feraltragedy

[feraltragedy]

Oops, i got wet.

[feraltragedy]

a request made by @somebodyels3 where by you have priest sub!noah cuffed to a st. andrews cross 💕ps. thank you for the collar line hehe

Pairing: Priest sub!Noah Sebastian x dom f!reader

CW: includes mentions of unprotected sex (p in v), edging, overstimulation, corruption kink, religious themes, sub/dom dynamic, kind of power dynamics, blasphemy, priest kink, slight manipulation, use of bondage equipment, dirty talk, men begging and whimpering, ruined orgasms, includes moments of aftercare.

Names: pup/puppy.

WC: 3.6k.

Smut below the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

There’s a room full of people Noah is expected to address, yet he finds himself struggling to keep his eyes from being drawn towards you. He’s delivering a sermon about God and loyalty, all while wearing a collar, concealed beneath the one signifying his unwavering promise to God, which promises him to you.

As he speaks, everyone is attentively listening to every word, but his eyes are fixed on you, eagerly awaiting any subtle change in your expression. While he has a congregation that eagerly seeks his approval and, by extension, the approval of God, he yearns for yours.

The thin black material of his long-sleeved shirt sleeves is tucked up a quarter of the way, revealing the intricate array of tattoos adorning his skin. His fingers discretely stroke across the thin strap of the thin pink harness he wears beneath, and he’s acutely aware that you’ve noticed it.

You share a glance, and for a fleeting moment, his breath catches in his throat, his voice quavering as he regains his composure. Because that’s what wearing it does now—it grounds him, primarily to you. Before you entered his life, he was genuinely devoted to God, but he had no idea what he was truly doing. It’s strange how he’s suddenly discovered a newfound purpose in serving you.

As the sermon concludes, murmurs of appreciation begin to rise among his congregation. They approach him, offering generous and kind words in exchange for his praise. Some hold his attention briefly, but never long enough for his eyes to not stray from the crowd and find you. You, standing across the room, eagerly await his approach, as if he were an eager puppy waiting for its owner’s call.

“Father,” you address him as he approaches, and he almost corrects you before remembering his present position over you.

The grin that spreads across his lips widens with a warmth that radiates from his chest at the sound of your name being uttered by him, as if it belongs there in his mouth and on his tongue—the way you do, even though he would much rather be falling to his knees before you and addressing you as ‘Domina’. However, he will settle for a polite 'ma’am' in public, the most appropriate way to address you, while still maintaining that sense of dominance over him.

“That was a beautiful sermon today,” you say, and he wonders if you noticed the parallels in his words.

He contemplates how expressing loyalty and devotion to God mirrors his own feelings for you, how you’ve become the central focus of his life.

“Thank you.”

You step forward, and his breath catches in his throat as your fingers brush over the front of his black shirt, tracing the exact spot where the straps of his harness sit. Your fingers sweep higher, adjusting his collar like a caregiver would a dependent, or like a dominant does their submissive.

“I hope to see you later, Noah,” you whisper, lowering your voice to ensure that no one nearby overhears your private conversation. Despite the inappropriate setting, his ears perk up, and he stands at attention, almost as if he’s drawn to your presence. “I believe my good boy deserves a reward.”

How close he is to losing all composure and surrendering to his submissive state for you, right here, right now. The presence of everyone around and his current duties are all that prevent him from completely falling into the subspace you guide him into. The temptation you’ve allowed him to succumb to.

Before leaving, Noah receives your one final word, a final instruction, and you know he will willingly obey. “Mine. Tonight. 7 o’clock.”

He watches you intently as you slip through the rows of people, but the faint scent of your perfume lingers—intoxicating. He has to remind himself where he is and that he currently has a job to do, lest he follow after you like the obedient puppy you’ve turned him into.

As he stands there, his eyes still locked onto the space long after you’ve left, he realizes how uncomfortable his slacks have become. The dark fabric makes it easy to conceal the growing bulge, but it’s discomfort is now glaring, and all he can think about is slinking back into his private office and fisting his cock while tugging on the collar you gifted him. Though he doubts he’d actually succeed in freeing his cock before he spills his seed everywhere.

An hour ago, you sat across from him, sharing an intimate dinner—one you had prepared together, though Noah had taken the lead, being the better cook. Now, his long limbs are spread out and restrained against the St. Andrew’s cross, his body completely open to you in trust.

This isn’t the first time an evening has led you here, fulfilling desires whispered between shared glances and lingering touches. But tonight is different. Tonight, you’ve brought him into a space that’s entirely yours—a sanctuary of quiet control and devotion. Here, there’s no need for words—just the steady rhythm of his breath, the warmth of his skin, and the soft clink of metal as you fasten him in place. He trusts you, watching you with that quiet, unwavering gaze—the one that speaks of surrender not out of obligation, but out of love.

Securing him had been a challenge in itself, his amusement evident as he allowed you to struggle with the restraints, his lips twitching with each minor setback. When he finally showed mercy, cuffing one wrist himself, you reciprocated with a kiss—several, in fact, soft and sweet, pressed against his lips, his jaw, and the hollow of his tattooed throat. It was a promise, a thank you, and a silent declaration of how much this means to you—to have him like this, not just restrained, but willing, trusting, and yours.

His heart had pounded in his chest all evening, a steady rhythm of anticipation, but now, it has settled. His body is relaxed, and his expression softens as he watches you secure his second wrist. You have to stand on a stool to reach him, pushing onto your tiptoes, and the fondness in his eyes is undeniable. It’s not just obedience or desire—it’s adoration.

When you finally step back, taking him in—bared before you, waiting and trusting—he exhales, a slow, contented sigh.

Noah is yours. Entirely. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

There’s a poetic irony in a priest being tied to a St. Andrew’s cross. A man of restraint willingly restrains himself. A man who preaches purity and self-control embraces vulnerability and relinquishes control in a way that is carnal, succumbing to desires of that nature.

You’ve transformed from his temptress, luring him in temptation, to his divine being, the sole object of his worship, the center of his devotion, and the subject of his prayers. That’s how he speaks now, whispering your name between breaths as he silently pleads for you. A strained ‘domina’ escapes his lips in a gasp as another moan follows.

He appears ethereal, suspended from your wall like a revered religious figure. You worship him in your own unique way, pulling him apart at the seams as you encourage him to embrace his desires and strive to bring him pleasure.

You can’t help but admire how handsome he looks, his skin flushed so much that even his tattoos can’t hide it. Your fingertips gently caress his stomach, and he arches his back as he tries to push into your touch. The sounds coming from his throat are desperate, and you feel your clit throbbing. Every moment of teasing him is teasing you, yet you can’t resist prolonging the anticipation. You haven’t even reached your initial plan yet, having too much fun building him up to it.

Noah has no idea how long he’s been suspended here, your hands exploring every inch of him, his cock twitching even with the slightest touch. He was fully hard the moment you freed him, but now his cock stands painfully hard, throbbing with anger and redness as it leaks another trickle of precum.

Every time you bring him closer to the edge, he believes this will be it, that you’ll finally let him fall over. Instead, you watch, marveling at the way his body trembles, his stomach muscles clenching before rubbing your hand against his sensitive tip, ruining any chance of a genuine orgasm, any chance of a release that doesn’t push him higher than he already is.

Pained whimpers escape his lips, forming a soft, whispered plea. He’s begging for release, for you, for something, because that’s what he needs right now and he knows you’re aware of it—that you’re choosing to tease him and prolong the pleasure.

“What is it, puppy? What do you want?” You coo, your voice laced with a playful undertone of condescension.

You’re aware of his desires, and Noah is too. He understands that you’re hoping he’ll use his words to express what he so desperately wants, but he can’t because he’s struggling to find the right ones outside of a repetitive string of soft “please,” hoping you’ll take pity.

“Please what?” Your mock pout captures his attention, and he whimpers in response. You’re taunting him so much that he can barely think clearly.

“Fuck… fuck me…” Noah stammers, his cock twitching, throbbing, and yearning for release, for you.

“You want to fuck me?”

He gazes down at you, his hair cascading around him. He nods eagerly, hoping you’ll give into his request.

As you step closer, his eyes widen as he watches your hand reach out and wrap around his shaft. He twitches in your hand at the touch, another moan escaping his lips. His overly sensitive state has pushed him to the brink already.

“Beg for it.” You command. His eyes widen as he lifts his head, tilting it like a puppy questioning its owner’s command. “You heard me, you want to fuck me, then beg to.”

Noah, utterly wrecked with desperation, begins to whimper and beg, “Please—just let me fuck you. I can’t take this anymore. Please, I’ll be good, I’ll be so fucking good for you, just let me—please—”

As you approach, he watches your thighs parting as you widen your stance to bring his cock between them

The contact against your folds makes him hiss, his head lifting and pressing back against the leather of the cross behind him. His hips jerk as you push the tip between your folds, allowing him to feel the wetness of your pussy as you begin to slowly rub yourself along his shaft, coating him further with a mixture of your arousal.

Soft moans escape your throat as the pressure of his cock against your clit finally begins to alleviate some of your own aching need.

As Noah pushes forward, he feels the tip press against your entrance, enticing you to make more needy sounds. He yearns to be inside you, to feel you wrapped around him.

“Come on, pup, fuck me then.” You tease, and Noah feels the growing frustration as he tries to buck and angle his hips, but he fails to get anywhere near what he wants. Instead, he falls to rutting between your thighs, desperately seeking his release.

He manages to get it, just slightly, before you stop him. His entire body trembles as ropes of cum splatter between your thighs and fall between you to the floor, adding to the mess from his already dripping precum.

“Oh, you’re a very naughty puppy!” Your voice barely reaches Noah’s ears, drowned out by the throbbing in his body. His orgasm is a slow, tentative growth, barely able to fully blossom, yet it keeps him in a haze, as he clings to this moment with desperate intensity.

“You’re lucky I don’t drag you down from there and make you get on all fours to clean up your mess.” You try to scold him, but it only elicits a moan because it sounds like a wonderful punishment if you expect him to clean your thighs. He’s already felt how slick they are with your arousal, and his tongue even licks across his lips at the thought.

How he wishes he could be between them right now, worshiping you how he loves to the most.

“Maybe I will let you fuck me.” That pulls him back, as does the sensation of your hand stroking along his twitching, sensitive cock, your palm squeezing him and causing his hips to jerk in response. “You look so needy, so desperate.”

He is. God, he is, and all he can think about is finally being inside of you.

Noah watches intently as you position yourself, turning your back to him before spreading out your legs and leaning forward, offering yourself to him. He can see the way your pussy glistens, so warm and inviting, that it makes him let out a needy breath.

“Show me how much you want to fuck me.” You purr, enticing him, glancing over your shoulder at him as his hips push forward and his tip just grazes your folds.

One wrong move sends him slipping away, and he whines before trying again.

A second time, you hear his frustration in the way he huffs before you take pity on him, returning his earlier gesture and reaching around to grasp him.

As you guide his cock towards you, you rub him between your folds with a soft moan and push back, allowing him to feel your wet entrance before he meets you with a thrust.

Just the tip of his cock pushes into your tight hole, drawing him in deeper and making him let out a moan of satisfaction. It’s a moan of relief, as though he’s finally found what he’s been seeking.

Such a desperate man, falling apart all for you, and he has no shame.

Sweat covers almost every inch of his skin, and his body still trembles from how sensitive he has become. However, he refuses to let this hold him back. His thrusts are erratic and desperate, mirroring his own state of mind, and he slips out easily, especially when it’s only past the tip he can push into you because you’re deliberately standing away from him.

“Come on, Noah, I thought you wanted to fuck me.”

The use of his name instead of a pet name makes him whine, his eyes pleading as you gaze at him, yearning for mercy once more. However, you remain unmoved and persist in coaxing him, rolling your hips and feeling his tip gently caress your folds with each of his attempts.

“Just arch your hips a little more,” you instruct him. He tries, oh how he tries. He pushes his hips out as far as the apparatus he’s restrained to will allow. Frustrated whimpers escape his lips as he bucks his hips and ruts into the air, as if that somehow magically brings him closer.

He’s so far gone that he doesn’t even care how desperate he appears in this state. He’s reduced to nothing, and all he needs and desires is you. He’s so close to achieving his own personal nirvana that it feels cruel that you’re holding it out of reach. Until finally…

Either you push back, or he manages to arch himself in a way that gives him enough reach, that finally feels himself sinking into you. Soft whimpers of gratitude escape him as he begins to buck his hips, thrusting himself deeply and erratically into you, completely disregarding the sloppiness of his movements, driven solely by his desire for you and the lust that has clouded his judgment.

When you throw your head back with loud moans, it makes his cock throb inside you. The warm, wet feeling of your cunt tightening and drawing him closer to the brink of his climax makes him let out choked whimpers. He barely manages to find his words as he keeps himself arched in the position as best he can.

The telltale signs are there as he feels the familiar sensation creeping up his spine, making him lightheaded after already being pulled to dizzying heights by your constant teasing and edging.

Just as he feels himself ready to fall over, you slip away, causing him to release a loud and needy whine, “Please… don’t stop. I need it. I need you to take me, to use me. Please, don’t stop.” He sounds so desperate, begging as his hips continue rutting in the air, his climax ruined once again.

At this point, he feels his body shuddering, unsure if he’s being held up solely by the willpower or the restraints. The dribble from his cock is pathetic, barely a release, barely actual cum. The sensation is heavy and tight in his balls, making him whine even more, needy and desperate. “Please—God, please—I’ll do anything, I’ll say anything, just don’t leave me like this. I can’t take it; I’ll lose my mind, I swear—please, I need you, I need it, I need—“ Tears are pressing to his eyes now, unable to control the painful need to cum, the need for you that has him teetering on the edge.

The moment you turn to look at him, the click of your tongue as if ready to scald him once more, makes his cock twitch.

“Please—I’ll beg on my knees, I don’t care—just…just don’t leave me like this. I can’t—I can’t—please—” at that moment, the pressure of your hand against his stomach makes him tense, gasp, and his muscles contract beneath it. He can’t help but rely on your touch to propel himself forward; his eyes, though heavy, tearful, and pleading, focus solely on you.

Faint whimpers escape as he repeatedly tenses his muscles until the sharp graze of your nails is enough to send him careening over the edge. Even without you wrapped around him, his body violently shakes with the intensity of his climax, a white-hot heat that surges through him and pulls a loud whining moan from his throat.

He hadn’t even had a proper chance to fuck you, yet here he was, cumming from just your touch on his stomach. He almost feels ashamed, but also proud of the profound influence you have over him, because there’s no one else he’d rather be under the control of more than you.

You’ve shown him heaven, Noah is certain of that. Every time you’ve come together, it’s been nothing short of a euphoric experience. But on this particular occasion, he experienced a whole new level of pleasure.

After a much-needed warm shower and some food, he’s nothing short of clingy, climbing onto you like an oversized lapdog as he rests his larger frame against yours. He sinks between your spread thighs, making himself at home. Despite his damp locks splayed out across you, he tucks his head against your chest.

The soothing sensation of your fingers against his scalp lulls him into a state of comfort during the comedown. It always felt like the most challenging part, where grounding himself becomes increasingly difficult.

For a fleeting moment, his eyes close, his head against your chest, listening to the soothing rhythm of your heartbeat, before your gentle voice draws his attention and his head tilts back, allowing him to peer up at you.

“You did so well tonight, sweetheart.”

He has the urge to hide his face from you, to seek solace in the embrace of your neck and inhale the floral scent of the body wash you both used during your shared shower. However, he resists, gracefully accepting your praise with a subtle smile that graces the corner of his mouth.

“Really?” He doesn’t mean to sound surprised; it’s mostly because this is all still so new to him. You’re exploring together, and while you’re the one teaching him, he can still sense that you’re still finding your footing with things. “As were you,” he adds, a soft blush spreading across his cheeks.

At your request, he tilts his head, allowing you to lean down and meet him for a kiss. The contact is needed more than ever.

In his mind, he believes he could cling to you here forever. He always does afterward, but especially tonight. There was something more intimate about what had transpired and the trust you shared, especially from Noah. He had already given his promise to you, wearing it in the form of his collar, which now lay on the bedside, ready for the morning. However, allowing you to have complete control, the way he had, was a new level of trust and devotion—one tied to his complete adoration of you.

His eyes close once more as your gentle fingertips trace the bare skin of his chest, following the intricate patterns of ink spread across his body.

“Desolate,” you murmur, and Noah shifts, his eyes barely open as he watches you trace the word. “Do you still feel this way?”

It’s as if he doesn’t feel the need to explain his reasoning behind the word. He doesn’t dismiss it as a meaningless word or share more than he’s comfortable with, because you don’t pry, and you never have.

For a moment, he contemplates the word, the weight of its meaning, and the emotions he felt during that time when it truly resonated with him. As his head tilts back, his eyes gaze up at you, filled with adoration, and he feels the warmth radiating through him once again.

“Not anymore,” he offers as his answer, turning his head and pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone. In return, you lean down and meet a kiss on the top of his head, nestling comfortably against him.

