#simon ghost riley x johnny soap mactavish

[chamomiletealeaf]

I humbly (desperately) beg you to keep writing fat pussy reader. Like actually. Ugh, We need more plushy reader representation 🛐 Your fic is absolutely divine

IM GLAD YOU ENJOYED ANON 😋 HERE'S SOME MORE MUAHAHA

They fucking love when you wear bikinis. You'd be in a hot tub and stand up to reach over and grab your drink from the side of the tub giving them the perfect view of your fat pussy covered by the tiny material of your bikini bottoms. The way it's so noticeable when you bend over in your little bikini is so fuckin' sexy to them they can't help but cup it in their hands to cop a feel of it. Even in cute little pajama shorts they can see your sweet plush pussy when you bend over. You best believe they're shoving their faces into it from behind licking at you through whatever you're wearing whether it be your panties, bikini bottoms, or little pajama shorts.

They love eating you out from behind the most because they get to not only bury their face in your pretty fat pussy, but also because they get to suffocate themselves in your thighs and ass cheeks. Never mind if they can breathe or not, they'll die the happiest man on the planet.

And if you have a piercing? They're done for. They didn't think such a perfect pussy could get even prettier. They'd play with it with their tongues or with their fingers while fucking you.

Would make it their life mission to get you to squirt. Seeing such a juicy pussy squelch and squirt around their cocks would make them cum inside you immediately.

Pussy slapping 100% They'd slap your fat pussy while fucking you with your knees to your ears to watch how your cute little clit twitches in response. And when they thigh fuck you? It's the best of both worlds because not only do they get to feel your thick thighs squeezing them, they feel your pussy rubbing against them trapping their cock between your pussy and thighs.

Please let them play with your pussy, they just love how fat and cute it is so much.

[moody-alcoholic]

Cross My Heart

Part 1 - Self Preservation

Summary: eventual poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers, mini fic.

CW: Mention/description of injuries, mention/description of weapons.

Part 2

Enjoy <3

A light flicks on waking you from your sleep. 

Your eyes open looking round the room, it only takes a few seconds before your eyes land on a man holding a pistol at you. He’s sat on a chair, covered in what looks like military gear. There’s a bigger weapon slung over his back. 

“Not a good idea to be sleepin’ when you’re alone.” He has an accent you can’t quite place. Not American though. 

“I had lookouts.” 

“Yeah, ‘bout that.” You swallow hard, your heart is pumping rapidly in your chest. They’re most likely dead. Innocent people dead. 

“What do you want?” You ask, your eyes flick over to the pistol on your night stand. The man seems to see that, a change in your attitude. 

You have to act now. 

You reach out for the weapon. The man is on his feet in an instant, the pistol in his hand comes down hard on your wrist. 

You yelp out in pain, your weapon falling to the floor. The door to the room fly's open, there’s another man now. He makes you jump, training an AR at your head.

There’s no point in fighting.

The man next to you picks the weapon up off the floor, unloading it and throwing it to the side. You swing your legs out the bed, throwing the covers back.

“Don’t fuckin’ move!” He shouts. You hear the safety click off his gun, your breath catches in your throat. You hold your hands up, you’re unarmed, there’s nothing you can do. 

“What are you doing in a ULF safehouse?” The man in the doorway asks, you keep your eyes trained on the person holding the pistol to your head. British? You get a better look at the man in front of you, his badges. SAS, Union Jack, fuck. 

“You’re injured?” There’s blood on his vest, it’s a long shot but better then nothing. “I’m a medic. I can help.” It’s a lie but all you can think about is getting out here alive.

The man looks to the doorway, you keep still. Even if you could tackle him to the ground his friend would finish you off. 

“We’ve got one injured, think you could help?” The man in the doorways asks. 

“What happened?” You ask, trying to hide your nerves. Your mum was a nurse, your dad a doctor before. Before the war.

“GSW.” That’s all you’re given, that could mean anything. 

“You work with the ULF?” The man in front of you asks. You shake your head. 

“Al Qatala?” You shake your head again. 

“Who?” The man in the doorway asks again. This time you turn to him. The mask on his face is splattered with blood. He’s bigger, taller and wider than the guy in front of you. He has the same patches though, Union Jack, SAS.

“You said you had injured? You’re not going to find a hospital around here. It’s all Al Qatala controlled territory.” You say. Self preservation at its finest. 

“Can you help then?” The man in front of you asks. You turn to look at him, your hands still in the air. 

“The longer we wait the less chance I have. Gunshot wounds can be unpredictable.” You say swallowing the nerves. Confidence is key, that's what you learnt once. The man in front of you puts down his weapon grabbing your wrist and pulling you to your feet. 

“Try anything and we fuckin’ kill ya.” He says through gritted teeth. 

…

When you make it down to the ground floor as their hostage you can smell the blood in the air. The man with the mohawk is walking down first, the man with the mask is behind you, the barrel of his AR digging into your shoulder blades. 

You can see two other people, they’re dressed in similar gear. At least one of them is, the other is laid out on the couch. The man standing turns, he brings a pistol up pointing it at you. 

“Eazy Gaz. She’s a medic.” 

“Doesn’t look like one.” The man-Gaz-says lowering his gun looking around at the people escorting you. You make it over to the person on the sofa. He doesn’t look good. 

You don’t know what you’re doing, you didn’t think you could make it this far. They’ve taken his vest, belt and boots off. It’s just his shirt and trousers, his shirt is soaked through, pulled up to his chest. They’ve been trying to stop the bleeding. You’ve seen wounds like this before, you’ve seen people die from wounds like this. 

“You said you could help him. What do you need?” The voice snaps you out of your head, you look over at him. The mohawk guy, he’s put his pistol away. 

You have no idea what to do. 

“Clean water, and bandages. Sterile if possible.” You say, you can’t tell if that sounds professional or not but they exchange glanses and the mohawk man leaves the room. You take another step over to the sofa. You need to know if the bullet has gone through or not. 

“Not another step.” Gaz says. You hold your hands up again, holding your ground.

“I can’t help him if you don’t let me check him.” You say. 

“Stand down Gaz.” You hear the voice behind you say. You don’t turn but you assume it’s the man with the mask. Gaz shifts gripping the weapon in his hands tighter. 

“You won’t hurt him?” He asks, gritting his teeth. 

“Cross my heart.” You say lowering your gaze, you keep your hands up until he moves out the way to join the man behind you. You look down at the man on the sofa. He’s unconscious, moans leaving his lips as shuffles on the sofa, his skin is clammy you can see the beads of sweat dripping down his face. 

You lower your hands bending down by him. Your hand brushes over the bandages. 

“I got water. Ghost, Gaz. Check your medkits for sterile bandages.” It’s the man with the accent. 

Ghost. He must be the man with the mask. Gaz and Ghost.

A bowl of water is put down next to you. You look up at the mohawk man and nod at him. You’re still not sure what to do. 

Clean the wound, asses the damage and get then fuck out of here. 

…

There’s no exit wound. You’re not sure if that’s good or bad.  

You replaced the bandages with gauze, homeostatic gaze, the good stuff you've only seen once or twice. The bleeding seems to be under control but that doesn’t help you if you don’t know how much he’s lost. His blood type is O+ that doesn’t help you either. 

You try to remember things you’ve picked up from your parents. He’s breathing, responding to pain even though he's barely conscious. His pulse is as rapid as his breathing, again you don’t know if that's good or bad. You know it can’t be good but you’re not sure what to do. 

You dip your hand back into the bowl of water and wring out the cloth before placing it on the man's forehead. 

If he dies they’ll kill you. There is always someone behind you, you can hear them shuffle, move their weapon from hand to hand. If you tried to make a run for it they would kill you. Your best chance is to save this man. Save the enemy. 

If he’s breathing, you’re safe. 

You continue to make yourself look busy. Patting his forehead, keeping pressure on his wounds. He doesn’t seem to have any other injuries, just a gunshot to the abdomen. 

“When were you going to tell us huh!?” The voice is loud and angry. You turn to see the man from earlier-Gaz storming towards you with a weapon in his hand. He only stops when the barrel is pressed to your head. 

“What’s going on?” Ghost asks, his weapon is still trained on you from a distance. 

“She’s Konni.” The man with the mohawk says. You look up at the man with the gun pressed to your head. You didn't even get a chance to get to your feet. 

This is it. This is how you die.

Banners by plum98

Next

[iatemyboyfriend3]

wc: 1.9k

johnny “soap” mactavish

warnings: mdni 18+, piv smut, oral s*x, johnny is a dog, pwp with a tinge of fluff

You’re lying on the edge of the small, creaky bed, pretending to read, but you can feel Soap’s gaze burning into you. The tiny hostel room offers no escape—just the one bed and the rickety chair he’s claimed across from you. He’s sitting there now, one leg propped up on the chair’s arm, a teasing grin playing on his lips as he finally says, “Ach, if yer gonna ignore me, at least try tae look like yer actually readin’, eh?”

You keep your eyes on the book, letting the silence stretch between you. The way he’s watching you is almost too much, but riling Johnny up never hurt anyone except your poor cunny that’s been drooling since you two came into the room and he had kissed you sloppily and threw you on the bed- ignoring your soaked panties until now.

“You just gonna sit there, lass, or are ye plannin’ on acknowledgin’ yer bonnie lad?” His voice, thick with that heavy Scottish brogue, pulls a smile from you even as you try to play it cool.

You glance up, giving him a look of mock annoyance. “And what if I’m too busy now, Soap?” You reply, challenging his suggestive tone.

“Too busy?” He’s up on his feet in a flash, crossing the room in a few long strides, that familiar glint in his eye. You can almost picture the invisible tail wagging behind him. “Aye, I’ll give ye somethin’ to be busy with, hen,” he says, his voice low and testing, just close enough for you to feel the rumble of his voice.

Before you can react, his hands are on you, fingers digging into your sides with practiced precision, tickling you mercilessly. You burst into laughter, squirming under his touch as he pins your back against the hard mattress.

“Soap!” you manage to gasp out between gasps and dry giggles, your hands weakly trying to push him away.

“Aye, what’s the matter, dove? Can’t handle a wee bit o’ fun?” His grin widens, the sound of your laughter fueling his playful attack.

Finally, you manage to grab hold of his wrists, your fingers brushing against his skin just a little too softly. “Alright, alright! I give!” you say, your voice light, but the way you glance up at him innocently has his eyes darkening, something almost predatory flashing in his gaze.

Soap stops, but doesn’t move away. Instead, he leans in closer, his nose brushing against yours. “That’s what I thought, lass.” His voice is softer now, still teasing, but with that underlying warmth that always makes your heart skip a beat.

"Look at ye, lass,” he murmurs, his voice thick with that familiar Scottish lilt that never fails to send a shiver down your spine. “Ye’re lookin’ at me like a starvin’ dog watches a bone.”

You scoff, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but the way he’s looking at you, the heat in his eyes, makes it impossible to hide the flush creeping up your neck. “Maybe I am,” you agree, your voice not quite as steady as you’d like.

Soap laughs, a low, rumbling sound that’s more of a purr. “Aye, I can see that,” he says, and you can feel the low vibration of his grumble against your lips. His hands are resting on your upper thighs as his thumbs trace so so close to your heat- you have the urge to throw your legs over his waist and beg for more, for him to touch you more

“Tell me, dove,” he drawls, his breath hot on your lips. “What is it ye want, eh? Ye just gonna lie there all pretty, or are ye gonna ask for what ye really need?”

You swallow hard, your heart racing as his words sends a shiver up your neck to your cheeks. He’s drawing it out, and it’s driving you crazy. You reach up, trying to pull him down to you, but Soap catches your wrists, holding them down to the mattress with a grin.

“Ah ah, not so fast, hen,” he chides, his voice dripping with playful menace. “Ye’ve got to ask nicely.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep from squirming under his gaze. He’s enjoying this, watching you struggle to keep your composure, waiting to jump on you as soon as you ask all nicely and pretty for him. Finally, you give in, your voice barely above a whisper as you murmur, “Please, Soap.”

His eyes darken, and he releases your wrists, his warm hands finally slide down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “That’s more like it, lass,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss that leaves you aching for more.

“Ye’re mine, lass,” he whispers against your skin, his voice a low growl as he finally kisses you. His mouth was warm, his tongue heavy, and his scarred, calloused hands had slid around to cradle either side of your spine as he tucks you in closer, your bodies pressed together, your chest empty of breath from the pressure of his heavy body, your mind spinning.

Johnny's fingers tighten into your soft flesh and you press harder into him. His lips tread down to your chin and over to your neck, leaving open-mouthed, wet kisses as he lays his body weight into you on the bed, straddling your hips with his thick muscled thighs.

Johnny loved grabbing your soft skin, anywhere and everywhere- he wastes no time ripping your clothes off and playfully spitting on your panty-clad pussy, rubbing the saliva into the already soaked fabric.

"Look at tha', bonnie" he chuckles as he crawls further down the bed and throws your legs over his shoulders, roughly stuffing his face in between your thighs and into your damp panties and shakes his head roughly- his nose nudging your clit hard and over and over again as he sharply inhales you.

