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lostintransist · 1 month ago

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Secrets Are For Grown Ups

I am demanding my smooches now.

@beloveds-embrace @cherrycosmos392 @mxtallymarks @love-kha1

CW: Asshole Simon and Johnny using you for sex instead of each other. Calling out someone else's name during sex. Pregnancy mentioned. Death of a spouse mentioned.

Simon slipped. Well. Simon slipped first. Johnny slipped up too. They ruined you, tugging you between them instead of reaching out for the other. You couldn’t fathom them caring. Even now.

If they cared about you they wouldn’t have touched you. You had been twenty-four and still so young. God, you were thirty now and still felt like you didn’t have a handle on life. Johnny had been twenty-nine and Simon thirty-three. Old enough to know better. At least to know better than you.

A series of coincidences led you to a one-year work visa and as an American transfer under the 141 task force. You handled paperwork mostly, and whatever didn’t involve paperwork meant dealing with your counterparts back in DC. You keep slightly funny hours to stay working on Washington time but that wasn’t unusual for anyone else who shared your building. The lights stayed at a low dim all day and night because three pm and three am felt a lot alike when rolling in off a job.

You were a nodding professional with Captain Price, Lieutenant Sanderson, and Sergeant Garrick. Sergeant MacTavish flirted with you. You accepted it with a wary eye and a cool confirmation of what he meant each time. Lieutenant Riley watched. He never spoke to you unless he needed something until the night in the bar. Six months had elapsed on your visa when Gaz, as he had asked you to call him, invited you to the bar with everyone. Seeing no reason to not say yes you had gone.

Off base and with a little buzz in your veins you let Johnny flirt. He insisted on his first name as he sidled up close to you halfway through your first drink. You’d always been wary of Johnny’s flirting. He’s attractive with all the muscles he maintains for work, the air of danger that lingers around him like cologne, and that barely visible scar near his lip. Problem is he knows it. Or at least he knows people react to him with pretty privilege. He makes you laugh. You don’t know why it surprises you, of course, he had to have a good sense of humor to deal with his job.

Lieutenant Riley was watching again. The prickling of your senses that tells you a predator is watching is what gave it away. Staying at the bar smiling at Johnny seemed safer until you had to pee. Passing your cup to the bartender with a quick ‘I’m done with this’ you excuse yourself from the bar and wend your way around the nearly touching tables to find the bathroom.

The narrow wood-paneled hallway had a single bulb shining down on you from a sconce high on the wall. Taking the time to dry your hands completely you pause when you see that the hallway has gone dark. Diffusing light from the main room reaches only so far into the darkness. Scanning you see nothing out of the ordinary and let the crack of light from the bathroom disappear as the door settles closed.

Running the tips of your fingers over the wall, the bumps telling the tales of so many decades of drunken bathroom trips, you touch something that is made of steel and flesh. Jumping back with a squeak you search with your gaze for anything.

“Why does Johnny like you?”

Riley. You let out the breath you had been holding. It’s Lieutenant Riley, not someone who would hurt you.

“You know sir I have no idea. Do you know?” You aimed your voice up.

“I might have an idea.” He surprises you with a touch to your neck. Trailing up to your jaw before dry lips brush against yours.

Stepping back you gave a startled exclamation.

“Ah…uh..Excuse me, Lieutenant, I think I need to go home.”

Skirting around him you flee like a hare that caught the sense of a hawk in the sky. When you retrieve your purse from the chair next to Johnny you find a beautiful woman draped across it talking him up.

“Sorry, I just need my bag,” you said drawing both of their attention to you.

“Ah, bonnie,” Johnny started sadly, “Heading out so soon?”

“Yeah um,” you scratch the back of your head, low near your hairline. “I need to head home.”

Standing he ignored the woman flirting with him entirely.

“Let me walk you home?” He steps too close to you but the body in a chair directly behind your ass keeps you from moving for more space.

Glancing to the storm brewing in the woman’s face you try and redirect him.

“I mean you looked like you were having such a good conversation I’m gonna go wait for a cab. Thank you for the offer though. I will see you at the office tomorrow.” With that you scooted past, unsure how you felt about the full body contact required.

Okay, well your lady bits knew exactly how they felt about it but you as a person? You were unsure. It felt like you had been dropped into a game that you didn’t know the rules of. It continued on like that, them pushing you and breaking your boundaries down one touch at a time until Simon pounded into you from behind in a supply closet. You crept closer to that temporary oblivion when Simon slipped.

A guttural moan washed over your back, Simon’s fingers tightening down on your hips.

“Johnny, oh Johnny!” He came then with Johnny’s name on his lips.

Any chance of an orgasm on your end dried up like a puddle on concrete in direct sun. Simon didn’t notice, pulling out and cleaning up the mess he had made of you before pulling you up and then your underwear. He gave your ass a light tap and planted a kiss at your temple before leaving you to the scent of cleaning supplies.

You worked the day in the eye of a storm. Mentally reaching out to touch your emotions you found only a torrent of fast-moving thoughts and feelings. You made it to your flat before the pressure of the eye wall faulted, crushing you under its weight. The next week you had a hard time eating, focusing, and doing anything outside of work really. Work had you hyper-vigilant always on watch for the spooky silent lieutenant that might try to pull you into a dark room. You didn’t think you could survive another encounter with Johnny’s name on his lips.

Oddly enough Johnny noticed the distress you seemed to be under and took to feeding you. He dropped off a snack at your desk every day and chatted with/at you until you ate it all before disappearing into the bowels of the building again. Three weeks after the Simon incident as you had taken to calling it in your head Johnny had pulled the same shit.

Flat on your back, knees nearly touching your ears he rammed into you. Pleasure crested for you as he could no longer hold on.

“Simon,” the breathy whisper betrayed him. He must have thought you to far gone in your orgasm to hear him.

They had to be fucking kidding you.

Would it hurt less if they were kidding you?

How the hell were you supposed to deal with this happening to you twice?

Johnny pulled out and flopped face down on his bed beside you.

Sitting up slowly you lay a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m gonna use the hall bathroom to go pee. I’ll probably be a minute.”

He grunts his acknowledgment and you set your exit strategy into action. Johnny knew you preferred to put your clothes back on for cuddles if you left the bed for any reason. Grabbing up all of your items you stepped from his bedroom hugging your clothes so tight the zipper of your jeans bit into the side of your breast. Peeing and washing your hands you dressed.

Stepping from the bathroom you called down the hall to Johnny.

“Do you have any cheese or nuts?”

“In the cabinet or the fridge,” came his return call.

Good. He wouldn’t think some odd sounds coming from this direction odd then. Tying your shoes on you open and shut a couple of cupboards and the fridge before rattling the dishes in the dishwasher grabbing your purse and leaving his flat.

Johnny didn’t come after you if he noticed your absence. Arriving home you noted the time. It was four pm on a Friday, Captain Price would still be at the office doing paperwork.

You called him as you started packing.

“Price.”

“Hi, Captain. I am just calling to let you know there has been a family emergency back home and I will be hopping on a plane tonight. I don’t know when this will be resolved. Can you send me any paperwork that I will need to complete so my work visa will close out as it should?”

“I’m sorry to hear about the family emergency, you let me know if you need anything. Your contract will run its course, including the agreed-upon pay, and conclude the day before your visa expires. The only thing you will need to worry about is talking to an accountant out here to figure out your share of taxes to be paid.”

Captain Price had always been like that with you, straightforward and honest. Unlike his men.

“That sounds reasonable and doable. If you have a recommendation of a firm I can reach out to that would be immensely helpful,” you stare at your shoe options, deciding which ones to leave behind since your bag was getting too full with the haphazard way you filled it.

“I don’t have one off the top of my head but I will ask around. Will this number still work?”

“No, this is a UK number that will probably stop working somewhere over the Atlantic. Can you send the info to my work email? I will be able to access that until my visa expires right?”

“That is correct. I will send it there. Safe travels and thank you for all of your hard work with us.”

“Of course, and thank you for being a good captain and a good man to work with.” You ended the call before he could think to question the sentence.

A call to the cab company came next. With the car ordered you left a voicemail for your landlord telling him the same information, family emergency feel free to rent the flat out now. It was a furnished option so nothing here that held an emotional attachment would fit in your suitcase.

The only thing you left behind was a framed photo of you standing with all the guys at a party face down on the table. Anything else you weren’t taking got bagged and sent to the bins.

You cried at the airport, and on the plane, and waiting for your sibling to come and save you from the airport. Telling someone that you had been coming would have been smart, but the only goal was to escape. When they arrived Ash gave you the biggest hug which started your crying all over again. You stayed with them and their partner as you tried to piece your life back together.

Taking the month you still received pay from England you walked the trails of the mountains you called home. They brought you so much peace, like hiding in the skirts of a trusted mother. When you reestablished care with your midwives you found out that your arm implant birth control needed changing, it was overdue. Standard procedure for a well-woman check included peeing in a cup.

“Are you aware that you are pregnant?”

The thin nurse midwife with wrinkles, a long dusty brown braid, and beaded necklaces ringing her neck looked at you from the computer. You must have gone white as a sheet because she reacted by having you lay on the floor, elevating your feet, and calling for assistance. Your uterus had been achy. That’s why you scheduled the appointment.

Pregnant? You weren’t nauseous or overly emotional, only a little tired and achy. This was nothing like being pregnant on TV.

Fuck. That meant Johnny or Simon had to be the father.

Did you even want to keep this pregnancy?

Another nurse with a kind face joined you and your nurse in the room, dragging in a portable ultrasound machine.

“Hi dear, this is a bit of standard procedure. There are a few reasons that a pregnancy test can pop positive. We want to rule out some of the harder-to-care-for options. Do you think we can help you stand and get on the bed?”

At your nod the nice nurses helped you to your feet and held on as you climbed onto the bed, laying back. They had you move your shirt and your pants and undies until the top of your pubes were visible. A grainy image appeared on the screen as the nurse glided the probe to and fro in the slimy gel.

“Alright, this here,” she pointed to a roundish object, “is your left ovary. That looks good. This will help me find your uterus.”

She slid down pressing slightly harder into you.

“Here is your uterus and there looks like one, two little embryos.” She pointed with her finger at each little dot.

“Twins?” you whisper, shocked and aghast.

“That’s what it looks like but things this early can change.” She slid the wand further, “Since we are here I am going to check out your right ovary as well and then we will get you cleaned up and discuss your options.”

The options included waiting, keeping, or a self-managed abortion which included a few prescriptions. They gave you a page of information for each option and sent you on your way with a follow-up appointment scheduled for a few weeks.

In shock, you called your best friend first. Larsen had become your best friend in the second grade and you two had stuck it out through thick and thin.

You told him everything. The entire story. No one else knew everything that had happened. Now Larsen did.

He offered to marry you.

You knew he was good for it. Larsen had never fallen in love, found the idea repulsive. The love you and he held for each other was deep and special, but not romantic. Marriage to Larsen would provide safety and stability, and the ability to change your name before Johnny or Simon could think to look for you. Even if you lost the pregnancy Larsen would be the best roommate and friend you could think of sharing this journey with.

“Yes, but let’s talk this over at dinner.”

The wedding had been a week later in front of a judge, with Ash as your witness and his mother as his.

Larsen never pressured you to make a decision about your pregnancy, simply talked through each option with you again and again until you decided you wanted to keep this gift. Simon and Johnny might have treated you as if they were evil but at least you stole something good from them in the process.

You had two boys growing inside you. To the growing delight of the specialty pregnancy team, you were a rare case of two separate fertilization babies. Distinct sacks and placentas meant two independent babies. Baby A was three weeks further in growth and development than baby B. This idea was confirmed when both boys arrived and looked nothing alike even covered in vernix.

Larsen had chuckled and chided the nurses in the halls for the odd looks you and the boys got. You had five amazing years with Larsen before he died of an aneurysm at work. He left you with a boatload of life insurance and two four-year-old boys who had just lost the only father they had ever known.

The boys knew Larsen didn’t help create them but they were so small it didn’t matter. He was their dad. The first thing you did after picking yourself up off the hospital chair was call and set up therapy for yourself and the boys. You would all need it.

Another two years passed, the boys started kindergarten and you started a cake decorating business from the house Larsen had bought you. You had paid it off with a portion of his death benefits. Everything was looking up. Despite the boys sometimes looking exactly like their genetic fathers, they were the most amazing thing in your life. Life was looking up until the house the bus stopped at went up for sale. Your neighbors mentioned an attractive-looking gay couple bought it and wouldn’t you know they had the best accents? One rang of rainy England and the other of Scotland. They were retired military and were excited for the change of pace this life would bring.

Nope, had to be a coincidence. Couldn’t be them. Why would they move to the States? Why your state of all places? No. Couldn’t be Simon and Johnny, you were still safe from their reach.

Except you weren’t.

They followed the boys home one day from the bus, shocked at seeing a child who looked so much like themselves. When you opened the door, royal icing dried to your cheek, you blanched and slammed the door shut slamming the deadbolt home.

The men that haunted your therapy sessions and the aches of your heart had found you. You and their boys.

Part 2

Masterlist | Secrets Masterlist

#cod #fanfiction #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap cod #kyle gaz garrick #gary roach sanderson #captain john price #ghoap x reader #ghoap x you

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codnasties · 3 months ago

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kinktober ₊˚ · ♡ ·˚₊ price & gaz ₊˚ · ♡ ·˚₊ help needed

price isn't getting any younger. as days go by, his hips hurt more, and his back is starting to give up on him after carrying so much weight during his military years. and having a young missus doesn't help him at all.

don't get me wrong, he loves you, you are the best thing that has happened to him, and he sometimes wonders if he really deserves you. but he can't no longer keep up with you and lustiflness. especially now that his stamina is rapidly decreasing.

he really wants to give you his everything, fuck you dumb on his hard and thick cock until you are begging for him to stop. but that isn't really an option for him, his body doesn't allow him that kind of stuff anymore. there are days whene the most he can give you is laying down on his back and letting you ride his cock as if it were your personal dildo. letting you get off using him while also milking him dry.

but that's only a temporary solution, he feels like he's failing you by not fully satistying your needs and he fully dreads the idea that he may need help to keep pace with your - what for him seems - continuous aroused state.

but for you he's willing to do anything to make you happy. luckily, there is no better person than gaz to help him with the problem at hand. john knows that the young blooded man would quite literally die for him, and is very much willing to help his captain with anything that he may need. oh, and john also knows that kyle has the hots for the pretty thing that he has waiting for him at home.

he somehow made it work, your - what you called - 'dick appointments' with kyle were amazing. they usually were either at his house or rarely at yours. because if they were at yours, price would have to inevitably hear your loud moans while getting roughly fucked.

truly, jealousy gets the gest of him. but he's also curious. he wants to see how good kyle makes you feel, wants to enjoy the view of your pleasured face that he no longer gets to see that much. and he also wants to look at your pussy fluttering around his sargeant's cock.

but he doesn't get directly involved, you know? he might look. sometimes dirty talk to you telling you how much of a whore you are and that you seem to be enjoying another man's dick too much - all with no bad intent -. he even rarely jerked off to the sight, but that's about it.

and even though your fuck-dates with gaz started for the sole purpose of quenching a thirst john couldn't keep up with, there was only so much the captain could handle before he started waning to be a part of those.

and fucking with gaz soon turned into getting spit roasted. gaz fucking into your wet cunt from behind, getting a good view of your round ass. all while price was sitting right in front of you, having you between his thick thighs, with his heavy cock weighting down on your tongue as you tired to suck him off as best that your habilities alowed through the pleasure that garrick was giving you.

and the mix of slight jealousy and and the lust that brought him seeing you get properly fucked was what made price end up in a position similar to the one that he started at: laying down with you sitting on his dick trying to get off.

the only difference being that gaz was now there. his aching boner sheathed in your tight ass while price was inside your wet cunt. and john was thankfull that kyle was there, making you completely full, arms wrapped around your middle usind his strenght to move you up and down and forcing you even lower, making them reach even deeper inside of you.

what started as a solution to his problemas, made price end up in some kind of poly situation, but now you end up with both holes filled with cum instead of one.

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starsofang · 2 months ago

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CALL OF THE SEA / PART EIGHTEEN

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, fire, illness, depictions of death, be warned as always masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Rest didn’t come easy, nor did waking up with agonizing pain flashing through you like a beatdown on repeat with no stop button. Sometime during your rest, you recalled Soap and Gaz returning with the promised pillows, carefully cushioning you in between to ensure you as much comfort as possible, but the memory was fuzzy.

Everything felt a bit surreal, as if you weren’t truly present and the events that unfolded never actually happened. You figured it was your mind attempting to protect you, repressing the pain of the new memories, but it always came back in the form of anguish, your shattered bones shifting beneath the surface of your skin with every subtle movement you dared to make.

There was no use in pretending. It was pure hell, and up until now, you played the role of a strong woman with no fear of walking along a path unknown. You played long enough. The pain was far too much to muster an act of strength.

The room was empty when you woke for the nth time, the barest of sun rays peeking through the small windows and casting the room in a dim glow. The Captain nor the others were nowhere to be found, most likely manning the ship as promised or in their own beds to earn the rest they deserved after seeing a ghost of their past.

Your eyes remained on the ceiling, vision blurring then focusing, in and out. No matter how hard you blinked, the fuzziness wouldn’t relinquish its hold, nor did you have the strength or courage to lift a fist to frantically rub it away.

You hated being alone. After Price left last night, it had felt peaceful—now, it felt torturous, listening to the distant waves clash among each other and having no way of taking your time to breathe in the salty air as they fought against the sides of the ship.

Had he slept last night? Had he rested at all?

You went to open your mouth, to call out for him in hopes of being loud enough, but all that left you was a heavy wheeze, your mouth dry to the bone. You were parched as much as you were weak, and it showed in the way you attempted to inhale a deep breath, only for it to come crashing down on you in the form of an extreme sharp clash to your ribcage.