Closing his eyes once more, he finds a sense of peace as he melts against you, listening to the gentle, steady rhythm of your heartbeat, his own chest feeling more full of love than ever before.

tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke  @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ami--gami @floodflameschosen @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady @th4t-em0-k1d @amelia-acero @dollieomens @i-love-the-smell-of-you-blood @sitkowski @athenexe @trvshdxddy @collapsedglasshouses @overmydeadbodysblog @xmads-omensx @ajordan2020 @astronoids @courta13 @oobleoob @bluehairpunklol @concretenoah @death-ofpeace-ofmind @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @bloody-spades @iluvmewwwww75 @limerinseme

[feraltragedy]

Fire Unknown

A Simon "Ghost" Riley Story

Pairings: Simon Ghost Riley x Silas Lightfoot Barlowe f!ofc (romantic), Kyle Gaz Garrick x Johnny Soap Mactavish (romantic), Silas Lightfoot Barlowe x Kyle Gaz Garrick (platonic)

CW: MDNI! Explicit content. Graphic violence and death. Descriptive sexual scenes. Strong language. Mentions of capture, torture, rape. Panic attack. Paranoia. Soldier fic not a fairytale. Characters are non-canon. Biblically inaccurate.

The team gather to the incoming helo. Seeing nobody in the open door, they exchange confused glances. The engine shuts down and the pilot steps out.

"Where is he then?" One of the men speaks.

This helo was supposed to be carrying their temporary American teammate. Silas "Lightfoot" Barlowe, a name they've all heard too many times about how great he is.

"Hellcat jumped the helo about a mile back, something about gettin'a proper read of you boys." Pilot Ames chuckles amused. These boys are already making wrong assumptions.

"You just let him hop on out, just like that?" A man I've already concluded is the one they call Soap, asks, dumbfounded. Johnny MacTavish.

Ames is clearly enjoying this too much. "One doesn't 'let' Lightfoot do anything. And uh, he is actually a.."

"She." I say plainly from directly behind the men that were awaiting my arrival.

To be honest, I thought they would have snuffed me out behind them already. The way they snap around to the source of the voice looks like something out of a movie. The man with a skull face I've noted to be 'Ghost' stands with his hands splayed out at his sides as to say 'dude, wtf'. His head whips back and forth comically as he tries to process my presence. Simon Riley.

I take mental note of each of them, making a quick study of their body language. They are either displeased with my antics or the fact their awaited legend is a 5'3 woman. Their testosterone reeks of personal insult. But not Ghost, no. I have to bite back a laugh at the way he looks like a scooby doo character, very bamboozled indeed.

"Call me Gaz." A hand reaches out to shake mine. Kyle Garrick.

"Silas Barlowe, Lightfoot." I say as I shake his hand.

I move to the next man, holding out my hand and speaking before he has the chance to introduce himself. "Shampoo, right." He scoffs, pushing past my hand and walking towards mess. "Kidding! C'mon Soap!" He doesn't look back.

Turning back I eye the big one. "You're a funny guy eh." He speaks but I can't decipher his tone.

"I've got jokes." I shrug, reaching my hand out. I'm surprised when he actually engulfs my hand in his.

"Ghost. I don't like to be called Simon. Your face, why d'you look shocked? Wasn't expecting such large hands, lass?"

I laugh. Partly because I thought I was good at keeping my facial expressions neutral. "Wasn't expecting you to actually shake my hand." I say matter-of-factly.

He actually laughs. Throws his head back, hand on his chest, and laughs. What even is this strange creature, I think to myself.

"Ah, he'll warm up t'ya. Let's get to the mess, yeah?"

I look to Ames, I still need to retrieve my bags from the helo. "I'll get your stuff and put it in your quarters, Lightfoot. You head on." I nod in acknowledgement, smiling brightly at him. In all the years we've known each other, all he has seen I'm capable of, he still treats me like a lady.

Walking along side Ghost and Gaz, I speak up. "Yall don't have to treat me special because I'm a woman. None of you owe me anything of the sort." I'm not fragile or delicate, I don't want these men treating me as such.

"Ya bit of a legend. We're honored is all." Gaz quips.

Ghost only grunts in agreement. Ah, there's the caveman I've heard so much about.

He does speak as we enter the threshold of the mess, pointing to yet another masked figure sitting off to himself. "That's General Konig, he is the highest rank of our team for this mission but he doesn't do social calls so you will be reporting to me for now." I've begun heading in that direction before he can finish talking. "No, hey wait!"

I reach the other masked figure before the first one can get a leash on me. He stares at me blankly. "Silas Barlowe, sir." I greet with a smile.

"Sorry sir, hellcat this one." Ghost makes the mistake of apologizing for me and I repay him with an elbow to the ribs, my smile growing proudly at his grunt.

Konig moves to stand and my smile is wiped clean off. Pokerface officially gone. Ghost is a beast but this dude is god-freakin-zilla.

I expect angry reprimanding, but instead he puts his hand out, barely extending his arm away from his body. He seems...hesitant. Taking note of his body language, I shake my head gently and smile once more. "You don't gotta shake my hand, just thought it proper to introduce myself."

He looks genuinely relived, his shoulders dropped so subtly I'm certain I'm the only one who seen it. "I'll leave ya to it." I turn on my heel to walk away, hoping to ease his tension and release him from expectation to speak to me.

I hear heavy footsteps hot on my heels. I don't have to look to know who it is, each of their walks already coded in my brain. Looking around to quickly assess the people around me, I wonder who they are and why they are here if they aren't in my new team.

"Ghost?" I say questioningly as I sit at a table. He rounds to the other side, giving me a stare before he sits on the opposite bench.

"How'd ya know it was me, coulda been anyone?" His tone is genuine.

"Everyone has a walk, a specific step personal to only them. It's my job to be aware of my surroundings even when I can't see them. In low-visibility situations I need to be sure I'm not taking out one of my own." He hums thoughtfully, considering my words.

"How come there's s'many people? I imagined our team would be separate from anyone else.?"

"Same directive, different missions. Just like other military operations there's different groups for different things, all working toward a common objective. Don't worry, everyone has their own private quarters in tent city."

I nod in understanding. I take a bite of food, groaning in delight before stuffing my face like a wild animal. Ghost moves his head back in bewilderment, eyes cartoonishly wide. He waits until I've finished before speaking again.

"The food is bloody disgusting, and you're going at it like it's chocolate cake on you're birthday." He still dons a look of absolute bewilderment. Buth-dae, I mimick his funny accent in my head.

"My last mission I ate crickets 'n grasshoppers. All that was available for months. This IS cake compared to that."

His head turns slightly. Most of his face is hidden by the mask but I can see by the look in his eyes that I must have grown two extra heads and a gnarly tail.

"You scare me."

I can't hold back a giggle at his monotone statement. "I get that quite alot. Surely I'm not that scary, just a bit unhinged maybe. I don't bite." I pause, furrowing my brows in thought. "Well, actually...not relevant." I take a sip of my water.

His eyes go wide again. He looks so ridiculous. I try to hold back my laugh but fail miserably, spewing my water directly in his face as I do so. My hand clamps around my mouth, and now im the one with wide eyes as the mess falls deathly silent. This is where I die, isn't it, water dribbling down my chin as I'm squished to death by scooby doo: beast edition.

I leave him no chance to crush me, quickly standing to toss my trash and scurry away. I can't imagine how silly I look. Who's the cartoon character now, I chide myself with rolled eyes.

I step out of the mess, bumping into someone in my rush to escape, nearly toppling them over. "Woah, where's the fire Lightfoot? You look a down right maniac, causing trouble already?"

I'm instantly relieved to hear Ames' teasing tone. "Y'could say that." I scratch the back of my neck sheepishly. "Which one of these will be my new home"

He chuckles heartily, I look in the direction of his pointing finger. "That one there. Sorry to leave ya in your current state but I gotta be wings up. Try to stay out of trouble, more trouble that is. I'll see you in a few months, yeah?"

I wrap my arms around him tightly. "If'n I live that long. Thanks Ames." His chuckle brings a smile to my face as we say our final goodbyes.

As soon as he turns on his heel I make a dead sprint for my quarters. I hurry inside, drawing the flaps together tightly in my fists as I take a deep breath. After a moment I turn and take in the tent that I'll be calling home for the next 8 months.

My clothing bags have been placed carefully on my cot, which is much larger than standard issue, earning a delighted hum. I'm grateful to see a desk and chair. My files are neatly stacked stacked on the desk alongside my computer. As I examine the the scene I silently thank Ames for setting all of my stuff up exactly how I like it. A smile graces my face at how thoughtful my long-time friend is.

I make my way to the bags on the bed to get my clothes organized. My back is turned to the makeshift doorway of the tent but I don't miss the sound of heavy footfall approaching. Despite the quick pace I decipher the sound of the steps before the figure flings open the tent flaps and barges in.

"Ah, come on in, Ghost." I don't turn to face him. I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing my face as he rips the life from my body. "Nu-uh, look at me."

I swallow the lump in my throat and begrudgingly turn to face him. Fool has come to kill me and hasn't even cleaned his mask of my spit water.

"Look at me. You've drenched my face. And then you've scurried off like a roach when the lights are turned on." He doesn't even sound angry, and it confuses me.

I don't let my guard down, reaching blindly behind me grabbing the first piece of fabric I feel my hand brush over. I bring the fabric up and wipe his face, unsure what else to do in the moment.

A big hand reaches up to grab my wrist, holding it out to examine it. "Are you wiping my face with your knickers?" I look at the fabric in my hands. I am indeed wiping this man's mask with my 'knickers'.

My eyebrows raise and I clamp my bottom lip between my teeth to avoid laughing in the face of death. His accent and tone of disbelief something from a comedy. I steady myself and tear my eyes away from the treacherous fabric, meeting his eyes.

"Yes sir." I'll own up to it. No use trying to talk my way out of this one. He grunts in response, large hand gripping my wrist slightly tighter.

"You're gonna be the death of me." His face is mere inches from mine. If it weren't for the mask covering his mouth and nose, I would feel his breath fan across my blushed skin.

I swallow thickly, but before I can speak he gently releases his hold on me and turns, walking out of my quarters. A heavy breath I didn't realize I was holding barrels out of me. Confusion washes over me as an unfamiliar sensation sparks weakly in my core. What that hell is that?

I shake my head and continue organizing my clothes before settling in. My late arrival offering me little time to socialize and I'm thankful for that. I don my sleeping shirt and slip into the sheets. Taking note of how soft they are in comparison to what I'm used to, I wonder if everyone here has soft sheets. The thought goes no further as sleep tangles itself around me.

I greet goodmorning to the air as I stretch my arms. Wasting no time I get dressed for the day and make my bed. Pleased with the tidiness of my quarters I head to the mess for breakfast.

Upon entering the mess I notice my team already present and make a mental note to get in here earlier. I get my food and sit at a table by myself. I've deduced there are three total teams here, no more than 4 or 5 people making up each one. The small amount of bodies leaves room to seclude myself. Shoveling the luke-warm mush into my face is rudely interrupted.

"You're a looker ain't ya." I don't recognize the voice but I'm snapped into my persona immediately. I stand abruptly to face to interrupting sod. Seeing the way he openly eyes me up and down has my blood boiling.

I cock my head at the idiot in front of me and toe up. "Be a real shame then ya won't be able to see after I pop ya eyes out of their sockets." Venom dripping off my words but he clearly can't read the room. If he knew who I was he would think very hard about his next move. I very much will pop his eyes out with my thumbs. Idiot.

"Don't be nasty kitten, jus' appreciatin'." This fool must be brain dead. He reaches his right hand out to trace his fingers over my hip. Showtime!

I grip his trespassing hand with my left, outstretching it to the side, giving me more control of his body for what comes next. I grip his throat with my right hand and sweep his legs with my right foot. The placement of my hands allow me to introduce his falling form to the ground. His back thuds harshly, head bouncing in the process.

My grip on this throat tightens, my face is so close to his my breath makes his pitiful mustache wave slightly. The look in his eyes is familiar, raw fear. I release the hold on his hand and raise my fist. A stray hand behind attempts to halt my arm.

"Barlowe!" I distantly recognize the voice as Gaz. But I ignore him. The momentum of my punch sips my arm free of his gasp, my fist colliding with the unknown man's face with a delicious crunch. I only see red now. Eliminate the enemy.

I Withdraw my fist, winding my arm back for another grueling blow. My fist comes down like a torpedo but somehow doesn't meet his face, it's too far away. I'm floating backwards in the air. Not yet death, I need to clear the target. I thrash and claw against the force trying to take me too soon, but I'm met with an unmatchable resistance.

"Silas! Silas stop!" I lean forward to get enough distance to try and crash my skull into the voice. Before I can even make my move I'm laying face first on the ground. I don't feel pain. I don't feel anything but heavy weight pinning me tightly down. It takes a moment to register I'm not dead, and the weight on my body is a person.

"Lightfoot!" It's Ghost, not the angel of death. I come back to earth. I blink and steady my breathing.

"I'm here. I-im here." I say after a few beats. The weight that is bringing me comfort and security begins to lift off of me and I almost whine. I feel a pair of large hands squeeze at my arms.

"If I let you go are you gonna try and kill us all?" I do my best to shake my head, my face still pressed to the ground. A light chuckle graces my ears and I'm reconnected to my physical form.

"Right then, up ya go. That's it." He pulls me to my feet. His hands hesitate to let me go, the look in his eyes tells me he isn't fully convinced. I take a deep breath and give a firm nod. I look to the man I was just wailing on, idiot is still on his ass, leaned back on his elbows. The blood trailing down the lower part of his face makes me smirk.

"Wanna tell me what the hell happened here?" My attention is brought to Konig. Huh, I thought he was mute. I don't get to dwell on it before the grating voice of Idiot Fool slices in.

"I just said hi and she fucking snapped. Crazy bitch!" Oh, I know this fool ain't that stupid. I was mad before, but now I'm pissed. I don't get a chance to give him what for, as my back is pulled roughly into someone. The signature grunt gives him away, and I don't resist this time. I open my mouth to call the idiot out but a hero chimes in.

"That's not what I saw. This sack of shit was trying to cop a feel" Oh shit, that's a lady voice! I look in the direction of my lady hero, as does everyone else. I suddenly feel giddy, I'm not the only woman here. Ghost must be able to sense my excitement, I feel a chuckle rumble in his chest.

He leans down to whisper in my ear. "Fawning over the woman, are ya?" I shift on my feet at the sensation, then mentally kick myself for it. He hums suspiciously before returning to standing upright again.

"Shithead has tried some nonsense on me before, though I didn't have the balls like Lightfoot here to shred him. I'll definitely be taking a page out of your book." Lady woman looks at me when she speaks, an amused smile on her face. I take note to thank her later for saving me, twice. I don't miss the look Konig gives her at her confession.

I tap the thigh of the beast behind me and he let's me go. I step forward and speak, uninterrupted this time. "It's one thing to drop awful pickup lines on me. But skeevy put his hand on my hip. Animals like him don't take rejection well, in my experience it's best to to say no in all-caps or they will use force to try and get what they want."

The air is thick after my statement but I need these people to understand I will kill anyone that tries. I won't ever let myself go through that kind of assault again. I guess my therapist was right about the depth of my PTSD.

General Godzilla breaks the tension when he grabs fistfulls of Idiot Fool, hoisting him in the air effortlessly, like a cheap pillow. There's that look again. I notice the way Konig and Lady woman eye each other. Oh.

My assessment is cut short when the fool starts thrashing. Idiot. No amount of resistance will matter, he looks like a bug flitting about in Konig's grasp. I don't realize how close I am to the action until a booted Idiot foot swings towards my head. I thank my quick reflexes as I lean back with my step, avoiding a kick to the face. My movement bumping me into a body standing very close behind me.

A gunt at my sudden intrusion gives me confirmation to the identity. "Sorry." I say. His eyes burn into me and my feet are glued in place. A loud thud and stupid groan redirects my attention. Konig is letting that fool's head bounce off of a table, then anything and everything within reach. I clamp my hand over my mouth, silent laughter jolting through my body. I forget about the man-wall I'm still standing against.

Konig steps out of the mess, surprisingly not bouncing Idiot's head off the post by the door flaps. He walks back in, only to turn around and walk back out. This time making a point to whack Idiot's head off the post. Nevermind, I guess.

The sight I just witnessed is hysterical. I can't hold back my laughter any longer. I let out a howling cackle, doubling over. The feeling of what, or rather who, that's now pressed to my bent over backside brings me back to reality. The laughter dies in my throat and my breathing halts. Righting my self gently but quickly, I turn to apologize.

"Sorry, sir." Now I feel foolish. My eyes meet his and what I see isn't anger, but I can't decipher it. Before I can do or say anything else stupid he speaks. "Eat." He says in a grunt, pointing to my abandoned tray with my barely touched breakfast awaiting me. I nod and make my way to do just that, not realizing how obedient I just was.

The rest of morning mess goes without event. Lady woman left shortly after Konig, and he didn't return either. I shrug and clean up my trash. There's still time to kill before we have our meeting. I decide to take some time walk around base to observe the area.

"Sweeping for more enemies?" Gaz chirps suddenly, walking along side me. "Just observing, I got here so late yesterday I didn't get a chance to." He hums in response before speaking again.

"Uh, back there in mess, uh sorry you had to deal with that." I can tell he is being genuine. "You have nothing to apologize for. Besides, I'm ok, really. Not the best way to start off my time here, but neither is spitting water all over Ghost's face." I huff a short chuckle.

Gaz's steps halt. I turn to see why he stopped walking to see him looking absolutely shooketh. I furrow my brows. "You good, Gaz?"

His mouth opens and closes a couple of times, he kind of looks like a fish. "YOU WHAT!?" He whisper screams. I can't take him seriously, the look on his face is straight goonin. "Dude, chill." I say as I turn to continue my walk.