Your hands grips anything you can reach, hips bucking up into his face as tears blurs your vision. He moves back from your heat and eyes your now see-through panties, licking his lips thats now covered in stickiness and saliva nastily.

“Can't get 'nough at how wet ye are.” His finger gently touches your engorged clit over the fabric, “Haven’t even licked ye properly, and ye’re soaked tae the fuckin’ sheets.” He plays with your panty clad pussy with just the tip of his thick rough finger, giving sweet kisses to your clit as you whine and try to shimmy away.

“Johnny, please!” He looks up at you, and you could see his eyes darken into obsidian as he falls for your needy state. He finally pulls down your soiled panties and dives in, sucking roughly on your clit sending shivers down your spine. Deft fingers toying with your hole and finally being pushed in, stretching your walls with ease and curling inside you.

The more his fingers curled inside you with precision, the more your velvety walls closed around them, pulsating even due to the dual pleasure you were receiving. He groaned as he sucks harder, your back arching as his tongue laps the spot, all to make you ruin his face just the way he wants you to do. You feel that build up in the pit of your stomach rise faster than you can handle.

“So close,” You whimper, your breath catching in your throat as he curls his fingers once, twice, three times to bring it out of you, your mouth hangs open in reaction to the pull of your orgasm washing over you instantly. He eventually pulls his fingers out and stuffs them into your mouth, watching you suck them dry as he groans. And saliva mixed with cum shines on his lips, a guttural groan erupting from him due to how you swirl your tongue around his fingers to taste yourself.

“Should I just have ye hang o’er this bed and use that bonnie mouth o’ yours?” You frantically nod yes but he kisses your forehead hotly before moving to the side of you, pulling your leg up.

“Maybe a wee bit later. But for now, I just neetae feel ye.” He spits in his other hand and rubs his cock to get it slicked, moving up slightly to press the tip up at your aching core, both of you moaning as he enters you like an intruder.

“That’s it, let everyone know how much ye missed me. Ye can do it.” His endless praise makes you moan louder, and in turn he touches you all over, finding that exploring your body was all that he ever wanted, that you were a work of perfection that he couldn’t get enough of forever.

He tilts your head towards his and kisses you, the intensity making your head spin. He keeps up his pace, making you whine in his mouth a ‘no more’. You pull back and catch your breath, moving your hand down to grip the sheets. He kisses you again, and you moan into his mouth as he doesn’t retreat despite the desperate shallow breaths you both let out.

He quickly threw his hand down to rub at your clit, and you cry out and grab at his wrist, your fingers turning white from the tightness in which you grip him- and it was enough to thrust you into release, your grip on his wrist tightening as you clench all around his length, hips shaking at overstimulation.

Stars blur your vision as you heard your name, maybe his voice thick with pleasure. You wanted to speak, but only a choked moan escaped as you felt yourself being filled. It wasn't until he whispered in your ear, gently patting your cheek, that you came to, his thrusts slowing as your body stopped shaking.

“Hey, stay wi’ me, aye?” He kissed your neck as you opened your eyes again, and he fixed you to turn to face him, looking over your face and kissing it in its wake.

“Love ye more than anythin’ else in the world, yeah?” he whispered, his voice soft but full of sincerity as he carefully cradled you in his arms. After a moment, he gently pulled away to grab a rag, cleaning you both off with slow, tender movements. When he returned, he settled beside you, brushing his lips against your skin, placing gentle kisses along your neck, shoulders, and anywhere he could reach. “Such a sweet lass ye are for me,” he murmured between kisses, his voice warm, as he held you close, offering quiet reassurance and comfort as your breaths evened out.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his voice playful. “Get some rest now, love.” You shoot him a teasing glance, lips curling into a smile. “Sleep? You really think I’m going to sleep after that?” His eyes sparkled as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Aye, I think ye will. But I’ll keep ye company just in case.”

[girl-lostconnection]

I’m sitting on the idea of Ghoap x Reader AU where Reader is Simon’s best friend that’s been with him since childhood, through thick and thin.

They leave together when they graduate, start renting a flat before Simon leaves for army which initially changes nothing. He still comes whenever he can, calls them pretty often, he’s there for Christmases (if they get leaves for it).

And then something changes. It’s nothing noticeable, he is just a little more distant, he’s slipping their Christmas for the first time instead inviting Reader to come out somewhere in Scottish Highlands (you decline partially because you are upset that he just cancelled out on you all of a sudden and partially you and Simon are two socially inept people and the thought of spending Christmas with bunch of people you don’t know is…well, not alluring).

And then at some point Simon introduces the shiny John (“Johnny”, practically purrs Simon and you feel your blood pressure rising) “Soap” MacTavish who’s beautiful and joyful and whose smile is infectious.

And you are cordial, trying to be friendly, trying to push down the “oh, so that’s who you spent Christmas with in Scotland” because it’s not fair to Simon, because Simon doesn’t owe you anything, you aren’t together after all.

And Soap is incredibly friendly, grinning wide, touchy in a way that overwhelms you at some point, discomfort probably evident because Simon pulls Soap away by the nape of his neck, growling that he needs to let you breathe.

And it would be better if Soap instead didn’t drape his hand over Ghost’s shoulders and god, you never were one to be jealous but for some reason (yeah, why is that, i wonder) you want to hole up somewhere and hide.

[guppybibi]

part 2 to the johnny fic!

notes: this was pretty rushed,,,so it is fast paced..if u guys dont like this one i could always rewrite it! :3

taglist: @ennovi-9 @vvenus-child @msilwrites @tessakate @beatriceshadowmarvel2 @montenegroisr (for some reason i cant tag the others??) i'll try to do so in the comments

Grief was never an easy thing to heal from to begin with, so Simon has kept a close eye on you ever since. You refused to believe him at first, trying to pull out some sort of proof that you were with Johnny this past year but to your own shock, there was none. Not a singular one.

Luckily, Simon had a xerox copy of Johnny’s death certificate. The original copy was with you but it seems that it was burned to ashes based on the reaction you gave when Simon dangled it over your face.

But you really weren’t believing him, shielded in the denial you were holding tightly close to you. “Where’s the urn with half of his ashes then, eh?” Simon throws the question at you, his words unintentionally harsher than expected.

But he really doesn't get what you've been trying to convince him to believe, don't you remember spreading Soap’s ashes? He expected you to at least remember that part.

“The…what?” That was all you could manage to say right now, your voice failing you now of all times. “The urn with his ashes.” He repeats, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he intently watches your expression.

Simon starts to wonder how hard of a psychosis you went through, or if you ever took drugs after Johnny’s death. That would explain the hallucinations as well, there's no shame in it either. It's not unusual for someone to turn to substances during mourning, it's a common coping mechanism.

All Simon wants to focus on is you, for you to get better. Fuck Johnny for leaving you alone like this, the pitiful sight almost made Simon's face be a constant scowl.

Okay..maybe he was exaggerating but he’ll definitely throw a middle finger up to the sky later. Simon knows it'll probably make Johnny laugh his ass off…or worry. It really depends if he knew your current situation.

Either way, none of that stuff matters much. You have no choice but to be in Simon’s care.

He’s not quite sure what to do when you start crying into his chest the moment you two stepped into your house, no longer a home. He remains still, lightly patting you on the back as he guides you to the couch.

