mphoenix-7

[mphoenix-7]

Not a Bitter Allies update, but I just wanted to also mention that I got to meet Neil Ellice! He was at a comic con around where I live and I got to go meet him, get pictures, and I got a few things signed!!

He’s a super nice guy! Very talkative and friendly. I hope to go and see him again someday!

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies Update

Hi everyone! I’m still around and writing. Just had a super busy month. It was my birthday a few weeks ago, I went on a vacation with one of my friends, and then I was playing catch up at work.

I am working on the next chapter for Bitter Allies, but it might be a while yet. I want to get the pacing right and make sure I’m doing justice to the next section since it deals a lot with abuse.

I will keep posting for this story until it’s complete! Thanks for being patient and for your continued support 😊

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 16: Annette (pt. 1)

Summary: Soap starts to open up to you about his past. Starting at the very beginning.

Word Count: 7,721

Warnings: Strong themes, death of a loved one, funerals, car crash victim, depression, coping with loss of a family member, stepparents, changing family themes, fighting, mourning of a loved one

A/N: I was gone way too long 😭 Anyway, I finally have an update for this story! This was a tough one to write, and I’m afraid it’s only gonna get worse. Grab your tissues! And enjoy 😊

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Bitter Allies • Part 16

Before he joined the military, before he got the name Soap, before he became the youngest candidate to pass SAS selection, before he joined Task Force 141, got his rank, and became a demolitions expert and sniper— he was simply John MacTavish. A young boy living in the Scotland countryside with his parents.

Back then, his life was ordinary, much like that of any other young lad. He'd spend hours outside, splashing through streams, playing in the woods, and running through fields with his friends until the sun dipped below the hills. He'd help his father with chores, handing him tools while he fixed a fence, or stand on a stool in the kitchen, watching his mother's deft hands knead dough for bread and steal cookies fresh off the baking sheet. He was a big brother to three little sisters—fighting with them as much as he adored them. His greatest worries back then were rainy afternoons or when his peas touched his mashed potatoes.

But those days slipped away, faster than he could grasp.

How naïve that little boy had been—how sheltered. Then again, why shouldn't he have been? Childhood should be like that: safe, carefree, uncomplicated. And for a time, it was. But those days ended. The world cracked open like glass. John would have given anything to go back—to when his sisters' eyes shone bright with laughter, to the warmth of his mother's embrace, to the days when his father was still a good man.

Before the crash.

Before Annette.

Before everything that came after.

***

John was up late, or at least what he believed to be late, reading an Amazing Spider-Man comic for what was probably the hundredth time. He'd gotten it for his birthday about a week ago. He'd just turned ten not but a few months ago, and he was allowed to stay up until 10:00 pm now. His sisters, all younger than him, still had to go to bed at 9:00 pm, so he was enjoying time to himself.

The house was quiet except for the faint ticking of the clock in the hallway and the soft rustle of pages as John flipped through his comic. His lamp cast a warm glow over his small room, illuminating the mess of action figures, schoolbooks, and stray socks scattered across the floor. Outside his window, the sky was an inky black, clouds swallowing the faint silver light of the moon.

John shifted on his stomach, propped up on his elbows as his eyes scanned the brightly colored panels. Spider-Man was mid-swing through New York, and John was completely absorbed in the comic despite having read it three or four times now. But then he heard it—the creak of the floorboards downstairs.

It normally wouldn't have catch his attention, but for some reason that night it did. He paused, his grin fading slightly as he glanced toward his closed bedroom door. His dad was still awake, clearly. That wasn't unusual, but the steady pacing, the heaviness of his father's steps, made John frown. 

He set his comic aside, slipping off his bed and quietly padding across the floor. He cracked the door open just enough to peek out into the dim hallway. The light from downstairs glowed faintly, and he could just barely make out his father's voice.

John crept out of his room, moving carefully to avoid the floorboards he knew would squeak. He crouched low at the top of the stairs, gripping the banister as he peered down. His father was standing near the phone, one hand braced against the wall, the other gripping the receiver so tightly his knuckles were white. 

"No, she left hours ago. She should've been home by now." His father's voice was low and tight, a sharp edge to it that made John's stomach twist. He never sounded like this.

A long pause followed, broken only by John's own quiet breathing. 

"Yes, I've called the police already. They said nothing's come in yet. But something's wrong, I can feel it." His father's voice cracked slightly at the end, though he quickly cleared his throat. 

John's chest felt tight, his fingers trembling slightly where they gripped the wood of the banister. His mother wasn't home yet. That had to be who his father was talking about. He hadn't even really noticed her absence until now, but now that he thought about it, it was odd she wasn't home yet.

His father began pacing again, his hand running through his graying hair as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. "No, I'll keep calling around. You just... you just let me know if you hear anything, alright?" 

The receiver clattered into its cradle with a sharp clack, and his father let out a deep breath, bracing both hands on the edge of the counter. His shoulders slumped, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring down at the linoleum floor. 

John's throat felt dry, his stomach knotting. He wanted to go down there, to ask his dad what was happening, to hear him say something—anything—that would make this gnawing unease go away. But he stayed frozen at the top of the stairs, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. 

The silence stretched on until his father straightened again, rubbing a hand down his face before reaching for the phone once more. He started to press the buttons, dialing another number.

John slipped back into the shadows of the hallway, retreating to his room as quietly as he could. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his head resting against the wood. 

His comic lay forgotten on the bed as he sat down on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest. The tick of the clock felt louder now, each second dragging on and on. 

"She'll come home." He told himself. "Mum's fine. She'll walk through the door any minute now."

John stayed on the floor for what felt like hours, knees pulled tight to his chest and his chin resting on them. He listened for the sound of her car pulling up. Every creak of the house, every distant sound from outside made his head snap up, his ears straining for the sound of the front door opening. 

But it never came. 

At some point, he climbed back onto his bed and curled up under the covers, but he didn't turn off his lamp. He tried to read his comic some more, but he couldn't focus on it. Soon, the clock beside him read 10:15. Normally his mum or his father would have been upstairs at 10:00 sharp to tell him goodnight.

John's eyes were heavy, but he forced himself to stay awake, staring at the faint glow of the hallway light under his bedroom door. He heard his father's footsteps again, slower this time, slowly coming up the stairs and down the hall.

When the soft knock came at his door, John sat up, half expecting to see his mum there with his father. The door opened with a quiet creak, and he heard his father sigh as he stepped into the room. 

"John?" His father said softly. 

His father was standing just inside the doorway. He looked tired—more tired than John had ever seen him. His shoulders were slumped, and the lines on his face seemed deeper somehow. 

"It's past your bedtime, son." His father said, his voice gentle but firm. "You need to get to bed."

John hesitated, clutching the edge of his blanket in his small fists. "Where's mum?"

The question hung in the air. His father paused, his lips pressing into a thin line before he spoke. 

"Just running late getting home." His voice was steady, but John could hear the strain behind it, the way it wavered slightly at the edges. "But she'll be home soon, alright?"

He tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. 

John nodded slowly, though the answer didn't ease the knot in his chest. "Okay." 

His father stepped forward, taking John's comic, closing it, and setting it up. He then flicked his lamp off, casting the room into darkness.

"Goodnight, John." He says softly, heading to the doorway.

"Goodnight." John called after him, waiting until his father had stepped out of the room and shut his door before lying down.

He stared up at the ceiling, the sound of his father's footsteps fading down the hallway. Not towards his room, but back downstairs. Occasionally, John could still hear his voice as he made more phone calls.

The next morning, light crept through the thin curtains of John's bedroom, casting faint golden streaks across the walls. He blinked awake slowly, his head heavy, eyes scratchy from a night of broken sleep. For a moment, he thought maybe everything was fine—that he'd wake up, go downstairs, and his mum would be in the kitchen making breakfast, humming to herself as she flipped pancakes. 

John climbed out of bed, his bare feet cold against the wooden floor as he padded to his door and pulled it open. The hallway was quiet, his sisters' rooms still shut tight. They were probably still asleep.

John made his way down the stairs, stopping at the top to listen for the sound of pots clanking together or for his mum's soft voice talking to his father. It was completely silent though. He makes his way down, and when he got to the kitchen, he froze. 

His father was sitting at the table, shoulders hunched over, his hands pressed tightly against his face. A mug of coffee sat in front of him, no steam coming off it and still full. His hair was disheveled, and the lines on his face looked deeper than they had the night before. 

John lingered in the doorway for a moment before stepping inside. "Morning, Dad."

His father flinched slightly, lowering his hands and blinking as if he'd just realized John was there. His eyes were bloodshot, the skin under them purple with exhaustion. "Morning, son." He said quietly, his voice hoarse. "You're up early."

John ignores him and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "Is Mum back yet?" 

The silence that followed was unbearable. His father didn't answer right away, just stared down at the tabletop, his hands clenched into fists on either side of the empty mug. 

Before he could reply, there was a sharp knock at the front door. 

His father stood up quickly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as he did. It made John wince slightly.

"Stay here, John." He said firmly, his voice low and uneven. 

John nodded, his feet glued to the floor as he watched his father hurry out of the kitchen. However he didn't stay there long. Curiosity pulled at him, and before he could stop himself, John crept closer to the hallway, peeking around the corner. 

Two police officers stood at the door—a man and a woman, both in crisp uniforms. The male officer had a hat tucked under his arm, while the female officer's hands were folded tightly in front of her. 

His father stood in the doorway, shoulders tense, head slightly bowed. 

"...found her car early this morning," the male officer was saying. His voice was soft. "It appears she lost control and went off the road. She hit a tree. We're... very sorry, Mr. MacTavish." 

John's breath caught in his throat.

"No... No, that's not right."  He could see his father's shoulders stiffen, his jaw tightening as he shook his head slowly. "You must've made a mistake."

The female officer frowns, her eyes holding a sorrow John would never forget. "We're sorry, Mr. Mactavish. It was her."

"Are you sure?" His father asked, voice softer, pleading. "Are you sure she's..."

There's a pause before the officer's answer. "Yes. The paramedics declared her deceased upon arrival. She'd been gone for hours. They believe she died on or shortly after impact."

His father's head dipped lower, one hand coming up to cover his mouth as if he were trying to physically stop the sob that threatened to escape. The female officer stepped forward slightly. "Is there anyone we can call for you? Family? Friends?" 

His father shook his head once, sharp and quick. "No." He rasped, his voice cracking. "No thank you." 

The officers exchanged a glance before the male officer nodded. "We'll... we'll leave you to process this. If you need anything at all, please don't hesitate to reach out." 

His father barely nodded before slowly closing the door. 

John couldn't move. He was trying so hard to process what he'd heard. It had to have been a mistake. His chest tight, his breaths coming quick and shallow. His father stood there in the entryway, his back to John, his head hung low. 

For a moment, everything was completely silent and still.

Then, his father let out a sound—a low, guttural noise, like an animal in pain. His shoulders shook once, twice, before he pressed his hands to his face and stumbled back against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. 

John's eyes filled with tears, frozen in place. His father—this strong, unshakable figure in his life—was crumbling right in front of him. 

John couldn't stay silent anymore. A gasping cry left his throat and he took a hesitant step out into the hallway, his small voice breaking the silence. "Dad?"

His father turned slightly, his face pale, his eyes red and brimming with tears he was desperately trying to hold back. A few escaped though, running down his father's cheeks and into his beard.

"What... what were they talking about?" John's voice cracked as he spoke, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

"Johnny..." He rasped, his voice raw, fragile. "Your mum... she's... she's umm... there's been an accident. Your mum is... she's dead."

John's vision blurred as his father's words echoed in his head, louder and louder until they drowned out everything else. His chest tightened, his breath caught in his throat, and for a terrifying moment, it felt like he couldn't breathe.

When the air finally forced its way out, it came in a broken, heart-wrenching wail. Tears streamed down his face, hot and endless, his hands clutching his chest like he was trying to hold himself together. He wanted his mum—he wanted her so badly it hurt. He wanted to hear her voice just one more time, to feel her warm embrace, to feel the soft press of her lips on his forehead as she whispered how much she loved him.

But he would never have those things again. The weight of that realization hit him hard, leaving a hollow ache in his chest so raw and so deep it felt unbearable. He crumbled to the floor, sobbing so hard it shook his whole body.

John's father closed the space between them within two strides. He scooped his son up and held him tightly, his large hand cradling the back of his head. John collapsed into him, his face pressed against his father's chest as he trembled and sobbed.

John's world felt like it was shattering around him, each sharp piece cutting into his chest, making it harder to breathe. His mother—his warm, kind, loving mother—was gone.

And nothing would ever be the same again after that.

***

John doesn't remember much of the funeral. Only a few things. A church, a dark wooden casket with white lilies on top of it, and seeing his mum one last time.

He'd arrived at the church about an hour before the service started. He held his father's had as he approached the casket. It was closed at the time.

"Is she in there?" John asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

His father hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, son. She is."

John swallowed hard, his heart pounding. He stared at the casket, his chest tightening with every second that passed. "Can I see her?"

His father stiffened, his hand gripping John's shoulder a little tighter. "John, I don't think that—"

"Please." John cut him off, his voice trembling. "Please. I want to see her."

For a long moment, his father didn't respond, his face a mask of grief and hesitation. Then, with a heavy sigh, he gave a small nod. "Okay," he said quietly. "Just for a moment, yeah?" His father brushed his cheek softly and then carefully lifted the lid up.

John clenched his jaw as the lid was raised. His heart was pounding so hard. And when he saw her, his body felt numb.

There was his mum, lying inside. They'd tried to make her look peaceful, and for the most part, they had. Her eyes were shut, and she almost looked asleep. But the signs of the accident were still there. Faint cuts lined her pale cheeks and forehead, hidden as best as possible under makeup. A faint bruise marked her temple, dark against her pale skin, but blotted out with makeup.

John's chest heaved as he tried to keep the tears in. He gripped the edge of the casket, his fingers trembling.

His father knelt beside him, wrapping his arms around John and holding him close. "You've been so brave, John." His father murmured, his voice thick with emotion and slightly shaky. "I'm so proud of you and how you've been handling this. And I know your mum would have been too. She loved you so much."

John nods a little, knowing that if he tried to speak he would break down completely. He was still trying to hold himself together.

His father squeezes him tightly again. "It's ok to cry, son." He says softly. "Just let it out. I'm right here."

John squeezes his eyes shut, his body shaking. He presses his forehead against the edge of the casket, takes a shuddery breath, and then sobs.

***

The house had changed in the year since his mum passed.

The first month it seemed like there was always someone at their house. Dropping off food, cards, flowers, always asking how he was doing. He got sick of it. He just wanted to be alone.

Then people stopped showing up and it became suffocatingly quiet—so quiet John could hardly stand it. His father practically turned into a ghost, just drifting through the halls, eyes hollow and shoulders slumped. Meals were eaten in silence, rooms were left half-cleaned, and some days his father barely left the armchair by the fireplace.

Some days it seemed like his father had died in that car accident too. He spend all of his time just sitting and staring off into space. He'd only come around enough to cook occasionally for John and his sisters. And even then "cooking" was just reheating the frozen meals left by the local church. Once those ran out, it was frozen pizzas or takeout.

Then his father began to spend more and more time at the local bar. There were many days where he'd be gone from sun up until sun down and return home absolutely wasted. John got used to coming home and finding him passed out on the floor in the hallway. He learned to go in through the back door so his sisters didn't have to see it.

That went on for a few months. John hated his father drunk. But then one day, everything changed. His father suddenly stopped going to the bar, he started getting up in the mornings, his eyes got clearer and his smile returned. The distant, hollow man who had drifted through their lives was slowly replaced by someone familiar—someone John remembered. There was a warmth about him that hadn't been there in what felt like forever. 

It was... nice. They started doing things together again—little things, like actually cooking, going to the market together, watching movies. It felt like a piece of the life they'd once had was coming back. John didn't even think to question the sudden change; he was too caught up in the joy of having his father back. For the first time in a long time, it felt like they might be okay.

School had just started up, putting John back into a somewhat normal routine. His sister, Rowan, was also starting school that year and joined him and Eilidh, his other sister, on their walk to school each morning. They were about four weeks in now, and John was starting to feel happy for the first time since the accident.

Walking home from school one afternoon, John was half listening as Eilidh and Rowan rambled on about something that happened in class. As they approached their house, John noticed a car pulled up next to his father's. He didn't think much of it at first, but as they stepped inside, he could hear a woman's laughter coming from the kitchen.

John's brows furrowed. Normally having visitors wouldn't have been a big deal, but it's been ages since they'd had anyone over. Even Eilidh and Rowan seemed off put by the foreign voice.

"Who's here?" Eilidh asks John softly, making John shrug a shoulder.

"Dunno." He mutters as he starts down the hallway to the kitchen.

As he got closer, he could start to make out his father talking and laughing. It was a kind of laugh that John hadn't heard in nearly a year.

He stops abruptly as he rounds the corner and looks into the kitchen causing Eilidh to bump into his back with a small "oof." There was his father, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in his hands and smiling at a woman who was seated next to him. Not in just any chair though. It was the chair where his mum had always sat.

She was perched gracefully, a steaming mug of tea cradled in her hands. Her blonde hair cascaded in soft, perfect waves over her shoulders, not a strand out of place. Her makeup was subtle but polished, enhancing sharp green eyes that flicked up to meet his the second she noticed him standing in the doorway.

She was smiling. Not a wide, toothy grin, but something small and pleasant, as if she were trying to seem gentle—approachable. She wore a pale cream blouse tucked into some dark skinny jeans, her nails painted a soft pink.

His father was smiling, too. Not the broken, distant man John had grown used to over the past year, but someone... lighter. It was almost like the dad he remembered before the accident, a version of him that had only just started to come a little bit ago. This woman seemed to enhance it though. It should've been a good thing, but it made John's stomach twist uncomfortably.

"Oh, here they are now!" His father exclaimed, making John look away from the woman and towards him. "Come in. There's someone I'd like you to meet." 

John didn't move at first, but Eilidh obediently stepped around him and into the kitchen a little ways, Rowan following after her. Their eyes were curious as they looked between their father and the woman.

His father's smile grew softer as he gestured between them. "Annette, this is my son John, and these wee ones here are Eilidh and Rowan. Eilidh is my eldest daughter and Rowan is the middle of the girls."

Annette's eyes crinkled at the corners as she turned her attention on them. "Oh, you're just as lovely as your father said." She cooed, her voice syrupy sweet. "Eilidh is such a pretty name and I love your blonde curls, Rowan."

Eilidh said a soft thank you, and Rowan ducks her head slightly, taking a step towards John and tucking into his side. It makes his father chuckle.

"Rowan is a little shy." He explains, and John notices as his father places a hand on Annette's shoulder.

Annette just giggles slightly, looking back at his father and placing her hand over his. The exchange is quick, and Annette is turning her attention to John now, their eyes meeting. "And it's nice to meet you as well, John. I've heard a lot about you. Your father speaks so highly of you." She looks back to his father once more, giving him a bright smile.

John narrows his eyes slightly, quickly piecing together what their relationship was. He hoped he was wrong. "And you are? I haven't heard a thing about you." He shoots his father a look as he says it, making the couple look back at him.

John's father clears his throat. "This is Annette." He says, gesturing towards her. "We've been... spending some time together. She's a friend." 

John's eyes darted between his father and the woman—Annette. Spending time together. He wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what his father meant. 

"So you replaced mum that fast huh." He says bitterly. Annette's eyes widened and John's father's eyes narrowed.

"John Alexander!" His father barks, making both him and his sisters jump. "I am not replacing your mother."

The force behind his father's words hangs heavy in the kitchen, sharp enough to cut through the tension. John's shoulders are tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Could've fooled me." He mutters bitterly under his breath, but loud enough for both of them to hear it.

"John..." Annette speaks up softly, her voice sickeningly sweet. "I know this must be so hard for you, sweetheart. Losing your mum, trying to adjust to everything... but I'm not here to take her place."

"Don't!" John snaps, his voice sharp and trembling with restrained anger. "Don't you talk about her. You don't know her. You don't know us."

Annette flinches at his words, and Rowan starts to sniffle, but before John can even register either reaction, his father slams his fist onto the table. The loud, sudden bang makes Rowan clutch tightly at his sleeve, and she starts to cry.

"John!" His father's voice cracks through the air again, sharper this time. His face is flushed, and there's a glint of something unreadable in his eyes—anger and disappointment. "You will not speak to Annette like that! She has done nothing to deserve this attitude from you."

John scoffs, his eyes filling with tears, but he's blinking them back. "Whatever." He growls out, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. "But just because you're replacing mum doesn't mean I'm going to."

His father points towards the hallway, his voice low and firm. "Go upstairs! Now. Take your schoolwork and don't come down until I tell you. We will talk about this later."

John tugs his arm free of Rowan's grasp, making her cry harder, and he turns, quickly running up the stairs towards his room. His vision starts to blur, and he angrily wipes away any tears that fall.

Once in his room, he slammed his door shut and threw his bag down, his body shaking slightly. He never fought with his dad. At least not from what he could remember. And he was so mad at him for bringing this new person into their lives without even a heads up.

He goes to his bed, but he's not alone for too long. He can hear Rowan's sobs getting louder as she nears his door, and then his doorknob starts to jiggle as she opens it. She walks in, eyes red and cheeks already puffy.

