#john price x simon ghost riley x kyle gaz garrick x johnny soap mactavish

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 44: Little Shit

Summary: John has left a mess in his wake. Can the pack pick up the pieces before it's too late?

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 9,659 words

Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, a/b/o, angst, language, some fluff, kissing, Simon being an asshole, angst

A/N: I'm actually very excited for this one and I know you will be too

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It’s cold out. It feels fitting, a mirror of the emptiness in your soul. They’re not happy about you being out here, but you don’t care. You don’t care about much right now. You’re wrapped in a blanket regardless, tucked into the chair, curled in, making yourself as small as you possibly can. There’s a need deep within you to feel protected and safe. Part of you had wanted to curl up in bed and lay there for the rest of time, but another part of you desired to sit outside and stare at the sea in the distance. A deeper part of you wanted to go, but you know they’d shut that down as fast as the words could come out of your mouth.

They don’t seem eager to do much of anything for you right now.

It’s a fair assumption. They’re all dealing with John’s absence as much as you are. There’s a definitive hole in your pack, and no one will be able to fill it, no matter how hard they try.

“If you’re going to sit out here, at least drink something warm.” A cup of tea is set down on the table before a figure lowers themselves into the chair next to you with a grunt. “’S cold out.”

“Feels good.” You murmur, ignoring the steaming cup. Of course he’d bring tea. He wouldn’t be caught dead drinking coffee after the playful rivalry that’s been ongoing between coffee drinkers and tea drinkers in the cottage. At least that can continue even in the tumultuous state of the pack.

It falls silent between the two of you, an awkward silence. He’s the last person you expected to join you outside. He’s been avoiding you like the plague, but then again he’s been avoiding you as much as possible since you arrived at the cottage. You know he doesn’t hate you, but you’d almost prefer it. The distaste he held for you back when you first joined the pack would be preferable to this quiet avoidance he’s wedged between the two of you.

“You...doing okay?” He asks, and you almost laugh in response.

Of course you’re not. He knows you’re not. He’s perceptive and aware. He knows what you’re feeling even without you having to say it. He’s asking purely because of societal expectations, but he already knows. He’s not stupid.

At least in his head.

“No.” You answer honestly, tucking your blanket up tighter around you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks hesitantly.

“Do you want me to talk about it?” You retort. “Feelings aren’t really your thing.”

He shifts in the chair, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Because you trust Johnny and Kyle more?”

“It has nothing to do with trust.” You say, your brows furrowing. “You’re just not the most...open person to talk to. Didn’t think you’d be interested in talking about feelings.”

“I’m just trying to be supportive.” He says.

“Well you’re doing a shit job at it.” You snap back.

Things fall silent between the two of you again, the wedge pressing on the edges of your bond, the little bond you have left. He’s done a good job at laying that barrier between the two of you, driving the space further and further in his distance. He’s the last person you want right now, but he’s the only one you have.

You let out a long breath, the air steaming in front of you. “He just had to be the one to go after Shepherd.” You say bitterly, your thoughts coming out before you can stop them. “He really just up and left and for what?”

“To make sure the pack is safe.” Simon says simply. “Alphas leave all the time.”

“But he didn’t have to! Not right now,” You say, turning your head to look at him finally. “Not when things were finally starting to get better.”

“He thought he had to.” Simon says, glancing sideways at you. “You know how he is.”

“Yeah and it sucks.” You say. “I wanted him to be better, to try harder to not think about the big picture...to think about me.” You let out a shuddering breath as you try to hold the tears back. “Just...why? Why him?”

Simon is quiet for a moment. “You wish I had gone instead.”

You give him a look. “You know that's not what I meant.”

“Is it? Because it sounds like it.” He says. “Would have been better if I had gone anyway.”

“Why, because then you wouldn’t have to deal with me?” You say, hurt and anger starting to churn in your chest. You’re getting frustrated with him and his emotional constipation.

“That’s not what I said.”

“Well it sounds like it.” You throw his own words at him, turning fully to face him now. “You really don’t want to be stuck here with me, in charge of me. Be honest.”

He’s silent for a breath, obviously trying to figure out how to answer in a way that’s going to hurt you the least. You don’t care. You want him to be honest and open, even if it does hurt. “It’s complicated.”

“That’s not an answer.” You say, letting the blanket drop from around you. You’re worked up enough from the emotions coursing through you, you don’t need it anymore.

“It’s the only answer I have.” He says, his voice firm.

You let out a sharp breath through your nose, pushing yourself up to stand. Some deep, twisted part of you wants to throw the tea at his face in anger, but you don’t. You won’t. You’re not brave enough for that. Instead you shove at his shoulder, barely making him budge. “You’re so fucking frustrating!”

You turn on your heel, storming back into the house.

“Well you're certainly not winning any popularity contests.” Kyle says, leaning against the door frame. 

“Piss off.” Simon growls, his shoulders hunched and tense like a coil ready to spring. 

Kyle glances over his shoulder as something thuds in your room. He wonders what it is you’ve thrown this time. Maybe yourself. That’s Johnny’s problem for now. Instead he steps out the door, sliding it closed behind him before making his way over to the tense alpha.

“You really are shit at this.” He says, sinking down into the chair you were sitting in. It’s still warm from your body, and so is the blanket as he drapes it over his lap. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“I shouldn’t have to try at all.” Simon snaps.

“But you don’t have a choice right now.” Kyle says. “I know you’re scared.” He cuts off Simon before he can protest. “Shut up, I know you’re scared of having this much power, of doing something wrong, of hurting her, but you’re not doing anyone any favors being all moody. You’re throwing her off and you’re throwing the rest of us off.”

Simon stays silent, staring out into the distance as Kyle continues to speak.

“John did what he did and we can’t change that. There was no changing his mind. You know that more than the rest of us. Now you have to step up. He trusts you to do that. He trusts his omega with you. That speaks volumes of his trust in your ability to take care of his pack.” Kyle reaches over, putting a hand on Simon’s shoulder, rubbing it gently. “We’re right here with you. You don’t have to be scared.”

Simon slowly begins to relax, his shoulders lowering and jaw unclenching as Kyle continues to rub his shoulder, projecting his scent to try and diffuse the tension that had built in your exchange with the broody alpha.

“I hate it when you do that.” Simon grumbles, sinking further into the chair.

“It works, though.” Kyle says with a soft smile. “You’re the alpha in charge now, so start acting like it.”

“I don’t know where to start.” Simon says softly.

Kyle squeezes his shoulder. “Maybe with an apology.”

“He’s just so...emotionally constipated.” You say, throwing another pillow at the wall.

“He’s just...goin’ through a lot right now.”

“So are the rest of us!” You say, spinning on your heel to grab another pillow. “And we’re all doing just fine at trying to adjust!”

“Are we?”

You let out a huff as you stare at him, disheveled from the fit you’ve been throwing. Johnny grabs the pillow you’re bee-lining for, holding it out of your reach instead.

“That’s enough.” He says, letting the pillow drop to the floor before he reaches forward, wrapping an arm around you. He drags you up onto the bed, sitting you down between his legs.

“I just don’t get it.” You murmur as you sit there, drawing your knees up to your chest as Johnny starts to comb his fingers through your hair. “Why John had to leave, why Simon is being so difficult.”

“Ye want the truth?” He asks, tugging lightly at your hair. He’s starting to braid it, something to keep his hands busy.

“No.” You say, resting your chin on your knee. “I already know.”

“He’s just as scared as the rest of us.” Johnny says anyway. “He’s never been in this position before. None of us have. Sure, John’s left on solos before, but things are different now.”

“Because I’m here.” You murmur, leaning into his touch as his fingers brush your ear.

“A lot has changed.” Johnny says. “Not just because of ye.”

“A lot because of me, though.” You say. “If I hadn’t been here, if I hadn’t been added to this pack…”

“Things would have still gone to shit eventually.” Johnny says. “The truth would come out, Shepherd would run for the hills, John would chase after him. Difference now is there’s something tae come back to.”

Guilt churns in your stomach as you sit there, unsure what to say as Johnny finishes braiding your hair.

“You really think he’s coming back?” You say quietly after a moment, that guilt still chewing away inside your stomach.

“Course he is.” Johnny says, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you back against his chest. “He loves ye, he loves all of us. He has to ensure Shepherd is gone before he’ll feel safe again, before he’ll feel it’s safe fer you.”

He’s doing it for you.

It’s not the first time you’ve had that thought since your alpha left you.

You lean your head against Johnny’s arm, staring out the window at the grey world outside. It feels so dull and oppressive. For once you miss the sun and warmth of summer, the feeling of life instead of the chill that’s settled in your bones. It’s not cold in the house, yet you can feel a chill seeping down beneath your skin and into your very soul.

You curl up tighter in Johnny’s arms, pressing closer to his chest as if you might be able to sink deep into his very being. Maybe there you’ll finally be warm and that ache will ease just a little. His arms tighten around you, trying to offer you comfort, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough, not so long as John is gone. Your omega yearns for her alpha in a way you’ve never felt. You know separation can be hard on an omega, yet you’ve never quite experienced something like this.

Despite your hurt and anger and frustration, your omega longs to be in her alpha’s arms again. You want John to scoop you up and hold you tight in his arms and keep you there forever, safe and warm and protected.

Johnny’s trying his best, trying to offer you comfort but even he has to know it’s not enough. You need an alpha, you need someone there to offer some semblance of balance in the pack and for your omega. She’s not angry like she had been, but she’s restless still, pacing in her cage, waiting for something.

You let out a quiet breath, letting your eyes flutter closed for a moment as you sit there in Johnny’s embrace.

The quiet moment is broken by your stomach growling.

Johnny’s chest moves as he huffs out a quiet laugh, squeezing you tightly. “Come on, kitten. Let’s get ye some food.”

He finally lets you go, letting you slide off the bed. You grab a sweater from the closet before heading out into the main living area. Simon has disappeared unsurprisingly. Probably upstairs brooding, where he spends most of his time when he’s in the cottage. He almost spends more time outside the cottage now. He has to be going stir crazy laying low for this long. They all have to be.

Johnny passes by, brushing his hand across your back as he heads for the kitchen likely to harass Kyle while he tries to make lunch. Dr. Keller is nowhere to be seen, likely taking as much time to herself as she can. She’s been helping as much as she can while your pack tries to adjust to this sudden change. Mostly she’s been helping you, but the others have been utilizing her knowledge and understanding as well. It makes you feel guilty, making her work so much, but of course she’d never admit to being tired or worn out by the constant state of crisis within your pack.

You stand there for a moment, lost in thought until something warm presses against your back. You tense, slowly turning around to look up at Simon. He’s looming over you, staring down at you with his face hidden behind that stupid mask. You wish you could see his face and read him, but you know deep down his poker face is impeccable and you wouldn’t be able to read him anyway.

“You’re doing it again.” He says, and you know what he’s talking about.

“Sorry.” You say quietly.

“Stop apologizing.” He says rather harshly, making you flinch. His shoulders slump just a little at your flinch, a quiet sigh leaving his lips. “You shouldn’t be the one apologizing.”

You blink up at him. This is rather unexpected.

“We’re all going through a lot right now, a lot of changes...but that’s no excuse to be a dick towards you.” He lets out another breath. “I’m sorry.”

You continue to stare up at him in shock, not expecting him to go so far as to apologize for his actions. Especially not right now. “Are you...apologizing?” You ask him in disbelief.

“Yes.” He says simply.

You stare up at him for a long moment, staring into those chocolate brown eyes. He’s so big and imposing, yet he seems so vulnerable in this moment. Something stirs in the back of your mind, your omega starting to preen a bit at the idea of him finally bowing down before you and allowing you to be in charge. He’s lowered himself enough to apologize...what else can you get out of him?

A low rumble echoes in his chest as you stare up at him, a slow smile tugging at your lips. “You really mean it?”

“Stop it.” He growls, his eyes narrowing. “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?” You ask innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

He clenches his fist, his shoulders squaring. “I hate this new side of you.”

Your grin only widens as you step up closer to him. “Doesn’t smell like it.”

“Alright you two, come eat before you stink out the house.” Kyle says, breaking the tense moment between the two of you.

You give Simon a wink before turning on your heel, leaving the reeling alpha in your wake as you make your way to the table.

“How are things going?”

It’s an innocent question, but it almost has you in tears. How are things going? Your pack is on the fringes of a breakdown, the bonds have never been more tense, you have an alpha that doesn’t want to be an alpha. How are things going? Not great.

“They’re okay,” You lie, your fingers tightening around the edges of the book in your lap. “It’s an adjustment.”

“I bet.” Ashley says sympathetically. “I can’t imagine this would be an easy change.”

“They’re doing well all things considered.” Dr. Keller swoops in, saving you from having to come up with a response. “The separation of an alpha can be a hard thing to cope with.” Her eyes are on you when she says it, making the guilt in your stomach twist itself into knots.

“You’re a lot stronger than I would be in this situation.”

It’s directed at you, and you bring yourself to offer a small smile in response.

In truth you feel like falling apart. You doubt either women would care. They’re both betas, caretakers. You’ve cried in front of Dr. Keller so many times you’ve lost count, and you doubt Ashley would look down on you for showing such weakness. It might actually feel good, letting the emotions out in front of two people who understand.

“You need anything, you let me know.” Ashley continues. “Even if it’s getting the boys out of the house.”

They are out of the house currently, well, Johnny and Simon left. Well, it was more like Johnny dragged Simon out of the house. Going on a run, they said. A long run. Maybe to town and back. A run to clear the head. A run to get those emotions out.

How you wish you could go for a run right now.

Kyle is somewhere in the house. Kyle. You feel guilty for how much you’ve withdrawn from the beta. You can only imagine how he’s feeling. His alpha has deserted him too. You both share that closer bond because of John and yet here you are keeping Kyle at arm’s distance. You have something to bond over, something to bring the two of you closer together in your confusion and the adjustments you both have to make.

Yet here you are holding him at a distance.

It only adds to the twisting of the guilt in your stomach.

The room has fallen silent, Ashley and Dr. Keller both staring at you. You blink yourself back into reality, looking between them. You got lost in your mind again, a habit you still can’t break. It’s gotten worse in your isolation, often left with nothing but your thoughts for company.

Whose fault is that?

“Sorry.” You say quietly, adjusting yourself in your chair.

“Welcome back.” Dr. Keller says, giving you a soft smile.

“A fellow over-thinker.” Ashley says, giving you a wink. “I understand 100%. Why don’t we move on to less intense conversation.”

You glance down at the book in your lap. In truth you haven’t read much of it. You haven’t felt like reading much in the last few days. You haven’t felt like doing much of anything these last few days. Life has gotten impossibly hard with the desertion of your alpha. You hadn’t expected it to feel like this.

You hadn’t expected it to be so hard.

Everything has been thrown off, even your desire to function as a member of the pack. If you can even call what you have a pack. You’re more like four independent planets all stuck in the gravitational pull of the black hole that is the bond you share. You’re slowly inching closer and closer to the event horizon, the point of no return when the gravitational pull will be too much and you’ll be sucked in and spaghettified in the intensity of your bond.

