#soap is fucking cackling once he finds out

[ilostthewar]

Okay now that we established that Simon lies for fun, let’s run with it, yeah?

Maybe you work on the base that he’s stationed at. You become a familiar figure to him. You both talk when you have the chance, always welcome him home once he’s back from missions with warm smiles and updates on what he’s missed. He fancies you more than he is willing to admit, more than he is able to express.

But the one odd thing about you is the gifts you give him. Just to be clear, he tried to tell you it wasn’t necessary. But you’re stubborn and insisted upon it. But he doesn’t really understand the method behind them. A space cowboy novel, a bag of peppermint butterscotch candies, a transformers keychain, a fucking pack of bandaids with some cartoon orange cat on them. He doesn’t really understand any of it.

It’s only after another seemingly random gift, a lemon candle of all things, that he actually asks.

You get his flustered little expression on your face as you try to explain yourself, and he can’t help but think it’s a charming look on you. It’s a rambling explanation; that you enjoyed spending time together and you wanted to get him something to show it, something that he could look at and know you were thinking of him. But gifting things to him is hard, okay, so you asked around, maybe someone knew about the things he liked. You got mixed answers but you still tried.

And Ghost never through this plan would backfire on him like this. But it’s so sweet, so dumb and sweet. That you were trying this hard for him. But now he can’t back down, cause he can imagine the disappointment on your face if he told you the truth. Besides, maybe he did start to like some of the gifts, even if the only reason was because you gave them to him.

Simon doesn’t lie… unless it’s funny.

Ghost learns that people want to “crack” him open. He’s a big tough guy, strong silent type. People wanna be the one to see all his gooey inner bits. And while stonewalling people generally works, pointed silences, indifferent looks, sharp comments- it doesn’t always work on everyone. So when certain questions come up he’ll just shoot off something dumb and random. It doesn’t matter if it’s the truth in this context, cause the other person just wants an answer and he’ll do anything to avoid these prolonged conversations where people keep needling.

This also serves a double purpose. He keeps a list of what he tells and to whom. This way, he knows who’s gossiping. Also allows him a bit of control about the absolute rumor-mill he inadvertently became by existing.

[soy-soi-si]

Imagine y/n having to join the team as a stand in for another person that was supposed to be there. And everything goes wrong.

Tw. angst, brief torture, injuries, death, past abuse, helplessness, reader almost dying. Foul language! Really crappy writing and not proof read prolly missing a few Tw's as well.

Y/n doesn't like the group at first. They seem patronizing, constantly talking about the person who was going to join. Constantly asking if you could actually do what he was supposed to. Hell even when she was completing the mission they kept checking on her more than each other even if two of them were under fire. She got so annoyed with Price after the genuine thirtieth time he told her the step by step of what she already did.

“If you keep fucking patronizing me I'll bust your balls Mr. Price is right. Now fuck off I'm already done.” She sighs at the deactivated bomb having completely gutted it and made sure it's not going to explode. Not to mention rescuing the hostages and securing the building and her section.

The laughter over comes echo's in her ear as she turns to the man it was strapped to as he cries out his thanks. She already checked him for weapons along with the other hostages; she untied them all and now has them in a corner taking cover just in case. Mostly women and a couple kids like three men including the one she saved.

She also deactivated the other bombs in her building and surrounding. “Christ sake your feisty lass!” she scoffs in response to soap, no longer looking at the civilians “You cunts have done nothing but baby and patronize me the entire time I've been around you. Sit and spin you big bitch.” The others chuckle at the end of the sentence.

“What am I sitting on again lassie?” she smirks “My fuckin 31cm dildo I'm gonna fuck you with later.” The cackles echo from gaz and roach. She hums before turning back to the civilians. “She's right about you patronizing her.” Ghost's voice echoes from the coms as a gunshot does as well. “my sector is clear.” She blinks as she hears movement outside.

“I think some strays came to my sector. I'm hearing stuff outside.” She raises her gun slowly moving to a window. She catches a peak of a huge group of the enemy surrounding her building. “I'm surrounded, there's easily a hundred if not over. Shit!” she notices one of them aiming up at the windows and she drops down. “these guy were not fucking anywhere near here until now…” she pauses as she hears one of the radios from the enemy in the hall and she crawls over to the door and she spots it sitting out front by the dead body and she grabs it closing the door again.

She listens to them moving to defend the hostages. “shit, they're telling everyone to come to my building!” She puts the other Radio against her mic. “Find the hostages, and the woman…” that's all she can make out before the window shatters along with an explosion. “take her alive and kill everyone else.” her ears are ringing as she sees someone coming out of the smoker and she shoots at them.

Searing agony sweeps through her after a second. She couldn't even tell she screamed as someone tackled her. “Get the fuck off of me!” Shooting them straight in the face then she shoots once at any movement she can make out the gun quickly clicking in response so she drops it pulling her handgun.

Then it's knocked from her hand as soldiers shoot at her from the doorway and it doesn't take long for her to realize she's on the floor surrounded by enemies. Each hostage she just saved gathered in front of her an executive guilt filling her body as each of them are made to look at her. She can't lift her hands or legs anymore in pure agony as the adrenaline is gone and so is each person she just met.

The seemingly leader steps in front of her holding a knife flipping it in his hand smiling as he crouches down to her eye level. She saw his picture and couldn't help but recognize him. “Hello there doll, you mind telling me where the pretty boy who was supposed to be on this mission is?” she glares at him. As he taps it against her neck, lightly cutting her skin each time. “So you've got Intel from our base. Sorry but he's fuckin dead. Died off base via a psycho girlfriend who thought he was cheating on him.” he takes a second before smiling. “Amazing news, pity I didn't get the honor though.” he cuts her wire. “But I'll make up for that with you pretty girl.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

She never wanted to die, at least not like this, not after lying her ass off about everything they wanted to know as they tortured her. She wanted to gloat in their face after what she said gets them caught and killed. But she could be proud at least at the wide eye angel personality and face she's pulling the cries and blubbering all fake.

“Puhluse I've told you everything!” She sniffles crying in agony, her eyes wide as she's pushed into a freezer, one you would have in a garage for wild game or fish except it's more like a transport cooler in size. The lid slammed shut over her and it's pushed into a hole of sorts crashing into the side then onto the small box beneath her.

“No, no no!” She tries pushing the lid up but it's heavier and heavier as dirt covers it. “FUCKIN BASTARD!” She kicks the lid, not even budging. She lays as she notices how cold it is here, probably freshly turned off.

She takes a few deep breaths as she knows she'll die in here sooner or later. She searches for her phone in her bra quickly finding it. Looking at the battery it's almost dead. “Shit” 10% she quickly shoots a text to her brothers group chat. A simple I love you. Before she calls the number one of the idiots gave her before they actually went on field. She desperately listens to the ringing before it's picked up. “Are you the Sargent!” She can hear the vehicle running. “Yes it's fuckin me! I lied to them about the information. They're headed for West Point and go get them! I want them to die for this!” She tears up knowing damn well she's setting herself up to die sending them away from her she bites her lip sniffling at the bright screen in agony.

“I’m sorry I fucked up big time. Just tell my brothers I'm sorry and that I love them.” “Y/n where are you.” Price's voice now echoes from the phone. “Dunno, but I'll be, I'll be.” she chokes back a sob at the words memories coming back as she looks at the lid above her. “I’ll be fine, just go get 'em for me. West point I sent them towards the dummy container and warehouse they're looking for weaponry.” her hands are shaking as the cold gets to her.

“Y/n breathe for me what are your surroundings like right now.” Gaz practically chokes out his question. “They buried me. You won't find me in time even if you look. Just go get them! Stop worrying about me and go get them! I didn't just go through torture for you to fucking fail on me!” She is starting to get sleepy as she switches her phone to the most battery saving settings she can. Sniffling, she looks at the phone. “Please tell him I love him and that I'm sorry. He's the, he's the one that was supposed to be on the mission he's my little brother,” laughing once she sighs, “Thank you for everything even if it was annoying for you to patronize me.” She smiles at the screen as Ghost goes to speak “we’re not going to-” it dies in the middle of his sentence, leaving her alone in the pitch black. She begins sobbing uncontrollably holding her phone in front of her wishing it was still on.

“N-no, ple-euase, I don-n't wa-auhnnt to digh-ie,” she can't breathe with how much she's choked up. “N, Noaut liku- ke, th-This-ss,” she's just getting more distraught by the second as all the composure she's been keeping until now is gone. She just sits there remembering her life, her recent life, then her childhood remembering how her dad would lock her in their freezer when he got angry.

“Da-Daddy please I don't want to die like this.” she can practically hear him scream from the other side as white spots appear in her vision. “Shut the fuck up you little whore!”

She reaches up barely able to feel her body as she knocks on the freezer like how she used to since it was against her and her siblings room. She can't even speak as she can't move anymore and she turns looking at her phone again in her limp hand.

I'm so sorry, I said I'd be fine on my own.

She didn't even realize she passed out not until her eyes opened again as sudden warmth hit her, let alone how it grabbed her neck. “She's alive!” Roaches' voice screams from above her as she's ripped from the freezing cold and put on the burning hot dirt of the outback. Someone pushed her onto her back doing chest compression then grabbing her nose before blowing into her mouth her head tilted back. Once then twice. Then three times as suddenly she gains control of her breathing, her head no longer as fuzzy as she chokes breathing looking around dazed.

She's rolled onto her side. “She's lost a huge amount of blood, the freezer floors full of it!” She hears roach climbing out as she lays her head on the dirt, unable to move besides shaking, noticing the early signs of hypothermia in her hands as they're almost blue.

“I got her phone to come on!” Roach and the second person here get in the back of the buggy and she notices finally it's a blonde man with a balaclava pulled down showing his scarred face then she sees the familiar mask on the top of his head and the tactical gear and she hears soap cursing in the front. “Patch her up already you fuckin bastards!” she looks at Ghost, feeling her tear stained face clearly along with her snot caked onto her. Seeing some on him from mouth to mouth.

He leans over her trying to wrap her head but she reaches up using what's left of her sleeve to wipe off her snot and tears off of him. He looks at her surprised but more so worried. “Aren’t you handsome, sorry about the snot.” her voice is barely there as her arm falls as she passes out again.

She didn't know scared older military men were her type.

[diejager]

bro make a fanfic about the reader and the ghost/konig WHEN THE READER WAS SHOT IN THE BUN ON THE MISSION AHAHAHHHAH LMAO (in the military helicopter when they were supposed to return, the reader was holding her butt, moaning, writhing in pain and trying to hide the pain)

That is a funny thought…

Shots Cw: gun violence, bb shots, tell me if I missed any.

You yelped when you were hit is the ass, flinching forward and raising your arm just as you turned to glare at whoever landed the shot. Your right cheek exploded in soreness, tingling from the sharp pain of a BB shot.

“Hit!” You called it, letting your rifle hang from your shoulder as you rubbed your right cheek, grumbling about the bastard, “On my fucking ass of all places.”

You walk towards the respawn with your arm up, still cussing out whoever shot you in the ass. You had a hunch about the shooter: Soap, who else had enough courage to shoot you in the ass. You doubted Gaz did it, he might’ve been tempted, but he preferred other type of pranks, more mischievous ones like tampering with the washer or drinks, harmless but hilarious. Soap, however, rarely knew the limit, going as far as stealing and hiding your stuff, tapping you in the ass or messing up your head while he cackled away, speeding off to Ghost or Price to escape your wrath.

You reasoned that this was a staged scenario, a small group activity Laswell came up with that landed your Task Force somewhere in France for game of airsoft, a Free for all in the reserved location. No one had complained, thinking it a good activity mixing fun, training and awareness —everyone agreed to it enthusiastically once Ghost had voiced his grumpy acceptance, seeing this as a moment to be able to training without the prying eyes of others or the presence of strangers. Once you reached the spawn point, your jump back in to land a few shots at Soap to see whether or not he liked getting his ass bruised by a BB. You walked off determined, mind narrowed down to a single goal, your retaliation—

Until you yipped a second time, a pellet bouncing off your second cheek. You whipped around, yelling as your eyes scoured the tree line and the openings in the buildings behind you, the windows, the roof and behind pillars. You couldn’t find Soap anywhere, he wasn’t hiding behind the trees or in the buildings, but you did catch the glint of a scope —a familiar sniper scope.

“Ghost, you son of a bitch!” You screamed in outrage, feeling how both cheeks throbbed with pain. You bared your teeth, hissing at your Lieutenant who seemed smug and comfortable in his high perch on the roof of the building, “Why’d you do that?! I was already out!”

”Big target, luv,” his amused voice cracked in your comm, the low rumble of sadistic pleasure ringing out in your headgear. He cocked his scope, his white mask standing starkly in his dark gear and broad figure, “Impossible to miss. Quit moaning.”

“Big target? Are you-!” Huffing at his continued laughter, you glared his way before you turned to hurry back to the respawn, “Let’s see who’s laughing later, you ass.”

“Fuck- Hit!”

Your shoulders shook with restrained laughter, admiring the way Ghost jumped from your perch, hidden in the darkness given by the cement wall. You listened to him hiss and swear, massaging the place you aimed for: the pronounced curve of his ass, his jeans rarely doing him the pleasure of hiding what he had.

“Quit moaning, Ghost,” you cackled as you parroted his words, telling him the same thing as he told you, but you had more to add, more to taunt and tease him as revenge, “Couldn’t miss it, Lt, it was a big fucking target.”

You watched him stomp off, retreating to the tree line for his spawn point. It filled with a sense of elation and ugly smugness, and all that was left now, was to find Soap.

“Steamin’ Jesus!” Johnny’s yelp felt more exciting than Ghost, something you could devour over and ove without regret.

“Not so fun, is it, Johnny?” You smirked, replying with a gleeful tone.

He looked red-faced, the tip of his ears turning a bright shade of red from the way you spoke to him, utilising his known weakness and playing him to watch him stutter and flush brightly.

“Awa’ a bile yer heid! That hurt, lass!” His voice had taken a whinier tone, face screwed in embarrassment and something that you couldn’t put your finger on at this distance.

“I know, shouldn’t have shot me in the ass then.”

Gaz tapped you on the shoulder, a smile threatening to break into chuckles. He’d known what happened to you and knew what you did in retaliation, finding amusement after siding with you, sitting beside you and peering at two frowning and mumbling men.

“Heard you had a lot of fun.”

“Not enough.”

You thought you heard Price sigh tiredly.

taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx

[familyvideostevie]

watching you with wonder

joel miller x reader joel claims to have heard something interesting. too bad he keeps insisting he needs more information before he can tell you | 5.4k a/n: same universe as come care about me but not necessary to read that one first! joel is soft, this is my version of him where he and ellie heal and he gets to have a life etc etc etc | domesticity, post-part i jackson au, joel is a flirt and a gossip but good thing you are too, a fair amount of kissing, fluff, softness, peace and all that good stuff. part 3 here! series masterlist here.

It's been a long day. The supply run you'd been dreading went off without a hitch but you were out of the gate at sun-up and in the saddle for most of the morning and afternoon. Your legs are sore, your back is sore,  and you're dirty from a day outside the walls.

You haven't seen Joel since this morning. Not unusual, not by any means. Most days you're both doing something in town, occasionally one of you out on patrol. You're partial to the plant work and Joel likes to chop wood or check out houses that need upgrades with Tommy. But after a day like today you want nothing more than to go home and complain about how much you miss cars while Joel works the knots out of your shoulders. 

But tonight is Festival Night. Nothing big, just a dance at the barn that serves as the community center with music and drinks and food. And Joel, despite his insistence that he's Jackson's resident grump, will be there, because Tommy will have asked him to go and he doesn't like disappointing his brother. And, though he'll never admit it even to you, he enjoys community events. He gets to see the people he loves having a nice time and feeling safe. 

So you head from the stables to the main hall, not bothering to stop at home. Jackson seems to be lit up extra special, the air a little lighter due to the laughter and music brightening the night. The noise becomes almost overwhelming when you open the door and slide inside, dropping your pack against the wall. It's much warmer in here and you unbutton your coat as you make your way through the crowd, waving to people as you go. 

Joel is here somewhere but you don't try too hard to spot him. You know he'll find you. Someone calls your name and you pivot on your heel to find Ellie waving at you from a...poker table?

"Wanna join?" she asks once you walk over. Next to her is Tommy, who looks significantly less excited than she does. "I'm teaching Tommy how to play poker. Oh, sorry, I'm fucking smoking Tommy at poker."

"I know how to play, you little shit," Tommy growls. "Who taught you? This isn't poker, this is a fuckin' massacre." 

Ellie cackles and tips her chair back so she's balancing on the back legs.

"I'll pass this round," you tell her. "Looks like you've got him handled."

"You just want to find Joel." She looks at you in that uncanny way of hers like she knows all of your secrets. But this is one you have no problem admitting.

You smile at her. "Seen him?"

"Now that you're here I'm sure he'll slink out of whatever corner he stuck himself in," Tommy grumbles. "Girl, you sure you ain't countin' cards?"

You leave them to it and wander over to the bar. Astrid pours you a glass of something amber. You take a sip and let the burn warm your throat, your stomach. The music behind you picks up and there's laughter and you turn to see people pairing up and flocking to the floor. 

