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themotherofhorses · 11 months ago

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paloma: first meeting

— simon "ghost" riley x oc!silentdove reyes.

summary: he's not annoyed, per se, but ghost is just not really in the mood to chit-chat with the american airman scurrying around the base. at best, he tolerates them.

(or the first exchange between ghost and his montanan woman.)

warnings: none, aside from explicit language.

note: okay, so despite this being an obvious OC-insert series, i invite anyone and everyone to read it :D this is actually my first time tackling an OC-insert fanfic (as well as writing ghost) so im still trying to get the rhythm of things.

dividers by: @saradika

paloma (masterlist) | main masterlist

[2021]

Simon Riley won’t ever admit it — never aloud, anyway — but every time he steps foot on American soil, he feels more akin to a wolf draped in sheep’s clothing.

In his mind, he sticks out like a sore thumb. He is not a hero, really; unlike the lot teetering around the military base he is currently stationed at for the next five or so weeks, he is less flesh and blood, and more a phantom. Or something along those lines. Actually, that could explain why there is such little traffic aimed his way. But he doesn’t particularly care. His schedule lacks the room to voice any complaints.

Right now, his main concern is doing his job, and doing it right.

Two weeks back, Price had him fishing out his passport tucked away inside his bedside table. “Fancy a two month getaway to the States?” Great Falls, Montana, to be exact. High west, nearing the border of Canada, and surrounded by land he’s only ever seen in those silly ass spaghetti western movies.

The view is nice, he’ll admit. Beautiful, even. Exhilarating. He now understands why they refer to Montana as “Big Sky Country.”

Malmstrom is much smaller than he imagined, and homier too. The Air Force base is nestled within the city’s east side, offering its own museum and park. He’s quite grateful for the latter; the trails allow for his nighttime walks when the nightmares prove too shitty to sleep.

Great Falls is pretty as well. Price would like it, maybe Garrick too. He knows the two are big on history, and almost every inch of the city is drenched with some memory belonging to the old frontier days.

Upon arriving, the yanks provided him with his own private office, housed in the back of the 341st logistics readiness squadron. It’s nothin’ fancy, really, just a wee room furnished with a dark mahogany desk, two windows, a steel cabinet, the Montana flag to his left, and the American to his right.

Again, he’s not one to complain. Something’s something.

Earlier, one of the higher-up airmen, a Staff Sergeant Benson (he believes is the name), had handed him a folder jam-packed with a shit ton of mission statements — logistics, strategic planning, reports of previous global concerns, and reviews of the base’s Minuteman III intercontinental ballistic missile. All the documents are dated in a time range varying between two months ago to 0800 this morning.

In the back of his mind, he can already hear Price chuckling.

“Have fun, Simon.”

Bloody bastard.

So now, Ghost sits hunched over the desk, feeling a little too damn big for it. All the paperwork is strewn about messily around him, with sticky notes, a pen, and some other random shit of his. No one has yet to visit him; until that happens, he feels little need to remain organized.

His boot taps against the floor. “—Initial efforts to clean polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs) from launch facilities at Malmstrom AFB are ongoing but seeing success…” Ghost reads under his breath. PCBs? That’s nice to hear.

“...after PCBs were detected on surfaces in launch facilities at all three of the command’s missile wings.”

PCBs. Polychlorinated biphenyls — man-made and highly toxic, consisting of carbon, hydrogen, and chlorine atoms. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he flips onto the next page.

“We know they’re present on what appears to be otherwise pristine surfaces, due to the survey—”

—a sudden knock interrupts his reading.

With a curse on his tongue, Ghost sets down the report. He quicks a sneaking glance at his watch. 1342 hours. He’s due in a meeting at 1700.

“Come in.” His voice sounds low and raspy, the two words sounding more like a growl than a greeting. He’s not annoyed, per se, but Ghost is just not really in the mood to chit-chat with the American airmen scurrying around the base. At best, he tolerates them.

(In his mind, they’re all little Graves, ready to stir up a headache.)

The door slowly cracks open.

“Lieutenant Riley?” A female voice calls out — soft and cautious; Ghost’s chin drops against his knuckles. “Apologies for the disruption, sir, but I have some additional paperwork I need to drop off with you, at the request of my superior.” He grunts, and the airman then steps into his office, quickly shutting the door behind her before meeting his eyes.

It is entirely unlike him, Ghost knows, but his brain almost short-circuits right then and there. Two dark brown eyes, framed by thick lashes, peering up at him. Shit. He’d always thought brown was such a pretty eye color on a woman, but hers stretched further across common compliments.

Both of ‘em — they held no animosity, no uneasiness or fear, nothing.

That, itself, is quite fucking bizarre. He’s not used to that.

Ghost is .... well, Ghost. He knows the mask he is always donning on his face isn't exactly a sign of welcomeness. Just his mere presence is enough to startle the living shit out of rookies, baby recruits, wide-eyed sergeants, and the like. There is something inherently unnerving when you are unable to get a good reading of the person you're standing across from.

She’s brave, he thinks. Or merely oblivious to who he is.

“Here you go, sir,” the airman says while placing the packet of new documents down on his desk. Her lips are shaped prettily, plump and shining with a fresh layer of gloss, and across her nose is a splatter of faint freckles. Under a different circumstance, maybe he would’ve taken the time to try and count them all.

Ghost swallows hard, incapable (for what feels like the first time in his life) of mustering up an appropriate reply. “Ah, thank you, ma’am.”

The airman's brow lifts.

“Reyes,” she then corrects him with a kind smile, gesturing to the name badge sitting above her right chest pocket. Sure enough, in bold military lettering, reads Reyes. “My name is Senior Airman SilentDove Reyes. I am actually a cryptologic linguist analyst here on base; but sometimes I run errands for others, when not needed for a translation, of course.”

There is a slight chirp in her voice that Ghost picks up, along with the way she casually rocks back and forth on her feet. She seems awfully young, no older than 22, possibly 23, but even that's cutting it; a kid, compared to him. Maybe 5'7, with dark hair pulled back into two tight braids that fall at her belted waistline.

A stark contrast compared to him.

He's oddly curious now — about her age and first name and those long braids and why she stands before him, calm, collected, and sure — but he knows damn well this is not the time nor place for any questions. Both of them are on the clock, and it is likely she’ll need to report back to her supervisor soon.

He offers her a curt nod. “Well, thank you again, Reyes,” he states, keeping his voice flat.

“You are welcome, sir.” She turns to leave, but when her hand latches onto the doorknob, Reyes glances over her shoulder at him, “—oh, and Lieutenant? If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

–

The successful cleaning came after a bioenvironmental team at Malmstrom AFB …. Malmstrom AFB .. consulted with engineers and ….. and medical experts on the cleaning …. cleaning processes and–

–and agents most likely to effectively remove the chemicals….

He knows his mind is wandering off, in desperate search of that pretty senior airman from fifteen minutes ago. “Bloody fucking hell,” Ghost grumbles, leaning back in his chair. His head lolls back as he blinks upward, studying the ceiling overhead. The texture is popcorn, a creamy color, with a simple fan jutting down. One light bulb, probably a recent replacement.

Fuck. He doesn’t need this shit. Not one bit.

Five more weeks and he’ll be gone from here.

Ghost rechecks his watch, feeling a bit peeved at the time. 1411. He has several more hours until he can leave all this work shit behind for the evening, and maybe catch a short walk before hunkering down for the night. He doesn’t like sitting down for too long; it causes him to become restless. Agitated. Overthinking.

He doesn’t want distractions. He doesn’t need ‘em. Distractions ruin work ethic; clouding up the mind while fucking up all sense of responsibility. Price will have his ass if he – somehow – becomes compromised. And he'll never hear the end of it from Johnny.

Settling back into the paperwork, he decides that he won’t allow himself another second thinking about all that – the American airman and her pretty brown eyes and high cheekbones and first name.

Something tells him that’s easier said than done.

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tamara1234sky · 2 months ago

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SVU dream team:

I think of how great these characters would have been as team🙌🏾🔥

Captain Olivia Benson

Sergeant Odafin Tutuola

ADA Sonny Carisi

Detective Katriona Tamin

Dectective Grace Muncy

Detective Joe Velasco

Detective Terrence Bruno

Officer Tonie Churlish

(But DW & producers wants to be cheap and have a small cast: not pay actors what they deserve, fire actresses, have a rotating cast for female characters etc.)

#law and order svu #olivia benson #odafin tutuola #grace muncy #kat tamin #katriona tamin #joe velasco #terry bruno #tonie churlish #sonny carisi #svu

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desswright29 · 10 months ago

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CLASS 58 (Prolouge)

A/N: Soooo I wasn’t gonna do anymore Series but damnit this shit won’t turn me loose! So Here is a new MINI Series I’m introducing called CLASS 58!

“Alright! Everyone have a seat at the desk where you see your name tag. Do NOT touch the paperwork until instructed to do so!” The instructor yelled out.

You and the vaguely familiar faces around you, slowly walk around finding the seats that held your first and last names. Eager and full of anticipation for what lies ahead of you all for the day. You find your seat and run your finger across the name tag. New beginnings. You scan over the first paragraph of the papers sitting in front of you as you sit.

I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the …

“What the fuck are we getting ourselves into?” A feminine voice said from behind you. You turn to face her. She was short, brown skinned, and chubby. Her hair was cut low, and she had perfect teeth surrounded by pretty lips and a beautiful dimpled smile. She held out her hand to you, and you took it, giving it a short shake.

“I’m Benson. Kia Benson” You give her a smile, as she takes the seat next to you.

“Y/n Y/l/n”

“Nice to meet you Y/l/n.”

“Likewise” She sat, enthusiastically turning towards you in her chair, manspreading, and throwing her arm over the back of her chair. She stared at the side of your face until it started to burn, causing you to look over at her.

“Excuse me?” You say. She bit her lip as she looked you up and down.

“Mm”

“Mm?”

“May I ask how a pretty little thing like you ended up here?”

You smirk, and raise a brow sitting back in your chair. “You first.” She gave you that pretty smile once again.

“I was curious and let’s just say I enjoy challenges. I took a chance, applied and after an excruciating eight months of interviews my charm eventually landed me the position.” She gave you a wink and you rolled your eyes.

“Oh I'm sure it did. You seem full of charm.”

“You have yet to see the levels of my charm.”

“Mmm, can't wait.”

“I bet you can’t pretty lady. So what's your story?”

“I was recruited. Directly out of the military, Army HSC 601st Aviation Brigade. I should reintroduce myself. Staff Sergeant pretty little thing. As you so charmingly put it.” You held out your hand again and Benson lifted both of hers in defense.

“Oooh shit my bad boss lady! Ion want no smoke.” You chuckled at her dramatics.

“I know you don’t.” You said, once again raising your brows.

The sound of the heavy classroom door slamming behind someone interrupted the banter between you and your neighbor.

“Ay, Whaddup Udaku. Late as fuck as usual I see!”

“Ah Ha ha haaaa. Shut the fuck up.” The thick, sexy accent dripping in sarcasm caught your attention, and when you turned your head to see the woman donning such an attractive voice. Your heart dropped into your stomach. There she stood. Tall, shaved sides and a curly top. Her biceps bulged from a black compression top, and she wore shorts that read Army on the bottom left corner. A camelbak backpack was strapped to her shoulders, the rubber tip that dispensed the water rested between her lips as she walked down the aisle dapping up various people.

“Damn” you whisper to yourself.

“Man, damn! Here go this cock blocking bitch!” You hear come from next to you.

“And just what cock was she blocking? You glued the zipper on your backpack as soon as you opened your mouth.”

“Ha! You got jokes.”

“Fuck all that, who is she?” You said your eyes following her, as she sat in the desk front and center of the room.

