#piss johnny speaks to the people

[jesncin]

would it surprise you that i have about 2 more asks to get to about this,,, let me just finish that up today sorry for the piss content (or not sorry?)

i got...quite the reaction to the vampire king post in the ask box so um. pardon me as I get to a couple of asks regarding the matter lol

[shotmrmiller]

When Johnny takes Simon to his home, and you open the door, Simon's heart stops beating. You direct that lovely smile he's fallen in love with at Johnny as you hug him and usher him inside. Simon's frozen in place, his body refusing to move, because gods, you're a fucking dream.

And then you turn your attention towards him, with ruddy cheeks and pink lips and a delicate neck he could easily wrap his hand around—

"You must be Simon!" and his cock starts to stir. All you said was his name, in that angelic voice of yours, and his blood started to rush to his groin.

When you move to wrap your arms around him in an embrace, he finally breaks from his trance and returns it. Barely. It's awkward— one arm coming up to inelegantly pat your upper back a little too hard, and the other stiff at his side. But you seem completely unbothered, just giving him one last squeeze and step back, holding both of his arms in your dainty hands, and you say, "It's great to meet the one that keeps my Johnny safe. Now, come on in, make yourself at home!"

Simon timidly walks inside, and closes the door behind him, and utters, "Thank you for lettin' me stay here."

The joyful laughter you let out sends exquisite prickles up his spine. "He actually speaks! I'm surprised, Johnny said it took a bit for you to warm up to others," and you give another stomach-fluttering giggle. "You're welcome here any time, Simon. Now let me take you to the room you'll be staying in."

Simon has to carry his duffle bag in front of him as you lead him to the guest room to cover the throbbing erection he's got. When you leave him to freshen up, he wastes no time in pulling his jeans down and taking himself in his hand, stroking firmly. When his imagination paints a picture of you wearing an apron while cooking a meal for him, his vision blurs as he climaxes.

--

Simon knows he's atypical. He has no real decorum. He tells piss-poor dark jokes, inadvertently stares at people when he's lost in thought— and since he's been here, Simon likes to shadow you.

But you don't seem to mind any of it. You laugh at his jokes, the ones Johnny never fails to scoff in disgust at, you tilt your head innocently towards him, silently questioning his intense gaze — and it's so fucking adorable that he's come to that look 8 times in the last 3 days— and you always ask him to reach for things that are out of your reach because you know he's around. (Johnny made a joke once, said that you're being haunted by a ghost, and the quip you replied with as you came to his defense had him dizzy.)

His favorite thing about you though, is how unafraid you are of him. You had rounded a corner and saw his skull mask for the first time, and had you been like any other woman, you would've been startled. But you hadn't been— If anything, you asked him if he wanted it fixed.

"I can see a couple of tears here, Simon. I can patch it up if you like."

It was so deliciously domiciliary that he counted each stitch of his mended mask with his thumb as he touched himself that night.

And then, through the thin walls of the home, he suddenly heard your dulcet moans. He quickly got up and put his skills to use— silently crossing the living room and leaning against the wall closest to your bedroom door.

The bed repeatedly creaked and every choked moan that left you, Simon heard clearly. He hastily took out his achingly hard cock, spit on his palm, and stroked himself to the rhythm of the slapping of skin. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fucked himself to the thought of him being the one in there with you.

He has no doubt that you'd feel heavenly. Your slick cunt swallowing his turgid length, walls almost painfully tight around him. You'd beg for him to hammer into you, relentlessly, mercilessly. You'd tell him to bite the crook of your shoulder once you were about to come around his cock, and when he actually hears you reach your peak, he rhythmically tightens and loosens his grip, imitating your fluttering walls. His toes are curling inside his socks, he's so bloody close—

And then Simon hears your lascivious voice murmur, "Come in me."

He bites his lip so hard it splits under the pressure as he comes. Tiny, hushed whimpers seeped from behind his mouth, as hot cum spilled onto his fingers, and trickled onto the floor.

The only noise Simon can hear now is his own shaky breath— the fun's over on both sides, it seems. He looks down, gives his softening cock one more stroke, wringing out the last of his seed, before tucking himself away, and sluggishly wiping his mess off the floor with his foot.

He quietly moves, heading back to his room, when he spots your laundry basket in the utility room.

Simon has never believed in luck until now when he's sniffing your knickers in the privacy of the guest room, and he realizes they've been worn. And by how strong the smell of you is, they've been used very recently. He felt like he won the goddamn lottery.

Wrapping it around his cock, he touches himself. Again. And when he comes, he makes sure to spurt his cum directly onto the gusset of the undergarment.

Come morning, when they're all stiff and crusted, he laments that he didn't lick them first, in a pitiful bid to experience a taste of you, before stowing them into a secret compartment in his bag. He makes a mental note to remember to do just that when he takes another pair.

Simon wordlessly makes a cup of tea later, hissing as the hot liquid comes in contact with the small wound on his lip, when Johnny approaches him.

"Mornin' LT."

A grunt is his only reply.

Johnny then shoots him a sly grin.

"Last night, ye weren't as wheesht, as quiet, as ye thought. But dinnae worry, Bonnie doesn't ken a thing."

He claps a hand on Simon's petrified shoulders. "If ye wanted a slice of the cake, ye could've just asked. I dinnae mind sharin'."

Simon gives him a borderline-demented look, puts his tea down on the counter, and clears his throat.

"When?"

[hahaifolded]

141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - Debrief 1 Author's Notes: Does this make sense? I don't know. I'm just started to type and this happened. Warnings: MDNI, Angst

Like usual, the 141 had gotten together for dinner. But tonight was different as tonight you decided to grace them with your presence. 

But instead of sitting in your normal seat with the 141, you were sitting with the new guys. They couldn’t help but stare. Here you are in all your glory but not for them.

“Why are they with them?” asks Ghost as he shoves his fork in his mouth. Gaz and Price shrug as they couldn’t understand why you chose the new guys over them. The three immediately voice their confusion while Soap just remains silence. His silence rang immediate alarms in the other three as John MacTavish is never quiet. 

“Talk,” Price commands. Ghost and Gaz shift their attention to the Scotsman. Johnny drops his fork and begins to talk and talk and talk. He explains to the three what had happened. As he talks, he keeps his gaze on you and Russ. Why couldn’t that be him and you? Heck, at this point, he’ll share you if he has too. 

“And I’ll be honest, I don’t know what Russ did exactly but whatever he did, it got them to eat dinner with him and those fuckers.” And with that, Soap turns back to the three. Ghost and Price just stare at him, lost in thought, while Gaz sits back with his arms crossed. 

“He listened,” Gaz states like it was matter of fact. The three look on confused. With an exasperated breath, Gaz sits straights up and explains it to the three. 

“People like them and I can’t just live. We have to go above and beyond and be perfect just so we can even get an ounce of respect that you guys get. If we don’t, we are immediately labeled as an issue” Johnny tries to interrupt him but Gaz quickly shuts him down. “Look at their resume. Top of their class, scored exceptionally high on all of their exams, trained by Laswell herself for fucks sake and how many offers did they get after the academy?” Kyle takes a pause to look at the three. 

“None,” grunts out Price. 

“And what did it say on their file? What was the supposed reason why so many teams didn’t want them?” continues Kyle. 

Ghost answers him. “Too aggressive. Doesn’t respect authority.” 

“And was that the case?” Kyle stares down at the three. 

Johnny lets out a choked out “no.” From the moment you got here, you were sweet. Any possible acts of defiance were just you doing your job — asking the right questions and making sure your voice was being heard. You were kind to each and every one of them even when they switched up on you. Any recent aggression (if you can even call it that) has been well-deserved as the 141 each began to take the piss out on you. 

“So instead of labeling them as a problem like everyone else, Russ here listened and realized that they’re alone and just needs a team, so,” Kyle turns back to look at you with the new guys, “he gave them one.” Kyle turns back around and returns to his food, picking at it with his fork. 

Soap stares straight at you and realizes his mistake. He labeled you as the bad guy. Fuck. They all did the minute they agreed to put the 141 over you. It wasn’t your fault that they all thought with their dicks. This wasn’t right. You deserved better. 

“So what do we do now?” whines Johnny. He notices the way you laugh with the trio— you used to laugh like that at his jokes. 

“I honestly don’t know,” mumbles out Gaz. The four sit in silence through dinner. 

As Soap finishes his last bite, he catches you and Russ getting up from y’all’s table with Russ actually grabbing your plate for you. Soap felt his eye twitch. As you two walk past the 141, lost in conversation, Johnny speaks up, hoping just a moment of your time. 

He calls out your name. You turn, confused to hear your name. When you made eye contact with Soap, your smile falls. 

“Yes, Sergeant?” you ask. You politely greet the other three. Keegan is right by your side, staring down the 141. 

“Sergeant? Who’s that? It’s your Johnny-boy,” Soap quips.

“Do you need something?” You’re clearly not impressed. 

This isn’t going how Johnny wanted at all. He smacks Price on his back and starts again. “The guys and I have some ice cream bars hidden in Price’s office. Come join us. You know, for team bonding and all that.” 

Johnny sees something flash across your eyes. Was it… joy? However, it disappears as fast as it appeared. 

“I think that’s inappropriate especially since I’m not an official member of the team and I would hate to impose,” you start. You glance at Keegan and shoot him a small smile. “Besides Kea— Sergeant Russ and I are going into town right now for dessert. So maybe another time,” you inform. You begin to turn, leaving the 141 to their ice creams when… 

“Mind a third?” Soap blurts out. You turn around, shock all over your face. You look at him mouth gaping, unsure what to say. Johnny feels his face burn as it’s apparent you do mind a third but don’t know how to say it. Damn him and his big mouth. 

Thankfully Keagan lends a helping hand. “Sorry man. I got shit in the back of my car and only got space for one person. But we’ll bring you something back.” 

And with that Keagan whisks you away from the 141 nor brings the downtrodden Scotsman something back. 

Word Count: 947

More Thoughts - Next Thought

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

64 / 4.1k / soap soulmate au, final part

...

"You doing okay?"

Hearing Graves’ voice knocks what little breath you had out of your lungs. It's been months, but that's him. Your old boss. You never thought you'd hear his voice again.

"I've been better," you say finally. "Been awhile."

"Yeah, it has," he says. "Wish you'd've called me to catch up sometime, rather than under the circumstances. You don't sound too banged up. They treat you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"I didn't ask how you feel. I asked if they roughed you up."

You feel your own temper shorten in response. "I need you to call KorTac off."

There's a pause. You can imagine his frowning face, the way he's thinking that one over. "I'll take that under advisement," he finally says, but you can tell he's not going to do what you ask of him. "Puttin' me in a predicament here, kid. You're giving those boys a hard time, and here I thought I was helping you out. Paying your bail, so to speak."

"It’s more complicated than that."

"Always is. Let’s just have you dropped off back on base with us. You can clean yourself up and we’ll talk."

He waits for your crisp yes, sir, but it never comes.

He speaks again. "You got somewhere else to be?"

"I can't go back."

"Can't or won't? You got something you ain't tellin me, soldier?"

"I said I can't go back. And I'm not your soldier anymore. You're not my boss. I don't work for you."

"You know Shadows don't leave one of our own behind. Not to rot in some CIA prison cell. So lose the attitude," he says, voice like iron. "This ain't a good time to play games, kid. You're comin' back with me because I spent a pretty penny on you. You owe me. You have your personal business, fine. Come on back to base and let's talk this out face to face before you go makin' any hasty decisions."

You're so frustrated it's hard to form words. You should be grateful. You know that. Graves doesn’t pretend to care about his men. He cares enough to lead from the front. But you met your soulmate, and you can’t act like it didn't change you. You need to make things right. You also can’t exactly tell Graves you kind of sold him out.

"Hey. Focus up." He doesn't raise his voice to a command. Still, the order is in his voice, and you have been long trained to follow your commander's orders. Then he sighs. "What happened to you, kid?"

"You betrayed the 141. You killed innocent people in Las Almas, looking for them."

You can almost hear his jaw working behind his clenched teeth, the muscles in his face tight. He does not allow this kind of disrespect. "You think I like what I had to do? General Shepherd's orders were clear. We followed them. 141 did not." He huffs out a sigh. "I didn't enjoy it. But that's the job. You of all people know that."