You close your eyes to enjoy the sounds that mean peace, safety, home. It never gets old and you never quite get used to it. You inhale deep and -- ah, yes. There it is. A smile spreads across your face as you breathe in wood glue, gunpowder, the soap you make at home. Your heart beats a little faster, even after all this time.

"Hi," you say, opening your eyes. Joel stands in front of you, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass similar to your own. His hair curls at his collar, edges still a little wet from the shower he must have taken before coming here. His shirt is rolled to his elbows, his jacket clearly discarded somewhere. Your gaze trails up his chorded forearms, his watch securely in place as always. This is what you've called his "nice" shirt, a deep green that makes the grey of his beard all the more striking and brings out his eyes. 

Eyes that settle on you in a way that sends heat up your spine.

"Howdy," he says. "You just get here?"

"Like you weren't watching the door for me," you tease. He shrugs and reaches for you, his free hand curling around your hip to tug you close for just a few moments. Joel presses his lips to your cheek lightly, his beard scratching your skin as he pulls away and settles at your side, arm resting on the bar behind you. 

"Well, I ain't seen you all day," he reminds you. As if you could forget. Every second you're not looking at him you sort of wish you were. There aren't many good things left in your life -- all of them are in this town, now -- and you tend to hold on to the ones you still have with both hands. Joel, despite the fact that he'd argue with you over it, is your good thing. Your best thing.  

"Miss me?" 

"Dumb question," he mutters. 

His fingers brush against the back of your bicep, warm through your jacket. "How was the run?"

"Easy. Long." You take a sip of your drink. It's still warming but doesn't measure up to the solid warmth of the man beside you. "I came straight here."

"That would explain why you smell like shit," he drawls. You smack his chest. He doesn't so much as flinch.

"Rude."

Joel watches the crowd and you watch him. That's how it usually goes with you two. You figure he's watching for threats, for any sign of something going wrong. It's a habit most folks here find hard to break. He's watching Ellie, who has left the poker table behind, twirl some of the children around with Dina, he's watching Tommy try to teach a few drunk guys how to square dance like he does every Festival. Joel curls his hand around your shoulder and you lean back into the touch. 

On a night like tonight when joy is more contagious than the fungus spreading through the rotting world, Joel loosens up a little. It's a good look on him and it only ever means good things for you -- he laughs more, he touches you more. But most importantly you know he lets life in. He lets that knot you know is in his chest, the one made of fear and loss and survival and all of the horrible fucked up things he's seen and done, he lets it loosen even just a bit. He lets himself feel the good things, too. How much the people in this town respect him, care about him. How much they appreciate him. How much they love him, how much you love him.

You look at him in the soft light of the barn. There's a tug to his mouth that you know.

He looks smug. It's a nice look on him, a relaxed one. He looks too handsome for his own good. And though you love him, love how he's enjoying the night, like hell you're going to let him stand there and get away with whatever he's cooking up.

"Joel Miller, why are you looking so pleased with yourself?"

"No reason," he says. He takes another sip of his drink, side-eyeing you over the rim. This man. 

You tap the heel of your boot against his. "Don't make me beg."

His eyes flash but he turns into your space, the solid shape of him curling around you as well as his arm. In another world, in another life, he could be a handsome man picking you up at a bar. 

"I heard somethin'," he says, voice low. "Somethin'...interestin'."

"Really?" You look around the barn as if the object of his gossip will materialize in front of you. "Tell me."

He leans back and you have to stop yourself from following. "Don't think so."

"Joel."

This man can be such a shit when he wants to be. 

He holds the hand carrying his glass up in surrender, the brown liquor sloshing close to the rim. "Hey now, don't go shootin' the messenger."

"I can't because he won't tell me the message."

"S'not anything worth tellin' just yet," he drawls. "I need a little more intel. Y'know, make it worth your while."

You sigh, hamming it up a bit by thunking your forehead to his collar. Joel huffs a laugh and fully drapes his arm across your shoulders, warm and solid. 

It's all fun but you know there's a note of truth to it. Joel can lie better than most people but he doesn't lie to you. "Fine. You get away with it for now."

The song changes to something old and slow, something you recognize but don't quite remember the name of.

"Only if you dance with me," you say. You swallow the last of your drink and push off the bar, sliding out from under his arm. You hold your hand out to him and wiggling your fingers. "It's only fair."

He sighs like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. And he is, sometimes. But right now his cheeks are a little flushed from the drink and your flirting and you want to see how far you can take it.

"Unless I smell too much like shit," you goad. You don't actually think he'll go for it. Joel doesn't dance. It feels like the kind of good time, the kind of joy that is forever stuck in the past, left behind twenty odd years ago. Honestly, you think he'll just drag you home and have his way with you in your warm bed. 

But he manages to surprise you.

Joel throws back his drink and grabs your hand. His thumb strokes your skin.

"S'pose it is," he says. "You don't smell that bad."

A delighted laugh spills from you. He leads you to the already-crowded dance floor, pulling you close with a hand on your back. You rest your arm on his broad shoulder and hook your thumb in his collar. 

"Not so bad, is it?" you say. Your faces are so close you're practically cheek to cheek. You feel his breath on the shell of your ear, his beard a little prickly against your cheek. 

"Could be worse." You and Joel gently sway and you toy with the ends of his hair. Over his shoulder you can see Dina and Ellie dancing, arms wrapped around each other tight. You close your eyes and match your breaths to Joel's. 

"We should do this more often," you say. "Bet they'd let you play guitar at the next festival if you wanted."

Joel hums. 

"Don't forget you have to deliver the firewood to the school tomorrow." He presses his hand to your back and pulls you even closer. "Are you listening to me?"

"Mhm."

"Joel --" Your eyes fly open and you try to pull away to goad him but he holds you steadily against him.

"Hush," he says, fingers squeezing yours. "I'm enjoyin' the moment."

You allow it.

___

The gossip Joel mentioned is in the back of your mind but you know he'll tell you when he's satisfied with his information gathering or whatever the fuck he's up to. Sure, it's silly, maybe even pointless but you like to think of it as a display of the trust you have in each other. You trust Joel with your life and you've put that into practice, watched him bloody his knuckles for the ones he loves. You also trust him with your heart, your body, your mind. There's no part of you that his hands haven't touched, haven't loved in the jagged, intense way of his. 

Plus you enjoy seeing him pleased with himself, which you know he will be once he has the whole story to tell you. It's not a mood you see on him often.

You finally have a free night and Ellie asks you to come over to try out a new video game Jesse found for her on patrol. Joel waves you off when you offer to stay in with him instead.

"Means I'll get some peace and quiet to finish my book," he grumbles, handing you your coat even though you're walking across the yard. He's already peeled off his boots and looks half-awake in the dim light of your entryway, glasses tucked into the collar of his sweater.

"More like you're going to sit in bed and fall asleep reading without me talking to keep you awake."

He sends you off with an eye roll and a soft kiss which you turn into two more, just because. Maybe a few years ago he'd sit in the chair downstairs and wait for you to come home. He does like to play his guitar on the porch when it's not too cold, keep an eye on things. But you'll be with Ellie just out back and it's been a long week. It's no small point of pride that, with the help of your reassurance and persistent care and his own conviction, Joel allows himself to relax a little. "Have fun."

You do. Ellie and Joel have a history that is complex and tender, so much so that sometimes it's too much for both of them. After it seemed like she was open to it, you've tried to make sure you and her have a relationship all your own. She's smart and funny and fiercely loyal to the people she cares about. You feel lucky to be one of them.

But she still annihilates your ass when it comes to video games. 

"You know," she says, cracking her knuckles after yet another defeat. "It's embarrassing as shit how you literally lived in a time where you could play these like, whenever you wanted. And yet it's me, who was born after the world ended, who keeps winning."

You make sure to look unamused. "Whatever." You stand, stretching out your spine with your arms above your head and yawn. "It's teenage luck." You have no idea how this girl stays up so late all the time. 

"I guess I'm just good at everything."

"Oh, you sure about that?" She hands you your coat and tugs on the strings of her sweatshirt. "I've seen you in a kitchen. You might want to rethink that one."

"Psh," she says, waving you off. "Who needs to cook, anyway?"

You slide into your boots and shake your head. "I'm actually shocked Dina puts up with you." 

"Hey, fuck you!" she cries, though she's hiding a smile. "No insulting me in my own home. It's Joel's fault, anyway. He can't cook either."

You snort. "Don't I know it." She grins at you fully, the one you call her shark-tooth smile, and you grin back. "Thanks for this, kiddo. I had fun." 

"Yeah, maybe one day you'll win." You tug her in for a quick hug which she allows before squirming away. "Alright, alright. Go make sure he didn't burn down the house without you, or something."

It's late, late enough that you feel yourself getting more tired with each step back to the porch. Joel left the back door unlocked for you. You latch the deadbolt behind you and peel off your outer layers in the dark. A quick glance in the kitchen tells you Joel put your stuff from dinner away and is probably in bed. He's left out your mugs, ready for the morning, and the list he's been making of things you need to do around the house before it snows. You love to see the pieces of your life on display like this -- signs that this is a home.

You don't bother being quiet when you climb up the stairs because you know he'll be pissed if you don't wake him to let him know you're home. The bedroom light is on but when you actually go in you see he's in bed with his book in his lap, glasses sliding down his nose. His eyes are closed and his bare chest rises slowly.

He's probably only half-asleep, probably heard you come in and decided it was safe enough to shut his eyes until you say something. So you get ready for bed quickly, tugging on soft clothes and brushing your teeth before creeping over to his side of the bed and perching on the edge of it, resting your hand on his thigh under the covers.

"Joel," you say softly. "Joel, are you asleep?"

"Yes," he grumbles. His eyes flutter open, the piercing grey a little clouded with tiredness. He reaches for his glasses and pulls them from his face a bit clumsily. "You okay? You n'Ellie have fun?"

"We did. She's so good at video games it's a little scary." You pluck the frames from his hand and fold them, setting them on his bedside table with his book. He grunts and pushes himself up a little more in bed, his leg pressing against your tailbone through the blankets. It's a real show of your restraint that you don't run your hands over the golden and hairy expanse of his chest, the broad line of his shoulders. Instead you reach for his face and he lets you, eyes crinkling at the corners as he tries and fails to hide his amusement as you trail your fingers through his hair. Just being here with him makes you a little sleepy, your body catching up with your mind at how you always feel safest when he's in the room with you. "S'cold, though. I think we might need to put some more insulation in the shed for her."

"Alright," he says. Joel wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls your palm to his cheek but quickly flinches away. "Christ," he mutters. "Your hands are cold." He encases both of your hands in his and rubs slowly, throughly. 

"Let me get in bed, then." You make no effort to move. 

Joel blows on your fingers and, in a move that's tender even for him, presses his lips to their tips. "I ain't holdin' you here."

"Sarcasm," you say. "And Ellie claims you're not funny." Joel scoffs and you laugh, rising from his side of the bed and making your way around to yours. Joel flicks back the covers and you slide in, facing him. 

"Light off?" he asks. You nod. He shuffles around to flip the switch and then settles into his side with a groan. It's dark but you know his face with your eyes closed, let alone in the moonlight of your bedroom. The gash on the bridge of his nose, the scruff of his greying beard, the nicks along his cheeks and temples. The age spots, the wrinkles, the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth, these days more from smiles and laughter than stress and worry. Or so you like to think. 

"Got any gossip for me yet?" 

Joel huffs. "Not quite."

"Jooooooel," you whine, scooting closer. You hook a leg over his and slide your hand over his stomach, fingers catching on the hair above the waistband of his sleep pants. He makes a noise deep in his throat but otherwise allows it. 

"I ain't givin' you half-assed information," he says. "It'll be worth the wait."

With Joel, it always is. You consider dragging it out a little more but you're cold and tired and he's so warm and you barely saw him at all today. "Alright," you say. You pull yourself even closer under the covers, dragging your nose over the hollow of his throat, his beard a delicious scratch on your skin. Your hand curls around his hip and he reaches for you on instinct, warm, callused palms sliding under your sleep shirt to press into your bare skin.

He huffs a tired laugh, chest rumbling with amusement. "What're you up to?"

"You're warm," you say into his skin.

"And you're handsy."

You trail your lips up to his and press them to the corner of his mouth. "You love it."

"Guess I do," Joel says. He catches you in a lazy, slow kiss, tongue tracing the seam of your lips until you part them. He licks into your mouth like he's got all the time in the world and you let him. His nose presses against yours and you sigh even further into the embrace, pressing as close as you can, as if you could crawl into him and stay there forever. Any cold lingering in your bones is dispelled by Joel's touch, by the thigh he wedges between your legs. This could turn into something more, and you love when it does, but tonight it's just about being close. His hand trails up your side to cup your face as the kisses get lazier, sleepier. You're slotting his bottom lip between yours when he pulls back and --

Yawns in your face. 

He looks a little surprised and then frowns. You laugh and smooth the crease between his brows before kissing him once more.

"Jesus, Joel," you say. "Bedtime."

"Was sleepin' fine before you got here," he grumbles, but  in the same breath he wraps his arm around you and tugs you with him as he turns onto his back so your head lays on his chest. You match your breaths to his. He presses a kiss to your hair.

___

Two nights later you wake to an empty bed. 

You sleepily trail your hand through the sheets and find they still carry Joel's warmth. He must have gotten up a few minutes ago. You force your eyes to open but don't see a light in the bathroom, find no shadow in your eyesight. You can hear his voice in your head saying go back to sleep, s'nothin' but you know better than to listen to him when it comes to this. It's not like you'll be able to until you know he's okay, anyway. 

So you wrap the blanket from the foot of your bed around yourself and shuffle through the house and down the stairs. 

"Joel?" you call quietly. 

"Kitchen," he replies, a warm grumble in the still of the night. You didn't even look at the clock when you got out of bed but it must be late. 

He sits in the dark at your small kitchen table, eyes fixed on Ellie's garage out back. He's put a shirt on. Of course. Nightmare. This is where he always sits after he has one. His hands are wrapped around his mug. Based on the smell it's chamomile tea -- the only time he'll drink it instead of coffee is on nights like tonight. He had no idea it even grew in the greenhouses here until you presented him with a jar of it for Ellie back when you were still tiptoeing around whatever was between you. Those days are long gone.

"You okay?" You keep your voice hushed. It's rare these days that he'll want to be alone. You're the only one who gets to see him like this other than Ellie. It took a while but now Joel lets you comfort him, he lets you hold him together when he needs it. 

He tears his eyes from the window to meet yours, chin tipped up as he gets a good look at you in the dark. 

"M'alright." You take a few more steps into the kitchen and he frowns. "You cold?" He reaches for you with one hand, beckoning you close. You step into his space and he wraps one arm around you, leans his head against your soft stomach. You untangle from the blanket slightly to run your fingers through his hair. The touch is as grounding for him as it is for you.

"What can I do?" you ask him, ignoring his question. 

You can feel the warmth of his palm through the blanket and your sleep shirt. "This is just fine. Just need a minute." 

"You wanna take that minute on the couch?" He grunts his assent and you step back to allow him to get up. He leaves his mug on the table but catches your hand to pull you with him.

Joel sighs when he settles into the worn cushions, knees spread wide and head tipped back as be breathes. He doesn't look any more tired than usual but you can tell he's still holding onto whatever sent him down here. 

You press into his side, legs curled underneath you. His arm settles heavily on across your shoulders and you rest a palm on his knee. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" He turns his head to face you and his nostrils flare as he frowns.

"Nothin' new," he sighs. "A pretty old one, actually. Haven't had it in a while. 'Bout stuff from when we were on the road."

If he wants to say more he will. You don't know what it's like for him to worry about Ellie -- you only know how youworry. Once the sun rises he'll probably trudge over and knock on her door, ask if she wants to go for a ride. She'll complain about being woken up but she'll agree because she knows him, too. She'll see the tension at the edges of his eyes, in the set of his shoulders. There have been nights when you come downstairs to find her sleeping on the couch, too, just because she wanted to be sure he was okay.

You lean your head on his shoulder and breathe with him. He picks up your hand and rubs his thumb across the back of it slowly, as if he doesn't even know he's doing it.

Sleep is a near thing when Joel eventually clears his throat. "I got that gossip for you." His chest rumbles and you perk up, pulling back to look at him. His eyes have a bit more spark, a bit less of the far-away look he had when you came down the stairs. 

"Oh, do you now? Finally?"

"You're just impatient," he says. "Hadn't heard directly from either of 'em so I wasn't sure. But I tracked it down and got it from the source."

"You sound like a detective from one of those old shows. Got it from the source," you say, pitching your voice low and imitating his drawl. 

He manages to look unimpressed. "I don't have to tell you."

"Joel."

"Alright, alright. Well, it's about Wendy and Fred."

You sit up. "The couple that met on your group patrol?" It's something you and Ellie tease him about -- his accidental tendency to play matchmaker. Sometimes he leads group patrols for new folks or younger community members who are now old enough to join the roster. You think he probably enjoys scaring the shit out of them a little but he's also good at it, teaches them well and makes sure they're safe. Around the time you met you'd heard about a couple who met on a patrol and hit it off. It's happened a few more times with Joel's groups but Wendy and Fred are the only ones who have stayed together. 

