#made me think about how gaz is still figuring out the soldier he wants to be in mw

[mikichko]

The thing about Fuerzas Especiales (Mexican Special Forces) is that you know not to be wary of the masked men. It's the ones whose faces are bare and out for the world to see that have you cautious. The ones who truly have no tether and absolutely nothing holding them back.

So when you meet the 141 you’re not worried about Ghost. You’ve handled men like him before. Maybe not to this degree or stature, but close enough.

It’s Gaz who makes you pause. Stopping mid-step before you regain your composure and properly out-stretch your hand to shake his.

You've seen that look in his eyes before. Not on him, but your comrades. The few men who teeter on the edge, desperately trying to figure out if they'll be rule breakers or enforcers. If they'll be a blind executioner or if they'll learn to judge too. All while the battle rages on, chipping at their resolve. Soon enough, they'll show if they're truly as morally righteous as they think themselves to be. Those men, they're the ones that worry you.

You know how masked men will act. Understand that they'll carry themselves differently and act differently because of the anonymity and detachment that their masks provide. Especially from the unspeakable acts they carry out.

But people like him? Who show themselves bare? Owning the savage actions they commit, regardless of the way they teeter? Yeah, men like Kyle Garrick terrify you.

[callofdudes]

Can have funny Headcannons for Ghost, Gaz, Alejandro, and Soaps see their s/o who came back from long mission and they are cover in dirt and mud with very grumpy expression walking pass and saying: “Don’t. Ask. Or Say. Any. Thing.”

Here ya go! 😄

Ghost 💀

Ghost hadn't seen you for a whole month. Your mission was supposed to only have lasted a few weeks, but you were being held up longer than expected and he wasn't getting told why.

Honestly he was a bit worried for you, not having much information on your whereabouts.

Plus this was your first solo mission, it made him even more worried.

He felt relief, utter relief when he was addressed down to the landing strip a couple yards from base. You were on that helicopter. He couldn't wait to see you again.

He waited there, watching the helicopter come in and land, the back ram opening and hitting the ground.

And you came out....

Oh my.

Ghost stared as you tromped down the ramp. Your clothes were ruffled and you were covered head to toe in mud. Sticks in your hair, caked, drying mud on your cheeks. And that scowl. A scowl for the books...

You noticed him and trudged over.

He opens his mouth to speak and you just keep walking. "Don't. Ask. Or. Say. Anything." You hiss angrily.

It didn't take him much time to figure out you had headed straight for the showers. You were in there for over an hour, picking away at the mud and twigs in your hair. Scrubbing yourself clean in every crevice and corner. Shivering when you found leaves and mud places you'd never want it.

Simon looks from you over to some of the soldiers offloading equipment. They shrug, giving him some information and leaving him to his own devices.

He snickered, he could only imagine what happened.

But finally you came out, refreshed and less disgusting.

You redressed in fresh clothes and walked out, spotting Simon leaned against the building entrance. You playfully scowled at him.

"How did it go?" He leaned off the wall and approaches you, slipping his hands around your hips.

You scoff, rolling up his mask and sinking your lips to his, missing him after the exhausting mission.

"You'd never believe me."

He hums, pulling away and kissing your nose. "Try me."

"I'll tell you later. For now, I just need rest."

"Fair enough, I'll let you go then."

"Thank you."

You kiss him again and head off to your bunk to catch some rest. You needed it.

Gaz 🧢

Gaz was excited to have you back. After two weeks finally you were coming home! He was so relieved to have you back it made his heart spark to life.

Unfortunately your trip was delayed so he was waiting out on the tarmac for you a little over 20 minutes.

And then the helicopter arrived. He smiled, ready to welcome you into his loving embrace, kiss you all over and tell you have much he missed you.

His smile disappeared when the lift of the helicopter came down and you walked out.

He most certainly would not be hugging you...

You had an angry scowl, covered in mud and dirt. Some of it still looked fresh. Your gun was jammed and cakes in the stuff.

You walked over when you saw him, face set on one hell of a glare.

"Well-"

"Not. A. Word Kyle Garrick."

Kyle shut his mouth and watched you pass by. Boy, you'd think he was responsible for all that mud.

He wouldn't ask, but he'd help. So he followed you back to the showers at a safe distance - he's not crazy.

You pulled off all your gear and hopped in the shower, growling and whining about all the mud.

Kyle went after you, stepping in behind you and cupping your waist.

"Kyle-!"

"Just miss you." He decides on that, grabbing your shampoo to try and help you wash the mud out. You whine, never able to say no to Kyle's head massages.

"Don't judge me."

"I didn't say anything love." He rinses some mud off your shoulder and kisses it. You sigh, leaning back into him. "Thank you."

Alejandro🎖️

"Anytime love."

"You did look ridiculous though."

You sigh loudly, you couldn't argue that, you probably had.

Alejandro misses you. And you know what happens when Alejandro misses you. He missed his one and only so much. His other half.

But, unfortunately you were out on a mission with Rodolfo. Alejandro trusted his soldiers well, especially you two. Some of his best soldiers, he had no doubt you would do well.

He has gotten word the trucks had picked you up just north of one of the lakes by the building you were raiding. And you were now headed home.

Alejandro was happy to see both of you. To know you were alive and well after four days. (Yes, he's a bit impatient if he isn't on the mission too ��️)

He was waiting in stance when you both arrived, ready to greet you. He smiles when the door opened. And out stepped Rodolfo.

Oh my.

Rodolfo was absolutely drenched. He was covered in a blanket, his gear stuck with wire and his hair was all out of place.

"Rodolfo." Alejandro greeted him, wrapping his arms around his shivering friend. "What happened??"

Rodolfo shook his head. 'Im sorry colonel, the mission was a dud..."

Alejandro frowned. "Where is y/n, are you both alright??"

Rodolfo nodded.

And sure enough, out you came from the truck. Slathered in mud. Absolutely caked in it. Some of it was still dripping off your uniform. You had a scowl, the scowl Alejandro only saw a few times through your cheery disposition.

You stomped over, arms crossed. Mud all down your body.

"Mi amor-"

"Don't. Say. A. Word. Don't. Ask."

Alejandro shut his mouth right away. You stomped past him toward the showers leaving him a bit dumbstruck.

"Rodolfo, you should go wash up with them, no?"

Rodolfo nodded. "Yes colonel."

Alejandro figured out what had happened from the soldiers and waited till you retired to your room to talk to you. You flopped down on your shared bed and groan, snuggling up to him now that you were clean.

"I'm not mad the mission went bad, if that's on your mind, my little mud monster."

You shake your head. "Just... Hold me. Please?"

Alejandro pulls you into his arms and kisses your head. "Of course mi amor."

Soap 🧼

Today you were back! The sergeant is coming back!! My babe for life is returning!

Johnny skipped along the hallways. After two weeks you were home!! You were home! He'd been worrying sick about you but now he has nothing to fear.

He skipped out across the yard and wandered down to the tarmac where your helicopter was landing.

He couldn't wait to see you again, make out with you until his lips were sore and his jaw locked up.

You stepped off the helicopter and he physically recoiled. It was like he could smell you from there. Oh my goodness you looked awful.

You were covered in drying and dripping mud. You were scowling as you approached him.

"Not. A. Fucking. Word. MacTavish!!" You snap at him.

He blinks at you, whispering, "Damn, you smell bad."

Your eye twitches and you yell in exasperation. Stomping over to the showers. Johnny looks between you and a few recruits who shrugged, too afraid to ask you on the plane.

Johnny falls in line after you and makes a break for the shower where he knows you'll be.

He waits outside for you, smiling when you come out. "Look at you, all nice and clean!"

You roll your eyes and walk over to him, letting his wrap his hands around your waist. "it's good to have my love back, not whatever sludge monster took your place." He grins.

You smack him and press your lips to his, pulling him in. He hums excitedly, pushing for his tongue in your mouth. Lapping and exploring you all over again. He missed you so much.

When you pull away he's panting. "You're so amazing, sludge monster or not."

"Johnny. Shut your mouth and kiss me, I had s long fucking mission, this is the least you could do for me."

"Yeah, you're right." He cups your jaw and begins to kiss you again.

[bigassmoonchild]

i like to think ghost have a partner that expresses love by biting { totally not me i wouldnt even think of chomping} but hes so used to it that he doesnt have a reaction when his wife is in nibble mode

but

everyone else loses their complete shit thinkin that a random person just bit ghost { i also love the idea that ghost doesnt tell soap shit jus to fuck with him }

i absolutely adore this bc i definitely do this 💀 (i've had this in my drafts for a few days now, but just finally figured out how i wanted it to go)

🫶🫶

simon would sit in the mess hall, not just to show face but also to be with the rest of his squad. price had to push him to join, but now he came of his own choice. it was something he did, not too often, but often enough.

on this particular day, you had gotten back from a mission all but a few hours ago. simon had been gone for a few weeks prior to you leaving, so you hadn't seen him in nearly a month and a half.

you walked into the mess hall, simon could see you from where he was sitting. you grabbed your tray of food and looked around to find where you were going to sit. he saw you move towards your squad before spotting him, sitting in front of soap and gaz.

so you made your way over, shuffling between people who were standing around and having to take a few different routes to get to them. dropping your tray down, you sat next to simon.

soap went to snag some food off of your tray and you smacked his hand, giving him a face as you did so. the three of you were talking, about what simon wasn't entirely sure of. he was trying to look at you while not completely giving himself away.

god, he loved you. more than you'd possibly ever know. catching his eye, you gave him a slightly confused face and you could see his eyes slightly squint with a little smile.

smiling back, you dove back into your conversation with soap and gaz. '...didn't realize that was something he did,' you said as simon came back into the conversation.

soap gave a little laugh, rolling his eyes. 'oh, gaz is a real charmer. spilled his pint o' beer on a lady once in a bar. you remember that, right ghost?' and simon nodded, giving a little grunt as he did so.

he still watched you, the light shining in your eye and the color slowly returning to your face as everything began to go back to your normal. he knew how much you missed this during missions, and even with the bags under your eyes he still thought you were as beautiful as ever.

the conversation waned, soap and gaz beginning to argue a little. your knee pressed against his, allowing your legs to touch. the only bit of pda he would allow with other soldiers around. with his mask on.

even though gaz and price knew, he kept it a secret from the loud mouthed scot. he knew, as much as he (unwillingly) cared for soap, word would spread fast if he knew it.

and the two of you spoke often about possibly bringing him in on the secret. possibly even just coming out as a couple at the nearest milball.

as much as the conversations happened, that was two milballs ago. three years you had been together, and just six months ago he had popped you the question. he knew exactly where that ring lay, on a long chain sitting just on your sternum.

some nights, he would kiss it. long and hard as he prayed to whatever being would listen that the two of you returned safe from the mission you were next on. other times, he tugged on it to pull you in for kisses.

there would even be a few nights that he would just play with it, feeling the heat of the metal from where it would rest against your skin. he loved that you kept it so close to your heart, and kenw that once the two of you married you wedding band would sit just there.

his own would sit against his heart, as soon as he got it.

a sharp pain from his bicep pulled him from his thoughts, looking down at where you bit him. clenching your teeth a little harder, you finally released him.

'what the hell was that,' soap sputtered out. looking between you, then simon and gaz. gaz gave him a little shrug, looking away as you leaned for another bite.

simon pushed your head away from his arm. 'don't bite me, you little mosquito,' he huffed at you. you gave him a cheeky little smile, winking at him before digging back into your food.

soap gestured wildly. 'no, i want to know what's going on. what the hell. why the hell?'and you gave soap a little laugh.

pulling the chain from under your shirt, you dangled the ring and chain in front of him. 'technically, we are still planning the wedding,' and you grunted as soap kicked you.

'and why wasn't i told?' he hissed at the two of you. you gave a faint shrug, playing with some of the food on your plate. you faught like hell to tell soap, but respected simons decision.

'you've got a loud mouth,'

'i do not!' soap nearly shouted. 'i absolutely do not,' he then whispered. you laughed and tapped your knee against simons.

[alwaysshallow]

Tomato emoji here.

I would love to request a little cute gaz fic yk? I feel like my boy doesn’t get enough love at all..

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x gn!reader

You watch a movie with your boyfriend, after he comes back from deployment. (2,1k)

AO3 version

A/N: I'm so sorry it took so long!! Yet again, I hope it's gonna satisfy you! <3 Late birthday gift, I'd say.

It's the third Avengers movie, and Gaz still doesn't want to tell you what is going on.

Instead, he stares at you. Not like that surprises you in any way. It's a habit of his, you figured it out in the beggining of your relationship with him – he has his days, where he just needs to... zone out and stare. It happens more after he comes home to you, tired of everything that happened.

Mostly, he speaks about his deployment. Talks how they got the bad guy, or intel – really depends what it was about, but mostly he acts almost boyish, like he wasn't talking about some mission where his life was on line. He treats it like an adventure, something he wants to share with you because he's so proud that he not only made that far, but he made the world a better place with his fight. You appreciated it every time.

Now, he just stares at you. He doesn't even watches the movie that he carefully picked. He didn't even pay attention to the previous two before, he's just beside you, looking at you with unreadable face. Even if you want to, you can't read him, Kyle is like a walking mystery. You'd like to solve it, but it's harder than you thought it would be.

Nonetheless, there's a strange kind of understanding between you two. Gaz has never confessed, but you know that it's bad now. It's this kind of bad, where you want just to hug him and tear every worry he has off his face, whisper some soothing words. Everything for a man that did so much for you, a man that really brought the best of you.

The man who actually fought for you, when you wanted to leave him, when you told him it won't work.

He made it work. It was hard, but he made it work because he loved you. And, he still loves you.

You don't know this, but he wants your face to be the last thing on his mind before he dies, that's why he stares. Just in case something will happen, he has to remember your face.

“Tired?” Kyle asks quietly, tugging the strand of your hair behind your ear. You’re dozing off on the couch, and he feels pretty bad for keeping you up. It's almost three in the morning, you should sleep. It's his fault; he wants you by his side because you soothe him.

"A bit." you shrug, looking at him. It's not a big deal for you – even if your eyelids are way too heavy, your boyfriend's sake is more important than anything. "I can't sleep anyway." you lie swiftly.