“That’s Udaku. Another Army recruit. She’s been interning here for six months already. She comes and does P.T. with the canine team every morning and everyone knows her. And every woman in the force is trying to get her.”

“Well I might have to toss in my hat.” You sat forward in your seat, elbows on the table as you got an eye full of the African goddess. Benson smacks her teeth.

“Or, you could just be with someone who’s already interested” She opened her arms wide, and again there was that smile. You couldn't help but return with a giggle. “Benson, you're really cute. But I don't intend on dating anyone during this process. I have to be laser focused. We can be friends though. You seem pretty cool.”

“Pretty cool. I’m the shit!”

“See that’s what I'm talking about right there.” The two of you go back and forth until the instructors make their way to the front.

“Alright everyone settle down! Face forward!” The room quiets as everyone looks towards the front anxiously awaiting the man's next words.

“I’m Mr. Kaufman, your lead instructor. This is Mrs. Santigo, and Sgt. Sanders. These are my assistants. Your only job here for the next several months is to do as we say. Everything that we say to you will be for your benefit. We know what we’re doing, which is why we’ve been tasked with educating you all. It would behoove you to listen. Ms.Udaku! Please stand for me.” Shuri stood to her feet, turning to face the rest of the class. Her eyes scanning over the room.

“This is Udaku. She will be your class Captain and point of contact. If you have any questions after hours, contact Udaku. If she doesn't have the answer, she will contact us. If you're sick, call Udaku, If you have a family emergency, call Udaku.”

“If you need to ease the ache between your thighs. Call Udaku” The girl behind you whispered, causing snickers around the area. Shuri’s eyes landed on the group before settling on you. You were stuck in place as she looked you over, placing the straw of her camelbak back into her mouth. She bit into it and gave you a smirk and a wink before turning around and placing herself back into her seat.

“The oath that lay in front of you. I suggest you become very familiar with it and learn it by heart. That Oath will become your life. The line between a good or great officer. We will break you, and build you into some of the strongest people this world has to offer. This will be emotionally and physically demanding and not all of you will make it. But those of you who do will become a family. We’ll get ready to begin our first lesson here in a few but before we do. I want to say welcome Class 58 to The Federal Bureau of Investigations.”

WHO’S DOWN FOR COP SHURI!!!😉

#shuri udaku #letitia wright #shuri x reader #shuri fanfiction #spotify #shuri fic #shuri x you #Spotify

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e-leohiss · 9 months ago

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"Debts & Owes" || A Soap MacTavish fan-fiction

Characters involved: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price, & Laswell, + others. Pairing: Soap x Fem!Navy!Reader Wordcount: 7.9K Contains: violence, blood, cursing, swearing, rage, abuse, near-death scenarios, aggression, vengeance, bit of fluff, slowburn, I-like-you-but-I'm-not-aware, Song link: Devil in a Dress - Teddy Swims

Autor's note: Finally dropped the final output for this Soap fanfic *weeps in Victorian*

**PLEASE DO NOT translate, repost, or in any way reformat my work on this site and on any other social media.

"Debts & Owes"

Fingernails impatiently tapped the clipboard’s surface. Kate Laswell checked the wall clock for the nth time since the minute-hand had passed four o’clock. Forty minutes were closing in excruciatingly slow and there was a lot they had to discuss. However, the last set of people required for the meeting have yet to show.

Kate’s eyes shifted to the clock and the minute-hand struck the 8th. “C’mon, Laswell. Take a seat already, would you?” the Brit’s smooth voice pleaded to the Station Chief. She’d been leaning down on her palms bowed over the head of the desk for quite a while which disquieted the sergeant. However, she didn’t give in to Garrick’s plea.

To the right of Gaz, Soap scoffed as he flipped an unsheathed pocket knife in his hand, “Bunch o’ tardy toads they are. Professional my arse –”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, sergeant,” Captain Price chided. The Scot combed his mohawk back with a curse under his breath. Price shook his head and leaned back further on the edge of the desk with crossed arms. “Where the fuck is the Rear Admiral?” he questioned. He, too, was restless.

Kate stood up straight. “Let’s give them a couple more minutes. We’re commissioned to work with the Navy for this operation so we will have to wait,” she reasoned. Though her expression exhibited a cool, spiking displeasure at the tardiness of their awaited guests. Kate had been given an update earlier that Rear Admiral Myers and her party had touched down on time. So, what could possibly be stalling them?

Gaz perked at the new information. “The Navy, you said?” his gaze shifted between Laswell and Price. “You interested in tellin’ the Navy Admiral to sod off if they show?” asked the third Brit in the room. The corner of Gaz’s mouth quirked, “You’re barking at the wrong tree, mate. Soap appears to be a better candidate than I.”

Soap scoffed yet his spirits seemed to lift at the topic. He pointed his pocket knife at Gaz and Ghost, “Naw jist haud on. Dinnae ken about that, but I’m gaunnie skelp a memo up those navy numpties’ unpunctual hides. Aye, make ‘em greet layk wee bairns.” he said.

Gaz released a half-suppressed laugh at Soap’s words that he didn’t fully understand, whereas Ghost rolled his eyes. “Fucking Scots,” he drawled. On the other hand, Price and Laswell chose to disregard Soap’s flippancy due to mutual thoughts…and because they were slightly amused.

But their banter was cut short when the door rattled open.

Speaking of the devil, Rear Admiral Myers sauntered in sporting the prominent dark navy blue service uniform. Her sleeves displayed two golden bands and above her chest two silver stars. The Task force formally acknowledged the presence of the rear admiral by standing up at attention, addressing the Navy admiral simultaneously. Kate met R.Adm. Loraine Myers halfway offering a handshake, “We’ve been expecting you, Rear Admiral Myers. I’m glad you’re here.”

“My apologies for my late coming, Chief Laswell. Got side-tracked a bit back there with a call,” R.Adm. Myers apologized, to which Gaz deliberately raised a daring brow at Soap. Laswell proceeded with brief introductions of herself and Task Force 141.

At last, the remaining navy sailors entered the meeting room led by an older soldier.

Laswell espied your five-member group which Myers noticed. “Laswell, here’s the team of the S.W.C.C. I mentioned before: Captain Benson, Lieutenant Junior Grade Hunter, and Lieutenants Griffs, Weston, and…” the admiral pointed at each respective sailor, ending with your surname.

You all acknowledged Laswell and the Task Force. The captains even exchanged a couple of words between themselves. Both men were well-experienced through years or service yet Benson was on the older side. “Captain Price, I’m looking forward to working with you and your team,” said Benson, who grasped the Brit’s hand firmly. Price gave the slightly shorter man a curt nod, “Same here, Captain Benson. Hope the trip hasn’t made you all knackered.”

“Been a while since I’ve left my post, very refreshing. The air out here is less salty, if you ask me,” Benson jested. Smile lines decorated his cheeks under his salt and pepper scruff.

Your team walked further in just as Laswell revived the projector. Soldiers from different military branches eyed each other's unfamiliar faces. Ghost, with his skulled balaclava on, received second looks. But being himself he simply looked back unabated. Surprisingly, one of the female sailors, named Hunter, paused behind him, bent down, and asked plainly, “‘Scuse me, sir. Not to be rude or anything but where can I purchase a cool mask like yours?”

Soap and Gaz, who sat on either side of Ghost, overheard. They exchanged looks — stunned by the woman’s boldness. Soap was about to interfere but someone got to it before he could act.

You landed a heavy hand on Hunter’s lower back eliciting a yelp from her. “Quit being rude, fool,” you scolded Hunter with a frown. Fortunately, none of the captains, the admiral, and Laswell had noticed the interaction as they were occupied skimming through each other’s printed files.

You clicked your tongue, cocking your head to the side for her to continue walking. A sigh erupted from across the table, it was Lieutenant Frederick Griffs.

“Apologies, Lieutenant Riley. My comrade lacks proper manners when…inquisitive,” Griffs let out a strained cough. “We’ll sort her out ourselves after. Please, excuse her.”

“She’s all yours,” Ghost simply dismissed. He distinctly remembered a similar encounter with a certain Scot who demonstrated a rather bold greeting as well.

You escorted Hunter as she rubbed the sore spot on her back.

Ariel Hunter is the youngest in your group, 26 summers old, who still had the aura of a young-in. But, you and your group knew that she only seemed immature due to her curious nature. Honed exemplary skills of a promising sailor no doubt, but you looked out for her most times because the eldest-child-streak in you runs on auto-pilot.

“Third hit today, really?” Hunter groaned. You pulled out the chair for her, “You’re incorrigible, Ariel. Keep your head straight, will ya?”

Weston turned in his seat to present a teasing grin, “Yeah, Ariel, focus or else Ms. Sebastian here is going to be all up your ass. Poor you,” he used a thumb to point at you. Ariel snickered behind her hand at his joke referencing ‘The Little Mermaid’.

You flashed him a mocking grin while choosing a seat at the end of the table, right across a sergeant named MacTavish.

“Mind if I take this seat, Sgt. MacTavish?” you asked him. He looked up at you and shook his head. “No. Ye go ahead, Lieutenant.” You thanked him softly and took your seat. The minutes to follow required your full attention.

“Soldiers, you are here to be informed that our target is a smuggling organization operating on the East shores. A covert mission with an assault team formed between Task Force 141 and the SWCCs, mission ‘Shark Coast’,” Laswell began.

~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**

// 3:53 P.M. //

On the East coast within one of the hidden sites of the smuggling organization.

Soap pushed the battered door open and immediately ran to your crumpled form on the ground, walking right past the wounded corpse of a patrol guard that you’d taken down. The walls of the 3-story building weren’t going to hold much longer. The brittle concrete echoed throughout the compound sprinkling you in powder of cement.

“Lieutenant! Ye awright, lassie?” He examined your body for signs of injuries even when you’d said you were good. “Thought I saw a familiar ally sneaking past the warehouse,” he hoisted you up by the arm. “Right, let’s get out of here.”

Your forehead scrunched further and critical eyes snapped to him. “MacTavish,” you spoke, voice hoarse, “what the fuck took you so long–”. The sudden urge to cough struck your tonsils. You coughed up the dust stuck in your throat spitting the mixture of saliva and dirt to the side. Soap stepped back to give you space at an arm’s length. You heaved, feeling the irritation in your throat alleviate a considerable amount.

“Ten damn minutes of no response. Captain was about to burst a vein whether to come back for you or consider you K.I.A, sergeant,” you apathetically addressed the soldier. “Price wanted to stay back — refused to even get near the boat — but Benson agreed that I come look for you so everyone could exfil to secure intel at camp. Reinforcement will wait at the extraction point.”

But before Soap could explain why he had temporarily become M.I.A, small chunks from the ceiling began to drop. Both soldiers heard the metallic screeches around the building, solid pressure forcing metal to succumb.”Shite,” grunted Soap. Both of you ducked instinctively when a bigger portion of cement fell nearby.

“Take cover!” he shouted as the floor began to shake. Both of you leg it. Slinging rifles over your shoulders, you both maneuvered across the rubble heading straight for the desk by the opposite wall — the only furniture to shield both of you. You made it under the desk first, palms pressing up its surface to stabilize it. Soap gets underneath it beating the plummeting chunks and dirt a second early which would have landed on him.

Eyes shut and faces turned the opposite way avoiding the cloud of gray powder that followed. “Fucking hell!” cursed Soap, coughing a bit into the crease of his arm. “No fucking shit!” you commented. Bits and pieces rolled over the edge of the desk overhead; all three floors projecting the wails of the collapsing building.