He’ll be here for a while, won't he?

~~~

It's been weeks since you've known about Johnny’s death, but the only thing Simon could notice was the lack of improvement.

You were rotting in bed, relying on Simon completely for you to do basic tasks. You spent most of the time crying and sleeping, an endless cycle that even made Simon feel like he was going crazy.

“C’mon, eat up, luv. I made you some soup. We're runnin’ out of groceries as well, wanna tag along later?” He offers, holding up the spoon full of soup to your mouth. Expectedly, with a disinterested look, you turn your back on him.

He sighs, putting the bowl aside. “Alright, I won't make you go but the offer is still up.” He says, pausing when he hears footsteps get closer and closer to the door.

It's…weirdly familiar. Simon could recognize people based off of their footsteps alone, but he simply couldn't place his finger on this one. As it got nearer, you seemed to notice it as well..

The two of you make questioning looks at each other. “Stay there, I’ll go check it out.” Simon stood up, making his way to the door until a certain someone pops out.

“Bonnie? Ye there? Git us some groceries.”

…Another shared look between you and Simon.

“Oh good, there yer are, lass. Simon? You're here too? Glad there's another set of hands then.”

Simon’s gaze moved to you, seeing your eyes water up with tears. But that wasn't what caught his attention, it was the hole through this…Johnny’s head.

[just-lost-inbetween-worlds]

Red Hood and Simon “Ghost” Riley (hot badass guys in a mask) going after the bad guy parallel

With a slightly different approach and outcome

Simon “Ghost” Riley in Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II

Red Hood (Jason Todd) in Batman: Under the Red Hood (Batman #646)

[thechaoticcheese]

TW: Numbness, Mentions of Bruises, Yelling, Waterboarding, Torture, Lack of Care for the Reader

Wrongfully Accused - Chapter 4 - The Truth

Gaz had followed his lover and Price until the interrogation room. He watched the two enter and he stopped. His mind pounded with thoughts and his heart screaming at him that something wasn’t right. This wasn’t right. He cursed underneath his breath before he turned back and stalked his way to the barracks. His mind was milling on who would frame the person he loved so much. There was just no way you could do something like this. And god damnit he was going to prove you innocent, or do his best trying. First things first, he has to see who knows. Soap was first. He was the closest, or at least his room was and he’d assumed that Ghost was probably still in the commons room, or somewhere farther away from Soap’s location. Gaz noticed his Scottish friend starting to make his way towards the interrogation rooms and he interacted with the Brit first. Soap seemed a bit disheveled, his brows furrowing and a concerned look plastered on his face. “Aye, Gaz, ya’know wha’ happened b’tween Price an’ Y/N? He took’em away in cuffs.” Soap sounded distressed, in a friend kind of way, worried about your safety and whatever conflict the Captain had with you. “Yeah. He suspects ‘em of bein’ the spy on the base.” Gaz said with slightly gritted teeth, the thought made his fist tighten. “I don’t believe ‘im.” “You don’t believe the Cap’n?” Soap sounded a tad surprised, knowing that Gaz and Price went on a majority of missions together when it was just a two man job. Though he also knew Gaz’s unwavering loyalty to people he heavily cared about. There must’ve been a war inside Gaz, but to Gaz, the answer was clear who was on top. “Not with this. Somethin’ is up. Imma talk to Ghost next. Can you get in contact with Laswell for me?” Gaz requested from Soap, who nodded. “Aye. You think Simon knows som’tin’?” The Scotsman asked curiously. “No tellin’. If not, I have a few more people to ask.” Gaz said, crossing his arms over his chest. His mind flashing back to the burn that was on your face. He shivered as he watched the nurse start to carve out your flesh and you just didn’t move. Soap’s gentle pat on his shoulder brought Gaz back, the mohawked man offering a comforting smile. “Good luck.” “You too.” With that, the two headed in opposite directions. Gaz had a look of determination on his face as he marched through the halls towards the commons room. His mind whirled with what he’d say when he saw Ghost. A lot of it was yelling, but he knew he’d have to approach his friend carefully. The thought of Ghost doing nothing hurt more than he thinks it should’ve. Maybe because the team was so tight knit, hearing that one of his good friends did nothing to help his significant other boiled his blood. When he reached the room, it looked like Ghost had just finished cleaning up the table. He was now standing by the sink, rubbing his thumb back and forth against the mug you were drinking from. His eyes locked onto it before they glanced over at Gaz, who was beelining it towards the taller male. “Gaz.” Ghost gruffly greeted the male before putting the cup gently in the sink. “I should hit you. Ya know.” Gaz greeted back with a growl, taking in a deep breath to calm down the anger that had been bubbling inside him as Ghost glanced a humorous look at the shorter male. While Gaz was known to jump to the extremes quite quickly, the glare Gaz was returning to the masked soldier told Ghost how much he was willing to back up the claim.

Ghost leaned onto the counter, hands gripping the edge as his fingers went into the sink, along with his gaze. It was as if he was ashamed for doing nothing, refusing to look Gaz in his eyes again, or at least for now. “I’m sorry.” He said softly. “My significant other is being tortured by Price, got burned in front of you and you did nothing, and you’re ‘sorry’?” Gaz practically lectured the older male before he took another deep breath closing his eyes, clenching and unclenching his fists. He so wanted to drill Ghost’s head into the sink with one blow, but he had to keep things professional, as professional it was to yell at your friend in the commons room where people could see the two of you arguing.

“Yeah.” Ghost replied, his monotonous voice not changing. This was the closest that Gaz was going to get to a proper apology and he knew it. Though the thought of Ghost doing nothing to stop Price didn’t stop itching at his brain. “Did… Did you even try?” Gaz spoke softer, a soft crack in his voice. He tried to figure out what Ghost did. The silence spoke volumes as Ghost recalled the incident from earlier this morning. Gaz had never seen the bloke wince, but he did, making the shorter soldier wonder if Ghost watched you get burned. “No… Price…” Ghost was trying to speak, trying to explain the situation, but anything past the ‘No’, Gaz didn’t register. “You watched Price burn my partner and dragged them away and you didn’t do anything!” Gaz was ready to explode, his voice indicating that he was already there at such a loud tone. “They were hurt and you couldn’t stand up to Price to get them any bloody treatment! Did his accusation of them being the spy really change your mind that much?!” He continued to spit fire at the tall man. Ghost’s hands gripped tighter against the counter and sink. Gaz swore if he gripped it any tighter it would break. The masked man sharply turned to Gaz and jabbed his finger into his chest, making him stumble back a bit. Ghost being quick wasn’t unheard of, but that didn’t make it any less shocking when it happened. “I do not have a soft spot for traitors. If they are proven innocent I will apologize. Until then they are the enemy.” Ghost growled. The two were ready to fight there in the commons. It was just up to who would swing first. “What ‘appened to ‘innocent until proven guilty’?” Gaz growled back, the air thickening as he leaned into the masked man’s finger. He was challenging the taller bloke. Ghost’s brown eyes flashed in some sort of angry emotion before he sighed and moved away. While Gaz knew it wasn’t because Ghost wanted to back down, he knew that Ghost knew that it would be the best move at this point. If the taller man swung, the commons room would quickly turn into a battle ground, and that would just make everything worse. “Nothin’.” He replied in a quieter tone. Hearing the reply made Gaz chuckle softly, a quip at the tip of his tongue, but he reminded himself to stay calm. Or well, to cool down to not have a fight in the commons room. He already made Ghost get close to boiling over. “Fuckin’ right. Now follow it. I have Soap contactin’ Laswell. I need to ask Price who he got ‘is information from. Though I have a feelin’ it’s one of the blokes that came in with Y/N when they first star’ed to work here. You wanna see what you can find out?” Gaz suggested, his voice determined and calm, but that was a contrast to how he felt. He’d definitely would need a round with Ghost in the ring after all of this is over. He knew he would more than likely lose, but a chance to hone skills and hopefully make some blows, would be worth it.

“Yea. I’ll make ‘em talk.” Ghost responded standing up fully now. “Good. Imma go talk to Price then. Meet ya back here later.” Gaz said with a small smile, gently punching Ghost’s arm, “You awe me a round after this blows over.” Ghost only replied with a half-amused grunt before going to talk to the other three. Gaz felt good about himself, puffing out his chest slightly in a mini victory before pivoting back to the interrogation room. He paused at your barrack’s door. Gaz’s mind filled with apologies that he could only wish to tell you at the moment. Price had to be wrong in this situation. He usually wasn’t, but everyone slips up sometimes. Then he felt bad for lashing out at Ghost, knowing his real anger wasn't at him, nor Price, but the asshole who accused you of being the spy. Whoever it was had to be the one that’s sabotaging everything. He must’ve been there for quite some time because a hand touched his shoulder. He glanced over to see Price. He seemed slightly defeated and tired, but still angry. The blood on his gloves made Gaz want to shiver, but he held his stance. “Gaz. This… This is a ‘ard ask… But Imma need you in a few hours to ‘elp with interrogation’ Y/N-” “You fuckin’ crazy, mate?” Gaz interrupted his Captain, absolutely shocked at how easily Price let the obscene request leave his mouth. Though part of him noticed how Price winced, as if he had known what Gaz’s reaction would be. How long had the Captain been stewing on the question? “They’ll crack faster seeing that there’s no hope.” Price responded coldly. Then Gaz realized something. Price had completely put on his mission mask. One of those masks that isn’t seen, but it’s like a mental block so they could do their work. This was too hard for him to mentally handle and so he hid instead of asking questions. Gaz’s blood started to boil again, but he silently started to reason with himself. This would for sure hurt your relationship, but if you don’t do it, the others would do it just as roughly as Price. At least in this way he could make sure you don’t get it too rough and keep Price from dishing out harder punishments. Though he wasn’t going to agree without bargaining. “Aight… On two conditions.” Gaz said, Prices seemed a bit surprised. “One, you get yourself a nap, you look worse for wear. Two, you tell me who informed ya.” Price’s eyes narrowed at the Sergeant, clearly seeing the bargain, but being too tired to argue he nodded and huffed, “Nikolai… and fine. No more than two hours. In the meantime fetch me a bucket. When I wake up, fill it up with ice cold water.” Gaz nodded, and as soon as Price turned around and sulked to his room to sleep, he shivered. His mind raced. Nikolai? Nik? No… Nikolai wouldn’t… Was… Was it written? There was no way Nikolai could be the spy, everyone knew the Russian too well. Something was amiss.

Gaz quickly jogged to the commons room, or well, he tried. He almost sprinted in, looking for Soap or Ghost, his mind whirling. He spotted the two quietly conversing in the corner. Soap was in front of Ghost, pressed up against him, teasing the Brit with something or other. Gaz couldn’t entirely care what it was at this moment. He quickly headed over, watching as Ghost’s eyes went from Soap’s to his, nodding slightly in a silent greeting. Soap, seeing the nod, shifted away and turned towards Gaz with a big smile, blue eyes shining happily before he caught Gaz’s furrowed brows. The two men knew something went amiss in the plan, or unexpected at least. “We have a problem.” Gaz breathed out as soon as he had both of their attention. “The intel is from Nikolai.” “No fukin’ way.” Soap whispered out. “Yea… I’m wondering if someone forged his handwriting… As illegible as it is…” Gaz put forth his thoughts, Ghost nodded in agreement. “Do we know if he was ‘ere today, or recently?”

“No…” Ghost shook his head slightly, the mask above his eyes moving, no doubt furrowing his brows. “No, he couldn’t be. ‘im an’ Laswell have been on a mission the pas’ few days.” Soap interjected, his eyes narrowing, “We go’ a right proper rat.” He growled out.

Gaz’s fists tightened again, he wanted to find who it was and put them in the dirt now, “What else did you find out?” “Well, Laswell an’ Nik will be ova’ere as soon as they can… Mission complications… Laswell an’ Nik don’t think Y/N is the spy, though they did warn me that they’d lose all communication soon so we’ll have ta wait wit’ baited breath for their return.” “Fuck. Ghost?” “Only one I could find was Tree… Drunk out of ‘is mind. Not suitable for interrogation.” The Brit gruffly responded, anger hinted at the edge of his tone. “God damnit.” Gaz cursed under his breath, despite how much he craved to yell it. “So we have someone framing Nik, who in turn is framing Y/N, and until Nik comes back we’re sitting ducks…” “Aye…” Soap confirmed softly, offering a gently squeeze of Gaz’s shoulder. “We will ge’em out, don’ worry Gaz.” “Yeah but how soon?” He grumbled. Gaz wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to feel his fist hit whoever got you in this situation. For now, he had about an hour and a half to figure things out.

…

Now here he is. Gripping your hair and forcing you into the water that felt cold. He had iced it earlier, but then scrapped the ice and put some hotter water in so it wouldn’t be freezing like Price wanted. He wasn’t about to confront his Captain in these circumstances. He gently pulled your head out of the water as you gasped for air, spitting water out of your mouth as your lungs demanded air. “You gon’ talk now? Or are we gonna take it up a notch?” Price asked, his face getting close to yours as his eyes narrowed. You looked at Price through somewhat closed eyes. “Fuck off.” You manage to murmur out through your sore throat. “Dunk ‘em.”

…

It’s been weeks. You’re weaker than you’ve ever felt in your life. Between being beaten and starved, your will to even consider forgiving anyone on 141 was slipping. The last thread that you held onto tightly was Gaz’s. You wrapped his thread around your hand tightly until it started to cut your fingers, your blood making the thread slippery, each drop from when he’d hurt you. Eventually. He did stop coming. Your grip on his thread was slowly loosening. It had been 21 days, 3 weeks, since you were brought here. You’ve gone numb to so many things, Price’s words, the cold cement, the aches and pains in your body. The way Gaz would sneak you small rations. It hurt you. Having to be secretly fed and begging every single time Gaz had to leave you to not go.

Three weeks of being interrogated to the point that it didn’t matter what happened after this. You were resigning. You wouldn’t sue, though the thought has crossed your mind multiple times. Worst part is, you found who it was. Price just wouldn’t believe you. By day 15, you shut up. Not a word had left your mouth for 6 days. Gaz had been gone for a day and that’s when you found out. It was Quail. Fucking Tree. He let you in on all of his little secrets as he toyed with you, adding to the bruises that decorated your skin as he tried to ‘beat the information’ out of you. You hope he’d burn in hell. You now knew, or well, used to know what was happening. He planted a letter for Price, claiming it to be Nik, but due to the secrecy had to use newspaper clippings, and it was because he and Laswell found sensitive information on their mission about said spy. They just sent Tree to collect it after they sent it to a burner address that everyone knew of, it was just his day to check it. And Price fell for the bait. You couldn’t say a damn thing about their plans though. If you did, you’d be the spy, but if you didn’t, you’d be a traitor after being proven innocent. It fits in your mind, a traitor in a group of traitors.