Everything hurt. The euphoria of your shared kiss with the Captain had long worn off, leaving you sober and miserable.

You were nothing more than a skeleton, or perhaps even an undead from those of the stories you’d heard about as a child. Alive, but not living. That was surely how it felt.

You felt utterly helpless as you laid there, unmoving. Even the lift of your finger felt as if you were lifting the weight of the world. It was all so heavy, your body, mind, and soul.

While you were one to cure the sick, you were never on the other line. There was no one there to coddle you in the way you knew to do with others, nor any treatment that could fix you the way you wanted to be fixed. An immediate recovery was out of sight, and it only grew you more restless, an itch burning beneath your skin.

It was only by a miracle of the universe that just as you were beginning to fight within yourself that the door to the quarters opened, Soap stepping inside with a bowl of something warm, the steam faintly radiating up. He looked surprised to see you awake, making haste in shutting the door and hurrying to the bed.

“Dove,” he chirped, throwing you a smile. You knew immediately he was trying to bring you some light, and for that, you appreciated it. “Yer up early today. Was just bringin’ ye some breakfast to start the day with. Ye hungry?”

Your eyes fluttered at the sight of him, then down to the bowl in his hands. You had no desire to eat, your appetite shot the moment you woke with no relief. Despite the faint grumbling in your stomach, the sight made you nauseous, mouth watering in ways considered unpleasant.

Soap noticed, frowning at your pained expression. He set the bowl down, coming to your aid. “Ye don’t look well. Did ye sleep at all?”

All you mustered was a small hum, lips turning down into your own frown. Your body ached, begging to be stretched from its stiff knots, but you truly felt exhausted. It was taking everything in you to resist moving, fearing more flare ups along your side.

Soap’s hand lifted, carefully resting his knuckles on your forehead. Your skin was clammy and warm, something he took note of, and the skin around your eyes appeared darkened, bags already beginning to form.

“M’sorry for what ye had to deal with,” he apologized sympathetically, brushing a knuckle along your brow bone. “Price has been bustin’ ass to figure out where to take ye. Been out there all night.”

You deflated at that, guilt pulling your heart strings. The last thing you wanted was for them to exhaust themselves for the sake of you, and the helplessness only grew.

“Ach, don’t look so grim, lass. We just want what’s best for ye, can’t have ye all banged up and broken, can we?” he attempted to tease, his smile fading into defeated pout when you gave no reaction. “Does it hurt?”

You let out a heavy sigh through your nose, feeling the tension in your rib cage as you excelled your lung’s usage. You offered a short nod, Soap’s expression only turning more apologetic.

“Can I see?” he asked, and when you threw him a weary look, he corrected himself. “I won’t hurt ye, dove, swear. I’ll be gentle.”

You stared at him long and hard, before ultimately agreeing, lifting a heavy hand to paw away at the sheets. The dress was pulled back over your figure, but with Soap averting his eyes respectfully, you worked with all your strength to tug at the fabric to pull it up enough as you did the night before.

You released a frustrated noise when you were unable to get it past your hips, your arm failing you. You hated how weak you’d grown in only mere hours, feeling as fragile as glass, and you knew it would only grow the longer you remained unattended to from a doctor.

“What’s wrong?” Soap asked, voice slightly muffled from him facing the other way. You huffed.

“I can’t get it,” you mumbled, voice croaky from the dryness in your throat.

“I can help,” he tried, keeping his head turned. “I can see ye wantin’ to say no. I won’t make it weird, dove, but it needs to be checked. Let me?”

Your eyes bore into the side of his face, flickering across the rugged skin and stubble. There was no reason not to allow him to see, granted he already had last night, but alone felt much more vulnerable. Still, this was Soap you were talking about—he wouldn’t dare make you recoil.

You hummed approval, turning away from him to avoid his eye as he shifted towards you. His gaze dropped down to the bare skin of your legs, hand outreaching carefully.

Your warm skin felt even hotter when his fingertips grazed your thigh, trailing its way up to the bunched hem of your dress. He was cautious as he helped you lift it, seeming more focused on his own concern rather than anything lustful.

It made you relax, body slowly admitting defeat as the dress lifted past your ribs, the only thing keeping your decency being the thin sheet he had graciously pulled over your legs to provide you cover. It was as if he sensed your discomfort and was doing everything in his power to guarantee he meant no harm.

Your heart seemed to pick up its pace, pounding against your ribcage and shooting a different type of pain through you. You couldn’t put your finger on what it was. You just knew it hurt.

Once your injury was revealed to him, he couldn’t stifle the pained breath through his nose. His face contorted into one of hurt, as if he mirrored your pain.

“Is it bad?” you asked, voice cracking under the cottonmouth.

“Ach, it’s nothin’,” he attempted, though you could hear the burrowing worry in his tone. “Just a bruise, aye?”

You sucked in a careful breath, feeling your lungs fill then slowly release. “You’re lying, aren’t you?”

Soap grimaced, fingers lightly brushing along the aggressive bruising on your side. The blackened veins had only grown, spreading into ugly branches. Whatever was hiding within them was the sole reason you were so weak, even just mere hours after inheriting them.

“Would I ever lie to ye?”

“Yeah.”

A small smile broke out on his face, only falling when you whimpered a noise of discomfort as his fingers caressed the skin for too long. His expression morphed into one of deep thinking, eyebrows tugged together and teeth nearly gnawing his bottom lip. You thought he looked a bit silly, but maybe you were being delirious.

“No need to worry ‘bout it, birdie. We’re fixin’ ye up real soon,” he assured, a sign of a promise. Despite it, he didn’t sound so sure.

You only hummed, sinking further into the fluff of pillows surrounding you, eyes redirected to the ceiling.

“Do ye want to eat? Ghost fixed ye up somethin’ warm, figured it may lift yer spirits,” he tried, reaching for the bowl he set aside. The steam no longer rose, but the smell of it invaded your nose.

You didn’t think anything could make you feel better, and the reality was until you got true aid, you wouldn’t heal. Not with the Devil coursing through your veins.

But the look on Soap’s face was hopeful, and you felt a nagging guilt if you were to deny him. It wasn’t often you got Soap alone, and you knew he had been the one to take the food to you in order to spend time with you. It would be downright barbaric to deny.

That was how you ended up with Soap feeding a spoonful of warm soup into your mouth, burning your turn at first taste with him snickering in apology and you glaring daggers.

He chirped your ear off, rambling about everything yet nothing at the same time. You laid and listened, occasionally throwing in your own piece, albeit shortly. Speaking fully was hard, even when you wanted to, but the soup had done wonders to your throat.

You reminded yourself to thank Ghost later. Even if he wouldn’t accept it.

“Have ye ever loved anythin’, birdie?”

The question was sudden, nothing like the ventures Soap had been going on about in order to occupy your mind. It took you off guard and you shifted your head to look at him, noting his curious expression.

Love was a strong word, and you knew your answer. You had been alone up until this point, and even then, the act of friendship was something you were still on the path of discovering.

“No,” you murmured honestly. “I have never felt that.”

Soap hummed, tapping his finger against his lip. “The Captain was quite jolly this mornin’,” he stated suspiciously. “He was still actin’ like a hound dog, don’t get me wrong. Barkin’ us around like his li’l workin’ mice, but there was somethin’ different. Ye know somethin’ ‘bout that?”

The two of you stared at one another, Soap holding a grin behind his hand, you appearing stumped. He was playing a game, even with you bedridden and suffering. He truly was a boy at heart.

“Acting different like Ghost does with you?” you bit back, Soap’s face dropping. “You are barking up the same tree, Soap.”

“Ach,” he tsked, throwing a hand up. “Ghost always say I’m too nosy for my own good. Thought the little birdie would have somethin’ for me to hear.”

You didn’t know why, but you felt you could entrust your heart with Soap. He never held judgement towards you, even from the beginning when he fought for your right to be treated fairly. He was a boy at heart, but a man when he needed to be.

“I’m afraid I do not,” you dismissed, rolling your head back forward to stare at the ceiling.

“Tch. Liar.”

You fell silent, as did he. You could practically feel him waiting for you to break, knowing it was brimming.

“I do not think what I say will be very good,” you confessed, tone growing soft.

“I have never forsaken ye,” Soap replied cooly, unfazed by your reservedness.

You frowned to yourself, knowing he was right. At the end of the day, Soap had been your supporter, even from afar.

“Is it bad to feel for more than one?” you asked, keeping your gaze glued to the ceiling.

Soap grew surprised, eyebrows raising. It wasn’t what he was expecting you to say, let alone ask him. “Ye said ye have never loved anythin’.”

“Because I have not.”

“Then what’s this yer speakin’ of?”

“Forget it.”

Soap cocked his head, taking in the way you seemed to shut in on yourself. While he was an open book, he’d dealt with plenty of introverted feelings with Ghost. It was nothing he hadn’t seen.

“There’s nothin’ wrong with feelin’ for more than one person,” he assured, eyes flickering over the side of your face. You could feel the heat of seriousness in the stare. “Hell, who cares if ye end up with more than one? More love to go around, aye?”

You took in his words, allowing yourself to feel comforted by it. You didn’t expect Soap to find it strange anyway, but to hear it outwardly put your mind at ease from the torn battle being fought within it.

“I feel for the Captain,” you murmured quietly, as if afraid to say it. “Yet I feel for Gaz. I am trapped.”

“Is that so?” he hummed, encouraging you to continue, yet you had not much to say. Your own words felt like vomit with anything wanting to come out being trapped in your throat. “Is there anybody else included in that picture?”

You knew what he was insinuating, and it made you nauseous. To confess that your heart pushed and pulled towards each of them in a way that had you longing, it was too much to say. You feared for the path you were strung along, though you feared veering off of it more.

“No,” you replied, missing confidence in your answer. You knew you were lying—you were just too frightened to admit it.

Soap blinked, weighing your answer. It felt as if he was hiding disappointment. You wouldn’t have noticed if it hadn’t been for the slight drop in his shoulders. “S’not that bad,” he dismissed, trying once more to make you feel better.

It only made you feel worse.

You no longer had a reply, opting for silence instead of conversation. You knew you could trust Soap with the information you’d given him, but there was an underlying feeling of something missing from the conversation, something you weren’t quite ready to address.

Sensing the shift, Soap shot you a smile, clapping his hands on his knees to stand. “I’ll be back later, dove. Ye know to yell if ye need anythin’.”

You highly doubted you’d have the energy to yell, but you nodded nonetheless, frowning at his back as he receded from the room.

You worried you hurt his feelings, but you weren’t sure why they’d be hurt in the first place—your own strange inner workings towards him and the others were nothing bad. He’d said so himself. Yet, the way he left so suddenly had your stomach sinking, thinking that you gave the wrong answer.

You watched the door for the next agonizing hour, blinking away sleep in hopes of catching the next person to come in. When nobody came in, you caved in, disappointed, slipping back into a restless sleep, losing the fight with your own mind and body.

The world was distorted around you, as if peering through a dense lens. You weren’t sure where you were, but all around you was an unsettling darkness surrounding a vast, empty land where nothing there seemed to thrive.

The grass beneath your bare feet was dead and dry, poking into your soles like little needles. The trees, albeit what was left of them, were thin and brittle, branches littering the ground around them. Buildings crumbled in pieces, standing broken and tarnished, the homes of what once lived here now vacant.

The world felt void of anything but disaster, showcasing its ugly teeth and rearing them into you.

You couldn’t recall if you’d ever been here before. There was a sense of familiarity in it, something that struck a chord with you.

The air filled your nostrils, breathing in old ash and faint smoke. It made your throat tighten and your eyes water, the scent shifting the more you consumed it, something more rotten poisoning it.

When you looked around, you realized your loneliness. Nobody was near you—not even Graves. It grew confusion, wondering whether this was one of his nightmares he loved to toy you with, or if this was entirely on your own.

Your body felt weightless, as if the pain you’d been suffering had vanished and you were nothing more than a feather. When you lifted a hand to touch your side, there was no agony. It was like you’d never been injured to begin with.

The world around you was eerily quiet. While it had a nostalgic feel, it had your hairs on the back of your neck standing.

You dared to take a step forward, your feet burrowing into the straw-like grass. The moment your foot touched the ground, everything morphed. Rather than the quiet runes of an old town, your ears nearly bled from screams and cries of hopelessness that filled the air.

Villagers ran frantic, seeking shelter from impending death. Women, men, children, they all were succumbing to their own horrible cruelties. Mother Nature offered no mercy on their souls, taking what she wanted and whatever stood in her way.

The homes were no longer rubble but burning in flames, villagers running for safety, coughing and hacking from the smoke that clouded around them in a dome. You felt the heat singe your skin, warming you from the inside and out.

You stood, horrified, unable to do anything but watch.

You knew why everything seemed so familiar—this was your home. You were watching it fall apart just as you’d done before, but this time, you knew the outcome before it arrived. Everybody around you would be dead once again, and you would be the unlucky survivor.

You attempted to move, but as if your feet were glued to the ground, you remained frozen, locked in a nightmare of watching everything you’d ever known crumble to pieces for a second time.

Why? Why were you being shown this? Why did you have to relive it? You didn’t understand, and the more you fought, the more disoriented you became.

Your gaze darted everywhere, frantic as you searched. It wasn’t until you realized the small bookkeep of your village that it was the only building left standing, unharmed. The flames hadn’t slithered inside, nor had it succumbed to destruction.

You tried your hardest to understand, to think of any reason why your mind was reliving this horrible memory, but the flames began to slink its way towards you, tickling your feet. Its ember grew, and you cried as the heat embedded into your skin.

You’d hardly visited the bookkeep, only on the occasion your curiosity on a subject got the best of you. It held no significant meaning to you. All the knowledge you earned was from your own research. So why?

You watched the fire dance around the building as if it were untouchable, killing everything in its wake while protecting the bookkeep. It hadn’t even touched its grass, keeping it green and vibrant compared to the soot-covered fields around it.

You desperately searched through your mind for importance. Even as the flames at your feet rose, you tried with all your might, hoping that anything of significance would cease the torturous pain and bring you back to your reality.

They rose and rose, until you could no longer think of anything but your melting skin and scorching body. You burned along with the villagers and could do nothing but accept it until you were swallowed whole, engulfed in your own personal hell.

“She’s a furnace, Cap,” Gaz said wearily, the back of his hand pressed to your forehead. “Whatever Graves did to her, it’s not givin’ us a lot of time.”

The Captain paced his quarters, hand dug into his beard, tugging.

Upon Gaz returning to feed you dinner, he found you clammy and burning, your skin hot to the touch. Your forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat, the skin discoloring around your eyes to a meek gray. You were asleep, though God only knows for how long since Soap had left that morning.

“Captain,” Gaz tried once more, watching the man nearly rip his own hair out as he lost himself in his own muddled thoughts.

Price said nothing as if he hadn’t even heard Gaz. He was thinking up anything to stall your illness from whatever disgusting infection Graves mustered up, but he wasn’t a medic. That was your knowledge. He felt utterly useless.

“Price,” Gaz snapped, loud enough to garner the Captain’s attention. “Get a fuckin’ grip. Stress later, come up with a plan now.”

Price halted in his tracks, taking in a deep breath. He took the moment to calm himself, knowing Gaz was right in everything he said. He was a Captain, damn it, yet was falling apart at the sight of one of his own.

“We don’t have time for a professional,” Price stated, stepping up to your bedside where Gaz sat. He peered down at you, observing your sickly skin and pure exhaustion. “We’ll take her to a village doctor, a shrink, it doesn’t fuckin’ matter. The nearest place, we take her to.”

Gaz released a sigh, glancing back at your crippled form. Broken ribs seemed to be the lesser worry. It was the ugly veins that only seem to travel further under your skin. They looked worst than they had been the night before, far worse.

“Nobody leaves her alone,” Price continued. “One of us will be here at all times until we make landfall.”

“I’ll stay,” Gaz offered immediately.

Internally, Price wanted to protest. He was Captain, he should take the responsibility, but his responsibility lied with the helm and manning the ship until his body gave out. It was his heart yearning to stay.

“I’ll let Soap and Ghost know,” Price replied. His hands balled into fists at his sides, jaw clenching uncomfortably. “None of you leave her fuckin’ side. Am I clear?”

Gaz stared at the Captain, noting the tension he held. He glanced back at you, a poor sight to see, and he nodded in agreement.

“No man left behind, aye, Cap?” Gaz tried.

Price grunted, giving him a clap on his shoulder. He gazed down at Gaz with an unreadable expression before shaking it off, storming out of the quarters to inform the others of the plan.

Gaz sat quietly, focusing on you. His heart was pained, seeing you so distressed. He did what he thought may comfort you, grasping your hand in his, rolling a thumb over your knuckles. There was nothing for him to do but get comfortable for the night and ride out the storm that Graves stowed upon them once again, promising to whatever God was listening that he’d fight through hell and back if anything were to happen.

You didn’t wake that day, nor the day after. You relived the nightmare over and over until it was engraved in your head, festering itself deep. It took nearly three days to awake, forcing your eyes open.

Your mouth was dry as cotton, eyes crusted over with endless sleep. Your body felt heavy, as if molded to the cot, and it took all your strength to move your head. You would’ve shrieked in surprise if your throat was hydrated enough.

Price slept beside you, faint moonlight as well as a trusty candle illuminating his peaceful features. He laid on his stomach, arms curled under the pillow and cheek pressed into it. He looked almost boyish like that, the worry exhausted from his face and replaced with a quiet calm.

It was the first you’d woken in the middle of the night to the sight of him. The times you’d spent in his bed before were ones you didn’t wake up to, only waking to an empty cot or falling asleep alone.

You couldn’t help but stare, studying every smooth feature. You almost felt it wasn’t real, that maybe this was a new nightmare forming and was playing tricks on you with a subtle beginning. But when you stared long enough, reality formed and you knew you were awake.

