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darknight3904 · 1 month ago

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All Too Well

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: The first month in Jackson passes by slowly. Joel wishes you'd confront him about the past but fear has your lips sealed tight.

Warnings: 18+ Language, SA (Not by Joel), Starvation, Animal Death, Eating Disorders, Plastic boobs, and Lingerie (do we need a warning for those things?) Joel and Reader are pros at avoiding the elephant in the room!

Word Count: 4.1k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

I didn't have much time to edit this one so sorry if there are typos :)

December 31, 2023

Joel carefully set the table according to Maria's directions. His new sister-in-law had decided that a New Year's Eve dinner would be appropriate for this year. Of course, drinks with the rest of the community at the Tipsy Bison would follow.

He eavesdropped on Ellie and Tommy's conversation from the other room.

"And then, you just keep mixing like this." Tommy explained, "And then...slowly fold in the sugar."

"You're pretty good at this." She compliments

"Had a real good teacher."

When he and Ellie stepped into the warm home, Joel could hardly believe what he was seeing. His younger brother was wearing a purple and green apron, baking a fleet of cupcakes to share with the rest of Jackson. Twenty years ago, Tommy would've eaten half-frozen pizza bites and dubbed it "a healthy dinner."

Joel had no idea how Maria had turned his brother into the Pillsbury Dough Boy, but he had to admit it was one of the funnier things he'd seen in a while.

Speaking of Maria, Joel swore he'd eventually win her over. He was pretty sure she was slowly warming up to him. After all he'd only been in Jackson a month or so and here he was invited to a family dinner.

"Dude, your brother is like...the best baker in the world," Ellie says as she shuffles into the dining room.

"Really? Last time I saw him he was still burning Chef Boyardee." Joel teases

"That was years ago, asshole!" Tommy's voice calls to defend himself, "I'm a great cook now. Besides I don't recall you being some Master Chef, Joel."

"Two days you burned that bacon I brought home from that Jesse kid," Maria said flatly as she checked on the ham in the oven.

"You're not helping."

"I wasn't trying to."

The sudden gust of cold air has Joel turning his attention the the front door that has slammed against the wall behind it.

"Shit, it's so windy out there!"

He'd know that voice anywhere, how could he forget it? Ever since his arrival in Jackson, he practically heard it every time he closed his damn eyes.

Joel watched as you hung your coat up and pulled your boots off before greeting Maria who was already standing there with open arms. He awkwardly stood as you greeted Tommy with the same amount of enthusiasm before letting your gaze fall on him.

He feels his mouth dry up as you take him in. What is he supposed to say? Hi? Long time no see? Sorry, I broke up with you and then the world ended?

Lucky for him a certain 14-year-old is there and always ready to fill the silence.

“Hi, I'm Ellie.”

Joel watched as she bounced right up to you, eager to get to know the new stranger.

“I know…I've uh seen you around the stables.” You say slowly

“Oh yeah! That foal Shimmer she's super cute!”

Dinner is awkward or well, Joel is awkward. He sits next to Ellie and listens to her talk your ears off about this and that, mostly mundane things like her comics or fun facts about space. You listen intently, adding comments here and there and Joel's reminded of the way you'd listen to Sarah's ramblings.

Tommy nudges his foot under the table and Joel looks up to see Maria looking at him expectantly.

“Sorry, what?” He asks

“I was asking if you'd want to try your hand at patrol later this week. Tommy said you're not fitting in with any of the other jobs around here.” She says

The idea is a great one, truly. Joel has felt rather trapped the past month behind Jackson's huge walls. Leaving again would feel like a breath of fresh air.

“That’d be great.” He nods in thanks, thinking of how nice it'd be to do something other than bake bread or sweep stables.

“Good.” Maria smiles before turning to you, “And you, can show Joel the ropes.”

Joel nearly chokes on his food and he hears you sputter into your glass of water.

“What?”

Three days later and It's around 7 in the morning when Maria forces you and Joel out of the gates of Jackson. Mounted on horseback Joel follows your lead as you explain the basic route.

“We'll stop down at this mall today. Sweep for infected and people.” You say, “There's a Macy's that hadn't been cleared out yet, Ellie might like some of the girl's clothes there.”

Joel nods, he hasn't said anything much to you, only asking a few questions. Truly, he's not sure what to say. Does he start with small talk, the weather, how Shimmer is doing? Or does he dive right in to address what both of you dance around?

Joel follows you around, listening to you talk about the route, what you normally see, and how many people you've run into in the past few months. Unsurprisingly, he's good at all of it, asking the right questions and following your lead. Now, as you stand in the ruins of Greenpines Mall, you watch him sift through racks of the Juniors section of Macy's.

“Can I help?” You ask, probably tired of just standing there in silence and watching him.

“Uh, yeah. She's into space and dinosaurs. Probably a size small in everything but hoodies. Said she likes em’ oversized.”

You nod and walk to another rack, pushing different items aside and mumbling about how hard it was going to be to find a dinosaur in the teenage girl's section.

Joel stuffs a few items into his backpack and you're able to find a nice maroon sweatshirt.

“The men's section is that way.” You point to your left, “I'm gonna uh… go upstairs and grab some stuff for myself.”

“Should stick together.” Joel reasons, following where your finger points “Safer like that.”

You look at him and he hopes you can tell he's being fully serious. His brows pinch together, anticipating you'll reject him.

“Fine. But no complaining.”

Joel wasn't expecting to find himself in the lingerie section of the store. The embarrassed huff he lets out has you laughing. At least you were happy about all this.

“Quit whining, I just need a few new bras.” You sigh turning away from him as he stands there, making sure his eyes remain fixed on the floor.

Just because the world had ended didn't mean he wanted to be surrounded by racks of ladies' underwear and bras.

You only get about twenty steps from him and he takes a small step back, bumping into something tall. A loud curse falls from his lips as he tries to catch the mannequin he's knocked over.

“God bless it…” He groans, trying to stand her back up.

He catches the way you roll your eyes when his hands land on the mannequin's plastic tits, perfectly obscured bythe red lace of some skimpy overpriced thing.

He didn't mean to do that, he swears.

“Maybe don't grope the models, Joel.” You tease

“I'm not.” Joel snaps, finally getting it to stand again, “Walked into it by accident.”

“Sure you did.”

Joel didn't know what to expect from you today. Stony silence had been at the top of his list. Teasing him though? That hadn't been anywhere on his radar.

You're so different yet familiar at the same time, it's driving him up the wall.

He keeps his eyes on the floor as you hum an unknown tune, picking different things up for yourself, and muttering about sizing.

Joel lets out a grunt when you shove something into his chest.

“Give these to Ellie too.” You say, “In the apocalypse, a girl can never have too many sports bras.”

He doesn't bother looking at the fabric in his hands, trusting your judgment and simply moving to place it next to the shirts he's already picked up for Ellie.