I hear his footsteps as he catches back up to me. Still wearing that goofy ass face. "Dude. How are you even alive? Ya sure we're talking about the same Ghost?" His voice is high pitched and it makes me giggle. Soap steps out of a tent and I excuse myself from walking with Gaz. I made a shitty first impression yesterday and I can't help feeling the need to apologize.

"Soap, hold up." I'm surprised he actually stopped. "Look man I really am sorry if I was a dick yesterday. I'm used to dogging on my guys and I know yall don't know me like that. My sense of humor is shit, I didn't mean to offend or disrespect you." His face is neutral as he listens to what I'm saying. I wait for him to say something, his silent stare making me nervous.

Suddenly he is belly laughing and I'm now the bamboozled cartoon character. "Shoulda seen ya face! Ohhh man! I was just pullin'ya leg Lass!" His laughter infecting me, causing me to laugh with him.

"You-you, what do they call it? YA BAWBAG!" I screech in a terrible Scottish accent, causing us to laugh impossibly harder. "I really am sorry though, but c'mon, shampoo! You gotta admit I'm funny!" I say through giggles.

"Oh, ya funny, that's why I hurried off. Couldn't let our little probie see me bust a gut the first day!" I shake my head.

"Right, right. Well I'll leave ya to it then, Gaz was just showing me around." His gaze follows mine to see Gaz is still standing exactly where I left him, eyebrows still perched high on his head. "Looks like you've broke him, Lass. See ya around."

I part ways with Soap and walk over to Gaz, snapping my fingers in his face. "Krrr. Earth to Gaz!" I say, mimicking CB communication. "What the hell even are you?" He says incredulously, bringing his attention to me. I offer a laugh in response.

"Fix ya face Gaz, you look goofier than a pet 'coon in a polkadot dress!" His face changes and somehow he looks even goofier.

"HA! WHAT!?" He fully screams this time and my eardrums ring. He's laughing so hard now I'm sure he'll piss his pants right here. "Simmer down Gaz, you're gonna pull a muscle!"

I give him a few moments to put himself back together. We continue our walk as he points out the different tents and areas, helping me mentally map the makeshift base. The occasional lingering giggle creeping it's way out of him.

After he has shown me all there is to see, we part ways to take time in our own quarters before our meeting. I walk towards my tent, noting the one closest to it Gaz pointed out as Ghost's. I hear a grunt beyond the canvas material and shake my head. Caveman.

I take the time read through the files on my desk for probably the thousandth time. Trying to memorize all of the information tucked within the manilla folders. But I can't focus on the words on the pages. My brain is clouded with images that shouldn't be there. That unfamiliar sensation sparks in my core again. I close my eyes and let my head fall back, calculating my breaths. My hands numb to the folder in their grasp. What the fuck is this?

"Lightfoot! Meeting!" The sudden booming voice outside my tent startles me back to earth. As I reenter my body I accidentally yeet the folder in my hands, it's contents scattering around. I curse under my breath. "Silas! How copy?"

"Y-yeah LT, coming." I stutter like a damn fool. Smooth. I step out, not looking in his direction, opting to keep walking towards the meeting. "What's got you so joggled?"

"Dropped my papers about. I'll get 'em later." Frustration still evident in my voice. I'm thankful he doesn't press further as we walk to the tent they use for meetings. I step in and make my way to a back corner, hoping to keep my distance from anyone, someone, else. Ghost takes stance a few arm lengths away from me. The small tent not giving anymore space around the table despite only the five of us.

Konig speaks. I'm surprised for a moment he didn't delegate this part to someone else. I'm not paying him any mind though. No. My full attention is drawn to jeans. I take note of how snug they fit against the beefy thighs within them. Holster straps clinging perfectly to them. My mouth waters and I lick my lips absentmindedly.

Our general still speaks, but his voice has become distant. Everyone else is paying attention, I take advantage of the distraction and rake my eyes up the form that commands my focus. Geared up to the nines.

I take my time mapping with my eyes. Burning the image into my brain. Looking up to the hard skull mask covering the balaclava. Quite too late I see the eyes behind it. And they are boring into me. I try to swallow but the saliva gets stuck in my throat, causing me to choke. Fucking shit.

An unmistakable school girl giggle sounds beside me. Gaz's elbow makes contact with my ribs, earning an unceremoniously loud 'oof' from me as I lean over slightly. When did this little shit even get beside me?

"You girls care to share with the class?" Konigs voice cuts through the air and I right myself. "No sir. Apologies. Won't happen again." I say, surely sounding like a teen who got caught skipping class. "Right. Get your heads outta your asses then yeah?" I give him my undivided attention the rest of the meeting. I don't dare peek a glance in Ghost's direction.

"Alright. Load up and get it done. We need that warehouse cleared for Bravo team to set up asap. Don't rush it. Get it done right, but light the fire under your asses." With that final sentiment from our general we waste no time filing out to grab gear.

As I exit my still messy tent, Gaz approaches me looking far too amused for his own good. "Fix ya face, Gaz. Shit's gonna get stuck like that forever." I am the opposite of amused. He looks forward, eyes widening. I follow his gaze and my knees nearly buckle. We quickly glance back at each other, our faces mirroring one another. Twinning.

I loop my arm through his. He thinks we're besties but I literally need help staying upright. We walk in step to the sleek black van. A form steps in line behind us, hands landing a firm slap to the back of both our heads. I don't need to look to know it was Soap, I've memorized everyone's footfall.

Gaz and I are in the back, Soap and Ghost sit in the front seats. I'm thankful for the seating arrangement, I really don't need those two gandering this silly goose any more. I glance at Gaz and regret it immediately. I bite my knuckle to hold back from cracking up.

"If you girls are done giggling about, let's get it in check, yeah?" I look towards Soap's voice, his eyes staring back at me in the rear view mirror. My lips form a tight line and I give him a thumbs up. "Good. Off we go then." I watch out my window the entire ride. I have to get it together before we get there.

We pull up to the warehouse. I take it and the surroundings in, scanning and observing it entirely. "Whats the outlook?" I say, slipping easily back into my persona. "Fuck does that mean?" Ghost barks out and I huff. "What are we expecting awaits us in there, what is the proposed sisltuation?" I clarify. This fucker chuckles. "If your mind hadn't been in the gutter during the meeting you wouldn't have to ask that." He gets out slamming the passenger door behind him.

"Oooooh!" My eyes shoot daggers into Gaz at his outburst. "Squatters most likely. But always expect trouble. Eyes up, stay focused." I nod at Soap in acknowledgement before stepping out of the van. I walk a few paces behind Ghost. I accidentally 'whew' audibly. He stops and turns his head to look at me briefly before shaking his head and continuing forward. Goddamn.

Stepping inside the threshold of the warehouse I become fully Lightfoot. I'm alert, focused and stealthy. We separate and sweep the entirety of the building room by room. I am thorough, checking every possible hiding spot before I consider each area clear.

The second floor has one looping hallway. Rooms line the walls and the center. As I finish sweeping one of the rooms I hear a grunt. I know it belongs to Ghost, and I've deciphered most of his grunts. That one is irritated. I stealthily make my way towards the door. Ghost isn't in my line of sight, but the the cause of his irritation is. A scrawny vagrant stands with a gun in his hands. It doesn't take a genius to know it's pointed at Ghost. We were instructed to not harm any civilians. I know Ghost can handle his own. But i cant help myself.

With a deadly silence I scale the wall of the room towards the door, not taking my eyes off the vagrant. Quicker than he can even blink I step fully in front of him, facing him with fury. Before he processes my presence I reach my hands out, maneuving the weapon out of his shaking hands now pointing it on him. "It-it's not loaded!" He shrieks pathetically. Who points an unloaded gun at someone? At an absolute beef bucket none the less.

I eject the clip and pull back on the slide without breaking eye contact. Literally an empty gun. "M'sorry! P-please don't kill me! I was just scared! He's scary!" He points behind me. I want to laugh but I dont. I toss the useless weapon to the floor and let him see my hands. "We are evacuating this building, you will have to go somewhere else. You got any stuff you need to grab before I escort you out?" I speak calmly, not wanting to trigger this goon any further. "No ma'am." His shoulders relax as he speaks.

I don't bother looking behind me as I carefully lead the man to down the stairs. "Escorting one civilian out of the building." I notify over comms. "Is this one violent?" A voice I don't recognize responds. I look at the man, considering the question carefully. The genuinely apologetic look in this man's eyes tells me all I need to know. "Compliant, non combative." I give my answer while looking at him. He whispers a thank you and I give him a nod, leading him out to a transport van sent to take civilians out to the city.

After the sweep is completed and the buildined is cleared, we make our way back to the van. I recognize the footsteps coming up behind me. "Why'd you lie? The squatter. He pulled a gun, I wouldn't consider that compliant and non combative." Ghost questions me, but his voice lacks any accusatory tone. He seeks genuine understanding. I take a deep breath, choosing my words carefully.

"Sometimes people do monstrous things, tha doesn't make them monsters. It's quite human actually. You just have to try and guage how much humanity they have." He blinks at me and I can practically see the gears turning in his head as he mulls over my words. I offer a smile and nod my head to the van before continuing my walk to it. I listen for his footfall and I'm satisfied when I hear it almost immediately.

The ride back to base is easier than the ride to the warehouse. The smooth sweep lightening the mood immensely. Soap turns on the radio and a Kesha song blares through the speakers. I don't need to see Ghost's face to know he's glaring at him. After a beat he all but punches a button, the music switching to AC/DC. It's Soap's turn to glare at Ghost.

We arrive back to base just in time for dinner. We go our separate ways to put away our gear. I sigh upon entering my tent. The papers still scattered about. I gather them up and place the file neatly back on my desk. Looking around the room, I'm satisfied with the tidiness and walk to the makeshift canvas door.

"A word." Ghost's voice peirces the canvas and I halt my steps. I look towards the opening but I realize he's probably awaiting permission to enter. I hurry over to draw back the material. "Of course, sir." I already know what this is about and brace myself for reprimanding. His steps urge me backwards several paces before stopping. His figure looming over me. I crane my neck to look up at him.

"That shit you pulled at the warehouse. You were out of line. What kind of maniac steps in front of a potentially loaded weapon anyways." He isn't yelling but his tone is firm.

"I took a calculated risk. I weighed the options and decided it better for me to take a bullet opposed to you. I always put my team first. Sir." He grunts, almost a growl. I haven't heard that one before so I haven't deciphered it yet. I'm only certain he stands on business.

"Nah. That's a fat load of horse shit Silas. Never, EVER, step between me and ANY kind of danger. I take care of YOU! Not the other way around! Out on the field you are MY responsibility. I look after YOU. If you would have died taking a bullet for me I woulda killed ya." I think better of stating the obvious on that statement. "The free-bird shit stops. I can't keep you safe if you continue to undermine me."

I step back at his words, taking full offense. "I'm a goddamn weapon Simon. A tool. I break, oh well ya get a new one. I don't need to be kept safe!" It's me who is yelling now. I scoff in utter disbelief. "I'm far from fragile and more than capable. I've taken down entire battalions solo! I've single handedly assassinated more big figures than I can count on my fingers and toes! I've been shot, stabbed, beaten, burned, raped, tortured, and even hanged. You name it, I've done it, seen it, heard it, experienced it!" My voice cracks in my scream. I'm shaking.

"Get out." I say as calmly as I can, looking at the ground off to the side. "Silas." His soft voice infuriates me. If looks could kill he would have dropped dead. My eyes bare into him with a fury i didn't even know I had in me. I've been angry, fierce, murderous. But this. Is this, pain?

I can't have this. I back away and grip at my hair. "Just get the fuck out." I try to sound firm but it sounds pathetic. I feel hot tears on my cheeks and quickly turn away. Am I crying?

My body crumples to the floor, only I never reach it. The room is spinning while I'm floating in the air. My throat feels like it's closing and I think I'm dying. I can't breath, my body feels numb and tingly at the same time. My pitiful figure is curled up against warmth. I feel my eyes closing at the lack of proper oxygen. A tapping at my cheek urges my lids open. I look up at the angel of death, ready to let go finally.

The soft glow of the lantern on my bedside table illuminates the image of a skull clinging to the face of my angel. My brows furrow, I pick up on a distant voice but I can't understand it. I blink a few times to focus on the words being spoken. "That's it Silas, just breathe. I've got you." I recognize that voice. My angel. But I'm not dying, and he isn't taking me to the after.

A bare hand gently pulls my face to his chest. Sometime during the chaos he shed his gloves and vest. My ear presses to the front of his ribcage. The beating heart beneath it sounds like a valkyrie song, lulling me. I close my eyes and study his breathing, allowing mine to match up as I take slow, deep breaths. "Just like that. I've got you Silas, I've got you." His voice lays over my bones like a warm blanket. My body relaxes fully, relishing the in the sense of security.

Reuniting with my body, I tilt my head to look at the man cradling me in his lap like a cat. I'm so in awe I don't even realize my hand is coming up to gently caress the hard skull face. He subtly pulls back before leaning into my touch. My fingers map the texture beneath them.

"For it is written: He will command his angels concerning you to guard you carefully." I speak in a whisper, my eyes draw upwards to meet his. We sit there in silence, not breaking eye contact. My hand continues a gentle exploration of his mask. "Please show me." I say after a while. He considers my words, I know I don't need to elaborate. Just when I think he will deny me, my cheek feels cold at the loss of contact.

His large hand carefully pulls off the only thing between his real face and my eyes. I sit upright in his lap. He averts his gaze, feeling vulnerable. "Look at me." I whisper softly and my hand reaches his now exposed cheek with a barely there touch. His eyes meet mine and I can finally read his soul. My heart shatters at what I find there, but I don't let it be known.

He watches me intently as my eyes study every inch of now exposed skin. My fingers continue their exploration. The dark smudgy makeup around his eyes make the surrounding skin seem paler. His dark-earth eyes no longer have the shadow of a mask cascading over them. I've never seen a color more beautiful.

My thumb smooths over his brow. Down his nose. I trail my fingers along his sharp jaw, the stubble tickling my skin. My eyes lock onto his full lips. I draw my thumb across his bottom lip. The gasp my action elicits from him is almost nonexistent, but my skilled ears pick it up, sending shivers down my spine. I look back to his eyes. He understands my silent question, his slow nod giving me my answer.

I carefully lean into him, capturing his lips with mine ever so gently. I revel in their plumpness. I pull back slowly, letting my top lip drag down his bottom lip before detaching. I look at him, and I'm enchanted. Angel.

"I'm no angel." I'm taken aback by his abrupt statement. I realize I said my thought aloud. I hadn't meant for that word to fall on his ears.

"A spirit glided past my face, and the hair on my body stood on end. It stopped, but I could not tell what it was. A form stood before my eyes, and I heard a hushed voice: Can a mortal be more righteous than God? Can even a strong man be more pure than his Maker?"

"Didn't take you for the religious type, Silas." His voice still dripping with warm honey, but carries a hint of teasing. "M'not, jus' grew up in the Bible belt. Always thought it absolute nonsense." I chuckle at my words.

"And now?" He questions.

"And now I can somewhat understand what they were feeling. Though I still find them looney." He doesn't pry further, and I'm thankful. "Y'avent ate yet, Silas. Are you hungry?" His words resonate and I remember I didn't make it to mess. My stomach growls loudly before I can say anything and he chuckles. He's smiling now and I'm enamored.

"S'a pretty smile, Simon." Now I'm the one avoiding his gaze. I just called this beast of a man pretty to his face, and I meant it. His big hand directs my face to look at him. "Not gettin all shy on me now are ya? C'mon, let's go get a bite, yeah?" I will myself to stand from his lap, handing him his mask.

"Yes sir." I smile up at him. He grunts similar to a growl and hearing it again now, I've deciphered it. I smirk at him. "Cheeky. Right, let's get to it." He tries to carry a firm tone, but failing adorably. Seeing his mask correctly don his face, I make my way to the mess.

Entering the threshold I'm relieved to see we aren't too late. Quite a few people still remain in the space. We go our separate ways, an unspoken understanding. I sit at the table, but before I can stuff my face, a figure plops on the bench across front me. I look up to see his elbows on the table, face perched girlishly in his hands wearing a shit eating grin.

"I nearly killed the last man that interrupted my meal, Gaz." I scoff a laugh at his stupid expression. Straight goonin. I proceed to stuff my face despite his eyes burning holes into my face. At least he has the decency to wait for me to finish my plate before opening his goofy mouth.

"Angel." He whispers, poorly mimicking my a voice. I draw my arm back like a bow and plunge my fist towards him. His hands come up to grab it before it can collide with his stupid face. "Wait wait wait! Don't kill me!" This idiot is laughing and I'm ready to rip him to bits.

"You've blown a gasket aint'cha!" Nobody in here bats an eye this time. "I'm gonna rip off your head and shit down your neck!" Okay, I am laughing now. We probably look insane, in a fit a laughter together in a corner of the mess by ourselves. "Were you spyin' on my quarters you creep?" I whisper shout incredulously.

"Alright, alright! Let's go to my tent and talk." I giggle at how girlish he's being. I toss my trash and we make our way out of mess. I sneak a glance in Ghost's direction, I smile slightly to see he shares the glance with me. It's only brief, but Konig looks back and forth at us. Now he is the one making a quiet observation.

I step into Gaz's tent right behind him. My face scrunches up in disgust. "You're a piggy girl ain't ya?" My tone is playful.