Even if you won't sleep that night at all, it's all fine for you. It's about his comfort, not yours, and it's about making him confess what happened. You both know that he always feels better after a quick talk, but he's always so torned between telling you and keeping it for himself. Bad things shouldn't include you – he thinks, and he tells you this every time you two are fighting.

It's always about him being too secretive about things that bug him. Not that you counted, but most of the times, he always talked about his traumas so casually, after weeks. "I almost lost a leg" or things similar to this, concerning for normal civilian – like you – were pretty "normal" for a soldier – like him. You told him multiple times his explanation was shit, and he learned it the hard way, when you refused to go to bed with him because you were mad.

Apparently, nothing worked on Garrick as well as a threat of not spending a night in his arms; the captain of Task Force 141 always joked about this being his potential punishment, not 100 push-ups.

"Yeah." Kyle murmurs eventually. "Me, too." his voice is raw with emotion, and you can feel how much he wants you closer, he doesn't even notice your lie. You can't help but wonder, even if nothing is said out loud, how you came to understand each other so well. Was it because you loved each other so much, or your character was similar?

"I know." you just say, as you stare back at him.

He's a strange man, you know it – sometimes he was cutting you off, sometimes he had to have a quick break from everything, including you. The longest break was three days, and he came back on his knees, apologizing.

Most of the times, he was kissing you breathlessly, whispering sweet nothings to you, as his hands were working on unbuttoning your shirt. He needs this kind of contact, it's the love language of his. It's something comforting, being in your close embrace, without having to think of the rest of the world.

You know it, he knows it, so without any hesitation from your side, you come closer, sitting on his lap. Next thing you do is hugging him, tight; Kyle wraps his arms around you too, immediately. He feels your warmth, his body pressed against yours. He inhales your scent - the perfume you chose is his favorite.

Probably because he chose it for you as a Christmas gift, but it was really pretty, too.

This is a comfort he desperately needs right now.

"God," he sighs, burying his face into your neck. "I'm so glad you're here. I'm a mess." he speaks in a harsh whisper, like he doesn't want anybody around you to know, even if it's only the two of you awake. The rest of boys are sleeping in your house, Johnny wasted in the kitchen, Ghost probably in the bathtub, Price... well, Price probably outside. Smoking cigar or talking to someone over the phone.

You can't care less about this in the moment.

"I have these..." he starts, but pauses. "Bad dreams." he whispers eventually. "Really bad."

You try not to ask, so he won't trouble himself with speaking; that's the level of being close that you two have. Unspoken rules, so he will be comforted enough to eventually open up, while you listen, caressing his back in circular motions, her eyes shut, when his face is in her neck.

"About what?" you ask quietly, trying not to push him, but five minutes passed, and he got quiet again. "About what are those dreams, Kyle?"

He sighs. "Bad things. Bad things I've done. Bad things I've seen." Kyle pauses. Then, very slowly, he starts again."It feels real. In one moment, I'm sleeping by your side, and by another one, someone is kidnapping you. And I can't do shit about it" There's a deep, primal terror in Kyle's tone. "Then, when I wake up..." he trails off. "And you're here, sleeping. I'm feeling like I'm losing it, baby."

Your face is a definition of worry; you weren't aware how nightmares were affecting him. It feels bad not to know. You feel like you are a shitty girlfriend, but Kyle seems to notice that, as you take a deep breath. He hugs you tighter and places a kiss on the top of your head.

"I don't want to wake you up, but it's your presence that I always want. I don't know what I would do without you." he pauses. It looks like he wishes this moment would never end; because he knows it will end, sooner or later.

Probably sooner. They already have a mission they talk about, and Kyle, quite literally, wants to vomit every time they bring that up. It's not one of the hardest, but one of the longest. Three months without you is like a dagger to his heart, he already feels so tired, but asking Price for a break feels wrong.

Task Force 141 was formed for something and that certain "something" is: being ready whenever the world needed them.

"I'm always gonna be here with you, Kyle. No matter what, no matter what you are dreaming of." you whisper, kissing his head again. "Always. Come on, with a boyfriend like you? I'm the safest in the whole world."

He's silent at that statement. It's not like he doesn't believe you, but he knows how fucked up the world is. How fucked up people are, to do anything to get something.

Probably that's why the only people that knows about your relationship is his closest family and Task Force. Other people? It would be dangerous.

"I was going to tell you something," he eventually murmurs again, staring at you. He wants to change the topic, badly. "Ask, if we want to be precise. I don't know if I should. But I want to."

You kiss the top of his head, your eyes shutting for a moment or two once again. You're tired, but not ready to go to sleep without Kyle feeling better. "What is it? You know you can tell me anything, Kyle."

"You can read me like a book." he chuckles, shaking his head.

"And you happen to be my favorite book." you point out, chuckling under your nose too. "Tell me."

"It's something I wanted to do for... a few months."

Those words hang in the air. Kyle doesn't feel the urge to add any further details; he wants to see how you react, if you react. If you might know something, if you get the idea he's trying to tell you. In his opinion, you should be able to fill the gaps, the blanks, with your own intuition.

It doesn't help you to figure his thoughts, when he stares at you with those pretty, deep brown eyes. He expects you to know, you are together for two years already, but you really don't want to overinterpret this because if you would, he'd never let you live through it.

"You want to buy an apartment together?" you ask, even if it's not what you are thinking about. Kyle scoffs, as he kisses your neck; his face is still burried here.

"No." he raises his head. His back straightens up. "I want to marry you." Garrick's words are so genuine, so full of that sincerity you needed right now. You slowly clear your throat, as you look into his eyes.

It's important moment for you.

"And you're telling me this now, so I can expect this? Or you want a clue about a ring?" you grin, as you give a little peck to his lips.

Before he speaks, you know from his look that it's not exactly it.

"I was on that long mission, deep inside enemy territory. It took... a toll on me. Listen" he sighs, interwining your fingers with his. "You're my rock, my life line. You've always been the one for me. And I want to marry you now. As soon as possible."

"As soon as... we don't even..."

"Don't worry about your family. We can arrange something small for now, and have a big wedding later. But I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

He wants to marry you. A thought, a thought that he wants to realize as soon as possible, maybe even twice; something small, and then, something big for their families. You look at him, softly, as you think. It's hard to get the rush coming from him words, to not have second thoughts why exactly he wants it so soon.

Is it because he knows something bad is coming? You're overthinking this, sure, but it's a big life decision, it's something you could regret if you wouldn't think of it after.

"Please." he adds after a moment. "I need an answer."

Kyle acts like he can read your thoughts; he drops to one knee right in front of you, looking up at you – it's clear you're the love of his life.

"I don't want another day, another mission without you being my wife. Missions are getting tougher and I want..."

He doesn't have to say anything else; you understand, so you interrupt him, as you kiss him. You know you will have a wonderful life together. Your own family, together. You were meant to be a team, both in this life and the past. It's the order of things.

"We can marry soon, yes. Something small." you intertwine your fingers with his. "But, then, something bigger, alright? Exquisite. With everyone around us" you kiss him.

A small, hopeful smile spreads across Kyle's features. "And babies?" he asks, as if he knows the answer to that question. You can't help but laugh.

"You're speeding the process, Kyle. We will talk about it after the ring" you tease, as you kiss him.

You know that you will have babies with him, though; but the later he will realize, the longer he will want them.

[love-lilly02]

BTS: Messages from the Stars

A little 100 followers thanks! read into this how you will, it could mean anything 🌝🌝 (unedited by the way sorry for typos or inconsistencies)

the entire safe house was dead silent. all the lights turned off, and the soldiers hidden inside attempting to be quiet. 

Both Price and Gaz were half asleep, pretending to be “helping” with the watch that you had taken over long ago. Soap was less shy about his sleeping patterns and was out like a light on the floor, tossed haphazardly into Prices lap. Ghost had gone to secure the perimeter long ago, and you all had yet to hear from him. 

Something about that just didn’t sit right with you. 

Radios weren’t allowed, so you couldn’t talk to him that easily. Something about possibly picking up an enemy’s signal. 

And the big idiot had left his phone in his bunk. So you were truly at a loss for what exactly to do, opting to just sit on the windowsill and look for him. 

You weren’t sure how long you were sitting there, staring out at the sky full of stars. You weren’t really able to see them back at base, light pollution having taken over the view long ago. 

As a child you had attempted to learn to map them out, or rather you had watched as your father mapped them out and told you the names of the constellations. 

Now you wished you had paid more attention to his words. 

“Beauty, ain’t it?” 

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the words, your hand immediately going to your gun. 

“At ease, S’ jus me.” Ghost lurked in the corner, his brown eyes twinkling in amusement at having scared you. 

“Fucking- shit when the hell did you get back?” You demanded in a harsh whisper, looking at the others to make sure they didn’t wake up. If anything, they seem to have sunken further into sleep, and Gaz’s head rested dangerously close to Price’s shoulder. 

“Been here for a minute, checkin no one was hurt.” You nodded at him. 

“To answer your question, they are nice. Don’t get to see the stars at base.”

Ghost shook his head. In a few strides, he was standing next to you, and you watched as he took a seat across from you on the ledge. It looked absolutely idiotic, a large man like him balancing carefully on the tiny ledge, but you bit back your laugh. 

“Something funny, sergeant?” 

“No, LT.”

“Right then.”

And the two of you lapsed into silence. 

It was nice, really. You kept watching the sky for a while, staying in position till the deep black started to take on a deep orange with the sunrise. 

“You should sleep,” You told him. When you went to turn your attention on him he was already looking down at you. It made you blush slightly, but you covered it up. “Can’t give us orders if you’re half dead.”

“ ‘S alright. Don’t sleep much anyways, can’t see the harm.” 

You didn’t question the words. 

Instead of looking at Ghost, you turned your attention towards the rest of the team, who were all still asleep. Soap let out a disquieting snort, grumbling something in his sleep, and you had to fight back a laugh. Carefully, you walked behind Gaz and moved him so he could rest comfortably on Price’s shoulder. You missed his smile, even in his sleep. 

But Ghost caught it. He saw nearly everything, after all. 

“We’ll have to wake them at sunup, get out of here in time for evac.” He nodded at your words. 

“You’ll be okay?” You asked, standing in the doorway. Ghost just nodded again. You gave him a small smile, walking out of the room. 

He didn’t know exactly where you were going, and he did want to find out but he figured you deserved some privacy after nearly a week of being stuck with the boys on you constantly. Instead, he knelt by Price and pressed a small kiss to the older man’s forehead. Price stuttered awake, grumbling something quickly. 

“What happened? Where’s-“

“She’s safe, downstairs i think.” He sighed, leaning back against the wall again. Both of them watched Soap and Gaz, smiling to themselves.

“We were supposed to be helping with the watch.” Ghost just chuckled. 

“Lotta good you lot did, eh?” 

“If i could hit you I would.”

He laughed again. 

“Did she sleep?” Price questioned, taking his eyes off of Soap. His hands remained in the man’s mohawk, enjoying the almost purr like sound it got from the younger man. 

“Not that i know of,” Ghost responded. 

Price shook his head. “I worry about her, Simon.”

“We both do.”

They lapsed into another silence. 

“Hopefully one day she’ll allow us to worry.”

My Masterlist

[literatecowboy]

Dr. Feelgood

3. Physical Exams

Part 4

Start at part 1 here!

Summary: You've been in trouble at work several times before for "lack of professionalism" but now you've gone too far. You've been reassigned to Task Force 141 as a temporary doctor to replace the ones they've made quit out of frustration. You must either prove yourself and earn your former position back at a prestigious military hospital in California or face dishonorable discharge. Author's Notes: This is my first fanfiction - please be gentle. Additionally, the reader's callsign is "Feelgood." I have done my best to write the reader as ambiguous regarding appearance, but she/her pronouns and AFAB anatomy will be utilized. I hope for this to be a slow-burn romance with Simon "Ghost" Riley.  Warnings: Gunshot wounds, medical terminology and procedures, finger up the butt, touching, allusions to NSFW

-----

Ghost lay alone in the medical bay, thoughts racing through his foggy mind. For once, he’d gotten Feelgood to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. After his flirtation you’d squeaked, snarky reply dead on your lips, and made an excuse to leave before bustling out, the door slamming behind you. 

You were infuriating. The way you bossed his colleagues around as if you had some sort of authority over them, the ways you tried to control him by cornering him and forcing him into bed, allegedly “for his own good.” The softness of your skin against his as you held him while he collapsed during his panic attack. The way he wished he could shut your smart mouth up with your plush lips wrapped around his–

The door to the med bay swung open and pulled him from his thoughts. Gaz poked his head in and glanced around, raising an eyebrow at Ghost.

“Where’s Feelgood?” he asked, wandering into the room with Soap trailing behind him. 

“Left.” Ghost grunted, shrugging his shoulders and scowling under his balaclava. 

“Where to? Price was asking after her and I think she has some questions for him too,” he said, peering into the office through the window in the door. 

“Didn’t ask.” the masked man grumbled. 

“How you feelin’ L.T. - seems like the lass is doin’ a lovely job,” Soap remarked, plopping down in a chair at his lieutenant’s side. 

“She’s competent.” Ghost said. What he wanted to say was ‘She’s a feisty little thing. I quite like her.’

“She’s scarier than you, mate. If I ever get shot, promise you’ll protect my arsehole?” Soap asked, snickering. Ghost fixed him with a glare. 

“Bring that up ever again, sergeant, and you’re a dead man,” he growled lowly. 

“Bring what up again?” you called out as you strode back into the med bay, a tray piled high with food in your arms. 

“Got you something to eat from the mess, Lieutenant,” you said with a smile, setting the tray by his bedside. 

“Hey, Feelgood, Price was askin’ after you earlier. Said you should head down to the office when you get a minute.” Gaz said, coming out of your office and offering you a smile. You returned it. 

“Thanks! I need to ask him about hiring medical support staff for this place. I’m sure you guys would be happy with more than just me poking at you all the time.”

“Hey lass, what does Feelgood mean? Where’d you get the callsign?” Soap asked, leaning back in his seat. 

“Oh, it’s stupid. Do you like classic rock?” you asked with a laugh, sitting down and sweeping your hair back into a ponytail. 