You pushed up harder as the desk rattled. One hand goes down to check your radio, “Damn it all,” you cursed. You saw its wire torn right at the top, unmistakably caused by the physical fight with an enemy earlier. All of a sudden, Soap’s comms went off, his earpiece projecting mere glitches and static due to the weak signal; yet he spoke into it with hope that the receiver would catch his message. “Shark-Seven-One, negative on exit route –” a loud crash interrupted him. He doesn’t waste another second, “Building’s ‘bout to give out. Second floor fourth room on the right! We’re trapped!” But no clear response from the receiver came through.

His comms weren’t working, that’s why.

Your thoughts are frenzied as you list the possibilities of your awaiting fate.

(a) I could be buried alive.

(b) We miraculously survive yet are halfway dead.

(d) Brain matter coats this sorry excuse of a building.

(e) We’re found but as good as dead.

Try me. Let it fucking try me.

Your eyes scanned the area frantically. The wall to your left was almost entirely full of sliding glass windows. Large enough for a person to climb out of, luckily Soap can fit through. Your hands searched the pockets of your tactical bag for the dynamic rope. Soap noticed your sudden behavior. “Ye’ve got a plan, lass!” he exclaimed over the noise.

You cocked your head towards the windows explaining hurriedly, “We rappel down and pray we’ve got some cushioning down there if we need to jump.” He mimicked you and pulled out a rope he had from his pack. “Getting buried alive isn’t my thing.”

You tied the rope around your thighs and waist. “Are you in?!”

The look in Soap’s eyes changed as he listened to you. His baby blue eyes shrouded with valor, “Aye, I’m with ye!”

“Then keep up, Sarge!” You stepped out and bolted for the windows with cautious steps. You both heard glass crackle as the portion above the window breaks. A split in the glass lengthened gradually. Pressured by the time running out — you sent a gloved fist through the brittle barrier. “God damn —” you swore.

“Sufferin’ Jesus — are ye good?” he yelled. You replied sarcastically, “Jesus is perfectly fine.”

Soap scoffed butwore a subtle smile as he tied the end of your ropes to the frame with haste before he slid it open for a wider exit. You ignored the pulsating ache of your fist as you swiped at the edges of the metal frame with a large portion of cement you’d picked up to clear off the shards.

Both of you peered down; twenty feet above, give or take. “There’s nothing,” you huffed. You’d both have to rappel all the way to the ground.

A piercing crash outside the room had both of you duck out of reflex. Then a second crash —

“Jump, Soap!” He turned to face you, shocked. “You first–”

You grabbed the top of his vest and tugged it hard, giving him a firm, persistent look, “Show yourself out, or else I’m kickin’.”

Third crash. Fourth…

You pushed him toward the exit, twisted a section of his rope around the metal frame and both of your palms, and braced your foot on the window frame.

“Run for the open field once you get down. Now move it!”

Soap quickly climbed out and took position by hanging on the edge of the window sill. He paused to look up at you. “I’ll see down there, L.T.,” he said, words solid they could have been stone. You nodded, “Affirm.”

He sucked in a breath then repelled his way down as fast as he could while you stabilized the rope for his safe descent.

Once his rope lost tension, you climbed out; you even lost your footing when a portion under your boot came off which made your heart pause in alarm. The air was thick in your nostrils as gray particles accumulated behind you. “Shit, shit, shit…” you chanted.

You mindlessly continued to talk to yourself out of stress, “Don’t be a coward. You’re a sailor who dives off the warship. Better I be shot between the eyes than be a damn pussy in this bitch–”

“Jump, woman!” Soap called out from a distance, warning you of the seconds that had passed unbelievably fast. Although you barely heard him over the noise as the second floor finally gave out right as you jumped with all your might.

~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~

// 8:26 P.M. //

Within the heavily guarded grounds of the military campsite.

The dark of night mostly kept the camp shrouded from outsiders. Dim lights and lanterns lit the interiors and exteriors of the surrounding tents.

“If ye’d seen what she did, L.T.. A dare-devil, that lassie,” Soap voiced exasperatedly at his passive teammate. Task Force 141 had just finished being debriefed and both Soap and Ghost were headed in the same direction for a well-earned break. As soon as they had left Laswell’s tent, Soap began to run his mouth describing your near-death experience.

“Jumping off a bloody window; hangin’ from a shabby branch as if ‘em messenger storks dropped her from the skies like those wee bairns carried in white sheets,” exclaimed Soap in disbelief; forehead crumpled and hands waving in the air as he walked backwards facing Ghost.

Ghost rolled his eyes subtly at his companion’s behavior, “Quit that Johnny or you’ll lose your bloody footing—”

“And then the lass cursed at me! For not helping her down sooner!” Soap’s mind vividly replayed the scene of you hanging for dear life by arms and legs on the dingy branch, rope connected to the debris a few meters away pulling your hips down a bit.

“Don’t just stand there gaping like a fish and cut the rope you useless bastard!” you yelled at him as he stood stunned, gaping up at you from a distance.

He huffed at the memory, and it was almost as if he could hear your stern voice now.

Under his breath he muttered, “Jings, crivvens, help mah boab.”

Ghost shook his head. “It’s one thing your comms were bollocked or you’d’ve heard me cursin’ your ear off for not reaching the boat on time,” he blatantly commented.

Soap raised a taunting brow at him, “What’s the difference? Ye’d take pleasure cursin’ me anyway.”

“Hit the nail right on its fucking head.”

“— beat you Ford, drop it already!” Your sharp voice that pierced through the dark of night made Soap react instantly. He caught Ghost’s eyes scanning him up and down because of how tense he suddenly got.

Soap regained his composure before turning around to spot the source. And there you stood outside a large green tent with two of your comrades, Weston and Griffs. He and Ghost both watched as you landed a low kick behind Frederick Griffs’ legs; whose laughter doubled at your sudden aggression, side stepping out of your reach.

Gerald “Gator” Weston perked up when he noticed Soap and Ghost a few paces away. “Evenin’ fellas!” he called out with a hand up. “You two done for the day?” he asked.

You and Griff’s bicker halted to acknowledge Soap and Ghost who’d walked closer. Ghost nodded his head whereas Soap quirked his lips in recognition.

“Lieutenants. Aye, I’m accompanying Ghost for a quick smoke,” replied Soap. “Said I’d spook the others if I’m found alone out here,” Ghost added.

This caused the three of you to react and Soap’s grin to widen. Griffs chuckled, “Respectfully Ghost, with them shadows on your side, you’d be mistaken for a phantom.”

“And you’re an idiot, Ford…” You commented lowly, using his nickname. Griffs held his hands up in surrender, a mischievous smile plastered on his lips, “My bad. Just kidding.” He tipped his head at Ghost.

“Tell me something I’ve yet to hear,” Ghost scoffed.

“Thank you, Ghost but I’m passing that privilege to the next person — oof!”

You stepped in, “What he means, L.t. Riley, is that it is a privilege his tongue can wag even when threatened of being cut off.” You peered down at Griffs who was hunched over from your jab, and you fought the urge to grimace at him. Weston was busy containing his laughter behind his hand.

Soap couldn’t help but be attentive with your behavior. He took note that you seemed to frequently keep your teammates in check, under control. And he couldn’t help but somehow trace the same behavior back when you had risked your life coming back to search for his missing ass, and perhaps to shoot him down yourself.

Weston spoke up, “And it seems Ford here deserves a couple of minutes to self-reflect on the matter,” he jerked his head towards Griffs, “so don’t let us keep you both from goin’ about. Have a good evenin’ then.”

Griffs straightened his back carefully. His right hand hovered above his sore gut but he still managed to flash a pained smile at Ghost and Soap, waving a hand in the air.

“Lassie.”

You looked up and found his eyes on you. Soap stood about three-feet away, yet strangely he felt near. Everything else even felt too quiet as you focused on him.

Odd.

The feel of the air surrounding you had shifted quickly. You would’ve taken a step back weren’t it for the sight of his chin hovering above the top of his chest as he gazed at you through his eyelashes. “I just wanted to say…” Soap’s tongue fumbled as he said your name.

Much odd.

Soap blinked in realization that he had been looking at you unusually longer than normal. His eyes alternated between you and whatever. “I’ve yet to properly thank you, havnae I?” Soap sounded more embarrassed as his own words sunk in.

“Thank ye for getting me out alive. Ye saved us both. I could be laying in my grave — or in a jar, if it wasnna for you,” his boots shuffled the dirt underneath. His eyes met yours again, but this time without breaking eye-contact. “I owe ye one, Lieutenant… Truly.”

Soap may not have noticed himself but the sudden sincerity that coated his words had you momentarily stunned. “But, it was you who found me first. Remember?” you reminded him.

“I ken. But it was your idea. And yer threat that got my hide moving, remember?”

You scoffed as if to say, ‘alright, fine’. “It’s no problem, really. I was just doing my job. You’re welcome, Sgt. MacTavish,” you responded quite flustered.

“Soap — call me, Soap,” he corrected quickly. The corner of your lips quirked upward, “Alright, Soap. If you insist.” You offered him a hand, “Go by San, or Saint, whichever you prefer. Though I’m afraid I only earned such a title through a joke. May God forgive me.” You shook your head at the memory. Soap gave your hand a firm shake.

“Saint, eh? Cannae say it doesna fit ye.”

His accent took you a second to comprehend his words but you didn’t comment on it. “He said it suits you,” Ghost explained from behind.

Soap turned to him, “Och, none o’ that! She understood what I said, L.T.”

“Whatever sings you to sleep, Johnny.”

“Haud yer weesht!”

You and the others couldn’t help but watch amused at their exchange. ‘They both get along very well’, you thought. Soap turned to you again, “I’m serious. As long as I’m able, I’m at yer service…San. Ye have my word.”

Instinctively, you would’ve told him to think of such nonsense, that his words of gratitude were enough. But the look in his eyes, the very same look you’d seen back in the mission, were compelling.

You took a step closer to him, bringing a friendly fist upon his collarbone. “I see no reason not to take your word,” your hand dropped to your side. “I appreciate it, Soap.”

Soap’s expression brightened. His hand reached around to clap you on your shoulder.

“I kent ye wouldna.”

~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**

Days, weeks, till almost four months have passed with the team consumed in carrying out mission after mission against the smugglers. It was tiring for everyone due to battles being fought on both water and land.

Although soldiers — no matter how tough — always found a way to raise their spirits, as did you. And to your surprise, conversing with a certain Scotsman became a daily routine.

As the entire mission was coming to its near end, the sight of him from a distance had you thinking back to some of the memorable interactions with him from the past couple of months.

One time, Hunter had snatched your unfinished written report and ran straight out of the tent. Most probably to reference some ideas to include in hers. Coincidentally, Soap had been nearby.

“Ariel — your ass is mine!”

“Pipe down, lassie, or you'll be mistaken for a bear. And there are no bears here, ye ken.”

You crossed your arms. “Better a bear than a rubber bird. Ain’t that right, ”

His mouth stretched into a grin, “I aim to charm, milady.” He did a neck bow while his hand twirled in the air. “Dear damsel, how may I allay your misfortune?”

You released a sigh at his gentleman-act but accepted his offer to help. “Tell you what,” I looked him in the eyes, “you get my papers back unripped, and I’ll consider our agreement fair and done. Hm?”

He clicked his tongue. “You cannae be serious about getting yer papers back as being equal as when ye saved me.” He walked closer, stopping to stand before you. “I’ll go an’ get ‘em but my debt still stands. Unpaid, mind ye.”

He returned a while later with your report, with its thief.

Or that one time when almost every team member had gathered to eat dinner by the bonfire and you’d taken upon yourself to tend to other’s needs so the hungry soldiers could eat undisturbed after a hurricane of duties.

“Take it already…Where’s the water? Weird how you ask me as soon as you sit down, huh?...Captain, can I get you anything?...You too, Gaz? Anyone else want some water? Alright.” You made your way ‘round back the camp’s mobile kitchen in hope’s of this being a one-time trip.