You swallow. "You told us they were our brothers. You killed innocent people, Commander. Johnny said he saw you do it--"

"Johnny?" Grave's voice rises. "You on a first name basis with Soap now?"

"We all know what happened in Las Almas," you retort. Your skin goes hot at the way he says Johnny's name. "I won't work for Shepherd anymore after that. I won't fucking do it."

"Don't pull that with me." The warning is written in his voice. This isn't like you. To the Shadows, you’re calm. Cold. You don't lose your temper. You don't talk back. Especially not to Graves. "You think you can walk away at the drop of a hat just because you don't agree with an order? It doesn't work like that. You follow an order, even if you don't like it, even if it pisses you off. You don't get to decide what you think is right or wrong to carry out. When I give you an order, you follow it. That's your job. Your loyalty is with me. Not with the 141."

"I did my job."

"Then act like it," he snaps. "Stop acting like I'm some evil bastard out here. I made the only choice I could. Task Force 141 was not supposed to be there. They knew my orders, and what did they do? They came after my men, went behind my back, screwed us over. We did what we had to. You wanna be pissed at someone? Be pissed at them."

You glare down at the ice, but say nothing.

"You know I'm right." He knows you. He's getting to you. "And you know what else I find interesting? You don't seem a bit surprised to hear me alive." His voice is too casual and sharp as a knife. "Didn't you get the memo? Did no one forward you my obituary, soldier?"

You stiffen. You're not supposed to know he's alive.

"You're an awful liar. Always have been." He pauses for a long moment. "It ain't easy, surviving against the 141 if they want you dead. You know how I managed it, soldier?"

Yes. "No,” you retort. “And stop calling me that. I'm not your soldier. I don't work for you anymore."

"The hell you aren't. Maybe you're not on the payroll anymore, and maybe you're no longer under my command, but once a Shadow, always a Shadow. That makes you my responsibility. And my goddamn headache." Something shuffles on the other end of the line. "You know exactly what I'm willing to do to keep one of my Shadows safe. But if you're so keen on turning yourself in, fine. I'll have you in front of Shepherd's desk first thing tomorrow. Is that what you want? You know Soap and Ghost put Shadows in the ground that night in Las Almas."

"Shadows tried to put Johnny and Ghost in the ground first."

"This isn't about who shot first. This is about you." His voice is dangerously low, but he keeps his temper in check. Then he huffs a laugh. "You keep callin’ him Johnny. Makes my brain itch." Johnny MacTavish. John MacTavish. Yeah, that's it. "I'll be damned," he mutters.

You touch your exposed soulmark compulsively as if to hide it. Most soldiers hide theirs, but yours has always been tough to cover up. He's seen it more than a few times.

"Got you right out from under my fuckin' nose."

Your stomach tightens. You feel too exposed, like suddenly he’s putting the story together--how 141 got in.

"Shoulda known. Shoulda known. You know the military has a registry for this shit. There are rules. What's wrong with you?"

"I made a mistake," you mutter.

That might be the funniest thing he ever heard. And he's heard some good jokes. "You don't make mistakes, kiddo. You never have. That's not how I trained you." He's right, and you know it. "But hey. Guess it's true what they say about it."

"What?"

"Soulbonds. Make you take your best-laid plans and raze ‘em. Full scorched earth.”

“This isn’t about that. I’m making this decision on my own.”

“You think?” He takes a puff on his cigarette. “I don’t. I don't blame you, either. You sure as hell fought it as best you could. Didn't give in to save your own life. If that's not the soulbond making your decision for you, soldier, I don't know what is."

You look up at the sky. For all the time you spent working with Graves, that past version of you might as well be dead. Maybe that’s the grave you’ve been digging. "I can't work for Shepherd anymore. I won't do it."

"You're a good soldier, 86. You were loyal. I still think you're loyal, even if I'm not who you're loyal to," he finally says. His voice is still calm. It doesn't make you feel any better. "You know if you choose to walk away from this, the next time we meet might well be as enemies."

"Then I guess we won't meet again, sir."

He says nothing. Then he lets out a long huff. You really are going to do him dirty. You can hear his scowl. "That's a damn shame, kid. But you have more of a spine than I gave you credit for," he says. There's a tone of reluctant respect to it. That's as close as you're going to get to a compliment from him now. "You're a loose end, then. You'd best stay well out of the way. Mine and Shepherd's. I hope you're not making the wrong choice, 86," he says quietly. "I really hope you're not."

"It’s out of your hands now. And pay KorTac," you add. "Pay my squad. They did their job."

That makes him scoff. "Now why would I do that? You might be a traitor, but you're still my investment. You were worth more on my payroll than theirs, and that’s a fact I intend to maintain."

"You owe me," you remind him.

"Don't push your luck," he warns. "You're an asset. You don’t get the privileges of rank anymore. But, well..." He sighs. You imagine him with his heels kicked back on his desk, cigarette in hand. "I’ll tell you what. I’m in a charitable mood. I'll pay them off. I'm a man of my word when the time comes to pay off my debts. Hell, I’ll even throw in a tip for a job well done." Despite the annoyance in his voice, you don't doubt he'll do just that. "But that doesn’t mean I trust you anymore. I trusted you once, and you went rogue. I let you go now, that means I expect you to keep my secrets. Don't you go singing if Shepherd puts you in a chair. You got that?"

You glance up out of the corner of your eye at Soap, whose hands are still clenched in tight fists at his sides. "If Shepherd puts me in a chair, he's the one who's gonna sing. Not me."

Graves chuckles. "You're a good soldier, 86, but you can't take on an old war dog like Shepherd. Leave that to someone more qualified."

"Like who? You?"

"As I said, you best steer clear. I don't want to hear your name again." His voice hardens, and you hear your old commander again. "Good luck, kid. You'll need it. And give Soap hell."

You toss the phone back to Horangi. He listens to what Graves has to say. Then, eyes meeting yours for a moment, he wordlessly moves out away from the river, leaving you weary with relief. It's over. Finally.

Soap watches him disappear into the trees. Then, he looks back at you, alone and shivering on the ice. You look half-dead, bleeding, and your lips are near blue. He wants to make his way to you, but the ice is scarcely holding you. It won't hold him, too.

"Oi," Soap calls. His voice is rough with anxiety. "Get over here. You're gonnae freeze to death even if you don't fall through."

You blink up at him. Standing in the rising sun the way he is now, he looks like someone’s guardian angel. Yours? You'd like very much to be wrapped in his wings.

You make your way over to the bank, but the rocky ledge up is slippery and icy. Behind you, between the ice where you're standing and the bank, there's a yawning gap. To your left, there's a bridge, but snow has already melted off the surface of the ice, and it looks thin. "There's no way up," you call. "But downriver..."

"No’ a chance in hell I’m going to let you try to cross that," Soap says as he approaches the edge. "You'll be swept away and drown, hen. You're not in any condition to swim, and even if you were, that river's too bloody fast to risk it."

"Then what do you suggest?"

His eyes sweep over the river once more. It's wide; too wide to attempt a jump across. The ice has fallen in, leaving it almost impossible to make it to the bank. It isn't safe. The longer you stand there, the more the ice cracks under you. He admires your guts for putting yourself on the line like that to get back to him, but damn you. His blood pressure has never been higher.

Soap throws off his pack and slings his gear onto the bank. "I'll pull you up."

"But..."

"But nothing." With the adrenaline still pumping through his system, Soap thinks nothing of the risk of the bank collapsing under you both with his added weight. The only thing on his mind is getting you back in one piece. "We both know damn well, if I was the one on the ice now, you'd already be down there trying to help me, so for once, just shut up and let me help you."

Can't argue with that.

He pulls out an ice hook--mountaineering equipment; he was prepared to climb this mission, luckily--and offers it to you.

You toss the grenade as far as you can in the opposite direction. Then you raise your hands to grasp the rope. He's holding the sharp end and giving you the handle. You try to keep hold, but as he lifts, your bloodied hands slip just as the grenade explodes nearby, too close, spiderwebbing the ice with a final crack.

You land hard, break through, and disappear under the freezing water.

Soap has never known panic faster than when he sees you go under.

He dives after you. He has to get you back to the surface before whatever air you had in your lungs gives out. Your survival is his survival.

He finds you in the rushing black abyss when your fingers hook around his sleeve. Wrapping his hands around your arms, Soap anchors you to his chest.

You come to in his arms. You're colder than you ever have been in your life. Your fingertips tingle in pain and numbness. He's carrying you ashore somehow--far downriver, thinner ice--and he ducks into an old cabin with you in his arms.

Soap kicks the door shut behind him and moves into the cabin to set you on the floor, propping your back against the wall. His hands work fast as he pulls out his knife to cut away your soaked thermal clothes and gear. You dip in and out of consciousness until he wads up a fistful of gauze and packs it into your side wound. The sudden pain chokes you. Then a wave of nausea washes over you. You’d like nothing more than to tell him where precisely he can shove that gauze, but you’re too lightheaded.

"You with me, hen?" His gruff voice wavers. "I need you to stay awake."

He gathers you up in his arms and lifts you into his lap. It's a tight fit, wedged underneath the frosty window and between a table and an upturned stool. You register the warmth of his skin on yours and dimly realize he's stripped both of you almost bare, huddling around you to prevent hypothermia.

You soak up Soap’s body heat instantly. He's a furnace, and he needs to be, given the state you're in. He tucks you as close as he can. You're both shivering, but he doesn't care. He can be cold as long as you're warm. His broad body shields you from the drafts leaking into the decrepit cabin.

"No, no, eyes open." He tilts your face up as your eyes flutter. "Don't go passin' out on me."

You gaze up at him in your stupor. Maybe it's the blood loss, but even through your own pain and frustration, he's the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen.

"You have really odd eyes," you mutter. "Like blueberry soft serve."

Oh, you're definitely delirious. Maybe concussed.

But he can't deny the look you're giving him right now makes his stomach flip. The sight of you in his lap, your frost-scorched fingers wrapped idly around his ID tag and staring up at him like he's just pulled the moon out of the sky for you... it's the first time he’s seen you with your guard down.

He swallows and keeps you pressed against his skin. There’s a lot of blood. He can’t tell what’s yours and what isn’t. "You're in no shape to flatter me."

You hum, your fingers dabbing idly at a smear of blood on his chest.

He doesn't move to stop you. Instead, his eyes flick down to your hand. Your fingers leave a trail of sparks over everywhere you touch.

With a soft sigh, Soap catches your wrist. "Quit it, hen."

"Quit what?"

"Teasin'. Makin' me wish you'd put those hands to other uses," he says, voice quiet and rough. It's just you and him in the little cabin. The world is far away. His thumb rubs against the inside of your wrist, trying to bring some warmth back into your skin. "You're in no shape to be feelin' me up, either."

Your head lolls against his shoulder. "Maybe it's the perfect time. Maybe we won't get another time."

Hearing you say that twists his insides into knots. He leans down to rest his forehead against yours. "Maybe you just need to shut up and let me take care of you. Don't talk like that." His voice leaves no room for argument. He tightens his grip on you, pressing you closer as if he can somehow press that into your skin by sheer will alone. "There'll be plenty of times for you to get your hands on me."

"Mm." You tuck into him tighter. You'd be mortified with yourself if you weren't half-dead from blood loss. "Sorry."

He exhales into your hair, pressing chaste kisses there.

You're practically in his lap, the two of you tangled into each other from head to foot in the space under the window. He's surrounded by the smell of you. It's a soothing presence in all that surrounds him.

He shouldn't want to touch you, shouldn't want to take advantage of your weakness--but the thought of having you so open and wanting, of you willingly in his arms, makes something in him ache. Makes the selfish parts of him scream.

"You're a pain in my arse," he says. He focuses on taking inventory of your wounds, brushing over your arms with his touch to assess the damage. "You gonnae bleed out on me?"

You shiver a little as he drags you closer by your bare thigh. "Wouldn't be the worst way to go."

"Oi," he snaps in warning. He slides his hand up your side, checking for bleeding. It’s just as much a caress over your bare skin. He has to ignore how his skin tingles every time the curve of your body slides against his in that tantalizing way. Something in his lower belly tightens. "You don't get to tap out after makin' me go through all this trouble for you. You're livin' through tonight or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or else." He moves his hand up to the base of your throat, his large, calloused fingers wrapping around your neck and tilting your chin up to look at him. He fixes his blue eyes on yours to take in the dazed expression on your face. "I'll drag your arse out of hell and tan it until you can't sit right."