"Don't be ass, it's not that bad. Just a bit, unorganized." I let out a low whistle as I look around, my eyebrows raised comically high. He rolls his eyes. "Shut up. Now spill!"

He hopes I'll divulge wild fantasy-like details. I will do no such thing. I respect Ghost's privacy. Besides, there is no juicy details to gush, minus that gentle kiss.

"If it's satisfaction you seek, sorry to tell you I'll only disappoint. He was peeved about me taking a risk at the warehouse. We argued. I let it go too far. I had a panic attack. Almost died from lack of oxygen, which made me delirious. Ghost was trying to calm me down. In my state of distress I mistook him for the angel of death coming to take me to my rest. I calmed down and came to. Surprise, not the angel of death giving me mercy, but a concerned Ghost who thought I was gonna die right there in the most stupid way. End of story."

He let out a cartoonish puff of breath, dropping his head and looking at me with utter disappointment. His mouth hangs open stupidly. "Ya gonna catch flies if'n ya keep ya mouth wide open like that. You look stupid dude." He rights himself and rolls his eyes. "Well that was a great big box of suck-ass lame." It's my turn to roll my eyes.

"Well I did tell ya it would be disappointing." I shrug. We simultaneously break into another fit of laughter. I'm certain I've never laughed so much in my entire life than I have in the short time I've known this goon. I make a mental note to find out if I can take a permanent position with this team.

"What about you, gasket, any tea you got'sta spill on me?" He gives me another dumb look at the nickname. I give him an eager look, hoping to wet my ears with something good.

"Well..." He daws out and I can't take the anticipation. I practically hop with excitement. He takes my hands in his and leans close to my ear to whisper. "Soap." He can't say anything more as I shriek, "WHAAAAT!" My veins have jet fuel coursing through them. "Shhhh! Shut the fuck up you daft block of cheese!" I can't even giggle at his insult, I'm too engulfed with thrill.

"Sorry ill be quiet I promise! Please please!" I loudly whisper, urging him to continue. He drags me over to his cot, plopping us down. I may be buzzing with excitement but I don't miss that his sheets are the same as mine. We sit face to face, our legs pulled up criss cross applesauce. I imagine we're a sight.

"No wonder you're a quiet stepper, look at them little feet!" He jests, I roll my eyes and urge him on

He divulges his secret romantic relationship with Soap, I encourage him to keep any intimate details private. He gushes as much as he can without being disrespectful. My heart soars. I think this goofball is my bestfriend. I pepper his face with kisses, beaming with happiness. We sit, smiling at each other widely like a couple of Cheshire cats. We are so lost in giddy we miss the sudden appearance of a massive figure.

A throat clears, demanding our attention. We both scream like we're in a slasher film, clinging to each other. Konigs head tilts up to the ceiling of Gaz's tent as if asking the gods why they must punish him this way. "Silas, may I have a moment?" I nod, my voice getting stuck in my throat. I manage a quick goodnight to my bestie and follow Konig out.

He stops a few paces out, turning to face me. I didn't figure he would want the pressure of being in an enclosed space with me. "I-uh, just wanted to check in, make sure you're alright." His voice is sincere. I don't need to press for context, I understand to what he is referring.

"I am, sir. Apologies for any disturbance I caused earlier. Just not used to having someone look after me, I'm usually the one doing the looking after. I let the situation get ahead of me. And I'm not new to panic attacks. Been gettin' 'em since I was little."

"Alright. Glad you're good. And glad you seem to have made a little friend too." He chuckles, glancing towards Gaz's tent. "I trust you feel comfortable enough now that you'll go to someone should you you not be alright? Y'know, don't try to handle that sorta stuff on your own." He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. I don't need to read his soul to understand him.

"Absolutely sir. This team has really made me feel secure. Letting someone have my back will take some gettin used to, but I've made good friends. Actually, I wanted to ask if there was any possibility I could be a permanent part of this team?"

"Already handled Silas. You're one of us now." With that, he walks away. I stand a bit stunned processing what he just said. I can't wait to tell Gaz, but there's someone I want to tell first.

I almost barge in the tent but think better of it. "Ghost!" My voice a whisper scream, laced with joy. "C'mon in, Lightfoot." I dramatically fling through the makeshift door and dance my way over to the desk he's seated at, not bothering to sit in the chair in front of it.

"Welcome to the team." His eyes gleam at me, his voice dancing in my ears before I could even speak. I smile at him, he doesn't have to tell me, I know it was his doing. "Now go on, I know you're dying to tell your gal-pal." He chuckles. "Goodnight Ghost." "Goodnight Silas."

I think better of barging into Gaz's tent too, now that I know his secret. "Gasket!." I whisper scream again. "Little feet!" He mimicks, and I take that as my all-clear to enter. I catapult my self onto his lying form and he giggles. "You've got a new permanent teammate!" His brows furrow at my words, not precessing what I mean. I roll my eyes. "It's me! I'm you're new permanent teammate!"

He squeezes me in his arms, both of us in a fit of giddy giggles. "Fuck yeah!" He shouts a little too loudly, making my eyes cross. "Pipe down girls, it's lights out." Konigs voice booms through the canvas, hushing us instantly.

"Your face looks stupid when your eyes cross like that." He whispers. I headbutt him. "You're face looks stupid all the time!" I whisper back. He sticks his tongue out at me, his hand rubbing where my head collided with his. I roll off of him and stand up. "Night gasket!" "Night little foot!" I blow a kiss and he catches is dramatically, plopping it to his forehead. I giggle as I head to my own quarters for the night.

Settling in my tent, I don my sleep shirt and slip into the soft sheets. Sleep does not come to tangle around me though. No, my mind is yet again overrun with images and sounds. With him. I reach up and trace my fingers across my lips, the memory sending shivers down my spine. Jean clad thighs and ass flash an image behind my eyelids. That unfamiliar sensation sparks in my bones, sending warmth to my core.

My fingers slip past my lips, pressing lightly on my tongue. I hum in delight. My other hand snakes under my shirt, palming at my breast. I retract the fingers from my mouth and move them down beneath my underwear. My breathing picks up. It's been a while. I turn my lamp on lowly, only enough to illuminate immediately around me. The dim light comforting me.

The pads of my fingers glide over my clit, electricity replaces the blood in my veins. I've forgotten what this feels like. I dip my fingers into my pussy, but shortly grow tired of not being able to reach that spot within me. I opt to focus on my clit instead. I feel the weight of a figure on me, voice low in my ear, and I wish it weren't my imagination. The thoughts still urging me on, warming me up.

I begin to feel too hot. Kicking off the sheets from my legs and lifting my shirt to expose my entire torso. The cool air nips at my bare skin, my nipples harden impossibly more. There's a knot building low in my stomach. One hand works meticulous, slick circles around my clit. The other palming my breast, fingers dancing across my nipple.

My breaths are no longer full, puffing out in short needy pants. The pleasure reaching higher and higher, my head tilts up, pushing further down into my pillow. My mouth hangs open and my eyes squeeze shut. The sound of my heartbeat thumps loudly in my ears, deafening me of my surroundings. "Simon." My voice low and sinful, paired with a melody of curses and moans. His name falls from my lips over an over, like a whispered prayer. I feel the intense crescendo crash over me and my back arches from the bed.

I pant heavily and my legs tremble slightly. Solo Symphony #1: The Awakening has concluded. My fingers retreat from between my thighs and I take notes with my tongue. Beautiful. It's been so very long since I've had an orgasm, and it leaves me exhausted. I turn off my lamp and curl up, steadying my breathing. My eyes close with content, and sleep finally tangles tightly over me.

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

Ghost's POV

I forgot to give Silas her new team patch for her vest. Now that she's officially a permanent member, the probie patch just won't do. I knew the hellcat deserved a permanent position the day she arrived, jumping her helo to scope us out without us knowing. Deadly quiet, that one. Observant, strong, and skill like no other. I was bamboozled when I finally laid eyes on here. Surely she's a valkyrie.

Patch in hand, I tread out of my quarters to hers. Sure, it could wait until morning but I can't help the excitement I feel. I open my mouth to speak but my voice dies in my throat, a sound from beyond the canvas sings in my ears. My body buzzes from the delicate sound, but my first instinct is to make sure the little creature in there isn't hurt. I carefully part the makeshift door, just enough to peek through with one eye. If she's under attack, I can't have the enemy seeing me before I can defend her.

The sight has my knees buckling, almost causing me to lose my balance. I fumble loudly on my feet to right myself and look up, knowing her skilled ears have caught me. But to my surprise, it seems she's so deeply entranced that her ears have fallen deaf to her surroundings.

Delicious sounds coming from her soft lips and her form exposed, she's pleasuring herself. The sight is divine. I know It's wrong to watch her intimate moment, out of respect I begin to slowly retreat. I'm stopped dead by something she says, I'm not sure I heard it correctly or if my lack of sleep has gone to my head.

"Simon." Her sultry whisper, heavy with a moan, sends all of my blood away from the rest of my body straight to my cock. That's my name! I lean in further, desperate to hear more, see more. I palm myself through my jeans, the ache of need almost making me lapse in judgment. I want to barge in, give her what she wants, what she needs. To kiss her soft lips and tell her what a good girl she is just for me.

Her small hand toys with her breast and I wish it were my large one. I wish my weight were baring down on her, I wish I was making those sounds fall from her mouth. A change in her breathing let's me know she's close. To my delight, I hear my name whispered over and over. Sweet girl curses like a sailor. Her head presses into her pillow and her back arches, she's coming undone. Good girl.

My name falls from her lips one last time, before she comes back to earth. Her legs trembly slightly, it almost makes her look delicate. The hand responsible for her undoing makes it's appearance. I can see her slick glistening on them in the dim light and my mouth waters. Just when I think the show has concluded, those slick fingers dive into her mouth. She hums and I know she has to taste like heaven itself. Beautiful.

I realize I have very little time before her skilled ears are in working order again. I don't want to leave her but I can't stay. Stepping slowly and carefully on the tiptoes of my boots, I make my stealthy escape. She would be proud of how quiet my footfall is as I make my way back to my quarters.

Stepping into my tent I gently lay the patch on my desk. It'll definitely have to wait until morning. Right now I've got an aching problem in my jeans that can't wait any longer. I sit in the chair, remove my mask and undo my jeans, sliding them down only enough for my cock to spring free. Wrapping a hand around it I wonder how well she could take it. The image of that has my hips jerking up into my hand involuntarily. I grunt at the feeling.

My head fills with images and sounds, with her. A sensation sparks in my bones qgain because of that woman. This time though, knowing she came undone calling out my name, electricity courses through me in a way I've never experienced.

My hand may be large, but imagining it being her small hand wrapped around my cock is no issue. I feel the intense crescendo crash over me, an unfamiliar sound falling from my mouth. Coming undone, I paint my hand and jeans. My head is tossed back against the top of the chair, my mouth hangs open as I steady my breathing.

My Solo Symphony #2: The Enlivening has concluded. I want to try something I've never done, inspired by my sweet Silas. My slick hand glistens in the dim light. I bring a finger to my lips, inviting my tongue just a taste. Beautiful.

After tidying myself up and donning my sleep clothing, I slip into the soft sheets. I wonder if they've always been so soft and I just hadn't noticed. My head is cradled perfectly by my pillow, and sleep greets me comfortably for the first time in a long time.

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

"Goodmooooorning!" A sing song voice penetrates my sleeping ears and I want to punch him in the face. "I swear to god, gasket. I'm gonna murder you." I groan. I was sleeping so good. No meeting this morning so I intended to sleep in just a tiny bit and get to morning mess just before shut down.

"C'mon little foot! I have teaaaaa!" He's fully perched on top of me, bouncing me into the cot like an excited Labrador. "Oh I like tea, wet my ears bestie!" My desire to punch his stupid face is long forgotten. He removes himself off of me and sits beside me. I raise up and turn my body towards him, mirroring his sitting stance.

He squeals before whispering. "Konig and Harvey have a secret romance!" "Wait, who the hell is Harvey?" "Jennifer Harvey! Oh, you didn't know her name, you called her lady woman!" He giggles. I know just who he is referring to, my breakfast hero. "No fucking way!" The realization hits me and I nearly shriek.

"Yes way! I'm being so fucking for real!" The way he tries to maintain a hushed tone despite vibrating with excitement is adorable. "I fucking knew it! I saw their glances that morning when I caused a scene beating up Shithead!" "And you didn't tel me anything!?" His hand lays over his chest in a dramatic display or offense.

"It was just an observation. It was only a fraction of a second and I couldn't be absolutely sure." "That's fair. Don't pull the trigger unless your certain of your target. Okay I'm not mad anymore. But still!" I laugh at how adorably girlish he is. I wonder if anyone else gets to see this side of him. "Okay fine. Tea twins?" I hold out my pinky, he understands my intention and entwines his with mine. "Tea twins!" He confirms, smiling widely. An agreement between us to always spill tea together.

"Girls! Mess! Don't make me drag the two of you out!" The thought of Konig dragging us like the Godzilla he is terrifies me. Apparently Gaz too, we hop to our feet simultaneously in record time. "Put some clothes on and do something with that busted wig first." He eyes me with his face scrunched up. I look down at my bare legs and nod in agreement. Quickly, I get dressed and haphazardly brush my hair while he waits for me.

We walk to mess, arms looped together. "Ah, the besties have decided to finally grace us with their presence." I can hear the annoyance in Ghost's voice. "You girls get your bellies full quickly and gear up. We have a pop-up mission. No time for a meeting, we will debrief you on the way. But make sure you eat, we may have another long day." We nod in acknowledgement, wasting no time sitting down and stuffing our faces.

We finish rather fast, but before we can get up, Soap comes and whispers in Gaz's ear. Even my skilled ears can't pick up what he is saying but I don't need to hear. Gaz looks at me and I put my hand up. "Go on then, I'll take care of our trash. See you back at the van." He nods appreciative. I carefully erase all trace of our breakfast and head to my quarters.

I put on my vest and lay my weapons out on my desk, inspecting and prepping each one. "Uhh, Lightfoot! May I enter?" He sounds almost hesitant. "Come in, Ghost!" He steps in and I can't tell if he looks relieved or disappointed. That damn mask hiding vital facial movements from my analyzing eyes.

"Got somethin for ya." He approaches me. His footfall sounds the same but somehow quieter and I take mental note. I turn to fully face him, a big hand comes up and rips my patch right off my vest. "Right to the point innit mate?" I question in my best-worst imitation of a thick British accent. "Don't ever do that again. It's unnerving." He quips, plopping a new patch on with the palm of his big hand.

His hand lingers like that for a moment, I despise the vest between his touch and my breast. "Whats this?" My voice breaks his trance and he pulls his hand away looking embarrassed. "Uh, that's ya new patch. You're one of us now. Can't have that silly probie patch on my, err, our girl."

He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly and the sight makes me giggle. He stands a full foot and one inch taller than me. Geared all the way up, looking like somebody's hellish nightmare with that skull face. And yet in his shyness he is the most adorable creature I've ever laid eyes on.

"After you, LT." I point my hand to the tent opening gracefully. "After me? So you can gawk at my arse?" His questioning tone is playful. "That's exactly it, sir." His grunt makes my toes tingle. He shakes his head but gives me the satisfaction of leading the way. And boy do I gawk! I wonder if he wore jeans again just to get a rise out of me.

My wondering is cut short as my attention is drawn to an arm linking with mine. We share a glance and he gives me a knowing look. I roll my eyes but redirect my attention to the sight ahead of us, his gaze follows. "Boiyang." I say quietly so only Gaz can hear it. We giggle stupidly as we approach the van.

Soap opens the door to the back for us and shakes his head. "Schoolgirls, these two." Ghost teases loudly across the hood before getting in the passenger seat. Once we start rolling, Gaz and I both slip into our personas. We have to pay attention to this debriefing.

Between Soap and Ghost, the van is overflowing with information. Most is voided by my brain, irrelevant. Big safe house, a dozen or so enemy targets, no civilians, fortress. That's all I need to know, the rest is blabber. This is my kind of mission and I'm pumped.

Soap let's me do the hacking and security dismantling. I think he wanted to test just how good I was, he had heard so much about my tech skills but hadn't had a chance to see for himself. "Gotta be a record or something. Never seen anyone do that so quickly. Good job Lightfoot." I'm not used to 'good job' or compliments. "Thanks sarge."

We quickly confirm our foot plan and spread out. Taking out the four posted guards, I smile to myself. That's got to be my favorite part, the silent sneak kills. I played manhunt on ps2 as a child, as sick as it sounds I always dreamed of doing this. "Slow down Lightfoot, you're gonna make a mistake and fuck this whole mission." Ghost's voice comes through the comms. "I don't make mistakes Lt." I say plainly.

"Fuck, I'm pinned." Gaz's voice cuts through."Whats your location?" Soap questions. "Pantry." His whisper is low, I know the enemy is too close to him. "On my way gasket, hang tight."

"You don't give orders Lightfoot. Gasket?"

"Not the time to explain the re-nickname, Ghost. I'm closest to his location. We're a team, meaning I implement leadership where needed."

"We're a team, meaning there are ranks and a chain of command. You take and follow orders, not give them nor do whatever the hell you want."

"Sticky ya britches, ya oaf."

"English, lightfoot."

"Go fuck yourself."

"Much betta."

"My eyes on. Three head count. Moving in."

"Atta girl. Careful. Get there when i can." I roll my eyes so hard he can probably feel it. "Gaz go flat " I huff quickly into the comms. I waste no time taking two of the men down. The third is feisty and now I find myself in hand-to-hand.