Soon, someone gripped by your hair, your eyes focusing on the oh so familiar boots of your beloved Captain. Your weak body was limp as Price pulled you from the corner he left you in just hours before, dragging your body across the floor. He then set you up in the chair in the center of the room. “I got a real treat for ya later. Someone’s coming to visit.” Price growled out, looking into your defeated eyes, “You best hope they don’t keep this up.”

You refused to respond. He huffed, gripping the chair and staring into you with hatred, “You’ve been a thorn in my side these past few weeks.If you weren’t so damn important, you would be dead by now” The words were supposed to phase you. They did, but only a little, mainly because being dead sounded like a nice relief. Seeing how ineffective his words were, he growled, winding his arm back to punch you square in the jaw before the door busted open, causing both you and Price to look at the open door that swung open with so much force that it bounced off of the wall it hit. “Enough, John.” Laswell’s voice loudly cracked through the room, seeing Laswell holding Tree by his hair and wrist. “We’ve got the actual traitor, release them.” Your heart fluttered, seeing Nikolai and Gaz right behind her, as if two guards guiding someone, who didn’t need to be guarded mind you, and their dangerous captive. Though, you were only glad to see Nikolai and Laswell. Your heart couldn’t decide if Gaz earned that right in the fuzziness in your chest after everything. After all, your limp hand barely held the string.

Price’s eyes widened, stepping away as his mind turned. You could tell that he was processing the information as Laswell pushed Tree inside the room, Gaz and Nikolai both following immediately. Nik went straight for Price, consoling the man and quickly ushering out of the room. His voice was too soft for you to pick up any semblance of words, that, and you were barely paying attention. You knew Price’s world must’ve been rocked considering what Tree had already told you. You could barely register Gaz taking off your cuffs and tightening around the traitorous male’s wrist, not caring if he complained that it was too tight.

Good. You sickly thought as you heard the clicking of the cuffs.

Gaz brought you up off of the chair, wrapping your arm around his shoulders in an attempt to let you walk, but your body refused. Your mind was still numb to everything, trying to figure out if it could even walk. When you crumbled towards the floor, Gaz scooped you up in his arms. Gaz’s soft and sweet voice softly murmuring apologies. How he tried to get there sooner, but they were waiting on Nikolai and Laswell, but they had to be rescued after weeks of no contact. Price was stuck here and just took his anger out on you since he assumed you were a part of it. You didn’t respond. Part of you didn’t believe him.

The look of dread was sinking into Gaz as he made glances down to your body. While Price didn’t break anything, he dislocated so many things, only relocating them when he got pissed enough. It felt like some might’ve been broken then, but you weren’t sure. Gaz had sped up his walk as you barely recognize Soap’s worried blue eyes as Gaz bulldozed past the Scot.

The amount of care you felt for the world around you was non-existence and it worried Gaz. Every fiber of his being convinced that he was way too late, but he’d try. He’d try so damn hard to get his little angel back.

You heard words exchanged between a different medic than the one before and Gaz. Though as soon as your body felt the softer feeling of the cot, you passed out. Welcoming any softer feeling of an object compared to the cold feeling of the concrete you’d spent the previous nights on. When you woke up, you were covered in bandaids, wrappings, and a few splints on your fingers. You glanced down to see an IV in your arm, and, moving past your better judgement, you ripped it out with nothing more than a soft grunt. It alerted the new medic who swiftly came over, mumbling to themself as you stood up on shaky legs. “Hey! Hey! Sit back down. You need to rest.” He instructed, gently trying to keep you on the bed, but you refused. You still had strength in your body, more than you realized. Perhaps it was just your mental will power that was dead. “No…” Your raspy voice spoke, startling the medic. “I want to return to my room.” He hesitated, glancing away for a moment. “If you let me and my colleagues check in on you every hour on the hour… F-Fine.” You knew this wasn’t allowed, but the lacking care in your body showed, cause the medic seemed absolutely scared shitless by your gaze. You must’ve given him one hell of a glare.

He helped you to your room, always there for your stumbles as you partly wondered where the hell Gaz was. You would’ve sworn he’d be by your side after all of this, but he wasn’t there when you woke. The question soon answered itself as the medic flicked on the light to your room. Your bed was covered with new bedding, stuffed animals, flowers, pillows, anything and everything a lover could do to comfy up the military beds. Though no Gaz. Was he hoping to do a big reveal once you were better? It didn’t matter now. The surprise was ruined and you couldn’t care how nice it looked. Not like you’d choose to remember.

The scene in front of you didn’t affect the deadness in your heart. You just wanted to sleep somewhere more familiar than the medical bay. You stumbled over with the medic’s help. He was about to help you to the side of the bed before you took your arm and wiped off as much as you could, dumping a good chunk of it onto the floor. The only thing that remained was a brown stuffed teddy bear and the new pillows. The teddy bear was holding a heart that you only noticed after grabbing it to huck it onto the ground. You assumed that what it said on the heart was something cheap, before you paused. You noticed how the message was hand-sewn into a heart, that was a bit-lopsided, but also hand made. ‘To my Angel. You will forever be in my heart. No matter where we are.’ It read. Was it still sappy? Sewn in a bit sloppily? Absolutely, but you settled into bed with it. The stuffed bear held tightly against your chest as the medic carefully tucked you in.

“See you in an hour.” He said softly, carefully nudging the gifts on the ground towards the wall to be picked up later, before turning off the light to the room and leaving you alone. The darkness made your mind scream in fear, but the tiredness in your body gagged it as you finally closed your eyes to sleep against the mattress that felt so soft. Your arms had a death grip on the teddy bear. Its soft fur brushed against the bandages on your arms and chest. You wish you could feel how soft its fur was, but your body was being held together by the medical fabric. Soon, you were able to drift off to sleep with a soft warmness towards Gaz once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I hope y'all enjoyed glances at word count 4,027 words of this! I was debating on putting it in two parts, but.... Nah. You guys just get one BIG chapter. Y'all get two more chapters of angst and fluff until it ends. Not sure when it'll be posted cause my mind be everywhere lol. Inspire by this post.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 8

<- former chapter - AO3 link - this is the last chapter, sinners.<3

Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do it interact. Read the tags. WC: 4.8k words (i think lol.)

MDNI MDNI MDNI READ THE TAGS

Tags: rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working dogs, punishments, mating cycles/ruts/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn’t dead but its dying, it dies later on, reader is a brat, knotting, dog tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers in a fucked up way, chubby reader, reader has a pussy, pregnancy

Author Note: Phew OKAY, this was a beast to write, especially because I wanted to describe so much, but I can’t keep writing on it, lol. I have to allow myself to finish it. I will write more in this universe, I have plans of writing a fic following Valeria, heh. And i will most likely write one-shots here and there, but I also want to explore other ideas not in this universe, as i also have other fics i want to write lmao. I have never given birth to a kid (and i have no intention to), so take the whole uh pregnancy part with a pinch of salt. I kept a lot of it vague, sorry lmao. I am, however from a big family. So uh. Yeah. Also ngl, this fic took a much sweeter turn than i had planned, but oh well. It happens and i had a good time writing it. Thank you for all the support, it really means a lot to me, sweet sinners. Ily all, smooches for everyone.<3333

It was close to midday and usually the farm would be rather quiet by now, calm and content, animals at their places for the day. The sun was shining for once, the British weather hournering you with some warmth. It warmed the roof of the houses, the fur of the baby goats playing outside.

Peaceful, all around.

Or, well, almost… not inside the farm house.

You were angry. Not just angry, but mad, livid; you were growling and snapping at the pack members as they came closer to apologise, or at least attempt to - and then you would hide again in the crook of John’s armpit, whining as Farah and Alex tried to comfort you. John had to hold onto your jaw multiple times, just to make sure you would accidentally nip at Farah and Alex, Nikolai trying to herd the male hybrids a little more away, though they constantly refused.

They wanted to see the screen too.

Not just one pup - not two - no, you were having bloody four pups and you were almost even more upset about it than moving to the farm.

… almost.

You sniffled as you looked at the screen as Farah pointed so that you and the others could see the hearts and slowly growing pups inside you.

“You’re never gonna knot me again,” you angrily hissed at the male hybrids - Gaz had the decency to look apologetic, but the others didn’t. Soap was one big grin, Ghost was looking smug, filled with pride. Alex patted your head, saying it would be alright but you couldn’t see how.

Alex tried to explain that it wasn’t super uncommon for hybrids to have quadruplets, as your bodies were different from humans in many ways other than the visual ones, but you were already spiraling.

How the fuck were you even supposed to walk? You asked the male hybrids just that, though it was more of an accusation you supposed.

“Your bloody knots,” you growled, “I’m not gonna be able to walk!”

“Dinnae fash, lass, we will carry ye around,” Soap promised with a grin, tail wafting happily from side to side, only earning an angry growl from you, Price and Nik hushing you, holding onto your jaw again, trying to keep you still.

Farah and Alex help you clean the gel off, explaining what they need to make sure of, what food to avoid now and which vitamins to get you, especially when now carrying quadruplets - though it was possible one of them might disappear and get absorbed by the other fosters.

After the two vets left, you refused to talk to your pack mates, upset with the four pups currently inside of you - logically you knew it wasn’t their fault, but it sure felt like it was… yes you had initiated the mating yourself, but you hadn’t thought their sperm would knock you up like this. You stayed on the couch, leaned against the corner, nipping at the other hybrids as they tried getting closer.

Though both of your owners chastised you and the men apologized for something that essentially wasn’t their fault, you remained upset for a good thirty minutes.

It wasn’t until you owners tried giving Gaz one of your favorite snacks, the hybrid slowly crawling towards you on all fours, looking up at you at the couch, tail carefully wagging. Keeping his body language all submissive, letting out a whine as he got close to you. Finally you gave in with a grumble, leaning down and snatching the snack from his mouth and then he was on you, cuddling you and nuzzling him. The others joined him soon, Price sending you a happy smile as he looked from the kitchen.

You still grumbled a little when their licking became too much but you were melting into their touches.

✨✨✨✨

It was breakfast, a little week later, that Price and Nikolai came with the suggestion; a bigger place for all of them, either inside the house or as an expansion to it, so you could all be closer. They would keep the old shed so the boys could still have a place to Power Nap during work.

It was a suggestion, an offer - they didn’t demand it, actually asked you about it and you felt a certain pride from the fact.

Whatever the chaos that you had created had done to the two men, it had helped. You had slid to your knees afterwards, crawling to your owner, looking up at Price as you sucked him off - to your surprise but delight, Gaz joined you, licking at Price’s cock as well, stealing kisses from you, licking the cum from your mouth afterwards. John praised you both, scratching you beneath your chins - you hadn’t realised that Soap had gone to Nik before looking over, the Russian stroking his cock, Soap almost shyly sitting in front of him, his own bulge hard, as he had his mouth open, tongue out.

Nik mostly hit his tongue, you licked the couple of drops of cum which had missed from his skin. Gaz had crawled beneath the temple to Ghost instead, letting the bigger hybrid fuck his mouth. While John and Nik cleaned off the table, Soap fucked you beneath it, making the plates and cutlery shake rhythmically, Nik chastiseing you now and again until you both finished

As you laid beneath it, soaking in the pleased feeling of the orgasm, Soap knotted to you - much to your annoyance, since it hadn’t taken you long to let them do that to you again - you found yourself hoping this would continue, all of you getting along with each other.

✨✨✨✨

It was a couple of days later that you had made your decision together with your pack, that the four of you went to Price, telling what you all wanted.

You didn’t think too much of it then, switching between sleeping at the shed with the others and then inside - when it was too cold, Gaz usually made you get inside, worried you would freeze.

It was almost a week later when Price and Nik appeared with some plans for the extension, when you were all eating lunch. It would be an extension of the main farmhouse, with a door directly into it, so that it would be easier for everyone to come and go. It was much bigger than the shed, almost a tiny house of itself, Price sweetly kissing your forehead and telling you that he wanted you to have enough space for all the pups without struggling - making your tail wag so hard it almost hurt, licking and kissing his cheek with a happy whine.

✨✨✨✨

At first you almost felt like the promise of quadruplets had been a lie - your stomach didn’t seem to change that much and though your tits felt a little sore, it felt, well… Normal.

That didn’t last though. As soon as you hit month three, it hit with full speed - your stomach grew and so did your hunger at a speed you had never experienced before.

You raided the entire kitchen not even trying to hide the mess when your masters came for lunch, sitting on the floor, inhaling chocolate together with some leftovers from the day before, ready to attack a chicken foot afterwards, to really finish off with.

You didn’t get the opportunity to, though - you knew that, just from the mere sight of John with his furrowed brow and from Nik’s amused grin.

John spanked you and you spread your legs afterwards, whining for him to fuck you - he did, careful with your growing stomach, cooing about how you should just ask and he would give you everything you wanted.

That there was no need to make a mess in the kitchen, leaving cans of beans and tomatoes all over the floor, a turned over bag of flour abandoned, having fallen from one of the shelves as you tried to grab the sugar next to it.

”Can’t have you crawling on the tables, mama,” he cooed, kissing one of your burning cheeks, swiping a finger over some of his cum dripping from your puffy pussy, “Can’t have you fall down, no?”

The rest of the pack came to eat not long afterwards, the kitchen still a mess, you sitting on the couch in the living room, shyly wagging your tail at them, while you gnawed at a piece of Nik’s jerky, which he had kindly sneaked and given you, only stopping to take a bite of a cucumber now and again.

