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soaps-mohawk · 9 months ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 7 : Sweet Strawberry

Summary: You're not a soldier, you're just an omega. You shouldn't have to remind them of that, yet you find yourself needing to. Price makes it up to you in the best way possible.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, fluff, suggestive content, terrible flirting

A/N: Not entirely happy with it but it's done and I can move on from this one. I struggled so much with this chapter omg. Also, I just wanted to make it clear that I am not from the UK, I've never been to the UK, I'm simply going off of prior knowledge and what Google can tell me. So, if there's any inaccuracies, I am so sorry.

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You’re expecting the knock when it comes. You’d been standing in front of your door for almost five minutes, and you get it open almost before he’s finished, hand still raised. He gives no sign that betrays his surprise, if he feels any at all, instead he simply looks you over before turning on his heel and marching towards the door.

You close your door behind you, slipping down the hallway after him. It’s raining again, though you had prepared for that, flipping the hood of your jacket up as you hurry after Ghost. He threatens to disappear in the darkness of morning, slipping between the street lamps like a specter. It’s not often you get to see the true danger in them, the threats that they pose, the things that make them good at their job. You can imagine how many on his opposing side have been caught unawares by the way he seems to flow with the darkness around him.

You are significantly less graceful and quiet, feet slapping the wet pavement as you speed walk to keep up with the giant alpha. You can almost imagine the look on his face as you plod along behind him. If your lives depended on your silence at this moment, well, it wouldn’t entirely have been your fault. If he didn’t walk so fucking fast...

He’s at least courteous enough to hold the door open for you, though perhaps that was simply something that was deeply ingrained in him. Manners that become unconscious practice, even when you despise the person you’re with. He leads you down the hall towards the practice room again, unlocking it and flipping on the lights. He empties his pockets and removes his shoes and sweatshirt, before moving to one of the punching bags.

You can already predict what your lesson today will entail. Your knuckles have almost completely healed since your little fit a week ago. You quickly strip off your jacket and toe off your wet shoes, moving to join him without having to be told.

“Do you know how to wrap your hands?” He asks, holding out two rolls of hand wraps.

“No.” You shake your head. It’s not entirely true. They had shown you once while you were with the CIA, but that had been weeks ago and you’re sure you’ve forgotten the right way to do it. Even if you tried, he’d likely sigh and do it himself anyway.

He lets out a breath, pocketing one of the wraps before grabbing your right wrist. His hands are just as rough as you remember them being the day you punched Corporal Allen, calluses dragging against your skin as he meticulously wraps the fabric around your fingers. You watch him, trying to memorize how to do it in hopes that maybe, eventually, you’ll surprise him and manage it yourself.

He finishes your hands quickly before wrapping his own. You flex your hands, trying to get used to the feeling of the wraps. They’re not too tight, shockingly. You had half expected him to choke your fingers until they’re purple just because. But, you also know Price will be looking for any mark or sign of injury as soon as he sees you at breakfast. The thought of him laying into Ghost for even a bruise as your stomach twisting, and not in a bad way.

“Make a fist.” Ghost says, crossing his arms as he stands in front of you.

You stare at his bulging muscles for a second too long, quickly curling your fingers as your face warms.

He takes hold of your hand, inspecting your fist. “Not bad.”

“I did grow up with brothers.” You murmur.

“Did they ever hit you?” He asks as he turns you to face the boxing bag.

“Only playfully.” You say, missing the subtle edge to his voice. “Dad would have caved their heads in if they ever tried.”

You can’t see the way he’s staring at you as he stands slightly behind you, but you can feel his gaze as it lingers for just a second longer than you expected it to. You’re not sure if maybe he doesn’t believe you, or maybe he knows there’s more to the story. You’ve hardly spoken about your family since your arrival, but they seemed to accept the fact that they haven’t been your family for years now as a valid reason.

“Get into your fighting stance.” He finally says, moving around you as you take the stance you had perfected last training session. “Good.” He says, looking you over. “Now throw a punch at the bag.”

You squeeze your fists, imagining Corporal Allen’s face on the bag before you throw a punch, barely managing to move the bag.

“Punches like that are what will get you hurt.” Ghost says, extending your arm. “You can throw your weight, which is good. That’s why you were able to throw Allen off his feet. You’re asking for a broken arm, though. Keep your arm flat and facing downwards through the entire punch. Aim with the knuckles and twist your lower body for support.”

He throws a punch at the bag, the sound of his fist hitting it loud, and you watch the bag swing back and forth violently. He could probably punch through you if he wanted to. Your pitiful punch wouldn’t even stun him.

He stops the bag from swinging, having you throw repeated punches at it. He fixes your form and technique as you go, teaching you different kinds of punches. Your arms quickly get tired, and you know you’re going to be sore again. Maybe you should take up some weight lifting or something. You could ask Soap to help you.

You go until your arms feel like they're going to fall off, your shoulders burning. “I can't anymore.” You whine, breathing heavily from the exertion of throwing punches for 30 minutes.

“You have to learn to push through the pain.” He says, looming over you. “You think in a fight, everyone will just stop because your arms are tired? Or you're a little sore?”

He has a point.

You take half a step back as he invades your space, leaning down close to you. “If they're out for blood, they won't even stop even as you're bleeding out in front of them.” His eyes are dark, biting into you, speaking volumes of his knowledge and experience. You wonder how many times he's been in that situation, how many times he's had to fight quite literally for his life. He steps away from you, moving towards the center of the mat. “Come on. I'll teach you some combinations.”

You don't want to follow him. You want to curl up in a corner and nap for the next four hours. You don't doubt he'll find a way to force you, though, so you move to the center of the mat with a sigh.

He teaches you different combinations, working through them over and over. You're sloppy, mixing up which punch is which, which move means what. It only gets worse as you get more and more tired, but Ghost is relentless.

Finally after almost an hour and a half of training, he calls it. Your legs are shaking and you can barely lift your arms to unravel the wraps from around your hands. You sink onto the floor, laying out flat on the padding as you try to catch your breath.

“Come on.” Ghost says, lacing up his shoes. “You'll have time to shower before breakfast if we get back now.”

“Wait. Just gimme a minute.” You breathe, not even sure you have the willpower to get up from the floor, much less the muscle power.

He lets out a sigh before approaching you, bending down to slip his hands under your arms. “On your feet, soldier.”

He lifts you easily, far too easily. Your legs shake, nearly giving out as you're forced onto them. You pout, ignoring the ache in your bones as you're forced upright.

“‘M not a soldier.” You murmur.

“In here with me, you are. You want to learn to fight, you get treated just like everyone else I've taught.” He says, glowering down at you. “Now get your shoes on and let's go.”

Your brows pull into a frown, but you do as he says, slipping your shoes back on and your jacket. You had hoped perhaps he would have a little mercy, given your status and inexperience, but it seems you're not even being awarded that. You know part of it is his revenge for you invading his protective circle around Soap, for kissing Soap in front of him.

The frown doesn't leave your face as you follow him back to the barracks, having to almost run to keep up with him.

“You look tired.”

“I am. I had training with Ghost again this morning.”

“How is that going?”

“It's hard.” You admit, sinking back in your chair. “He's hard on me. He sees me as a soldier, not an omega.”

“Have you brought this up to him?” Dr. Keller asks, crossing her feet as she relaxes on the couch across from you.

You nod. “Yeah. He said I have to push through it, because if I wind up in a real fight, they won't go easy on me.”

“Well, I can’t say he’s wrong about that. But, that’s still no excuse.” Dr. Keller tilts her head at you. “You could bring it up to Captain Price. He is your pack alpha, and he’s also Lieutenant Riley’s. I don’t doubt he’d bring it up to him on your behalf.”

He would, but you don’t really want to stir the pot in that way. The last thing you need to do is become a tattle-tail. It’s quiet between you for a few moments, Dr. Keller shuffling her papers as you mark a clear end to that conversation.

“How did you do on your assignment? I see you’re wearing a different sweatshirt this morning.” She says, eyeing you.

You’re wearing Price’s sweatshirt, the one he gifted you. You’ve been wearing it almost every day, his scent still clinging to the fabric. Your face warms as she stares at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, but...I didn’t ask for this one. Price gave it to me after I told him about where my other one came from. I uh...I kissed Soap. And Gaz.”

“Oh?” Her brows raise, and she writes something down on the paper. Your face warms even more as you watch her pen move with every letter. You can only imagine what she’s putting down. “Is that something you wanted? I know we talked briefly about it last time.” She says.

You nod. “Yes. I did want it. I...I also...kneeled...with Price...Did a couple times actually...”

Dr. Keller’s mouth opens in surprise, her eyes shining as she looks at you. “You did? That’s huge! That’s an incredible development! Did you initiate, or did he?”

“I did.” You say bashfully, sinking back further into the chair. “Both times.”

Dr. Keller smiles at you, looking almost proud. “This is a big step in the right direction. How did it go? Were you able to relax?”

You nod. “Yeah. It was nice. He was...gentle. He did it right.”

“Good. How did you do coming down from it? I know it can be intense and difficult for some omegas.” She asks.

You shrug. “Fine. I felt it a bit the morning after, but it wasn’t too bad. I fell asleep on him both times.”

“Oh?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Did you stay with him?”

You shake your head. “No, Gaz took me to my room both times.”

“Good. That’s good practice, for when your heat comes. Shows how much trust they have in each other.”

You hadn’t really thought of that. There was a lot of trust involved in omega’s heats. Omegas have to trust their alphas to take care of them while they’re blind with insatiable need, but both alpha and omega have to trust a beta to keep them alive. Your heat will trigger Price’s rut and make him lose control for a while, and it will be up to Gaz to keep you both fed and hydrated. He’ll be the one to help you both afterwards as well.

“Have you started nesting yet?” Dr. Keller asks.

You shake your head. “No. Don’t feel any drive to either.”

Dr. Keller hums as she writes something down. “Well, it has only been two weeks. Though, perhaps if you can manage to ask for some things to make your space more comfortable, that might help ease you into it.”

You chew on your lip, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You know she’s right. Until you’re comfortable and feel safe enough, you won’t feel the drive to nest. You’ll need to nest before your heat arrives. Otherwise, it’ll cause issues for both you and Price.

“When...when should I be worried?” You ask.

“Hmm...” Dr. Keller looks at her calendar. “If you’re not feeling any sort of drive to nest by our next appointment, then I’d say we may need to consider using some exercises to help jump start it.”

“Exercises?” You ask warily.

“All easy things.” She reassures you. “Things like scent introductions, tactile explorations, and some bonding exercises might be helpful as well.” She writes something down on a sticky note. “I’ll explain everything in detail and you’ll get to choose whether you want to do any of it or not. No one’s going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, alright?”

Tears prick your eyes at her words, and you furiously blink them back. It’s a little late for that kind of sentiment. Your presence here alone was thanks to a long line of people forcing you to do things you’re not comfortable with. It was easy to get lost in the excitement and the emotions of bonding with a pack, easy to forget that you would never have chosen this place had you ever been given the option to choose.

You would have gone far from the military, far from this kind of life. It’s your duty to bond with an alpha, but what if you don’t want to? What if it’s all a front, and as soon as you’re claimed the curtains rise and suddenly everything is different? What if Price isn’t as kind as you’ve come to believe him? Just one squeeze too tightly around the back of your neck while you’re kneeling and everything would change.

How easily he could take everything from you.

“You want to talk about what’s going on in your head right now?” Dr. Keller asks, breaking the silence between you two.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d been staring off into space, lost in your thoughts. Of course she knows something’s changed. She’s spent years learning the ins and outs of omegas and all the secrets you can only imagine. She’s probably just as in tune with subtle changes as the four well trained soldiers that make up your new pack. Maybe even more in tune with them.

You shake your head, keeping your gaze on the floor.

“Remember nothing shared in this room leaves this room. It’ll always only be between us.” She says softly.

You’re panicking. You can feel the pressure rising within you. You’re like a grenade and someone is about to pull the pin. You’re afraid you’ll spill everything to her, afraid you’ll let out things you’ve successfully kept buried for years and years. Things you’ve left behind, things you’ve had to move on from. Things you can’t afford to let out now.

“I’d like to be done now.” You silently curse the way your voice shakes.

Dr. Keller’s brows pull into a frown but she nods. “Okay.” She slips her papers into her notebook before standing. “Let me grab my keys.”

You stand as she moves to her desk, grabbing her keys from the drawer. She leads you from her office, thankfully staying quiet as you walk through the rain towards the barracks. You’re still panicking, the turmoil inside you probably projecting the sour scent across the entire courtyard but you don’t care. You can’t.

“Remember, if you ever need anything, I’m usually in my office.” Dr. Keller says as she drops you off at the door.

You feel guilty as you hurry to your room, shoes squeaking on the tile. You feel bad for cutting the appointment off early, you feel bad for feeling the way you do. Later you’ll be grateful for Dr. Keller respecting your boundaries and not pushing, for following through with her promise and letting you be in control of the appointment.

Right now you don’t care. Right now you can’t care. You’re too lost in your turmoil, the bitter scent of your distress seeping out from under the locked door.

“...can ye talk tae me, hen? Let me know yer alright?”

The soft voice coming through the closed door pulls you out from your burrow under the thin blanket. You blink blearily at your phone, trying to see the time. It’s just a little past the normal time you go to lunch with them. How long have they been knocking on the door?

“Come on, lass.” Soap’s voice comes through the door again. “I dinnae want tae have tae kick in the door.”

You force yourself out from under the blanket, pocketing your phone before quickly moving to your door. You throw it open, Soap’s eyes immediately scanning you as you rub tiredly at your eyes. You don’t doubt he’d kick in your door if he felt he had to.

“Sorry,” You yawn. “I was asleep.”

His eyebrows raise as he stares down at you. “Ye were asleep? Ye weren’t kidding about bein’ a heavy sleeper.” He leads you from the barracks, crossing the courtyard towards the mess.

“One time, when I was about two or three, my dad took us to some demonstration on base.” You say as you begin walking to the mess with him. “I fell asleep about halfway through and slept through a howitzer going off.”

Soap lets out a laugh so loud it echoes in the courtyard. “Ye slept through a howitzer?”

You nod. “Yup. My dad never let me live it down. I heard it all the time. ‘You’ll have to try hard to wake her, she slept through a howitzer once.’”

Soap chuckles, leading you into the mess. “Ye are a deep sleeper.”

You shrug. “I did say so. My phone will wake me up though. Alarms, calls.”

“I’ll keep tha’ in mind.” He says as he guides you through the line, making your tray for you.

You sit between Price and Gaz as usual, feeling a bit on edge still despite your nap after your appointment. You hadn’t gotten to sleep for very long, not nearly long enough to clear your head completely. You know they can tell, Gaz slowly shifting closer and closer to you, Price’s gaze flickering to you out of the corner of his eye every so often. Even Ghost’s eyes pass over you every so often as they sweep across the mess.

You wonder if he feels responsible.

You hope he does.

Soap walks you back to the barracks after lunch and you spend the afternoon burrowed under your blanket again. You’re exhausted and sore after a long morning of training and your appointment. You wish you could sink back into sleep, let the emotions pass without you having to feel them, but you’re too awake now. Too aware of them as they prickle in the back of your mind.

Dinner passes without incident, but you can’t ignore the feelings still stirring within you. You feel agitated and on edge, not even pacing your room helping you. You let out a breath before you put your slippers on, slipping out of your door. You make your way down the hallway, turning right instead of left like you would if you were heading for the rec room. The door is cracked open and you pause just before you reach it, suddenly feeling nervous. You shouldn’t really. There was no reason to be nervous, yet you can’t help the urge in the back of your mind to turn tail and race back down the hallway to the safety of your room.

“You can come in, unless you’d prefer standing in the hallway all evening.” A voice calls from inside the office.

Your face warms a bit at getting caught, but he could probably hear you coming down the hallway. He could probably smell you too.

You push open the door, slipping inside before closing it behind you. Price stares at you from his desk as you stand there, shifting nervously on your feet. You feel agitated, on edge still. You’re worked up, and you don’t quite know why.

“Everything alright?” Price asks, likely picking up on your nervous energy.

Yes. You want to say, but then you’d have to come up with a reason as to why you sought him out, why you feel so worked up. You could just kneel for him. It’s what you should do, let yourself be eased into a peaceful state of mind. Let him take care of you.

“I don’t know.”

The words are hardly more than a whisper, your voice trembling just as much as you are. Your chest feels tight, your breaths becoming shallow. You're not sure when he got up, when he even moved. His scent wraps around you, warmth encompassing your being as your face is pushed against his chest.

“I need you to breathe for me.” Price says, pressing your ear against his chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart, the air flowing in and out of his lungs.

You close your eyes, trying to match your breaths to his. It's hard, your body fighting your attempt to regulate it. You close your eyes, focusing on the soft fabric of Price's shirt against your cheek, the warmth of his hand on your head as he keeps you pinned against his chest. It's not constricting or suffocating. It's grounding, keeping you from drowning in your own thoughts.

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to as he holds you there, letting you calm down. You begin to slowly relax, your arms wrapping around his waist, fingers gripping the back of his shirt.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” He murmurs, lips brushing the top of your head.

“I don’t know.” You whisper, still clinging to his shirt. “I’m just...I feel off. Ghost was being hard on me this morning and then I got upset during my appointment and I’ve just felt on edge all day and I can’t relax because I can’t get comfortable!”

Price tightens his grip around you just slightly. “What do you mean?”

You huff out a breath, squeezing your eyes closed so the tears don’t escape as the words leave you in a flood before you can stop them. “The blankets aren’t soft enough and the pillows are too thin and it’s too dark and I’m tired of smelling like bland soap!”

Price hums quietly, squeezing you gently as a tear slides down your cheek. “Then we should do something to fix that.”

“But I shouldn’t need it!” You cry, trying to push away from him, but he keeps you tight against his chest. “I’m supposed to be a good omega and adapt and learn to be comfortable where I am.”

“That might be what you were taught,” He says, letting you push away from his chest, but he wraps his hands around your arms, keeping you in front of him. “But things don’t have to be that way. We should have taken care of something like this sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t even think of it. You shouldn’t have had to ask for it.”

You blink up at him, genuinely surprised by his words. “I...what?”

“We all have our own little comforts that we keep. Soap sleeps with a stuffed bear. Don’t tell him I told you that.”

A small smile tugs at your lips at the mental image of Soap snuggling up with a teddy bear.

“You deserve some comfort too.” He says, squeezing your arms.

“But, it’s not...regulation.” You say.

“Doesn’t have to be.” He says. “You’re not a soldier. Even then, the only ones going in there are us. The only thing I can’t approve of is painting the walls. Unfortunately the prison grey has to stay.”

You can’t help but laugh, wiping the tear from your cheek. “I suppose that’s alright. Just...as long as it’s not as dark and maybe a soft blanket or something. That’s really all I need.”

He hums, staring down at you. You can’t quite figure out the look on his face, something shining in his eyes. “We’ll get it figured out.” He says, squeezing your arms again.

“Get some shoes on. We’re going on a trip.”

You look up from your book, staring at Price as he stands in the rec room. He’s dressed in civilian clothes, arms crossed as he stares down at you on the couch. You mark your place in your book, pushing yourself up to sit. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and unlike last week they had the day off, which means you do as well.

“Are you going to make me hike through the woods for two hours again, sir?” You ask, pushing yourself up to stand.

“No. We’re going into town.” He says.

You blink at him. You haven’t been off base since you arrived, and you figured you probably wouldn’t be getting that opportunity any time soon. “Can I ask why, sir?”

“We’ve got some shopping to do.” He says simply, turning and leaving the rec room.

You stand there shocked for a moment before you’re following after him, slipping into your room to put comfortable shoes on and grab your phone and a jacket. You don’t even have a wallet to carry around to make yourself feel better.

Price is waiting by the door for you, a car parked outside. You’re slow to approach him, suddenly feeling a mix of emotions. He’s doing this for you. He’d really taken your conversation last night to heart and now he’s going to go spend money on you that he doesn’t need to.

“What’s that look for sweetheart?” He asks, standing in front of the door.

“You don’t have to do this.” You say, staring up at him. He seems so tall like this, so...imposing.

“Course I do.” He says, his gaze softening just slightly. “Should have done it sooner. You deserve to be comfortable too.” He says, turning to open the door.

You follow him out, climbing into the car when he opens the door for you. He gets in the driver’s seat, the car rumbling to life. He drives to the front gate, passing off two ID cards to the guards. He passes one to you when the guard hands them back, the gate in front of you opening.

“That’s your ID card. Gets you on and off base.” He explains as he drives away from the gate. “I doubt you’ll be leaving on your own, but just in case.”

“Thank you, sir.” You say, slipping the card under your phone case for the time being.

He glances at you, a small smile on his lips. “You can call me John, if you'd like. You don't need to be formal when we're in private.”

“Yes, sir.” You make a face, biting your lip at your automatic response. “Sorry. Old habits.”

“From the institute?” He asks.

You shake your head. “My dad, actually. He was a firm believer in respecting authority figures. All ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ by the time we were old enough to know the difference.”

“Sounds like my father.” He says, staring out at the road ahead. “Old grizzled military man.”

“Do you still have contact with him?” You ask curiously. You don’t know much of anything about their families, their backgrounds.

“Not really. Beyond holidays, neither of us really make an effort to talk to the other. After mum passed, there wasn’t much to talk about.” He says.

“She was the glue.” You say, watching the trees pass by the car.

“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “As betas usually are.”

“Do you have any siblings?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. You know next to nothing about them, while they likely know your entire life story.

“No,” He shakes his head. “Just me. You have a lot of siblings.”

You nod. “Seven at the time I left for the institute. Could be more now.”

“They never tried to keep contact with you?” He asks.

“Nope.” You turn to look out the window. “The institute didn’t really encourage it either, because we were being prepared to join new packs. That’s hard to do when you still have bonds with your old ones. I think they might have forcibly ended some. I know there were some omegas that tried to keep contact, but it became less and less until eventually it just stopped.”

Price’s hands tighten around the steering wheel just slightly. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention. Silence settles in the car as he drives, farmlands passing until the houses start getting closer and closer together. You stare at the buildings as he drives through town, a blend of historical and modern.

“It’s beautiful here.” You say, watching people and cars pass by.

“I suppose so.” He says, glancing at you. “I grew up in this area.”

You turn to look at him. “You did? I didn’t know that. Then again, I don’t know much about any of you.”

“You can ask us, you know.” He says. “We don’t have to be that secretive with you. At least not about ourselves.”

He pulls into a parking lot, opening your door for you and helping you out of the car. You slip your hand into his, holding it as you cross the parking lot. You stare up at the store. ASDA. You’ve never heard of it before, though you suppose the stores would be different here too.

Price drops your hand to grab a cart, the store bustling with people. You hang onto the edge of the cart, staying close to Price’s side. “We’re here for you.” He says, guiding you through the aisles. “Get whatever you want.”

He’s led you to the homegoods section, your eyes widening at the entire aisle of blankets and bedding in front of you. You try to take it all in, but you feel a bit overwhelmed. There’s so many choices, so many options.