The ride back to Jackson is quiet. No teasing words from you, and the horse's trotting fills the silence as a few birds chirp as they fly overhead.

The fact that you seem content not to mention anything from the past has Joel's stomach in knots. Surely you can't be okay with it all? He's spent the past month worrying about how he'd ever address any of it.

“We're not gonna talk about it?” He asks

“About what?” You ask “You mean the mannequin? I was just kidding about that, Joel.”

“About us.” He says quietly

A beat of silence and then,

“What do you want me to say, Joel?”

“Anythin’. Yell at me. Scream. Slap me.” Joel huffs, “Don't wanna spend time dancin’ around our past. Let it all out.”

You let out a scoff that has Joel's stomach dropping,

“I don't see why I should do any of that. It was 20 years ago, Joel. I've made my peace with it.”

Joel looks over at you, taking in the way the setting sun makes your features glow. Your gaze is fixed on the gates of Jackson. They're only half a mile away but they might as well be half a million with the way your gaze is so permanently fixed on them. All of a sudden, you're adamant about not looking at him.

A dozen things swarm in his mind. Half of him wants to get off his horse, pull you off yours and shake you until you come to your senses, to urge you to put him through the ringer and really let him have it. The other half of him is telling him that you look really good today and that he noticed your bra size has gone up since 2003.

God, he was losing it.

So many things that could be said, perhaps should be said yet all that comes out of him is,

“Alright, suit yourself.”

For the next two weeks, Joel doesn't see much of you. Every once in a while he peaks through the curtains of his own home, hoping to get a glimpse of you returning but, he never does.

Ellie of course, takes immediate notice of his window-watching and declares that he ‘has a huge crush on the horse lady next door!’.

To Joel's mortification, she takes this information to Maria who tells Tommy, and before Joel knows it he's being teased by his younger brother in his own damn home.

“And she doesn't know anything about you and her?” Tommy asks one evening over a glass of whiskey

“No. And I'm keeping it that way. So don't go running your mouth.” Joel says glaring at his younger brother.

Tommy raises his hands in Innocence.

“If Ellie finds out it won't be from me.” He says, “But she'll find out, eventually. You know that right, Joel?”

“No, she won't.”

You spend more time and effort avoiding Joel than you should. At first, you thought you might be able to work around your shared past, but you teased him on your one and only shared patrol shift. But, when Joel asked you to share your thoughts on the past, you had clammed up. It was then, half a mile from Jackson's gates that you knew you wouldn't be able to be friendly with him.

You didn't know what Joel wanted. He said he wanted you to scream at him, to curse him out about a three-month relationship that happened 20 years ago. And maybe, if he'd shown up a few years back with Tommy you might've. Instead, it's like your mouth has been glued shut about it all.

Over the past two weeks, your mind had conjured a thousand different things to say to him. Some are full of anger, others sadness. But, you never say any of them. Instead, you choose to avoid him, trading patrol shifts and even taking graveyard shifts at the wall to put distance between the two of you.

Maria had coined it one day after you invited her over for lunch so you could talk to her about her baby.

“You're scared.” She said after listening to the way you described not being able to confront him about it.

“Scared?” You scoff as you shove a spoonful of soup into your mouth, “He should be scared of me.”

“You're scared it'll happen all over again. That he'll leave you like he did back then.”

Maria was so wrong. Honestly, she was losing her mind. You chalked it up to the baby. Yes, that evil little fetus was probably munching away at her brain to grow its own. Ironic since Cordyceps pretty much did the same thing.

Scared? You weren't scared of Joel Miller. No, not in a thousand years.

Wednesday, January 21, 2024. A day that Joel was going to mull over probably for the rest of his life. After all, it marked the start of a friendship.

He was surprised to find you already in the stables, ready for patrol for the day. Finally, you'd turned up instead of some random person you'd found to switch shifts with.

“Mornin’ sweetheart.” He says, the name flying off his tongue before he can stop it.

You shoot him a look he can't quite place as he saddles up his horse, Turnip.

“Don't do that.” You huff as you stroke your own horse, Pepper's mane avoiding eye contact with him.

“What?” Joel asks dumbly knowing full well you mean the nickname he'd let slip.

How many times had he called you that back in the day? Over the three months, it must've been well over a thousand.

“ Don't give me little nicknames with that stupid voice of yours and pretend you don't know what you're doing.” You scold

“Sorry.” Joel sighs, pulling himself onto his horse as you saddle up, “Wait you think my voice is stupid?”

The day goes by smoothly. No infected or people to be seen. Joel is surprised when you point out deer tracks. 20 years ago you'd shuddered at the idea of blood, now you were plotting the demise of some deer that wasn't even here.

“It's probably long gone.” He says

Your face falls in disappointment, “Really?”

“Tracks are old. There's snow drifts over a few of them too.” He points at the ground to the prints that are further up.

“Damn…I thought I had it this time.” You huff

“Tracking isn't easy.” Joel says, “Takes time.”

“Tommy's been teaching me, but I'm not really good at it.” You sigh

Joel feels jealousy swirl in his chest. What was he even jealous of? His married brother teaching his ex-girlfriend a vital survival skill in the apocalypse? There was something seriously wrong with Joel's brain these days.

“You're better than Ellie. She wouldn't have even seen the tracks, let alone been able to tell that it was a deer.”

“So you're saying I'm a bit better than a 14-year-old who doesn't even know what the Internet was?”

Joel shrugs and gives you a small smile.

“Thanks, Joel. I appreciate it.” You roll your eyes

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

A sharp glare is sent to him and he sits up a bit straight. Turnip snorts as he falls into step beside Pepper.

“Sorry, I'll stop. I swear.”

Joel watches as you munch away at deer jerky and dried pieces of fruit. He takes note of the way you practically engulf your lunch. He'd noticed the same thing a few weeks back at the New Years Eve dinner. You'd shoved your entire plate of the delicious ham Maria had made into your mouth in record time. Even Ellie had taken more time to eat the meal and Joel had recently watched the kid eat three cookies in what was basically one bite.

“Slow down.” He warns “You're going to choke.”

You look up from your food, staring at him with wide eyes and a stuffed mouth that probably would put chipmunks to shame.

“This is slow.” You say after you somehow swallow it all.

Joel raises a brow at that. Do you even realize you've put away nearly double what he had in half the time?

During your time together you'd often reminded Joel of a bird. Picking at different foods and then slowly eating whatever you deem good. In true college student fashion, most of those foods had been pizza and greasy Chinese takeout. Not that he could blame you, he also thoroughly enjoyed both of those things way back when.

The woman who sits In front of him is not the one he dated as a 35-year-old man. You're even eating the raisins out of the trail mix, and Joel knows you hate raisins.

“Just…take a breath. Drink some water.” He says, eying you carefully, pushing the canteen towards you.

You huff and unscrew the cap, drinking a bit before shutting it again.

“Happy?”