“I know enough to know Dr. Feelgood is the title of a song - Motley Crue, right?” Gaz asked, sitting next to you. 

“Yeah! I got it when I was still doing fieldwork and running missions with soldiers on the ground as a medic in the marines. One day three of us are headed into some little village and we get hit by an IED and the Humvee we’re in flips. So I crawl out, and my guys are still alive but they’re fucked up pretty bad. 

“My buddy Marston’s lost an arm so I tourniquet it and pump him full of drugs and he starts feeling good again before he passes the fuck out. And I figured fuck, why stop there? We’re all fucked up and bloody and we might die here in the sand so why not go out feeling better than just comfortable? So I offered some to Duncan after I’ve finished bandaging him up and he was like, ‘Sure, why the fuck not?’

“Then I patch myself up and put the needle in my thigh. Next thing I know I’m waking up driving a little donkey cart down the road and there are evac vehicles coming towards us. Marston’s passed out in the back and Duncan’s singing something made up - I think pretending to be the radio. 

“Anyway, I got into a metric fuckton of trouble even though we all made it out alive. I fucked my shoulder badly in the wreck, too bad to keep doing fieldwork, so they shipped me off to work in the base hospital’s emergency department. I got my shit together and went to medical school after that. 

“But the name - when my buddies came around enough to joke about it with me, they started calling me Dr. Feelgood after the song. See, it’s about a drug dealer called Jimmy who manages to evade trouble for a long time, but at the end of the song, he finally goes down on charges. They kinda reckoned my story mirrored Jimmy’s, but instead of going to prison, I got reprimanded and put in a more boring environment.” You finished. 

“Steamin’ Jesus lass, that’s–”

“I wasn’t aware you did field missions.” Ghost’s voice cut through Soap’s, silencing him. You smiled thinly. 

“Used to. Now the closest I get is coming with evac to stabilize wounded soldiers before they reach a proper hospital,” you admitted. 

“Sorry, Feelgood, but that’s pretty funny,” Gaz said with a grin, patting your knee before standing. 

“I just feel bad for whoever’s cart that was,” you admitted with a laugh, making Gaz shake his head. 

—

You went to see Price not long after the conversation died down under the assurances that Gaz and Soap would watch over Ghost. The door to his office was shut so you knocked softly. 

“Come in!” he called. You stepped in, taking in framed pictures and documents lining the back wall. A little plant sat atop the sill of the little window on the left wall and a couch was leaned against the right wall. 

“You wanted to see me?” you asked, slipping inside, the door shutting behind you.

“Yes! I wanted to let you know that I’ll be going on a mission with Soap and Gaz in a few days. It won’t last more than a week, but I wanted to check in with you and ask your professional opinion about Ghost’s condition before we leave. How’s he healing?” he asked, closing the laptop on his desk and fixing his gaze on you as you sat down. 

“Ghost is healing remarkably quickly and I’m confident he’ll make a full recovery provided he follows my instructions. Whether or not he does that is a matter of question,” you admitted with a smile. 

“Ah, I understand. I also wanted to ask - do you have any other concerns about the medical bay? Are there any supplies you’d like me to request for you, are we running low on anything?” Price asked. 

“What I need the most right now is support staff. Nurses, care assistants, other doctors? I know that those positions might be difficult to fill, but I’m one woman. I’m also not an anesthesiologist, an orthopedic surgeon, or a psychiatrist - my scope is very limited. 

“I also looked back at old records and I’ve noticed that none of you have ever provided medical history or undergone a physical. Before you leave for your mission, I’d like to do that for each one of you to get a baseline to compare later records to,” you said, counting each thing off on your fingers. Price nodded. 

“I can get the boys to get looked at for sure, but extra staff will take time to find. If there’s ever an emergency that you can’t tackle, we go to the general base hospital, but that’s discouraged due to the secretive nature of the work the task force does,” he explained. 

“Sir, I’d like you to undergo a physical too. Not just the boys. Do you have any reservations about seeing me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I don’t doubt your competency, Feelgood, and I mean no offense, but I…dislike the idea of being prodded at.” Price admitted. You nodded sympathetically. 

“What if I gave you a questionnaire and you wrote things down? I’d settle for that and a check of your vitals - that’s really what I want from you guys anyway.”

“I’ll think about it.”

—

“Oh, come on, you’re telling me you aren’t appreciating being pampered and doted on by a cute girl while you’re laid up in bed?” Gaz asked teasingly. Ghost grunted. 

“I’d rather not have been shot, Sargent,” he said dryly, poking at the buttons on the side of the hospital bed. The bed alarm was blaring, signaling that he had gotten up, but you were too far away in Price’s office to hear. 

“But you think she’s cute, right? Come on, how could you not? And she’s got fire, too, I like her.” Gaz teased, making Ghost roll his eyes - but he didn’t respond. He finally figured out how to silence the bed alarm and the room went quiet again.

“Oh my god, you do think she’s cute! Come on mate, at least ask if she’s seeing anyone!” Soap almost shouted, laughing in disbelief. 

“If anything, I’d like to see less of her. She’s fuckin’ everywhere, buzzing around me. Won’t shut the fuck up.” Ghost said. This was a lie - he just didn’t want his teammates to see how you got under his skin. Soap and Gaz groaned in unison. 

“You should see if she’ll come out with us before we leave. I wonder if she likes bars?” Gaz wondered aloud. Ghost stiffened where he stood. 

“You’re leaving? All of you?” he asked.

“Less than a week, it’s a quick one this time. It’ll just be you and the–” Soap’s eyes widened in realization.

“Steamin’ Jesus it’ll just be him and the doc!” he exclaimed, turning wide-eyed to Gaz. 

“If anything happens–”

“Watch your mouth before you end up with me here in the med bay.”

“--you’ll tell us, right?”

“It’s perfect, you’ve got a whole week to flirt with her without him bothering you,” Gaz said, jabbing his thumb back at Soap.

—

Gaz was your first physical patient. You’d offered to take him back into your office for privacy but he said he didn’t mind Ghost sitting in. Ghost was on his phone on the couch in the corner with a cup of tea and hardly paying attention to the world - it was a compromise you’d come to once you found out he’d broken the bed alarm and he’d threatened to go back to his room permanently. 

“I didn’t know your name was Kyle. I like it, it suits you,” you remarked as you took his blood pressure. 

“Thanks, Feelgood.”

“Makes you sound like an American frat boy.” Ghost quipped from the corner. 

“Hey, be nice. Is HIPAA a thing over here?” you asked. Gaz laughed and shrugged and you went forward with the exam.

Overall he seemed to be in exceptional health and you were satisfied with your findings. Gaz seemed oddly relieved when you told him so, almost as if he was worried he’d fail the health exam. You sent him outside and called Soap in. 

“Hey, lass, no finger up the arse today right?” he asked nervously, sitting down on the gurney you’d set up as you took his temperature. 

“Not unless you’re into it,” you said dryly, earning a surprised cough from Ghost and a laugh from Soap. 

Soap’s exam went as well as Gaz’s had and he walked out with an inflated ego when you informed him that he was in excellent physical shape. You decided to approach Ghost next. 

“Your turn big guy,” you said, gesturing for him to raise his arm so you could attach the blood pressure cuff.

“I’ve been in this fuckin’ bay for days, don’t you have enough?” he grumbled but reluctantly obeyed - only so he could feel your warm hands against his skin as you secured the cuff. 

“I’ve been managing your wound and making sure you don’t get infected, not doing full physicals every day,” you said with a laugh. “Give me your hand?” 

He held it out to you and you took it, gently attaching the clip. His hand dwarfed yours and your face warmed slightly as you lowered the hand back to his thigh. Ghost watched you attentively, doing his best to read your expressions. You cleared your throat. 

“So, got anything cool you like to do on leave?” you asked, doing your best to strike up a conversation. 

“No.” Ghost grunted, a little too harshly. He winced and immediately felt bad. You took the equipment off of him when it had finished reading his vitals and tucked it away in the corner again, a little hurt. 

“I’m sorry,” he said after a minute as you fiddled with your stethoscope. “I didn’t mean to say that so aggressively.”

“It’s alright. Can I listen to your heart or would you rather me not touch you?” you asked briskly, watching him. 

“S’alright,” he grumbled, sitting forward and tugging his shirt off. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to– that’s okay, I can check your bandages afterward,” you said, your face hot as you took the sight of him in. Scars and old wounds crisscrossed his chest and a large bruise extended from beneath the bandages near his side. 

You put a gentle hand on his shoulder and leaned forward, carefully listening to his heart through your stethoscope. His skin was warm and it made butterflies take flight in your stomach. 

“Can I hear from your back?” you asked softly after a moment. Ghost grunted his assent and bent forward. You leaned over his shoulder slowly, pressing your stethoscope to his back. 

Ghost couldn’t help himself as you leaned over him. Your soft skin practically burned him where you touched him and his heart rate picked up quickly. He took a deep breath and gently wrapped an arm around your waist, steadying his hand on your lower back. 

You looked at him in surprise but didn’t pull away. He met your gaze for a moment before pulling away and sitting forward again. 

“M’ sorry. Should go get something to eat.” he grumbled, picking his shirt up and moving to put it back on. 

“It’s - uh…it’s okay! Can I…change your bandages first?” you asked softly, your voice coming out as almost a squeak. Ghost nodded and waited patiently as you gathered the supplies you needed. The feeling of your touch against him made him shiver when you returned. 

How he wished he could reach out and sweep you up in his arms, press a kiss to your lips, whisk you back to his room, and never leave. As you changed his bandages, he watched and imagined you trailing those delicate fingers up his chest to ruck his mask up and pull him down into a kiss. 

“Thanks,” he uttered as you finished, and that’s all he did. He tugged his shirt on and was almost to the door when he turned around. 

“Soap and Gaz wanted me to ask you if you’d come out with the lot of us before they leave,” he said. You didn’t have to think about it. 

“Of course!”

-----

taglist: @iamaliceinwonderland, @itsmeamysworld, @ghostlythots, @oranoyaora, @keiva1000

[kalixora]

It is what it is

Price x (f)reader

Part 2

ALEXIA! Play Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood

@tapioca-marzipanpan

@do-leannan

@yooforia

Summary: You weren't seen as a high-ranking solider, and you were stuck in a position you didn't want, directly by General Shepard's side. You get a call one day about a new opportunity that will help you.

. Reader is presumed female

Note: I've never played any of the games, so please excuse any inaccuracies. Due to the use of Google Translate, any languages displayed may potentially be incorrect.

There will be explicit sexual content, as well as instances of harassment, cursing, and drug usage.

Callsign: Hound

You had to confess that getting back together with Price and Gaz excited you. Heck, even meeting Soap and Ghost made you happy even though you didn't really know them yet. You settled into your new room more quickly than you had anticipated. Thank goodness, there is still time before lights out.

You sat on your bed, unable to suppress your excitement. This was how peace felt, and you hadn't felt it in a long time. There were no prying eyes on you now. Now that you were able to breathe, you huffed and sat back down on your bed. You stretched your hands to the ceiling. This is something you can get used to every night.

A soft knock came on your door. You raised your head and shouted a quick come in. The door opened to reveal Price, who appeared to be holding something behind his back as he opened the door more to make himself more visible to you.

"Got a minute to spare Hound?"

You sat up and patted the spot on your bed next to you with a smile. Price entered your room and closed the door behind him with his foot so you couldn't see what he was carrying behind his back. He approached your bed and sat alongside you. He was close enough that if he stretched his legs, they would touch yours.

Price cleared his throat before revealing what he was hiding behind his back: a plushie, a dog plushie. You gazed at him for a bit before taking it from him with a chuckle. "What is this for?"

"Well, I figured you can grab this and keep it close if you ever experience nightmares," Price said with a faint smile as he turned away from you a bit.

He genuinely thought about you...

"Thank you John, I love it already, but what if you have nightmares?"

Price chuckled, "I doubt I'll be needing it."

You smiled at Price, and there they were once more—those butterflies. You can briefly detect a change in Price's eyes when he turned to face you, but it just lasted a split second if you were lucky enough to notice it. You placed the plush on your lap.

"What made you pick me?" You inquired. "With all due respect Captain-"

"Had to find people I trusted, and you are someone I trust with my life," Price hummed.

He trusted you, and you trusted him. So, what made you respond the way you did when he touched you? A reflex, perhaps? It was only a polite, welcome gesture… so why? Why do you feel both unsafe and secure at the same time? You were safe, safe with everyone, safe with John...

"I trust you as well, John," you said, exhaling. "With everything…"

Price chuckled a little before asking, "With anything, soldier?" in a softer tone.

"Yes sir."

Price gave you a nod and a little smile as he rose up and shifted your bed. He opened your door before closing it gave you a last look then a salute, "Have a goodnight Y/N, sleep tight yea."

You adjusted yourself onto your bed, letting out a sigh as you closed your eyes soon heading off to sleep.

. . .

Price stared through your file, a grim expression on his face, rereading it over and over, oblivious to Ghost's presence.

"Something the matter Captain?"

Price's eyes never leaving the paper as he answered with gruff hum. Ghost tilted his head slightly confused by the captains response.

"This doesn't seem right..." Price muttered. "You'd think the signs would be there eh..."

"Price."

"Yeah Ghost I hear ya."

Ghost pointed at the file in Price's hands, "That Hound's?"

"Yeah… ever get a gut feeling something's wrong but can't put a bloody finger on it?" Price inquired, lowering the file and closing it.

"Every day, sir," Ghost responded. "Something wrong with the file?"

"Take a go at it, either I'm losing it or there's something else going on," Price said as he slid the file forward.

Ghost took the file and scanned it, his eyes immediately falling on the name Shepard. It was your last name.

Ghost looked at Price then back at the file.

"How long have they-"

Price cut Ghost off, "Look at the other paper."

Ghost slid the first paper, then the second; it was an older picture of you, one in which you appeared younger, as seen by the form of your face. He looked up your surname, it was L/N.

"I don't get it…" Ghost inquired as he examined both documents.

"Me either, mate," Price sneered as Ghost handed him your file back. "You'd think I'd notice something so obvious as that the first time."

Ghost hummed, "Maybe it was an off duty decision."

"No, no, Hound has a family, parents and siblings, this would've come up," Price grumbled, carefully examining the two documents.