"Mhm. Word is they're gettin' married."

You gasp. This is very far from what you expected him to tell you. A lot of the gossip you and Joel share is about people breaking up or sleeping together or moving out of Jackson. Sometimes it's petty theft or in-fighting at the council. But this? This is downright romantic.

"Married?" It's not uncommon these days but most people don't bother. But most importantly it means one thing -- there's going to be a party. "We haven't had a wedding in...forever," you say wistfully.

"Been a few years, yeah," Joel agrees. "Folks'll be excited."

"How did you find out?" 

He shifts on the couch a little and you take control of your clasped hands, holding one of his in both of yours as you trace the lines on his palm, the veins that go up his arm while he talks. 

"Heard from one of the guys at the festival that Fred was lookin' for a ring. Wanted to get the word out to some supply runs but without her knowin'. But I wasn't sure, since I hadn't seen him in a while. Then I saw Wendy at the pantry few days ago and she looked real happy. I didn't pry but asked her how things were and she was chipper as hell."

"And that wasn't enough to tell me?"

He squeezes your shoulder. 

"Yesterday Fred cornered me when I was headin' home and told me flat out. Thanked me for some fuckin' reason and said Wendy agreed to marry him. Kid looked like he was gonna throw up, he was so excited."

Joel's voice is warm. "You are such a romantic when you want to be," you tell him.

He smirks. "Heard that before."

"It'll be nice to have a celebration. If we're invited, you're dancing with me again."

"We better fuckin' be invited," he grumbles. "I introduced them."

"So you admit to being a matchmaker?"

He huffs. "Nah," he says, a little softer. "Dumb luck. S'how you get good things these days."

You shift under his arm a little bit. "Maybe," you reply. "I think we've earned a few of those things."

Joel drags a hand down his face. It's a motion that usually means he's chewing on what to say next. You spare him.

"This --" you gesture between the two of you "--and all of this --" you wave your hand at the room, the house "-- is more than I knew I could want. You, this house, that feisty, wonderful girl out back. This whole town. Waking up every morning and not dreading another day on this hellish planet. I didn't know this existed anymore, Joel, let alone that it was possible for me. And I think we've earned it."

He's quiet for a few breaths. "C'mere," he says softly. You don't know exactly what he means but he pulls you into his lap so you're straddling him, his arm firm around your hips. It could be a heated position, often is, but here it's just to be close. You catch yourself on his shoulders and drag your hands up to his cheeks. You hold his face in your hands, thumbs stroking the soft, forever-bruised skin under his eyes.

"You sure got a way with words," he says thickly, gaze heavy. "Don't know what I did to deserve this but I ain't gonna question it."

You wrap your arms around him and properly embrace him. He presses his palms to your back and hooks his chin over your shoulder. Your breathing syncs up and you swear your heartbeats do, too. Your whole body, your whole being tuned itself to Joel a long time ago. You'd do everything you've done twice over to get here. 

As if he hears the desperate devotion of your thoughts, Joel pulls back so he can lean up for a kiss. It's more intense than you expected it to be, like he's trying to tell you something with the press of his mouth. You know what he's trying to tell you -- you always do. Joel is better at showing you how he feels than telling you. 

He suckles your lower lip and you tug on the hair at the nape of his neck. He makes a noise low in his throat and you swallow it. You could touch him forever and never get enough. The firm planes of his back, the knot of tension always present in his shoulders. The scratch of his beard, the press of his nose against yours. You want to stitch yourself to him so that you never have to let go.

"S'your turn," Joel grumbles against your lips, pulling back to catch his breath.

Your brain is a little fuzzy. "Hm?"

"For somethin' juicy." 

It's a funny word coming from his mouth and it makes you laugh. His arms tighten around you and he drags his nose down your neck and breathes deep. You can get some gossip for him. You'd do much worse without being asked. Sometimes you think there are no limits to what you'd do for this man. It's a big thought, a dangerous thought, one that's suited to the world you live in now. You don't mind it.

"I'll get you something good, Joel Miller. I promise."

"I know you will," he says. "I trust you."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

How To Plant Snapdragons | 13

Task Force 141, Keegan & Konig x Female Criminal!Reader

Previous Chapter / Masterlist / Discord

The wipeout of El Sin Nombre's men had been a breeze with Alejandro’s help. There wasn't one who noticed their brothers falling one by one and that was exactly what you wanted.

A whistle got in your ears and from the comms, Soap's voice echoed, “Goddamn, Bonnie, way to go.”

“Isn't she Shampoo now?” Ghost questioned, making you roll your eyes and halted on your tracks as you noticed some gallons of gasoline next to an old Porsche car. You grinned and crouched down next to it as a man stepped out from a corner.

“Call me Shampoo again and I'm calling you fucking Razor or Scrub,” you remarked, shooting a masked man in his head and catching him before he fell. You lowered him down carefully and patted his pockets, fishing out a phone from under his clothes. “Got a phone. Might get some more info from this.”

“Good thinking, Shampoo,” Ghost said through the comms and you could hear stifled chuckles from him and Soap.

“Oh, my fucking God.” You grumbled and popped the gallons open. “You two are never gonna live it down, aren't you?”

“Till we die, Shampoo,” Soap cackled, making you pull a face underneath your mask.

You crouched down behind a bush as you saw Diego inside a room, with a phone in his hand. He yelled in Spanish, cursing out as though he was a rapper.

“Found Diego,” you announced in the comms and carefully stashed a gun you found earlier in one of the rooms, before pulling out the knife you got from one of the guards you took down earlier.

“Make it quick,” Alejandro commanded in a low voice.

You nodded, albeit knowing that they wouldn't see it, and shook your head at yourself. “On it.” You watched a guard step into the room as well, taking a walk around before he turned his back behind you, and you sneaked at the back of a couch.

On your peripheral, Diego remained yelling on the phone, and you threw your knife at the guard. He slammed on the wall, making Diego turn to the sudden noise. And as quickly as he got his eyes on you, you drove your blade on his chest, wrapping your hand around his mouth to keep him quiet.

“Shhh,” you pulled your knife out and pierced him in the neck once, twice, and again, and again. “Corpses do not talk.”

His blood splattered on your face as you drew the knife from his limp body and let him fall to the floor. You ran your hands on his body and found a bulge in his pocket. You pulled out a wallet, whistling at the cards and money stashed in it, before finding your main goal.

“Acquired the key card, soldiers,” you mumbled in a small voice and flinched at the sudden noise beside you. A telephone continued to ring and you felt a twitch under your eye at the annoying ringtone. With a swipe, you cut off the chord and stepped back out of the room.

You heaved the gallons of gasoline into the room and popped one open, pouring it over Diego's body and across the room. You wince at the scent and went towards his armory, where you found a grenade launcher.

You snatched it from the wall and looked around, finding some wires long and flexible enough to be tied.

You licked your lips, winding the wire around the launcher’s trigger, and carefully placed it down on the floor. With careful steps, you padded over the door and close it, before tying the other end of the wire to the knob.

You hummed and crouched down in front of Diego. You slipped off your glove and splayed it over the puddle of his blood, before throwing it to the window. Then, you took the other gallon of gasoline with you and climbed out of the window.

You looked down and spotted two masked men, quickly shooting them down, before heaving yourself up to a higher roof than the one you're on. You carefully walked on the inclined surface and jumped down on the nearest wall, proceeding to roll on the concrete. Stashing your firearm and blade, you gazed around the place and popped open the other gallon.

You ambled around, pouring down the liquid over the path you had once walked on, where dead men lay and where they would soon be burned to ashes.

You emptied it out and tossed it over a plant. You strolled back to where you came from, towards where Alejandro stood.

You slammed the elevator’s button up beside you. You stepped inside the elevator with the Colonel and swiped the key card underneath the button. “A feast is about to start.” You turned to Alejandro with a smile under your mask. “Estás bien, hermano?”

(You good, brother?)

He nodded and reached out his fist at you. “Eres buena en esto.”

(You’re good at this.)

You bumped your fist against his with a huff and strode out as the elevator opened. With him, you rushed through the corridor, shooting down men who got in your sight, until you both found a double door. He crouched before it, motioned at you to follow him, and handed you some sort of device with a camera attached at the end.

You pushed it in the gap underneath the door and from the small monitor of the device, you watched a woman walk across the room. Valeria spoke to someone over the phone, skipping around the place repeatedly with a couple of men, who then shouted at her, calling her the name of the person on your for the mission.

You put your hand over your mouth, letting a laugh escape from your lips. Alejandro looked at you in confusion as several men voiced out their questions about your reaction as well.

“Valeria, she’s El Sin Nombre.” You pulled out the camera and handed it back to him, shooting up to your foot. But Alejandro didn’t stand up, merely gazing at the device in his hand. “What’s wrong, dude?” You fished out your gun.

He shook his head with a sigh and got up. “Nothing.” He pulled out his own gun and announced, “We’re moving in. Graves, you set?”

“Check,” Phillip simply replied.

“Ghost, Soap?” Alejandro called.

“Good.”

“Hell to the yeah.”

That was an uncanny reaction. You stared at the Colonel briefly—his response to you about Valeria and El Sin Nombre being the same person replaying in your head—before motioning your hand at the door. “After you, sir.”

“Take her alive.” He kicked the door open before you could retort at his command, but as soon as you spotted people inside, you fired.

From your peripheral, you noticed Valeria running out of a door and you couldn’t help but laugh. Chasing down people when on an infiltration mission had always been fun. Like a snake to a bird, a lion to a gazelle, a wolf to a rabbit. Like a cute little game of ‘tag, you’re it!’ that you had never been able to play as a child.

“Oh, Valeriaaa,” you sang, sprinting after her, and your giggles only got louder when she looked back at you with wide eyes, watching you remove your balaclava to reveal a grin so wide, it made your eyes turn crescent. “There is nowhere to run.”

“What the fuck—”

You shot at the concrete beneath her feet, eliciting a curse from her, and she eventually came to a stop. A helicopter came from above, thrashing everything around, and Phillip along with Ghost and Soap stepped down from the exfil.

“Shampoo!” Soap stepped towards you as Graves and Ghost pushed Valeria down on her knees and bound her wrists with cuffs.

“Oh, God.” You whacked his arms with the gun in your hand, earning a pained grunt from him. “Stop it!”

“Ugh, okay!” He rubbed his arm, but not a moment later, he patted your head. “Ye did fucking well.”

You lifted your chin up proudly. “Of course, sergeant,” you said and put your hands on the crook of your hips, before noticing Alejandro looking at Valeria from your side. And as Graves heaved her away, she glanced behind her shoulder, her eyes meeting with the Colonel.

Oh, mother. A fucking history, huh?

“Let's go!” Ghost commanded, grabbing the back of your collar while motioning at Johnny to get on the heli.

“Wa—wait!” You stood firm on your feet, eyes traveling back to the penthouse. “Something’s late.”

“What?” Ghost shouted, scanning the surroundings, but nothing seemed amiss. “What are you—”

A loud explosion came from below and fire blazed up to the roof, smoke swimming in the air, and all the boys, including Valeria, gaped at the scene.

“Okay, we good.” You grabbed the Lieutenant’s arm and pulled him into the vehicle.

“Alright.” Graves stood behind the chair where Valeria took a seat and gazed at the Colonel, gesturing a finger between both of the mexicans. “How'd you two know each other?”

“Ex-military, we served together,” the Mexican answered, glaring at the woman other than you inside the container. “Different squads, same unit, until she decided to betray us.”

“Betray is a strong word,” Valeria huffed, swinging her arm over the back of the chair and crossing her legs. “I just did what needed to be done.”

“You helped a criminal and killed him to take his position,” Alejandro glowered, his brows furrowing and contorting his features. Although it hadn't been a few days since you met him, he was one formidable man and surely could be a scary one.

You whistled, taking the spot next to the Lieutenant at the other end of the container, and crossed your arms, glancing at the man. “Easy climb to the top,” you whispered, leaning a bit closer to him and smiling.

Graves and Alejandro had begun to whisper threats in the woman's ear, but Valeria remained u bothered, keeping the smirk on her face until the Shadow put his hand on her shoulder.

“How’d you blow up her house?” Simon questioned in a low voice, which sounded more of a rumble coming from his throat, and good lord, if sounded hot as hell right now, how would he sound like on bed?

“I found some gasoline and a grenade launcher, and tied the trigger with a wire to the door’s knob, so when someone comes in, it'll blow up,” you explained, turning and looking up at him proudly.

“Clever,” he patted your shoulder.

You grinned wider. “A compliment from The Ghost, huh?”

He scoffed. “Yeah, better be proud of it.”

“But I'm curious about one thing,” Valeria said, which made you turn your attention back to the woman and meet her gaze.

Graves moved away from her and settled his eyes on you as well, seemingly already done with the interrogation and got some info.

“Which group are you from?” Valeria questioned, raking her eyes up and down your body, noting that you still had the beeping monitor on your ankle, before scanning the men inside the container. “The Shadow Company, with Alejandro or those . . .” She trailed off, thinking if she had heard something about the man in a skull mask and the mohawk, but no memory came in her mind. “Can't say for sure where they're from.”

“My affiliation is none of your business,” you said in a clear, loud voice. You didn't want her to know more about the Task Force, and you'd punch Graves and anyone outside the 141, if ever they spout a single word about them to the sicario. “But it's true I was a criminal—”

“Still is,” Graves added and leaned against the wall.

“Shut up, fuck you,” you flipped him your middle finger, before bringing your eyes back at Valeria. “Hence the monitor.”

Valeria glared at you. “I see. I know the eyes of a snake.”

You grinned and splayed your fingers on your cheek, tilting your head. “Awww, did I scare the lady of the hour?”

“You chased her up the rooftop with a fucking gun while singing her name,” Graves remarked, shaking his head. He had seen you do that before and he got to admit, even he found it frightening to have someone hunt you down with a knife in their hands while they chanted your name in the darkness of night. “Anyone would panic on that, you psycho.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, as you said it’s fucking psychological warfare!” you shouted, making the rest of the men back up from you. “It’s a battle of minds before it was physical. If you can’t make your enemies afraid of where they stand, then you shouldn’t be on the freaking battlefield!” You threw your hands up in the air. “Bloody hell!”

Soap nodded, leaning close to Ghost. “Our bonnie’s learnin’” he whispered, making Simon sigh.

“Me recuerda a mi madre cuando se enfada,” Rodolfo muttered under his breath, making Alejandro’s neck snap at his way and quickly go back to your way, finding you already looking at his soldier. Rodolfo averted his eyes as the Colonel cleared his throat.

(She reminds me of my mother when she's angry.)

“You’d make a good sicario,” Valeria commented.

You turned back to her and shrugged. “Eh, maybe, if you say so. But I like doing illegal things for the right reason, and being in a cartel can’t give me that. I’m a criminal allied with soldiers now, because of my use.”

“And if you were so good, how'd you get captured?”

“Jokes on them, I'm into cuffs and torture.” You cackled at the top of your lungs, making the team once again remember that you weren't so right in the head.

“Hey.”

You walked out of the container with the 141 as soon as Ghost pushed open the door, ignoring Graves' call. You knew what he would want to talk about, and you had no time for his nagging or threats.

“I think Graves’ calling ya,” Soap mumbled, glancing over his shoulder as you walked with him and Ghost away from the container.

“Shhh,” you whispered to the sergeant and winked at him. “Just ignore—”

“Snapdragon!”

You stopped in your tracks, brows knitting at the sudden use of a familiar name, and a groan escaped deep from your throat. “Fucking hell.” You turned to the source of the voice and found the Shadow boss marching towards you with a scowl.

“Let’s talk,” Phillip ordered, reaching out to pat your shoulder, but you ducked and rolled away, hiding behind Ghost.

“I may be into shit, but I'm not into you even though you're shit,” you remarked and clutched onto the Lt.’s vest, which he didn't seem to mind.

Soap pursed his lips and looked away, resting his hands on his hips, and sighed, successfully holding back his laughter.

Phillip rolled his eyes, stepping towards Ghost’s back, and managed to grab your arm before you could move away. “Come here!” He pulled but you tightened your grip on the Brit.

“Hell no!” you yelled, catching the attention of Alejandro and Rudy as well as their fellow special forces. “I've had enough of you!”

“Well, I am not!”

Soon enough, everyone had begun to watch Graves attempt to take you away from the lieutenant by pulling your vest, but your hold onto Ghost was solid and the man himself simply stood, perfectly unbudged, showcasing his strength to the rest of the soldiers.

Alejandro and Rodolfo walked and stood beside the other members of the 141 to watch the spectacle closer.

“This is like watching a drama where her ex keeps on wanting to get her back but she already found herself another man,” Rodolfo commented, which got the other two to snort.

“A Soap Opera, you mean?” Alejandro suggested, eliciting a laugh from Soap and Rudy.

Next Chapter / Archive of Our Own / Discord

Taglist: @yyiikes , @the-faceless-bride , @cassiecasluciluce , @annoyingstrawberryballoon @unicorngirly1, @thriving-n-jiving, @squidalapobre, @tallicaside @eustassh

[leathfaic]

Every year around Easter Ghost hides somewhere on the training grounds. If you find him you get half of his leave.