You're too weary to laugh, but you rest your scuffed cheek on his thumb, and it pushes your lips into a smirk. "All for me?"

"Aye. Hell of a lot more trouble than your pretty face should be worth."

You pull free and rest your head on his shoulder again. "Where do you live?"

"Glasgow," he says. "Not sure I should be tellin' you that."

You trace his chest around the chain of his ID tag. So many muscles. "Probably not."

"And what about you? Do I get to know?"

"No. Maybe. If we get out of here."

"Yeah? Well, you're not goin' anywhere with this wound. Bleedin' out, nearly froze to death, and still mouthin' off. No idea how to shut up and be good." He looks down at the injury, assessing how bad it really is in the dim light of the cabin. "You lost a lot of blood. I bet you feel tired." He brushes your hair off your face. "Stay awake a bit longer. The boys'll be here soon."

"I shouldn't," you mutter.

Soap doesn't miss the slurring of your words. He knew the blood loss would affect you, but he was hoping for more time before he had to really worry. "Shouldn't stay? Too late to get away from me now," he says, trying to keep his tone casual. Your skin is too cold for comfort. The gauze in your wound soaking through with blood can't mean anything good. "I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you. Sure as hell not letting you out of my sight. You've got a lot to repay me for."

You try to keep your eyes open. Every blink is more sluggish than the last. "Like what?"

"Runnin' away and makin' me chase after you, for one. Puttin' yourself in the line of fire for me, second. Takin' a swim in a frozen river. Scared me to death." He presses his lips to the crown of your head, a gentle, chaste touch at odds with the possessive, dominating instinct he can feel creeping into his thoughts. You're vulnerable right now, something he should never want, but part of him wonders if he’d ever have caught up with you without this. "Aye, you owe me. First thing we do once you're patched up? We have a long talk. We have a whole hell of a lot we need to say to one another. And you'll answer every question I ask you."

"I dunno if you'll like the stuff I say," you mutter.

"Hardly matters. You’re plenty keen on spittin’ fire at me as it is. No reason you can’t keep tellin’ me everything I don’t want tae hear."

Another shiver wracks your body.

Soap rubs your arms. "You gotta give your word you stay awake for me, aye? Stay here."

His radio beeps nearby. You huff. "Fine."

"Fine." He leans over to grab his radio and tries to keep an arm around your shoulders to keep you warm as he does. He keeps you cradled against his chest as he responds to Price.

"Soap here."

You don't hear the conversation. Instead, you listen to Soap's voice vibrate through his chest. He speaks to Price in hushed tones, talking about your condition and the team's ETA.

Price has a laundry list of questions, but Soap manages to wrangle them into holding off until they have everyone back on base. No sense exhausting you on a mission that's already been a shitshow. Finally, they're done. Soap lets the radio go to focus entirely on you again. "Still with me?"

"How long do we have?"

"Shouldn't be too much longer," he says. He checks your side again. The coldness of the air has soaked into the wet gauze. You shiver again. It makes something in him ache. "ETA's about ten minutes out."

You pull his lips down to yours and kiss him.

He's surprised, but he doesn't pull back--not from you. He lets you kiss him. Your taste seeps into his brain and turns all rational thought to white noise. One hand cups your jaw with a surprising gentleness, and the other slides behind your waist to keep you against his body. He's gentle--you need to be handled with care right now.

He pulls back before he loses himself in the desire to deepen the kiss. His eyes search your face, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot against your lips.

"You're lucky you're injured," he murmurs. "Or you'd be in a very different kind of trouble right now."

You shiver, but not with the cold. Just that one kiss has you feeling much warmer. You touch your name where it's written on his arm. Then you curl your fingers around the back of his neck and pull yourself closer. "Hold onto that thought for later," you murmur. "Give me something to wait for."

Then you kiss him again.

...

← previous part / [part 13] / epilogue →

part 1 / more Soap / masterlist

thank you <3

[multifandomimagin3s]

They have a crush on you (HC's) - Team 141 + König

Requested by Anon

Simon "Ghost" Riley

*Honestly I could write an essay on this complicated man, he's such an interesting character - but I've summed up some HC's below*

This guy is so hard to read, but at the same time he's not.

At first glance, he's a hardened man who keeps his cards close to his chest and never lets his guard down around anyone. And that's true.

Given everything he's been through in life, that amount of trauma is bound to have a long-term effect on every aspect of his life - not to mention the fact that he's probably learned to repress all of that shit for most of his life.

So I reckon that even if he did have romantic feelings towards you, it would take him a long, long time for him to even process what he's feeling - he's not stupid by any manner of means, more so he doesn't know what to do with this newfound information.

He would probably try and be mean to you - not that he was ever truly sweet on you in the first place, he couldn't let people know he had a soft spot; a weakness.

If you were part of 141, he would probably try to completely ignore you - unless he physically had to speak to you, like if you were on a mission together ((ngl I think Price probably would put the pieces together and would try to push you both together by sending you off on the same mission - fulfilling his Dad Captainly duties)).

You'd probably have known Ghost for a while before he starts to open up to you - it's superficial stuff, like maybe when his birthday is or his favourite food, little details that didn't really give any crucial information away, but you knew better than to pry as it would probably just make him shut himself away more.

He'd probably be protective of you - like if the team were out at a pub after a mission gone well, and there was a creepy guy bothering you, he would loom over you to scare the guy shitless with piercing, cold eyes.

We all know that as soon as Soap figures out that Ghost has a crush, he's going to absolutely want to take the piss out of him for it...he just needs to pick his words carefully, since he chooses life :))

It's hard to tell when or if he would actually confess his feelings to you - I can see it happening in one of two ways:

1 - You almost died on a mission, and he deeply regretted not telling you before when he thought you weren't going to make it back to base in time; he visited you every day while you were in hospital, and ended up bluntly just coming right out with how he felt because he needed you to know.

2 - Soap tells you before he can. With this scenario, I don't see Ghost blowing up in a fit of rage - it would be the silent death stare with the promise of an arse-kicking in the training room, maybe even making the Sergeant clean the bathrooms with a toothbrush for a few months for good measure. Ghost probably wouldn't even deny it, and would wait for you to come to him... and whatever happens next is a mystery ;))

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

*Ahh my fellow Scot - just to preface, Scottish slang and dialects vary across the country and I'm not 100% sure where Soap is originally from, so I'm just going to improvise and use local slang from where I'm from ~*

My guy wears his heart on his sleeve - he's naturally very flirty with you from the get-go, so it wasn't hard to figure out that he fancied you.

"Hello, Darlin', if yer wantin' a tour of the base, don't be feert* to gie me a shout ;D" [feert = afraid] [gie me a shout = ask me; gie = give].

With his flirty nature, it was difficult to discern if he was actually being serious about liking you, or if he was just flirty with everyone.

He'd probably realise that he was going about things completely wrong, and would make normal, friendly conversation to get to know you - he just wants to prove that he's a good guy and not a raging hornball :(

The longer time goes on, he starts to tell you more about his life outside of the SAS - he comes from a big family, he's the youngest sibling, his favourite colour, etc.

I can absolutely see his chest puff up a bit with pride when you compliment his skills - he disposes bombs and risks his life all the time, its his job and he doesn't expect praise other than a curt "good work" from his superiors; but from you, the tips of his ears are turning red, and a smile is practically splitting his face ~

Definitely doesn't use the excuse of training to get some time alone with you - not in a creepy way, he just likes spending one-on-one time with you.

If he really trusts you, he asks you to help trim his hair - he did do his mohawk mostly by himself but trying to do the back of his head on his own was an actual nightmare.

Likes watching the look of concentration on your face as you make sure that his hair is even - winks at you when you catch him staring~

(Y/N): There we go - a job well-done, if I do say so myself.

Johnny: *just admiring your smiling face, smitten*

Would probably ask you out then and there, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Certified Best Boy™.

Captain John Price

This guy doesn't fuck around - he's older, mature, and knows what he feels, and straight up tells you.

He'd call you into his office for a "chat" - queue you absolutely shitting yourself, being called for a chat with your superior in any circumstance automatically has you going through everything you've ever done prior to this moment to see what he could be mad about...

If you were a Private or any rank beneath him, he probably might hesitate to tell you a bit; HR really wouldn't like it but then again they wouldn't need to know... ;))

If you were a medic, nurse, doctor or civilian, he wouldn't hesitate to tell you.

The Team wouldn't know he even had a crush on you - even if you were on base, as a soldier or medic, they wouldn't have a clue.

The only time they grew suspicious was after they had all been to the pub and after a few too many drinks, one of the new recruits started talking about you and how he thought you were fit; Price's eye twitched slightly, eyeing the recruit with a poker face but with a slightly flash of anger in his eyes, cigar between his teeth.

"Bit inappropriate to speak of a comrade like that, Private, don't you think?" The Private sheepishly let out an apology.

Gaz and Soap gave each other a knowing side-eye; Soap looked to Ghost, who stared back blankly - he'd figured out that the Captain liked you ages ago, he was just waiting on everyone else catching up.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

I see him as another guy who wears his heart on his sleeve, so to speak.

I think he's the silent type though - while Johnny will flirt with you openly, regardless of where he is or who he's around, I think Kyle would be more discrete about it.

At first, it would be the little things like making you your favourite tea when he's making his own cup - sometimes he'll just make you your own, delivering it to you with a little smile.

He even offers to spar with you during training - he wouldn't go easy on you but he would be missing the usual fire that he has when training with other members of the team, he doesn't want to hurt you :((

As he gets more comfortable with you, and you with him, he absolutely loves to wind you up.

I think he'd be a genuinely funny guy, so be prepared to laugh until your sides hurt.

He'd probably express his feelings for you in a cheesy but still down-right cute way; probably shows up at your door with flowers and asks you out on a date.

((Proud Dad™ Price is just around the corner))

König

Another certified Best Boy™.

Honestly, he probably didn't speak to you at all for the longest time - not because he was intentionally trying to be rude but because if he feels like he has nothing good to say, then he just won't speak at all.

His social anxiety probably fluctuates day-to-day; one day he feels alright, can make small talk with others on base and do whatever he needs to do. But then the next day, he won't leave his room unless he has to, and when he does he's just this hulking mass of poorly concealed anxiety.

I think his anxiety would probably accidentally be projected outwards and would make him appear more intimidating, especially when all people can see are his eyes underneath his hood. Poor baby :(

He definitely knew that he had a crush on you - he's anxious in social settings, crowds, and he knows what that feels like - but with you? He gets full-on butterflies and he's scared to speak in case he says something embarrassing.

You'd most likely have to make conversation first, keeping it casual as to not scare him off - ironic, since the man is over 6ft and is built like a brick shithouse.

It would take time but he'd slowly open up bit by bit.

The first time you saw him out in the field - completely different ballgame entirely.

Who is this guy and what has he done with Konig??

He probably confesses his feelings on the way back from a mission, still high on adrenaline and confidence.

Oh he absolutely full-on panics when the adrenaline wears off and the penny finally drops...but he meant what he said. He really likes you, Maus.

[l0stfoster]

More Cursed Tulsa‼️‼️

Little things relating to the doodles of ur interested teehee‼️

- Darry (and Dally) are the only people who can hold Two’s perching weight, so Darry very commonly has a bird just, there.

- Dally still snaps and loses it. Johnny ‘dies’ (heart stopped, declared clinically dead— gets resuscitated though) and Dally bolted the second after he ‘died’. Dude gets shot by the cops, the gang gets him to the hospital and he lives thank god. Two stress plucks tho lmao.

- The socs who jumped two wear his stolen feathers out loud n proud. Just to mock him, pretty much. He is NOT happy and neither are the other harpies!

(Speaking of which, the Shepard gang is a bunch of harpies too, a lot of vultures compared to the Mathews being a crow)

- Two-Bit n Dally were childhood friends, he’s the one who found Two after he got jumped. Dally’s so pissed ab what happened with Pony n Johnny that he wants some sick gratitude by seeing exactly where Bob took his last breath, so that’s where he finds him. I AM SO BRAINROTTED ON THIS AU DUDE. It's so over, I can't come back from this. We got so much talked about for it and it's only existed for like 2 days, it's so good. We made an ao3 collection for the AU as well that you can find here! Timewing has already posted a little drabble to it, so have fun >:)

{ Tag List: @nova-drawzz @timewing06 }

[theemissuniverse]

HOW JEALOUS OR POSSESSIVE IS HE WITH FEM!READER? JOHNNY CAGE EDITION

SUMMARY : Title kinda speaks for itself

A/N: Couldn’t help but think about this random headcanon for Johnny after I saw someone write him the complete opposite of what I’m about to say lmao

WARNINGS : (MDNI)! Mentions of sex

MASTERLIST

Johnny is definitely not a jealous or possessive boyfriend. He is too full of himself to even believe that you, his girlfriend, would ever leave him for another person.