You were preoccupied filling your hands with bottles of water when a hand unexpectedly plucked two from your clutch. “I’ll take it from here, San. Go on and eat yer dinner. Ye can take my spot over there, I’m done anyways.”

“I can manage. I’ll pass these around first then eat,” you declined and grabbed another bottle before turning on your heel.

He blocked your way. “Don’t you worry. I got it. Here, let me take them from ye,” he persisted. He left you the second he’d taken every single bottle.

“Now who ordered water?! Garrick? Didna you walk just fine seconds before? Here’s yer blasted water. Get you a spoon? There’s one by yer feet, wash it with yer water, eejit. You’re wasting fine utensils.”

And another, after a recon mission at a different hostile hideout that almost lasted two days.

“Medic! We need medic now!” someone yelled from the warship’s weather deck.

Your speedboat was the last to exfil out due to the heavy cargo on board, causing your trio to be sitting ducks for the hostiles to take out. But using bullets wasn’t an option for them due to the fragile cargo. Whatever was in those couldn’t be damaged, and as their final attempt to retrieve the cargo, they utilized a chemical weapon called “mustard agent”.

Luckily back up on-land were able to take the hostiles out making it possible for a narrow escape, but with a cost.

“I’m fine so help Ford!” you stepped back to steer clear of the two medical members. They had been attempting to calm you down since you got on the warship but your eyes always checked to see Ford. You tried to ignore the intense itch on your forearms as you held them up to avoid physical contact. A hand suddenly grabbed the collar of your vest forcefully. “Lieutenant!” bellowed Cpt. Benson.

You looked up at him with trepidation. Not because of him, but because of Ford’s state. You could hear the pained noises as other medics tended him. Benson jerked you back once, “Wake. Up.”

You both stared each other dead in the eyes. And with that look a lot was spoken. He immediately released his grip when you had realized your irrationality.

“Let them help you,” he motioned for the two medical soldiers. “Ford is in good hands, I promise. But if you die from infection, I’ll make sure to write your cause of death as ‘stupidity’.” Benson’s gaze shifted to look behind you. “Ah. Sgt. Soap, mind if I ask you to accompany Saint while she gets examined?”

You turned your face halfway to look behind you through the corner of your eyes. Soap wore a neutral expression as he replied, “Not at all, sir. I’ll stay with her.”

With that, he made sure you got everything you needed to recover the rest of the day. He’d even updated you on Griffs’ state, leaving you a handful of times to check for himself, even when you’d told him not to. No matter how many times you’d told him it was fine to leave you in the infirmary, he did not budge and continued to run his mouth to “entertain”. Soap accompanied you till past midnight to switch with Hunter, much to your relief.

Stubborn, mohawked Scot.

Your hands may have been covered in blisters but your foot did the job in interrupting his rambling. Twice.

Heaviness in the air.

A dark gray sky spread overhead. “Move aside,” Griffs grumbled. Gaz mimicked his movement, blocking him. “Easy, mate. Let them finish first, yeah?” Gaz reasoned, but was disregarded.

Griffs looked past Gaz to face Cpt. Benson. “Tell me which one did it,” he fumed. “Ford, get your head straight, son,” Benson ordered. “You’ll get your answers but I ain’t gonna listen to you actin’ like that.”

Every soldier present could see how infuriated your comrade was. Weston was angry as well but he controlled it far more better. His attention, however, was too focused on Griffs to notice your furtive movements headed elsewhere.

In the center of camp, soldiers crowded the front of the makeshift interrogation room. Soap and Ghost stood from the sides, each guarding an assailant.

Three assailants had perpetrated the attack off-camp earlier and one of them was being questioned inside by the captains, including Laswell. Their group of six — now with three dead — ambushed the soldiers patrolling the camp in the early hours this morning. Hunter had been with the group doing her rotations.

She’s currently secluded in the camp’s infirmary being examined. One of the men was responsible for dislodging her right arm, plus a stab wound — unsure yet how many — aimed for the kidney.

How greatly you both wished to reciprocate an eye for an eye.

Griffs’s fury came from the battered state he saw his teammate in; your wrath came from the thought of Hunter’s suffering.

The captain turned on his heel to join the interrogation. “Damn it, Cap’n! I won’t kill the man!” he called after Benson. But he’ll wish he was dead, he mentally added.

Everyone knew he’d charge with belligerence.

Weston approached Griffs. “Listen to them, man. We need your head clear since more of them could come. I get how you’re doing this for Ariel’s sake, but don’t do it. Just — not like this.”

Unfortunately, reasoning with him was no use. Especially not when something upsetting caught Griffs’s eye.

“The fuck you smiling for, shitface?” Griffs reacted, chest heaving from anger. Everyone was stunned at his outburst but quickly found the cause.

One second their eyes were on one of the assailants; a second later they shifted to you.

No one had noticed you’d gotten close enough, except Ghost. The moment you pulled out your handgun, Ghost aimed his own at you. Your arm stiffened and hand tightened around the grip; gun’s muzzle aimed at the face of the smirking man guarded by Soap.

“Got something you want to say?”

“San?” Soap exhaled under his breath and immediately lowered his gun as his gaze alternated between you and Ghost. He had reacted on reflex when he heard the cocking of a gun thinking it was an enemy. His heart fell when he saw you.

You took heavy steps towards the arrogant scum. “Pleas, prayers, confessions,” you spat, “now’s the fucking time to wag that tongue before I put a bullet through it — ”

“Stop there, Lieutenant!” Ghost commanded raucously. His warning fell on deaf ears but his finger hovered over the trigger. Soap’s eyes took in the dark look in your eyes, aggravation took over your senses. But, he empathized with your actions.

Soap knew the feeling all too well and decided right at that moment that he wouldn’t stop you. Not unless your intentions were to commit a grave mistake, only then would he interfere.

At the same time, Weston walked up behind you. “San, drop the gun.”

“I did,” confessed the man, adding fuel to the flames. “Too bad that girl didn’t kick the bucket or I’d’ve broken her neck too — “ Soap yanked him back by the collar tightly that made him choke. Griffs roared in frustration from the back. “Son of a bitch!”

Weston whispered in your ear hurriedly, “Give me the gun and I won’t stop you and Griffs from roughing him up a bit. No blades, just hands, clear?”

You give it thought.

Ghost lowered his gun as you surrendered yours. Soap’s eyes never left your face — taking in the fiery satisfaction that seemed to reflect in your eyes at the expense of your gun. Immediately, you advanced toward them and strode with feral purpose.

His organ lurched at the smirk that appeared on your lips, teeth peeking behind the flesh as it stretched.

He drank in the sight, greedily.

Arrogance seemed to drain from the man’s face as you drew nearer. With the momentum of your last step you landed a forceful blow to his gut. The force knocked him back on to Soap, who only pushed him back forward.

“Where’d your smile go?” you mocked. “Forget about the bullet, so smile, asshole.”

“You fucking cun—” You landed a second punch. His coughs doubled from the pain. Still, between broken breaths, he managed to make an empty threat. “I’ll kill you.”

He's painfully straightened back up by his hair. Soap tugged harder as the man thrashed against him.

Soap shot you a look, holding the man steady.

Do it.

One look was all it took you to tighten your fists again then delivering three hard blows to the man’s stomach.

Third.

Fourth.

The fifth punch on his cheek.

Splat. He spat out a mixture of blood and saliva.

You breathed heavily as you scrutinized his state.

He looked far better compared to Hunter’s. So you grabbed the halfway-unconscious man from Soap’s hold, dragging him roughly by the shirt as his legs struggled to catch up.

The man dropped to his knees and arms once you pushed him towards Griffs.

Griffs looked vengeful as he studied the weakened assailant whose smirk was long gone. His body thrummed with anticipation to finally get even. For Hunter.

“You wished you had broken her neck, you said?” he repeated dangerously.

Fear gradually enveloped the man, his legs scrambling to push against the dirt to get away from the soldier. “I had orders, okay? I was just following orders!” But he’s grabbed by the shirt once again hauled back up by Griffs.

The man wasn’t given a chance to respond when two punches pummeled the center of his face. “Your words, scum. Not theirs.” The consecutive punch that followed goes for his nose.

Crunch.

A string of blood and mucus seeped out his nostrils, stringing itself onto Griff’s knuckles.

A gurgled cry broke out. Weak, but panic-filled rush drove the man to push against the soldier. Holding on tighter, Griffs delivered a sharp and swift blow to the man’s forehead using his head.

“Mph —” Cross-eyed from the sudden blow, extreme dizziness clouded the man’s senses. “Fucking coward,” Griffs spat. He let go to flick the sap off his knuckles.

Another pair of arms wrapped around the man from behind.

“No, no! Please, stop. Get away from me!” the man cried out. You soldiers wouldn’t actually kill him on the spot… Right?

The muscles of your arms contracted around his neck, cutting his airway.

“Ack —”

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two…

“Right. That’s it, both o’ you.”

With contempt, you released the unconscious man whose body fell sideways on the ground. “Johnny,” Ghost called out, and jerked his head towards you. “Get her out o’ here.”

Without delay, Soap led you away with his hand atop your shoulder guiding you forwards.

Ghost’s authoritative voice gradually rendered the soldiers back to attention. He called out to Griffs, “Prop that sod somewhere else. You’ll bring him in, and he better be up an’ talkin’ by the time the boss asks for ‘im. ”

The lieutenant’s further instructions tuned out the further you got.

Now quiet and sobered, you followed the sergeant without resistance. Amidst the chilly air, his palm and arm gradually warmed your shoulders as it remained there. Soap’s silence was odd to you; he was never this silent, not even on duty.

You picked up the pace which had him let go of you. You took a seat on the firm ground by the large roots of a tree. “Lost a tongue, MacTavish?” you asked without sparing him a glance.

Soap scoffed, feigning annoyance. “Och, again with the ‘MacTavish’, lass.”

You huffed from the ache in your hand that started to throb. Shallow peeled-skin had a fine layer of dried blood, but the rest of it was from the other guy and a mixture of other slimy substances.

You breathed in, then out.

“If you plan on reporting us to the superiors,” you started, “it’d be wise for a promising soldier as you to get on with it; the faster the paperwork ‘bout our roughhousing gets done.”

Soap took his place on the other side of the tree; shoulder against it, weight leaning on one leg. “I’ll leave the decision to Ghost,” he answered, which you thought confirmed what you assumed: that you’ll end up suspended, or something fair. “But I wager he’d say ‘twas a disciplinary act. Probably less.”

Soap saw how swiftly you eyed him through his peripheral. “Lieutenant Riley?” you asked with disbelief. Ghost would never let that ruckus go undisclosed, especially from the captains. The man doesn’t seem like the type of soldier to do such a thing. Plus, he seemed unbothered with shooting you down earlier till you passed your gun.

“You’re messing with me.”

Soap reacted with an upside down smile. “Am not.” He distinctly remembered the almost non-existent chuckle — more like scoff — from Ghost when both Griffs and you were passing the unfortunate man back and forth.

You slumped, unsure whether to believe his words or not.

“He wouldna stop a bonnie lass from getting her fill. A sight for sore eyes, you were.”

“‘Bonnie’?” you asked. Soap clicked his tongue at his forgetfulness that the Scottish slang was still new to you. “Means pretty. That gaze-stealing charm the likes of ye have.”

His answer is met with a stretched silence.

“‘The likes of me’ — you calling me pretty now, sergeant?”

Your teasing voice felt like a warm breeze seeping in the chilly air. Relieved by your response, Soap hummed in approval. “Bonnie and strong. Poor lad’s lights went out,” his tongue clicked with feign empathy. “I wouldna want to suffer a shameful fate by the same hands. I’d shit mah fuckin’ breeks — unconscious or no’.”