“Yes,” Joel says

Back on the horses, Joel notices the way you're looking a bit ill. Your face is screwed up a bit and he can tell you're nauseous. It's from eating too quickly, he can tell. You'd eaten all of your food and then when he'd offered some of his own, you'd enthusiastically taken him up on it. Normally he'd have no issues with it but it was the speed that concerned him.

“Wanna stop for a bit?” He asked, hoping you weren't going to puke onto poor Pepper's head.

You nod and quickly dismount from Pepper. Joel ties the horses off on a nearby tree before walking over to you. Patrol be damned, he had to make sure you weren't going to lose all the food you just ate.

You're curled up on yourself, your head resting on your knees as he sits down next to you.

“You okay?” He asks

“Sorry.” You mumble sadly into your knees

“For what?” Joel asks, “You're doing me a favor, getting me off that horse. My back is aching.”

“Sorry for being a glutton. I ate all my own food and then some of yours…” You groan, “I'm disgusting.”

“You're not a glutton.” Joel says, “Being hungry isn't a crime. Just gotta eat it slower. You're making yourself sick.”

You're silent for a moment, probably weighing your options as Joel runs his gloved hands through the snow. And then, in a voice so quiet it nearly missed it, you speak again,

“It's not my fault…”

Joel looks over at you, your head is back up, and you're focused on the threads of your jacket and the way they've begun to pull away from the seam.

“It's not my fault.” You say again, a bit louder again

“What's not your fault?” Joel asks, unsure of where this is going

“The doc at the clinic says it's…that it's because of the time I spent with them. It's because of them that I can't eat normally anymore.” You say sadly

“Spent time with who?” Joel asks

“Adam. And the others. Especially the leader, he was missing two teeth.” You say, staring at your hands

“Who's Adam?” Joel asks softly

He wants you to look at him, even just the smallest glance right now would bring him some peace of mind. This Adam, Joel wanted to know who he was, where he was, what he'd done.

All of a sudden, you're staring right at him, eyes glossed over with fear,

“No one.” You whisper “No one at all.”

May 2017

Loki had been dead for two weeks. Two weeks since you'd been tied to this tree, two weeks of no food and just stale water poured from the redhead's canteen in the middle of the night.

The redhead, Adam, pours you water each night after the others have passed out. He's supposed to be keeping watch, not making sure their newest toy is hydrated enough not to die.

“Slow down.” He says, the back of his hand on your head as he holds the canteen to your lips

When it's finally empty you look at him. He has blue eyes, something you hadn't taken note of before.

“You need to eat it. They won't give you anything else until you do.” He advises

Adam points at your feet where a small bag sits. You know what he's talking about. The leader, the one who reeks and is missing his two front teeth took special care to dry out a piece of your pet. Each day he'd demand you eat the jerky that was made from Loki.

“I can't.” You say

“They'll let you starve. I've seen it before with other girls.” Adam says, pulling a piece of the jerky out, “Just one bite, and I bet he'll give you deer tomorrow.”

“Why should I?” You hiss “Why should I bother eating? So I can be strong for whenever you want to use me? I'd rather starve than extend my time here with you.”

Adam looks at you, his face unreadable. You watch as he stands back up, backing away from you and your tree.

“Fine, starve then.”

Another week passes before he coaxes a bite of the jerky into your mouth. The leader sees this, and claps you on the back,

“What a good whore you're going to be.”

The next day, a small bowl of venison-filled soup is presented to you.

Adam spoons it into your mouth bite by bite cooing to you that you're doing so well.

When you've finished the bowl, you want to ask for more, but Adam has you standing up. Before you can protest or ask for more food, your pants have been ripped down to your ankles and Adam takes you against your tree.

Your hot tears begin to dribble down your face as you try to block out Adam's grunts.

The other men cheer when he finishes.

Warm cum drips down your legs as vomit pools in your throat, you lose the soup and the last bit of your dignity with it.

Your days are long. You spend most of them on your back or on your belly. The other men are content with this, just wanting the warmth of a woman here at the end of the world.

The worst of it though is whenever the leader, who you've dubbed the Walrus since no one ever says his name, puts you on all fours beneath him.

You quickly learn that the Walrus has a kink for pain. Or well, inflicting it. You don't get to see them, but each night Adam cleans your back and inner thighs, changing bandages and keeping the cuts from the Walrus’ knife clean.

The Walrus also takes delight in giving you what was basically toddler-sized portions of food. A couple of bits of jerky one day, followed by three small spoonfuls of beans the next. He laughs whenever he sees you watching the men eat. He'll say something about women not deserving more than what he's already giving you before walking off.

You swear that you're going to be nothing but a pile of bones as the days roll by.

At night, Adam feeds you more food. In exchange you let him pepper your skin with kisses. It turns out that if you pretend to like it, not only is he gentler when he puts himself inside, but he'll also bring you more food.

Some nights you're so full it feels like you'll burst. Adam gets what he wants, a fake lover, and you get what you want, a full belly.

Winter 2024

You're silent during the ride back into Jackson. You whisper something to Pepper and Joel finds himself asking if he can walk you home. Physically you're right next to him but mentally? Joel can tell you're not there, you're trapped in some memory, for your sake, he hopes it's a good one.

He walks you right up to your front porch and watches as you fumble with your keys. He says your name out loud for the first time in 20 years and you're snapping out of whatever trance you were in.

“I know you don't want to talk about us…but I…I don't want to be a stranger to you.” He says honestly

Joel can't lose you. He doesn't want to, not again. Fear be damned, he was going to keep you by his side this time.

“Can we…can we be friends?” He asks slowly

He can tell you're tossing it around your brain, thinking it over.

“Okay.” You say after a moment, “We can be friends.”

Next Part

I hope I was clear enough but:

For those that can't tell, basically in the current time the reader has a fear of food being withheld the way it was with Adam. The result is binge eating until she's sick from it. She basically views food as a safety blanket of sorts and is scared that it'll disappear if she doesn't consume it.

And yes, Joel's return into her life will slowly fix this issue.

Updates are going to be slower since I have finals coming. Hope you can bear with me and please pray I pass my math one. It's a core class and I need her to keep going in my major ❤️

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter, I carry the tags over to each part.

Tags:

@lunaticgurly @orcasoul @snowlycanroc @freythecrazyfae

@person-005 @greenwitchfromthewoods

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #sarah miller #ellie williams #tommy miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #fanfic #joel tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #pedro pascal

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 1 year ago

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Reign down on me - Part 5

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

-🐺-

You fought back a sneeze, eyes going teary as your body pathetically fought the sand that had risen and invaded the wind. Suddenly you were finding yourself wishing for the ridiculous glasses that Ghost and the rest of the boys had been wearing earlier. Though you recognised that even if you had some of those monstrosities, it’d do you no good by that point. There was barely enough light to see by, the little half moon above was winking down and barely casting much of a glow over the night sky.