He’s very secure in his relationship. He’s also not one of those boyfriends that are like “you can’t wear that in public.” Johnny most definitely wants you to wear the hottest clothes so he can show off how hot you really are.

He loves it when people stare at you. Loves it. He knows you’re hot and he’s not gonna “punish” you just because other people find you hot.

Johnny loves this because he knows they cannot have you. Sometimes he’ll be a little petty and kiss all over you while flipping whoever is staring at you off. But he would never get pissed over it.

If a guy were to ever flirt with you, Johnny would be extremely amused. Especially if the guy did it in front of him. In fact, Johnny would simply cross his arms and take a step back and let you two “talk” knowing what you would do/say.

Most likely, Johnny will be like, “Yeah, (Y/N). Go ahead and give him your number.” You’ll listen to him but what the guy doesn’t know is that you’re actually giving Johnny’s number. Not your number. Then later when the guy texts Johnny expecting it to be you, Johnny will send him a bunch of laughing emojis and a semi explicit picture of the two of you before blocking him.

But if a girl were to flirt with you, Johnny is definitely encouraging it. (To be very clear, I cannot stand guys that do that but I’m making this as realistic to the character as I possibly can and let’s be honest, Johnny would definitely find the idea with you being with another woman hot.) You’ll roll your eyes slightly at Johnny encouraging it and inform the woman that he is actually your boyfriend which Johnny will just say, “don’t let your boyfriend stop you from finding your future wife.”

If anything, I believe you could have intimacy with other women and Johnny couldn’t care less. (Again as I bisexual woman I find men doing that stupid but like I said, making this as realistic as possible.) Johnny is also not stupid though. He would never ask you in a million years to have a threesome. He likes living.

Johnny is not “keeping tabs” on you. He’s not stalking you and doesn’t need to be breathing on your neck. All he wants from you is to tell him where you’re going and for you to check in every hour so he knows that you’re okay. Other than that, he encourages you to do whatever you please.

He does not care in the slightest of you having “guy friends.” As long as they are obviously not douchebags and try to hit on you. He will admit, he’d much prefer you having the same guy friends that he has but as long as your guy friends are being respectful of boundaries then he’s not really getting upset over it.

One thing he’d probably get mad at is if one of your guy friends out does him. For example, say Johnny buys you a gift that’s expensive but not too crazy and then your guy friend buys you something crazy out of this world expensive. Yeah, Johnny’s gonna pout like a child.

It’s mainly because gifts are his love language so he’ll definitely hate that someone got the upper hand on that.

Johnny doesn’t go through your phone to try and find something. He trusts you. He also doesn’t even believe your phone is that interesting to go through anyway.

All in all, Johnny trusts you and is not bothered by feelings of “jealousy.” Like I said, he’s too full of himself to believe you’d leave all that “greatness” for someone else that’s most likely “mid.”

[tiredfox64]

hallo Hallo! I would like to make an request of female reader and Syzoth c:

So,I’ve seen and read many fanfic where the reader is clueless thus doesn’t understand the nature of the Zatteran. Which pisses me off. Let’s change that,Shall we? :3

An female who has bearded dragon pet thus *completely* understands the Zatteran’s nature. In what he eats,how he behaves,the shedding,mating season and such. Syzoth’s greatful for finding someone who gets him and they’re one perfect power couple >:D 💪🏻 I would like mostly be fluff. But if you wanna slip in some smut of mating season,Go ahead. ;3

Small reminder; you’re amazing and don’t forget to drink water to stay hydrated! <3

How to Care for a Zatteran

Yip notes: No YOU’RE AMAZING. You are speaking my language. I’d be happy to give my man what he needs.

Pairing: Syzoth x Afab reader

Warnings‼️: NSFW, biting, you get two for the price of one ayyyyyyy (what do you think I mean?)

Syzoth believed being in Earthrealm would be difficult for him. It is not a realm that has large lizards walking around. According to Johnny and Kenshi, if people did see a large lizard walking around there would be an uproar of conspiracy theories. The government might hunt him down thinking he was an alien that escaped Area 51.

No wonder Syzoth wasn’t too keen on getting to know other humans…except for you. You are like the sun to him. You are needed in his life. If you are not with him then what is left in his life? You get him on so many levels.

You have a great understanding of reptile behavior. You grew up with a love for all kinds of reptiles from colorful geckos to strong snakes and even tortoises that had to wear balloons to allow you to keep an eye on them. You sure know your stuff. You knew what was best for them when it came to environment and diet. That means you knew what was best for Syzoth.

If Johnny didn’t ask you to bring him crickets for Syzoth when he invited him to his mansion you wouldn’t have met your reptilian boyfriend. Because Syzoth couldn’t stand human food the only other option that Johnny could think of was bugs. He knew you had an abundance of bugs to feed your pet bearded dragon, Blondi. And boy was Syzoth happy to see you come towards him with a handful of dead crickets. His tail came out and curled up as his split tongue scooped up the crickets. You were amazed by his tail, not a hint of fear in your voice as you squealed about how cool it was. He was so excited by your enthusiasm that he presented his true form. The rest was history.

You adored him in both forms. He was a handsome human and a cute-faced giant lizard. He was glad to find someone who didn’t see him as a monster or even a freak for who he truly was. Though your bearded dragon was not a big fan of him. The first time Syzoth walked into your home, Blondi was tapping on the glass trying to pick a fight with him. He was bobbing his head like a rockstar, trying to tell your boyfriend that this was his territory. He didn’t back down when Syzoth went into his natural form. Your little guy was ready to put up a fight for you. Or he was ready to fight for his food. He can sense Syzoth is just as hungry as he is.

You did have delicious bugs in your home at all times. Crickets, mealworms, grasshoppers, hornworms, and more. You made him feel better about eating bugs in front of you once you told him that humans also eat bugs. He didn’t believe you at first since everyone he has come across has given him weird looks but you reassured him that it was true. Many cultures eat bugs and there are even some candies that have bugs inside of them. You brought out a bag of chapulines that were coated in lemon juice, chili, and garlic. He watched as you took some from the bag and popped them into your mouth. He got curious and wanted to try some for himself. It was fine for him to try since he isn’t a regular bearded dragon and he has a stomach full of corrosive acid. The chili would not end his existence.

He loved the chapulines so much that you started putting them in the salads you would make him. Syzoth wasn’t used to eating greens that often but seeing how Blondi ate it up he thought it would be good for him. After taking his first bite of that fresh mixture of cabbage, kale, zucchini, and bell peppers he was eating it up quickly. He startled Blondi who was trying to eat his mixture of bugs and vegetables on the same table. Geez and you thought Blondi was a messy eater. Syzoth was messier but at least he licked up his mess.

“Are you sure you don’t want to use a fork?” You asked as you scooted a fork closer to him.

His head popped up from the bowl with his tongue still wrapped around a bunch of cabbage and kale. His eyes looked between the fork and the bowl. His hand slowly crept towards the fork and swiped it off the table before diving his head back into the bowl. The loud sound of crunching continued until he was finished.

The love went beyond a good diet. You made shedding season easier on him.

Shedding in his natural form is never pleasant. It’s unpleasant for every reptile. So you did your best to ease his discomfort and complete the process faster. You went out and bought a kiddie pool that was just big enough to fit his giant lizard self. You bought a bunch of bottles of shedding aid to hydrate his skin and get the old skin off. A nice spray of mist from your garden hose and he was in heaven. The old skin didn’t feel so tight on him anymore. Syzoth was grateful for everything you did for him. You must have spent a lot on the shedding aid to ensure it would work on him.

It was all worth it once you saw how he relaxed. His eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly opened, showing off his sharp teeth. He was able to rid himself of old skin before deciding to eat it. What? He doesn’t want to leave a mess for you to clean up.

The only issue Syzoth has is with Blondi. He tried being nice and showing that he meant no harm. He waved so many times yet Blondi kept bobbing his head and tapping against his glass enclosure. He did not like sharing you with Syzoth. It would result in Blondi running towards Syzoth to give him a good fight. You would have to swoop him up and go into another room so you could peacefully handle your little guy.

Once you were done with one lizard you had to go to the other. Syzoth needed handling too even though he was larger than you. He liked resting his body against yours, using your chest as a pillow for him. Sometimes he would be in his human form and others he would be in his natural form. You preferred the human form just because it didn’t feel like he was crushing you. You took it like a champ in the end. You would run your hand from his neck and down his back. He wouldn’t let you go even when you begged him to.

Now that’s all fun and stuff, having basically another pet lizard who is also a person who you could talk to. Syzoth is loyal to you and adores you. The fact that you understood what he needed as a Zatteran brought him closer to you. You’re the only one who understands him. You understood him better than his own people did.

Tell me, lizard girl, what do you think happens when a man gets really invested in a woman? That’s right! He wants to mate!

You saw this coming from a mile away you can’t lie. It didn’t matter if his habits were more human or lizard he was still getting riled up by you. What man wouldn’t want a kind and caring woman who feeds him well and shows him unconditional love? It was only natural that Syzoth wanted to show you his love. He wanted to give you his children and protect you till his very last breath. But he understands that humans don’t work the same way. Your “mating rituals” are more complex while his could be seen as too animalistic even for you.

Is that gonna stop his natural instincts from kicking in? Fuck no. Nature is an unstoppable force and when it’s go time, it’s freaking go time.

You noticed the change in Syzoth. He was putting in a lot of effort to let you know he was attracted to you even though you knew that beforehand. The pheromones he produced in his natural form would not work on you so you had to go off of visual clues. While in his human form, he bobbed his head a lot and stomped the ground, causing things to shake. It caught your attention and you would stare at him while wondering if that was necessary. His green eyes would stare at you, waiting to see if you would run away or move into a certain position.

“It’s mating season already? Gosh, I should check on Blondi.” You teased Syzoth, acting like you wouldn’t help him before you got up from the couch.

Because you walked away, he took that as you playing hard to get. He gave chase. You were barely down the hallway before you felt his arm wrap around your waist. He put all his weight against your body, causing you to go down. He wasn’t forcing you down on the ground but he was aware that he was using his size to his advantage. You didn’t think he could hold this primal aggression inside of him.

Your chest was pressed against the floor as you felt him grind against you. He whined before saying,

“Now…now…I want you now.”

Syzoth sounded so desperate you wondered if it’s been a long time since he last mated with a woman. That might be why he was more aggressive than you imagined.

“Alright…we can do it now. Do you want to go-“

You were going to ask if he wanted to move this to your bedroom but he was already tearing off your clothes. He didn’t need all of them off he just needed yours and his pants off. He was back to pressing his body against you and you could feel his cock…cocks? Well, guess that answers that question you’ve had in the back of your mind.

One of his cocks pressed against your wet folds while the other rubbed against your clit. Your anatomies aren’t correct but he will make this work. He began pushing his cock inside of you, stretching you out with its thick size. You let out a gasp as your nails clawed at the hardwood floors. Syzoth saw your reaction and thought you might pull away. He decided to pull your shirt to the side and bite down on your shoulder to prevent you from running away. You let out a pained moan as you felt his teeth sink into your flesh. It wasn’t enough to break your skin but it would keep you in place.

His rhythm was constant yet primal. He never took a moment to cool down or take a breather. He kept going in and out as his other cock rubbed your clit. Precum dripped from the tip which landed on the floor. His saliva dripped down your shoulder as his hot breath heated your skin. He let out grunts and groans as he continued fucking you. You were so glad you didn’t have neighbors nearby because you could not handle the noise you were producing.

You knew Syzoth was no regular man but he still managed to blow your mind…and your back out. You didn’t realize that you were drooling and continuously scratching the floor. Your brain was mush from how good Syzoth was making you feel. You could never receive this love from any ordinary man. The only one who could make you a drooling mess and get your full permission to breed you is Syzoth.

His breath grew hotter and quicker. His thrusts grew sloppier. You knew he was close and so were you. You decided to give him a helping hand, literally, and used one of your hands to stroke his other cock. You felt him twitch and groan more before he started going rougher. He was fucking into you while also fucking your hand. He made you cum with him when his last thrust hit your g-spot and you both came. This hot wave ripped through you as your shoulder burned with pain. Syzoth tightened his hold on your waist to keep you in place as he came inside of you. It sure was a lot of cum based on the fact that your hand was covered in it. It still managed to make a mess of the floor.

You both were panting and sweating like you just finished a fight. Syzoth finally let go of your shoulder and licked the teeth marks to soothe your pain.

“You just couldn’t wait, could you?” You teased him.

“You knew what would happen once you walked away. You know me so well, I would think you would be smart enough to not play hard to get.” He teased back.

“I was messing with you, but it seems like that charade didn't last long.”

You both laughed before you tried to get up. Syzoth didn’t allow that. He kept all his weight on you while his arms were still wrapped around your waist. He didn’t pull out.

“Uh…I thought you were supposed to let me go right after we finished.”

“My love, I am more than just an animal. I still need attention. We will stay in this position for a long time.” He snuggled up to you with a satisfied smile on his face.

“Could we at least move this cuddle session to my bedroom?”

“No! Blondi shouldn’t know about this.”

Syzoth, what the fuck is the little lizard gonna do? The lizard doesn’t even understand the concept of dating.

Yap notes: I'm losing motivation again. I'm puffin.

[partycatty]

older!johnny cage > listen up

you just can't seem to follow orders, so johnny explains them loud and clear... :3

warnings: you're a dilf obsessed freak and you get yelled at idk, he's meaner than usual, idk how the military works

[ masterlist ]

• lieutenant cage was, at the best of times, a strong advisor and wise man.

• at his worst of times, he's barking orders at the squad like a pack of dogs, not that you'd complain if he forced you to all fours, if we're all being honest here.

• some bat out of netherrealm must've pissed in his coffee this morning, and johnny was making it everyone's problem by forcibly refreshing everyone on basic commands. you wonder if it was just an excuse for him to yell his frustration away.

• "fall in!" his booming voice startles you from your trance and you're snapped back to your position, you and other recruits standing in front of johnny in dead-still positions.

• "ten-hut!" he calls, and your back snaps straight. you groan to yourself at the sudden movement, and lieutenant cage catches the sound. his head snaps toward you with a scowl. "no complaining or we're here til sundown, is that clear?!"

• "yes, sir!" your voice can only boom as much, far less trained in the art of... yelling at people.

• cage rattles on about something regarding everyone not knowing their lefts and rights, and decides everyone is deserving of a refresher. so, he stands with his hands behind his back.

• "left face!" you pivot instantly, the choir of shuffling around you moves with you like a strict ocean. "right face!" you return to your previous position with your stick-up-your-ass military posture.

• he barks the directions out in rapid succession, the crowd following it seamlessly... except for you. maybe you didn't get enough sleep, or maybe johnny's cruel voice was making you dizzier than the pivoting was. you stumbled over yourself, a beat behind the rest.

• you stood out like a sore thumb as much as you wished to blend in out of embarrassment. your wonky timing was painfully obvious against the crowd, and johnny let out a loud groan, ripping his sunglasses from his face.

• "christ on a bike," he grumbles, uttering your last name. "are you gonna follow orders or sit there like an idiot?"

• your lips shut tight, eyes forward as johnny stomps up, nearly brushing his chest in your face. his breathing stutters, and you fight every urge to not look up into his eyes.

• "you don't know how to listen, do you?" he growls, nearly speaking into the top of your head. "wasting my god damn time."

• "sorry, sir," your voice shrinks in your throat, which apparently deeply offends johnny today.

• his hand flies to your jaw, holding somewhere between your neck and your jaw as he tilts your head up, applying pressure as the sides of your vision blur out.

• "you're gonna speak loud and clear to me when you answer me, is that clear?" his voice teeters between a whisper and growl, eyes darting between yours.

• you wanted to be scared, you wanted to be compliant and listen to his order, but his hand was literally on your neck. this flustered you, embarrassingly easy and words were almost impossible. your vision spaces out, eyes wandering as you try to ground yourself.

• johnny tugs at your face, drawing your attention back. "look at me when i speak to you."

• "yes, sir," you choke out, a little clearer this time.

• his brows furrow for a moment, lip twitching in a dubious expression you'd never seen on his aged face before. "you're gonna be the death of me."

• you don't even get a moment to contemplate his curious choice of words, as his hand pulls away from your face and he spins on his heel, retreating to his previous position.

• he barks that everyone is starting over because of you and a quiet wave of sighs and shuffles heat your face. it was already mortifying to be humiliated in front of your squad, but you were berated by none other than your dilfy work crush... your boss. maybe you could curl up into a ball and die here and now.

• after a few hours of stupid, repetitive training you want to do nothing more than rot in your bed, ignoring the pissed looks of your colleagues. just as you're about the exit the room, a hand shoots out to squeeze at your wrist, nearly dragging you backward from the unexpected force.

• a firm voice states your last name, and you instantly recognize it as your very upset boss. you swallow thickly and try to put on your best neutral expression as you turn to face him.

• "my office," he says, though it doesn't sound like a request and more like a command. "now."

[moongreenlight]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley who despite his better judgement lets Soap talk him into picking up a girl for the night.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

Apparently Soap knows a guy who knows a guy in the area they’re deployed. They’d been staying at some shithole inn in France for weeks. Driving into the city to stake out some mark day in and day out. Tedious, mind-numbing work. Sitting at cafes and on patios at pubs people watching. Looking for anyone that may or may not match the vague description that had been provided by some mole on the other side.

Simon could sit still and shut up. Johnny was a separate issue. He could dial in for a few hours at a time, but then he’d start to slip. Bored and antsy, he’d try and strike up conversation. Inevitably returning to what must have been his favorite topic, or the one thing plaguing his mind the most. He’s horny. Fucking hell, is he horny.

Bitching and whining about not being able to get any play here because he doesn’t speak a lick of French and even when he tries it comes out so muddied that nobody takes him seriously. And that the inn they’re set up at is years away from town. Paints him out to be a serial killer.

Simon would grind his teeth and endure yet another one-sided talk about how bored Johnny had been getting of his hand. Even the left one wasn’t doing the trick anymore. He’d resorted to calling in some favors he was apparently owed to get the help of some girls in his evenings off.

“Jesus. Lookit the legs on her.”

Johnny had almost fallen out of his chair swiveling his entire body to watch some girl in a short skirt and a long trench coat stride past their spot outside of a cafe.

“Mhm.”

Simon was in a better spot to watch her pass. Eyeing her frame from over the rim of his steaming mug of tea. Fucking dreadful day. Drizzling rain. Bordering on sleet because of how miserable the weather was. Cloudy with a breeze that felt bitterly cold even through his coat. Shit tea, too. He couldn’t help but allow his mind to wander.

Not like they’d made any progress. Not like they could make any progress being staked out on a side street with no traffic whatsoever. The girl had been the only person other than their server that they’d seen come by in the last half hour. And sure, she had good legs. Better than their server’s at least. Some cranky older woman who’d ignored his attempts to order in French and looked mugged off that she had to deal with them at all, especially sat outside in this weather.

“Hell’s bells. Almost forgot you had a brain in there somewhere.”

Johnny, of course, couldn’t resist making a dig.

“Don’t get carried away.”

Simon grunted.

“Naw. C’mon, L.T. You like girls? They’ve got girls.”

Should have predicted that he was going to run wild with this.

“M’warnin’ you.”

“Loads of girls. Fuckin’ customizable. Send you a preference sheet and everything. Real professional operation.”

Johnny snickered into his paper coffee cup. Given to him along with a nasty look when he’d fidgeted with the ceramic mug he’d first had a bit too much and sent it smashing into the pavement.

Simon wasn’t one to be jerked around cock-first like Johnny, but Jesus. He was wearing thin. Maybe the isolation was getting to him. Maybe a seed had been planted somewhere deep in his mind from Johnny’s moaning. Not to mention, it was impossible to get it up watching French cable porn on a twin bed. He was backed-up and pissed off with the work. And with no end in sight, it could push a man to do strange things.

He shifted his hips forward in his seat, taking a long drink of his tea as he scanned the empty street for the umteenth time.

“Haven’t used up all your favors?”

You would have thought he’d just backhanded Johnny the way his eyes bugged out of his head.

“Gie’s a break.”

“Jus’ a question.”

Simon shrugged, sighing like he was already regretting asking. He was.

“Don’t work me up over nothin’, L.T.”

Johnny grinned, waggling his brows and leaning his forearms onto the table. Now completely distracted from the task at hand.

“Johnny.”

“Sure I could work somethin’ out. Only ‘cause I’m feelin’ generous. Ken yer a’right owing me a favor?”

Simon snorted.

“Sure I can manage.”

Johnny’s eyes were glinting something awful. More lively than he’d been in days. Practically laying over the table and kicking his feet. Thrilled to finally have the means to something Simon wanted.

“We’ll see about that’.”

Conversation moved on. Dragged back to the mission with instruction to change location. They spent a full ten hours out in the rain and the cold and the grey for absolutely no payout. Again. Still at square goddamn one. It was arguably worse than combat. Least on a real mission he’d get some release.

Johnny had stepped away in the early evening to make a call. Just before they were tapped out by Price and Gaz. Likely cashing in his favors owed, because he came back with a smug smile and two pints. Saying something about how Simon needed to quit taking himself so seriously. All work and no play or some stupid shit to that tune. Made a comment in passing on their drive back to the inn about how he should get his quarters decent by nine.

Honestly, Simon wasn’t expecting much. It was a bit of a ridiculous concept to him to begin with. He’d regretted saying anything straight after the words had left his mouth. He wasn’t sure he’d even be able to entertain some two-bit whore, even if she just served to curb his boredom. He never sought out things like this. Never felt the need. He wasn’t like Johnny or Gaz where he had to sneak off during missions for a wank or a quick fuck when time allowed. Not like Price where he’d seek a willing nurse or secretary to grope or bend over his desk on a day off. Sure, he’d take the opportunity if it arose, but he was always more focused on the job while he was at work rather than chasing his next high.

And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken anyone home. Fucked into his hand as much was necessary to keep everything operational. Knew when it was time when he started lashing out on a hairpin trigger. Got lazy on missions. Lost one too many sparring matches during training because he couldn’t focus.

So when nine came and went, he just found himself agitated that he’d requested the woman at the front desk change the sheets on his bed again so late. Ducking out to the balcony for a cigarette when she came in and slipping her a few euros on her way out despite the way her lip curled distastefully. Fucking frogs.

He was sat on the armchair in the corner of his room. Halfway paying attention to whatever channel was on the TV across from him and nursing a tumbler of shit whiskey he’d picked up from the shops their first night in. Swapped his mission clothes for a black tee shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. Tugging his balaclava over his face out of pure habit. Strictly instructed not to wear it out for the sake of keeping a low profile. Though he wasn’t sure how much good that did. He stood out from the crowd with his scars and crooked nose and tattoos without the covering. Whatever. Wardrobe wasn’t his job for a reason he supposed.

The sharp knock on his door grated heavily on his last nerve. Eliciting a low growl, but no movement to answer. It was half ten at this point. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Probably just another group of teenagers lost on their way to a friend’s room.

Another knock, and this time it didn’t stop. A muffled giggle through the door.

“Jesus Christ.”

He grumbled, shoving up and striding over to the door. Jerking the door open and using his hulking frame to cover the small opening he allowed.

Johnny’s fist nearly collided with Simon’s jaw. Distracted by the two girls stood behind him in the hall, giggling at him and batting their lashes. He was grinning like a goddamned devil. Chest puffed-out, shoulders rolled back. Entirely too comfortable.

Simon cocked a brow, giving the group a scornful once-over.

“Aye, L.T.! I come bearing gifts.”

Simon’s brow shot up further, eyes flicking from his friend to each of the girls behind him. Johnny immediately caught on to his confusion and barked a laugh, slinging his arm around the shoulder of the girl on the left. She sunk comfortably into position, leaning into him and giggling like it had been rehearsed.

She was pretty. Both of the girls were. The one tucked under Johnny’s arm had long auburn hair tumbling over her shoulders. Bright green eyes. Great smile. Perfectly groomed. Both of them covered conservatively by long coats to protect from the rain that had gradually started to come down harder and colder through the day. Hard to tell they were hooking by looking at them.