I hear yelling in the comms and I ignore them. My attention is laser focused on my target. We exchange blows, I could grab my Ka-Bar and end him quickly but I need this too much. He lands a perfectly placed kick to my hip, instead of falling I manipulate my body to turn. Just as I steady myself he grabs my hair.

"Bad news bears for you buddy, I hate that." I place one leg between his and behind one of them. Leaning forward slightly I calculate my movements precisely. As I force my torso back, I sweep the leg behind his forward. We thud to the floor, my back landing harshly against his front. He still grips my hair so I throw my head back, a sickening crunch coming from his face.

This forces his hands to release me and instinctively go to his mangled face. I hear Ghost and Soap, only not through the comms, but rather somewhere behind me. They call my name. I ignore them. Quickly seizing the moment of the target's distraction, I move off of him. I stand at his legs looking at his bloody face. He pulls his hands away and starts to lean up.

"Nuh-uh." I grunt out. I step between his legs and turn my back completely to him, lowering myself. It all happens in a fraction of a second, my movements fast and precise. My legs maneuver under his and I flip us over. Now sitting on his backside, I pull his head back by his hair. He tries to claw at my hand but before he can do any damage ive already retrieved my Ka-Bar.

The sound of my blade piercing his throat is sickening, dancing in my skilled ears as if it were as loud as a train horn. I wipe my blade on his shirt, holstering it then standing swiftly. I ignore Soap and Ghost, my new focus is Gaz.

"Tell me you're alright? I was worried you wouldn't get down in time for the bullet rain."

"No I'm okay I promise, look." He does a spin and I don't see anything concerning. "I wasted no time going flat, literally belly flopped. You're tone was urgent and I knew shit was about to get sweaty."

"Good man." I give his arm a pat.

"We're all clear here." Soap informs me. "I'd like to do a final sweep." I say sternly. "Yeah, good call Lightfoot, lets do that."

I want to do it myself, I know how thorough I am while still getting it done quickly. But I give him a nod, I have to trust these boys are as good as me at sweeping. We make our way out of the kitchen but before I can make it through the threshold, a big hand grips my arm.

I look at the hand then at Ghost, ready to lift my arm and use his own hand to bat his face. He gives a look at the others urging them to go ahead. Gaz gives me a look and I give him a slight smile and nod my head. He wasn't asking for permission to follow Ghost's silent order, he was asking if I was going to be ok.

Ripping my arm from his grasp I step back a pace. He scoffs. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't report you for insubordination."

"Oh, I won't be doing that. Go ahead. You're the lieutenant. It's your call."

"Hmm. So now it's my call, eh? You want to bark orders and take charge but I'm just here for paperwork, is that it?"

"Not at all sir. If I were allowed to do paperwork, I'd do that too. I'm not out for anyone's role, I simply do what's best for my team. Sure, I follow the orders most of the time. But sometimes what's best is giving orders, taking initiative, and leading the way. If you're intimidated just say that." I speak calmly, hoping he understands what I mean.

He chuckles. "Alright. Fair enough. Come by my quarters later for a proper sit down and we can hash this out. I like where your head is at but we need to better establish an understanding."

"Roger. Sweep?" I motion my hand to the doorway. He nods and we continue a final sweep. Once finished we all meet back up in the front room of the big safe house.

Soap holds up a file. "Good call, Lightfoot. Must'a missed this during the action. This, is all the Intel we need to finish our main mission. We just might get to go back to our real base early."

"That's why I like to do a thorough final sweep. Never know what you will catch with fresh eyes and not having to focus your energy on targets." I say with absolute. Gaz pats my arm.

"How about you guys take back seat, and let one of us drive this time?" He chirps, I like the sound of that.

"No." Ghost states plainly. But Soap tosses Gaz the keys anyway. Before either of them can stop us, we make a dead sprint for the van. I hop in the passenger seat and lock it's door so I can't be yanked out.

"Buckle up bitches!" My tone is laced with excitement. Gaz gasses it, squealing the tires as he does so. I turn on the radio, we share a mirrored glance as a Kesha song plays through the speakers.

"Insufferable. Turn it off." Ghost growls out.

"Turn it up?" I tease as I turn the volume knob louder. If he's saying anything, it's completely drowned out by blaring music. Gaz and I are enjoying this. I know they won't allow it again.

Back at our makeshift base, I hurriedly put away my gear and head to mess. I know the food will be cold but I don't care, I'm starving. Gaz shows up almost the same time as me and we sit at the table that has now become our spot.

"You eat like a beast." He giggles, I know his words aren't mean to offend me and they don't. "Fuckin hungry." I muffle over my mouthfull of cold food. He mimicks the way I'm eating and it's a sight. I laugh, nearly choking. "Is that how I look?" I say incredulously.

He only laughs, his mouth too full to speak. "Last one to finish every bite is a rotten egg!" I challenge. Now we are both shoveling the food in our mouths, trying not to choke from our laughter. We toss our trash and he looks at me apologetically.

"Hate to cut our night short little foot." I wave a hand dismissively. I'm pretty sure I know what, or who, requires his attention. "No worries, gotta meet with LT about my bossiness." I say nonchalantly and he gives me a stupid look. I shake my head. "Night gasket." "Night little foot."

We part ways and I head to Ghost's tent, stopping several paces out when I hear shouting from inside. I don't want to interrupt or eavesdrop so I just stand in place, twiddling my thumbs. A form stumbles out shortly after, a sturdier one following it. I look up and see the guy i tried to kill at breakfast that one time, the look on his face tells me he was just threatened.

"Lightfoot. Stop twiddling your thumbs and get your arse in here." His tone isn't angry. I hurry in, slipping past his form holding the tent flap and sit in the chair in front of his desk. He sits in his chair, I can tell from his body language that he is peeved about whatever he was yelling at that other guy for.

"What was the yelling about?" It's none of my business but I'm nosy as hell. "How much did you hear?" He sounds concerned. "Just shouting, but no audible words LT, that's why I ask. I heard yelling and stopped short enough to not easvesdrop." I answer truthfully. He seems satisfied with my honesty.

"Well, I'll spare you the details but he's been transferred. He will be picked up in the morning via helo. Listen, I don't know that he will act out, but he seems to think it's your fault. It's not, of course. I'm telling you this because I need you to be extra sharp."

I seen the look in that man's eyes that morning, he is absolutely a threat to me. The thought of being prey in a cage to a man like that terrifies me, but I don't let it show.

"Roger. I keep my big blade under my pillow. Ears always sharp, I don't miss a thing." His eyes narrow in a suspicious way only for a fraction of a second. "Good. Give a shout if anything goes awry, someone will hear you. Everyone within a five mile radius heard you giving me down the road yesterday." He chuckles but my cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

"Anyway, I wanted to have a sit down to let you know I am ,in fact, not intimidated by you. You scare me sometimes, but no intimidation. I appreciate your dedication to this team, to getting the job done right, and taking initiative. I just want you to breathe a bit. I don't know what the dynamics were like with your previous team, but here, we each carry the load. Stop trying to carry it all yourself. We've got your back just as you have ours."

I listen to his words intently. Carefully processing what he is saying. "The dynamics previously were shit, higher ranks were shit. Before I took control it was awful. Seeing a teammate die because of shitty management was impactful. I vowed I would never let that happen again, that I would do everything in my power to keep my team safe and lead them correctly. I took care of everyone."

My words seem to hit him hard. He thinks for a moment before speaking again. "You don't have to worry about that anymore. We take care of each other, on the field and off. We can't carry your burdens, but we can carry you."

"I'll try to remember that LT. It'll take some time but I'll do my best to loosen the noose." He nods, accepting my answer.

"Good. Now off you go, it's almost lights out and we could all use some rest after today." He waves me off and looks back down to the paperwork in front of him.

"Night Ghost." "Night Lightfoot." With that I leave. I approach my tent cautiously, my senses on high alert. Peeking inside it looks clear to enter. A quick sweep and I'm satisfied it's safe to settle in. I change into my sleep shirt and slip into the sheets, but I'm on edge.

Sleep eventually greets me, but this time it doesn't tangle around me. Every sound disturbing me, making me toss and turn. The wind blows lightly, making the canvas of my tent wave. My eyes are wide open, scanning around me. My heart is racing. I can't differentiate paranoia from real danger. A particularly gusty blow of wind makes the canvas thud slightly, startling me. A fraction of a second is all it takes for me to be upright, blade in hand.

I look around frantically. My heartbeat thuds in my ears, weakening my strongest skill. I can't take this. No way I can sit in this cage on edge all night, I'll lose my mind. Another thud of the canvas and I don't need anymore convincing. Blade fixed deathly in hand, I sprint out of my tent. I don't even have a plan, I don't think about where I'm going, my bare feet carrying me on autopilot.

Before I can think better of it, I'm hurriedly yet carefully slipping into someone else's tent. If I'm perceived as a threat by the sleeping form, I'll be dead before I know what's happened. It's pitch black in here. I can't see fuckin shit in this thing.

I stop a few paces from the cot, hoping the distance will be enough to avoid sudden death. "Simon!" I whisper. I can't see him but I hear the sounds of quick movement and the sound of a weapon being pointed in my direction. I know he's upright with a gun pointed directly at me. I squeak. Like a fucking mouse, I squeak.

"Silas." He gruff out, clearly unamused with my presence waking him up in the middle of the night. He turns his lamp on low, the sudden light making me instinctively shield my eyes from the intrusion, still holding my blade. I tremble, despite my best efforts to still. His gun still readied, only now trained on the tent flaps behind me.

"You're not wearing trousers. Or shoes. Come to kill me half naked?" He states flatly. I brave the light to look down. I've barged into his tent wearing only a baggy tee shirt. "Neither are you. I was sleeping. I got scared, thought he was coming for me so I grabbed my knife. But then I just ran. Didn't even know where I was going." I whisper.

He ignores my statement about his lack of pants too. "Who is coming for you? Langley?" His whisper matching mine. "If that's the guy who blames me for being transferred, yeah. I never learned his name."

"You try to mame a guy and don't learn his name?" He's still whispering but he chuckles. "Not relevant." I shrug. It isn't, not to me. I don't need to know the names of my enemies.

"You really think he will try to hurt you?" He asks, and I look at him seriously. "I don't know. Men like him that have that look in their eye are all the same. I've seen it too many times to be naive to it." Without his mask I can read his entire face. The gears are turning in his head and I don't like the picture I've painted for him.

"I can't sleep, I'm on edge, paranoid. I can't rest and watch my back at the same time." My voice halts his thoughts. He hums thoughtfully and places his gun under his pillow, laying back down and looking at me expectantly. I just stand there and stare at him, thinking he wants me to leave.

"Come on then, but put your knife on the desk. Can't have you accidentally killing me in my sleep." I'm hesitant to accept his offer but do as he says, desperate for rest. Padding over to his desk I lay my blade on the cold surface and make my way over to his cot.

Carefully I lay down. He turns off the lamp and rolls over. A big arm wraps around me, pulling my back tightly to his chest. I stiffen slightly at the close contact but relax into him quickly. No more words are exchanged.

I feel his chest move with every breath, the sound being the only thing that fills the silent air. I feel safe, more secure than I think I ever have. My eyes close as sleep greets me, tangling around me as tight as the big arm draped over me.

Morning comes and I wish it hadn't. I've never slept so peacefully. Not a single nightmare plagued my subconscious. My brain was entirely quiet. The front of my body is indulgently warm. I open my eyes, and I want to die just like this. The sight will burn a beautiful image into my brain.

Sometime during the night we've shifted. His face is buried into my chest. My leg is thrown over his hip, his leg bent at the knee between my legs. His arm draped over my waist, mine draped over his shoulder. His low, steady breaths cuing me that he is still asleep. I wonder if he slept as good as I did, he would normally be fully geared up in the mess hall by now.

I lay perfectly still, making no attempt to move in the slightest. I close my eyes and soak up every moment of this comfort, letting my mind be silent a little while longer. After a while he stirs a bit, a soft grunt escapes him and it melts my heart.

His body coils me into him tighter, and I reciprocate. I wonder how he can even breathe. Limbs tangled tightly together, as if they were carved from a single piece of clay. The image of this large man snuggled up to me in this way makes me chuckle involuntarily.

He pulls back a bit, sleepy dark-earth eyes blinking up at me. I almost cry at how adorable he looks. "Sorry." I whisper, chuckling again. He lays his head back down.

"Sun's starting to come up." His sleepy voice making my breath catch. I turn my head to see the faint glow of an approaching sunrise softly illuminating the canvas.

"Yeah." I whisper.

"We should already be at mess."

"Mhmm." But neither of us move. We lay like that for a few moments longer, just breathing in comfortable silence.

"Alright, we've got to get moving. Konig doesn't knock and he's certainly missing my presence." He says gruffly as he peels himself away, by body feeling cold at the loss of contact. "Let me get dressed and I'll check to see if the coast is clear, then you can scurry to your quarters to get dressed as well."

I watch him intently. He doesn't seem to mind. He pulls on his pants, unbothered that I've witnessed him in his boxer briefs. Sitting in his chair, he pulls on his socks and boots, lacing them up. What I don't expect is for him to stand up and remove his shirt. I raise an eyebrow, and my slight smile gives me away.

"Like what you see, do ya?" He chuckles. I really do. My eyes trace over every inch of exposed skin It takes all my power to not get up and trace my fingers all over him. He really is beefy. Toned muscles. Tattoos and scars decorate his soft skin. "Affirmative." I say, earning a chuckle from him.

After tucking his shirt in, he puts on his iconic balaclava with the skull face sewn carefully on it. As he shrugs his jacket over his broad shoulders, Konig appears through the tent flaps. He looks between us but makes no comment. Despite his lack of questioning, Ghost felt the need to blurt out, "it's not what it looks like!" I roll my eyes.

"I wasn't going to mention it." Konig says sheepishly. I laugh at the way Ghost is frozen, he realizes he gave more than he needed to. It's adorable. I decide to release him from his embarrassment. "I couldn't sleep, I didn't feel safe. LT let me stay in here so I could get some rest." He seems satisfied with my answer.

"I'm glad you took my advice about going to someone if you needed help." I give him a nod. "I went to your tent first actually, to tell you the helo should be arriving in a few minutes to transport Langley. Thought you would like a chat with pilot Ames. Gaz had told me if you weren't there you would be in here." I roll my eyes again but smile widely at getting to see Ames.

Before I can think better of it I jump to my feet. Konig quickly looks at the floor then the wall of the tent. He clears his throat. "Your legs are exposed." I look down and realize I'm yet again standing in front of one of my superiors with no pants on. I laugh.

"Do you sleep with pants on, sir? Anyway, get used to seeing me pantsless. Since I'm permanently on your team it's likely it won't be the last time. I hate pants." I state matter of factly. It became common place with my last team.

I can see he is still in a state of discomfort, I tell him to head on and I'll catch up after I'm more presentable. He gladly exits the tent and I hear Ghost let out a heavy breath I'm sure he was holding. He looks at me and throws his arms out from his sides, clearly unamused. I can't help but laugh. He shakes his head and finishes fastening his jacket and putting on his vest. "Let me check the coast is clear then you can run on your merry 'alf naked way."

He pokes just his head out of the tent and looks around. I imagine how silly that looks from the outside. He motions me with his hand and I stand beside him. I pull the flap slightly and poke my head out below his. He sighs at my nonsense but tells me to take the clear and get dressed, reminding me to fix my 'mess of a head'.

I finish making myself presentable and step out of my tent. Before I make it too far I hear a voice that glues my feet to the dirt. "Barlowe." Langley. I don't let it show that he spooked me. Instead I turn to face him, he is being escorted by two other soldiers who urge him to leave me alone. I don't know why, but I wave them dismissively and my feet move me to meet him half way.

The look in his eyes baffles me. "I didn't think you would give me the time of day. Would you be okay to walk with me?" I nod and walk beside him, keeping him at arms length. One soldier stays at his opposite side, the other takes lead in front.

"I know apologies are empty words, but I really am sorry. I didn't realize that I wasn't just being a dick, but I was being a monster. I don't know what I was thinking. You didn't deserve any of it. It's clear I made you feel unsafe and scared and that's not fair. I have a sister. If a man were to behave in such a way towards her, I wouldn't hesitate to blow his head clean off. I've requested to be taken temporarily duty instead of straight transfer. I'll be going to base for therapy."

To say I'm stunned is an understatement. I'm also feeling shitty about reading him wrong. It takes a minute to gather myself to speak, but I know just what I need to say when I do.

"Sometimes people do monstrous things. That doesn't always make them monsters, but rather human. You did scare me, the feeling you gave me was a terribly familiar one and I hated it. Thank you for apologizing, I'm glad you're getting the help you need, that you deserve." He can tell my words are sincere, he smiles and I see hope in his eyes. Ghost sees me talking to him and rushes over, scary dog privileges I guess. But he let's us talk.

"Thanks, Barlowe. I'm sorry it took me making you feel like I was a danger to you for me to get help. You're a good person, you know that? They let me call my sister this morning. She will be waiting for me at the base, we're going to read scripture together. I want to make her proud of me. Shes all ive got."

Speaking of his sister, the soldier beside me disappears and I see a broken little boy. It breaks my heart. Ames lands the helo just ahead but I have one last thing to do. I turn and wrap my arms around Langley, much to the Ghost and the other two's dismay. He stiffens at my contact but quickly relaxes into me, returning the gesture tightly. I hear him sniffle.