Price had dragged you all into a briefing room earlier that day and gave you all the run down on a new target, Razin, a man suspected of manufacturing bombs for the militia you were after. From there you were shown pictures of him, raising your brows at his scrawny features, and given a little intel about the town you were now stalking through. Even at the time you’d quietly groaned at the mention of the little desert town, you hated having to put up with the sand getting caught in your fur and eyes, not to mention how it made it so much more difficult to scent things as well.

The only benefit of the place was that the houses were small and usually that meant that there wouldn't be very much to sweep. That is if it weren’t built over a tunnel or extensive secret basement, which Price was heavily theorising could be a possibility.

From what you’d been shown it was only supposed to be two floors tall, with a roof that allowed for people to be positioned on top of it, set against the backdrop of the rocky hills beyond. It was close to the outskirts of town but still enclosed by other houses, positioned on the side that crept nearest to the small river that snaked nearby before disappearing into the rocky outcrops beyond. It would’ve been a sweet little place if it weren’t owned by the chef boyardee of bombs.

“Y’good, Pup?” Ghost murmured through the comms.

You looked over at the spot you knew he was positioned at, secreted away on the balcony to the right of you with his rifle, and huffed out a breath. Define ‘good’, you thought. It’d been a while since you’d been so far away from him. Now that you’d been hiding out by the open window for a few hours at least, you’d been blasted with sand and bored to death enough to make you want to cling desperately onto your handler’s leg and beg him to go home.

“Affirmative,” you whispered back instead.

“Good. We’ve got movement on the road outside of town - you two might be set to move soon, so get ready.”

“Yes, Sir,” you answered.

You rolled your tired shoulders and looked over at Soap, noting that his dark eyes were still flitting from the target location and to you, watching carefully like a fretful horse. He still looked barely more comfortable left alone with you than when you first arrived. The man had been none too pleased when Ghost explained his plan on arrival, frowning when he was told about your little team up. Couldn’t be helped when Soap was the best equipped to deal with explosives and someone had to play sniper and keep watch.

Of course Soap had continued to train with you in the week leading up to then, slowly getting better at not flinching whenever you got close to him. However he’d never had to be around you without Ghost as a buffer yet. Now that it was just you both in the small room across from the house, he was the most tense that you’d ever seen him. Not that he was trying to be obvious about it, he clearly felt he was being sly with his darting looks and slow sighs. For that you gave him some slack.

“I’m thinking the window on the right side is the best entry point for me,” you said, looking meaningfully across at him. “I can sweep the first floor while you go around to the side door and I can make sure it's unlocked for you.”

“You wanna go in alone?” Soap questioned, narrowing his eyes at the house.

“It’s what war dogs are for,” you shrugged. “No point waiting for you to come in with me, I can get in and check the place out quietly before you come clomping in.”

“I don’t clomp,” Soap snorted, giving you a withering look.

“Sure, tell that to all your heavy gear and your big boots. Trust me, if I go in and get a feel for the place then I can tell who or what we need to watch out for before we go sniffing out the target.”

“And you say ‘What’ meaning?” he questioned.

“Other hybrids, bombs, guns…etcetera,” you listed, shifting your sights to the window you’d pointed out.

“You can tell all that just from going in and getting a whiff of the front room?” he asked dryly.

“Well I can’t give exact information, but I can give a good guess. It’s just like when we’ve been training, if you let me get ahead of you then I can check the place out first and let you know what you’re up against. That’s how I keep myself useful.”

“Ghost, you good with that?” Soap asked doubtfully, frowning over at the balcony from the corners of your vision.

“The house has been quiet enough,” Ghost noted. “If Pup wants to go in first, I trust their judgement.”

“Pup’s way it is then,” Soap grunted, almost absolving himself of anything that might happen. “I’ll wait for you to open the door, furball.”

You nodded your head, forcing down your instinct to growl, keeping your focus on the window instead. You’d show him who was a fucking furball.

This was it. It wasn’t lost on you that this job would prove to the team that you could be an asset - not just a stupid wolf that ploughed through training exercises. Someone that could be used as an effective tool if given the chance.

This was your chance. You anxiously ran your hands down your vest, breathing in measured lungfuls of air while you took stock of your inventory and grounded yourself. There were three knives held securely in the right side, new ones that Ghost had gotten for you ahead of the mission, and a small first aid kit and canteen stashed in the main pockets on your left. You were wearing your gloves, and your ear protection was on and looped round your ears, the rubber circlets had thankfully stopped feeling as aggravating against your fur now that they’d been on for a few hours. They always pressed up so uncomfortably against your helmet, though it was always better to face a little discomfort than being killed by a shot you might’ve avoided.

“The car’s approaching the building, this is it.”

The old guard troupe would be coming out and a new one would be entering, however as the intelligence operatives had noted in their previous findings, the 2am group would never get to their posts on time. They'd opt instead to routinely drink and talk shit on the roof, presumably thinking that Eugene wouldn’t know about it, and would stick around for roughly a half hour before sluggishly making their way to where they should be - giving you and Soap time to get in, search for your target and hopefully get out before anyone was any the wiser.

You heard the engine grumbling through the winding streets long before it reached the other side of the house, but as soon as the headlights illuminated the street over, they cut almost instantly with the noise. Doors slammed and snide voices carried out into the night, mingling together in two distinct groups, one set growly and tired and the others playful and light. It was impossible to make out exactly what they were saying, but you were sure that the group leaving were probably being very obvious about how happy they were to be getting the fuck out.

“G’on, Pup,” Ghost murmured. “Make me proud.”

You shook your head and paid no more mind to the group on the other side, you were going to move forward out of view of them anyway. With Ghost’s encouragement strengthening your confidence, you were eager to press on. You nodded your head toward Soap as a ‘see you in there’ gesture and jumped out the window, stealing your way through the street and into the next window ahead. It was easy for you to spring up, tilting your tail a little to the left so that it wouldn’t smack against the frame.

As soon as you were inside you spotted the dancing shadows of the men toward the front of the building and found a decent hiding spot behind a side wall to wait in so that the new group of guards could pass by you. Your tail swished idly as you waited for them to come in and your ears twitched, listening out and rotating like little satellites as you took in your surroundings. The livingroom and kitchen were all one room, but there was a hallway to the bottom left that would allow entry into the house and up to the stairs beyond.

The guard opened the door before long, letting the cool air breathe a sigh into the house, and luckily they trudged up the stairs in short order. Their steps were muffled and soft, attempting to be light so that their boss wouldn’t be alerted. You heard them all the same. Your ears could pick up so much more than any of theirs could, which means you knew the exact moment you were safe to launch yourself to the other side of the room and get the door for Soap. He raised his brows at you when you made a sweeping motion with your hand to welcome him in.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” he whispered. “How many guests we got?”

“We got about six men tonight I think. No hybrids - you’ll be glad to know,” you said just as quietly, grinning when you caught his guilty wince. “Can smell the explosives, think Price was right on his basement theory, they don’t seem like they’re upstairs.”