They seemed more familiar with Johnny than what Simon could assume was normal. It made his stomach turn if he thought too much into it, so he didn’t. Instead he side stepped, allowing the second girl barely enough room to slip through the door, and jerked his head for her to move.

“S’pose I know better than to expect a thank you.”

Johnny grinned, entirely unbothered by Simon’s glare that was boring through his skull. Arm already wandering down the auburn haired girl’s back at an alarming speed.

“Not as dim as you look, Sargent.”

Simon sighed, snapping the door shut.

“You’re late.”

He said flatly before he’d even finished locking the door. Turning to face the girl who’d already made herself comfortable on the edge of his bed. Leaned back on her hands, flashing him a dazzling smile.

“Throwing off your schedule, am I?”

You said, voice dripping with honeyed sarcasm. This made Simon recoil slightly. He’d been expecting some trashy, mildly-disgusting woman to come stumbling through the door when Johnny had mentioned he was cashing in favors. Not you. Not by a long shot. You looked, for lack of a better word, spoiled. Expensive. Perfectly styled, glossy hair. A tasteful amount of makeup. Not so much that it marred your features, but enough to make you nearly unapproachably attractive. And relatively covered-up. Expensive looking fur-trimmed coat falling just above your ankle.

Noticeable lack of a French accent. And you weren’t cowering in his presence, which suggested that you’d dealt with worse than him. A thought that sent something strange down his spine. Jealousy maybe? Anger? Sympathy? He wasn’t in the mood to dig further into that.

He crossed the room, lowering himself back into the armchair he’d been stationed in before his night was interrupted.

“You’re an hour and a half late.”

His tone was clipped. His eyes cold and hard. Fixed directly on you in an almost invasive kind of eye-contact. He jerked up his balaclava to his nose to take a deep drink from his glass. Studying you from over the rim. Killing the contents and setting it back on the side table with a soft thud.

You pursed your lips for a fraction of a second, standing from the corner of the bed and pacing across the small room to stand in front of him. Threatening to encroach on his personal space. Smiling tightly in a way that seemed to come with a practiced nonchalance. That same feeling settled in the center of his stomach.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I got caught up.”

Your soft, sweet tone did nothing to tame his irritation.

“They couldn’t even send a professional?”

He shot back tersely, folding his arms over his chest. You cocked your head slightly to the side. A fraction of genuine humor peeking through your smile.

“Plenty professional.”

You shrugged, letting the comment roll off of you. Water off a duck’s back. It irritated Simon to no end and he couldn’t pinpoint why. Trying to settle his mind by watching the way your perfectly manicured fingers began to work on slowly undoing the buttons of your coat with careful attention.

He snorted, tugging his balaclava back down over his jaw.

“That your thing, then?”

You gestured to his face covering. Shrugging off your coat to reveal a fucking scrap of a dress. Much more in-line with what he’d imagined a hooker to wear. A tiny, black, strapless thing that hugged your curves like it had been sewn directly onto you. Black lace garter pulled high on your thigh. Knee-height black boots that must have made you four inches taller than you were.

He cocked a brow, tapping a finger on the arm of his chair.

“Somethin’ like that.”

You cracked a true smile at that. Folding your coat neatly in your arms before setting it on the beat-up dresser to his right. Returning attentively to your spot in front of him.

He stiffened. Already perfect posture becoming rigid to the point of snapping. Keeping his hands firmly planted on either arm of the chair. Narrowing his eyes as he looked over your face in much closer detail.

“It’s late.”

Was all he managed. Voice rough as ever.

“And?”

You tilted your head like a confused dog.

“And you were an hour and a half late. It’s late.”

He shot back dryly. Nails digging into the chair.

“Let me make it up to you.“

You sank to your knees just between his legs surprisingly gracefully given how tight your dress was. Falling delicately onto the disgusting carpet. Faded and torn and fraying. Scratching at your bare knees. Didn’t even pull a face. Conditioned to understand that this was normal. Trained to grin and bear it. Another stone added to the weight anchoring him to his seat.

It was horribly cliche. Such a painfully tacky line, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth; so he shifted his hips forward and allowed your slender fingers to dance up his thighs and dip under the waistband of his sweatpants. Aided you in tugging them down to his ankles. Grit his teeth together when you began palming him through his underwear. Trying not to catch your eyes that were fixed up on him. Trying to push the nagging voice in the back of his mind away. Reminding him of just how dirty this was. Made him feel fucking pathetic. Calling in the aid of a hooker like he couldn’t bed a girl himself.

And the worst part. The part that brought up the most self-loathing; was how fucking fast the blood was racing to his cock under your touch. How much he truly enjoyed seeing you knelt down and blinking up at him with a look that could have been confused for adoration. Maybe you were a professional.

He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose when you finally sprung his aching cock free from his boxers. Forcing his head back to avoid your gaze. Pressing it hard against the wall to the point of giving himself a headache. Scarring the soft wood of the chair’s arms with his nails when you licked a hot stripe from his base to the tip.

All of his guilt and knotted up emotions seemed to dissolve themselves at least partially when you wrapped your lips around him. He’d almost forgotten just how warm a mouth was. Infinitely better than his hand. Jesus, was it.

He kept his hands to himself. Not needing to guide you like he had so many others. Tried to let himself relax under the feeling of your hand gripping his base and your mouth working his tip. And he nearly did get swept away when you removed your hand and tried to force his stiff cock to the back of your throat. Allowing you to work at choking and gagging around him for longer than was probably polite. But again, he just found himself irritated. Edging himself out of pure goddamn accident because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t force himself from his mind.

He couldn’t understand why you were such a sticking point to him. He’d had one night stands before. Hell, that’s all he’d had. Never cared much about the quality or condition or history of the girls he slept with. Maybe he had a savior complex he was too stubborn to admit to. Maybe his mind had been so warped and addled over the years that he formed some kind of baseless connection with you for God knew what reason. He just couldn’t fucking stop thinking about you.

He would have liked to. Would have liked to screw his eyes shut and focus on how good you felt wrapped around him. Mouth hot and wet. Wanted to focus on the ecstasy of your throat struggling to fit him. Listen to your soft, choked whines. Let himself pretend you were no different to the others he’d bedded before, but it was fruitless. He made a low sound, a growl that lodged itself somewhere in his chest, before taking your jaw in his hand and pulling you off of him. Cock still throbbing like it had its own heartbeat.

“You need to go.”

He made the mistake of glancing down. Saw the way your perfect makeup had begun smearing around your eyes and down your cheeks just barely. Big eyes rimmed with tears. Nose running, chin and lips glistening. Slick from your own spit. It nearly pushed him over the edge, but he knew inevitably he was prolonging his own torture.

“What?”

Your voice was hoarse because of how much strain your throat had been under. Softer than it had been. Less confident. You looked almost hurt. Wiping your mouth on the back of your hand and sniffing softly. Jaw held fixed in his hand.

“You need to go.”

He repeated, firmer this time. Sucking his teeth. Trying to ignore the way your gentle panting cooled the shining trails of spit running down his shaft and sent a chill up his spine.

Your face twisted in confusion, mouth falling open. Leaning back on your haunches to look him over like he’d suddenly grown another head.

“Is it not good?”

He groaned softly, finally letting go of your head. Not realizing just how much effort it had taken for him to pull you off until he saw the small red marks decorating the delicate skin of your jaw.

“S’fine.”

“Fine?”

You looked properly offended. A little confused. Like this had never happened before- and it probably hadn’t. Of course he’d be the one to stain your perfect record. Of course he’d be the one to warp your pretty face like that. Drove him up the fucking wall.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Now he was backed-up, pissed off, and you wouldn’t leave as easily as he would’ve liked. If he was lucky, he’d still have half a hard-on by the time he got you out the door. Maybe coax out a less than satisfying orgasm that would at least put him to sleep.

“Gave myself lockjaw for fine?”

You spoke again, those same nimble fingers now gently massaging the hinge of your jaw. He tried to avoid looking at the way your dress bunched around your hips and revealed your panties. Black lace that matched the garter on your thigh.

“It’s late.”

He huffed a sigh. Leaning down to fumble in his sweatpants pocket for a cigarette and a lighter. Needing anything else to focus on. It brought him nearly nose to nose with you. Not realizing until he flicked his eyes up. And you didn’t recoil. Sat there half glaring at him, the tip of your nose almost brushing his through the balaclava. You were pretty even this close. Probably more so.

“You’ve said.”

You shot back cooly, brows knit together.

“Have I?”

He pulled back up, hooking his mask up over his nose once more and sticking the cigarette between his teeth.

“Few times.”

You looked wholly unamused. He flicked his lighter open. Lighting the tip and taking a deep drag.

“Meant it a few times.”

He shrugged, speaking through his exhale. Turning his chin up and away from you so the curling smoke didn’t wash over you.

You snorted, pushing up to your feet, putting your hands on your hips and giving him a once-over.

“You’re seriously asking me to leave?”

His teeth sunk into the butt of the cigarette just a fraction too hard. He felt the crunch of the filter bending under the force.

“S’not you, it’s me.”

He offered. A wisp of a dry smile tugging momentarily at the corner of his lips. This earned another smile from you. He caught it even through the way you chewed the inside of your cheek.

“You married?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. He almost choked on the cloud of smoke he’d been drawing in.

“No.”

His voice was harsh. Like a string pulled taught to the point of snapping.

“So what is it? You don’t like me?”

You shifted your weight a bit, but he could tell it wasn’t because you were uncomfortable. You still held yourself confidently. Shoulders rolled back, posture straight but not stiff.

“Bloody hell.”

He groaned, rubbing his brow.

“Is that it, then?”

You prodded further.

“No.”

You seemed thoroughly dissatisfied with his answers. But he didn’t know what else he could say. You seemed fine. Pretty girl. Got him closer to an orgasm than he’d come in weeks. He just couldn’t get over the fact that you were hired out to do this. Made him feel too dirty. That and he’d already looked too far into the situation. You seemed like you’d been doing this longer than anyone should have to. Strangely enough he felt some obligation to protect you. Wanted to pull you away from whatever situation that had pushed you to this.

“So what’s the hang up?”

You huffed a sigh.

“Don’t usually do this.”

He grunted out, resigning to the fact that he’d have to drink himself to sleep at this point. Leaning down to jerk his sweatpants back up his legs.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You snarked back. He snorted a humorless chuckle from around the cigarette.

“Nothin’ against you.”

“Yeah, alright.”

You shook your head, a small smile curving your mouth. A mix of confusion and amusement. Like you couldn’t believe that this was really happening.

“I’m not in the business of I.O.U’s.”

You said, looking over your shoulder while you walked over to grab your coat from the dresser.

“S’at so?”

He ashed his cigarette into his empty glass. Trying not to snort when you flashed him a sour look.

“You’re sure? I’m supposed to be here all night.”

You were already fastening the buttons on your coat. Glancing past him to the window on the back wall of the small room. The curtains were drawn, but through the backlight of the street lamps outside you could see rain streaking the glass.

“Mhm”

He hummed his answer. Silently grateful that you were finally moving toward leaving. Least he’d be able to get a few hours of shut eye before having to go back out tomorrow. Hopefully sleep off the guilt and the slightly sick feeling that’d settled itself over him.

You left a few minutes later. After making absolutely certain he was sure. Then it was ‘cheers’ and he was dead bolting the door. He got a fresh glass and downed the rest of the bottle of whiskey. Not enough to even get him tipsy, but enough to lull him into a dreamless sleep for the few hours he allowed himself.

He should have been expecting that Johnny would give him a fucking earful in the days following. You must’ve said something to the auburn haired girl and it got around. Wouldn’t shut up about it. Gave him shit like he was getting paid to do it. Couldn’t believe that he’d pass up an opportunity like that.

They got shipped back to base about a week later. Simon was thankful for the short break. Slowly working on forgetting the entire mission. The whole ordeal with you. Focused his efforts on training and filling out the endless towers of paperwork that’d gathered on the edge of his desk in his absence.

And then it was months later. And he’d made good progress on forgetting France. Mission was a bust. Wasted time and money and effort for no payout. Turns out their mark had been in Germany the entire time. Tipped off that they were on the lookout for him. Johnny slowly stopped his teasing. Only occasionally bringing it up when Simon dismissed the efforts of an overly eager private. Things went back to normal.