Upon separating, I see tears on his cheeks. I wipe them away gently, smiling softly at him. Keeping my hands on his face I speak from the heart, with powerful conviction.

“Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.” He beams at me and I see the the dark clouds looming over his soul start to part. He's going to be okay.

I pull his forehead down to mine and speak softly. "You're taking a big step in the right direction, surely you've already made your sister proud. As I'm proud of you now." I pull away and look at him. I see that broken little boy once more, hearing what he always needed. "Let yourself heal, make yourself proud."

With that, I step away from him, satisfied with the soft smile that lightens his face. The two soldiers seem more at ease as they escort him to the helo. I fall back and walk in step with Ghost.

"So you're actually the angel then." My elbow makes contact with his ribs and he grunts. "Right. Hellcat for sure. You did a really good thing thing back there." He tries not to let himself sound soft, but his tone hits my ears like a pillow.

"I'm glad I was wrong about him. It gives me hope. I'm no angel though, just painfully human." I can tell he wants to say something but he doesn't. I reach my hand to his, giving it a quick squeeze. He looks at me and by the slight crinkle by his eyes, I can tell he's smiling.

Several paces out from the helo, Ames has walked to meet us. I immediately wrap my arms around his neck, welcoming his arms squeezing my waist as he spins us around. This man never fails to make me forget I'm literally a cold killing soldier. "You're glowing pip. Been pouring into the cup of damned?"

His smile warms my heart. "Y'could say that. I wish we had more time, there's so much I want to tell you!" He plants a kiss on the top of my head and gives my shoulders a squeeze.

"I wish so too pip, but duty calls. Ive good news though. Laswell has assigned me for your teams extraction back to main base after your final mission. Congrats on the permanent placement by the way. I trust you're being treated properly?" I don't miss the way his eyes narrow at Ghost, who's throat clears immediately, speaking before I can respond.

"Yes sir. We're lucky to have this hellcat on our team. Keeps us on our toes, this one, but a great asset indeed." Ames' eyebrows raise at being referred to as sir by the lieutenant.

"Good to hear. And you don't owe it to me to call me sir, Ames is sufficient." I can tell he actually like being called sir, he truly deserves that sort of respect.

"I figure someone Silas holds in high regards is worthy of the respect." He glances at me and I can tell he's smiling under that balaclava again. He's an odd but adorable creature.

"Well thank you. I've got to get going, I'll see you lot before too long. Look after my girl." I scoff at him lightheartedly as he ruffles my hair. I decide against giving him the 'I can look after myself' speech. I'm learning it's nice to have someone literally and metaphorically watching my six.

Ghost stands by my side as I wave to the ascending helo. I smooth my hair down before he can comment on my mess of a head. We turn to walk to mess and he looks at me. "Pip?" I smile, deciding to open up a bit instead of telling him to piss off about the loving nickname.

"I was early in my career when we first met. He was part of the extraction team that took me away from the place where I had been held for almost a year. He was early in his career too and the sight of my condition really shook him up. I wasn't as plush as you see me now. I was skin and bones, malnourished to the brink of death, dirty, bloody. My body was battered, bruised, burned and scarred from being tortured. It was raining when he carried me out, by the time we were safely in the helo I was soaked and shivering."

He stops to look at me with terror and fury in his eyes. I stop and face him to continue telling him. I know It's an awful story but I haven't talked about it and I need to. I can tell he needs me to finish.

"I was in too weak of a state to get myself into the helo, let alone strip myself of my filthy wet clothes before going into hypothermia. He gently sat me inside before joining me. I'll never forget the look in his eyes, the sight of me was traumatizing him. He didn't falter or hesitate despite looking on the verge of having a breakdown. He helped get me out of my wet clothes and wrapped me in a blanket. He held me in his lap on the floor of the helo and said 'You're gonna be okay pipsqueak, I've got you now'. Thus the nickname was born. He held me like that for hours, until we got back to base. He hardly left my side after that, visiting as often as he possibly could. When I was released from infirmary, he was with me still as often as he could. My first real friend. The first gentleness and care I experienced in a very long time."

His eyes betray his attempts to appear stoic. I reach out and give his hand a squeeze, showing him I'm okay. "That explains the bond you have. I'm sorry you had to go through that" His eyes cast to the dirt.

"S'okay Simon. I survived. They didn't break me, no matter how hard they tried. In that I found a part of me I guess. And now im here, and I'm grateful." His eyes meet mine again and I give him a smile. "That's the first time I've talked about it." A sigh of relief escapes me. "Let's go have cold breakfast, hmm?"

He laughs and shakes his head. We continue our way to mess in comfortable silence. This man, in all his glory, makes me feel so safe. I've decided I'll follow him to the ends of the earth. And if it opens up to swallow him whole, I want to go with him.

The mess is cleared out now and the food is indeed ice cold. That doesn't bother me in the slightest. Ghost sits with me this time since everyone else has already gone. I laugh at the way he scrunches his balaclava up to eat. He laughs at the way I eat like a starving raccoon. I wonder if anyone else gets to see this side of him.

We toss our trash and exit the mess. No destination in mind as we walk in step. I reach my hand out towards his. His fingers respond, flexing towards mine. Before I can take hold of his hand, Soap is jogging towards us. Our hands find their places back at our own sides.

"Konig has called a meeting. Price and Laswell have looked into the Intel from the safe house and it's good. The coordinates are where an elite gala will be held. It's a headquarters of sorts. I hacked their systems and confirmed the dates and names to be accurate too. Best part? No civilians! Only the big bads will be attending. Its where the information about their entire operation is held on a drive."

We head to the meeting tent. The team is all there, with the addition of a computer screen with live feed of Price and Laswell. Harvey is present too. Gaz loops his arm with mine, pulling me to stand with him. I haven't met Price before, Laswell only once.

"Barlowe. I'm told if it weren't for you, we wouldn't have this Intel. Without it, we wouldn't be able to move quickly, excellent job." Laswells voice comes from the screen.

"Thank you ma'am. But I only suggested a final sweep of the safe house. Sergeant Mactavish actually located the file." Price laughs and I'm not sure why.

"Way I heard it, your suggestion was an order. Mactavish tells me that final sweep would have been completed with or without the rest of your team's cooperation."

Ah, yeah that's fair. " What can I say, I'm thorough." I shrug nonchalantly, trying not to appear too smug.

"All the better for it. Otherwise this mission would be dragged out." I nod, taking the metaphorical pat on the back as it's given. The meeting goes on for almost three hours. Every detail, large and miniscule alike, covered in full. The plan is carefully constructed, all of our roles assigned. This is a big one, Konig and Harvey will be going with us.

Price and Laswell conclude the meeting, urging us to rest as the team will be leaving out in two days. Ames really meant it when he said he'd be seeing again me soon.The rest of the day and most of the following is spent preparing gear and ourselves.

The final evening comes. After an impromptu training, everyone sat together for dinner mess. Despite the danger that awaits us tomorrow, I felt content, these people are my family.

Konig, Ghost, and Soap have a little meeting of their own afterwards. Gaz and I have all the information and detail we could possibly need, so we hang out in his tent for a while.

We hold each other and talk as he plays with my hair. I try not to think about tomorrow. As if he can sense the darkening of my mind, he speaks teasingly.

"You slept with the lieutenant." My head shoots up and I look at him wide eyed. "He any good?" He whispers with a shit eating grin.

"You're off your rocker boy! We slept. Literally. Just slept, as in sleep, you know night night, dreaming and shit." I don't mean to ramble. I'm confused by the nervousness sparked within me.

"Right, right. You two practically eye fuck each other daily, but you just shared a bed for a wee nap." I don't like the mischievous glint in his eyes. I reach up and flick him in the nose.

"We do not eye fuck each other!"

"You totally do. Even soap has noticed." He laughs and I'm aghast.

"Say sike right fuckin now. Tell me you two don't talk us like that, how pervy and vulgar!"

"You're being defensive. If you in fact have not been eye fucking eachother, you wouldn't feel the need to be defensive!" My heart is racing. I know he's right but I won't admit it. I scoff and roll my eyes.

"Whatever gasket. How 'bouts you and Soap worry about your own and each other's naughty bits and dealings."

We continue heckling one another for a while, and talking about everything under the sun. Trying to distract ourselves as long as we can. I'm normally pumped for a mission, but this one has us all swallowing dryly. Soap appears and apologizes for intruding. I wave him off and stand to leave, giving them much needed time together too.

I head straight for Ghost's tent. He welcomes me and I can tell he is feeling the weight too. We talk for a bit. Thinking he would like to be alone before our mission, I stand up to leave. I open my mouth to say goodbye, but he reaches for my hand, gripping it gently yet firmly. "Just stay."

I don't need anymore convincing. I don't want to be alone tonight, it seems he really doesn't either. "Let me go get something to sleep in." He stands and walks over to his neatly organized clothes, pulling out a black tee shirt. My heart melts when he hands it to me. "No need."

I sit on the cot to remove my boots and socks. He sits in his chair, doing the same. I stand with my back to him as I undress. Now in just my underwear I turn around to retrieve his shirt off the cot. The shirt hes pulling off himself clears his head just in time to see my nearly bare form. I almost shy away under his intense gaze but I don't. The look on his uncovered face sparks something in my core.

Before I can put the shirt on, he closes the gap between us, gently pulling it from my hands. Neither of us have to say it aloud, our eyes speak it for us. This may be our last night alive.

A big hand gently runs across my ribs. Another cups my face. I give him a slow nod and he leans in, pulling our bare chests together. My gasp at the warm contact is cut short by his lips on mine. I immediately melt into him. Every touch gentle yet needy. He pulls away only briefly as he lowers himself slightly, scooping me up as he rights himself. My legs wrap around his waist and my arms around his neck. I bring my lips down to his this time as he lays me down.

He let's some of his weight rest on me as he lays on top of me, kisses growing needier. The weight of him, the warmth of his bare skin against mine, his desperate lips, all of it ignites a forest fire in my bones. And I want it to consume me.

My hands roam everywhere they can reach, fingertips mapping the skin beneath them. His lips trail away from mine, along my jaw and down to my neck. A slight nip makes me gasp and he chuckles against my skin. The sound and sensation send shivers down my spine.

His warm hand travels up the entirety of my torso, taking up home on my breast. Kneeding gently at first, before becoming deliberate, fingers tending to my nipple. His mouth migrates down over my collar bone and the top of my chest, coming to my other breast. My back arches slightly into him, a barely-there moan comes out of my mouth. He pulls his head away just enough to chuckle again. "So responsive to me." He continues his precise affections.

"Been a long while, I'm very sensitive. I can't say I remember it being this delightful though." He grunts against me and my hand comes up to his head, fingertips gracing his scalp. A nip makes me squeak.

He brings his head up, face inches from mine again. His fingers soothe over the nipple. "Too much sweetheart?" His tone is a mix of teasing and genuine concern. I shake my head. "Use your words." He speaks more firmly.

"No, not too much. I'm okay, just surprised." I assure him with a lazy smile.

"Good girl." His praise goes straight to my core. He captures my lips in a hungry kiss, catching a moan. He takes the opportunity to let his tongue invade my mouth. Our tongues move together like a well choreographed dance.

His hand descends down my body, taking the time to map my skin. The feel of his fingers on the inside of my thigh has my hips rolling up into him. His lips detach from mine as a heafty groan rumbles up out of his chest, only provoking me further.

He chuckles at my neediness. "This worked up already?" His teasing tone tells me he already knows the answer. I huff out a pitiful yes anyways. He's enjoying this, but so am I. The dread of tomorrow forgotten.

His hand slides back up my thigh and into my underwear, a finger gliding over my clit. I gasp harshly, his movements so quick. He hums deeply, pleased with how wet I already am. His hand is removed and I involuntarily whine at the loss of contact. He tuts.

"Don't be greedy. Let's get these out of the way first." He leans up, hands tugging at the thin fabric that stands in his way. I lift my hips and swiftly I'm completely bare. He sits back on his heels and I feel vulnerable under his gaze. His thumb glides over my clit and I fight my legs snapping shut. As if sensing this, his other hand comes to my thigh, holding it in place while soothing the skin. I'm panting like a parched dog and he smirks at me. The smug bastard.

A finger slips inside me, nearly making my eyes cross. "So tight princess. Gonna have to let me get you good 'n ready for me." I'm not one for ridiculous pet names but coming from him, I want to hear more of it.

He curls his finger and works slowly in and out of me, drawing hushed moans from my lips. He scoots back and leans forward. Hot kisses pepper both of my thighs, before landing one directly on my clit. My head jolts up. "Still doin' okay sweetheart?" I nod my head, then remember his need for words.

"I'm ok, that's just new. Never had anyone's head between my thighs before." I confess nervously.

He soothes my thigh with his hand. "Nobody's ever tastes this pretty pussy before?" He tuts. "I'd like to be the first then. If you don't want me to princess you'll have to say so."

"Please, do!" My voice sounds entirely pathetic. And he chuckles.

"So polite, good girl." He praises, wasting no time bringing his face back where I need him most. Another soft kiss, then his tongue swipes over my clit. I groan at the sensation, encouraging him to continue. He removes his finger, but before I can protest he replaces it with his tongue. He growls, lapping and spearing like a man finding water in the desert. His nose bumps my clit, urging my moans louder.

His groaning and growling sends vibrations wracking through my body. That knot forms low in my tummy. His hands wrap under my thighs, squeezing harshly as he buries his face in my pussy, movements becoming more ravenous. My hands clench the sheets and my hips rock, riding his face as my orgasm crashes over me. His name falls from my mouth and he growls harshly. The sensation feels intense with the sensitivity, my hands push at his head as my body tries to squirm from his hold.

My efforts futile. He continues his attack, nearing me closer to another orgasm without a single second break. Just when I think I'll go again, he pulls away abruptly. The look he gives me prevents me from protesting. He leans down and kisses me hungrily, the taste of me on his tongue and lips is sinfully delicious. His hand reaches between us. I whimper at the sensation.

His pupils are blown, making his dark eyes near black. "Gotta stretch you out for me sweetheart." He says softly before sliding a finger in. He only pumps a few times before adding a second, curling them perfectly. My eyes roll back. "I need you good and ready. Your pussy is so tight and I want you to be able to enjoy my cock."

I'm a moaning mess already. His fingers feel so good, expertly hitting all the right spots. "Ready for one more?" My eyes nearly pop out of my head. Surely that isn't necessary, right? But I digress.

"Yes sir." My words sound pornographic with the way the come out in a needy moan. I'll say it a thousand more times to hear that primal growl.

"Good fucking girl." His fingers pull out to the tips, another joining as he pumps them back into me. "That's it. Taking my fingers so well." His praising added to the way he's finger fucking me has my lost orgasm coming back.

"Can I please come sir." My voice is shaky and pathetic, trying to to scream.

"So polite. Since you asked so nicely, you can come on my fingers sweetheart."

I'm glad he said yes because I wouldn't have been able to hold it anyways. I come immediately. A string of curses barrels out of me and I cover my mouth. He slowly works me down before retracting. He brings his hand up and I take all three fingers in my mouth, humming around them in delight.

"I think you're ready for the main event." He says gruffly as he stands to remove his underwear. He kneels back between my thighs as I can't help the whimper that escapes me. He chuckles darkly, leaning down, rubbing his tip up and down my soaked pussy. Stopping on my entrance he doesn't hesitate, slowly sliding in. I inhale deeply, my hands gripping his biceps.

"Don't worry princess, you can take it." He isn't even all the way in yet and I feel like I'm going to split in half.

"I can take it, I can take it!"

"That's my girl. My good fucking girl."

We both groan when he bottoms out. His lips find mine as he gives me time to adjust and relax. I tap his arm to signal him to move. He draws out slowly, then back. My eyes roll back as he continues rocking his hips into me. His pace picks up and I'm a moaning cursing mess. He moans so freely and I swear I could come to the sound alone.

"Fuck Simon so good. You feel so fucking good. Fuck fuck oh fuck!"

"My good girl has a sailor mouth, huh? So fucking good, so tight, so wet. Just for me. Taking my cock so well princess."

I want to hold out, but I can feel myself clenching around him. He can feel it too. "Come all over my cock sweetheart, go ahead. I can feel you're close. So good for me."

His words urge me on, my orgasm crashing over me like never before. I bite down on his shoulder hard, one of his hands mimicking tightly on my hip. I can feel the warmth of my release between us. That's never happened before.

He steadies his pace, slowing down to give me time to get back to earth. "Still okay sweetheart?" I nod and close my eyes mor just a moment. A tap to my cheek makes them open. His movements halt. "Eyes on me sweetheart. I need words."

I catch my breath quickly. "I'm okay, promise. Please move!" Satisfied with my reply he picks up his movements. His pace doesn't stop in the same pace as before, instead he's plummeting into me. A particularly loud, gutteral groan has his hand clamping over my mouth. He's struggling to keep his own noise down as he nears his own release. He's a moaning mess, the sounds grace my ears, making me see stars.

He shifts slightly and it's just enough to send me overboard. I scream beneath his hand as my nails dig into his shoulders. His curses hit my ears distorted. I've gone out to Jupiter. His thrusts become sloppy before he slides out of me and releases on my thighs and pussy. I feel the weight of his body rest down on me. My arms wrap around his neck as his lips capture mine once more. He kisses me gently yet passionately.