“Y’hear that Ghost?” Soap said, purposefully looking away from you.

“Copy. I’ll keep an eye on the guards, you two track down that sly bastard,” Ghost answered, growly voice tickling your ears.

“Lead the way the way then, Pup.”

You nodded and lifted your head in the air, getting a good feel for the scent trail then turned toward the hall. The plastics clung at your nose and tugged you toward the stairs, but you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you needed to get below. Every instinct was telling you that you needed to go there, that someone’s steps had passed over them, but they hadn’t ascended.

A soft growl tore itself from you. You needed to get closer to the source. You knelt down and took a tentative sniff of the floor, the steps creaked lowly like a clearing throat as you shifted your weight onto them. Bingo.

“The fuck are you doin’?” Soap hissed.

You tilted your head up at him and smiled sweetly.

“The nose knows,” you shrugged.

“What’re you on about?”

Soap’s eyes were so wide you thought he might explode. You would’ve giggled if you weren’t conscious of how much noise you’d made already. No, it was important to try to be as quiet as possible in those next few seconds.

You hooked your fingers onto the first step and pulled up, huffing out a breath as they turned out to be heavier than expected. Though in seconds the first three steps came away and rose up, revealing a concealed stairway below - leading down to the dingy basement. The smell continued through the shadows, air thick with that heavy plastic smell.

“Fuck me,” Soap breathed. “You can smell secret entrances as well?”

“Oh yeah, they always smell fishy,” you smirked.

“Jesus. Ghost’s humour is rubbin’ off on you,'' he groaned.

He had a point. Normally you weren’t one for pointless chatter, but you were in your element that day and after training so much with your new team you felt more relaxed than usual. Of course you weren’t operating under the assumption that Soap would be diving in front of bullets for you, but at the very least he had your back.

“We’re heading underground, Ghost. See ya on the other side,” Soap noted, patting you on the shoulder just like Ghost normally would.

You felt your tail give a slight swish against the backs of your legs.

“Copy that, Sergeant,” Ghost confirmed.

Ghost was quiet compared to usual, focused on his targets you figured. It spurred you on to focus too. You quietly slipped forward down the stairway, nose raised in the air as you proceeded. Soap followed at your rear, quietly closing the stairway and bathing you both in almost pitch darkness. There was only a little light to see by, its source hidden round the corner. Things smelled and sounded clear, but nonetheless you braced, ready to duck and dive if you needed to.

When you turned the corner however, there was no need for any quick exits. There was just another hallway with some candles stuck in hastily hammered in holders, the flames lazily flickering as the stale air kept them standing bolt upright. You frowned and pressed ahead, boots softly pressing into the runner carpets until you almost hit a chain, only just avoiding it as you’d caught the shine of it in the corner of your eye.

You stuck a hand out to your left and kept Soap behind you, narrowing your eyes so that he’d know to be quiet. He caught on fast, not saying a word as you took another careful sniff around the air. Among the scent of burning wicks and aged dust there was something else, something earthy. There was a low droning sound as well now that you focused, a bassy groan that drifted through the walls.

Hybrid, you mouthed. Attack dog.

Soap’s eyes narrowed and he raised the pistol he’d unholstered from his side, the silencer reaching out into the hallway and past your body. You stepped off to the right and allowed him to push forward and round the corner, watching with dull interest as he shot the wolf man that had been resting by the next candle. After a soft pop sounded the man slumped off to the side and left a smear of crimson as he went, eventually thudding to the ground and rattling the chain once he reached the floor.

“That’ll be the alarm system then,” you whispered.

“Just him? There’s not anymore?” Soap asked, looking round warily for other signs of life.

“Not that I can detect,” you said carefully, taking another cautious breath of air. “He’s in pretty bad shape though, probably been kept chained down here a while. Can’t imagine Razin would want the hassle of having to get by more than one hungry mouth on the way in.”

“Aye…probably not,” Soap said, lingering doubt heavy on his voice.

You turned and smiled to yourself, again wondering why the Sergeant was so afraid of your kind. He had a gun, two guns in fact - one strapped to his back. You and yours only had teeth and claws to defend yourself with. Every fight you went into was one that tipped your scales ever closer to death, yet he walked around sometimes like he was standing with the grim reaper himself when he found himself with you.

There was no point getting caught up over it though. You advanced forward again and rounded another corner, this time greeted by muffled voices and sounds of implements working away. You getting closer. You were overwhelmed by the scent of a new person, baring your teeth at the thick coal like scent. It flooded your system and set your vision alight, peripherals shrinking as your wolf instincts came rushing forward. You were ready to attack, ears pinned back and tail sinking low.

“Pick somethin’ up?” Soap murmured, voice sounding so loud in your sensitive ears you wanted to snarl at him.

However, knowing your target was so close by, you silently turned instead and let Soap get a good look at your face. He seemed to visibly pale when his eyes met yours, but quickly remembered himself, raising his gun and holding his position behind you. Had you been more lucid, you’d have congratulated him for not flying off like a scared bird.

However, you walked forward instead, sticking close to the walls and keeping yourself on high alert. It wasn’t long until you were greeted with the sight of a new entryway and the drowning scent of explosive materials. Your entire head was on fire, every little instinct screamed danger, but you followed your training and ignored the rising need to get away.You peered around instead, widening your eyes as you saw Razin right in front of you. He was working away with his back turned, too distracted by whoever he was speaking to on his tablet to be able to pay any attention to either of you.

Soap slunk next to you and looked around, mouth set in a grim line as he sized up the target. All around him, littering his workshop were multiple prototypes, tons of different kinds of bombs that Soap would know far more about than you. The only thing you knew for sure was that you’d have to be quiet, take down the target as fast as possible - that was the only way to know none of them would go off.

Soap gently patted your head to get your attention. Wait, he mouthed.

You wanted to snap at him, mouth watering in anticipation of a bite, eyes narrowing as his hand drew close to your throat. However you wrenched yourself away from him and breathed out as quietly as you could, anxiously glancing between Soap and Razin as you waited for your ok.

It took every ounce of self control just to stand there. Soap didn’t look like he was in any rush to let you move. He listened to the conversation instead, jaw set and head tilted while he kept you suspended in the shadows, right on the precipice of an attack. You just wanted to go, needed to fly through the room and tear at something.

The conversation between Razin and the deep voiced stranger on the ipad drew to a close before you lost it, ending with Razin cursing before swatting at the tablet and sending it flying. You followed the movement with your eyes and turned to Soap, almost barking with glee when he tightly nodded and gave you the go ahead to go capture your target.

You had no clue what curses Razin was shouting when you landed on top of him, but you could hazard a guess that they were some of the worst profanities he could muster. His face scrunched in fury and his whole body flailed as he fought to get you off of him, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake you off.