Your body was still hurting, though from being so still in slumber, it was more stiff than anything. You weakly lifted a hand, pawing at the Captain in attempts to rouse him.

As if he’d already been on edge, his eyes shot open, meeting yours. His expression quickly morphed into surprise, then relief.

“Dove,” he breathed, sitting up. He made an uncomfortable grunt from the stiffness in his muscles but was quick to ignore it, laser focused on you. “Are you alright?”

You opened your mouth to speak, an embarrassing squeak coming out. Price noticed instantly, shooting up from the bed.

“Water?” he asked, and when you nodded, he dipped from the room, leaving you alone.

You didn’t wait long, and you would’ve thought Price was running a marathon with the haste he made. He sat beside you, carefully curling his hand on the back of your head to lift it. He placed the cup to your lips, and you nearly moaned in relief once the water hit your tastebuds, flooding them with hydration.

“Better?” he asked, watching you gulp he beverage.

Once finished, you sighed, blinking away the soreness of your eyes. His hand remained on your head as he stared at you, worry lines forming between his brows.

You knew you looked even more hellish than before, but he didn’t seem to pay any mind, only concerned about making sure you were alright. It warmed the coldness in you, melting away the icy wall you’d built from the reoccurring nightmare you suffered.

“We’ll make landfall tomorrow,” Price explained, smoothing his knuckles along your cheekbone with his other hand. The affection caused you to relax. “Get you all better, aye? I know how much it hurts.”

You sluggishly nodded, content with the change of scenery rather than angry flames that burned you to death over, and over, and over. Though it’d only been three days, it felt like years.

“Home,” you murmured, voice still shot from weakness.

Price appeared confused, cocking his head. His thumb brushed along your cheekbone as he spoke. “Home?” he repeated. “What’s on your mind, dove?”

“Need to go home,” you mumbled softly.

“I don’t understand—”

“My village,” you explained, frowning.

Price stared at you, trying to read you. His eyes flickered between yours, displeased with the sickly bags surrounding yours. You looked void of life.

“You want to go home?” he tried, and when you nodded, he hummed. He knew you had no home to go back to, and so did you. It was rubble.

Rather than question your reasoning, he merely took it in stride, nodding in agreement. “We can go home, dove—after you get better. Alright?”

You knew you sounded silly, but the nightmare kept flashing in your head. The bookkeep—something was there, even in the ruins of it. It called to you in your dreams, and it stayed unharmed during mass destruction. There was nothing else for you to believe besides its calling.

Price glanced down at the bare skin of your ribcage where it peeked out from beneath the blanket, your dress still pulled up from when you’d shown Soap. They all made sure you remained decent, never wanting you to feel uncomfortable.

Whatever was plotting beneath your skin in the rooted veins, Price could only hope it wasn’t making you delirious. Hearing you utter words about home had him stuck, but he knew better than to not trust you—it was something he did with his life, now that he had you.

If it was home you wanted to be at, he’d take you. He only prayed you made it long enough to see it.

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halfgirl-halfdolll · 10 days ago

Text

Self-indulgent again, also very much a vent. For the girlies who don't wanna be moms, not even in fictional settings, who kinda need some representation. Tw: angst with (almost) no comfort and self-deprecation.

You don't want kids.

You have nothing against them, really. You even like most children, think they're cute and all, but it's just not for you. You have never liked baby dolls, nor have you ever dreamed of motherhood; never had that tug of maternal instinct that most women your age felt.

And for a long time, you felt wrong. It was yet another broken part of you that you couldn't possibly fix, and that alienated you from your peers. You still feel wrong. An annoying, loud part of you still thinks you're broken, but what can you do?

You scroll through your instagram feed, seeing post after post of old classmates either with a big, round belly or with a little bundle in the arms, all bright smiles and hands entertwined and hugs.

And you think maybe you ARE doing things wrong. Maybe you were supposed to do that too. Try to conform to what everyone apparently thinks you should do, push through and endure something you know you weren't built for – maybe it'd fill the hole inside your gut, who knows?

Then you hear a baby cry – a soldier's wife was visiting with their kid – and you lose your breath, quickly approaching a meltdown as you feel your hackles raise despite how much you think it's wrong to feel this way.

You lock yourself into the nearest room.

Truly, you don't mind children. In fact, you respect them so much you know they deserve someone who has maternal instincts, and you know that you're not that someone. Not when you fucking derail at the sound of a kid crying.

"What's wrong, love?" Your eyes focus and you finally realize that you had entered Price's office without realizing. Probably your subconscious seeking the comfort of his presence.

"... Nothing." You lie, breathing deeply and waddling your way to one of his couches. The other men observe your movements with the some focus of a scientist finding a jumpy animal in the wild. Simon gets up to give you his seat on the couch.

"Yer pale as a sheet, lass. What happened? Saw a bug on yer way here?" Soap says playfully, as he scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and anchoring you back to reality.

You huff out a sad, tired laugh and shake your head. You feel the familiar pressure build up behind your eyes and your throat constricts, but you close your eyes and keep breathing deeply, willing the tears away.

A few moments pass of you trying to keep your emotions at bay while the men silently watch you, patiently waiting for you to open up in your terms.

"Do you think I'm broken?" You finally whisper and Ghost is kneeling right beside your seat in the blink of an eye, a strong hand squeezing your knee.

"Why would we ever think that, love?" Kyle asks as he sits on the ground and swiftly takes off your shoes, massaging your feet.

You clear your throat, trying to ground yourself through the feeling of Soap, Ghost and Gaz touching you, all while Price stands to the side. The comforting woodsy scent of their colognes envelops you like a cocoon, but it doesn't stop you from thinking.

It is during moments like this that you can feel your heart breaking – remembering how much you ended up loving them and how much you don't deserve them at the same time.

Your mind flashes back to late nights at some hole-in-the-wall bar, all four of them in different stages of drunkenness, talking about distant dreams they have – a family. Kids running through the house. You'd usually smile and keep quiet, knowing you were drunk as well; at the danger of making some self-deprecating comment you were sure they wouldn't appreciate.

It's good, how things have to be nipped at the bud, you think. It's best to have your fantasies ruined than indulge in them and then hurt yourself later on.

You look at Johnny, a sorrowful smile on your face as he raised his eyebrows in concern. He'll be a great father, you're sure of it. All of them will. It's just sad that you will never be the one to fulfill their fatherhood dreams. You can't disrespect their dreams out of selfishness. You can't disrespect a child just because you were too greedy to breath the same air as those men.

Your breathing slows down, emptiness burrowing its roots deep inside the painful muscles of your heart and your gut.

If you're going to be miserable either way, you'd always choose the option in which you would never drag any of them down with you.

"Forget I said anything." You squeeze Simon's hand, still firmly clutching your thigh. "I'm just having a bad day. I'll feel better soon."

You lean forward, gently removing Kyle's hands from your feet, and put your shoes back on. You get up, still feeling like there's a scream stuck in your throat – something fierce inside of you that begs to be loved without needing to create life; something desperate, that wonders if anyone would want to stay with you without a child to tie them down.

Oh god, are you going to die alone?

You clear your throat as you get up before images of the 141 with other women begin flooding your mind. That would have to wait till nighttime. You could cry freely then.

You force a tight-lipped smile and nod your head at Price. He subtly narrows his eyes.

"Sorry I barged through your door with my nonsense, Captain. I'll be taking my leave now."

Price crosses his arms and watches you leave, steps slow and deliberate as if you were hanging by the thinnest thread. He's very aware of the eyes of his men boring through his head, egging him on to do something, say something. Isn't he the Captain, after all?

"Love." Price calls out for you as you open the door. You look at him with watery eyes and reddened lips. No matter how much you tried to hide how awful you felt, you always wore your emotions on your expressions.

"You're not broken." He murmurs and your eyebrows twitch. "No matter what hurts you. We would never think you're broken."

You bite your tongue, holding back any bitter protest of his words. Instead, you smile.

"Thanks, Cap. I do hope so." You say as you step outside and close the door before any of them could try to retort. You can't discuss anything right now. Not when your mind is yelling silently, desperately begging for acceptance of you as you are.

Most times, you just hate yourself too much and too loudly to be able to notice how they would never care about the choices you have made for yourself and your life, as long as you could stay inside their arms; as long as you could be their girl.

#call of duty x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #141 x reader #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #poly 141 x reader #simon riley x reader

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lovifie · 10 months ago

Text

Hormones Pt.2 🧡

Enemies to lovers | Fluff | smut | 2400 words | Masterlist

Part 1 - Next Part

Simon's POV

Simon was excited you joined, really. Even if you were not officially part of the team, whenever the Captain would tell him you were joining for a mission he already liked the mission better.

He loved to see the way you were around the Sergeants, the three of you being the same rank made it easier to get along; and after a couple of missions together the three of you were already close friends, almost sibling-like.

With the Captain was different of course, but it was still great. You wouldn't make call the captain a muppet like you liked to call Gaz, but would still make fun of him calling him “old man”.

Laswell liked you the best, the usually stoic woman entered now the room beaming with a smile when you were tagging along, obviously pleased with the presence of another woman.

And Simon, him… well, he tried. He really did!

Simon is aware that he is a big guy, tall, muscular and even if he has any trail of sympathy on his face it doesn't matter because it is always covered. But he wanted to make a good impression! You seemed like a nice girl, everyone on the team liked you and finally, when it was his turn to introduce himself he saw you looking up to him.

And you looked so beautiful, so genuine, so out of place on such a cruel thing the military was, he felt his heart speed up and his dick twitch a little bit.

He needed to make a great impression, so he practised in his mind “Hi, I'm Lieutenant Riley, but everyone calls me Ghost, welcome aboard, Sergeant.” It was perfect! The perfect introduction, perfectly cordial, perfectly measured, perfect everything. And yet, when the moment come, the only thing he said was: “The fuck you looking at? Want a pat on the back for making it here without shitting yourself in the process? Get the fuck out of my face, go bother somebody else.”

Simon wanted to shoot himself on his dick.

He realized he had obviously intimidated you, he was still your superior and on top of that he was an asshole to you.

But every time he tried to fix it, he would just make it worse. And at some point, you started to avoid him, and he hated it. You no longer reported to him, you went straight to Price, right over him and for a while he was both annoyed and impressed he couldn’t catch you doing it so he could afront you and ask you to report to him. To talk to him, basically.

And then he did, he was just getting out of Price's office when you were about to knock, and he quickly realized what was going on. And he was going to ask you why and to please go back to him, but the only thing he managed to say was:

“Now you are too great to speak to your immediate superior? Need to go cry to the Captain like a brat? Make sure not to wet your nappies, soldier.”

And honestly, what's his fucking problem?

He decided he was going to get over you, it wouldn't work anyway. C’mon, he was an adult, he couldn't keep getting out of his senses like this. So he decided he would just ignore you back, and eventually, he would forget about you and everything would be easier.

Until Soap caught up, and now he couldn't backtrack.

It was during sparring training, you were against Gaz and the taller man had jet to land a hit on you. It was impressive to see, how you used every single fact to your advantage. Gaz has gotten hit before on the right side of his face, hurting his eye; and you weren't even there when it happened but you quickly realized it and we're constantly moving to the right side of Gaz; annoying him and making him lose his focus.

You moved so fast out of Gaz's reach, that he would have thought you were a glitch in a video game. And once you realized Gaz was getting tired enough, you grabbed his arm on one of his punch tries and by the time Gaz realized you had grabbed him; he was already face-pressed against the floor, arms behind his back and you sitting on his hips.

Any normal person would have been impressed, maybe even a little afraid; but Simon? Simon was aching with a growing boner; something about the way you were sitting over the bigger man, you back to Simon which gave him a perfect view of your ass, the way you were breathing hard after the exercise, yeah, no wonder Soap caught on.

“Ye getting exited, LT.” He suddenly said beside him, almost making him jump. “Ye getting a thing for the wee lass? A bet ye wish ye were Gaz right now.”

“Shut the fuck up, Johnny”

He didn't, of course.

But he promised to help him.

And a couple of weeks later, there is another meeting. Supposedly, Soap has a plan; he won't tell him what is it, but he has it. And when Simon enters the room and it is boiling hot, he starts to guess what it is.

You are sitting opposite to Johnny, who smiles at Simon with a thumbs-up. Not that he looks at him for long, not when you are sitting right on the other side of the table. Wearing a tank top, tight on your body as you use your hand to fan yourself; looking up to him through your lashes, the look travelling straight to his dick. He sighs and sits down, waiting for his turn.

Simon cannot really understand how being boiled alive will help him with you, but is not like he can ask Johnny now. In the end, he's glad he let the sergeant do his thing; because the moment he stands to give his presentation he can feel your eyes on him.

He is trying really hard to stay focused, he knows by memory what he has to say, but the moment he lifts his eyes from the paper, his mind is blank and he stutters on his words. But how can he not?

Your skin is glistening with sweat and Simon can feel his mouth water because of it, little droplets drip down your neck and over the mount of your chest, light reflecting like on a mirror as your chest raises with each breath. He looks up your arm, finding your thumb between your teeth as you bite your nail; your soft lips pressing your finger, your pink tongue visible through the small space between your teeth and it sends Simon's mind in a turmoil as to what he would like to do with your mouth.

He shouldn't, he is at work and he is giving a damn presentation! He doesn't dare to look at Price, he is sure he is talking no sense at this point, but he can’t peel his eyes away from you when he can feel you look at him.

It is then that he looks at your eyes, and he swears he has never seen you look like that. You have a hunger in your eyes that causes a shiver up his back, you have a determination mixed with a desperation that has Simon weak on his knees and you are not even looking at his face. You are looking at his body, he unconsciously flexes the muscles you look at and when he sees you focus your eyes on your crotch he has the need to sigh, emptying his lungs to suppress a moan.

He looks back at the paper, trying to remain focused as he figures out where the last line he read is. He doesn't find it, because suddenly Johnny is laughing at the top of his lungs after you show him something on your phone. He cannot see it from where he is standing, and he fights with all his might not to bend down to be able to see it.

He'll ask Johnny later, once he is done with the presentation and doesn't have to fight a boner back.

He does ask him later that same day, when he is in the sergeant’s barracks lying on his bed.

“I told ye it would work, Lt.” Soap says smiling from his desk. “She's into ye, mate. Ye just need to stop being weird.”

“I'm not weird.” Simon defends himself, being interrupted by a knock on the door. Gaz pokes his head in, entering once he sees they are both inside; he wonders for a second what he is doing here until he sees you walk in just behind him.

Gaz has a brick of beers in his hand, he winks at Simon and he quickly realises he is into whatever plan Soap has orchestrated. He whips his head to look at the mastermind and finds him sitting on the other bed in the room, Gaz quickly sitting beside him; leaving only half of the bed Simon is sitting at left for you to sit.

Soap and Gaz look at him with a shit-eating grin on their faces when he looks at them, the two little shits are physically making you sit next to him, almost skin-on-skin with how much space Simon takes.

You POV

Fucking Soap.

Last fucking time you trust him with your secrets! When you left the meeting this morning, he tackled you to ask you about why you were ogling like that at the LT.

“Is not me, Soap. Is it my hormones.” You whine, trying to convince him to let it go.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. But you were drooling for HIM.” He says, accentuating it. “It hurts my pride, bonnie. We were all in the room, but ye only had eyes for him.”

“Soap, for god's sake. I looked at him for two seconds.” You argue.

“Two seconds for each ball, lass. I saw you, looking up and down his bod. Ye got a crush for the Lt, bonnie?” He asks, moving his eyebrows up and down. You look at him offended before rolling your eyes. “I'm not fifteen, Soap.”

“I know, lass. The way you were looking at him was not of a fifteen years old, you were thirsting for him. You were staring at his willy, lass.” He says cocking his head and smirking.

“No, I wasn't!” You lie, feeling embarrassed to admit something like that.

“Shoot your shot, lass. I'm pretty sure he has a thing for you too.” He says, putting his hand over your shoulder.

“Yeah, murderous thoughts.” You snort, not believing the scotsman.

He laughs at you and claps your back stepping aside. “Trust me, give it a try. Ye may not end up married, but I'm sure ye'll get your kitty pet.” He says before taking a step back and mimicking having sex doggy style making you cringe which causes him to laugh. “Come to my room later, we getting drunk.”

Simon shimmies his way a little to a side, and even though for a second you wonder about sitting at the desk, you decide it is not worth it.

This man has been just a little asshole to you since you met, and now suddenly your fucking hormones have you wanting to peel his pants off and choke on his dick. It's not fair!

So you sit down next to him, your leg touching his. He keeps his hand on his lap, only raising his hand to catch the beers can Gaz throw at him. He catches them, opens one of them and hands them to you. You grab it and mutter a thank you, looking at him and noticing him looking at the other men in the room.

Gaz and Soap quickly start to talk, filling the room with a comfortable sound and Ghost and you remain as mere spectators.

The beers get drunk fast, a warm feeling flooding everyone's bodies and everyone kind of melting onto the beds. At some point, you notice Simon move and the next thing you feel is the heavy weight of his arm over your shoulder.

You tense for a second, looking up at him, finally making eye contact with him and he says: “Sorry, luv. My arm was getting numb, you don't mind, do you?”

You shake your head, unable to speak. Simon's eyes on you, feel like a truck lying on your chest, but still, you can't peel your eyes away.

He looks down at your lips and you unconsciously lick your lips, an almost unnoticed groan leaving his throat. He caresses your arm making you jump and you get goosebumps all over your body.

“You two should make out.” Soap suddenly says, making you both look at him like he just grew a second head. Ghost is not the only one that has gotten comfy; Gaz and Soap are currently cuddling, legs tangled and Soap's head resting on Gaz's chest. “Yeah, Ghost's about to bust a nut just for looking at you, bonnie.”