Food forgotten for a moment, your three mates were on you, licking and cooing, keeping their voices low as they promised to help you next time you wanted to raid the kitchen. Soap licked your cunt, insisting on ‘cleaning you off’, while Gaz and Ghost peppered your tits and stomach with kisses.

✨✨✨✨✨✨

Your belly was swollen, lots of stretch marks having joined your already existing ones - you had already had morning sickness for a month, but it seemed to be over once more. You felt hormonal, tired and big. It was carrying around three dumbbells all the time, your back screaming half the time. Your tits grew too, which Gaz and Soap in particular, seemed fond of.

Ghost however, learned to stand behind you, big arms curling around you and carefully holding on beneath your stomach, letting you feel a moment of relief as he carried the weight of the pups.

Alex and Farah came by on the regular, checking your vitals and everything. Everything seemed to be going as it should - even the aggressive moments you were beginning to have, where you didn’t want anyone to touch your belly was apparently normal, as you got closer and closer to your due date.

One month left. It was normal to have those instincts, wanting to make sure the pups were in a safe environment when born.

Speaking of that - that became a discussion.

”It’s too big a risk, sweetheart,” John pleaded softly with you and you turned your head away, letting out a dramatic huff. Your arms were crossed, refusing to look at any of them.

”I’m giving birth here,” you demanded, still not looking at them, “Or I’m not giving birth at all.”

You knew for a fact that it didn’t work that way, you couldn’t just refuse to give birth to the four babies currently making your stomach swell up like a giant balloon.

”you’re literally gonna give birth to four kids,” Gaz pointed out, arms crossed too, looking just as stubborn as you, “what if something happens?”

“I wanna give birth here,” you replied once more, “I don’t want to go to some sterile place.”

”Daisy,” Farah’s voice was gentle, “We just don’t want anything to happen to your pups.”

You let out a little sad sound.

”I’m not a bad mom,” you answered with a whine, arms uncrossing to hold onto your stomach, “I’m not.”

”Nobody said that,” Farah said, leaning forward to gently pat your head, “and it’s okay to be scared - you’ve never tried it before and we know it’s not gonna be easy.”

You bit your bottom lip, another sad sound. Soap carefully snuggled against you on the couch, pressing his nose against your neck.

”There are nesting rooms at the hybrid hospital,” Alex added, “you can bring everything you want in there a week before the due date, make it feel right, yeah? We will let you go yourself as long as you want and help you if necessary.”

You could feel one of the pups kick at your ribs, making you wince for a moment, curling your fingers against the stomach a little more.

“Okay,” you finally whispered, “But I want to decide what we bring.”

✨✨✨✨

You had brought a lot of blankets to the hybrid hospital, but a lot of clothes as well — not all your own. In fact, most of them weren’t your own. Nikolai had let out a pained sound as you had grabbed his leather jacket and you had shot him such a nasty look that you almost regretted it. You could see the pack behind him tensing up as well, as if ready to hold Nik so that you could steal it.

”Fine, lapochka,” he finally grumbled, grabbing one of John’s coats to wear instead, “But I want it back afterwards.”

You arrived a week before, getting used to the facility and getting your nest ready. John and Nik switched between being there, going home to help at the ranch and then switching - Ghost, Gaz and Soap all stayed with you, the mere mention of them leaving making you growl the loudest.

It was on the fourth day into your stay that your water broke, making you and all the hybrids panic for a short moment. Farah and Alex arrived shortly after, as well as a specialist who had helped with a lot of hybrid births, when there were more than 3 pups at once. Said specialist seemed nice enough but it took a couple of hours before you got used to her - John almost muzzling Soap and Ghost from how they growled at her at first.

Despite all of your fears and the exhausting and stressful experience it was to give birth to four babies, it didn’t matter once they were all on your chest. Tiny and perfect, unable to open their eyes and letting out small coos to make sure you were there.

Fat little bastards laying on your chest, finally no longer in your stomach, all declared healthy.

The specialist, Farah and Alex made sure all of them were alright and that you were doing fine. You had gotten stitches and fluids but otherwise you were good.

You were enamored, watching their tiny ears and tails, their tiny fingers and barely there claws pawing at you, hungry for touch and food.

You didn’t let John nor Nikolai hold them at first, but they didn’t seem mad about it.

Gaz, Soap and Ghost on the other hand were allowed to - in a way, it almost looked comical to you. They held them as you got cleaned up a little, exhausted but not wanting to miss a moment.

The male hybrids that you had hated for the first while, all seemed like lap dogs themselves; they were all so big in their own ways and the pups were tiny, so careful that it might as well have been delicate porcelain they held onto. Ghost’s big hands almost seemed to swallow one of the pups.

Two girls, two boys. Perfect. All of them.

You stayed at the hospital, making sure everything was alright. They got the shots they needed, the chips that were required by law, so that they were a part of the system.

It was three days later that you finally offered John to hold one of your boys, shyly offering it to him with a whine, your tail wagging against the temporary nest.

You pretended to not see the tears in his eyes, Nikolai leaned over his shoulder, looking with awe at them himself, whispering something you couldn’t understand.

It was the day after that you were finally up and walking again, wanting to go home.

✨✨✨✨

You were inside with them for the first month, your working dogs looking after you in shifts - while John and Nikolai looked after you all the time.

It wasn’t easy, especially not at first.

Cries that kept most of you awake at night, their never ending hunger and your sudden role not just as a mother to a single pup but to four. It was dirty diapers and stressful moments, it was tears rolling down your cheeks as you felt helpless despite the pack being there. It was fear of the future, of whether you did everything as well as you should.

It was late night kisses as Ghost, Gaz or Soap comforted you; on your lips, cheeks, nose and against your temple. Whispering your actual name in moments shared in secrets.

✨✨✨✨

In a way they grew up too fast. One moment they were barely able to crawl and the next you were running after a delighted toddler in a diaper, escaping from bath time, leaving Soap and John behind in the bathroom to wash the others after a day outside.

“Alice!” You yipped, the tiny child just screaming with delight, ducking under the table to escape, tail wagging so quickly it hit chair legs on the way. She made it to the hallway, almost at the door, when Nikolai appeared from the stairs, swooping her up, Alice letting out an annoyed howl at her capture.

“Not behaving today , eh?” He asked, the baby squealing as he tickled her tummy before handing back your pup, “escaping the bath again?”

“It’s like she knows just when to bolt,” you agreed, frowning at your pup who looked up at you with Soap’s eyes, Gaz’s hair and skin tone but Ghost’s facial features. Long, pointy and fluffy ears that might raise when she got older, might not, too much of a mixed breed for any of you to know.

She clapped her dirty hands against your cheeks and you huffed at her, before carrying her back to the bathroom where she let out excited barks at the sight of her siblings.

They all looked different, yet somehow the same. Sharing yours or the men’s features in different ways. Alice, Henry, Oscar and Florence. Some of them had your nose, some of them had Gaz’ hair, some Ghost’s freckles, and some of them had Soap’s chin.

They grew quickly — too quickly for you to almost follow along, the extension to the house filled to the brim and once more expanded. As soon as they had learned to walk and crawl up on things, it became even more crazy, especially as they ran off to hide in the stalls, meeting the goats and some of the barn cats.

Once, Florence disappeared into the corn fields that you had once ran into to escape the men - it seemed so long ago and despite time having passed and knowing that Valeria had found a mate of her own, a stray that she had thrown her love onto, all of you were still territorial.

Nothing happened however. It only took five minutes before a slightly grumpy looking Valeria appeared, holding Florence in her arms, your daughter tugging on one of the other hybrid’s ears, as if Valeria wasn’t scary one bit.

”Sorry, Valeria,” you said as she gave you Florence over the fence, the other letting out a little grumble.

”’s okay,” she said - and you didn’t comment on how her tail wagged a little as she walked away.

✨✨✨✨

It was five years after the quadruplets birth, that you got pregnant once more, ready to castrate your pack members yourself, making Soap, Ghost and Gaz sleep out in the shed, while you took your pups to sleep in John’s and Nik’s bed, all of you barely fitting in there.

It had truly been an accident this time - you hadn’t even been in heat. Nik seemed amused, as the asshole did with everything, while John seemed a little more frustrated, yet confused over how the fuck you and the others hybrids had even managed to knock you up.

And it was fucking twins.

It took three days before you let your working dogs back into the little house you had, all the pups delighted, while Soap, Ghost and Gaz all kissed you and licked you so you smelled like more of them.

Despite your anger, you had liked the amazement on the quadruplets’ faces once they felt the twins kick inside your stomach for the first time, Ghost sniffling with delight, while Gaz and Soap were wagging so hard you were afraid it would hit one of the pups and tumble them to the ground.

Laswell took care of the pups while you gave birth - the woman might not fully admit to it, but you knew she had a very soft spot for them. Spoiling them the two days before she took them to meet their new siblings at the hospital.

Once more Nik had to give up his leather jacket, muttering about how it was hard to get it clean last time.

After giving birth and healing, you demanded to get your tubes tied and after several talks, psychologist and doctor visits, John let you have the procedure.

Though Ghost, Soap and Gaz weren't too happy about the idea at first, they were also not denying that six kids was enough - more than enough. Hadn’t you been a pack of four, you weren’t sure you would have been able to handle it. Ghost shyly admitted one late evening that it was a lot of his hybrid instincts that held him back, the forever present idea of breeding you that made him sceptical. But he still supported you, together with the others.

There was indeed enough trouble as it was with all the pups. Alice, Florence, Oscar and Henry were already growing into kids having their own opinions, needing to try out boundaries and figure out what they liked and didn’t like. They didn’t quite understand that Leo and Sophie was too young to play with them at first.

They grew up with more love than you had experienced in your own childhood, freed from the forced training of becoming the perfect lapdog. They weren’t hit or spanked, the only fights they got into were play fights or fights with each other that their parents or owners were always quick to break up.

Nobody told any of them off for following their instincts, as you had experienced — nobody declawed them or filed down their fangs like it had been done to you. They weren’t punished for barking. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that a lot of the overprotectiveness from the men also came from the lack of their own parents’ being unable to be there for them throughout their childhood.

They socialised with humans a lot, John finding a daycare for them as they grew older, as well as a school for hybrids later on. It made both Ghost and Gaz bawl their eyes off the first day they left for school, never having been able to do that themselves.

Snuggling with both John and Nik at the couch but stubbornly refusing to admit so.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

They were in their early twenties when the first of them left.

It was Henry who left first, after a couple of people had come to meet the young hybrids and he had gotten along with a couple, who had kids on their own. They also had an older hybrid, whom he took a liking to.

John - and not to mention, you and your mates - didn’t let him go easily. It took three months of visits, paperwork and Henry visiting the new owners at a week at a time, before it was the young hybrid himself who put his foot down. He wanted to go and finally you felt peace with letting him do so, kissing him all over when he packed his last stuff, leaving with his new owners, waving from the car.

He wasn’t going far, only an one-hour drive away but still. All of you pretended not to cry afterwards. Leo and Sophia, your youngest pups were inconsolable the first two days, the teenage pups not quite understanding fully where their brother was going.

Florence was the next to leave - she had more herding instincts than any of the others, often happily following Soap around when herding the sheep or goats. It had started with her herding the chicken at a young age and as the years passed, she had grown to love it.

So when a farmer came by together with his family - it was almost a perfect fit from the moment they saw each other. It was a big family, with three generations living on the farms, together with three other hybrids already helping. But they were expanding and were getting more sheep - so another hybrid was needed, even though they had actual dogs as well.

The procedure was the same as with Henry though Florence put her foot down a little earlier than his brother, wanting to move to her new owners now.

Two-hour drive, but with the promise of regular visits, you let another of your adult pups leave the nest, four pups left.

Oscar was the third - and if you were honest, he was one of your pups that you had been most nervous about, since he seemed more sensitive. He wasn’t into herding like Florence and didn’t have the same outgoing energy as Henry did. He liked comforting others but he sometimes seemed to get uncomfortable when there were too many people together.

But when a young lesbian couple came to meet him, you knew that he was going to be alright. Even after the first time, it was clear that he had taken a liking to the two women, especially one of the women, who was soft-spoken and had anxiety.

The papers were drawn up a month after, as Oscar also went to take a one-year course to become a registered service hybrid, to help one of his new owners to get more comfortable.

Another two-hour drive, but the women had family in the area, so they would be around often.

Alice was the fourth of them, not having vibed with two applicants, turning twenty-three not too long after meeting the couple she decided to join. They lived in one of the bigger cities, a three-hour drive, but they fit so well together that you couldn’t make yourself feel bad about it.

She was a snuggle bug and much more of a stereotypical lapdog than any of her siblings, so the couple seemed right. They had a kid that she seemed to bond with pretty quickly as well.

You felt old sometimes, seeing your pups growing up - it was as if twenty years had passed by so quickly that you barely noticed it. There were grey speckles of hair in Nikolai’s hair, John’s beard almost grey by now, making the man grumble about feeling like a grandpa sometimes. Sometimes you wondered if they had wanted kids of their own. If they had wanted someone to throw their love onto, just like you, Ghost, Gaz and Soap had had. Yet, they seemed happy at the same time, having been nothing but loving towards your pups throughout their life from birth to young adults.

Leo and Sophia also left in their twenties.

Sophia had tried with a few different people before she met the right one - almost having given up on the idea of finding her own owner, bawling her eyes out, feeling like a failure.