You’ll all be sucked in eventually. There’s no escaping.

Well, that’s not entirely true.

There is an escape, a way to find the velocity to pull yourself free of the looming event horizon, but the pain of it will be far greater than the pain you feel now. There will be no recovery, no promise of a future for you. It will be the end of everything. You’ll fall into a different black hole and there won’t be anything waiting on the other side.

“So what do you think of the main character?” Ashley asks, drawing you from your thoughts once more.

“I think she could use a break from everything she’s been through.” Dr. Keller says.

You and me both.

As the days continue to pass since John’s desertion, things don’t improve much. Simon is still fighting his new role, driving Johnny to recede into himself again. Kyle is like a lost ghost, floating around the house like a specter. You...you’re going insane with it all.

You can’t take much more of this up and down, this lack of surety, the pain throbbing in the back of your head from the constant tugging of your bond. Their lack of motion has you spinning out of control. You need to take control, you need to help them and yourself. The pack won’t last like this, so you have to make things happen one way or another.

Looks like you have to do everything yourself again.

“Where’s Johnny.” You ask Simon as he passes by you in the living room.

“Upstairs I think.” He says, skirting past you.

“Will you go get him please?” You say, turning around to face him. “We need to have a pack meeting.”

Simon stares down at you for a long moment before nodding. “Fine.” He grunts.

You step out of his way as he heads for the stairs, his footsteps thudding up the steps. You let out a long breath, half expecting you’d have to fight him harder than that. You move to stand in front of the fireplace, a few seconds passing before you hear movement upstairs.

Three sets of footsteps make their way down the steps, the other members of your pack appearing one by one.

“Sit.” You say, pointing in front of you.

They move silently, sitting themselves down on the couches. Simon by himself on one, and Johnny and Kyle on the other. They’re sitting further away than they have been. It makes your chest constrict as you stare at them.

You clear your throat, the words you had planned vacating your mind as you stand before them. You have nothing to be nervous about. They’re just the members of your pack, men you’ve been around for almost a year now. You know them in and out, better than they know you. Yet you can’t hide the nervous twisting in your stomach as you stand there vulnerably.

You close your hands into fists to hide them from shaking as you look across their faces once more.

“I’ve gathered you here today to have a serious conversation.” You say, trying to keep your voice from wavering. “About us as a pack.”

Johnny shifts in his seat at your words, all of them staring at you intently.

“I know John leaving has been hard on all of us, but we can’t keep just floating around like a bunch of ghosts. It’s eating me alive and I can’t take it anymore.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “So, seeing as how no one else wants to do so, I’m taking charge of this pack.”

Simon shifts slightly at your words, just a flinch but you catch it out of the corner of your eye.

“My alpha is the one that left, so I should be the one to step up in his place.” You state firmly, not letting the thickening of Simon’s scent throw you off. “You can call me alpha now.”

Simon’s hands clench into fists, his scent nearly knocking you off your feet. “You think it’s that easy, do you?”

You steady yourself. You prepared for such an outburst from the broody alpha. “Yeah. I do.”

“You’re just going to step up and play alpha while yours is away?” Simon rises to his feet. “What gives you the right?”

“Well, you won’t do it.” You snap, steeling yourself as he steps closer. “So someone has to.”

His eyes narrow at your words. You’ve hit a nerve and he doesn’t like it. Good, you think. Serves him right.

“We can’t keep going on like this.” You continue, trying to reason with him. “Someone has to take charge and since you won’t, I will.”

“That’s not your place, omega.” His scent slams into you again and you feel the urge to drop as your status slips out of his mouth.

“Then do something!” You’re shaking now, fighting off his dominance. He’s using his own status against you. It’s not fair, but it’s what you want. “Man up and be an alpha.”

“Hey!” Kyle is between you before Simon can take another step forward, pushing the alpha back. “You’re not helping anything getting all puffed.” Johnny is on his feet too, halfway between you and the couch. “She’s right.” Kyle continues. “We can’t go on like this. John left and we can’t do anything about that. We need a leader.”

“You want that to be me?” Simon scoffs.

“Well, yeah.” Kyle says. “You are second alpha. It’s your job to take John’s place in his absence. We need you to take his place.” Kyle pushes him back another step. “You have to decide. You can’t fight our omega on wanting to step up because you don’t want to step up yourself.”

You feel like passing out as you stand there, still trembling from the onslaught of alpha you had just faced. You’re proud of yourself for facing it as long as you did. Months ago you wouldn’t have even approached the subject, much less stood up to him like that.

If you were stronger, you might have fought him back.

“It’s me or you.” You say, stepping out from behind Kyle. “It can’t be neither of us.”

Simon stares down at you, his eyes hard. His scent has dispersed a bit, the heavy ozone of it fading. The scent of beta is pushing it aside, but your nose still burns from his anger. He’s still frustrated, but you can see the tension in his body lessening. You imagine his jaw unclenching, his shoulders lowering just centimeters. You’ve got him right where you wanted him to be.

You step around Kyle, putting yourself back in his space. Kyle doesn’t move, inches away from your back. He and Johnny are still as statues, waiting and watching what’s going to happen next.

You reach for Simon, putting your hands on his arms. You gently guide him back before pushing him backwards onto the couch again. He goes easily, slumping back into the cushions. You stand over him and he lets you take the dominant pose this time. You move yourself so you’re between his knees and you bend down to take his hand in yours. It’s rough and calloused, even time away from handling weapons unable to soften the roughness of his skin. It’s the first time you’ve touched his skin since the day he rescued you. It’s the same hand he used to scruff you, the same hand that saved your life.

“I don’t want to have to do it.” You say softly, tracing the back of his hand. “I’d prefer it were you.” You lift your gaze from his hand to his eyes. “I trust you to do it. I know that probably doesn’t mean much, but it’s the truth. John trusted you to save my life once, and you did. He trusts you to take care of his pack, and I do too.”

He stares up at you for a long moment, his chest rising and falling with even breaths. You’re projecting your scent just a bit, trying to ease it deep into his brain where his alpha lies, use your power against him to convince him to take on this role so you can stop going insane.

“I need you, alpha.” You whisper.

His eyes darken, his hand tightening around yours. You’ve got him right in his soft underbelly.

He pushes himself up to stand, forcing you back half a step. Your chests brush as he looms over you, his scent thickening in the air, but not in the way it had before. The leather and natural muskiness invades your senses, seeping deep into your brain. You stare up at him, waiting for him to make the next move.

“Fine.” He breathes, dropping your hand. “I’ll do it.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. You got him hook, line, and sinker.

More days pass and slowly your pack begins to settle. Simon has shifted into his role easily, taking over as alpha. Johnny and Kyle no longer seem so weighed down, and the tumultuous energy has subsided a bit. You feel lighter, like some of the pressure has been lifted from your shoulders.

It has.

You’re no longer the only one holding the pack together, desperately clinging to the strings of your bonds. Simon is right there by your side, gluing them down so they no longer slip away.

You quite like him being alpha. He wears the title like a king and you find yourself feeling a stirring of excitement in your stomach every time you think of Pack Alpha Simon. It fits him, being in control of not just Johnny but everyone. Even Kyle seems a bit more at ease despite the missing link.

Your missing link too.

“Kyle?” You say softly, almost afraid to disrupt him where he sits on the couch reading.

“Hm?” He hums, glancing up from his book.

“I...was just wondering...how you were doing?” You wince at the awkwardness of your own words.

“Fine.” He shrugs, marking his place in the book.

“You’re sure?” You ask, slowly lowering yourself onto the opposite side of the couch. “I mean, our alpha is gone.”

Kyle nods slowly. “Yeah, he is.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I miss him.” You hate to admit it, but you do.

“I know.” Kyle says, reaching out for your hand. “I do too. He may be a shit alpha, but he’s our alpha.”

You can’t help but laugh a bit at his words. “That is true. You really think he’s coming back?”

Kyle nods. “I think so. I doubt he’d leave us high and dry. He loves both of us too much for that.”

You stare up at him. You forget just how much John cares for you and Kyle. It’s easy to forget with how he’s been acting lately. He left for you. He left for the good of the pack, to go eliminate the last threat hanging over your heads. Once Shepherd is gone, then you can finally move forward. You can finally decide what comes next.

What does come next?

Will they return to the military? Will they go back to the way life was before? You can’t expect them to give it up. You’ve come to that conclusion easily. They won’t leave that way of life without a fight, and you can’t ask that of them, not matter how badly you want to. You’ll go back to life on base, life the way it had been before. The constant worry and stress will always be a part of your life, no matter what. They’ll always put the good of the world above everything else. Even your pack.

They promised they’d start putting you first, but you can’t ask them to give up their livelihood for you. It’s been their whole lives. They’re all career soldiers, they all started early and haven’t known anything else. This is what they do and it will always be what they do until they die or are forced to retire. You’ll always be there, waiting for them back home, praying they come back breathing and not in a coffin.

You’ll always have nightmares of that phone call, of getting that news.

“You okay?” Kyle asks, squeezing your hand.

You look back up at him, staring into those deep brown eyes. “Yeah.” You nod. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Simon?”

Simon glances up from his phone, turning his head to the side. No word from John yet, but then again it could be too soon. He doesn’t know anything, and it’s driving him insane. He doesn’t like not knowing. He knows Shepherd had been found, though captured or spotted he’s none the wiser. John could have been going on a stakeout for all he knows. It could be weeks, months.

It’s been just over a week and he doesn’t know anything yet.

He hates it.

He turns his head to the side, staring at you. You’re standing there, looking small and timid next to the couch. So different from how you stood up to him days ago when you forced him to finally accept he’s in charge. He had to take on that role because John wanted him to. That’s why he knew first, that’s why John spent so much time preparing him. Simon have to take on this role eventually, whether he wanted it or not.

“Have you heard anything from John?” You ask, shifting on your feet.

It’s the first time you’ve asked about John. Sometimes he wonders what’s going through your head. You’re angry and frustrated with John, he knows that much. He can read that on your face. He knew from the teary goodbye, the look of despondency hidden behind the quiet confidence on John’s face when he walked out the door that something had transpired between the two of you when he told you. Maybe you already knew. Maybe you already understood this would happen eventually.

If John would have let him, he would have gone instead, if only to save you from having to face this.

It would have been easier for him to play the soldier and assassin. He’s done it many times before.

“Nothing.” He says honestly. Better to give you the truth than false hope.

John will return, even if you told him not to. He’s too stubborn for that. He won’t give up that easily. He’ll know you’d change your mind if you told him to stay away. You didn’t. He can tell that much, but he knows. He understands.

“Oh.” You say quietly, almost as if you’d had a false hope that there was word, some small message to let you know he’s alive, he’s well, he’s coming home.

He can’t come home soon enough.

You slowly inch around the side of the couch before sitting gingerly on the edge of the cushion. You’re moving like you’re approaching a wild animal, but in your mind you might just be. He’s not a wild animal. If anything he’s the opposite of right now. He’s tired, worn down from the sudden weight of responsibility. He wouldn’t even bare his teeth if he could.

You’re holding a book in your hand. You clutch it to your chest as you slowly lean back, scooting until you’re comfortable on the opposite end of the couch from him. Why you chose there and not across from him, he doesn’t know. You could have sat anywhere in the house and yet you decided to sit next to him.

Perhaps it’s some deep omegan need for comfort and security. You certainly need a lot of that right now. You’re going through a tumultuous time and you’ll need all the comfort you can stand. He’s the one that’s supposed to give that to you, yet he finds himself withdrawing from that desire, that need. You won’t want his comfort because he’s not your alpha. He’ll never be your alpha, he’ll never be good enough.

Simon sits there, still as a sniper as he watches you slowly inch your way into a comfortable seat. You haven’t spoken a word since your small, quiet acknowledgment of his answer to your question. Maybe you’re too afraid to speak more, ruin the moment, drive him away when you’ve so obviously sought him out for more than word on your absent alpha.

He stays there as you move, slowly shifting yourself on the couch until you’re curled up in the corner. It’s reminiscent of how you used to sit in the rec room all those weeks ago, curled up on the couch while he sat as far as he could from you, at least until those bonds began to grow, those steel-bound threads of alpha and omega began to wind themselves around you like nooses.

Bonds are like nooses. One fails they all do. That’s why he’s always hated them, why he’s always avoided them.

Why his mother never gave in.

His hand curls into a fist, nails digging into his palm as he forces the thoughts away, shoves his past down into the recesses of his mind where it belongs.

You seem ignorant to his inner struggle as you sit there, book open in your hands. You’re lost in a fictional world, ignorant of everything going on around you. How easily you slip into a realm of distraction, he’ll never know. There will always be a part of him that’s aware, hypervigilant to the world.

Maybe you can drift off so easily because you feel secure enough to do so. You feel safe enough with him there to sink deep into a stupor brought on by words on a page. It stirs something inside of him. Pride? Honor? Guilt?

You’ve sought him out for safety and security and here he is blocking you out more and more. You had to face him down to force him into this position when he should have stepped into it in the first place. He should have done more, been more. From the start he should have been a better alpha, even if he wasn’t yours, even if he’d never be yours. He’s an alpha in the pack, he should start acting like it.

The vulnerability that takes. The weakness he’ll have to show.

It’s okay. The soft voice of his mother floats through his mind. Better to be soft than hard like your father.

A shiver runs down his spine, making his whole body tense. It draws you out of your book, your head turning to look at him. Not quite so lost as he thought, then.

“Simon?” You ask quietly, concern lacing your voice. “What is it?”

Your omega must be sensing some sort of danger. He’s on edge, your omega is responding, looking for reassurance that there’s nothing wrong, there’s nothing there.

“Nothing.” He answers, forcing himself to relax. He has to put his hackles down, otherwise the moment will be ruined. “Just thinking too much.”

He’s not sure why he said it. Maybe it was because he knew it would draw that small smile on your face.

He likes it when you smile. You haven’t been doing much of it lately, but then again, you haven’t had much of a reason to. Why smile when the world is crumbling around you? Yet there are still moments when he sees that side of you, you let out on base. Those happy moments when life was good and easy and predictable. Back when he allowed himself to feel, to touch, to smell, to devour your very being.

He misses it.

No he doesn’t.

It’s too much of a risk, too much of a vulnerability to allow that again. He can’t open himself up to that when it will only lead to more hurt on your part. Everything ends in hurt. It’s all he can do, all he’ll ever do. He’s hurt Johnny, he’s still hurting Johnny. You’ll crumble in his hands too, slipping through his fingers like sand.

He sits there still as you begin to slowly shift yourself so you’re facing him, putting your back to the fire. He watches you from the corner of your eye as you begin to stretch out, joints cracking as they straighten. His eyes lower to your feet as they slowly slip across the couch, inching closer and closer to him. His hand twitches, his breath stilling in his lungs.