Your main priority was ensuring his hands couldn’t reach for anything and set something off, so as you secured yourself over him, you bit harshly into one of his arms and growled when he swatted at you with his other hand. Before he could do any real damage Soap came to your aid and wrenched Razin’s free hand behind his back, securing it in a cuff before taking the other arm from you and settling the other cuff round that one.

“Release,” Soap commanded, voice wavering as he caught your eyes.

Your vision was almost completely darkened, indicating to the last sane shred of you that you’d gone nearly completely feral. Every limb in your body shook and your back felt like a lightning rod as the familiar instinctual tremble worked its way through you. Maddox’s voice rattled in your ear, the ghost of him ever present when you found yourself losing to the wolf. You are an attack dog, you will bite, you will kill, this is the only way to survive. Bite mutt, kill! Do what you’re meant for, dog!

“Pup,” Soap said carefully, trying to maintain eye contact. “You good?”

You growled in response, watching with displeasure as Razin continued to struggle beneath Soap. You wanted to put a stop to it. Not part of the mission, you reminded yourself, internally struggling with the angry beast inside your head. Need this one alive.

“Pup,” Soap said again, voice a firm roar.

“Yes,” you snarled, shaking your head and backing off. “M’fine. Lets go.”

Kill, mutt!

You shook your head again, walking forward and dispersing any last traces of Maddox, fighting to regain control of yourself. Normally you weren’t so prone to falling back so badly on the wolf instincts, as much as you often did use them to get in the right headspace you were usually still in control of yourself.

Now you felt untethered. It felt as though any threat to you and the team had to be treated with the utmost hostility. And Razin was a threat. It had you frowning back at Soap, watching as he struggled to force Razin forward while his feet tried to plant against the floor. You growled when Soap was knocked back by him.

Protect. Mine. Kill threat.

You almost stopped in your tracks when the thought hit you. For once it wasn’t Maddox’s voice spurring you and forcing you to do terrible things, this wasn’t any outside voice at all. The low growl that rushed through your head like a chemical injection was your own. Normally your instincts kicked in for self preservation,your body doing whatever it needed to in order to get through a job alive. Now they were directed at Soap, more specifically, towards ending the struggling and kicking from the man he was holding.

“I’m going on ahead,” you said, voice pitching up as you rushed forward.

If you spent anymore time looking over at Razin and his flailing feet you were going to kill him. It wasn’t a speculation, it was a certainty. One that had you wide eyed and running terrified down the hall.

You reached the top of the stairs in record time, pausing at the closed exit to listen out for anyone that might be coming down on the steps above.

“Ghost, we’ve secured the target. Are we good to exfil?” you rasped, hearing Soap cursing as he manoeuvred the hallways a lot slower than you did.

“The men are finishing the last of their drinks, one of them went down already. You’ll need to take him out and get out of there as fast and quiet as you can,” Ghost supplied, voice level as usual.

“I can manage that. Soap, I’ll go find Razin’s buddy. You good to get him out?” you asked, looking back into the darkness for your answer.

“I’m almost through the hall, fashioned a little gag for the bastard so I reckon we’ll be good on the staying ‘quiet’ part. Go ahead, Pup, clear to move,” Soap answered, voice echoing through the halls and on your comms.

“Alright then.”

-🐺-

You were shaking terribly by the time you made it back to transport. Razin was properly secured now, hooded and gagged before being taken away to another section of the hold with an armed guard. He was safely out of view from your stabbing glare. Meanwhile Ghost and Soap ushered you toward the opposite corner, serious looks in both their eyes as they exchanged low whispers.

Your head was filled with cloying fog. All you wanted to do, for whatever reason, was to get close to Soap, but you feared him retaliating too much to be able to do it. You wanted to make sure he was alright, but even you weren’t sure why you were so obsessed about it. It was Soap afterall, he was a highly trained SAS soldier, he was fine.

Not to mention, when he’d seen your blood covered face come into view behind him in the safehouse, he’d almost screamed bloody murder. The last thing he needed was you to go barreling up to him. You swore you could hear his heart thumping even when you stood just across from him, it beat so loudly. It hadn’t eased much since then and getting to the plane either.

Mine. Safe? Hurt.

Your chest held a small flame, body keeping it roaring as you anxiously wanted to check Soap over. You could smell his blood, could smell the copper tang that was corrupting the soft sage of his usual scent. It burned at your nose and caused you to whine when you got close. Ghost’s hand prevented you from getting nearer.

“Pup,” Ghost said softly. “Pup, can you look at me?”

You tore your eyes away from Soap and dutifully looked up at Ghost. His face was still covered by his balaclava and his eyes were darkened from the black paint. You huffed as you focused on his pupils, taking in the spiced citrus and the sound of his infectiously steady pulse.

Your panting breaths eased.

“You did good, Pup. Kept Soap safe and took down Razin and got that guard. You did a very good job,” Ghost rumbled, petting between your ears as he normally did. “Can you come sit down for me?”

You nodded, feeling almost in a trance as you complied with his request. You sat on the solid bench next to your Lieutenant, stopping to anxiously look back at Soap, until Ghost firmly gripped your jaw and tilted your head back to him. You whined.

“Shh, Pup. Shhh. Just give me your attention for a sec, ok?”

You gave him a little growl, but as soon as the look in his eyes hardened, you hushed up immediately. Have to be good for him, you thought to yourself. You closed your eyes for a second, and continued to work on your breathing, calming down with each evening heartbeat. Ghost watched you the entire time, never letting his gaze wander even for a second.

“Good, Pup,” Ghost praised after a moment, making sure to pet your back and over your ears. “That’s my good Pup, listening so well. Now…Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

You froze at his question. Biting your lip when you knew he wasn’t going to let you get away with a lie.

“Soap’s bleeding,” you said simply, finally letting your eyes drop down to the floor. “Want to know he’s ok.”

Ghost tipped your chin back up with his hands. You could see his eyebrows were raised under the mask. You desperately wanted to look away again, but Ghost wouldn’t allow it. Soap snorted from behind your shoulder, he was still standing away from you both. His nervous steps across the metal were like their own heartbeat in your ears.

“I’m fine. The fucker bashed my nose in while he was strugglin’,” Soap explained. “A wee bit blood is nothing to get so upset over.”

You whined. You already knew logically that he was fine. It wasn’t your logical mind that was worked up though. Otherwise you’d be able to actually explain the problem to Ghost. However, as it was, you had no idea what the problem really was. All you knew was that Soap had been bleeding and you were absolutely beside yourself with worry over it.

Ghost seemed to have an idea though. He nodded to himself and petted your head for good measure, giving you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder before he went to his pack. You watched his movements, cataloguing every step he took, trying to work out what he was doing. Sometimes when you got too worked up you’d get sent for a sleep, injected with a cocktail of drugs to force some calm into you.

Was Ghost going to knock you out?