You bellowed a hearty laugh, eyes squinted from the stretch of your lips. Soap basked in the melting sound of your laughter warming his insides. It was his first time seeing you unguarded, all seriousness gone. It made his heart thicken knowing that he made you feel so.

You stood as the last echoes of your giggles dissipated. Your head and heart were no longer heavy and throbbing. In fact, anger still lingered with the thought of Hunter being in the infirmary.

The sight of his raised brow and smirk was so contagious that you flashed him a playful one in return. “Bet you Scots shake people up with flattery. Nice trick, playboy. You got me.”

Soap relished with the nickname you called him, like he could flaunt it this second to anyone. His confidence grew by the second that at the height of the moment he spurted…

“Yer in luck. We only flatter the real bonnie ones we like.” Soap shrugged his shoulders as if to show triviality behind his reason. It was quite the opposite.

He tried to mask his mini-confession by adding, “Well — people and whiskey.”

His words earned another fit of chuckles from you. “You like whiskey, huh?”

“ Aye. Hand me a glass of fine uisge, I’d nurse it the entire night.” His accent oozed. You watched as he swept a hand through his buzz cut hair.

Without really thinking you uttered the word, “Uisge… uisge…”

From his hair, his hand subtly moved down to cover the growing grin on his lips. “Uisge–beatha,” Soap slowly repeated in hopes to hear your best mimic. His hearing heightened with anticipation.

And you did not disappoint.

“Uisge–beatha.” Before you could turn to see Soap’s reaction, he’s already walking away returning to camp. Confused as hell, you crossed your arms and waited a few seconds for him to call you to follow. He didn’t.

You were oblivious to notice how Soap flushed just from you mimicking him. He adored the way you put so much care in your pronunciation. His own reaction shocked him that he began to walk it off in hopes it would die down before you could see.

You began to walk with rapid steps. “Where’re you going…Soap? Hey!” you yelled.

“You need to clean your hand. And I need a drink,” he said nonchalantly.

“No drinking on-duty,” you reprimanded glaring at the back of his head, still unable to catch up.

With one further stride of your own, you knocked your shoulder against his arm. It was firmer than you thought. Curse his muscles. “That was for leaving me,” you said with a frown, staring ahead.

“I’m not drinking alcohol, I’m just thirsty. You, however, have that arse’s muck on ye with an open skin. It’s unsanitary, San.” Soap glimpsed at you. “Wash it thoroughly an’ I’ll patch it up for ye.”

Soap led you to the mobile latrines leaving you to wash up, whereas he left for the spare medical tent nearby to get the necessary medicine. Your shared tent with Hunter was closer compared to his. “I’ll meet you there.”

You’d been sitting on your bed, droplets of water dripping down your cheeks, chin, and fingers when he’d rejoined you. “I didn’t leave you looking like that,” he said amused as he drew nearer. You hummed, not bothered by your appearance. The cool water provided a refreshing sensation.

“Do you want to stay in my good graces and help, or get kicked out?” His heart surged for the nth time that day seeing your heated temper spark from its brief slumber.

Soap dropped down on one knee to your right while laying out the items on your bed by you. “Wee devil. Done with hands, using legs now?” he surmised. He offered up a hand and a raised brow asking permission.

You shot him a pointed look before placing your damp hand in his. He shook his head, hiding a small smile. He took an antiseptic wipe and carefully dabbed your knuckles with it. Observing his actions, you took note how precise his process was. He even cleaned the underside of your nails that hadn’t washed off entirely.

“Thanks, Soap.”

“It’s nothing.”

You clamped your mouth shut from making him think otherwise. It is something you damn Scotsman.

“Consider us even. You don’t have to keep a lookout for me anymore.”

He paused. For some reason, neither of you could look at the other. “You want me to stop?” he asked.

Soap felt how still you got, even your breathing paused a second too long. Your fingers in his palm pulsed a fraction before you nodded. “You’d waste your time if this went any longer.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Your eyes snapped to him. You took in the sergeant’s grim expression, even the brightness of his eyes were different. And based on the tone of his voice, Soap was angry.

His expression had you confused all of a sudden, but sparked your own temper. “You don’t have to. I am telling you to stop.”

You were about to pull your hand back but his fingers clamped to your wrist. You bit back a swear and tugged harder. His hold slipped but he took you by surprise by lunging forward to pin you against your bed; arms caging you in place. His knees had pushed both your legs to the side preventing you from kneeing him in the crotch.

You hissed, “How dare you —”

His hand reached out to pin your wrist by your head. “Ye want me to stop?”

“Yes and get the fuck off me!”

Soap released a deep sigh, and shook his head. “Looking out for you, do you want me to stop?”

Your glaring eyes tore away to look past him. “Yes, and don’t make me repeat myself, asshole. Get off.”

The pad of his thumb on your pulse loosened. “Lying again,” he accused. Your heart rate and your behavior. He’d confirmed you were indeed lying.

Piece of shit. This idiotic piece of shit! You swore in mentally.

Seeing how emotionally strained you were, Soap did not like how he was the cause of it. He knew you would’ve fought against him harder but your confliction was apparent. You didn’t want to lay a violent hand on him. Not on Soap. Not on another good thing that made your job more bearable and worth it.

Soap fixated his gaze on your joint hands. “Back in our first operation, ye asked me if I was with you,” he said. “I am. I’m here an' we’re in this together. Just… say the word and I’ll get my hands bloody so you don’t have to.” He took another deep breath in.

“I dinnae mind lookin' out for ye. It’s no' a waste of my time. Just, please, don’t push me away.”

As he waited for your reaction, subconsciously, he started to rub your wrist soothingly with his thumb; a quiet apology for pressing down on it earlier.

“I’ll push you right now if you don’t get off of me.” Your sudden threat had him back off. Both of you were facing different directions, avoiding any accidental look at each other. “Sorry,” he muttered, the feeling of embarrassment creeping in. You covered your face with a hand, the ghost of Soap’s soothing touch left tingles.

You couldn’t see how Soap had started to cave into himself from embarrassment.

Soap couldn’t see how red your face had gotten. Or the palpitation of your heart.

Soap wanted to leave so bad but he wouldn’t, not when you haven’t given him an answer. He mustered up the tiny bit of courage he could. But your voice beat him first.

“Do whatever you want. I’m not the boss of you,” you breathed out exasperated with your feelings, dragging your palm down your face. “But if you cross a line, so God help me —”

'I'll get my hands bloody so you don't have to.' Your heart lurched.

You’re pulled back by the shoulder to properly face Soap. The shine in his eyes unmistakable.

“D'ye mean it, San?” he asked, elated with your answer. The frown on your lips dipped further but so did your flushed skin. He had a clear view of it now, and he drank it in as much as he could.

You wanted to escape from him.

Soap withdrew when you stood. “Don’t follow me,” you spoke through clenched teeth as your hand swiped at your balaclava from atop your table. His longer legs caught up to you easily. Was even able to dodge your swinging arm while you demanded he leave you alone.

He even held up the flap of the tent’s entrance as you marched past him.

He was back to acting like his old self the moment you two were outside. “I dinnae like to leave ye. I'll keep ye company, wee Saint of mine.”

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph —

You pulled your mask down taut, shielding your identity from bypassers. One of the soldiers even called out to Soap as you walked — more like jogged — past. “Sergeant Soap! Garrick’s been wondering where you are. Said you’re needed by Cpt. Price —”

“They can manage without me! Thanks, chum!” Soap dismissed foolishly. Swatting his hand in the air like an insect was bothering him.

You turned back 'round to get up in his face. Scowling. “The captain’s looking for you, dumbass! You better get going or else I’m —”

“Or else you’ll, what?” he leaned down to your level. Smirk widening. Your brows, eyes, and nose bridge may have been the only skin visible but he caught sight of the slight tinge of red creeping beneath the hem.

He expected you to turn away and resume your escape, but he did not mind that you only stepped closer.

As if you weren’t close enough, you dared to challenge it.

“You think I’m bluffing?”

“I dinnae believe it till I see it, lass.”

Your eyes pierced, accepting the challenge. “Bet.”

the end

46 notes · View notes

letters2fiction · 9 months ago

Text

Welcome to Letters2fiction!

The concept here is to send in a question or a letter request, and you’ll get a response from your fictional character of choice, from the list below. Please stick to the list I’ve made, but of course, you can ask if there’s some other characters I write for, I don’t always remember all the shows, movies or books I’ve consumed over the years and I’m sure I’m missing a lot 😅

Status: New Characters added - Thursday March 21st, 2024

TV SERIES

A Discovery of Witches:

Matthew Clairmont

Baldwin Montclair

Gallowglass de Clermont

Marcus Whitmore

Philippe de Clermont

Jack Blackfriars

Sarah Bishop

Emily Mather

Diana Bishop

Ysabeau de Clermont

Miriam Shepard

Phoebe Taylor

Gerbert D’Aurillac

Peter Knox

Father Andrew Hubbard

Benjamin Fuchs

Satu Järvinen

Meridiana

Law and Order:

Rafael Barba

Sonny Carisi

Joe Velasco

Mike Duarte

Terry Bruno

Peter Stone

Hasim Khaldun

Nick Amaro NEW!

Mike Dodds

Grace Muncy

Kat Tamin

Toni Churlish

Amanda Rollins

Olivia Benson

Rita Calhoun

Casey Novak

Melinda Warner

George Huang

Sam Maroun

Nolan Price

Jamie Whelan

Bobby Reyes

Jet Slootmaekers

Ayanna Bell

Jack McCoy

Elliot Stabler

One Chicago:

Jay Halstead (Could also be Will if you want)

Antonio Dawson

Adam Ruzek

Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz

Dante Torres

Vanessa Rojas

Kevin Atwater

Sean Roman

Matt Casey

Kelly Severide

Joe Cruz

Sylvie Brett

Blake Gallo

Christopher Hermann

"Mouch"

Otis

Violet Mikami

Evan Hawkins

Mayans MC:

Angel Reyes

Miguel

Bishop

Coco

Nestor

911 verse:

Athena Grant

Bobby Nash

Henrietta "Hen" Wilson

Evan "Buck" Buckley

Eddie Diaz

Howie "Chimney" Han

Ravi Panikkar

T.K. Strand

Owen Strand

Carlos Reyes

Marjan Marwani

Paul Strickland

Tommy Vega

Judson "Judd" Ryder

Grace Ryder

Nancy Gillian

Mateo Chavez

The Rookie:

Lucy Chen

Tim Bradford

Celina Juarez

Aaron Thorsen

Nyla Harper

Angela Lopez

Wesley Evers

BBC Sherlock:

Greg Lestrade

Mycroft Holmes

Sherlock Holmes

Moriarty

Molly

Bridgerton:

Anthony Bridgerton

Benedict Bridgerton

Simon Basset

Daphne Bridgerton

Eloise Bridgerton

Kate Sharma

Edwina Sharma

Marina Thompson/Crane

Outlander:

Jamie Fraser

Claire Beauchamp Randall Fraser

Frank Randall

Black Jack Randall

Brianna Fraser

Roger MacKenzie

Fergus Fraser

Marsali Fraser

Jenny Fraser Murray

Ian Murray Sr.

Ian Fraser Murray

Murtagh Mackenzie

Call The Midwife:

Shelagh Turner / Sister Bernadette

Dr. Patrick Turner

Nurse Trixie Franklin

Nurse Phyllis Crane

Lucille Anderson

Nurse Barbara Gilbert

Chummy

Sister Hilda

Miss Higgins

PC Peter Noakes

Reverend Tom Hereward NEW!