"Disappointed you weren't invited to the wedding, Captain?" Ghost commented.

"Far from it," Price sneered. "This doesn't sit right with me, not in the slightest."

"Are you gonna to ask her about it?”

Price shook his head, “No.” 

The way you tensed when he touched you said more than words could. Something happened to you. You were a tough nut to crack, based on the situations you, Gaz, and him had been through.

Kate told him to find out what’s going on through you while she started digging into Shepard. He trusted you, as well as you trusted him, that he knew for sure. Should he wait for you to tell him? Or should he just be straightforward with you?

“Fuckin Hell,” he mumbled under his breath. “God, Y/N what’s going on with you…” 

… 

“Morning Hound, how’d you sleep?” Gaz called out to you from the mess hall. You approached him and gave him a little wave. He was the only one at the table.

There were a couple other people in the mess hall who smiled at you before going about their business.

"Good morning, Gaz," you replied. "Where is everyone?"

"In the training room, Soap wanted to confront one of the novices while Ghost monitors," Gaz shrugged.

You raised your brow, “Right…”

Gaz simply smiled at you. It was a gentle one, able to melt a frozen heart. Although it appeared as though he was gazing through you, you can tell that he was still taking in the reality that you were in fact here, in front of him.

“You okay?”

"Yes, it's bloody brilliant to see you alive and well, it's been so long I nearly forgot what you looked like," Gaz chuckles. "You haven't changed a lot."

You sat across from Gaz, smugly smiling. “Really? Kindly elucidate."

"You still look absolutely stunning," Gaz remarked.

"Pft, you're just saying that," you scoff.

"No, it's true, you still look beautiful, maybe not as good as me, but-"

"Oh really," you said, covering your mouth and laughing.

“Y/N…” 

“Yeah?” 

"We really missed you, and I'm happy you're here," Gaz replied softly.

"I'm glad too," you said while grinning at him.

Gaz missed you. And so did Price. They never forgot about you, you were still dear to their hearts. It hasn’t been a solid 24 hours and they’ve already made you feel warm and fuzzy. They made you welcomed, made you feel safe. Although trust comes a long way, and it isn’t given it’s earned, Soap and Ghost have to earn that trust as you need to earn their trust as well. 

“What were you doin all this time? Like I mentioned yesterday all I heard was that you were doing solo missions.” 

“… the higher up’s like the work I do I guess…” 

Shepard liked the work you did too. A little to much...

“Pretty face does equal elegant work,” Gaz mused. 

"Oh hush you," you giggled. "But yes, I've been doing a lot of solo assignments, took it a day at a time."

"Have you spoken to your family since then?"

A tsunami-like sensation of dread rushed over you. It felt like a spear right through your heart. Shepard killed your parent …  They were taken from you. Not metaphorically or rhetorically or poetically or theoretically or any other fancy way, they were gone. Straight up.

"Hound?"

"No Gaz, I haven't spoken to them… gosh, I don't even remember the last time I spoke to them," you shook your head, sighing.

"Hey, it's alright, it's been awhile for me too," Gaz said softly. "I'm sure Price or Laswell can arrange something for you."

"I don't know-"

Gaz opened his mouth to say something but quickly closed it; you looked at him then turned your head to see Ghost approaching the two of you, Soap jogging straight behind him. While catching up to him, Soap had a stupid smile on his face.

"Mornin' Hound, Mornin' Gaz," Soap said as he sat down next to you. You raised your brow at him, greeting him and then Ghost.

"How was the match?" Gaz asked.

Ghost shook his head while Soap grinned. "I wiped the floor with those little fuckers."

"You don't say," Gaz hummed.

"So... anyone up for a match?" Soap asked looking between you and Gaz. Gaz shook his head, "Hard pass."

Soap turned to you, "How about it Hound? Want a go at it?"

"Eh, I don't know..." you hummed.

"Oh come on, it'd be great practice, plus captain says you're a big deal, I wanna see for myself," Soap says, elbowing you slightly.

"I'd tear you apart Soap."

"Oh! Well then come on," Soap says standing up jogging lightly on his feet. "Let's see what you got Hound."

As you stood up from the table, you exhaled a trembling breath. As soon as Gaz got to his feet, he hurried up to you and put his hand on your shoulder while turning to face you. You felt your body stiffen up again, and your gaze rested on his hand, and you hastily shrugged off before giving Gaz a faint smile and trailing after Soap, while Gaz followed behind.

As you reached the training area, you noticed a few other people engaging in their own individual training and competitive matches. You noticed the large ring in the center of the room, where Soap cheerfully walked inside and signaled for you to join him.

You entered the ring looking at Soap, "You sure you wanna do this?"

"Bring it, show me why they call you Hound."

"They call me Hound because I'm good at finding people… but alright," you scoffed.

Soap and you both took a position. You both circled each other until Soap made the fourth move, approaching you and throwing a punch, which you blocked and returned.

The others in the room stopped what they were doing to watch you and Soap, and out of the corner of your eye, you observed them. You also got sight of a man wearing a bucket hat enter the room. Price had came.

Soap had landed a hit on the side of your stomach, so you grunted and elbowed him back, raising your leg up to knee him in the stomach and sending an elbow to his back. You kicked the back of the calf, causing him to stumble slightly but soon recover and throw another fist your way.

"Good shit Hound."

As soon as you heard what Price was saying, a cozy sensation returned to your tummy. For a brief instant, you almost lost focus on what you were doing. But what would his voice sound like in a low whisper…in your ear?

"Shepard knows how to pick em." You overheard someone say. Every single one of the butterflies in your stomach started to burn. You had Soap trapped down with his arm in your hand before you realized it. You lightly stepped on his back. Shepard. Fucking Shepard. Because of him, you're still here. You can't avoid his name no matter where you go. Worse than his presence was his name.

"Ah- okay- okay Uncle!"

You walked out of the ring, past Gaz and Price, after dropping Soap's arm in a huff. Gaz gave Soap a puzzled look, and Price followed you.

"Hound."

As you were ready to enter your room, you paused in your tacks and sighed, turning on your heel.

"My office, now."

You followed Price back into his office, closing the door behind you. His office had a bar-like odor. "Yes sir?"

"You wanna tell me what's goin' on in that head of yours?" Price asked you as he reclined against his desk, arms crossed and head cocked.

"I'm sorry?"

Price hummed, "I've known you long enough to know that look in your way Hound."

"What look sir?"

"Lost."

"I'm fine Captain, just got heated in the moment," you said with a smile.

Price locked his gaze on you, scanning you up and down. It sent shivers up and down your spine. You needed to leave immediately, you needed to think.

"May I go now?"

"What's the rush?" Price asked his voice sounding stern.

You shook your head, "My family...I- I haven't checked in on them."

"Homesick?"

You nodded, "Very."

As you approached, Price sighed and gave you a faint smile. "Understandable; if you'd like, I can work something out for you, yeah?"

"Thank you sir," you said.

"You can leave now," Price remarked, motioning to the door. He observed you exit the space as swiftly as you entered.

"What's goin' on with you kid..."

[ohmygraves]

let me share a bit of my self insert details for cod, since i figured out i can write smth while i think about how to continue the other wips i have

with callsign "rookie", a first generation immigrant. they're the youngest between all the 141, and was recommended by laswell. still, their rank is definitely under both soap and gaz. a non-binary person, though don't mind any pronouns.

here's a few sketches of them (i made it to my likeness because, y'know, "self" insert)

the change in haircut is intentional as it should reflect my continuously changing hairstyle since my hair is a dumbass who can't make up its mind in how it should present itself.

i made a "relationship chart" to explain the dynamics of rookie with the other members of 141

gaz ⇄ rookie

gaz and rookie i'd imagine to be some kind of the ride or die best friend, which unfortunately often happened because rookie has the worst kind of luck, but just good enough that they get out of danger somehow in the last second. the kind of best friend that you could understand being so close because you'd known eachother really well. it's probably the case of them being quite similar in age (rookie is still younger though), so he took pity of them at first and happily accompany them everywhere. he knows how anxious it can be to be around something so unfamiliar and scary, and he understands how it feels to be frustrated knowing that you can't save everyone (he hopes that rookie can be more mature but for now he'd gladly sigh at their naivety).

soap ⇄ rookie

maybe because i view soap to be slightly older than gaz i feel like soap and rookie are more like siblings? i feel like if soap became best friends with rookie, he'd be too much for the poor lad. soap as best friend is a good trope but he's a wild card that he could show up at your doorstep either with a bong or a shovel, and i'm not sure if rookie can handle all that. he's a good friend, sure, but one that gaz hope that won't influence rookie too much because what is he going to do with not one but two soap at the barracks?

that being said, i think that soap treats rookie like somewhat of a younger sibling that he gets to pick on from time to time, but in a nice way. like he'd wear their stuff that he found on the laundry, strutting a booty shorts (and killing it) while he makes some coffee for himself as rookie hunts his head for sports since all their clothes get stretched because of him. or the one that tells them that price likes spicy in his sandwich causing rookie to witness price choke on a sub slathered with hot sauce, getting them in trouble. he takes advantage of their naivety in a funny way and he teaches them weird things. definitely gets him in trouble with ghost though because of that.

price ⇄ rookie

now don't come at me for being so overrated, but i see price as a father figure. if activision don't want me to commit fatherless behavior, then they probably shouldn't make him so dad material in the first place. that being said, i like to think that when price sees rookie's files and do a small "interview" with the lad, he feels like he was responsible for a new teammate. like mama hen finding a kitten and taking care of it like a chick.

he understands that rookie is very, very new to everything, and that's saying it lightly. being the youngest of the group, an immigrant, not to mention very naive made him pity the newbie, which of course made him go "dad mode" and teach them things from time to time. he has definitely been called "dad" by accident a few times by rookie, but he didn't seem to mind. didn't seem to enjoy the fact that soap's influencing them to act up too at times.

ghost ⇄ rookie

now ghost is my favorite (obviously), so this might be long. in general, ghost didn't like how inexperienced rookie is. they're in 141, working as an sas soldier, and they're going to fumble on their guns like an idiot?

preposterous, why did laswell let them in the team?

it's not like he has any say in it, and unfortunately he had to mentor them and make sure they're doing a good job (read: babysitting, as he would say), and it didn't make him feel better about it. sometimes i want to see him just grab the poor newbie and just scream at their face like "what do you want!? i can't believe someone is this bloody fucking incompetent, you might as well be a sea cucumber!" like this man would not hesitate to insult the newbie to the point that they're crying.

and he should be. he's not going to put his life in the hands of some dumbass who can't shoot right half the time.

of course, it'll take a long, long time for him to acknowledge their skill, even getting a small "passable" from him is worth celebrating. literal years to be close to him, share the fact that they're both fatherless people who used to live in an abusive household and maybe he'll start to acknowledge them (anything that's beside work ofc). little affirmation that they've gotten this far somehow even after such horrible things happening to them.

i only ever pair rookie with ghost and soap (or both of them together as a throuple) romantically, gaz is more platonic and price is more fatherly.

i know this is a different post from what i normally would post but if you're all interested in getting to know rookie more, feel free to interact. my askbox are open for requests or something a bit more casual, don't be shy. i don't bite.

[flying-thing]

Kiss Me in the Rain

This is a SoapGhost fic for Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2. No one requested this, but my heart yearns for more angst, and as such, here we are. This is all based on the new Ghost skin in the war zone part of the game that I've never touched.

I'm not typing out Soap's accent.

..............................................................................................

Playlist:

Work Song - Hozier

My Love Mine All Mine - Mitski

So My Darling - Rachel Chinouriri

Atlantis - Seafret

Here With Me - D4vd

Romantic Homicide - D4vd

Dark Red - Steve Lacy

Advice - Alex G

The View Between Villages - Noah Kohan

..............................................................................................

CW: major character death, broken promises, gore, unreliable narrator, angst, domestic fluff, zombies

Word Count: 3457 (Unfinished and not edited!!)

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

It was no surprise when Price told Simon and John that it was close to the time in which they needed more supplies. They were the scouts, after all, and it was their job to go scavenging. They still had a few days before they needed to leave, and as per usual, the two were enjoying their time together until they needed to leave.

Simon walked out to the garden the team had started a few days ago, and he found John watering the plants. It was a lot easier for sprouts to come out when there weren't birds and squirrels to steal the seeds from the soil. It has become oddly peaceful since the outbreak, nobody to disturb your slumber, no wars to fight, and barely anything to worry about. Recently, the 141 have been looking for any type of farm animal so that they can fully sustain themselves without needing to leave every month or so for supplies. Everyone has taken to reading books, whether it be to pass the time or to learn how to do certain things. Price has figured out how to build buildings— after some much needed practice. Gaz has learned to make soap and cook delightful food (when there was actual food to cook), and Soap has put his demolition skills to good use in that he can make things that create electricity and even plumbing. Simon has become very interested in gardening, interestingly enough.

Everyone had a place, and the routine worked. The rest of the world was plagued, but here in their little home? It was perfect. Most of the soldiers left when the outbreak happened so they could protect their families. The rest died when the undead broke in. Simon wonders sometimes what it would be like to be dead. He fantasized about it a lot when he was younger, but now that there was little to live for, life was everything to him.

Before he got too lost in his thoughts, John walked over to him. "What's happening in that brain of yours, Simon?" He asks. Simon snaps out of whatever trance held him, and he shook his head. "I don't know how to explain it, but it's nothing exciting. What are you doing out here?" He counters, earning a grin from the scot's face.

"Just trying to find out why you enjoy this so much, and I think I've just about figured it out."

Simon looks at him amused. "And what is the reason?"

"I said 'just about,' not completely," he jokes, making Simon laugh. He did that more often now that he barely wore a mask anymore. John was fascinated with how expressive he was. Crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, the barely-there blush on his cheeks, the corners of his mouth lifting. Apparently, when he called Simon gorgeous in his mind, he said it outloud, and it made the taller man smile more.

"You flatter me too much, Johnny. Do you want to know the reason I enjoy it?"

"Would you tell me if I said yes?"

"Probably not."

John scoffed playfully and shook his head, his eyes closed with the gesture. "Has Gaz made dinner yet?"