You whip your head back to look at his crotch, and for the milliseconds before he covers himself you can feel the protruding bulge of his boner trying to break free from his pants.

The little horny monster on your brain is rattling at the bar of your enclosure, urging you to just throw at him. It's been too long since you got laid and Ghost it's obviously reciprocating your feelings.

Gaz starts to chuckle with Soap, your irrational mind tells you that if anything they are laughing at Ghost, but your brain only tells you that they are laughing at you. Because maybe Ghost has a boner, but you are looking up at him, opening and closing your mouth like a fish and overall looking like an idiot.

Ashamed of yourself you start to stand up from the bed. “I'm going to sleep.” You vaguely feel Ghost's hand on your wrist, not fast enough to keep you in. And you leave the room keeping their complaints about not wanting you to leave inside.

You practically run to your room, throwing yourself on your bed, tears pricking your eyes from humiliation. And you would have cried if a knock on your door didn't interrupted you.

“What?!”

“It's me, can I come in, love?”

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multifandomimagin3s · 2 years ago

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Realising they accidentally hurt you while making out - 141 + König

Requested by Anon

some angst, fluff, mentions of sexual themes but nothing explicit.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Gentle isn't really in his vocabulary - he's six feet of pure muscle and strength and while he tries to make a conscious effort to reign himself in, he can sometimes get a bit carried away in the moment.

For him to be physically intimate with you on any level, you'd have to be close to him; in this scenario, you'd have worked your way into his heart.

Doesn't like being vulnerable, point-blank.

But once he realises that he'd hurt you, someone he cares so deeply for, he feels guilty. Beyond guilty.

Notices the bruising on your wrists from his solid grip, when he'd been holding them above your head during a passionate kiss, and feels his stomach drop.

Even as you insist to him that you're okay, he'd be distant.

With all of his past experiences - with his Father, his Mother, and his childhood as a whole - he internally and solemnly swore that he would never lay a finger on you or hurt you, in any way.

And now? He feels like he's done just that.

Would probably take him a while to get out of that headspace - you knew that trying to push him wouldn't help but still checked up on him; which in turn made him feel more guilty, you were so kind to him and deep down he felt like he didn't deserve such kindness.

You would be cooking a meal for the both of you, when he would wrap his arms around your waist from behind, wordlessly pressing his head into the crook of your neck.

"'m sorry." He was apologising not just for the bruises, but for everything - he had been hiding himself away, and the lack of intimacy was borderline painful for the both of you.

You turned around in his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling you to him in a hug. He stiffened, before his arms tightened around you slightly, as if he was making sure that you were still here with him.

You were, and you silently promised that you weren't going anywhere.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny is your typical 'class clown' - he's charismatic in such a way that you can't help but laugh along with him, and his energy just makes him fun to be around.

The only time he really gets serious is when he's working but even then he's always one to crack jokes with the Team - namely, with Ghost (who 9/10 pretends to be annoyed at the Sergeant, rather than admitting he enjoys his company).

He always misses you so much when he's deployed - to be honest even if you were also in the military, if you both got sent on different missions or were even apart for a day, he'd still feel like he hadn't seen you in forever.

So when he does see you again, he's very passionate in showing you just how much he missed you.

It wasn't until you winced from how hard he was gripping onto your hip during a make-out session that he pulled away, panicked eyes searching your form for the source of the pain.

His eyes fell onto the slightly discoloured blotches on your hip, and he instantly frowned, scooping you into a hug.

"Aw I'm so sorry, Darlin', I didnae realise I was hurtin' ye."

The make-out session was completely abandoned, as he rubbed your hip gently, kissing your forehead.

Makes mental notes to keep his strength reigned in in future, and feels absolutely awful when he sees the finger-shaped bruises forming on your skin :(

Definitely would turn up with a bouquet of flowers for you, orders your favourite food and dotes on you for days after it - no matter how much you may protest, he's going to treat you the best he can.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Another guy who's very passionate when he's been away from you for a long period of time.

He misses you more than you'll ever know - he even carries a little photo of you in the pocket of his tactical vest.

Can get a bit excitable when making out, picking you up under your thighs, pushing you against the wall - a little bit too forcefully.

He notices your breath hitching and it takes him a second to realise that it wasn't sexual, but he had in fact accidentally knocked the back of your head against the wall with the momentum.

Immediately places you down on the bed, apologies continuously flowing out of his mouth as he pulls you to his chest, cradling your head.

It didn't hurt that much, more of a dull ache, but in his eyes he might as well have fractured your skull.

Like Soap, he dotes on you for ages after it, promising that in future he'll be more careful with his strength.

Captain John Price

He's been in the military for a long time so he likes to think that he has a good awareness of his strength, and is always mindful around you.

He doesn't treat you like you're fragile, but he's never rough with you - unless you ask, that is.

I reckon that he's incredibly good at reading people, so if he noticed even a slight hint of discomfort or pain on your features during a make-out session, he'd immediately stop and ask if you were alright.

If you voiced your discomfort or pain, he'd feel guilty for hurting you in the first place, hands delicately massaging any sore spots.

He treats you like royalty anyways, but after this? He'd practically on bended knee, would do anything you asked.

Wouldn't ask to continue with your make-out session, waiting for you to be comfortable first; he'd never want to make you feel pressured or uncomfortable with him.

All in all, he's very mature about it, apologising profusely - your happiness and safety is paramount to him.

König

König is always hyper aware of his sheer size and strength - he knows he's big and strong, it's what makes him so good at his job in the first place.

It's also why he's always so cautious around you, he practically treats you like you're made of glass.

Even if you're in the military or part of KorTac, he's still going to be hesitant to spar with you for fear of hurting you in the process.

If he hurt you while making out, he'd honestly want to curl up in a ball and cry.

Doesn't matter if it's a tiny bruise or a scrape, he's going to completely shut down; it'd be like how he was when you initially met him, the closed-off mercenary who doesn't speak to anyone and keeps to himself.

He tries to make it clear that he's not angry at you - quite the opposite, he's livid with himself for not being able to control his own strength.

Like Ghost, it would take him a while to come around - but you would have to make the first move.

He would be sitting on your shared bed, head in his hands as he licks his wounds, inwardly cursing himself; his sniper hood would be back on, as if he was trying to hide himself away from the world.

Coming to stand between his legs, you'd gently place your hand over his, encouraging him to lift his head up to look at you.

"It's okay, I'm alright."

He said nothing, hands coming to rest on your hips, as he pressed his forehead to your stomach. You encircled your arms around his broad shoulders and his tentatively wrapped around your waist.

He'd eventually come around but it would take a lot of convincing to get him out of the mindset that he was going to end up hurting you again.

Poor guy just loves you so much :(

#simon riley #soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #konig #simon riley x reader #soap mactavish x reader #captain price x reader #captain john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #konig x reader #cod #call of duty #multifandomimagin3s

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gaybirdnerd · 6 months ago

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Sleep-Deprived Sarcasm

Ghost is an asshole.

Everyone knows this, everyone thinks this.

Ghost is an asshole in ways that many don't really stop to appreciate. Because he may be an asshole, but he's not mean in a way that actually hurts anyone.

He'll casually call someone a dumbass if they did something stupid. He'll find solace in smacking a particularly close teammate over the head after a dumb stunt (Soap) or berating them until their ears are ringing for saying something stupid in front of a superior officer or someone interrogating them (Gaz).

He's an asshole, but he's loving about it in ways those who aren't close to him don't see.

Can't see.

It's a privilege to be able to hear when Ghost is sarcastic. People will hear stories around the base of him being incredibly sarcastic to Soap or Captain Price.

Soap brags about being able to get him to ask the invisible audience what he's won when Soap himself says something particularly dumb in front of him.

Price once told a funny story that no one actually believes where Ghost, high on the exhaustion of a mission gone sour and 4 days of minimal sleep, asks where he should house the high horse a particularly nasty unnamed superior rode in on during a debrief.

Everyone knows Ghost is an asshole. No one except the 141 sees when that asshole tendency turns soft and pointed and trusting. No one but them knows how deeply gratifying it is to see him dropping his guard and actually saying something disrespectful in front of them, showing a little bit of his Simon Riley attitude and personality rather than the forced blankness that "Ghost" is supposed to personify.

The first time Gaz saw him drop his guard, he cried.

According to Soap anyway.

It had been a time when everyone was getting eyed for their actions, after a stressful but successful mission, by their superiors.

Ghost had obviously had enough of the people breathing down their necks and sending them on pointless missions to "see if [taskforce 141] are good enough to keep on." The entire taskforce was put into question and none of them had gotten a good night's sleep in about a week between all of the debriefs, training, missions, and pointless lectures about being "the face of the military" (bullshit if you ask any one of them, especially the one in the mask) and it was getting on their nerves.

Ghost wasn't one to show his anger much when he was meant to be Ghost unless he deemed that it benefitted them, made the enemies or even allies nervous, and made them listen.

So seeing him overly sarcastic and willing to be directly disrespectful? It's a rite of passage.

It happened in the kitchen at 0300.

Gaz and Soap are shooting the shit getting some coffee to wind down and talking about how horrible the breath of their "borrowed" commander is when Ghost walks in wearing civvies and his usual hard skull balaclava.

"You look tired, Ghost" Gaz decides to comment, seeing the slouch in the taller man's shoulders that he wouldn't normally be able to see.

In the heaviest "no shit" voice he seems to be able to muster, Ghost looks him dead in the eye, holds a pretend microphone to Soap and says "He got the right answer, give the man a prize! What did he win Johnny Boy?"

Between one blink and the next, Soap making a choking noise like a dying cat and proceeding to double over forwards to laugh into his knees, and Gaz staring at Ghost like he had lost his mind, Ghost grabs a mug and starts making tea with more sugar than necessary.

When he walks out, taking the tea with him and cursing the universe for "dumbass shithead commanders," Gaz has to sit down as Soap tries to catch his breath, finally able to control himself now that Ghost isn't there looking like a puppy just woken up from a particularly hard nap despite none of them having gotten sleep in the past 24 hours.

It started happening more frequently from there.

Gaz would say something obvious on particularly hard days, days where they were all exhausted and wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and sleep but couldn't because of various dealings with higher-ups or responsibilities, and Ghost would hand either Soap or Price a microphone and be sarcastic.

He tries saying the dumbest things he can to start longer speeches, something he was told to do by Soap after finding out that the more sarcastic he gets, the more he rants about the topic. They eventually start timing the rants when he gets into it.

The winner so far is a minute and a half to Soap for getting him to rant about fall and leaves. They don't remember how that started.

In one memorable instance, Price says something stupid. Ghost, being half asleep at the table while they all wait for some superiors to get there for a meeting, hands Gaz the microphone and sasses Price so hard Soap is choking on breath until the first superior enters 10 minutes later.

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty ghost #ghostsoap #ghoap #soapghost #call of duty #john price #kyle gaz garrick #call of duty price #snippet #birdnerd ideas

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konigsblog · 1 year ago

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tw: (gaz and reader in their 20s, price in his 40s) hybrid (dog-human), punishments

owner!price, dog!gaz and dog!reader :3

your owner, price, is gone. finally giving you two time to fuck the sexual frustration and anger out on eachother!

price always adored having two, dumb dog hybrids around. the old man couldn't get it up, but you two were a real treat for him!! but, he never allowed you two to fuck eachother, leaving you both insatiably horny and needy for your holes to be filled with something other than price's girthy, meaty dick!

your asshole aches from the amount of times gaz slided inside. his ears are perked and his tail can't stop wagging. his skin covered in soft fur that rubs against the backs of your thighs and his chest sweaty. he thrusts into you eagerly, watching the way you arch your back, head pressed on the ground and your eyes rolled back.

you ride his fingers, cumming all over them when he teases your clit a little too much... fuck, dog!gaz is mean with the way he tugs at your tail during backshots. sliding into your tightening hole and making sure to grip your tail tightly so you're whining and mewling for him to stop -- so that his rough thrusts don't seem that bad in comparison to the pain he inflicted onto your poor, fluffy tail before :(

when price comes back, he makes sure to give you a nice spanking and pull gaz by his collar to suck him off. you're bent over his large lap, while gaz is crouched between price's muscular thighs and underneath your bent over body... poor gaz, his neck and throat hurt, so does his heart when he listens to your cries and wails... :(

but, he'll make sure to make price happy. by sucking him off ‘til he cums deep down his throat, passing out from the good, deserved orgasm and leaving gaz to fuck you just one more time before the old man wakes up... ;3

#orla speaks #tw: hybrid #hybrid reader #dog hybrid #gaz cod #gaz call of duty #gaz modern warfare #kyle gaz garrick #gaz mw2 #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick cod #captain price #captain john price #john price #price cod #price call of duty

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1whore1gang · 1 year ago

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“You okay honey?”

Inspired by this post

Summary: the TF141 boys play rock, paper, scissors to determine who will play the role of the doting yet protective boyfruend for you tonight so pervs don’t come flirt with you

It’s short, but my brain isn’t working lately

warnings: some sexual content

“Guys come on, seriously.” I stared on as Price and Soap were in the ‘finals’ of their competition to see who’d be your fake boyfriend tonight at the bar. Price cheers as he finally defeats Soap, wrapping his arm around you and placing a sweet kiss to your temple.

This had been an ongoing thing with the four of them since you had an altercation with a creep at a bar and had to punch said dude in the face. The boys didn’t want you to worry about that anymore, so they always play the role of the protective boyfriend/fiancé/husband for you. It’s worked well so far, so you can’t complain.

You also won’t complain about the attention you get from them.

Each man had a different way, each with their own pros and cons.

Gaz was sweet and affectionate, and he was calm of a guy were to come up to you. He handled everything with grace, but he wasn’t too keen on being super touchy. He’d compliment you, stand behind you during conversations and maybe place a hand on your tight, but that was all.

Ghost, was hardly a boyfriend type. He didn’t ever touch you, unless you physically forced his hand into yours, and even then he’d tense at the action. As much as he cared and wanted to protect you, he wasn’t there to pretend to be your boyfriend, he was there to pummel any man who looked in your direction.

Soap, he was so much fun when he was your fake boyfriend. He was touchy, clingy, fiesty and all over perfect. He was always by your side, hands around your waist, lips pecking your neck lightly, teasing you. That was his approach, he’d tease you all night, make you want him. Most of the time, the moment you both left the bar, you’d burst out laughing at how you two acted, but there’s been some nights you ended up in his bed.

Price, was a beautiful fake lover. He was sweet and tender. He catered to you and always had a hand on you, silently claiming you as his to everyone in the bar. He’d whisper sweet nothings in your ear when he saw another man looking, making you squirm. He was your favorite by far, the way he so gently held you, kissed you. His actions were tender, the fire only showing up if a man wouldn’t leave you alone.

“You ready doll?” Price’s voice sounded out. You nodded, leaning into him.

You all headed out to the bar, the night going wonderfully. You had beaten Ghost in a game of pool, had the bartender buy you all a round of shots, and more. The music had you swaying your hips as you lined up your shot in pool. You were against Soap now, the championships.

You were lining up to hit the 8-ball, your jeans tightening around your ass when you felt a pair of strong hands grope you. You smiled, prepared to see Price, but before you could turn around, your eyes met all 4 men across the table from you. All four of them looked angry. You fully stood up, turning around to see an older man, maybe a couple years older than Price looking down at you seductively. “Can I help you?”

“Your ass looked to delicious, I couldn’t help myself.” He licked his lips.

“I suggest you back off.” Your voice was matter of factly.

“Why? You gonna hurt me? A little thing like you?” He cooed. I couldn’t help but laugh at the man. “What’s so funny?” He smiled.

“I won’t hurt you, but they will.” Throwing my thumb over my shoulder to the four men.

“You okay honey?” Price’s voice purred beside me, his hand landing on my back.

The guy looked up to Price, who towered over him. “I don’t know, am I?” I said, smirking at the man.

“I was just telling her how pretty she looked.” He gulped.

Price chuckled. “By grabbing her ass? Nuh uh.” Price stepped forward. “Let’s go have a little talk.” Grabbing the man’s arm, he took him outside of the bar.

Soap ran to you, asking if you were okay. You smiled and nodded your head. “Yeah I’m okay Johnny.” You patted his bicep.

Ghost and Gaz stood by the pool table, watching everyone’s things, including Price’s car keys and your purse.

Soon, Price waltzed back into the bar. His hips swaying as he sauntered back over to you, swooping his arm around your waist and pulling you in. “He won’t be bothering you anymore.” He kissed the top of your head as you returned to your pool tournament.

A couple of weeks later, you were all out a new bar across town, Soap’s arms wrapped around your waist as you spoke to some people. He had won the rock, paper, scissors that night. Your eyes widened as you heard a familiar voice, “You!”

Your face turned as Soap straightened up to his full height, one of his hands remaining on the small of your back. Your eyes met the man from the bar that night with Price. “Who’s this man? You get around fast.”

His voice was confident, like he had caught me doing something wrong. I looked at Soap, who looked ready to pounce. The fire was in Soap’s eyes as he bared his teeth in a smile. “You like my lady? Like what you see?”

“She’s a fiery one she is, just look at her.” The man bit his lip as he made a curve motion with his hands to simulate the shape of your hips. Soap let out a low chuckle.

“Any man knows you don’t answer that question honestly.” He dead panned, Soap’s voice deadly. “Why don’t I make this easy on you and let you walk away unharmed?”

The other man licked his lips, unmoving. Soap took a step forward, his hand sliding off of you as he stood just next to you, his size defined next to you.

“Either you walk away or you never walk again.” Soap growled.

The man quickly cowered, eyes widened. “Where do you find these men?” He shouted before scampering into the crowd.

“Thank you.” I said, kissing Soap. He was always much more willing to do PDA than the others, really making it believable to those in the bar that you were a couple.

“Anything for you my dear.” Soap said sweetly. “Shall we ditch this joint?”