Narcos:

Horacio Carrillo

Peaky Blinders:

Tommy Shelby

Downton Abbey:

Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham

Cora Crawley, Countess of Grantham

Lady Mary Crawley

Lady Edith Crawley

Lady Sybil Crawley

Violet Crawley, Dowager Countess of Grantham

Isobel Crawley

Matthew Crawley

Lady Rose MacClare

Lady Rosamund Painswick

Henry Talbot

Tom Branson

Mr. Charles Carson

Mrs. Hughes / Elsie May Carson

John Bates

Anna Bates

Daisy Mason

Thomas Barrow

Joseph Molesley

Land Girl:

Connie Carter

Reverend Henry Jameson (Gwilym Lee's version)

Midsomer Murder:

DCI Tom Barnaby

Joyce Barnaby

Dr. George Bullard

DCI John Barnaby

Sarah Barnaby

DS Ben Jones

DS Jamie Winter

Sgt. Gavin Troy

Fleur Perkins

WPC Gail Stephens

Kate Wilding

DS Charlie Nelson

Sergeant Dan Scott

NEW! Once Upon A Time

Regina / The Evil Queen

Mary Margaret Blanchard / Snow White

David Nolan / Prince Charming

Emma Swan

Killian Jones / Captain Hook

Mr. Gold / Rumplestiltskin

Neal Cassidy / Baelfire

Peter Pan

Sheriff Graham Humbert / The Huntsman

Jefferson / The Mad Hatter

Belle

Robin of Locksley / Robin Hood

Will Scarlet

Zelena / Wicked Witch

Alice (Once in Wonderland)

Cyrus (Once in Wonderland)

Jafar (Once in Wonderland)

Gideon

Tiger Lily

Naveen

Tiana

Granny

Ariel

Prince Eric

Aladdin

Jasmine

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Hercules

Megara

Tinker Bell

Merida

Red Riding Hood

Mulan

Aurora / Sleeping Beauty

Prince Phillip

Cinderella

Prince Thomas

NEW! The Vampire Diaries / The Originals

Stefan Salvatore

Damon Salvatore

Caroline Forbes

Elena Gilbert

Bonnie Bennett

Enzo St. John

Niklaus Mikaelson

Elijah Mikaelson

Kol Mikaelson

Rebekah Mikaelson

Freya Mikaelson

Finn Mikaelson

Mikael

Esther

Marcel Gerard

Davina Claire

MOVIES

The Pirates of the Caribbean:

Captain Jack Sparrow

Barbossa

Will Turner

Elizabeth Swann

James Norrington

Kingsman:

Merlin

Harry Hart

Eggsy Unwin

James Spencer / Lancelot

Alastair / Percival

Roxy Morton / Lancelot

Maximillian Morton / The Shepherd

Orlando Oxford

Jack Daniels / Whiskey

Gin

BOOKS

Dreamland Billionaire series - Lauren Asher:

Declan

Callahan

Rowan

Iris

Alana

Zahra

Dirty Air series - Lauren Asher:

Noah

Liam

Jax

Santiago

Maya

Sophie

Elena

Chloe

Ladies in Stem - Ali Hazelwood books:

Olive

Adam

Bee

Levi

Elsie

Jack

Mara

Liam

Sadie

Erik

Hannah

Ian

Fourth Wing - Rebecca Yarros:

Xaden Riorson

Dain Aetos

Jack Barlowe

Rhiannan Matthias

Violet Sorrengail

Mira Sorrengail

Lillith Sorrengail

Bodhi Durran

Liam Mairi

39 notes · View notes

cabotwife · 2 years ago

Note

Hii i saw that u do SVU imagines could you possibly do a Barba imagine like season 16/17 ish, she is about to join the team and the night before she meets Barba at a bar and the hook up and next morning she leaves before he wakes up and walks into the office and boom he is there <3 endings up to you but something cute heheh

A Night With Barba

thanks for requesting anon! I’m sorry this took a bit to do . warnings: poorly written fluff, ooc Barba and Benson (???) word count: 700ish a/n: sorry if this is bad, i've never written for a male character before, and i originally wasn't going to, but i decided why not... not sure how i feel about this..

You're nervous as you walk into the bar. It's not your usual scene, but your friends convinced you to come out with them tonight. You take a deep breath and scan the room, trying to find your friends. That's when you see him. The man sitting at the bar catches your eye, and you can't help but stare.

He's tall, with dark hair and piercing brown eyes. He's dressed in a sharp suit, and he looks like he belongs in a courtroom. You can't help but wonder what he's doing at this bar. You're surprised when he looks up and catches your eye. He smirks and raises his glass to you, and you feel your cheeks blush.

Before you know it, he's walking over to you. "Can I buy you a drink?" he asks, and you nod, still feeling a little starstruck.

The two of you chat for hours, and you can't believe how easy it is to talk to him. He's charming and funny, and you find yourself laughing more than you have in months. When he offers to walk you home, you don't hesitate to say yes.

You wake up the next morning, feeling a little disoriented. You look down and realize you're still wearing your dress from last night. You turn to your side and see him sleeping next to you. You're surprised that you don't feel embarrassed or regretful. Instead, you feel content.

You get dressed and quietly leave the apartment, not wanting to wake him up. You stop at a coffee shop and order a latte, trying to process what happened last night. You're not sure what it means, but you know that you don't regret it.

As you walk into the SVU precinct, you feel a sense of excitement and nervousness. This is your first day as a detective for the Special Victims Unit, and you're not sure what to expect. You're startled when Sergeant Olivia Benson approaches you.

"You must be the new detective," she says, and you nod. "I'm Sergeant Benson. Welcome to the team."

She fills you in on an ongoing rape case, and you're surprised at how much she trusts you already. You work hard throughout the day, and you're proud of the work you're doing. When the case finally wraps up, you're exhausted but satisfied.

As you're packing up your things, you hear a voice behind you. "Hey, do you want to grab a drink?"

You turn around and see him. Rafael Barba. You're surprised to see him here, but you can't help but feel a sense of excitement.

You agree to go out with him, and the two of you spend the night talking and laughing. You tell him about your day, and he listens intently. You feel a connection with him that you've never felt before.

As the night wears on, you start to feel a little uneasy. You're not sure if you're ready for a relationship, especially with someone like him. He's a lawyer, and you're a detective. You're not sure how it could work.

But then he takes your hand, and you feel a sense of warmth spread through your body. "I know we just met," he says, "but I feel like I've known you forever."

You're not sure if it's the alcohol or something more, but you feel yourself leaning in to kiss him. The kiss is soft and gentle, but it sends sparks through your body. You pull away, feeling breathless.

"I don't want this to end," he says, and you nod in agreement.

The two of you spend the night together, and you can't help but feel like you've found something special. You're not sure where it will go, but you know that you're willing to find out.

As you fall asleep in his arms, you can't help but feel like you've found your place in the world. With Rafael Barba by your side, you feel like you can take on anything.

#l&o svu #law and order #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #svu #svu imagines #rafael barba #rafael barba x female reader #rafael barba x reader

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storiesofsvu · 3 months ago

Note

Do you like Cragen as the sergeant better or Olivia?

That's kind of a tough one.. but here are my thoughts.

To preface: some of my opinions are PURELY based on the fact that we have sat and watched Olivia's career for 25 years. We've seen her as the rookie detective and make her way up. We've ONLY seen Cragen as the captain, so we don't know his history like we do LIv's.

Cragen was a *fantastic* captain IMO. He was the "dad" that the squad needed. He was relatively neutral when it came to conflict situations, knowing that cases needed to be solved/investigations run smoothly, efficient, and LEGALLY.

He always helped his team *and* helped the ADA. Alex was the daughter he never had, you can't tell me otherwise. He keeps gin(maybe vodka?) in his office and only ever offers it to her. THE MAN IS A RECOVERING ALCOHOLIC. so that alone says a lot. When Zapata comes after her, he signs his old revolver over to her and makes sure she knows how to use it. He wasn't as close with Casey, but in moments where her emotions were starting to show, he was the one to go comfort her/urge her back to the case.

He had a fantastic relationship with *all* of his detectives/squad and knew how to toe the fine line between personal relationships and being their boss.

Now, onto Olivia. It's been very different watching her grow. I can't fully remember when she moved up the ranks...she became the sarge around s15? maybe 16? she HAD to be liue by 17 cause thats when dodds shows up.

I think she's a decent commanding officer. But she has plenty of flaws when it comes to holding that title. And now, Cragen likely went through some similar struggles as he grew into the role, managing is hard (i would know..).

1st: she holds personal grudges and relationships above specific things. She's also rather rude and unwelcoming to a LOT of new people. That can trace back to her abandonment issues and Elliot leaving, she's a straight up cunt to amanda in s13 and pretty rude to nick at first (she also does nothing but fight with casey and alex in their later seasons.. seriously).

She ALWAYS has issues with the lawyers, as captain she should be smoothing out those bickering moments between her squad at the ada, but instead she's the one instigating and HOLDING that grudge with a stick up her ass. She hates most lawyers until/unless they're doing exactly what she wants. Like, it DOESNT matter if the lawyer is literally doing their job, or prosecuting a case in what should be the right manner, she still takes it out on them and she makes a VERY low blow a lot of the time. She takes EVERYTHING personal when it comes to them doing their job, she doesn't see eye to eye with them and she *refuses* to hear them out or even try to THINK about it from their perspective.

2nd: she doesnt treat her team equally or fairly imo. I know equality comes with proving your worth so like, teasing carisi when he first shows up is one thing, but shouldn't you want people to feel WELCOME in the place that you're in charge of?

similarly, she holds so many people on her team accountable for shit that she either did (and got ZERO repercussions for) in the past, or things like DEMANDING muncy go buy a blazer and smarten up her wardrobe meanwhile velasco's sitting there using an undone wrinkled button up as his blazer?? she's generally not very nice to her at all. not to mention OLIVIA was the one who poached muncy?? MAKE IT MAKE SENSE.

okay that got away from me and in no way was this meant to turn into an Olivia Benson hate post because I DO like her, but it appears like her better as a detective? LOL.

i think she is fantastic with victims, with helping them, supporting them and making sure they get the closure and such that they need.

I also honestly like 1.0 Liv WAY better. 2.0 we got some good moments and banter and bestie relationship with Barba (we also got a LOT of fighting and not seeing eye to eye) but that was about it. Between the shitty writing, performance lacking and constant switch up of the team in like... s18-22... it just didn't end up working out well for her.

I DO think she's a good leader, but i think she has a lot of progress she could make. Take a look at Ayanna over at OC, or Kate over on OG (ugh i miss her already). you have to understand the politics of the job to be in that position and i just don't think she fully gets that? i dunno.

NOW IM RAMBLING AND ITS 4 AM AND IM SURE IM GONNA GET HATE FOR THIS LOL

hope it was worth it anon LOL

#law and order svu #svu #law and order

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art-by-jas · 2 months ago

Text

"Goodnight, Doll."

Summary: With the holidays approaching, Alex and you must hire more workers. Finn teases Sonny about his barista crush. Sonny takes you out to dinner.

After being told to take it easy and rest and relax, Sonny finally took the advice, he put in for a few days vacation, which Benson immediately approved. The sergeant explained that while they had started a big case, the Chicago Intelligence Unit, Detectives Lindsay and Halstead, were there to help. Sonny felt a little guilty about the timing, given the high stakes of the case, but Benson assured him they would be fine and that she understood his need to prioritize self-care. With his vacation approved, Sonny left the station feeling relief and excitement. He couldn't remember the last time he had taken real time off, having been too focused on work to prioritize relaxation.

As he entered the hallway of his apartment, he paused to glance back at your door. Stepping inside, he dropped his bag by the door and hurried to the kitchen. His fridge was woefully bare, a consequence of his long work hours and habit of eating most meals at the station's break room.

Surveying the sparse contents - some takeout containers, a couple of eggs, and a six-pack of beer - he let out a resigned sigh. If he wanted to unwind properly this week, a grocery run was clearly in order. With a renewed sense of determination, Sonny grabbed his keys and wallet and headed back out, the setting sun casting warm hues across the city skyline.