"Go away, Rowan!" He snaps, being a little more harsh than he meant to be, but he wanted to be alone.

"But Johnny..." She sobs, hiccuping softly and taking shallow shuddery breaths. She gets closer, trying to climb up onto his bed with him.

John pushes her away though, his hand on her chest to keep her back. "Stop! Go away!" He yells again.

His father comes in next, his face still fuming. "Rowan, come on! Get out of your brother's room." He picks her up, which just makes her cry more as he carries her out and shuts his door. Her cries get softer, but he can still hear her through the walls.

Ten minutes crawled by. John sat on the edge of his bed still, staring at the floor, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. His hands balled into fists, resting against his knees as he tried to steady his breathing. He was still angry.

His door opened once more, and John half expected to see his dad, but instead it was Eilidh this time.

"Johnny?" She says softly, almost hesitantly.

He glares at her. "Get out." He growls. "I want to be alone! Stop coming in here!"

"Why are you so upset? Dad said they were just friends." She says innocently, making John sigh and turn to face her.

"They aren't 'just friends' you dobber! They're dating." Saying those words left a bitter taste in his mouth. "He's replacing mum is what he's doing."

Eilidh frowns at him, her brows pinching together as she crosses her arms. "Don't call me a dobber! You're being really mean!" Her lip starts to tremble.

John lets out a frustrated groan. "Well you're being annoying!" He throws back.

"Stop being such a moany git!" She shouts back, tears filling her eyes now as she turns and runs out of his room.

John's angry only lasted a few more seconds, quickly being replaced with guilt. Now he'd upset two of his sisters, and he really didn't like making them upset. He lets out a frustrated groan and sinks into his bed, more hot tears filling his eyes.

***

It was a few hours before Annette finally left. John could hear as his father walked her to the door and as they said their goodbyes. Right after that, his father's footsteps started up the stairs and were soon right outside his door. There was a soft knock, and then his father came in, making John pull his blanket up more around himself.

"John." His father said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "We need to talk." 

John didn't respond. He hoped his father would just think that he was sleeping or something and leave him alone.

His father sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before sitting down on the edge of the bed. John still didn't move.

"I know you're upset." His father started, his voice low and measured, the way he always spoke when he was trying to stay calm. "And I understand why. But you've got to believe me when I say... Annette isn't here to replace your mum." 

John snapped at that, his face twisting with anger as he sat up. "Then why is she here?" He spat.

His father flinched, his shoulders stiffening at John's words. "John, listen to me—" 

"No!" John shouted, his voice cracking slightly. "You don't get it! It hasn't even been a year! You're acting like mum never even mattered. Like we can just move on and be happy again!"

His father's mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. For a long moment, he just stared at John, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes glassy. 

"That's not true." His father said finally, his voice trembling slightly. "Your mum... she mattered more to me than anything in this world. And when she—when she was taken from us, it felt like the world stopped turning." 

John's throat tightened, and his father continued. 

"For months, John, I could barely get out of bed. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat—I couldn't breathe without feeling like I was drowning."

John looked away, his vision blurring with tears. "You didn't even ask us. You didn't even tell us. You just... brought her here. Like we'd just be ok with it." 

His father's face fell, and he looked down at his hands, clasped tightly together. "You're right," he said softly. "I should've talked to you first. I should've explained it better. I didn't want to hurt you, John, I swear it.

But Annette... she helped me feel... normal again. She reminded me that there's still something left to hold onto. That maybe—just maybe—it's okay to let myself smile again. To be... happy." 

John shook his head, hot tears spilling down his cheeks. "But I'm not happy. I just want mum back. I don't want anyone else."

John's father sighs heavily, his voice wavering just slightly. "I know. I wish more than anything that your mum was still here."

John sniffled, wiping his face roughly with the sleeve of his shirt. His father reached over to his desk and grabbed a tissue, offering it to him.

"I'm not asking you to like her. I'm not asking you to accept her right now. But I am asking you to give her a chance. For me." 

John took the tissue and used it to blow his nose and wiped his eyes one more time. "And if I don't like her?" He questions, looking back over to his father.

He's silent for a moment before he answers. "She's not gonna be your new mum if you don't want that. Just think about what I've said, alright? We'll have dinner with her in a week or so. You can get to know her better then. Who knows? You might find you like her."

The answer didn't really sit well with John—it felt like avoiding the question entirely—but being so young, he didn't have the words to argue. He was tired. With a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagged, and he gave a reluctant nod.

His father offered a small, encouraging smile, squeezing his shoulder firmly. "That's my boy." He murmured before standing up and heading toward the door. He paused in the doorway, turning back to look at John.

"I love you, son. You and your sisters. I only want what's best for you."

John forced a faint smile. "I love you too." He replied, his voice soft. His father returned the smile before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

As soon as the latch clicked, the smile fell from John's face. He lay back on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. His chest still felt heavy. He didn't want Annette in their lives, but he trusted his father. If he said she wasn't going to replace his mum, he had to believe him.

If he couldn't trust his father, who was he going to trust.

***

The MacTavish family began to see a lot more of Annette after that. It started with her coming over once a week—always with a warm smile, always with some little treat or compliment ready for the girls and him. Then it became twice a week. Then almost every dinner. 

John tried to be on his best behavior around her. He still wasn't sold on having her around, but he was at least trying for his father. He smiled at Annette and said hi whenever she was around. Spoke to her when she spoke to him, but he wasn't one to start the conversation.

Eilidh was quickly warming up to her, and so was Rowan. Kirsten, only being three going on four at the time, didn't even really know what was going on, but she modeled her behavior after her siblings.

John wanted to tell his father that he still didn't want Annette in their lives, but how could he? The way his dad smiled at Annette—an easy, effortless smile he hadn't seen since before his mother died— how could he possibly ruin that? His father seemed to think Annette made their lives better, and for everyone but John, it looked to be true.

Then, only a few months later, his father sat them all down in the living room. John immediately knew something was off; his father couldn't stop fidgeting. Annette sat beside him, her hand resting lightly on his knee, her smile soft and hesitant. They kept sharing looks, they kept grinning at each other.

"We have some news." His father said, glancing at Annette before clearing his throat. "Annette and I... we've decided to get married." 

John's heart plummeted. His stomach felt like it was folding in on itself, and his hands balled into fists against his knees. He couldn't say anything. He couldn't even breathe. He just sat there silent and stone-faced.

His sisters gasped and started to cheer, their faces lighting up with excitement. They were already asking if they'd get to be in the wedding, if they got to be flower girls.

They looked so happy—his sisters beaming, his father smiling wider than he had in months. How could he ruin this for them?

"Johnny, what do you think?" Annette's voice cut into his thoughts, soft but expectant. She was looking at him now, her head tilted slightly, a carefully practiced smile on her lips. His father looked at him too, waiting for his answer.

Forcing a smile onto his face, John tried to push down the storm of emotions threatening to spill out. "That's... great news." He muttered, the words tasting bitter.

Maybe it wasn't going to be the worst this. At least everyone looked happy.

The weeks after that announcement were a blur. Plans were made, and it was decided that they'd have a small ceremony—just them, at a tiny church on the outskirts of town. 

The day came far too quickly. John stood stiffly in a button-up shirt that felt too tight around his neck, his hands jammed into his pockets as he watched his father and Annette exchange vows at the altar. Eilidh, Rowan, and Kristen stood beside him, clutching tiny bouquets and wearing their Sunday Easter dresses.

When the minister reached the words "speak now or forever hold your peace", John's heart pounded in his chest. For one brief moment, he thought about saying something—about shouting out how much he didn't want his dad to marry her.

But he didn't. He stayed silent. 

When it was over, when Annette became Annette MacTavish, John felt defeated.

Annette moved in a day later. She breezed through their entire home, "tidying up" the place to make room for her things. In reality, she was boxing up all his mum's things and shoving them into a closet under the stairs.

His mum's clothes were taken out of his dad's room to make room for hers. The kitchen cabinets and draws were rearranged to hold her glassware. Decorations were taken down and replaced with Annette's little trinkets. A shelf that held his mother's keepsakes was cleared to make room for Annette's books. Even the smell of their home was different. Her perfume polluted the halls.

The house felt different now. Like it wasn't theirs anymore—it was hers. 

Only about a week after the wedding, John's father sat them all down again. 

"Annette and I are going to go away for a little while." He said carefully. "Just a short trip, a honeymoon. You'll all be staying with Mrs. McKay while we're gone. It'll only be for a week, alright?" 

John didn't answer. He just nodded stiffly. 

The morning before they left, everyone was bustling around the house, packing bags and gathering the things they needed. John was in his room, stuffing clothes into a duffel bag when Annette appeared in the doorway. 

"John?" She said sweetly, dropping a bunch of suitcases and bags on the floor in the hallway. "Would you take these downstairs for me?" 

John didn't even look up from his packing. "No." He answers shortly. She was perfectly capable to taking her own bags down. And John wasn't even packed yet because he'd been helping his sisters pack.

There was a brief silence before Annette spoke again, her voice tight. "Excuse me?" 

His father appeared a moment later, catching the tail end of the exchange. "What's going on?" He asks, looking between her and John.

Annette straightened up, putting on the smile she always wore. "I was just asking if John would help me carrying a few bags downstairs and he told me no."

"John." He said softly. "Help your stepmother out and-" 

John never tensed up so quickly in his entire life. That was the thing that finally broke him after weeks of holding everything in. He turns around quickly, his eyes blazing with anger. "She's not my mother!" He spat. 

The room went silent. Annette's expression flickered—something cold and sharp flashing in her eyes before she quickly smoothed it over with a small, hurt frown. 

"You know. It's ok, Ewan." She says, her voice taking a slightly whiny pitch. "He's not ready to accept me yet, and... and it's ok. I'll take the bags down myself." She started to fan her eyes a little, like she was about to cry, but John didn't see any tears. With a shuddery breath, she picks up a single bag and walks quickly down the hall.

"Annette! Darling, he didn't mean anything by-" His father sighs heavily, and then turns his gaze back to John. "Dammit, John, you've made her upset."

"You said she wasn't going to be my mother." He reminds his father sharply, stuffing more of his clothes into the duffle bag.

"I didn't say she was your mother. I told you to help your step-mother. It's different." His father says, making John roll his eyes.

"I don't want to call her that either." He growls.

"That's enough! When we get back from our trip you better have that attitude of yours sorted out!" His father shouts, making John flinch just slightly.

John holds his tongue, and just continues packing in silence. When he doesn't say anything more, his father grumbles and starts to pick up the remaining suitcases to carry them down. John bites his cheek to keep from crying.

***

Two and a half weeks go by before his father and Annette come back. They were only suppose to be gone for one. John almost liked the time away from them though. So when his father's car comes rolling up Mrs. McKay's dirt driveway, kicking up a cloud of dust behind them, he's almost disappointed.

Still, when Eilidh shrieked, "Daddy's home!" and bolted out the front door, Rowan right on her heels, John couldn't stop himself from running after them.

His father had just stepped out of the car by the time the three MacTavish kids reached him. John clung to his father first, his arms wrapped tightly around his neck as Eilidh and Rowan squished in behind him.

His father's strong arms held them all, his voice warm and affectionate as he kissed each of their heads. "Ah, I missed my wee ones so much." He said, fluffing up John's hair.

Eilidh giggled. "We missed you too, daddy!" She said, her small hands clutching the front of his jacket.

John leans into his father, letting himself relax a bit. It was nice to see his dad again, even if part of him had started enjoying the quiet without Annette around.

"Don't forget about me!"

Speaking of Annette. She came running around the other side of the car, arms outstretched.

John felt his father shift him to one side, making room for Annette to wrap herself around the group. She squeezed them all tightly, her perfume strong and floral, making John's nose wrinkle.

"Oh, I missed you all so much!" She cooed. "I couldn't wait to get back just to see you guys!"

John rolls his eyes a little at that. Sure. She was so anxious to get back to them she ended up extending their trip by a whole week.

"Were you kids good for Mrs. McKay?" His father asks, standing back up straight as Mrs. McKay walked out holding Kristen, who was squealing and kicking happily.

"Oh they were a joy." Mrs. McKay says, handing over the youngest MacTavish to his father. "Absolute angels the entire time."

His dad beamed with pride as he takes Kristen and coos at her softly. "I'm glad to hear they were well behaved. Thank you again for being able to watch them." He wraps his arm around John again.

"Anytime, Ewan. They really are great kids. Malina would be so proud."

John perks up at that. That was his mum's name. His real mum. He glances up at his father to see his reaction, and he's pretty sure his father's eyes look a little misty at the mention of her.

"Well, you know, I'm convinced that's all her doing. She was an amazing woman."

"Kids, let's get everything loaded up, shall we?" Annette says suddenly with a bright smile.

John blinked, his gaze snapping from his dad to Annette. Mrs. McKay hesitated, just for a moment, glancing between Annette and John's father. Her warm expression faltered briefly, but she quickly smiled and nodded. "Yes, you kids should grab your things." She agreed, her tone a bit softer now. "I'll help you carry them out."

John shuffled toward the house with Eilidh, Rowan, and Mrs. McKay trailing behind. About halfway, he glances back, seeing Annette and his father talking. Annette's arms were crossed over her chest.

Once inside, they quickly gathered their bags. It didn't take too long as their stuff had been piled by the door earlier that morning. By the time they were back outside, Annette was back to beaming her bright smile, and his father was putting Kristen in a car seat.

The bags were thrown into the trunk, they all said one last thank you and goodbye to Mrs. McKay, and then everyone piled into the car, buckled up, and they were on their way home.

Annette immediately launched into a full telling of their honeymoon. She described the warm beaches, the fancy dinners, and the "cute little boutique" where she found the new necklace she was wearing.

She talked the entire trip home, not once stopping to ask about them. John just stared out the window, resting his head on the glass and trying to shut most of it out.

They were only fifteen minutes from home, but it was a long car trip.

@the-faceless-bride @venavanup @hotthankss @daemondoll @thepowers-kat-be @xheera

[mphoenix-7]

Yo girl, are you alive?

Yes :p

Sorry for going MIA for a bit! Just got busy with work and the holidays. I’m still writing, it’s just been a very slow process as of late.

Not sure when the next update will be out, but I am working on it!

[mphoenix-7]

Hello!!! I hope that you had a good Christmas! How are you doing!?💗💓

Hello! Yes, I had a good Christmas! Been a bit busy with work (I work in healthcare) and then family holiday stuff.

I’ve got a draft already started for Bitter Allies! It’s just been slow going with the writing process. I’m thinking this next one will be a big chapter, so it might be a while until it’s posted. But it will be posted!

I hope you had a great Christmas and New Years! ❤️

[mphoenix-7]

heya fwiend, havent heard from you in a while... this is in no way meant to pressure you, just wanna check in and ask if youre okay?

sending you a virtual hug either way!💜

Hiiii!! Yes, I am doing well! Thank you for checking in ❤️ I’m just getting ready for comic con (which is now one week away!!!) and it’s kept me busy and away from writing. I’ve been working on my cosplay every night for like two weeks now.

For anyone interested, I’m cosplaying Ahsoka this year! I’m super excited but it’s been a lot of sewing, gluing, and painting. I’ll be happy and sad when it’s over, but I can’t wait to have time again to start writing.

I hope you’re doing well, and I’m sending virtual hugs right back 😊🫶🏻

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies Update

Hi everyone!! Sorry for the delay in updates! Comic Con for me is in a few weeks and all of my time has been put towards making a cosplay. So I haven’t had any time to write since all my time has been put into that.

I will continue Bitter Allies. There will be more updates. I just need all the time I can get to make and finish an outfit.

Thank you all for your patience! ❤️

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 15: The Cabin: Day 5 (pt. 6)

Summary: You finally catch a fish. Afterwards, you have a nice dinner with Soap and then do a little stargazing after, which turns into anything but stargazing.

Word Count: 14,875

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, strong language, animal death, smut, p in v, fluff, slightly rough smut, unprotected sex, sexual language, slight male masturbation, developing feels

A/N: Look at that word count… this is a long one. Lots of good stuff though! Also the drawing in this chapter is one that I did! Anyone, sorry for the wait, and please enjoy!!

Masterlist | <- Previous | Next ->

Bitter Allies • Part 15

Your options for clothing is beginning to really run thin. With Soap having destroyed one pair, and the bear shitting on the other, you only had two left. One was hanging out on the porch to dry, and the other wasn't the best for wading into the water. They didn't roll up very well, so you opt to wear the shorts you sleep in instead.

The sleep shorts weren't ideal either, but at least the shortened length would keep them out of the water, and they were dry. And now that you're back into some dry clothing, you can continue your fishing.

While you're back out in the water, watching carefully for what will hopefully be the last fish you try to catch, Soap is back on short making a fire. Every now and then, your gaze drifts from watching the water to check on the progress he's made. At least that's what you tell yourself you're checking on. You're not looking at him just because you want to look at him.

Though you have to admit, your moment from early was still fresh in your mind. As was the dream, your kiss from last night, and your little hookup a few nights back.

Thinking about each encounter made you angry with yourself but also made your heart leap in your chest. You liked it far more than you should, and with this last moment of weakness between you, you found that you didn't want to stop. Even now, after clearing your head, you almost regret listening to him. Part of you wishes you ignored him and kept going. Consequences be damned. It was almost like you were starting to fall for...

No! Absolutely not!

You physically recoil at that thought. You could not be falling for Soap MacTavish. You could not be starting to have feelings for this man. This guy who's caused you nothing but anguish during your entire time with the 141. That could not be what was happening.

But then what else could explain it? Soap seemed to think the whole reason that you slept with each other in the first place was because of stress. Stress couldn't be causing the continued make out sessions though. You didn't really feel stressed anymore. At least not because of Soap. Things had been great within the past twenty four hours.

So then were you really starting to fall for the Scot?

Sighing softly to yourself, you try to force those thoughts out of your head. Just tonight and then two more days. Maybe once you got out of the woods those feelings were go away.

"Oi! Lass! Catch anything yet?!"

You jolt a bit as Soap's voice reaches your ears, heart hammering in your chest now. You take a deep breath to settle your poor heart and then turn to look back at him, trying to act like he hadn't just startled you.

"No! And I won't with all your shouting!" You yell back.

There was no fish around anyway. Not big ones worth catching at least. You turn back to look at the water, debating if you should move and try somewhere else or keeping trying where you were.

"You want some help?" Soap asks, and when you look back at him, he's walked closer to the shoreline.

Huffing softly, you drop your stance and putting a hand on your hip. "I think I'm alright for now."

Soap shrugs a bit, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll be right back then. Gonna run inside and get something."

You watch as he retreats back towards the cabin, only looking away once he's up the steps. Sighing softly, you turn back to the water, continuing to play the waiting game.

Not a minute later, you hear the cabin door open back up and can make out the sounds of him getting close once again. You don't think too much of it when you can no longer hear him, but after about ten seconds, you begin to feel as though you're being watched.

Frowning, you turn back around to try and figure out why you're feeling that way, only to find Soap seated at a tree close to where you were. He was still a good few feet away, but he's close enough for you to notice the black journal in his lap and a pencil in his hand.

"What are you doing?" You ask curiously, brows furrowing.

"Drawing." He says simply, not taking his eyes off the page.

It makes you shift nervously. You try to ignore him, turning your attention back to the water. After only a few seconds though, you quickly figure out you can't just ignore him, and you turn back to look at him.

"Why?" You venture further, catching him at a moment where he's looking up and out towards whatever it is he's drawing. It seems to just be the lake, but you can't really tell.

"Why not?" Soap shrugs, his eyes staying up a second longer before going back to his sketch. "I'm done making the fire. Just trying to pass the time while I wait on your ass to catch a fish so we can start cooking."

You glare a little at him for that.

"Shouldn't you be watching the fire?" You glance towards where the little blaze is going. "You know so we don't set the woods and our housing on fire?"

Soap waves his hand in a dismissive gesture, still not looking up at you. "It's not gonna escape that pit. Besides it's like five meters away. I can keep an eye on it and draw." He argues.

You keep watching him, lips pursed together nervously. It crossed your mind he might be drawing you, but you didn't want to ask him if he was. He probably wasn't anyway. Why on earth would he draw you? It wasn't like he...

"You gonna just stand there staring at me or are you gonna catch a fish?" Soap asks, making you snap out of your daze instantly.

Your face flushes hot, heart skipping a beat as your eyes meet his. Oh god. You'd just been standing there... staring at him.

"I—I wasn't staring." You stammer, trying to will the heat in your cheeks away. The corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk, and your fluster only deepens. "I wasn't!" You insist a bit too quickly, your voice pitching higher in embarrassment. "I just... got lost in thought, that's all."

"Thinking about what?" He asks, raising a brow, which makes your face burn hotter if that was even possible. You quickly turn to try and hide your blush, but you're sure he's already noticed.

"Nothing." You answer shortly. Why did you care if he was drawing you? It was keeping him quiet and away from you, so it didn't really matter.

Soap laughs softly from his spot. He doesn't add anything else, and after a moment of silence, you assume he's gone back to his sketching, though you stubbornly refuse to glance back and confirm. Your attention returns fully to the water, focusing on the little ripples on the surface as you steady yourself.

Now that you're standing still, the fish begin to reappear, swimming cautiously around your legs. You keep your breathing shallow, body unmoving as you wait. After what feels like an eternity, one of a decent size glides lazily toward you. Your heart skips in excitement, but you keep your composure, not daring to move just yet and risk scaring it off.