I feel his weight lift off of me. "I've made a mess of you sweetheart." He chuckles. I smile lazily at him as his thumb swipes over my cheek. "Don't worry, I'll clean you up." He's a man of his word, only i was expecting a tshirt wipe up. Much to my surprise, his head is between my thighs lapping up every last drop with his tongue, making me squirm weakly.

"Fucking beautiful." He murmers. I lean up onto my hands and offer to return the favor. "Nah sweetheart, you need to rest." He uses the tshirt cleanup on himself before laying down next to me, pulling the covers over us. I roll onto my side as he drapes his heavy arm over me, pulling my back tightly to his chest. He nuzzles his face into my neck and I almost immediately drift into sleep.

I stir at the feeling of fingers padding gently down my hip. A kiss behind my ear, then on my shoulder. I open my eyes and blink away the sleep, humming softly. "We gotta get up sweetheart. Big day awaits us." I groan and roll over to face him, throwing my leg over his hip and caressing his face with my hand.

"I know." Planting a kiss to his lips, trying to get as much of him as I can before we face a death trial. He let's me kiss him for a few minutes, I know he's trying to get as much as he can too. Nobody will admit it, but we're all scared. I'm the first to sit up, if I lay here any longer I might cry. He follows suit and slings his legs over the cot, standing to get dressed.

I let me eyes roam his bare form. "Like what you see, do ya?" He chuckles. I'm certain that's my most favorite sound in the world.

"Indeed I do." He insisted on going to get my clothes and brush for me, something about not wanting me to run around half naked again. I know he just doesn't want to spend any longer away from me than he absolutely has to. I packed up all my stuff last night, so all he has to do is run in and grab my bags.

After he's dressed to the nines, he heads to my tent. He's back so quick I swear he teleported. "You get dressed, I'll stand in front of this opening so nobody gets an eye full if they decide to barge in this time." I laugh and get dressed as quickly as I can, that thought makes me nervous. "Don't forget that mess of a head." I roll my eyes, like I would forget to do that.

Once I'm dressed, I walk over to stand in front of him. I'm certain my eyes reflect the same sadness as his do. I reach my hand out and squeeze his hand, my other coming up to thumb over the skull face. I give him a nod, which he returns and steps to the side. I take a deep breath and make a step out of this makeshift sanctuary. A firm slap on my ass makes me gasp.

"Cheeky." I say with a quick glance his way.

"Agreed." He teases.

We made good time, getting to breakfast mess before I would normally get there myself. The food is still hot and I'm actually grateful. I don't want to die having only eaten a cold meal. We all sit together again, this time Ghost sits next to me, his thigh never breaking contact with mine. I want to sneak my hand down to run my fingers across the broadness, but I don't. He doesn't need vital blood being redirected today.

"Remember when you called me a piggy for having messy quarters?" Gaz quips, I know he's making a statement to how I'm inhaling my food.

"Piggy girl." I correct. "If you're thinking of calling me a piggy girl, I suggest you really think twice. I'd hate to shatter my knee cap on your thick skull." Ghost chuckles before quickly clearing his throat. This man is whipped.

"I see how that would be not great to say. But you do eat like a feral raccoon in a dumpster behind a Panera."

"Fucks a Panera?" My question is genuine but everyone cracks up. Apparently it's a restaurant. Maybe I really am feral. I don't do off-base things. If I'm being honest, the outside world scares me more than being a soldier.

We're reminded to place our tagged bags in the van. Our team will not be taking the van this time, instead we will be using a throwaway. Ghost tells me he will grab my bags from his tent, as I offer to clean up everyone's mess. The other teams will be dismantling tent city and head back to base while my team does their thing. It's all very well thought out.

Our team meats up at the throwaway. The energy in the air is somber. This van has been gutted, save for the driver and passenger seats. This allows us to all fit alongside our gear. Soap drives, Konig takes passenger princess.

The rest of us sit on the floor, lining either wall. Harvey sits behind Soap, I imagine so she can see Konig. Gaz follows suit, sitting behind Konig so he can see soap. Ghost takes up beside Harvey, I'm next to Gaz. I know Ghost won't let me be affectionate in the company of others, and Gaz is more than happy to exchange affections with me.

I curl up into his side, my legs tossed over one of his. One of his arms wraps securely around me, holding my hand on that side. The other arm rests at his side, holding that hand. I'm thankful to have met someone who loves me so much.

"I love you gasket." I give him the best smile I can muster.

"I love you little foot." He repays the same sad smile and kisses my forehead.

"Gasket?" Says Harvey.

"Little foot?" Ghost chimes in.

"Long story." Gaz and I say in unison. We look at each other and laugh. The somber energy feels less heavy.

As we get closer to the coordinates that we will abandon the van, Ghost gives a quick refresher. The overall plan sounds much simpler than it is. Get in. Take out all targets. Locate a drive with vital information stored on it. Extraction.

Getting in was easy, they weren't expecting any trouble. The place is huge, but there were only twenty eight people. With six of us, that part went fairly quickly. Now the final sweep, we have to locate the drive.

I'm in a room on the third floor, in the furthest back corner of the building. I locate the drive and alert through the comms. As I'm walking to leave the room, Soap's voice stops me in my tracks and my blood runs cold.

"One of them has switched on what looks like a very big bomb. Big enough to blow the whole building. Countdown just reached 184 seconds. It's to intricate we have to abort now!"

He talks fast and panicked. I already turned on my heel as soon as he said bomb. I know what I have to do and I know I can get it done before the place blows.

"Abort! Evacuate now!" I scream back.

"Location Lightfoot!" Soap returns.

"Third floor, northwest corner. I can't get out of here in time. Move out now!"

The chatter through the comms is overwhelming. I need to have a clear head.

"I'm currently hacking their system and Laswells. I can direct the entirety of the drives contents to her and I can do it in time. Shut the fuck up, actual. Get the fuck out, that's a goddamn order."

Comms goes quiet and I'm thankful. My brain and hands work at lightning speed. I set a countdown on my watch when Soap told us about the bomb.

40 seconds

30 seconds

"It's done! Tell Laswell it's done." I shout into comms quickly.

Their chatter is back and I can't respond. I have 20 seconds to escape. I remember the aerial image of the property and I know what I have to do. I shoot the window, it breaks after seven shots. I'm thankful, that's the last of my ammo.

I take several paces back and sprint as fast and hard as I can. I jump from the third story window just as the blast goes off. Something collides hard with my back, directly onto the left ribs. My timing for the jump was off, and now the force of the blast pushes me, putting me off of my expected safe trajectory. I'll probably splatter on the pavement below like a watermelon.

I never told him I love him.

It's far too late now. My body feels cold. I'm completely helpless, my brain sending no signals for my body to move. My eyes are closed, no swirling lights or colors behind my eyelids, just pitch black. My skilled ears pick up no sound, its so quiet.

I always thought dying would be painful and frightening. Instead, I feel no pain and I'm oddly calm. I'll wait for him in the after.

Author's note; I have half of a part two but it feels terribly boring and I'm clueless how to write an ending on it or where to take it. Should I leave this as is and let reader decide the end after this part or try to finish part two? Let me know what you think, and don't be afraid to give me ideas! Thanks for reading!

[feraltragedy]

Here's a Simon "Ghost" Riley drabble I wrote instead of working on my other WIPs.

CW: none, just pure fluff

Title: Coyote and the Crow

Characters: Ghost, Soap, Gaz, f!oc

She's been a member of the 141 nearly a year now. An odd little thing, really. Likes flowers and dancing, always has ridiculous dialog. Yet, fierce and stealthy on the battlefield.

It isn't uncommon for her to openly seek comfort from her team members or intrude their personal space. Holding onto Gaz whenever the opportunity arises. Barging into offices without knocking to sit quietly in the floor curled up with a book, back against the drawers of the desk.

Simon pretends to be neutral to the idea of all the physical touch and her seemingly constant presence. The freespirited little soldier came into their lives like a tidal wave. Crashing into their routines and solitude. He won't tell a soul, but he warmed up to her almost immediately, finding her rollercoaster of personalities to be amusing and sometimes comforting to even himself.

One particular night, he sits in his office doing late paperwork while the rest of the team should be soundly sleeping. Or so he thought, until she barges in. He doesn't spare a glance away from the papers in front of him, he already knows who it is.

He expected her to round his desk and curl up in the floor like she's done many times before. Not speaking or touching, just seeking comfort of his presence. But this time she doesn't do that.

She stands against his leg and weakly tries to roll his chair back, but failing. He looks up at her to decipher the unusual act to see her eyes full of exhaustion and tear stained. Nightmares must have plagued her dreams.

Without a word exchanged, he rolls his chair back and watches in awe as she slips between his legs and kneels to the floor. A ziploc baggie of markers in assorted colors catches his eye.

Before he can question what in the world she is doing, her soft hands gently grasp his bare forearm. One of her hands rests on his leg, supporting his arm. The other takes a brightly colored maker and begins coloring his tattooed skin.

He makes a mental note to wear a short sleeve tshirt more often. As she silently switches marker to marker, gently coloring his pale skin, he continues his paperwork with his free hand. Her movements eventually slow to a complete stop and he feels the weight of her head meet the thigh of his other leg.

Looking down at the sight, his heart warms and breaks. She's finally fallen asleep. Marker still in her hand, the lid resting between her parted lips as she snores softly. His free hand comes down to lightly stroke her hair.

Two rapid knocks at his door breaks his focus. Before he can say anything, the door swings open. He's quick to shush the voices filling the silent room, pointing down to where they can't see.

Curious foot steps round his desk to see what has the lieutenant so urgently shushing them. Their eyes land on a form, softly snoring, practically curled up in his lap.

Soap gently takes the marker from her loose hand, then the lid from her lips. Understanding Ghost's deathstare as a warning to not wake her. They watch her carefully, relieved when she doesn't so much as twitch.

"Want me to carry her to my room?" Her bestfriend Gaz whispers. She would often slip into his quarters when sleep would evade her. Everyone understands their platonic relationship.

Ghost ponders the question for a few moments. He doesn't want to disturb her but knows this position will leave her aching tomorrow if she stays like that any longer. He wants to say no and take her back to his quarters instead so he can comfort and protect her through the night while she rests, but that would raise question if anyone else were to find out.

Begrudgingly, he sighs and gives a curt nod. He rolls his chair back slightly to give Gaz more room to gently pick her up. The now lack of contact leaves him feeling empty.

"Careful now, watch her head on the doorways. And Gaz, hold her tight tonight." He receives a nod in response. There is an unspoken understanding between all of them, an understanding about the profound bond between the coyote and the little crow.

[feraltragedy]

I have been entirely uninspired to write part two of Ghost, a Noah Sebastian story. I'm so sorry! I tried but it was causing me to burn out. It's still a WIP though, so if anyone wants to be tagged when I do post let me know. Please don't hate me!

I did however start a Simon Riley fic though. I was just going to jot a few ideas down but the story started writing itself. Now my notes app has almost 150 pages worth of a Simon story, and im not finished.It is absolutely NSFW, MDNI so keep that in mind if you want to be tagged in it. It's also OC, not y/n format.

I'll make a tag list for both fics, so if you want to be tagged let me know which one and I'll write it down. You can also follow me and turn on your post notifications.

Much love, Margot. 😘

[feraltragedy]

Just a short Noah drabble, part 2 whenever I can get my thoughts into words.

No content warnings apply for this one, just a hot boy in a mask and mild adult themes.

@thelesbianwithissues @concreteangel92 @madomens @lilhobgobbler

Ghost

I send a text to my best friend telling him I have great news I want to share. His reply a short ‘I'm home bunny.’ With the letter in my hand, I make my way to his house.

Coming through the door of the house I see the faces of my friends except Noah. “Upstairs, he's getting ready to stream.” Nicholas is quick to notice my searching eyes.

“I've got some really good news, let me share with Noah first and I'll come back down and tell you guys too!” I head for the stairs and make my ascent.

Noah was the only one who knew about The Tortured Poet Society reaching out to me after finding a story I had posted. When they wanted me to send in a portfolio for review to possibly land me a seat at the round table, I had called him immediately freaking out. I didn't want to tell anyone else about the application. If they rejected me, it would just be a disappointment. They are like the most elite book club, some of the best authors make up the table.

Reaching my best friend's room I opened the door, stepping inside I almost forget why I'm here. The sight before me clouding my already excited mind.

“You're really gonna stream like that, sweets?” His shoulders only shrugged in response. “I got the letter today.” Holding the piece of paper up, I make my approach.

He sits low in his chair, hips all the way forward and long legs spread wide. My eyes can't help but rake up his form, from his lap where his hand rests on his thigh, up his bare torso and landing on the mask hiding his face. Tattoos on display, and freckles painting the tops of his shoulders.

Normally I wouldn't think twice about plopping myself on his lap. But this all feels too intimate. I'm pretty sure I don't have a thing for masks, but knowing it's him underneath the Ghost cosplay is setting me ablaze. I stand directly in front of him, just between his knees to read the letter.

As I'm reading I don't realize my left leg has risen to rest on his thigh, bent at the knee. A warm hand on the top of my thigh just below the hem of my skirt makes me suddenly aware of just how I am encroaching on his space.

“Uh, so yeah, I'm in! I can't believe I'm actually in!” “I already knew they would love you bunny. You're so good.” He spoke for the first time and his voice is lower and deeper than usual, getting husky with his last statement.

A noise from his computer cuts through the haze, his stream friends are waiting for him. I bite my lip and sit the letter down on the desk, placing both my hands at the top of his chest. My fingers rest against the chain around his neck, the cold material a stark contrast to his hot skin. His hand on my thigh slides up slightly as I lean in, planting a kiss on the mask. I move my head close to his ear and give my best sultry whisper.

“I'll let you get to your stream, sweet boy.” I pull away, making a show of letting one of my hands trail down his torso as I bring myself back to standing. Instead of turning to walk away I opt to back away slowly, drinking as much of him like this as I can. My hands interlocked behind my back, a subconscious move to keep me from reaching out for him more. “I've got an early morning, I'll see you tomorrow.” “You can count on it, bunny.”

I reluctantly make my way out of the room, eyes never leaving his form until the door blocks my line of sight. For once, I don't care if he knows the effect he has on me. Instead, I want him to know.

Downstairs I share the news with the rest of the guys. “Congrats bunny!” Matt says, not knowing the sultry way that nickname fell from Noah’s masked lips just moments before. Each of the boys congratulate me and pull me into an array of tight hugs before I leave for the night.

My car feels quiet and empty. I turn on some music, body still hot and mind cloudy. Pulling out of the driveway, “The Feels” by Labrinth and Zendaya plays.

That boy will be the death of me.

[feraltragedy]

Listen. Listen listen listen! Just hear me out okay!

[feraltragedy]

Forgot why I opened my pinterest app. Now I'm giggling and kicking my feet like an idiot

[feraltragedy]

HAHAHA!!! HOLY FU...... this is not okay, Sir. I'd like to speak to your manager!!

Crap.... 😏

[feraltragedy]

Ok, here it is, my very first fic! Sorry if it's absolute dog water. Bad sense of humor and a Foy Vance quote ahead.

Unholy Throne

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

CW: language, smut, oral m&f receiving, p in v, unprotected sex, adult themes, mild(?) Drug use (weed), mild injury (no blood or gore)

I think that's about it for warnings. 18+ MDNI

You had been friends with the boys for a few years now. Your friendship with Noah being unusually close, but nobody seems to bat an eye at the snuggling and occasional innocent flirting. It was commonplace for you to sit on his lap and even share a bed, but the closeness and flirting was only when it was the two of you or just the other boys around, never in public or around outsiders. You saw Noah as something more, you wanted more. But there's no way he sees you more than his feral little bestfriend. Right?

Bad Omens is on hiatus and you're taking a bit off from work to spend time with them. Today, it’s hanging out at their house with a few friends. You sport a cute black pleated skirt that falls mid thigh with a light baggy sweater that is honestly too loose as it keeps slipping off of one shoulder or the other. Not your usual go-to but youre feeling sassy, and everyone can tell with your spicy attitude. The blunt being passed around earlier only adding fuel to that fire.

Everyone is in the backyard already except for Folio, who needs a sandwich before he wastes away to nothing. You're standing leaned against the counter after making your drink, watching Noah rummage through the fridge for the third time in the last thirty minutes. He seems a bit antsy today. He has asked you twice now if you want to change into one of his hoodies, as if it's tedious to him that you keep pulling it back up on your shoulders.

You pull the sweater again just as Noah is closing the fridge and he sees out of the corner of his eye.

“Go upstairs and change into my hoodie.”

“I'm good, thank you though.”

“I wasn't asking, Y/N, go change.”

His firm tone caught you a little off guard, and he's sporting that scolding look on his face. Your sassy mood has flipped to bratty before you even realize it. Normally,you would never defy him and “no” wasn't even in your vocabulary.

“No.”

The kitchen fell eerily silent. Folio’s sandwich crafting came to a halt and you can see him in the corner of your eye looking like a timid cat. But your eyes never left Noahs and his never left yours. He subtly tilted his head, now narrowing his eyes in disbelief, and slowly steps towards you like a predator hunting prey. It's intimidating, but you maintain your bratty facade despite feeling like a cornered rabbit in front of a wolf.

“What was that? I don't think I heard you correctly.”

He was standing directly in front of you now, so close you can feel his breath fan across your face with each angry exhale.

“No.”