Soldiers all around go fucking feral, Ghost never takes any leave and there's rumours that start around Christmas of how long you'd be able to go home. Weeks probably aren't enough maybe a few months? Some are sure it's at least a full year.

Except of course no one ever finds him.

He's the Ghost and if he doesn't want to be found he isn't. He's just taking the piss, enjoying how the event has people riled up for weeks. He's not one for practical jokes, but this has him cackling.

Enter Soap, the FNG, the man who brings Ghost to his knees. They do their whole song and dance, and come Easter Ghost is hugging his boyfriend before preparing to hide.

Soap promising with a cocky smile that he'll find Ghost and they are going to use that leave for a nice holiday. Which Ghost smiles at, his sweet naive Soap, as if he's gonna hand him a win just because he loves him.

Imagine Ghost's shock when a few hours later he spots Johnny from his hiding spot. He's still high in a tree but the other man is walking directly in his direction and after a few moments he looks up.

Once Ghost is down the tree, still incredulous, but also very much in love, he asks Soap how he did it.

"Let my heart guide me, L.t." is the answer he gets which he calls out for the bloody nonsense it is.

Takes him all the way back to base to make him talk. And even then Johnny just hugs him, reaching around putting a hand in his back pocket (not unusual) and digging around (definitely unusual). Producing a small piece of technology.

"You fucking tracked me?!" his jaw nearly drops at the realisation.

"Aye, slipped it in this mornin' when we hugged."

"You little shit." is all that his brain will allow, mostly hung up on the cocky smile on Soap's face. The same as this morning.

He should be fuming. His proud record broken, he actually has to make good on the promise that so far has been all but hypothetical. Price will be in hysterics about the amount of paperwork that comes with it.

But he can't find it in him to care. He's mesmerized at Soap outplaying him. Drunk on the weird sense of pride that Johnny is so observant and skilled. Most of all he's blown away by the fact that he never even considered the possibility. It would be easy to blame hubris here, but that's not the reason no-one ever pulled a similar stunt.

No, Soap was able to do this because Ghost let him get close. Because he trusts him.

The Ghost that met Soap a few months ago would've panicked at this point. Soap had not only seen his weak spot, he clearly was also cunning enough to use it to his own advantage.

The Ghost that has been loved by Johnny for months now doesn't. Because he trusts him. And because he's proud. And because the rational part of his brain realises that any enemy agent would never have exposed their advantage for a game.

"If you ever do anything like this again-" he doesn't need to know where he wants to end that sentence, but Soap's interjection saves him the trouble "No worries, I like meself alive too."

He'll still have to be careful next year. After all he found a worthy opponent and he can't just make it too easy on him. Probably can not let Soap touch him before the game. Maybe not even the night before. Just to be safe. A fortnight should do it. But that also means a fortnight of not touching Soap...

But he can consider that later. For now he and Soap have a holiday to plan.

[cod-dump]

Gaz creates a group chat called “simp squad” with soap Alejandro and Alex and then immediately dips

SECRET SIMP SOCIETY

SoapGhost, AleRudy, FarAlex

___

They were all confused at first, then they noticed the group chat’s name and sighed. Gaz hadn’t stuck around long enough for any of them to say something to him or ask any questions. So, while the dust was still settling, soap chose to break the ice.

Soap: Soooo wanna see the gift Ghost dropped in my lap yesterday?

A month would pass without Gaz hearing anything from the three about the group chat. Everything was normal between him and them when he interacted with them, so he was curious if they actually started talking about their partners with each other. They definitely seemed to be closer knit recently.

Gaz was given the golden opportunity to sneak a peek into the group chat after finding Soap’s phone unattended in the locker room. Gaz knew his code and just couldn’t pass up the chance, so he grabbed the phone and ran. Gaz went straight to his office and made himself comfortable in his chair before he started snooping.

He found the group chat under a different name, “SSS”. When he opened it the messages were mostly Alex talking about a date he was planning for him and Farah. Gaz cackled, they were talking about their partners! He felt smug, satisfied by this. But while he should’ve backed out of the messages, he was curious about what all they had been talking about.

Gaz scrolls to the top of the messages. It started out with pictures of a stuffed animal Ghost had apparently gotten for Soap and it progressed to more causal messaged between the three. Alejandro was constantly sending pictures of Rudy just existing. Then it came up to the group chat name change.

Alejandro: What does SSS stand for?

Soap: Secret Simp Society

Alex: 🤣

Once Gaz got over the meaning behind the group chat name change that could only have been done by Soap, he continued reading. He was deep by this point, obsessed with what his friends had been up to since the group chat’s creation. So he continued reading. He watched the messages involve from them flaunting their partners, talking about every aspect they loved about them—

Then Alex brought up his, in his words, insane experience he had with Farah. Gaz never turned off and dropped a phone so fast before, eyes widened in horror. He lets Soap’s phone lay on his desk as he sat there, processing what he just read. Things had taken an unexpected turn and he now realized that Soap, Alejandro, and Alex were far more comfortable with each other than what Gaz realized.

Gaz would sit there for a unknown period of time, only snapping out of his daze when Soap would walk in.

“Lost my fucking phone- Whoa, you okay- Is that my fucking phone?”

Gaz just picks up the phone and holds it out for Soap, unable to look him in the eye. Soap snatches the phone from him, Gaz could feel the heat from his glare.

“What the fuck, Kyle!? Were you going through my shit!?”

“Trust me, Johnny, when I say that it will never be happening again.”

Soap blinked before opening his phone, quickly finding the messaging app still open. Soap started cackling, seeing what Gaz was reading.

“Oh my god-“

“I did NOT need to know what goes on in Alex and Farah’s bed.”

”That’s what you get for stealing my phone, ya cunt! Do that shit again and I’ll show you the video I took of me and Ghost last night!”

Gaz cringes and Soap laughs harder before leaving. Gaz remained sitting there, unable to think about anything else other than what Alex had said happened, and unable to chase away the thoughts of what potentially happened in the video Soap just mentioned. Gaz shudders, he definitely learned his lesson…

For now.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Stitching Us Together

Chapter 1: Caught

Summary: Brianna Riley, Charlotte Garrick, Isla MacTavish and John Price Jr, a close group of childhood friends, investigate a strange shadowy figure that had been poking around Isla’s front yard with a flashlight.

Word Count: ~ 5k

Warnings: Being watched, mentions of military, family arguing, internal conflicts, police, etc, nothing terrible, also just a note: simon is not abusive dad, just sort of distant/ strained relationship w daughter.

A/N: this is my longest fic yet…can y’all tell it’s what I’m hyperfixating over?? sorry I haven’t been posting much, schools been killing me, but I hope you enjoy this super specific au <3

OG Post | Character Layouts

It had all started with Price, the captain leading the way to something that eventually happened to all of them.

His missus had gotten pregnant, and he’d left service not even a month after, deciding that he was getting too old for it, anyway.

Johnny had been next, honorably discharged after taking a shot to the head, barely surviving, but deemed too fucked up to go back into service.

Then Gaz had quit, claiming he was going back to London, to help run his parent’s quaint little restaurant since they were getting older. All of them really knew it was because of the pretty lady now in his life, though. They'd seen the picture he kept of her in his wallet.

Simon, the stubborn bastard that he was, had only thrown in the towel once he learned that a fling he’d had a few years ago had resulted in a kid he’d never learned about. He’d left after scrolling through the random alcoholic he’d fucked a few years ago’s Instagram, finding a blond haired-blue eyes kid in the background of one of her posts.

He’d gotten custody of the girl, named Brianna, which wasn’t surprising considering the kid’s mom had been a substance and drug abuser.

The old captain had a second kid, a little girl named Josie, with his older boy, John. Everyone just called him Jr, though.

Gaz had a sassy little girl named Charlotte and affectionately called her Charlie.

Soap had found himself a Scottish wife and settled down in London as well, where her family happened to live. They’d had a girl too, naming her Isla, though friends called her Is, or Isa.

They’d grown up together in London close by, their parents just calling each other members of 141 their “uncles.” No one questioned it, and considering the tiny bits of questionable information each of you had on your father’s, no one wanted to ask questions.

Poor Jr had been the oldest by a year, but still the “baby” of the group, since he was constantly bullied by Isa and her quick wit. It didn’t help that Brianna’s little snorts and Charlie’s laughs only encouraged the menace.

“Seriously, I don’t see what’s so funny.” Jr muttered, a hint of pink on his cheeks as his voice cracked. Isla was relentless, mocking his cracking voice while she cackled.

“Righ’, nothin’ wrong with me. All normal over here.”

She said, making her voice much deeper, and forcing little kinks and cracks that Jr scowled out. Charlotte smirked and snickered quietly, and Isla saw Bri’s shoulder shake in silent laughter.

“It’s not funny.” Jr replied, a little frown on his face unlike his usual scowl, a hint of insecurity in those big, brown eyes. A small sign that he was slightly upset, or getting close to it anyway. Bri’s silent laugh immediately disappeared, and Charlie frowned.

Isa clapped him over the shoulder from beside him, where they were sitting in Kyle’s parent’s restaurant that he mainly ran now.

“Ay, didn’t mean it y’know? Jus’ playing with ya, Jr.” She said, a grin still on her face, but a bit more apologetic this time. He shrugged her off, relaxing back into the booth.

“‘S fine, wha’ever.” He said, a sure sign of his forgiveness. He forgave easily, a bad habit of his. Charlie reached a slender hand out, snatching a cheese and bacon bit-covered fry out from the bright red and white paper basket they were in at the center of the table. The cheese stretched, long and warm.

She took a bite, humming at how good it was.

“Tha’ good?” Bri asked, raising a brow. Charlie gave a little nod, chewing before speaking.

“Good as hell, if I do say so myself-“

Kyle’s head poked out from the kitchen, where his parents were both back cooking up whatever orders were up. Plenty of kids came by after school, because of how close it was, and how quick the food came out. Charlie would know since she was here every day after school. Sometimes she got to help out in the kitchen.

He raised a brow at Charlotte.

“Language.” He said, before going back into the kitchen.

Jr smirked, happy to have something to get back at his friend for now.

“Yeah, Garrick, watch your language~” He drawled, dragging the sentence out while Isla snorted in amusement, some water accidentally coming out of her nose.

“Ewww-“

“Not on the fries!”

Brianna only watched in what looked like mild amusement as she pulled the fry basket away just in time, using the stereotypical brown restaurant napkins to wipe the water up. Loud, booming laughter came out of Isa after she’d swallowed or sprayed whatever water had been in her mouth. Her leg bounced under the table while she rubbed her nose.

“Hurts me bloody nose,” She said with a crooked grin they had all come to love.

“Hurts my eyes,” Jr said in a wry tone, giving a tiny little disgusted look to the soaked pile of napkins now near Isa on the table. Charlie made a gagging sound.

“Now the fries are ruined!”

“Now, don’ be dramatic, they’re just fi-“

“You sprayed snot water on them-!”

“Would ya quit cutting me off?!”

As the others bickered, Bri casually grabbed a fry and took a bite, unbothered. The others watched and sighed, deciding that if Brianna wasn’t falling over dead from it, then maybe they were all right. Jr watched carefully as Charlie took a fry and a hesitant bite, then followed and did the same.

“See, told’ya.”

“Shut it, MacTavish.”

Isla rolled her eyes, devouring the fries at an unprecedented rate. Her shoulder-length brown hair was held back behind her ears, glinting just right in the setting sun that it looked almost red in some strands. The diner was going to close soon. Then Bri was going to walk them home, per usual. Probably because of the knife she kept on her, paranoid as she was. Isla kept a Swiss Army knife on her with a tiny knife, scissors, and even a nail file on it.

Charlie sometimes used it in class to file down her nails into shape when the teachers weren’t looking.

John would always give them disappointed looks from the side of the room where he always sat. Closest to an exit, always.

Being children of ex-military did lead to a bit of paranoia always, even if you didn’t know what it was that your father’s had done to be so secretive or have such bad PTSD. Maybe it was that paranoia that had Isla up so late at night, pushing the button on the hilariously pink Disney Princess walkie-talkies they’d all gotten one year.

“Anyone up?”

She asked, peeking out of her window and gazing out at a light in the street. Looked like a flashlight to her. A voice responded a minute or two later, interrupting Isa’s leg bouncing. Her hands fidgeted with the walkie.

“Why.” Bri’s gravelly, I-just-woke-up voice was the one to reply. She’d always been a light sleeper, so it didn’t exactly surprise Isla that a walkie message would keep her up.

“Someone poking around outside m’ house. Any o’ your family out visiting, or sumethin?” Isa asked, frowning as she saw the dim flashlight turn away, the shadowy figure not fully visible against the yellow streetlight’s beams. The light turned her way, and she dropped to the floor below the window, breathing now a lot faster.

“No.” Bri said bluntly.

Jr suddenly decided to join the conversation then, it seemed, as he spoke up, his staticky, cracking voice echoing over the radio.

“Why the bloody hell would anyone be out this late?” He groggily asked, and there was some silence on both ends as Isla watched the shadowy figure walk down the street, in the direction of Charlie’s house, but also the school. They were down the same street, after all.

“Wan’ to go find out?” Briana’s voice, now a bit more awake and alert, asked over the radio. Bri wasn’t one for late-night adventuring, or anything really for fun, Isa thought, so she must either be concerned or mildly curious. Her dad would kill her if he knew she was sneaking out to spy on suspicious people.

“We really shouldn’t-“ Jr began before Isa cut him off.

“Sure, meet me at the house. All black clothes, you get the deal. Bring the walkies, too.”

“What about Charlie?” Jr asked.

“Yeah, what about Charlie?” Charlotte’s voice then spoke up, and Isa could already picture the little snort Bri would give at that, and the way Jr’s cheeks would go slightly pink.

“Meet you in five.” Bri replied, no hint of shame or apology in her tone for almost leaving Charlotte out. That started the race against the clock to get ready before the mystery person got too far to track.

Practically ripping her pajamas off as quietly as she could, Isa changed into a pair of black sweats and a black hoodie. Better to blend into the streets. Her Swiss Army knife remained in her pocket, clasped onto some of the fabric.

Her fingers wrapped around the cold bottom of her bedroom’s window, slowly sliding it up and cringing at the creaking it made. She needed to oil the thing or something, before it woke her dad up one of these days. He was a light sleeper, after all. Always waking up to the tiniest sound, like when she got random 3 am motivation to rearrange all the furniture in her room or organize her bookshelf by color in the middle of the night.

Hoisting herself up onto the window’s ledge, the cool night air kissed her tan skin as she slowly crept out, closing the window but leaving it just a bit open. Just enough for her to get back in. She’d done this before, it was more like muscle memory at this point. Sure, sometimes she’d switch it up so nobody got suspicious of why there were fresh marks of fingerprints disturbing the dust on her window’s ledge.

Her dad would surely notice.

The grass cracked lightly under her feet as she walked carefully out, the cold biting against her ankles where her socks and sweatpants didn’t overlap. It was dark tonight, the moonlight not shining nearly enough, and the streetlights dimmed from their constant use. Lord knows no one would replace them with newer ones. Not in this area.

Creeping down the street, keeping eyes out for anyone nearby, not seeing anyone other than a few homeless, or some skeletal-looking drug addicts with glazed-over looks in their eyes. Cutting down an alleyway, and hopping a few chain link fences, she eventually found their little meeting spot.

It was a boarded-up building, something that had previously been a home but had been foreclosed when the old woman owning it had a stroke and died in it. The stench of death wasn’t very noticeable now, but it was bad enough that no one bought it, and it had been foreclosed on, windows and entrances boarded up.

Of course, no one had noticed where the back window was missing a little plywood.

Isla crouched down, walking over to the house. A loose branch from one of the overgrown bushes snagged her hair, at which she grumbled and tugged it free, hissing when she felt a few pieces of hair rip free from her scalp.

She put her hands on the cold brick ledge of the house, hopping in as the brick scraped against her fingertips. Her hands patted at her pants for a moment, cursing when she didn’t feel a flashlight she could’ve sworn she brought. The house was pitch black at this hour, and smelled like moldy carpet and old people, a faint hint of rotting, too.

She slipped her phone out of her pocket, turning the light on, only to yelp and jump back when Bri’s face greeted her, an amused smile on her lips.

“Hell’s balls, you really gotta stop w’ that, Bri-“

“I think it’s hilarious.”

“‘Course you do.”

With a sigh, Isa turned her flashlight on, finding the little wooden table with some dents in it in the center of the demolished kitchen that they always sat at, she took her walkie-talkie with Tiana’s face on it and set it down there. Brianna’s Mulan walkie-talkie followed.

Pausing a moment as she thought, Isa then turned to face Bri.

“How did ya even get here ‘fore me?”

Brianna paused, a hint of something like deliberation in her eyes before she spoke. The blond began popping her fingers, a nervous habit.

“Had an argument wit’ m’ dad. Needed some air.” She said with a shrug, blue eyes now watching to see what Isa would think. Always watching, always thinking. Sometimes Isla thought she was more paranoid than Jr, and that was saying something.