"He's about to, I think. He's excited for everything to start growing so we don't need to live off unseasoned and almost expired canned food."

"I'm in the same boat with him. Cannot stand what we're surviving off. Beggars can't be choosers, I suppose." John said solemnly.

Simon quirked an eyebrow. "Did you learn that phrase from Price?"

The comment earned him a punch to the shoulder, and Simon just chuckled again. "I've been around you English folk longer than you think, bastard." His words held no venom, and Simon rolled his eyes. "Thanks for watering everything, even if you didn't find answers to your questions."

John looked up at him and nodded. "I'm glad you found something you enjoy. I don't need to understand it."

It was always a change of pace from when Simon was tearing himself apart to find out the answers to unspoken questions he had about himself to John wholeheartedly accepting him, no questions asked. He'd slowly started adopting the mindset of not needing to know everything for there to be understanding. Johnny really rubbed off on him, he supposed.

"Price wants us to leave tomorrow. We need more food and blankets. Winter might be harsh, and we still don't have a heater that works," Simon said, changing the subject.

The shorter man nodded before chuckling. "Can you imagine us bringing back mattresses? That'd be feat."

"We would probably need to bring the four of us for proper backup. There's a mattress store in the mall we go into sometimes," Simon said. John thought for a moment before nodding his head. "Project for another day."

---

Simon got his and John's clothes while the latter got the shower ready. The routine was comforting for Simon after their 'normal' was all discombobulated. He had folded the clothes as neatly as he could before walking into the shared restroom that was slowly fogging up the broken mirror. He set the clothes on top of the closed toilet seat and made sure their towels were still where they were supposed to be.

"The water's just how you like it, Si," Johnny said, peaking his head out of the curtain. He had always looked at him like he was the most precious thing he'd ever seen, and it was sometimes overwhelming for Simon. He didn't deserve this. But he had it, and so he would enjoy it until the world decided it was time to tear them apart.

Simon only smiled as he undressed and put his clothes next to the pile Johnny had already made before getting inside the shower with him. John made room for Simon to feel the warmth of the water. His eyes closed for a moment as he basked in it. When his eyes opened, Johnny had some of the homemade shampoo in his hand and Simon leaned down so he could wash his hair.

Soft moments like this made him feel all warm inside, and he never could resist melting into his lover's hands when he'd held him. They took their time in washing each other, not wanting to waste a single moment together. The water was still hot when they finished and they dried off and got dressed. They spent the time in a comfortable silence, both having acknowledged that no words needed to be shared.

After they climbed into bed, Simon wrapped himself around John. He wanted to tell him about the feeling of dread he felt but got lost to the sound of John's heartbeat. John rubbed Simon's shoulder with his thumb as they laid there.

"I have a bad feeling about tomorrow," Simon said. John hummed. "Do you know why?"

Simon shook his head. "Just feels like something is going to go wrong."

"We haven't had an incident in a while. We cleared out most of the hoard that went through the city," John said, trying to clear the other's worries.

"Maybe that's the problem," Simon said. He'd never been scared to go out on a mission. The zombies were no more a threat to him than a soldier would have been. A little less if he thought about it.

"Promise me you'll be the one to kill me if I get bitten."

"What are you talking about? You're not going to get eaten. Stop talking like that," John said.

"Johnny, I need you to promise me. I don't know what I'd do if I was the one who hurt you in the end," Simon says, sitting up to look at him.

"I will protect you, Simon. I promise that if push comes to shove, I'll kill you. I'm not going to lose you to a damn biter though, you hear?" John said, pulling Simon in for a light kiss.

John sat up with him and cradled Simon's face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away tears that Simon hadn't even realized were falling.

"Don't cry, my love. It's okay."

"I don't understand why I'm so upset," Simon said. "But I just can't stand the thought of hurting you. You're so dear to me."

"Don't get too sappy on me," John chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "I love you, Simon."

"I love you too, Johnny."

John's eyes widened, and Simon didn't think he'd ever seen his face get so bright.

"Well, you can't die now. Not when you're finding your voice. I'm so proud of you, Simon."

"It's all because of you."

---

Beep beep be- click.

John clicked off the alarm clock with a sigh. He sat up and rubbed his face before turning to look at Simon sleeping peacefully. His light brown hair is laid across the pillow, and his mouth is slightly agape. His hair had gotten longer as he had not cut it in a while. It looked so soft and John couldn't help but carefully run his fingers through the other's locks. The action woke him up and he opened his glossy eyes to see that it was only Johnny there.

"Good morning," he said, his voice gravelly with sleep. "Morning," the other responded. John removed his hand and allowed Simon to do a full body stretch and yawn before sitting up as well. He leaned on John's shoulder, his cheek smushing up against it.

"You're like a cat, Simon. It's sweet," John said endearingly.

"I blame you for making me soft, Johnny," Simon mumbled, making him chuckle.

"We should get up soon. Gaz ought to be making breakfast by now."

"Let me go to the bathroom first," Simon said, getting up and stretching again, yawning as he scratches his stomach.

John followed behind him and then to the cafeteria after, sure enough hearing Gaz making noise in the kitchen.

They walked up to the window in the wall and watched the man do his thing. "Good morning, Gaz," John says loudly so he hears him. He looked over and grinned. "Morning, boys. How'd you sleep?"

"I slept well enough. Simon's still waking up, if you couldn't tell," John answered. Gaz nodded.

"Breakfast is almost done, if you two want to sit down. I'll bring it out to you."

"Make enough for me too," Price said, his voice carrying through the room. Gaz rolled his eyes. "No, I think I'll let you make your own food," he said sarcastically. It made Simon laugh and he covered his mouth with one of his hands.

"Don't think you'd want me messing up your space. You'd probably kill me if I set the kitchen on fire."

"Damn right, I would."

They all laugh and after a couple minutes, Gaz walked out with two trays with two plates on each tray. He sat them down on the table they routinely sat at.

"I found a hen in the woods yesterday, so I went and grabbed it. I need you to make a pen for it," Gaz said to Price. The three of them grinned. "So we get eggs more often?" John asked, earning an excited nod.

"Yes!" John exclaimed, doing a little happy dance. Simon laughed and shook his head. "Eat your food. We should leave soon."

"Aye, you're right, but we still need a list of what we need to find. You're also not even dressed yet," John said amusedly. "Neither are you," Simon quipped.

John rolled his eyes and grinned, eating what was on his plate. The four of them conversated for a while even after they'd all finished their food. It was calm; exactly what Simon needed after stressing all last night.

When they finally got dressed, it was about noon. Simon slipped on his vest and grabbed his knives and backpack. He waited for John to finish putting his boots on before walking out to Price's office. John knocked, and Price called them in.

"I've got your list here. It's the normal stuff with a few additions," the older man said, looking between the two.

Simon nodded and took the list from Price's outstretched hand. He looked it over before handing it to John, who put it in his bag. "We'll be back in a couple days then," Simon said, putting on his mask.

"Be safe, boys. We'll be waiting for you."

"Of course, sir," John said, putting on a mask of his own. They walked out of the room and saw Gaz waiting for them at the door. He hugged both of them when they got close enough. "Don't get lost, got it? We'll come find you if you don't check in properly, so don't leave us hanging."

John grins and fist bumps the man, holding their fists together. "We'll come back. Don't miss us too much, yeah?" Gaz nodded and looked at Simon.

"I'll keep him kicking," he said with a grin. "Good man," Gaz responded, giving him a fist bump too. He opened the door and watched them head out and down the road.

"How long do you think we'll be out this time?" John asked, his head slightly elevated to look at the tops of the trees. Simon hummed in consideration. "Four days. Only because we have a lot to get and ground to cover."

"I'll say a week then. Factoring in anything potential issues," John said in consideration. Simon nodded, "Makes sense. I don't think we will though. It's been a while since we've seen so much as a group."

"Better safe than sorry, hm?" John said playfully. Simon chuckled and shook his head. "Learned that from Gaz? Picking up all sorts of things, I see."

"What do you expect? I'm around you guys all the time. Bound to happen," John said, amused.

"We'll be at the city soon. I can see it ahead," Simon said, changing the subject. Since they left so late, they wouldn't make it in daylight and would need to set up camp and get there the next day. Walking give miles takes longer than one would originally expect. They were pretty close by the time the moon was a quarter of the way up in the sky and decided to make their border so they could sleep.

Simon threaded three lines of barbed wire around the trees where their camp would be; one close to the ground, one about torso level, and one in front of his face. After that, he pushed leaves closer to the wire so it would be easier to hear if anything on through. John made a small upside down fire in the meantime, putting down their sleeping bags and using their bags as pillows.

"Did you remember the spoons, Johnny?" Simon asked as he watched him pull out a couple cans of food. John looked around as he thought about it before grimacing. "I'll take that as a no. Good thing I remembered for you," he said, pulling a couple out of his own bag.

"I can't go anywhere without you, Simon," John said playfully, knowing full well that he would forget his sleeping bag if Simon wasn't there to remind him or grab it for him. "I know," the other responded, handing him a spoon.

They ate in a comfortable silence and watched the fire. When they finished eating, Simon took the cans and put them in a spare bag he had brought, putting the spoons in with them to wash them when they got to the stream on their way back. They sat next to each other, their shoulders touching.

"We should sleep soon," Simon said as John leaned his head on his shoulder. "You won't sleep, so I won't either," John said in determination. Simon chuckled and shook his head. "Sleep, Johnny. I'll watch over you."

The man was already asleep, much to Simon's amusement. He never could stay up like Simon could. He fell asleep a little after, laying them both down to get comfortable. Simon layed on the sleeping bag while John was sprawled out on top of him, his head on his chest.

Simon woke up to rustling and at first thought it was John moving. He soon realized that he would have felt the man move and opened his eyes to see a walker fallen over the wire. It was quickly crawling towards them and Simon grabbed the knife from his side pocket and slipped out from under John. He met the zombie halfway and he stabbed into its ear. It was a clean kill, if he did say so himself. The sun was decently up and thought it would be good to get up and go before it was super bright. Sunglasses are hard to put on over the hard shell of a mask.

John woke up from the commotion and shot up when he saw the dead zombie slumped at Simon's feet, thinking it was still alive. "It's alright, Johnny. Took care of it," Simon said, easing John's worries. "We should go soon, so get ready to leave."

He nodded and stretched before getting up and taking deep breaths to calm his adrenaline. He always feared Simon would get bit protecting him. He rolled up the unused sleeping bags and put them away while Simon undid the wiring. They both took a whiz before continuing their trek to the city.

They took their knives out just in case something came at them. Every now and then, they would encounter a runner and they were the worst of them. John opened the makeshift fence they'd made to keep the area contained. Ammo had been exhausted at the beginning of the outbreak and they didn't have much left. As such, guns were rarely used.

They'd never found other survivors. It was hard to live in a world like this and not many had good survival instincts. It really was a wonder the military fell so soon when they were supposed to be trained for it. Oh well, Simon supposed. More resources for my group.

Closing the fence, they ventured further in. "What store should we hit first?" John asked, his eyes scanning the area in front of them. "Necessities first. Probably the chicken feed since the store is farther away. We can work our way to the front."

"Makes sense. It would keep us out here longer though. I don't remember where the store is exactly."

"Neither do I. But if we want eggs, we need to hope we find it quickly and that it's even there."

John nodded, and they kept walking. "We should stock up on toilet paper as well. Maybe grab a thing of water until we get the well pumping properly."

"Should get some for our vacation."

"While this isn't a vacation I would want, it's funny," Simon mused. John stifled a laugh.

They spent most of the day walking down the streets until it got dark enough that they would need to find a building. They found one without a bunch of broken windows and it looked secure enough. They went to the door and carefully opened it, hoping it didn't squeak too much.

The windows let in enough light that they could see well enough. Simon walked over to the wall and banged on it a few times. The door was still open in case a crowd came and they could easily leave. The downside was that the noise could have attracted some outside. It would do them no good to be cornered. When nothing came and no sound was made, John closed the door. They scouted the room and found nothing. The windows were stable and the door leading upstairs was barricaded. As long as they secured the door leading out and stayed out of sight, they would be just fine.

They were unable to make a fire, much to John's dismay, but they did have an electric lantern still. Price was able to fix a solar panel onto it and now they could test to see if it worked. Simon desperately hoped that it would work like this, although he would never admit it. He wanted to be able to see everything if anything happened. That would have been his explanation. The real reason, however, is that he wants to be able to watch John. He didn't know how much time they had left and he wanted to see as much of him as possible.

It's not creepy. It's endearing, Simon thought. How many times will I see him before our inevitable deaths?

He broke free from his slightly morbid thoughts after seeing John grin at him with his teeth showing. It meant that he was pleased. That's good. It was moments like this that made him feel the urge to commit whatever crime he needed to just to see him smile all the time. Not that there was any structure anymore, but his point still stood.

With confirmation that it works, they turned it off. No use in wasting electricity when there was still light outside.

"Hungry, Simon?" John asked as he rifled through his bag for food. Simon nodded when he looked at him. “These are so much better when they're hot, but here you go.”

[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

Shoutout to my Google doc for reaching 200 pages. Sometimes I'm worried it will crash and die because of how long it's starting to take to just load the entire thing :)))

Also on AO3, I give each chapter a title, which I never add here.

This one will be called "Our Story's End"

The courtyard is surrounded by bleachers, benches full of dark figures. Spectators for Graves’ twisted theater, soldiers melting into the night sky. The stars are so bright here, a passing thought graces Ghost.

“Simon?” Price’s voice fills his mind, almost a whisper, “get Soap out of here. Graves is going to-”

Ghost tightens his hold on Johnny’s hand, “I can’t. He won’t let you die, Captain.”

The onlooking Shadows turn their heads to watch Soap and Ghost walk into the court. Price and Gaz are held at gunpoint, made to kneel with bound hands.

Blood is covering Garrick’s left shoulder, the man shuddering periodically.

Gaz’s face screams of desperation, the Sergeant wordlessly asking Ghost to turn around, look away, just do anything to stop Graves’ plan.

Ghost continues walking.

“Our main guests are finally here.” the Shadows say as one, guns raised at them, “drop your weapons and keep your hands where I can see them, boys. No funny business, alright?”