You watched carefully as he pulled what looked like a bottle of water and a cloth from his bag instead. He untwisted the cap and carefully wetted the cloth, not letting too much liquid flood the material before he turned back to you.

“Stay still for me, darlin’. Keep your mouth closed,” he ordered.

You frowned, not sure what he was about to do until he began wiping at your face, smoothing the cloth over your skin until it turned red with the other men’s blood. He was cleaning you. The realisation had you untensing yourself and for a few moments longer you sat still and let Ghost work his magic until your face felt clean and light. All the grime was gone, your skin felt a little raw, but still it was better than before.

“Soap, you trust me don’t you?” Ghost said, putting the bottle down and looking over your shoulder.

The pacing behind you stopped.

“Not when you bring it up like that,” Soap retorted.

Ghost rolled his eyes.

“Come sit down.”

“Why?” Soap asked suspiciously.

“Just come.”

It took a second, but soon Soap complied, coming to rest beside Ghost. Ghost wasn’t someone to argue with, even to other humans. You saw Soap now, pupils dilating so quickly that you could feel your eyes actively adjusting to shut out light. Oh no, not again, you thought. You were losing yourself to instinct, wanting to surge forward and get closer - wrap yourself around him like a scarf. You looked away, trying to lessen his horror (and yours) as he shifted back a bit to get some distance.

“Soap, you’re not gonna like this…but please trust me,” Ghost said, bringing you close to his armoured chest. “I need to ask you to do something.”

You gratefully wrapped yourself round him, only barely able to get your arms fully round his vest so that you could hug into the man like he was your only source of warmth. It helped. Fully shutting your eyes against Ghost’s black tac gear and trying to distract yourself from the man next to him was the next best thing to whatever your instincts were screaming at you to do.

“Spit it out,” Soap said through gritted teeth.

“I need you to take Pup and let them…well essentially give you a hug,” he said awkwardly, clearly unsure of how to ask.

Soap snorted out a dark laugh and you were sure if you looked up you’d see a disgusted expression.

“I don’t think nows the time for having a fucking laugh, LT.”

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought you were in any danger,” Ghost said, voice taking on an edge as his body stiffened under you. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important either, I don’t want to hurt you. You know that.”

“Ghost, look at their fuckin’ eyes, I don’t see why-”

Soap stopped before he could finish, huffing through his sentence like he’d been asked to diffuse a bomb with five seconds on the clock. Your ears flicked as you picked up a new sound filling the space, something soft and forlorn that rattled through you.

Your own sobs, you eventually realised.

You were losing yourself again, you hadn’t even realised you'd started crying. It became more than evident as the hot tears drifted down your cheeks.

“Pup, it’s ok,” Ghost said gently, stroking your ears. “Shh, you’re ok. Why’re you cryin’?”

You shook your head, head feeling dizzier than if you’d spun in an endless circle. Words were too much. They were too human.

“Ey?” Ghost continued, smoothing his hand over your back. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head again. Your body lurching with a growing dread.

“If I-” Soap began, freeing on his words as he tried to figure out what to say. “If I take Pup…will it help…this?”

Ghost took a pause, trying to coax you from where you were squishing your face under his chin.

“I reckon so,” Ghost said.

Soap sighed, pushing you to cry harder. The only rational part left of you couldn’t be sure of why his reticence was so upsetting to you, but then again you weren’t even sure what had caused any of the upset in the first place. So many men had been hurt while you were with them, and most of the time you couldn't give a shit - the rest of the time you were happy even to watch them bleed or sometimes cry through some of the worst injuries. Now Soap had a bit of a nosebleed and you were practically choking as if you couldn’t take on air anymore.

You couldn’t make sense of it.

You especially couldn’t make sense of it when Soap switched places with Ghost and sat at your back, ending your little crying fit when he took you from your handler and held you to his front. Your sobs quietly retreated into your throat and your tears turned off like a tap had been yanked. Instead of breaking down, you focused on burrowing into his chest. Your body completely calming when you picked out the sound of his heartbeat and got closer to the fresh scent of sage, nuzzling your nose just shy of his collarbones.

“What the hell…?” Soap breathed, body tensing as you finished getting comfortable.

It took a little moment until he was able to slowly relax his muscles. His arms came first, settling around you, and then his thighs slowly dipped down. His pulse was the last to die down, beating insistently against your ears like a timpani drum before it gently became more of a wing beat.

You sighed contentedly and felt yourself getting very tired, closing your eyes just before your vision fully faded back into focus again.

“You have no idea how much you’ve just helped,” Ghost said gratefully, voice sounding distant as you continued to float into what felt like a different plane of existence.

“Are you gonna tell me how I helped?” Soap asked, voice sounding insistent as his heartbeat picked up again. “You tellin’ me that whenever one of us gets hurt that pup’s gonna need a bloody emotional support buddy to get through it?”

Ghost laughed throatily.

“Not likely,” he assured, leaning forward and stroking your back. “Learnt about this way back in training, but I’ve never seen it so strong so quickly - Pup’s pack bonded to us, but its not a secure bond right now. I’m guessing they got upset because they thought you being hurt and keeping your distance was like a rejection. Basically like you saying that they don’t need to be concerned about you getting hurt because you’re not part of the pack.”

“Well how was I supposed to kn-”

“You weren’t,” Ghost soothed, calming Soap down before you could properly stir again.

You hummed against Soap’s chest and frowned at his quickening heartbeat, attempting to slow it with a gentle nuzzle. Though it didn’t do much to calm him, so you soon stopped and found that worked better instead.

It was only when you went still that they resumed talking again.

“So what does pack bonding mean?” Soap asked, sounding unsure as he shifted around you. “Pup doesn’t even know that much about me and now we’re in this- a pack.”

Ghost chuckled at that, the material of his clothing loudly buzzing at your ears as he shook.

“It’s not like a forced marriage Johnny, you don’t have to sound so frightened, it mostly just means their instincts’ll tell em’ to keep us safe. It’s probably down to all the protection work Price has had them doing while we’ve been in the beginning stages. Pup’s had a rough life, no ones ever cared for em’ like we have, even in the short time that’s been. Even when you’ve been handling Pup like a feinting nun, you’ve probably been nicer than most people they’ve met.”

“Fuck you, feintin’ nun,” Soap spat, laughing despite himself. “You told me the other day I was doin’ well!”

“You have been doing well. Better than I thought you would,” Ghost said softly, a smile weaving its way through his voice.

“Well enough to be in a pack apparently,” Soap huffed, absentmindedly running his hand over your back.

You practically purred in pleasure at that, letting out a low happy sound in your throat. Soap startled, but still held onto you, hand freezing in place however. He clearly didn’t understand that the noise you were making was supposed to be something nice.

“Why’re they growling at me?” Soap squawked. “What’d I do?”

“Relax! That’s not growling, not per se,” Ghost laughed, “It’s a good growl. Mean’s they’re happy. Untwist your knickers, you don’t wanna work Pup up again.”