The familiar sounds of shopping carts and the hum of refrigerators greet Sonny as he steps into the store. He grabs a cart and begins browsing the aisles, gathering essentials like milk, bread, and vegetables. The store was surprisingly peaceful, with few other shoppers around. Sonny relishes the calm atmosphere, a welcome respite from the usual hustle and bustle of the city.

As he passed through the produce section, a display of fresh flowers caught his eye. On impulse, Sonny selects a bunch of mixed daisies, the camellias in particular drawing his attention. Placing the flowers in his cart, he feels a flicker of nervous anticipation. He’s not sure why he had chosen to buy them, but the sight of the blooms had made him think of you, and he found himself wanting to bring you a small gift.

After finishing his shopping and paying, Sonny exits the store feeling lighter and more at ease as he heads home.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

As the holiday season approached, your shop became increasingly busy, prompting you to make a difficult but necessary decision - you needed to hire additional staff to manage the growing workload.

After interviewing four candidates with Alex, you both carefully assessed their attributes. Jeziah, a 16-year-old boy, was lively but lacked maturity. Amy had a vibrant personality was a maybe. John seemed responsible, while Erin was efficient yet somewhat cold. Kiki had a positive attitude, but her tendency to gossip concerned you.

As you reviewed the interview notes in your office, you felt overwhelmed by the daunting task of selecting the right candidates to hire.

Alex glances at you, clearly sensing your hesitation. "What are you thinking, boss? Did any of them strike you as a good fit?"

You take a deep breath, biting your lip as you consider the question. "I'm not sure," you admitted.

Alex nods in agreement. "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. It's not an easy decision."

The work schedule has Martha arriving for the next shift at 3 PM, followed shortly by Sean. Several other employees would clock in after them. As your shift neared its end, you began wrapping up loose ends, tidying the counter area, and restocking supplies for the incoming crew.

Hearing the bell over the door jingle, you glance up, your heart racing -It’s Sonny wearing casual clothes, jeans, and a plain grey t-shirt. His hair was a little messy as if he'd just woken up, and he had a hint of stubble on his jaw. Seeing him walk in with a man beside him, they talked, sharing a laugh as they strolled further into the coffee shop.

Sonny greets you with a warm smile, approaching the counter, the man beside him trailing a step or two behind before he glances at the menu board, his brows furrowed in concentration.

"Hey," Sonny says, giving you a casual nod. "Sorry to drop in unannounced like this. We just needed a little caffeine boost." His voice was deeper than usual, with a hint of gravel in it, and you find yourself drawn to the sound of it. Blinking, you regain your composure, replying with a friendly smile of your own.

"No need to apologize," you reply, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest. "Happy to have you. What can I get for you guys?"

"Hmm.. Why not be festival, I’ll try one of the pumpkin pie lattes, what about you?” Sonny glances at his friend to answer you.

“An Americano, please,” The man requests.

You nod and jot down their order on your pad. "Coming right up." Turning to the espresso machine, you began to prepare their drinks, the familiar motions helping to calm your nerves a bit. As you continue to prepare their drinks, Sonny glances back at his friend, who is standing behind him.

“Are you going to introduce me to your friend?” You ask with a smile.

"Right," Sonny grins, "this is Finn. One of the detectives I work with"

Finn steps forward, extending his hand towards you with a charismatic smile. "Pleasure to meet you," he says.

His eyes are bright and friendly, and his grip is firm as you shake his hand. "Likewise," you respond.

The coffee machine finishes brewing and you pour the drinks into cups. Adding the finishing touches, you slid the drinks across the counter to Sonny and Finn.

"Here you go, guys," you said, offering them a smile. "One Americano and one pumpkin pie latte."

Sonny picks up his coffee, savoring the aroma, before taking a sip. Finn did the same, a satisfied sigh escaping him.

"This is damn good coffee," Finn says, nodding in appreciation.

Sonny shoots him a look, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Told you this place was worth the trip." he winks at you. Finn chuckles and takes another sip while eyeing the pastries on display.

"I'm gonna check out the food," he states, wandering over to the display case. Sonny watches him for a moment before turning back to you, a shy smile on his face.

"Sorry about him," he says, chuckling softly. "He's always hungry. Especially after a long night."He brings the coffee cup back to his lips, taking another sip before setting it down on the counter between you. There is a slight pause before he speaks again, his gaze lingers on yours.

"So, uh, how've you been?" he asks, his voice soft and casual. "It's been a while since we've seen each other."

"I've been good," you answer, a small smile on your face. "Things have been pretty busy here lately. And you?"

Sonny shrugs, his broad shoulders moving underneath the thin fabric of his shirt. "Oh, you know, the same old. Work, work, and more work. But today's my first day off in a while, so Finn and I thought we'd come by and grab some coffee before he has to go in later." He looks around the café, his eyes taking in the cozy atmosphere and the other customers scattered around.

Just then, Finn appears at his side, holding a large cookie in his hand,

"Man, I’m going to go broke, everything looks so good," Finn says.

You chuckle, “Why thank you, Finn, I appreciate it. You know what first one is free,”

“No, I can’t, c’mon, how much is it?”

“Seriously, a friend of Sonny is a friend of mine,” You smile at the other detective.

“Okay, if you are sure, Thanks,” Fin states with a grin.

You glance at the clock, noting the time. Sonny looks up from the cookie, his eyes locking on yours. He seems to hesitate for a moment before speaking.

"You know, since it's my day off, I was wondering if you'd be interested in hanging out? Maybe getting lunch or something?"

A flutter of excitement stirs in your stomach at his invitation. You hadn't expected him to ask, but you found yourself nodding almost immediately.

"Sure, I'd love to," you respond, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Sonny's face lit up with a smile, relief clearly etched on his features. He glances at Finn, who is now eyeing a slice of cake with great interest.

"Great," he says, his voice a bit brighter now. "We can figure out the details later. I'll text you."

You nod, feeling your heart rate pick up a notch at the thought of spending more time with Sonny. "Sounds good," you reply.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

As the two detectives walk outside, Finn shoots Sonny a knowing look before nudging Sonny lightly.

"You dog," Finn teases, a sly grin spreading across his face.

Sonny rolls his eyes but does not suppress a smirk. "Shut up," he says, giving Finn a playful smack on the arm.

"You couldn't resist, could you?" Finn persists, elbowing Sonny in the side. "Had to come back and see your little barista crush."

Sonny's face flushes a little, but he tries to play it cool. "She's not a crush," he protests, shoving his hands in his pockets. "We're just friends."

Finn raises an eyebrow, a smug expression on his face. "Just friends, huh? Is that why you were stuttering and blushing like a schoolboy when you asked her to hang out?"

"I was not stuttering," Sonny retorts, his face turning even redder. "And I wasn't blushing. It's hot out here, that's all."

"Yeah, hot in November, sure…” Finn laughs but relents, giving Sonny's shoulder a gentle punch. "Alright, alright. I'll lay off. But seriously, I'm happy for you, man. You deserve some happiness in your life."

Sonny's expression softens, and he shoots Finn a grateful smile. "Thanks, man," he says, the tension in his shoulders relaxing a bit. "I just hope I don't mess it up."

Finn claps him on the back. "You won't. You're a good guy, Carisi. And she seems to be a great girl. Just be yourself, and things will work out."

`. ݁ ⋆.˚ 𓆉°❀⋆ ݁°𓇼⋆ ˎˊ˖ .ೃ࿔*.˚˖𓍢ִ໋`. ݁ ⋆.˚ 𓆉°❀⋆ ݁°𓇼⋆ ˎˊ˖ .ೃ࿔*.˚˖𓍢ִ໋

When Sonny arrives home, he heads for the shower to freshen up. As the warm water cascades over him, he can't help but replay the scene in the café in his mind. The way you had smiled at him, the sound of your voice. He tried to remind himself to play it cool, to not come on too strong. You were just a friend, after all. But the memory of the way your eyes had lit up when he asked you to hang out made his heart race.

As he got out of the shower and dried off, he mentally ran through different ideas for places to go for lunch. He wanted it to be somewhere casual, somewhere you would feel comfortable. He just hoped he wouldn't mess it up.

Gimme a min, a cup carrier decided to give out on me as I handed it to a customer. Covered in coffee -_- Let me take a shower first and I’ll be right over :)

Sonny saw your message and couldn't help but chuckle, he quickly typed out a reply.

Ouch, that sounds like a mess. Take your time though, no rush. I'll wait.

He sits down on the edge of his bed, trying to distract himself with his phone. But his mind keeps wandering back to you, wondering what you'd wear, how you'd do your hair. He shakes his head, scolding himself for being so damn smitten. To pass the time, he changes into a fresh pair of jeans and a dark blue button-down shirt. He runs his fingers through his still-damp hair a few times, trying to style it in a casual yet presentable way.

Sonny practically jumps at the sound of the knock ten minutes later, his heart pounding in his chest as he quickly gets up from the bed and goes to the door. He takes a deep breath to steady his nerves before opening the door, and his breath hitches as he sees you standing there, looking fresh and beautiful in a simple t-shirt and jeans.

"Hey," he says, his voice coming out a little huskier than he intended. He smiles, trying to act casual even though his body is buzzing with anticipation. "Ready to go?"

You smile back, "Yeah, I'm starving," you reply, your stomach growling as if to emphasize your point.

Sonny chuckles, "Well, let's get you fed, then," he says, gesturing for you to exit first.

He shuts the door behind him and leads the way down the hall, his mind racing with a mixture of excitement and nerves. As you two walk side by side, he’s acutely aware of how close you are, how he can practically feel the heat radiating off your body.

He struggles to find something to talk about, "So, uh..." he begins, racking his brain for a decent conversation starter. "How was your morning? Was the shift okay before the spill incident?" He cringes inwardly at how lame the question sounded.

You laugh softly, apparently unfazed by his awkwardness. "Yeah, the rest of the morning was pretty uneventful, thankfully. But I did give the customer a free drink to make up for it."

Sonny nods, relieved that you hadn't seemed to pick up on his nervousness. He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to keep them from fidgeting.

"That's good," he says, pausing for a moment before adding, "So where do you want to go for lunch? I'm cool with pretty much anything."

You think for a moment before answering, "Hmm, I've been craving a burger all morning. Do you like burgers?"

A grin tugs at the corners of Sonny's lips at your suggestion. "Burgers sound perfect," he agrees. "There's a place a couple blocks from here that has really great burgers if you're cool with walking a bit."

You nod, falling into step beside him as you walk together towards the burger joint. The sun was warm on your skin, and a gentle breeze occasionally rustled through your hair.

Sonny is quiet for a moment, as if lost in thought. After a few minutes of walking, he suddenly speaks up.

"You know, I have to say," he begins, his voice soft, "You look nice today. I mean, you always look nice, but today especially."

A blush creeps up your cheeks at the compliment, and you smile shyly. "Thanks," you reply, glancing over at him. "You look pretty good yourself."

Sonny's heart skips a beat at your words, and he smiles back at you, feeling a flutter of excitement in his stomach. As you continue walking, the conversation flows smoothly between the two of you. Sonny finds himself relaxing more and more, enjoying the easy banter and the feeling of your presence beside him. The whole world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you, the noise and chaos of the city fading into the background.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Finally, you arrive at the burger joint, and the smell of frying meat and melted cheese drifts out through the open doors. Sonny holds the door open for you and follows you inside. The place was bustling with activity, but there was a relaxed, carefree ambiance to the place. Both of you are greeted by the hostess and are shown to a small booth tucked away in the corner. As you sit down across from each other, Sonny notices the way the sunlight streaming through the window makes your eyes sparkle.