He can’t move. He’s stuck there, stuck watching as you slowly press upon the barrier between the two of you, breaking down that boundary he’s set in place with just a simple movement. He can see it crumbling as your bare toes inch closer and closer until they press against the soft fabric of his jeans. Just a brush, just a tickle against his leg.

“Do you have to do that?” He asks, still staring down at your toes.

“It’s a small couch.” You say simply, not even looking up from your book.

“There’s an empty one right there.” He nods towards the empty couch across from him.

“I like this one better.”

His hand closes into a fist as you push against his leg with your toes. That boundary is crashing down, crumbling brick by brick as your toes bend, feet arching as you push against his leg.

“What are you doing?” He still hasn’t moved. He can’t bring himself to.

“My toes are cold.” You say, turning a page in your book.

“There’s a fire right there.”

“I don’t want to get up.”

Little shit.

He swallows the growl crawling up his chest, swallows down the emotions threatening to choke him. He’s right back in the rec room with your toes on his arm as the two of you read in silence. You’d gone toe to toe with him then too, the snarky remarks flowing like water between you. How easily it came, how easily it flowed, how easily you faced him on and didn’t back down.

Fucking hell how he’s missed this.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t get up like he once might have. Instead he sits there, letting you rest your toes against his leg, even though he knows they aren’t cold.

Something draws you from the sweet edge of sleep and forces you back into the world of the living. You’re not sure what it is at first, unaware enough you can’t think rationally. You had been so close to the sweet bliss of sleep for your morning nap when something woke you. You try not to think about it, chasing that edge of tiredness that’s quickly fading from your mind.

A pain in your stomach pushes it even further away. It takes your breath away, pulling you right into the world of wakefulness. For a moment you think you might be dying. Appendix burst, GI bleed, some sort of horrible gas cramp. You did have a big breakfast after all.

No, it’s none of those things. That pain begins to shift, morphing into a gnawing feeling that grows until a low rumble sounds.

You’re hungry.

For a moment you wonder if you did sleep and you’ve slept through lunch. A quick glance at the clock tells you it’s only eleven. Not quite time for lunch yet.

You try to ignore it, try to curl up and go back to sleep, but that gnawing pain continues, keeping you from finding that tiredness that drove you to seek out your bed in the first place.

Instead you sit up with a huff, shoving the blanket off of you. A snack it is then.

The gnawing pain continues as you rise from the bed, padding quietly over to your half closed door. You slip through the gap, the living area empty. Upstairs or outside then, you think.

You head for the kitchen, digging through cupboards as the pain in your stomach continues to intensify. If you don’t eat right this minute you might die. You want something fast, but all you’re finding is cans and packages of food you’ll have to cook. You don’t have time for that.

Desperately you search, your hands starting to shake as you comb through the cabinets for something that might calm the uncomfortable growling in your abdomen.

Finally you find an unopened package of cookies. Tea cookies, you think, but you don’t care. You nearly rip them open in desperation, shoving one in your mouth. They’re dry, but you don’t care. They may as well be manna from heaven in this moment.

You carry the package over to the sliding door, staring out at the yard as you continue to shove cookies into your mouth. It hasn’t rained in a few days, the deck starting to dry out finally. It’s still cloudy and grey though, the sea reflecting the sky in the distance.

You stand there, lost in space and time until you reach into the packet of cookies only to meet air and crumbs. You stare down at the package, your stomach still rumbling hungrily like an insatiable monster. 

Insatiable. Hunger. 

“Oh fuck.” You say, staring down at the package still. 

“What?” Kyle says, approaching you from behind. 

You turn on your heel, hand still in the package. “I’m hungry.” 

“It’s almost lunch time.” He says. “What would you like to eat?” 

“No, no.” You gulp. “I’m hungry.” 

He stares at you blankly for a moment before realization crosses his face. He stares at you wide-eyed, shifting on his feet nervously. “Oh shit.” 

“Sedation is an option but I’d have to get the supplies for it.” Dr. Keller says. “We’re not equipped here for something of that caliber. I can get the supplies, but we might not have enough time, even with Kate’s help.”

“It might be risky, drawing that much attention.” Kyle says. “People will have questions.”

“You’re not even nesting yet.” Dr. Keller says with a sigh, glancing at you. “This is bad timing.”

“It’s not like I can control it.” You say around a mouthful of chips.

You’ve already downed three sandwiches and you’re working on polishing off an entire bag of chips.

“I know.” Dr. Keller says softly.

“Is there any way to stop it from happening?” Johnny asks.

“Not without considerable risk.” Dr. Keller says. “Especially this close.”

“What do we do then?” Kyle asks, looking at you.

“It is possible for a beta to help, but it’ll be a long and painful heat without an alpha.” Dr. Keller says.

A hand lands on your shoulder as they continue to brainstorm. You look up from the bag of chips, a handful halfway to your mouth. Simon is standing over you, his hand on your shoulder. He tilts his head in the direction of your door before removing his hand. You blink at him as he walks towards it, pushing the door open before disappearing into your room. You shove the handful of chips in your mouth before putting the bag on the coffee table. You lick the crumbs off your fingers as you make your way towards the open door.

It’s bold of him, entering your room just like that, but your interest is piqued.

He’s standing next to the bed, fingers toying with the edge of the blanket tossed haphazardly across the mattress from your attempt at a nap.

“Simon?” You ask quietly.

“Close the door.” He says, turning around.

You pull it closed behind you, turning the nob so it doesn’t make any sound. Something tells you he wants to keep this as quiet as possible. Nerves start to rattle inside of you. What does he want? Why does he want to keep things quiet? They must notice you’ve disappeared, but Simon doesn’t seem to care either way.

“Come here.” He says, holding out his hand.

You approach slowly, a bit hesitant from the alpha being in your space. It is your space now, your room. Even if you haven’t nested yet, it’s still your safe, sacred space. He hasn’t been in your space yet. You haven’t even invited him in, and here he is just walking in and making himself at home.

Your fingers tremble as you slip your hand into his, letting him pull you closer. He toes off his boots before turning back towards the bed. You watch as he stares at the giant bear for a moment before he shoves it off onto the floor on the other side of the bed. It almost makes you laugh, it would have had you not been so nervous. What he’s doing is bold, and it’s leaving you unsettled.

He climbs onto the bed, sitting in your spot. He uses the hand in yours to pull you up onto the bed as well. He relaxes back against the headboard as you wind up in his lap, straddling his waist.

“What’s happening?” You say, staring at him wide eyed. You haven’t been this close to him in months, and here he is just sitting you right in his lap like it’s nothing.

You’re going to get whiplash if he continues this.

“I did you a disservice.” He starts, tilting his head back to stare up at you. “That time I made you use sedation for your heat. I was too afraid of hurting you to see what it really meant, to understand the risks and what it would be like for you.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” You say quietly, trying not to jump as his hands come to settle on your thighs.

“I do.” He says, his eyes soft as he stares up at you. “I wasn’t man enough to face down my fears. I’m not making that mistake again.”

“Simon-”

“Don’t.” He says quietly. “Don’t talk me out of this.”

You shake your head. “You don’t-”

“I want to.”

His words have your protests dying in your throat. You stare at him wide-eyed. This feels like it’s coming out of left field. Things have shifted since his ascension into pack alpha, including the distance that had wedged between the two of you. Though he’s still been spending the least amount of time with you, you can’t deny he doesn’t feel quite so distant anymore. It’s comforting, just knowing there is an alpha there that would catch you if you fell.

Still, to go to this extent, to move this fast feels uncharacteristic for him.

“Simon,” You say softly as his hands trail up your thighs, reaching for your own hands.

“I should have done more, I should have been more for you.” He continues, almost as if he’s talking to himself. “You were right. I should have stepped up as soon as John said he was leaving.” He lifts your hands until they’re resting on either side of his neck. “I want to do this for you.”

You swallow thickly as you stare down at him, your fingers trembling where they rest against his mask. It feels strange being this close to him after so long. He’s being so...vulnerable suddenly and it’s making your head spin.

“Take it off.” He says.

“What?” You blink at him in surprise. You didn’t expect this at all.

“The mask. Take it off.”

“You...you’re sure?” You ask.

“Do it.” He says firmly.

Your fingers are still trembling as they curl around the bottom of the fabric. You can hardly believe this is happening, this is real. You’re really going to see his face. You had resigned yourself to only ever seeing him in his mask for the rest of your life, that he’d never willingly become that vulnerable with you. Yet here he is, coming into your space and opening himself up to this vulnerability.

Slowly you tug the fabric upward, revealing his scruffy chin. It’s the most you’ve ever seen of him when he tugs his mask up to eat. You continue pushing the fabric upward over his lips, your thumb tracing the scar there for a moment as you try and gain the courage to continue. It’s really happening. You’re about to see his face for the first time.

You push the mask up over his nose, thumbs gliding over his cheeks as you continue, pushing it up higher and higher. You take a deep breath in before tugging it upwards, pulling it completely off. He blinks up at you, leaning his head back against the headboard. You stare down at him in shock and awe, taking in his full face for the first time.

“You’re so...British looking.”

It’s the only thing you can think of to say. His face falls slightly, his brows pinching.

“Not-not in a bad way, it’s just...I’d know you were British if I saw you walking down the street.”

You wince at your own awkwardness. You’re not making it any better.

“You’re a handsome British man.” You say, cupping his cheeks.

He stares at you blankly for a moment and you worry you’ve fucked this up before his lips twist up in a smile, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“Like what you see?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Very much so.” You say quietly, cupping his cheeks.

You want to kiss him. You want to lean down and press your lips against his. You’re not sure where the desire has come from, when this sudden shift and change happened, but you can’t deny the desire you feel towards him. Maybe it’s your looming heat, maybe it’s because he’s the only alpha around, maybe it’s because he’s finally stepped up into what you knew he could be for you, what he could do for you.

He doesn’t stop you as you start to lean down, giving into the impulsive need. You wait for him to push you away, wait for him to change his mind and walk out the door, but he doesn’t. His arms tighten around your back, pulling you flush against his body as your lips touch his in a gentle, hesitant kiss.

A low growl rumbles in his chest as you kiss him, his hand flattening against your back. Shivers run down your spine, a quiet whine leaving your lips. His hand slides up your back, sinking into your hair to stop you from pulling away.

“Missed this.” He murmurs against your lips.

“Why did you wait so long?” You say quietly, kissing him again.

“Couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you again.” He says, pulling away. “I did it enough times before.” He stares up at you like you hung the moon and the stars. “I wasn’t fair to you.”

“You seriously don’t have to apologize.” You say, putting a finger on his lips. “I know you were being Mr. Emotionally Constipated So I Have To Make Myself Suffer For No Reason. It works for you, though.” You shrug. “Pairs with the Mr. Dark and Mysterious well.” You smile down at him. “Who knew Mr. Dark and Mysterious would also turn out to be Mr. Very British. Should have known with all the tea talk.”

He tightens his grip around you before suddenly pushing himself up. He flips you over onto your back, his hand squeezing your side, making you giggle. You trust him not to hurt you, his movements done in jesting not anger.

“You little shit.” He chuckles, resting on his elbows above you.

You smile up at him, pulling him down for another kiss. “I missed this.”

“So did I.” He says before kissing you deeply.

The kiss has electricity shooting down to your toes. Your whole body feels alive as your lips move against his, your arms wrapping around his neck. One hand slides into his hair, the short soft strands slipping through your fingers. You rake your nails across his scalp, a low growl rumbling in his throat. He pushes his body down against yours, squishing you into the mattress but you don’t care. He’s so big and warm it makes you feel safe and secure and for the first time since John left, your omega has settled contently.

You pull away begrudgingly after a few moments, staring up at him. You still can’t believe you’re seeing all of him, that he’s honored you with this chance to see his face fully.

“You really mean it?” You breathe, the hand in his hair sliding to cup his cheek.

“Of course.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your palm.

“We should go let them know so they can stop stressing.” You breathe.

“Good idea.” He kisses you one more time before he pulls away, letting you get up off the bed.

You grab his mask, handing it to him. “Here.”

He stares down at it for a long moment before pocketing it. “I don’t need it.”

You stare at him in surprise. “What?”

“I’ve been hiding long enough.” He says. “There’s no reason to now.”

You give him an incredulous look. “What happened to you?”

He shrugs. “Had an epiphany I guess.”

“One hell of an epiphany.” You say as he opens the door.

“It might be our only option.” Dr. Keller says as you step out of the door. “It’s going to be a rough heat though.”

“I’ll do it.” Simon says, standing next to you.

The three of them look up, Johnny doing a double take. Dr. Keller’s face slowly morphs into a smile as she stares at Simon. She’s seeing his face for the first time as well. It speaks volumes to his sudden new-found trust that he’s letting her see him as well. Or, maybe he’s solidifying her place among the allies of your pack. He knows how much she means to you, how much she means to the others.

It almost makes you want to cry.

The room is silent as Johnny and Kyle stare at Simon in shock. You stand next to him, a small smile on your face. Things are finally turning around, things are finally starting to shift and heal within your pack, even with John out of the picture for now. He’s going to be surprised when he comes back.

Simon shifts on his feet next to you, his hand squeezing yours gently. It grounds you, keeps you steady as he speaks the next words, the words you never thought you’d hear from him. They’re sincere, not born out of necessity or need. He really does mean them.

“I’ll help her through her heat.”

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[beloveds-embrace]

AND ALSO POLY!141

joking around and calling them your brothers and they go deathly silent because what do you mean tou don’t see them romantically? doesn’t matter if they’re already involved with each other they want you to be just as involved too.

also this is toxic but threatening your various dates, stalking them and taking them out (not in the romantic way) so they have an excuse to hold you close. you get comforted, and they get to embrace your warmth #win-win

Friendzoned? Nah, it’s bro-zoned now 😭

The one good thing about grueling and long missions- were the post-missions.

Without fail, each time, you’d be invited to their house where Price would grill up something delicious and juicy on the barbecue, and everyone would be able to unwind. You enjoyed that time, spending it and relaxing with them.

The dynamic you all shared was easy, comfortable, and fun- at least for you.

You rolled your eyes and tossed a fry at Johnny, who caught it in his mouth with a proud grin and wagged his eyebrows, daring you to try again. “You’re like an annoying big brother, you know that?” you huffed at last, a matching grin on your face.

Johnny froze mid-chew, but you didn’t notice, too busy thinking. “Actually… all of you are like annoying big brothers, now that I think about it.”

You chuckles at your own thought, grabbing another fry from your plate and popping it into your mouth without once realizing the shift in the atmosphere. You didn’t catch the way Soap’s grin had vanished completely or how Price’s hand tightened around the armrest of his chair. Gaz’s usual easy smile was gone, replaced with a cold, unreadable expression, and Ghost… well, Ghost’s dark stare had become a touch more menacing.

The silence hung heavy, but you were blissfully unaware, waving your hand dismissively when no one responded. Your focus was on your phone, scrolling through your social medias. “What? You all went quiet on me.”

