be safe, okay?"

"You too, Tim," Y/N said, her voice soft.

"Call me when you're. . ." McGee sighed like Y/N had hung up on him midsentence even though he said it after she hung up. "Love you too," he mumbled as he hung up.

"Everything okay, Kyle?"

McGee looked up to see Tyler Nelson, the neighbor they waved to this morning, walking over.

"Yeah," McGee said, clearing his throat. "Emily is stuck at work. Again."

"She stuck at work a lot?" Tyler fished.

"Occasionally," McGee shrugged. "The group of pilots she's training have a mission in a few weeks. According to her, they aren't close to being able to succeed. She's just trying to make sure they make it home alive."

"Still," Tyler shrugged. "You're her husband. She should be there for you too."

"I'm proud of my wife, Tyler," McGee said a little too harshly.

"Supportive but tired husband, McGee," Gibbs reminded.

"But if I'm being honest," McGee continued calmer, "it's getting tough. I know she loves her job. She's good at it. I've seen her in training and I've seen the pilots she's trained. She's good. But. . ."

"But what about you?" Tyler asked.

"Can I be honest about something that will make me sound like a horrible American?"

"Of course," Tyler said, his voice sounding more eager. "I've probably said it too."

"Really?" McGee asked. He cleared his throat and looked around before saying, "Sometimes I hate Emily's job. And sometimes I hate the Navy for taking my wife away from me."

Tyler put his hand on McGee's shoulder and smiled softly. "It's perfectly okay to feel that way, Kyle. I have felt like that time and time again."

He patted McGee on the shoulder before walking away. Once it was clear, McGee took out his phone and sent Y/N one text.

We're in. Tomorrow is a go.

* * * * *

McGee walked out of their undercover house as Y/N's car pulled into their driveway. McGee could see Tyler Nelson watching from his kitchen window.

Y/N wasn't confused when she saw McGee in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. She got out of her car and instantly started to play along.

"What's with the glare?" She asked, not moving away from her car. "Come on, Kyle. It's not like I was at work all night and didn't call you."

"That's not the point, Emily," McGee said, unable to stop himself from glancing at the car. She needed to move. He needed to get her to move.

"Look," Y/N sighed, "I know that I've been working a lot. Their mission is almost over."

When she still hadn't moved closer, McGee decided to walk over to her. He had to move her away from the car.

"Once it is," Y/N continued, "I will request some time off."

"I've heard that before," McGee sighed.

"What if," Y/N smirked as she wrapped her arms around his neck, "I told you this time it would be different?"

"I've heard that before too," he said as he wrapped his arms around her waist. He leaned in and whispered, "We need to move, Y/N."

"Not yet," she whispered back.

"But. . ."

"It needs to look good, Tim."

"That doesn't mean you need to get hurt, Y/N."

The two pulled apart and it was then that Y/N saw how nervous McGee was. She sent him a smile to try and calm him down. She took his hand and intertwined their fingers.

"How about I make us breakfast?" She offered. They were three steps away from the car when it blew. The blast knocked them off their feet. In order for their plan to work, Y/N needed to be knocked out by the blast.

"Emily?" McGee said, making sure his voice was full of panic. He sat up and pulled Y/N into his chest. He ran his finger through her hair as he tried to get her to wake up. "Emily? Come on, baby. Open your eyes."

"Kyle? Emily? Are you two alright?"

McGee looked to see Tyler Nelson running across the street.

"Tyler, call 911!" McGee turned back to Y/N. "It worked," he said under his breath.

"It worked a little too well," Y/N said through a painful gasp. McGee looked down to see a piece of shrapnel in Y/N's side.

"Your cover is rock-solid," he started to stutter. "We'll get you to the hospital and they will call in NCIS. Vance will send Gibbs. I can handle the rest."

"No," she gasped in pain. "You can't do this alone."

"Tyler Nelson has something to do with all this," he whispered as he gently held her face in his hand. "He's interested in me. This explosion is going to make him come talk to me. I know it. You can stay in the hospital until you're better."

"But Tim. . ."

McGee leaned down and kissed her. He broke the kiss and kept his forehead pressed to hers as he whispered, "I'll be fine."

* * * * *

McGee and Y/N were taken to the hospital. As soon as they got there, Y/N was taken into surgery. McGee waited until Gibbs and DiNozzo came running into the waiting room.

"I thought we told you two to get far from the blast," Gibbs said.

"I tried to get her to move," McGee sighed. "Y/N thought it would be more convincing."

"If what?" DiNozzo scoffed. "She got killed?"

Gibbs instantly slapped the back of his head. "It worked," Gibbs said. "Besides, she's going to be fine."

"Mr. Kingston?"

McGee looked to see a doctor walking over. He jumped up and met him halfway.

"How is she?" He asked.

"Your wife is extremely lucky," the doctor said gently. "There was only one large piece of shrapnel in her side. It didn't hit any of her vital organs. We got it out and sewed her up. We want to keep her here for a couple of days to make sure she doesn't get any mercury poisoning in her blood from the shrapnel."

"Can I see her?" McGee asked.

"Of course," the doctor smiled. "We are settling her into a room now. When she's there, a nurse will come get you."

"Thank you."

McGee turned toward Gibbs, his stomach still in knots. "I'm sorry, boss," he whispered. "I tried to get her away from the car but. . ."

"This wasn't your fault, Tim," Gibbs tried to reassure him.

"Kyle!"

McGee turned to see Tyler Nelson running over. "Are you kidding me?" Tyler scoffed when he saw the NCIS agents talking to McGee. "His wife is fighting for her life and you're already bothering him with pointless questions?"

"It's fine, Tyler," McGee stopped him. "They're NCIS."

"I know who they are," Tyler practically spat at them. He sent Gibbs and DiNozzo one more glare before turning toward McGee. "How is Emily?"

"She's going to be okay," McGee sighed. "They're moving her into a room now. I can see her soon."

McGee walked over and sat in a chair. He put his head in his hands and stayed there.

"We can come back later," Gibbs said, sending Tyler a look before he and DiNozzo left. Once they were gone, Tyler walked over to McGee and sat next to him.

"You okay?"

"No!" McGee said honestly. He stood up and started pacing. "This explosion wasn't an accident. This had something to do with her damn job. Emily has sworn her life to protect the Navy and her country. And how do they repay her?! She gets blown up outside our home!"

To sell the part, McGee kicked a chair over. Tyler calmly walked over and to McGee and lowered his voice.

"What if I told you there was a way to make them pay for this?" He asked, his voice low.

"What are you talking about?"

"What if I told you, you could take things into your own hands and make them pay for not taking care of your Emily?"

* * * * *

A few days later, McGee and the team had successfully taken down the entire terrorist cell. While they arrested everyone involved, Y/N was still in the hospital. The piece of shrapnel that had gotten stuck in her side gave her a mild case of mercury poisoning. Luckily, the doctors caught it before they couldn't reverse it. It took a lot of medication, but they eventually successfully got all the mercury out of Y/N's system.

Y/N woke up to a steady beeping.

"Y/N?" Someone softly gasped next to her. She turned her head to see McGee scooting his chair closer to her bed.

"Hi, sweetheart," she said, her voice soft. "Is the house still standing?"

"Sadly, no," McGee smiled. "We need to move, my dear Emily. Half the neighborhood was arrested. I told you we should've kept looking."

"You got everybody?" Y/N asked, no longer playing along. McGee reached forward and moved some hair out of her face.

He kept his hand on her face and nodded. "The entire cell is gone, Y/N."

"You did it," she smiled weakly.

"We did it," McGee corrected.

"All I did was get blown up," Y/N tried to laugh.

"It was your idea and it worked. When you were in surgery, Tyler came to the hospital and told me all about their group." He stopped talking when he saw how tired she was. "You should get some rest," he said, his voice dropping. "We can debrief later."

Y/N quickly grabbed his hand when she thought he was going to leave. "My husband is allowed to stay past visiting hours," she said, her voice breaking.

"I don't have to play your husband," he started to say but stopped himself. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her forehead. Y/N grabbed his face and brought his lips down to hers. He smiled as he deepened the kiss. When he broke it, their faces were inches apart.

"We don't have to play pretend anymore. At least. . . I don't want to. I want this to be real, Tim," Y/N said, tears filling her eyes and her voice breaking.

"So do I," he whispered. He leaned in and kissed her again. This time, when they broke apart, she was smiling.

"I'm so glad Gibbs made you my Undercover Husband and not DiNozzo," Y/N said with a small giggle.

"Believe me," McGee chuckled, "I wouldn't have allowed it."

[reality-detective]

It’s time for me to have another rant! 👇

Buckle up!!! ⚔️🛡️

The State of America:

I am angry. As an American, I am sick and tired of what this country has become. I do probably curse more than I should, but I am pissed off.

Our schools: Children are being indoctrinated by school teachers about sexual activity rather than things they should be learning about. You know, like civics, math, real history and science? What grown ass adult wants to discuss sexual intercourse with a minor? I’ll tell you, a social deviant fucking pervert. That’s who. I will not expose any child to that madness ever.