That was until she met a lady a couple years older than herself. She was blind and already had a blind dog, but needed more help in her daily life - as well as more company. She would visit her brother often, who also had hybrids, so Sophia wouldn’t be fully cut off from hybrid company. Sophia excelled in her training as a guide hybrid and passed with flying colors, happily leaving together with her owner with signed papers and a heartfelt goodbye from everyone.

Leo left not too long after - they had run into one of Nikolai and John’s old friends and the hybrid had been smitten ever since, the almost mute man having found comfort in the hybrid despite only meeting for a couple of hours. Just like all the others, they went through a trial period, because while you believed in Nikolai and John when they said that he was a good man, you wanted to make sure that Leo didn’t rush into the situation.

✨✨✨✨

At last, it was John, Nikolai, Ghost, Soap, Gaz and you back at the farm that you had declared your worst enemy over two decades ago. You didn’t hate to admit that you liked the place now, even if you never got into running through muddy fields or guarding livestock. You didn’t miss the city any more - at least not in the way that you used to.

The first month that you had all been alone, you all fucked like rabbits, all of you happy to have sex with the others by now. You all calmed down after that, having gotten most of it out of your system, though you were happy to not having to worry about pups walking in on you being pounded by one of their dads or their dads fucking the throats of John or Nik.

It was odd too. You grew older, all of you did.

In many ways life felt like it always had, in other ways, it seemed so different. You felt happy, a lapdog living her best life at a farm.

[eyelambspider]

♰ 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♰

⤷ ❝ You Broken? ❞ catalogue as per @eyelambspider

Navigation: Here you will find links to all my COD works/imagines/hcs. Each is sorted by: character, fic name, and a short description. Some characters don't have anything yet, but they will. The 'Assorted' List is just a compilation of multiple characters so I don't have to repeat them!

AU Tags: #Outlast Au / #DBH Au

▹ Assorted

Lingerie || Kinktober ( Price, Gaz, Ghost, Soap, König x gn!reader ) The COD men react (separately) to their s/o in lingerie.

Doctor, Please Listen! || Kinktober/Outlast AU ( gn!reader x TF141, König, Horangi ) Oneshot: You are a doctor during the escape of project Walrider, and they all need you to stay alive.

Getting Jealous for 'Stupid' Reasons || ( gn!reader x Price, Ghost, Gaz, Soap, König, Horangi ) Drabbles: Scenarios where they get jealous of the idea of you and another man.

Its a... Keepsake || (gn!reader x Price, König, Ghost, Weaver ) Hcs: They keep a photo of you.

▹ John Price

Death of a Bachelor || ( Price x gn!reader ) Oneshot: He thinks back to his 'would be wedding day'. angst

Apocalypse & Auralism || Kinktober Nsfw ( Price x gn!reader ) Oneshot: Price leads your group of survivors to safety, and when no help is coming, he makes you an 'offer'

Giving Control || Nsfw ( Price x gn!reader ) Short Fic: Control is important to you, and behind closed doors... you let Price take control.

▹ Simon "Ghost" Riley

Cannibal & Oral || Kinktober Nsfw ( Ghost x gn!reader ) Oneshot: You and Ghost are kissing in a small closet until you decide to get on your knees for him.

Slasher || Kinktober Nsfw Collab w/@lady-boketto ( Slasher!Ghost x gn!reader ) Oneshot: The killer, Ghost, stumbles upon you and Gaz getting 'intimate' in the woods and decides to listen.

▹ Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Siren & Aphrodisiac || Kinktober Semi-Sfw ( Mer!Gaz x gn!reader ) Oneshot: During a storm you fall off your ship, only to be saved by a mermaid

In Your Sunlight || Kinktober Nsfw ( Vampire!Gaz x gn!human!reader ) Oneshot: After a long night of feeding, Gaz just wants to be close to his love.

▹ John "Soap" MacTavish

Potion & Body Swap || Kinktober Nsfw ( Soap x reader ) Oneshot: You and Soap drank something strange, and find yourselves in each others bodies, accidentally turning each other on.

Versions: Male!reader / Fem!reader

▹ König

The Quiet Type || ( Mute!König x gn!reader ) Oneshot: After a year of therapy and losing his voice, only one thing makes him happy anymore: you.

Repurposed || Detroit Become Human AU ( Android!König x gn!reader ) Fic: Reader decides to take a chance and give an old android a new life.

Parts: One / Two

Creepypasta || Kinktober ( König x gn!reader ) Oneshot: While on a scouting mission, you and the scary scared Colonel encounter something strange.

Eldritch Horror & Biting || Kinktober Semi Nsfw ( Monster!König x gn!reader ) Short Fic: Since he's shown you his true face of tentacles, he's become clingy and won't let you go until you have a pretty mark on your skin.

More Monster König Rambles: One / Two

Slasher || Kinktober Sfw ( Michael Myers!König x gn!reader ) Oneshot: While trick-or-treating, you (unknowingly) run into the horror of Haddonfield.

You've Watched 'Carrie', Right? || Kinktober ( König x reader ) Oneshot: Its prom night, and as much as König hates it, he has to work up the courage to confess to you and get back at his bullies.

Versions: Male!reader / Fem!reader

Winter Drabble || ( König x gn!reader ) He's just admiring the view... and the snowflakes in your hair.

▹ Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin

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▹ Grigori Weaver

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▹Farah Ahmed Karim

Picture You || Angst ( Farah x Fem!reader ) Oneshot: You've been pining for her affection from afar, only to find her one night in Alex Keller's arms.

[buckdefencesquad]

Chat, do I bother carrying this on? Classic Ghost being an idiot. But I'm debating just binning it

Soap isn't handsome. He's not rugged. He's not chiselled (well, his abs are). He's pretty. It makes Ghost fucking hate him as soon as he meets him. Soap is the prettiest fucking thing he's ever seen. He wants to own him. He's so pretty it makes him want to grab, tear, destroy. No straight man should be that gorgeous. It’s a crime against humanity.

He nearly loses it after their first mission together, Soap standing inches away from him, looking up at him through dark lashes. Pretty blue eyes shining and a sweet flush on his face. Spreading down his face, neck, below his t-shirt. Ghost wants to grab him, rip his shirt off and find out if it goes any further. Instead of giving in to his instincts, he just turned around and walked away. Leaving Soap there, pouting and confused.

He tries to resist Soap's attempts at friendship. But he's so fucking pretty and persistent and perky. All the P's Ghost can think of. It's like basking in the sun, getting soap's attention. He decides not to waste it. For as long as Soap gives it to him, He will take and take and take.

Soap is the pretty boy of the 141. Gaz is handsome, but Soap. Something about him just sucks you in. The higher-ups love him. The recruits love him. Everybody wants Soap in some way. Whether it's his friendship or more.

And yet it's Ghost he chooses. Soap walks into the mess and has numerous offers of a place to sit. He waves them off, grinning and gorgeous. Gets his food and hesitates for a second before making his way over to Ghost's table tucked in the corner. Sits down opposite him with a sweet little blush. Doesn’t expect Ghost to make conversation, just chatters away. The first few weeks of this happening, Ghost had just stared, Johnny not caring every time his eyes flicked up and met Ghost's relentless stare (which was surprisingly often).

Then Ghost started grunting at the appropriate times, enjoying the way Soap's eyes lit up. And then, a week later, he’d started talking. Soap had been almost giddy when he’d asked him a question about something he’d just said.

Ghost, let it continue. Soap dropped into his office and his room. Quiet nights spent together, talking about shared awful childhoods. Quiet nights filled with Soaps, gentle laughter, and ghosts muted chuckles. Seeing Soap stretched out on his bed, shoes kicked off, clad in sweatpants and a soft shirt was a real test of his self-control. Watching Soap roll over onto his back, stretching and groaning, telling Ghost he was too tired and comfy to move, so he’d just sleep here. Ghost would grunt and make him leave, ignoring Soap's pout as he shut the door behind him.

The most infuriating thing about how pretty Soap was, he didn’t even realise it. It was lucky, really, that Soap didn’t know the power he could wield, especially over Ghost. He’d come trotting over to their table in the mess, all cheery because, yet again, he’d been given an extra dessert. He’d hold it up, grinning at Ghost triumphantly, and Ghost would ache with want. The ache would worsen when Soap never hesitated before sliding the dessert over to him with a cheeky wink.

Ghost had some leave coming up and was in his room, packing when Soap sauntered in, throwing himself on the bed dramatically. Ghost ignored Soap, still methodically packing. Soap was staring intensely at him, and Ghost enjoyed the impatience he could practically feel simmering off of him.

“Lt,” Soap called.

Ghost grunted, knowing that Soap would understand it was an invitation to keep speaking.

“What are your plans when you’re home?” Soap asked, leaning in closer, smiling. “You got a guy? A girl?”

Ghost froze. He’d never come out to Soap, not wanting to risk Soap being uncomfortable with the idea of Ghost wanting him. But Soap was asking, so it must mean he was alright with it. He could use this moment to come out and pretend to Soap that he had no interest in him, that he was safe.

“No girls for me. Ever. No long-term guy either, but there’s this same one I fuck whenever I’m back home. I’ll probably shoot him a text on my way home. It’s been a while; there’s no one here I’d fuck, so it’s been a long year.” Ghost told Soap with a harsh laugh at the end. Of course, Ghost had no intention of texting anyone, too obsessed with Soap to consider ever touching anybody else.

He watched Soap out of the corner of his eye as he spoke. The easy smile on his face slid off his face. His face became hard, with no hint of the softness that he usually directed at Ghost. When Ghost finished speaking, there was a prolonged silence.

Soap stood up from the bed and nodded. “Have a great time.” Was all he said, going to clap Ghost on the shoulder before stopping himself and just walking out, the door slamming behind him.

Ghost stood there perplexed. He had no clue why Soap was suddenly mad at him. He sighed and continued to pack. It couldn’t be because he was gay, right? When he was finally finished, he placed his duffle by the door, ready for when he left the next morning.

As Ghost approached the jeep that would take him home, he looked around for Soap. He was sure he’d come and say goodbye, but there was no sign of him. He ignored the disappointment that gnawed at him. He knew this would happen. Something would make him lose Soap.

[ilostthewar]

When it comes to our 141 boys, who’s the best at cooking? No trigger warnings for this one.

You know it’s Kyle, YOU KNOW ITS KYLE. LOOK AT THIS MAN. He learned to cook growing up and his skills kinda just naturally grew. He definitely used it as a flirting tactic in his fuck boy era, but I imagine he really does enjoy cooking. He gets to play music and vibe around the kitchen, it’s relaxing in a unique way he often isn’t allowed. He can be a little boujie when he wants to be, and he enjoys making different cultural and ethnic dishes he doesn’t get to have on base. He also enjoys the plating and picking good drinks to go with them. Definitely posts pictures of his meals when they turn out the way he wants. Soap will inevitably comment “I’m on my way”, and then an hour later Soap posts a picture of him in Gaz’s house eating his food, way too excited about it and Gaz is in the background glaring at him cause Gaz gave him specific instructions on what drink to bring, and Soap comes over with the same bottle of scotch he always does.

Next, surprisingly, Simon. I imagine when he was younger he didn’t care at all. He would probably steal MREs and just horck em down because sustenance was sustenance, whatever was cheapest and easiest. Very much a bottle of ketchup, 3 beers, and a gun in his fridge type guy. As he gets older, and after therapy that he swore he didn’t need, he probably succumbs to it and tries. Realizes he needs to put effort into the whole “being alive” thing, and cooking just happened to be the thing he tried, especially since as he gets older he realizes he can’t force down half a pizza at 2am and not get heartburn. It’s medative for him, honestly. It’s a low stakes task for him to accomplish, keeps his mind and hands busy. There are clear steps to follow, maybe a video if he’s really confused. And at the end, he’s made something good that he gets to eat. It doesn’t always look the best but he always feels oddly proud about it. He’ll complain if anyone is in the kitchen with him, he hates that shit, actually. But he does like presenting something he made and watching other people enjoy his work. He will stare at people while they eat, and forget to eat himself at first, cause he’s trying to figure out if they actually like it or they’re lying. Unfortunately, it just looks like he’s glaring at you… he will pack you left overs to take with you.

Next is John, what can I say. He’s pretty okay at cooking. He’s not fucking anything up horrendously and most of his food comes out good enough. It simply wasn’t a skill he put a lot of effort into when he was younger. However, there are a few dishes that are his speciality that he nails every time and if his goal is to impress, he pulls them out. Also, he’s out here barbecuing. He’s such a fucking guy about it, too. Stands by the grill, has a whole marinade/seasoning situation that he insists is secret, he stole it off the back of a bbq bottle. Does NOT want anyone to mess with his meats, he’s in control of the grill, don’t touch, his control freak comes out. However, if you linger nearby too long you get dragged into a conversation about “protecting the integrity of the meat” whatever the fuck that means.

And at the bottom is poor Johnny. To be fair, it’s not exactly his fault. One of his issues is that he gets distracted easily, especially with cooking that requires wait times between steps. When he’s at home and his brain is allowed to relax he’ll walk away and then get caught up with something else and come back and remember he was supposed to be toasting the nuts, not burning them. He always wants to experiment with cooking and unfortunately it doesn’t always work. He takes the instructions as a suggestion and ingredients as suggestions, throws in seasonings where they aren’t needed or decides to pull something from the cabinet and toss it in. I think he’s the king of “I don’t know why but it works” combinations, and others will try to turn their nose up at it until they try it, and then they have to admit he was right. I do believe he is GREAT at being a kitchen partner. Give him a little task to do and he’s having a great time, does have a habit of always being in the way, but part of that is because he’s so fucking bulky. The funniest part is he is hilariously great at baking, cause that’s just chemistry and art and he’s great at both of those.

[moody-alcoholic]

Cross My Heart

Part 3 - Working With the Enemy

Summary: eventual poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers, mini fic.

CW: mentions of wounds, medical stuff.

Previous parts - masterlist - next

AO3

Enjoy <3

They make you leave the room with the mohawk guy while they talk. 

It’s been at least 10 minutes you’d wager. They’re deciding your fate. It makes you restless, bouncing your leg up and down while you hear their muffled voices on the other side of the door. You look over at the man in the room.

You could take him, you wouldn’t have to do much just surprise him, give yourself enough time to run out the house. Maybe if you knock him hard enough you can grab his weapon. He’s not even holding a weapon at you, his arms are crossed. 

You’re quick, you don’t know if you’re quicker then him but his pistol is just sitting her in his holster. 

“See something you like?” He asks, snapping you out of your head, you look up at him.

“Why join the army when your country is not at war?”