She simply gave a little bob of her head, not asking anything further. If she’d wanted to share more, she would’ve. It was like watching a flower slowly bloom and open up, if you forced it, then it wouldn’t look right, and it would die quickly.

A heavy silence ensued, which was quickly interrupted by muffled cursing and feet lightly hitting the floor. Charlotte was here.

“We ought to trim that tree, keeps snagging my hair.”

She muttered under her breath, and Jr arrived almost right after, sliding into the window’s brick ledge where he sat, eyes strained, not yet adjusted to the darkness, as he looked down. The poor lad was afraid of heights, they all knew.

“It’s 4 feet, Jr.”

Bri spoke, the tone being more sardonic than anything. Jr sighed, and Isa saw his eyes close as he winced, sliding off the ledge, and releasing a tiny squeak when his feet hit the ground. To think that this was a 17-year-old. He did not act it.

He sighed, walking over to the table, where everyone had now gathered. His Cinderella walkie was placed on the table next to Charlie’s Elsa one.

“What’re we here for, again?” The boy asked with a slight yawn in his voice, rubbing his eyes. Isa rolled her eyes at his apparent exhaustion.

“I saw someone dressed in all black, poking around my front yard with a flashlight in the dead of night, that’s why.”

She said, giving him a look, as if to say that was obvious, while Charlie frowned, lips pressing into a line.

“That’s not terrible, I mean, we’ve done worse and our neighborhood didn’t freak out.” She pointed out with a shrug, and Bri nodded.

“Much worse.” She agreed with a grin in her tone.

This was much better than the time you’d all tried to fry some dead roadkill you’d found by throwing it at an electrical box, only to accidentally make the local's electricity go out for almost an entire week. The electricians must’ve been confused when they found a dead goose beside a smashed control panel. You’d all dipped after accidentally breaking it, anyway.

Or the time you’d all gone to a haunted house, and Charlie had faked having a panic attack so convincingly that one of the girls dressed up as a vampire began crying and called her parents to come pick her up. Poor Charlotte had tried to redeem herself from there, but the damage had already been done.

Brianna had also intimidated a teacher into changing her schedule, once. All of the group had relatively the same schedule in your little high school of around 500 people, but for whatever reason Bri had gotten none of the same classes, so she’d gone on down to the principal's office and forced the principal's hand somehow. How she did it, none of them knew, all she’d said afterward was that she “Knew things.” as if that explained anything.

And Junior…poor Junior, he was always the slowest of the group, for whatever reason, always being found or caught when you all pulled some ridiculous shenanigans. Or there was the one time Josie had put hair dye from her mum’s closet in Price’s shampoo, which had been disastrous. Josie blamed Junior for the entire thing, and Price had been so mad, he’d believed it. Grounded for almost three weeks.

“Let’s just check it ou’, and shave her head if it ain’t worth our time.” Brianna suggested, and they all glanced at each other, nodding their heads in mild agreement. Isla blinked at that, before her face contorted in disbelief.

“Really? I thought you were better than thi-“

“Any ideas on where they went?” Jr interrupted, and Charlie spoke up.

“Mentioned somethin’ on the radio about down the road, right?”

Isa sighed, seeing she wasn’t going to get anywhere with trying to protest the head-shaving in her possibly near future.

“Aye, they went down the road.”

She replied in a slightly annoyed tone, and Bri nudged her shoulder a bit, grabbing her walkie and shoving it into her pocket.

“Perk up, maybe we’ll find somethin’. Got a plan, Jr?”

At the mention of a plan, Jr perked up, picking up pieces of broken ceiling and rocks to represent each of them, and a large stick to represent the school.

“Well, if they went down the road then that’s towards the school. I was thinking we could split up, me and Charlie, Isa, and Bri. We take the alleyways down, I take the right, you all take the left, and we meet at the school, where we can recombine in the back.”

He spoke quickly, fingers drumming against his thigh, working himself into a frenzy while talking. Everyone gave nods, before they split into their separate groups, all taking the same window out, before splitting into their groups. They each gave one last goodbye, a little mock salute before heading out into the darkness.

Junior and Charlotte

“I'm starting to think Isa’s just paranoid.” Charlie said, glancing at the surroundings of the alleyway around them. Scurrying rats, bugs, little grimy posters, and pictures posted on the walls or the dumpsters. She didn’t see anything.

Junior sighed, continuing to walk. He wasn’t the most quiet, which made sense, considering his size. Even if Brianna was taller than him and deathly silent.

“Look, we’re all a bit jumpy. Pretty normal for us, considering our dads.”

He said quietly, crouching down as he walked, eyes darting around to look for anyone. It had been almost fifteen minutes and they hadn’t spotted anyone yet. Charlie stepped on an empty can, crunching it beneath her foot, and Jr jumped at it, immediately looking for something to change the subject before Charlotte made fun of him.

“What did they even do? I mean, obviously, they were mili’ary, but my dad never talks about it.”

He said randomly, and Charlie continued walking through the alley, him clumsily following along. She did pause the slightest moment though, head cocking slightly to the side as he watched her take in his words. It must’ve caught her interest, and he’d gotten lucky.

“They were special forces. Dealing with terrorists, and covert shit.” She said quietly, in an almost hushed tone, temporarily pausing.

He raised his brows.

“How do you know?” Junior asked in the most innocent tone he could muster. Sure, he could see his dad, and definitely Bri’s dad as special forces in the military, but sweet little Kyle? Or Isla’s rowdy but affectionate dad? No wonder they never talked about their pasts.

“Went through some files on my dad’s computer when I was bored. Whole lotta locked stuff, so I found a back door into it, and read it.” She said in that same quiet tone but with a bit more shame in it this time.

“I shouldn’t have, he would’ve told me when he thought I was ready, but-“

“Hey, it’s fine.” Junior interrupted in a soft tone. He wouldn’t let her stand there and talk bad about herself. Not when…

“I would’ve done the same thing if I’d known how to.”

She glanced back at him when he said that, a bit of shock on her face. John Price Jr was the good kid, the one who listened to what he was told and was nice, strong, and compassionate, always helping out. She never took him for someone who could be nosy or disobedient. She guessed she still had a lot to learn about him. A muffled voice came from the walkie by her side, but she ignored it. They were almost to the school anyway.

Not knowing what to say, she stayed silent, looking to change the subject, when the school appeared in view from the left side wall. She peeked her head out, looking at the school a second before Junior. Blue and red lights. Cars. People. She shut the walkie off. Jr’s must’ve died by now.

“Hey, there’s the-“

A hand slammed over his mouth as he was pulled down into the alleyway. His mumbled protests against Charlie’s hand quickly stopped when he heard the footsteps, and then the voice that came.

“And you were alone in the school?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Brianna.

Brianna and Isla

They were crouched in the old, crumbling alleyway, moving as quickly and quietly as they could whilst keeping their eyes out for anyone nearby.

Isla had been rattling off for almost fifteen minutes about something, Brianna couldn’t even figure out what she was talking about half the time, but she was trying to listen. A good friend would listen patiently, even when they had a pounding headache and wanted to scream at someone. Her patience was waning.

She already had anger problems in the first place, and that thought only led to another, one that infuriated her more than anything.

The argument.

“Hey, are you even listening?”

Isla was prone to her anger as well, but hers wasn’t as destructive. Isa could express herself openly, something Brianna was more than jealous of. She made it seem so easy, but anytime Bri tried to open up, the words got stuck in her chest, and her heart stopped beating. It was like a giant wall stood between her tongue and her mind. It refused to be saddled and obey properly.

It was so frustrating, so annoying-

“I said, are you even-?”

“Just shut up.”

She ground out without even realizing. A hint of annoyance and hurt flashed on Isa’s face, before going back to normal. Bri paused. Stopped. Isa looked back, stopping too, as if hopeful.

And the words got stuck.

They were stuck and refused to come out. Like a clogged pipe that no matter how you pumped at it, refused to unclog. It made her want to rip everything to shreds. But maybe, just this once, she might be able to say something.

“I’m..”

She began, words unsteady. Isa’s brows rose, confusion and hope in her gaze. She was that confused, just because Brianna might be apologizing? It made her angry all over again, angry at everything, angry at her father, angry at anyone she could be angry with.

It was one word, it shouldn’t be hard, really.

Sorry.

Five letters.

Just get five letters out, she told herself. It shouldn't be this hard. She should be able to do this. Opening her mouth to speak, her throat suddenly dried up, and she began to whisper something.

“I’m..s-“

There. A flash of movement in the corner of her eye. A shadow. A tiny, dimmed light. The same kind of light that would come from her flashlight when she took one battery out, just so it wasn’t as bright, so it wouldn’t hurt her dog’s eyes when she went to get a midnight snack. Turning the lights on always woke up dad.

She needed to stop thinking about dad.

Isla caught it too, a look in her eye saying they would continue that conversation later, but now, they were on the hunt. A little wave of her hand, and they were both moving, crouched down, interweaving between the alleyway’s dumpsters and trash piles.

The shadowy figure with the dimmed light moved exactly where they thought it would go, into the school. Their entrance? Hopping the chain link fence and using an unlocked door in the side to get in. The school locked all of its doors at night.

Brianna would know.

She and Charlie had once attempted to break in when Charlie had left her notebook in her locker by accident when she needed it for the test the following day. All the doors and windows were secure and locked. Especially the one on the side of the building that the shadowy person was now using.

“They must have keys to the buildin’.” Bri muttered, and Isa nodded.

“So either staff or student.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Wha’ever. Let’s follow ‘em.”

They crept up to the door, still partly ajar but closing rapidly on its own. Isla reached there first, using her foot and wedging it to stop the door from closing further. Bri nodded and walked further in.

The school looked as normal as it could at night. Lights off. Everything undisturbed. No sign of anyone, other than the tiniest distant footsteps she could make out. Towards the front of the building. Maybe the stairwell?

Jerking her head to Isa, they both began carefully walking, rolling on the balls of their feet to make their footsteps as silent as could be. They’d need it.

The footsteps abruptly stopped, and they did too. Peeking around a corner into the main entrance area, Isa saw the front office’s door open.

“In the front office, we should tell the others.” She murmured as quietly as possible. Bri shook her head, and Isa silently asked why with her expression.

“Walkies are too loud. Don’ want to scare ‘em off before we see anything useful.”

It was reasonable, Isa would admit. The others could catch up later. They’d arrive here soon, anyways, and probably quietly take a back exit. Considering Jr’s chronic planning out things, he’d get it all figured out.

Seeing that the stranger wasn’t getting out of the office, the two of them dared move closer and closer, until both of them were right by the door. Peeking in, Brianna found…nothing.

There was no one there. No shadowy stranger, or any odd people.

But the filing cabinets were open. Files and papers were strewn everywhere across the room, and a few things were knocked over and broken. There was no possible way the stranger could’ve done this within that amount of time, let alone do it without alerting them. Broken mugs, picture frames, dented cabinets…

“Somethin’ ain’t right. Someone purposefully shined a flashlight in the direction of your house, walked here slowly enough that we could catch up, and then we found the office trashed?”

Brianna said, standing fully up, before kicking around the pile a bit. Bright, flashing lights blinded her vision next, and Isla’s hands yanked her down.

“Police. Someone called ‘em. We’ve got to tell the Charlie and Jr-“

“Give me a minu’e, yeah?”

Something had caught her eye in that stack of files. Names. Numbers. Familiar ones, too.

She heard Isla radioing the others in the background, only for no reply to be heard. Her hand reached out to comb through the files, and Isla sighed, putting the walkie down, and beginning to help her.

“What are you lookin’ for?”

“There was somethin’ in here. Somethin’ familiar.”

“Are you really gonna get us arrested for something ‘familiar’?”

“I’ll do wha’ever I want, and you can right well piss off if you don’t agree.”

“Whatever, just hurry up, they’re coming.”

Footsteps, and keys jingling from outside. She heard the knob for the front door turn. One more second, they just needed one more second to get this file-

And then she saw it.

The words blurred together for some of the first sentences, some were blacked out with marker, and others were simply marked through with a line saying [REDACTED]. But there was one line she recognized all too well.

Simon “Ghost” Riley.

She took the paper, shoved it in a Manila folder, and pushed it into Isa’s hands as she pushed her friend backward, into a storage closet. The door of the closet clicked behind her. Isla didn’t move, not when the police officer caught sight of Bri, the flashlight and gun pointing in her direction.

“Hands! Let me see hands!”

Brianna did what she was told, sticking her hands in the air, and not approaching the cop. It was a woman. Maybe in her mid-20s, looked like the no-nonsense type. Red lipstick. Darker skin. Hair that had been recently silk-pressed.

“Walk out slowly, and keep your hands in the air.”

She obeyed that, too. Walking slowly out, each step measured and purposeful. The hands and arms remained in the air. She was so fucking done for when her dad found out-

Brianna refused to let herself think about that.

“What’s your name?”

“Brianna Riley, ma’am.”

“Why are you breaking into a school after hours?”

“Forgot m’ work, ma’am, figured I might as well come get it.”

The officer glanced over at the trashed office and raised a brow.

“And that?”

“Already there when I arrived, ma’am.”

She didn’t believe her. It was clear. Honestly, if Brianna were in that cop’s shoes, she wouldn’t believe her either. Two intruders in one night, and a teenager found in a trashed office? It was painfully clear what probably happened. Except she was telling the truth.

“Alright, well you’re coming with me, and we’re going to work this out. Keep your hands in the air, and walk slowly.”

Her gun stayed on you the entire time, even as you passed an alleyway, not daring to glance at who you knew must’ve been Jr and Charlie hiding there.

“And you were alone in the school?”

“Yes ma’am.”

When she got into the car, the officer gave her a rundown of her charges, only minor ones since she wasn’t an adult, basically only receiving a fine of $500, something she could pay because of her shitty fast-food job in town, Brianna Riley knew one thing.

Her dad was going to kill her.

Tags:

@seconds-over-first

[theirishwolfhound]

Wow holy shit wasn't expecting people to actually like the idea of Menace reader so here's part two! Part three in the works with a poll on the end of this one to see how it goes. Enjoy :)

Thus begins the prank war.

It would go back and forth for a few weeks, Menace constantly finding new ways to make sure they're never one upped by the other operators in playful retaliation to their pranks.

For example: they knew it was Gaz who painted "dickhead" on their helmet with glow in the dark paint, so in turn they messed with the bottoms of his boots so they squeaked with every step. When Kyle had seen Menace after the fact, he chased them down while they cackled like a hyena becauae who wouldn't laugh if the person chasing them had squeakers strapped to their heel.

Or how Soap managed to switch out Menace's body wash with a menthol infused one— so when he caught Soap in the shared restrooms he dumped ice cold water onto the man's bare back and head. Never before had Menace needed to run out of a shower so fast to the sounds of Scottish yeling, but John learned to shower whenever the Coperal was fucking off somewhere else.

When the Price and Ghost managed to inconvenience Menace by changing the keyboard configuration on their computer and unscrewed the bolts of their chair... they responded in kind by seran wrapping Every. Single. Item in Price's office when he was on a mission. Though truly this one backfired as they were called into the same office nearly an hour later— running face first into a near invisible seran wrap blockade that was hiding in the doorway, and they had to help unwrap all of their hard work.

They had even replaced all of Ghost's nice, full pens with shitty one's that are completely empty when they knew he had a lot of writing to do that day. Little did they know he kept a pen on him at all times, but they did hear soft swearing from his office when they passed by— mild inconveniences worked best on him, after all he had briefly mentioned that life was a big inconvenience as is.

It's all fine and dandy, but Menace knows they have to step up their game.

Then one of them winds up in a snare trap that Menace set on the path around the base, only for said trickster to pop out of a bush wearing a ghillie suit they stole from sod earlier in the day. They'd been waiting all day for John to spring their trap and now that they got him where they want him, what happens?

Three words.

Pool Noodle Piñata

Menace doesn't even let the man get a fighting chance before they're whacking him in the stomach, only to dart away when they realized he hadn't come alone. John and Kyle had come with water guns to find them, and they nearly yelled at the ice cold water that just barely sprayed their back.

The new idea of the pseudo guerrilla prank warfare was entertaining to say the least... and provided a good means of training for practically everyone at the base. After all, some other soldiers had gotten into the crossfire multiple times. Whether it be the salt that had been replaced by sugar, or stumbling into an office that had just been boobytrapped for someone else.

Everyone knew how to be professional when they needed to, but when they didn't have to there were the occasional nerf gun fights in the cafeteria led by none other than Menace themself, or a water balloon strike from the roof of one of the buildings.

Team building exercises they would call it others would call it an uprising. But the operators of 141 knew better, especially after realizing how Menace meant no harm— this is just who they were.

Their harmless trickster.

The same harmless trickster who comes back from a mission to find that their office had been fully gift-wrapped and the boys who had done it were hiding behind the door with swords fashioned from the sane pool noodle they used on Johnny.

Though the bottle of glitter Menace had picked up along the way came in handy since they were all in once space together. To this day everyone is picking glitter out of their hair or clothes. So who really won this time.