I giggled, grabbing at his chest. “Are you gonna do that thing with your fingers again?” I bit my lip.

We heard someone clear their throat as we both backed away from each other, looking to the other 3 men. “We’re right here ya know?” Ghost spoke.

Soap and I laughed as the others bursted out in chuckles and smiles.

“Ya we know.” You said, earning some more chuckles out of the men and an ass grab from Soap.

#captain price x reader #modern warefare 2 x reader #soap mactavish smut #soap mactavish x reader #tf141 x reader #simon ghost riley #johnny mactavish #john price #cod mw2

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diejager · 1 year ago

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Nooo but there is something about the monster au where there is a casual mention from her that she won't live as long as them (I assume monsters/hybrids are longer lived plus she is a lot more likely to die on mission), like she probably just jokes about it offhandedly and it sends all of them feral because... no? Absolutely not? Insulting. Ridiculous. Not happening.

Cue ultimate clinginess, all rushing to be more intimate because the thought of her not being around is abhorrent. Soap maybe losing it a bit going off on a line of thought about how he could mate her right? Would it be awful if there was a way for her to be a wolf shifter?

I AM GOING TO LOSE MY MIND

Change cw: mention of turning, mention of death, joking about death, tell me if I missed any.

All options are on the table at this point, death had always been something that loomed over them like a shadow, the veil and sickle of death following you wherever you went. You’ve had more than one reminder of your short life, your vulnerability as a human, weak and tender skin, short lives and a delicate body. There were so many things in the world that could pose a possible danger to you and they hated that.

You lived shorter lives than most monsters or hybrids, you grew sick and frail whereas hybrids could fight any viral infections or diseases, you didn’t have thicker skin despite all the extra layers of protective gear and you were a target of many for your choice of career. They were reminded of you mortality whenever you get hurt, blood painting your skin with a strong, metallic odour.

And it didn’t help that you’d often joke about it, throwing offhanded comments that made their hackles raise, body tense and mind brewing with what ifs scenario that has them tearing their hair from the root. While some monsters were more solitary than others, all of them were possessive of what they deemed their family —pack.

Ghost and König stuck closer during training, a tall, imposing figure behind you that acted as a guard dog to ward away anyone they deemed a danger. Soap and Horangi hung around you in the rec room, either laying on you or clinging to you, putting a show of ownership over you. Rudy and Alejandro, the ever active couple, were always finding you around the base, striking up a conversation and wrapping their arms around you. Gaz would was the cuddliest of the group, finding time outside of his busy to snuggle up against you and cover you with his wings, pulling you to sleep on his shoulder. Price, the man with the most authority in the TF made sure that you were always with someone on every Op, having someone to back you up in the most dire situation.

Every visit to the medic made them wild, it brought them closer to desperate measures. Would it be so bad to turn you in one? Would it be so bad to let Soap bite you during the full moon, his bite infecting you with his power: thicker skin, sturdier build, longer lifespan and better sense? The only draw backs were the higher wildness, near feral during full moons and a competitive mindset over the possessiveness and brattiness of a young werewolf.

Would it be so bad to make you return as a wraith? While Ghost learned to control his powers alone, the pain and emotions building up in his body without any way of letting it out, you had him, you wouldn’t be alone with the resurrection. He didn’t want you to feel the terror and agony by yourself —he didn’t want you to know how it felt to die and come back.

Would it be so bad to have a vampire turn you into one without becoming a thrall? You couldn’t walk in the sun, something you told them you enjoyed, you’d be restrained to specific activities and you wouldn’t like that, being limited by the sun. Granted, there were solutions to that, but none very comfortable.

They knew you were aware of your mortality, made fun of it and laughed as it this was your last day, but you didn’t fear death, you only feared leaving them. You were open to their thoughts, listening to their ideas and options with a neutral expression, but you didn’t reject the idea of turning you. That was a good thing, a step forward in their mind.

Now all that needed to do was to let you decide which path you wanted to walk.

tag list: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 9 months ago

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It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 31] || [Chapter 33]

Pairing: Gaz x gn!Reader || Ghost x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.3K~ cw: not angst but a bit 'angsty', fluff fluff fluff. Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: This one made me all emosh to write ngl.

Chapter 32: No Harm Done.

You're sitting by the sliding glass door leading out to the balcony on Sunday morning, looking out and holding a warm drink in your hands.

It's raining outside. It's always raining in England, so it shouldn't really surprise you... but it still feels like a lazy, down-sort of day regardless.

You're home alone. Johnny went to base for P.T. and a meeting of sorts, while Kyle went out to the gym himself, giving you some time for yourself.

Your phone sits in front of you, fingers tapping away, back-and-forth, between chats with friends and with the lads, your lads.

Ghost said they'd text you to let you know when they were back, a promise they'd made after they sort of just turned up at your door all injured and hurt without warning so many weeks ago.

It feels like it's been an eternity since you had them all here.

Your eyes find your chat with Simon, flittering over the last couple of texts you sent each other. Right before the boys left on their newest mission.

Regardless of what Kyle and Johnny say about Simon, he's actually the best texter out of all of them... John being the worst.

simon: Have about 5 minutes before we have to go. you: will u be safe? simon: Always am sweetheart. simon: Don't you worry about me. you: i meant ALL of you. you: and of course i worry about u! simon: If it was about all of us, you wouldn't be messaging me separately. simon: And I appreciate it but you shouldn't. you: i hate how smart u are. you: u face death literally every day in your job simon: And I always come back. you: okay but im allowed to worry no? you: youd worry about the others too? simon: I guess so. simon: But I'll be fine. you: u dont know that. simon: I know enough. simon: Been doing this for over a decade. you: that's not reassuring the way you think it is. simon: You're very worried. Is this because of what I said?

That text makes you set down your phone when you read it again, your face warm with embarrassment at the reminder, just like it had been during that text exchange as it was happening.

He had told you he loves you. Two of them had by now.

The thought of that still makes you shiver, the words so full of emotion and vulnerability when Simon said them, never any pressure on you, just a gesture on his end.

you: maybe? simon: That's really cute of you. simon: Don't let it make you worry or overthink. simon: I'll make sure I come back to you. you: si... simon: GTG ✋ simon: Will text you when I touch down.

Kyle's, however, were a lot less vulnerable. They were sweet, sudden, driven by happiness and amusement...

Both of them came out of left field and caught you off-guard.

Both of them felt just as real, however.

You took a sip of your warm drink and glanced out of the window again, watching the droplets slide down the glass panes.

You can't help but think about how things have been going for you.

Is this becoming too much? Is it going too far? Did you finally lose the plot?

When did a silly little Tinder account you made with your friends while fighting heartbreak become a 4-way relationship and 2 out 4 men telling you they're in love with you?

You're lost in thought when the door opens behind you, Kyle making his way in.

"Hey, lovie." He greeted, causing you to jump a bit, spilling some of your drink over the glass top of the table.

"Ah, fuck." You complained as you reached for the napkin holder and started mopping up the liquid. "Hi, Ky." You added as you cleaned the mess you made.

"Sorry, did I catch you off guard?" He asked as he approached the table and began to help you.

"Yeah..." You murmured and looked up at him, finally, finding him in a grey sleeveless hoodie and black workout shorts.

You smiled softly at him as you gathered the wet napkins and moved to the kitchen to dispose of them.

Kyle seemed to catch the look in your eyes as you glanced up at him. "What's wrong? You seem strange..." He asked as you followed you into the kitchen.

"Just thinking, it's nothing." You told him as you turned after throwing out the rubbish, only to find him standing right behind you, looking at you with scrunched brows.

"Is this about yesterday?" He asked you softly. "Was it too early?" He added in earnest.

The memories of the day before come back to you sharply. The way, after he told you he loved you, you sputtered for a bit, your face burning up, your eyes wide...

And how you had come back home together, your nose still pink, his cheek still red, the both of you looking embarrassed and sheepish, avoiding eye contact and biting your lip.

How Johnny had teased the two of you, thinking you had gotten down and dirty in the car and that's why you had come home looking so embarrassed...

You look up at him with a sigh and shake your head. "No, it's just..." You trailed off.

"Was it because Soap teased us after we came back?" He reached forward and gently ran a hand over your cheek.

"No!" You added and sighed, leaning into his palm, and gently holding his forearm in your hand.

"I'm just worried... I've never... been in something like this before." You explained, as you looked into his eyes. "More than one partner and-"

Kyle nodded at you, watching you with understanding eyes and a soft gaze, like he wanted you to keep talking, communicating.

"I don't know how to act about this... I don't know..." You trailed off and looked away for a moment. "It's... a strange feeling."

"To love more than one person at once?" He asked you as his brows raised in inquiry.

You nodded in response and looked up at him. "Yeah... And to... have them love me back."

"So I wasn't the first to tell you, huh?" Kyle asked, having caught the way you mentioned 'more than one person' when it came to 'loving you back'.

Your face burned up hot in embarrassment and you shook your head at him.

"Simon was." You replied, which made Kyle's eyes widen and then a smile take over his lips as he shook his head.

"Wasn't expecting that..." Kyle admitted as he caressed your cheek again.

"Did you say it back for him? Like you did for me?" He asked and you nodded your head in reply.

"Well..." Kyle trailed off, seemingly lost in thought for a moment, as if pondering what to say, and how to say it. "It's not exactly a bad feeling, is it?"

You shook your head. It wasn't a bad feeling. In fact, you quite liked having said the words, having had the words said to you.

"Then, I'd say there's not a big cause for worry. We all knew this would happen, right?" He added. You, once again, nodded at him.

Gently, he cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs rubbing your cheeks. "Then, let's just... let it be." He chuckled.

"You and I love each other. You and Simon love each other. I love Simon too..." He admitted with a shrug. "No harm done, right?"

Smiling a bit more, you ended up nodding and gently pushed up, kissing him slowly and deeply, both of your eyes closing, his hands caressing your face, your hands caressing his forearms...

You're so into the kiss, you don't hear the front door close, nor Johnny approach, until he shows up at the kitchen door. "Greedy bastard, leave some space for the Tav, will ye?"

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling ,

@tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva ,

@emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes ,

@irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary ,

@leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @xxshadowbabexx , @severenswife , @enarien ,

@l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago ,

@sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki ,

@comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear ,

@mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat ,

@stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving ,

@blckbrrybasket , @agoodmoviekiss

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #141 x reader #gaz x reader #ghost x reader

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tacticaldiary · 2 years ago

Note

omg hi, i love your writing and saw requests were open for cod. i was wondering if you could write something where reader and simon are in an established relationship (can either be public to the team or a secret) and they are on a mission. reader has a scare during a mission and ghost has an “i almost lost you” moment with her.

Anyone But Her

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Their line of work has never guaranteed the assurance of coming home, but that doesn't make the fear of loss any easier to deal with, especially not when it happens right in front of his eyes.

Masterlist

If asked where one feels the most comfortable, people who respond with something like 'home' or 'the beach', something achievable and wholly normal.

Her? There was nothing more comforting than the feel of hot metal in her tight grip during a mission, the easy reloading of her sniper almost by muscle memory as she gazes down the scope. The commands, the back and forth with tasks and delegations, and the constant movement and adjustment needed to bring home a victory is what keeps her on her feet.

"In position on first building." Ghost's rough voice travels through the comms, bringing her attention away from the scope she's looking down. Laying down on the top of a hill, spotting the other members as they infiltrate a Russian warehouse, was an easy job. In and out before they realised that the team was even there.

It's an ugly thing, what the 141 deals with, but it's so far set from what normal is that she's long since accepted that there's no going back.

Part of her is glad she hadn't tried. If there was never a chance she'd have been selected for this squad, she never would have met the enigma that is Simon Riley.

Standoffish, brash, deadly.

Understanding, confident, loving.

They'd butted heads on her first day harsher than any of the others ever had, and after an order from Price to resolve their tension lest it interfere mid battle, the both of them had come to realise that they had much more in common than they thought.

The rest had been history. They already moved in sync on the field, and after a try they'd discovered they worked just as well together as something more than teammates. It was hard to keep things professional with glances so heated and words that no friend would ever offer each other.

Some of the things he's said to her in the heat of the moment and the privacy of their quarters makes blood rush to her cheeks just thinking about it.

She was just a precaution, really. A failsafe, because the odds may be in their favour but they were never always truly compliant.

"Breaching second on your command." Gaz's voice relays through.

"Sergeant, how are things from above?"

"All clear, L.T." She says, doing another final sweep of the grounds. "No visible hostiles near your vicinity." The good news is delivered with an undertone of caution.

If their intel was correct, this warehouse should be housing stolen US documents, information that could deal real damage to their operations if transported farther than it already had been.

So where were all the soldiers?

The only ones she sees are a few mulling around the grounds, three by the radio tower nearby and another few near the vehicles at the back of the compounds. Surely such valuable intel would be more heavily guarded?

Her gut speaks to attest that something is wrong, but before she can bring it to light, Ghost and Soap, and Gaz and Price breach the doors of their respective warehouses.

"Copy." Ghost rasps. "Breaching now." She pauses for a moment to fiddle with her comms unit, the voices filtering through to her earpiece crackling in a way they shouldn't be if the device was fully functional.

Looking down her scope, everything seems normal. The grass swaying in the wind, the silence that follows and-

Silence?

She stiffens at the sudden lack of noise. It was too still, the clam before the storm. Hand flying to her comms, she speaks into the device;

"Ground team, how copy?"

Static. Then silence.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she repeats herself louder, more firmly, frowning where there's nothing but muted static and crackling. She does another sweep of the facility with her sniper. All seems quiet until her gaze focuses on the radio tower.

Adjusting her scope's distance, her mouth goes dry when she realises exactly what the three at the base of the structure are holding. A device she herself has used many times during missions like these.

A jammer.

Sudden movement makes her eyes snap back to the vehicle form before. Her stomach drops as the doors to the truck swing open and soldiers armed to their necks pour out, spreading all over the facility.

An ambush. They knew they were coming. Jammed their comms to isolate them and hide their forces until the others entered the warehouses probably. Surrounded. They'd be surrounded in mere minutes if they didn't do something.

Her comms are useless, so she can't warn them, and can only watch in muted horror as they start to scatter around the building.

Fuck.

She can't take out the three men at the tower from here. That wouldn't stop the device and only act to reveal her position. Hands-on was the only way.

Slamming her sniper onto the strap on her back, she extracts her pistol, breaking into a harsh sprint down the hill. There was no time, she had to warn them herself. To hell with staying out of sight.

The 141...they were like family to her. Soap and Gaz's constant cheeky remarks and antics, Price's steadfast and reliable leadership, Ghost...Simon's patience and understanding, his muted passion and actions that when decoded conveyed more love than anybody had every offered her.

The day her team took a loss would not be today. Not like this. Not when she could help it.

Finding herself in the middle of the compound by ducking and staying out of view, she kneels behind a crate, unhooking one of her frag grenades, pulling the pin out with her teeth.

This would give away her position, a dangerous gamble while hostiles surrounded her from all sides, but what better way to alert battle-ready soldiers than with the bang of a grenade. A sounds they knew all to well.

She'd just have to hold her position until they could regroup. She's done tougher things before, and this was so or die right now. With the thought in mind, she steels herself and tosses out the grenade at the most densely packed area of soldiers, clenching her jaw and taking cover at the resounding bang that cracks through the air.

The gunfire follows soon after.

Her comms crackle, evidence that someone's trying to reach her, but with the jammer not sounds can be deciphered.

Soldiers yell, and fire at her location, the heavy thudding of footsteps on either side of her clueing her into their intentions to flank her sides and gun her down. Returning fire, she ducks between the crates to make her way to the radio tower, just a couple of metres away. Bullets clink and bang and ricchoet of fthe metal around her, but miraculously, she's mostly unscathed as dives behind a vehicle and takes down the three men aiming their rifles at her.

The jammer lays at the feet, blinking green.

Right in the middle of the open field. She had to get there, had to get it off so they could all communicate with each other and move smoothly. There was a higher risk of casualties if one moved without the knowledge of the others.

Unpredictability was the worst of enemies in the field.

Steeling herself for going out in the open under the inevitable spray of bullets, she unclips a smoke grenade and tosses it, holding her breath as acrid smoke obstructs everyone's vision. Stumbling into the mess, she keeps low to the ground to avoid the blind fire into the smoke and feels around for the device.

Her hands curl around the metal and she sprints back to cover.

She doesn't make it.

Their blind fire proves effective, as a bullet rips through her shoulder, another one through her calf wrenching out a choked scream from her. The smoke was slowly dissipating, and pretty soon visibility would be back and then any bullet wounds she'd sustain would not be as unfatal.

Panic claws up her throat, but years of practise allow her to swallow it down. She pulls herself up, but groans and collapses, her leg unable to support her weight and her shoulder unable to drag her across the ground.

Shit, shit.

Her breaths come ragged and uneven, her knuckles turning white with the harsh grip on the device. Changing courses, she brings the jammer close to her, focusing on it instead, turning knobs and pressing buttons.

If she bit the bullet here, she'd damn well do so making sure the others stayed alive.

The second the jammer switches off, voices filter through her comms, a flurry of mixed yells, gunfire and pounding footsteps.

"Sergeant?!" A familiar voice barks down the line, hoarse...worried? "Are you down?"

Lightheaded, feeling blood soak through her clothes, she can't bring herself to respond. The smoke starts to clear and the best she can do is shift herself behind a tree a few feet away, leaning against the thick trunk for cover while unable to grasp her weapon through the slippery bloody coating her hands.

Was it normal to have that much blood? Feeling a little delirious, she drops her weapons besides her and presses down hard on the wound on her leg, biting back a groan. Gunfire pings around her, gunpowder and smoke acrid in the air.

It's only when Ghost snaps her name through the comms does she come back to herself a little.