Soap instantly throws his rifle to the side, motioning Ghost to do the same. His heart wrenches when he thinks he’ll have to let go of Johnny, but his Sergeant simply lifts their joined hands, glancing at him before glaring back at the Shadows.

“Good… now, I’m going to keep this simple.” the soldiers holding Price and Gaz press muzzles to their temples. 

Limbo screams at the back of his mind, warping and mixing with Price’s near begs to run away.

“All I want is Sergeant MacTavish. This entire… situation has gotten out of control, and for that, I’m truly sorry.” 

The Shadows stand up, rush down the steps to circle the 141.

“Deal’s this: give me Soap, or I kill everyone here, starting with these two.”

Ghost doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Everyone knows what Johnny will pick, the choice is obvious. 

Why is it, then, when Soap lets go of his hand, warmth leaving him in a frozen world, that Ghost reaches over to grab it again?

They both know how this story ends.

Johnny’s eyes, blue skies that hold an infinite number of stars, plea for him to let go. But Simon needs a different ending than this. It can’t be over, ripped away from him like that.

Johnny’s lips start moving, and Simon barely catches the words he mouths before he turns to walk into the Shadow’s arms.

“Find me on the other side, Simon.”

He will regret his inability to answer back for the rest of his life, body and mind so strong they could topple whole empires, yet too weak to do any more than watch Johnny be dragged away into dark vans.

The Shadows drive off, dust kicking up and engulfing the remaining taskforce operatives, the stars gone, muddled by clouds.

All other Shadows melt into the ground, the battle abruptly over.

People are talking to Ghost. Hands hovering over him concernedly. He paid them no mind.

All Simon can see are stars, weakly shining in the vast darkness.

Shining until they, too, leave him.

The Vaqueros drove everyone to the safe house, with many needing medical attention, and the main base still considered under enemy control.

Price and Gaz have stayed with him, when he took 20 minutes more to get out of the truck. When Ghost walked off to the barren lands surrounding the house. 

When he just stood there, in silence, staring at the sky slowly turning a pale grey.

Price eventually pushes Gaz to find someone to fix him up. Something about a bullet wound. Ghost couldn’t really focus.

“We will find him. I’ve already contacted Laswell, she’s working on getting information out of Shepherd. I trust we’ll have something by tomorrow at the latest.”

Ice-cold rage spreads through him at the mention of the General, and Ghost can tell Price notices it.

The Captain sighs, “I should’ve warned you, red tape be damned. I knew Shadow Company wasn’t comprised of actual people before shit hit the fan, but Shepherd fuckin’ stopped me.”

Ghost doesn’t take his eyes off the fading stars, “‘should’ve’ won’t help anyone now…” 

He lets himself indulge, for a moment longer, until the night sky disappears completely. Only then does Ghost let fury fuel him.

Price hurries to follow his fast pace back to the safe house.

They can sit here regretting all day. It won’t bring Johnny back, it won��t defeat Graves.

It’s time the American sees what it means to go against the Ghost.

Their allies have started planning without him, soldiers running here and there, bringing up every piece of intel they could find. Ghost approaches Rudy and Alejandro. 

The men order their soldiers in Spanish, their demeanor cool, but with Vargas’s hands constantly phasing through papers, and Rudy having to keep his own away since everything he touches freezes, Ghost watches a mutual anger take control over their powers.

“Fantasma…” Rudy notices him first, leaving the full table to face him.

Ghost doesn’t let the full force of his emotions waver his voice, “tell me you got a lead.”

The Sergeant Major looks away for a second, “I wish we did, hermano… all we know is Graves is likely trying to get to the border, get Soap over to his home grounds. Beyond that, how, when or where?” the Vaquero sighs frustratingly, “nothing. Shadow Company always covers their tracks.”

Ghost nods. He doesn’t dare putting hope on anything right now. Still, he tells Rudy, “Price got Laswell on intel. She’s close to Shepherd, and with Graves still under his command…”

“The General will know where they’re taking him.” Rudy seems to cheer a tad, “I’ll let Alejandro know, our forces will be ready to deploy the moment we get a location. You won’t be fighting this battle alone, Ghost.”

He doesn’t bother answering him. It doesn’t matter if they have a thousand revenants if they don’t know what to expect.

Graves have spat in their face twice now. He’s far too aware of each and every one of their weaknesses; in Alejandro’s inability to phase underground, in Price’s lack of physical prowess, in Farah’s attachment to Alex.

In Ghost’s vow to grant any of Soap’s wishes, and in Johnny’s greatest fear of seeing the ones he loves get hurt, in hurting innocents himself.

They were daft to think they could walk into the prison, while Graves expected them, and walk out with no major complications.

As he watches the revenants argue about plans of attack, soldiers gathering weapons, organising vehicles, Ghost understands that there’s only one way this could succeed.

Remove all other variables. Any leverage Graves could have on Soap and Ghost.

He must do this alone.

Ghost sharpens another set of knives. They’ll be useless in the upcoming fight, but the repetitive motions calm him, push back the incessant screaming at the back of his mind.

He found a small unoccupied room, and set to check all his weapons, disassembling and assembling guns, in a way Ghost wishes he could do to his brain sometimes.

Deconstruct, clean off the junk, put back together. More efficient. More deadly.

His pattern of movement is interrupted when someone knocks on the door. Ghost has half a mind to scare whoever it is away, but he fears he won’t be able to stop once he starts letting his anger out.

And so, he grunts a ‘come in’, watching the door slowly creak open to reveal Garrick, eyes sunken and arm in a sling.

The Sergeant takes stock of the amount of polished weapons strewn about the small room, and leans on the desk facing the chair Ghost is in.

Gaz seemed to hesitate for a moment, swallowing and exhaling, shoulders eventually drooping in defeat. “It’s my fault, sir.”

Ghost frowns in confusion, Garrick continuing, “I shouldn’t have gotten caught. Price tried to warn me, he told me to leave him behind, but I didn’t listen.”

Garrick’s eyes glance at his before they can’t take the eye contact anymore, “I didn’t want- I couldn’t leave him again. It was my fault the Captain was there to begin with, if I took him with me when we ran away from Graves, he wouldn’t… Soap wouldn’t be-”

“That’s enough, Sergeant.” Ghost sets the knife he’s been clenching on the table.

Gaz looks at him, “but-”

“I am your commanding officer, and so is Price. The fault falls on us.” Ghost raises from his chair. “We’re all to blame, and none of us truly are. I won’t accuse you of Johnny’s kidnapping.”

Garrick’s eyes shine with unshed tears, and Ghost’s tone softens, “and I’m sure Johnny will agree with me. What he wouldn’t have forgiven you for, is if you died out there anyway, after all his efforts. Focus on that.”

Gaz inhales shakily, “yes sir. What about the rescue? I can help, scout ahead-”

“You’re injured. Your job is to heal, nothing else. That clear?”

The Sergeant huffs, “crystal, sir.”

Ghost twirls a knife in his hands. His attempts at gathering his own intel have been fuckin’ useless at best. He has a new appreciation to just how much information they usually start with, and the amount of help Laswell lends them.

He has to find out where Johnny is before the rest do. They can’t barge in while he’s saving Johnny, it will destroy the only advantage Ghost has on Graves.

In one of his rounds, inspecting the papers Vaqueros have left on tables, and the markings on their maps, Commander Karim catches his attention, nodding him over.

They walk over to a quieter spot, Farah leaning out of a window to look at the rising sun. The light shines over her skin in an otherworldly way, flecks of gold embedded in her tan skin.

“I’m sure you want revenge. For your… partner.” she starts, assessing him.

Ghost squints, but lets her go on.

“I’d kill him, if I were in your place.” she straightens her back, “but I have a request from you, Lieutenant. I need to find my soldiers, my brothers and sisters. If there’s any chance they’re alive, I’ll do anything to bring them home.”

Ghost looks over the landscape, the golden hues the world sinks into. Farah has garnered his respect and trust, she worked time and time again to keep the 141 safe. 

They want the same thing, in the end. To protect the people they hold dear, to keep them by their side, despite the forces trying to separate them.

“Graves is working under Shepherd. The PMC probably doesn’t know where your people were imprisoned, but the General does. He’s all yours.” he turns to walk away, “I’d gladly bring him down after I deal with Graves.”

Ghost doesn’t wait for her answer, but he already knows how eager she is to find the American.

He harbors a similar taste for comeuppance.

Ghost doesn’t sleep. His frustrations build and build, desperation and despair setting into the Vaqueros, the 141’s heart.

Laswell calls them the next day, and he sees how everyone holds their breath. Something sours in him - she’s their last hope.

“Kate.” Price starts, taking his hat off, “tell me you have something, anything.”

The CIA chief sucks in a deep breath of smoke, exhaling it slowly. The silence is answer enough, but she still responds.

“Yesterday at 5:00 AM General Hershel Shepherd went off grid. His office was cleared out, computer wiped clean.”

Ghost swallows thickly as Limbo wails, begs to be let out and destroy everything. It mourns its light, its flame in the dark.

“Anything he ever had on Graves is gone. Any location of the revenants he hid - deleted. If you were here, I’m sure we would’ve found him eventually, but…”

Price lowers his head, “it would be too late for Soap.”

Laswell frowns, looking guilty of having to be bearer of harsh truths.

“I’m sorry, John.”

Ghost storms out of the room, his ears and eyes not sensing this world anymore. Limbo screams, violent more than ever, shouts at him to let them out.

He runs. Far, far enough that the void won’t consume what little he has left on this earth, and lets the realm break out of him.

The victims of the void cry around him, little moths littering the empty ground. Unmoving and lightless.

Ghost feels light trace down his cheeks, a worn path tears take again. He wipes them off, rubbing at his burning eyes. 

Oh, how he wishes the world would let him hope once more, the uncaring universe let him have this chance, just this one.

When he opens his eyes, Limbo is not as barren anymore.

Ladder-like patterns, as well as achingly beautiful, burning moths swirl around him.

“SIMON RILEY.” two voices call, one weaker than the other, softer.

Ghost feels a flame light in his heart.

“Reaper.”

This chapter really ties in a lot of the themes I've been going for in the fic. Hope it's obvious enough haha

[the-whispers-of-death]

more titbits about my ocs

Hazzard became radio active due to an unfortunate stint in Chernobyl. the merc group was getting paid hella cash to hunt down some people and said people didn't want to get caught so they booked it in a random direction that just happened to be radioactive. the groups commander was the type of man to care more for results and money than his soldiers so he ordered them to advance anyway (while they had no protective gear against the radiation) Hazzard in all his wisdom went after them and of course got their asses but spent just a little too long in there and the radiation got him. now he didn't really get sick or anything (i have an au where he got cancer from it and that's the reason Romanas joined tf 141, to pay for treatment) but the radiation stayed on him. the thing that saved him was probably his height (205 cm) and density (man is built like a brick tank). Romanas, who was on the mission with him spent three days throwing up from the radiation (and stress from almost loosing Hazzard but he won't tell anyone that). Johan made fun of him. so yeah it's not fully fleshed out and i might rework it but that's the main idea on how Hazzard became radioactive (there's also a version where it happens because of a lab accident but idk because most of Hazzards backstory is a lab lol)

now Void is a different egg. you see i have the "now" and "after" of his story figured out but the "before" is beyond me. i was of the mind that the fact i don't have much of a backstory for him only adds to the whole "nobody knows anything about him" bit. i was planning on making him a lab experiment gone rouge (since commander did find him in the woods eating a deer carcass. after that the guy just appeared in the groups base) but idk about that. what i am certain on is that his tongue and vocal chords were removed surgically. who did it and why we may never know (i have like two certain story points for his backstory but i think the lack of it kind of adds to it y'know? he's Void just Void nobody knows anything about him)

also Selga trying to feed people has everything to do with the fact that food depravation was a common punishment under commanders rule so literally everyone in that group has food anxiety

also all of my ocs are very touch starved and very cuddly with eachother but they hate outsiders touching them or who they consider "theirs" (if they accept you be prepared for hesitant and testy touches and if you allow it or encourage it you'll have several grown men laying down on you like you're a bed, grumbling into your ear while they nuzzle your cheeks and under your chin) they also take group naps in cuddle piles. sleep is very important to them due to some stuff with..... "training" so sleeping and napping is among their favorite things to do once commander is no longer in charge

Since I've gotten so much information, this response probably won't be lengthy. But know that I adore what you've typed.

Stone was originally an OC where no one was supposed to know much about him (I still think Johnny & Gaz don't know too much about him) but then I got excited about his backstory and told literally everyone. So I'm rocking with the fact that not much is known about Void's backstory.

Selga trying to feed people because they all have food anxiety hurts me deeply. I hope the commander's dead. He deserves to be dead.

We love cuddle piles here, The Lions share barracks because they like to cuddle.

[kit-williams]

Kinda shameless self insert? With my ADHD ass it makes it hard to try to do reader/yn fics so here's a shameless self insert and yeah anything I write is gonna be ADHD coded. First time writing for this fandom OH BOY and first time writing in awhile.

Some idea backstory its the year 2020-2021 but "Goblin" is from 2023 and suddenly a bunch of fictional men are real. This short is set after all the fun plot set up of "why they believe you" and dealing with your clearance having ass that can just open up lovely bits of information for them. (yes I wanted to skip the hard part of setting up plot) Oh and her phone still seems to be connected to back home so there was a fun moment of accidentally showing Soap his Wiki page "Why am I K.I.A?"

Goblin is Female, is 30, is American, was married, and has ADHD I guess you could say unreliable narrator too?

This is super unbeta read so I guess enjoy my insane ramblings

They really shouldn't make obstacle courses so much fun. I think as I just swing back and forth on one of the ropes over the mud pit, something I would worry about later. I couldn't stop this one impulse it just looked too fun and nobody was using it. I've seen soldiers just do a casual run through of it so why not just have a little bit of fun. I sigh as I continue to swing back and forth and spin slightly. There wasn't much for me to do today but Price was adamant on making sure I was earning some wage, but hard to keep a coding Goblin happy.