The fish swims closer, and the closer it gets, the more your heart hammers in your chest. You hold your breath, raising your spear ever so slightly. Remembering Soap's advice, you adjust your aim—just a little lower than your instinct tells you.

Then, in a swift motion, you snap the spear down, piercing the water's calm surface. At first, you can't tell if you've gotten anything, but then your spear starts to jerk, making you hold it tighter. The fish wriggles and thrashes against the spear, but you've got it.

"Oh my God! Soap! I got one! I did it!" You shout, your voice breaking with excitement. "Quick! Come here! I got one!"

You press down harder on the spear, driving it deeper into the mud beneath the water to ensure the fish won't escape. From behind, you hear a splash as Soap jumps in and charges through the water, closing the distance between you in seconds. His hand instinctively finds its place at the small of your back as he comes up beside you.

"You finally got one?" He asks, a little breathless from the sprint over.

You nod eagerly, feeling the fish tug and jerk at the end of your spear. "Yes! I got one! Hurry, grab it before it gets away!"

Soap chuckles, and you feel a playful pinch at your hip. You're so focused on not losing the fish though you hardly even notice it. "I don't think it's going anywhere, hen." He reassures you as he bends down to reach into the water to get it. His hand wraps around the flailing fish, the other grasping your spear shaft.

"Let up on the spear. I got 'em. He's not going anywhere." He tells you. As he holds onto the fish with one hand, his other hand helps guide the spear up, lifting it just enough to pull it out of the water.

"Are you sure you got it?" You ask, resisting just a little bit at first. You wanted to be absolutely sure he had your fish.

Soap glances up at you from his crouched down position, and instead of answering you with words, he stands, hauling the fish up out of the water with him. You gasp a little in surprise, watching it thrashing around a little before settling. It was a pretty impressive fish, or at least you thought so. To a fisherman it probably wasn't anything too excited or even that big. But for your first time catching a fish, you were thrilled.

"Oh my God! I caught that?!" You were grinning so wide your cheeks hurt just slightly.

Soap's grinning too, chuckling softly as he glances between the fish and your beaming face. "Yeah, you did. Not too bad for a first timer." He praises, turning the fish a little to inspect it. The movement makes the fish squirm, its scales flashing under the sunlight as it struggles.

"It's huge! It looked smaller in the water." You say, looking it over as Soap turns it. You can't help but admire how the scales shimmer with iridescent greens and silvers, the white underbelly glistening in contrast. It looks similar to the others you'd been catching earlier.

Soap scoffs playfully. "Huge? Let's not get too carried away now." He chuckles, and you shoot him a glare, which only widens his grin. "But hey, for a first timer, I'd say it's a pretty decent catch." He adds, forearm flexing as the fish gives a sudden, powerful thrash. It's almost as if the fish is protesting his words and proving you were right.

You smirk, folding your arms across your chest as Soap regains control of the fish. "Don't ruin this for me, MacTavish. I'm allowed to be excited—I've been out here for hours."

Soap chuckles lightly and gives you a half smirk. "Alright, I'll shut up." He concedes, still chuckling softly as he turns and starts making his way back towards the shoreline.

You follow after him with a smile, still silently celebrating to yourself. It was going to be so much more satisfying to eat all the fish later knowing you were going to be eating one you caught yourself. You couldn't wait to get them over the fire.

"Hey States." Soap calls back to you after a few seconds, pulling you out of your thoughts and making you glance up at him. He still walking, only glancing over his shoulder slightly. "You did good. This is a really nice catch."

You pause for just a second, his praise taking a moment to process. When it does though, a warm feeling settles over you. "Thanks." You say softly, surprised that him saying something like that meant so much to you. Maybe it was because Soap never gave you compliments.

"So do you wanna kill it?" Soap asks as you walk onto the slightly sandy shore, pulling you rather abruptly from the high you'd been on.

"What?" You ask, looking back at him in surprise. "Do.. do I have to?" You frown. You'd been hoping, since he'd killed all the other fish, he'd just finish off this one off too. For whatever reason, it made you squeamish to think about killing it.

"Well, no." Soap says, immediately easing your anxiety about that. "I'll kill it if you don't want to. Just thought since you'd caught it and everything, you'd want to finish the job." He shrugs, looking back over at you again, almost like he waiting to see if you'd to change your mind.

You shake your head though. "No. I can't. I'm gonna feel so bad." Sure, you were responsible for catching it, and you were going to eat it, but for whatever reason, it was hard for you to kill innocent animals.

Soap gives you a look, but he quickly gets to work on getting his knife out to end the fish. "So you can kill people for a living but not a fish?" He questions, poking the knife through the gills and making a quick and clean cut. You have to look away when he does it. It still makes you uneasy.

"It's different when it's animals." You frown, risking a glance back to see if he was done. He was, and he was just tucking his knife back into his pocket. The fish was now still, blood dripping out of it where Soap made the cut.

"Don't go on missions with Ghost then." He mutters, tipping the fish upside down to let the fish bleed out better. It wouldn't take that long or at least the others didn't.

Soap's words pique your interest. You're well aware of how Ghost is. He's a very "do whatever it takes to get the job done" kind of guy. The way Soap says it though makes you think he's got a story.

"Why not?" You venture, tilting your head slightly. It's a gesture that makes Soap want to spare you, and you can see the slight hesitation in his eyes.

"Let's just say... he has no problem with shooting anything that might compromise him."

As vague as he's being, you understand pretty well. You know Price has given you the advice to shoot a dog if it was going to bark and alert others to your presence. Ghost most definitely stood by that principle. Honestly he was probably the one who told Price that in the first place.

You can't help but make a face at the thought of having to shoot an animal. "That... that sounds like him." You nod, leaving the conversation at that. You were just going to be sad if you kept talking about it.

"So... When can we get cooking?" You change the topic to something more appealing.

The second your mind goes back to food, you instantly get hungry. Your stomach makes this a well known fact too as it lets out a low and long rumble. It's been at least two hours since you decided to go fishing, and you're starving at this point.

Soap laughs as your stomach growls, his eyes flicking down as if he expected to see if rolling like it did in the cartoons. "We can start right now. Sounds like you won't make it much longer if we don't." He teases, an almost playful smirk tugging at his lips as he pinches your side lightly.

You swat his hand away as he pinches you and glare at him, which only makes him chuckle. "You gotta learn how to keep your hands to yourself." You huff as you follow behind him.

"Says the woman who can't seem to keep her hands off me." He laughs, glancing over his shoulder at you and raising a brow.

Your eyes widen at his words, and your cheeks start to burn a little. "Oh shut the fuck up. You act like you aren't equally as bad. If not worse!"

Soap huffs softly at your accusation as he places now the now fully bled out fish one of the logs in the stack of wood he's collected. "So you're not denying it?"

You freeze for just a moment, realizing in horror that you aren't. Has your whole dynamic with Soap really changed that much? Your mind struggles to come up with something to say back. You can't just deny it now that he's pointed it out.

So you deflect. You let out a groan and roll your eyes. "You're impossible, you know that?" You grumble, trying to sound indifferent, though the heat in your cheeks gives you away.

Soap just keeps smirking at you. "Aye, but I'm starting to think you like it." He answers cheekily as he wipes his hands off on his pants.

"Absolutely not." You shoot that down fast. "I'm only trying to be nice to you so you don't burn my fish."

"What makes you think I'm cooking your fish for you?" Soap huffs. "I caught most of them. Hell I even prepped all them while you were out there splashing around in the water. You can at least cook your own damn fish."

He picks up his fishing spear from the ground as he talks and works one of the fish onto the stick. It was the biggest fish too, but you weren't going to argue. He did technically catch it, and he ate a lot more than you did anyway.

"Fine. I can probably cook a fish better than you anyway." You shrug, walking over to grab one of the pre-prepped fish from the little pan Soap has placed them in.

"You wanna cook them all then?" He asks, offering the stick with his fish on it over to you.

You roll your eyes and push his hand away before taking your own fish and working it gently onto the your stick. "Just cook your own damn fish, Soap." You sigh, moving to the opposite side of the fire to cook your own fish.

You don't look back up at him, your eyes focused on making sure your fish doesn't burn to a crisp, but Soap smiles over at you through the fire.

***

You watch as the flames gently lick up over the fish, cooking the outsides to a slightly browned colored. It shouldn't take too long for the fish to cook, maybe only about ten minutes. It's already dripping juice down onto the burning logs though and the smell is incredible. It's the best thing you've smelled in years, and it's making your mouth water.

Time is passing by so slowly though. The longer you watch the fish cook, the more your stomach seems to feel like it's cramping up. You're about ready to just take it off the fire and risk eating it raw, but the last thing you want to do is give yourself food poisoning and have to wait it out for the rest of the few days you're here.

You watch as another drop leaves the fish and sizzles on some of the coals. In response, stomach lets off a particularly loud and long growl, one that makes Soap peak up over the fire at you.

"You hanging in there, States?" He asks, a slight chuckle in his voice.

You let out a low grunt in response, eyes fixed hungrily on the fish that's still not ready. "Barely," you mutter, frustration lacing your voice. Soap chuckles again, only adding to your annoyance. "It's taking forever." You grumble, and with a sigh, you flip the fish over, to cook the other side a little more.

"Mine's done."

Your head snaps up at that, disbelief etched across your face. Across the fire, Soap's wearing a smug grin as he pulls his fish off the flames and inspects it. You squint, trying to get a better look, but from where you're sitting, you can't tell if it's actually cooked or if he's just messing with you.

"How the hell is yours done already? We started at the same time!" You pout, unable to hide the hint of envy in your voice.

Soap huffs, that irritatingly self-satisfied grin never leaving his face. "Because I know what I'm doing." He replies matter-of-factly.

He glances down at his fish with a contented sigh. "Oh, this is gonna taste so good." He mumbles, and you watch as he begins blowing on it to cool it off.

You roll your eyes and slump back down, watching as your stubborn fish continues to sizzle over the flames. "Shut up, Soap." You mumble, the words almost drowned out by the grumbling of your empty stomach.

"Need some help?" He offers, that same infuriatingly amused tone coloring his voice. It only makes you bristle further.

"No." You snap, sharper than you intended. "Stop being an ass."

Soap's brows lift slightly, taken aback by your sudden outburst. A few minutes ago, you'd been lighthearted and playful, but now— He sighs softly, shoulders relaxing. "Alright, alright." The teasing drops from his voice, replaced by something gentler. "I was just messin'. No need to get all hangry on me."

You shoot him a half-hearted glare before dropping your gaze back to the fish, your irritation simmering low. "I'm not hangry."

"Uh-huh. Sure sounds like it." He murmurs, but his tone has shifted—more genuine, less needling. "C'mere, States. I've got hot coals over here. They'll cook your fish faster."

You hesitate, glancing over at him. You're still not happy with him, but you're also so hungry. You'd do almost anything to get your damn fish to cook faster so you can eat. Reluctantly, you sigh and stand up, walking over to where he's sitting.

When you settle beside him, Soap shifts slightly, carefully laying his own stick with the cooked fish against a log. Once it's balanced, he scoots closer to you, his thigh brushing against yours. The feeling makes your heart jump despite the previous frustration you were feeling towards him just a moment prior.

"Here, put the fish right above these coals." Soap instructs, his voice low. He points with one hand and gently adjusts your stick with the other. His fingers curl over yours as he guides it into place. Instead of focusing on where your fish is being placed by the coals, your eyes stay glued to where his hand lays over yours.

"There. It'll be done in no time." He says softly, his hand dropping away and resting back in his lap.

You shift your gaze back to your fish, noticing how much more intense the fire feels over here. The heat that radiates off the coals feels hotter and almost makes your cheeks burn.

While you're focused on your fish, you feel Soap shift back away from you for a second. When you look, you can see he's reached back over to get his fish. The sight of it, browned, charred, ready to eat, instantly makes your stomach growl again, and you catch Soap glance over at you, a little frown creasing his forehead.

Then, without a word, he nudges you gently. "Here." He says, holding out his perfectly cooked fish to you. "Eat this."

You blink, surprised. "What? But... you already—"

"I'll eat yours when it's done." He interrupts, his voice unusually gentle. "Go on, take it. You're starving, and I don't want you passing out on me or anything."

You look between him and the fish, a small frown forming on your lips. It was such a sweet gesture, and so uncharacteristic of him. You glance up to meet his eyes, finding they were already looking back at you, his gaze tender and warm.

When you still don't make a move to take the fish from him, his features soften even more. "States, either take the damn fish, or I'm gonna make you take it." He warns lightly, and you can tell he's not mad, but he's being serious.

His threat puts you at ease, and you smile. That was more like the Soap you knew. "Thanks." You murmur quietly, accepting the stick as he reaches over to grab yours in exchange.

The second the fish is in your hands, saliva starts to pool in your mouth. You don't waste any time, bringing it to your lips and taking a big, eager bite. The moment the warm, flaky fish hits your tongue, it's as if every sense lights up at once. It's not perfectly seasoned or delicately prepared—it's slightly charred on the edges and a little tough to bite off and chew. But after a week of bland MREs and tasteless food, this is the best thing you've eaten in your entire life.

A slight smoky flavor from the fire lingers on your tongue, and the little bit of salt you added before is just barely noticeable. You take a second bit and hum quietly in appreciation, barely able to suppress the smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth.

Soap watches you for a moment, a soft and pleasant expression on his face. "Better?" He asks quietly.

You nod, still in the middle of chewing, eyes closed as you savor your current bite. "Yeah... thanks, Soap." You say mutter after a bit, feeling your earlier anger melt instantly. Maybe you were just hangry.

"No problem, hen." He murmurs sweetly, his gaze returning to the fish cooking on the coals and turning it over.

You glance back over at him, watching the side of his face. The flames cast an orangish glow to his cheeks and shadows to his jawline. It's strange how different he looks in this moment—maybe it's the firelight, or maybe it's just how at ease he seems, sitting beside you.

An unfamiliar warmth settles deeper in your chest, wrapping around your heart, filling you with a lightness you haven't felt in... you don't even know how long. It radiates through you, down to your fingertips and the tips of your toes, making you feel almost weightless.

You blink, suddenly aware of how much you enjoy being around Soap—how much you've come to look forward to these moments. The banter, the teasing, the soft simple moments like this one. The way he looks at you sometimes with something unspoken that you can't quite put your finger on.

You take a shaky breath to try and steady yourself, to shake off the warmth spreading through you, but it's no use. Being around Soap just... feels good. Better than you expected. Better than you'd let yourself admit until now.

He glances over, catching your gaze for a second, and a small smile tugs at his lips. "You alright, hen?" He asks, his tone light but laced with a quiet concern.

You nod quickly, looking away as your heart skips a beat. "Yeah, I'm good." You manage to say, though your voice sounds breathy.

Soap watches you a moment longer before going back to tending to the fish, seemingly unaware of the shift happening inside you. But you're aware. So painfully aware of how close he's sitting, of the warmth of his leg brushing against yours, of the subtle comfort that his presence brings. You can't shake the feeling that something's changed between you—you know something has. Something you can't quite name, but it's there, and it's only growing.

"There!" Soap's voice pulls your attention back to him. "All done. Told ya they'd cook faster over here." He smiles, blowing gently on the fish. He glances back to you as he does, noticing the barely touched fish, only sporting two bites, on the stick in your lap.

"How's the fish, lass? It looks like you've hardly touched it." He frowns. Knowing how hungry you were a moment before, he's a little surprised the entire thing wasn't completely gone by now.

You look back down at your fish, smiling a little. "It's really good. I'm just trying to make it last." You lift it back up to your lips to take another bite then, which makes Soap relax a bit.

"I hope it tastes as good as it smells." He says softly, turning his over to look for a good place to dig in. He tries to take a small bite but immediately withdrawals, making a face. "Ah, way too fucking hot yet. Just burnt my tongue."

Without thinking, you hold out the fish you'd been eating to him. "Wanna take a bite?" You ask, it taking you a moment to realize what you were doing. By the time you do, it's far too late to take it back.

Soap looks at you with an amused sparkle in his eye and he laughs. "Nah, I don't wanna get your cooties." He teases lightly, making you roll your eyes at him despite the smile making your cheeks burn.

"Soap we've had sex and you've kissed me how many times now? You definitely have my cooties already. More aren't gonna hurt you." You tease right back. It makes him laugh harder, and he even throws his head back a little as he does.

"I guess I can't argue with that." He says as he comes down from his laughter. "Alright, give it here then."

He motions for you to hand the fish over, so you hold it out for him to take. Instead of just taking it from you though, he grabs around your hand and brings the fish up to his lips.

As he takes a bite, his eyes flick up to meet yours, locking as his teeth slowly sink in. Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch him, eyes widened just the slightest. And Soap knows what it's doing to you. You see the corner of his lips twitch up into a smirk as he leans back, chewing slowly.

Your mind is scrambling for something to say to break this new tension that's formed. A tension that's not helping you sort through your newly discovered feelings.

"You.. you like it?" You find yourself saying, watching as he swipes his thumb across his bottom lip and sucks the juices off.

"Not a five star meal, but the best bloody thing I've had in a while." He chuckles. "We should have done this day one."

That makes you giggle a bit, and you relax slightly as you go back to eating peacefully. "I think I probably would have drown you in the lake if we went near it day one." You point out, remembering how absolutely angry he'd made you during the flight over and the walk to the cabin.

Soap laughs softly, attempting once more to eat his own fish and taking a tentative bite out of it. "I could see you trying." He says as he takes a small bite, making you narrow your eyes at him.

"Try? I totally could." You huff. You've never been allowed to spar each other before, Price wouldn't let you since he was worried you two would end up seriously hurting each other, but you feel like you can take him.

Soap huffs back and shakes his head. "States, you weigh nothing to me. I'm practically double your weight. Plus I'm taller than you. In water, I'm gonna win." He shrugs, taking another bite of his fish.

You scoff at him, wanting to argue, but he made a decent point. He'd have the advantage in water. "So you're saying on land I'd kick your ass then?" You raise your brow at him.

Soap gives you a side glance, then huffs through his nose and shakes his head, dismissing you easily. "Hell no. I'd beat you on land too. Without a doubt."

You roll your eyes. "You underestimate me. I could so pin you if we sparred." You say, with maybe a little too much confidence.

Soap pauses a moment, as if thinking, and then shrugs. "Alright. Let's spar then." He says, quickly catching your attention.

"What? Like right now?" You frown.

"Yeah, right now. Let's settle it."

"Oh..." You purse your lips together. Sure you were confident that you could take Soap in a sparring match, but maybe not in the middle of the woods. Or without mats. And definitely not with all the sexual tension between you lately.

"Maybe not right now." You say slowly. "We're eating, and I'm hungry. And tired." You shift a little where you're sitting, giving a half-hearted shrug. "It just wouldn't be a fair match."

You notice Soap beginning to grin as soon as the excuse leaves your lips. "Yeah, sure. Alright." He chuckles softly, leaving it at that as he settles back down to finish his fish.

***

The rest of the evening is spent cooking and eating the fish you caught. It was the most satisfying meal you've had since arriving to the cabin. It was going to be hard to go back to eating the MREs for the remaining few days, but there was also the potential to go out fishing again tomorrow. And hopefully you'd be quicker at catching them then.

By the time you're both done eating, the sun has almost set completely over the horizon. It's getting dark out, the only light coming from the moon and the fire that was still burning bright but slowly turning into only embers.

You sigh softly, your stomach feeling like it was ready to burst. "I ate way too much." You chuckle, resting a hand on your now protruding belly. "That was the best meal ever though."

Soap laughs softly as he finishes piling up all your scraps and utensils off to the side to be cleaned up later. "You ready to turn in for the night then, lass?" He asks, standing by the fire and looking down at you.

You hum softly in thought but then shake your head. "No. I think I want to stay out here a little longer. Disgust a bit before bed."

You really hadn't gotten the chance to enjoy the night air since you arrived. There was always something that kept you inside almost as soon as the sun began to set. It was such a peaceful night tonight too. You want to enjoy it and the bonfire a while longer.

Soap nods a little, and you watch as he goes back to the wood pile. "I'll put another log on for you then." He says, looking over the few pieces of wood that remained.

"Thanks." You smile, watching as he picks out a log and carries it over to the fire. He tries to place it gently as not to make the entire log pile collapse, but it's a vein effort since the second he sets it down, everything falls over, causing a bunch of sparks to flare up into the air.

You follow the trail of sparks up a little ways, far enough that your attention gets pulled to the sky. Above you, the stars are just starting to come out, and they're already so much brighter than what you'd ever see on base.

"Wow..." You breathe softly. "I never noticed all the stars you can see out here."

Soap looks up towards the sky as well, humming pleasantly. "It's pretty." He mumbles, and there's a brief of moment of silence that falls between you as you both admire the twinkling lights.

You almost forget where you are for a moment until Soap breaks the silence. "I can go grab a blanket and lay it out. That way you can lay down and not have to crane your neck to see." He offers.

You look back at him, warmth filling your chest at the sweet offer. You're starting to get used to this side of Soap.

"Yeah." You smile. "That'd be nice."

"Alright. I'll be back in a second." With that, he's off, walking back towards the cabin.