“Fuckin hell…pack bonding…happy growls. What’s next? My poor heart could’ve done with a warning before having to hunt a terrorist and deal with all this,” Soap huffed. “And you say all this is because we’re nice? How bad has a life gotta be for a hybrid to wanna hug me? How’s this even helping?”

“It’s not about the hug itself. Being close like that is just letting them hear your heartbeat and get your scent. Pup knows you’re ok because you feel and smell healthy - that’s all they needed. It doesn’t help that the Branhaven arseholes condition them to surrender to their instincts on the field. It’s good when it comes to hunting people down, doesn’t help so much when they get all panicky because one of their own’s been bleeding.”

“And they don’t train that out?”

“Wouldn’t have had to before. Like I said - we’re the only ones that’ve been nice to em’,” Ghost said, voice quietening when he said the next part. “We’re the only team that’s ever applied for guardianship in the entire time they’ve been working. They got stuck in the military when they were ten and got signed away under a DNN contract. Even though it’s only been a week, we’re all Pup has. It’s only natural for them to feel like this.”

“What’s a DNN contract?” Soap asked.

“Do not notify,” Ghost said, the words making you whine softly as you thought back to when it was first explained to you. “Means Pup’s parents didn’t want contact after they dropped them off. No phone calls or letters from them, no contact, no notice if they ever get killed or captured.”

“That’s fuckin’ bullshit,” Soap growled.

“Mhmm,” Ghost hummed, stroking his hand over your back again. “Such a sweet Pup too. Got us to be good to you now. Our good Pup, huh?”

You whined in agreement and settled into Soap fully, happily letting yourself drift off to thoughts of citrus and sage. Theirs, the raspy inner voice whispered - just before you could fully lose the battle to sleep. Mine. Theirs. Mine!

-🐺-

The next day, after the debrief had reached its conclusion, Soap asked Ghost if he could have five minutes with you. You’d bitten your lip, anticipating that he might want to chew you out for you’d acted with him, and sadly nodded when Ghost said he’d be waiting across the corridor in Price’s office for you.

As soon as the door had clicked closed, you waited for the shouting to begin and wrapped your arms tightly round yourself, as if to keep your heart in your chest. Soap didn’t roar or hit the desk, or make any moves you’d been waiting for, not right away at least you’d figured. No, he gently tugged the seat in front of you out from the table and sat down across from you.

You peered over at him and felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, still not completely past the fact you’d insisted on curling round him like a little lap dog. Things were a bit foggy from that day still. Ghost had had to explain on the way back to his that you’d succumbed to your instincts and Soap has helped you calm down, but sure enough once he had, you remembered what you’d done and felt deathly self-conscious. No matter how much Ghost had tried to insist that it was ok, you’d gone to bed that night without speaking another word.

“Look, um…I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Soap said nervously, arching his body down so that he could speak on your level.

“You’re sorry?” you repeated, not sure you’d heard right.

Did he mean to ask for an apology from you instead? You had no idea what he could possibly need to apologise for. As far as you were concerned his behaviour had been completely justified, you had acted like a crazy person. It wasn’t normal to need to sit and sniff people and hug them after they’d suffered a very common injury in the line of work you were in. Yet he still wanted to apologise to you?

“Yeah,” Soap breathed, pursing his lips before he could explain himself. “I’ve been treating you like a threat when you haven’t deserved it. It’s not acceptable, I’m a grown man and I’ve been acting like a scared kid around you. So I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Uh…” you trailed, not really sure how to respond. “Thanks?”

It wasn’t often that anyone apologised to you, especially not when they hadn’t even done anything that you deemed bad. For that reason, you were left scrabbling for something to say and unfortunately left wanting, letting the sentiment of gratitude hang in the air instead. Things were even more awkward now.

“You don’t need to worry about yesterday as well…Ghost said you were feelin’ awkward and I-”

“It won’t happen again,” you assured, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. “I’ll get better control of myself.”

“Well, you weren’t really yourself, so…It’s fine. You had your reasons.”

It wasn’t fine. However you didn’t really want to disagree with him, so instead you nodded tightly and looked away from Soap instead.

“I know you have your reasons for how you are with me,” you said softly. “Something to do with your scar, right?”

“How’d you…?” Soap trailed off, rubbing his thumb along the cracked keloid on his chin.

He almost seemed to realise the answer to his own question as he did it. You nodded when his eyes widened. It was almost comical really, he seemed like he was caught doing something awful when it wasn’t even a big deal. You were used to people being distrustful of you, had had your own parents accuse you of being ready to turn into a rogue beast at any moment. Being feared wasn’t anything new.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged.

“No, look…You should know - I don’t think you’re gonna do anything like this to me and even then that’s not really why I- It’s not- ugh fuck it,” he sighed, body growing heavy as he sat back in his chair. “My little brother was jumped by a hybrid when we were young. He was playin’ football in the street and ended up kicking the ball too far down the road. I was supposed to be watching him and I was too busy chattin’ to my friends and- well all I heard was him screamin’ bloody murder and when I got there he was knocked out and his arm had nearly been chewed clean off. I managed to get the wolf- i mean him off my brother, but then he turned and scratched me- tried to bite- I… well anyway - I got him away and my brother ended up in hospital for a long time and it was a really fuckin’ dark time for my family.”

You watched his impassioned expressions as he told his story and nodded along, wincing as he tried to use the right words to try and explain to you what had happened. He didn’t need to explain it to you, not really. He looked down right pained as he remembered back to what must have been an awful day for him.

Now you both sat in the heavy silence of the now cavernous room.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you said awkwardly.

“I didn’t tell you that because I wanted you to feel sorry for me,” he said in a reassuring tone. “I just wanted you to know I have some shit to work on, and I that I am trying to work on it. I don’t want you to feel any less a part of the team because of how I act. You’re just as much a part of the 141 as I am, don’t doubt it for a second.”

Your ears pinned flat to your head and your chest swelled with emotion. The drum inside your chest beat quickly out of time and you struggled for a moment, feeling a light tingling at the back of your neck. Part of you tried to convince yourself that it was all a mean trick, but just one look into his soft blue eyes told you that he was genuine. He really didn’t want you to feel bad.

“Thanks, Soap,” you murmured, fighting the lump in your throat just to speak. “That’s really kind of you.”

“Just the truth,” he grunted, trying to inconspicuously clear the emotion from his voice. “You should probably go get Ghost now, yeah? You’ve probably got some runnin’ around to do.”

You broke at that, nodding and letting your eyes clear of the growing wetness. Soap had only in the past few days started referring to your training as ‘running around’, and it was a fair way to sum it up, but no less insulting. Playfully insulting at least, the kind of thing teammates would say.

It made you smile then.

“Yeah…” you laughed, slowly rising from your chair. “Best get to it.”

#simon ghost riley #Simon Riley #Ghost #mw2 #ghost x reader #Hybrid!reader #reign down on me

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