"I'm..." She squeezes her eyes shut trying to get her tongue to form words. "I'm down. Bleeding out near the radio tower. Fuckers jammed out comms. Ambush. Had to...had to warn you. Had to fix it." She coughs, spitting into the ground beside her as blood trickles down her chin.

Definitely not normal.

Swallowing is hard, her thoughts swim as the grass beneath her is stained crimson. Her body feels too heavy, head to light and she wonders if this is really the end.

Someone speaks through her comms, words to muddled in her head to make out. Gaz? Or was that Price? Maybe Soap? Or Simon?

God, what she wouldn't give to hear Simon again, just once. Her eyes flutter shut with a groan. Just once more. She just wants to hear that gruff voice one more time through the comms, saying her name. He's never told her he's loved her verbally, even when she expressed it herself, but words haven't ever been his strong points.

His actions spoke far far louder.

The ways he's memorised all her little routines, her favourite foods, her favourite activities, the particular way she likes to store and clean her weapons. the silent moments at night where he pulled her close and the shared a book together, the nights spent together in bed where he showed her that he was not lacking in love when it came to her.

Simon Riley had left a mark on her life that she wore with pride, and if this...this meant that he lived on another day. She grits her teeth, shallows pant soft breath as blood pools between her fingers.

Then it was damn well worth it.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

An unstoppable force by nature, Ghost is the scariest anybody's ever seen him right now.

That last comms transmission from her had made his heart practically stop in his chest, even if he was as apathetic as ever from the outside. He had called out to her again, demanded she stay awake and give a precise location but no matter how much he shouted and order through the comms he was met with a deafening silence.

Silence that suggested the worst.

Fuck, no. No way. This wasn't happening, this simply wasn't something Simon would allow to happen.

Not her. Not any of them, really, but especially not her. Not her soft smiles and meaningful glances, not when she made him feel as if he might not break everything he comes into contact with.

Not when she was the only one who's ever coaxed out Simon Riley from Ghost.

His actions grow harsher, more brutal. The moment he hears she's near the radio towers bleeding out, he's a man on a mission, and none of the others make a peep of protest as he clears the way through to her, a spartan leaving a trail of blood behind as he moves.

He does not rage. Rage implies something uncontrolled and fierce. No, this is not rage. This is something much colder, much more calculating. Every throat that he slashed with his knife, every bullet that lands home in a skull is done with precision and deadly force. He means every bit of hurt he causes, hurt that stems from his own panic at her sudden silence.

This was not rage. This was icy cold desperation disguised as cool anger.

He's the one who finds her after everybody spreads out to clear the facility.

Back to a tree, eyes closed, hands limp at her side.

She might have been sleeping if not for all the fucking blood.

Dropping down beside her, he shakes her shoulder firmly, calling out her name.

"Wake up, Sergeant." He orders, eyes raking over her figure to find the source of her injuries. His jaw ticks as he notes the two fresh wounds. She doesn't move when he extracts a rolls of gauze from his belt, doesn't flinch when he tightly wraps her injuries.

Does not wake up to notice how his hands are shaking as he ties the final knots.

"Wake up." He says, voice much lower, something deeply needing. Shifting closer, he pulls her into his arms, away from the rough bark of the tree. Her head falls to his shoulder limply, making his breath hitch, true, cold fear gripping his heart. "Wake up, sweetheart, c'mon." He urges. She's still alive as per the shallow rise and fall of her chest, but she won't fucking wake up and it's killing him, making panic claw at his throat because not her, not her, not her.

Reaching around, he pinches her sternum hard, relief slamming into him when she finally groans and whimpers, a weak hand reaching up to push his away. "That's it, love. There you go." He mutters praise, hooking an arm under her legs and hoisting her up, carrying her. "Keep those eyes open for me, yeah? Don't you dare fucking close them, you hear me?" His accent is thicker than normal

"..Simon?" She groans, barely a whisper, making his heart wretch painfully.

"It's me." He confirms, clutching her tighter as he makes his way back to the exfil he'd ordered Gaz to request. The heli stand waiting near the first warehouse, a mass of dead bodies paving the path for them to step over. "I've got you, love. Stay with me, just a little longer.

He doesn't know if she can hear him let alone understand what he's saying, but it seems to work, her groggy gaze taking in their surrounding, watching but not really seeing.

She shoves at his chest suddenly, weak but firm. "No...you gotta-they're here." She rattles in a breath that makes even him wince. "Ambush, Simon. Gotta-get yourself out."

"Fucking hell woman, you think I'd leave you?" He hisses, hiking her up closer so their bodies are pressed together. He feels a rush of anger peer through the crushing panic and worry he's beating down.

"No time." She breathes. "Leave-"

"Not another word." He warns, angry at the thought that she'd even think for one moment that he'd let her die on his watch, that he'd ever leave the one good thing in his life.

Her compliance scares him to the bone.

Simon practically runs the last few meters towards the evac heli, barking out instructions for a medic as they bring out a stretcher. Gently, an action so at odds with the flames burning through his veins, he lays her down on it, staying by her side as they hoist her inside.

The jolting makes her whimper, aggravating her injuries no doubt. "Careful," Simon demands, and a single glare from him is enough to make the team move her with much more cautiousness.

The team clamours in and it's not long before they're all in the air.

A silence is passed around the space, an acknowledgment and shared anger at her state, how she was riddled with bullets like a target because of her selfless nature to save and give.

They hadn't gotten the intel, but Simon has never given less of a shit about anything before, not when she's laying next to him pale and trembling, looking up at him as if he might be the one to make her pain go away.

May God strike him dead if he doesn't try his fucking hardest.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The steady beep on a heart monitor and the sharp smell of antiseptic is what slowly brings her back to the living world. She feels...

Well she feels like shit.

That's kind a given though, judging by how she determines by the scratchy sheets under her that she's in a hospital bed. One would be more disorientated by waking up like this, but she's seen her fare share of white bedspreads and jello cups.

Finally gathering up the courage to blink her heavy eyes open, she squints at the ceiling light, slowly getting her bearings.

They were...on a mission. She tries to recall. Warehouse. Men. Jammer...

The jammer! Were the others alright? All she remembers is passing out by the tree and-what else?

Alarm ringing through her, she moves to sit up but immediately groans at her body protesting, her limbs burning at the movement. Shoulder and leg tight with stitches, she tries to force herself to sit up when a large, warm hard pushes her back down.

"Easy does it. Lay still for me." The familiar voice washes away the alarm and when she slowly, groggily turns her head, there sits the one person she wanted to see.

Simon sits beside her bed, looking ragged and poorly even beneath his mask. She can see it by the tension in his shoulders.

"Wh-" She trails off, coughing and wincing at the pain in her dry throat. There's a rustling, and then a hand at the back of her neck, guiding her lips to a cup full of cool water. "Drink." Simon says simply, helping her swallow the liquid until she pushes on his hand.

"What happened?" She finally manages, meeting his eyes. "You look...like shit. You okay?"

Amusement may have flickered into those eyes of his, but it's next to nothing with the other concoction of worry in his eyes.

For someone so stoic, he had very expressive eyes if you knew how to read them.

"Am I okay?" He stares in disbelief. "Considering I didn't get shot twice and nearly bleed out, I'd say I'm doing better than you."

"Ever the comedian." Her joke doesn't crack a smile from him and that's when she knows something is truly wrong. "Simon what-"

The scrape of his chair cuts her off as he stands abruptly, moving over to her side. He seems hesitant for a split second, arms pausing as they reach out.

He decides to push away the doubt, however, because moments later, strong arms are wrapped around her, pulling her into him. She relaxes at the familiar scent of him, of his clothes as he tucks his chin over her head.

His heart is racing under his cheek, her fist loosely gripping his shirt.

She knows he'll speak in time, that she just has to wait for him to gather the words and decide how to express them out loud. So she does exactly that. She waits while he regulates himself, gathers his thoughts.

His arms tighten around her. "Thought I lost you." He says, and if it had been anybody but her, they might have missed the slight tremor in his voice. "When I saw you bleeding out against that tree...Fuck, I thought you were gone."

"Not that easily." She hums, pressing into him further. "Never than easily."

"Better fucking not be." It coaxes a hoarse giggle from her, what he growls in her ear.

"I'm alright, Simon." She assures him gently. "Alive and kicking."

He nods against her head minutely, his lips pressing against her head through his mask, a gesture that makes her melt because if Simon was resorting to such a thing he must have really had a scare. He hated PDA and although they were the only ones in the room, normally they reserved this kind of intimacy for their own rooms when they're alone together.

He stays like that for a while, convincing himself that she was there, that she was alive and breathing and in his arms and untouchable as of now. All the while she runs a soothing hand up and down his strong arms, mumbling assurances of their safety.

She'd do it again in a heartbeat, would put herself in harms way to save her team, but as she sits there pressed against him, the sun spilling into the room warming it with it's rays, she can't help but think of how thankful she is to have felt this again.

To have the chance to continue experiencing the protective love of Simon Riley.

Requests Are Open!

(25/06/2023)

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penelopepine · 8 months ago

Text

Maybe I'll write this later:

Poly!141 x Bull Rider Reader

Poly!141 go on a vacation to a cabin owned by Laswell. She let's them know that the county fair is in town the same time as them, and that they should check it out. Says they should experience this aspect of the states. Mentions at the very least they should go and watch the bull riders.

Poly!141 go to the fair. Price thought it sounded interesting, but didn't care either way. Gaz thought that it was a fun idea; definitely wanted to go. Soap was the most hype about going; he was down to go the moment he knew about it. Ghost didn't really want to go. The only reason he did was because he couldn't say no to Gaz's big brown eyes or Soap's pretty begging.

Poly!141 do all of them normal fair activities. They checked out the cooking competition. Trying all the chilies, pies, dips, and cakes. Making bets between themselves on which ones will win.

They play a few of the fair games. Price absolutely dominates at the balloon darts game, and wins prizes for all of the others. Soap tries to his best to win at ring toss; he REALLY wants one of those giant stuffed animals. He doesn't care how impractical carrying that thing is going to be. Try as he may he can't do it though. Soap had given up, and decided to give his last throw to Gaz; who won in one throw! This both delighted and infuriated Soap. Ghost was totally ready to just buy or steal the giant stuffed animal if he hadn't made it.

Poly!141 are finally able to watch the fair shows later during the day. The first they watch is the ax throwing competition. Ghost spends the whole time judging their stances and forms. While also silently admiring the strength that some of them have. Gaz can't stop thinking about how if Price wore a flannel shirt that he would fit right in, and they'd probably lose him in the crowd.

After that is when they go and watch the bull riding competition. Soap is immediately invested in what's happening, and is convinced that he could do this as well. Price is impressed; watching these men and woman willing get bucked around while they could easily get hurt. Ghost spends his time holding Soap down trying to tell him that he can't go down there and ask to do that. Gaz wants to try this for himself, but he knows better than to try it on a real animal. Looks up places they could go and ride a mechanical bull instead.

Poly!141 are instantly drawn to you when you make your appearance. Your smile was dazzling, and they definitely weren't looking at how good your ass looks in those pants.

Bull Rider Reader is an experienced rider. They've been performing since a young age, and has made a bit of a name for themselves within the community. They know how to make a show, and wow the crowd.

Once the show is done Bull Rider Reader runs into Poly!141. Soap is asking questions about how it feels to ride a bull, and how could he do that too. Gaz is saying that they were very entertaining to watch, and asking how long they've been doing this. Ghost is mostly silent; only saying that they did good and wondering to himself if bull riding would come in handy in other aspects of life. Specifically the bedroom. Price is the one who asks Bull Rider Reader if they live around the area or if they traveled for this event.

Poly!141 invite Bull Rider Reader to watch the fireworks with them, and later asks if they would want to hang out a different day since they're still on vacation for a few more days.

Bull Rider Reader knows a bar with a good mechanical bull, and offers to teach them some tips. Poly!141 is instantly down and ready to learn.

The next day everyone meets up and the amount of flirting is through the roof on both sides. Light touches and sexual innuendos are at a none stop with this group. The night ends with everyone having ridden the bull; even Ghost who was easily the best and managed to stay on the longest out of everyone.

Everyone leaves feeling happy and a new number in their phones.

#141 x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john price x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #simon ghost riley #task force 141 #call of duty #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle gaz x reader #x reader #poly 141 #tf 141 x reader

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roosterr · 1 year ago

Text

love you from afar

note: this has been in my drafts since MARCH. can't decide whether i like it or not lol. @wetsocksinbed angsty fic is up next >:)

pairing: john 'soap' mactavish x gn!reader

wc: 9.5k (oops)

summary: you receive a series of mysterious gifts from a mysterious admirer.

warnings: longing, yearning, pining, best friends to lovers trope, idiots in love, heavy on the idiots part, tooth-rotting fluff

ao3

over the last two weeks, you’ve noticed some odd things happening around you; a good kind of odd, the kind that left you thoroughly confused, but was heartwarming nonetheless.

after going back and forth with it in your mind, you've come to the conclusion that you have a secret admirer. it was odd, and a little hard to believe, but it was the only option that made any sense to you. in all honesty, it was probably just your hopeless-romantic heart clouding your mind with optimism, but one can dream.

the first incident was harmless enough, a small inconspicuous gesture that was so subtle, in fact, that you barely paid it any notice at first.

it was the dead of night, and you’d just returned from a particularly gruelling solo mission, uninjured but bone tired and desperate to collapse into your bed and finally sleep. before you could fall into the blankets, however, you noticed through the darkness of your room something strange.

resting neatly on your pillow, illuminated by the dim light of your phone screen, was a single bar of your favourite chocolate. you didn’t remember buying it, and certainly didn’t remember leaving it there, but it was exactly the kind of pick-me-up you needed after the day you’d had. at the time, you’d chalked it up to you simply being forgetful, devoured the chocolate in record time, and promptly knocked out.

over breakfast the next morning, you'd recounted to the others the mysterious appearing chocolate as a funny anecdote; the five of you had laughed about your terrible memory, and you'd moved on. but now you weren’t on the verge of blacking out, you couldn’t help but think of it as weird.

for the life of you, you couldn’t remember buying the chocolate bar, and it didn’t make sense that you would leave it on your pillow like that. what did make sense, however bizarre it may seem, was someone else leaving it for you – but you had no idea who would do that for you, or why. either way, you didn't imagine that anything else would come from it.

the next incident happened three days later.

during training that afternoon, you were in the middle of running laps around base, when you’d – stupidly – tripped over a ditch in the ground and rolled your ankle pretty badly. it hurt too much to put any weight on it, so you’d sat there in shame with no choice but to wait for a few minutes until gaz and soap caught up to you.

as they rounded the corner, you'd reluctantly waved them over with a grimace at how your ankle was throbbing in your boot. johnny was immediately crouching by your side, abandoning the idea of training to focus completely on you.

"christ, what happened?" he fussed, worry creasing his face and making your own heat up under the attention.

"i tripped…" you mumbled, dragging a hand over your embarrassed expression. it was bad enough that you'd made such a simple mistake, but now the man you were crushing on, hard, was lifting your leg so gently and untying your laces and you were certain you were moments away from cardiac arrest.

he'd ushered gaz away to continue his run, telling him he'd accompany you to the infirmary with a tone that left no room for argument. not that gaz would've, the knowing look he sent you as he jogged away told you he knew exactly what you were thinking.

after making sure nothing was broken, soap had pulled you to stand with an arm around your waist, supporting you with his solid frame when you stumbled.

"sure y'don't want me to carry you?" he'd teased, earning a laugh from you as you wobbled in his arms. as you chuckled though, you noticed a hint of what seemed like sincerity in his eyes. you'd felt your face burning again at the implication that he really would carry you, if that's what you'd wanted, and quickly started dragging him along with you in an attempt to hide your flustered state.

he'd kept his arm around your waist the entire way to the medical wing, only releasing you when you were sat in front of the doctor, which did absolutely nothing to calm your racing heart. to your dismay, he couldn't stay with you – you were still in the middle of training, after all.

"you sure you'll be alright by yourself?" he'd asked as he left, and the concern in his eyes almost finished you off. you were almost glad he didn't stick around to see the effect he had on you.

luckily, after a quick inspection, the doctor concluded that you only had a minor sprain, and you'd be good as new in a couple of weeks. she'd sent you on your way with an ice pack, a crutch, and strict instructions to stay off your feet.

you would've gone back outside to watch the boys (mainly soap) finish the rest of their exercises, but honestly, the embarrassment of what happened had you wanting to curl up with a pillow over your face for the rest of the day; so that's exactly what you found yourself doing.

you must've drifted off to sleep at some point, because once you finally sat up again, the sun had painted the horizon a bright orange, and your stomach had begun to rumble.

as you went to walk out into the hall, you heard the crinkle of plastic under your boot, pausing you mid‐step. when you looked down, you were stunned to find a bundle of three beautiful white flowers – gardenias, you'd found out after googling them later. an incredibly warm feeling blossomed in your chest, and despite your best efforts, your eyes had welled up with tears. you couldn't even think of the last time someone bought you flowers. there was no note attached, meaning you had no way of knowing who had left them for you, which sent your mind back to the chocolate bar from a few days ago.

so i'm not going crazy, you'd thought to yourself, someone really did leave it for me. but still, you had no clue who this mystery gift-giver could be.

you'd carefully picked them up, being mindful of your ankle, and turned back around to put them in your room. there wasn't really anywhere to put them, so you just set them on the ledge of your windowsill and made a mental note to find a vase for them at some point.

when you eventually made it to the mess hall, there were very few people left, leaving the room unusually calm. ghost was sat by himself at one of the far tables, so you hobbled over on your crutch to sit with him while you ate.

you sat down opposite him, and he'd looked up, gave you a subtle nod, and gone back to eating with his eyes fixed on the table in front of him. the two of you ate like that for a while, sitting quietly in each others presence.

ghost had been the first to break the silence, asking you, "how's the ankle?" as he pulled his balaclava back down to cover his mouth.