You watch his figure retreat until he disappears inside. Once he's out of sight, your gaze drops to watching the fire, a soft sigh leaving your lips. You find yourself hoping that he'll want to stay and star gaze with you for bit.

Before you can overthink too much about that thought, you hear the cabin door open and slam shut as Soap makes his way back over to you. In his arms, he carries the blanket from his sleeping roll. It was really the only blanket you had, but the fact he was willing to use it just so you could stargaze was a sweet concept.

"Where do you want it?" He asks once he's within ear shot from you. You're a little unprepared for his question and quickly start to glance around for an open spot to lay the blanket out.

"Oh.. uh.. maybe just right over here by the fire?" You motion to a somewhat cleared off area that's just a little ways away from the fire. You know the second you move away from the flames that you're gonna start getting cold, but hopefully you'll still be close enough to stay warm. 

Soap gets right to work on laying out the blanket where you've requested it to go, unfolding it and making sure it lays flat. When he's done, he stands up and motions down at it.

"There you go." He says simply as you get up and move to blanket. Kicking your shoes off, you step onto it and sit down.

"Thanks." You hum softly, moving around a bit to get comfortable.

Soap watches you a moment, still standing off to the side of the blanket. "It's not a problem, lass." He shrugs dismissively. "Just bring the blanket in when you're done. And put the fire out." He adds, making you instantly look back up at him.

"You're not staying?" You frown, disappointment settling heavily in your chest.

Soap pauses, almost like he was surprised you'd ask that. "Uh.. yeah. I was just gonna go in..." He says slowly. "Did... did you want me to stay?" He asks hesitantly, uncertain.

"Well... yeah." You answer him softly. Your voice sounds so much more vulnerable than you expected it to be. "I want you to stay. Or I wouldn't mind the company at least. You know in case the bear comes back or something."

You're rambling a little, which just makes Soap smile. He looks down towards his feet as he does and then starts kick his shoes off too.

"Alright. I guess I can watch the sky with you for a little while." He agrees, instantly making any nerves you had die off.

"Great." You sigh softly, smiling as he settles onto the blanket beside you, leaving a modest space as he lays back.

You lay back on the blanket too, already able to feel the cool ground quickly seeping through the blanket and into your backside. If you had the thermal liner, it'd be much better, but you don't feel like getting up to get it.

A silence settles between you as both your gazes fixate on the stars above you. Even though the stars were the whole reason you were out here still in the first place, you find your attention is more focused on the man next to you.

"Did you ever stargaze back in Scotland?" You find yourself asking, keeping your eyes on the sky.

"Maybe a bit?" Soap replies, and you can hear the rustle of his shoulders moving against the blanket as he shrugs. "I mean the stars in Scotland are beautiful. But I don't think I ever did something like this." He explains. "What about you?"

"Not really." You chuckle. "It's impossible to really get stars like this in the city. Even out in the country they aren't too bright. But I dated a guy once who took me stargazing before. Really it was just to make out though. I don't think he really intended on looking for constellations."

Soap hums softly. "I can't believe you had a guy who wanted to date you." He mutters.

You shoot him a glare and wack his chest, which makes Soap laugh. "Ass." You grumble, though you're smiling too. "I'll have you know I had a lot of suitors back in America."

"What was wrong with them?" He adds, making you wind up to hit his chest again. He flinches and holds his hands up defensively. "I'm only kidding!" He says through his laughter. "I don't doubt you had a lot of guys lined up to date you."

"I can't tell if you're being serious or not." You huff despite the smile on your face. You settle back down into your spot, listening as Soap does the same. It seems like he's closer now.

"I'm being serious." He confirms. "You're an attractive woman, States. Lots of guys like you. Hell, there's a lot of idiots back on base who have crushes on you."

You raise your brows in surprise. "Really?" You've never paid much attention to things like that before, or at least no one's ever made it obvious.

"Yeah, really. Gets annoying, honestly. You know how many guys outside our task force have asked me if you're single or if I can set them up with you?" He scoffs at the end, almost like just thinking about it was as annoying as the real thing.

"Do I even want to know what you've told them?" No guy had ever asked you out, so you're sure the things he said weren't very nice. There was no way Soap had played the knight in shining armor trying to protect you.

"Told 'em you were a bitch. That you were psychotic, smelled bad, snored in your sleep. Lots of stuff." He shrugs, as if saying those things wasn't a big deal. You have to admit though that it hurt to hear him admit that.

"No wonder I had no idea anyone was interested." You mutter, the hurt coming through in your tone a little despite you trying to hide it. You hear Soap's head shift as he looks over at you, but you keep your gaze on the sky.

"You wouldn't have wanted to date those men anyway, States. All of them just wanted in your pants. I wasn't gonna just let them use you like that."

You pause, taking in what he said. "Why would you do that? I thought you didn't like me."

Soap scoffs softly. "I didn't. But I'm not a total asshole. You're still part of my team, and I'm not about to let some horny pricks hurt you. That's my job." He tries to say it jokingly, trying to lighten the mood a little.

You roll your eyes, but there was something sweet about the whole thing. You couldn't really be upset with him for scaring off men like that, but still. It still hurt he said those things.

"Lucky me." You sigh, trying to push past it. It makes Soap chuckle softly, but he can still tell you're unhappy.

Soap looks back up at the sky, a brief silence settling before you. After a few seconds, he breaks it.

"You know, now I'm gonna have to start telling them other things to ward them off." He says, making you glance over at him.

"Why's that?" You venture curiously.

Soap seems to hesitant a second before he answers. "Well... cause you're really not that half bad. I mean you're still kinda annoying, but you're not too bad either."

As back handed as it sounded, it was one of the nicest things Soap has ever said to you. You find yourself smiling and almost swooning over those words.

"You're not so bad either, Soap." You mumble back, watching as a smile settles on his face too. Your gaze returns to the stars then, and you feel a sense of peace and contentment settle over you.

You lay there in silence for maybe a minute longer before you turn to look at Soap once more. "Did you finish your drawing from earlier?" You ask.

"Ehh, mostly. I didn't have time to finish the scenery." He says, his gaze staying fixed on the sky.

You hum softly, trying to work up the courage to ask to see it. You're not sure why, but it feels so personal to ask about seeing his artwork.

"Can I see it?" You finally ask in a soft voice, glancing back over to Soap. He looks back at you, almost seeming hesitant.

"You really want to?" He asks slowly, and you nod, chewing the inside of your cheek nervously. "Ok. Yeah, sure." He nods.

Sitting up, he leans over towards where he last placed the book last, balanced on the wooden log he'd been sitting at earlier. "I'm not sure how well you'll be able to see it." He adds as he grabs it.

He makes a good point, it's now almost completely dark aside from the fire and a little light from the moon. You're hoping though that you're close enough to the fire to see most of the picture.

"That's alright. I still wanna see it." You tell him, sitting up and watching as he flips through a few pages to look for it. You wonder what else he's drawn since being here.

As soon as he finds it, he starts to scoot closer to you. "Here. This is what I was able to get done."

He hands the book over to you, and you take it from him. You have to angle the book a certain way towards the fire to see it, but the image slowly becomes illuminated.

It was a drawing of you. Out in the middle of the lake, spear in hand. The background isn't finished at all or even sketched out. The main focus of the drawing was you. And given the amount of time Soap had, which you assume hadn't been long, there was an impressive amount of detail.

Your heart skips in your chest as you study the image. Your cheeks are burning a little, but you can't help but smile. So he had been drawing you after all.

"You drew me?" You ask softly, eyes not leaving the page.

Next to you, Soap smiles a little. If you'd looked, you would have seen that his own cheeks were slightly pink. Though it could have just been the orange glow from the fire.

"Yeah. You were such a good model cause you were standing out there for so long." He jokes.

You huff softly and glare over at him. "I had a feeling you were drawing me." You grumble, turning your attention back to the drawing and studying more of the image. "It's really nice though. You must have sketched this in like five minutes."

Soap shrugs a little. "This took me longer than five minutes. I was working on it earlier. It's a little sloppy compared to some of my other drawings."

You glance back over at him. "Can I see the others?" You ask, and he chuckles a little before shrugging.

"Go ahead." He nods, and you start to slowly flip through his sketch book, looking over all the sketches he's done in the past five days.

A lot of them are sketches of the cabin and the lake. Some are half finished, others are very detailed. He's also drawn a few animals  and a few things from inside of the cabin, like the wood stove and a half finished sketch of what looks like your dining area.

As you look them over, a little breeze picks up, making you shiver. It was starting to get very cold out, and despite the fire being close by still, you were getting a little chilly.

Soap hears you shiver and looks up from watching you flip through the book. "Cold?" He asks, and you nod.

"Just a little." You admit, trying to shrug it off.

His eyes drift down to your practically bare legs, hardly covered by the pajama shorts you were wearing. "You know, pants would help." He teases, making you shake your head.

"You mean the pants that are damp still because you tackled me in the water earlier?" You raise an eyebrow at him, which makes him laugh.

"Ah. Right. Well, come here then." He says softly, his voice dipping lower as he shifts closer to you.

Before you can even react, his arm slides around your back, guiding you firmly into his side. You feel the warmth of his body almost immediately, seeping through the fabric of your shirt, and you stiffen for just a second as he adjusts his hold. His hand settles at the curve of your waist, fingers pressing gently into your side, not pulling you in too tight, but enough that your back is now pressed to his chest and side a bit.

You can feel his every breath and every flex of his muscles with every subtle movement he makes. You glance up at him, wide-eyed, but Soap's already looking back down at you.

"Better?" He murmurs, his voice a soft rumble that seems to vibrate right through you. His leg shifts then, brushing lightly against yours, and you're hyper-aware of how solid and strong his body feels beside you. Every point of contact—his arm around you, the slight pressure of his thigh against your knee, the way his breath is practically on you neck—sends a subtle shiver through you that has nothing to do with the cold air.

"Uh..." You can't seem to form a coherent thought, let alone a response. All you can focus on is how close he is. The heat radiating off him, his scent— it's all making your head spin just a little.

Your heart hammers harder in your chest, the steady thump-thump-thump of it so loud you're sure he can hear it. You swallow, trying to clear the sudden dryness in your throat. "Yeah. Better." You finally manage to say, the words coming out quieter than you intend.

He gives you a small, almost satisfied smile, the corners of his mouth curving up just slightly. "Good."

You try to focus your attention back on the book, but it's pointless. You can't concentrate on the thing to save your life. You're doing everything you can to calm your heart down before it beats out of your chest. Just to play along, you absentmindedly turn to the next page of the sketch book, but you have no idea what's actually on the page.

Then his thumb starts to brush against your hip, and the simple motion sends a jolt of electricity through you, making your breath catch. Your heart pounds so loudly in your ears, and you're struggling to keep your breathing from increasing.

Soap shifts again, his thigh now fully against yours. He's so warm, like a living heater, though at this point it's hard to tell if you're warm from his body heat or something else.

Then you notice it. The fast thumps against your back. His heart hammering away in his own chest at the same rate that yours is. He's having the same reaction as you are. If you listen, you can hear him trying to control his breathing too. The sound is too choppy to be natural.

Knowing he's feeling the same way calms your own nerves immensely. Slowly, your body relaxes against his, and you begin to cuddle in closer to him. You tilt your head towards his just the slightest bit, and Soap presses his cheek down onto the top of your head.

You hear Soap exhale softly, like he's releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding, and his arm tightens around you just a fraction more, the motion sending a fresh wave of warmth through your entire body. His fingers splay out across your side, the tips brushing lightly against your ribs, making your pulse flutter wildly.

Your eyes slowly close, the sketch book forgotten in your lap. You let yourself fully relax into Soap and soak up this feeling. You know it's attraction, or at least part of it is. You've felt this before with other men, but there's still something more there. Your body feels electric when he holds you like this. You've never felt that way before.

"States.."

Your name leaves Soap's lips, making your heart flutter up into your throat. You carefully tilt your head up, eyes meeting Soap's slowly. Once they do, it feels like you can't breathe. His eyes are so heavy with emotion you can't even think.

His hand, cold but gentle, touches your cheek. It's such a shocking contrast that it reminds you to breathe. He cups your jaw, keeping your head tilted up towards him, though you weren't planning on looking away.

"Oh, fuck it..."

He mumbles it so softly you're sure you wouldn't have heard him if you'd been a fraction of an inch further from him. Even if you hadn't, his actions spoke for him.

He closes whatever distance was between you fast. The first brush of his lips against yours is tentative, almost testing. They're soft, warmer than his hands, and the touch is light enough that you barely feel it at first.

Your lips make a soft, almost inaudible popping sound as they part. You're left with just a ghostly feeling of where his lips were and his  warm breath against them from his labored breathing as he gages your reaction.

You feel numb almost. Definitely like you're floating. Then a rush of emotion surges through you—excitement, confusion, desire, everything all at once. You feel a flush spread across your cheeks, a warmth that has nothing to do with the fire crackling nearby. You don't know what to say, don't know how to put into words what's racing through your head. So instead, you take a deep breath, steady yourself, and lean in.

This time, you're the one to close the distance. You bring your hand to the back of his neck, and your lips press against his, firmer than his first kiss, your eyes sliding shut as the world tilts on its axis. Soap stiffens for a heartbeat, a small, almost inaudible gasp escaping him. But then you feel him relax, his whole body seeming to melt against yours as he returns the kiss, his mouth moving slowly, carefully, against yours. There's still a hint of that same hesitation, but it's fading with every second.

You pull back an inch, just enough to catch your breath, and when you open your eyes, you find Soap staring down at you. His pupils are blown wide, dark with an intensity that takes your breath away. His lips are slightly parted, his breathing ragged, and the way he's looking at you sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

"This ok?" He asks breathily, his hand still gripping your jaw. He's nervous, you realize.

You give him a smile and gently move your fingers to the base of his hairline. His eyes struggle to not roll back as you play with the short hairs there.

"More than ok." You assure him, putting a light pressure on the back of his head and pulling his lips back down to yours. When they meet this time, Soap is smiling, and he almost seems to sigh against your lips.

You exchange a few more tender kisses but then something shifts. His hand on your waist starts to tighten, pulling you closer, and his lips press more firmly against yours, drawing in a quiet gasp from you.

The sound seems to spur him on. Soap's hand leaves your cheek to slip back into your hair, his fingers threading through it as he tilts your head just enough to deepen the kiss. Your own hands move to his shoulders, going between gripping them and cupping the sides of his neck. It's like every nerve ending in your body lights up the moment your lips touch, the sensation so intense it's almost dizzying.

You can feel the roughness of his stubble scrape lightly against your skin as his lips part against yours, coaxing your mouth open. The first slide of his tongue is a shock—a gentle, seeking motion that sends a thrill racing down your spine. You make a small sound, something between a whimper and a sigh, and Soap responds instantly. His tongue slips into your mouth, the taste of him invading your senses, and you find yourself pressing closer, desperate to feel more of him.

There's a soft, wet sound as his tongue tangles with yours, a quiet pop as he pulls back only to kiss you again, harder this time. His fingers tighten in your hair, his other hand moving from your waist to grip your hip, pulling you up into his lap. The motion sends a wave of heat crashing through you, your body arching slightly into his, and you gasp again, the sound swallowed by his mouth as he kisses you deeper.

Your hands move without thinking, sliding down to feel the hard muscle of his chest. From there, one hand slides up to the back of his neck again, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the tension in his muscles. Your other hand fists his shirt, knuckles brushing against the hard plane of his chest as you try to anchor yourself. It's overwhelming, the way he's kissing you—so intense, so utterly consuming. Every time you think you've caught your breath, he shifts, tilts his head, and the kiss changes, becomes something even deeper, more insistent.

You shift your hips slightly, wiggling down more into his lap. You slide right down onto a hard lump, and the feeling of it against your thigh and pelvis is unmistakable.

Soap makes a low sound deep in his throat, almost a growl, and the vibration of it against your lips sends another shudder through you. His hands move again, one sliding down your back, pressing you even closer against him, the other cupping the back of your head, holding you in place as if he can't bear the thought of you pulling away. You're not sure if you even could if you tried.

You feel his teeth graze your lower lip, a light nip that has you gasping into his mouth. He pulls back just enough to murmur something, the words lost, and then he's kissing you again, harder, fiercer, like he's trying to pour every unsaid word, every hidden feeling into the press of his lips.

It's not just a kiss. It's like a release of something that's been building for so long, something you've both been holding back without even realizing it. And now that the dam's broken, there's no stopping it. Soap's kisses are relentless, almost desperate, and you can feel your heart pounding so hard it's a wonder it hasn't burst right out of your chest.

You can't help it—you let out a small, breathless moan, and Soap freezes for just a second. His lips hover over yours, his breath mingling with yours as he stares up at you, eyes dark and filled with something that makes your stomach flip.

"States..." He whispers, voice rough and thick. He swallows, his gaze flicking down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. "You—"

Whatever he was going to say is lost as you lean up, capturing his mouth again. This time, you're the one pushing, deepening the kiss, your tongue sliding against his, tasting and teasing, drawing out another one of those low, rumbling sounds from deep in his chest. Soap's hand tightens in your hair, his arm wrapping fully around your waist, holding you so close you can feel the steady thud of his heart against your chest.

And then he's kissing you back with renewed intensity, the hand on your waist sliding down to your hip, fingers digging into your ass and making you gasp. He uses the leverage to pull you down harder against his bulge, and you're not sure if it's him or you, but your hips start rocking against him, bring a delicious friction to both of you.

It's dizzying, overwhelming, and yet you can't get enough. Your fingers slip up into his hair, tugging gently, and Soap groans softly against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you. You can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles coil and flex, the restraint in the way his hands hold you, as if he's struggling to keep himself in check.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm and ragged against your lips. He's staring at you, eyes wide and almost wild, his chest heaving with every breath.

"Fuck, States..." He whispers, voice hoarse and raw, and the sound of it sends another shiver through you and a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

The way he's looking at you—like he's on the verge of losing control—makes your pulse skip, the intensity of it stealing your breath. His chest rises and falls rapidly, every breath a visible struggle to calm himself. But you can tell he's not calm. Not even close.

You can feel the tremor in his hands where they still hold you, the way his fingers dig in a little too tightly, like he's trying to ground himself.

"Soap..." You murmur his name softly, almost in a daze, watching as his eyes trail your body. He's barely holding back. You want him. Desperately. Every nerve in your body is singing for him to touch you, to keep going.

Soap's gaze flickers back up to yours. "I want this," he breathes, his voice low, strained. "I want you. So damn bad, States." He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with the motion.

You carefully bring your hand up to cup his cheek and brush your thumb against his rough stubble. His eyes flutter shut at the tough, and he leans into your hand. 

"I want you too..." You breathe.

Soap's eyes open slowly, and when he looks at you, there's something vulnerable in his gaze. He swallows thickly, opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but hesitates. Whatever it is, he decides against it, his brow furrowing slightly before he just leans forward and captures your lips in a fierce kiss. It's almost like he's pouring all his unspoken words into it, the intensity of his grip on you saying everything he can't.

You mirror his sudden urgency for a moment, but then your hand comes up to gently cup his face, thumb brushing his cheek to slow him down. "Soap... wait..."

He pauses immediately, pulling back just enough to look up at you, confusion and concern flickering in his eyes. His chest is still heaving, breaths mingling with yours, but he stays still, waiting for you to continue.

"If we keep going, I want to do it slow. Not like the first time." You say gently, making his concern gaze soften quickly.

He leans in again, placing a few delicate kisses along your jaw, making his way to your ear. "Then let me take my time, aye?" He whispers, deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You nod weakly, eyes fluttering shut as he dips his head, mouth hovering just over the sensitive skin beneath your ear. His lips brush softly against your pulse, his wet tongue darting out and licking a small strip. "I want to feel every inch of you." He whispers, his voice deep and husky, making you whimper.

He starts to kiss at your pulse point, teeth dragging against the sensitive skin. "Wanna hear every sound you make... every little gasp and moan..." He trails off, his tone almost ragged now, as if he's struggling to keep himself in check. "Want to know exactly what makes you lose your mind, hen."

A breathless whine escapes you at his words, and you moan out his name. Not his callsign, his name.

"John..." You breathe, and his mouth stills, his lips hovering just over your skin. You feel his gaze on you, intense and searing, and when you force your eyes open, you find his face so close.

"S-sorry... just sli-"

"Say it again." He cuts you off.

"What?" You ask slowly, brows furrowed just a little.

"Say my name again." He elaborates, eyes growing heavy as he stares at you.

Hesitantly, you do as he asks. "John." You whisper.

His breath stutters, and for a moment, he just looks at you, something intense and almost awed flickering in his gaze. Then, with a soft groan, he dips his head, capturing your lips again in a slow, languid kiss that's completely different from the ones before. This isn't rushed or frantic; it's deliberate, controlled, as if he's savoring every second, every slide of his mouth against yours.

You sigh into the kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close. The kiss deepens, his tongue sliding along the seam of your lips once more, and you part for him instantly, welcoming him in. He explores your mouth with a tenderness that has your heart skipping, each caress of his tongue sending pleasure zipping through you.

Your hips start to find a natural rhythm by themselves, rubbing against the warm hard lump that's been pressing up into you this entire time. Every gentle grind draws a soft but heavy, muffled sound from him, a deep, throaty hum from deep in his chest.

"God, States..." He breathes, pulling back just enough to press his forehead against yours, his chest heaving. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire, and the sight sends another wave of heat crashing through you. "I want to take my time, but fuck... you're making it so hard."