The tension is palpable. Folio has abandoned his perfect sandwich and is slipping out the back door. Noah's focus is trained on you. There's a glint in his eye but you can't quite decipher it. In his silence you speak again.

“I said no. What are you gonna do about it big boy, hmm? You gonna spank me…, daddy?”

Maybe it's just the weed, or maybe it's the way he's looking at you, but youre feeling taller than the trees right now. The way his eyes darkened at the new nickname did not go unnoticed by you. He's fully pressed against you now,your backside pressed to the counter. Fighting the urge to slide your leg up to his hip is almost a losing battle. You realize you are way in over your head and try to look anywhere but at the god before you. A tattooed hand comes up to rest on your neck, thumb and pointer finger gripping your chin to force you to keep your eyes on him.

“Real fucking bold, princess. Sweet thing has been bratty all day, now you wanna act shy.”

You bite your tongue to stifle a whimper. You're about to break right here in this kitchen while all your friends are right outside. Noah is just about to speak again when Matt swings the back door open. He comes in and grabs Folios' forgotten sandwich for him, you guess he had told Matt he was too afraid to retrieve it himself.

“You guys gonna join us outside or what?”

“Y-yeah sure, of course.” You stammer out as you manage to squeeze out of Noah’s grip and hurry to the door without looking back.

You see everyone sitting around the table carrying on a conversation and try to calm yourself as you approach to join them. Another blunt is being passed around and you are instantly relieved, no way you make it another second with your fast fading buzz. You take a hit and think to yourself that's why you were just in the previous situation, but now the dominos have already begun and you won't make it through the evening stone cold sober.

Noah hasn't given you a second look since he came outside just after you did. Maybe he doesn't feel the same and you're just reading it all wrong. Maybe it was a hallucination. Ruffilo taps your foot lightly with his to get your attention.

“You good? You looked a little far away there for a second.”

“I’m good, just trying to put off going to the bathroom. The weed makes my legs feel funny. I’m gonna go now though” you give a little laugh and head inside.

Your underwear is still a little wet from your book-tok moment with Noah so you just slide them off from under your skirt and toss them in the hamper. Your dirty clothes are in there anyways since you spent the last two nights there. The high hits real good just as you leave the bathroom. The memory of earlier fuzzy and at the back of your mind. As you make it back outside, its practically completely forgotten.

Jesse must have got here while you were upstairs, and is now sitting where you were before you got up. No big deal, you can just sit on Noah’s lap and steal someone else's seat whenever they get up. But as you go to lower yourself, a big hand is on your butt, pushing you back up. Confused, you turn to look at Noah as he looks at you with a hint of mischief on his face, so subtle you almost missed it.

“No.” Noah spoke plainly.

“What?”

“No.” A smirk played on his pretty lips this time and the memory is coming back to you. He's getting back at you for saying no.

If you could feel your face you're certain you would feel the blush that had to be creeping up at the memory. Hopefully the dim light from the nightfall will hide it from everyone else. You don't have to dwell on it too much longer as Folio is apparently starving despite that big ass sandwich he ate.

“Let’s go to the pizza buffet!”

The munchies must have its tendrils in everyone because the agreement is unanimous. You didn't even consider the amount of people versus the amount of seats in the van until Matt spoke up as everyone was getting ready to load up.

“We are one more person than there are seats. Y/N, you will have to sit in Noah’s lap.”

You're suddenly very aware of your choice to forgo underwear beneath your skirt. Your sweater slips down your shoulder and Noah audibly huffs as you pull it back up.

“Folio can sit on Jesse or Jolly! Just because I'm the shortest one here doesn't mean I have to be the one with a human for a booster seat every time there's too many people!”

Matt is over it and just got in the driver's seat. Most of the guys laughed in amusement. Folio threw his hand up in bewilderment but Noah cut him off before he could protest being the one with a human for a booster seat.

“Y/N get in the van now, you can have your tantrum after we get back.”

His tone was yet again firm, only this time you didn't dare disobey. You were, however, feeling just bold enough.

“Yes sir.”

He didn't give you a chance to see any reaction to the title, if there was any. He was climbing into the van with you in tow. With everyone in their seats, Matt took off in the direction of the pizza buffet. You would be thrilled to be on your favorite seat if your current wardrobe, or lack thereof, was not a situation of its own.

The trip is only two minutes in and the feeling of Noah’s breath on your neck is making your head swim. His hands rest on the tops of his thighs, on either side of your hips. Their warmth radiates through the thin fabric of your skirt, warming your skin that has been cooled by the chilly night air. You’re suddenly aware of your weight on his lap, the way his body perfectly fits under you, how inviting his torso feels against your back, the steadiness of the breaths fanning your neck and shoulder where your sweater slipped down again. The streetlights are the only glow in the night, you wonder if you can sneak a peek at how they illuminate his face. Before you can attempt to turn your head the tires screech and the van comes to an abrupt stop. The force of the hard braking caused you to slide forwards a few inches on Noah’s lap.

“Who the fuck pulls out in front of someone like that! If i hadn't been paying attention we woulda crashed right into those assholes! Everyone ok?

Immediately giving reassurance, voices rang with “yeah”s and “all good”s. A strong arm wraps around your waist and a warm hand slides under your thigh, pulling you back into place. Noah’s arm holds you tighter against his torso than you were previously. You felt secure.

He adjusted the hand under your thigh and you now realize there is nothing between your skin and his. The new placement puts his fingers just inches from your core, where the skin of your thigh is the softest. You try to ignore the thoughts you've had about those very fingers during lonely late nights chasing your orgasm. You're trembling ever so slightly, hoping he doesn't notice, or at least will blame it on the near accident. Your hopes are snuffed out as Noah chuckles lowly in your ear, which makes you clench around nothing. The way you are positioned so perfectly on his lap, you just know he had to pick up on it.

He leans his head in so the tip of his nose is just touching the shell of your ear. Somehow his breathing is still steady. You try to match your breaths with his to steady yours. He gives your thigh a squeeze and all hope of not letting him know the effect he has on you is completely gone. You're gone. You grind down on him, despite your own mental protest. He gasps so quietly that only you can hear it, the hand under your thigh maintains a tight grip. Your hands find the tops of his thighs, you grip tightly in an attempt to keep a hold onto reality. What you didn't expect was for his hips to roll up into yours which has you seeing stars.

Thankful now for the loud debate happening amongst all the boys about who knows what, as a small groan rumbled out of your chest. Your head lulls back and Noah’s lips ghost up your neck and settle on your ear. His breaths are now short and uneven. Maybe you weren't hallucinating, did you really have this effect on him?

“Need to feel how wet you are.” His whisper barely audible in the midst of all the other voices. It sounded needy, despirate.

You turned your head more towards him unsure if you could even speak coherently. “Please, Noah, please.”

“We're here!”

All euphoria Is ripped from your body like a bandaid and Matt's abrupt announcement has you stone cold sober. You look out the window of the van and see you have in fact arrived at the pizza buffet. Right, how could you forget the place is only about ten minutes from the house.

Everyone has piled out of the van and into the restaurant. You and Noah both wear flushed faces, praying to any deity that will take pity on you for nobody to ask about it. The adrenaline coursing through your veins masks your appetite but you know it's been a while since you've eaten, besides the pizza options actually look decent.

After you've all ate your fill, Folio enough for him and a horse, it's time to load back up into the cramped van. You take your place on your unholy throne, no argument and definitely no funny business this time. Mind racing a mile a minute, what were you thinking letting those events unfold in such close quarters with people you both spend so much time with. You can't wait to get out of there but the ride back now seems three times as long.

Back at the house bodies are scrambling to get clear of Folio's noxious gas bomb that could level a small city. Any lingering lust you may have had is definitely extinguished after that near death experience. You make a mental note to look on ebay for a gas mask. You're certain he should have to register his ass as a biological weapon.

You make your way to the kitchen, the greasy pizza wreaking havoc on your reflux. The tums aren't on the counter where you last put them. Of course someone put them with the other medicines on the top shelf in the cabinet. You're the only one that can't reach the shelf so none of the others would have given it a second thought.

The others are nowhere in sight. It's late, they are probably heading to bed after a night of beer, weed and pizza. You secretly hoped Noah would appear behind you to assist your reaching the tums, but alas, you're alone. Hoisting yourself up into the counter you finally reach what you need. Sliding one leg back off the counter you slip a bit on the material of your skirt causing your other leg to come down without an ounce of grace. A stinging on your shin brings your attention to the bright red scrape left in the wake of the counters edge.

“What happened, you ok?”

Noahs voice breaks your attention away from examining the stinging scrape.

“Yeah, just a little scrape. I couldn't reach the tums.”

“Why didn't you wait for me to help you? Let me take care of that.”

“I didn't know where you were, I assumed everyone had gone off to bed. And ‘that’ is fine I promise, just a scrape.”

You must have not heard him say he was going to the bathroom when you got back over the jokes about Folio playing the gluteal tuba. He tells you to let him just take a look anyways and you oblige him, following him upstairs to his room. You lean against the gaming desk as he lowers Himself to his knees to get a better look. Holding your calf in his hand to pull your leg closer, you can't help but be amused by the goofy look on his face.

“Oh yeah, I'll have to amputate this immediately!”

You laugh at his exaggerated demeanor.

“Nah you were right, you will be ok princess. No surgery tonight, just a kiss for it, doctor's orders!”

He plants a gentle barely-there kiss near the scrape on your shin. But his hands and lips are migrating up your legs

“I think that should cover it, doctor.” You giggle out.

“The doctor has left the building princess.” The playful look in his eyes has been replaced by something you can only describe as hunger.

That familiar sensation ignites your bones, making your head swim as you feel his lips on your mid thigh. His breath fans under your skirt along with his hands that have now reached your bare hips. It's easy to get lost in the clouds, Noah kneeling before you, igniting your skin like petrol soaked paper and fireworks.

His hand hooks under your thigh, lifting your leg and resting the bend of your knee on his shoulder. He looks up to you as if to see any hesitation. Finding none in your hooded eyes he dives in. A deliberate stripe of his tongue knocks the wind out of your lungs. Your hands weave into his hair as his movements become more that of a starving animal.

Your supporting leg starts to feel weak, orgasm already approaching due to the all day teasing. Noah must have taken notice, he effortlessly lifts you just enough to seat your ass on the edge of the desk. He wastes no time continuing his feast, only this time he inserts two fingers, almost immediately perfecting his position and rhythm. Both legs thrown haphazardly over his shoulders, palms on the desk defying your wavering muscles to hold your torso up.

Your skirt has bunched and rolled up, revealing the Roman artwork in front of you. Noah's big hands wrapped so perfectly around your thighs, fingertips indenting the soft skin like a Bernini sculpture. He groans when your thighs clamp around his head and it sounds like heaven. His pace is steady, the sensation of his mouth and fingers almost too much. An orgasm crashes over you like a tsunami and your arms can no longer hold you up, leaving you on your back.

He hasn't slowed down his movements despite how sensitive you are. Now it is overwhelming. The sensation is painfully delicious and your hips have a mind of their own as you ride his face into your next orgasm. His movements have come to a halt, but he stays in place to await you to still.

It seems irrational to think you could drown someone this way, but that thought crosses your mind anyways. You didn't even know it was possible to squirt outside of the few times you managed to make yourself. His hands move to the insides of your thighs just above your knees and you can hear his ragged breathing.

Those signs of life being all the confirmation you needed, you gather your strength and raise yourself up to get him in your line of sight. He hasn't let go of you but he is now sitting back onto the heels of his feet. He looks at you in awe and any insecurities you felt have vanished.

Raising up to stand he puts one hand on the back of your neck and the other on your thigh. His lust blown eyes never leaving yours. Both panting breathlessly.

“That. Was. Beautiful. So good princess.”

His lips are on yours for the first time and the taste of you on them is sinful. Tongues dancing, your legs wrap around his waist pulling him closer. You can feel the effect you have on him and grind against his erection. The heightened sensitivity causing you to moan which Is entombed by his lips. Your fingers tug at the hem of his shirt, urging him to take it off. You don't get to revel in the beauty of the tattoos littering his perfect skin as he moves in to pull your sweater over your head. Swiftly, he removes your lace bralette.

“You're a pro at that Noah, I didn't know taking off a bra was such a skill.”

“Surely you didn't think the only skill my fingers have is playing guitar?”

“If I did I definitely don't now.”

With that he wraps your legs around his waist and lifts you up. He sits on the bed and you are once again on your unholy throne. His skin is hot against your bare chest. One of your hands holds onto his bicep, the other ghosting fingertips over his neck. You've always admired the tattoos there. You seize the opportunity and plant kisses from his lips, along his jaw, and down the side of his neck.

There isn't an ounce of shyness in you now. Your hand leaves his bicep to tug on his hair, tilting his chin up and better exposing his neck. You kiss, lick, and nip at the skin to your heart's content. Making your way down his chest and stomach, you mentally map every inch of skin and ink. Upon reaching the waistband of his pants you return the look in search of permission. His face still painted with desire and hunger, he licks his pretty lips and nods his head. You undo the button and tug Down his pants and underwear just enough.

Nice cock.

You mimic his move with a deliberate tongue stripe up his length before taking him between your lips. Hollowing out your cheeks on the way up elicits the sweetest moan from him. Wanting to hear more You pick up your pace, your tongue and lips perfectly harmonized, now drawing out the prettiest moans you've ever heard. This 6’3 heavily tattooed metal head is coming undone beneath you. His hands are in your hair and he's a moaning mess.

A hand moves to the side of your face signaling you to stop. Before you can question him he speaks and it sounds like begging, almost whimpering.

“Gonna make me cum. Need to feel you.”

“Yes sir.”

He all but growls, standing as you do. He captures your lips in a needy kiss, one hand still gripping your hair. Your hands all over him before tugging at his pants. He breaks the kiss to remove what's left of his clothing. You reach for the waistband of your skirt but he is quick to stop you.

“Nu uh, keep this pretty thing on. It's been driving me insane since you put it on, I couldn't stop thinking about fucking you in it and now I'm going to.” He puts his hands on your hips to turn your back towards him. “Turn around, want you to ride me like I'm your throne. I know how much you love sittin’ on me princess.”

His statement would have made you blush if you weren't so empowered by your own lust. You follow his lead, waiting for him to be seated before claiming your throne. Sinking down on him slowly you try to find the balance between adjusting to him and fucking yourself dumb on his dick.

Once fully seated you pause to breathe for a moment. You refrain from quoting Olaf about being impaled. His arms wrap around you and he leans his chest into your back. His lips against your ear, breath hot against your skin, just like the van.

“Whenever you're ready princess, I got you.”

Not a moment longer you start moving. Being wrapped securely in his arms while he moans so slutty in your ear Is intoxicatingly erotic. Any attempt to keep the noise at a minimum has left and the room is filled with a mixture of both your moans and inaudible ramblings like the writing of a symphony. His arms move with you, holding you steady to help you keep your rhythm despite your shaky legs. His name falls off your lips over and over like a prayer that's sure to awaken the angels.

“Feel so good, taking me so good. That's it princess, doing so good for me.”

“Noahhh… god.”

“Can feel you're close baby, let go. Cum for me, claim me.”

His praises sending you over the edge, a mix of moans and curses flow from your mouth, his name coming out like a chant. Another orgasm wracks through your body, his following shortly after. He doesn't let go, neither of you move to separate. Your breathing is matched by his, short and heavy. His voice is low and husky In your ear.

“Always been yours princess. You claimed your throne the first time you had to sit on my lap when we all went out after that show in Vegas. Remember the van was so full even Folio had to have a human for a booster seat.”

You chuckle at the memory of Folio sitting in Jesse's lap, neither of them were thrilled. But you felt like you were right where you belong, like you were a queen sitting on her throne. An unholy throne.

Noah leads you to the shower so you can both get cleaned up after the day's events. Once you take your skirt off he jokes about finally seeing you naked for the first time. This man will never cease to amaze you.

After you're both clean and dry, Noah pulls out clothes. He would usually hand you one of his shirts to wear to bed, but this time he puts it on you himself. Such a small act felt so intimate. You felt claimed.

Sharing a bed and snuggling was nothing new, but this time was different. All the times you wished you could kiss his perfect nose and pretty lips while laying so close, now you are. You swear if he were a cat he would be purring, clearly loving your extra affections. Sleep greets you both soon, but not before a thought creeps in your head, hoping everyone else had been long passed out and deaf to the symphony that occurred in Noah's room.

The next morning, you walk downstairs together to see everyone else has woken up before you. It seems like you're in the clear, until overlapping mimicking of yours and Noah's perfect symphony is being screeched by all the boys at once. You almost feel embarrassed but Noah plops down on his spot on the couch, pulling you down with him. Sitting on his lap you feel at ease, finding yourself laughing at the boys’ antics. A tattooed hand finds it's way to your neck, thumb and finger gripping your chin to make you look at him. The smile on his face mirrors yours as he pulls you in for a kiss. Of course everyone had to be dramatic about that, one telling you to get a room, a couple others still making their exaggerated moans. These people are lunatics, and you feel at home.

[feraltragedy]

I'm currently writing a Noah fic for the first time, and ya girl is wingardium nerviosa. I haven't written since I was in school, and I've never written a fic before. I'm writing it in reader's PoV, which I've also never done before. I'm a maladaptive daydreamer, so ive got stories constantly going through my brain and I needed an outlet for it all. It might be okay, it might be terrible. I love reading everyone's unique fics, I tried to draw inspiration how to write one from my favorite writers. @thefallennightmare @concretecultist