"just sprained," you'd replied, looking up to meet his eyes. another beat of silence fell over you, before you continued, "did you see who left me those flowers?" you'd asked him; it was worth a shot, you figured not much gets past ghost. to your dismay, he simply shook his head, standing and mumbling a goodbye as he left.

you were only more confused now. if ghost didn't know who it was – and, granted, you wouldn't actually be able to tell if he was lying, but you trusted him – then who would know? the next day, you'd asked the other boys, but they'd all said the same thing, even the captain. so you were left with nothing to do but wonder who on earth could be leaving you these gifts.

after that, it was another four days until your secret admirer struck again.

you'd been in and out of briefings and debriefings and meetings all day, your mind was beginning to numb with all the information that had been unloaded. you were tired; not quite the same exhaustion you'd felt coming back from your mission earlier in the week, though, this time you were at the end of your rope mentally. there hadn't been a moments peace since you got out of bed, and once that excruciatingly long day was over and you were relaxing in the common room, you'd had no energy to actually engage with your friends.

you were nestled into one end of the sofa with gaz next to you, ghost on his other side, and soap in the armchair with a small book in his hands. they were all chatting, with you occasionally saying a thing or two, but you were mostly just zoned out with their conversation serving as white noise in the background.

occasionally, you'd look up and catch soap already watching you, but he'd quickly turn his gaze back down to his book. his attention caused you to be equal parts flustered and confused. if you'd been any more awake, you probably would've asked him if something was wrong, but you were already having trouble keeping your head up as it was.

once you felt your eyes slip closed one too many times, you'd decided it was time to turn in for the night. with a quick 'goodnight' to the others, you'd made a beeline straight for your room – but it was more of a hobble, since your ankle still required you to walk with a crutch.

that night you'd slept like a baby, waking up early the next morning feeling well rested, and thankfully your ankle had even started to feel better. though you still couldn't join the team's training sessions, you had other responsibilities to fulfil, so unfortinately you did have to get up at some point.

you'd just finished lacing up your boots when you noticed it; a single sheet of paper on the ground by your door, folded once in half so you can't see what's written on it. from where it lays, you conclude that whoever left it must've slipped it through the gap under your door while you slept. you'd picked it up and sat back on the edge of your bed to unfold it, your curiosity certainly piqued. it make you wonder, though, what reason someone could have for leaving you a note.

except, when you'd lifted the page it wasn't a note at all. on the slightly wrinkled paper were a number of beautiful pencil drawings – drawings of you. the surprise of seeing your own face staring back at you nearly stopped your poor heart.

the jagged edge on one side of the page indicated that it must have been torn out of a sketchbook, which had interested you even more. you couldn't think of anyone you knew who could draw, let alone who would have a sketchbook dedicated to it.

whoever made this, it was clear that art was a passion of theirs – these drawings were really good. your hair, your eyes, the subtle expression on your features, every line was expertly crafted. it was incredibly flattering, and admittedly boosted your ego a little with how good those sketches made you look.

as you sat there smiling to yourself, you'd glanced up to the three flowers blooming on your nightstand. like the gardenias, the drawings were from your secret admirer, there was no other explanation; and an admirer they were, it was abundantly clear from these sketches that this person had an appreciation for you, if only from afar.

the drawings had been your favourite so far, but unfortunately, it was almost a week until your admirer made another move.

it had been long enough for you to start walking properly on your ankle again, and so you'd been slowly easing back into your workout routine, starting with your morning run. you'd taken it slow with lots of breaks to rest your muscles, but still decided to call it early, which had you back at your locker earlier than usual. as you were rounding the corner to the locker room, you'd heard the door slam closed and a set of heavy footsteps racing down the corridor. you'd only caught a glimpse of whoever it was as they dashed around the other corner, quick enough that you weren't able to see who it was.

you'd been concerned at first, whoever it was had been in a terrible rush, but you'd quickly shaken it off – it wasn't uncommon for people to be rushing around base, especially first thing in the morning. with your own meeting to get to, you'd decided not to dwell on the strange almost-encounter, and carried on with grabbing your towel from the bench and showering.

as you opened the door to your locker to fetch your clean clothes, sitting front and centre on top of them was something you definitely hadn't left there; a bag of your favourite hard candy, unopened, in the space that had been empty not half an hour before. how did these get here? you'd asked yourself, and you stood there confused for a moment or two before the answer came to you.

of course, your secret admirer. you'd felt the familiar giddy excitement bubble up in your chest at the revelation. it had been a while since the page of drawings had been slipped under your door, and it pained you how the gardenias had begun to wilt already. honestly, you'd been slightly worried that they'd given up, or something had happened to them. thankfully though, they seemed to be doing just fine, and you were too with such a pleasant start to your day.

it wasn't until you were sat in the meeting room, munching on your sweets and waiting for the others to arrive, that you realised.

the person, the one who'd been in a hurry as you got back from your run, it was them; that person was your secret admirer. they had to be, you'd concluded, the sweets weren't in your locker when you'd been in there earlier, and you did cut your run short, so they probably hadn't expected you to return so soon – that's why they'd been in such a rush to get away.

the revelation had butterflies swarming in your stomach, the idea of being so close to finding out who it was that held such fond affection for you sparking giddy excitement in you; but at the same time, it filled you with a sickly apprehension.

the problem was that you already knew who you wanted it to be – you had from the beginning – and you worried that uncovering their identity would only lead to disappointment; because there was no possible way john mactavish could feel the same way you felt about him.

soap had always been nothing short of kind and respectful of you, never stepping over the unspoken line if being your closest friend. sometimes, you can fool yourself into thinking he treats you differently – when he checks in on you after missions, when he always saves you a seat next to him in meetings, when he'd practically carried you to the infirmary, all of it ignited a warm feeling in your chest. but then you think about it a little more, and remember that all those nice gestures, that's just who he is. he wormed his way into the heart of ghost, for fucks sake, it was almost impossible not to like him.

you'd been so lost in thought, that gaz sitting in the seat next to you had startled you back to reality.

"gonna share with the class?" he'd asked with a teasing smirk, gesturing to the sweets sitting on the table in front of you. he'd reached out to grab one, but you'd pushed his hand away and snatched the bag to your chest.

"no way," you'd said with a playful glare, sending a quick smile to soap who'd taken the seat on your other side, "these are from my secret admirer, get your own."

gaz paused. "...your fucking what?" he had an incredulous look on his face, and you'd forgotten that you never actually told the others about it. "soap, you hearin' this?"

soap looked almost panicked when you'd turned to him, but he didn't have time to respond, as that was the moment price had walked through the door and announced the start of the meeting.

"i'll explain after," you whispered to gaz, who gave you a pointed look that said 'you better' and turned his attention back to price. you'd stifled a chuckle and looked back at soap, expecting him to have a similar expression, but he was already facing forward. you'd frowned at this; you and johnny would always whisper back and forth during meetings – a way to keep eachother entertained, as well as an excuse for you to sit close to him – but today his face had an odd air of seriousness to it. oh well, you'd thought somewhat downtrodden, just have to talk to him after.

and that's what led you to the present, where you'd been explaining to the boys everything that has happened over the last two weeks. well, you were mostly telling soap and gaz, ghost honestly didn't seem that interested, though the captain did have a rather amused expression as he listened.

"so you have no idea who it could be?" gaz had turned sideways in his chair, leaning forward slightly with his eyebrows raised. he looked to be in disbelief, and you were almost inclined to feel the same.

"nope, not a clue." you sighed, turning from gaz to look at the others around the table. price was standing with his arms crossed, giving you a similar disbelieving look, and ghost had that familiar unreadable look in his eyes.

"someone went in your room while you were gone?" ghost's low voice caught your attention, "bit creepy, innit," he grumbled, his gaze darting between you and somewhere next to you. he did have a point, you supposed, it was a bit weird.

"well… maybe a little, yeah…" you trailed off. perhaps he had a point, but you found yourself not wanting to believe it; all of the mystery person's gestures had been so sweet, thoughtful, it was hard to think they had any ill intentions.

that, and your heart has already made up its mind about who it should be.

"don't be like that, lt., whoever it is meant well, didn't they?" gaz chuckled, the grin evident in his voice.

"christ…" ghost mutters, shaking his head in exasperation.

"it may be a slight invasion of privacy…" you begin; and it's true, but after the first incident, it didn't appear that anyone had been inside your room again. "but it was only once. and it was just a chocolate bar, it's harmless. besides, are you really telling me you've never been in anyone's room when they're not there?" you continued, earning only an eye roll from ghost.

"and you haven't tried to figure out who it is?" price asks from his position standing opposite you, across the table.

"no, i wouldn't even know where to start, it could be anyone…" you try to think of anyone to suspect, but your optimistic mind only draws one name; the object of your affection, who happened to be sitting directly next to you. unfortunately, the two of you were strictly friends – no matter how much you longed for something more.

"i think you should investigate," gaz's smile makes you think for a moment that he knows something that you don't, but you brush it off. he didn't even know about your admirer until you told him, how could he? it wasn't like they were leaving any hints. "whoever it is obviously really likes you."

"you think?" you unwrap another sweet and pop it into your mouth as you consider his words.

"yeah! and, we could even help you investigate," gaz gives the others a hopeful, if slightly suspicious, smirk.

"speak for yourself…" ghost leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest, the picture of uninterested, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"could be a good bonding exercise," price had the same entertained tone in his voice as he looked between the four of you, "any thoughts, soap?"

you hadn't realised until the captain brought attention to him, but soap had been uncharacteristically quiet during all this; since before the meeting, actually. he hadn't said a word to you yet today, which had you a little worried. usually the two of you couldn't shut up when you were together. you turn to look at him, and find him looking wide-eyed back at price.

"i don't– ah, maybe…" he stuttered, looking between price and the table rather than meeting your concerned eyes, "...they're just shy? don't want to be known yet?"

"oh, y'think, mate?" gaz fully laughed at that, sharing a look with both ghost and price that held something you couldn't understand. now you're thoroughly confused.

"well, maybe he's right," uncertainty laced your voice, their reactions throwing you for a loop. "if they wanted to be known, they probably would've shown themselves by now, right?" you turn to soap, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else – but he meets your gaze with a tiny smile.

"so you're not going to investigate?" you look back at gaz, who has that incredulous look back on his face, and from the corner of your eye you see price and ghost both shake their heads.

"they can show themselves when they're ready, i don't want to push them." your mind was made up; if your secret admirer wanted to reveal their identity, then they would, it's as simple as that.

"but–" gaz tries to argue, but price quickly interrupts him.

"right, enough, you lot, clear out, you've all got work to be getting on with." he gestures for you all to stand, and after grabbing your sweets, you follow the others out of the room.

for the rest of the day, you endured endless amounts of teasing from gaz, and he even got some of the people from other units in on it. it had your face burning when they cooed over how romantic your 'mystery lover' was. you could only pray that they got over it soon, in the back of your mind you were slightly worried the attention might scare off your admirer, and you certainly didn't want that. but although you told the others you'd wait for them to reveal themselves in their own time, you'd be lying if you said you weren't practically dying to know who it was.

✹✹✹

"hey sarge," a voice sounds from beside you, drowning out the din of the mess hall around you. turning your head, you see it's a private; one you don't really know, but you give her a polite smile anyway. "i've got a message for you." she continues, producing a folded piece of paper from behind her back.

"a message? who from?" you ask, taking the paper from her when she holds it out to you.

she giggles, giving you a sly smile, "a secret someone," and with a suspicious wink, she turned around and left.

with the note in your hand, you look to gaz and soap, a baffled expression on your face. "does she mean my… admirer?" they both shrug at you, sharing an equally perplexed look between themselves.

"go on then," gaz says, "what does it say?"

you unfold it, and scan the neat handwriting of the message. soap and gaz watch as you read it, their curiosity overwhelmingly present in the way they leaned forward to try and see.

your face falls, and you frown. the note was signed – 'your secret admirer' – but you couldn't ignore the sinking feeling in your heart.

"what's up? what does it say?" gaz notices the change in your expression, standing up from his chair and leaning fully over the table to read the note himself. you hand it to him, your good mood from this morning completely soured.

"apparently it is from my admirer," you begin, not bothering to hide the dejection in your voice, "telling me to meet them outside in five minutes."

the pair don't say anything, too stunned to form words as they continue to frown at the words in front of them. this can't be right, it just can't be, your mind laments, if johnny is sitting here, that that means he's not–

"seriously? just like that?" gaz interrupts your thoughts. he sounded annoyed underneath his shock, and you find yourself feeling the same way. "sorry, but i find that hard to believe – they didn't even leave a card with the flowers, did they? it just doesn't feel right to me."

you look to soap, who has yet to say anything on the matter. he doesn't meet your eyes, boring holes into the table with the anger in his gaze. your frown only deepens at his expression, the look on his face so unlike him it almost has you forgetting all about the cause.

"who knows," you sigh, plucking the note back out of gaz's hand. "this probably won't take long, i'll–"

"wait, you're going?" soap interjects, the frown on his face set much deeper than your own. his sudden question caught you off guard, paired with his irritated expression, and you almost thought he was angry with you.

"yeah, i mean, what's the harm, right? might as well just get it over with." you stand as you respond, folding the note back up. even if you were setting yourself up for disappointment, you still wanted to at least hear this person out; even if it wasn't him.

"what's the harm?" johnny scoffs – at you or at very idea of all this you aren't sure – and joins you in standing up, throwing his arms out with such annoyance, it catches you off guard. he gestures sharply at the paper in your hand, "this– whoever that is, it's pure shite! you can't see that?"

now it's you who scoffs at him; where is this hostility coming from? yesterday he seemed as though he couldn't care less when you were telling everyone about it, and now all of a sudden, he thinks he has all the answers?

"how would you know?" you shove the note into your pocket, your earlier sadness quickly morphing into annoyance.

as you move to walk away, johnny looks like he wants to say something more, to stop you, and you hesitate. you want him to; whoever your admirer was, whoever that note was from, none of it meant a thing if it wasn't him. all you wanted was for him to look at you the same way you look at him. gaz is looking at him too, subtly gesturing for him to do something, but he doesn't speak, doesn't meet your eyes as your face drops again.

"exactly, you don't. i'll be back in a minute." you huff, and without another word from either of them, you turn on your heel and make your way out of the mess hall.

it's safe to say your mood had swiftly and effectively been ruined. the disillusionment of realising that your secret admirer was someone other than johnny was one thing, but his sudden attitude towards you was the final straw. your face was decidedly sour as you trudge through the corridors, still with a slight limp which was only fuelling your annoyance for how your day was going.

the cool air of the courtyard makes your skin bristle as you push the door open, taking a moment to survey the area as you stand in the entryway. to the left stands a lone figure, and you recognise his face, but – like the private from earlier, who you assume is his friend – you can't remember ever having spoken to him. with a deep sigh, you blink away bitterness in your expression and make your way over to him.

his grin is wide as he shamelessly checks you out while you approach, and you instinctually cross your arms over your chest. you come to a stop in front of him, frowning in a look that you hope screams uninterested.

"hey, sarge." he has an overly confident air to him as he speaks, shuffling closer under your scrutinising stare. of course he wouldn't take the hint.

"so it's you, then?" you ask, your voice flat and void of any emotion. you just wanted this to be over with, but it seemed luck just wasn't on your side today.

"it's me," he confirms, the blinding grin still plastered to his face as he inches even closer, "you surprised?"

"yeah, actually. i didn't know you were an artist." you reply, voice flat, and you watch him blink once in surprise. you raise a brow at his bewilderment, your patience already wearing painfully thin. he chuckles awkwardly in an attempt to hide how you so obviously caught him off guard.

"ah, yeah i uh–" he stutters, but you cut him off before he can make too much of a fool of himself.

"in fact, i don't actually know you at all. i couldn't recall your name even if you held a gun to my head." the hiss in your voice reveals just how over this whole situation you are. he opens his mouth to spout something else you have no interest in hearing, the sleazy grin falling from his face, but you hold a hand up to silence him. "so i'd really appreciate it if you left me alone."

"but–"

"and stay out of my room, and my locker, too. if it happens again, you're getting reported." you spit the final words at him, and turn on your heel to leave. before you can take another step, he grabs your elbow and spins you back around to face him, causing your ankle to twist awkwardly, which sends a fresh jolt of pain up your leg. you hold back a groan and fix him with a deadly glare instead.

"hey, c'mon, don't be like that!" you wince as he practically demands, getting much closer to you than was necessary, even with you arching backwards to put some space between you. "at least gimme a chance,"

"just leave me alone." you hiss, pulling your arm out of his grip and before he has the chance to do or say anything else, you hurry back the way you came, your limp noticeably more pronounced than earlier. thankfully, the private – jackson, you’d just about been able to read on his jacket – didn’t follow you back to the mess hall, which proves that he has at least half a brain. you hoped that he’d take the hint to stay away from you, but somewhere in the back of your mind you were preparing yourself to be hassled by him in the coming days; he certainly seemed the type.

you were gone less than ten minutes, but in that time most of the lunch crowd had cleared out, leaving the room a lot quieter than it had been. as you shuffle towards soap and gaz, still sitting at the same table, they both turn to look at you, and you can tell by the way both their expressions drop that they sense something is off.

"what happened?" gaz asks as you take your seat across from them, trying to hold back a wince when you put too much strain on your ankle, "your face says it didn't go well."

you sigh, looking between both of them, lingering on soap who’s already watching you with an intensity that has your face heating up. "it didn’t. it was just some private who can’t take no for an answer." you grumble, resting your cheek in the palm of your hand.

"your ankle okay?" soap asks, holding your gaze until you relent and look away first. you want to tell him not to worry, but you find it's impossible to lie to him, not when he's looking at you like you're the only person in the room. "what happened?" he presses, his voice taking on a dangerous tone.