Soap cleared his throat, but it came out strained, his voice low. “Brother, huh?”

You hummed absently. “Yeah, you know- family. You guys are my family. Like brothers, watching each other’s backs and all that.”

Price exhaled slowly, sitting back in his chair and running a hand over his beard. “Family.” He repeated, almost under his breath, his voice calm but tight.

Gaz tapped his fingers against the table once, then twice, before stopping abruptly. “Is that all we are to you?” he asked casually enough, though his tone carried an edge you didn’t catch.

“Of course,” you replied with a shrug, not bothering to look up from your food and phone. “I mean, it’d be weird to think of you any other way. You’re my team, my brothers-in-arms.”

You missed the way Ghost’s hands curled into fists on the table, his knuckles white, or the way Soap’s jaw clenched, demeanor replaced with something far darker. Price exchanged a look with Gaz, silent communication passing between them while you obliviously chewed on your steak, still oblivious to the storm brewing around you.

If you’d glanced up, even for a second, you might’ve noticed the way their gazes lingered on you- too intense, too sharp. But you didn’t. And they weren’t about to correct you.

Not yet, anyways.

The first time it happened, you didn’t connect the dots.

Your date, some charming guy you met at a café off base, canceled on you last minute, claiming he “didn’t feel safe” after someone left a threatening note on his car windshield. You shrugged it off as a weird coincidence- maybe it was the universe looking out for you, even. You didn’t want to be dragged into whatever that guy was stuck in.

The second time, a woman from the gym you’d been chatting with stopped replying to your texts entirely after she mentioned being followed home one night. You’d honestly tried to call and check on her, but she just… blocked you. Weird.

By the third time, when a guy you’d met on a dating app ghosted you entirely after his apartment was mysteriously broken into, you started to suspect something was up.

You mentioned it offhandedly to the team one evening, voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t know what’s going on, but every time I try to date someone, something weird happens. It’s like the universe doesn’t want me to find someone!”

Soap hummed, a little too casually, but you simply discarded that thought. “Maybe the universe knows what’s best for you, bonnie.”

Gaz leaned back in his chair, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Or maybe these people weren’t good enough for you anyway.”

“You’ve got us to look after you. Don’t need anyone else mucking things up.” Even Price added in his own two cents, making you pause.

You laughed, thinking they were joking, but Ghost’s silence was unsettling- actually, none of them were laughing. He just stared at you, his eyes glinting in a way that made your stomach twist. But that was normal for your L.T… even if it’s been quite a long while since he’s made you feel like that.

The fourth time, it wasn’t just a weird incident. It was a full-on assault.

You were on another date- though even you had to admit this one was just… not going well. He was too dismissive, too loud, and the first thing he’d said before you even sat down was that you’d split the bill, and then he made a comment about you eating too much.

You’d sent a simple text to the team groupchat, telling them you really weren’t enjoying this one, and they’d left you on read. Bastards.

But then you date had been walking you to your car when someone stepped out of the shadows- a big, familiar hulking figure in a balaclava. Your date didn’t even have time to react before they were on the ground, unconscious.

“Come on,” Simon said, gently but firmly clasping his hand around yours. You were too shocked to even say anything- what the fuck? “Let’s get you home.”

You didn’t argue. Your heart was pounding too hard, and Simon took advantage of that to guide you to his car.

“Simon-“

“No.”

And thus the silence continued.

When you got back to their house, the others were waiting for you. Price immediately pulled you into a hug before you could demand answers, his hands firm but gentle on your lower back. “You’re safe now.” He murmured, as if soothing an angry kitten lashing out at him from fear. Despite your confusion and the flurry of emotions swirling in your chest, the tension in your body began to melt anyways, always so trusting of your Captain.

Gaz’s hand brushed against yours as he handed you a steaming cup of tea immediately once Price let go of you. His smile was kind, but his eyes seemed… off. Too sharp. “Drink this, yeah? It’ll help.” He said, his fingers lingering a second too long before retreating.

Before you could question the strange atmosphere, Soap tugged you down to sit beside him on the couch. His arm draped around your shoulders, pulling you close as though you were on the verge of breaking. “You’ll be alright,” he murmured, tone light yet firm. “We’ve got you.”

Simon remained silent, leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed. His presence loomed heavy in the room, his gaze never straying from you. It wasn’t comforting exactly- more like being caught in the sights of a predator lying in wait. Is this what the enemy soldiers thought and felt? You pitied them- but more than that you pitied yourself.

Your hands tightened around the warm mug, your confusion bubbling up like a shaken-up fizzy drink. “Okay, what the hell is going on?” You glanced between them, searching for answers. “Simon knocked out my date! What if he presses charges? And what’s with all this- this hovering?”

“Hovering?” Soap echoed, his arm tightening ever so slightly. “We’re making sure you’re alright, bonnie. That’s all. You said your date wasn’t good, no?”

Price leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he spoke calmly, like he was explaining something obvious to a stubborn recruit. “That man wasn’t worth your time. None of your dates have been. They can’t protect you- not the way we can.”

“What are you even talking about?” you demanded, finally pulling away from Soap’s hold. Yet the feeling of being a bleeding sheep surrounded by wolves didn’t abate. “You’ve been acting so weird lately- ever since I mentioned dating. If there’s something you’re not telling me, just spit it out!”

Gaz sighed, his tone carrying a note of exasperation as he leaned against the couch. “We’re trying to keep you safe, love. Every time you step out with someone, you’re putting yourself at risk. You don’t know these people like we do.”

Your stomach churned. “What do you mean-?”

Gaz chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it, and you did not laugh. “Do you think we’d let you go out with someone without knowing everything about them first? Their names, their jobs, their pasts…” His voice dropped, a edge bleeding into his words. “How to get rid of them.”

Your blood ran cold, and you stared between them. They were dead serious, you realized. “That’s… You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re joking.”

No one answered.

Simon pushed off the wall, his massive frame closing the distance between you in just a few steps. He crouched down in front of you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. You were essentially boxed in from all sides. “We’re not joking. You don’t need anyone else. You’ve got us.”

“…This isn’t normal.” You whispered, your voice shaky as you tried to process what you were hearing. “This- I don’t-“

“It is normal,” Price’s voice was steady and calm, eyes dark. “For us. For the people who care about you most.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as the implications of their words sank in. They weren’t just being overprotective or overbearing. They were sabotaging your dates, controlling who could get close to you, and now- God, had they hurt people? How many had they hurt? All those people- you-

Your hands trembled, though you braved on even if bravery was the last thing you felt. “You can’t just decide this for me. I’m not some possession you can keep to yourselves.”

“We’re not keeping you from anything you need,” Gaz spoke so softly, you could trick yourself into believing he was saying you could leave and this was all just a mean prank. “We’re protecting you from what you don’t.”

“You should be thanking us,” Proce sighed, pulling out a cigar to smoke. Yet his eyes did not leave you even once, not even for a single second. “We’re the reason you’ve been safe so far.”

Simon’s gloved hands rested on your knees, pinning you down to the couch. “We’ll take care of you,” he said, his voice low and almost soothing. “Always.”

You wanted to argue, to push them away, but the realization- the full weight of what they had done hit you like a freight train. You stood abruptly, pushing past Simon and cutting through the tense silence in the room. Their eyes followed your every move, like predators watching prey.

“I can’t… I can’t do this,” you stammered, stepping back toward the door. “This isn’t normal. None of this is normal. You can’t just- control my life like this!”

“Sit down, love.” Price said, his voice calm, but the edge in it was unmistakable.

“No, no,” you shot back, shaking your head as you took another step toward the door. “I’m leaving. I need some space. This- this is insane.”

Gaz rose from his chair, moving to block your path to the exit. His expression was so deceptively soft, but his stance was firm, unyielding. “You’re not thinking clearly, love.” He said, low. “Just sit down. We’ll talk it through.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you snapped, your voice rising with panic. “You’ve been stalking me- sabotaging my life! That’s not protection. That’s obsession!”

Soap stood then, and his expression made you flinch. He stepped closer, effectively boxing you in again as he joined Gaz. “We’re not letting you walk out that door.” He said simply, but his words were anything but.

You turned toward the only other way out, but Simon was already there, his massive frame looming in the doorway to the hall. He didn’t say a word, just stared, his presence alone enough to make your stomach twist.

Your breathing quickened as you turned back to Price, the only one still seated, though his gaze was sharp and calculating. “You can’t keep me here, Price,” you said, your voice trembling but still clinging to the traces of defiance. “You don’t have the right-“

“We do have the right,” Price interrupted, standing slowly. The sheer authority- the sheer finality in his voice made your knees weak. “Because we’re the only ones who care about you the way we do. The only ones who’ll keep you safe. Your team, remember, darling?”

“This isn’t safety,” you hissed, backing toward the wall. “This is prison.”

Price mouthed the word, then huffed a humorless laugh. “We’re not locking you up. But we will stop you from running into danger. Even if you don’t understand it now, you’ll thank us later.”

“You can’t just-“

“Enough,” Simon cut in, sharp and blunt, his voice cutting through your protests like a knife. “You’re not leaving. Not now. Not ever.”

Your back hit the wall, your escape routes blocked on all sides. Your chest heaved as you looked at each of them, searching for even a sliver of remorse. But all you saw was determination, faces set in stone…

Much like your fate.

[shinningdance]

Taste tasting

Roommate au because @beloveds-embrace captured my heart with this au q(≧▽≦q)

warnings: none!! Pure fluff!

The Kitchen was a mess, to put it nicely. It actually looked like a bomb hit. Multiple Pans on the stove, cake icing on the counter - slowly dripping down to the floor, egg shells next to a big pile of flour.

The oven is on, finishing the cake you've been working on for the last 2 hours, the cupcakes are already cooling down by the dinning table. Very carefully you transfer the steak from the pan to a plate, where perfectly cooked potatoes are decorating one half of the plate. Finishing off the meat, you sprinkle a bit of sea salt on top.

You do this two more times, having bought too much meat and not wanting to waste it, it leads to this mess. You only wanted a small piece for yourself, after all you need to practice.

That's what got you into this situation, a cooking competition. Now, why would you waste your time on some silly work competition? Easy, the winner gets two days paid time off. In those two days you can catch up on your series, sleep late, enjoy life until work calls again.

The front door opens and a soft "Hello" was heard, looks like your Guinea pig arrived.

"Perfect timing!" You call back and make your way to the door, meeting Kyle halfway there. He's still wearing his jacket and scarf, good to keep warm in such a weather.

"Perfect timing for what?" He smiles down at you, obviously a bit confused, and maybe a tiny bit scared.

"I need a lab rat" You reply, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the kitchen table.

Kyle doesn't even try to fight back or ask, he simply follows as you pull him along. A small huff leaves his lips as you hurry him towards a chair, forcing him to sit down, only then does he dare to removes the scarf and winter jacket.

"I'm scared to ask but..how am i lab rat?" He mumbles and lays the clothes over the chair next to him.

"Easy.." You start talking while grabbing a full plate of a juicy cooked steak with a perfect sear, paired with golden, crispy potatoes, seasoned to perfection. "You have to taste test everything i made today."

At the mere sight of the fresh food his mouth began to water, eyes scanning the masterpiece.

After a short moment of silence he forces his eyes away, looking at you with a cheeky smile. "Everything? There's more?" He asks as he grabs a knife and a fork, immediately digging in.

You bite back a small laugh, nodding your head as you watch him eat. "I made cake..i just need to wait for it too cool down and decorate it, also, i made cupcakes." You smile and walk to the oven, checking on said cake. Finding it perfectly cooked you turn the oven off and grab oven mittens.

As you move the cake from the heat to the counter you hear the sluttiest groan ever. "That good, huh?" You chuckle and look over your shoulder, seeing Kyles eyes closed as he enjoys the steak.

"That has to be the best steak I've ever had..." The steak is so good he forgot his table manners, talking with food in his mouth. "I can't wait to brag about being your first ever taste tester when you start your famous cooking career."

"That's a no for me." You correct, grabbing the icing you made earlier, along with freshly cut strawberry's. "I just want to win a cooking competition to win 2 days paid time off."

"Oh you're winning, don't worry about that." He mumbles and brings another piece of a steak to his lips.

"What's that lovely smell?" A deeper voice comes from the entrance, standing there is John, snow on his hat and shoulders.

"Birdie cooked the best food ever." Kyle calls out before you can explain yourself. A bit of head rushes to your cheeks at the complement.

"I made way too much, so i hope you're hungry." You smile and walk back to the kitchen, grabbing a plate and putting the same food on there as before.

John doesn't even hesitate as he sits down next to the younger man, waiting for you to pass the plate. Just like Kyle, his mouth starts to water at the sight of the steak with the potatoes.

"This looks magnificent." He remarks as you hand him a knife and a fork.

"Taste it first, then you can give me feedback." You smile and get back to the cake, finishing up the icing as you hear another groan from the table. "Don't eat too much, there are two rounds of deserts."

"Two rounds? You're spoiling us, dove" John claims as he continuous to devour his food.

"Not complaining though." Kyle mumbles as he finishes his plate, quickly getting up to put it in the dishwasher. As he gets closer he sees the now finished cake, strawberry's on the top. He smiles and cleans his plate. "Good luck with that cake, it's Johnnys favorite, I'm giving him till midnight until it's fully gone."

"Speaking off, where is he? and Simon?" You question as you cut off two pieces of the cake, putting them on smaller plates and walking back to the table with Kyle.

"Last minute shopping for Tuesday, we have to leave again, remember?" The older man answers as he too finishes his plate, already looking at he cake.

Right. Sometimes you forget they actually have a job when they're at home for more than a week.

"I did forget." You hum and put the two cakes down, watching as both men immediately grab for one.

Like before, both of them groan as they swallow, apparently you're a really good cook. A small yawn escapes your lips, causing both men to look up.

"Getting tired? How long were you in the kitchen for?" Kyle asks, eyes on the clock on the wall.

"A while." You answer, making your way to the couch.

"Don't fall asleep just yet, your sleep schedule is already bad." John calls out as he watches you lay down and pull a blanket over your body.

"Just a few minutes" The words are mumbles, face pressed against a pillow.

The couch sinks near your head, a soft hand landing on your cheek. You've never fallen asleep faster.

"Be quiet." John calls out softly the moment the two missing house members enter through the front door.

Both man freeze mid step. Johnny holding his phone while Simon carries two bags. Not long after do they realize why.

You're asleep, blanket over your body, legs on Johns lap and head resting in Kyles lap, his hand stroking your hair softly.

"Aww.. look at 'er!" Johnny calls out, getting shushed by both men on the couch.

"Foods in the kitchen, she made steak, cupcakes and your favorite cake." John answers and watches the Scot almost run to the kitchen.

"Any special reason why?" Simon asks as he sets down the bags by the the table, quickly sitting down next to Kyle, who rests his head on his shoulder.