You take a look at the menu and begin to scan the options, while Sonny tries to tear his gaze away from your face. He picks up his own menu, pretending to look at the choices, but he can't seem to focus on anything except the way you were biting your lip as you read.

"What are you planning on getting?" He asks, trying to distract himself from his growing attraction towards you.

"Hmm," You tap your chin with your finger. "I'm thinking of getting the bacon cheeseburger, extra cheese, and extra bacon, with some onion rings on the side."

Sonny chuckles, amused by your decadent choice. "Extra cheese AND extra bacon? You're a woman after my own heart," he teases.

You shoot him a smile. "Hey, you only live once, right? Might as well go big or go home".

Sonny raises an eyebrow, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Oh, I'm all for going big. You haven't seen me at an all-you-can-eat buffet."

You laugh, "Is that a challenge?"

Sonny leans back in his seat, a smirk playing on his lips. "Baby, I'll challenge you to anything," he says, his voice low and silky. He couldn't help but notice the way your eyes darkened at his words. A flush crept up your cheeks, and you try to hide it by pretending to study your menu again. Sonny watches you closely, enjoying your reaction to his flirtation. He was feeling emboldened now, his earlier nerves almost forgotten.

The waitress comes over and takes your orders, and Sonny asks for a burger and fries as you request your order. As the waitress walks away, Sonny leans back in his seat, a smug smile on his face. "So, tell me something interesting about yourself."

You laugh, rolling your eyes good-naturedly at his smugness. "Oh, you want the good old 'tell me about yourself' question, huh?"

You think for a moment before replying, "Well, I'm not that interesting, honestly. I grew up in a small town, moved here for college, and never left. I like to read and write and draw in my free time, and love watching true crime documentaries."

Sonny listens intently, genuinely intrigued by your responses. "A small-town girl, huh? I can totally see that. You have that wholesome vibe," he teases, grinning mischievously.

He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Let me guess, you're secretly a huge fan of 'Unsolved Mysteries', aren't you?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Guilty as charged," you admit. "I have been known to binge-watch entire seasons in one sitting."

Sonny's eyes sparkle with appreciation, his smile widening. "See? I knew I liked you for a reason," he says emphatically. "I'm always looking for someone to discuss good old Robert Stack." You laugh, enjoying his enthusiasm.

The waitress comes back with their orders and sets down two large and delicious-looking burgers in front of you. Sonny's stomach growls loudly at the sight of the food, and you can’t help but chuckle at his unabashed hunger.

He immediately digs into his burger, taking a large bite and letting out a satisfied moan. "Oh, my God," he says around a mouthful of food, eyes practically rolling back in his head. "This is heaven. Pure, delicious, greasy heaven."

You laugh incredulously, shaking your head at his shameless lack of manners. "Seriously? I've never seen anyone get so excited over a burger before."

You delicately take a bite of your burger, closing your eyes in pleasure as the flavors hit your tongue. "Okay, I have to admit, this is pretty damn good."

Sonny swallows his mouthful, a contented grin stretches across his face. "See? I told you," he says, winking at you. He takes another bite, trying to speak through a mouthful of food. "So, tell me more about your love for drawing. Are you one of those people who can draw a perfect photorealistic sketch of an apple or something?"

You snort, waving away the notion. "I'm no Da Vinci, that's for sure. I mainly doodle in my sketchbook when I'm bored or feeling inspired."

You shrug, taking another bite of your burger. "It's just a hobby, really. Not something I'd ever consider doing professionally. But it's relaxing."

Sonny nods, taking a moment to finish off his burger before responding. "Hobbies are important," he says, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "It's good to have something to help you unwind and relax. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "So what do you draw? Landscapes, people, animals... what's your go-to subject?"

You think for a moment, contemplating your preferences. "I'm not sure I have a go-to subject. I like drawing people, but I also enjoy drawing nature, buildings, animals, anything with texture and shadows." You take a thoughtful bite of onion ring, chewing slowly as you continue. "I just doodle whatever strikes my mood at the moment, honestly. Sometimes it's a person, other times it's a landscape or a still life."

Sonny listens intently, feeling an unexpected pang of admiration for your creative pursuits. "Wow, that sounds really impressive," he says, his voice a touch softer than before. "I've always been jealous of people who can draw or paint. I can barely manage stick figures." He chuckles self-deprecatingly, running his hand through his hair. "But what I lack in artistic talent, I make up for in other areas, I suppose."

You arch an eyebrow, teasing him. "Oh yeah? And what areas might those be?" You bit back a smile, enjoying the banter between the two of you.

A cocky smile spreads across his face. "Oh, I have many talents, doll," Sonny drawls.

You try to hide your flush by taking a long sip of soda, but Sonny's smug smile tells you he'd noticed the effect his words had on you. He reached across the table and grabbed an onion ring from your plate, popping it in his mouth, and winks.

You feign outrage, pretending to swat at his hand. "Hey, hey, hey! Get your own onion rings, buddy."

Sonny grins unrepentantly, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Sorry, sorry," he says, not sounding sorry at all. "I just couldn't help myself. These onion rings are amazing."

You roll your eyes but can't help but smile at his cheeky behavior. "You're lucky you're cute," you say, trying to sound stern.

Sonny's grin widens at your compliment. "You think I'm cute, eh? Careful, doll, you might make me blush."

Sonny chuckles, a wicked twinkle in his eye. "Oh, so you think I'm cute, huh?" he teases, leaning back in his seat and resting his arms behind his head.

You shake your head, trying to keep a straight face. "Don't let it go to your head," you warn.

Sonny feigns innocence, placing a hand over his heart. "Me? Let it go to my head? Never," he replies, his voice dripping with mock sincerity.

You laugh, shaking your head again. "You're insufferable, you know that?" you say, but there was no heat behind the words. You were starting to find his confidence flirting a bit endearing.

Sonny rests his chin on his hand and gives you a crooked smile. "But you like it," he responds, his eyes sparkling. "Admit it."

You opened your mouth to protest, but then closed it again, realizing that you really did like it. His confidence and cheeky charm were strangely attractive, even if you didn't want to admit it to yourself.

"Maybe," you finally concede, a small smile playing on your lips.

Sonny's grins again, his blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "I knew it," he states, leaning back in his seat again. "You can't resist the Carisi charm."

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile. "Oh, yes, I'm completely helpless in the face of your charms," you voice dryly, knowing full well the effect he was having on you.

"What about you, tell me something interesting about you," you ask.

"Well, I grew up and still am very much Catholic, played basketball and little league in high school. I'm O-negative, so if you ever need a transfusion, I'm your guy," Sonny continues telling random facts about his life.

As Sonny tells you more about his upbringing and his hobbies, you can’t help but feel more and more intrigued by him. There was something genuine and endearing about his willingness to share these random details about himself.

"O-negative, huh?" you say, smiling. "I'll keep that in mind."

"I worked in homicide, and I was a patrol officer before becoming a detective in Staten Island's SVU." Sonny continues.

He reached for another of your onion rings and pops it into his mouth, winking at you. You swatted at his hand again, but this time with less conviction. "Hey, those are mine!" you protested, but you couldn't help the small laugh that escaped your lips. The waitress comes over, leaving the check at the edge of the table. Sonny quickly glances at the amount before pulling out his wallet.

"Here, let me get this," he says, pulling out a credit card.

You are a little surprised by his quick move. "Oh, you don't have to do that," you protest. "We can split the bill."

Sonny shakes his head, waving off your protest. "Nah, I got this," he declares, giving you a look that brooked no argument. The waitress comes back and takes the card, leaving the two of you alone at the table again. Sonny leans back in his seat, studying you with a thoughtful expression on his face.

You fidget a bit under his gaze, feeling a little self-conscious. "What?" you ask, a hint of defensiveness in your voice.

Sonny smiles, his gaze softening. "Nothing. I just like looking at you, that's all," he replies, his voice a low rumble.

Your heart skips a beat, and you try to hide the effect his words have on you by averting your gaze. "You're laying it on a bit thick, aren't you?" you say.

Sonny laughs, unperturbed by your attempt to downplay his compliments. "Maybe a little," he admits, shamelessly. "But I only say what I mean, doll."

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth. "You're impossible, you know that?" you express, but there is no real heat behind the words.

Sonny grins, leaning forward in his seat. "What can I say? You bring out the impossible in me."

His eyes flicker up to the waitress returning with his credit card before looking back at you. "Ready to go?" he asks, rising to his feet and holding out a hand.

You accept his hand, feeling a shiver run down your spine as your skin makes contact with his.

"Yeah, let's go," you voice, standing up and smoothing out your clothes.

Sonny squeezes your hand before releasing it, instead placing a hand on the small of your back as he guides you out of the restaurant. As you step out into the crisp night air, a brief shiver runs through you, the cool temperature a stark contrast to the warmth of the restaurant. Sonny notices you shiver and, without a word, slips off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. The material was warm and smelled faintly of his cologne, and you instinctively snuggled into the comforting scent.

"Can't have you freezing on me," he comments, his voice a low rumble.

"Thanks," you mutter, pulling the jacket tighter around your shoulders. Sonny slips his hands into his pockets and starts walking, falling into step beside you.

As you stroll down the busy city street, a comfortable silence settles between you. Every so often, you stole a side glance at him, admiring his profile in the soft glow of the streetlights. He catches you looking more than once, and each time he flashes a cocky grin, knowing full well the effect he was having on you.

The night air still has a chill, but with his jacket around your shoulders and the warmth of his presence beside you, you feel surprisingly warm. You try to ignore the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

The apartment building comes into view, its familiar brick facade a welcome sight. Sonny glances at you as you approach, then slows his pace as you reach the steps leading up to the doors.

The elevator dings and the doors open, pulling you both back to reality. You step out onto the floor of your apartment doors opposite each other.

Sonny turns to face you, his expression unreadable. "Tonight was... fun," he smiles, his voice a little rougher than usual.

"Yeah, it was," you agree, "Thanks for dinner."

Sonny steps closer, closing the gap between you. Before you had time to react, he cupped your face with both hands, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. Your heart leaps into your throat as Sonny steps towards you, his hands cupping your face gently. His warm fingers brush against your skin, sending little tingles down your spine.

As you meet his intense gaze, your breath hitches in your throat. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, and you can smell the faint scent of his cologne.

"Sonny..." you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath.

The loud voices of the kids down the hall break the moment between you and Sonny. You both jump apart, momentarily startled. You let out a shaky breath, feeling a sting of disappointment at the interruption. You look up at Sonny, trying to gauge his reaction. He looked equally annoyed, his face set in a scowl as he watched the rowdy kids run by. As the kids disappear around the corner, Sonny turns back to you, a small frown still on his face. "Sorry about that," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Kids, am I right? I should probably let you get some sleep," he speaks, his voice a little rough around the edges. He glances over his shoulder at his own apartment door, then back at you.

You nod, feeling the same pang of disappointment at the thought of the evening coming to an end. "Yeah, I probably should," you reply, trying to sound casual. Yet, you both stand there for a moment, neither one of you quite ready to say goodnight just yet. The silence stretches between you, filled with an unspoken tension. You could feel the heat of Sonny's gaze on you, and you felt inexplicably drawn to him, like there was more to say, more to discover.

Finally, Sonny speaks up, "Goodnight, Doll."

"Night, Sonny." You give him a small smile before you turn to enter your apartment, Sonny does the same to his.

As you close the door behind you, you lean against it and sigh. Despite the interruption from the rowdy kids, the evening had been one of the best you'd had in a long time. Something about Sonny fascinated you and made your heart beat a little faster. You wander over to your couch and collapse onto it, replaying the evening in your mind, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Masterlist

#reader x sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi #law and orde svu #law and order svu #law and order #svu #fanfiction #dominick carisi #dominick carisi jr

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