Was weird to find out that there was a version of myself here so no sense in going to try and woo my alternate husband... I've accepted the fact that this is not a dream... but hey I get to try and see if the lotto numbers from back home work here and I can give myself a nice stack of cash, Nikolai is such a wonderful man and knowing my dumbass I won't notice a damn thing. That's been the hardest thing... going from sleeping in a bed with another person to being alone... no warm body next to yours with an arm wrapped tightly around you. Muttering for you to not go to work and just stay home... god and living on my own for literally the first time in my life is going as awful as I dreaded. My nuro ass can't thrive alone only survive... momma raised a survivor but I was so use to not being in survival mode with my husband that it stung to go back.

At least Soap or Johnny was nice enough to stop on by occasionally of course he'd make it worse at times... triggering me and making me all antsy. Thank Jesus for Simon or Ghost... I couldn't tell if he was still mad at me calling him Simon when I first saw him but now he just helps. I think he was the first person to pick up the fact that I could hardly live alone.

I had to be thankful that Gaz and Price were married and that I didn't have the four of them mother henning no I only got two though. I continued to swing back and forth without a care in the world. Though I started to get a care... I looked down at the mud in the pit. It was a good drop compared to the side of the mud hole. Just a swing to the side. I gripped the rope tightly as I would move my foot out and get unbalanced but I was so focused that when I heard Johnny say if I needed help it made me discombobulated.

Ghost rushed over after hearing a distinctive shriek and Soap howling with laughter. He rushed over in time to see Johnny's face get covered in mud as their tech Goblin crawled her way out of the mud. How she just smiled at him as he walked over and she just simply shrugged. "Yeah not my smartest lack of impulse as I'm now muddy for the rest of the day. But! I did figure out my coding issue! 'Scuse me gentlemen!" His hand shot out before she could get too far.

"Yer not going to get the computer room muddy." Ghost said as if it was obvious.

"But I don't have a change of clothes and I have an inspired moment." Goblin said but let out her screech as she was just picked up and taken over to the women's barracks.

"You need to shower hen. I'll get you something while your clothes are tossed into the wash."

"Fine. But I'm blaming you when I forget my eureka moment."

"Yeah I can live with that." Ghost said pushing her inside to the showers.

-----------

Goblin was the best way to describe her. She was small, loud, and weird. Not given the fact she was from a few years in the future and the fact that they all existed as video game characters but her quirks, her knowledge, and just the way she carried herself. Soap and her could feed off of each other till she crashed and that is when Ghost would have to intervene. She spoke less and less about her life back home... the lads she left behind as it seems that life continued on and she was still there.

She was giving up on the fact that this was a dream as well... and for the two of them she was opening up how painfully lonely she was. She could see her old life right there being lived by another version of herself. For Simon he knew for her it was akin to the trauma he went through... all of her nets and family and friends basically gone. Ghost could help her keep grounded and well Price offering her a job to have some cash for her to spend on hobbies helped. But more often than not she was at the base unwilling to go home alone where there was no one to soothe her mind.

Soap was eager to fill that void for her, perhaps it was misguided in the sense of he was thankful to her, but Ghost enjoyed the way they would just sit in silence and a few times she thanked him for just sitting in the same room as she played a game, drew, or whatever she did to stave off the pending breakdown. Though she joked that she was like that song Tubthumping she always got back up again. But Ghost was worried when she wouldn't bounce back.

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

How to Plant Snapdragons | 6

Task Force 141, Keegan & Konig x Female Criminal!Reader

Previous Chapter / Masterlist

CONTENT WARNING: Strong Language and Violence, Implied Sexual Content (?) WORD COUNT: 2.6k

“Tie him up,” Price ordered. “Bravo 0-6 to Shadow 0-1, we’ve got the package. I repeat, we’ve got the package.”

“Copy, Bravo-6, the Shadows are still holding down the militia. But better move fast,” Graves demanded through the comms, his voice a bit stifled.

You got up from the man, putting your gun away, and stood beside Ghost, glancing up at him. “What’s on your mind, Lt.?”

“I’m wondering what else ya can do,” he responded in a low voice but kept his eyes focused on the Brazilian.

Gaz and Soap dragged Fabricio up to his feet, trying to remove himself from the soldiers’ death grips, a string of curses in Portuguese and English leaving his mouth.

You chuckled as the sergeants pulled out ropes from the pockets of their vests and bound his wrists on the nearest house’s window railings. “Why don’t you find out, sweetheart?” you questioned, playfully nudging his side.

Upon contact, you felt him stiffen and you quickly withdrew your arm. "Sorry."

He remained silent for a good second and turned to you. "Why not just tell me?"

You looked at him, surprised that he didn’t comment on the nickname you gave him. You smiled. "Eeey, Lt. Ya like to be called sweetheart?"

He frowned. "No, I—"

"Eeey, no need to be shy, buttercup, sweet cheeks, stud muffin—"

"Don't—"

At this point, the rest of Task Force 141 were looking at you two, invested in what kind of cringe name you would give the ever so cool and stoic Ghost. Even Fabricio kept his mouth shut, wondering if you were a mad woman who escaped the Mental Ward and sneaked in with these guys.

"Don't stop the music!" You exclaimed, suddenly pumping your fist in the air and shuffling your feet, before whipping around to Ghost just as he was about to step away. "Where are you escaping, my Pookie, bebegurl, acoochie coochie coo—"

"Enough," he grumbled.

You nodded immediately. "Copy that."

The Sergeants exchanged looks and the Captain sighed, shaking his head.

“Que diabos você quer de mim?!” Fabricio yelled, taking the opportunity to talk, his eyes darting around your figure and the Task Force veiled by the night. Only a flicker of light and your voices could inform him that there were five of you.

“What rubbish is he saying now?” Soap asked, turning to you.

You sauntered towards the target and crossed your arms. “He says, what the hell do we want from him.” Then, you leaned down, leveling your face to his. “Você conhece o inglês?”

(Do you know English?)

His eyes averted for a split second, seemingly thinking, before he shook his head furiously. “Não.”

(No.)

You huffed and glanced over your shoulder to look at the 141. “He knows English, you guys can talk to him instead.” You turned your head back to the Brazilian, who had a frown on his face, knowing you had already seen through his lie. “Say a single word in Portuguese or lie again, you’ll wish you had never messed with these guys.”

Maybe, you were really from the Mental Hospital made in the depths of Hell, because you looked like you added crack instead of salt on an egg at breakfast just now and switched to a seemingly normal soldier who just happened to know Portuguese.

If Bipolarity has four stages, you'd be on twelve.

“I have never messed with any of you!” He shouted, clenching his fist and tugging on the ropes as if he could escape it. “You are the ones who—ugh!”

Soap grabbed his neck and squeezed it tight, his veins raising on his skin. It got you arching your brows, smiling wide, and stepping to the side to let him do his thing, while Fabricio wheezed. What a lucky guy he was to have a beautiful necklace.

“Where is Hassan Zyani?” Johnny questioned, lowering his voice making it sound like a snarl. It made you want to be in the lucky guy’s place, meow, and bark at him if he wanted to.

You were so thankful you had borrowed a mask from the Lieutenant, otherwise, these people would already be dragging you to the mental ward for smiling like a maniac, ready to be a pet for Soap.

Who wouldn’t?

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” claimed Fabricio, his eyes darting from left to right, seemingly looking for something.

You glanced at the other three and it appeared they had noticed the Brazilian had looked around by the way they had also batted their gaze in different directions. Perceiving that as permission to let you and Soap to the rest of the interrogation as one of Price’s tests again, you drew out your knife.

Soap pulled his hand away and stepped aside, eyeing the knife on your hand, before your face covered with mask and night vision.

“It’s no use to lie, sir.” You approached him, holding his hand. “We already know your deals with Hassan. Now, where is he?” you asked and slowly started to drive the tip of your knife on his under the nail of his thumb.

He screamed in pain, his loud voice echoing along the series of gunshots in the air.

These noises were some things you were already used to or rather, they haunted you wherever you went, like a phantom you couldn’t chase away.

Yet it never ceased to be exhilarating.

“I, I don’t—” another scream cut off his words as you lifted his nail from his finger, letting it fall on the ground. Warm blood stained your glove, seeping through the fabric that kept your hand clean.

Just as you were about to do the same to his index finger, he exclaimed, “He’s in Mexico!”

“Where in Mexico?” Soap questioned, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“I—” Fabricio stopped as you pointed the knife to his eye and you could see the big yet dry gulp he had, his Adam’s apple going up and down. “Las . . . Las Almas, Mexico. That’s where I last heard he was going!”

“Las Almas, eh?” Price averted his eyes for a second, appearing to be thinking of something before he stared at the man. “What’s he doing there?”

You slowly planted the tip of the knife under his eye, a warning for him to speak only the truth to the Captain.

“I heard he was making a deal with a person called El Sin Nombre.” Fabricio’s eyes then shifted to you, a bit glossy as tears formed, making you smile. “Please, that’s all I know!”

You kept the knife's blade on his cheek as you turned to face the Captain, quietly waiting for the order he was going to bark. He motioned a hand, swiping his neck which got Fabricio to yell curses at you in his mother tongue, struggling to escape his binds to no avail. With one slash through his throat, his insults that swam to your ears died in the breeze of Rio’s summer night.

You stepped away from the corpse, wiping the knife on your pants, and sheathed it back. You looked from yourself to find Soap, staring at you. You tilted your head in question. “Something the matter, sir?”

“Ah,” Johnny turned away, “nothing.”

It neither looked nor sounded nothing.

“Bravo 0-6 to Shadow 0-1, we’re done unpacking the package,” Price announced, beckoning for the four of you to follow him in an alleyway as he started to jog. You and the guys followed his lead, hugging your assault rifle tight to your chest. The Captain and Gaz were in front of you, while Soap and Ghost were on your rear.

“Copy, Bravo 0-6, that was fast,” Graves immediately replied, amazement evident in his voice.

“She did the unpacking, Shadow-1,” Priced told him, his voice cool, and sounded like a bit of a proud parent when their child achieved something, even if it was small. 

You threw your bag on one of the couches and looked around the place, while the guys scattered around, the Sergeant Duo and the Captain yelling at one another when they found alcohol on the shelves.

You and the 141 were currently in one of Graves' facilities, but this one could be called more of a mansion than a facility. You had heard that this one in Salvador was often only used when he and the Shadows would go on a short vacation after missions. And damn, you had always forgotten the prick was rich.

He had let you and the 141 occupy adjoining rooms with a living room, a kitchen, and a dining place. He might as well call this a suite.

You felt your muscles tremble and the wounds, you realized you had when you got on the chopper, ached.

Not bothering to tell anyone you'd be heading to the bathroom, you got your wallet of personal hygiene, sluggishly dragging your feet towards the bathroom. You slipped off your gear, mask, shoes, and shirt. Then, looked down at the monitor—the bane, the pain, the curse of your life.

You slipped off the first half of your pants, freeing one of your legs—Good—and started fighting for your life, pulling the pants past the monitor with one good arm. You even had to sit down on the cold-ass floor but to no avail.

You rolled down on the floor and kicked the air, breathing heavily through your nose, and got back up again to continue your struggle.

"Look at these goddamn pants and monitor having a relationship stronger than most relationships of kids these days," you grumbled, smacking the monitor as if it would break it down to the point your mind became too occupied with your grumbles and constant motivational speeches to realize the voice outside the door and the sound as Soap entered.

And Johnny was too busy to care about the weirdass pose you were making on the floor as his blue eyes raked over every inch of your skin. His brain took note of the curves of your body, the shades of your skin, your toned muscles, and the wounds you had gotten that he wanted to kiss better and caress each part of you gently to make you relax.

Because you looked angry and his instinct was to cover the growing tent on his pants as he locked the door behind him.

"Wait, shite, wrong, wrong—" your foot slammed on the door before he could make his escape, trapping him.

He couldn't help but glance at your leg, eyes traveling to your thighs and to your clothed cunt, making him run his tongue over his lips. Then he continued up to the flat of your stomach where he'd see the outline of his cock if he was pounding you against the bathroom wall, pretty legs over his shoulders, chest bouncing at every movement, and moaning his name.

Oh, you could feel the desire in his gaze right now and you could see the way his tongue moved across his lips and the attempt to hide his hard-on. And you couldn't help but pursed your lips for a moment, bringing your foot down to the cold tile as heat gathered between your thighs.

The sooner he left, the sooner you could take care of it. But you need his help right now. "Take off my pants."

The lingering blush on his cheeks spread to his ears and neck. "What? No, no, I—"

"It's stuck on the monitor."

"It's stuck . . . ?" He looked down on your leg and almost slapped himself upon not noticing that your pants were indeed stuck on the monitor, and couldn't help but cackle, remembering your position earlier. "That's why yer on the floor!"

"No shit, Sherlock."

"I'm Scottish."

"No shit, Scotlock."

"That's even worse. Alright, stand still. I'll grab a bathrobe." He patted your head and picked up your vest, shirt, mask, and shoes from the floor, putting them on the sink's side. Then, he proceeded to get a bathrobe and slipped it on you, even fastening the ties for you.

“Now then.” He reached down and scooped you in his arm, making your lips part and heart leap in surprise. He set you down next to the sink and gave your thigh a small pat. “I’ll get scissors.”

He turned away and opened the door. “Let’s keep this open, okay?"

"Okay," you replied in a small voice and brought your good hand to your face. "God, he's bad for my heart."

But for the first time, you were thankful you had an ankle monitor.

"Did he just come out of here?" Gaz's voice echoed and popped out behind the wall, raising a brow at you. A chuckle left his lips and he approached you. "Ah, no wonder."

"Don't laugh," you whined, waving your leg and whacking him with your pants like a whip.

His laughter only got louder and you pulled a face. He grinned and pinched your cheek. Then, he frowned as he saw blood soaking the white bathrobe. "What the hell, you're bleeding!"

You looked down at your thigh and clicked your tongue. "Damn, it's on the—"

"Got the scissors," Soap announced and his brows flew as he saw his fellow soldier. You noticed that Ghost was behind him, holding a first aid kit. "Hey, Gaz. By the way, I told the Lt. 'bout your wounds." He gestured a thumb over his shoulder.

"He said you have cuts that are large enough to need stitches," Ghost claimed, raking his light brown eyes over your frame. He could see your hand and thigh bleeding.

"Ah, I was planning on taking care of it later," you said as Soap began cutting the pants and finally pulled it off your ankle monitor. He set it aside and inspected the monitor if he accidentally damaged it.