"Practicing for a cooking competition at work." Kyle answers and watches as Johnny walks back in with a piece of cake.

"She ruined me foe Military food." he claims, shoving another large bite down his throat.

a/n: not proofread...kinda gave up at the end...＞﹏＜

[leyavo]

Task force 141 x Tech!reader

[Masterlist]

Tech!reader that works between two task forces gathering all the nitty gritty intel by hacking into the enemies computers and phones.

Tech!reader whose callsign name is Jinx because she hasn’t had the best of luck up until she joined 141.

Tech!reader that appears on Ghost’s laptop screen by taking over the little arrow and changing it into a black cat. Sometimes even changes it to a ghost so that he can’t see where the pointer is to click on his files.

Tech!reader who has only met Price and Laswell in person. She knows the guys from the photos in their files but never seen them in real life.

Tech!reader that was mistreated by her first unit. So she keeps to herself and works a normal desk in the I.T department, no one knows what she actually does in her little cubicle.

Tech!reader that leaves Price voice notes instead of emails as she knows he hates reading from a screen. Although she does like seeing him put on his reading glasses.

Tech!reader that sighs every time Soap asks if she’s watching him through the webcam right now. (Of course she is when he’s searching for stupid stuff).

Tech!reader who used to go out with her unit, but hasn’t since she broke her arm and got shot in the shoulder when their safe house was attacked.

Tech!reader that texts Gaz the most in between missions/jobs. They both have cats so they send pictures all the time of them.

Tech!reader that checks in on the task force 141 during holidays to make sure they’re safe.

I created this side blog for cod fanfic, haven’t played these games since they were released. Just for fun - Leya

[kyber-queen]

tf141 icks

don’t get me wrong i think they’d put so much effort into a relationship they care about but unfortunately they are gross icky dirty stinky military men (all love no hate) 

—

price changes into the exact same shirt after his post-deployment shower every. single. time. no one knows how long he has had it—you have considered sending it in all its yellow-pit-stained glory to a lab to be carbon dated bc that thing is straight primeval. if (god forbid) you subtly replace it with a new one he will subtly dig through the trash to retrieve it. 

soap believes in an open-bathroom policy. you’re adults in a relationship in a one-bathroom apartment and it wouldn’t be a problem except every once in a while he shits when you shower. it is straight foul. the humidity, heat, and stench are primed to create an atmosphere that is 1000% inhospitable. your very vocal complaints are met only with cackles.

gaz leaves the remnants of his shaved facial hair caked to the sink as a fun little surprise for you each morning. he cooks, he cleans, he takes out the trash—he really is the perfect partner, save for the little dark hairs that await you each time you wake and go to brush your teeth.

ghost has the worlds most terrible morning breath. the man survives off of cigarettes and black tea and lord knows that combination is straight dastardly in the morning. his ‘good morning’ kiss and murmured  “morning, lovie” before he brushes his teeth take a week off your lifespan each time. -10000HP on god

[browneyedwriter10]

Ok?????? So????

“he’s so babygirl”

babe he just killed somebody.

[moody-alcoholic]

Cross My Heart

Part 5 - Should Have Gone To Med School

Summary: eventual poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers, mini fic.

CW: Medical stuff, descriptions of wounds, description of medical procedures, medical inaccuracies, blood.

AN: Why does everything I write turn into a medical drama.

Previous parts - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

You hide the scalpel between the mattress and the bed frame. No point in getting caught with it. You’ll help Price but you won’t take them over the border. It’s too risky, you need them to trust you at least for now. Besides you’re about to maim their captain, or at least you assume he’s the captain. Gaz called him cap. 

He ordered Ghost around and you thought he was incharge. 

“Hey.” The voice at the door makes you jump. You turn to see Soap looking at you. He’s unarmed for once, maybe they are starting to trust you. “Sorry, I wanted to say thank you.” 

“For what?” You ask heading out the room. He blushes running his hand through his hair. Christ, what's he nervous about. He moves to the side to let you out into the hall. 

“For back in the vets with Ghost.” 

“So he told you?”

“Yeah, he’ll never say a proper thank you. He’s a bastard like that sometimes. But you could have let him die.” He seems nervous, you have no idea why. Maybe Ghost didn't want anyone to know he let his guard down. Probably not the best look that a seasoned SAS soldier can get jumped so easily. 

“No I couldn’t. Then you would have killed me.” You smile at him and head down the stairs. 

Maybe you should have let him die, and run. Where though? Back to Konni? To Al Qatala? You shake your head pushing the thoughts away. You'll patch Price up then you’ll part ways. No need for you to stick around longer than you need to. Fuck the asylum in the UK, you don’t believe that would happen anyway. 

Ghost is not around but Soap follows you down the stairs and Gaz is sitting on the coffee table talking with Price. He goes silent when he turns to see you, standing up and moving behind the sofa. His eyes dig into you. You swallow the nerves going over to the bag you dumped down when you came in. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You ask him one last time. He looks up and nods. 

“It’s worse to leave it in, right?” Price asks. 

“Yes and no. It’s going to hurt. There’s no anesthetic.” You say gripping the handle on the bag. 

“I’ve been through worse.” 

“Cap, are you sure?” Gaz leans down to whisper next to his head. You feel like you’re interrupting something.

“If you need time-” You don’t get time to finish. “No. I’m ready.” Price says sitting up straighter on the sofa. “It’s fine Gaz.” He waves the other man away but he doesn’t move, just stands back up crossing his arms.

“Take your shirt off and lie down.” You say putting the bag on the coffee table and bending down next to the sofa. 

“Do you need a chair or somthin’?” Soap asks, you turn to him and shake your head. He smiles. You look through the bag, you think you have everything. You recognise everything, you managed to grab a lot. But you only have 2 pairs of sterile gloves, which means you only have 2 chances to get this right. You will get it right though. 

Gaz helps Price take his shirt off, you look at the bandage on his stomach. Now you’re calmer, getting a better look at it, it’s not as central as you thought it was. 

“Did you have a vest on?” You ask. 

“Yeah, went right through.” Price says as he lays back on the sofa. 

“You’re lucky the bullet didn’t shatter.” You press on his side where he showed you yesterday, it's starting to bruise. It really must be closer to the surface then you think.

“Lucky the guy missed.” 

“Some would argue he didn’t miss.” You say, tipping your head and turning back to the coffee table. You lay out your instruments, double checking everything. What should you be worried about? You think to yourself. It’s been years since you’ve done something like this on a dummy let alone a real person. 

Shock, he could go into shock if the pain is too much. He’s fit and healthy, well other than the hole in his stomach. 

“I can take the bullet out and stitch both the wounds. What would you like me to do first?” 

“Which will hurt less?” He asks scoffing. There’s the nerves, the break in his demeanor. You ignore it, you’d be shitting yourself too. You don’t really know how to answer that. The stitches will have to be deeper on the entry wound, but would that be more or less painful then slicing his skin open and fishing around for a bullet?

“They’re both going to hurt,” you say, it’s the truth. He sighs looking behind you at Soap. 

“Stitch the entry wound first.” A gruff voice behind you says. You don’t need to turn to know it’s Ghost. Price nods and you kneel up pulling the bandages off. As you begin to undo the tape fresh blood drips out and you need to reach over to start dabbing it up. Before you take the steri-strips off you lay out your sterile gloves and reach into the bag for one more thing.

“Here.” You hand him some wooden tongue depressors. “In case you need to bite down on something.” He takes them, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m tougher than you think.” he says. 

“It’s not about being tough.” You snap back. Now your nerves are showing, you take a breath. “It’s so you don’t bite your fucking tongue off and bleed out.” 

He nods. You start pulling the sterile gloves on. You can do this, it’s just stitches, you've done this before, you can do it again. You turn back over to him resting the tray on his chest and pulling the last of the bandage off. It would be easier if you had 2 people, you don’t want to ask any of them for help, besides you need them around to keep an eye on him. You take one last breath getting comfy on your knees. 

“Ready?” You ask turning to look up at him. 

“Ready.” He says. You angle the needle squeezing the tweezers in your hands. Now or never. You say to yourself and plunge the needle into the skin. 

He lasts longer than you thought he would before he makes his first audible groans. You snap to look up at him quickly when you’re done with the next pass. His eyes are squeezed closed, sweat building on his forehead. 

“Almost done.” You lie mopping the blood escaping from the fresh wounds. He’s going to need at least 6 more stitches before you can tie this off. It came back to you in an instant, as soon as you made the first pass through. It’s like riding a bike you never really forget. 

“Want to take a break?” Gaz asks. 

“No.” He grits through his teeth. Good, stopping now wouldn't be smart, you’re over half-way done. 

“You can have a break when I'm done.” You say passing the needle though again. It’s not perfect but it will hold, paired with the bandages it’s all he needs until he can get to a proper medic or a hospital.

“Would kill for a whisky.” He says trying to keep still. That makes you smile. At least he’s still joking, talking. At least he's conscious. You feel like you can hear people shuffling uncomfortably behind you, hushed voices you’re not paying attention to as you concentrate. You’ve been biting the inside of your cheek trying not to show your true nerves, you hope they can’t tell. 

“Almost done.” You assure him.

“You keep saying that.” He says, his breathing picks up. This is going to be the worst part, you saved it till last. You speed up as much as you dare, you want to get this over with before he starts to freak out. You don’t like how shallow his breathing has become. 

“Last stitch.” You say pushing the needle through the skin one more time. You let out an audible sigh of relief as you reach over for the scissors. “Done.” It’s all you can manage. You tie off the tread sitting back on your knees. It’s done. You look over at him, his eyes open again his head tipped back against the sofa pillow. 

You reach over for the bandages and dress the wound. You get up to your feet. 

“Take a break, maybe get something to drink. Water.” You say, swallowing the nerves rising in you. You need to clear your head. You need fresh air. You make a b-line for the front door pulling your gloves off as you pull it open letting the cool night air hit you. 

You feel sick bending over and bracing your hands on your thighs. 

“Holy shit.” You say pushing as much air out your lungs as you can. That really just happened. You just stitched up a fucking SAS officer with no ansathetic. And you’re still not done, he still has a bullet in him. 

The door opens making you jump. You straighten yourself up crossing your arms as goosebumps rise on your skin. You turn to look, it’s Ghost. He hands you a bottle of water.

“Thanks.” You say reaching out and opening it. 

“You did good.” He says after you’ve taken a few sips. 

“It’s just stitches.” You say trying to not let your confidence falter. Can’t have them losing confidence in you. 

“Are you sure taking the bullet out of him is the best option?” He asks. You turn to look at him finishing the bottle. 

“The bullet could move if he does, it could hit an organ, cause internal bleeding. It’s close to the surface though, it could just be stuck below the skin. I have no way of knowing until-” the word catches in your throat. “It’s safer to remove it.” You walk up to him and hand him the empty bottle, he nods. 

When you get back in the building you’re surprised at how warm it is, you’d never noticed that until now. Price looks fine inspecting the bandage on his stomach. 

“Looks good.” He says. He seems perked up. Gaz looks like he hasn’t moved although now he’s holding a glass of water. 

“Thanks.” You say cleaning up the stuff you’ve used and setting up the new stuff you need. The scalpel seems heavy in your hand for some reason. Your mind wonders the one upstairs. 

“Ready?” You ask looking up at Price again. 

“This one should hurt less right?” You squirt alcohol solution over the sight. It’s better than nothing.

“Yes.” You say pulling a mask over your nose and mouth. Maybe if he believes it it will hurt less, like a placebo effect or whatever they call it. You pull the sterile gloves on and pick up the scalpel. You let out a breath looking down at the skin. 

This is not going to be fun. 

“Hey.” John calls, you look up at him. “Don’t look so nervous, what's the worst that could happen.” 

He could die. 

“I’m not nervous.” You bring the blade down. “It’s going to be hard, but try to keep still.” 

You press the blade into the skin. A groan leaves his mouth, his head presses back into the sofa pillow again. You have to act fast, mopping up the blood as it spills out. You thought you’d cut deep enough but apparently not. You squeeze the skin fleeing for the bullet. It’s still there, it's not moved. You make another incision going deeper. 

You’re through the fat and it must be stuck in the muscle. You reach over for your tweezers, using your other hand to try and isolate it. 

“Christ.” Price says as you dig around. 

“I know, I'm sorry. Slippery thing keeps moving.” You say frowning. You manage to find it reaching for the clamp, if you can keep it still you can cut down to it. 

“Got it.” You say after a few seconds of poking around. Thank god you don’t have to dig much deeper. You take the tweezers and pull it out. “Look.” 

Price looks up, when he sees it he smiles.

“Free souvenir.” Soap says. You reach around dropping it with the tweezers on the coffee table. Now you just need to stitch this up. Easier said than done. 

“How’d you learn to do all this if you’re not a doctor?” Price asks, you're surprised he's talking. He looks more relaxed, you look up, he's squeezing Gaz’s hand. Poor Gaz. 

“I would hang out in the skills labs with the surgical interns when I was at the hospital. My father would be in surgery, my mother working. They would teach me. I used to enjoy it as a kid, playing with fake skin watching them work.” 

“What happened? Why did you move away from medicine?” Gaz asks. “I got bored, wanted to do something other than be stuck in a hospital all my life.” You look up at him, he hasn’t moved. “I saw how hard my parents worked. I didn't want a life like that.” 

“Is smuggling easier?” Price asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No but it's more fun.” You hear Gaz scoff, he drops Price’s hand crossing his arms, he hasn't moved but he hasn't taken his eyes off you either. 

“Ever thought about the army?” Price asks. You laugh, shaking your head. 

“I don’t like being tied down. I’m not into all those rules.” 

“I think you’d do good.” “I think it's all bullshit.” You say trying to not snap. You focus on your stitching, you can’t get it out of your head though. Like the military is so great. 

“Where’s your rescue anyway? I would have thought the UK would be desperate to get 4 SAS out of here.” No one says anything. You look up at Gaz, then over at Price. 

“We’re helping Farah.” Soap says.

“Ah, that makes sense. They’re classed as a terrorist organisation right?” You look over at Price, he nods. You’re almost done, you wipe the blood away reaching over for the scissors. 

“Why do you need to get into Russia if you’re helping Farah?” No one says anything. You sigh, tying off the thread. “I can’t help you if I don’t know why.” 

“I thought you didn’t like to know details.” Ghost says. 

“We need to find Alex first.” Price says. You pull your gloves and mask off bandaging up his wound. 

“If you lost him on the border Konni will have him.” You say as a matter of fact. Standing up and picking up the trash. No one is saying anything, you throw it in the bin. 

“You work for Konni right? Your last job was for them?” Price asks, sitting up on the sofa. 

“Yeah, well, not anymore. Thanks by the way I wasn’t really in the mood to be getting an ear full from Makarov this week.” You stand back up looking round the room. They look different, shocked, all the colour has drained from Price’s face. 

“Makarov?” He asks.

“Yeah. I mean he’s in town for something. Like I said I don’t ask, but whatever it is it’s important. Those people you killed were important.” You look round the room. 

“Holy shit. You’re after Makarov.” You say as a matter of fact. No one says anything. You scoff picking the bag up off the table and throwing it over your shoulder. You shake your head again. “Look I hate to be the bringer of bad news but even if I could get you over the border. There is no way on earth you’re getting into Konni’s compound.” 

“We don’t need to get inside anymore.” Price says. He stands up with a groan, pressing his hand on the side of his stomach. Gaz’s eyes follow him, his hands coming out to support him. You want to tell him to sit down. He needs to rest. 

“You work for whoever pays right? How about a job so big you could retire.” Price says taking an unsteady step towards you. You swallow hard, not sure what he’s about to say. 

“Help us kill Makarov and you can name your price.” He says smiling. You frown at him and shake your head. 

“You’re out of your mind. What can I do?” You drop the bag and throw your hands up. “I’m not an assassin. I don’t kill people for fun.” 

“Yeah, I know that. You’ve had plenty of opportunities to kill us, flee. What stopped you?” He asks, taking another step. You freeze, you’re not sure. You don’t kill in cold blood, you’ve always told yourself that. Self preservation, that's what it is. 

You could have let Ghost die. Let him die in the vets and run back to the border, told Konni about them, they would have been captured but you didn't. Maybe you believed them when they said they could get you out. 

Maybe you trust them. 

“I think you’re better than all this. You want peace in your country, you want the war to end. You need to pick a side to do that.” He reaches behind you, someone passes him something. You don’t turn, you're nervous all of a sudden. Maybe they’re about to kill you. Making you lower your guard so you’re an easier target. 

He brings the object into view. It’s the scalpel, the same one you hid in the bed. 

“I think it’s time you pick a side.” He holds it out for you to take. You could take it from him right now and slit his throat. How did they even find it? Shit. Soap must have seen you. You look up at him, he has a smile on his face. He already knows what you’re going to do. You reach out and take the scalpel.

next

Banners by plum98

[luminni]

Kyle when talking about the rest of the 141

[1simpchunkygirl]

\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/ stuck with me forever XD

Hi! I absolutely love your writing and I've been stalking your page for a while now and I'm really surprised no one requested that one old tik tok trends of S/Os grabbing thier partners feet from under the bed.

PLEASE I NEED TO KNOW THE COD MEN REACTION 😭😭😭😭😭

The way I cackled over this. I love a good prank, especially when there is nothing malicious or nasty behind it. Thank you so much for sending this in!! I had a freaking blast with this. Also, genuinely startled/surprised 141 is just a hilarious concept to me. Enjoy!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, hijinks & shenanigans, pranks, established relationship

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

It’s unfair to do this to John, but he makes it so easy. He falls for every one of your pranks. Speedwalks right into them.

And this one is no exception.

You’ve smushed yourself underneath the bed. It’s possible you won’t be able to get out. But that’s a problem for later. Right now, you’re about to scare John.

“I’m home,” he calls out.

You remain quiet. Distantly, you hear the front door shut, and John’s heavy footfalls.

“Dove. I’m home.”

Still, you remain silent.

John calls your name this time. You do not respond.

“Cabbage?”

This time, you almost snort. John doesn’t call you cabbage unless he’s being sincere.

John appears in the doorway, pausing just outside. He takes one step, and then another. He’s just out of reach, booted feet near but not close enough.

“Car’s out front.”

Another step.

You grin, and grab at his ankles.

“What in the bloody—”

John stumbles back, nearly trips, and then rights himself. You cackle, and John sighs. Wiggling closer to the edge of the bed, you bring your face into the light.

“Welcome home,” you grin.

John shakes his head. “I’m not helping you get out from under there.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

You silently chuckle to yourself, rubbing your hands together like some comic book villain. Johnny is just off the game with Simon, walking around the house looking for you.

“Darling,” he calls out, that Scottish lilt making the pet name even sweeter.

You stay hidden, watching him pass the bedroom not once but twice.

Even from your hiding spot, you can hear him muttering to himself as he searches room to room.

His feet and ankles appear, pausing just inside the doorway before heading straight to the bathroom. He checks there, and then the closet.

As Johnny passes by the bed to leave, you take a swipe at his feet.

“Oi!” he shouts, spinning around.

You wait a beat. He takes a step. Pauses. When he attempts to leave again, you make another pass.

This time Johnny yells, rushing for the door, returning seconds later. Moving to his hands and knees, Johnny looks under the bed—but only at a safe distance.

“You,” he says, smirking. He starts crawling toward you.

“Johnny,” you warn, but it’s too late. He’s reaching under the bed, wrestling you out from under it, peppering you with sloppy kisses that leave smears of salvia behind.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon is fresh up from a nap. He has no idea you’re currently hiding under the bed. But you’ve taken his phone, placed it on the bed as bait, making calls on it to herd him toward your hiding spot.

Simon appears, stopping directly beside the side of the bed. Slowly, you reach out, and then manically flail about, grabbing at his sock-covered feet.

You expect that your actions might surprise him. He might even make a sound, or even swear. What you didn’t expect is to hear your unshakably dreary husband let out a shriek like that of a startled old woman. Pulling your hand back, you cover your mouth, stifling a snort.

“Bloody hell!” he shouts, taking a few steps back.

He pauses a moment, and then gets down onto his knees before flattening himself across the floor.

“Come here,” says Simon, voice eerily calm.

Oh. Oh no.

“I’d rather not,” you reply, knowing that Simon is already brewing up a punishment.

“Come out, love.”

You scoot further away. “Your tone is too neutral, Simon.”

“Everything’s fine.”

“Is it?”

“I’m calm.”

You’re nearly out the other end.

“I’ll chase you,” he smirks.

You make a run for it.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“I’m in here, Kyle,” you call out as you slide yourself beneath the bed.

You wiggle around until you’re hidden, waiting for him to follow your voice. You hear his footfalls before he appears.

“I thought we—” He comes to a stop just inside the door. “Babe?” A pause, and then he says your name. Then, softly, “where are you hiding?”

As he steps into the room, and heads for the bathroom, his feet pass by your hiding spot. This is your only opportunity before he figures out that you’re beneath the bed.

You reach out, just brushing your fingertips against him, then retreat.

“Fucking hell!” he shouts, stumbling backward.

You do it again, and this time he growls your name. Taking a step back, Kyle drops onto his stomach, gaze narrowed as it focuses on you.

“Really?” he asks, deadpan.

“I found it hilarious,” you reply.

Kyle sighs and shakes his head. “Move over.”

“What?”

Shoving himself underneath, Kyle drags himself across the floor until you’re shoulder to shoulder under the bed.

“Bloody filthy down here,” observes Kyle. “Needs a good dusting.” He winks. “Got a spider in your hair, love.”

“I regret this so much,” you whisper.

taglist:

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[wyrmarchives]

Imagine being an American and having a kid with any one of the 141 men; and the baby watches Bluey. Some British/Scottish Australian American mixed accent…

I need someone to write something about this!

[thatidiotsuds]

TASK FORCE 141 x Fem sniper! Reader

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or images used in this work, nor do I claim any rights to them.

Summary: you called Price "Dad"

Word count: 761 Masterlist

Slip Up

The dimly lit room was filled with the faint hum of the overhead lights and the smell of stale coffee. Task Force 141 had gathered around a large, battered table strewn with maps, intel reports, and empty soda cans. The atmosphere was tense but focused; they were preparing for a mission that could change the course of the conflict they were entrenched in.

You sat at the table, your rifle resting against the wall nearby. As the team's best sniper, you had earned your place among the elite soldiers of Task Force 141. Your eyes scanned the maps, absorbing every detail, while your mind raced with strategies and contingencies. Captain John Price, the seasoned leader of the team, stood at the head of the table, pointing out key locations on the map.

“Alright, listen up,” Price said, his voice steady and commanding. “We’re going in hot. Our target is a high-value individual, and we need to take him out before he can mobilize his forces. Ghost, you’ll be on point with me. Soap and (your callsign) will cover us from the ridge.”

You nodded, your focus unwavering. Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, your close friend and secret crush, leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He was always quick to lighten the mood, even in the most serious of situations.

“Just make sure you don’t miss, lass,” he teased, a smirk playing on his lips. “Wouldn’t want to let the old man down.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “I won't miss, Soap. You know that.”

Price continued outlining the plan, his voice steady and authoritative.

“Once we’re in position, we’ll need to coordinate our movements. Communication is key. You’ll have the best vantage point. Just keep your head down and stay vigilant.”

“Sure thing, Dad. We can handle it,” you blurted out before you realized what you had said.

The room fell silent. Time seemed to freeze as everyone turned to look at you, wide-eyed. The tension that had filled the air moments before was replaced by a wave of laughter. Soap was the first to break the silence, his laughter ringing out like a bell.

“Did you just call him ‘Dad’?” he howled, clutching his stomach as he doubled over in laughter.

Price raised an eyebrow, a tint of red creeping onto his cheeks as a smirk formed on his face. “Well, I suppose I do have that fatherly look,” he quipped, crossing his arms with a mock-serious expression.

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, your heart racing. “I didn’t mean to! It just slipped out!” you protested, trying to maintain your composure.

Ghost leaned back in his chair, a rare smile breaking through his usually stoic demeanor. “Looks like we’ve found a new nickname for the Captain,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement.

Gaz nods "she's getting too comfy"

Johnny, however, wasn’t ready to let it go. “Oh, this is gold! ‘Dad’ is gonna be your new call sign. Just wait until we’re out in the field,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You shot him a playful glare, but deep down, you couldn’t help but laugh along with the rest of the team. The camaraderie you shared was what made Task Force 141 feel like family, even if it meant enduring a little teasing.

As the laughter subsided, Price cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the meeting. “Alright, enough of that. We have a mission to prepare for. (Your callsign), just remember to keep your head in the game. No more slip-ups, understood?”

You nodded, seriousness returning as you focused on the task at hand, a smile still lingering on your lips. “Understood, Captain. No more ‘Dad’ moments.”

The team resumed their planning, but Johnny kept shooting you playful glances, a grin plastered on his face. You could feel the warmth of his gaze, and despite the embarrassment, you found comfort in the lightheartedness he brought to the situation.

As the mission drew closer, you felt a mix of excitement and nerves. You were ready to prove yourself once again, but you also knew that no matter what happened, you had a team that had your back—and someone who would never let you live down that one little slip of the tongue.

[noctxj]

the reaper | part iv

as far back as human memory can recall, the origin of flower marks remains unknown. if perhaps they came during or after the birth of humanity, or are benevolent gifts from the gods to aid ones navigation in life— milestones to remember and learn from, a north point on a compass lest you stray from your path. regardless, they have always been. and while flower marks remain an important aspect of ones journey, there is none other more significant than the soul flower mark. wherein the moment someone is born, this mark blooms above ones heart, as it is considered a pure reflection of who that person is and will be.

part i / part ii / part iii / part iv / part v

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

the freezing siberian cold, a bullet still lodged in her person, and now indirect orders to head into enemy fire for the relief of evac on the other side, with the (useless) konni soldiers 7 minutes out from their location. 

ugh

the reaper had dealt with a lot worse with a whole lot less, however, that didn't mean she couldn't feel annoyed at the hard deviation her handler so graciously handed her—

silence.

the shooting had stopped.

perfect.

they must be spreading out to try and search for her, now that their prisoner had finally bled out. in their eyes, capturing the shooter would be the next best thing for a failed op. as much as she’d find it amusing to tango with the notorious taskforce, the reaper was no fool; her energy reserves were running low already with blood loss. 

taskforce 141 and their close associates were no average soldiers. not just a bunch of meatheads from the dossiers she’d memorised of each operative, each lethal in their own respects. and then there was commander farah karim, a far more resolute and clever individual her enemies failed to give her credit for. but alas, war is war. and the reaper knew she was capable of handling any of them.

as if sensing what was to come next, the now absent burning of a new rhododendron returned. albeit as a warm thrumming sensation; no new flowers to add, rather it was in anticipation of how it earned its place on flora’s skin. or as her teachers liked to call them, “reassurances” that this is what she was born to do. 

time to move—

combat suit partially blending into the stark whiteness of the snow, save for the deep crimson staining the lower half of her suit. the reaper opted to handle one of her well-used karambit blades, the handles’ ring fitted reassuringly around her pointer finger, the steel blade reflecting the blinding white surroundings; a weapon superior in close combat.

stealthily creeping through the increasingly denser landscape of trees, the reaper kept a crouched position, as the the unforgiving wind whistled through the trees and over her (tired) body. the reapers steady breathes filtered out in faint white puffs through the hard cover of her face mask.

another step—

and then the reaper was but a handful of feet away from the commander herself, comically paralleled crouches. both of their heads snapping to one another at the same time, the commander also seemingly sharing her wild disbelief from the widening of her dark eyes. only for them to steel over and swivel her guns’ aim at the reaper, yelling into her mic—

"!!—ON ME! HOSTILE IS—"

now that wouldn’t do~

the reaper immediately ducked out of the commanders range of fire as she took a shot that flew by the reapers shoulder.

close—

the commanders brows scrunching in determination—

not close enough though—

the reaper using the downward momentum of her dodge to sweep the commanders legs right from under her; abruptly landing flat on her back in a flurry of snow, a grunt escaping the commanders clenched teeth as her gun now laid a little more than an arms length away. only for the reaper to continue pushing forwards in a violent thrust, the blade in her hand arcing through the air, aimed towards the commander’s exposed throat—

— only to stop short less than a centimetre away. the woman's gasping breaths the only sound ringing in the otherwise frigid air.

plumes of lilies of the valley trickled from the direction of her left collarbone, up towards the underside of her jaw. a lifetime of pain and suffering, so much of it—

just like little flora.

"... you're not the target."

passed the reaper's usually still lips, the mask deepening her usually soft voice. but the meaning of her words were still understood if the confused and disbelieving expression of the commander’s face were anything to go by.

as if sensing the change, the reaper felt her own tapestry of pain thrum louder over the now hushed state of the rhododendrons.

... she does not deserve any more pain

no longer moving, the reaper was now able to register the renewed pain her injury was screaming at her; that moving too fast and too much out of her already limited range was definitely not optimal.

... but the commander is still a threat

just as quickly as her injury reminded her of her limitations, the reaper flipped the blades handle in one smooth move and butted the end against the commander’s temple; her eyes fluttering shut and the tension of her body immediately disappearing. the reapers eyes drawn back to the overtly familiar flower mark decorating the commanders throat; and then unbeknown to her own reasoning, flora gently covered the commanders exposed throat (flower marks) with her loosely tied neck scarf. 

the distant crunching of snow under multiple pairs of heavy boots in multiple directions broke the reaper out of her thoughts, the world snapping back into sharp focus. the taskforce heard the commanders yell through their comms and were closing in on her— the reapers location, and fast—

“Сосед по сбору, вы некоторое время не перемещались со своего места.” (“compound to reaper, you have not moved from your location in some time.”)

the fucking patience—

“преследование вражескими силами, конец.” (“multiple hostiles in close proximity, over.”)

they didn’t need to know the reaper had gotten distracted on the field. 

slightly swaying to her feet from her kneeled position, her eyes still locked on the commanders relaxed face, the reaper willed her focus back onto the present; the thrumming of rhododendrons surpassing the lilies’ cries of (familiar) agony—

it was too quiet—

the reaper closing her eyes and inhaling a deep breath of cold air through her concealed nose—

they’re here—

.

.

*crunch*

—only for the reaper to release the expanse of cold through the hard mask covering her mouth, her body twisting a perfect 180 degrees to face the bearlike form charging at her—no weapons in his hands, with the intent to knock her down to the ground and immobilise the reaper with sheer force. which would have been quite effective, given the reapers current (bleeding out) state, however—

you’re too loud captain—

and by the surprised look on his face as the reapers’ marble-sized smoke bombs connected to the center of his dense tactical vest, he figured it out a second too late as well.

*BANG*

        *BANG*

   *BANG*

The sharp cracking of the bombs’ shell shattering immediately followed by thick silver plumes of smoke covering the captains entire front and line of sight; momentarily stunning the captain— 

until he continued charging forward, albeit with less coordination.

not bad—

a flicker of intrigue passing the reapers mind, as most recipients of the reapers’ petite smoke bombs succumbed to disorientation and coughing fits, thus a perfect opening to strike.

although, captain john price isn’t like many other captains after all…

but just as fast as the intrigue came, it was immediately replaced with the reaper ducking onto the ground to deliver two swift round kicks to the captains jaw, finally collpasing to his knees in a disgruntled mass of surprise and anger:

“what in the bloody hells—“

the reaper securing the glock in her right thigh holster into her hand, intent to eliminate the captain of taskforce 141; good news for her handlers allies if what her eavesdropping of their whining was anything to by.

only failing to move out of the way of the mountainous mass with skeletal features barreling directly towards her. one large hand entirely encompassing the hand holding the glock, roughly rearing it towards the ground, away from serious harm, squeezing it into submission as the reaper felt the delicate bones in her hand and wrist creak in protest—

but the reaper knew better than to drop her weapon - least of all within close proximity of lieutenant simon riley, the infamous ghost.

and by the increasingly livid —and disbelieving— look in his dark eyes, ghost also figured out the reapers (stubborn) resolution.

so the lieutenant grabbed the reaper by her tactical belt with his other hand, lifted until they were almost eye level, and threw her against a tree several feet away. far out of reach of the captain and the commander— the latter being attended to by one of the sergeants..? with another blurred figure running to the ghost and reaper, gun at the ready, the reaper observed from her jilted sight.

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

“.” (“again.”)

“.” (“weak.”)

“.” (“disappointing.”)

“.” (“doctor, increase the—“)

“.” (“needs to be better—“)

“.” (“the expectations—“)

“.” (“you are nothing—“)

“.” (“the reaper—“)

“.” (“you are the reaper.”)

“.” (“it is your fate.”)

“.” (“no one can love death.”)

“.” (“you’ll never be loved.”) 

flora broke.

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

they’ve all come out into the open—

a sharp exhale of air escaping the reaper as she roughly landed in a flurry of snow at the base of the tree, the bullet wound yowling in protest. however, a weak pulse from the lilies of the valley at home on her skin whispered that this kind of pain is easy, and that it was not the current objective.

quickly crouching onto one knee, hands loosely curled by her sides, the reaper peered up at the skull masked solider.

“that was a mistake lieutenant.” she murmured softly.

the tensing of the lieutenants shoulders almost impercible at the reapers voice, her words — a grunt of disagreement cutting through the cold air from the armed sergeant with the bright glacial eyes— johnny mctavish… or just “soap”.

“i dun’ think lt makes mistakes—“

the ghosts’ bottomless eyes darkening into bleak anger as the familiar glint of one of his knives makes itself known within the reapers (semi-uncrushed) hand. lifting his gun to aim at her a millisecond too late as the reaper deftly flicked the knife at the sergeant - lodging straight into his thigh.

the scotsman reactively staggering back and releasing the grip on his own gun in pain and surprise. this, combined with the wavering of ghosts own weapon as he lost against the temptation to check on the sergeant, who was now on one knee hissing in pain.

another mistake—

the reaper lunged forward despite the pain blanketing her limbs, grabbing ahold of the lieutenants outstretched hand to use as an anchor to slam her boot behind his knee, quickly followed up by a knee to the face. an outraged growl resounding through the now soaked balaclava and slightly crimson stained skull faceplate.

“you wily little—“

“ghost, move!!”

*crack!*

a split second and then a bullet lodged itself into the frame of the reapers’ tactical goggles. head unwittingly snapping to the right, allowing ghost enough leeway to slam his stained faceplate onto her goggles. sending the reaper sprawling back a few metres, her vision fragmented from the goggles’ now cracked lenses—

*crack!*

         *crack!*

— along with the shattered frame digging into one of her cheekbones from the vicious slam of the skull face plate.  

how annoying.

the reaper swiftly reorienting themselves into a crouch whilst ripping the goggles off her now bleeding face with aching fingers. the world around them almost blinding them with the brightness of the snow and pale sky.

ah yes, sergeant kyle garrick if i remember correctly… 

pretty.

despite the cold anger twisting his features into a snarl, as well as the gun still aimed at the reaper. blood now slowly trickling down their cheek and onto the still secured bottom half of their face mask. 

“now put your hands up where i can see them.”

“zhnets, otchet.” (“reaper, report.”)

perfect timing as always.

“don’t make me repeat myself.” sergeant garrick continued.

the reaper acquiesces, ignoring the screaming pain now rippling across their abdomen while slowly raising their hands above their head.

“соединение с жнецом, отчет.” (“compound to reaper, report.”)

a beat as the reaper maintained eye contact with the dark eyed sergeant.

“.. ghost, hows soap?” gaz —  the reaper further recalled, asked without breaking eye contact or lowering his gun. 

“alive—“ grunted the lieutenant as he was now by the scotsman’s side; in the process of stemming the flow of trickling blood.

“am still conscious y’know, ye coulda asked me—” piped up the scotsman who had a somewhat offended expression, his attention now focused on the reaper with their raised hands— and the patch of blood pooling beneath them.

“—little lass o’er their don’t seem to be lookin’ too good though.”

the smoke now cleared of his system, the captain redirected his attention to the reaper. his calculating gaze minutely taking in her still open wounds with a cock of his head.

… did that idiot soldier just call me short of all things?

it wasn’t the worst thing they had been called. however, the reaper didn’t know whether to be relieved or offended and aim to stab him in the other leg so it could match—

all of a sudden, a flurry of bullets flew from behind the reaper; immediately dropping down on to her front with a pained grunt to crawl to cover and away from the taskforce now also huddling behind cover of their own. 

“Отряды 5 и 6 вышли на связь с вашей позицией, жнец. oтчет о состоянии, сейчас.” (“units 5 and 6 have made contact with your position, reaper. status report, now.”)

took them long enough.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

tric’s notes

sorry it ended a bit abruptly, but it started to get a bit? too long. but also hello! im backk (dw this series is not discontinued)

this chapter focuses more on the meeting rather than the flower aspect so much. the meeting can be summarised as: first= price getting his ass handed to him, and then second= the rest of the lads (except gaz bc he smort) getting fucking decked. we love a strong woman in this house yehaw

feedback and comments always appreciated ♡︎

crossposted on ao3 (same username)

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 22 - (Predicament) Bondage

Poly 141 - 3.3k

summary: Price and Ghost have some fun while Johnny and Gaz are tied up. (Ghost POV)

cw: dom!price, dom!ghost, sub!gaz, sub!soap, predicament bondage (posture collar, one-bar prison, nipple & clit clamps), anal sex, trans ftm soap, trans ftm gaz, brief choking

note: this has a bit of ghostgaz, but almost all of it is ghostsoap with pricegaz fucking in the background. i tried to make it seem more like they were all interacting, but idk how i did lol

“You’ve truly outdone yourself this time, Captain,” Ghost says, eyebrows arched high as he runs a hand across his jaw.

Price has got Gaz and Soap set up in quite the predicament bondage, both of them looking oh so vulnerable and needy. They make quite the sight beside each other, pretty little things all tied up for he and Price to use to their heart’s content.

They’re in a complicated setup, both of them mirroring the other perfectly. Gaz’s head is held high, a collar with a leash attached to one of the hooks in the ceiling keeping him standing tall and proud, not able to dip his chin too low without choking himself. He’s stuck on his toes, a one-bar-prison impaling his cunt with what must be a sizable dildo considering Ghost can already see a bit of a bulge in his stomach and he’s not even close to flat-footed. He’s got a ring gag in, drool soaking his chin. His arms are folded behind him, locked with one forearm on top of the other in an arm binder.

Soap’s posed in an identical way - head held high, one bar prison, locked arms, up on his toes. The only difference is the gag, which for Soap is a rubber bone on the smaller side that still allows his little whimpers and whines to slip through. He’s far more wiggly than Kyle, trying to rock further up on his toes to find a more comfortable position, swaying from side to side and moving his head about to find what positions will and won’t choke him.

The two of them are connected by three chains - one from each nipple, Kyle’s left to Johnny’s right, and Kyle’s right to Johnny’s left. The chains attach to mean looking clamps with metal teeth, and they’re just short enough for there to be a constant tug on the clamps and no real way for them to relieve the pressure. It leaves them in an almost half-bowing position, trying to force slack into the chains while staying on balance, not impaling themselves further, and standing straight enough not to choke themselves.

The other chain is pulled taut where it connects from clit to clit, a matching pair of rubber-toothed clamps on each of the little nubs. Every inch that one of them sinks down, the other’s clit gets tugged down too. It leaves them in a constant state of writhing in pleasure, only to jerk more in pain. One slips down and the other yelps, one moves up and the other whines. It’s a twisted sort of dance that leaves both Kyle and Johnny panting and flushed, unable to stay still no matter how much they try. It leaves them forced to make a delicious choice between choking themselves, tugging on their clits, or sitting fully on the cocks halfway in their cunts.

The pose also leaves them both presenting their asses very nicely, backs arched and positions unbalanced with their arms made useless. The way their legs are spread leaves their back holes visible - even from the doorway Ghost can see a little jewel glittering between Kyle’s cheeks and a brown tail hanging between Johnny’s thighs.

“Took a bit of work,” Price replies, taking a long puff of his cigar and running his eyes over the squirming boys. Johnny rocks a little too far to the left, gets a loud shout of complaint from Gaz and a glare. “You’d think I’d sliced their little dicks right off the way they howled at the clamps.”

Ghost chuckles and steps up to the display, runs his hand slowly from the nape of Gaz’s neck to his ass. The tension in his back makes his muscles quiver, and Simon can’t resist grabbing him by the hip and forcing him down a few more inches. Kyle and Johnny both yelp at that, Johnny whining as he lets himself sink down too, and Gaz glares at Ghost when he steps to the side of them.

“Aw,” Ghost smirks and lifts a hand up to Gaz’s chin, wipes away a bit of the spit and gives him a harsh tap to his cheek. “Don’t like feeling so full?”

A harsh exhale through the nose and one sharp shake of the head.

Ghost mimics Kyle back, shakes his head slowly with an exaggerated pout. “No? Size queen like you doesn’t like a nice big cock in his cunt?”

A whine this time, a jerky nod instead. From his peripheral Ghost sees Price walk up behind Soap. He doesn’t look over, keeps his attention solely on Gaz so the boy doesn’t get distracted.

“You want more, then?”

Poor thing’s eyes are a little glazed, a little furrow between his brows telegraphing his confusion. He takes a nice deep breath through his nose, exhales heavily and glares at Ghost with slightly clearer eyes.

He only laughs, gives him another tap to the cheek. “You know you’ll take it all by the end of the night, will probably be whining and moaning for more when it doesn’t fill you up the whole way.”

Ghost ignores Gaz’s pouty expression, trades places with Price and sets himself behind Soap. He’s flushed all the way down his spine, his thighs quivering from the effort it takes to keep him up on his toes. The little tail sways a bit between his legs from all his twitching and shifting, and he can’t resist the urge to give it a little tug. Gets Johnny whining and leaning back, then Gaz making a little complaining noise.

“Look at you,” he hears Price murmur, and a moment later Johnny and Kyle both jolt forward with matching pained noises. Ghost glances down and sees that Price’s pointer finger rests in the middle of the lower chain, pushing down and forcing both of the boys further down their respective dildos to try and alleviate the pressure. They both let out upset noises, Johnny’s head jerking back and forth while Kyle’s drops as low as it can, stomach heaving when he takes a deep breath in.

Ghost runs a hand from Johnny’s shoulder down to his ribs, letting himself explore all the skin available to him while Price plays around with tugging the chain up. Both boys jerk further up on their toes in sync, and Ghost can’t help but laugh at their twin moans.

“Like little synchronized swimmers,” Price murmurs, pushing down again and using his free hand to push the nipple chains back and forth in the air. Again, Johnny and Kyle jerk down in sync and groan at the stretch.

“Synchronized sluts, more like,” Ghost grunts, pulling away from Johnny’s sweat-slick body just long enough to undo his belt and let his pants fall to his ankles, tugs his briefs so they rest behind his balls and he can set his rapidly hardening cock along the arch of Johnny’s back.  Price takes a final puff of his cigar before stepping away for a moment to put it out, then takes off his own belt and pants as he stands behind Gaz. 

Price groans, shoots Ghost an affectionate glare. “That was terrible, even for you, Simon.”

Soap - the little whore - grunts his agreement and jerks his head in a nod. Ghost scowls, lands a bruising blow to his ass and forces him down another inch or so by the hip. That gets him a squeal from both Johnny and Kyle, and a glare from the latter. Ghost smirks at him a little, reaches around the front of Soap’s body to flick the chain connecting their clits. This time Kyle’s eyes roll back in pleasure. Much better.

Ghost turns his attention down to Johnny’s ass, the little hole he’ll be fucking. The plug doesn’t look very large, probably just wide enough to stretch him out but not so wide that he’ll be loose for Simon. He can’t resist the urge to bat the tail back and forth, smirks a little when Johnny shivers at the brush of fur against his thighs.

“Wag your tail for me, Johnny,” he rumbles, rubbing little circles against his hips with his thumbs. Johnny grunts, shakes his head and tries to glance over his shoulder before he realizes he’s choking himself and gives up.

Ghost scowls, firms his grip on Johnny’s hips and forces him down, back up, down, back up, several times. The motion doesn’t wag the tail as effectively as moving from side to side would have, but it does the job.

It also gets both of the little toys screaming, the sudden jerking at their clits probably a horrible pain. Ghost nearly laughs at Gaz’s facial expression, gives Johnny a few extra thrusts just for the fun of it.