"I thought that was the whole point." You joke, a little grin forming on your lips. Soap looks confused for a moment but then a look of understanding crosses his face.

"You know what I'm talking about." He chuckles, shaking his head. His lips return to your neck, placing wet open mouthed kisses along your pulse point.

Your eyes flutter shut and you giggle softly, hands moving down to grip his shoulders. As amazing as his lips felt on your neck, you push him away. Soap looks up at you with heavy eyes, and you slide your hands down to his chest and gently start pushing him back to lay down. He stiffens up a little as you try, unsure of what you were doing.

"Let me, okay? Just... let me." You tell him softly, and you swear you can see his pupils dilate slightly. His muscles starts to relax under your fingertips, and he lets you push him back against the blanket. His eyes are fixated on yours the whole way down, hands sliding down your sides to settle on your hips and thighs.

Your heart is pounding as you stare down at him. He looks so good under you. You never believed in a million years that Soap would ever be nice to you let along let you be on top of him like this. You always imagined the only time he'd ever be under you was if you beat him in sparring. And he wouldn't be looking at you the way he is now.

There's something intoxicating about the way he watches you—like you're the only thing that exists for him right now. You shift your hips a little, adjusting your position just slightly so that you're more centered on his bulge. That movement alone makes his grip on your hips tighten significantly, and once you start grinding, he's a goner. The contact draws a low, rough sound from him, something between a growl and a groan, his head tipping back against the blanket.

"Fuck..." He breathes, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. His grip flexes, a barely restrained tremor running through his fingers. When his eyes open again, they're trained on where your hips meet. "Christ, States. You're killing me here." He growls out, his accent much thicker now.

You giggle softly, relishing in this power you have over him. "You're very impatient."

Soap rolls his eyes, his hands roaming your thighs a little as he continues to watch. "You would be too if a bonnie lass was grindin' on your dick." His hands drift to the hem of your shorts, giving them a gentle tug. "Now, how about we get these off you, hen."

You swallow hard, heart pounding in your chest, but you nod and rise up on your knees, letting him peel them down. His knuckles brushing against you as he goes, the sensation making heat pool between your legs.

He only manages to get them down to your mid thigh before he stops abruptly. "Oh hell's fucking bells..." He groans, his voice is little more than a husky rasp. "You just had to wear those, huh?"

You glance down at yourself, forgetting what you were even wearing. When your eyes settle on the delicate red lace of your underwear, heat rushes to your cheeks. It's the same pair Soap had grabbed when you'd been forced to repack your things. This wasn't something you picked out for him—hadn't even thought for a second you'd be here with him right now.

"I-I didn't plan this." You stutter, embarrassment creeping into your voice. "I just grabbed whatever was clean."

Soap hums softly, almost like he wasn't even fully listening to you. His gaze was on the red lacy pattern, thumbs tracing the hemline. "Doesn't matter." He mumbles. "These are staying on though. Gonna ruin 'em."

You can't help but scoff at him for that. "What's up with you and wanting to ruin my clothes?" You huff, stumbling forward just a little as Soap reaches around you to start undoing his pants. You hear the sound of the button and zipper coming undone and then feel Soap shuffling under you to pull them down.

"Less clothes you have, the better." He replies cheekily, his hands moving to your hips now that his pants are down. You know he's taken his underwear down too because you can feel his member's tip on your butt cheek, painting it with precum. "Hop off a second and get those shorts off. Leave the underwear on."

He gives your hip a little pat, and you do as he asks, swinging your leg off him and working them down your legs. "I like these, so play nice with them." You tell him, meaning to look at his face, but the some movement draws your focus.

You gasp softly, eyes focusing on where his hand is slowly stroking himself. He's completely hard, his shaft glistening from where his hand has smeared the precum. You feel dizzy from the sudden rush of arousal that hits you.

Soap grins as he watches your face, his stokes getting a little quicker and making a lewd wet sound with each stroke. "If I ruin them I'll buy you more." He promises, a smirk in his tone as he releases his member. "Now come here." He motions with his head for you to straddle him once more.

"You better." You grumble half heartedly, feeling dazed still from the image of him stroking himself. It only makes Soap chuckle.

Moving back over to him, you place your hands on his chest to help yourself balance as you swing your leg back over him. Soap takes your hips, guiding you back to hover over his member. You move your underwear aside for him, and he does the rest, his own hand guiding his member to your entrance.

He rubs it against you a little bit, trying to find your opening. Once it catches, he pushes up, and you wince a little as his bulbous tip starts to penetrate you. You hum a little when he suddenly pops inside, and Soap pauses, his thumb rubbing against your hip to try and sooth you.

"You alright?" He asks, his eyes struggling to look up at you instead of where his member is disappearing into you.

"Yeah." You nod. "I'm good. Just gotta go slow."

Soap hums softly, relaxing his hips to let you take over. "Take your time, hen. We've got all the time in the world right now." Even despite his sweet words, his gaze is heavy.

You sit up a little bit more to get a better angle to help him slide in. The new angle works wonders, and as you lift and lower yourself onto him, you take him a little deeper each time.

Every time you sink lower, Soap's breathing starts to pick up. His eyes are focused on where you're connected, his jaw tense and his hands beginning to grip your hips. By the time you're fully seated on him, he looks like he's barely hanging on.

"Fuck..." He groans, his head falling back as you pause to adjust to him. "You're squeezin' me so tight, States. Gonna make me blow before we even get started." He chuckles breathily.

You smile down at him. "Want me to climb off for a moment so you can gather yourself?" You ask, teasing attempting to lift your hips.

You don't make it an inch up before Soap slams you back down. "Do you fucking dare." He all but growls, making you giggle again. "Start moving. Otherwise I'm flipping us." He threatens.

You roll your eyes, but his threat gets you moving. You start grinding your hips, setting a slow and smooth rhythm. It feels nice, and Soap seems to be enjoying it too. His eyes fall shut after the first few rocks, and he a soft groan leaves his lips.

After a little while, you switch up the angle, leaning forward a bit and placing your hands on Soap's chest once more. This angle makes him brush against a whole different spot inside you, pulling a moan from your lips.

Soap's eyes snap open instantly as the sound leaves your lips, and your eyes lock together. You keep rocking gently, his hands pushing and pulling at your hips to help with the motion. His gaze is so intense, and the feeling of his member and rough pubic hairs against your clit are pushing you towards the edge already.

Your body starts to shake and you squeeze your eyes shut as the burning in your clit intensifies. "Fuck... Soap..." You whisper, panting softly as your gentle rocks turn a little more desperate.

"You gonna come for me?" He asks, his voice deep and accent thick. "Almost there States, just keep rocking those pretty hips."

He coaxes you, his hips now moving under yours, thrusting along with each movement you make.

You moan again, arms growing weak, which forces you to lean down onto your elbows, closer to Soap. His lips on your throat the second you're within reach, kissing and nipping at the tender skin, hands still digging into the flesh of your hips.

"Come on, lass. You can do it. Give me one. I'm right behind ya." He groans against your throat, his hips starting to snap up.

That's all it takes. You grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as the coil of pleasure tightens almost painfully low in your belly. Your entire body tenses, each thrust from Soap pushing you closer and closer until you can't hold it anymore. Your entire body tenses and then relaxes as a wave of pleasure washes over you.

A choked cry tears from your throat as you shatter around him, your body arching against his as an orgasm rips through you.

"Ahhh! John—! I'm.. I'm-" His name spills from your lips in a broken sob as your whole body pulses with pleasure. At the same time, Soap starts to snap up into you a little hard, drawing even more cries out of your lips.

It's overwhelming, mind-numbing, and all you can do is gasp and writhe atop him, every nerve ending alight as his hips continue to ram up into you.

You can hear Soap panting under you, his breath hitching every time your walls convulse around him. "Fucking hell. That's it States... that's it..." Soap pants, his eyes squeezing shut as your walls clench and flutter around him.

"Fuck! I'm gonna come!" His voice is strangled, almost hoarse. His thrusts turn into stuttering jerks as he nears his own release. "Don't stop, States! Fuck I'm so close..."

You take over, hips grinding almost wildly against him. You're starting to get overstimulated, but you don't care. You want to get him off.

"Come on, Johnny... come for me." You say through gasps, gripping his shoulders tightly as you watch his face twist into pleasure.

Soap groans loudly, his hips jerking up suddenly. He buries himself as deep as he can go, your name leaving your lips in a strangled groan. "Fuck! (Y/n)! I-I gonna.. I-"

His whole body tenses beneath you, a low, guttural groan rumbling in his chest as he spills inside you. You can feel each thick of rope shoot up into you, his length twitching and throbbing as he empties himself.

Then his hips fall back down against the blanket, and you collapse on top of him, burying your face into the side of his neck. He throws an arm around you, and for a moment, neither of you move, both caught in the aftershocks, riding out the last shivers of pleasure together.

"God, States..." He murmurs breathlessly, his fingers lazily tracing soothing patterns on your lower back. His chest heaves beneath yours, both of you still panting, bodies slick with sweat and utterly spent. He presses a lingering kiss to your temple, his lips soft and tender against your flushed skin. "Y'alright, hen?" He asks gently, voice hoarse with exhaustion.

You manage a weak nod, smiling against his neck. "Yeah... I'm good." You whisper, voice still trembling a little. "Really good."

He huffs a small, breathless laugh, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Glad you enjoyed yourself." He sighs, sounding content.

You hum gently in response, a small smile on your lips. The two of you stay like that for a while, legs tangled and wrapped up in each other's arms. His thumb continues its lazy circles along your spine, and you let out a contented sigh, relishing in the warmth and feeling of his heart beat becoming steady under your fingers.

Then he shifts slightly, and you hear him huff a breathy chuckle. "So much for stargazin', huh?" He teases softly, his voice laced with a playful warmth.

You snort. "Yeah, you're just as bad as the last guy who wanted to go stargazing with me." You can't help but grin, remembering your story from earlier. "Guess I'll never to be able to stargaze."

"Eh, we'll just have to make sure you're on the bottom next time." He replies cheekily, a grin spreading across his face.

You roll your eyes at him, but you can't help but pause. "Next time?" You echo, face turning a little more serious.

Soap gazes up at you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. "Well let's be honest, there's been a lot of sexual tension between us lately. And with the history we have of having tension with each other, I'm sure there will be more."

You huff softly. "Almost sounds like you're hoping there will be more tension."

Soap grins at you. "I wouldn't mind it if it meant a pretty lass like you will bounce on my lap." He teases, reaching down to pinch your butt.

You blush a little at his words and then jolt in surprise as he pinches you, a little squeak leaving your lips. The movement makes both  of you moan in discomfort, bodies still very sensitive. Once the overstimulation settles, you look back down at him.

"So... you would want to do this again?" You ask slowly, curiously.

Soap's grin softens, and he shrugs one shoulder. "Aye... I, uh, wouldn't mind it," he mutters, gaze dropping. "This. Us." He swallows, hesitating. "It's... nice. I wouldn't mind spending more time with you."

His voice is quiet, almost tentative, and you find yourself staring at him, caught off guard by the sudden vulnerability in his words. It's rare to see him like this, so unsure and a little shy.

"Yeah... I wouldn't mind that either." You smile down at him, your words seeming to make him relax.

Soap smiles back at up you, his mouth opening to say something, but a shiver from you makes him pause. Now that you've come down from the high of having sex, the cool night air is beginning to bite at your sweat slicked skin. His brows furrow a bit, and he takes in the feeling of the goose pimpled skin of your thighs.

"Getting cold, lass?" He murmurs.

"Yeah... just a little." You admit, your shaky voice betraying you.

He hums thoughtfully and gives your hip a gentle squeeze. "Let's head inside then, yeah? Don't want you freezin' out here." He chuckles, rubbing your legs softly to try and warm you up a little.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea." You chuckle, only now realizing that it's pitch black out. The fire has died down significantly, leaving only the moonlight. 

You place your hands on Soap's chest and sit up, entire body feeling heavy. Your legs especially feel weak as you move them under you to lift yourself off him.

Your slow movements make Soap chuckle softly, his hands moving to your hips to help you up. "Legs feeling a little weak there?" He grins, helping to lift you off his cock.

There's a soft pop as his cock slips out of you, and you wince at the odd sensation. Your entire space between your legs was sticky and sore.

"Maybe." You huff softly, even as you rely on Soap to help move you off him. He just rolls his eyes and hands you your shorts.

Once you're seated beside him, you try to clean yourself up best you can before moving your underwear back into place. Meanwhile, Soap is fixing himself up too. He's tucked himself back into his underwear, pulled his pants back up, and stood up.

He looks down at you, watching as you put your shorts back on. "Head on in, lass." He tells you softly once they're on. "I'll clean up out here, put the fire out. You head inside and clean up."

"I can help." You offer, making him smile as he holds out a hand to help you up. You take it gratefully, letting him pull you to your feet. "I can get the water to put out the fire."

Soap watches you take two wobbly steps and then laughs softly. "No, it's alright, hen." He insists, grabbing your wrist to stop you. "Besides, by the time I'm done here you might have just made it to the steps." He teases, noticing your slowed pace.

He's greatly exaggerating your speed. You're not that slow, but you get the feeling he's not gonna let you help. You're afraid his next move was gonna be carrying you inside, so you cave.

"Alright." You sigh. "I'll head in. See you in a bit." You chuckle, making your way back to the cabin.

Soap watching you leave, a grin on his face as he takes a moment to admire your little post sex waddle. "Be in in a minute!" He calls after you before getting to work.

It doesn't take you nearly as long to get to the cabin as Soap seemed to imply. Once inside, the first thing you do is change out of your soiled red panties and try to freshen up a little better. Then you get a fire going in the wood stove and peak out the window to see how Soap was doing. By the time you look, the fire is out, and he's on his way back.

Moving to your bed, which is still right next to his, you wait for him come in. A second or so later, the door opens and slams shut, and his heavy footfalls come to the bedroom.

He steps into the room and shuts the door, glancing over at you and smiling a bit. The blanket you were laying on earlier is rolled up and under his arm.

"Surprised to see you made it into bed." He jokes, dropping the roll onto your cot before moving back to the door to kick his shoes off.

You huff softly, taking the roll from him as he drops it off. "We're gonna have to go a lot more rounds if the goal is to paralyze me." You mumble, unfolding the blanket and trying to spreading it out over the cots.

Soap hums deeply from the door way, glancing back at you. "Don't tempt me, States. I'll take you again right now."

Your heart jumps in your chest. His words excite you way too much. "I just put on fresh underwear. You can wait till morning." You joke, which makes him laugh.

"First thing it is then." He chuckles, starting to get himself ready for bed. Which really just involved him stripping down to nothing but his underwear. You watch as he pulls his shirt off over his head.

"You waiting on me?" He asks, glancing back over as you once it was off. He noticed that you hadn't laid down yet.

You shrug a little. "Yeah, pretty much. I've gotten used to hearing you snore at night. Can't sleep without it now."

That makes Soap scoff as he tosses his shirt on the floor. "I don't snore." He claims, undoing his pants, stepping out of them, and kicking them aside. "You're the one who snores."

You roll your eyes, watching as he walks over to you. "I'll ask Ghost when we get back. He'll agree with me that you snore." You shoot back, shrinking away just a touch as he hovers over you a bit.

There's an amused grin on his face as he takes your chin gently. "Brat." He mutters, surprising you by placing a quick peck to your lips. You hadn't been expecting that at all.

Feeling flustered, your gaze drops as you try to collect yourself, though you quickly become distracted. You've never noticed it before, but Soap's chest is littered with scars. It makes sense given his profession, but the red firelight from the stove seems to accent them more.

"Wow..." You breathe, absentmindedly reaching out to trace one. "You've got so many." You whisper, making Soap drop his hand from your chin and look down at where your fingertips traced along a long white scar on his ribs.

"Yeah." He mutters. "My job is... pretty dangerous I guess." He shrugs, continuing to watch your fingers roam without stopping them.

"Are they all from your time in the service?" You ask, looking back up at him. You've only collected a few from your time in the army. Your only non-service related scar was one on your knee from falling off your bike as a kid.

Soap shrugs a little. "Most of them. Not all of them though." He answers you, stepping away from your touch to crawl over you and onto his cod. Your bed squeaks its horrid melody as he does, and you wince at the grading sound.

Once he's settled on his cot, and once it's silent, you look back at him. The firelight illuminates just one section of his face, showing off the long jagged scar on his chin. Gently, you reach out and touch it, making Soap quickly meet your gaze.

"How'd you get this one?" You ask softly, thumb tracing the faded silver-white line.

Soap seems to tense the second you touch it, his gaze locked onto your face. When the question leaves your lips, he sighs and takes your hand, moving it away from his face.

"It's a long story, hen." He sighs, his hand holding yours in his lap. He stares down at it instead of looking at you.

"We've got all night." You reason, which makes his lips twitch the slightest bit into a smile.

"It's also a sad one." He adds, his deep voice just above a whisper. It makes you pause, and you quickly notice the slumped posture he has suddenly.

"I'm a very empathetic person." You add softly, which makes him laugh softly. "But we also don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." You add.

Soap is silent for a moment, almost as if he's debating if he wants to talk or not. After a few minute long seconds, he finally sighs. "My... my childhood wasn't the best, States..."

@the-faceless-bride @venavanup @hotthankss @daemondoll @thepowers-kat-be

[mphoenix-7]

Thank god it's gonna be a happy ending because I just can NOT be ready for full angst 😭😭

Same 😭

I’m all for angst, but it needs to end well. It’s the worst thing when you’re reading a good story and then it hits you with a sad ending. I need a warning or something. It’s not to say I don’t appreciate a sad ending, but I just need to be mentally prepared. And some days you just can’t do a sad ending.

Literally every fanfiction I’ve written though, if I kill off the main love interest, they come back either in the same chapter at the end or one chapter later. I just can’t do it, I’m a sucker for happy endings 😭

[mphoenix-7]

Is bitter allies going to be a happy ending story?

Yes! Bitter Allies will have a happy ending!

I can’t write a story without a happy ending lol. Even if there’s tons of angst and it seems like it won’t end happy, it will 🫶🏻

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies Update

Hello everyone!

Yes, I am alive still! I got a little busy but I am back and have been working on the next chapter for Bitter Allies.

So far, it’s at 11k words and growing. I’m hoping it’ll be out within the next few days. There’s been a lot more to write about than I previously planned, and I want to get them off day five.

But just a little something to get you excited for the next update, there’s gonna be cute moments, fluffy moments, and smut. I’m putting a little of everything in this next one!

Thanks for your patience! I’m gonna get back to writing now!

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies Update

Hello everyone!

Just another update for the series. I was sick this past week, so I didn’t write at all. Ideas weren’t flowing, and I did nothing but sleep practically.

I’m feeling much better now though! I’ll be back to writing starting today, so hopefully there will be a chapter update for next Sunday.

Thank you all for reading! I’m so grateful you’re enjoying this series, and I can’t wait to continue it!

[mphoenix-7]

Hello, I was a bit curious I love your story btw. When they are done with the cabin will the story still continue or is it going to end?

Hello! I’m so glad you’re enjoying it 😊

As for your question, I’m not totally sure right now. Originally when I started writing Bitter Allies I only planned out the storyline for the cabin and a few chapters after they get back. I don’t really have any ideas for like a sequel or other content.

However, if I were to make a sequel, I might try to follow along the MW2/MW3 storyline and add my own twist to it. A lot of my past stories I made have done just that.

It just kind of depends what I think up while I write the rest of Bitter Allies. If anyone has any ideas, I’ll be open to them 😊

Thanks for asking 🫶

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 14: The Cabin: Day 5 (pt. 5)

Summary: You and Soap go fishing, have some nice conversations, and get a little wet. Things seem to be changing between you.

Word Count: 8,311

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, strong language, animal death, fluff, mentions of poor past relationships

A/N: New chapter for you!! This one’s a little longer and full of nice moments 😊 Let me know if you’d like to be added to the Taglist!

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Bitter Allies • Part 14

By the time you'd gotten back to the cabin, you estimated it was nearing 1400-1500 hours. The sun was just beginning to move closer to the horizon, but there was still plenty of daylight left for fishing.

After dropping the backpack off inside, you found yourself back out in the woods looking for sticks that were both long enough and sturdy enough to fish with. So far you haven't had much luck. The sticks were either too rotted, too heavy, not long enough, or too flimsy.

Sighing softly, you toss another stick that turned out to be a dud to the ground. This one looked decent but felt a little too rotted. And sure enough, when it hits the ground, it snaps off about a fourth of the stick, making it too short now.

You grumble to yourself in frustration, continuing on with your search. You weren't expecting to catch any fish right away, but you honestly thought the preparation would be going a little faster than this.

Coming across yet another stick, you bend down to pick it up. This one actually feels sturdy and is a decent shape. You instantly start to get excited and hold it to show Soap.

"Hey! Would this work?" You ask, pulling him away from his own search momentarily.

He was a few yards away, searching out in the opposite direction that you had been. It doesn't look like he's found anything yet either. At least his hands are empty as he walks over to you to check out the potential spear. He glances it over really quick before taking it from you to inspect it closer.

"It's a little on the heavy side." He says, bouncing it a little bit in his hands to test out the weight. "If it's too heavy then you won't be able to thrust it fast enough to spear any fish. But I might be able to whittle away some of the weight to make it work."