Our military: Our military is the weakest it has ever been. I have friends that are still in the military and they cannot wait to get out. Not because of their lack of service to this country, but the lack of leadership. The good ones are tired of getting slammed with “woke” PowerPoints on shit that doesn’t even matter to military readiness. It’s dumb. And our adversaries are laughing at us. I can’t even recommend someone to join the military until it is returned to its rightful place as the strongest military in the world.

Our southern border: The southern border is a dumpster fire. More illegal aliens and fentanyl are pouring through the border at record rates. The saddest part about this is the Democrats are wanting ILLEGALS to vote for any and all elections. Democrats only use their party for votes to continue their reign of power, while their own districts are literal shit-holes. Republicans are not safe from this and they really aren't much better. If they wanted the border shut down they would too. Always remember that Americans being murdered was never enough to shut the border down.

Joe Biden: I will never accept the thought that Joe Biden got 81 million votes. You cannot make me believe that the alleged President of the United States of America got the most votes in American history, then was kicked out from running by his own party. Give me a fucking break.

Kamala Harris: This Indian American woman locked up more black men than I have ever seen in my life. She doesn’t care about black people. Never has and never will. She just wants your vote.

Mainstream Media: These retards have been fed so much propaganda that they actually think Donald Trump will incite a civil war if he doesn’t win the 2024 election. You all have an extra chromosome if you truly believe that. There are some that are just gaslighting but a large portion of the population is too stupid to vote if they can’t decipher this.

Speaking of Donald Trump: This man has been given more bullshit to a public servant that I have ever seen in my life. For crying out loud, it has been over 2 weeks since the Deep State almost took his life and no one has been held truly accountable. They are all behind it until proven otherwise. Imagine if that was the other way around. Democrats would want to put the nation on lockdown like they did during COVID.

National debt: As of today the United States is at $35,000,000,000,000.00 in debt. How irresponsible of adults. I will never be gaslit to send money overseas anymore especially since Americans are struggling to put food on their table. How outrageously treasonous.

And to top all of this off. I am a white male that was in the military and now I'm considered a domestic terrorist by some. How unbelievable is this? The same ones that are backing the Military Industrial Complex. The same “elected leaders” that I served, don’t have our backs when we return home. The military are the ones that uphold and defend the Constitution, not them.

This is not what America should be about. This is not the country I served. Not anymore.

ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!!! 🤔

God Bless America. 🇺🇸

[nicolejones412]

Out of Sync Part 5

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: You've found yourself with the 107th fighting Hydra, where you meet a handsome Sergeant. But something just isn't right.

A/N: Not much to say about this one. Let me know what you think!

Read Part 1 here. Read Part 2 here. Read Part 3 here. Read Part 4 here.

FIC:

A few weeks passed as Shuri did tests to figure out the core of the brain washing, and you spent them mostly recovering.

Your stay at the raft had taken more of toll on you and had influenced your decision to stay in Wakanda more than you'd like to admit.

After you were starting to feel better, Shuri proposed that you take a look in Bucky's head.

"We will keep him sedated, but not fully in cryo like he's been. You may have better luck than we have at finding the root."

You nervously agreed. As much as Bucky seemed to trust you, you were still learning to trust yourself. What if you did mess him up even more somehow?

You tried to push the thoughts away. There was no way those could be helpful.

So you sat down next to the table he was laid on, and pressed your fingers into his temples.

Your heart broke as you searched his mind. You sifted through memories until you saw some that looked...wrong was the only word you could think of.

You saw a cryo chamber, not unlike the one he had just been in, but this wasn't Bucky.

You moved toward it, and placed your hand on the glass.

The dark eyes of the Winter Soldier shot open, shocking you back to your body as Bucky tried to sit up on the table, fighting his restraints and searching for a weapon as Shuri stepped back and security was called.

You looked down at him and his eyes locked with yours, full of anger and fear.

And a determination to kill.

You blinked and you were back in his head, just having entered the room with the Winter Soldier.

You exited his mind, not wanting to risk disturbing anything further. You opened your eyes and saw Bucky, still under on the table.

"What did you see?" Shuri asked. "You look pale. Are you-?"

"I found it," you said. "I found the Winter Soldier."

Now if you could just figure out how to get your abstract view of his mind to line up with Shuri's scientific view, that would be great.

-

Months passed, and it seemed that slowly Shuri was making progress. Between the two of you, you were able to locate the specific area of the brain that had been hijacked, and Shuri was working on a solution to help him heal. Some fancy science stuff and some therapy combined with a bit of luck and one day he would be clear.

One of the first days they woke him up and had him walking around, you joined the Dora Milaje who were escorting him.

You spent most of the time giving him a tour to the best of your understanding. He was mostly silent, taking in all the sights. He'd hum in agreement or give whatever responses were polite, but that was about it.

As you prepared to turn back, he spoke up.

"Thank you."

You turned to him, wondering exactly what he meant. He said it with too much gravity to mean your mediocre services as a tour guide. You couldn't help getting a glimpse of his surface thoughts. Lots of fear and self-hatred going on.

"Of course." Was all you could think to reply.

-

You settled into a routine as Bucky adapted over the following weeks. Wakanda had truly begun to feel like home.

Of course that was when you got a call from Natasha.

"We need you to come in."

And of course you'd go.

It was relatively simple. There was a terrorist organization with Chitauri weapons, they just weren't quite sure where. You were less recognizable than the rest of the Avengers, as keeping out of the public eye had been your preference. Add your telepathic abilities and you had the best chance of quickly figuring it out without being found out.

And you were more likely to be able to call for backup if needed.

There was a knock at your door as you packed a bag. You knew who it was before you answered. You'd grown used to his mind at this point, and he was thinking pretty loudly, thoughts racing.

"So you're leaving?"

"Nat says they need me. Shouldn't take took long."

What if you don't come back?

"Of course I'll come back. It'll be-"

You didn't realize until you'd already replied that he hadn't asked out loud. You turned to face him, struggling to read the expression on his face.

"I'm sorry. That's got to feel incredibly invasive. Just with all the connecting I've been doing combined with how loud you were thinking."

"It's fine." He looked down at his feet. "I mean, those powers of yours have been a great help to me, and I may not trust my mind, but I do trust yours."

You paused for a moment before turning back to pack, really not knowing how to reply to that. You wanted to ask him why he was thinking so loudly. Why he seemed so worried. But you thought better of it. You'd obviously become close, who wouldn't?

Combine that with how long he's been on his own or surrounded by people who just wanted to use him, you couldn't blame him.

You threw your bag on your shoulder. "I'll be back in a few days, maybe a week." Bucky nodded.

"Just, stay safe out there." You nodded and walked past him toward your ride.

-

You were made on day 2 of being undercover, so you had to improvise. You really hadn't planned on the number 1 Psychrono superfan being part of this organization, and you were so focused on finding the location of the weapons, that you didn't really have a heads up.

You almost turned time back, but what were you gonna do? Shoot the guy who named you? You were brand new there was no way that was gonna go well. Convince him not to out you? Not likely. Better to conserve energy.

So no more undercover, you were just going to have to convince them you were mad at the government over the whole Sokovia Accords thing and you didn't tell them who you were because you assumed they wouldn't believe you and you wanted to make sure their operation was worth really being a part of before revealing you were enhanced.

Please tell me no one told her about Blue Ridge.

Crap does she know about Wintergreen?

That would have to be enough. They seemed to buy your story enough, now you just had to convince them you were worth keeping around. At least long enough for Cap and the others to get to you since you signaled them and passed on the intel as soon as you got the location.

Just in case they decided to just shoot you now, at least they got the info. Not that you intended to die today.

You stood with your hands in the air as three of them huddled up. At least they hadn't had the good sense to restrain you. Would make it easier to run if the opportunity presented itself.

It's too risky.

What are we gonna do? Kill an Avenger?

Is she even an Avenger anymore?

Maybe she'd make a good hostage.

Or maybe she does want to help?

Steve's thoughts broke through the noise.

Brace!

You braced yourself and put your hands behind your head just before an explosion rocked the building. You curled yourself down, covering your head as others were knocked from their feet, but you immediately recovered and made for cover.

You felt a sting in the back of your calf as you dove behind a metal desk. You drew your weapon, adrenaline helping you ignore the gun shot wound in your leg for now, but running for real might not be an option.

The chaos continued, and most of the focus turned to the explosion, but there were still shots aimed in your direction.

You felt a pain in your stomach. Like you were being pulled backward by your belly button.

You drew your weapon, trying to decide between firing and just waiting it out, when something landing on the ground in front of you.

A grenade.

You panicked and tried to wind back time in the split second that it blew.

The tugging sensation got more powerful and then everything was quiet.

The gun fire stopped and when you opened your eyes it was far to bright.

As your eyes adjusted you realized you were outside, sitting on the ground in a field by a pond, and as you turned to see a building you didn't recognize, you fainted.

-

Read Part 6 here.

A/N: What happened? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I hope y'all are enjoying this one!

[grayheartart]

Democrat Congressman Jeff Merkely Blames Trump for Democrat Party's Own Home-Grown Terrorist. Calls Pizzas Being Ordered to Houses of People Who didn't Order Pizzas a "Threat" From Right Wing...

>MFW Democrats unironically claiming people feel threatened when a pizza is delivered that they didn't order

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Surprise Pt. 3 | Soap x Reader

Summary: The boys get called out to a mission after you get injured during a game, and your past finally catches up to you.

Word Count: ~ 4k

Warnings: minor character death, guns, blood, injuries, lil bit of angst, ptsd, panic attacks, episodes, and yeah

A/N: alr I’m kinda making it up as I go, but I feel like I’m slowly getting better at making accented dialogue…hope you enjoy<3 (also thinking of making it gaz x reader x soap, or just johnny?? lmk what u think)

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The longer they stayed in your home, still keeping eyes out for any of the terrorists in the area, the more they noticed some of your odd quirks.

Simon was the first to notice many of them, due to his years of experience in the military, and all of the skills he’d acquired during that time. He observed every little thing, whether it be on purpose or unconsciously.

Like how you always locked your door after entering or leaving, both locks as well. Not just one. Or the way your windows remained shut and locked, dark curtains pulled over most of them to block out any light or keep someone from looking in.

There was a knife under your pillow, and a small gun in the drawer of your nightstand. Simon would know, he’d searched the entire house when they’d first arrived, not sure if he could trust you or not. You had a gun safe in your room’s closet, and the screws on your room’s hinges were slightly unscrewed, as were every door in the house, so it would creak every so slightly when opened. So you could locate everyone in the house.

It reminded him of his habits a bit too much.

But you also had a kernel of authority to you, despite sometimes mumbling instead of speaking clearly, or the tiniest of nervous ticks he could notice, like how your lips would twitch left when unsure or insecure. Despite your stone-faced look now, you still had a few of the same tells that the little girl he’d known all those years ago did.

He only wondered what had happened to that little girl.

But he knew she’d grown up. And what he saw in you now wasn’t what he recalled from the girl he’d threatened in the past, the girl he’d intimidated and scared into staying away. Because now, you didn’t seem afraid of him at all. Not afraid of his comrades, either.

You were different in more than a few ways, now. He knew foster care had been rough on you, with god knows how many families taking you in only for money or being abusive. He barely knew the general timeline of how long you’d been in it. He’d heard tiny bits of it you’d offhandedly mentioned, and you seemed to have found a more permanent home at 12, staying until moving out here, looking for what most teenagers are, a meaning and some freedom.

But he hadn’t known just how rough it had been.

You’d gotten home from work looking beat one night, wearing some jeans, a uniform shirt, a belt, and per usual a holster for your gun. You always insisted on carrying it, and he didn’t blame you. Bad things happened to girls who lived alone here.

You didn’t even take any time to eat or change before walking into your room and collapsing into bed, asleep in a second. Work always seemed to tire you out, for whatever reason, but maybe they had you doing all kinds of shit he didn’t know waitresses did. Who was he to assume?

“She should eat dinner, at least.” Price said, watching from the couch as Johnny pouted slightly. He’d cooked a meal, especially for you, albeit Gaz had done most of the work and helped him out, basically making the entire dish, poor Soap had been waiting all day to try it.

“I can go get her?”

Kyle suggested, and Simon’s deep rumbling voice spoke up next, glancing over to your closed door, a neat “Do not enter.” sign on the front.

“She don’t like when people go in ‘er room.”

“Well, she’s breakin’ poor Soap’s heart.”

“She’s yer sister, why don’t you go get the lass.”

“She’d beat his ass, that’s why.”

Simon gave an exasperated sigh, getting up from where he’d been sitting next to Price, watching a soccer game. He approached your door, slowly opening it as it creaked. The lights were off, the room completely dark as the windows were also covered by the thick curtains you kept.

You’d made it clear that no one was allowed in your room before, but it looked normal to him. The walls were a shade of your favorite color, or what he assumed was, fairy lights with clips on them holding pictures of you and friends, and even a picture from years ago of the family, hanging from wall to wall. There was a desk at the front, papers thrown about and some neatly arranged. The clothes basket smelled vaguely of an irony tang he didn’t bother to investigate at the time.

A mirror hung on the other end of the door.

Walking quietly up to you, he watched you for a moment. Your body was deathly still, breathing quietly but a bit shaky. He could see your eyes moving beneath your eyelids, the movements erratic and frantic.

Despite himself, Simon found himself intrigued by the papers on your desk. Why had you bothered to keep them out of your room? What were you hiding? His military career kept him on his toes at all times and kept him suspicious of everyone.

After all, it was the people you trusted that could hurt you the most.

Walking silently over to your desk, he began going through papers. Gaz and Soap, now both watching through the doorway, made little hushed whispers of “Wha’ are you doing??” and “Jus’ wake ‘er up-“ that he ignored. The papers were all basic, nothing interesting.

Essays, research papers, lots of notes. But just when he thought he wouldn’t find anything, he slid open one drawer as it creaked slightly as well, finding files in it. Paper, Manila folders that were thick with information that he found himself curious about. However, just when he reached for the first one, he heard Johnny.

“Behind ye, Lt-“

The cold metal of a gun against the side of his head became more than apparent as someone kicked the backs of his knees in. A gun to his head, on his knees, with Gaz and Soap now in the room, hands up, carefully trying to approach him.

“Easy, lass. We ain’t gonna hurt ya..”

Johnny tried, and that was when Simon realized it wasn’t some enemy terrorist who had gotten in who was holding him at gunpoint, no, it was you. He hadn’t even heard you approach. Hadn’t heard you get out of bed or move at all.

But he did hear the hammer of the gun click back.

The first thought he had was that he was being betrayed. Double-crossed. Either that or you were having some sort of episode. Price approached the door, watching you like a wounded animal. Unlike Simon, he could see the way your eyes weren’t there, that you were somewhere else, in an entirely different world, doing what you thought was right.

Price slowly approached, bolder than both of the Sergeants, but with a practiced precision. He’d done this before. They could tell.

“Can you tell me who you’re pointin’ a gun at?”

He asked, voice unwavering and not full of pity, but instead understanding. He watched your eyes slowly trail from the gun to Simon, now completely still, and held a hand for Gaz and Soap to stay where they were. He could tell when the realization slowly began dawning on you, that you weren’t in danger, and that this was Simon.

A tiny click, the safety being switched on, before you took the gun from Simon’s head and set it on the floor, kicking it away from you to Price. Usually, you wouldn’t sleep with a gun on your person for this reason. By the time you would open the nightstand to grab it, you’d usually have already snapped out of it.

Sighing deeply, you slumped on the floor beside Simon as he slowly relaxed, and you curled up into a ball. You didn’t say anything, and neither did they. Price took the gun, standing and walking out of the room, giving a nod to Gaz and jerking his head to Soap as the Captain and Johnny left the room.

Kyle remained nearby, just in case, but didn’t say anything.

“Didn’ know you had it in ya to hold a gun to my head,” Simon said, trying for a bit of humor to make you laugh, or even hear a snort in reply, or even a snarky comment about how stupid he was. When you didn’t do anything, he silently sighed.

“How often do you have ‘em?”

“Every night.”

He made a small grunt at that. He could understand nightmares a bit too well, considering the demons of his own he had. He put an arm slowly around you, and when you didn’t stiffen, he considered it okay as he slowly stood, picking you up. However, as soon as he picked you up, you mumbled something under your breath and squirmed free, standing on your own.

“Let’s get ya some fresh air.”

He said, leading you out of the room. He took one last glance at the open file drawer and decided that you had your secrets, and he had his, and it could stay like that until either of you was ready to change it.

~

Nothing had changed since that night, other than one thing.

No one tried to wake you up again.

However, you remained as sassy and slightly stoic as usual, still caring for them, and now savoring every one of Johnny’s dinners to make up for the one you’d missed that night.

When they showed up covered in blood, sweat, and tears, you would take it in stride, patching them up and grumbling about buying more medical supplies, washing their clothes, and buying razors for them because, “A beard does not suit any of you but Price.” You’d even bought food they liked, albeit making them cough up some money for it, because of the job you had at some little restaurant they’d never heard of before as a waitress. You only really worked the job on some weekends, when you weren’t on a big absence for traveling during volleyball season, or at camps.

Your manager-landlord was surprisingly lenient about it, Simon thought. But considering all the weapons you had, he wouldn’t be surprised if a little threat went a long way.

He’d always wondered what you did at those volleyball games, anyway. That was until Price spoke up about it at breakfast one morning when you hadn’t left early for practice, and Laswell had eventually just informed them to lie low until further orders came.

“You oughtta come out wit’ us, get out the house a lil’.”

Johnny had suggested, and Gaz had given a little affirming nod. Simon remained silent, quietly watching as you shook your head.

“Can’t, got games today.”

You replied without even glancing up at them, eyes on your plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. That was the usual. You always had games, training, work, or school. With a schedule as busy as that, none of them knew how you managed it, but it left little to no time for you to simply relax or hang out with them.

Johnny grumbled about something with his mouth full of eggs when Price spoke up.

“Why don’ we go watch, eh? You been havin’ me help wit’ the plans, might as well.” He suggested before taking a big bite of bacon. You paused at that, glancing up at Price, studying him, before swallowing the food in your mouth.

“I’ll think about it.” Was the only answer they’d gotten at the time, but around thirty minutes before the game, you’d texted Simon the address, which was enough of a sign for him to get the boys and head over to your school, walking in the gym and paying for their entry. Six dollars for an adult, players were free.

To be fair, they tried their hardest to dress in civilian clothes and act normal, but it was hard when their instincts screamed to check every corner, keep eyes on the windows and doors, and scan for possible entries and exits.

You and your team were already practicing by then, setting up a hitting line, one setter in the front middle, two lines of hitters taking turns, and two passers in the back row bumping the ball to the setter, who promptly set it, and the hitter smacked it over.

Many of the girls were tall, and while you weren’t too short, standing at around 5’7 now, you weren’t the tallest either. That might’ve been the reason that you were mainly a back-row passer, also taking into consideration the control you held over your hits and body as well. The other team got full court to practice before the game for 2 minutes, which must’ve been the usual around this area.

“They bette’ win this,” Gaz murmured, seated to the left of Price, who watched as another girl on the team whispered something in your ear that had you biting your lip to hold back a smile. You were close with these people, they could all tell that.

“Our lass’ got it, I’m sure.”

Johnny said, watching the other team practice while Simon did the same. Simon’s attention was then diverted back to you, as any hint of laughter or amusement faded from your expression, into the stone wall he’d come to know. With a notebook in hand, you went over something with the rest of the team as they all huddled, the coach nearby and nodding along with it as they pointed something out with a pencil in hand.

A few adjustments must’ve been made before a game of rock-paper-scissors was played between the two coaches to decide who got first serve. The other team did. Already off to a disadvantage, he thought.

You all took up your positions in the court, Simon not recognizing anyone but you, with your hair, braided tightly back by one of your teammates, and the bright red jersey everyone on your team wore. You were number 14. He vaguely remembered Johnny mentioning something about you wearing a jersey in the number 14.

You were in the top right position, tucking any stray pieces of hair that had gotten loose somehow behind your ears, before all of your team was in position. The serve was hit over by the other team, and a brunette in the back row passed it to the setter, who made the ball go in a perfect arch in your direction. You began the approach of the ball, jumping up, arm held back, and ready to spike it. The blockers for the other team jumped, ready to deflect any ball, but right when you were going to spike it, your left non-hitting hand tipped the ball over the net.

Right between the blockers.

“Cleva girl,” Gaz said with a small smirk, and Soap lowly whistled. You didn’t glance up at them, expression remaining still despite the clever move.

It hit the floor, and a whistle sounded. Your team’s point. A rotation was done, and you were serving. They watched you toss the ball up, approach, jump, and smack it down all in less than 15 seconds before you were back in your spot, ready for the ball to be returned.

“Bloody hell..” Simon said, watching the two teams volley. He didn’t know many of the rules of volleyball, only Price knew most of them because of some of your late-night conversations on strategies to use with your team, but he was pretty damn sure you were doing good.

Your team moved in fluidity with each other, and it made Simon wonder what the hell you’d been putting these girls through in those training sessions, and what your coach had been doing. It reminded him a little of his team, his Task Force. The way you all knew each other, how high a set had to be for one specific person, the way one girl would slightly skew her bumps to the left, and the setter would move accordingly, or how to interweave without bumping into one another.

And the way you held everyone together… reminded him of Price the most.

When someone messed up, you didn’t yell or look disappointed, you simply glanced at them, acknowledged them, and gave a small nod. The same when someone pulled something off well. When you won the first set, you didn’t let your team gloat in the victory for too long.

And when you were losing the second set? Your teammates got a bit skittish, sure, but the way you remained almost totally unaffected kept them together. You were the glue of the team, keeping everyone out of their heads and in the game.

The second set was lost, but the third set remained.

“They play the last one to fifteen’.”

Price informed the boys after they’d sat up a little more, on the edge of their seats, bodies taught with stress. Kyle could’ve sworn Johnny was sweating a bit.

It went over fifteen, as you had to win by two points, and it was currently 15-16. One more point and the opposing team would win. But three more points and your team would.

Price’s phone began ringing.

A harsh serve from the opposite team and the bump was skewed by an anxious redhead in the back row. It went too far to the side, and you were running for it, but it looked too far away.

Two steps away.

Price was talking quietly to whoever was calling, his work voice on. Simon was too focused on you to care about the phone.

You weren’t close enough.