He stops when Johnny’s noises shift from whimpers to sharp little yelps, almost barks. As soon as he stops his thrusting motion Johnny sways a little from left to right, just enough for the chains not to tug very much, but still makes the tail swing between his thighs enough to satisfy Ghost.

“Good boy,” Ghost rumbles approvingly, running a hand from Johnny’s mohawk down to his ass. “Look at you, so happy to be stuck on a cock, huh pup?”

Johnny knows better than to ignore him, gives a sharp noise and then nods his head as much as he can.

It’s easy to slip the plug out, Johnny’s rim giving it up without any fuss. Ghost stretches to set it on a table, then gets back to appreciating Johnny’s ass, groping it a bit and spreading his cheeks wide.

It really is lovely, fat and tense and split on a cock. His cunt is spread wide, slick dripping down his thighs and the toy inside him, his little back hole winking at Ghost. It’s easy to sink his thumb in, pull to the side to get him gaping a little more. With the way he’s tied, Johnny can’t do anything but stand there and take whatever Ghost decides to give - either that or yank on his little clit until he’s screaming.

He doesn’t bother to stretch him out anymore, just rubs his cock up and down Soap’s ass crack to coat himself in the mix of slick and lube, then notches his head right in Johnny’s hole.

He hooks his chin over Johnny’s shoulder and keeps his hands tight on his hips as he slowly sinks in, feels Johnny moaning and tensing every muscle to keep from moving, watches as Gaz’s eyes roll back in his head from whatever it is Price is doing knelt down behind him. He jerks down in a quick thrust, has Johnny trying to overcorrect and both of them moaning when the chains pull.

Ghost can’t help but laugh a little as he sinks himself balls deep, reaches up to grasp both of the upper chains in one hand and yanks down with enough force that the clamps nearly come off their tits. It gets both of the boys screaming, Johnny tightening up so much that Ghost isn’t even sure he can pull out.

“Doesn’t get old, does it?” Price grunts, leaning just far enough to the side of Gaz to shoot Simon an amused look.

“No, it doesn’t,” he replies, tucking his nose into Johnny’s throat and giving a few shallow thrusts. Johnny moans again, the sound vibrating through his skin to Ghost’s lips, and he goes a little looser in his hold, leans a little more of his weight into Simon’s hands and the leash holding his head up.

Ghost leans back just enough to glance down and watch as he pulls out, Johnny’s hole spread obscenly wide around him. He plants his forehead on Johnny’s arched back, gives him a few thrusts and just watches the way his body accepts Ghost’s cock so easily. It’s almost mesmerizing, the slow glide of skin, the way his hole doesn’t fight the intrusion at all. If he could, Ghost would spend days just like this - slowly fucking in and out of a bound Johnny, enjoying the view. 

The loud moan from Soap reminds him that he’s very much not a doll, and will probably pout about not being treated fairly for days after he’s untied. The thought doesn’t bother Ghost as much as it might’ve with past partners - Johnny’s always needy and clingy when he’s feeling wronged. 

Still, having him bound and gag means Ghost doesn’t treat him as a partner. Right now, Johnny is just a whining thing for him to fuck. Ghost will let him come, but only if it feels good for him. Otherwise Johnny will stay right on edge, clenched up nice and tight with his cunt drooling.

Ghost lets his hand dip down Soap’s abs at the thought, spreads his pussy lips wide with his fingers to soak them in his juices. It makes Johnny feel vulnerable, which sets him shifting on his legs again - just enough to tug on the chains, if the nasty look and noise from Gaz are any indication.

Price has stood from where he was, and they’ve been together enough times at this point for Ghost to recoginze on both Gaz and Price’s faces that their Captain is spreading Kyle out for his fucking. He always likes them loose, Ghost wouldn’t be shocked if he tries to fit his entire fist up there.

He smirks at the thought as he fucks into Johnny a little more harshly. Gaz would make a nice puppet.

Apparently that’s not the road Price is going down tonight, because he wraps both of his hands around Kyle’s hips and clearly slides his cock inside the other man, if Gaz’s face is anything to go by.

There are a few moments of push and pull, where Price thrusts in on Ghost’s thrusts out, leaving the Gaz and Soap rocking back and forth with constant little tugs on the chains, slowly impaling themselves more and more as their legs go weaker.

As Johnny gets closer to the edge he gets more wiggly, like he’s trying to rub his dick on something that doesn’t exist so he can get off. The thought of Soap truly just being a toy for his pleasure, just a hole to fuck that doesn’t even have the privilege of an orgasm, has Ghost groaning out loud and thrusting just a bit harder. The change in pace has Johnny groaning, shifting around even more.

Ghost plants both of his hands on Johnny’s shoulders and pushes down, forces him to nearly choke himself with the collar and leash. He goes tense immediately, and every muscle in his body clamps up tight - Ghost throws his head back and moans, pumps his hips as much as he can and relishes in how much effort it takes to even pull out.

“Fuck, you feel good like this, Johnny,” Ghost moans, makes the noise as pleasure-filled as possible. “Nice and tight when you can’t breathe, huh? Might keep you like this ‘til I finish.”

There’s a little panicked, choking noise at that, and Johnny desperately tries to shake his head even with the tension in his leash.

“Yeah,” Ghost groans, settling back a bit. He shifts one hand to Johnny’s nape to hold him down, the other to his arms for a good grip. “You’re a little too loose when you can breathe Johnny.”

A grunt from Price as Simon starts to truly pound into Soap. “That’s what he gets for being a slut.”

Ghost barks out a laugh at that, jerks Johnny to the side by his neck and relishes Gaz’s squeal when both of their bodies sway. “Hear that, Johnny? Captain thinks you’re too used up to enjoy.”

“Now, I didn’t say that.” Price’s breathing is heavier, even at the slower pace he’s fucking Gaz with.

“Sorry, sorry. Captain thinks you’ve taken too many cocks to be worth fuckin’ when you’re not choking, that better?”

Another laugh, lower. “Sure, that works.”

There’s a loud whine from Soap at the words, and he spasms a bit in his binds. Ghost lets go of his neck, helps haul him up a bit and continues his fucking to the chorus of Johnny’s heaving breaths through his nose. 

He mocks a disappointed groan, slows his thrusts down to put more force behind each one. “See, Johnny? I let you get a breath in and you go all loose on me again.” He slips the hand on Johnny’s arms down to his crack, strokes the stretched hole and puts just enough pressure to make Johnny think he’s about to push in a finger alongside his cock.

It has the intended effect, sending Johnny jolting as far away as he can. He can’t get much distance, impaled and tied as he is, but it yanks on every chain he’s got tied to him - his leash and all three chains connected to the front of his body. He nearly screams around his bone at  the pain, and over his shoulder Ghost can see Kyle’s eyes roll entirely into the back of his head. Price just barely manages to catch him by the throat, holding him up so he doesn’t choke while continuing to fuck him at a slow and steady pace.

“There ya go,” Ghost praises, worming his fingertip all around Johnny’s hole to keep him nervous. “Nice and tight again, like a good cunt should be. Well, a good ass right now, seeing as I’ve got no need for your cunt.”

Johnny whines a little, a high noise that makes him sound just like the needy thing he’s been reduced to. He can’t seem to choose between going limp and struggling, his body switching between the two every few seconds. It leaves him panting and wide-eyed, and both he and Gaz whining and whimpering at what must be constant pain in their little dicks.

“God, you feel so good with both your holes stuffed, boy,” Price moans. He’s a little red in the face, clearly fucked out and barely holding back his orgasm. He slides a hand to the front of Gaz’s body, pinches the clit clamp and moves it back and forth to mimic stroking the bundle of nerves.

Gaz nearly yowls, back arching as much as it can in this position, and abruptly dropping to the heels of his feet. He goes even louder if that’s possible, but his voice is almost drowned out by Johnny’s when the clamp almost goes flying off for him, and he’s forced to his heels just to alleviate the sting.

He nearly chokes Ghost’s cock, and the way he moans and writhes is a dead giveaway to his own orgasm. Ghost copies Price and shifts the clamp over his clit back and forth, forcing Johnny’s body to milk his cock as he starts to finally come deep inside the man. 

The room is filled with a symphony of noises - muffled and clear - as all four of them seem to finish at once. Ghost wishes he could open his eyes enough to see Price and Gaz’s faces, would love to lean forward and watch Johnny lose his mind, but the hot vice around his cock is far too pleasurable for him to put effort into anything but the tiny thrusts he gives to keep the stimulation going.

He lets his head fall to Johnny’s shoulder eventually, one of his hands lifting to cup his bound arms. The only sound he can hear is his own heartbeat and uneven pants, and he lets himself sink into the afterglow. Johnny whines a little, shifts on his feet and winces

“Alright,” Price huffs, the clink of his belt loud in the otherwise-quiet room. “You’re gettin’ them down from there since I set them up. I’ll be in the living room with blankets and water bottles.”

Ghost smiles against Johnny’s skin when he hears the old man lumber off, then gets to work easing their boys down for a few long hours of aftercare.

[leyavo]

Can you please do tf141 with a reader who is a medic and soldier:3?thank you

Hey, you're my first request :]

TF141 x Medic/soldier!reader [masterlist]

The soldier medic programme you'd signed up for years ago, lead you to task force 141. It took the guys a while to warm up to you, but you knew it was normal.

Medics in the field were hard to come by, most only did a few years so that they could jump up a pay band and work the bigger bases. There had been six others before you, Price had made it clear that if you stuck around for more than four years that you'd win over the guys.

You were now in your fifth year, one of the team. The gruelling hours under the scorching sun didn't bother you so much now, the heavy pack digging into your shoulders did though. Every now and then Soap would place his hand under the bag and lift the weight, giving you a moment of rest.

Price's gaze flitted to you, shrugging his own pack off and dumping it on the ground. He stopped in the shade of an abandoned house, nudging his head for Ghost to enter the open door. Soap trailed behind him, the weight of your bag dragging you back as soon as he dropped it.

Red stained your fingers and snaked down your knuckles, you eyed the bandage wrapped around Gaz's bicep. The white gauze tinged pink as he leant against the wall. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead, but he managed to smile back at you, knowing that you were checking him over.

"All clear."

You followed Price through the entrance, hovering close to Gaz in case he needed any help. The inside didn't look much better than the exterior, the crumbling concrete floor littered with earth and rubble. A birds nest blocked the chimney, feathers and sticks piled up in the hearth.

It would do for now, the perfect place to rest up and move on in a couple hours. You peeled the gauze from Gaz's arm, cleaning the wound with trembling hands.

The long hours were beginning to catch up with you and the guys, but they easily fell into their roles. Price was sitting on the ground near the front door, gun resting on his lap and finger close to the trigger. Soap leant against the wall, his gaze on the grimy window and the rustling long grass in the distance.

Gaz’s hand found yours and he gave it reassuring squeeze. “Thanks Harley."

Your call name stuck from the moment you pulled up on base riding a motorbike. It followed you through whatever unit you joined, but the way the 141 called it, made you like the sound of it.

There wasn’t much you were good at, no defining moment that earned you a call sign. You counted yourself lucky though, least you weren’t stuck with one you hated.

Closing your pack, you walked into the other room. Ghost didn’t acknowledge your presence as you enter, his head turned to the half boarded up window.

You tried the water from the kitchen sink, but it whined in protest. It’s always worth a try, the first thing you looked for to clean up after caring for others. You glanced down at your shaking hands, red coating your palms.

The flask at your hip is half empty as you twisted the lid and dumped the warm water over one hand. There’s not quite enough to wash both, but you rubbed them together. Smearing the blood, it’s not as thick or dark now against your skin.

It’s still there though. You gripped the edge of the sink, the porcelain cool under your touch.

You released a deep breath, a twinge of pain shooting across your shoulder blades.

“Here.” Ghost wasn’t one to talk too much, but he acted on things when it counted. Most people didn’t want to be too familiar with their medic, some sort of omen to be in their orbit for too long.

You turned to face him, his gloved hand tilting your chin as a damp cloth swiped your jawline. The pad of his fingers prodded the faded bruise on your cheek, he held your face though scrubbing the dried blood you’d wiped there.

There wasn’t much gentleness when it came to Ghost, but you knew that he was trying. Knew that you needed to be looked after for once.

So you let him.

Thanks for requesting :] hope you like - Leya

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

naps to lovers?

price is an accident, you fall asleep watching a movie with him after he cradles you in his bed. plops down with you to do some paperwork and he's out, too. you wake up cuddled into his chest and pretend not to notice his boner.

next it's johnny. you're both exhausted from sparring and workouts. instead of showering, he pulls you to his bed and tells you to wait for him before you get in. by the time you want up, the sheets are crusted with sweat and soap is on top of you, crushing you to the mattress.

after that, it's both johnny and kyle. smooshed between them after a long hard mission, it's hard not to appreciate two nice pillows. simon has the picture of you three asleep on each other.

kyle finds you in the mess hall after, pulling you to your room with the promise of takeout and uninterrupted rest.

simon is standoffish at first, but eventually offers himself up as a weighted blanket for you after being reprimanded by another force's captain (don't worry, price and gaz are handling it). he lets you hold him close while stroking your hair and face until you drift off. he frequents in odd hours with you (when he knows your alone or stacked up with another one of the boys).

you don't mean for it to, but it becomes much more regular. price pulling you into his lap during late night briefings, soap's head in your lap, and kyle following you back to your room. they get so much more casually affectionate- hands on you at all times, forehead kisses, and sweet words. they begin to take you out together after missions and on off days to movies and shopping (they love dressing you up).

this all builds up to a random friday where they bring you to a house about 30 minutes from base. lately, they'd all been a bit more secretive and making investments "for the wellbeing of the team" like price's new truck that could seat 7. the house has all five of yours stuff in it (ash trays, half finished sketches, sewing kits, kyle's hat on the table). you see some of your missing clothes in one of the big dressers half-opened drawers.

it shouldn't be a surprise to you then when you walk in the bedroom and there's a california king. you really should have expected it, hen, they've been courting you for months!

yeah, johnny's naked on the bed, so what?

[writersdrug]

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish is the kind of dad who throws your kids around for fun, tossing them into the air and catching them just to hear their infectious laughter, ignoring the worrisome protests that you call out from the kitchen when they get a little too high.

Captain John Price is the kind of dad who convinces your children to ask you for pizza for dinner, acting all surprised when you tell him to call the local pizza place, eyebrows rising with "What's the occasion?" despite the obvious grin that his plan worked. You aren't fooled.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is the kind of dad who chases your kids around with a nerf gun, relentlessly pelting them with styrofoam bullets and ganging up on your oldest son with your youngest daughter. Waits behind the front door for your son to get home from school and immediately fires on him.

Simon "Ghost" Riley is the kind of dad who holds your toddlers like footballs, your daughter tucked sideways under his arm and dangling your son by his ankle. "Found these mice sniffin' 'round the cookie tin." He says with a deadpan expression, but you don't miss the way his mouth twitches when they giggle and shriek.