“Why not pick a side when yours is?” You scoff, shaking your head. Like he would understand what it’s like. Just like the Americans, there always has to be a good and a bad. 

“You’re not british?” You ask. 

“Scottish.” He replies. You didn't think you were going to get a sincere reply, you smile. He looks over at you and you look away, back to the door.

“Ever think about what’s going to happen when the war ends?” He asks. You laugh, you don’t really mean it, it just seems like such a stupid question. 

“I’ll be long gone before that happens.” You say crossing your arms and leaning back in the chair. You’ve dropped the idea of escaping it seems. Maybe you can get more info from them, useful info. A Lot of people would pay good money for SAS intel.  

“Really? Where would you go?” He asks like he’s interested all of a sudden.

“America, Russia. Somewhere with a fuck load of land.” 

“Why?” 

“Farming sounds like fun. Being self-sufficient, that kind of thing.” You say. He raises an eyebrow like he doesn’t believe you. 

“What about you? Got any dreams or are you planning on dying for your country?” You ask bitterly. What makes him think he’s any better than you? Because he took an oath? Fuck him. 

“Who knows, might do. What’s better though a quick fulfilled life or a long unfulfilled one?” He says. You frown at him. What the fuck does that mean?

“What? Were you a psychologist in another life?” You ask, looking away. He chuckles, you ignore him. You both sit there in silence for what feels like ages. You can still hear mumbling, they’re still talking. They could be deciding to execute you. You’re the enemy, they don’t even need to make it look like an accident. Boom bullet in your head job done. 

You just hope it’ll be quick. Or maybe they’ll decide to torture you for intel, not that you know much. 

“What’s your name?” You turn to the man. 

“Soap.” 

“Soap? Like what you wash with?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. He nods, you scoff, shaking your head and looking away.

Soap, Ghost, Gaz and Price. What a fucking mess you’ve got yourself in. 

…

The door swings open, it makes you jump. Soap springs to his feet, you wait. 

“He wants to talk to you.” Gaz says, he barely looks at you as he moves out the way of the door. You stand up swallowing the fear rising in you. You walk back into the room. Price is sat up on the sofa now a hand pressed on the bandages on his stomach, there’s an electronic tablet by his side. That probably has a lot of expensive intel on it. 

Ghost’s stood behind the sofa with his arms crossed. You look at him quickly then to Price as you stop in front of him. He looks round you, he still looks clammy, at least there is some colour back in his face. That’s got to be good, at least whatever you did didn't kill him. 

“You said you could pull the bullet out?” He asks. You look round the room not quite believing what you’re hearing. 

“No, I said you needed a hospital.” You cross your arms. Price smiles leaning back on the sofa, his face winces in pain even though he tries to hide it. 

“I want you to pull it out.”

“Price!” You hear Gaz say. “That's not what we discussed.” 

“I’m sorry. Even if I could just pull it out, I don’t have any equipment. No sterile field, an x-ray.” You stop throwing your hands up. “I could kill you. I don’t exactly want the blood of a SAS soldier on my hands.”  

“I could die anyway?” 

“You’re still talking, moving, breathing.” You’re getting frustrated, there’s no way you’re going to do this. If you kill him they’ll blame you it’s a death sentence. 

“Which means the bullet probably missed anything vital.” He says as a matter of fact. You look down at the wound, his hand still resting on the bandages. The bleeding is under control, he seems fine other than the hole in his stomach. 

“Maybe. I don’t know but I'm not doing what would basically be surgery on you in a shitty safehouse.” You say squeezing the bridge of your nose. “Like I said I don’t even have the tools.” 

“The vets in the next town over, will it have what you need?” You stop pinching your nose. You don’t say anything. There is no way this is happening.  

“You’re crazy.” You scoff, holding your hands up then letting them fall back down by your side. You look round at everyone. No one is saying anything, Price has a smile on his lips you just want to slap off. 

“C’mere.” He says moving and gesturing for you to step closer. You just stand there gawking at him, no one is saying anything. You look up at Ghost, his eyes are digging into you. You swallow again, taking a step over to him. This time everyone does move, ever so slightly but enough for you to notice. Price’s hand reaches out to press on his side. 

“Feel that.” He says. You look up at him unsure what to do, he nods at you. You shake your head for a second letting out a sigh and press where he instructed. 

Holy shit, it’s hard just under his skin. It’s the bullet. You could pull that out no problem, then you could stitch up the rest of his wounds.

“Still don’t think you could get it out?” He asks as you stand back up. Your eyes flick back up to Ghost. You press your lips together thinking, you could do this.

“What’s in it for me?” You ask. Now it’s negotiation time. You hear Gaz scoff. 

“We let you walk out here alive.” Gaz says, there’s anger in his voice. You turn to look at him. He’s definitely the most reserved out of all them, he held a gun to your head. He would kill you, all he needs is an excuse. You look back down at Price. 

“Your life for mine.” 

“Dramatic.” You scoff. You hear Soap chuckle behind you. 

“I want asylum, in the UK.” You say, crossing your arms. It's not America but it’s a start.  

“Fine.” Price says. You look at him shocked. 

“Just like that?” You ask frowning, it’s almost too go to be true. 

“Just like that. You need to get us into Russia though. Quietly, you said you’re a good smuggler, we’ll even pay you for it.” Price says. Now you really don’t believe him. It’s a challenge though, you can see it in his eyes. 

“I would need to go to the vets for the supplies.” You say.

“Ghost will go with you.” Price says. This is risky, they could be lying. They could kill you as soon as they’re done with you. If they want you to take them over the border you could hand them over to Konni. Makarov would probably pay you enough to retire if you handed him 4 SAS soldiers, fuck it he’d probably give you a mansion somewere in Russia. 

“How do I know I can trust you?” You ask.

“How do we know we can trust you?” Price says back, tipping his head. Touché. You smile. 

“Okay. I’ll help.” You hold your hand out, he shuffles uncomfortably but leans forward to shake your hand. 

You don’t trust them, but they don’t trust you. No way you’re going to let them betray you though. That’s your job.

next

Banners by plum98

[femalefemur]

i need ghoap in the first saw trap, the one from saw 2004 where they're chained on opposite sides of a bathroom, desperate and talking to each other trying to work out how they got there and how to escape

[imaginedreamwrite]

Ghost, Ghost, Host

Part 1: A Cursed Purchase 

Transaction #60236 has been completed, shipping details will be sent to your email with instructions on pick up to follow 

With the tip of your finger you scrolled halfway to the bottom of the email. Your receipt was included to document what you’d bought from this lost packages website your friend used. While she had used it to buy expensive items for a fraction of the price, you were rather interested in books. 

It didn’t matter what state they were in, how old or how new they’d been. Your interest in books was mostly to fill the gaps on your bookshelf left by your roommate before she moved out. Of course part of you was curious about the stories that might have lied between the pages of this book box. There was no guarantee what you would find, how many books were even salvageable but that was par for the course. 

That was part of the risk, part of the fun to see what you got and how good they were. Of course in the description of the box was a generalized itemized list—a few of which contained diaries or journals. That had made you even more curious, your interest peaked to an indescribable level. 

The time between ordering the lost mail, receiving the confirmation and shipment was a matter of just over a week. Your shipping and delivery notice was sent to your email with the reminder that the postal service would only keep your items for so long before they would be sent back with an undelivered notice. It was standard practice of the mail service to put limits on how long they would hold items and yet you were more anxious about potentially missing this purchase than you were for others. 

It was a series of anxious tracks of mind that blurred your excitement into a state of tension. Regardless of your momentary yet blinding trainwreck thoughts over these packages, when the email had come and you were granted the ability to pick up your boxes, you hadn’t hesitated to go.  

You had free time thanks to finishing your tasks earlier than expected, and that had given you the freedom to go. They gave you little explanation however there was a note added to the delivery instructions we just want to get rid of them. It made you curious, it made you ponder what extras could be in the second box. 

Despite the eagerness that made you want to rip into the box immediately, you had loaded them into your vehicle after leaving the postal service. You slammed the trunk of your vehicle and walked around to the driver's side and jumped in to avoid the inevitable rain that was coming. With the claps of thunder rumbling in the darkening clouds, and the streaks of lightning that seemed to be closer than you'd like, it was a race. 

It would be a race to get home, a race to beat the torrential downpour that was coming, and a test of your patience not to rip into the box right now. Though the weather was momentarily on your side, you still hadn’t wasted much time parking and taking your boxes into your apartment. Regardless of having to take two trips to take the box of lost packages you still managed to get into your apartment before the rain. 

It was only after you’d started opening the first box that you'd heard a crash of thunder and the steak of lightning across the dark sky. Your attention had flitted from the open box of books and the first two that had been set on top, both generic and modern authors. You grabbed the books and set them aside, both by a popular adult author that catered to mysteries, and then you had moved on. Book after book was removed from the box until you had gotten nearly to the bottom, where a set of journals had laid there. 

Your attention was piqued, and you’d almost entirely forgot about the second box in favour of the three journals in your possession. The first of three journals that had been laying against the bottom of the box was leather bound and stained with splotches of mud or oil that wouldn’t come out of the cover. Despite the stains on the cover, as soon as you had opened the cover it was apparent that the inside of the journal was still in good shape. 

JSM were the initials that had been written in ink on the first page under the cover, with a detailed drawing of the Scottish flag in the center. You had surmised that the flag and initials would both more than likely be significant to whoever had owned the journals when they were lost. Curiosity had grown and you'd set the first journal down to grab the other two, both of which were in the same state. 

“JSM and a Scottish flag.” You hummed under your breath and grabbed the journals before you picked yourself up off the floor. You moved from where the boxes were positioned near your old coffee table to the couch. You sat down against the second hand piece of furniture and leaned against the armrest on the left. As you began reading the first page of the first journal you had chosen first, a loud clap of thunder had resounded followed by the flash of lightning as it descended upon the city. 

For a moment you had turned your head to look out the window of your apartment, eyebrows furrowing as a torrential downpour of rain had begun battering the city. It was expected and warranted given the perfect conditions to form a storm like this. And while it was hard for you to keep your eyes off the destructive yet peaceful nature of the thunderstorm, you had wanted to deep dive into the journals. There was a kind of excitement over receiving journals from someone that fed into nosiness. 

“So, you were a soldier...” You mumbled under your breath, coming to the quick conclusion when you’d gotten to the second half of the second page. The first part that you'd read about so far, a description of the kind of city they were in, and the heat that he couldn’t escape. As the words went on, he had talked about his work as a special services soldier which you'd mentally reminded yourself to try and research later. 

It felt like hours that you’d been sitting on the couch reading this journal that you’d recently bought, and within the pages you’d come across names that had just made you more curious than anything. Captain Price and Gaz, two names that had been repeated a lot, had given your curiosity more than you’d imagined. And yet that was nothing compared to the person this soldier had called Ghost. Although whoever the JSM was had drawn sketches of landmarks and maps, small doodles here and there, you hadn’t come across a sketch of Ghost like you'd been hoping for. 

“...sergeant...” As thunder crashed outside, and lightning lit up the room, a voice had echoed in your ear as if someone was sitting next to you. The sound was muffled and not quiet audibly, almost like a whisper on the wind. 

The book had fell from your hands to your lap as your body reacted with a surge of fear and apprehension. You turned your head and looked at the space around you, surely trying to tell yourself that it was your brain playing tricks on you. Had you lost your mind? Have you completely lost it or were you just tired? 

Deciding to ultimately brush it off was the best course of action, and you���d closed the journal and set it to the side with the others. As thunder crashed again, you move quickly toward your bathroom with your phone in hand. After stepping inside and closing the door behind you, another loud boom of thunder seemed to rattle the windows with the force. Your gaze swept across the mirror before darting to the lights hanging above you, your narrowed eyes taking in the state of the flickering lights before the room was cast into darkness. 

You cursed under your breath and fiddled with your phone to turn on the flashlight. As the light was cast upon the mirror in front of you, a startled and sharp scream was ripped from your mouth. 

Standing behind you in the reflection of the mirror was a man wearing a tan tactical vest with a UK flag attached to the front. Beneath the tactical vest was a dark blue shirt that looked as if it was stained with blood near his right shoulder, and a set of thick black gloves on his hands. His hair was cropped into a mohawk style with the sides cut short, however it was his eyes that had still been the most frightening stimulus of this thing’s appearance. 

“What the fuck?!” Your fearful scream had turned to a curse, and the phone in your hand slipped from your grasp clattering to the ground. You immediately dropped to the floor to grab it, your fingers wrapping around the sides as you lifted it and then clutched it to your chest. With a sense of frantic panic, you aimed the flashlight toward the space where the man had been and found the space empty. 

You didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified, and any opportunity to react further about the state of your mental wellbeing was completely undone when he appeared again just as the lights come on. 

“Are ya done screaming?” His voice was stronger now, crystal clear and crisp.

Tag list: @supermegabitchboyexceptimagirl

[rewind-redux]

Failed missions part 2 - SoapGhost

Ghost sighed while sitting in the sick bay, waiting for Johnny to get the all-clear. It was torture there, it was too quiet, too dull, too familiar in the worst way. Johnny should’ve been discharged by now, what the hell were they doing? He got up, disregarding the staff and made his way to the main doors. He was gonna check up on Johnny whether they liked it or not.

“Ghost?” He stopped, coming back to what was happening around him, Johnny standing in front of him with crutches and a cast.