One knee went down closer to the ground, and your remaining foot kicked off the ground as your body dove for it.

A grim tone from the Captain as he nodded to whatever question Gaz had asked, while he ended the call.

Only a foot away.

Your hand flattened against the ground just as the ball bounced off of it, your head smacking hard against the floor.

Price muttered something to Soap, who tried nudging Simon, but didn’t get his attention, his eyes on you.

Your team played the ball off of the save, and the opposing team lost the point. The whistle was blown while the game was 16-16, mainly because you weren’t getting up. Out cold.

Simon shot to his feet, already, heading in your direction. There was red spreading on the floor, and he was back in his family home, looking down at his mother’s crumpled body, flashes of his little nephew’s bloodied corpse, and his brother’s shredded body coming into view.

He wasn’t there fast enough, he couldn’t get to you fast enough. He had failed.

Before he could go down even a single step, Price’s hand came down onto his shoulder firmly, holding him back. Grounding him. As he turned to face the Captain, Price spoke.

“It’s Laswell. Urgent, they need us.” He spoke quietly, and Ghost could only look on as they picked up your unconscious form from the floor, a part of your blond hair dyed red with the liquid oozing from it, and carried you away.

“She’ll be alright, Lt. Let’s go,” Soap said, grabbing Simon’s hand and pulling him along like a lost puppy. Gaz and Price were talking about something in front of them as they walked out.

The moment they got to the car, Price pulled their uniforms out of the trunk.

“Jus’ in case,”

He said, tossing them to each respective man, and Price drove while the rest of them changed in the car. The moment Simon slipped his mask on, he willed himself to forget about anything regarding you.

The job came first.

~

Your head was swimming and fuzzy. Your limbs refused to cooperate properly.

You recognized your bed, the dark curtains on the windows, and the smell of your room, covered in the perfume you always wore. Your vision was blurry, too blurry to simply be from sleeping.

Swallowing, you tried to sit up, only to find your throat dryer than a desert and your limbs shaky and weak. You made a small grunt when you tumbled from the bed to the floor, vision blurring more before going slightly back to normal. As normal as it could be right now.

You heard a small female gasp and your bedroom door opened with a creak. One of your closest friends from the volleyball team, Nalani, walked in, immediately going to your side.

Her brown, bronze skin reminded you of Gaz, and her long, dark intricate braids you’d always been amazed by hung in a ponytail behind her. Sure, you two might’ve fooled around a bit a few months back, but that was behind you. Behind both of you. She was a friend, just a friend, even if friends didn’t usually share beds and know how each other tasted.

But you trusted her more than most, that was for sure.

She’d seen your scars, heard what you could tell her without endangering her life, and she hadn’t backed away. She’d embraced it with you. Even on your worst days.

“You just busted your head open, you need to stay in bed.”

She mumbled, putting you back into the bed after lifting you. She’d changed you into your favorite pair of shorts and a loose T-shirt. It was only when she began going on and on about how stubborn you were, that you noticed a blur of movement in the doorway.

You’d seen Simon’s friends leave earlier. Assumed they’d been on a mission again.

You began pushing against Nalani, and she looked confused.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Your throat was too dry and cracked. You rasped to get something out as a gun poked around the corner. A silencer on it.

“Down, get-“

You tried pushing her down, the other hand reaching for the gun in your nightstand, fingers fumbling to find it. You were too late.

A near silent shot, and there was a hole in the back of her head that you couldn’t see but knew was there. She crumpled to the ground as you tried again to grab your pistol from the nightstand drawer, only to realize that Price had never returned it after that night.

Cursing under your breath, you grabbed the knife from under your pillow, a hunting knife, and threw it, watching as it embedded itself into the man peeking around the corner’s neck.

One down.

More came, though. Too many. Your vision blurred as you heard male voices talking, a shot down by your legs, but not quite hitting.

They were trying to disable you.

Your head was throbbing, adrenaline making you forget grief in the moment. Pain exploded through your veins as you felt a bullet whiz past you, nicking your right arm. Three men stormed the room, clearing it, before one of them came into sight, kneeling to be eye level with you.

“Thought we wouldn’t find you, yes? The Wasp’s Nest is not as secure as you thought. We’ll get our retribution.”

He spoke mockingly to you, before shoving a white bag over your head. Other voices filled the room, quiet, but loud enough for your dwindling consciousness to catch.

“…useful?”

“It’ll work……able to….again.”

“…knock her..”

“Roger that..”

You felt the blunt force of the back of a gun being slammed against your head, and your vision went black.

If you’d told the truth, then maybe none of this wouldn’t have happened.

But in the end.

The job came first.

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