After getting intel on a new assignment, Price had urged the boys to get together at some pub by base for drinks on him. Chat about next steps and do some more of the team bonding he was so keen on. Simon grudgingly obliged. The bar was full of people seeing as it was a Friday, so he was content people-watching and grunting a few words when prompted. Decent way to kill a few hours.

He’d excused himself to go outside for a smoke, pushing through the crowd until he finally reached the side alley next to the pub. Taking a few long moments to work his way through a cigarette and let his head stop pounding from the noise of the inside. He wasn’t focused on anything in particular, at least not until he heard some shouting on the street.

He furrowed his brow slightly, pushing off the brick he’d been leaned against and sidling out to see what was going on. Not usually interested in the commotion, but moving out of some deep-rooted obligation to supervise a situation.

He saw a car with dark tinted windows rolling slowly down the road. The driver leaning half-out his window and shouting something over to a girl who was walking by herself down the sidewalk. Her back was to Simon, but he could tell by how stiff she was that this wasn’t a friendly exchange.

He groaned under his breath, taking a moment to debate on if he should get involved before flicking his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his heel. Starting down the street toward the girl.

It didn’t take him long to close the distance between them. The girl was walking slowly, he could see the way her head was on a swivel, searching for an escape. The driver of the car was shouting something crass at her and she was making a point of not engaging.

“Alright?”

He called out through the dim street, rolling his shoulders back and tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. Puffing out his chest slightly in case his sheer size alone wasn’t enough to impress.

The driver faltered slightly, the girl did not stop to look back.

“Yeah, mate. Cheers.”

The man called back, trying to sound casual. Simon grunted and nodded, staying as friendly as he could. Moving a little closer to the curb to shield the girl from view. Thankfully, this was all the interaction the driver seemed to need to get the hint. Pulling off without much more prompting.

The girl’s posture immediately relaxed. Shoulders dropped, slowing her gait to a stop.

“Thanks. I owe you-“

Her voice cut off like someone had pressed mute when she turned to face Simon. He was stunned. Fucking shocked to see your face. This had to be some cruel trick played on him by the universe.

You looked great. Better than you had in France- if that was even possible. Even with the way your face paled, he could tell. Your eyes were brighter. Shining at him like headlights. He would have been able to convince himself he was hallucinating if you hadn’t had that same look of recognition painted over your face.

“Thought you weren’t in the business of I.O.U’s.”

He broke the silence after a few long moments. Both of you stood rooted to the pavement mere yards apart. Your breathless laugh broke the tension like a stone dropped in the middle of a stilled lake.

“I wasn’t.”

He nodded sharply.

“And now?”

You smiled. Brighter than you had before.

“I could be persuaded.”

He scoffed.

“S’at so?”

[iifishizzleii]

johnny mactavish who has a sister— you.

part two unedited 😛

you’re younger than him by five years, a sweet, soft thing that has no business being so close to his work life. but you’re stubborn and caring, and you force him to tell you every time he’s back from a mission so you can go to his flat and make him dinner while you two catch up on (your) life.

you’re his best friend. the thorn in his side. his baby sister that deserves only the best of the world in every aspect. you always get the good things, even if it means johnny has to deal with the consequences. especially when it comes to men.

johnny is a protective older brother. he’ll want to meet the guy you fall in love with and have the typical gun in hand while johnny cleans it like how his dad would have done if he were still around. he’ll want to not so subtly threaten to wipe the guy’s existence off of the face of the earth if he so much as makes you cry, and send the guy home pissing his pants. sure, you’ll get mad at him, but johnny’s seen what heartbreak does to people.

he knows his sister. you put your heart into all that you do, and if it gets thrown in your face after being stomped and spat on? he doesn’t want to see what happens to you after that. he wouldn’t be able to without breaking several laws.

so, when it comes to johnny’s sister, you, he’s very picky with the men you bring to his flat to introduce.

until the evening you meet his lieutenant. simon ghost riley. because johnny had gone drinking with the men after a particularly rough mission, and after getting absolutely smashed, price takes it upon himself to contact the only person the scot has in his phone. you.

and johnny should have known. he should have known.

the moment he saw you outside the bar, ghost’s arm under his and wrapping around the sergeant’s waist to keep him steady. the way you greet the 141 with a gentle smile and light voice. the way you stare at ghost a beat too long, and the way his grip on johnny’s waist tightens slightly as he returns your hello with one of his own. one that’s not as gruff, not as piercing as it usually was when meeting a stranger.

like how it was when he first met johnny.

and he hates it. he hates it so fucking much.

the way you and ghost click so easily. how ghost starts spending more and more time around johhny’s place after he met you. how his voice softens when he speaks to his sister, how his gaze loses its sharpness. how he watches her every move, a look of yearning and adoration growing by the day in those soft brown eyes of his.

johnny hates it.

because that wasn’t supposed to be you. that was supposed to be him.

he was supposed to be getting the gentle touches and quiet huffs of laughter. he was supposed to be the one ghost gave dry compliments to so he could smile at them. he was supposed to be the reason ghost stopped smoking because he didn’t like the scent that lingered. he was the one ghost was supposed to whisper inside jokes to whenever they were surrounded by other people. that was supposed to be him sitting at ghost’s side, his head on the taller man’s shoulder as they watched an inaccurate military movie, so that they could critique it throughout because it was him who knew that ghost liked to do those kinds of things.

but, you always get the good things. even if it means johnny has to deal with the consequences.

[guppybibi]

"C'mon bonnie, it aint that scary! I'll even hold yer hand th' whole time!" Johnny shouts excitedly, attempting to drag your trembling form into the queue lining up to go to the haunted house. He's been waiting for this all year! So much so that he forgets that maybe he shouldn't really force you..Nonetheless the excitement takes over him like an unhealthy drug and he manages to convince you to go with him.

You're already sweating buckets, you aren't even close to the start of the line. While Johnny was practically dancing on the spot as if he was in a disco! How is he not horrified of the screams coming from inside the haunted house? Or how the previous people before them come out so disheveled?

The line seemed to be moving in slow-motion, you saw how the entrance slowly started getting closer and closer..Soon Johnny is gently tugging you by the wrist before he speaks. "It's oor turn lassie, hold tight!"

The haunted house was pitch black aside from the very few candles lit up to set the mood, you could only wish it was the romantic kind but unfortunately it was the kind of mood that'd make you wanna run away without looking back. You weren't too sure what to expect when Johnny mindlessly wanders around the whole place, was he not aware that this was a literal maze..?

Well, guess it was too late to tell him when he lets out the most bloodcurdling scream after a bloodied synthetic hand pushes itself out from the wall and appears right in front of his face. You cover his mouth with a shaky hand, muffling his deafening scream. You swore you could hear the employees snickering as they watched you two from the dodgy surveillance cameras.

The two of you continue walking, towards the exit hopefully. Tightly clutching onto Johnny's arm like it was an instinct when you heard heavy steps on the creaky hardwood floors. It practically felt endless as you turned left and right, your ears filling with eery silence besides the ringing and occasional horrific screams which you can't really tell if they're actually real or playing through a speaker..

Either way, it still makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up when you adjusted your already tight grip on Johnny's arm. You swore you could feel goosebumps form on his skin when you guys entered a particularly cold room. A room that had no excuse to be this cold.

Dashing out of the room, well attempting to at least, simply just ignore the..scares you both came across that made you almost leave your spirit behind. By this point, you and Johnny are just trying your bestest to not piss yourselves. You were for sure cursing his whole bloodline by now as well, curse him and his bravery to try out these things!

And as if God finally answered your call, you and Johnny see an exit! Running towards it felt like passing through the gates of heaven as you felt all fear diminish once you step foot outside. You glare at Johnny who has finally managed to catch his breath, "That was fun bonnie, we shuid dae it a-" You cut him off, placing a finger on his lips. "Never again MacTavish, never again."

..Well you two did go again next year!

[queenhunter102]

Part 6 (Part 5) (Part 7) Lore Page

You look up at your new Lieutenant, eyeing him slightly, ’How does he know what NBOC is?’ you wonder, now clocking him as a potential threat. “Yeah? That’s me, I’m only on loan to the task force for this new threat” You say, your hand going to the patch on your wrist, picking at the skin a little.

Gaz turned his head to you, a confused look on his face “But you’re an Omega? Isn’t there not still a law banning Omegas on ships?” He asked you to tilt your head side to side, trying to think of a way to answer.

“Yes and no, yes there is still a law banning us from the ships, but under special circumstances, we are given a pass and that includes my speciality,” You say, it sounds like the most straightforward answer you could give. Without going too far into the law of the land and the law of the nation, Gaz nods his head almost as if he is trying to dissect the answer in his head, “What IS your speciality, I was never told” Johnny asked, your eyes shifted to him, your eyes clashing, you flicked your eyes to Captain Price unsure how much you were allowed to disclose, he only gave you a shrug. You took that as you could disclose as much as you want, you sigh before answering, “As Captain Price said, I’m from the Bioengineering Unit, but my speciality was Serums and Biological weapons” You say, not divulging any other pieces of information, thinking it best to leave them in the dark a little. Johnny nods “So what, You created mustard gas,” he asked, tilting his head, “A little bit more deadly but yeah,” you say, biting your lip, not wanting to be isolated by the team already, not many Alpha’s liked being outmatched by something that many deemed weaker. You had been isolated by your blood pack your whole life, you didn’t need that with people you were supposed to trust with your life.

Almost as if sensing the panic and fear Alejandro spoke “So about the fight? What did you do, I saw the guy he looked like he was beaten by a pack and not one little Omega” he said trying to sound funny, you gave him a half smile thankful for him breaking the tension you felt. “What? Can’t believe that an Omega could take an Alpha” You say trying to sound funny, unsure if you were getting it across, correctly a laugh came from beside Alejandro. “You’ve never gotten into a fight with an Omega have you Alejandro?” Gaz said laughing,  “Man the stories I could tell you about my brother getting into fights with the Alpha’s in my blood pack are long and violent”. You look over smiling at Gaz glad to know that at least one member of the team knew what an Omega was like when they got into a fight.

“Oh yeah? Like what they got little claws?” Johnny joked it set off your instincts wanting blood for the disrespect, and you rolled your shoulders trying to shake off the feeling. “You saw what they did to that Alpha, the state he was in, imagine the state he would be in if that was a street fight…”Gaz paused turning to you “Do you have a patch?” you nod choosing to speak. Gaz shook his head, smiling “Imagine the state he would be in if they weren’t medicated”, Johnny eyed you before he turned to Captain Price eyebrows raised. “Alright get out, I have meetings to go to and people to piss off  Captain Price said, you were the last one to stand, you had hardly made it to the door before Captain Price’s voice came across to you. “Are you going to tell me, why MI5 was so desperate to get rid of you?” he asked, you turned your head to him, to see him with his arms crossed and his legs shoulder apart, and you shrugged.“I guess you will just have to find out,” You say, looking at him, he lifts a brow at you. “I take it, I am about to piss off the head of the NBOC,” He said sighing, sounding truly exhausted, he rubbed his eyes before he scrubbed his hand down his face. “Why do I always get the ones that require me to piss people off,” Captain Price said, leaning his hip against the wooden table, he sighed again waving you off. “Alright, Alright, let me work my magic” He said, as he took a seat at the head of the table, you walked out the door closing it shut behind you.

[bc17-writes]

The Hand That Feeds - Chapter 1

Uhhh my fic got 10K+ hits on AO3 so I thought I'd post the first chapter here while I'm working on chapter 9 and some drabble like things okay cool thanks (no use of y/n)

(I also haven't used tumblr since college so if anyone has any hints, tips, tricks let me know)

Summary: You're Simon's pregnant new neighbor.

chapter specific c/w: none

Ghost is a creature of habit - most every moment of his life is structured into routines. Missions broken down to the minute, with backup plans upon backup plans. Days on base divided into blocks - trainings, briefings, meal times. Mornings and evenings in his apartment scheduled by the minute. Ghost thrives when he knows what to expect.

What he does not expect is opening the door of his Manchester apartment at zero two hundred hours to leave for his morning run, and seeing you stumble on the uneven carpet in the hallway before him. You’re half his size, dressed not dissimilarly to himself in an oversized black hoodie and joggers. The cardboard box you hold nearly flies out of your hands before he reacts, grabbing the scruff of your hoodie with one hand and steadying the box with the other.