PT 1 | PT 2 | PT 3

[stardancerluv]

A Space Journey

Part Eight

Summary: Tyler is home. And some other characters make an appearance.

Notes/Warnings: Harsh language, angst. This is a long chapter! Thank you, for reading!

❤️s, reblogs, comments & feedback is always welcome.

“Maybe I should stay away longer.” He chuckled and you clung harder and his arms tightened.

“Don’t make jokes like that. These last few months were horrible. “ You glanced up at him from where you were nestled against his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He exhaled, against the top of your head. He kissed. “Space is cruel, when I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”

“Yes, it is.”

You flinched, as he went to cup your still bruised cheek.

“Baby?” He pulled his hand back.

“Sorry.”

“What’s the matter?”

“We can discuss it later.”

“Discuss what?”

You had desperately hoped somehow you could keep this from him for a few more hours. Your stomach churned.

He shifted under you.

“Tyler, please.”

“No, you have never flinched under my touch.”

He snapped on the light on the table by his bed. Grateful you had been keeping it on one of the lower settings.

“Oh!” His eyes grew. “What the fuck happened?”

You immediately tried to cover your cheek.

“Let me see.”

Gently, you let him move your hand aside.

“What the fuck happened to my girl?”

Tears sprang from your eyes and slid down your cheeks.

“I, I got jumped.”

“Fucking cowards.” He muttered.

“I was leaving work, they saw your dog tag I am assuming and jumped me.”

“How did they see my dog tags?”

Confusion finally softened the edge you had seen his face take.

You pressed your lips together. “I wore it to feel close to you.”

Wordlessly, he pulled you close once again. You felt at peace. You had been feeling so fractured, so lost despite the efforts Kay or Bjorn made.

*******

You managed to awaken, untangle from Tyler’s strong arms and make it to the bathroom. You were never one for make up, so you struggled on how to cover your bruise. Sighing in defeat, you dabbed a little powder on it. It lessened its vividness. Still not terribly happy with its appearance you grabbed his hat, pulling the brim down low. Hoping somehow that would miraculously make it disappear.

Finding, the food Kay made you put it into the warmer. Leaning against, counter you drummed your fingers.

A warm hand settled on your hip, you jumped and whirled around. Tyler held his hands up, “It’s just me.” You could see his face change as he finally saw how your face looked.

He tore his hat off. “It’s worse than I thought.”

“Ow!” You whimpered. Tears sprung from your eyes. He was stronger than you remember.

“I’ll fucking kill them.” He managed through gritted teeth

“No, no please don’t.”

You grabbed at his shirt, desperately looking into his eyes.

“It got resolved.”

He looked impassive.

“Tyler, please don’t. They’d take you away. And..I, I…”

“I am so fucking angry that I wasn’t here, that I left, the way I did.”

Wrapping your arms around him; you could see the turmoil of anger and regret in his eyes.

“Please.” You croaked out a whisper

Standing there feeling his warmth, you breathed in his unique scent that mixed with the crisp soap he used. You buried your face into his soft, very worn shirt. It felt like finally the last of your loneliness and desperation from the attack began to fade away.

“I’m here.” He mumbled.

“Hope we didn’t catch the two of you doing anything you shouldn’t!” Bjorn cackled as he was the first in the door, bringing in clouds of soot filled air with him.

Startled you both looked in the direction of the door. You looked away, as your cheeks flushed. As you were about to pull away Tyler pulled you closer, tighter before sharing a look before he went and clapped his cousin on his back.

“Bjorn!” He looked his cousin up and down “Still in one piece?”

Bjorn, smirked. “No thanks to your girl.”

You slumped against the counter. Bjorn, met your eye and winked at you from around his cousin. You grimaced.

Kay close on Bjorn’s heels soon gave her brother a tight hug, Navarro shared a wave and a nod.

“Someone tell me all of what fucking happened.” He went over and wrapped an arm around you.

You laid a hand on his chest. “I told you what happened, its really not important.”

“No, I want to know.” He squeezed your hand.

Looking confident; Bjorn leaned against the wall, he glanced at the others. “We had just gotten back from a good salvage. We were on our way to surprise your girl by picking her up at the mine.”

You chewed on your lip.

“We wanted to celebrate. I saw a commotion, at first to be honest we were just gonna keep on walking.”

Tyler nodded in agreement.

“Someone else’s business is not our business, but that’s when we heard a scream. Kay was convinced it was your girl.”

You glanced at Kay, she smiled. You had not heard that bit.

“By the time we got there, things looked bad.” He smirked at his cousin. “But I handled it, I even came back for that.” He pointed to his hat.

You pressed your lips together before sighing. “Thank you again Bjorn, with how they were talking I may not be here right now.” You looked down, saying it aloud made you feel ill.

You slid off the arm rest of chair you shared with Tyler. He caught your hand as you tried to walk past.

“Where are you going?”

“Your room. You all need to catch up. I need to get dressed. I might even sleep a little longer.” You smiled. “They also have a salvage they probably want to tell you about.”

“Alright. I’ll join you in a little bit.”

You nodded.

Once inside sitting down on the edge of his bed, you held your face in your hands. How could you be so comforted one moment and the next feel so ill, so out of place. You were tremendously grateful he was home and that they rescued you but anxiousness took a hold of you.

You had not had a chance to talk with him. Everything, felt really small, tight all of a sudden. You would go for a walk and feel better, maybe you’d grab a bite in the mess hall.

Quickly, you pulled on your heavy socks, then buttoned and fastened your pants. You did grab one of his heavy sweaters and pulled it over your tank top.

You came to lean against his chair. You had made the right decision, they had not even heard as you crept up.

“Tyler, I am going to go eat something in the mess hall. I’ll be back.” You placed a hand on his arm.

Bjorn cackled. “Are you not feeding your girl, cousin? Ow!” He stopped and hollered as Kay elbowed him. He shot her a look, his brows closely knit, before smiling broadly before bumping her chin playfully with his fist.

“I’ll come with.” Tyler attempted to stand, you stopped him.

“You guys need to talk. I’ll be back before you know it. I’ll bring you something.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded.

You went and slid onto your coat, zipped it up, looped the buttons and pulled up your hood.

“Yes, maybe we can all go to the bar later. Celebrate your return.” You added cheerily as possible.

*******

You shivered after entering the mess hall, you couldn’t tell if it was because you had just fought against the frigid horizontal rain, or this truly was the last place you wanted to be alone, even if it had been your own choice to go there. The large space was a buzz with idle chatter, clanking plates and utensils.

Taking off your gloves, you shoved them into your pockets then you grabbed a tray. Mindlessly, you eyed the food and scooped onto your plate whatever looked somewhat appealing. Which was never much but it was something.

You eyed the coffee, looked like it had been siting for a bit. The warmer looked broken. You made a face. But still grabbed the pot to pour yourself a cup.

“Hey, did you know that coffee is really good at giving compliments?”

“Huh? What?” Confused, you glanced at the direction of the voice and was met by a soft, kind face. It was familiar but you couldn’t place it.

“They tell everyone that they are brewitful.”

“Oh? Oh!” You laughed. “You were telling me a joke,” You smiled. “I like it.”

He gave you a lopsided smile. “Would you like to join me and my sister Rain?”

Moved your head from side to side. “I wasn’t really looking for company.” You finished saying just as a girl, around your height came over. She also looked familiar for some reason. Maybe you both worked in the same quadrant.

“Andy? Did you invite her to our table?” She looked happily between the two of you.

“I, I did.”

She brightened. “So would you like to join us?”

“I wasn’t really looking for company.”

“Aw, come on it’s the least I could do after you rescued my brother the other day.”

Then it dawned on you who they were. “Oh it’s alright. Anyone would have done the same.” You shrugged.

You slid him a look, it always amazed you how an artificial person could look so close to us. The thought swirled in your mind.

“I was not very nice yesterday. I reacted with fear, let me thank you properly and Andy can ever snatch us extra corn bread.” She added with a smile.

The smile was welcoming and warm, something you had only gotten from Tyler and his band of misfits.

You finally nodded. “Sure. That could be nice. And extra corn bread? How could I say no.” You finally smiled.

*********

Leaning your cheek against your fist you giggled again, “Andy, these are painful.”

He gave you what could only be seen as a shy look. “From laughing and smiling too much?”

“Yes!” You agreed, laughed again.

“There you are.”

Your heart stirred at the familiar voice. You smiled even broader. Turning, you looked up at just as he leaned on the empty seat beside you. Wet strands fell into his eyes, as he gave Andy and Rain a passing glance before turning to look at you. He gave you a fleeting smile.

“Tyler, I have made friends. Allow me,”

His voice sliced through yours.

“I know who they are.”

A forced smile crossed his face, that you only saw come out when he dealt with people from the company. It wasn’t one you couldn’t read.

“Rain, Andy.” He shot them a look before looking back at you. He held his hand out to you. “I came to get you, we still need to talk.”

“Yes, we do.”

You had never seen him act like this. Your stomach twisted. How did he know them?

********

“It’s nice to see you, Tyler.” Rain spoke up, softly. “You, Bjorn and the others still playing at pirates with the Corbeleon.”

Annoyance churned inside of him. Of all the people for you to make friends with in the mess hall. She was the last person he wanted to see.

“What did the two oceans say to each other when they finally met, Tyler?”

Andy’s jokes, perfect to distract one. He shifted where he stood. “What Andy?”

“Nothing, they just waved.”

Tyler chuckled. “That’s good Andy.”

He glanced at the artificial person, he was looking better these days but would still never be the high level of droid he had been designed to be. He glanced back at Rain. “Little more than that.” He pressed his lips together.

Turning, she fully faced him. He could almost hear the insult before it came. “Oh? That’s possible on this stupid colony?”

He stood back. “Yes.”

Glancing back at you, he worried about what you were thinking. You knew he had dated a few times, that sometimes he had even had a shallow one night stand or two.

But nothing had been terribly serious. He had not had the heart to tell you in his teens, stupid and idealistic, for a moment he had thought it was serious with Rain, but he had been a kid then.

And in the end, you were the one he wanted a future with. That was why now the company had a dog tag attached to his ass or well around your throat.

“Tyler, why did nobody want to play cards with the pirate?

He shook his head. “I have no idea, Andy.”

Glad for the distraction. Andy always had a perfect knack to distract one from their worries.

“Because he was standing on the deck.”

“That’s good I will have to remember that one.”

“Don’t encourage him.” Rain replied

“I always will.” He grimaced.

******

You stood, the chair screeched against the worn floor. All of this was becoming even more uncomfortable. You originally had come here to get away from your discomfort.

He took your tray. “I’ll take care of this for you.”

“Thank you.” You buttoned your coat back up and slipped on your gloves on.

Rain grabbed your sleeve. “If you ever see us, you are more than welcome to join us. Don’t let Tyler scare you away from us.”

Your brows knit together, as you pressed your lips together. “Alright.”

You wondered what she meant by that. You walked over to where he returned your tray, placing a hand on his back. When he flinched, you snatched your hand away.

“I’m sorry.” He exhaled.

“I’m ready, we can leave.”

“Good.”

You mentally prepared to go outside. Stepping close to you, he took your hand in his.

********

“They are getting some supplies, we have more time for ourselves.”

“Good.”

You took your gloves off and hung up your coat.

*******

You tucked one of your legs under you, after he led you to where he usually sat. He chewed on his bottom lip.

“I, I am not really good at any of this.”

He went to the cabinet and took the bottle with the amber liquid that soften all the sharp edges that life had.

“It’s alright.”

“I’ll tell you why I left so abruptly, why I have a damn dog tag now.”

Looking over at you, he brought the glass to his lips. He exhaled, his breath heavy as the liquid coursed its way to his belly. You could practically taste it yourself.

“I needed that.”

The glass clanked against the counter when he put it down. Coming back over to you, he leaned against the console in front of you.

“A few short weeks before I left, I was called into Reid’s office. He made me an offer.”

“He always does.”

He nodded. “Yes. This time was different.”

“Oh?”

He grimaced and nodded.

“They have been watching me and the others. More me.” He smirked. “I was to help them retrieve one of their larger cargo ships.”

“That is why they gave you a dog tag?” It didn’t make sense. No salvage is ever that crucial.”

“Yes. But it wasn’t a simple salvage. I believe they already knew this when they recruited me.”

“What made it different?” Dread began to fill you, the company always had some motive none of them were ever good.

“The ship had came across some kind of creature. They tested on it and I believe it killed the entire crew.”

Getting up, you went over to him. As your worry grew. You took his hand. “And you’re ok?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I helped subdue it.”

“What was it?”

“I don’t even fucking know.” He shook his head, looking away. What you saw in his eyes you couldn’t read. “It was like something out nightmares.”

@luvscarlyle @qnxemz @h-kitty-world

[winged-self-indulgence]

Part 1, Part 2/??

Eventually the trampled dirt path resolved itself into something that almost made sense, and your heart thudded with relief as you finally made out the distant glow of streetlights lining the road. You pushed yourself harder, legs burning with exertion and half expecting Z to appear right in front of you at the very last minute. The shadows at your feet thrashed and stretched; mocking, spindly fingers groping for your ankles and clothes, but ultimately missing as you threw yourself past the line of thick grass and gnarled trees that marked the start and end of the forest.

As soon as your body tumbled past the boundary, the world shifted. Instantly, the cackling vanished, silenced like a record being unceremoniously removed from a phonograph. Your chest heaved laboriously, and your head spun from the rush of blood, but you couldn’t stop here. It wasn’t safe yet.

Urging your body to your feet, you half-ran-half-stumbled into the mostly empty streets. No one gave you a second look, not on a Friday night when most were either drunk, high, or far too tired to question your rush. Finally, your apartment building appeared in sight, and you almost sobbed with relief. Just a little further…

A rush of adrenaline roused you on, encouraging you to take the stairs two at a time until finally – finally – you threw your front door open and slammed it shut behind you.

Lungs burning and blood pumping, you quickly locked the door with shaking fingers and pressed your back against the solid surface. The wood was cool against the side of your head when you pressed your ear to it, though you weren’t sure what you were hoping to hear. Footsteps, perhaps? Laughter? The scratch of claws dragging against the wall, sharper than any serial killer’s knife?

Regardless, there was nothing. You stayed motionless for several more seconds, scarcely daring to inhale as you strained your senses. Still nothing, but hadn’t you been fooled like that before? Better to be sure.

The peephole didn’t provide a great view of the hallway, but at least there was nothing outside your door, and you certainly weren’t planning on opening it for anyone or anything.

What if he was already inside?

Jumping to your feet, you rushed to every room, turning on the lights as you went. Your apartment wasn’t exactly spacious, but you checked and double-checked every single possible space a demon might fit. Kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, balcony, back to the bedroom, under the bed, the closet.

He’s not here. You collapsed on the couch and exhaled the longest breath in a while. It hurt to breathe, and you quickly sucked down a gulp of cool air as you slowly allowed yourself to relax. Once the demonic threat was gone, the rest of your instincts kicked in.

Water.

The glasses clinked gently against one another as you retrieved one from the cupboard and filled it with water. You stood at the sink for a while, sipping until your throat no longer felt like sand, and then you filled it up again to keep at your bedside in case you got thirsty during the night.

I should wash up.

Your skin felt sticky with sweat, and there was probably dirt on your hands from the forest. Huffing, you peeled off your clothes and dumped them into the laundry basket for tomorrow’s wash. Then you wrapped yourself in a towel and slipped into the bathroom.

The overhead light illuminated your reflection in the large mirror, and you examined the streak of dirt on your cheek with a grimace. Fucking demon shenanigans, you thought sourly as you squeezed a dollop of soap onto your hand and lathered your face. Fingers clumsily groped for the knob so that you could turn on the faucet and bend over to scrub the stain.

Sighing with relief, you straightened up, eyes still shut while you used the corner of your towel to dry the water. Then you opened them, and then you screamed.

I see you…

The words gleamed on the mirror, scrawled in scarlet. You stumbled away, instinctively rushing for the door, only to find it locked. No, not just locked. Gone. Backing up, you spun back to the mirror, and the message had bled into something new.

Where’s my prize?

“You little cock-tease,” a rough voice breathed behind you. One moment you were alone, and in the next Z had you partly bent over the sink. An arm curled around your torso, a familiar stretch of bronze skin that turned to charcoal the further it went.

But wait…was the darkness…moving? Actually, was Z…bigger somehow?

A black tongue teased the shell of your ear, fangs following soon after to delicately pinch the vulnerable flesh. It made your breath hitch, and the words fell out of your head like cards crumbling. His words washed over the side of your face, cherrywood smoke and dark whisky filling the air. “Making me chase you all the way home. Was it fun, sweetheart?”

“It was a game,” you whined, the last syllable coming out as a squeak when you felt something slide under the hem of the towel. Z’s tail coiled possessively around the cleft of your thigh, each motion brushing maddeningly over your core. You tried to twist your neck to look at him, but that only brought you face to face with your reflection – hot-faced, mouth open, and well on your way to being thoroughly debauched. Mortified, you quickly shut your eyes. “Z! You’re not playing fair!”

“Little brats like you don’t get to question me about being fair,” the demon taunted, flipping up your towel with a sort of casual audacity that made your skin prickle with impossible heat. “But if you’re so unsatisfied, Dove, why don’t we play a new game?”