“MacTavish.” God, he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to admit he was about to kick down the sick bay's doors to check on him.

“What, no ‘Good to see you can still walk? Good to see you’re still in the force?’” Soap chuckled, slowly making his way to the exit. Ghost followed, almost kicking the crutches a few times from staying so close beside him.

“Good to see you weren’t kicked out yet.” He focused on Johnny’s movements, for any slip or misstep. 

“Yet? Doubting me that much, huh? Well good luck to you, lieutenant. You’re stuck with me.” Soap chuckled again, having to grip the crutches harder to make sure he didn’t fall. “‘Besides, you’re stuck making sure I’m getting back to tip-top shape. God knows those medics don’t care about healing comfortably.”

“They’re there to keep you alive. Not painless.” He guided Johnny to the barracks.

“Aye, and it damn well shows. They’d stab you in the neck with no meds to get you breathing.” Ghost was silent as they walked in, opening the door for Johnny. “God this is gonna get boring fast.” He slumped onto his bed, leaning the crutches against the side of it. 

After a few silent minutes of Johnny laying down and Ghost sitting and watching, Johnny spoke up. “Ghost..?”

He looked up from Johnny’s injured leg, focusing on his face. “What.”

“It wasn’t your fault this happened, I hope you know that. And you’re a damn good lieutenant.”

Ghost sighed quietly, exhausted. “I know. It’s my job to watch over you though, and you can see how well that turned out.” His voice was bitter, pained. 

“It’s the job, Simon. You can’t always protect me.” He reached out to Ghost’s– Simon’s– hand, gently grabbing it, loose enough for Simon to pull away if he wanted to.

“I know.” He glanced away, hating that his emotions started to bubble up and strangle him, making his chest tight and his mask suffocating. 

“Simon.” Johnny rubbed Simon’s knuckles with his thumb. 

He looked down at Johnny again, silent. What was there to say? He knew Johnny was right. He knew it wasn’t his fault. But- 

Johnny pulled him closer to the bed. “You blame yourself too much, Simon. You’re just as human as the rest of us. You can’t predict and protect everyone. So just stay right here for now, okay? Don’t go wandering off in that thick skull of yours and forget that we're both still alive right now.”

He took a slow breath in, and pulled his mask off tiredly, setting it on the edge of the bed. He sat down next to Johnny, holding his hand gently, the warmth from Johnny’s hand seeping slowly into his. 

“I don’t want to lose you.” Ghost gripped his hand tighter as he said that, afraid he might just disappear if he let go.

“You won’t.” He leaned into Johnny, letting himself relax. Johnny’s arms gently enveloped him, and he stayed still, for “Johnny’s sake”. He’d never admit he wanted this, craved this. He would never admit part of that weak and broken Simon was still with him.

…But maybe it wasn’t so bad to be held and cared for. Broken parts and all.

[thechaoticcheese]

EDIT: I was a dunce and posted the draft that I was working on - THIS HAS BEEN CORRECTED - YOU ARE NOW READING THE FULL THING I AM SO SORRY FOR THE MISSHAP

A Vampire Wheat Farmer(Ghoap) - Chapter 1 - Meeting the Vampire

Soap was making his way down the dirt path through all of the fields of wheat. He's never seen crops so well taken care of or bountiful. They were taller than he was used to, coming up to his chest and seeming to yield more grains than the usual plant. His blue eyes scanned the field before he spotted a tall figure at the end of one field, looking into the sea of wheat. From this angle, he couldn't tell if it was a scarecrow or a person, but when the hooded figure sharply turned their head towards the Scot, Soap found his answer.

He glanced around the field to see if he could figure out where to go to meet the person quickly approaching him, but decided to stay in place, unsure if he even should move. As the figure got closer, he saw their clothes more thoroughly. They were wearing a balaclava with a skull sewn into it, plastic, or some sort of other mesh he was sure. Or he hoped. After all, he was hoping to meet a bloody vampire. The person wore a grey hoodie and jeans, black gloves with bones were worn on his hands and black boots left light tracks in the ground. As he got close enough, Soap noted how the person’s skin was covered by black face paint, or something similar.

"What's your business?" His British accent was noticeable, Manchester perhaps, but it felt a bit faded, a bit different. It was slightly hypnotizing as Soap stared into the man's eyes. They were something else, being a dark brown with a circle of yellow around the pupil, a sign of being turned into a vampire.

"Yer da vampur I've ben hearin' 'bout!" Soap said excitedly, coming up more energetic than he expected as he took a few more paces closer to the man who quickly took quite a few steps back. The distance between the two grew faster than Soap could register.

"What's it to you?" He growled, voice deepening. If that didn't send a shiver and made Soap's heart skip a beat, he’d be lying. It also made him stop in his tracks.

"Oh! I uh, I'm John MacTavish. People call me Soap." He introduced himself with a big grin, holding out his hand to the mask figure. "I wanna study Vampires and help 'em be apar' of society an' not shunned."

The vampire gave a glance over the man's hand, trying to see if there was anything wrong with it. There wasn't though. It was just a normal human hand. Then he hesitantly approached and firmly shook it.

"Call me Ghost." He replied before quickly pulling his hand away. He circled the buff Scott, as if sizing up the male. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that Soap couldn't quite place. "Why they call you Soap?"

"Oh uh, was a kid tha' ate soap a lot... I-I've grown ou' of it! Don'ye worry!" Soap said, watching Ghost's quick movements. Dang, Vampire were quicker than humans. Part of him wondered if this was as fast as he could go.

"Why here?"

"Well... You're pretty easy to access. No one has seen yer face in... well millennia.. An' yew've ben said ta be a pretty good wheat farmer." Soap started to list off the reasons, he soon felt Ghost wrap his arms firmly around his chest, pulling him in close. His back pressed flush against the vampire’s chest. There was a look in his eyes that Soap couldn't quite read, though he didn't doubt that it was an act.

“And you’re alone. Humans shouldn’t be alone.” Ghost growled as his mask nuzzled against Soap’s neck. The Scot’s heart pounded in his ears, before he blurted out.

“Y-Ye ken ye can drink animals blood an’ survive… R-Right?” Soap stammered out. He hated that he was getting so flustered by a stranger that he just met. Though the nuzzling stopped before a low rumble that almost resembled a chuckle had left Ghost. He slowly let the human go before moving away.

“You’re interestin’.” Ghost commented. “I know. Usually humans freak out more. How many vampires have drinken your blood?”

“Uhhm… Not sure… I donate my blood ta places tha’ give it out ta those who need it due to their bodies rejectin’ animal blood.” Soap said, quickly gaining his composure despite his heart rushing in his ears. He bet Ghost could hear it too.

“Very thoughtful.” Ghost muttered before starting to walk further down the field, leaving Soap behind. He stopped and glanced back. “Ya comin’?”

“O-Oh! Y-Ya!” Soap said, surprised that Ghost was offering him to follow him to wherever he was about to leave the Scot. He jogged to catch up, pulling out a notepad and pen before looking at the masked vampire and smiling brightly, “Ye min’ if I ask a few questions?”

“Shoot.” Ghost responded, leading the human through acres of wheat fields.

“When d’ya turn?”

“Gotta be durin’ buildin’ Manchester.” Ghost replied, rubbing the fabric where his chin is, remembering the night he turned.

“Really! Ye help buil’’ Manchester?” Soap asked excitedly, scribbling it down.

“Yea. You’re listenin’ to an original Manchester accent… Albeit a lot faded.” Ghost said with a soft chuckle.

“Aye…” Soap agreed softly, despite not being alive at the time. “But weren’t it built by da Romans?”

“Yea. Was a soldier for ‘em.”

“So yer a Roman?”

“In a way, yeah.”

“Woahh.. But ye got bit here, so technically you’re British.” Soap glanced at Ghost, not realizing that they were approaching a pretty old looking building. It was built with wood that looked like it was replaced at least 100 years ago. A small stone wall was around it, the pebbles at the bottom suggest its age from the weather years before Soap could be even considered a construct. A stone chimney was awkwardly added to the side of one wall. There were windows with shutters on them, but they were latched shut.

“Wha’ever works for ya.” Ghost said with a shrug as he opened the wooden door, ducking inside. Soap was surprised that he even had to duck inside. Though once in, both could comfortably stand tall, though Ghost probably had about 6 inches above his head before he might run into something, like the lightbulb that had a metal covering. Though Ghost seemed to know the layout of his house as he quickly went to an old stove, hucking a few logs in before lighting it with a match and putting a kettle on with water.

“Tea?” Ghost offered, looking back at Soap who was awkwardly standing right in front of the doorway, one hand still on the doorknob as he was closing the door behind him, glancing around the home. It was like one big room, a small section for the kitchen to the left, in the middle was a table, to the right was a space for a king sized bed and a desk. Things felt a bit crowded, herbs being hung from a rack above the stove along with old pots and pans that seemed to have just been gathering dust.

“Oh uh, ya.” Soap responded, fully closing the door before awkwardly standing by the table. Soap’s eyes drew down to his feet, seeing an old goat skin rug on the ground beneath it, part of it going underneath the legs of the table. His blue eyes then looked to the bed. It had fur blankets on it as well.

“Gots lots’a furry 'tings in ‘ere.” He commented before Ghost pulled out an old chair that looked about ready to be replaced, gesturing for his guest to sit.

“Yeah. Got a few more recently… Mid 1900s I think.” Ghost replied. He seemed to want to talk, but yet, something was holding him back. Soap in the meantime had sat, writing stuff down and doing quick doodles of things he saw in the home as the water boiled. Ghost curiously looked over the Scot’s shoulder.

“Nice drawings.” He commented before going back to the stove.

“Oh er… Tanks.” Soap blushed once more. This vampire was smooth. A lot of them were, but he wasn’t expecting it from a recluse. He hadn’t mentally prepared to be wooed, intentionally or not, today.

“Wha’ made ye settle ‘ere?” Soap asked, trying to go back to researching the vampire.

“Mmm… Good place to have wheat fields.” Ghost hummed as he thought before responding nonchalantly. Soap wrote it down without a second thought.

“Did ya build ye house?”

“Yeah. Sown the fields too.”

“Interestin’...” Soap whispered softly, writing quicker than before. “Ye ever ‘ave a lover?”

“Why? Ya lookin’?” Ghost teased, watching as the Scot’s face soon turned a bright shade red, his mouth agape before trying to say something before the vampire chuckled and shook his head. “Pullin’ ya leg. Yeah… Once… In a way. Arranged. No feelin’ towards ‘er.”

Soap took in a sharp breath before nodding, writing down the answer.

“Keep track of yer kids after ye turned?” 

“... No.” The slightly warm tone that Ghost had previously suddenly turned cold. Soap tensed, he had hit a nerve.

“Oh… Sorry.” The Scot said softly, not writing down the answer and gripping his pen tighter.

“What made’ye stay over ‘ere?” Soap continued, clearing his throat.

“Next question.” Ghost’s voice remained gruff and unwelcoming.

“Uhh… ever… ‘ave… a dog?” Soap had tried to come up with a different question than his usual ones. The rest were about Ghost’s past, specifics. So, Soap decided to go a different way. Ghost paused at the question. The breath that the human was holding soon left, he hadn’t even realized that he was holding it at first.

“Yeah… ‘ad a few during the World Wars, during the black plague… I think the last one was in the 80’s…” Ghost responded before the kettle started to whistle violently, letting the men know that the hot water was done. The vampire took down two mugs, putting a tea bag in each, then red powder in one. Soap could only assume that the powder was dried blood. He poured the water out of the kettle. Soap watched curiously, noting how even the mugs seemed hand made.

“Ye dabble in pottery?” Soap asked curiously.

“Probably.”

“At one time.” Ghost responded calmly, putting the mug without the red powder in front of Soap before sitting across from him on the other side of the table.

“Ye think ye can still do it?” Soap asked, scribbling the answers down.

“Will ye show me?”

“Maybe.”

Soap huffed softly before grabbing the mug and softly blowing into the tea before testing the temperature against his lips. It was a bit too hot, but he took a small sip. The tea was good, strong and slightly bitter, but strong.

“Ye make the tea yerself?” Soap asked, putting his mug down, pen ready to scribble down the answer.

“Yea. Basically everything in ‘ere I made. Minus the stove, anything electrical, and a handful of silverware. Those were gifts.” Ghost replied, answering a handful of Soap’s next questions. “Ye write down everythin’ we say like a damn scribe?”

“Almost e’rytin’. Want me ta not include somethin’?” Soap asked. He quickly stopped writing as he looked up at Ghost. He didn’t look irritated, but genuinely curious.

“Nah. Just don’ ask stupid questions.” He responded with a huff.

The two shared a few more simple questions back and forth before an alarm went off on Soap’s phone.

“Awe shite.” He mumbled, annoyed at himself for forgetting about the meeting he had in 30 minutes, but that was miles away. If he ran and caught a cab early, he might make it 30 minutes later. But he couldn’t be late. Not for this.

“What’s that?” Ghost questioned before sipping his cup of tea.

“An alarm fer a meetin’ I’m supposed to be at in 30 minutes. Far as fuck though. I don’t think I’ll make it.” Soap said standing up quickly as he chugged the rest of the tea he so wished he could enjoy.

“Let me help out.” Ghost said, standing up as well while Soap pushed in his chair.

“Nah, you don’t gotta. I’ll just run an’ haul a cab.” Soap said, pocketing the notepad and pen.

“You’ve entertained me these past few hours. Allow me to help.” Ghost insisted.

The words he used made Soap tense up a bit before shaking his head, heading towards the door, reaching for the doorknob. Ghost’s gloved hand gripped Soap’s as soon as his skin touched the knob.

“Let me help.” Ghost said in a soft voice.

“R-Right… Speed…” Soap murmured softly. Ghost nodded before the Scot huffed, “Aight fine.” The masked vampire let go of the human so he could open the door. The two ducked out of the house and right as Ghost finished closing the door, Soap was in his arms bridal style. The rush of movement change made Soap’s stomach churn slightly. He wrapped his arms around Ghost’s neck, holding on tightly.

“Jus’ ta the nearest cab area is fine… Thank you, Ghost.” Soap requested before he tightly shut his eyes. Wind hit him as if it was chunks of snow being blown into his face. He could now understand why Ghost covered his body, well, other than the sun of course.

“We’re ‘ere.” The soft tone of Ghost’s voice said as Soap opened his eyes, he was standing on a busy-ish street, but Ghost was nowhere in sight. Soap hailed a cab and informed the driver of the location of where he needed to go. The human checked his phone as the car pulled away. Ghost ran for only a few minutes and saved him 40 minutes. He’d be able to make it.

Soap cursed and hit the back of his head against the headrest of the cab. He forgot to leave something to let Ghost know he’d be back. Hopefully at the same time next week. He’d just have to make the trek without announcing his presence, again.

That would be next week's Soap problem though. He needed to focus on that meeting today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Goddamn another 2k words. I am just busting out writings today! (wrote 5k words within my awake time) Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy! This is probably just going to be an every so often work. No set schedule or anything. Just whenever brain says we shall right.

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