“Christ,” he says, putting you back to rights. His voice is deep and rough with disuse. “Y’alright?”

“Yeah, sorry, thank you” you reply. “Not sure what happened.”

“Carpet’s fucked. ‘Sall uneven.” He watches you set the box down before the door of the recently vacated apartment next to his.

You pull out a lanyard from your pocket, loaded with too many keys and trinkets to keep track of, looking through them for the right one.

“It’s silver. With a square head.”

You find it almost immediately and thank him, again, opening the door and nudging the box in with your foot. You don’t lock it back.

Ghost narrows his eyes at that.

“Looks like we’re neighbors!” You give him your name and hold out a hand with a smile.

To him, it is blinding as the sun. You are resplendent, even with red, sleepy eyes and road-trip hair. You are stunning, in shapeless clothes with a few crumbs on your hoodie.

You smile at him despite his black mask and hood pulled so far over his head he knows his eyes are hidden in shadows.

He takes your hand in one of his gloved ones, and you shake it firmly, unflinchingly, the smile never leaving your face. You don’t divert your eyes, like the anonymous people he passes on his runs, or at the pub. You don’t shy away like the cashier at the little shop where he buys his tea. You don’t cower or flinch, like mothers moving their children from his view when he picks up meat at the butcher’s.

“I’m Simon.”

+

“Who pissed in your tea this morning, Ghost?” Captain Price asks, leaning back on the cool wall next to Ghost. “Really running the recruits through the ringer today.”

“L.T. didn’t get his tea this morning.” Soap interjects slyly from Ghost’s other side, before he can respond.

“Watch it, Johnny,” Ghost growls.

“Rolled up late, right before PT. Didn’t even have time for a ‘cuppa’”

“Soap!” Ghost snaps, not turning from the recruits.

“Late?” Price asks, incredulously.

“Wasn’t late. Got here when I was ‘sposed to.”

“Just later than every single other day.”

Ghost clenches his jaw, crossed arms tightening minutely across his chest. Soap obviously has a death wish.

Price hums in consideration and Ghost can feel the Captain’s eyes boring into him.

-

Simon had ended up helping you move the rest of your things from your ancient van, loading them onto a small flatbed cart so you didn’t have to bring them up the elevator one by one. He didn’t let you lift a finger. He brought them into your apartment, with your permission, and deposited them into their corresponding rooms, each mirrored from his own, just on the other side of the wall.

You’d filled the silence easily, despite the early hour and your obviously sleep-deprived state, not requiring him to speak much, and hardly asking him questions.

You’d puttered about, unboxing a few of your things, and told him a little about your job as a translator as he set up your tiny desk and computer.

You’d interjected multiple times about how he didn’t have to, how he’d helped enough, how he probably had somewhere to be considering he looked like he was on the way out already. Each time he’d say he’d be on his way if you wanted and each time you shook your head.

You’d offered him coffee and compensation, both of which he refused, counter-offering with his number and the offer to call him if you needed help with anything else. You nodded in agreement, texting him immediately with your name and apartment number.

You never asked about the mask.

He’d had enough time afterwards for a smoke and a brief shower, but not much else, abandoning his usual morning run and tea before leaving for the base.

+

Ghost clenches his jaw under his mask, refusing to give Price his attention.

“Come see me after lunch, Ghost.” Price says before walking away, not even waiting for a response.

“Don’t fucking try that again Soap,” Ghost growls under his breath.

Johnny just laughs.

+

Simon makes his way to Price’s office after lunch, closing the door behind him and leaning back on it.

“Take a seat, Simon,” Price says calmly, motioning to the plush leather chair in front of his desk.

“‘m alright, sir.”

Price sighs, shuffling the folders on his desk to the side and folding his hands atop it. “About what Soap said… Son, I don’t want you to think you need to be here any more than you have to. It’s good to have a life at home. Hobbies or- whatever you want. I trust you with my life. Have your tea at home. As long as you are where you’re supposed to be and when, I want you to enjoy your life outside of all this.”

Ghost hardly holds back a scoff at the idea - at having a home that isn’t just walls and a too soft mattress where he lays, unsleeping, glaring at the ceiling, keeping the night terrors at bay. “That all, sir?”

“That’s all. Dismissed.”

+

When Simon finally gets back to his apartment that night, he finds a six-pack of beer in front of his door, with a thank you note in your handwriting.

[feralforfrank]

siimon riley x fem!reader

like, two people asked for more, so ..... voilà.

one

once you start dating simon, you gradually ease up on the mean nicknames and glaring. your stares aren't as mean as they were when he spilt that beer all over you, or when he took you to what was the possible worst date of your life just to piss you off (don't worry, he made up later).

he doesn't fully escape your wrath, though. he forgot to pick you up from the grocery store in the middle of january, when you had specifically asked him to keep an eye on his phone and wait for your call. he ended up falling asleep while half-watching a documentary and petting your cat.

you had to walk home, which wasn't that bad, considering you thankfully weren't carrying many bags, but you were still super angry with him. although, most of the anger dissipated when you saw him (barely fitting) dosed off on your tiny couch (how would you ever stay mad, he looked adorable), you did hit him in the head violently to wake him up. then purposely gave him the cold shoulder when he tried helping you organise the groceries, accidentally knocking the milk carton's sharp edges on his exposed bicep.

despite the rare occasions when he frustrates you, you're softer with him now. still have the same fire in your eyes and bitchy tone in your voice, but it's hardly ever directed at him.

soap is usually the target of your never-ending wrath. when he teases his lieutenant about how pussy-whipped he is, he gets a snarky comment back which makes kyle cough to hide his chuckles.

"oi, lass, sometimes i think ye donae like me a'all!"

"that's right, i don't!" you'll reply with such a serious tone, johnny has to pause, mouth hanging open.

you'll blankly stare at him for a few seconds and his gaze will flicker from your face to simon's, who's also staring at him unemotionallly, while his fingers play with the end of your dress. he doesn't speak for a few seconds, trying to figure out if you're really serious or not. kyle does his best not to burst out laughing, hiding his smile by drinking, and price just shakes his head and turns his attention to the tv.

the corner of your lip cracks a smile, and soap visibly relaxes. "ye canae do tha' t'me, bonnie. ye hurt me feelings!" he clutches his chest dramatically.

"then you better stop poking fun at my boyfriend, sergeant. or i'll beat you up."

soap raises his hands in surrender, and you feel said boyfriend, burying his nose in your hair and kissing the top of your head.

"my lovely savior."

what simon really liked about you, from your very first meeting, was your ability to yell at anyone (if they wronged you in a way) with no fear. just absolute rage.

there have been times men tried hitting on you, and with simon gone from your side for whatever reason, you have to put a stop to their advances alone.

some are understanding when you say you already have a boyfriend, others leave when you glare at them and call them dickheads for disrespecting a woman's choice, but then there are the annoying dumbfucks who just can't, for the life of them, take the hint.

"did your date ditch you?" you roll your eyes at his smug smirk. "i would never leave such a sexy lady alone, by the way."

you've had enough of the guy, for he hasn't stopped bothering you ever since simon stepped out of line to answer a work-related call. he's behind you, leaning in front to talk in your ear. you haven't even bothered turning around.

the place is crowded and you can't see simon from where you're standing. the lady, three people in front of you, is taking ages to order her movie snacks, and you really are starting to regret dragging him to the movies. you could've pirated it or something.

your leg is nervously tapping on the floor, a tight grip over simon's wallet, and pursed lips hiding gritted teeth. you're sure you look like happiness personified.

"you can sit with me and my friends, if you'd like. i'm sure they wouldn't mind a hot piece of arse such as yourself—" smack.

your slap is uncharacteristically loud and resonates in the room. heads turn, and the guy is frozen in his place, hand touching his burning cheek.

"would you shut the fuck up and take a fucking hint already?!" you try to control your voice, but the words come out as a shout. "for the last time, i have a fucking boyfriend. leave. me. alone."

before he can say anything, a familiar scent enters your nostrils. simon's hand wraps loosely around your shoulder. "what's goin' on 'ere?"

"this fucking pig won't leave me alone!" you take a step closer to the guy threateningly, but simon is quick to pull you back.

"i was just trying to make conversation, you bitch!" smack.

it all happens so fast, simon is barely able to grab you before you claw the guy's eyes out. his friends pull him outside as he throws curses at you, but you just give him the middle finger and allow simon to drag you up to the popcorn section.

"i leave you alone for one minute, lovie..." simon whispers to you.

you shrug. "he brought it upon himself. i was nice by not answering, but he called me a hot piece of arse! and i just had it up to here with him! unbelievable!"

"well, you are hot, and you have a nice arse." simon receives an elbow to the ribs.

"fuck off."

"c'mon, pretty girl, before you terrorise the rest of the cinema."

he finds your scrunched eybrows, flushed cheeks, and fiery gaze extremely hot. your height (compared to him) makes you storming out when angry, almost comical. adorable.

um....this got out of hand....idk.....

[xo-cod]

A sprinkle of angst for you. my dear.

You know that one meme of that one woman that’s sitting on the coach and there are five guys behind her?

One day, TF141, Hyperfem! Reader, and König (who surprisingly has not gotten his head ripped off by Ghost during his tag along. Yet) walk into base and see just a mass of that meme hanging everywhere with their faces on it, Hyperfem! Reader’s face being on the woman on the coach’s and The TF141 guy’s and König’s face being on the five men behind the couch’s.

Hyperfem! Reader starts to tear up because she knows what the meme means and now knows that someone, if not a group of certain people, think she’s a barrack bunny (not a good thing to be called in the military) and is beyond humiliated not only for herself but for her friends as well.

The boys are beyond pissed to say the least.

thank you, lovely :) they'd be so angry honestly <33 def rushed/ooc ❤‼️

"what... is this?"

it had been könig's voice that had disrupted the calmness of the atmosphere, causing the others to look his way with ghost rolling his eyes at the colonel

"be a little more specific, will you?" came the lieutenant's hard voice, raising his brow under his balaclava. the tone usually would've prompted the other to retaliate but instead he turns the paper in his hands, baby blues darkened at what he's found

"bloody hell" gaz was the next to speak, holding the paper from könig's hand to inspect it himself. it looked like some ill mannered prank, your sweet face in the middle with the men plastered around you. he hadn't noticed you coming up beside him, trying to shield you away from it but it was too late. you had seen the picture causing you to softly gasp at the atrocity you saw.

"oh my god" your voice was but a soft whisper, the embarrassment and humiliation flooding your face while you stared at the picture in pure utter horror and disbelief

"what the hell is this about?" price's voice was cold, sharp as he snatched the paper from the seargent. his eyes narrowed as he tried to decipher the meaning behind it. looking to you with concern and confusion, not understanding why you looked so distraught. you hadn't even wanted to say anything, the words dying on your lips but with everyone looking at you almost expectantly you knew they had to find out

"it's a reference, a sexual one. they think that we... that i get passed between you five" your voice was strained with the shame of not only your name being dragged through the dirt but the rest of your team members. the five men were quiet, looking back from you to the piece of paper again. shoulders tense with anger and rage, fingers clenched into fists. that you, someone they cared for deeply had been reduced to a sexual object by pure imbeciles

"give me that" ghost spoke with a harsh tone, grabbing the paper between his hands as his eyes glared down at it. then he looked at soap who nodded, awaiting the command

"johnny track down the sorry bastard who pulled this. looks like we've got a special visit to pay" cold brown eyes connected with soap's who nodded, already pulling out the laptop. this was usually your forte but you looked so incredibly distraught, the last thing any of them wanted was to place more pressure on you

"got 'em" soap spoke pulling out the list while his jaw clenched, trying not to lose his cool at the audacity these people had

"ghost, soap, könig you're with me. gaz stay back and clean this up" price ordered at the team who nodded and already separated into the rightful groups. gaz stayed back with you, ripping apart the papers as he tried to cheer you up with a soft hug and sweet words.

"i think they could have chosen a better picture of me" könig mumbled, his brow raised under his sniper hood while he looked down at the picture again as all four headed out. ghost scoffed, toying with the hilt of his knife between his fingers effortlessly as he glared at könig

"you're ugly, period. no amount of help could've fix your mug" ghost spoke coldly before there had been silence and then a hard punch echoing in the corridors, followed by a stern "easy lads!" barked out