"its nothing, he just– i just twisted it a little." you trip over your words under his stare, looking to gaz for help, but you find that he has a similar – albeit less intense – look of concern on his face. the silence hangs between you for a moment as you wordlessly try to convince them, but they see through you. "alright, fine. when i was leaving, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back, and i pulled my ankle."

if johnny had been pissed before, he was furious now; his eyes were dark underneath his furrowed brow, his lips turned down in a frown that looked more like a snarl. to see someone usually so easygoing with such a threatening look on his face was almost worrying, the only reassurance being that you know it's not directed at you.

"that prick… who was it?" gaz isn't nearly as affected as soap, but he's clearly annoyed by the audacity of the private. you shake your head, urging them to just let it go; he wasn't worth the trouble, after all.

when johnny says your name in that deep, gravelly tone, your heart skips a beat and your eyes snap to meet his. "who was it." he asks, but it's not a question anymore, and every fibre of your being is telling you to just give in to him.

"jackson. i don't know his first name…" you mutter, slightly flustered by the way he's acting. the tension in the silence that follows is nearly suffocating. from where his arms rest on the table, you notice johnny repeatedly clenching his fists, seemingly having some sort of internal battle with himself.

"what a bellend…" gaz grumbles, pausing for a moment to shake the disgust from his face. "so, what about the whole 'secret admirer' thing then?" he leans back in his chair, eyes darting to soap's profile then back to you.

"i don't know…" you sigh, "didn't really seem like something he was capable of, but i guess i don't really know him, so–"

"yeah, he doesn't seem the type, does he?" gaz interjects, with a newfound energy at your words. you narrow you eyes, sensing an ulterior motive, but let him continue. "i mean, buying you flowers, sweets– seems a bit too thoughtful for such a twat."

his jab coaxed a laugh from you, "maybe; i guess i was pretty disappointed when i saw it was him, though."

"oh yeah? expecting someone else, were you?" gaz has a grin on his face, one that has you worried that he's clocked on to your true feelings.

"something like that…" you clear your throat, suddenly feeling a little too seen for your liking. "anyway, i'd better get going, desk duty is no joke," you slowly stand up, making sure to be careful of your newly irritated ankle, and adamantly avoiding eye contact with either of them.

"yeah, me too, cap said he needs my help with something." gaz stands as well, giving soap a pat on the back and a suspicious wink as he walks off, which you willfully choose to ignore.

"you gonna be okay?" johnny comes to your side as you shuffle around the table, his hand brushing over your back to support you. butterflies begin to flutter at the feeling, and you scold yourself for being so easily affected. he seems to have calmed down a lot, the anger from earlier overtaken by his concern.

"yeah, i'll be fine, i think i'll just have to grab my crutch," you smile at him and take a step forward, wincing as you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

"c'mon, lemme help you," he tilts his head to meet your eyes, his worry evident within them. his hand is warm on your back, you have to hold yourself back from leaning into him. "cannae have you hurtin' yourself any more."

"you sure? don't you have work to do too?" you have every intention of taking him up on his offer, but you couldn't help feeling guilty for needing his help like this.

"i'm sure lt. can survive a few extra minutes," johnny gives you a reassuring smile, already ushering you out of the mess hall.

"well, don't blame me when has your head," you grin back at him, relishing in the comfortable feeling of being so close to him. distracted by his proximity, you momentarily forget about your injury and without thinking, you put too much weight on it as you take a step. with a pained gasp, you wobble on your good foot and pause to give your ankle a break.

johnny moves his arm to sit securely around your waist, gently pulling you to lean fully against him. "you sure you don't want me to take you to the infirmary?" he asks, lifting your arm to wrap around his shoulders.

"no, no– they're just gonna tell me to rest, and i'll be sitting down all day anyway," you move to continue on your way to your room, but he stays put.

"you should still get it looked at, might be–"

"johnny." you stop him with a hand on his chest, "i'm okay."

you watch his adams apple bob as he gulps, his eyes flickering to where your hand is touching him and back up to your own, almost too fast to notice.

"right, right. sorry." he dips his head, breaking eye contact. you pull him gently, and the two of you start walking again. "you know jackson well?"

you scoff, frowning as you recall the events of earlier. "what? no, before today i didn't even know his name. he seems like kind of an arsehole, to be honest."

"really? made that bad of an impression, eh?" his lopsided smile feels oddly smug, but you decide not to overthink it.

"like i said, can't take a no." you grumble, pinching the bridge of your nose with your free hand, "i doubt this is the last time i'll have to deal with him…"

"he's not gonna bother you." johnny states, with a finality that is as stunning as it is comforting.

"...if you say so." you don't press any further, wanting to simply move on and forget about the whole thing. you'd gladly never think about that arrogant private again.

before you know it, the two of you are standing in the hall outside your room. his grip around your waist loosens as you push open the door, and you're all too aware of the cold feeling left behind as he lets go.

"thank you, for helping me." you shoot him a grateful smile, grabbing your crutch from where it leant against the wall, propping it under your arm.

"course," johnny pauses, looking past you to something in your room. "you… kept the gardenias?" he asks, his voice quiet, almost disbelieving. you tilt your head, a silent question, but he's still staring at the flowers.

"yeah, they're…" you begin, but his words have you pausing too; he didn't seem like the kind of person to be interested in floristry, you'd certainly never heard him say anything about it before. but somehow, he'd identified the flowers on your end table with no problem. "...they're nice. i like them, even if they do look a little sad now."

when he finally meets your eyes again, there's a distinct redness to his face that wasn't there before, and you feel your heart beginning to race with renewed hope. it could be that he just likes flowers, but if he already knew they were gardenias, maybe he…

"right, i, uh– i should get going, or ghost might actually kill me." johnny's voice had a dazed quality to it when he spoke.

"alright, i'll see you later then," you give him a small smile as you step back into the hall next to him. the two of you look at each other for a moment before you speak again, holding back a laugh, "you gonna go, or just stand there all day?"

your words seem to snap him out of the trance he’d been in, and he shakes his head in an almost comical manner, "right! right, sorry, bye!" he sputters, waving over his shoulder as he jogs away. you chuckle to yourself as he goes, and start walking the opposite direction to get started with your own work.

✹✹✹

you didn't see soap again until the next day, considering that he was strangely absent from mealtimes both last night and today. thankfully the incident from the day before hadn't done any further damage to your ankle, so you were up and about without the need for your crutch after a good night's rest.

you'd just dropped off a folder of paperwork in price's office – which you'd completed in fairly good time, thanks to being stuck behind a desk for nearly two weeks – but as you descend the staircase, you're almost knocked over by someone flying around the corner. you caught yourself with a hand on the railing, blinking away your surprise and glaring at whoever had carelessly bumped into you.

much to your chagrin, it was jackson, and you feel your face naturally falling into a frown at the realisation. you’d been expecting him to try and change your mind about yesterday, but true to johnny’s words, he had yet to bother you about it; actually, you hadn’t seen him at all since then, not even at breakfast or lunch, but it's not as if you were complaining.

though, as you stare down at him from the step above, you notice a deep purple bruise decorating his cheekbone that definitely wasn’t there yesterday. your frown turns from malice to confusion as you wonder how he could have gotten it in the span of less than a day, it looked like he’d taken a serious punch. you couldn’t say you felt bad for him, but it did look painful.

"listen, about yesterday… i- i lied,." jackson mutters, eyes glued to the floor to avoid your own. he was shuffling in place, as if he was preparing to bolt at any second. your eyes narrow as you process his words.

"what?"

he clears his throat. "i lied. it wasn’t me, i just said it was because one of the guys bet me i couldn’t get you to go out with me." he admits. the way he keeps avoiding your eyes, glancing around like he was waiting for someone to jump out at him has you a little suspicious, but your heart still soars when you realise what he means.

jackson wasn't your secret admirer, so your hopeless romantic heart could still dream that it was johnny. the flutter of butterflies even distracts you from the insulting notion that he only wanted to go out with you for a bet.

"seriously?" you ask, your shock evident in your voice as you stare him down. finally his eyes land on your own, an embarrassed grimace overtaking his nervous expression. it's a stark, satisfying difference to his arrogant overconfidence from before.

"yeah. i’m sorry, okay? i don’t want any trouble, it was just–" he cuts himself off, but when you give him a questioning look, he can't tear his eyes from the space behind you, and only mumbles what sounds like a ‘sorry’ before scurrying off back the way he came. you watch him go, thoroughly confused by the whole interaction, but not a moment later a voice from where he was staring brings you out of your thoughts.

"y’alright? little shit wasn’t botherin’ you, was he?" soap's voice cuts through the quiet, and you turn to see him descending the stairs to stand next to you.

you shake your head, "no, no, he just–" you hesitate, your mind going back to yesterday and the gardenias. "he lied, it wasn't him."

"really?" he asks, but his voice doesn't sound surprised at all. you're not sure if you imagined it, but for a moment his expression changes into something like satisfaction.

"yeah, he was about to say something else too, but he just ran off," you sigh, walking down the last few steps. soap follows close behind, a hand hovering near your back. "did you see that bruise on his face? wonder how he got it…"

"looked nasty, eh?" a laugh escapes him, and you admire the way his lips curve, the creases around his eyes as his smile reaches them. "maybe he finally got what was comin' to him."

his face was close to yours, a lot closer than you could reasonably handle without losing your nerve and making a fool of yourself. realising you had yet to respond, you clear your throat and start walking down the corridor, your eyes to the floor and a burning in your cheeks.

"if he never speaks to me again, it'll still be too soon…" you grumble, willing your heart to calm down as he comes up next to you in a few long strides. "anyway, what have you been up to? i haven't seen you all day." with a quick glance, you see the easy smile he has falter slightly.

"i was, ah–" he avoids your eye as he stops himself, a beat of silence passes before he continues "nevermind, i– i was… looking for you." your heart skips a beat, but you scold it for being so eager; the two of you were teammates, friends, he could be looking for you for any number of reasons.

"looking for me? what's up?" you turn your head to face him as you walk, a curious tilt to your brow.

johnny comes to a stop, and so do you a moment after. he looks at you, fidgety and shifting on his feet, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. the look on his face is unsure, uncomfortable, like he was debating running off like jackson had done a minute ago.

he's nervous, that much you can tell. but despite the slightly awkward tension, you you wait for whatever it is he's struggling to say.

"i… uh– y'know what, i actually forgot." johnny hangs his head, pulling his hands from his pockets and scratching the back of his neck.

at his words your heart sinks, and you can't help the disappointed look that takes over your expression. "oh? are you–"

before you can finish, he drops a hand on your shoulder and steps ahead of you, turning around so you're face to face. "listen, ghost is waiting for me, so i gotta run," he smiles again, but it's weaker this time, almost forced as it doesn't quite meet his eyes.

"right… better not keep him waiting."

"right," his reply is short, and the tension between you only grows every moment he avoids your eyes. "i'll see you later though, promise." he flashes you another false smile, gently patting your shoulder, before turning on his heel and swiftly escaping down the corridor.

"bye, johnny." you release a sigh, from longing or exasperation you're not sure, watching his form disappear through the doors.

✹✹✹

despite his promise, once again you don't see soap for the rest of the day. at dinner you'd questioned ghost on his whereabouts, but he only told you that he had no idea either. this time however, you got the strong feeling he was lying to you.

still though, you couldn't find it within yourself to be annoyed with him. you could see clear as day that something was going on with johnny, and if he didn't want to confide in you about whatever it is, then you certainly won't be the one to push him.

having finished today's obligations, you decided to head straight to your room once you'd finished eating. you open your door, a sigh escaping you as you prepare to collapse for the night, and stop dead in your tracks.

a folded sheet of paper lays in front of you, standing out against the emptiness of your floor, crumpled like it had been screwed up and flattened out again. a sense of déjà vù overcomes you, for last week, when you'd received the sketches of yourself in the same way. for a moment all you can do is stand there, staring at the paper, processing.

eventually, you do step into your room, shutting the door quietly behind you and picking the paper up from the floor. you keep it folded until you're sitting on the edge of your mattress, hands shaking ever so slightly with the anticipation.

you're not sure what to think, as you sit burning holes in the paper with your stare. after yesterday, you thought you were done with the idea of your secret admirer; but then again, jackson had admitted to you earlier that he'd lied when he met you yesterday, and the whole reason you weren't as interested after that was because your pipe dream of the mystery person being johnny had been shattered. but now that the identity of your admirer was once again a mystery, you couldn't help but want to dream like that again.

with a defeated groan, you decide to just rip off the bandaid and read the note. you unfold it, immediately noticing the scratchy handwriting – the opposite of the note jackson gave you, so thankfully it couldn't be from him.

you hear your heartbeat in your ears as your eyes scan the words in front of you.

i stayed up all night trying to write this note, but nothing i came up with felt good enough, so i'm just going to say it. i'm your secret admirer. i know you probably won't believe me after that bastard yesterday, but i need you to know anyway. i used to think that love just wasn't my thing, that i'd never find someone i wanted to spend my life with, but that changed when i met you. i didn’t realise it at first, but it's always been you. you're my person, and i can't hide it anymore. i love you. maybe i'm a coward for giving you a note instead of telling you face to face. but if you don't feel the same, you can throw it away, or burn it or something, and i'll never bring it up again. your heart, johnny

the silence in your room borders on deafening as you sit completely still, reeling from what you'd just read. you didn't realise you'd stopped breathing until you release a shaky breath.

all this time, it was johnny.

every longing glance, every touch that lingered just a little too long, the racing pulse every time he says your name; it was all reciprocated.

every time you thought you could never have him as anything more than your best friend, you were wrong.

he cared enough to leave you a pick-me-up after a hard mission, buy you flowers when you got injured, draw you the way he saw you, gift you things he took the time to notice you like.

all this time… he'd felt the exact same way you do.

you set the note down next to you, bringing a shaky hand up to cover your mouth that had fallen open in shock. there was only one thing to do, in your mind, and that was to run into johnny's arms and make up for all the lost time you've spent pining over him.

in seemingly no time at all, you find yourself standing at johnny's door, your fist poised to knock. theres a moment of hesitation, but before your apprehension can cloud your mind, you let your knuckles rap on the wood once, twice, three times, and take a step back as you wait for a response. after a second or two – which felt a lot longer than it actually was – you hear the sounds of footsteps from inside.

another moment passes, and you assume johnny is standing on the other side with his heart in his throat just like you, short-lived before he finally swings the door open.

he looks at you, eyes wide and like a deer caught in headlights, the way he holds himself uncharacteristically shy as you stare each other down.

"the note," you finally murmur, and johnny almost flinches, clearly fighting the urge to look away from you. "tell me you meant it." you continue, taking a miniscule step closer to him. you hear his breath catch in his chest.

"every word." he whispers, gaze flickering down to your lips and back up to your eyes again, and your heart misses a beat.

with no hesitation this time, you hook your arms around his neck and pull him towards you, crushing his mouth against yours in a desperate kiss that's as much teeth as it is lips.

johnny groans into your mouth, his hands flying to your waist as he turns and walks you backwards into his room. the door gets kicked shut behind him once he's got you inside, neither of you breaking apart more than enough to draw a single ragged breath before meeting in the middle again. with another needy whine into you he pushes you up against the wall, caging you in with his broad shoulders and his arms around your waist.

the weight of his arms around you, the feeling of his stubble prickly against your face, the softness of his lips against yours; it's everything you've been waiting for, and now you finally have him, he tastes sweeter than you could've ever imagined.

the two of you stay like that for moments that feel like hours in each other's embrace, only pulling away when your lungs are burning and your lips are swollen. leaning your head back against the wall, his eyes meet yours with such adoration it sends your heart fluttering all over again.

"i'll take that as a good sign," he mumbles, a lopsided grin lifting his features. his joy is so infectious you can't help but mirror his expression as you drop your head to rest on his shoulder.

his chest rumbles with an airy, disbelieving laugh and he tugs you impossibly closer, resting his cheek against the side of your head. standing chest to chest now, you can feel the hammering of his heart against yours and the way his skin burns under your touch.

"you’re my person too," you murmur into him, one of your hands moving up to tangle in the strands of his mohawk, "always have been."

johnny's arms wind tighter around you as he releases a deep, content sigh. he's hugged you countless times before but somehow, this feels different while still staying exactly the same. the heat radiating from him is soothing like it always has been, the knowledge that your feelings are reciprocated only making it that much sweeter.

"why'd it take us so long, eh?" he utters, tender and loving in the way he runs his hands over your back and sides.

"we're just idiots…" you reply, "gaz is gonna have a field day with this."

johnny laughs again, pressing his lips to the side of your head so you can feel his smile. "oh, he clocked us a long time ago, bonnie."

you can't help but groan as you imagine how gaz will tease the both of you for how oblivious you've both been.

he lifts you up by his grip around your waist, carrying you over to his bed and flopping down onto his back with you on his chest. a satisfied groan escapes him as he settles, burying his face into your hair and inhaling a deep breath.

you're enveloped by the scent of him – gunpowder, and the faint smell of something burnt, but it's pleasant and familiar nonetheless.

"yer stayin' with me tonight, non negotiable." he murmurs, running a hand up and down the length of your spine.

"fine by me." you tilt your head up to meet his eyes, and find them already locked on you. "so, about jackson…"

johnny scoffs, lightheartedly frowning in response. "yer gonna bring his name up while yer in my bed?"

"he looked really spooked when he saw you earlier," you begin, smoothing your hand over his chest. his eyes widen at your words, his hand freezing as he looks away from you with a distinctly guilty expression on his face. you narrow your eyes, holding back the amused smirk pulling at your lips. "johnny… did you…"

he clears his throat, and by the way he can't hold your gaze for more than a second you can tell he knows he's been caught. there's no stopping the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at his reaction.

"...i may have, uh– potentially put some fear o'god into the little bawbag…"

"soap!"

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