You paused, eyes narrowing in suspicion, certain that you were about to trip headfirst into a trap. “What’s the game?”

Talons traced below your eyes, and you nervously cracked one open. This time, when you craned your vision higher, you spotted Z’s reflection above you – still the demon you knew but irrevocably different all the same. Everything about them was bigger, sharper, more monstrous. Your thighs squeezed together tightly, as though that would hide the pinch of excitement that rushed through you.

“Call it a test of willpower,” Z cooed, shoving your legs apart and pressing his chest and hips to your body. His cock slid against your sex, fat and slick as he rutted against you. They shuddered, breathing coming rougher on their next words. “I want to see how long it takes for you to beg for my cock. And keep in mind, sweetheart, if you close your eyes, I’ll fucking stop.”

[snootlestheangel]

141 And Vaqueros Laugh Headcanons

I submitted an ask to @ghcstao3 about sleeptalking!Soap and somehow it ended up becoming a look at what I think the boys all laugh like. That post is here for anyone curious! Basically I just think that giving character to their laughs makes them so "normal" and as someone with a very bizarre laugh (more like 3 different types of laughs), it's nice to think they also have pretty weird ones.

Anyways, let's get started!

Ghost

Man's definitely doesn't laugh very readily. It's not that he doesn't have a sense of humor (we all know he does) it's just he's so hardened by all the shit he's been through his entire life, that laughing is hard for him. But once he does start laughing? Ugliest snort laugh you've ever heard. I mean like he sounds like a dying animal or something, especially when he's snorting so hard he ends up choking, making him laugh more, which causes more snorts, which just repeats the cycle. But somehow it's still really contagious, especially because it's Ghost that's sitting there choking on his own spit from snort-laughing so hard.

Soap

I feel like this man cackles. But not all the time. For the most part, he's got what most would consider a pretty normal laugh. But once you catch him in a good mood and get him to really laugh, that's when he starts cackling. I'm talking fairy tale witch level cackles here. One cannot help but laugh along with him when he gets like this. He's got his hand on his stomach, leaning back, slapping the person next to him, the whole shebang.

Gaz

I refuse to believe this man doesn't wheeze when he laughs. It could just be that one time I saw an art of him as the "wheeze" meme but still. (i cannot find it again, please someone tell me I didn't just make this in my head) I feel like he's doubled over, wheezing to a point it's somewhat concerning. He also laughs pretty easily. He lets out little wheezes in between actual giggles or just straight up wheezes at a bad joke.

Price

He lets out little chuckles for the most part, but when he actually starts genuinely laughing? It's a deep belly laugh punctuated by a few snorts as he tries to calm down. Like typical Dad laugh type. Definitely gets to the point while laughing like this that he starts coughing from laughing so hard.

Alejandro

He's got the high pitched stuff going on. Specifically, I think of these two specific Smii7y laughs at 1:45-1:56. Don't ask me why I think this is the type of laugh Alejandro has, but I just do. It's still pretty rare to hear him laugh like this, though. He's pretty good at not doing it, but sometimes, if he's delirious/drunk/in a good enough mood, he'll scare the shit out of everyone with one of these bad boys.

Rudy

Probably has the most normal laugh out of all of them tbh, but it's also the most contagious. Like, whatever type of laugh is the most contagious that isn't outrageous, it's his laugh. Something about the way he just so readily laughs is just such a refreshing thing to hear and it makes the people around him want to join in because, hey, ya know what? Life ain't so bad especially when Rudy laughs.

SO yeah! Ghost and Soap are directly tied to my irl laughs. I actually scared a poor Greek woman with my snort laugh. I cackle, and then sometimes I'm like Gaz and I just fucking wheeze

[trashiewrites]

Took You Long Enough: Part 2

A/N: Omg I cranked this out so fast hahahahaha I got sicked and called in at work so I spent all my time working on this beauty! I hope yall like it!!! I thing it turned out really well and just sad but not too sad but happy yippee

John “Soap” MacTavish x F!reader

TW: mention of dead bodies and violence briefly

How long has it been? Maybe a day at most... time seemed irrelevant to you, there was nothing you could do. You were filled with aches and pains, your body stiff from laying on the cold ground. Guards would mock you when they serve a meal, watching as you face down trying to eat something. It was dehumanizing... One thought never left your head, John... Oh, John; you hoped and even prayed for his safety as well as Ghost's. Images haunted your sleep, seeing their dead bodies bloodied and filled with bullets. Grave's words haunt the background as you stared at the corpse of the man you loved.

You knew very well the men were a force to be reckoned with. You knew if they were out there, they would find a way to free everyone. In the end, they are only men... You wondered if Alejandro was okay, perhaps he was nearby. "Alejandro-" your voice was coarse and meek, barely at first making a sound. "Alejandro!" Your call echoed through the halls. Moments followed with silence; you sighed thinking of no reply back.

"(Y/n)?" Alejandro's voice rang out, "(Y/n), is that you?!" Tears rushed to your eyes hearing his concerned voice.

"Sí Hermano!" You cried out, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?!"

"Ahh just a bad bump on my head," he cackles loud enough for you to hear, "What about you? How are you holding up?"

"I'm alive," you took a shaky breath, "I'm alive... Do they have you chained up too?"

"No, they had some shitty restraints but those didn't last long..." Alejandro's tone softened, "how long have you been in here Hermana?"

"I don't know... a day maybe."

"Chained the entire time?"

"Yep, the entire time..." you sighed, "the guards seems to be entertained when they tried to feed me earlier."

"So that's what those guards were laughing at..." his voice went quiet, anger filling each word "once we get out of here, we will make those bastards pay."

"To raising hell," you chuckled, and he laughed with you.

"To raising hell together!" ______________________

Soap, Rudy, and Ghost entered the security room in haste. Quickly getting down to work to locate everything they needed. "I'll use the security cameras to find Alejandro."

"And (y/n) ..." Soap commented, Rudy shot him a knowing glance.

"And (y/n), now you focus and help Ghost." Soap's face was written in worry, the well-being of (y/n) plagued his mind. Leaving her alone, probably going through her hell as we speak, "Soap..." John spared his gaze, "she's going to be alright."

"Enough fucking around Soap, stay focused." Ghost spoke over his intercom.

"Copy L.T., my apologies" Soap continues to lead Ghost to make the distractions. One man at a time, another bomb. "That should do, nice guiding Johnny."

"Perfect timing, I found our people. At least a general location" Rudy grinned at the screen, "the main troops are in the main holding cell block while it looks like they are guarding a cell more on the west end."

"You think they are both in there?" Rudy shrugged.

"It would make sense that they are either in the same cell or nearby, no?" Soap nodded; he had a very valid point. But the amount of uncertainty made his gut turn. How he at this point only wanted to hold you safe in his arms. Apologize for the last few days of hell, just pray to God that she's safe right now.

"Group up outside, we're heading in." Only one way to find out...

"Copy L.T." _________________

The last few hours in your cold desolate cell were rather uneventful. Besides some smart comments from the passing guards which weren't that striking. Moments of talking with Alejandro can few too far in between... The Guard stood in front of his door almost always. Only leaving the door unattended in about 30-minute intervals in which you both took the time to talk. "(y/n), you still doing alright?"

"As well as one can try to be..." you shifted your body slightly, "I believe my legs are asleep..."

"You do sound quite tired," Alejandro mentioned, which wasn't wrong. You were exhausted... "how about you nap for a while, at least try."

"In this place? I'd rather die..."

"If we escape here, you'll need the energy." God, you hated how he was correct. Your current state is maybe the quickest way to get a bullet in the head. "Don't worry, I'll yell to wake you up if anything happens."

"Alejandro..." he hums loudly, letting you know to proceed, "Soap and Ghost are okay, right? Graves told me some stuff and to be honest, it's been bothering me..."

"How do you feel?" The answer took you by surprise. Not necessarily what you would expect anyone would answer that question.

"What?"

"Well, how do you feel about their safety?"

"Well, I feel that they're safe..." you smiled softly to yourself, "I feel that sooner or later they will come in here and get us the fuck out of here."

"Then keep that in your head," Alejandro's voice spoke with such sincerity, "nothing can harm you when you're hopeful Hermana. Nothing makes a person weaker than being hopeless and lost, determination is key." You pulled your knees close, resting your head softly. "Now go on, rest (y/n)."

"Thank you, Alejandro..." your voice drifted as your eyes became heavy. Swiftly drifted down into a peaceful slumber.

You gently stirred awake; the noises outside were not fully recognizable to you. Multiple voices called out, and the voices grew louder and clearer as you opened your eyes. "(Y/n)!" Your heart stopped hearing that unmistakable Scottish accent.

"John! John! I'm here!" _________________

Ghost stood in front of Alejandro's cell ready to pop the lock on Soap's ready. "This is what we came for," Soap nodded, Ghost popping the lock and opening the door.

"Alejandro!" Before Soap could even realize he was pinned by Alejandro, alert and ready to strike. "Al- It's me Hermano!"

"Colonel, relax! It's us!" Rudy jumped in front, speaking Spanish to drive the deal home.

"Soap? Rudy, Ghost!" Alejandro's face changed to relief, looking back and forth between the three. He grasped Rudy's shoulder as if to feel if he was there.

"You didn't think we'd leave you, did Ya?"

"What the fuck took you so long Pendejos?" He grabbed the gun from Rudy's hand.

"This place is crawling with shadows; it'll be hell ahead." Soap looked around, no sign of (y/n).

"Alejandro!" He looked back to Soap, "where's (y/n)? Do you know?" Alejandro's eyes lit up.

"Yeah, she's here in a cell! Nearby, I told her to rest up 'cause she practically hadn't slept!" Alejandro went to the main hall "(y/n), wake up pendeja! Which cell are you!!" Ghost called out loudly, to no avail. Lastly, Soap made his way out, "(y/n)!"

"John?" They stood quietly, "John, I'm here! Johnny!!" Two doors down her voice rang out. Ghost rushed over, popping the lock off the door. Soap rushed into her cell, seeing her barely sitting up, arms cuffed behind her. Her hair was messy and for sure she has seen some better days. Upon locking eyes, both smiled widely; glad just to see that the other was alive. _______________________________

Your eyes welled with tears seeing the Scottish man in front of you. The wave of relief sent chills down your spine, "God, took you long enough!" you exclaimed, "got a semi-decent nap too; A little help though?" you wiggled the chains.

"Right! L.T. I'll hold her still you cut the cuffs?" Ghost nodded, getting behind her. readying the cutters.

"On my count," Ghost called out, "1... 2... 3..." you squeezed your eyes shut as the cuff broke, freeing one hand. One more count and you had control of your arms again; it hurt a lot... Rudy handed you a rifle; gladly, you took the gun. Soap looked at you with a sorrowful look, the rest were ready to leave but you couldn't ignore that look.

"John, what's up?"

"How long did they have you like that?" He spoke sternly, his hand lightly grasping your wrist. You winced at his touch; which only made him furrow his brow more.

"The entire time," you admitted, "But don't worry about that Johnny!" you placed your gun down quickly wrapping your arms around his waist. He clung to you tightly, "Alejandro and I already made a promise to raise hell when we get out of these cells." you pushed back from his embrace to grab your gun and release it off safety. "And that is exactly what I intend to do. These fuckers will regret the day they fucked with the 141 and Los Vaqueros."

"That's my girl," Soap patted your head, "I'll treat dinner when this is all over."

"(Y/n), Johnny; save the sentiment for later! We need to move!" Ghost yelled from the hallway.

"I'll hold you to it, Johnny~"

[where-are-the-spooky-gays-2]

My fam is having car troubles and it's preventing me from being able to go to school (frustrating bc I already have the attendance office on my chronically-ill ass 😭) so here's more mechanic Remus things with a little sprinkle of "Roman's his little brother instead of twin (remember that?)"

- he and Virgil don't come into contact super often for a while. This shits a slur burn. But eventually things just keep winding up wrong with the car and he keeps calling remus

- he calls Remus specifically (Remus gave him his personal number) (said all the other guys there were shady as fuck and Virgil was too cute for that bullshit) (also in case Virgil was interested)

- looooootta trips where Remus comes to Virgil's place

- awkward host Virgil who is like ".. do u want some water?" meanwhile Remus is just straight up under his car

- Remus coming inside the house with completely pitch black hands like ":D please turn on your sink for me. And maybe put some soap in my hands. So I don't turn your whole ass kitchen black." my dad always makes me do this it's so fun /j /lh

- Virgil DOES hang out w him outside though don't get me wrong I just mean that one time

- Virgil once went inside and then came out an hour later and saw his backseat completely removed and was freaked out (Remus needed to check smth. He put it back!!)

- once Virgil just kinda. lied. said he wanted Remus to check this Weird Noise the car was making. (There was no weird noise he just weirdly missed him)

- one time, different car, Remus mentions how their scheduled time is really close to when he has to get his brother. So like. When he shows up. Remus will not be alone.

- cue Fuck It™ and Roman comes with him

- what a day for Virgil, dude (Jesus Christ this kid never stops talking) (also Virgil couldn't spoil Disney for him?? Wtf Remus?? He has to learn eventually??) (it's fine whatever he's a good artist) (did call Virgil easy to draw, though... lil bastard—)

- otherwise, when it's just Virgil and Remus, they find out they have a lot in common! Interests-wise, but they def. bond over music at first. Gotta have smth going on in the background.

- Virgil can't get over the fact Remus looks hot though. It like becomes a problem for him. I can't blame him tho— greasy mullet mechanic in a tank top working on my car? Sweating and covered in grease?? Hello??? Shits hot. If virgil is weak I am too.

- their first date is when Virgil offers to buy Remus dinner for a really tight squeeze-in for a check on something. Remus takes him up on the offer and they schedule for that weekend. They have a really good time and then at the end Remus mentions how he kinda wished it was a date. Virgil realizes he did too. Oh Shit™.

- they kiss anysay

— 👑

Damn that sucks man hope everything starts working soon but Y E S Mechanic!Ree and lil bro Ro!!! I will never get over Vee constantly calling Ree specifically for his car even when there isn't an issue he's simply Gay for a chaotic man in a mullet and feels safer XD I'm cackling at the thought of Vee just making a snack for Ree and seeing the backseat completely gone and he just almost drops the plate jaw dropped and all XD Also the fact that Ro's lowkey a lil shit and Vee can't spoil Disney for him has me cackling Ree get your bro XD It's really nice to see the beloveds easily click and it all started because of Vee's car <3

[rissararity]

Little Soldats - Bucky Barnes/OC

By RissaRarity

(Dead dove do not eat. Rape/forced breeding, unprotected P/V sex, Non-consentual drug use, voyeurism warning - 18+ only)

Fic Masterlist:

CHAPTER TWO

With the aid of Hydra’s healing saves, the girl was deemed good enough ten days later. The skin had healed, stitches removed but the fresh skin was still weak and vulnerable to re-tearing.

This time when she was brought before the asset again, she was given a tiny bit of something in a needle that made her muscles relax-making her legs a bit weaker than they already were after several days of barely any food.

When she’d dared to ask for more, she was informed she would have plenty…once she was eating for two. Or preferably three as they reminded her of her family history of twins- deeming it a selling point in her selection.

She found the winter soldier in a similar position as last time, but his flesh arm wasn’t restrained like the metal one.

He was still clammy, and smelled vaguely of fire as she approached-shaking. They had him sitting up more this time, but even still the chair was plenty wide enough for her knees.

The same doctor waved for her escorts to bring her closer until she stood right beside the two. The soldier’s striking eyes scanned her briefly, noting that she seemed to have lost weight, seeing as she was already slim before, yet her chest remained full -no doubt another selling point.

Her hospital gown was tied a little tighter, making her outline more pronounced. She’d been recently cleaned, rather roughly with cold water and a bar soap. Hair hastily brushed and resting in waves down her back.

Even trembling and unsteady as she was she was beautiful.

The doctor grabbed her by the back of her neck and the guards stepped back.

“Because you were so compliant last time, and I don’t feel like restitching you,” he began, untying her hospital gown with jerking, impatient movements, “I’ve decided to grant you a mercy, little dove.”

Her silver eyes flicked over to him nervously just as he reached into his lab coat and pulled out a jar of some sort of gel.

Lube.

“I thought it would be nice to let the soldat apply it himself, since you find him so attractive.”

Her eyes flicked toward the blank, impassive face of the man on the table looking at his free hand.

“Someday we will release him on you, but for now…” the doctor pursed his lips, “we don’t want to risk him tearing you the rest of the way in half. Then our work would have to begin all over.” He chuckled.

She got rigid in his grip as she eyed the shiny titanium limb that was securely bound to the reinforced side of the chair.

“W-what’s his name?” she asked softly. The doctor knit his brows in surprise, “This is the Winter Soldier, the soldat, the asset.”

She nodded slowly, “but his name.”

The doctor cackled, “Why do you care? It’s not like he knows or cares about yours.”

“And who’s fault is that?” she replied bitterly, glaring to the side.