"So does that mean it's good?" You ask slowly, hopefully. Any progression towards getting your fish dinner would be nice.

Soap chuckles softly and gives you a nod. "Yeah, this'll work. I'll start prepping it if you want to keep looking." He says, walking over to a nearby tree stump and sitting down.

You're grinning to yourself excitedly as Soap takes a seat on the stump. You only needed to find one more stick, maybe two if you wanted a backup, and then you'd out in the water.

Before you go back to searching though, you take a second to watch Soap as he lays the stick across his lap and as he pulls the knife from his pocket. He flicks it open with a practiced ease and gets to work on getting one of the ends into a sharp point. He's working quick enough that it looks like he's done something like this before.

"Where did you learn to fish this way?" You ask as you resume looking for suitable sticks.

Soap hums softly in thought, making three swipes with the knife before answering. "I think it was Price who showed me this way. Back a few years ago when I first joined up."

"Of course it was." You giggle. You could totally see Price being the kind of guy who liked to fish.

It was probably because of the boonie hat that he was always wearing.

“You do any fishing before that? The normal way with actual poles?" You ask, the question popping into your mind and leaving your lips without much thought.

Soap pauses mid-swipe, his knife hovering just above the wood. It's a brief moment, gone almost as quickly as it comes, but you catch the subtle hesitation before he resumes his work.

"Yeah... I used to go quite a bit with my dad." He answers slowly, returning to a steady pattern of swipes with the knife. "When I was young I remember going out a few times a month with him to go fishing. He was really into it, but after my mum died, I don't think we ever went again."

You stop your search for a moment to frown over at him. His eyes are glued to the stick he's working on though. You're having trouble reading him, not sure if this is a sensitive topic for him or not. He looked a little tense, but you can't tell if that's from the topic of your conversation or because he's hunched over whittling at a stick.

"Do you miss it?" You ask slowly, trying to keep up your search, but you're a little distracted now.

"Miss what?" Soap asks, finally glancing up at you. "Fishing? Not really." He shrugs, gaze dropping back down, the knife continuing its steady rhythm against the wood.

You frown a little bit. That wasn't really what you'd been asking. "I guess I meant it more like do you miss fishing with your dad." You elaborate.

"Oh, no. Maybe when I was a kid, but no. Don't really miss it now."

His response comes so quickly, so bluntly, that it catches you off guard. There's no hesitation, no flicker of emotion, just a flat dismissal. The ease with which he brushes it off makes you pause and take a moment to think over his response. You'd figured Soap and his dad must have been close, especially given how he spoke about his mom, but now you realize that might not be the case.

"Are you and your dad still close?" You ask softly, your search for sticks now completely forgotten for the time being.

Soap continued on with indifference though, pausing only to turn the spear over a few times to inspect his work. He was mostly done. The only thing that remained was to take off some spots that had the potential for causing splinters.

"No, we had a... falling out? I guess you could call it that." He says, blowing a quick puff on air onto the spear before shaving away at one spot.

You hesitate, trying to find the right words to respond. The way he brushes it off so casually leaves you a bit uneasy, but confident enough to keep asking about it. He didn't seem too upset by the topic.

"Falling out?" You echo, raising an eyebrow curiously. "What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

Soap's expression tightens just a fraction, the subtle shift the only sign that this topic is more difficult for him than he's letting on. You regret asking now.

His eyes remain locked on the spear, and the silence stretches uncomfortably between you. For a moment, you wonder if he'll respond at all, and you're on the verge of reassuring him that he doesn't have to say anything. But just as you're about to speak, he breaks the silence.

"It's... complicated." He sighs, his tone carefully tight and neutral. "Kinda a long story. Not a great one. Let's just say a lot changed after my mum died."

He's getting more tense more. You can see his shoulders stiffen and the once smooth swipes of his knife become rougher, more forceful. Whatever happened between Soap and his father, it clearly left behind a deep, lingering anger.

"Alright. Yeah, we don't have to talk about it." You say gently, giving him a reassuring half smile even though he wasn't currently looking at you to notice it.

"So uh.. how many sticks do you think we'll need? Do you think two will be good enough?" You want to steer the conversation away from the topic that had clearly made him uncomfortable.

It seemed to actually work too. The second you get off the topic of Soap's dad, he seems to relax, his shoulders dropping.

"Should probably do three just in case one breaks or something." He says, sitting upright and rolling his shoulders out. It looked as though he was getting rid of any remaining stress. "You find anymore yet? This one is just about done."

He holds it up, showing off his work. One end of the stick looks extremely sharp, and he's done a good job at shaving off parts of the stick to make it more comfortable to hold and use.

The whole time he's been working, you'd been distracted by your conversation. You had yet to find another one, but you also haven't looked very hard. Forcing your feet to leave the spot they'd been firmly planted at, you start trekking back through the area to look for more sticks.

"No, not yet. Most of the stuff here is pretty rotted." It sounds like an excuse, but you're also not completely lying. Most of the options thus far had been rotten.

Then of course you just happen to find a perfect candidate the second those words leave your lips. "Oh, wait, here's one." You bend down to pick it up.

Soap laughs softly, and you miss that he rolls his eyes a little bit. He was fully aware you hadn't even been looking. "Well bring it over. Just one more to go after this."

He sets the finished spear down next to the stump he's sitting on and holds out his hand as you bring the next stick to him. Setting it in his lap, he starts whittling away at it once more while you get back to looking for one more.

As he does, his mind drifts a bit, thinking back to his father and what happened. His hand tightens on the handle of the knife, but he forces himself to relax. He doesn't want to be angry.

It's been a while since he's had to think about the things that happened in his past. The longer he's out here, the more stuff seems to come up—things he's buried deep for a reason. It's not something he really wants to think about... if he can help it.

He clears his throat, shaking off his thoughts and looking back to you. "So States, you uh... you ever been fishing before?"

Your face lights up when he asks that, and you start to ramble on about how you grew up in the city, so you didn't have the chance to go often, but you went once with your grandpa. A whole retelling of the trip occurs after that, and Soap just listens on with a smile on his face.

***

You're sitting in the grassy patch near the lake out behind the cabin, removing your socks and stuffing them safely inside of your shoes. Soap is already out in the water, spear in hand, but he hasn't waded too far out yet. He's standing right along the shoreline, just enough for his toes to be fully submerged, waiting for you to join him.

"Steaming Jesus, for someone who was rushing me through making that last spear, you sure are slow as hell all of a sudden." He grumbles, looking back at you with a somewhat impatient look on his face.

You shoot him a look as you roll your pants up a bit higher. "That's because I'm not just tossing my stuff around like that." You say, nodding toward his shoes, which are haphazardly kicked off with his socks inside-out and scattered randomly nearby. "You know honestly it's hard to believe you're in the military with how messy you are sometimes."

Soap scoffs at you. "I'm not messy." He claims, but you just fold your arms across your chest and raise an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah? What about the suitcase in our room?"

The suitcase had remained unpacked by him. While you had neatly arranged your belongings in the dresser drawers, Soap hadn't unpacked a single item. Whenever he needed something, he'd dig it out, wear it or use it, and then by the end of the day, whatever he'd taken out was returned to the suitcase, tossed back into the growing pile that filled the entire bag.

"What about it?" Soap asks defensively. "That's not messy."

You can only drop your jaw at him, eyebrows raised in shock. "What do you mean that's not messy? It's just a big pile. You haven't put anything away since we got here."

"Better than it being on the floor. Besides, I see no need to unpack if we're only gonna be out here a week."

You scoff, shaking your head as you finish rolling up your other pant leg. "You could at least organize your stuff a little. That's all I'm saying."

Soap shrugs nonchalantly, waving a hand as if to dismiss the topic. "Eh, whatever. Just get your ass over here already before all the fish turn in for the night." He says, turning back to look out into the water to see if he can spot an area where they might be gathering.

Rolling your eyes, you push yourself up from the ground and grab your spear. The sun glimmers on the water, the wind creating gentle ripples on the surface. Despite the warm rays bearing down on you, the water is cool. As you step in, a shiver runs along your spine as the water laps against your bare feet.

The bottom of the lake is rather smooth, but there are a few sharp rocks that poke up into the bottoms of your feet. As long as you walk slowly though, it doesn't bother you too much. It's something you've gotten used to in your time here and during the few baths you've taken.

Soap looks back over his shoulder at you when he hears you enter the water, waiting until you're closer to him before he starts to wade out a little farther. "Come on, we're gonna have to go out a little deeper for bigger fish. Small ones probably aren't going to be worth catching."

"Alright, I'm coming." You call out, taking a few steps farther into the water.

When you get a little deeper into the water, you suddenly pause. There's a slight prickle at the back of your neck that makes you turn and reflexively glance back at the shoreline.

Last time you'd been out in the water, you'd been attacked by a bear. While you had managed to face your fear directly earlier, that didn't mean that the urge to check your surrounds to make sure it was safe was entirely gone. That urge would most likely always be there to some degree. It was just more manageable now.

When Soap doesn't hear the sounds of the water splashing behind him anymore, indicating that you weren't following him, he stops and looks back. You were still standing in the more shallow waters, staring off back towards the shoreline.

"Oi, States!" He calls out to get your attention. "You good?"

His voice pulls you out of your own head, and you jump a little bit as your gaze snaps back to his. You quickly try to shake off any remnants of fear and try to remind yourself everything was fine. Even if a bear did show up, you knew how to make it go away.

"Yep! Coming." You call back, trying to quickly catch up to him without making the water slosh too much.

Soap waits patiently for you to join him, his brows furrowed the slightly and eyes following your every movement. "Everything alright?" He asks again once you've caught up.

"Yeah." You nod dismissively, giving him a slight shrug.

You're about to just move past him, head out into deeper waters where the fish are going to be, but then suddenly Soap grabs your arm. The quick motion makes your heart leap in your chest, and the unexpectedness of it forces you stop in your track and look at him.

His eyes are sharp, analytical, and his grip on your arm is firm, but not painful. He pulls you closer, giving your arm a little tug, and your heart seems to start racing as you move closer to him.

"No bullshite. What's up?" He asks, eyes not leaving yours for a second. "Are you still worried about the whole bear thing?"

You honestly hadn't expected him to notice anything, let alone address it so directly, but the reply flies quickly off your tongue.

"No." You answer, shaking your head, but then think better of it. "Well, thinking about it, yes. Worried? Not as much as I was. It's just... It's still on my mind, just not as present." You try to explain. The fear is more of a shadow now, a subtle unease that lingers at the edges of your thoughts. More manageable.

"In other words, I'm fine. I'll be alright." You try to summarize. "Just can't completely turn it off."

Soap remains silent, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes you more nervous than the thought of another bear showing up. His gaze is so unwavering, so focused, that it feels like it's seeing right through you.

The longer he holds your gaze, the more your chest tightens, as if the air around you has thinned. You find yourself wanting to hold your breath, unsure if it's his concern or something else that's making your pulse quicken. Then he nods, a soft hum of acceptance leaving his lips.

"If being out here gets to be too much, just say the word. You've done a lot today, and I don't want to push you too much." His words cause an unexpectedly warm sensation to fill your chest, and your breath almost hitches when he squeezes your arm. "Deal?" He raises his brows, almost like he was saying he expected an answer.

"Mhmm." You hum, giving him a nod. You don’t want to rely on words right now. You don’t trust your voice.

Soap gives you a nod back, seemingly satisfied with your response. "Alright then." He mutters, his posture becoming more relaxed. His hand drops from your arm, and you notice there is a warm tingle left behind where he'd been touching you. "You ready to catch some dinner?"

You feel a sigh leaves your lips as you nod. You hadn't even realized you'd been holding your breath. "Yeah, let's get going." You add quickly, trying to hide your sudden nerves behind a smile.

Soap either doesn't notice anything or he just doesn't care enough to. He just gives you a single nod back and then turns and continues walking. You follow after him, moving slower the higher the water gets.

You stop when the water comes up just a few inches above your knees. For Soap the water was only to his knees, but he was taller than you. The area isn't too far from the shoreline, and the water is a little cloudy from you kicking up the dirt at the bottom of the lake.

"We'll try here first." Soap says, coming to a stop. "Get into a stance that's comfortable cause you're going to be holding it for quite a while."

"How long?" You ask curiously, adjusting your feet shoulder width apart. It was the most comfortable stance you can think of. Almost like parade rest, which is a stance you'd gotten used to holding for hours thanks to basics.

"However long it takes for the fish to move into this area." Soap answers, adjusting his own stance as well. He holds the spear with a loose grip, the tip lowered toward the water, but there's no tension. His fingers grip the stick lightly, though he is ready to snap the spear up in an instant if he sees something.

You try to mimic the way he's holding his spear. This is your first time doing something like this, and as simple as it sounds, it was going to be difficult to move fast enough to be able to snag a fish. They were quick and used to responding to the most minute movements.

"Am I doing this right?" You ask, making Soap glance over at you. He observes your posture and then leans over, tapping softly at your hand closer to the butt end of the spear.

"Move this hand back just a little. No, too far. Right there." He says, grabbing at your hand and moving it into position when you move it too much. "Perfect. Leave it like that." He holds up his hand, making a gesture to not move it, and then turns his gaze back to the water.

"Cool, thanks." You mutter, shifting back into your "ready to strike" stance. Your eyes are trained on the water, looking for any signs of movements, but the water is still very murky.

"What kind of fish do you think are even in this lake?" You ask absentmindedly, mostly just asking to help pass the time.

Soap shrugs a bit, his eyes not leaving the water. "Maybe cod? Not really sure. We probably shouldn't talk though. It might scare them off and keep them from swimming over here."

"Oh, sorry." You whisper, pressing your lips together.

Not being able to talk was going to make time pass by so slowly. For a long time, you just stare at the water, but that soon gets really boring. You try to distract yourself by looking up every now and then to look at the scenery around you, but that doesn't keep you occupied for long either.

Soon enough, you're sure at least ten minutes has passed. The water is clear now, but you still don't see any signs of fish. Your back is starting to hurt a bit from staying in the same posture for so long, and you find yourself trying to slowly roll out your shoulders to help ease the discomfort.

You glance over at Soap, wondering if he's feeling the same tension in his back that you were. If he was though, you can't tell. He hasn't moved a muscle since you both went silent, and he doesn't look like he's too uncomfortable yet.

Sighing softly, you relax your stance a bit. "Soap, maybe we should try a different area? There doesn't seem to be any fish over here." You whisper. It'd been quiet for so long it almost felt weird to talk.

Instead of answering you with words, Soap holds up his fist. You're a little confused at first, brows furrowing slightly, but then he points over to a spot a little off to his right.

"Over there. I think there's three or four of them. Wait until they get close." Soap whispers, his eyes not leaving the spot he's looking at.

Your eyes widen, and you quickly, but carefully, get back into your stance from earlier. All the pains from earlier are now gone with the new excitement you feel. You look over to the area where Soap pointed to, looking for the fish, but you can't see anything. Just a glint of sunlight on the water's surface.

"I don't see them." You whisper, eyes still scanning the water. Soap silently points again, his finger tracking their movement. You try to follow to where he's pointing at, and after a few seconds, you finally spot them—shadows just beneath the surface, moving slowly toward you.

You hum softly to let Soap know you can see them now, and his hand slowly returns to his spear. You see him coil up just slightly, shoulders tensed and ready to snap. He's almost like a loaded gun, just a trigger squeeze away from firing.

"When they're close enough, I'll count down." He whispers, his voice steady. "You go for the one closest to you."

You nod, your own muscles beginning to tense up with anticipation. Your heart is starting to pound a little in your chest from the sudden adrenaline, and you find yourself holding your breath. You feel like you're looking down the scope of a sniper rifle, trying to steady your aim so you can land the perfect shot.

"Ok get ready…” Soap whispers. “One... two... three."

When Soap says three, he snaps like a spring lock. The movement is so quick it feels like his spear was already in the water before you even had the chance to move. You did go the same time as him though, snapping your spear down with all the force you can muster. You feel it hit the bottom of the lake, water splashing up as you do. All the commotion also causes the first to stir up again, so you can't even tell if you've gotten anything or not. 

Soap quickly reaches down into the water, hand searching for only a second before a big grin spreading across his face. "I got one!" He laughs victoriously, pulling a fish up out of the water by its tail, the spear pierced right through its gills. "You get yours, States?" He asks, grunting a bit as the fish thrashes around.

"I'm not sure." You say, almost scared to reach blindly into the water. You've never touched a fish before, so you're a little hesitant. You can't feel anything moving at the end of your spear though.

"Let's have a look." Soap says, taking a step closer and reaching down to feel around. By now the fish on his spear has slid down a ways, so there was no way it was going to be able to wriggle off.

He follows the wooden shaft of the spear down, and your eyes dart between his face and the water, hoping he'd pull something out. After a few seconds, his hand comes back up out of the water empty.

"Nothing down there." He confirms, flicking the water off his hand a little bit.

"Dammit." You curse, frowning a bit as you withdraw your spear from the water. "I thought for sure I'd gotten it."

Soap chuckles softly, giving your shoulder a pat. His hand was still wet and leaves a little wet patch behind. "Ah, come on. You'll get it next time. Let's go put this one out of its misery and then we can try again, yeah? Gonna need a few anyways."

You pout over at him, not too happy that you didn't also catch a fish, but the look of joy on Soap's face makes your pout vanish instantly. His eyes were practically sparking as he looks proudly at the fish he caught. You find yourself smiling at him instead, a laugh bubbling in your chest.

"How many are you planning on catching?" You chuckle, turning and walking with him back to the shoreline.

"If they're all this size," he says, holding up his spear a little. "Then I could probably eat like four of them."

You watch the fish flop around, noting its size. It's not particularly large—maybe eight to ten inches long—and you're not even sure what kind of fish it is. It has brown scales and a white underbelly. You can't imagine catching anything much bigger in this lake.

"If you want to spend time catching four for yourself, knock yourself out." You chuckle, stepping up onto the shore. The dirt and sand stick to your feet. "I might actually catch one by the time you get to four."

Soap rolls his eyes, sliding the fish off his spear and holding it by the gills. "You'll get one next time. It's your first time fishing like this. Don't be so hard on yourself." He pulls out his knife as he talks, jabbing it into the head of the fish to kill it and then slicing the gills to start bleeding it out. Even though you're on the military and see death a lot, you still have to look away as he does.

"We'll see." You sigh, looking back out to the lake. "Are we going to the same spot?"

"Nah, we should probably try somewhere else. Let me finish prepping this fish and then we can head out again. Unless you want to try a spot. Might have better luck catching something without me catching in the same area." He suggests.

You nod, mostly cause you don't really want to hang around as he guts the fish. Plus you know that fish don’t stay fresh for very long after you kill them, so the faster you can get a couple and cook them, the better.

"I'll head back out. Try to get a head start." You joke, glancing back down at Soap and wincing as he slices open the belly.

"Alright, catch up with you in a bit." Soap says, his focus solely on the fish before him now.

You grimace just a little before turning and head back out into the water, searching for another spot to fish.

***

You've been standing in the same spot for what feels like an eternity, though it's only been about fifteen minutes. Twice you've had a chance to spear a fish, but both times you missed. It's frustrating, especially since you've watched Soap haul two more fish back to shore in that time.

You're starting to wonder what you're doing wrong. Is it your aim, the timing, or something else?

The water laps quietly around your ankles, the stillness almost mocking your lack of success. You try to focus, adjusting your stance and grip on the spear.

Another fish is swimming towards you, gliding slowly through the water. Taking a deep breath and holding it, you wait until it's close enough, then thrust the spear down as fast as you can. The water splashes up around you, and you can hear the fish's tail flick up above the surface. But when everything settles, you still just have an empty spear.

"Fuck!" You yell out. It was a little louder than you intended it to be, the sound seeming to echo across the small alcove you found yourself in. Now you would have to move into another area, wait ten minutes for a fish to swim over, and try again.

As you pull your spear free and wipe off the little bits of sediment that were left on it still, you can hear a soft chuckle behind you. Turning in irritation, you send a glare over to Soap, who was leaning up against a tree and watching you. How long he'd been there, you don't know, but he had seen you miss apparently.

"Did it get away from ya?" He asks, his arms crossed and spear still in hand. His feet looked dry though, so you assume he's just finished gutting one and is just returning for another trip.

"Does it look like I got it?" You raise your brows at him. "This is fucking hard."

Soap chuckles again, clearly amused by your misery. "It's not that hard, lass."

"Says the guy who's caught three already."

"Four, actually." He corrects you, which makes your jaw drop. When did he get four? You swear you've only seen him make two trips.

"What the fuck?! How are you getting so many?"

Soap shrugs, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You just stab them when they get close." You give him a look at his horrible advice, which only makes his smirk widen. You wish you could wipe that smirk off his face somehow.

"I've been doing that." You grumble, about to further complain, but then Soap's eyes leave yours, darting down to the water.

"There's another one swimming up to you now." Soap says, nodding indistinctly towards the water.

Your attention snaps back to the water, searching for the fish that Soap spotted. It takes a moment, but then you see it—the dark shape gliding just beneath the surface, moving slowly past you. You steady your stance, grip tightening on the spear as you line up the shot.

Then you move, a splash erupting around you, and you feel a brief resistance—but when you reach into the water to try and retrieve the fish, it's already darting away.