“Pick out as many as you want. Don’t worry about the price.” He says, before you can protest. “We get paid decently, but don’t have many chances to use it. Let me do this for you.”

You stare up into his eyes, the sincerity in them, before you nod, turning back to the wall of blankets before you. You study them, running your hand along them to find the softest ones, doing as he says and ignoring the price tags. You settle on a couple soft ones, grabbing a throw blanket as well that you can pack around to the rec room if you want to. He takes you to the pillow aisle, and you settle on a pair of fluffy pillows, as well as a couple decorative ones as well.

“Here.” He slips a big plush strawberry into your arms before you leave the aisle, your cheeks warming as you look at it. “Makes me think of you.”

You preen at his words, holding onto the strawberry as you make for the lamps and nightlights, settling on a cat shaped one that will sit on your desk and changes colors. You pick up a few other items before heading for the toiletries, finally setting the strawberry in the cart as you zero in on the soaps and body washes. You smell all the strawberry scented ones, trying to find the perfect one.

“Why strawberry?” Price asks as you put a strawberries and cream scented body wash in the cart.

“Compliments my scent.” You explain as he leads you to the shampoo and conditioner. “We had a scent specialist come to the institute one time as an activity. We all figured out what our scents smell like and what notes compliment them the best.”

An arm wraps around your waist before you can look at the shampoo, pulling you back against a broad chest. Price’s nose presses into your neck and he inhales deeply. He lets out a content hum, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. “I think you’re right.”

Your face burns hot as he presses a gentle kiss against the side of your neck before releasing you. You stand there for a moment, trying to calm the heat rushing through your body and focus on the shampoo. You hear him chuckle as you shuffle forward, your face still burning as you smell the shampoo bottles.

You settle on one, holding onto Price’s arm as you continue around the store, picking up a few other items and a couple for himself as well before heading to the checkout.

You hold on to Price’s arm as you leave the store, sticking close to him as he loads the bags into the trunk. You can feel the slight tension in his body, the way his eyes scan the parking lot every few seconds. You can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for him to relax, especially out in public. How fast his mind has to be running, how alert he is to everyone and everything. A threat could come out of nowhere, could come from anyone.

It must be exhausting.

“Hungry, sweetheart?” He asks as he buckles his seatbelt.

“Always.” You answer, leaning on the center console.

He smiles. “What are you in the mood for?”

You blink at him. Most of the restaurants you know probably don’t exist in England. “Fish and chips?” You offer, pulling up the one British food you’re confident in naming.

“Fish and chips it is.” He says, turning on the car.

“I have yet to have real fish and chips.” You say, settling into the passenger seat.

“Well, I know the perfect place.” He says, pulling out of the parking lot.

You don’t have to go far before he’s parking on the street and helping you out of the car. His hand settles on your lower back, guiding you down the street to a fish and chips shop.

It's too early for the dinner rush, the shop mostly empty and quiet. Price orders for you before guiding you to a table, and you let him sit facing the door and front window. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. They seem so relaxed on base, though you suppose that's the place they feel the most comfortable. You can't even imagine the kinds of things they've seen, the horrors they've been subjected to.

You don't want to think about the things they've done.

Your eyes snap downwards as Price's hand slides across the table, closing around yours. You don't want to think about the things he's done with those hands. The lives he's taken, the people he's tortured. Will he ever turn those hands on you?

They've given you no reason to fear them yet. They've all been kind, polite. Even Ghost hasn't truly given you a reason to fear him, despite his obvious disapproval and hard exterior.

You know nothing about them.

You've known them for just over two weeks. You can't possibly have any understanding of who they are, how they express their emotions. What if they get upset? What happens when they get angry? What if you anger them?

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Any of it.” Price says, drawing you from your worried thoughts. “I know you were taught to expect this, perhaps not this exact situation, but something like this. Being sent off to some strange alpha to join their pack, bonding with complete strangers. None of us were expecting this either. It’s been an adjustment in a lot of ways, but I want you to know that we’ll take care of you. You need anything, you tell us. You want anything, we’ll do our best to make it happen. We’ll keep you safe.” He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I promise you that.”

You want to believe him. You really do. They haven’t given you any reason to not believe it.

It’s only been two weeks.

You continue to talk with him as you eat, making light conversation, getting to know him a bit more. Despite the trickling uncertainty in the back of your mind, it feels good. It feels like a date, something you had dreamed of before you presented, something you had imagined happening when you finally got old enough to start looking for potential mates and packs.

Of course, back then, you had thought you’d be an alpha.

It had been expected of you.

Price has his arm wrapped around you as you walk back to the car, his hand on your hip. It’s possessive almost, and it makes your stomach flutter. Price is the only one you haven’t kissed yet, well, besides Ghost, but you’re certain you’d wind up through a wall if you even thought of trying. It’s almost ironic that Price would be the last, considering he’s going to be the one claiming you, the one you spend your heat with.

You stare out the window as the buildings fade into farmlands again. The sun is setting, painting the world in oranges and reds. You still feel a bit warm from Price’s possessive hold on you, his teasing in the store. You can still feel the tickle of his beard on your skin, his lips pressing against your neck.

You jump when rough fingers trail down your arm, pulling it from where it had been resting in your lap.

“You were right.” Price says as he lifts your hand to his face, pressing his nose against your wrist and inhaling for a moment. “Strawberries are the strongest note in your scent.” He lowers your hand again, lacing your fingers together. “What’s got you all worked up over there.”

You stare at him, your face getting warm again. Of course he can smell it. You can smell the muskiness beginning to form around the edges of his scent. Desire. “You haven’t kissed me yet.” You say, moving his hand into your lap. “You're the only one that hasn't...well, besides Ghost.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh. “You sound disappointed.”

You untangle your fingers with his, letting his hand rest on your thigh. “What if I am?”

His fingers flex against your leg, the muskiness of his scent strengthening. “Then maybe we should fix that.”

The cocktail of scents in the car is intoxicating, and you feel bad for the poor beta soldier at the gate when Price rolls down the window to hand off your IDs.

Price is out of the car as soon as it's parked, moving around to your side to open the door. He pins you against the side of the car as soon as you're out, caging you in with his arms.

You stare up at him, head swimming with the musk laced in his scent. You can see his eyes shining in the light next to the door of the barracks. He looks like a hungry wolf, the back of your neck prickling with excitement.

He leans down, breath fanning your face as he gets closer and closer to you. You press yourself against him, hands gripping his shoulders as he presses his lips to yours. His lips are surprisingly soft, his beard tickling your face. He growls quietly against your lips, pushing you harder against the side of the car.

You let out a quiet sound in response, hands gripping his jacket. His hands slide from the car to your sides, sliding down to grip your hips. You can feel the muscle hidden beneath his jacket and shirt, the strength that he possesses. He may not be purebred like Ghost, but he’s still every inch an alpha.

You let out another quiet sound as he pulls away, pressing a caste kiss to the corner of your lips. “Bloody hell, now I know what those boys were on about.” He breathes, leaning his forehead against yours.

“They were talking about me?” You ask, pulling back slightly.

“Only good things.” Price grins, leaning down to kiss you again. “Sweet as sugar.” He breathes, kissing you again. “And just as addicting.” He pulls away from you, his hands resting on your waist. “We should get your stuff inside so you can get it all set up. Want me to fetch one of the boys to help?”

You bite your lip. “Or you could just do it.”

He stares down at you, something flashing across his face but you can’t quite make it out in the low light. “You’re sure?” His voice is quiet, taking on that soft tone it often does when he speaks to you.

“You’ll have to eventually.” You shrug. “Might as well start now.”

He leans down, kissing you again before pulling away, opening up the trunk. He grabs most of the bags, only leaving the pillows for you to grab before he leads the way into the barracks. You open your door, stepping in first before he follows. You dump your pillows on the bed, and he sets the rest of the bags on your desk.

“Blankets in the wash.” You say, digging them out of the bags, pulling the tags off.

“I’ll take them.” He says, fishing out his stuff from the bags before taking the blankets from you.

You switch out your pillows for the softer ones, organizing the decorative ones just the way you want. You squish the strawberry to your chest again, a smile forming on your face before you flop back onto the bed, sinking into the soft pillows. It’s almost perfect, you think.

“Comfortable?” Price’s voice rumbles in the doorway, a smile on his face as he stares at you.

“Much better.” You say, sitting up and placing the strawberry in its place.

The two of you finish taking everything out of the bags, decorating the rest of your room. The posters on the walls, and the nightlight on your desk. It feels far more homey already, and you know you’re going to sleep well tonight once the blankets are out of the wash.

“Thank you.” You say, looking up at Price. “This really means a lot.”

“All in a day’s work, love.” He says, pulling you into his arms again.

You lean against his chest, resting your head over his heart, listening to it beat steadily against your ear.

You wake up suddenly, yet you’re not quite sure why. There’s no one in your room, your new nightlight easily showing you that. Your mouth is dry, but there’s a line of wetness down your chin. You reach across your nightstand, your phone illuminating the time.

Just past one a.m.

You smack your lips, feeling thirsty after the excitement of the day. You’d forgotten to grab water when you left the rec room and you huff out a sigh. You don’t want to get up, but now that you’re aware you’re thirsty, there’s no stopping those thoughts.

You don’t even bother with slippers as you pad to the door, opening it up. You leave it cracked as you sleepily shuffle towards the rec room, the barracks almost dead quiet this late. You grab a bottle from the fridge, unscrewing the top before drinking a few gulps. It’s cold and tastes divine, soothing the dryness of your mouth. You screw the top back on, closing the fridge before heading back towards your room.

You turn the corner, still half asleep, nearly yelping as you slam into a chest. You stumble back a couple steps, staring up at the covered face looming over you. You gulp, holding the bottle to your chest.

“S-Sorry.” You stutter.

“You’re out of bed.” He says quietly, voice rumbling in the silence.

“Thirsty.” It’s all you can manage as you hold up the bottle.

He stares at you for a long moment, eyes flickering all over your face. His chest is heaving, almost as if he had been running before you ran into him. His hands are closed into fists at his sides, knuckles almost white with how tense he is. You think for a moment he might be mad, but you can’t catch any whiff of ozone in the air. Your nose prickles at the scent, but it’s not anger.

Your tired brain can’t make sense of it, yearning to sink back into the softness of your bed again. You slowly shuffle around him, taking cautious steps, waiting for him to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. He simply watches you go, standing there in the hallway as you slip back into your room, not moving until he hears the click of your lock slipping into place.

NEXT ->

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@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows, @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10, @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph

#call of duty #call of duty fic #x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #poly 141 #task force 141 x reader #omegaverse #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega dynamics

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shotmrmiller · 9 months ago

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since i'm rambling about self inserts? (is that it?) now you're miserably turning over on the bed, pulling the comforter over your head because you wasted a whole whopping 70$ for MW3 only to get an unfinished game and a piss-poor half-assed shock value main character death.

You fall asleep thinking about what you'd do differently- how johnny wouldn't die so needlessly, maybe even convince Captain Price to let Johnny put a bullet in Makarov's head in that helo.

And when you wake, your surroundings are different. The bed is too small when yours is a king, the innerspring mattress creaks when you sit up, even though you explicitly bought a memory foam.

The walls are spartan instead of the personalized decor you had. Looking over the edge of the bed, the floor isn't carpet. It's an ugly, white vinyl tile.

Where the fuck are you?

Your hands are callused but the only time you even got one was when you tried your hand at gardening, only to eventually realize you could kill a cactus with your brown thumb.

Hopping out of bed, you beeline to your bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. Almost everything is the same. Eyes, hair, body, height.

Only difference is your flesh. It's littered with scars- both old and new. A thick, pink jagged line across your clavicle (a blade?), a puckered star shaped keloid above your hip bone (A gunshot wound?)

Stepping back out into the room, you carefully survey the space around you. A tac vest you swear you've seen before hangs on the back rest of your small chair.

Two black glock-19's sit on the desk. How do you know that? You don't know lick about weapons.

There's a large sheathed blade by your nightstand table. Didn't Rambo have one of those?

Suddenly, it hits you like a ton of bricks. You're dreaming. Jesus. Maybe you should start reading some smut fanfiction before bed to get Simon in your-

A knock at your door pulls you out of your degenerate thoughts.

oooookay.

Padding quietly to the door, the metal of the handle feels shockingly cold. How wildly vivid.

"Ye- what the fuck?"

What the actual fuck?

"Language."

...

Your mouth gapes in utter disbelief. "Simon?"

His dark eyes narrow behind his skull mask. "Chummy, are we?" He steps forward, forcing your neck back at an uncomfortable angle to keep your eyes fixed on his. "You and I, Sergeant, ain't friends. It's Ghost to you. Clear?" he snarls.

You swallow thickly. "C-Crystal, sir."

He tips his chin forward. "Get decent, I'm to take ya to the debriefin' room."

what?

"Now."

Spinning on the balls of your feet, you hastily dress, and grab the vest on the chair. UK flag on it. Tactical. Heavy as hell.

Your hands move on their own, and fingers smartly clip buckles, pull up zippers and close the pockets- as if you've been doing this your whole life.

What is happening?

When you get to wherever it was you were going, you're met with more recognizable faces.

Captain Price stands in front of Laswell, bulky arms crossed as he speaks to her in a hushed tone.

Gaz sits on a chair with his head hanging back as he blankly stares at the ceiling, trademark cap in place.

And then there's- "Bonnie!"

Johnny.

"Good to see Simon dinnae eat ye on the way here."

Simon Ghost doesn't react to the jibe at all.

Why are you sitting in the middle of the 141 listening to Laswell debrief about Hassan? Why aren't you waking up yet? You're lucid. The sharp sting of your nails digging into the palms of your clenched hands isn't dulled.

"Good hunting."

This can't be happening.

This isn't real. The heavy helmet strapped to your head. The weight of the bulky tac vest full of equipment. The painfully tight straps around your thighs. The way the rifle feels in your hands, solid and dense.

Not real.

Until you're offloading with Bravo Team in Al-Mazrah on the search for Major Hassan. The tall grass grazing your pants, the NVG's over your eyes to help you see in the dark. The harsh recoil of a weapon you've only ever used in a video game. The gurgling sounds of the enemies as they choke on their blood by your feet. The bullet whizzing past you, clipping your cheekbone. The burning sting of it, white-hot pain.

Real.

It feels fucking real.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #kyle gaz garrick #john price #is it self insert? idk

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polarisjisung · 3 months ago

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LOVE ON THE COURT | 07 TAEHYUN FROM 3RD GRADE

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing, sexual innuendos, kys/kms jokes, some more anti daegal agenda from haechan, jaemin is still a bitch but trust that will change shortly

NOTES | written cut ahead!! also just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's reading and interacting, I love reading all the comments 🫶🏼🫶🏼 +++ just a warning to be careful and stay safe for everyone in the uk with the ongoing violence :( please take care of yourselves!

Jaemin sighs.

Luck hadn't been on his side today, not when he woke up 20 minutes after his alarm, with the worst bedhead of his life and his hungry kittens practically hissing at him to be fed, not when he was late to school and the first class of the day and certainly not now.

Now as campus feels suspiciously empty, almost too empty, considering practise had ended only 5 minutes ago, jaemin stares up at the sky, thunder clashing, grey clouds looming overhead.

It doesn't take much longer for the rain to come, not a light drizzle but a full blown storm, the wind making the rain splash in his face, his pink hair matted to his forehead. A frown lines his lips.

And as if luck hadn't fucked him over enough, the bus service was cancelled all week.

If it wasn't for your slow, cautious footsteps, jaemin would've found himself trudging through the rain for the next half an hour to get back home.

He sighs in relief, convincing himself he'll ask the student approaching for a ride home, and like most students, who he was pretty popular with, he'd get a positive answer.

Jaemin's relief is short lived when he realises, that student is in fact you making your way over.

The way the concern paints your features and you rush over in the rain, not too bothered about getting yourself wet but still offering an umbrella out to him, the way you feign selflessness, the way you seem so innocent, it all convinces jaemin that maybe walking back home in the rain isn't too bad. He's already turned around before you can say anything.

He doesn't know why he stops when he hears your voice call out for him

"Jaemin" he doesn't know even more why he turns around to face you, holding perhaps the most eye contact he has with you in years.

"Do you need a ride home?" you ask, smiling as you wait for him to take the umbrella from you. He only shoves it back into your hands

All jaemin can focus on is that one word, did he need a ride, need?

Jaemin had never and would never need anything from you. He'd like to make that clear, but it's a lot less validating when he knows you won't respond the way he'd like. His bitter remarks were always met with silence on your end.

"I don't need anything from you" he spits the words out anyways.

You nod, but you don't let up, and apparently neither does the rain, it's speed doubling by the second and the size of each falling droplet growing.

"Would you like a ride?" you try again, despite the fact that you could barely make out jaemin in front of you and all you can hope is that he'll say yes.

His facial expressions telling you otherwise.

"Fine" he says, walking past you and towards your car, you can't help but smile, even if you had gotten completely soaked in the process of convincing him.

For a moment, you're close enough to blowing your cover, forgetting to ask for directions, but jaemin seems a step ahead, taking the initiative to put his apartment address into your satnav. Now you couldn't pretend that being next to him was easy, even if you tried to, jaemins presence left you in a constant state of uneasiness, like you were hyper aware of every sound you made, every word you spoke, worried you were breathing too loud or something completely out of your control would tick him off. It wasn't that jaemin was a horrible guy, he wasn't— you knew that better than anyone else, you just never knew why he had decided to be so horrible to you.

You choose to sit in silence, phone connected to the aux but no music playing as you drove. For just a second, you remember how comforting the silence between you both had once been, how there was never an awkward moment or thoughts of self doubt in jaemin's presence. Now it felt heavy, unspoken words and underlying emotions lingering in the space between you.

"Don't think we're friends just because I accepted your ride" he says, his tone sour.

"I know we're not friends jaemin, just doesn't hurt to be cordial"

You're not sure if he even hears what you said, but if he had, jaemin chooses to ignore your words. You don't say anything of it either.

He turns to face you, concentrated on driving through the heavy rain with a heavy grip on the wheel. You seem stiff for some reason, though he can't figure out why.

This is the first time, jaemin realises, that he's let himself look at you completely.

Your hands grip the steering wheel, some fresh red scratches on them, he wonders where they came from but moves on from the thought quickly, supposing you were just as clumsy as you once were. It's the only similarity he can notice, everything else seems painfully different to the old you.

Your hair is tied back in a ponytail and seems longer than he'd last remembered, perhaps a couple shades darker too, your facial features seem more mature and your eyes seem more tired.

For some reason each change, large or small, still manages to suit you well.

"Good game out there" you say and jaemin notices the changes that came to your voice, you've developed some confidence but speak in a softer tone than before, the smile on your face seems permanent, a realisation that makes his eyes roll.

"Can't say the same for you"

You nod, this really hadn't been your best game and the lack of sleep last night really hadn't helped.

"I hope you're not going to continue the rest of the season with the weak shots and shitty playing" he clicks his tongue, "it's not exactly best player of the year material is it?"

Most days you'd let jaemin take these shots at you, the wordless ones, the bold ones, and the quite frankly unnecessary ones, but today something urges you to defend yourself just a little.

"We all have our moments jaemin" you sigh, and despite wanting to say more, you decide against it, besides you were almost home anyway.

"Too many of those moments and we're in the same situation we were last year, wouldn't want to let the team down more than you already do would you?"

You don't respond, the car coming to a stop outside the front entrance to your apartment complex. You're glad it does, tears pricking your eyes as a smug jaemin steps out of the car.

"Thanks"

When the door shuts behind jaemin you can't help but let the tears roll down your face.

You wonder why you even make an effort.

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snootlestheangel · 3 months ago

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What if Soap had a cousin that's really close to his age: maybe the difference in age is as much as months apart, rather than years.

They were two peas in a pod, partners in crime growing up. They're cousins through Soap's mother's side of the family, so he doesn't have the MacTavish name, which sometimes Soap thinks is a good thing.

His cousin didn't join the military when Soap did, (partly due to the fact Soap cheated the system but that's neither here nor there) and a couple years went by before he decided to follow in Soap's footsteps and join. He's plenty smart and plenty capable, maybe not nearly as like Soap, but he's good enough that he progresses through pretty quick.

He's made Sergeant before either of them know it, and Soap is fucking proud. They're still close, and the shared experience of military life has definitely helped keep them that way in their adult lives. His cousin was the only one Soap confessed to about his feelings for Ghost. Granted it was more along the lines of a warning: "don't fall in love with your lieutenant, it'll only hurt."

Of course, that conversation happened a while ago, long enough ago that Soap and Ghost have indeed done something about their feelings for each other, but Soap and his cousin aren't ones to gossip about that sort of thing.

All his cousin knows is that Soap may or may not have something going on with his lieutenant, and quite frankly that's all he wants to know.

But here's the thing: his cousin doesn't know Soap is called Soap, and he doesn't know what taskforce he's a part of. He knows that Soap does some top shit, and he's not one to pry. Certainly not when he's got his own problems to worry about.

But he has heard of The Ghost. Everyone in the UK military has, for fucks sake. You can't be a soldier in that military without hearing about The Ghost and his almost supernatural abilities. You can't avoid hearing the higher ups mutter under their breaths "thank God he's on our side". It's considered one of the greatest honors a soldier can receive to work alongside The Ghost.

And that's how he ended up here. Standing in front of his new team, the two sergeants, his captain and lieutenant, suddenly feeling very murderous.

There are 2 options as to why he wants to commit murder:

1. Prior to coming to the Taskforce, he had a bit of leave and spent a few days with his cousin, John MacTavish. He asks him how things with "that lieutenant" are going, to which John says with a cheeky grin "Aye they're going". He then laughs a bit before adding "guess you could say he's my boo".

Of course his cousin is very confused: "boo?"

"Ya know, like a ghost"

"Like a ghost? GHOST?! YOU'RE FUCKING THE GHOST?!?!"

Its quickly revealed the taskforce his cousin has been assigned to is actually Soap's, to which the cousin refuses to believe Soap isn't just trying to mess with him. So he says "I'm kicking your ass if you're right"

2. There's never a chance for the two of them to talk about those sorts of things prior to his cousin joining the team. But he still knows that there's something going on between Soap and the lieutenant, so he's quickly putting together the pieces and getting very angry

Either way, the introductions end with his cousin politely asking if they would excuse him for just a minute. Price, albeit very confused, agrees. He doesn't expect the new sergeant to toss his duffle bag at Soap's face only for them to start wrestling, Soap cackling like a madman the entire time as the other shouts "I'm gonna fucking kill you!" And Gaz is the only one to say out loud what they're all thinking

"Holy shit, there's two of them."

#i really like this idea for some reason #cousin needs a name #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #cod drabble

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lesbojournals · 6 months ago

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being an american muggle meeting poly!marauders would look like... (part two?ish?)

-okay so let's rewind and rewrite i have new ideas

-you're lily's cousin, she visits quite often! she invites you to stay with her in the uk for the summer

-obviously you say yes, you've never been before

-(you know about magic, lily told you a while ago) so when lily introduces you to her friends, you're flustered and embarrassed to say the least

-she assures you there's nothing to be embarrassed of...then they arrive

-and they're the most handsome men you've ever seen

-you didn't realize you had a thing for an accent because goddamn

-you catch all of their attention immediately, but especially sirius'. he wants you to open up more so he encourages you to drink a little HAHA.

-this works. but you also make a downright american FOOL of yourself because "why do you all get the cool accent and i'm stuck with this one? and you get magic too? unfair"

-somehow, someway, you end up continuously rapping kanye west's verse from american boy

-seeing you so open and silly has the boys so soft

-james dances with you, remus watches over that you AND sirius don't drink too much more

-sirius invites you to their flat, promises a beautiful breakfast filled with pancakes and waffles

-lily is all for you going and that's how you know you're safe to go

-somehow...you end up kissing sirius in the back of the car while remus is driving?? both of you are equally drunken messes and you won't stop raving that "maybe british boys kiss better than american ones because WOW"

-james is locking it all in the memory bin to bring up in the morning, shooting remus cheeky smiles as he already knows what james will be up to

-you don't have sex with anyone (but you were SO close to having it with sirius), but sirius does promise that if you remember this night he'll give you all the sex you desire

-james gives you pajamas to change into (his clothes)

-you pass out on their couch within SECONDS

-james takes a photo for memory's sake and drags sirius off to bed where remus is preparing to help him get in pajamas

-i'm addicted to this prompt help

#poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #lily evans

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wileys-russo · 1 year ago

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cheeky little angst to fluff blurb for leah??

leah didn't do her acl in this because i said so insensitive II l.williamson

"-so i'll rest again for a bit in bed, go to breakfast and then i think we have our team walk in a couple hours? oh! then a few of the girls are gonna go for breakfast and to the beach tomorrow before our flights since they're later at night. the beaches here are literally insane babe the water is so blue, i'll make sure to send you some photos. i'm keen for one last taste of summer before returning to the bleak dead cold of the uk." you joked with a smile, your girlfriend humming tiredly in response.

"i'm sorry baby i'm talking too much. are you sure you're okay? you played brilliantly leah really, i was so proud of you." you softly assured, as you had been for the majority of this phone call which was really annoying the blonde more than helping her to feel better as you intended.

both of you away with your respective national teams for international break you'd both been on the phone much as you could, forever attached at the hip you missed the older english girl who held your heart terribly.

however it would appear that your break was going a whole lot better than leah's, australia coming away with an 8-0 win a few days ago and england having just lost 3-2.

your chances of qualifying were looking up whilst hers seemed in a jeopardy she'd not predicted experiencing.

"i'm fine." if you would have picked up on the hidden sharpness of her words you might have caught on and changed topics, however still half asleep you missed it, having been up very early to watch your girlfriends match.

"losses happen lee it doesn't mean you girls have any less chance of qualifying, you've come back from worse yeah? heads held high and leave it in the past, same thing you tell us all each week in red babe." you tried to comfort her only your words had the opposite affect.

with the loss playing heavily on her mind and leah attributing a large portion of the blame toward herself in defence, she felt a bitter bubble of jealousy and frustration begin to build up in her throat. and before she could think any better of it, it came out suddenly like a toxic word vomit.

"yeah well some of us have actual challenges to face to qualify. we can't all get the easy draw and piss poor low ranking teams to smash 8-0, scoring hat tricks against players with half your professional experience and no funding into their programs, can we? the entire olympics qualification system is a fucking joke!" leah snapped, a few of her team mates heads swiveling toward her with a mix of frowns and surprise at her harsh tone.

silence was all that she was met with after her little outburst, you opening and closing your mouth in somewhat a state of shock at the venomous tone from your usually calm mannered and always supportive girlfriend.

"you must be tired and your flights soon. i'll call you later before warm ups?" you asked hopefully, heart hammering in your chest. "no, i'm going into the training centre soon as i get back." leah replied bluntly, clearly not intending to watch your match as you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

"right. well i hope you get some rest on your flight then." and with that the line beeped signaling you ended the call, leah shoving her phone into her pocket and resting her chin on the handle of her suitcase she was currently sat on.

"leah mate...that was painful to listen to." georgia winced from beside her, keira humming in agreement. "what? she's being insensative! if she knew me she'd know i fucking hate being coddled and thats all she was doing, as well as flaunting her stupid win." leah muttered with a roll of her eyes.

"is that seriously what you think?" keira questioned, eyebrows knitted together as leah only gave a small shrug. "leah." the younger girl sighed, shaking her head.

"she barely mentioned the win to you when it happened, she spoke about her hat trick maybe once on facetime that night? she stayed in to call you like normal instead of being out for dinner celebrating with her team." keira began to lecture the blonde beside her.

"do ya know what time it is in western australia right now leah?" georgia continued on, eyes wide looking at her phone as again leah only shrugged, though a hint of guilt was just starting to creep in.

"it was 3:30 in the morning there when we kicked off and she watched the entire match and then stayed up for a few hours afterwards to call you, so that she could comfort you and try to make ya feel better." georgia lectured, leahs stern gaze beginning to crack at her words.

"then you just dismissed all of the graft she put in last match and her entire teams hard work down to something they have no control over. doesn't matter who they play leah, they deserved each win." keira continued, leah taking her bottom lip in between her teeth as she sat up and rubbed her face with her hands.

"then she gets up at 3:30 to watch your game and you tell her you aren't bothered to watch hers when its at a more than reasonable time, because you're busy feeling sorry for yourself." georgia added on, yet another blow of guilt for her to swallow.

"did you think it was insensitive when we beat them in the semi final of their home world cup, and you celebrated with your team afterwards?" keira asked with a raised eyebrow.

"nah that was different! i went right to her first to make sure she was okay and tell her how proud of her i was, and she told me to go out afterwards and went out with her own team." leah defended suddenly, shut down by the looks from her best friends either side of her.

"exactly leah, so then how is that any different than her trying to console you after this loss? and then you had to go and open your stupid hot headed mouth, stick your foot in it and probably make her feel like shit before her final international match of the break, which you all but said you wouldn't be watching. how is that fair?" keira delivered the final punch as leah crumpled, head hung in her hands with a small groan.

"yeah alright alright i get it, i've royally fucked up here." leah sighed, standing suddenly and walking off with her phone held to her ear, calling you over and over as each time the phone would ring out only affirming to her that she had really stepped in it this time.

trying you for a fifth time, urged to hurry up from her team mates as their flight was boarding leah's phone vibrated with a message as again you didn't answer.

from; lover girl i need some space please, i'll call you once i land back in london x

with a frustrated sigh leah heart reacted the message not wanting to overstep, locking her phone and hurrying over to keira who was impatiently waiting to board.

she had some serious groveling to do.

you opened and scanned through the multiple messages from leah she'd sent while obviously watching the game, withholding the urge to smile at her running commentary and complimentary words about how you and the team played.

still quite frustrated with her and still wanting space you opted not to reply, locking your phone and tucking it under your leg as you rummaged around in your backpack for your airpods.

"you're not gonna call leah?" steph asked with a look of surprise as you settled in beside her on the bus back to the hotel, where as normally you'd sit by yourself to call your girlfriend after each match like clockwork.

"nope." you answered simply, shaking your head and tucking one knee up to your chest. "what's happened?" the older girl sighed knowingly, draping an arm over the back of you as your head came to rest on her shoulder.

through the four seasons you'd played together at arsenal the two of you alongside caitlin and now kyra had become like a family, relishing in the familiar comfort of having your fellow aussies around living in a foreign country where you hardly saw your actual loved ones.

"i think we had an argument? but we didn't exactly argue." you replied, still a little in the dark yourself on what had caused leah's outburst. steph only gave you a confused stare and nodded for you to explain further as you did so, recounting your conversation with the blonde captain this morning.

"ahhh, i see." steph nodded now caught up as you hummed tiredly, the time now nearing eleven at night. "you know she loves you very much. but we both know she hardly has a filter on what she says sometimes, and she's quite potentially the most patriotic person i know both for club and country." steph chuckled, patting your shoulder.

"norf london foreva." you mocked her accent quietly with a small smile, admittedly missing it even more now you knew you'd not be speaking to her for a couple of days while you flew.

"but thats not to dismiss how harsh she was and how that would have made you feel. i think some space is a good idea, gives her some time to reflect on why you're upset and why what she said was wrong. you gonna be okay?" the brunette asked softly as the bus pulled in outside your hotel.

"yeah, i'll be fine. it's been nice being back home and seeing all the girls again, and we're going for brunch and to the beach tomorrow. i'm just focusing on that and the horrendous jetlag we're due for once we touch back down." you groaned, steph agreeing as the two of you filed off the bus.

"kyra i promise you, if you so much as breathe near me for the next twenty four hours i am going to murder you." you spoke calmly, stopping to take a deep breath as the younger girl purposefully stepped on the back of your trainer again.

you loved her dearly but it was like having your own child as she'd wound you up for hours now, giving you a brief moment of rest when she'd finally passed out on the plane. but now fully awake and in her usual tiresomely hyperactive mood she'd been kicking the back of your knees out and stepping on the back of your shoes from the moment you stepped off the plane.

"leave her be! honestly mate you're so annoying." caitlin groaned on your behalf, wrangling the girl into a tight headlock and dragging her away from you as the four of you headed out of baggage collection.

"i see your personal chauffeur has arrived." you looked up in confusion as steph elbowed you, spotting leah a hundred or so metres away. "ooo she's off to kiss her little girlfr-" kyra's sarcastic kisses and teasing words were cut short as caitlin suddenly swept her feet out from under her, sending her tumbling to the ground on her ass.

"oi!" with that the two took off chasing one another around the terminal, steph kissing your cheek and telling you to call her if you needed her as she hurried off to sort your friends out, the three of them set to take an uber together.

you watched leah nervously shift her weight from one foot to another as you slowly made your way over, her face partially hidden by the hood drawn over her head. a hoodie which you quickly recognized as one of yours, a faded black australian national team hoodie from years ago.

you also noticed she had a bunch of flowers in one hand which she immediately held out to you. "hi." leah breathed out quietly once you arrived in front of her and had taken the flowers with a mumbled thank you.

"hi." you echoed back, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and shaking your head as she offered to take it from you, the two of you wordlessly making your way out of the airport and to the car park.

you dumped your bag in the boot which she opened and closed for you, sliding into the passenger seat with a tired sigh and carefully placing the flowers on the floor between your feet as leah sat beside you, starting up the car and pulling away.

"can we talk? or do you want some time to like actually sleep and rest, you must be insanely jetlagged. i can stay at beth and viv's place tonight? give you some space." leah offered, the two of you having been living together for well over a year now.

"no it's fine, we can talk." you confirmed, adjusting your position as your head slumped against the window, eyes struggling to stay open which didn't go unnoticed by the blonde beside you.

"are you sure? you look exhausted we can-" "leah i'm sure, we need to talk."

you hadn't mean to come across as bluntly as you did given your jetlag, as you saw surprise flicker across your girlfriends face for a moment before she nodded and you mumbled a quiet apology, rubbing your eyes.

"well i'll start. firstly; i am so incredibly unbelievably sincerely sorry for what i said to you love. i was tired and frustrated with my own performance not that thats any excuse, and selfishly a little jealous of your big win when we lost. which was completely unfair because i am so so proud of you in everything that you do. i promise!" leah started, glancing over at you as she stopped at a red light and you gave her a small smile, nodding for her to continue.

"you put so many hours of extra training in to prepare for the world cup and of course thats payed off and you're finally seeing the benefits. I was bitter and selfish and i lashed out at you when you were just trying to make me feel better, like always, and i am really really sorry baby." leah continued, falling silent after as you assumed she'd finished talking.

"well firstly; you were an asshole." leah winced at that but nodded, understanding her actions were to blame here.

"but i understand you were feeling poorly after a loss, i just wish you'd communicated that with me a little better and i would have left you be with your own thoughts rather than talking your ear off and probably worsening your mood." you sighed, the blonde quick to assure she normally loved you talking her ear off.

"i just felt like i didn't understand what i'd done to cause you to be upset with me, and then you snapped about the qualifying process and you weren't entirely wrong but-"

"i was! i was wrong about that. its been the way they're done for years now and its not anything you or i are ever going to have the influence to change single handedly, and i should have never dismissed the shift you and the girls put in for that win." leah was quick to clarify before apologizing for interrupting you.

"thank you. next time please just communicate with me how you're feeling and what you need lee." you smiled tiredly, your girlfriend reaching for your hand and smiling in relief when you allowed her to take it, the blonde bringing it to her mouth and placing a few tender kisses on your knuckles as she glanced toward you.

"eyes on the road thanks charmer." you smiled tiredly, leah not letting go of your hand but dropping it to rest on the middle console, her other hand expertly maneuvering the steering wheel.

the rest of the ride home was filled with a much more comfortable silence, leah thanking her lucky stars you'd been so forgiving and remanding herself over and over for ever wronging you, smiling softly at you asleep in the seat beside her.

parking in the driveway she flicked the car off, carefully getting out and softly closing her door. she grabbed your bags out of the back and hurried them inside, dropping them in your shared bedroom and rushing back to the car, leaving the front door open.

gently opening your door she caught your body as it slid out having been leant against the door, your eyes shooting open as you inhaled sharply and sat up. "we're home baby." leah advised, affectionately rubbing your flushed cheek with her thumb as she pressed a kiss to your temple.

with a tired nod you allowed her to pull you up and out of the car, walking yourself to the front door and rubbing your eyes. you stretched as you crossed the threshold of your home, squealing as leahs hands poked at the sliver of skin which popped out as your top rode up.

"hello." you latched yourself onto her the moment she closed the front door and turned, your cheek smooshed into her shoulder as her hoodie clad arms wound tightly around you. "i really really missed you." leah sighed, swaying the two of you back and forth as you relished in the familiar warmth of her embrace.

"so i can see, you've become an honorary tillie." you teased, tugging on the sides of the hoodie as your chin moved to rest against her sternum, looking up at her in amusement. "for you my girl? anything." leah promised with a soft smitten smile, leaning down to kiss you.

"leah what is that?" you spotted a piece of cardboard on the kitchen counter over her shoulder, pulling away from her right before her lips met yours causing her to frown.

"welcome home from prison!" you read out the sign with a scoff, leahs arms folding around you from behind as her chin rested on your shoulder and you felt her body vibrate with a quiet laughter.

"thought it might be a bit too soon for the joke to land right without an apology first." leah admitted, pressing a few light kisses to the side of your neck.

"mm yeah good choice. dick!" you shoved her playfully as she continued to cling onto you, spinning you around. "may i have a proper kiss now please?" the blonde pouted, puckering her lips as you smiled, shaking your head.

"well i am all for charity and since you asked so nicely." she pinched your side for the comment, pressing her lips to yours before you could say another word.

the way her lips slotted perfectly with yours would forever make your head spin, sending you into a love drunk haze of dizziness at the euphoric feeling of kissing her. the way her bottom lip would part slightly as her hand flew to the back of your neck, her tongue slipping into your mouth as her thumb rubbed gentle circles just below your ear.

her lips always soft and welcoming, her kisses calculated and thought out, making sure that with every fleeting second you could feel how deeply she cared for you. this kiss in particular was two weeks in the making, the blonde pouring into it every inch of her adoration for you with each slight adjustment and touch, her other hand resting on your waist to draw your body even closer into hers, trapping the two of you in a cocoon of warmth and love and safety.

"welcome home." she pulled away with a light smack, pressing a few softer kisses to your swollen lips before pressing her forehead against yours, closing her eyes and hugging you tightly, anchoring you in her arms like a lost ship coming ashore.

the sea of your relationship wouldn't always be smooth, but with leah at the helm and you loyal by her side the two of you could get through pretty much anything.

"it's two now baby. do you want to sleep for a few hours and then up for dinner? and we can stay up till around maybe ten to try and reset your schedule?" your girlfriend offered sweetly, warm lips pressing against the crown of your temple with each word.

"so long as you're with me i don't mind." you sighed, head falling to her chest as you squeezed her tightly, melting the older girls heart who hugged you back just as firmly.

"well you can't sleep standing up." with that she'd bent down to grab the back of your thighs, hoisting you up. "bed or lounge baby?" the defender asked with a raised eyebrow. "not the first time you've asked me that while i'm off the ground in your arms." you smirked, kissing her nose and grinning as she scrunched it slightly.

"even half asleep with jet lag you remain a cheeky cheeky girl." leah tutted with a shake of her head and carrying you with her over to the sofa, turning around and sitting down as she pulled you to sit between her legs which stretched down its length.

"can you put the golf on please?" you mumbled tiredly, shuffling so your head was resting on leah's chest, hearing her heartbeat beneath your ear as leah smiled happily in surprise at your request. "really?"

"yeah, always sends me to sleep." you continued, closing your eyes as leah rolled hers, carding a hand through your hair but doing as you asked, nails scratching at your scalp and the english captain chuckled seeing within a few short minutes you'd fallen right back to sleep.

desite the fact she actually enjoyed watching the golf much to your horror, a few holes in, she was ashamed to admit she joined you, eyes drifting closed.

#leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso #leah williamson #woso blurbs #woso imagine #engwnt #woso fanfics

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lialacleaf · 1 year ago

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To Care For A Woman

Chapter 4

Simon Riley x Reader

Summary: You join the army as a last-ditch effort to avoid destitution, but when you sustain an injury protecting Lieutenant Ghost and earn yourself a medical discharge, you're stuck all over again. Or maybe not...

Warnings: Tension, Simon wants to care for you, small reader, a little bit spicy but not NSFW, man worrying about a woman's safety, typical cannon violence, deception, I'm sorry it's unedited...

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

You were beginning to feel like Simon was hiding something. When he went out on missions he was insistent that you didn’t contact him. At all.

You never once wondered if there was another woman involved, Simon was too good to you for it to be that.

He was just so closed off when it came to the topic of work, and you weren’t sure why. Maybe he was battling PTSD, and trying not to let it color your relationship.

It had been six months since you had married Simon, two of which he’d spent deployed somewhere. Your parents had asked if you were coming home for the holidays, and you told them you would be working.

They still believed you had a job. In a way you did. When Simon wasn’t home you did light house chores, now that Dr. Radcliffe had cleared you for more movement.

Your leg was still weak, and running was out of the question. You’d begged Simon to let you get a dog but he’d bit his lip, given you a pained look, and explained that it wasn’t fair to the animal if you couldn’t care for it properly.

You’d nodded in agreement but it had hurt all the same. You were lonely when he was gone.

“So what are we doing for the holidays?” You asked as Simon washed the dinner dishes and handed them to you to be put away.

He shrugged as he scrubbed pasta sauce off one of the plates. “Haven’t celebrated in a while,” he admitted, handing you the next clean dish.

“Do you ever visit your family?” You asked.

“Have you ever been to Cambridge?” He went about scrubbing the cup your tea was in.

“I’ve never been to the UK, just the parts of Europe the 141 has taken me. Is that where you’re from?” You asked in excitement.

“No, I grew up in Manchester,” he said, passing you the cup.

“Is your family in Cambridge now?” You asked, feeling as if the conversation had gotten slightly off topic.

“No.”

You blinked in confusion. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to spend the holidays in Manchester with your family?”

“It doesn’t have to be Cambridge, London is nice too,” he added, drying his hands on the spare dish towel. “We’ve got a few weeks to decide anyhow.” He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before disappearing into the bathroom.

You gaped slightly, blinking in confusion. What just happened? Had he really just swept your questions about his family under the rug with the distraction of a holiday vacation?

Maybe it was only fair. You’d made no effort to introduce Simon to your parents, but that was different. You were a daughter, not a son. If your parents found out their little baby girl had been injured, and married off to some strange man, your father would blow a fuse.

You knew very little about Simon though. The only thing you knew about him was his strange relationship with Ghost. Why was someone as sweet as Simon even mates with someone like Ghost?

Simon had started taking you into town once a week. He didn’t like to keep you cooped up, and Dr. Radcliffe had warned him you’d end up in trauma therapy if he kept you isolated during recovery.

Simon was relieved you didn’t display much interest in going to the mall. You were perfectly happy to go to the park and pet dogs, or go to the bookstore for hours on end.

You were begging to accumulate a small library, and sooner or later he’d need to build you a bookshelf.

“Out for the weekly book haul I see,” Jesse, the store owner said as you approached her counter, most of your books in Simon’s arms. You grinned at her as she scanned your latest finds. “You’re practically keeping me in business at this point.”

You shrugged and gave Jesse a bright smile. “You had new stuff in the gardening section, thought it might be helpful for the herbs we just planted,” you said, flashing Simon a grin.

He didn’t give you much of a reaction, but that was normal when he was in public. He wasn’t exactly fond of strangers, but he tolerated Jesse for the free cups of tea she bestowed on the two of you when you sat down to read in her cafe.

She’d never asked for the details of your relationship with Simon, but she always chuckled softly when he handed over his debit card without so much as a grumble for your somewhat expensive taste in books. A man that supported his partner's love of books was a good man in her opinion.

Jesse placed your books in a bag and handed them to Simon with a smile, unbothered by his flat expression and aversion to talking more than what was necessary.

“Have you decided where you want to go for Christmas yet?” He asked as he helped you load into his truck.

“Maybe we should stay home this year. I was just thinking it’d be harder to travel with my leg, and you already don’t like crowds, I can’t imagine how busy London must be this time of year…” you trailed off as Simon buckled into the driver’s seat. “But I would like to put up a tree!” You added.

Simon raised a brow at you as if he were amused by your declaration. “A tree?”

“Yeah! A Christmas tree! And we could have some of your teammates over-“

“They’ll be with their families,” he stated quickly.

Your smile fell. Oh. Right. “Maybe just the Captain then?”

Simon bit his lip but nodded. Price was aware of the situation, and the least likely to spill the beans. He supposed inviting his Captain over for a holiday meal would be alright.

“Speaking of family,” you began carefully, “Can we stop by the post office next week? I’d like to ship my parents' Christmas presents,” you requested softly.

Simon glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “Would you like to see your family?” He asked, and you shook your head.

“No, I…” you trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“You haven’t told them.” It wasn’t a question. He’d heard your phone calls with them. They still thought you were working for Price.

“It’s…it’s not that I don’t want you to meet them. It’s just that I don’t want them to worry, and I know that they will.” Simon nodded, grasping your hand gently in his. “I’ll figure something out…eventually.”

“I have to go for a mission next week, but I’ll be back before Thanksgiving. We can put up the tree when I get back. I’ll…leave the truck with you, you can make it to town on your own?” He asked.

Your eyes widened in surprise. You hadn’t expected him to even offer, but now that you thought about it, it was a little ridiculous to expect you to stay put while he was gone. It was your left leg that was injured after all, you could still drive.

“Yeah, I know the way. Thanks, Simon,” you said, offering him a brilliant smile.

“Just be careful,” he reminded you. He’d leave a pistol with you just in case. The holidays were always more dangerous. He was starting to regret not getting you that dog. He would have to look into putting up a fence, but that was a long term project that he’d need a longer break from work to accomplish. Like hell he was gonna pay some stranger to come out to his home where his wife was to do the job.

Once the truck was parked and your books were unloaded, Simon went about doing his chores while you made lunch. At some point you heard the buzz of his saw outside. He seemed to always have some sort of project going.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the other night as you went about piling chicken salad on two croissants. Why was he so closed off concerning his family?

You eyed you bedroom door, wondering if you should just leave it alone, or put your detective skills to work.

You left your plates on the counter as you slipped into your bedroom. Simon didn’t keep many personal items, therefore your nightstand was always a little more cluttered than his between your laptop, medications, and other odds and ends.

You weren’t exactly sure what you were looking for. All you really knew about Simon was his name and that he’d grown up in Manchester. Your search would likely yield little result.

At least that was what you thought until you were starting at a death record. A death record for Simon Riley, bearing the same date of birth and identification information that was on your marriage certificate.

“Y/n?” You jumped, your head shooting up to see Simon in his sweaty work clothes standing in the doorway. “Gonna hop through the shower before lunch…everything alright?” He asked, noticing how pale you’d gone.

“I…um, yeah, yeah I’m fine.” You sputtered, closing your laptop screen. “I’ll go finish lunch,” you said, limping back into the kitchen.

Simon watched you, his head cocked to the side, before he shrugged, and stripped down to get a shower.

You tried to ignore the knots forming in your gut. Simon Riley was dead, and you had no unearthly clue who this man was. Did Ghost know? Had he unwittingly sent you right into the arms of someone dangerous, or was Ghost well aware of who Simon really was?

Your hands shook as you went about finishing the lunch preparations, and you quietly set the table, hyper aware of the other person in the house.

Simon was still in the shower, you had time to go back for your laptop. You quickly made your way into the bedroom, lifting the screen as you sat on the bed.

Your eyes scanned over the obituary with concern. Simon Riley…served in the royal army…died in a fire…no body…wait…no body?

You scrolled down a bit until you got to the photo at the bottom of the page. It was your Simon. You felt your throat tighten.

Why was your Simon supposedly dead? It made no sense. The man in the picture, albeit a little older, was currently showering in the bathroom.

You scanned through the rest of the obituary, noticing the mention of his family. Each name was highlighted, and you risked clicking on the name of the previous Mrs. Riley.

You felt like you were going to hurl when you were greeted with an even more morbid obituary. His entire family was gone. Murdered. Stolen right out from under him. It suddenly made sense. His overprotective nature was simply a trauma response. It still didn’t explain the falsified death certificate, but it was a start.

It wasn’t until you were staring into the photographed eyes of Tommy Riley that it clicked.

Tommy had brown eyes, practically identical to Simon’s. There was one other person you knew of with those eyes. One other person who’s voice sounded so similar to Simon’s, even if it was a little rougher.

Was Tommy…Ghost?

AN: OOOOOH Ya'll excited? We get spicy next chapter...

Tag List:

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@zzariyahchan @gaida-511 @misshoneypaper @soldierlass @dazaiscum @mockerycrow @kaysav608 @classygardencroissantcolor @innerskylover @kristalhi @hotaruteba @tzutology @sushiumex @l3xiluve @immajustlikeok

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@novausstuff @copiasratscheese @i-feel-violated @itsagrimm

#simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost mw2

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elizabebabe · 4 months ago

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𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 ೀ 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡: you're scouted for love island and you and your manager think of it as a business opportunity but what happens when you actually want to find love?, you're in for the summer of your life.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: use of y/n!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k!

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬: i'm insanely nervous to post this but, here we go, i based this off usa love island even though the uk version is typically my favorite maybe after i finish this series i'll do a british version?...you will find out which brother i'm using soon, feel free to imagine what you're wearing this is meant to be an inclusive story so, hair, makeup, fashion, is all subjective, i'll remember to make the dialogue about your appearance vague, i hope you enjoy.

'love island'

you had heard about the show but you never expected to be scouted for it, so when you got a call from your business manager you were surprised…and disappointed.

“hey, y/n”, she said with anticipation.

“what’s up?” you quickly replied, you had already settled in for bed having already grabbed your favorite read off your bedside table, your own phone ring making you jump.

“got a very interesting email today..”

that grabs your full attention, putting your bookmark into your book and nesting it in its favorite place on your side table.

“and that is?” you say excitedly.

“love island wants to cast you.”

your smile drops, “oh.” being the only thing to leave your mouth, you can’t help but feel upset you were expecting more, maybe someone liked your designs enough to sign you. you’ve been building your own business up for a while now but having a contract with a ‘real’ company would definitely help your bills being paid.

“what do you mean..”

“oh” she mimicked your voice.

“was expecting better news.” you say calmly picking your book back up.

“y/n!!, this is great news!. you can go on and wear your designs and if people like them they’ll buy from your website.”

you turn to the next page, “maybe..” you bookmark your place again closing the book.

“i’ll give you time to think about it.”

you scoffed, a mere “fine.” escaping your lips.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you picked up your last rinsed dish, putting it in the dishwasher, quickly closing it then drying your hands. you then examine the prune on your fingers but it’s cut short by a ring, you hurried over to your phone left on your coffee table.

“hi” , you say to your manager: rhia.

“hello…so?”

“i can’t, i'm sorry.” you say nesting into your couch.

“but this is a huge business opportunity!”

“it’s a love show, not ‘shark tank.’” you say sarcastically, getting up from your couch and grabbing your laptop you left in another room.

“y/n..? where did you go?” she notices your absence

“right here.” you say carrying your laptop back to the coffee table sitting in-to the butt groove you’ve perfectly molded just for you.

“okay..two birds, one stone.” rhia comments, gaining a confused look on your face.

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?” you say while opening your laptop.

“you’re single, unless you count that damn butt grove on your gross couch.” your jaw drops, you close your laptop, dropping it on the table ahead of you.

“that is…so messed up.” you said dramatically

“okay, i'm sorry but it’s true.”

“not many people get scouted for shit like this, you have to go.” she adds

“okay, okay..” you're reluctant but rhia has never steered you wrong before…right?”

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

“i’m y/n..”, you said awkwardly at the camera as you fidgeted with the lacy bits of your outfit, this was going to be your introduction on the show so you knew the pressure was on, what if the public didn’t like you? what if you came off so unlikeable and nobody wanted to speak to you ever again?

they scouted you from your instagram and after seeing a few of your reels they knew you’d be a great, you were casted to fit a certain role “the hopeless romantic.” the producers knew bringing you in and a few interesting characters would make for fireworks on television.

“i’m 21 and i have my own company, “i’m funny, romantic, maybe a little bit shy.” you motion with your hands.

“but that doesn’t mean i can’t stand my own, i open up a lot once you get to know me.” you giggle shyly

you were nervous especially when it came to what felt like 10 cameras staring at you, don’t forget the people behind them being extremely intimidating. it was a new environment for you, you naturally spent most of your days inside sketching so to do something ‘out there’ was scary.

“i’ve been single for a bit now.” you thoughtfully and playfully count on your fingers.

….“yep, it's definitely been a bit.” you chuckled.

“my type?” , you repeat the question from the people off camera. “i like funny, i just want to laugh!.” you exclaim. “oh probably someone nice as-well.” you laugh.

“physically?”, you tap your finger on your lips, trying to come up with an honest answer.

“hmmm…” you reckon, i like dark hair quite a bit but i’m definitely not opposed to a lighter color. “i don’t think i really have a physical type..i mean i like brown eyes quite a bit to be fair.” you smile.

“hopefully i can find the love of my life here on ‘love island’. “ you comment bashfully.

you remember the main objective is to show off your brand but you can’t help but feel genuine hope to find someone here, rhia was right it has been just you and your butt groove for a while which made you a bit embarrassed causing your lack of interest, but now you might actually be invested in the ‘love’ part..

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you have never been to a tropical island or at least one like fiji, it was gorgeous, littered with clear water and the smell of a tropical summer, you were being driven up to the villa in a cabriolet, the hot wind brushing through your hair and your bikini straps almost sticking to your skin from the heat.

it was new to you, and it felt so freeing. you pushed your hands in the air, the gentle breeze touching the beads of sweat on your arms.

you felt confident for the first time in a while looking at the bikini you chose to wear, a neutral color but it matched your skin tone so perfectly you couldn't help yourself. you decided to pear a wedge alongside it, you looked good and you knew it.

the car stopped as it approached the villa doors, the cameras around you catching your reaction, it was beautiful. if the villa looked this good from the outside you couldn’t help your mind from wandering about the inside.

you opened the car door, and took a step out, you put on your best smile and strutted towards the open doors.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

your first extinct was to explore but you were guided towards another set of open doors, they revealed a sort of backyard, you could see a massive pool and a few day beds under some gazebos, before your attention was taken by girls squealing in your direction, you snapped your head towards them noticing they were at a table with a few drinks.

a tall blonde waves at you excitedly followed by a shorter kinky haired woman, you walk towards them, the smell of the island mixed with their perfumes hitting you nicely, “hi!” you say excitedly.

“hey!”, they both reply, you hug & swap names.

clair has chocolate skin that glistens in the sun, she wears a sparkly red bikini to compliment it, her curls bounced as she hugged you.

abby joked about wanting a tan to catch up with clair, earning a side eye from her, making you and abby giggle, she wears a lilac one piece that praises her curves. they were both gorgeous and also had good conversation, they made you feel quite comfortable already.

“how are you?” clair mentions curiously.

“want a drink?” abby says as she begins pouring some champagne into a glass and holding it out for you.

“i’m doing okay, a bit nervous.” you say as you take the drink from abby.

clair giggles, “we feel the same way.”

“there’s no need to be nervous!” abby says with an upbeat attitude. you smile at them, “what do you do?” clair questions you.

“i sell clothes, i'm actually wearing one of my designs.” you say motioning towards your bikini, rhia would be proud you were actually able to mention your business.

you collect “ooo’s” and “ahh’s” from the girls which gave you a boost of confidence, “i’m going to need to borrow that.” abby says quickly.

you find out clair works in tech and abby works as a beauty therapist during your continued small talk. you typically hated this part of getting to know people but they made it so easy, especially abby since she comfortably led the conversation.

the continued convo stopped once you heard heels coming closer and closer to you all, making all of you turn around, you observed two new girls, they were holding hands and strutting towards the rest of you. you all cheered, giving them an appropriate greeting.

you hugged them both, one of their perfumes being a little too strong for your personal liking but you were never one to judge.

one of their names was kaia and she looked like trouble at first, since she had quite a stern look on her face but when she smiled it lit up the room. she had short black hair and a tattoo on her chest that popped out of her deep blue bikini.

the other girls name was leah, her hair was wavy but it looked styled, her skin being soft was the only thing you could think of when she hugged you. she was wearing a silver bikini and a tiny white cover up.

trying to get to know kaia and leah was quickly interrupted by ariana madix the ‘love island’ host walking out the doors.

you had never really watched the show, maybe just seen a few clips but seeing the girls reaction to her stupidly made you feel a little left out, they were so excited.

truthfully you had started to feel a little overwhelmed, whether it was the environment or the large amounts of conversation. you take a few sips out of your glass hoping it would take the edge off.

while being lost in your own thoughts ariana had already walked over, sharing hugs with the girls then opening her arms for you, you give her a gentle hug then pull away.

“who’s ready for a summer of love?” ariana questions in a high genuine tone.

“me!!” abby quickly replies

“we are!, “more than ready.”, different responses coming out of different mouths.

“perfect, let’s go to the fire pit.” ariana states.

the firepit was tucked a little away from the pool you noticed right when you walked out, it was basically a couch shaped like a half circle.

you all follow behind her as the warm breeze hits our skin, all the girls take a seat at the fire pit, you’re not far behind sitting next to clair and across from ariana, the other girls branching out in the middle.

“how is everybody doing today?” ariana questions making eye contact with each of us.

“good.”

“excited!”

“excited.”

the girls talk over each-other, “y/n?”

“i’m a bit nervous but i’m ready.” you giggle, the other ladies laughing alongside you.

“you've come to the right place for romance. the sun is shining. we're at a beautiful villa in fiji. pretty soon you will have some gorgeous guys to share it with. buuut before you meet them, i need the hot goss.”

“abby, what are you looking for on the island?” ariana adds.

abby squeals excitedly, “i need a guy that can keep up with my energy, i want a break from leading my relationships, i'm so used to having control of the conversations and…many other things and i'm so bored of it.”

“oo and definitely someone long term.”

“i like it!” ariana replies.

“what about you, kaia?”

she smiles, “i typically like a bad boy.” she chuckles

we all playfully sigh at her comment.

“but, i’m here to change that. i haven’t had a relationship longer than like 3 months.”

we all nod, ariana giggles “well you’re at the right place.”

“i hope so.” kaia responds.

“leah?”

she sighs, “i mean i unfortunately agree with kaia, but i just need a specific look and they all happen to be assholes..so.”

ariana scoffs jokingly, “clair, what’s up?”

“kind hearted is all i need, emotionally intelligent, smart.” clair replies quickly almost like she planned what she was going to say.

“y/n?, how long have you been single?”

“looooooong time.” you drag your words and follow with a chuckle, making the other girls laugh.

“i mean, well, hopefully you’ll meet your future boyfriend in a few minutes. i'm so ready for you to meet these guys.”

“are you ready to meet them?”

“yes!!”

“yeah.”

“yes.”

“whoo!”, you cheer, trying to push any nerves you feel away.

okay. let's do this.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you find yourselves in a horizontal line on 5 hearts, clair decides to stand next to you, you share a smile with her.

“this is it, you guys. this is the moment we've all been waiting for.” ariana states standing across from you all.

you're about to couple-up for the first time. what that means is you have to pair up with one of the boys.

“oh, my gosh, i have goosebumps.” clair comments, rubbing her arms and looking at you, you take a look at them. she wasn’t kidding, you notice the bumps lining up her arms.

“one by one, the lucky guys will enter the villa and choose one of you.”

“before they do, you will step forward if you're attracted to them. you have the power to influence their decision. if you like them, you better step forward because they might get snatched up.”

“alright, let’s meet the first boy.”

you all look at each-other , the anticipation killing you.

“here we go.”

what will the boys be like? who will you couple up with? find out next time on ‘love island’....

i hope you enjoyed, i'm a little bit worried about the pacing of this so any criticism is definitely appreciated, this was just an intro so be patient with me bc it will be getting juicy, thank you for reading! ˙ᵕ˙

#zabe's finest pieces 👚#the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris x reader #matt x reader #zabebabe

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elllisaaa · 7 months ago

Note

Can you do sub Beomgyu smut?

[cuz I'm a female dom, and I absolutely fucking love hove bratty he is and his whines make me- well, wet]

uk those fics where the reader, teases them in public and they punish xer/xim in the bathrooms/public???

can you do that with sub beomgyu, and rough and dom reader[any gender is fine, preferrably female]?

only if you're comfortable though...

ALL MINE - C. BEOMGYU

-> pairing : brat sub!beomgyu x fem dom!reader

-> words count : 1.6k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : dom/sub dynamic, teasing, dirty talk, praising, semi-public sex, face slapping, cock slapping, gagging, humiliation, bondage, choking, use of 'good boy', 'whore', 'slut' and 'miss', handjob, cum eating

+ the way i'm depicting beomgyu does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction.

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language

-> author's note : i fucking love to write subby men, and beomgyu and his bratty attitude gives me the perfect opportunity to do so. as you said, he gives out that vibe so much ! it was so fun to write this, thank you anonie, hope you'll enjoy this !

-> masterlist | txt masterlist

Going out with your friends had always been an activity that you liked, the feeling of joy when you reunited with them couldn’t be compared to anything else. But now that you were taking Beomgyu with you, it was even more fun. Why ? Because he wanted to impress your friends so badly, he wanted to make a good impression on them. That’s why he kept trying to present himself in a good light, and acting as if he was the one leading your relationship when you both knew that behind closed doors, you had him on his knees for you.

Despite that being well established, and your rules being really strict, Beomgyu had been not so subtly touching you the whole night : putting his hand on your thigh, leaning in to whisper some dirty things in your ears, and even taking your own hand to bring it closer to his crotch under the restaurant table. Not that you particularly minded playing this type of game in public, but it wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You had made it clear to him before going out - that he will get his reward for having been good all week if he did one last thing for you, which simply consisted in behaving and not teasing you during this dinner out.

After spending two years together, you thought that you would have finally succeeded in taming his bratty attitude. But no. It was coming out every now and then, and always when you were the most frustrated and had the least patience left. It was almost as if Beomgyu had a second sense that allowed him to know when to mess with you just so he could get punished harshly. Well, truth be told, maybe it was exactly why he was doing this - because he knew that the way you were going to torture him will be delicious.

“- Haven’t I made it clear, baby ? Keep your hands off me tonight and you’ll get what you want, okay ?”

Beomgyu threw his best pleading eyes at you, still not listening to your orders as you felt his fingers creep up higher underneath your dress. You let out an exasperated sigh, pushing his hand away from you. Under the guise of getting closer to you, your boyfriend nuzzled his head in your neck, whining in your ears.

“- But I need you so bad, I’ve been good, just let me touch you, I’ll be quick.

- You know what, you wanna be a slut and a brat ? You’re gonna get punished instead. Go to the bathroom and wait for me.”

For once, Beomgyu listened, getting up from the table and excusing himself. You let some minutes go by, and when you felt like he had been marinating for long enough, you got to the bathroom too, saying that you were going to see if your boyfriend was doing good.

“- You’re not even able to not touch yourself for ten minutes ? You’re a fucking whore Beomgyu.

- Y-Yes but only for you.”

His cocky smile despite his shake voice and his hands stroking his clothed boner made you want to break him, to wipe the smug look in his eyes. You entered fully in the small cabin of the bathroom, pushing him to sit down on the toilets. You locked the door behind you and detached the ribbon you put in your hair before going out.

“- Give me your hands.

- No.”

The loud sound your hand produced when you slapped him echoed in the bathroom along with the moan he let out. You grabbed his hair roughly, tugging on them to get him to look at you. His once confident look was now completely gone, his eyes glassy and he was almost ready to drop on his knees. But he loved to test your patience even more. So he still didn’t give you his hands, and moaned again when you slapped his other cheek.

“- You’re getting on my fucking nerves Beomgyu, if you wanna cum you better give me your hands.”

Without saying a word, he did it and you tied them together with your little pink ribbon. It was quite funny how you were always dressed so cute, with cute little make-up and cute little hairpins, but once you were alone with him, you turned into the nastiest little demon. And Beomgyu loved this contrast, loved to know how people could never suspect the real dynamic of your couple.

“- See ? You know how to be good so behave.

- But I don’t wanna.

- You will when I’ll make you cry. All it takes is for me to touch your small dick and you’re begging for me to let you cum, right ?”

Beomgyu wanted to protest, to say something, but you were already squeezing his hard cock through his clothes, stroking him at a quick pace, that had him squirming in place and whimpering out loud. Your other hand came up to his throat, getting a firm hold of it, enough to shut him up a little.

“- Y/N… Baby, baby…

- What ? You’re complaining now ? You’ve got what you wanted though, or is it still not enough for you, fucking slut ?”

Your boyfriend nodded as he tried to free his hands from the ribbons, but you had grown too used to tying him up because he was constantly acting up. It felt good to be completely at your mercy, but he also wanted to touch you, wanted to feel and lick your skin, wanted to grip on the flesh of your ass while you bounced on his cock and milked him dry.

“- You’re so greedy. You’re gonna take what I give if you wanna cum, understood ?

- A-And if I don’t want t-to ?”

A sinister smile spread on your lips, your hand squeezing his throat harder, making him choke on his own words.

“- Then you don’t cum at all.”

You let go of his cock, going as far as taking a step back and Beomgyu’s eyes opened wider. He tried to reach your hand and pull you back to him, but his tied wrists wouldn’t allow it and he let out a desperate whine.

“- No, no, no, I need to cum !

- Beg for it.”

He shook his head and earned himself another slap, his cheeks starting to get red, and not only because of the unbearable heat of his body. But he loved how much it stinged everytime you hit him again. Beomgyu let out another loud moan when you slapped his cock over his clothes this time, and you shoved two fingers inside his mouth, smirking at the way he gagged around them, and at how quickly his eyes welled up with tears.

“- I said, beg for it. Are you ready to be good now ?”

You slapped his hard on once more, staring at his face when a tear rolled down his left cheek, saliva starting to drip down his chin and neck. When you pulled your fingers out, he was a mess, and you knew you had finally ruined him for the day.

“- Please, please miss I’ll be your good boy now, I’ll do everything you want, just let me cum please, please !

- There we go baby, was it so difficult, uh ?”

When you slipped your hand in his boxer to touch him for real after having been deprived from the skin to skin contact for such a long time made him cry out so loud you had to shut him up with your fingers again, fearing that someone would hear him.

“- You want everyone to hear you, is that it ? Screaming like the slut you are because you love the attention ?”

Beomgyu tried to protest, tried to say that he only wanted to be good for you, that he made all these noises because he knew you loved it when he was loud, but the pleasure was already overtaking his body and all his senses. The rush of adrenaline this situation was giving him made him feel so overwhelmed he felt like he could cum right now. He grabbed the only thing he could reach - the fabric of your dress - to catch your attention, his muffled noises giving away how close he was to his release.

“- What is it baby ? You’re close already ?”

You chuckled when he vigorously nodded his head, closing his eyes to focus on him and trying to delay his orgasm because you hadn’t given him permission to cum.

“- I’ll let you cum then, but on one condition baby. You’re gonna stain your pretty pants with your cum, and then we’re gonna leave. And if you follow my rules for once, I’ll reward you once we get home. Did you understand ?”

He nodded once again, his hips jerking into your hand as if they had a mind on their own.

“- Then go on baby, cum all over yourself, be my good boy.”

The last praise that you whispered in his ear did it for him. He came all over your hand and himself, a wet patch quickly forming on his blue jeans as he whined around your fingers, his own hands tugging on the material of your dress to pull you closer to him. Before he could even register what you were doing, you showed him your hand covered in his cum, and Beomgyu didn’t need you to ask him before he started cleaning you off, eating his own release from your skin. Once you were satisfied, you finally detached his hands, letting him pull you into a hug and bury his head against your stomach while you threaded your fingers through his hair.

“- You did so good for me baby, such a good boy.”

He hummed in agreement, his hands sliding from your lower back to your ass, giving them a squeeze.

“- Does this mean I earned my reward ?

- Don’t get too confident now, you still have to make it up to me for ruining my night out with my friends.”

And Beomgyu agreed with you, because that meant he would spend the next two hours with his head buried between your thighs - his favorite way to apologize.

-> i don't allow any copies, translations or reposts of my works.

txt taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@bbgnyx @hann1bee @iraisswiftie @lichyuu @foxinnie8

#txt #txt fics #txt x reader #txt smut #beomgyu #choi beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu smut #choi beomgyu smut #eli's anonie #eli answering your questions

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imaginaryf1shots · 5 months ago

Text

Just Oscar | Oscar Piastri

WC: 900+

Oscar x Reader

Summery:(REQUESTED) On his day off, Oscar goes to a park and sees you struggling with your bike

Warning: none

Masterlist

Oscar Masterlist

Since getting into Formula 1 Oscar rarely had time to do what he liked. He loves his job but sometimes all he wants is time for himself to just be with himself and relax. Living in the UK gave him access to parks, so with a cap and sunglasses Oscar decided to enjoy just being a normal man in his early 20s and head to the park near his house. He enjoyed the weather, surprisingly it was sunny. He blended in with the crowd, no one paid him any attention, he's just

another guy walking around.

As Oscar walked he noticed you, you were struggling with your bike near the fountain. He watched you struggle to fix the chain that fell but you weren't able to, so after debating it for a moment and waiting for someone to come help you and no one paying you any attention he walks up to you.

"Hey, need some help?" Oscar asked once he was close enough for you to hear him but far enough so he wouldn't be in your personal space. You look up from your spot on the ground beside your bike, and Oscar sees your face for the first time, you're beautiful, it takes him by surprise.

"Oh, please, can you?" You say standing up, you were grateful for any help. "It seems like this thing has a mind of its own." Oscar kneels down beside your bike and inspects it. "I'm y/n, by the way."

"Oscar." He gives you a smile, and you're unable to see his eyes but you bet they look as pretty as his smile.

"Thank you for stopping." In quick and swift movements Oscar fixed your bike, he made it all look so easy.

"There you go, good as new." Oscar stood up, his hands a bit greasy, your own hands are greasy, but with the tips of your fingers you get the wet wipes from your bag.

"Here you go." You hand Oscar the wipes and you both clean your hands.

"Thank you so much, I thought I'd be stuck here all day."

"It's no problem at all." Oscar replied wiping his hands. "I'm just happy to help."

You and Oscar walk to the trash bin and throw the wipes away, you're pulling your bike with you, and you found yourself talking. "Do you come here often?" You ask

him curious, you always come to this park and you've never seen him, but you don't see the same people a lot either way.

“Not as often as I'd like.” Oscar admitted. “But I always enjoy it when I do.”

“I get it, but it's nice to come and take a break from everything, every once and a while.”

”Absolutely." Oscar smiled and took off his sunglasses, allowing you a bigger view of his face, and just like you thought, his eyes look pretty. You continued to slowly stroll around the park, before you had to part and head your own ways.

"Thank you again, for saving me." You say with a smile, not wanting to walk away and not see him again, but you're too shy to ask for his number.

"No worries." He blushed a little, and he hesitated, he certainly wanted to see you again.

"So, same time next week?" You ask with a grin and Oscar laughs.

"Sure, same time next week."

With that you went on your way, waiting for next week to come already.

Time moves slowly when you have something you're looking forward to. And so next

week, you head to the park a bit earlier than when Oscar would be expecting you, just so that you wouldn't miss him. It seemed like Oscar had the same idea, because you found him already waiting for you when you arrived at the fountain he saw you at last week.

"I hope you weren't waiting long." You say smiling as you walked up to him, Oscar stood up from the bench with his own smile, his sunglasses are hooked to his shirt, giving you an undisturbed view of his eyes. You both walked around the park. Once more, talking and just getting to know each other. Oscar told you about Australia and you told him about you growing up, what you're doing now and so on.

"Can I, can I maybe get your number?" Oscar asked after a small pause in the conversation, you couldn't fight the grin from forming on your face.

"Of course." You both exchange phones and numbers, both smiling and blushing. Knowing that you're both interested in the other and would like to meet more now, the conversation flowed more as the blond between the two of you formed more.

Right as you were about to part ways once more, some girls walked up to Oscar with giddy smiles.

"Oscar, can we take a picture, please?" One of the girls asked,

and Oscar smiled, agreeing to take a photo. You stood to the side confused, you racked your brain as you tried to think about if you've seen him somewhere before. Is he an actor? A singer? A fashion designer? A youtuber or ticktoker? Maybe an athlete?

After they left, Oscar turned to you sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "I can't figure it out, how are you famous?"

"I uh, I'm a racecar driver." Oscar shrugged down playing his job.

"Huh, like NASCAR?" You asked him and he shook his head.

"Like Formula 1." Your eyes go wide and you sigh.

"You must think I'm stupid for not knowing." You mumble and give him a small smile.

"No, I was happy actually, I'm just Oscar the guy that helped you with your bike." Oscar says and you nod slowly, he puts his hands in his pockets and looks at the ground for a moment before he meets your eyes. I hope this doesn't affect us"

"No, no it doesn't, you're just Oscar to me"

"That's good.”

Maintaglist

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03

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naturistgirl · 4 months ago

Text

Crowded Tourist Spots, Deserted Places and the 'Textile Offended'

I live close to a beautiful tourist area. For a naturist that can be frustrating. The beautiful landscapes, valleys, hill tops and woodlands near where my home, come in two flavours - crowded and deserted.

I am openly naturist. I hate getting tangled with the 'Textile Offended'. Let me explain my meaning. Most people I meet are generally accepting of naturism; happy and cheerful in their greetings; few are ever offended. All of us have seen a naked woman before. The 'Textile Offended' apparently aren't among them. These are people who walk past you several times to get a closer look or even a photo on their phone. They are likely to go out of their way, even changing direction so that they can be 'offended'. They wear clothes and in this hot sticky summer weather they can get awfully hot and bothered. If possible I like to avoid the risk of being on the same path. They will come up to you to tell you you're 'breaking the law' (you aren't) or 'damaging children' (naturism is NOT a safeguarding issue). The clothed don't offend me by wearing textiles but I do draw the line at them bothering me with groundless arguments and accusations. That does offend me and and it can spoil my day!

Yesterday we went hiking above Newchurch-in-Pendle. This is a well frequented area with people climbing Pendle Hill. It is a very pretty village and one associated with the Pendle Witches. There is a little shop here 'Witches Galore' and the churchyard reputedly has a hanged witch buried there. See the little witches on brooms on the fingerpost above? It gets busy in summer (and on Hallowe'en).

I generally don't even put clothes on to start with. I do however carry a side tie bikini with me 'just in case'; little triangles of cloth that cover me (barely). I have 'Daisy Dukes' too if necessary and a very skimpy little gingham blouse. They don't get much wear and the bikini is pretty pointless anyway but they do keep the 'textile offended' at bay! Yesterday I had to wear them for a little while as there were plenty of people about. It is one of the penalties of visiting textile tourist spots!

Once naked, I STAY naked, even if I see someone approaching. They have already seen me, so what? Nothing looks worse than scrambling furtively into clothes or hiding behind a rock! Just be bold; smile (a lot) and say a very cheerful 'Hello' (around here the phrase is 'How do?' Generally, my 'emergency textiles' stay neatly in my bag where they belong!

The photographic shots here were all taken in relaxed fashion as we walked the track away from the village towards Ogden Clough. It demonstrates how you can do a little naturism even in a really popular tourist area.

Most people just tend to hang around the pretty village, buy souvenirs and take cute photos on their phones. I really like that they do! It keeps them off the trails. Yes, we did see a few people hiking on the same path as us but they were mostly busy, like us, enjoying the great outdoors.

If another hiker comes along the path behind me (one did), I don't really worry too much. I don't think my derrière is capable of offending anyone? I hope not! Hopefully the same is true for my husband. Girls like tight buns too!

Finally an entreaty! Tumblr is first and foremost a Blog Site. If you are a naturist like me and enjoyed this blogpost, please like, share and re-blog with my blessing. Do add your own affirmative comments. More important, if you feel inspired to hike clothes free, please blog about it too! Though there are maybe 6.5 million naturists in the UK, we do need some more!

I welcome messages from anyone who generally wants to know more about naturism. I also love to chat with other naturists about the lifestyle. This ISN'T a sexually themed blog however (I do have one of those too but the photos will never appear here).

Indeed a Naturist lifestyle is NOT about having lots of sex simply because you're naked! Paradoxically, sex is NOT about nudity and the absence of clothing. Erotic clothing (and its gradual removal) is a sexual tease and a must!. I also work as an adult model. Photoshoots generally start with underwear and what happens when it is removed! As a naturist I simply don't wear any!

My perennial postscript: Thank you to this wonderful guy (my loving husband) for the photos shown here. (I married my photographer!)

Without him, these blogs would be all words. He makes the blog special with what he does and I love him to bits.

Walking together with Mart, we are a naturist couple and if we meet anyone else, this is generally more acceptable (for some reason) than being alone. Single naturist men are often criticised, single naturist women tend to get chatted up (and delayed!).

Jane xx

#naturist #nude outdoors #clothesfree #nude in nature #girlblogging #normalize nudity #outdoor nudity #hiking #nonsexual nudity #naturismo #naturista #naturiste #nude outside #nude photos

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kelcemenow · 1 year ago

Text

Drive Me Crazy - Chapter 4.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 1556

Warnings Like, maybe one swear word. A hint of angst and a bit more fluff.

Huge thank you to the Anon who sent this in! They had such amazing words to say about my writing which I massively appreciate and then to top it off, had an incredible request for me! I only have experience with mechanics in the UK, so I've tried my best with this one! "I just recently got interested in Travis K. X reader stories and wanted to let you know, I read all of yours as quickly as I could. They are so well done and I couldn’t help but laugh/giggle and feel through each word you typed out. You’re doing amazing and I’m so glad to have stumbled onto your page. If you have any space for a request, I’d be curious about what Trav would think about having a military (like fighter pilot) or engineer or mechanic girlfriend. I see a lot of stories with him paired with models/singers/social media individuals (which are phenomenal!) but just wondering how he would be with a more tomboy like girlfriend!"

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

"And all you'd ever hear me say, is how I pictured me with you. That's all you'd ever hear me say. But since you been gone..."

Your mouth gaped open as a yawn took over your body, halting your singing along to the music playing on the radio as you worked under the hood of a bright blue Honda. Standing up, you stretched your arms above your body, allowing another yawn to loudly roar out across the shop floor.

"Tired?" Jordan asked as he approached you from the other side of the room.

You blinked your bleary eyes, "Yeah. I didn't get home until late last night."

"Bro!" He sucked his mouth to his teeth and shook his head, "You gotta stop working so hard."

You quickly glanced around the room before leaning closer to Jordan, "Can you keep a secret?"

Jordan eyes glittered and he nodded enthusiastically, closing the gap between you further.

"I think I went on a date last night." You said with a grin.

Jordan's expression changed, a slight quiver on his brow. He straightened up and cleared his throat, "You think you did?"

"Well, yeah. It wasn't described as a date or anything...but it was nice. We talked and got to know each other." You paused, wondering how detailed you should be.

"Sorry, I just find it hard to believe that you went on a date." He looked away from you and began rummaging through one of the large tool boxes that were lined up along the side of the wall.

You twisted your mouth, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, it's you, you know. You're...Y/N. You don't go on dates."

You stepped towards him, "And what? You don't think there would be any chance that someone...anyone...would be interested in me?"

He turned his head, "That's not what I mean."

"Well, that's what it sounds like to me."

Jordan sighed and straightened up, "Y/N, come on. Stop acting like a g-"

"Like a girl? Is that what you're about to say?"

"No, that's...well, to be honest, yeah."

You could feel anger rising in your chest, "Surprise surprise, Jordan. I am a girl."

You watched as Jordan attempted to backtrack his words, "No, you're taking this all wrong. I'm just saying that I'm surprised that someone asked you out."

"You're not helping yourself here, Jordan. You're being an asshole. Someone did ask me out...and he is interested in me."

"Are you sure?"

"Why did he kiss me then?"

Jordan's eyebrows jumped up, "Oh, right."

"You're a jerk." Turning on your heels, you headed into the office, not waiting for Jordan's response.

As you reached the door, you swung it open with force, letting it slam once you were safely inside the cosy room.

Your Dad jumped a little in his seat, "Woah, what's up, sport?"

"Sorry, Dad...I just needed to get out of there." You said as you slumped down in the chair next to him.

"Wanna talk about it?"

You shook your head gently, "Not really."

You exhaled slowly, flicking mindlessly through the diary, checking your jobs for the next few days. Your eyes were scanning the words on the pages in front of you but your mind was elsewhere. Usually, you didn't let other people's opinions matter but Jordan had hit a nerve with you. Was it because you cared what Jordan thought of you? You had always got on well with Jordan, harmlessly flirting occasionally, but nothing had ever come of it. Maybe his outburst was out of jealousy, or maybe he really didn't see you in that way. Was it because you were starting to really like Travis? He was the first person who seemed to genuinely like you regardless of your appearance or personality. But something was stopping you. You weren't Travis' usual type; you didn't wear a lot of make-up or really care about what you were wearing on a day-to-day basis.

"Dad, do you ever wish that I was...more girly?"

Your Dad turned to look at you, concern plastered across his face, "What's this about?"

"Just answer the question."

He took a deep breath, as if preparing his answer, "There was a time when I was worried. When all of the other little girls were having sleepovers and horse riding lessons or going to ballet class and I looked at you, covered in oil and repairing your bike in your overalls and baseball cap." He chuckled at the memory, "But you never let it bother you. You liked being you and I wouldn't change you for the world."

You smiled as he wheeled his chair closer to you and threw his arm around the back of your neck, pulling you in and laying a kiss on the top of your head.

The moment was interrupted by the shop door opening and a young man walking in, struggling with a giant bouquet of flowers in his arms. Your Dad stood from his chair and assisted him to settle them on top of the counter.

"Flowers? Here? Are you sure?" Your Dad joked.

The young man smiled and pointed to the delivery note in his hand, "KC Auto Repairs? They're for Y/N. Later."

You watched him leave with your eyebrows lowered, surprised and confused, "For me?"

Your Dad craned his neck, retrieving the card that was stuck in the middle of the mass of beautiful blooms, "Well, who are they from?"

You took the card from his hand, carefully opening the crisp white envelope and scanning the contents.

"There's 2 tickets for Sunday's game with your name on. TK."

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth and your heart leapt at Travis' kind gesture.

"TK? Is that...is that Travis Kelce?" He held a shaky finger towards the card.

You smirked as you continued to stare at the card, the fingers on your free hand dancing over the petals, "Erm...yeah."

"Wow. It seems you've certainly made an impression on him." He pulled you closer, "Who are you taking to the game then?"

You faced him with wide eyes, "Are you joking? You, you dummy!"

Your Dad let out a loud roar of laughter before breaking out into an impressive celebratory song and dance, "I'm going to Arrowhead!"

The office door squeaked open and you rolled your eyes slightly when Jordan poked his head into the room. Turning away from him, you stuffed the small card back into the envelope before admiring the flowers.

"Sorry, can I just get the keys for the Buick?" He mumbled.

Your Dad stopped dancing, opening the small cabinet that was hanging on the wall. He fished out the correct car keys before grinning to Jordan, "You'll never guess what, Jordan? Our Y/N here has an admirer!"

"She does?" He said, emotionless.

"Travis fucking Kelce!" He yelled.

"Dad!" You shouted in shock. You weren't used to hearing your Dad using language like that. He certainly didn't use it around you.

"I'm sorry, sport. I'm just so excited!" He slapped Jordan lightly on the chest, "I'm going to Arrowhead, man! Kelce's special guests!"

Jordan's eyes met with yours and you spotted the realisation as it hit him.

"Well, good luck to you." He nodded his head slowly before taking the keys and disappearing back to the shop floor.

There was a slightly uncomfortable silence before your Dad snorted a small laugh, "What was that about?"

"I don't know." You shrugged your shoulders and began chewing on your bottom lip, "Hey Dad, is it okay if I go take lunch now?"

"Sure, sport."

You smiled and grabbed your hoodie, quickly tying it around your waist and making sure your cell phone was in your overall pocket. As you pushed the door to the shop open, the bright midday sun warmed your face instantly. You began walking down the road with your phone gripped in your hand, Travis' contact showing on the screen and your head whirring with thoughts. After a few seconds you took a deep breath and pressed dial, lifting the phone up to your ear.

You weren't sure why you were so nervous, you had called Travis before. This time it was different, though. The dynamic had changed between you and this was something you really weren't used to.

The dial tone stopped after only a couple of seconds and Travis' low voice echoed into your ear, "Hello?"

"Hi, Travis. It's Y/N."

"Ahhh, you like the flowers?"

You could hear him smiling as he spoke, which made your stomach fill with butterflies, "That was a real smooth move, Kelce. I see you, getting in good with the Dad first, huh?"

He laughed, "You see right through me. So, are you coming?"

"I am."

"Are you excited for your first football game? I got you seats in the friends and family box so it won't be the true fan experience down in the stands, but I figured your Dad would be happy."

Your heart warmed, "You really didn't have to do this."

"I know I didn't." He said abruptly. "I wanted to."

You could feel your cheeks blushing and your heart rate increasing.

"So, you gotta put me out of my misery." He purred, "When can I take you out for a real date?"

Your teeth clamped down on themselves, apprehension and nerves filling your body, "I'm free tonight?"

"Tonight it is."

______________________________________________________________

I think I figured this one out, and I think I've got the rest of story in my head. But please feel free to send any burning ideas you have for this one. Because you know what I'm like, this will end up with a thousand chapters if I don't rein myself in. Quick warning for the next chapter...it's about to get spicy! Let me know if you want to be added to my Taglist too, that way you'll never miss any of my fics!!

Taglist @rd14 @dandelionwrites8 @keiva1000 @fantasywritersstuff @caelipartem @anacarangel @she-lives-in-her-dreams @kkrenae @kristencochefski1125 @countrygirl120983 @charmed2000 @nouis-bum @cixrosie @delicateearthquakellama @wordsaresimple-imnot @amylouwho9 @queenisa17 @talicat713 @luvvtrent @purecinnamonextract @savaneafricaine @caelipartem @beyxgrande @caitdaniels @ezgirl1108 @vir-tual @lightsoutstyles @macey234 @s294749w @kelcemesoftly @calirindo @livinginmyfantasies @bernelflo @secretmywritingfictionlawyer @killatravtramp @there-goes-thefighter @unicornblueberry @calirindo @tjkelce87 @kristinamae093 @kmc1989 @ajbird18 @triski73 @ctn26 @kgcaputo07 @abby-splace @bobthe-turmpetman29 @cedricbitch @abby-splace @jmamas92 @bellstwd @killatravsworld @marchmaiden @chimchimmarie @blackstabbath6 @fanficfanatic15 @jessiemariebarnes @mmb219 @vanwritesfan-fiction @futebollover @ks-dreams-fantasies @laurenmcucm @blackstabbath6

#travis kelce x reader #travis kelce imagine #kelce x reader #nfl imagine #original story #travis kelce fic #travis kelce #travis kelce fluff #nfl fluff #travis kelce smut #travis kelce angst #nfl smut #nfl angst #nfl fic #kelcemenow requests

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reds-skull · 4 months ago

Text

Dual Loop

[AO3]

(Note: TW for suicidal idation, mild gore, self harm, depression. That being said, there's no MCD, and it has a happy ending. This one is a little heavier than my usual stuff, stay safe <3)

So... I expected this to be like... 5-6k words. It ended up being over double that. Enjoy!

Also, I decided to have a sort of mini post-script in comments in AO3, so you're welcome to check it if you're interested!

The 141’s common room might be Soap’s favorite. It’s nothing fancy, a couple of ratty couches shoved into one corner, and a kitchenette in the other. It doesn’t have a TV like the other common room, and they have to constantly clean off mold from beneath the sink.

Soap wouldn’t have it any other way, as it has something no other room on base has - his taskforce. Despite not having much to do, just lying beside Gaz and shit talking the rookies with the Captain is pleasant, Ghost moving about in the kitchen.

He watches the giant man turn around and reveal a steaming mug of (probably) tea, and decides to call him over, “oi, LT! Come over ‘ere, I’m sure ye got some horror stories from your recruits.”

Ghost’s dark eyes drag over him for a few tense seconds, before he responds, “got paperwork to finish, MacTavish.” he nods toward the others, “Garrick, Captain.” and leaves.

His displeasure must’ve shown on his face, because Gaz reaches over to pat his head, “awwh, maybe you’ll convince him next time Soapy”.

“Awa’ wi’ ya, yer messin’ mah hair!” he bats his hands away, pouting at Price’s laughter.

The Captain’s moustache twitches with a hidden grin, “Simon values his alone time, Soap. It’s nothing personal.”

“I know, I know. Wish he could stay around at least one night, though…” he frowns.

“He will in his own time.” Price groans as he gets up from the couch, “right lads, rather not stay out of bed after eleven. Don’t go to sleep too late.”

Soap and Gaz both answer “okay dad!” in unison, cackling when Price flips them off as he exits the common room.

They fuck around for a little longer before calling it a night as well and separating ways to their barracks. He spends a while tossing and turning in bed, mind too restless for him to fall asleep.

Maybe there’s one thing he’d like to change about the common room, and perhaps in the 141 in general. And it all starts and ends with the masked bastard they call Ghost.

What they have right now is fine, relatively close work relationship, joking around on lookout duties, trusting each other with their sixes. It’s good.

Soap huffs and finally settles down under his scratchy blanket. He battles with opposing emotions, daydreams of him and Ghost being close, closer than a Sergeant and a Lieutenant have to be, and anger at his own ridiculous thoughts.

He falls asleep to memories of brown eyes staring at his.

Soap wakes up to a knock on his door. He quickly blinks away the remaining drowsiness in his mind, and reaches for the handle.

Out of all the people he expected to find, Ghost was definitely not one of them, “morning, Johnny.”

Johnny? Soap tilts his head, “LT, did something happen?” they must have gotten some time sensitive intel about their latest target, if Ghost himself has to come and get him first thing in the morning. Last he heard, they were operating within the UK…

Ghost’s eyes crease in a way he’s never seen, and for a moment Soap wonders if he’s still dreaming, “no, was about to go to mess. Know you were gonna go there soon.”

“Oh” he says intelligently.

Ghost lets out a half-laugh, “you coming?”

His brain finally wakes enough to process his invitation, “oh! Uh, aye, just gonna change…” he motions awkwardly to his rumpled clothes.

“I can wait.” Ghost leans back against the wall, and Soap slowly closes the door. He stares at it for a second before walking to his closet, pulling out a shirt and a new pair of pants. His mind wanders as he automatically goes about getting dressed.

He never sees Ghost before noon, and that’s if he’s lucky. The masked man doesn’t eat with them in mess, wakes up before the sun rises, and begins working before most soldiers have blinked away the last of their sleep. It’s… certainly a first.

Then again, you shouldn’t really look a gift horse in the mouth. He adjusts his fatigues and exits his room. Ghost is still leaning against the wall, motionless as a very foreboding statue.

He wordlessly motions Soap to start walking, and they make their way to mess. They should bring Gaz and Price along, really take advantage of Ghost’s practically unheard of great mood. Gaz’s room is just a few doors from his, he could knock as they pass-

Ghost places a hand on his shoulder and stops him. Soap opens his mouth to question him, but not a second later, Gaz’s door opens, almost hitting him square in the face, and Kyle busts out.

“Oh shit- sorry Soap, didn’t see you there.” Gaz straightens his baseball cap, and clocks in Ghost’s presence, “Lieutenant, sir! Didn’t see you either.”

Soap tenses. Well, there goes that once in a lifetime opportunity to see Ghost actually socialize with the team-

“All good, Garrick. In a rush to get the chocolate pudding?” Ghost asks calmly. What the fuck?

“Yeah, Smith texted me.” Gaz grabs his arm, dislodging Ghost’s, “c’mon, we have to get there before they run out!”

He lets Kyle drag him, throwing a cautious look back at Ghost, relieved to see he’s still following. As much as he wants to reach mess fast, no pudding in the world is worth leaving Ghost behind.

Mess, expectedly, is chock-full of hungry soldiers, and the table serving the pudding is barely visible between the bodies.

Soap almost instantly loses all hope of reaching the table in time, but Ghost once again surprises him by diving head first into the crowd. His reputation and imposing appearance clearly aids him in making his way to the table, and Gaz sends him an incredulous look.

“Am I seeing things, or is the Lieutenant carrying two cups of pudding for us?” Gaz grins.

Soap can’t help but join him, “aye, don’t know what’s gotten into him today, but Ghost is certainly in a special mood.”

“Hearing Simon’s in a ‘special’ mood doesn’t calm me in the slightest.” the Captain’s voice appears behind them.

“Come and see for yourself, Cap. It’s a bloody miracle!” Gaz subtly points to Ghost, who at last reached them with the prized puddings.

He hands each Sergeant a cup, and greets the Captain, “I know you don’t like this sweet shite, Price. Maybe they’ll have sausages tomorrow.”

Price blinks a couple of times, “right… well, let’s get to our table. You two better eat some actual food before you start shoveling that garbage into your mouths.”

They sit down, Gaz taking his right, and Ghost his left. He takes a moment to marvel at the simple act of Ghost existing in a nonwork related situation, a calmness in his movements that Soap didn’t know he needed to see. He has to temp down a goofy smile at the sight.

It really shouldn’t shock him anymore, but Soap senses all three pairs of eyes in the table snap to Ghost, who rolled up his mask above his mouth like he doesn’t care if anyone else sees, and started eating.

“It’s… nice to see you here with us, Ghost.” Price says slowly.

“Wouldn’t want to miss this five-star meal.” Ghost points his fork to the grey sludge on his tray. He decides to go along with whatever Ghost’s odd behaviour throws at him.

He elbows him gently, “hey, LT” the giant man hums, “why did the skeleton need to go to the barbecue?”

Soap waits for a beat before continuing, “because he wanted to get a spare rib”

Gaz groans to his right, absolutely done with his awful sense of humor, but Ghost…

Ghost smiles. It crinkles the scars bisecting his lips in an unexpectedly endearing way, and his dark eyes crease into little half moons, and his stomach drops because fuck, he’d do anything to see that smile again.

Those brown eyes linger on his, and Soap knows he should look away, that his infatuation could be dangerously visible on his face, but he can’t.

Price saves him after all, “Kyle, you got recruits in 20, make sure they don’t pass out in this heat.”

Gaz just groans louder.

“I’ll go with ‘im.” Ghost pushes away from the table, Kyle jumping from his sit, “you will?! I mean, uh, the more the merrier, I guess.” and rushes after him.

Price’s eyes meet his, and Soap gives him a hesitant smile, “told ye he was in a special mood.”

The Captain picks up his tray, “can’t say I’ve ever seen Ghost act like this in the time we’ve known each other.”

And that’s saying something, coming from Price. Soap has only been on the team for a few months, the newest member of the taskforce, but even he can tell this is unprecedented. It worries him a little, if he’s honest. People don’t just… wake up one day and decide to completely change everything about the way they act.

But then again, Ghost isn’t like most people. That has also become obvious very quickly.

He could write a book worth of Ghost’s little oddities, like the way he shoves knives up his sleeves even while on base, how he likes to go to the gym at night, how he somehow has a mask for every occasion.

It’s infuriatingly charming, it makes him want to know more, find all the little things that make Ghost the way he is, open his chest like he does with explosives, and see the way everything ticks. Find that off switch that keeps the Lieutenant calm, learn which wires go where.

By now, Soap can confidently say he knows a lot about Gaz and Price, but Ghost remains an enigma to him. Today just solidified that.

Price rises from his chair, stretching his back with a groan, “do remember you have paperwork due today, Sergeant. You don’t have time to play with your Lieutenant until that’s on my desk.”

Fuckin’ hell. He forgot to finish that last night. Dejectedly, Soap answers, “yes sir.”

Writing down reports might be Soap’s least favorite part of his job. They went on a mission, killed some guys, found a bloody USB stick, came back at an ungodly hour. Why does he have to write several pages on that is beyond him.

After hours of semi successfully trying to harness the last of his attention span towards that, Soap enters Price’s office to place the accursed reports on his desk. The Captain isn’t there, but that way there’s no risk of him giving him even more menial tasks.

Soap wonders about base, searching for someone to entertain him (perhaps someone very specific, whose name starts with G, and ends with host).

He eventually comes across Gaz in the larger common room, “how was training with Ghost?”.

Soap flops down onto the couch, jostling Kyle, who kicks him in retaliation, “was a lot less annoying than with you cunt.”

He gasps theatrically and puts a hand over his heart, “you don’t mean that!”

Gaz laughs, “no, but…”

“...but?”

Gaz’s brows furrow, and his tone becomes more serious, “we had a… surprisingly deep conversation. He kinda helped me through a few things, with responsibility and death and... Never expected him to be this understanding.”

Soap puts his legs in Gaz’s lap, getting comfortable, “you told me before that he cares, even when it doesn’t look like it.”

He still remembers the talks both Price and Gaz gave him, about Ghost. They were quite protective of their most legendary member, and for Soap it cemented his love for this taskforce; they don’t act like other teams he’s been on at all. They actually care about each other, beyond watching the other’s six.

Gaz sighs, “I still stand by that, but the reason I said it is that Ghost usually doesn’t show it. And if he does, it’s in a roundabout way.”

“Where is he now?”

“He dragged the Captain out of his office after we finished with the rookies. Dunno to where.”

Soap pouts, crossing his arms and staring at the ceiling. Everyone gets to have one-on-one time with Ghost but him, it seems. It feels only a little unfair.

Gaz coos, “are you sulking because our scary Lieutenant didn’t come to spend time with you today?”

“Ah’m not sulking!” Soap kicks Gaz, the Brit giggling and pushing his legs away, “and you have no place to talk! I was alone the whole day doin’ steaming paperwork!”

Kyle picks his legs back up, giving them a comforting pat, “you’ll have tomorrow, and the days after that. I don’t understand why you’re in such a rush.”

He exhales roughly, “what if he won’t be in a mood to talk after today?”

“Then he’ll just go back to how we all know Ghost to be. Was that that bad?” Gaz asks.

“...no.”

“There you go. Now, I heard there’s a footie match with Scotland in a few minutes-”

Soap reaches for the remote before he could finish the sentence, “they better fuckin’ win this time!”

Scotland did not win this time, but he and Gaz enjoyed shouting at the players and howling whenever they missed a goal. As much as he complained about not hanging out with Ghost, Kyle is as good company in his eyes.

Gaz left him after the match, too tired from a day of standing in the sun and running after recruits, leaving Soap alone with his thoughts.

The hour was still too early for the gym to be completely empty, and he really wasn’t in the mood for some small talk, so Soap made his way to the shooting range. The lights were on, but he’s not likely to be pestered if he takes the furthest stall.

He stops in his tracks when he sees someone leaning against the opening. No, not just any someone.

“Ghost? What are you doin’ here at this hour?”

Ghost kicks off the door frame, “waiting for you.”

Soap brows furrow, “but- how did ye know I’m gonna-?”

“You’re predictable.” Ghost drawls, bone-white skull mask reflecting the moonlight, “also heard you were sulking from Gaz.”

He steps closer to the Lieutenant, “I was not sulking! It’s just…” he looks away, “you were busy, I get it-”

Ghost puts a hand on his shoulder, directing him to the step in front of the shooting range’s door, “I understand. Wanted to see you as well.”

“Ye did?” a little voice in his head cheers loudly. Soap shoves it back into the hole it crawled out of.

“Affirmative”, they sit down, knees knocking into each other. Soap expects Ghost to move. He doesn’t. “Noticed the looks you were giving me all day.”

Soap grimaces, “I was just-”

“Confused?” Ghost’s eyes are hidden in shadows, but he can still feel the weight of that stare on him, “that’s what I wanted to talk about, Johnny.”

There’s that nickname again. Ghost has never called him that.

“I decided something this morning.” Ghost looks away, to the dark training grounds and the base, “I’m… tired. Done in. So I’m not going to try anymore, I’ll take whatever I can get, and if it means this little bits of time with each of you, then so be it.”

Soap feels even more out of the loop than before. Furthermore, he’s even more concerned. What does Ghost mean by “not going to try anymore”?

“Ghost-”

“Simon”, Ghost corrects him, “I like it when you call me Simon.”

“I… I never called you that.”

Ghost’s head bows, his shoulders tense, “...right. Go on.”

“You- I’ll be honest, Yer worrying me. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy seeing ye finally talking with us, hanging out with Gaz and Price, but Ah just… are you solid, Simon?”

Simon lifts his head then, the meager light from the range finally allowing Soap to see his eyes, and it feels like a knife in his chest.

This calm demeanor has had for the whole day… isn’t from him being relaxed and content.

No… that’s the calm of a man in the gallows. Accepting his fate. Waiting to die.

Simon’s eyes crease again, his voice almost brittle, “I am, Johnny. Really. I understand now that I’ll never escape this. It’s fine. It will be fine as long as I have you, and Garrick, and Price.”

“What is ‘this’?” Soap wants to help, wants to know what is making those brown eyes so somber, but Simon is keeping something from him.

A gloved hand lifts, takes hold of the mask, and with it Soap’s breath, and slides the fabric and skull off.

Blond hair, curled when the strands have enough length, long nose that has been broken and reset one too many times, and scars, so many scars. Dark eyes surrounded by darker paint, running down pale cheeks.

Soap couldn’t have imagined a more heart-stopping face under that mask.

“You’ve asked this before, and I always answer. All it does is bother you, makes you sad, angry. I don’t want to see you burdened like that.” Simon murmurs, face oddly relaxed.

“I’m already worried, you numpty, so just let it out.” irritation bleeds into his words.

And the man simply smiles, an emotion Soap can’t identify in his eyes, “you never saw me as just the Ghost. Somehow, you can read me even through the mask.” Simon leans in a little closer, “always liked tha’ about you.”

The lights in the range abruptly cut off, plunging the both of them into inky darkness. Soap swivels his head to the rest of the base, where everything is dark as well. That… that shouldn’t happen. They have a generator, a backup source of power for situations like these.

Awareness prickles at his nape, an air of danger that isn’t supposed to permeate their home base.

Soap attempts to get up, “I’m going to check what-”

Simon pulls him back down, grip gentle, “stay.”

“What?” Soap turns to where he knows Simon is, nothing but a silhouette in the night now, “what if something happened, we should-”

“You won’t be able to fix this, Johnny. They destroyed the generators before going for the main power.”

“How-?!” flashes of light cut him off, distant explosions at the walls on the other side of base. Soap’s heart starts beating faster at the echoing sounds of battle crossing the desolate grounds, shots and screams and-

“Ghost, someone is fuckin’ attacking our base, we need to warn the others-!”

Simon doesn’t let him go, “too late now.”

“Too late- are you just going teh leave Price and Gaz-”

“They’re dead.” Simon’s voice is terrifyingly cold, no shadow of a doubt in it, “or, they will be within the next few minutes.”

Soap slumps back, shock shooting through his limbs, “how… Simon, what…?”

How could he know? He can’t, right? Gaz and Price… they can’t just be dead like that…right?

“Soap”, Simon pulls him closer, bodies leaning against each other, “what I’m going to ask of you is selfish, and weak of me, but I-” Simon exhales shakily, “I can’t do this anymore.”

His hand moves to his belt, and Simon pulls out a revolver, one of the models they have on range. He places it in Soap’s hand. Without uttering a word, Simon rearranges Soap’s fingers to be on the trigger, and lifts the barrel to line with his head.

He instinctually flinches away, but Simon hold’s on him tightens, keeping the gun aimed at himself.

“Simon-”

“Shoot me. No matter what I do, I can’t save all of you. I can’t watch you die anymore.” Simon’s voice quivers, “I can’t- can’t see your eyes like that, looking through me-” he feels the tremors in Simon’s body travelling down from his arms to their joined hands.

Soap shakes his head minutely, eyes wide open staring at Simon’s dark form, “Ah don’t want teh kill ye, Simon.”

Simon’s finger caresses his, gently lowers to his trigger finger. “I know, I’m- I’m sorry, Johnny. But you won’t remember any of this.”

Soap’s breath catches, his body frozen in shock, “don’t-”

Simon squeezes both of their fingers on the trigger.

Soap’s body startles awake, breaths coming out in small puffs. He rips the blanket off his sweaty skin, sitting up in bed.

This… nightmare, was more realistic than anything he’s ever experienced. He can still feel the revolver in his hand, Ghost’s pressed against his, pulling the trigger-

A knock startles him from his thoughts, and automatically Soap rises to open the door.

The last person he expected to see was Ghost.

“Morning, Johnny.” he greets.

Ice-cold shock shoots through his veins along with a sense of déjà vu, “Ghost…”

Ghost tilts his head, eyes narrowing, “...you solid, Sergeant?”

“A-aye.” snap out of it, it was just a fuckin’ dream, “something happen, LT?”

Ghost takes a moment to answer, “no, I was about to go to mess. Came to ask you to join.”

Soap nods, opening the door wider to step through, “yeah, yeah of course. Let’s go.” He starts walking towards mess, stopping after a few steps when he notices Ghost isn’t following.

“You’re going like this?” Ghost motions to his shirt. His moth-eaten, sleeping shirt.

Fuck. “Right. Give me a sec” he rushes back to his room, shutting the door loudly behind him.

Soap violently opens his closet and drawers, pulling out the same clothes he did in his dream. Because that was all it was, a dream. A stupid nightmare, not a premonition of any kind. Because people don’t get visions of their friends’ untimely death the night before it happens.

He just needs to screw his head on right. He opens the door again, giving Ghost a sheepish smile and restarting their walk to mess.

When they almost reach Gaz’s door, Soap stalls. He’s about to move again, scolding himself for even entertaining the idea that Gaz is about to burst out, just because it also happened in the nightmare-

Except he does, not a moment later, “Oh shit- sorry Soap, didn’t see you there.” Gaz rights his hat, stare drifting away to Ghost, “Lieutenant, sir! Didn’t see you either.”

Soap turns to look at Ghost as well, only to find him already looking at him, with wide eyes and stock still body.

“...Ghost?” Gaz asks after a few seconds of silence.

Ghost blinks rapidly, “affirmative. You’re in a rush for-”

“The chocolate pudding in mess.” Soap finishes for him, gaze still boring into Ghost.

Every single thing that happened in the nightmare…

“Yeah, Smith texted me.” Gaz continues, oblivious that he’s simply reciting lines from a predetermined text. “Are you two sure you’re alright-?”

Ghost’s arm shoots forward to grab his, something akin to fear and rage in his eyes. Soap gets dragged away with a considerable amount of force, his legs almost tripping on nothing. He can hear Gaz exclaiming behind them, but all of his attention stays on the bastard crushing his bicep.

“Ghost- fuckin’ hell, let me walk-!”

The Lieutenant is silent, walking with quick strides and shouldering the door to the training grounds open.

“Simon, stop-”

Ghost slams him against the outer wall of the base, Soap hissing when his head bounces off the rough concrete.

“How long?” Ghost growls.

“Wha’?”

Ghost shakes him once, shouting, “for how long have you been stuck?!”

Soap stares up confusingly, “stuck- what the fuck are you talking about?!” he yells back.

“The time loop, Soap! You fucking remember yesterday!”

“Time loop-” his muscles slacken, the fight instantly leaving him, “...it wasn’t a nightmare?”

His hearing becomes muffled with the sound of blood rushing past them, vision blurring. Ghost’s grips becomes lighter, until it leaves him completely.

His voice is gentler when he answers, “not a nightmare, Johnny.”

“I-” he looks up at him, “I killed you.”

Ghost stiffens, before he exhales roughly and turns away from Soap, “fuck…”

They stay silent, and the reality of their situation sinks in. They’re both stuck in a time loop, like some kind of steaming sci-fi movie. Soap wants to laugh, part of him grasping desperately at the notion that this must be some sort of prank. But he knows Ghost wouldn’t, couldn’t have known what happened in the “nightmare” otherwise.

Their conversation in the dark resurfaces in his memory, “Ghost… this is the first time I’m repeating a day.”

Dark eyes return to his, a sort of relief loosening Ghost’s muscles. He nods, taking in a slow breath, “good. Wouldn’t want you hiding it from me.”

“How long have you been stuck…?”

Ghost hums, eyes unfocusing, “stopped counting after the second month.”

“Steamin’ Jesus…”

Things start clicking in Soap’s mind rapidly. Ghost’s odd change in behaviour, the way he knew when each and every event in the day happens, how he knew where to find him…

When the attack will begin…

Ghost’s entire speech before it… how he’ll never “escape this”...

“You gave up.” Soap walks around Ghost, attempting to catch his eye contact, “yesterday. Is that why ye wanted me to kill ye?”

Ghost avoids him again, murmuring quietly, “thought it would stop it.”

“You-” realization hits him, “you thought you’d stay dead. Have ye never died in the loop before?”

Ghost sneaks a hand under his mask, scrubbing at his eyes, “never had anyone else kill me. Killed myself plenty, but whenever I tried getting killed by someone else… never works.” the gloved hands retreat from under the balaclava, marred with greasepaint, and it strikes Soap just how tired Ghost looks. Body bowing under the invisible burden of countless days, countless deaths.

Simon doesn’t have anything left to give. A flicker of determination lights up in Soap’s chest, a decision to do anything to lessen that burden.

“Then go on, tell me the rules of this shite.”

Ghost squints, “the time loop?” he sighs, “day resets when I die or kill myself, and if I don’t, it will the moment the clock strikes midnight.”

Soap nods. It sounds like it’s not Ghost’s survival that is the requirement to break the loop. Then…

“Ye think if we manage to save everyone, we’ll stop repeatin’ days?”

Ghost leans back against the wall Soap was slammed into earlier, “undoubtedly.”

Soap tilts his head at Ghost’s solemn tone, “but…?” he prompts.

“It’s impossible.”

“C’mon LT, you can’t just-”

Ghost pushes off, stomping to tower over Soap with a sudden burst of movement, “you think I haven’t tried everything already, MacTavish?! I can save one of you, but the other two die. If we separate, you all die. If I tell everyone about the loop, Price reports me to medical because he thinks I bloody lost my mind, and if I don’t, I can’t explain how I know an attack is incoming.” Ghost exhales harshly, “I tried… everything.”

Soap doesn’t back down despite the sheer amount of rage dripping from Ghost’s tone. Because he recognizes what that rage is hiding.

“But it’s different, now.”

Ghost’s shoulders drop, “yes. Now I fucked you over as well. We’ll never escape this.”

Soap shakes his head, “we haven’t tried doing it together yet, ye can’t jus’ give up!” he decides to risk placing a hand on his shoulder, “please, Simon.”

He didn’t expect the words to budge anything in Ghost’s grim resolve to abandon hope, and he watches in astonishment as Ghost sighs and nods, “alright, Johnny.”

Soap wonders what has happened to Ghost before, what he has experienced with other versions of himself that made him trust him so readily. A pang of jealousy at them rings through him, that they got to see Simon open up to them.

What could they have told him? Which one called him ‘Simon’ first? When did Simon start calling him ‘Johnny’?

A heartbeat later, he shook it off, choosing to be grateful to them instead. Without them, Soap isn’t sure he would’ve been able to convince Ghost.

Soap smiles at him, letting his arm fall from his shoulder, “right. What intel do we have?” approaching this as any other mission is probably the only way he could keep from losing his mind.

He watches as Ghost enters the same mindset, “Power shuts off at 2125, but a rat causes a malfunction in the generators at the start of the day. I can’t wake up before 0600, so I can’t catch him.”

“Do ye know who it is?”

“Affirm. Got access to the cameras once, they leave base at 0530.” Ghost continues, “we can’t prevent the power outage, if we can’t fix the generator. Main power failure at night comes from somewhere outside base.”

So they’ll have to fight in the dark in any possible outcome…

Soap is reminded of the explosions he heard yesterday, “what about the charges that went off?”

Ghost sighs, “they run along the outside, placed approximately at 2136.”

“I’ll be able to disarm them.”

“They’ll catch you before you get a pinky on ‘em.”

“Well, good thing we got infinite tries, aye?” Soap smirks. “Wait… will the loop reset if I die?”

“I…” Ghost looks away, “I don’t know.”

Soap frowns, looking at the recruits making their way to the training grounds. Gaz should arrive here soon…

“We should test it.” Soap reaches for Ghost’s sleeve, telegraphing his movements clearly so the man doesn’t spook.

Ghost bristles, “Johnny-”

He rolls the dark fabric back, revealing a long blade hidden beneath it, “I killed ye when you asked, only fair you do the same.”

“I didn’t think you’d remember.” Ghost mutters quietly, allowing Soap to take the knife despite his verbal protests.

Soap flips the blade in his hand, offering the hilt to Ghost. He doesn’t reach for it for several long seconds. “Ye rather I do it myself? Won’t be pretty.”

Ghost’s frowned brows regard the blade, before he takes it with a heavy sigh, “turn around.” he orders gently. Soap complies, feeling his heart rate jump at the touch of gloved hands on his nape.

He’s not sure if it’s fear or exhilaration.

The hands tilt his head forward, and the tip of the knife barely scrapes the ends of his hair.

Ghost almost whispers into his ear, “relax. I won’t let you feel a thing.” he angles the knife so the blade will drive straight into his brain with a push, “tell me when you’re ready, Johnny.”

Soap takes a big breath in, forcing his muscles to loosen. He just needs to trust Ghost. Trust Simon.

It’s… scarily easy to.

“I’m ready.”

The world goes dark in a blink.

Soap opens his eyes to the sight of his barrack’s ceiling. He sits up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. It felt painful for only a short moment.

Well, that answers his question, he muses to himself.

As the minutes trickle by without a knock at his door, Soap becomes worried. Where’s Ghost?

He quickly changes to his fatigues and walks out, feet taking him to Ghost’s door at the very far end of the hallway. It’s surrounded by supply closets and sits at a dead end, so most people don’t pass through here, making it unnaturally silent for how crowded the other parts of base are.

Soap knocks on the only door with a nameplate, “Ghost? Ye there?”

Nothing. Soap tries the handle, finding it unlocked, and slowly pushes in, “hope yer decent, LT…”

He spots Ghost sitting at the edge of his cot, elbows resting on his knees and eyes staring blankly at the bare wall in front of him.

“Simon?” he carefully walks over, crouching in front of him, “...ye solid?”

“...Didn’t reset.” Ghost eventually murmurs, jaw tight under his balaclava, “your death doesn’t reset it.”

Soap sits back on his haunches.

Ghost continues, “they found me, Price and Gaz. I didn’t- didn’t just want to leave your body there. They…” his voice breaks, and he clears his throat. Soap’s gut wrenches. “They apprehended me and shoved me in a cell. Interrogated me ‘till midnight. Never seen Price that angry, Gaz-” he shakes his head, as if to expel the memories, “kept screaming, threatened to come into the cell to off me, and-”

“Simon.”

Simon gets up with no warning, hands flexing by his side, unable to meet his eyes, “I’m- Johnny-”

Soap rises to his feet as well, and in the spur of the moment wraps his arms around Ghost, pulling him into a tight hug. Instantly, Simon sags into him, his head dropping to his shoulder.

He was callous to think Simon could kill him and think nothing of it. This is not the Ghost he knew a few days ago – this is a Ghost that saw his team die again and again, stuck in a loop he couldn’t break, for months.

Soap doesn’t think he could conceive of a crueler method of torture.

“Ah’m sorry.”

Simon’s fingers twist into his shirt.

“Promise me… that you won’t die.” Simon whispers, sounding so much like a young child, afraid of the monster under his bed, and not like a decorated SAS operator. “I can’t- can’t-”

“I’ll do my best.”

He feels Simon’s head shake, “promise.”

“...I promise.”

They stay silent after that, holding onto each other like they’ll fall apart once their hands retreat. Soap lost in regret, and fear, and unfathomable worry, that Simon really will just give up. Even with him here, stuck in the same loop.

They may have all the time in the world, but how long will it take until there’s nothing of Ghost left to save?

They leave Ghost’s room, hands still unable to leave the other. Soap wants to get back to making progress on their mission, but he worries Simon’s drained. As if sensing it, Simon squeezes his hand, making Soap look at him.

“I think we should tell Price and Gaz.”

Soap blinks, “but ye said it never worked?”

Simon nods, eyes half-lidded, “Because it was only me. They won’t be able to excuse it with hallucinations when two people experience the same thing.” he lets go of Soap, his hand instantly mourning the loss, “they’ve left mess already, if they’re still behaving like usual.”

Right. This is new territory for Ghost, so he can’t rely on previous days anymore, “I’ll call Gaz, can you get Price?”

“Affirm. We’ll meet in the Captain’s office.” the Lieutenant turns to leave, and Soap opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, wanting to say something to encourage Ghost, or help him in any way, before he gives up and pulls out his phone.

The call rings only twice before Gaz picks up, “where were you this morning?! You missed the chocolate pudding!”

“Good morning to you too, Kyle.” he huffs, “had to deal with an emergency.”

Gaz instantly starts interrogating him, “what? You alright, mate?”

“Aye, but we need to get to Price’s office.”

“Copy. Stay safe, Soap.”

“You too.” he ends the call, and makes his way to the office. Anticipation roils in his gut. He had a hard time believing the time loop, and he saw it first hand. How are they going to convince the others of it?

Gaz is waiting outside the Captain’s office when Soap arrives. He gives him a reassuring nod, before knocking on the door.

“Open.” Price’s gruff voice calls.

Ghost is already inside, leaning against the far wall, and if Soap didn’t know better, he’d look as composed as he is every day. But he does know better, and the tension in his shoulders doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Right.” Price addresses Soap, “Ghost told me he and you have something important to tell us, and that it absolutely can’t wait for later, so let it out.”

Soap looks towards Ghost, a little lost with how to begin.

He regrets letting him start when he simply states, with no prior warning, “We’re stuck in a time loop.”

The office is quiet for a few seconds, before Gaz half-coughs, half-laughs. Soap sends him an unimpressed stare when he sees his lips tighten in an attempt to stay silent.

Price doesn’t sound amused in the slightest, “...if this is some sort of joke, it’s not very funny.” his tone becomes gentler, “but if you’re serious, Ghost, we can go to medical-”

Ghost takes a step towards Price, “I’m not having a psychosis episode, John.”

“Son-”

Soap intervenes, “Ah’m also in the loop, Captain.”

“MacTavish, this is not the time to fuck around!”

Shite, this is not working at all. He watches Ghost deflate, practically hears him give up again. He can’t watch him like this.

“Gaz” he turns to Kyle, “Smith texted ye in the morning, that’s how you knew about the pudding, right?”

Gaz’s brows shoot up, “yeah? How did you…?”

“There’s going to be a football match with Scotland today, ye were gonna invite me to watch with you.”

“You could’ve looked that up, Soap.” Price doesn’t sound convinced, but his expression loses the edge of anger it previously had.

“Scotland is gonna lose 0-2.”

The Captain sighs, “the match is at 1900, and even if you’re right, it still can be a lucky guess.” he leans back against his chair, “look, I can tell you’re serious about this, but I’ll need more proof before I can believe something like time loops exists.”

There must be something that could prove it, something one of them said that he shouldn’t know-

“Your favorite food is sausages, a specific recipe your father made. He died when you were nineteen, and you haven’t had them since.” Ghost murmurs. Price freezes, and his head turns slowly to stare at the Lieutenant.

“...I’ve never told that to anyone-”

“Garrick’s biggest fear is to watch his squad die.” Ghost continues, “he feels responsible for any injury any of us get, any loss. When one of us goes on a solo mission, he stays awake for as long as he can so he won’t miss any information about us.”

Gaz gapes, “How-”

“Price calls me Simon because he worries I’ll stop being used to the name.” Ghost crosses his arms, almost hugging himself, “Garrick was mocked during basic, was called weaker because he showed care to other soldiers, until he beat the records on several tests.” he doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

The Captain removes his hat, brushing a hand through his short-cropped hair, “fucking hell. Okay. I believe you.”

“Yeah…” Gaz shakes his head, “alright. You two are stuck in a bloody time loop. How do we get you out?”

A weight lifts from his heart. Soap smiles in relief, and it broadens when Ghost finally looks at him.

“There’s going to be an attack on our base this night. At least two of you will die, caught off guard.” Ghost explains, the soldiers in the room listening with rapt attention, “we need to keep you alive.”

“A surprise attack? How is that possible?” Price frowns.

Soap joins in, “they sabotaged emergency power this morning, and they’ll cut off the main source tonight, while breaching the south wall with explosives. And ‘fore ye ask, we can’t fix it, unless any of ye know how to operate a generator.”

“Do we know who it is?” Gaz asks.

“Anthony Simmons. Our latest target.” Ghost grounds bitterly, “think we disrupted his business enough he decided attacking an SAS base is worth the risk.”

Simmons… responsible for most illegal arms dealing in the UK. He must’ve joined forces with some of the 141’s enemies to have enough manpower to storm a base, but then again, those aren’t hard to come by, are they?

“Wait,” Gaz frowns and turns to face Soap, “how many times have you repeated a day to know all of that?”

“This is only the second time for me. Ghost has been stuck for… much longer.”

“And out of those loops, how many times have you tried telling us?” Price looks over to Ghost, concerned.

“...Twice.” the masked man answers, like it doesn’t twist Price’s features in shocked anger.

“Twice”, Price scoffs, “I’m… do you really trust us that little-”

“He trusts you plenty, Captain.” Soap cuts him off, hands clenching and nostrils flaring with anger, because he won’t let him insinuate Simon hasn’t been trying, “ye don’t trust his word, you always jump to the conclusion he must’ve lost his mind instead of telling the truth. You’ve done the same today, and if Ah wasn’t also stuck in this shite, ye would’ve sent ‘im to a shrink ten minutes ago.”

“Soap…” Gaz tries to placate, but he ignores it in favor of sending death glares at Price.

“Johnny.” Ghost breaks his resolve, “enough. He doesn’t need to apologize for something a different version of him did.”

Price sighs, “I don’t need to, but I will. I’m sorry, Simon. For not believing you.”

Ghost’s eyes widen, and Soap thinks they become a little shinier. He drops his head to the ground, clearing his throat. “Don’t worry about it, Captain.”

“We should each tell you a secret.” Gaz says, “something that will instantly make us know you’re telling the truth.”

“Good idea.” Soap hums. He hates approaching this day knowing they’ll likely will have to repeat this conversation again, but if they could speed it up tomorrow it’ll make it less demoralizing. “Do ye have anything in mind?”

Gaz blinks, and looks away with a bashful smile, “it’ll have to be something I would never admit under any other circumstance… yeah, I think I got something, unfortunately.” he plays with the strings on his sweatpants, “Captain, you remember Farah and Alex?”

The names are unfamiliar to Soap, but a glint of recognition lights in Price’s eyes, “of course. What about them?”

“Uhm… fuck, I really would not say it if it didn’t help you.” Gaz’s voice lowers, “I might be a little… interested in them.”

“...In what way?” one of Price’s brows lift inquisitively.

Gaz pulls on the bill of his baseball hat to hide his face, “in a romantic way.” he almost whispers.

“Oh.” the Captain softly exclaims. “That’s… completely fine, son-”

Kyle hides behind his hands and groans, “can we please not talk about it, sir?”

Soap pats Gaz’s shoulder, “we won’t ask, mate.” he grins towards the Captain, “yer turn, sir.”

Price sighs, and strokes his beard in thought. When he grimaces, Soap knows he found a suitable secret.

“When I was about fifteen, I smoked my first cigarette. Couldn’t take more than a couple of breaths of it before I puked.”

Gaz removes his hands from his face to point at Price, “there’s no way this is the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done!”

Price gives him an unimpressed look, “I puked directly on my crush at the time.”

“...Oh.” Gaz winces in sympathy.

“Yes, ‘oh’.” Price rolls his eyes, “now, let’s get back to that attack. You got anything else we can use, Ghost?”

“Affirm. I know how each of you dies.”

Soap almost laughs at how chilling that statement is, coming from a guy dressed like the grim reaper.

Ghost shoots him a look that makes Soap sober up, “Price leaves his office at 2122, gets caught on his way to our common room. Garrick fights along a few other soldiers from the rooms next to his barracks, they all die to a frag. And Johnny…” Ghost’s eyes meet his, “Soap’s the only one with a decent gun inside base at the moment of the attack, so he runs off to help the others. He dies last, with an empty mag and a knife in his throat.”

Soap swallows around the bitter taste on his tongue at the mental image of Ghost finding his body like that, “You said ye can save one of us, but never more. What happens then?”

“Only reason you’re saved is by either knowing of the attack beforehand or by acquiring gear.” Ghost grounds, hand flexing in an odd way, and Soap realizes he’s fidgeting with the knife up his sleeve, “and as I’ve said before, I can’t warn you because you won’t believe me. I can’t carry enough gear for four.”

“But we know now.” Gaz interjects, “we can go to the armory, ask them for our vests and rifles.”

“We can. But that won’t save the rest of the base.” Price sighs.

“I have no reason to believe it’s necessary for breaking the loop.” Ghost states firmly, arms crossing.

The Captain’s brows lift, and he narrows his eyes at the Lieutenant, “you… we can’t just let the base fend for itself, while we know something’s going to happen.”

“I don’t care-”

“Simon Riley, I swear to all that’s good and holy if you finish that sentence-”

“I can’t care, Price!” Ghost growls, hunching over the desk menacingly, “I can’t save three people, you think I can afford to try and save hundreds?!”

Price stares at Ghost, his expression mellowing. “We have to try.”

Ghost lets out a laugh that sounds closer to a sob than anything else, “sick of trying, Captain.”

Price pushes off his chair, and puts a hand on his bicep, “I understand, son. I… can’t say I can imagine what you’ve been going through.”

Ghost takes a few deep breaths, nodding slowly and gently stepping away from Price’s touch, “we’re burning daylight. We need to come up with a plan.”

Soap wants to pull Ghost into another hug, the way he did this morning, but he doesn’t think that’s what he would want right now.

Instead, he says, “I got an idea.”

“Soap, Gaz, what’s your status?”

He lowers into a crouch, walking along the outer wall of the base, “solid. Still not in position.”

“Copy, you got twenty before power’s off.” Ghost’s low tone rumbles over their comms.

The area surrounding the base is made up of mostly flat land, to allow the huge floodlights around the walls to illuminate it and leave no place for a hostile (or a confused tourist, mostly) to hide.

Tonight, this will be a disadvantage for their side, as they won’t have any cover if they get caught by hostiles out here.

Gaz, whose been walking in front of Soap, motions him to stop, and points to one of the watchtowers above them. The soldier on duty seems to be alert, and Soap resists the urge to hold his breath while they wait. Not a few seconds later, the soldier startles, and pulls out his radio. He exchanges a few words with the caller before getting up and leaving the tower. That would be Price’s work.

The Captain reconnects to their line, “Watchtower’s empty, boys, you’re clear to proceed.”

“Copy.”

They continue their careful walk to the wall between this watchtower and the next - the planting site for the charges that will breach it.

Their plan, which was mostly Soap’s idea, is to separate to 2 teams; the first stays on base, making sure the soldiers are gathered together and ready for an attack, and the second slows the infiltration of Simmon’s men.

Both teams have to do so covertly, since they’ve come to the conclusion that even if they alert the higher ups of an approaching attack, without any more concrete evidence than ‘two of our elite operators are stuck in a fucking time loop’, nobody would believe them. They decided that Price and Ghost will stay, as they have higher ranks and therefore are able to order around more soldiers with less need to explain their reasoning.

Soap and Gaz, then, were left to be here, waiting for the hostiles to plunge the base into darkness.

Before leaving, Ghost pulled Soap to the side, his eyes a fake veneer of professionalism, but shaking fingers betraying him. Soap only gave him a smile, a soft punch to his shoulder, and walked before he could allow his nerves to show.

Because he is nervous, in a way he hasn’t been on a mission since he joined the 141. Not because he’s afraid to die, but because he doesn’t want Ghost to hurt any more than he already is.

Soap promised Ghost he’ll try to not die - and he will drag himself back to him with broken arms if he has to.

“Two minutes to power shutdown, get ready.” Ghost rips him away from his thoughts.

Soap flips his NVG’s over his eyes, blinking while they get used to the muted green-blue hues. Gaz ahead of him does the same.

“Copy, in position and ready.” Gaz radios back.

The seconds trickle by slowly, Soap feeling his heart rate rise in anticipation, and mentally chiding himself for being this anxious. He shouldn’t, considering he knows he can’t die (or stay dead, really). But somehow, the stakes feel higher than any other mission he’s been on before.

Maybe just like Simon, Soap too can’t watch someone he cares about fall apart.

The power shuts down, the electrical hum that previously filled the night air abruptly cutting off. Sop checks his clock.

2126. Ten minutes left.

He quickly pulls out the several kilograms of explosives he packed into his tacvest. Ghost gave him an approximation of the enemy’s trucks parking locations, but he hasn’t spent enough time in his previous loops here to give him exact coordinates. Soap decided to stay on the safer side, and pack more than he would’ve.

He throws the packs of C4 a good distance from Gaz, as the last thing he needs right now is to explode both of them. It might not be enough, but hopefully it will slow the hostiles down enough for their soldiers to realize something is wrong.

In the unnatural silence, Soap can hear the engines of several trucks approaching their position. Gaz clicks off the safety on his assault rifle. He gives one last check that the explosives are connected correctly to each other and the detonator, and returns to Kyle’s side.

His heart screams that they’re not going to win this time around.

“Hey Gaz?”

“Yeah?”

Soap gives in to the sinking feeling in his gut, “if I don’t make it… can you make sure Ghost doesn’t see my…”

“I won’t, Soap.” Gaz reaches for him, putting an arm around him as much as he can with all the gear on them, “let’s try to not get to that, though.”

“Aye.” he can make out the shapes of trucks filled to the brim with hostiles hurtling towards the base. Gaz switches the sights on his gun.

“You got about 5 seconds before they reach the explosives.”

Soap’s finger hovers over the detonator, counting under his breath.

Three…

Two…

The trucks roll over the half-circle of charges around them. Soap presses the button.

One second the vehicles are there, the next a flash of light blinds them both. Even though he knew to squeeze his eyes shut, Soap could still see colorful shapes dancing in his vision when he opened them. A smaller explosion shakes the ground, Simmon’s men screaming at the surprise attack. Serves them right.

Unfortunately, they regain their footing quickly enough, and soon bullets started ricocheting off of the base’s walls.

“Soap! On your two, three hostiles!” Gaz shouts while aiming to his left, fire messing with their NVGs.

Soap shoots two men down, the third ducking away and only getting grazed. He takes out a Semtex, throwing it in the last man’s direction and averting his attention to Gaz right as he yells.

“Kyle!” he watches in horror as a bullet rips through his thigh, a matching wound in the other. Gaz goes down hard, with grunts of pain and bared teeth. Soap runs towards him, shooting another hostile down, but he’s not fast enough.

Gaz stares at him, eyes full of horror, gaze flickering back to the fight when a bullet almost hits his head. He’s stuck, unable to get to cover, fate practically sealed.

Soap slides to a stop. He changes course to the nearest wrecked truck, more mangled steel than a vehicle. The lingering fire singes his arm hairs, but he doesn’t feel a thing.

They’re trapped, pushed against the wall with no backup in sight. They may be able to fend off by themselves, but the moment they run out of bullets…

He lifts a shaky hand to his comms.

“Ghost?” Soap whispers.

“Soap. What’s your status?”

He swallows thickly, “Don’t come to the wall.”

“What?” Ghost’s voice sharpen.

“Ah’m sorry, Simon. Gaz, he’s- his legs are fucking shot, they’ve got us surrounded, not gettin’ out of this alive-”

He cuts himself off when he hears a small sigh, clothes rustling on the other side, Price’s voice shouting from far away, “SIMON DON’T-”

And like a curtain at the end of a show, Soap’s vision goes black.

Soap wakes up with a sharp inhale, clean air jarring, when all he smelled a moment ago was smoke. He jumps out of bed, changing quickly and running out of his room.

He almost runs into Ghost in his hurry. Ghost, who was on his way to his room.

“Easy, Johnny.” he gets caught by his shoulders.

Soap pants, “Ghost- it was my fault, I should’ve placed the explosives farther ahead, detonated them later-”

“Sergeant.” Ghost squeezes his arms lightly, “I’m not mad.”

And he really isn’t, when Soap actually takes the time to look at Ghost, he discovers him completely calm.

“...You expected this to happen.”

Ghost’s eyes crease, in the way Soap has learned means he’s smiling, “this is what always happens. I’m just happy I ended the day before all of you were dead.”

Soap feels his lips twist downwards, adrenaline leaving him unmoored and tired. He’s not sure if he’s telling it to Ghost or to himself, when he says, “we have to keep trying.”

Ghost doesn’t answer, instead letting his hands fall away. “You got a new plan?”

A door behind them opens loudly before he can answer, “where’s-” Gaz turns his head to them, “oh, Soap! And Ghost. C’mon, we need to go to the cafeteria, Smith texted me-”

Soap drops his head, slightly irritated for having to repeat this conversation again, but happy to see Gaz nonetheless, “aye, there’s chocolate pudding in mess.”

“Yeah! How did you know?” Kyle gives him a lopsided smile.

He sighs and throws a thumb behind him, “stuck in a time loop with Ghost.”

Gaz stares at him before a laugh erupts from his throat, and he bends over giggling. Soap allows him a few moments before he comments, “are ye done?”

“Fuck mate you can’t do that to me this early in the morning, the look on Ghost’s face-” he laughs a little more, before forcing a serious expression, “yeah, yeah I’m done.”

“Good. You have a crush on Alex and Farah.”

Gaz freezes for a moment, and his brows shoot up, “how the fuck- how do you even know who they are-”

“I don’t. Ye told me yesterday.” Soap frowns, “or, well, today… was yesterday for me.”

Ghost taps him on the shoulder, “we need to get going, Johnny. Earlier we get everyone together, the more time we got to prepare.”

“Right”, he takes Kyle’s arm, nudging him in the direction of Price’s office, “let’s go.”

Gaz makes a confused sound, “prepare for what?”

Ghost mutters quietly, so lowly that Soap almost misses it, “another death.”

Fifteen times. They’ve tried fifteen times since that day.

The first three were similar, the same plan as before with minimal variation. One time, he went out with Ghost instead of Gaz. Soap ended up with a bullet to the shoulder, incapacitated and waiting to die. Ghost made sure he didn’t wait long.

After that, they tried telling more people. Alert the soldiers at the watchtowers, supply others with weapons. For the most part, they didn’t believe them, even when Price and Gaz vouched for the credibility of their story. And when they were believed, it wasn’t enough. The base too big, their enemy too strong.

On the fifteenth try, Soap managed to slow the infiltration with precisely placed explosives, toppling a recently vacated watchtower over the entrance. Ghost was alone, using the cover of night to pick off anyone getting close to the barracks, where most soldiers are at the time. Gaz and Price were with Soap, leading the charge on the main group of hostiles.

It went well. They reached 2240, the furthest they’ve ever seen.

Maybe it was that fact, or the fact that Soap has done this so many times, each day starting to blend together, each defeat the same shade of bright red.

He doesn’t know what it was, but he lost focus, and while the others were fighting ahead of him, he got blindsided by a heavy body slamming into his.

The hostile tackled him to the ground, and Soap barely managed to get his arms up in time to block the knife heading for his throat. He grunted as the blade dug into his forearm, and attempted to push off the enemy. The man was built like Ghost, big and muscular, and Soap might’ve been able to win, if he wasn’t on his fifteenth day.

But he was, and the hostile breaks his guard, stabbing Soap in the chest, then the shoulder, then the stomach. Soap can’t breathe, but by instinct alone his arm reaches for the pistol at his hip, and shoots the heavy bastard three times in the head, until the body drops.

Every single part of him hurts. Most of all, the vile taste of another loss on his tongue, and a broken promise.

Soap futilely tries to get the lifeless body crushing him off, but his muscles feel like jelly, and every small movement shoots fire through the several holes littering his torso, making more blood bubble up.

So Soap gives up. He clicks his radio on, listens to the others check in, notice his absence. He knows he should say something, let Ghost know this loop is a bust and restart, but…

He finds he doesn’t want to. For once, he just wants to stay here, bathing in his own blood, pain so blinding he can almost pretend it’s not there.

“MacTavish, fucking answer me! What’s your status?!” Ghost’s voice sounds… frantic. Soap doesn’t like it.

It takes a lot of effort just to click the button to answer, “s’rry, Ghost. Ah’m… Ah’m here.”

“...Johnny? Where are you?”

He coughs a little, a flush of cold making his vision swim, “in general? Stuck.” he laughs at his own stupid joke, the sound turning into a bitten off cry when pain shoots through his body again. “Fuck-”

“How bad is it?” Ghost asks, gently, in a way Soap doesn’t think he’s earned to hear from him.

“Bad. H-hurts.” Soap feels tears run to his hairline, “but Ah don’t want to die. Don’ want ye teh die. I can survive, just-” a whine rips from his throat without his permission, “just a wee bit over one hour till midnight, righ’?”

“I’m not going to let you keep suffering-”

“We are s-so close.” Soap’s eyes cease to see, blood loss taking his vision and plunging him back into the darkness he grew to despise more than anything, “Ah don’ want teh do this again, Ghost… please…”

Ghost sounds more muffled when he murmurs, “I’ll see you in a few, Johnny.” a finality in his voice that tells Soap he’s putting a gun to his temple yet again.

“No…” Soap wants to beg, but talking is starting to become more difficult than it should be, “Simon… please… don’t…..”

He hears a gunshot, and then nothing at all.

When Soap wakes up, he doesn’t bother opening his eyes. He knows what he’ll see, the same ceiling, in the same washed-out white shade, bathed in the same morning sunlight of the same fucking day.

It must’ve been a few minutes of him drifting into uncomfortable consciousness, when there’s a knock on the door. Same one he’s heard all the way back when this shit started.

“Soap? You still there?” Ghost asks behind the thin plywood. Soap can hear the handle rattle as Ghost checks if it’s locked.

Apparently, ‘yesterday Soap’ locked it. He couldn’t remember if he tried - it’s been weeks since ‘yesterday’.

“Johnny?”

How did Ghost survive this long alone? The world around him oblivious to the glitch in time, lives around him continuing like normal, as if they aren’t also stuck?

A heavy weight squeezes his lungs, a despair in a magnitude he’s never felt, the knowledge they’re not going to ever escape this caving in his rib cage. Soap keeps his eyes closed, because if he opens them, he’ll need to face another day, fight and die, like he won’t just do it again in the next.

The flimsy lock on his door clicks, and it slides open slowly, “I’m coming in”, Ghost warns, not that Soap cares.

He’s facing the wall, but he can sense Ghost walking towards the bed, and sitting down after a few moments of silence. Soap lets one eye blink open, still staring at the wall in front of him. Somehow, with just his presence, Ghost lends him strength.

Soap clears his throat quietly, words spilling out before he can stop them, “I don’t know if I can keep going.”

A hand finds his calf, slowly caressing him through the thin blanket, “we can stop.” Ghost murmurs, his tone similar to the way he talked when he understood they’re not making it out this time.

“Stop? And what, stay stuck?” Soap scoffs.

The hand warms his skin, more than this sun ever could, “yes.” Soap hears clothes rustling, “give up. But that’s not what you want, is it?”

“An’ how do ye know what Ah want?” anger starts bubbling within him, Soap regretting his harsh tone a moment after he lets it out. Ghost doesn’t deserve it, never does.

The hand leaves him, and Soap raises his head in alarm, because if Ghost leaves, there really is no point to continue-

His eyes widen when he sees him, mask in his hand, knee coming up to rest on the bed. Gentle blond curls almost glowing in the sunlight, brown eyes like dark pools that anchor him in the spiral he found himself in.

Simon’s thin lips move slowly, Soap enchanted by the way they pull on the scars, “I know, because you kept me going.”

“But-” Soap brings his knees up, “Ah didn’t know what ye were going through before. Didn’t know it really is…”

“Impossible?”

“Aye…” he drops his head to stare at his own lap. A gloved hand appears at the edges of his vision.

Ghost nudges his shoulder softly, “move over.”

Soap blinks up in confusion, and scoots closer to the wall, allowing Ghost to sit beside him. The bed was certainly not made for two people their size, and their bodies are pressed together. It’s comforting.

“That day wasn’t the first time I tried to get you to kill me.” Ghost lets out eventually.

Soap stares at him, “what happened the other times?”

“You got mad.” Ghost smiles sadly, “threw the gun away, as far as you could. Grabbed me by the face and forced me to look, really look, at you. And you talked.”

“And what did Ah say?”

Ghost’s light eyelashes flutter, “you’d always let me know, before anything else, how much of a ‘dafty’ I am.” Soap laughs a little at that, while Ghost continues, “then you’d say that I’m not allowed to give up.”

Soap frowns. “Why?”

Ghost turns to stare at him, “you said I haven’t seen everything this world has to offer yet. You promised to show me, if I stay. You were so…” he sighs, mind clearly far away in an unreachable fantasy, “determined. Sure that you could change my mind. I didn’t understand why you cared so much.”

Soap’s heart hammers loudly in his chest, his own words swirling with distant memories. Of yesterday, and the days before it.

“I called you Johnny, once, on a whim. Wanted to see your reaction.” Ghost huffs, “and in all the days I’ve been through, you never acknowledged it, never told me to stop. Always smiled wider instead.”

“Simon…”

He leans closer to Soap, their noses almost touching, “I know you want to live, because you made me continue living. I know how you look when you lie, and you never lied to me.”

Soap exhales shakily, “but Ah’m not that person anymore. Neither of us are.”

Simon wraps a hand around his nape, pulls his head to rest on his shoulder, “no. But we haven’t seen everything yet. We’ll keep changing, and maybe we’ll become something better by the end of it.”

Soap buries his nose in Simon’s neck, “and what if we won’t? What if this is really how the rest of our lives is gonna go?”

What if there really is no way out?

“Then… Then I’ll be glad it wasn’t alone. I’m glad it was with you.”

In the safety of strong arms, a warm body beside him, Soap nods. In acceptance of their unknown fate, of their hopeless endeavour. An understanding, that they have to try anyway.

Because trying and failing is worth something too, if they get to have this small moment; so insignificant in larger scale.

And yet nothing means more to Soap, than the fingers drawing small loops on his skin.

He doesn’t know how long it takes for someone to take notice of their absence, but it becomes obvious that it has, when both Soap’s and Simon’s phones start buzzing with no end.

Soap pulls away first, after several minutes of gearing himself up to it. Doesn’t make the jarring shift any easier. He leans over Ghost to grab his phone from the bedside table, and cringes when he sees the number of missed calls from Gaz and Price.

His phone rings again, and he swipes a finger to answer, “he’s still not picking up- Soap?!” Gaz’s voice becomes louder, as if he put the phone back near his mouth, “where the fuck were you?! I’ve tried calling you all day mate!”

“Uh- Phone was on mute, sorry.” he mumbles.

Soap winces a little at the answering sigh from Gaz, “...alright. You solid?”

He doesn’t know why that innocent question made tears well up in his eyes. Soap quickly wipes them away, not fast enough for Ghost to miss, though. “Aye, Ah’m good.”

Soap can tell from Kyle’s voice he’s not entirely convinced, “good. Wanna come torture the recruits with me?”

He smiles softly, closing his eyes, “yeah, think I’d like that right about now.”

Gaz laughs a little, “I’ll see you on the training grounds?”

“See ye.”

Soap tosses the phone on the bed, scrubbing his face. He looks up at Simon, who stayed close for the entire call, “what’s on the table for us today? Are we gonna tell ‘em after training-”

“Take the day off, Johnny. You need it.” Simon gets up with a groan, stretching his back and reaching for his mask. Soap stops him with a gentle hand on his wrist.

“Ye need it too. Come with me.”

Simon’s brown eyes turn a honeyed color in the bright morning light, “...alright.”

It’s been a while since Soap had what almost felt like a normal day, acting like tomorrow will come. Betting on who could come up with the weirdest exercises with Ghost and Gaz was more fun than anything he’s done since entering the loop, shooting the shit with each other and trying not to crack up when the recruits would look at them with bewildered eyes before hurrying to follow their orders.

In the afternoon, they went back to the common room, Gaz inviting them to watch the football match with him. Despite knowing Scotland will lose, Soap agreed, and they even managed to drag Price to sit with them.

And at that moment, Gaz throwing sunflower seeds at the screen, Price confiscating the bowl with a wide smile on his lips, and Ghost’s thigh pressed to his, eyes mirthful, Soap realized something.

He wants to have more days like these. Ones where he can just exist with his team, his friends, the people he holds most dear in the entire world.

At about 2100, Gaz and Price say their goodbyes, leaving Soap and Ghost by themselves, TV off and the rest of the room silent. As the clock ticks closer to the attack, it feels as if all of his muscles twist tighter, a coil ready to snap.

He didn’t notice his leg started bouncing, until Ghost stops it with a firm hand. “I can stop today right now, if you want.” he asks.

Soap’s breath hitches, and he’s instantly thrown back to the first day, shaky hands wrapped around his, pulling the trigger-

“No.” he blurts, “I- I don’t want ye to…”

Ghost scans his features, before nodding and standing up, offering a hand for Soap. He takes it, a bit flustered when Ghost doesn’t let go.

“We can leave, then.”

“Leave?”

“The base. For tonight.” Ghost offers, “I have a place in mind. Will take us about thirty to reach it.”

Soap frowns, guilt gnawing at his heart, “and the others…?”

Ghost lowers his gaze, “won’t remember a thing.”

He swallows his feelings down, nodding weakly. It hurts, to let them die and do nothing to stop it, but they both know it won’t matter by the end of the night.

They would’ve been dead a dozen times over if it did.

Ghost leads him outside, motioning him to stay low and quiet as they reach the northern side of the wall surrounding the base. The Lieutenant kicks at the fence, a section surprisingly loose, enough for them to crawl out and into the grassy hills outside. Soap sends him a look, to which Ghost just shrugs and says, “I’ll report it when we reach tomorrow.”

When, he notes. Not if.

He continues walking beside him, his figure almost melting into the night skies, save for the bone-white skull mask he grew to love.

A gale brushes upon them, the tall grass and bushes sway along with it. It’s… peaceful.

Until a far away explosion rattles the earth.

Soap freezes, hand pulling on Ghost’s. He knows his eyes must be desperate, when they meet his.

Ghost delicately untangles their fingers, to instead wrap a supporting arm around his shoulders. He leans in to whisper, “just a little more, Johnny.”

It’s odd, how those arms can instantly make Soap feel safer, that voice guiding his mind away from base, to a little bubble of their own.

They walk up a small hill, where at its top stands a single, ancient looking tree. Soap marvels at the place, the fact that somewhere like this exists so near to their base, oblivious to the horrors of their endless deaths.

Ghost sits down, ignoring the crunch of dry grass beneath him, and lays back to stare up at the stars. Soap, as always, follows.

The sky seems endless this way, like his tether to the ground can break with a small tug. Stars shine brightly across the darkness, tiny specks that are still so beautiful despite being so far away.

Soap turns his head to look at Ghost, those brown eyes almost black now, reflecting the universe back at him. It makes something hurt in his chest, reminds him just how much he has to lose, if he chooses to give up.

And Soap finds he really, truly, doesn’t want to give up. If only to see the stars again, feel a cooling wind against his skin again, laugh with Gaz and get a pat on the back from Price, lay back and watch colors swirl in Ghost’s, Simon’s, eyes.

“I want to try again, tomorrow.” Soap whispers, watches the moment Ghost processes the words, “and the day after that, and after that, until we reach an end. Whatever it may be.”

It brings him a significant amount of joy, that he has learned to tell when Ghost smiles by now, “whatever it may be.” he repeats.

Ghost’s wristwatch beeps three times, and Soap stares at it as he brings it closer to his face to read.

“Two minutes to midnight.” he informs.

Soap sighs, wishing the day wouldn’t have to end so soon, and yet also eager to get up and fight, “I’ll see ye in a few, LT?”

Ghost drops his arm, nodding resolutely, “always, Johnny.”

The stars melt into the void as they stare into each other’s eyes.

A new day greets Soap, as it always does. This time, however, it feels different.

Soap gets out of bed, diligently dressing up, before a knock sounds on his door. Without opening, he knows whose behind it, and asks with a smile, “did ye ran outta bed today, Simon?”

“You’re just slow, Soap.” a muffled answer comes back, making him smile wider.

He unlocked the door, taking in the sight of Ghost. Same dark clothes he wears every single day (even before the loop, if he’s being honest), but the look in his eyes…

Seems like they both needed yesterday.

“Ready to talk with Price and Gaz?” Ghost motions with his head towards the hallway.

Soap cracks his knuckles, “let’s get teh work.”

Five minutes to power shutdown. The watchtower above him has been cleared, Price’s orders to the soldiers doing their work. Soap finishes planting the last of the charges, nerves somewhat settled by the fact he knows this part will work. There is a comfort in knowing exactly how a mission will go, for once. Well, this part at least.

“Got an eye on you, Johnny.” a low voice murmurs to him through their comms. Soap huffs fondly, sparing a moment to glance back at the base, searching for a sniper glint.

He smirks when he finds it, knows Ghost can read his expression with the scope he’s using, “only one? I’m offended, LT. Don’t think I deserve your full attention?”

“Think you’ve earned it?”

Soap makes a show of thinking over it, “hmm… What if I say yes?”

“Then I’d say you’re right, Sergeant.” Ghost radios back with a warmer tone. “Remember your promise?”

“Of course.”

A promise to try. A swear to fight. A vow to live.

“This is Price, me and Gaz are in position, what’s your status?”

“Explosives are set, in position.” Soap answers.

“Two minutes to power shutoff.” Ghost warns. Soap clenches his jaw and backs away, detonator in hand.

Their plan for this loop is similar to the last one, with Soap dropping the watchtower on the infiltrating group, while Gaz and Price take point at the barracks. They made minor adjustments to positions, using the intel they’ve collected in the previous run, and one major change.

This time, Soap has Ghost to watch his six.

He’s been through this so many times, he didn’t need to watch the clock to know exactly when the lights will go out.

The darkness makes his breaths quicken a tad, but Soap grinds his teeth and pulls the reins on his own mind. Even if they fail today, they have an infinite amount of tries.

He takes a sharp inhale, covers his eyes, and detonates. The familiar sound of dozens of tonnes of metal crashing down is like music to his ears, and Soap opens his eyes to watch bullets flash through the night sky. Ghost picking off the remaining hostiles.

“How was the light show?”

Ghost sighs, putting on an air of irritation that Soap has learned to see past, “splendid, Soap. I’d put a picture of it right next to the definition of a pyromaniac in the dictionary.”

Soap begins running towards the barracks, knowing he has mere minutes before the hostiles reach it, “ye say the sweetest things teh me, Simon.”

“Wasn’t a compliment.” Ghost mutters, “I’ll meet you on ground in ten.”

“Copy.”

The barracks building fast approaches, dark windows flaring every few seconds with gunfire. He’s about to rush in when a hand wraps around his nape. Soap reaches for a knife he slipped up his sleeve when he hears a gravelly voice near his ear.

“Thought we’re not runnin’ off on our own anymore.” Ghost murmurs, scolding him lightly.

Soap sags against his grip. “Attacker doesn’t get me for another thirty-four minutes.”

“Don’t care. Haven’t been through this version of the loop enough times to know where every hostile is.” Ghost guides him to the direction of the side door, “be careful.”

Soap nods, skin feeling cold when Ghost releases him. They make their way down dark hallways, NVGs on, echoing bullets getting closer and closer. Someone runs out of a door to their left, and Soap has mere seconds to figure out which side they’re on.

Tactical vest, rifle in hand, ready for combat. A clean shot through the head and the man is dead.

The air around them is charged, his lungs almost choking on the tension, but his hands are steady on his gun, as years of military training drilled into him.

“Soap, Ghost, we’re getting overrun in block B! Where the fuck are you?” Gaz pants into his mic, choppy gunfire slips around his voice.

“Clearing block A, but Ah can come yer way-”

Ghost cuts him off, “we are on our way to you, Garrick. Don’t take unnecessary risks.”

“Copy.” Gaz clicks off. Wordlessly, they start running.

So many things can go wrong, finish their loop early, make them fail. Before, it felt like the entire world was fighting against them, the very fabric of time and space coiling around their throats and smothering their lungs.

Ghost sprints ahead of him, a long blade in hand as he opens the door to block B, and the knife gets buried into an unlucky hostile.

Things are different now. Soap lines a shot with another bastard trying to flank Ghost. The Lieutenant turns to give him a thankful nod.

They have to be different.

Block B houses the 141, among other squads. Usually at this hour, its hallways are empty and quiet, the occasional sleepless soldier drifting towards the common room.

Tonight, barracks have been turned into cover for both friendlies and hostiles, every uncleared room a possible hiding hole for a henchman waiting to blow a hole in their face. Soap and Ghost find the rest of their taskforce in the middle of shooting enemies running between the rooms.

“What’s the situation, Captain?” Ghost crouches down beside Price, peppering a few shots when hostiles pop their head to return fire.

Price grunts, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, “fuckers keep crawling out like roaches up ahead, we can’t push forward like this.” He glances at Soap, “got anything left that we can use, Sergeant?”

Soap mentally runs through the supplies he gathered this afternoon from the armory, “got five Semtex, three frags, a drill charge-”

“Give me a Semtex.” Ghost orders, lifting a hand without looking away from the target-rich hallway. Soap places it in his palm, curiously watching him throw it on a hostile rolling to cover. The man had too much momentum to stop his slide, and he shouts when he realizes he’s just brought a grenade into a room full of his teammates.

A loud explosion, and Soap whistles lowly, “feckin’ ruthless, Ghost.”

The 141, along with the rest of the soldiers who have been sleeping in block B until the base was invaded, use the break in the enemy’s defences to push forward, overwhelming the henchmen and making them scramble back to avoid death.

As they fight, Soap notices a group of hostiles around a single man, seemingly protecting him. When one of them moves, he catches a glimpse of their face, and his blood boils over.

Anthony Simmons, in the flesh. The man responsible for the attack.

Soap knows, somewhere in the recesses of his mind, that Simmons isn’t the one responsible for the existence of the time loop. He had no way of knowing, that attacking the base will cause time to break around Soap and Ghost.

But he has watched his teammates, his friends, get shot by his men countless times, felt unimaginable pain, helpless when that pain broke him, broke Simon.

Soap knows it’s not his fault, but fuck if he’s going to let him walk out of this intact.

Before anyone can stop him, he breaks into a run after Simmons. The man has lost more of his henchmen at this point, his little circle of soldiers dead at his feet, so he fled deeper into the building. The rest of his men, however, still stand between Soap and Simmons.

Soap pulls out his knife again, this time intending to use it, slipping under thick arms that try to wrestle him down, and stabbing his opponent in the ribs. He quickly slits his throat and continues the chase.

Voices ring out of his comms, a mix of concern and anger from his squad. Soap plans to ignore them, until one stands out.

“You fucking promised me Johnny, don’t do this to me!”

His steps falter, and after a beat he decides to answer, “Ah’m going to end this, once and for all. In pursuit of Anthony Simmons.”

“You’re going after Simmons alone?!” Gaz grunts, clearly in the middle of fending off an enemy.

Ghost’s voice is dripping with rage, “is he really worth killing yourself for, Sergeant?”

Soap can tell, behind that furious voice, that Simon is scared. That anger for Ghost is a smokescreen for anything else.

…They are the same in that regard, aren’t they?

“No.” Soap realizes, “it’s not.”

The comms are quiet. He scans the way ahead, understands that Simmons has no other place to hide besides…

“He’s in our common room. Waiting for backup around the corner.”

“...Copy. We’re five minutes out.” Ghost sighs, previous anger fizzling out.

Soap stares ahead, at the familiar path to their common room, now dark and lifeless. It’s a path he never walks alone, and today will not be any different.

His team arrives one minute early, bloody and bruised and worse for wear, but alive, so blessedly, wonderfully, alive.

“Gaz, keep an eye on our six, Ghost, Soap, with me.” Price commands, back straight and weapon at the ready.

They take measured steps to their common room, small noises and grunts like gunshots in the silence. Simmons sounds agitated, whispering orders into his radio. He clearly didn’t expect anyone to follow him, evident by the door he left wide open, and the fact he left his gun to lean against the wall.

Ghost walks ahead, footsteps perfectly noiseless, slinking behind their target like a predator circling its prey.

Soap cringes inwardly when his boot connects with the end of the couch, a small thunk alerting Simmons. As unprepared as the man was, he still noticed, head perking up and hand dropping from his comms.

Shite.

Simmons gets up with a sudden flurry of movement, hands instantly on his weapon. Ghost attempts to apprehend him, but the man starts shooting wildly all around him while screaming, “not gonna let you 141 rats fuck with me again!”

Simmons swings his gun to his left, and Soap watches in horror as the barrel lines with Price’s heart. He makes the split second decision to tackle the Captain.

They both grunt when they hit the floor, Soap feeling hot pain spread through his shoulder. Bastard got lucky.

Ghost takes the opening to Simmons’ right, and Soap barely sees the meager light in the room reflect onto his blade before it slices into Simmons’ neck. Ghost twists it once, and pulls it out, allowing the body to fall.

Gaz rushes into the room at that moment, spotting Ghost looming over their target’s dead body, and him and Price still on the floor, “fuck- Captain, Soap, are you broken?”

Soap pushes off Price with a groan, the Captain answering, “negative. Soap, what’s your status?”

Price places a hand on his shoulder, one that would be comforting in any other scenario, but in this one makes him yelp in pain. Price pulls his hand away, Gaz crouching down beside him to inspect the gunshot wound, “shit, Soap’s been hit.”

Soap’s mind transports him to the last loop, to Ghost’s unshakeable decision to reset before he could suffer any longer, and blurts out, “jus’ a gunshot wound teh the shoulder. I’ll live.”

He turns his head back to Ghost, the giant man standing above him like a fucked up guardian angel.

The power chooses at that moment to come back on, blinding all of them. They flip their NVGs up, rubbing their eyes and groaning, when Soap notices Ghost’s watch beeping. They make eye contact.

“Two minutes to midnight.” Soap whispers. He reaches with his uninjured hand to Simon’s, making him sit back on his haunches. He brings the watch closer to his face, senses Gaz and Price huddle around it as well.

Four pairs of eyes watch the little clock tick closer and closer to midnight with bated breath. Thoughts begin to whirl in his head, that perhaps this wasn’t the answer, that there is just no possible solution to this wretched loop.

2359…

0000.

Midnight. Soap looks up, sees his shock reflected in Ghost’s dark eyes.

They’re free.

The 141’s common room might be Soap’s favorite. It’s nothing fancy, a couple of ratty couches, a kitchenette. No TV, and near-constant mold under the sink.

Soap wouldn’t have it any other way. Sitting here, chatting with Gaz about nothing and everything, laughing when Price acts in a way that reminds all of them how old he is, feeling Simon’s arms wrapped around him, Soap wouldn’t change a thing.

Well… one thing has changed. A clock has been mounted on the wall, along with a calendar.

Time continues moving. Soap knows his future will hold unmeasurable amounts of pain, that his end might be closer than he thinks it is. That their little common room will eventually fall silent, for good. But Soap also knows he will get to have more days like these, memories of incomparable comfort and soul-deep calm. Moments that are worth the pain.

And it’s that knowledge, that makes hope bloom in his chest. In his heart, and in deep brown eyes, that now crescent for him more than Soap could’ve ever wished for.

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