To her surprise, the doctor laughed, “This one’s got spunk, ah?” he looked back at the other watchers in the room. “We will have him choke it out of you someday, but that will have to wait.” He dropped his tone, “but do not forget yourself here, girl. Do as told, and you will may just survive. There are plenty of worse things we could have the soldat do to break you-and he would.”

He grabbed her jaw again and shoved her nearly nose to nose with the shirtless, muscular man who met her eyes harshly.

“Do not let his angel eyes fool you. He cares not for you, your wellbeing or safety. You aren’t even a hole to fuck. To him, you are just another mission.”

Her chest tightened under the handsome man’s intense stare. It almost looked aggressive.

“And it looks like he’s getting impatient.” The doctor yanked her face to the side to show her the growing bulge in his tactical pants.

“Take him out and your position over him, on your knees. Let him touch you and remember- this is us doing you a kindness.”

The girl once again, shakily pulled him from his pants and underwear, pulling them down to his thighs. She struggled to lift her weakened legs enough to straddle him, shaking with nervousness and embarrassment as her hospital gown was completely removed by the guards that brought her in.

No part of her was safe from the prying eyes of the Hydra agents.

But the asset’s eyes remained on her face as he was given another order in Russian. She watched his vision get cloudy and his flesh hand reached up to cup her breast- getting a yelp from her that made the onlookers chuckle.

“You’ve very little experience, little one. How many before? Two? Three?” the doctor asked, eyes glued to her form as the soldier kneeded her chest and touched her nipples that were already alert due to the cold air.  She bit her cheek as her body began to betray her. “J-just one. I was a teenager in love. He was…” her breath caught as her partner leaned forward to suckle on her chest, getting a couple of small groans from the onlookers.

The woman tried desperately to refrain from arching against him, cheeks flooding with embarrassment as her eyes flashed around the room at all the half hard male agents.

“Go on.” The doctor said, amused as he whispered into the soldiers ear, making his hand slide down the curve of her waist to graze her slit while he moved off her nipple to take her breast into his mouth and sucked hard on what he could fit.

“H—he was…just u-using me.” She stammered, shame filling her at the memory only to gasp as the asset began to confidently rub her clit.

“Did he touch you like this?” The doctor asked, the soldier switched to the other breast, revealing the dark mark he’d left behind on her soft flesh.

Her legs shook, trying to think about the pain of last time she was in this room. The spike that waited just below her should she accidently drop too low.

“N-no. We were…young…we didn’t…know…” a small whimper came from her lips, a hand unconsciously came up to grip the back of his head as he sucked another dark circle onto her upper breast and began to kiss up her neck.

“That is why your body betrays you so.”

Realizing she was leaning into the hand that worked at her clit and cradling his head she got stiff and let go, making the older men laugh at her shame.

“You’ve never had an experienced lover. You’re very lucky the soldat was rather popular in his time. Behave for us, and he will treat you well.”

His flesh hand rubbed down her slit and popped one long , calloused finger inside as he continued against her neck- nipping now and finding her sensitive spots. The ones that made her gasp and bite her lip to hold in any sounds that got caught in her throat.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she became all too aware of the many people in the room watching this.

She realized that the doctor was running the show here, it was likely he had decided what direction he wanted this to go. Under the guise of a reward, the doctor was on a power trip- directing the scene he wanted to see.

Her knees shook as her head fell back to give him more access to her neck- getting a small groan of approval from her scene partner.

She hated herself for crumbling to the new pleasure she’d never experienced. Her body eagerly responded to the attractive man giving her attention.

“What a good girl she’s being, soldat. Tell her so.”

His voice was husky as he sat up a little more, the his dick grazing her inner thighs as he did. He leaned toward her ear, “Good girl.” He growled almost possessively- making the doctor raise his eye brows.

The onlookers didn’t miss how her body clenched around his finger as he said the words, prompting him to add another.

“Sensitive little doll likes to be praised by her older, more experienced partner. Interesting.”

His words embarrassed her further making her try to pull away only for the doctor himself to push a hand against her back. “Do that again and I’ll tell him to stop being gentle.” He stopped touching her to tap on the metal arm that already made the restrains struggle.

They wouldn’t have him kill her right? They needed her.

The doctor said something to her partner in Russian, getting a stiff nod.

His fingers reached a part of her she never had, making her shutter and moan, hot tears slid down her cheeks. “I just want this to b-be over…”

“But you’re having such a good time, aren’t you? Show her,  Soldat.”

She whimpered as his fingers retreated and were held up to her face,  coated in her slick.  Her chin dropped in shame.

“We didn’t even need the lubrication. That’s all yours.  You’re so…responsive. If I’d known it would be this easy, we could have just given him this order in the first place!” he gave a cruel laugh that made her feel humiliated, all her agony for nothing.

He clapped her partner on the shoulder and he took the cue to return to his ministrations, going right for a third finger, “ahhh-“ she shivered at the stretch, pulling back a fraction of an inch at the surprise intrusion.

His blue eyes snapped up to hers, then flicked go the doctor to see if she’d been caught- but everyone’s eyes were trained between her thighs and no one noticed.

A slight look of relief flashed in her eyes before he began to rub her clit with his thumb while flicking the spot inside her that made her quiver.

Her body tensed as she squeezed his fingers, panting as her head fell onto his shoulder. Instinctively knowing she was close, the asset slowed and looked to the doctor for how to proceed.

“In your experience, soldat…do you believe she is prepared to take you now?”

She whimpered, legs shaking as wetness coated her inner thighs. He vaguely recalled he would normally finish her once before entering but with her virgin-like sensitivity he didn’t need to.

The doctor pulled back on her hair to make her lean away from him so he could watch her face crumpled in pleasure, cheeks red and pupils wide.

“Yes. The vessel is prepared.” His answer was flat, a bit shocking to her ears to hear how disinterested he sounded after earlier.

She froze as she heard the click of the restraints and immediately felt a cold hand on her waist again.

“Proceed.”

This time, it was the man who angled himself into her opened enterence, metal hand easily pulling her down to take him all the way to the base.

All the eyes in the room watched as her stomach bulged a little again, smirking as she couldn’t help the gasp then moan as his member slid with minimal resistance, eyes fluttering shut.

“Good girl.” He groaned into her ear, making her breath catch and earning a smirk from the doctor.

“Help her ride you, Soldat.”

He grabbed her hips and easily lifted her almost off before dropping her back down, making small moans fall from her mouth, keeping her head ducked to try and hide her face.

“Look at him while he breeds you.” The doctor scolded, making the man pull on her hair and wrench her head back. She locked her gaze with his through heavy lids, tears in the corners of her eyes.

The metal hand kept lifting and dropping her while the flesh hand kept a hold of the hair right at the nape of her neck.

It unnerved her how distant his eyes stayed despite the small grunts and growls that came from his chest. It kept her from imagining herself elsewhere and that this was anything other than a sick experiment- they were both victims.

Exactly what the doctor wanted as he whispered more Russian commands in the soldat’s ear.

Her hip quickly got sore from his bruising grip, thighs shaking from weakness and being unable to help lift herself didn’t help.

“Give the near-virgin a new experience.” He said in English, watching eagerly as the brainwashed man used his metal hand to push on the small of her back, making her lean forward more as he sat up a little- making her clit grind against his pelvis in a way that made her give a small shout and shiver, head flopping onto his shoulder as she went from up and down to forward and back.

She couldn’t refrain from moving with him as her body desperately craved this new feeling.

“That’s it. She likes that, don’t you little dove?”  the doctor tilted his head at her with a smirk, her grey eyes flicked go look at him for a moment as she panted against the soldats collar bone-body squeezing him without her control.  She closed her eyes, making her tears fall as her face crumpled in sadness or pleasure- she wasn’t sure which.

“Mmm!” she bit her lip as her body tensed around his member, making the asset give another low growl as his metal hand pushed her lower back to grind faster. “I’m sorry….I’m sorry…” she panted, her breath hot against his sweaty skin.

A few movements later she moaned loudly as the coil in her snapped and she squeezed him tighter than ever, milking him of every drop he had.

The asset pulled her down hard with his metal hand, body tensing with hers as he too moaned in her ear, “Good girl, take it all.” She felt him continue to pump more and more of his load into her, even after her orgasm ended. She could feel each long burst.

“Yebat!” [fuck] he moaned, making her grind a little more until some of his load began to leak out as she was filled to the brim.

The doctor smiled, leaning down to watch the drip and admire her bulging belly-full of him and his cum.

“Well done. I see the experimental enhancer was a success.” He looked over his shoulder at the lab techs who congratulated themselves.

“Twenty minutes,  Soldat.”  With that, both of this hands locked onto her thighs again, keeping them connected and his dick pressed firmly against her cervix.

Her body shivered against the cold as she was reminded about her nakedness, cheeks burning.

To her surprise, her partner met her eyes with the tiniest bit of humanity and spoke firmly “Don’t move.”

She nodded, settling herself on him as comfortably as she could. He slowly slid his hands from her thighs around her back and pressed their bare chests together, his skin burning hot against her frigidness.

Sweat and fire never smelled so comforting.

Their breathing synced naturally, and she turned her head into his neck, crying as she experienced her first genuine kindness since she was brought here.

He ducked his head to where her shoulder and neck met and pressed a kiss to the spot as her tears slid down his shoulder then rolled to where their chests were pressed together.

Staying there so the cameras couldn’t read his lips, he took a slightly shaky breath and spoke softly.

“I’m sorry.”

Not too long after, the doctor and guards returned.

“You may return to your cell,  little one.”

The woman sleepily lifted her head from the Soldats neck as he dropped his arms. Her legs trembled as she tried to lift herself off him but she fell back down, getting a tiny grunt from him.

“I can’t get up. M-my legs…”

“Slowly,  Soldat.”

She nervously looked up at his face as he grabbed her waist with both hands, lifted her up and all the way off. Cum gushed from her hole and back onto his pelvis, dripping back onto his member that flopped against his stomach.

The doctor smiled as he watched the display with interest. She whimpered as more came out of her, stomach shrinking as it drained, her sensitive body shuttered at the slimy feeling of it.

The asset couldn’t help but let his eyes flick down to watch as well. Had all that really come from him? What concoction had they injected him with to make him do that?

He held her on her knees until the gush slowed to a stream down her thighs and one of the guards tossed a blanket around her shoulders before taking her away, giving one last glance to the pile of cum on the soldiers body.

The doctor tossed a rag to him to wipe up the mess, leaving the entire cloth damp when he was done.

“Go bathe, Soldat. You smell like fire and sex.”

He nodded, standing and putting himself away again and leaving the doctor alone.

[deldeldel90]

cursed lance x werewolf lance au;

ok so. someone's jealous, that's the start of it all. a sickly-bitter jealousy that starts with a trophy in lance's hand and ends with a potion brewing. a potion that's not brewed by the one with the vengeance, for witches- the bad witches, the evil ladies with pale-green skin and a pointy hat, those away from society and hunted against- are something of a nightmare to be, they're kept away from the world forcibly and they don't ever seem to mind it. it's said to be a witch, is to be nasty. to be a witch, is to be a trickster with a cackle like the loudest flame of a fire.

the one who orders to potion to be brewed, is not a witch. he's just a boy. a boy who goes to the same boarding school as lance and can't stand to lose. can't stand for it to be as fair as it is, because lance isn't a cheater- he's just good at the sports he plays, no foulplay involved, and it's frustrating, because everyone wants to be an underdog, the boy included, yet... it's not possible to win against someone so grand. it's not written in the stories - the fact that sometimes, people are just better, people are just stronger. that sometimes, an idiotic, oblivious prince from one of the wealthiest kingdoms... has earned his pride. sometimes, that prince is just better than everybody else.

oh, that boy can't fucking stand it.

so. gold coins are thrown onto a table of an old witch- not one of those new ones, the witches who think they should be allowed in common areas of the peasant folk, that their kind could expand to where they'd never been permitted to go by the omniscient royalty. she, however, is content in her place. she revels in her natural wickedness, and she accepts bribes like a flower takes to sunlight.

greedily.

she demands for more. the boy is from a kingdom that's not as great as the plaid kingdom, a kingdom where children beg for bread from guards and where soap, or any other basic necessities, is a matter of if their pattern has been selling to other kingdoms. it's a barren land, without much industries to depend on.

he cannot give her more, naturally. he doesn't have many coins in general for his allowance, especially not during the school year. even if the market had turned in his kingdom's favor, he doubted he would've had the amount she was asking.

and, in that moment, fate is in the hands, compact from all the years of carving runes into stone and picking out the guts of frogs, of a wrinkly old witch.

and witches, despite the rumors, are not born with the soul of a wasp. they're not alligators or trolls or roaches. they're witches; born from generations of stirring love and hate in a pot, born from learning from their elders and dancing with their sisters. born into being unwanted, born into being helpless, powerless, despite the magic they hold.

they're cruel, mischievous, villainous, but they are not without a proper soul.

she can see the desperation in her eyes. she can hear his pleas, the uncertainty creeping into his tone as he makes promises to her. he's a boy, a hard-headed, jealous boy, at his heart, and she can see how he's fooled himself into thinking this is a scheme that'll ever work out.

she proposes a different potion, that's certainly less costly.

the boy looks at her and, for a moment, he can see past her warts and yellowed teeth.

he readily takes the opportunity, gives her half of everything he's got and doesn't ask what the potion will do. he skips along to his bedroom and dreams of a world full of golden trophies and silver medals. he dreams, and tomorrow, he gets a bottle full of an ugly brown liquid.

the witch smiles at him. he, surprising himself, smiles back.

it's during lunch that the potion is put into use, after lance had, once again, bested him at an activity he's too enraged about to recall in its entirety. he rushed to the servant's hall, and he scoped the area to find the youngest one that'll, surely, be easier to talk to.

it's a mousy maid who doesn't talk to her busy coworkers. she pulls a rag over an area that's already clean, trying to divert any eyes to her. she stumbles and looks around if anybody saw.

they meet eyes. her cheeks turn pink, and she looks away, but it's too late because fate had already decided she was in on the plan, even if she hadn't known it.

they meet in a unused classroom. she stutters her words and bows more times than she should've, but the boy is patient outwardly. there's a simmering rage inside of him, but he's not mad at her.

(and, strangely, he's not made at lance, either. just at the effect lance has on his life, on what should've been his accomplishments. but he doesn't think on that too hard.)

she, a monochrome refuge who only seems to be a few years younger than him, is hesitant. she doesn't know what she's in for- only that she's putting a potion that smells like a wet dog into a piece of lance's favorite cake.

"it's a prank," he tells her. it's not exactly a lie. "it'll wear off in a day or two, you won't get into any trouble."

he slips the other half of his gold into her palm. "trust me. you'll be okay."

"this is three times my salary back at home," she whispers, it's barely heard beneath the clatter of pots in the kitchen nearby but he hears. and a part of him understands.

a part of him wants to say he gets it, but the other recognizes that he's not here to make friends.

"so," an awkward pause, "what's your desicion?"

she falters, before feeling the gold in-between her fingers before stuffing in into her skirt's pocket, as if afraid he'll take it away. she bites her lip.

with a nod, she murmurs, "what kind of cake does he like?"

and that cake is strawberry shortcake. fluffy cream and strawberries and vanilla, it looks sweet, it looks good, from the way lance devours into it without a second thought.

the next day, there's no results, not really. in fact, he seems to have gotten faster. but in the next week, lance has begun skipping his classes. wearing more clothes, not smiling. has begun acting weird.

"like a dog," he hears someone say. he can barely contain his smile.

it's found out, sooner or later. a week goes by, and that's when it all goes to shit for the boy's future.

there's tears and arguing and lies. the boy does not tell about the witch who he got the potion from, he says the maid, who he never had an ounce of loyalty towards anyway due to the infrequently of their interactions, brewed it. he's threatened, yelled at, told he should be executed for this, told a war might start because of this.

he's crying, by the end of it. he just turned fourteen a month or two ago. he's a boy, and the fact that there's nothing his parents can do, except beg like their kingdom's children plead for the smallest piece of stale bread, hits him hard.

but, king leland just scowls at his weakness and sends him off. says this is just his only warning. says it'll be bad press if he'd actually die.

the boy is merely expelled.

that, is where the boy's story ends.

and this, in the principal's office, is where lance's begins.

he watches the other boy's parents scold him- but then, they start hugging him. they start asking why he'd do this. his dad looks terrified as he strikes up deal after deal for his son to be unharmed, his mom's pleading for forgiveness for his son's actions.

then, when they leave, lance's father just- looks at him with a gaze made out of steel. or iron. or whatever they make those strong, unbreakable swords out of.

the principal apologizes over and over and over again. it's tedious, but lance still feels bad for him. he tries to open his mouth to say it's alright, but his father puts a hand up- a hand that makes him flinch a little, but it's whatever- and they leave.

he's put in a carriage. there's an inch underneath his ear, where fuzzy, thin hair has grown. the hair's crawling up his skin, nuzzled up like fur. he waits for his father, hearing his voice far away. taking in his words.

lance sees his friends going into the courtyard, and he waves to them. some look. others pointedly don't.

he's not sure what this means. he doesn't even know what happened.

all he knows is that there's a dull stabbing to his heart and all he craves is companionship.

a pack, one might say.