"Damn it!" You exclaim, frustration bubbling up as the water settles back into calmness. You're tired and hungry, you just want to catch something—anything, even if it's just a tiny fish.

Soap lets out a soft huff, the grin still plastered to his face. He's having fun watching you fail. "Need some help there, lass?" He offers, a teasing note in his voice.

You shoot him a glare, crossing your arms over your chest. "I don't need help." You grumble defensively, though it doesn't seem to faze him in the slightest.

“Right." He chuckles, turning the tip of his spear down and driving it into the dirt. "Let me show you something that might help." He says, carefully stepping down into the water and making his way over to you.

You sigh and fold your arms across your chest but withhold your protests. As much as it pained you to admit, a few pointers might be nice. You were willing to do anything at this point it if meant you'd finally catch something. That doesn't mean you don't fully intent on giving Soap a hard time about it though.

Soap ignores your expression, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considers the best way to help you. "Alright, first things first," he begins, stepping closer. "You need to wait until the fish is in a good range before you to strike. You'll be faster and more accurate if you hit it at the right angle. My speed at a forty-five degree angle is much faster than like ninety."

He makes the thrusting motions with a ghost spear, acting out how he would move for each angle he's talking about. You felt like you had a pretty good angle you were moving at, so that couldn't be the problem. Still, you nod along as Soap explains, letting him continue.

"Next, when you drive the spear forward, use the hand at butt of the spear to control the thrust." He takes a step closer to you, the water sloshing around him as he does. He takes your hand and places it on the spear, positioning it exactly where he wants it.

"That's where all the power comes from—it gives you that snap you need." He continues, his eyes meeting yours briefly. His voice is a little lower now that he's closer. "The hand up front," he pauses to grab your other hand for emphasis. "That's what guides it. So keep the hand at the front steady and loose so you can guide it, and the back one firm. Got it?"

You half glance towards your spear, looking at the way Soap has placed your hands. His are still right next to yours, holding it with you. "Yeah, I think I got it." You answer him.

"Good. Lastly," Soap lets go of the spear, and before you can even react, he's directly behind you, arms wrapped around you while he grabs ahold of the spear again.

Your eyes widen, and you know you have to be blushing. Your heart is pounding too hard in your chest for you to not be. Then you feel his chest against your back, and your stomach practically flips. It's the same feeling you had last night in your dream when...

You shake your head, trying to immediately erase that thought and focus on what Soap was saying instead. It's hard though when his lips are practically against your ear, making your thoughts just spiral more. 

"When you aim for the fish, remember that water bends light. The fish isn't exactly where it looks like it is. You need to aim slightly lower than where you think. So for example... do you see that rock?" He says, pausing momentarily while he searched for something to use as practice.

You nod, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart as you focus on the rock he's pointing out. "Yep. I see it."

"Pretend that rock is a fish." He instructs. "Now, if you were aiming directly at it, you'd miss. You've got to aim just below it. Like this." He guides your hands, tilting the spear just a fraction lower than where the rock appears and then pushing it forward. When it hits the bottom, instead of sinking into the sandy lake bottom, it hits the hard surface of the rock instead.

"Huh." You breath. No wonder you'd been missing every single time. You had been aiming right for the fish, not below where you should have been. Knowing this right off the bat would have solved so many problems.

Soap chuckles softly, trying to lean around you a bit to see your face better. "You were aiming right at the fish this whole time, weren't you?" He asks. You don’t need to see his face to know he’s grinning.

You huff and stand back up, turning around in his hold. When he doesn’t let go of your hips right away, you press your hand into his chest and push him away.

“Of course I was! Who just thinks about that when it's their first time spear fishing?" You argue back, starting to feel just a little defensive.

Soap's chuckle deepens, a low rumble in his chest. "Guess I just assumed you knew." He shrugs. "It's just like sniping, I thought it'd be second nature to you."

"Sniping is nothing like this!" You argue, crossing your arms. "With sniping, your target is far away, not just a few feet below you. And if it was, you'd just aim directly at it."

"Fair point," Soap concedes, holding his hands up in surrender. "I thought of it more like when you're a sniper, you notice subtle things, like light reflection, that might change how you aim."

You huff again, rolling your eyes. "Well, maybe if you'd mentioned that earlier, I wouldn't have missed so many times."

Soap's grin only widens. "Oh, but where's the fun in that, lass? I've got to admit, it's been pretty entertaining watching you throw a little fit every time you miss."

"Is that so?" You challenge, narrowing your eyes at him. The playful smirk on his face only fuels your irritation.

You'd been out here all day, and Soap hadn't thought to say a word until now about what could have caused your lack of success. And now he was laughing about it and calling it entertaining?

"Absolutely, hen. It's down right adorable when you're piss- h-hey!"

Before he can finish, without a second thought, you reach down and scoop up a handful of water, splashing it right at him. Soap holds his hands up to block the onslaught of water, but it doesn't help much to stop it.

"States! What the fuck?" He grumbles, looking back at you with an angry expression. He had a few drops running down the side of his face, dripping down onto the collar of his shirt, which was also dotted with some wet spots now.

You can't help it. While he stands there, looking annoyed, a giggle escapes your lips, quickly followed by more as you shrug innocently. "Just creating some more entertainment." You say, the laughter bubbling up uncontrollably now.

Soap narrows his eyes at you, and before you can react, he's scooping up an even larger wave and splashing you right back. You shriek as the cold water hits you, making the giggles cease. The wave he'd sent over was much bigger than the one you did. The entire side of your shirt was soaked now.

You stand there for a moment in shock, staring down at the water and watching the little ripples that form on the surface as droplets drip off your face. When your gaze flicks back up to Soap, he's smirking again, soft chuckles leaving his lips.

You glare at him, skin starting to prickle up as a small breeze blows by. Never one to back down and let Soap win whatever dispute you were having, you quickly splash him again, wanting to wipe that smirk right off his face.

It takes him by surprise this time, hitting him square in the chest. He gasps a little, and you hold your hands over your mouth. You hadn't meant to splash him that much, he was soaked now.

Instantly his laughter stops, and you're both frozen, just staring at each other. Then Soap's face shifts into a little scowl, and you know you shouldn't have splashed him again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't meant to splash you that much." You say quickly, but it does nothing. Soap's muscles tense just slightly, and that's all the warning you need.

You don't think—you just run.

The water slows you down significantly, splashing up around your legs as you push through it. You can hear the intense splashing behind you as Soap runs after you, and for whatever reason, laughter starts to bubble in you.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You cry out between nervous giggles, not quite sure what Soap was going to do once he caught you, and you were sure he would. For one, your legs were shorter than his, which meant more resistance from the water. And second, Soap was faster than you in general.

"Soap please! I didn't mean it! I'm sorry!" You pled again, risking a glance back over your shoulder.

He's right behind you. You scream and try to dart to the side, but it's too late. He grabs you, and in one fluid motion, he pulls you toward him. The impact sends you both falling, but as you head towards the water, Soap twists at the last second, taking the brunt of the fall himself.

You both plunge into the water with a splash, the cool liquid enveloping you entirely for a brief moment. The shallow depth allows you to quickly sit up, and you gasp for air as you resurface. Water cascades down your face, and once you've taken a breath, laughter starts to pour out of you uncontrollably. Soap is still beneath you, the two of you tangled together in a mess of limbs and soaked clothes.

You're laughing so hard you can barely breathe, your stomach aching from it. "Soap, I'm—" you try to apologize through your giggles, but the words fail. Instead, you attempt to push yourself up, but your limbs feel weak from laughter, and it's a little slippery, making it a futile effort. You just end up twisting around clumsily and straddling him instead, your shoulders shaking with breathless amusement.

Soap wipes the water off his face as his pops up, and once he gets his bearings, he starts to laugh too. Instinctively, he grabs ahold of your hips to steady you as you turn around and slip into his lap. You grab ahold of his shoulders, still laughing as you look down at him.

Droplets cling to his eyelashes, and his usually styled hair is plastered messily to his forehead. His eyes crinkle at the sides, and his smile is so contagious as he laughs.

"Think you're funny, do you?" He teases, the laughter in his voice betraying any attempt at seriousness.

"Maybe just a little." You manage to gasp out, still giggling as you start to your breath.

Soap shakes his head, a soft smile curving his lips as his grip on your hips tightens ever so slightly. "You're a menace, States."

There's something in the way he says it—playful but warm. Your giggles start to fade, and for a moment, you're just sitting there, looking at him, still breathing heavy from exertion and laughter. For the first time you notice the subtle flecks of green amidst the blue in his eyes.

Soap is staring right back at you, and you almost don't realize it until you feel his hand against your cheek, brushing back the wet strands of hair that cling to the side of your face.

Your heart skips in your chest, and a warmth starts to spread through you, making you forgot that you're sitting in cold water. "You bring it out in me." You chuckle, earning a smile from Soap in return.

He laughs softly, shaking his head just a little bit. "Oh, so I'm a bad influence now? Guess you should stay away from me then." 

"Well, you're not so bad to be around." You say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

The words hang in the air, and Soap's smile falters, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

The space between you seems to be getting smaller, cause suddenly, you can feel his breath against your lips. The warm and steady puffs mingle with your own, and your pulse starts to quicken. You can't tell who is pulling towards who.

You don't know who makes the final move, but suddenly his lips are on yours—firm, warm, and insistent. The world around you melts away, the cool water forgotten as you deepen the kiss, melting into his soft warm lips.

His one arm slowly wraps around you, the other one staying behind him to keep you both propped up. He pulls you towards him, thumb brushing your hip as you wiggle a little closer.

Your hands move from gripping his shoulders to gently resting on the sides of his neck. Your thumbs brush lazily along his jaw, which draws out a very soft, almost mute, hum from him.

There's a quiet desperation in the way you both move, as if this kiss had been building for longer than either of you realized. You don't know how you keep circling back to this. Caught between trying to set a boundary but consistently overstepping it. Even now, you know somewhere deep in your subconscious you shouldn't do this, but you can't seem to stop.

You feel teeth gently dig into your bottom lip, and you whimper, eyes fluttering open slightly. You see Soap, his eyes shut, and you can barely make out his lips as he pulls gently at yours.

He releases it and looks up at you, his eyes heavy, clouded with what you can only pin down as desire. You search for something to say, something to explain and make sense of what is happening between you, but you can't.

"We should probably stop." Soap says gently, though his eyes still hold that heavy, lingering gaze.

You nod a little, eyes not leaving his. "Yeah... probably." You agree, but you make no move to get up, and he makes no move to push you off him.

It's only when you shiver slightly that Soap seems to snap out of whatever daze he's in. His eyes soften quickly, and he smiles at you, a light chuckle leaving his lips. "Alright, let's get you out of this chilly water, hen."

You blink a little to clear your head and then nod again. "Yeah... yeah." You chuckle softly, only now realizing how cold the water is making you. "Guess I am getting a little cold."

Just as you're about to shift off his lap, intending to create some much-needed distance, Soap suddenly stands up, bringing you with him. You yelp in surprise, instinctively wrapping your arms and legs around him as he lifts you effortlessly out of the water. His arms tighten around you, pulling you close against his chest, his body radiating warmth despite the cool water dripping off both of you.

"Soap! What are you doing?" You laugh, clutching onto him as he strides through the water.

"Getting you out of the water, obviously." He teases, his voice light as he carries you effortlessly toward land.

You lean back slightly to you can look at him, raising a brow at him. "I can walk, you know." You're trying to be serious, but you can't hide the laugh in your tone.

"Yeah, I know. But this is more fun." Soap winks, a playful grin on his face as he reaches the edge of the water. It makes your cheeks burn slightly, and you hope he doesn't notice.

As he steps onto solid ground, he begins to lower you down. Your legs unwrap from around his hips, and your body slides against his as you come down. The sensation sends a shiver through you that has nothing to do with the cold clinging to your skin.

You expect him to let go immediately, but he doesn't. His hands stay on your hips, keeping you close to him, and you make no effort to pull away from him.

"There you go." He says softly, a hint of a smile still lingering on his face.

You continue to stand there and roll your eyes at him. "Thanks for the assist." You joke, unable to keep your chuckle down.

Soap smiles back at you, chuckling softly himself. "Anytime, hen." He hums, his eyes suddenly flicking down away from yours. He pauses for a moment, and you wonder what’s running through his head. What he’s thinking about.

“We should see if we can get one fish more before we start cooking.” He says instead, finally looking back up. “But you should probably change first. I can see your tits."

It takes a second for his words to fully register, but when they do, your gaze quickly snaps down. Sure enough, you can see practically everything through your wet shirt. The water makes your shirt cling to your body. Even though it's a darker colored shirt, you can still see the outline of your bra, and the dip of the valley between your breasts.

You gasp and quickly cross your arms to shield yourself, which only makes Soap laugh. The bastard had just been staring at your chest this whole time. You glare at him, your face practically feeling like it's on fire.

"You ass! And here I thought we were having a nice moment!"

Soap laughs harder. "It was very nice for me." He shrugs, earning himself a firm punch to his shoulder, one that he gladly takes.

@the-faceless-bride @venavanup @hotthankss @daemondoll

[mphoenix-7]

Hi there! I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing?

Hello Anon!

I’m doing well, thank you for asking 😊 I’m always a little tired since I work 10 hour days, but life is good! I’ve been trying to figure out a good balance between writing, work, and rest, and I think I’ve got a good system figured out now.

Also happy to say that a new chapter for Bitter Allies will be out hopefully (🤞🏻) tonight!! Just need to write the end of the chapter and edit it.

I hope you’re doing well Anon! Thanks for the ask 🥰❤️🫶🏻

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 13: The Cabin: Day 5 (pt. 4)

Summary: Soap takes you to a special place he’s found during your five days at the Cabin. You sit, eat, and talk about your pasts a little bit. Soap opens up more than you expect, and you share some stuff about your past too.

Word Count: 6,511

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, strong language, mentions of death, slightly descriptive mentions of death, car accident, trauma, sweet moments

A/N: Time for a little bonding between you and Soap. More to follow ☺️😉 Also, a Taglist has been added! Please comment on if you’d like to be added to it! Thanks for reading 🫶🏻

Masterlist | <- Previous | Next ->

Bitter Allies • Part 13

The place Soap had in mind for lunch turned out to be absolutely beautiful. A small clearing opened up before you, with a crystal-clear stream winding through it. In one spot, the water pooled gently, forming a small, serene pond. Reeds and wildflowers grew in abundance around the water’s edge, their vibrant colors adding a touch of whimsy to the scene. Only a few trees dotted the clearing, allowing plenty of sunlight to stream through, casting a warm and inviting glow over the area.

The second you walk to the spot, you have to stop to really take it all in. As cliche as it sounded, the spot really was breathing taking. It makes you sad to think that it’s been here the whole time, and you’re just now finding out about this spot on day five.

“Wow…” You breathe, Soap stopping a few steps ahead of you to wait for you to finish taking it all in. “It’s so pretty. How on earth did find this place?” You ask, eyes still trained on the scene ahead as you resume your walking.

“It was the first day we got here. After our big blow up at each other, I went exploring to cool off and just happened to stumble upon it by chance.” He answers. “Come on, the best spot to sit is over here.��

You let him take the lead again, noticing the path you were following looked like it had been walked on before. A lot of the tall grasses and other shrubs were in disarray or broken.

It wouldn’t surprise you if Soap had frequented this place throughout the five days you’ve been here. There were a lot of opportunities for him to get angry and want to storm off somewhere to cool down. This was quite the place to cool down too. You wouldn’t blame him for wanting to come here.

The path Soap was following lead right up the stream. Once you’re right next to him at the edge of the water, Soap glances over at you. “We can cross here. Just be careful cause these rocks can get a little slippery. Especially that speckled one.”

“What? Why are we crossing? Can’t we just stay on this side?” You question him, looking back to the gentle stream. Although it’s not particularly wide or deep, you’d need to take a couple of steps through the water to get across. You notice a few rocks scattered across the stream that could serve as stepping stones, but the prospect of crossing seemed unnecessary.

Soap shrugs a bit. “I mean we could, but there’s a clearing that’s just tall grass right by the water on the other side.” He points out the space he was talking about. “It’s a nice spot. Just trust me.”

You hum softly in thought, debating on if it’s worth the risk of falling in. It wasn’t like the stream would sweep you away or you’d drown—it’d just make for a cold, soggy walk back to the cabin. Even then, it was quite warm out today, so there was a good chance you wouldn’t even be that cold.

You go back and forth in your mind for a little longer before just giving in and agreeing. “Alright.” You sigh. “Better be super worth it, cause I’m risking falling in for it.”

Soap huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “States, if a big muscular guy like me can cross without falling in, I’m sure someone as slim and nimble as you can make it without a problem.

You gasp and dramatically slap a hand over your chest. “Wow, slim and nimble? I think that’s the closest thing to a compliment you’ve ever given me.” You tease, making Soap roll his eyes.

“I’ve complimented you plenty of times.” He grumbles as he turns to face the stream. He begins to cross the stream, his step placement confident looking. You can tell that he’s done this a few times now. Either that or the rocks were that slippery.

“Saying shit like, ‘you didn’t suck as much today’ does not count.” You call after him, watching as he shifts his weight so that he’s standing on two rocks.

He looks back at you, his brows pinched slightly and an indignant look on his face. “That totally counts.” He insists.

“That’s a back handed compliment at best.” You argue back, folding your arms over your chest as you watch him.

He raises a brow at you, almost mockingly. “Still a compliment though. And besides, that’s how all of us compliment each other.”

You can’t deny that. The 141 boys did have a habit of tossing around quips more than actual praise. Gaz was the exception. He didn’t do it as often, but even he had his moments. Still, you’ve received genuine compliments from Price when it was just the two of you, and Gaz gave them to you quite a bit. Ghost hardly ever did, but that was just Ghost.

“I’ve gotten real compliments from the others before.” You counter, finally stepping forward to place your foot on the first rock.

“Even Ghost?” Soap retorts, holding out his hand to help you balance while you get your footing. You take it, wobbling a bit until you get your other foot placed. Once you have your balance, you let go of Soap’s hand.

“Ghost doesn’t count. You’d be lucky if he insulted you.”

“Alright, I’ll give you that.” Soap laughs a little bit, easily stepping across the remaining stones and getting to the other side without a problem. He didn’t even so much as wobble.

You follow after him, holding out your arms to the side a bit to help you balance. You managed to get across though without falling in. It wasn’t that difficult to cross; the rocks were flat enough and they really weren’t too wet. The second your feet hit the grass on the other side, Soap is giving you a slow clap.

“Good job. You crossed and didn’t fall in. Gold star. How’s that for a compliment?” He teases, getting an eye roll.

“Oh fuck off.” You groan, giving him a shove. Soap laughs as you push him away, his arms coming up to shield himself as he stumbles a little away from you. “Just go back to not complimenting me. I think it was better that way.”

“If you insist.” He laughs. “Just remember that you told me that the next time you start whining about how I never say anything nice.”

Soap starts to lead the way once more, walking you over to the spot he’d been so insistent on going to. True to his word, it’s right by the water, nestled on a tiny mound that offers a perfect view of the stream below. A small waterfall that feeds into the pond adds a soothing backdrop of sound. The tall grass around the area is flattened, clear evidence that Soap has visited this place at least once before.

When you get there, Soap steps into the center of where all the grass is flattened and begins to stomp a little more down more around the edges to make room for you to sit. Once he’s done, he steps over to one side and motions for you to get comfortable in the spot he’s just made.

“There we go. Have a seat.” He says, dropping the backpack from his shoulders and setting it down in the grass before sitting himself.

You sit down slowly, surprised by how soft the grass feels beneath you. Being so close to the water, it’s lush and cool, not dried out or prickly like you’d expected. You could honestly take a nap here.

“I still can’t get over how beautiful it is out here. So different from base and deployments.” You say once you’re settled in.

The military base you were currently stationed at, like most others, was dominated by neutral tones and dark green colors. It was a familiar sight—most bases you’d been to had a similar aesthetic. The ones in America were mostly concrete and equipment, with gray dominating the landscape. The base you're at now does have patches of grass, but they’re poorly maintained, with dirt paths worn into them from the constant foot traffic of soldiers.

Then of course when it came to your deployments, half the time you went to places where it was mostly desert. If you did go to a place with a lot of natural greenery, then it was normally so war torn, with uprooted trees, tank tracks, and pits that people dug or ones created by frags, that it wasn’t very enjoyable. The other scenario was you were in a beautiful place but couldn’t enjoy it because you were being shot at.

This was a rare treat. The sounds of nature, no war in sight, no needing to be on high alert for snipers. Just time to sit back and enjoy the beauty of the world you hardly got to see. Even if at first this unscheduled vacation seemed like a death sentence, you were learning to enjoy it. At the very least, you could take back snippets of moments like this.

“Yeah,” Soap hums softly from where he’s seated. “It reminds me a little of Scotland.”

You glance over at him, taking notice of the faint smile on his face as he looks around at the little grassy meadow. He was thinking about his motherland. His home. There’s a longing in his eyes that you’d have to be blind to miss.

“How so?” You venture, wanting to hear more about where he came from. You were sure that Soap, ever the proud Scotsman, would have no problem gushing about Scotland. And you were right. The second the question leaves your lips, he seems to light up.