His eyes narrowed as he placed the kit down next to you. "Later won't cut it, sweetheart." He slipped off his gloves and washed his hands clean on the sink, before patting it dry on the towel hanging on the wall. He extended his hand. "Let me see your hand first."

You put the back of your hand over his, showing him your palm. A cut across greeted his sight, blood running out and making him sigh. "Not so deep to need stitches, this one, but we need to bandage it up." He opened the tap and guided your hand under the running water. "Gaz, put pressure on her thigh. It's bleeding too much."

You winced at the sudden sting as the water hit your wound and the Sergeants had begun to press clean towels on your bleeding cuts, but it was nothing you couldn't take. Soon, after cleaning the wound, he applied down ointment and bandaged it up.

"Alright, your . . . thigh." He looked you straight in the eyes. "May I?"

For someone who had strangled you with his godly thighs, he sure was a gentleman. But more than that, you had noticed that as you had grown closer to the Sergeants, it seemed the more you grew distant from the Lieutenant. He had avoided your touches, even a simple nudge.

You nodded. "Of course, sir."

Gaz removed his hand away from your thigh and Ghost carefully lifted it to look at the wound. His rough, scarred, calloused hand felt warm against your skin.

"We'll have to stitch this one," he claimed and gently set your leg down.

"Are you good at it, sir?" You questioned as he rummaged through his kit. He pulled out a kind of needle you were so familiar with—a curved one.

"Very," he said confidently, putting a thread through the eye of the needle, and disinfected it with alcohol. "Go hold onto something. This might hurt."

"Want to hold my hand, Bonnie?" Soap offered, taking your good hand in his grasp.

"Please," you replied, squeezing it.

"Come closer," Ghost demanded and you inched yourself closer to the edge. "Lift your leg a bit for me."

Ah, another one that was bad for your heart.

Next Chapter / Archive of Our Own

Taglist: @yyiikes, @the-faceless-bride, @sae1kie, @sarahedwards16, @kenma-izhu, @kkaaaagt

[fritzi2405]

Family isn’t always blood  MW Oc story

summary: After a successful Mission with 141, Erik thinks back on an old saying.

warnings: Cod typical violence, wound but no graphic describtion

a/n: This is the first fanfic I’ve written. It started to snow here where I live so I had this thought about a mission in the snow and just wanted to write it down. I also just really wanted to write some stuff for my oc and though hey why not. Bare with me on any spelling mistakes english is not my first language

wordcount: 1254 

The Wind was beating against the old wooden Walls of the small Cabin, howling like a hungry beast. Rubbing his cold Hands together Erik starred out the small Window in front of him, his tired mismatched eyes watching for any sign of life. A small crackling sound from his radio drew his attention away from the empty fields before him. “Comms Check. Odin how’s it looking out there?” the raspy, deep voice of Captain Price came through. Taking one last look out the window Erik answered, “All calm Captain, seeing no movement out there.”  “Keep your eyes open, the convoy should be here any minute.” “Roger that Bravo 6. Out here.”                                                                                                         

Propping up his Sniper Rifle the blonde-haired man scanned the Road behind the fields for the 100th time that night. Lights slowly moving down the Street caught his attention. Suddenly feeling much more awake he reached for his Radio “Bravo 6, I got movement on the north end of the road, could be the convoy.” “Roger Odin, don’t lose sight of them.” Shuffling and moving feet could be heard from the other end of the Comms. Directing his gaze back on the light creeping down the road Erik could now clearly see the Convoy moving slowly through the snow. In the Front where 2 small black vehicles followed by what looked to be a troop transport, after that driving in the middle of the line was a container housing the stolen weapons they where after. Following the weapon transport where a smaller troop transport and ending the line was a truck.                                                                                                                                       

Not taking his scope of the container he waited for the captain’s signal. Movement in the trees near the Road and an easy to miss flash of light was all the sign he needed, he lined up his shot, hitting the weapon transport driver right in the head dropping him immediately. The confusion created by the sudden stop of the transport made the rest of the line come to stand still. And then, fast as lightning, Task Force 141 moved in clearing a way to the weapons. The hulking figure of Ghost followed by Soap could be seen moving forward from the back while Price with Gaz by his side moved in from the front. Both teams were followed by a few other Soldiers.                                                                      

Taking shots where he could Erik dropped one Guard after another. A roaring noise coming from where the escort originally emerged grabbed the germans attention. “Soap, Ghost be advised there is another car coming from behind you” he spoke into his radio notifying his teammates. “We’re a little busy right now Odin.” Soap responded the distress clear in his voice. “Can you cover us?”    “Sure thing my Scottish friend.”                                                                                                                                                                                                        

With the cover provided by Erik, Ghost and Soap moved forward soon reaching the payload shortly followed by Price and his group. They secured the vehicle making sure no other enemies were nearby. “Get ready Odin, we’re leaving.” “Roger.” Erik jumped up grabbing his bag. He bolted out the house completely forgetting the cold he felt only moments before. The Snow was now coming down heavier, the freezing wind was pounding against the man’s half covered face as he sprinted towards the rendezvous point. As the car came into few Erik released a breath, he didn’t realise he was holding. He heard Gaz yell something to him but the building Storm around them was to load completely swallowing the young brit’s voice. Erik got into the Truck right as the sound of wheels could be heard behind them. With Ghost pressing down on the Gas pedal so hard it might break they sped off, leaving the Reinforcements coming for them behind as the Snowstorm rolled in.

Back at Base, the weapons safely stored away, Price went off to report back to Laswell. Meanwhile the rest of the Task Force moved to the Barracks to warm up. Now with the Adrenaline wearing of Erik could feel just how cold it was outside, silently thanking himself for wearing his face covering. Getting inside he let out a pleased sigh as the warmth hit him. Looking around he could see the comfort set in the faces of the others as well. Even Ghost wore a calm expression in those dark eyes of his. Though one face was off. Gaz, although also looking more comfortable wore a somewhat pained look on his face. Walking over to him, Erik noticed him clutching his left arm. He tapped him on the Shoulder “Hey Gaz, you alright?” The Brit looked up at the man “ah no… one of the little pricks got me in the arm, its only a graze but still hurts.” He hissed while moving his hand away form the Wound. It wasn’t bad, truly just a graze wound, nothing that would need sewing up but still shouldn’t be left untreated. Softly taking the younger man’s arm in his hands he looked at him “You want the medics to take a look at it?” Gaz shook his head. “The let me treat it at least, wouldn’t want you to get an infection.” Seeing that there was no room to protest Gaz shook of his jacked and let the blond look at his arm. “Mhm… Soap be a dear and hand me that med kit over there.” His comment earning a playful slap on the arm from the Scott as he took the med kit form the Sergeant. Grabbing the alcohol and a cotton ball his mismatched green and grey eyes looked back into Kyles dark brown ones. The look he gave Erik reminded him of a how a younger sibling looks at their older Brother, bringing a smile to the tired mans features. “I think you know how this goes Gaz, since it’s just a surface wound, I only need to clean and bandage it.” All Erik go for an answer was an approving huff. He dapped the small piece of Cotton in the clear alcohol and brushed it over the gash on Gaz’s arm who took in a sharp breath through gritted teeth. Ghost gave the man a comforting clap on the back while walking past them to the gun locker on the side of the room. Removing the Cotton from Kyle’s arm Erik wrapped the now clean cut in bandages then took a step back admiring his handywork. “There you go, all done. Just change the Bandages tomorrow when you wake up.” Gaz gave the tall man an exhausted smile “Thanks Odin, you would make a great Nurse.” “Now you’re pushing your luck Sergeant” Erik chuckled. “Just taking the piss Sir.”                                                                                                                                                                                                      

While sitting down on his cot and watching the others do their own thing Erik thought back on the day. They were tracking these weapons for a few weeks now. Laswell had asked for his support when the cargo crossed German boarders and he was fast to expect enjoying the last times he got to work with 141. Over the past missions he was able to complete with the Special Task Force he grew close with them; he would definitely call them his friends. The charming Scottish Man, the grumpy Cigar smoking Captain, Ghost with all his secrets and Gaz who’s like a little brother to him, he truly valued the connection he had with these men, and he hopped that one day soon he would be able to back them up again.                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

And in times like these he couldn’t agree more that family isn’t always blood.

[sjrresearch]

How to Write a Historical Miniature Wargaming Scenario?

One of the harder things in this hobby is designing an enjoyable, balanced scenario that bears more than a passing resemblance to the event in question. Many successful battles for one side are not as gameable as one might think. Who wants to be, say, the Iraqis in Desert Storm, for example? That is not to be said that such situations cannot be made into games, but let us see how that can be done with the creative writing of victory conditions?

Research

Historical miniature wargaming requires, by its very name, a ton of research. Books on various battles and campaigns in your period of interest are going to be as needed as the miniatures or boardgames you play. I am going to talk about a game I based loosely on a historical event in a Tony Le Tissier book, With Our Backs to Berlin. 

The game I wrote was based on the siege of Klessin, a town in Brandenburg that was on the way to Berlin. The Red Army had cut the town off, and the defenders were a mix of the usual scratch German forces that one finds at this point in the war. But what interested me more was the German counterattacks to get supplies into Klessin and the wounded and civilians out. Most of the attacks took place at night, and the fighting got so hot, they had to run the supplies in by armored half-track rather than the usual truck. 

This had the makings of a decent scenario and a role reversal for a late war game, with the Germans attacking the Russians. It piqued my interest quite a bit, so much so, I had to design the scenario.

The mentions in the book were a bit sparse, but Mr. Le Tissier did a great job of setting the atmosphere and included a couple of maps, as well as describing the terrain and the approximate size of the German forces involved (company-sized). All in all, it was a great place to start.

Mapping

Mapping will be one of the tougher things you do in the hobby, but with the advent of such programs as Campaign Cartographer, it has never been easier to make some good-looking maps. Heck, you can do very well with some patience and MS Paint. The trick is to use the tools available. First, use any books you may have with the period maps. You can search for more maps online, as well as make use of Google Earth to get a real lay of the land. Once you have done that, you can draw your map on your chosen graphics program. Some advice? Include a sheet to explain various terrain features so folks can follow along as you explain pre-game. 

Some of the things you want to keep in mind as you map:

Elevations and how they translate into your chosen rules set?

Buildings, were there any, and if there were, how sturdy were they?

Roads, were they any, and were they any good?

Woods? Where and how dense?

Bodies of water? Where and are they fordable anywhere?

And that is just a few items off the top of my head. Mapping will lead to more questions as you construct the map, but it will allow you to begin to visualize the scenario and figure out where the “centers of gravity” might be? 

For Kleissin, there was a small town towards the German side of the map, a few hills, and a stream that went from north to south, bisecting the map and causing some minor difficulties. There also were some scattered woods. All in all, a mixed, challenging map that was close to the terrain found in Brandenburg in 1945.

One thing to keep in mind is to not design a bigger map than you can play. It is all well and good to design a scenario that takes up 10’x12’. If you need croupier sticks to move your troops, it is all for naught. 

Opposing Forces

For the Klessin scenario, I had to guess to some extent. Detailed OOBs are not available for either side for the fighting here, at least, not in any sources available to me, but I think I made a good guess.

I used the Battlegroup Fall of the Reich rules set, which fit the mood of the game very well. It has everything I need for Late War fights and even the night fighting rules I need. 

I took the usual Forward HQ, a Feldgemanderie Team, two Panzer Platoons, an Armored Car, a Volksgrenadier platoon in a bus (yes, yes, sing the “Wheels on the Bus” to get it out of your system!), some FOs, some off-board artillery, and the halftracks with supplies.

The Soviets? I gave them a Forward HQ, a Rifle Platoon, a mechanized scout team, two batteries of SU-85 and a battery of ISU-152, as well as 2 FOs in a GAZ-69 and some off-table artillery. I also gave them some hasty defenses. And, as a secret reinforcement they could take if things got bad? Three T-34/85, but they risked a morale penalty if they did so.

Special Rules

Special Rules are, in some ways, what gives the scenario “chrome” or what makes it special. There’s two in this scenario - one is the Soviet morale gets penalized every time a German supply half-track leaves, and it’s being run under night conditions, which makes the ranges awfully close (20”) and thus, there was a lot of maneuver in this game, potentially, with a 5’x8’ map?  

Next, print out player packets. I usually have an idea of how many this game can run (six) and print out eight packets so I have one and can accommodate an extra player if needed. Make sure the packets have:

Map

Side Order of Battle

An information sheet with any special rules, victory conditions, and anything that needs to be tracked.

Final Thoughts

Some points you may want to consider is, as I said, not all historical fights are balanced. But how do you reflect that and still make a good game? One mechanism for rear guard games (where both sides usually and artificially know when the other side is going to withdraw) goes something like this: I come up with a number for the side that needs to withdraw. It depends on how many turns on average I want the game to be an active game. Then I have the defending player roll 2D6 each turn in secret and record the rolls, he adds the total of the rolls together each turn, and when the total reaches or exceeds the total I set before the end of the game, it is time for him to bug out. 

Also, if you use victory points (VPs), give the weaker side more VPs for accomplishing less, and make the more powerful side work.  This works well in counter-insurgency games where the guerillas get VPs for causing even a little mayhem and a few casualties, whereas the government side has to do a lot of damage to accomplish anything.

Do not let the idea of scenario writing intimidate you. I have written as many that have not worked as had. That is what playtesting is for. It is one of the few times I have found people are willing to be guinea pigs! And once you have the scenario nailed down, you have something in your repertoire to run at a wargaming show or convention! 

In fact, if you really like it, share your scenario with others. I wrote this one up for Wargames, Soldiers & Strategy Magazine, and it appears in Issue 102 of their magazine. 

So, get out there and write some scenarios!

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At SJR Research, we specialize in creating compelling narratives and provide research to give your game the kind of details that engage your players and create a resonant world they want to spend time in. If you are interested in learning more about our gaming research services, you can browse SJR Research’s service on our site at SJR Research.

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(This article is credited to Jason Weiser. Jason is a long-time wargamer with published works in the Journal of the Society of Twentieth Century Wargamers; Miniature Wargames Magazine; and Wargames, Strategy, and Soldier.)