“All this lush, rolling grass, the gentle breeze, the fresh air, and the sound of the stream—it reminds me of the Highlands and the woods by my childhood home. We lived right outside of town, and our house sat on a hill, giving us the best view of the open land. Behind us, there were miles and miles of woods, covered in moss, with a stream running through it. It was bigger than this one, but the feel of it… it’s the same.”

He pauses, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he continues. “I spent so much time out there when I was a wee laddie. From sunup to sundown, I was always outside. My friends and I would climb trees, play all sorts of game, build forts. In the stream, we would stack rocks to build dams and splash around when it was warm.”

You laugh softly, smiling at the thought of a young, rowdy John MacTavish playing in the woods. It was something you could easily picture. “No wonder you’re so knowledgeable about bears and stuff.”

Soap shrugs a little bit. “We don’t have bears in Scotland. The most dangerous animals out where I was were boars and red deer. I learned all that stuff about bears when I was deployed in Russia.”

“Well regardless, it sounds like you were quite the forest dweller as a child.”

Soap laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “Aye, I was. I went to the woods for everything. My favorite spot was that stream though. I’d go out there by myself and sit by the water, letting it wash away whatever was on my mind. It was always my go to place when I was sad, angry, or just needing to clear my head. It always made me feel better.”

Soap pauses a moment, a little huff of a laugh leaving him as he recalls some story on his mind. “Like the time I first learned I’d no longer be an only child. When my mum and dad told me I was gonna have a little sister, I was so pissed. Took off right out the back door and spent hours out there.”

You laugh softly, but your eyebrows are raised in surprise. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

His files made no mention of his family, though you suppose they wouldn’t have anyway. Information like that was kept almost as secure as launch codes. Still, you always pictured Soap as an only child.

“Yeah, fucking three of them.” He huffs, which surprises you even further. “Eilidh (AY-lee), Rowan, and Kirsten.”

“Damn, MacTavish. I never would have pictured you growing up with three girls.” You smirk, and he returns it, amused himself.

“That’s exactly what Gaz said too.” Soap muses, leaning back a little now and stretching his legs out in front of him. A much more relaxed posture. “So what about you, Stateside? You have any siblings growing up?”

A smile tugs at your lips as the faces of your brother and sister flash through your mind. “An older brother and a younger sister. My brother was adopted from South Korea, and his name is Kim and my sister’s name is Rozlin.”

It was Soap’s turn to be surprised now. “Huh, I always pictured you as the youngest, not a middle child.”

“And why is that?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“I can’t say cause we said we’d be nice to each other.” He’s dodging the question, but he still answered your question without answering it.

“That’s such an older brother thing to say.”

Soap chuckles softly at your response, and the conversation pauses for a moment. There’s a few beats of silence, Soap seeming to be lost in his thoughts. He gazes back to you shortly though, changing the topic.

“You miss America and being home with them? It’s gotta hard being in a completely different country than the rest of your family.”

You hum softly, a slight frown on your face. It has been a while since you’ve seen your siblings— about a year now. You were sadly used to not seeing much of them anymore now though. Being in the military for a few years now, you didn’t get to be home often with them. You only really saw them on holidays or through FaceTime calls. The last time you’d seen them was through such a call before you’d transferred overseas. The last time in person had been for a sadder event you didn’t want to currently think about.

“Yeah…” You trail off, trying to find a way to explain your feelings to Soap’s question.

Soap frowns as you trail off, his expression going from light and playful to a touch more serious. “You don’t miss home?” He asks hesitantly.

“No,” you shake your head. “I do. I mean, America is my home, and I will always love my siblings. But this life changes you. I can never go back to being a civilian, and it’s like the life I had in America before the military is one I will never have again.”

Soap hums softly, his brows slightly furrowed as he listens. “I get it. A bit of a love-hate relationship.”

“Exactly.” You sigh, a slightly sad smile on your face. “It’s hard to get us all together anyway. Kim also joined the forces, I’m in special-ops now, and last I knew, Rozlin is thinking of joining too.”

“Wow, quite the military family.” Soap chuckles. “Your parents must be proud.”

There it was. The moment those words leave Soap’s lips, a sharp pang of loss hits you, squeezing your heart. You smile sadly at the thought of your parents, trying to push the emotions down. “They were.” You nod, trying to keep it short, but Soap’s curiosity was piqued.

“Were?” He asks slowly, making you sign. Gently, you start to pick at the blades of grass around you, trying to get the words out.

“My… My parents died like a year ago. I guess closer to a year and a half now.” You bite the inside of your cheek, continuing to pick at the grass, but also watching out of the corner of your eye as Soap sits up more.

“Oh God… States, I’m so sorry to hear that.” He says, frowning at you.

“It’s fine. Really. I mean, I’ve have time to process it.” You try to give him a smile to let him know you really were alright, but your eyes still held the sadness of losing someone you love.

The news of their death had been a complete shock to you. Your Sergeant at the time had called you into his office in the middle of a drill one morning to break the news to you. It didn’t sink in right away. You’d denied their death the entire flight back to your hometown. It was only when you entered the funeral hall, and your sister came running to you, her body trembling with sobs as she buried her face in your shoulder, that the weight of the loss finally hit you.

That was the last time you’d been under the same roof with both of your siblings. It was the last time you’d been to your childhood hometown. The last time you’d stepped foot in your childhood home.

“Can I asked what happened?” Soap asks softly, breaking you away from your thoughts.

“Car accident. Drunk driver. Going too fast and hit them head on.” You pick at a few more blades of grass, trying your hardest to fight back tears. God how much you still resented that other driver. The one who got to live.

Soap sighs, looking down and not saying anything for a moment as he takes in what you’ve just told him. “That’s horrible.” He finally says after a moment. “I… I know what’s it like. My uh… my mum also died in a car accident when I was young.” He says slowly, and you instantly look over at him.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through something like that.” You say gently, resting a hand on his knee. You can feel your heart breaking for him. “How did… what happened?” You ask gently, not wanting to dig too much if it was a hard topic for him.

“Don’t really know.” Soap says, looking down at your hand on his knee. “She went out for something in the next town over and never came back. The next morning, they found her car had swerved off road and smashed into a tree. She wasn’t speeding, she didn’t do drugs, wasn’t drinking. Probably alive after she hit the tree and bled out…”

He clears his throat, his eyes instantly becoming glossy. Growling a little, he sniffs and wipes at one of his eyes. “Still not over it.” He chuckles, trying to hide his hurt. “That day changed everything for me. My mum was the kindest and most incredible woman...”

He trails off again, his voice wavering near the end. He was clearly struggling. You give his knee a reassuring squeeze, but he doesn’t look back at you. He keeps his focus trained on the ground.

“Could you tell me about her?” You ask softly. A small smile flickers on Soap’s face, just barely noticeable. He pauses for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, then nods slowly. You can see him steady himself before he starts to speak.

“She was the most loving, understanding person you could ever meet,” Soap begins, his voice softening. “It’s hard to put into words who she was, but everything about her just… beautiful.” His eyes grow distant as he speaks, gaze drifting toward the stream once more. He’s caught up in some kind of memory, one you don’t wish to interrupt.

A moment later, he shifts his gaze back to you. “You remember that story I told you earlier? About how I ran into the woods when I found out I was getting a sister?”

You nod.

“Well, it was my mum who came and found me afterwards. She always knew exactly what to do to make me feel better. I remember she brought me some shorties, which were my absolute favorite. They still are, I love those things.” Soap chuckles softly before continuing with his story.

“We didn’t talk right away. She just sat with me, and we listened to the water together. Just the two of us. It’s funny, I don’t remember exactly what we talked about, but I remember we talked until the sun went down. And when we got home, she tucked in and told me, ‘John, no matter what, you’ll always be my boy. You’ll always have a place in this family, and no one can take that from you.’ She told me that having a sister wouldn’t change that, and that being a big brother meant having someone who’d look up to me, someone I could protect.”

His voice softens as he adds, “She taught me that love wasn’t something that got divided—it just grew. That stuck with me. Made me feel better about everything. Like I wasn’t losing anything but gaining something special.

Whenever I think about home, my home before my dad met Annette and remarried, or when I see something like this stream, I think of her. I’d give anything to sit and talk with her by the stream at home again. Just one more time.”

When he finishes, you’re left utterly speechless. His recollection about his mother is so touching, so sweet, and so heartfelt—nothing like the Soap you knew. You’ve never seen this side of him before, not even around the other members of the 141.

Your heart aches for him, the pain in his words is palpable, and you can see it in his eyes as he gazes longingly at the flowing water. You never imagined that you and Soap would share such a traumatic loss. In a strange way, it makes you feel closer to him. You’re touched that he would share something so personal with you. Something that made him vulnerable.

Without you even realizing it, a single tear slides down your cheek. You only notice it when Soap brushes it away. His touch pulls you back to the present, and you focus on his eyes, which hold tears of their own. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes expressing an understand.

His thumb lingers on your cheek for just a second longer, his touch gentle. When he finally pulls his hand back, the corners of his mouth twitch into a small, bittersweet smile. The silence between you feels heavy, but not uncomfortable—more like a shared space where words aren’t necessary.

You take a deep breath, looking back to the stream, able to image John and his mother sitting there. “Your mother sounds like she was a real treasure.” You feel like your words aren’t enough. There’s nothing you can say to tell Soap how saddened you are by hearing about the loss of this mother. How great she sounded.

It’s enough to bring a smile to Soap’s face though. The longing is still in his eyes, but you know it’s a look that will never fully go away. But there’s also something else there too—a glimmer of happiness. Pride that you think his mother is just an incredible as the way he’s described her.

“I’m sure your parents were just as loving and incredible as my mum was.” Soap says softly. “They raised one hell of daughter.”

His words hit you hard, much harder than you expected. You’re brought to tears once more, watching them quickly well up in your line of sight, and you need to bite your cheek to keep from breaking down. Soap’s words touched your heart. You can’t be more grateful for them, but are unable to express the true extent of their impact. All you can manage to a nod and choked out, “thank you…”

Soap’s smile is gentle, understanding. He reaches for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You squeeze back just as tightly, silently supporting each other as you listen to the slow rush of water from the stream.

Soap holds your hand the entire time you look out to the water together. A pleasant silence falls between you, but Soap eventually breaks it, letting go of your hand as he does.

“We should eat, huh?” He chuckles, his tone a tough lighter now. You’re almost relieved though to move on to something else. There was only so much you could take talking about death.

“Yeah, yeah, we should.” You agree, watching as Soap turns to grab the backpack. He unzips and starts to rifle through its contents. “What’s on the menu for today?” You ask, trying to peak over into the bag to see what he’s grabbed.

“Today, we have a fine selection of…” He pulls out two MREs. “Homestyle vegetables in sauce with noodles and chicken and homestyle vegetables in sauce with noodles and chicken.” He lists, pausing between pulling each one out and holding them up for you to see.

You make a face, wanting to gag at what was probably the most unappetizing MRE there is. To be fair, it wasn’t horrible. If you were in a pinch, starving out in the middle of nowhere, freezing while you huddled under a tent in the middle of a downpour, or had eaten the same thing for a week straight, it would taste incredible. But currently, not starving, dry, and having eaten nothing but bland foods for the past five days, it sounded horrible.

“We didn’t have anything else?” You ask, wondering why he’d grabbed what he most likely also thought was the most bland and boring MRE kit there was.

Soap gives you a small shrug. “We’ve gone through every other MRE except this one. We’ve got one beef ravioli and one jalapeño beef patty left, but those were the last of the decent ones. I thought we might want to save them for tomorrow, so we don’t have to eat this mush for the rest of our time here.” He explains, handing the unappealing, brown packaged meal over to you.

You scowl down at it. “I think I’d almost rather starve than eat this.” You admit, turning the package over and inspecting it in disdain.

“It’s better when you have hot sauce you can put on it.” Soap says, already tearing open his kit and dumping the contents out.

You reluctantly open yours, but not before giving him a look. “Hot sauce in what is essentially chicken noodle soup? That sounds disgusting.”

Soap shrugs. “It gives it something interesting besides just blandness.” He says matter-o-factly, pausing in tearing open his food to dig back through the backpack. He comes up with your canteens and hands you yours. You can heat up your food with it and make the broth.

“I’ll keep that it mind.” You really have no intention of trying the weird mixtures he’s suggesting though. Hopefully, though unrealistically, you’d never have to eat this MRE again.

Resigning yourself to the unappetizing lunch in front of you, you tear open the MRE with a resigned sigh, already dreading the bland taste you know is coming. As you work on opening the package and sorting all the different packets, you glance back at Soap. “So, when did you join the force?” you ask, genuinely interested in learning more about Soap’s past, but also eager for the distraction from the meal.

“I joined when I was eighteen. Tried to enlist before then by lying about my age, but they figured it out and rejected my application.” Soap says, which makes you giggle. It sounded like something he would do.

“Excited about joining I see.” You muse, watching as Soap carefully pours water into the heating pouch and slides the meal packet inside. He props it against the backpack to let it heat up.

“Yeah… something like that.” He mutters, his tone seeming to shift just the slightest bit. It was enough to make you pause, but he continues on. “But I got in at eighteen. I was selected for the 22nd Regiment.”

You nod a little bit, deciding to brush off his brief shift in tone for now. “So what did you do in the 22nd?” You ask, filling your own heating pouch to get your food warm. All you really knew about the 22nd Regiment was that it some British infantry group.

“I was a part of an elite squadron that specialized in stuff like covert reconnaissance, counter-terrorism, and hostage rescues.” He explains, watching as you filled the bag up and prep it. Once it’s ready, he motions for you to give it to him, and he sets it up against the backpack next to his. “I did eight years there and then when I was twenty-six, I was doing training in Hereford, and Price was the evaluator. He saw a lot of potential in me or something, pushed me in my training, and when selection came, I passed. Was in the SAS after that. Youngest candidate to ever pass selection.”

You knew that about him already. It’d been in his file. You remember reading his file on the plane ride over to their base and being so impressed. He hadn’t just scraped by either, he got the highest marks possible on each phase of the test.

“I remember reading that in your file on the flight over.” You smile. “Made it all the more intimidating to join the team. Had one guy who was youngest to join the SAS, one whose entire file was reacted due to the work he did, a highly decorated Sergeant, and a seasoned Captain.”

Soap laughs softly at that. “Yeah, still didn’t keep you away, though.” Soap teases, earning himself an eye roll and a gentle shove.

It makes him laugh even more, and it’s strange to hear him joke about something like that for once. Normally when he made comments about stuff like wanting you to leave or wishing you hadn’t joined, he meant it. This time he seemed like he was joking. There was no hidden edge to his words.

“I had to sign the contract before they let me read up about you guys.” You joke back, playing along. Though that was true, you really did have to sign a contract first. You weren’t allow much information about the team unless you agreed to go. The only thing they really informed you about was the basic role of the position you’d be taking.

“We got your file the second you signed up.” Soap says, checking on his food by touching the back of his hand to the bag. His food must have been warm enough cause he starts to take it out of the heating pack. “Didn’t even really know we were getting another person until Price dropped it all in front of us at a meeting. Had only a few days to get ready for you.”

That was new information to you. You figured the guys would have known they were getting someone new long before you signed on. At the same time though, it made sense. It was safer to keep information like that between only a few people, and with the enemies you knew your current Task Force has made over the years, it was probably good not to have word get out they were growing the team.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you notice Soap is handing you your meal bag. He mutters a, “here” and you take it from him.

“Oh, thanks.” You mumble back, touching the bag carefully to make sure it was warm enough. It felt decent enough to eat, so you pulled it out of the bag.

As you do that, Soap has already getting his open and is looking back to you. “So, where were you stationed before joining us? I know it was in your file somewhere, but I forgot.” Soap continues on in conversation, mixing his food a bit.

“The Green Berets.” You answer, pulling the rip-strip on the top of the food pouch. The smell of chicken hits you instantly, and the sight of the noodles is already unappealing. “Outside of basics and the platoon I was assigned to, I’ve been with them my whole career. Until now of course with transferring to a Task Force.”

Soap hums softly as he listens to you and takes his first bite of the chicken veggie noddle MRE. Watching him eat it makes you shutter, though he seemed unbothered.

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” Soap mutters through a mouthful of food, his words come out muffled as he chews. He doesn’t bother to finish chewing and swallowing before speaking again. “Did some training with them back in the day.”

You wrinkle your nose in distaste, watching as he continues to take another bite of the noodles. He hadn’t even finished his first bite before adding another one. You never really noticed the way he ate until now.

“You know, the chicken noodles are bad enough on their own. You really don’t need to make it worse by talking with your mouth full.” You frown.

Soap chuckles at you, though he at least swallows before speaking again. “At least I’m eating it. You haven’t even touched yours.” He points towards your untouched meal bag with his spoon.

You glance down at the bag of unappetizing noodles and sigh. “Can you blame me? This stuff is revolting.”

He laughs again, rolling his eyes as he takes another bite. “Come on, it’s not that bad. The faster you eat it, the sooner you’ll be done suffering.”

You can't argue with that logic. As much as you hate to admit it, Soap has a point. The faster you got the food down, the sooner it’d be over, and the less you would taste. It wasn’t like you weren’t capable of eating fast either. Back in bootcamp, you only had five minutes to eat sometimes. So you were more than capable of shoveling it down, you just preferred not to eat that way.

Sighing to yourself, shoulders sagging, you reluctantly scoop up a small bite and force it into your mouth. The taste isn’t terrible, just bland, but the texture is what gets you. A shudder runs through you as you chew, and you can’t help but gag slightly as the mushy noodles slide down your throat.

The whole time you struggle through the bite, Soap watches with wide eyes, his expression shifting between horror and concern. When you finally swallow and chase the taste with a swig of water, he shakes his head. “Steamin' Jesus, that was fucking painful to watch.” He mutters.

You shutter once more, the sensation of the food sliding down your throat lingering for a moment. “I’d rather eat a raw fish from the lake we bathe in than finish this.” You complain, scowling down at the still very full bag.

Soap lets out a small huff that resembles a laugh as he turns back to his soggy noodles. “We could probably go fishing and catch a few. Cook them over the fire instead of eating them raw like some deranged woodsperson.”

Your eyes widen, and you snap your head toward him so fast it nearly startles him. “Could we really do that?!” you ask, barely containing your excitement.

You have been eating MREs or bread for the past fives days for every meal. Cooking fish, real food, instead of eating the bland, processed, and sometimes unidentifiable sludge that somehow passes for a meal in those packets would be a welcome change.

Soap still looks a little shocked, blinking at you before nodding his head slowly. “Uh, yeah.. it’s really not that hard to go fishing.” He answers slowly, and his confirmation just makes you more excited.

“Why the hell haven’t we been fishing this entire time?! Can we go fishing? Please?”

“Well…” Soap hesitates. “I mean we’d have to take the time to make some spears, and then you need to descale them and take all the bones out, and-“

“We can do those things.” You argue, your voice hopeful.

“What are you gonna season the fish with? And what about this stuff?” He holds up his half-eaten MRE. “We just gonna waste it?”

You huff, sitting back slightly. “We can use salt, cause I know we have that back at the cabin. I saved some packets from a different MRE in case of emergency. And really? There is no way that you can look me in the eyes and tell me that you’d rather eat that disgusting shit instead of fresh fish. I know you’d have no problem with tossing that for real food.”

You both stare at each other, neither one of you moving or blinking. Soap is stubbornly holding his ground, but you know him well enough to know he hates what he’s eating too. He just toying with you.

When you raise an eyebrow at him expectantly, it breaks him. He lets out a huff, a smirk quickly forming on his face. “Yeah, alright. This is pretty fucking disgusting.” He agrees with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure my stomach was gonna reject it if I tried to take another bite.”

“Does this mean we’re gonna go fishing?” You ask, a grin quickly spreading across your face.

Soap looks at you, his expression softening in a way that sends a flutter through your chest. His lips curve into a relaxed smile, his shoulders loosening as the tension eases from his posture. His stunningly blue eyes, usually so guarded and intense, are soft and filled with a mix of warmth and something deeper—a tenderness that catches you off guard. Affection?

“Yeah, we can go fishing.” Soap laughs, his voice light with amusement, the gentle look in his eyes lingering.

Your excitement bubbles over, pushing aside any further analysis of his gaze. With a grin, you quickly seal up your MRE, stow your water bottle, and begin packing. “Oh God, it’s gonna taste so good. I can already smell it cooking.” You ramble on, earning a laugh from him as he starts to pack up as well.

After everything is packed away and the backpack is zipped, Soap stands and slings it onto his shoulder. By the time he’s fully upright, you’ve already taken off. He watches as you practically bound off towards the part of the stream where you crossed earlier. He watches you for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips, then shakes his head before hurrying to catch up.

@the-faceless-bride @venavanup @hotthankss @daemondoll

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies Update

Bad news first, the next chapter of Bitter Allies is getting pushed out a week 😭 Due to a mix of being busy once more and having a lot of important things packed into this next chapter, I think it’s best if it waits a week. I was hoping to finish it quick and push it out only a day, but it’s not happening.

Good news! Lots of good stuff coming. I’m talking sad emotions, steamy bits, fluff, and building on the lore. So hopefully it’ll all be worth the wait!

Thank you all for your support for this series! I hate to push out updates, but trust me, this next chapter needs it.

Thanks again!! Much love

🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Me this week preparing to finish this next chapter: