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[ninou-violette]

OH MY GOD NEIL IS OFFICIALLY ON TIKTOK YALL HE’S ABOUT TO DISCOVER IT ALL

https://www.tiktok.com/@neil__ellice?_t=8Xlgyp2xNiQ&_r=1

[ninou-violette]

________ Devotion (11)

John Soap MacTavish x f!reader

Soap's POV :

It is still dark. The sun is just coming up, thin rays of light are coming through the curtains. It is heavy. But it is not a suffocating heaviness. It is pleasant. I still feel sleepy when I finally open my eyes. I haven't slept so well for a long time.

I am not in the dormitory. I'm in a room, not my own. As I stretch my arms out to shake myself out of my torpor, my hand bumps into something. Someone, in fact. And at the sight of her back, it all comes back to me, in a stormy flood of confused feelings. I'm a little surprised, as if stunned. I can't believe that it really happened. It really wasn't foreseeable. I was convinced that she was just a proud little bitch who came to play the commander. But she quickly showed me that I was wrong. She saved me. Twice. And from that moment on, I know that my view of her changed. The way she spoke to the team members, in which I used to hear a certain kind of arrogance, turned out to be melodious and caring. Her smile, which I used to find so annoying, has become warm and charming. In fact, all that annoyance, that irritation I felt towards her quickly turned into an attraction that I was unconsciously trying to suppress.

And repressing all this has only served to bring us to this point. In this bed. In her bed.

I think she's still sleeping. Right next to me, her bare back facing me. I could never have imagined seeing her like this. I could never have imagined her showing herself to me like that. That this attraction was mutual. It was crazy. She drove me crazy. Every detail of her body, every movement, every kiss. I can still feel her skin against mine. And right now she's beside me.

I can see her back. And only now I notice this scar. We spent the night together but I only see it now. A huge, pink scar that stretches across most of her back. I can't help but follow the path of this wound with my fingertip. A main line, the largest part of the scar, running parallel to the hollow of her spine, is veined with three other thinner scars. It almost looks as if it has been drawn with a knife. This image makes me shudder.

Where does this scar come from? Did someone do it to her? Or was it an accident?

I know nothing about her.

I can hear her growling as she turns slowly. She is waking up. She is facing me now. Buried in the sheet, she gently rubs her eyes. This image makes me smile. Only I can see her like this.

"Hey" I say softly.

"hey" she says in a whisper.

And now what? Suddenly I feel embarrassed, caught off guard. I'm not sure how to act... But she comes up to me and rests her head on my chest, wrapping her arms around my torso. There's nothing to say right now. That's fine.

I too put my arms around her body, my hand caressing her back. I rest my head on top of hers and from here I can smell her shampoo.

"Coconut?"

She lifts her head slowly, her eyebrows slightly furrowed and a small smile on her lips.

"What? Really, you have a funny habit of throwing such random words at me!" she says, laughing.

"You're right, sorry!" I replied, laughing." I meant, your shampoo, it's coconut right?"

"Yes, coconut and almond," she replied, smiling at me. "Why, don't you like it?"

"Oh yes, I love it. You smell really good, you know. From the very first days I realised it. A real cake. To be eaten."

Her smile spreads across her face. She quickly buries her head on my chest before raising it.

"What a flirt."

Then she places her lips on mine. Again. I feel electrified, like yesterday. My arms tighten around her, bringing us a little closer. Then she pulls back slowly, still smiling, still glowing. Her beautiful laughing eyes warm me and hypnotize me.

"You know, I was sure you were interested in Alejandro. You're always so happy and smiling around him. So when you approached me yesterday… Well, I was pleasantly surprised, you know…

"Alejandro?!" she exclaimed.

"Oh Johnny! You have no idea! Alejandro and I are close because speaking Spanish with him reminded me a lot of my youth and... it made me happy. Reconnecting with my old self I mean. But you..." she stops talking, her gaze hanging on mine, dreamy.

Me?" I answered smiling, curious.

"You... I... For the first time in a long, long time I felt attracted to someone. To you, John. But that's okay. Since you didn't like me, it took me a long time to realize it!" She laughed.

"I had some bad ideas about you, it's true. I'm sorry. But to be honest, I quickly realized that I was attracted to you too. And here we are. "

"Yes, here we are. "

We were smiling like idiots. Our naked skins stuck together in our embrace. We were still under the comforter, the day was dawning and we were the only ones existing in our bubble. I would run my fingers through her hair and she would trace each of my scars with her finger. Our eyes and our hands discovered our bodies again, but this time in a pleasant calm. The silence was soft and made this new physical discovery romantic.

"You are so beautiful, John. A true god."

I felt myself blushing immediately. Being complimented like this was out of the ordinary for me.

"You're the goddess, [y/n]."

She smiled tenderly at me and we kissed. I like that. These moments that we had together. I love her smile. I love feeling her skin on mine. I love feeling her hands on my face, her lips on mine, my name in her mouth. I could stay glued to her lips for hours.

"Captain [y/ln]? Is everything all right? Breakfast is served downstairs."

Captain Price's voice and the knock on the door brought us out of our enchanted interlude. We gasped. She pulled herself out of bed with a small "shit!" before dressing in the first clothes that appeared under her field of vision. Despite the awkward situation we were in, I couldn't help but cast my eager gaze over her naked body as she hurriedly dressed in panic.

"I-I'm coming, Captain! Thank you, everything is fine!" she stammered.

"Ah very good! Tell me, did you by any chance see Captain MacTavish yesterday? He wasn't at the dormitory this morning."

Shit. It was my turn to panic. I got up and dressed quickly, trying to pick up the clothes I had haphazardly thrown away last night. Shit, my shirt was missing.

"Ah! Mactavish you say? Uh... I think he went out for a walk this morning. Not sure..."

She gave me a hesitant look, eyes wide, praying that her answer would ring true to our captain's ears.

"Well. No worries. I'll be in the dining hall."

And finally we heard footsteps walking away. [y/n] sighed loudly, obviously relaxed. Then we started to laugh. What a scare! She approached me, putting her arms around my neck, to which my arms responded by wrapping around her waist.

She kissed me tenderly. I liked that.

"[y/n]? I whispered between kisses.

"Hmm? She answered me, with her eyes closed, savoring this moment as I did.

"I think I lost my shirt…"

[ninou-violette]

Hello everyone, this is Violette! I'm a little unmotivated to write. I feel like it's too bad. But I'm going to go ahead and finish Devotion. After that, I'd love to hear what you want me to write! Thanks for enjoying Devotion, it warms my heart! See you soon!

✦•············· 𝒱𝒾𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒

[ninou-violette]

________ Devotion (10)

John Soap MacTavish x f!reader

/!\ slight NSFW, long chapter.

Five days have passed since the hospital. Five long days. Well, let's say four, because I know I slept the entire first day, so I woke up at 8pm thinking it was breakfast time. I can still clearly see the look on my teammates' faces when I walked into the dining hall, in my pajamas, half asleep, staggering with my crutch towards the plates. I started to help myself to some bread and when I couldn't find any coffee, I turned to my team and in a pathetic voice asked them why everyone was eating pasta so early in the morning. Alejandro couldn't help but laugh, before helping me carry my things to the table.

"Eres una verdadera comica gringita!" he says to me still hilarious while giving me a slap on the back. (you're a real comedian, gringa!)

Other than that, the days are terribly boring. I spend my days reading maps, scouring dubious websites and clearly unclean Instagram accounts, all to find even more information about Basquat's base. Now that most of it has been done, all I manage to find is detail. At this rate, I start to wonder if Price has assigned me this job only to keep me from getting bored, a bit like asking a child to count to 1000 to shut him up politely.

The others are often on assignment. The assaults have started and I can't even participate. It's bad enough that I'm here doing nothing while they're risking their lives, but I can't imagine what it's like for John. Because of his injury, it's too dangerous for him to go out on the field right now, as the wound could open at any moment. So he spends his days here too. Long and boring days. I could keep him company and offer to do things together.

But I'm really embarrassed since the other time. Every time I remember what I did, that stupid kiss I gave him, on the cheek no less, like a prepubescent girl would do, I feel ashamed. We were going to kiss, damn it! And me, I give him a little kiss. Honestly! So I'm working twice as hard to stay in my office as long as possible. It's pathetic. You're pathetic. I know, I know. But hey, it's worked out so far, I haven't run into John in the last few days. He wakes up late and goes to bed late and I wake up early and go to bed early. Stop lying to yourself. You just want to see him again. You want to be as close to him as you were on that couch. You want to feel his skin against yours. You dream of that kiss stolen by Price's sudden intervention. You dream of- Stop! That's it! I get it! I know all this, enough !

A loud knock on my door startles me.

"Ah ! Yes, yes, come in!" I exclaimed, caught off guard.

The door opened on John.

"Hey," he said in his deep voice, so beautiful and so-

"Heyyyy! Haha! So, what's up?"

Silence. My God. It's horrible. The heaviness of the awkwardness. I'd rather die right here, right now. John lowers his head briefly, his shoulders heaving in tremors. Is he ... crying? Is he laughing? I- ?

"That was really, really weird [y/n]. I don't know if it's because of yer meds or you're delusional or what but wow, really!" He says before bursting into laughter.

I feel myself blushing with embarrassment.

"Alright, I get it ! Stop laughing! It's not that funny!"

But he only laughs harder. And I can't help but smile. Even his laughter is beautiful. Yes, even that.

"Well otherwise," he says, trying on a tear caused by his uncontrollable laughter, "I was coming to see you to suggest we get something to eat together."

Oh.

"Well, if ya want. If yer not busy I mean. Otherwise, don't worry, I don't mind-

"Yes, yes, yes! Sorry, I was lost in thought! Well, yes, definitely! Right now or else?" I stammered.

"Yeah, right now. Just downstairs, let's make something to eat quickly and then watch TV? Alright hen ?" he said with a little smile.

"Yeah, definitely! Just wait a second while I put this stuff away, I'll meet you in two minutes, is that ok?"

"Okay. See ya "

"Yeaaah!"

* * * *

A catastrophe. The moment he left the office I rushed to my room. I didn't realize it but I really look like shit. An unbelievable mess. I have greenish skin, red eyes, a runny nose and messy hair. I would need a complete makeover to be at least presentable but John is waiting for me downstairs, I can't make him wait any longer. I put on the most passable things I could find in my clothes, a pajama top too big for me and the same pair of shorts I wore at the hospital. Super glamorous. I mean, I'm not even close. Since when do you care about that? Weren't you the one who said we don't care about men's looks? And look at you, all distraught over a cute little scotsman. Very contradictory. Oh shut up! Whatever.

I join John in the kitchen. He's rummaging through the fridge, doesn't seem to have seen me.

"Heyyy!" I say with a little wave of my hand, that he obviously can't see dumbass.

John closes the fridge and appears entirely in front of me. He's wearing dark gray sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt, around his neck hangs his dog tags. Sexy. Okay, enough! I have to get my act together! I look up at him, but he still has his eyes on my body. I'm nervous. Do I have a stain on my sweater? So you do care, uh? He finally raises his eyes to mine, visibly surprised and embarrassed.

"Uhm... so I thought I'd make a pizza... There's beer too, if yer want." he says, clearing his throat.

"Ah cool! Well, why not!"

The atmosphere became much more relaxed afterwards. We had to make the pizza ourselves, impossible to order anything here. Our fingers were stained with tomato sauce, and I even had some on my cheek. We were pushing each other in front of the work surface to finish the pizza. And while we waited for it to cook, we played a few games of darts. Then finally, we moved to a side room, to enjoy that pizza in front of the TV.

"What ya want to see?" John asked me.

"Oh, I don't know. Do you have anything in mind?"

"I was thinking of The Breakfast Club. Have you ever seen it?"

"Never heard of it! "

"Really?" he replied, surprised. "It's a classic though lassie."

"Ah... you know, I didn't really watch TV when I was younger." I answered, embarrassed.

"Oh ! Never mind, we'll watch it now!"

We sat on the couch. But it was awfully small for both of us, even for John alone. We were almost glued to each other. No, we were glued to each other. Well, calm down [y/n]. Don't let your thoughts take over. Take a deep breath.

John turned off the light and started the movie. We each grabbed a slice of pizza while the movie started.

"It's so good! We did a great job!" I said.

"Yes, it's great. But you should say you did a great job. "

"No, we did. You also participated! That pizza wouldn't have been as good if you weren't there!" I answered with a laugh.

"That's true." He answered with a smile.

The music of the movie was an indistinct background noise to me. I could'nt get my eyes off of him. John's eyes were glued to the screen. The lights of the movie dancing on his face, making his blue eyes shine. He was biting into his pizza and chewing quietly. I couldn't help but stare at every part of his face, the way his jaw tensed as he ate, his large, veiny, scarred hand carrying the pizza to his mouth.

"Um, [y/n]? It's not bad that your mouth is wide open, but you have to actuallt eat the pizza now, not feed it to your legs, hen." John says to me, a wide smile on his face.

Indeed, a tomato had fallen on my legs.

"Oh shit! I'm so stupid!"

John couldn't hold back his laughter now. He was completely hilarious and I was even more ashamed. Not only had he caught me staring desperatly at him, but I was looking like the first cradle of the cradle. Twice ridiculous in one day. Champion.

"Wait, let me help you." He offered me gently.

Oh no, no, no, John, don't help me. Yes, yes, yes, John, help me !! Before I could say anything to him, John picked up the cold tomato from my leg, and instantly, where his fingers had landed, an electric sensation of heat spread. I had goose bumps. My heart began to race. He put the tomato on the table before turning to me with a smile. Our eyes mingled. Again. I would never tire of looking into them, of losing myself in that hypnotizing blue-gray. The film is now only a subtle distant hum. I shiver. Lust. I feel lust. Never before had I felt such a thing. It makes me feverish. I want everything and nothing in particular at the same time. I want him. Him around me. I want to feel his skin on mine again. I want to feel his lips on my neck. On my cheeks. On my mouth. And he is there, facing me. He smiles at me and knows nothing of what I am thinking. He doesn't know.

Soap’s POV :

She stares at me. She stares into my soul. Don't look at me like that. You don't know what you're doing to me. I kept telling myself to calm down, I didn't want to screw it up, but the moment your oversized sweater slipped off as you bent over to pick up your beer from the table, and your bare shoulder was exposed, I felt myself losing it. I wanted to kiss it. And pulling the tomato off your leg was just an excuse to touch you. In fact, I wanted to leave my hand on your thigh. To pull you towards me. I want to feel you near me. To intoxicate myself with your alienating perfume.

I want to run my hands all over you. I want to hear you call my name. Over and over again. I can't help it. We face each other. In this tiny sofa. You are sitting on your legs that you have folded under you. I put my hand on yours, my thumb caressing the back of your hand, tracing an imaginary path that would connect the moles on your phalanges. I raise my eyes again, to look at you, [y/n]. The things you do to me...

Your POV :

He doesn't realize it. How much his touch impacts me. Every time his thumb caresses my hand, I feel myself shiver. My head is spinning, my ears are ringing. There is nothing else in the world but him and me. His gaze, locked into mine, is soft. Deliciously soft. Gently, he lifts his other hand and tucks a rebellious lock of my hair behind my ear. The touch of his fingers leaves a delicious tingle on my temple, I want more. I feel my chest rise quickly, my heart vibrating my rib cage. His gaze makes me feverish. And slowly I get closer, my neck, only my neck, stretches towards him, without really being aware of it. He too is getting closer, slowly. The rest of our bodies remain perfectly still, as if sculpted in marble. And quickly, our noses brush against each other, our breaths mingle. I feel my head tilt slightly to the right. And finally, my lips on his. A short moment, a second before I slowly withdraw, hesitant. But it was a second of electric shock, a 10,000 volt kiss. I want him to signal me. I want him to kiss me back.

Soap's POV :

It was intense. Terribly intense. And yet it only lasted a few seconds. A delicious torture. Her lips, soft and warm, rested on mine. Then, as quickly as they were there, they left. She pulled back a little. Did she change her mind? Maybe she didn't like it? But the look on her face conveyed a different feeling. No, she wants more. So do I. She looks at me intensely, with an electric look. It is an invitation. To renew the contact. I approach her. All my body this time. I put her legs on top of mine, pulling her closer to me, our hips touch. I pick her cheek in my hand, and caress her temple slowly. Our foreheads stick together. She gently closes her eyes as she places a hand on mine, on her cheek. And I seal our lips together again. The kiss is shy, even awkward at first. Our movements are feverish. Our lips don't come off but we change position, too uncomfortable in our arched postures. Our jerky, panting breaths mix. She passes her legs from one side to the other of mine, sitting on my knees, facing me. My hands run down her back, over her sweater. I would like to take it off, but I am too busy with this electrifying kiss, which becomes always more intense. I feel her arms over my shoulders, her hands on my neck and back, clutching my shirt. It's getting hotter and hotter. My arms wrap around her waist as she pulls me ever closer to her. The heat from our throats spills into our mouths. Our chests clash and our heartbeats mingle, strong and loud.

We lie down on the sofa, me on top of her. She tilts her head back, cutting off the kiss, just long enough for us to catch our breath. She opens her eyes again and looks into mine. "John…" she whispers between breaths. Her hand caresses my face, then runs down my chest, slowly. She grabs the bottom of my shirt and pulls on it, signaling me to remove it, which I do. Her eyes wander from one side to the other of my naked torso, her hands still behind my back. She gets up, and with her, she raises me in the previous position, she sitting on my legs, facing me. The urgent excitement is transformed, as if channeled. Our looks bind us, create a high voltage line between us. It's to who will crack first. Gently, her hands leave my back. She grabs her sweater, and takes it off, then throws it behind her, discovering her bare chest too. But my eyes remain on hers. I am captivated by this honeyed glance, so soft. She comes closer still, her naked arms wrap around my neck. She leans over my face, my hands slip under her buttocks as our torsos meet. I feel her breasts on my chest, as she places her lips on mine for another kiss. This contact there makes me lose my mind. The warmth of her chest on mine, the heat of her breath in my mouth. I feel my hands slide under her legs and grip her thighs. Fuck. I've lost it. I've lost this game. I stand up slowly, lifting her up with me. She wraps her legs around my waist, not cutting off our kiss. "To my room, John…" she breathes between kisses. So thus we head to her room.

I push the door open with my foot and close it the same way, before throwing us on the bed. I can't help but feel the movement of her breasts on my skin, which gives me another shiver of pleasure. Quickly, we remove what remains of our clothes. Our bodies, completely naked, meet. Her burning skin sticks to mine, our legs intertwine, our kisses become increasingly passionate. Each caress, each rubbing, each contact get us a moan of pleasure. I feel drunk of this pleasure, of each melodious moan which escapes from her, of my name in her mouth. And with each second, I penetrate more deeply in this intoxicating pleasure which unites us.

˚✧₊⁎ next chapter

[ninou-violette]

________ Devotion (9)

John Soap Mactavish x f!reader

/!\ very slight description of wound treatment.

Soap’s POV :

Beep- Beep- Beep-

A signal. High-pitched. Regular. Repetitive.

I feel numb. As if paralyzed. But it's kind of nice. Where am I? Who am I? It doesn't matter, does it?

It's so nice not to feel like I exist anymore. My body has always hurt me. And now I don't feel it. My body has always hurt me? Why does it hurt? I hear something else. Something deep. That makes the air vibrate. Voices. Of men.

I blink several times and an off-white background slowly appears, blink after blink.

"Thank you, doctor. And, about Captain [y/ln]? Does she need any special treatment?"

It's Price. This is it, it's all coming back to me. I'm finally waking up. Yes, [y/ln]. I'm remembering. From the trip to the village. Of her laughter. Of our talk. Of the ambush. The stabbing. Of [y/n], on the ground. Then nothing. Suddenly I feel my body. My heartbeat. And how tense I am. Where is she? How is she? Price and the doctor keep talking over me. They didn't see that I woke up.

"No, she won't need any treatment in the long run, rest assured. She's pretty solid you know! A normal person would be in a much worse state. I'll prescribe her some painkillers but she needs to rest as much as possible. She will probably have a scar on her temple for the rest of her life, but other than that, there is no lasting damage. And then, Captain Price, I know you're not here to play the moralizing game, but I want you to tell her again how dangerous and perfectly forbidden what she did was. It's borderline barbaric!"

Steps. A door that opens and closes. A sigh.

"Sir Price? What's happened? I hear myself say in a husky voice.

"MacTavish. Nice to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

That didn't answer my question.

"It could be better. But I'm in one piece, that's all that matters. Where is [y/n]? I mean, Captain [y/ln]."

Price looked surprised for a second. I don't know if it's because I'm obviously worried about Captain [y/ln] or because I called her by her first name. But that brief moment of surprise gave way to a serious, grave expression.

"Captain [y/ln] is in the next room. I believe, however, that she already has company but-"

I did not let my superior finish his sentence. I suddenly stood up. I had to see. How she was doing. But as I stood up, a cry of pain escaped me.

"MacTavish! Please stay seated! You are hurt!" Price ordered me.

But I continued on my way. I want to see her. I went out into the hallway and pushed open the next door.

She was sitting in a single chair, next to a base table on which was a still-steaming cup and a small bouquet of flowers. She was wearing only a light white tank top and shorts. She was looking at me, surprised, no wonder, since I had opened the door abruptly, appearing suddenly. She did indeed have company. Alejandro was sitting in front of her, one hand on hers. He was also staring, also surprised to see me there.

"Well, I'll come back later Muñe. Cuidate." He said to her with a gentle smile that she returned warmly, while withdrawing his hand slowly.

I couldn't help but clench my fist and jaw when he walked past me to get out.

"John! Are you okay?"

Her voice snapped me out of my irritation.

She was there. She was giving me her full attention with that worried and relieved look. I feel a diffuse warmth in my chest, a sensation I have never felt before, that I want to cherish.

I approach her and I sit down in front of her, in the place previously occupied by Alejandro.

"I am fine, thank you. What about yo-

And only then, at this moment, I truly saw her. In what state she was. Pale complexion, large black rings under her eyes, split lip and a large wound on her temple, healed but still covered with dried blood in places. She also had a cast on her left ankle and the cable of an IV that connected her to a blood bag. Numerous scratches all over her body, arms, legs and even face. But the most horrifying part of all was the mark on her neck. A large bruise, which was purple, brown and yellowish in places, that went around her pretty and delicate neck like a mud collar. It hurt when I saw it, I could feel the pinch of my heart.

"What have they done to you…? Or was it... me?"

[y/n] frowned, a worried expression on her face.

"No John! Not at all! What are you thinking! No, you had nothing to do with it! What happened to me happened because I decided it did!"

"Please be honest with me. I don't remember anything and I want to know everything."

From the way her face turned into a doubtful pout, I could tell she was hesitating. She didn't want to tell me what had happened. She stood up. I imagine she'll lead me to the door. I get up in turn.

"Come on, let's talk on the couch, we'll sit better" she says to me with a sweet yet somehow shy smile.

She tries to hobble forward but threatens to fall with every jump. I put myself next to her and take her by the arm, she puts her weight on me with a knowing look and murmurs a little thank you. I sit down with her a little further, on a small sofa in the corner of the room. We sit close to each other and she starts to tell me what happened after I was hurt. How she was pinned to the floor by one of our attackers, how she got out, how she found me against the wall, how she healed me by closing my wound temporarily. I realize the extent of the ambush and the trap that was set for us. But [y/n] never once mentioned her injuries, except for her broken ankle.

"What about the neck?" I can't help but ask her.

"Oh, it's nothing serious ! One of the guys choked me. But it's okay, it's nothing but a nasty bruise. It'll go away."

She's right, but that doesn't take away that bitter feeling of guilt and anger. A brief silence falls between us. She sits cross-legged, facing me. She looks down and nervously fidgets with her fingers, which are intertwined. I feel like this means she has nothing more to say to me, maybe she wants me to go away. But I have one more thing to ask her.

"Why?"

She lifts her eyes quickly, mingling her gaze with mine.

"Huh?"

"Why did you save me? You didn't have to do all that. You could have simply called Price and waited for him to arrive. So why?"

My question seems to surprise her.

"Why wouldn't I save you, John? For nothing in the world would I have left you behind and waited without doing anything. I don't do that, ever. Besides, it would have completely destroyed our brand new complicity!" she adds with a small laugh.

"It's not wrong", I answer her with a smile.

Where does all this heat come from? She glows like a sun.

She turns her face towards the window, the last rays of sunlight of the day, orange, kiss her face. She looks calm, despite the ordeal we have just been through. She is beautiful. Then I notice again the wound on her temple. The dried blood traces like a path from her hairline to the beginning of her cheek. Is she in pain? Has she ever been in pain? I want to know. Everything. I want to know who she is.

And without really realizing it, my hand came to rest on her cheek, my thumb gently tracing the path of her wound. She looks surprised, confused. She looks up at me, eyes wide, her gaze fleeing mine but constantly returning. I too feel tense. I don't really know why I did this. I just did it. And I like it. Feeling the skin of her face under my palm. Her skin is softer than I had imagined. Her cheeks are red and her breath is short. She blinks rapidly.

"But who exactly are you?" I say in an almost wordless breath.

Our eyes are captive to each other. I uncover her eyes in their depths, dive into the [y/ec] that fills them. She has put her whole face in my hand, her head bent to this side. I feel drawn to her, like a magnet. She is less tense than before, her fingers untangled, one hand on my arm. Our faces are getting closer, in a slow but sure movement. With every inch we take off, my heart beats faster. I can already feel her lips on mine, a little shrunken from her cut, but still so soft. We are so close, I can smell her perfume, a vague floral scent, sweet. She closes her eyes and I close mine.

"Captain [y/ln]. May I come in?"

Price's deep, powerful voice startles us. [y/n] quickly looks away. The physical contact between us is abruptly cut off. The palm of my hand, where her cheek had been resting a moment before, is empty and cold. The soft torpor we were in disappears, as if carried away by the breeze.

"Wait !! Uh... Captain, I'm coming!" She answers stammering.

I get up with her and take her to the door, holding her by the waist. A silence weighs, translating our embarrassment. In reality, I don't really feel embarrassed. More disturbed, as if I had been violently slapped or as if I had just fallen off my bike while I was walking quietly. Something has been ripped out of me.

"John." she whispers.

I turn to her. She's looking up at me, eyes wide open, cheeks still pink. Gently, she places her hand on my shoulder, pulls herself up on the tip of her able-bodied foot and places a small kiss on my cheek. Soft, a little wet and warm.

"See you later John." she tells me shyly, with a small smile on her face, her cheeks a little pinker than before.

And then without even realizing it, I find myself standing in the hallway, straight as a daisy, staring off into space like an idiot.

˚✧₊⁎ next chapter

[ninou-violette]

_________ Devotion (8)

John Soap Mactavish x f!reader

/!\ description of violent fights, needle, blood, gunshot, angst.

Your POV :

Shit.

There are too many of them and too many guns. In a fraction of a second, all the good mood I was feeling until then evaporated. I tense up. Think and act. Quickly.

A man rushes at me. John is behind, until now it was me who guided him.

A chance that we are in such a exiguous space! They can't use their rifle here, there's no room, it would just be too cumbersome. But unfortunately that doesn't mean it will be easy. I see the man pull out a machete, and rush at me. I manage to duck in extremis. Once bent, I strike with my elbow in his knee with all my strength. He falls with a cry of pain. But it's not over, I know it. At least, I have the advantage now.

Slowly. Don't make yourself too obvious.

I know. But we have to fight back. I get up quickly and take out a gun from my bag that I had loaded in advance. He starts to get up but I'm faster. Two shots. That's it.

Well, over for this guy. I turn around to watch how John is doing. So far, he seems to be in control of the situation. He's fighting, with his hands, with his opponent. I don't have time to offer him my help when a violent blow on my temple makes me fall on the ground.

"[y/n] !" John shouts with concern.

I am a little stunned, my sight blurred, spread out on the ground. But I mustn't stay on the ground. I'm too vulnerable.

"I'm okay John! Don't worry!" I shout back at him.

I roll to the side narrowly avoiding a stab wound and grab the gun that had fallen further away. I turn and aim between his eyes. Two shots. He falls to the ground.

I get to my knees, trying to regain my balance. I have time to turn my head. John has also knocked down his opponent. Without a weapon. Classy. I smile at him and he smiles back at me when our eyes meet. Good job, I want to tell him. I feel safe. Seeing him a few feet away from me, so strong and smiling makes me feel like everything is going to be okay. Then another man jumps on John. Fortunately he had seen him and manages to defend himself. Their fight begins.

"[y/n]! Watch out!" he shouts between two punches.

I turn around. But this time I am too slow. The man throws me violently to the ground, a kick to the diaphragm. I gasp as I hit the ground.

"[y/n] !! John shouts. "

The man is on top of me. I try to get up but he punches me in the face. Several times in a row. I try to struggle but the blows are so violent that I feel myself losing strength. I hear John yelling my name behind me and every time my head hits the ground his voice seems to go away. Suddenly, I hear a cry of pain.

John's voice.

A gunshot.

A thud.

And nothing more.

"John !" I shouted, my voice trembling.

Anxiety gripped me. Everywhere in my body. It gave me the strength to come to my senses. But my tyrant is not finished with me. He tries to hold me down by choking me.

Quickly, I found myself running out of air. I can hear John, vaguely, I can hear him grunting, out of pain. I try to reach into my cargo pocket. The man has his eyes on me, he seems to enjoy watching my face contort in pain. Disgusting perverse. I can't see what state John is in and it drives me crazy. I shout his name but I don't hear an answer. John, I beg you, be safe. I'm really running out of air now, I have no voice. My fingers brush against the pocket. I feel my eyes widen even more. My mouth is wide open, completely dry, as if desperate for more air. It feels like this is the end. No, it can't be ! And finally I feel the cold metal on the skin of my fingers. My eyes, black with rage, rest on this man who looks at me so eager to feel me die under his hands. I grab the knife between my index and middle fingers, and my murderous hand makes a hasty, wide movement before I stab the knife into his neck, furiously. His eyes widen and blood flows profusely, some of it falling down my face, I hit the jugular vein.

His grip on my neck finally loosens. I take a deep breath through my mouth while coughing. Without wasting time, I throw the dying body away from me. I'm struggling to breathe, my face is numb and probably a bone is broken somewhere but I don't care. I want to see John.

I find him leaning against the wall, in the dark. One hand on his abdomen, his eyebrows furrowed, his complexion pale and covered with perspiration. He looks like he's dying. No! I won't let him die. I won't let him die. I'm not going to let anyone die, again.

"John! John! I beg you to answer me." I said, my voice trembling.

I put my hand under his nose. He is still breathing. All is not lost. I put my hand on the ground, sitting down in front of him. But where my hand is placed, I feel something liquid, warm and sticky under my skin. Blood. A lot of blood. John's blood. I push his hand away. I can't help but let out a little scream of horror. A large wound, which looks very deep, is bleeding profusely. A stab wound. My heart is beating wildly. I must act, quickly.

Fortunately, despite my petrifying anxiety, I knew what I had to do. Mechanically, I reached into my bag and pulled out the nursing kit I always took with me. The past leaves indelible traces. I had to be in the light and as close as possible to the wound. Slowly I pulled John under the streetlight, as best I could. I could hear him grunt. Every movement was a source of pain. But if I wanted him to live, he had to suffer a little. I leaned him against the wall again and sat on his legs, to get a better look at his wound.

"Sorry. I hope I'm not too heavy. I said to him. Clench your teeth John, this is not going to be pleasant."

I had to clean his wound before anything else, with a absorbent cotton soaked in alcohol. As I applied it to him, he let out a cry that was louder than the others, and I felt sorry because I knew that the worst was yet to come. But at least the wound was clean. John was losing a lot of blood. It was impossible for me to close the wound right now. Quickly, I took a dry cloth I had with me and pressed his wound as hard as I could to stop the bleeding. Only, John was not making any more noise. And that was very worrying. He was losing consciousness.

"John! Shit!" I cried.

I had called Price to send help, but we were far away from everything here, and John's condition was getting worse. I had to change my tactics. I took out the IV I had brought with me. I knew it was risky, but it didn't really matter right now.

"John! John! Your blood type! John! Give me your blood type quickly."

I begged him, slapping his cheek as gently as possible.

" A..." he says under his breath.

Perfect. I remove the protective cap on the IV and take out the tourniquet and tighten it around my arm. I breathed hard and felt my fingers tremble as I searched for a vein on my arm. Calm down, or it's going to get worse. I know. I'm concentrating. I breathe as slowly as I can. John's eyes are closed. His chest rises more and more slowly, his breathing is heavy. Stay with me John. Finally I find what I was looking for. A protruding vein. Slowly and carefully, I slide the needle into my vein, with a certain unpleasant sensation that gives me a little grumble. I can't fail. Not again. I remove the tourniquet to put it on John's arm. I quickly find a vein and repeat the process on him. Then I secure the IV with medical tape. That's done. I remove the bloody tissue from John's wound. The blood flows a little less. That's all I needed. I can't get him stitches under these conditions. They would be poorly done and it would only make it more difficult for the surgeons to deal with him once they've taken care of him. However, I do have some kind of bandage with me that will close the wound temporarily. I quickly apply it to John, tightening the bandage to close the wound like stitches. Then I place a dry cloth over the wound again, pushing with my hand. I lay John down and kneel beside him so the blood can flow better through the IV.

Please let the paramedics come quickly.

Everything is silent around us. This silence contrasts brutally with the bloody crime scene where we are. Five men on the ground. Six with John. No, it's not the same. I feel sweat beading on my forehead. I am tired. Come on. Come on, quick. John frowns. He grunts. This is a good sign. He regains consciousness.

I feel a relieved smile on my face. I put my hand on his cheek. He is alive.

This time I succeeded. Everything went well.

Everything is fine. He's okay.

"It's okay, John. Everything will be okay now."

And then, not too far away, the sound of an engine and screeching tires.

˚✧₊⁎ next chapter

[ninou-violette]

________ Devotion (7)

John Soap Mactavish x f!reader

Long chapter !!!

Your POV :

I have never traveled so much in so little time. It seems like yesterday we were in St. Petersburg and here we are in the suburbs of Mexico City. In fact, after this first assault, we discovered a basement hideout with a stockpile of weapons, all in closed boxes from Latin America. Some from Mexico and most from Brazil.

So very quickly was programmed our departure for Mexico. Alejandro was the man for the job. He guided us through the city and we quickly found a place that could bring us closer to Basquat. But before attempting an assault, we had to get some information about the place. So in groups, we took turns scouting. The first expeditions took place in groups of four, as a precaution. Then, when the surroundings seemed safe, we started to reduce the number of people to three and then two per expedition. I left for the expeditions less than the others. Price needed my help to prepare for the upcoming assault on Basquat's Mexican base. I stayed up all night reading maps, calculating routes, possible exits. Then I would go on a field mission to confirm or deny my observations.

I would have surely cracked, under the weight of accumulated fatigue, stress and repeated physical efforts, if I had not been so well accompanied. I was often with Gaz and Roach for the expeditions. Then more and more with Alejandro. Price saw how good we were together. And outside of the field missions, Alejandro's precise knowledge of the area was invaluable to me in advancing my strategy work. On top of that, I was finding out more about him and opening up a bit to him in return. He had grown up in Mexico City itself and had experienced delinquency, fear, violence and poverty. It motivated him to make this world a little better, to want to make a difference by joining the military. He preferred dogs to cats. He had two sisters and a brother, but did not have a good relationship with them and had not seen them since he was in the army. He hated French cheese and the smell of rain. He had not seen his mother since he was 14.

I'm not sure what I told him. I remember telling him about my passion for languages when I was young. About how easily I caught a cold. That I really liked Red Velvet cakes. I told him about my family, very vaguely I think. The point is that I feel comfortable around him. It felt like I had someone I could count on. Maybe I could even say a friend.

The reconnaissance missions went on and on. We had to be sure we knew the place we were going to enter, we couldn't take any chances. Tonight we had prepared a kind of Chili con Carne. We were hungry and we were happy to finally have something decent to eat. Alejandro and I sat down on a table to which Gaz was waving at us energetically to join him. I was happy to be at the table with such nice and warm people. The heavy atmosphere of the American base seemed far away.

Only, the table was also occupied by Soap and Ilona. While Ilona gave us a big warm smile, Soap hardly looked up. Always so boring that one. No matter. I was there with people I liked and who seemed to like me back. I was eating as if he wasn't there but I could clearly feel his gaze on me. Probably a look full of hate. And to think that tomorrow I had to leave with him. And on top of that, several kilometers away from here. Price had not chosen well on this one.

* * * *

Soap’s POV :

We had been driving for an hour in a nameless off-road car. And we were still far away. The roads are at the limit of the impracticable, the car is shaken in all the directions without ceases. The silence is heavy. Neither I nor [y/ln] have exchanged a word since leaving the base. Plus, I slept badly yesterday. I could not find sleep at all. And my driving is affected by that. I'm starting to have trouble reacting properly, so much so that we're really starting to get bruises. If [y/ln] didn't say anything about my driving until now, I can see that she is barely holding back from yelling at me. And after an umpteenth projection against the car, she loses patience.

"Well, I don't know what's going on with you Mactavish and I don't know if you're doing it on purpose but I don't plan on getting to the village in pieces. Stop the car and get out. And don't even think about resisting."

I hate to agree with her but she's right, I'm not able to keep driving. We switch places. She gets back on the road and we are much less shaken up. Slowly, I feel myself falling asleep.

* * * *

I feel myself being gently shaken. Then I finally open my eyes. [y/ln] is out of the car and tries to wake me up.

"Open your eyes Aurora. We've arrived."She says with a smile.

"Very funny." I answered annoyed, still numb from sleep.

I get out of the car and slam the door behind me. We are in the middle of nowhere. She parked the car on the side of the road. Around us there is only burnt grass and dead, dry bushes. In the distance, we can see a village.

"The road is impassable there with the car. Then on foot we will be more discreet. And then you will be able to stretch your legs, right?" She says amused.

"Shut up."

We begin to advance towards the village. We are not very loaded, a backpack each and that's all. And we are in civilian clothes. It is not an assault, just a reconnaissance mission. The sun hits us hard. Here it is hot, very hot. Despite her light shirt, i can see that she is sweating profusely.

"Damn, at this point I'll end up like those bushes." she complains through her teeth, breathless.

I can't help but answer her, the heat rising to my head. I'm hot too. But she doesn't know it and she can't see it.

"If you wanted to be cool you should have stayed in your office [y/ln]."

She turns around, visibly annoyed.

"You know very well that I'm not the one who chooses. I don't understand what you have against me, but I feel like you've already formed a certain opinion of me. Let me tell you that you are probably way off base."

She turns again, her back to me, and walks quickly, muttering.

"When you don't know, you ask."

For about ten minutes we move forward in silence. Only the sound of our steps on the dry and hard ground and our breaths always stronger resound in this emptiness. She still has her back to me. I am one step behind her. She walks fast, with big steps. She has tied up her hair [y/hc]. Drops of sweat are beading on her neck. They come down from her hair and slide down her neck, and disappear under her shirt. I can imagine the drop continuing its path, down her back, rolling between her shoulder blades, then further down-

"Where are you from?"

She turns to me, eyebrows furrowed, obviously confused, slowing her steps.

"What?"

I tossed that out of my mind. Like a reflex. Against my thoughts that were starting to ramble. If I pretended I hadn't said anything it would be worse, so now I might as well continue on this trajectory. Maybe she's not what I think she is after all.

"I say, where are you from?"

"Uh… well I grew up in [y/hld]. Is that what you want to know?" she replied confused.

"Really? I never would have imagined!" I answer.

"Ah well! I can't say the same for you Mactavish! Your accent gives you away!"

"Alright, I know. No one can understand what I'm saying. I know it doesn't sound very classy." I replied, a little offended.

"I didn't say that. I really like your accent."

Brief silence. She … likes my accent? So far people are just blaming me for this part of me that disturbs them. But not her apparently.

"So what about you, huh? It must be nice in Scotland... Scotland, yes... I went to Glasgow, once, uhm, a while ago, and it was really beautiful."

She talks fast, confused. She also seems to be surprised by her remark about my accent. Seeing her panic all of a sudden, her, who's always so sure of herself, always so straight and so proud, it amuses me a little. But I'm not going to make her even more embarrassed. Finally we talk like colleagues, cordially.

"Yes, Scotland is indeed really beautiful. And Glasgow too. So, what city are you from in [y/hld]?"

* * * *

Your POV :

"Billiards is a hundred times better. I'm the best at it. We should play together sometime Mactavish!"I say, challenging him.

We've finally arrived. As we continue our discussion, we enter the village. I couldn't imagine that I would be chatting so much with Mactavish. Well, at least not as pleasantly. I've found myself laughing several times in the 45 minutes we walked here. It was so funny and entertaining that I didn't feel the sun burning me or the irritating thirst in my throat.

"John."

"What ?" I asked, confused.

"You can call me by my first name you know. I mean, if you want. MacTavish all day long sounds too military, Captain."

I see. So here we are, finally. I smile. It's a good thing he can't see my face.

"Got it, John. In that case, I'll be [y/n]. I never really liked being called by my last name anyway."

"Got it, [y/n]." he says with a slight chuckle.

Damn. I get goosebumps. My name sounds different from his mouth. His voice… His voice makes my name sound different.

I want to hear it again. I want him to call me by my name again.

What was that? No! What's wrong with me??

I have to pull myself together. I guide us, Soap, well, John and me through the deserted streets of the village. We see here and there people, through the curtains and the doorways. It is the hour of the nap. And finally, after many forks in the narrow lanes, we fall on the one that we look for.

Alley Rivera. This alley, which is in fact a dead end, is longer. Bordered on both sides by buildings higher than elsewhere here. And it is darker there. At the end we can see a fork in the road to the right. John and I move forward.

"You have quite a sense of direction. I would never have found this place." he says, smiling to me.

The street ends. We turn right.

"I've spent hours reading maps, it's almost painful now." I answered him with a chuckle, my head turned towards him.

And then I turn my head again and look ahead.

We are not alone.

Five men.

Armed.

˚✧₊⁎ next chapter

[ninou-violette]

________Devotion (6)

John Soap Mactavish x f!reader

/!\ slight mention of violence

Soap's POV :

I can't do anything. In fact, I don't have time to do anything. She’s too fast. Every time I spot a target, try to aim and shoot, the target gets shot. She shot. One shot every time. One shot, one man shot. I couldn't do anything at all. And there she stood, still and silent, as if the rifle was just an extension of her body. Clear-eyed, staring at the various floors of the building across the street. She looked like she knew what she was doing. She squints slightly and shoots, despite the violent recoil of the weapon she does not move and reloads quickly, with expert gestures.

"Mactavish you have people on your side. I can't do everything for you." she says with a small smirk on her face.

She is right, there is indeed movement on the side of the leftmost room. But I don't like the fact that she thinks she has the right to tell me what to do. Her arrogance and pretentiousness irritate me a lot. It is not her place to tell me what to do. She doesn't know anything about it. Neither the fatigue of long expeditions without sleep, nor the pain that a bullet in the middle of the abdomen produces, nor the effect of losing someone in battle. She's just a spoiled brat playing army. But none of this is a game. It's a matter of life and death. The upper floors are cleared, and I see the rest of the team appear through my viewfinder. Captain Price's voice over the radio confirms my impressions. The ground is clear, they can start searching the place. We can join them.

We slowly make our way downstairs, loaded with our rifles. For her, who is smaller and much more frail than she should be to work in the army, the weight of the weapon on her shoulders must be painful. She staggers, she has obviously difficulty to walk straight, the weapon disturbs her balance. This vision gives me a satisfied smile. That's what I thought. She is clearly not made for this.

Suddenly, she stops in front of me. The room we are in is on the second floor. It is particularly dark, so that I cannot see the stairwell. Is she afraid of the dark? No way… What a joke.

"Get down !!!"

She screams and shoves me roughly to the ground. The next second I hear gunshots, a few steps away from us. A bullet grazes my shoulder and leaves a slight wound. Three shots beside me. She fires back. I hear a grunt and a thud. Someone is on the ground. As I quickly get to my feet, the other team members enter with lights and illuminate the room.

"What happened? Is everyone here?" asks Price nervously.

The light sweeps across the room to us. She is on her knees. She gets to her feet, tucking her revolver into her holster.

"There was one left. I hadn't seen it." she answers with a short breath.

Further on, a body on the ground, the skull pierced, bathing in blood. Headshot.

* * * *

Your POV :

We are back at the base. The mission was a success. We were able to recover valuable information that could guide us to Basquat. Ilona was waiting for us when we got back. She greets us warmly before going straight to Soap and asking him how the mission went. She and him seem particularly close. So he is not misogynistic. He just has a problem with me. Whatever. After we almost got shot on the second floor, Mactavish thanked me. It was a small, barely audible thank you. But strangely enough, I immediately had the feeling that things had changed a bit.

I'm too tired for all this. We all go to eat in the biggest room of the base, the rations we had prepared the day before. Gaz and Roach are sitting to my right and talking together. It is cold. The night is going to be long… I am so lost in my thoughts that I don't even notice that the person sitting next to me is completely unknown to me. In fact we have two new recruits. A man sitting next to Price, in the middle of a discussion with him, is introduced to me as König. His head is covered with a thick black cloth that only shows his eyes. And to my left sits Alejandro Vargas. He is here to help with the next missions, but he is not a member of Task Force 141. He politely introduces himself to me and I introduce myself in return. I detect a strong accent in his words.

" Por casualidad no serás mexicano? I asked him, my curiosity piqued. (You wouldn't happen to be Mexican by any chance?)

"De hecho. Es usted mexicana ? he answered, visibly surprised by my sudden change of language. (In fact. Are you Mexican?)

"No, sólo aprendí bien mis lecciones de español en la escuela." I answered with a smile. (No, I just learned my Spanish lessons well in school.)

I have always loved languages. It was the subject I was best at. I kept learning new languages in my spare time at home. Maybe it was a way for me to get out of my real life, to escape, to travel around the world like in my dreams. I remember when I was 15 years old learning Russian, alone in my room until noon. I remember. I was alone and life was hard, but I was passionate, excited by the discovery and my slow progress.

Today, thanks to the hard work of my past self, I can talk with this man. And that warms my heart.

And immediately, a certain complicity is born between us.

˚✧₊⁎ next chapter

𝒱𝒾𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒 ❧❀

[ninou-violette]

_________Devotion (5)

John Soap Mactavish x f!reader

Your POV

We have been in Russia for three days. We settled in a 141 base, a kind of small abandoned building, in the city of Lopuhkina, in the suburbs of Saint Petersburg.

The first two days were crucial for the organization of the mission. Gaz, Roach, Ghost and Soap led lighting missions with the help of Ilona while Price and I worked on the difficult parts of the explorations thanks to the precious information brought back by the rest of the team. We had identified three buildings in particular, likely to be places where Basquat weapons were exchanged. Price asked me to handle how the assault should be conducted on the first building.

Last night I announced to the whole team my project, as Price had asked me. 2 snipers on the roof of the building across the street. The rest of the team on the field, two entering through the front entrance and two through the back. If the situation gets out of hand the snipers go down and join the others in the building to help them out. No one is left behind.

It was up to Price to assign the roles. Ghost and Roach entered by the front door, Gaz and himself by the back entrance. Ilona should have been part of the undercover mission but she had hurt her arm badly the day before and was unable to hold a weapon in her hands. So, Soap and I as sniper.

Soap and I?? I was going to be deployed in the field? Never before had any of my superiors thought enough of me to give me an action role. I remember looking at Price with big eyes of amazement. Iwas really grateful to him. Then I turned my gaze to my teammate, but I didn't see the same confident expression that I saw on Price. No, Soap had the most reproachful look imaginable, his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw clenched, very obviously annoyed. He definitely didn't like me.

We set up at the end of the morning, each one in the position announced. Soap was already on the roof while I went up to join him after a last conversation with Price.

Soap had pulled out his equipment and was already in a low-fire position. I crouched down to my position, at the other end of Soap on the small roof, to cover as much ground as possible.

"You're late." He hisses between his teeth.

No more polite words. Soap shows me that we are on the same level, if not that I am inferior to him. Is he trying to intimidate me? What a joke! If he only knew what I had been through so far! Next to that, Soap is an angel.

“I was with Price." I replied, readying my sniper rifle. “If you wanted us to get to the mission faster you could have set up my snipe."

No reason for me to be polite if he wasn't. I heard him let out a sarcastic laugh that sounded like he meant "in your dreams."

After I finished my installation we remained in silence for a while. A tension floated, not only because our teammates had just entered the building, therefore starting the mission, but also because Soap clearly despised me. Eyes fixed on the third floor through the sight of my rifle, I wait for a sign, a movement to pull the trigger. Suddenly, a man appears in the doorway. I shoot.

˚✧₊⁎ next chapter

𝒱𝒾𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒 ❧❀

[ninou-violette]

_________Devotion (4)

John Soap Mactavish x f!reader

( I just love this picture so much 😍)

Soap’s POV

A new recruit. Great. As if we didn't have enough for this damned mission. We'll never all fit in the vehicles at this point. Besides, I hate those kind of people. The kind who earns their rank without doing anything, who sits in an office all day while we die in the field. Her pretty face allowed her to get this rank, for sure. And it's pathetic.

Yesterday I met her for the first time. It was Gaz who called me to join Price and the new recruit. I had just returned from a reconnaissance mission in the suburbs of St. Petersburg, I was exhausted and just wanted to go to bed. But no, I had to be courteous and greet the little lady.

I didn't understand why she was staring at me so much. Our glances were like mixed, my eyes in hers, [y/ec].

She had an insistent look in her eyes, the kind that people who know you give you from afar for you to greet them.

After Price took her to the base, Gaz and I got busy putting the weapons away before heading back to the base for a well-deserved night's sleep. As we packed up, Gaz couldn't stop talking about the new recruit.

"Have you seen her training Soap? When she was shooting the sniper rifle?"

"No.” I replied through my teeth, on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"She's better than you."

Gaz knew the effect that kind of remark had on me. He took great pleasure in annoying me. But I was really too tired to make him swallow his words and I left him alone in the hangar to return to the base.

No one is better than me, and certainly not a little egoistic and arrogant bureaucrat who wants to play a hero.

Your POV

Wake up at 4am. The flight to Saint Petersburg lasts 4 hours. We are all on board of a small airliner which drops us in Saint Petersburg with other civilians on board. We must not be noticed as military, we are not welcome here. Last night at dinner and this morning at breakfast I was able to interact with the other members of my section. I was expecting a cold reception like they did at my previous workplace, but in the end everyone was very warm and friendly to me. It was nice to feel welcome. I got closer to Gaz. He was the first one to come and talk to me and sit by my side. He introduced me to Gary Sanderson, code name Roach. If he didn't talk too much at first, the discussion took on a natural tone after a little moment. We talked about dumb things and it was nice, because they could have put me through an interrogation, asking me about my past, my previous job, my abilities, and I would have liked that a lot less.

I also met the only other woman in the group. Ilona. She is in charge of guiding us through the suburbs of Saint Petersburg, she is at home here. She is very warm and her way of speaking reminds me painfully of Alina. The only person I haven't talked to yet is Lieutenant Ghost. A discreet man, tall, who never takes off his mask or baklava. He doesn't talk much at all. And then there's Captain Mactavish, too. Since our formal meeting, I feel like there's some tension.

Whenever I meet his eyes, I feel like I can detect some kind of contempt or anger in them. A stern and intimidating look. I have the impression that things are starting badly on this side.

Have I already made an enemy here?

˚✧₊⁎ next chapter

@ninou-violette 𝒱𝒾𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒 ❧❀

[ninou-violette]

_________Devotion (3)

John Soap Mactavish x f!reader

After 10 hours of flight I am at my destination. The meeting place is outside Manchester, in a suburban town called Bury. The meeting I have to attend is in an hour. I came early on purpose to prepare myself. I wear this uniform so little that it is still all stiff and new and therefore quite difficult to put on. Fortunately it's not yet that kind of formal wear with jacket, shirts and other annoying clothes. No, but the simple uniform I have to put on is already too annoying for my taste. After a shower, I try to slip into it. It's a bit small, I just put it on and I already feel oppressed in it. It doesn't matter. I do it only by respect for the captain.

I comb my hair as best I can, but I don't go so far as to put on makeup. Simply because I don't know how to apply makeup. And that too, it bothers me. Before leaving I put my nose in the file I made the day before. I gathered everything I could find from Task Force 141, and it's not much. Vague information, no names except for the captain's. It's time to go. I received precise coordinates for the meeting point and when I arrived I made sure to mark on a map where I was to go. I get out of the hotel and step over my motorcycle. It is not too far. The city is grey and grim, but who cares, I like the monotony. The silence of the place makes the roar of my motorcycle resound. I finally arrive on an empty place, in front of a closed supermarket. Everything seems abandoned. A gust of wind makes the fence creak and I notice a gate behind the store. I enter it with my motorcycle and I find myself behind the store, near a shed surrounded by empty and rusty containers. I park my motorcycle there and take off my helmet.

"Captain[y/ln], there you are."

I recognize Captain Price's voice as he comes out of the hangar to greet me. I walk over to him and shake his hand, then he leads me inside the hangar.

"I notice the clothing effort. Thanks for that," he says with a smile on his face.

"I prefer to be comfortable when I work. The uniform doesn't bring me any quality that I don't have", I answered him in a joking tone. I hear that my answer gets him a short laugh.

The hangar is large and we finally reach the meeting room. Everyone seems to be already installed and my future colleagues discuss between them. Only men. Only two women in this large assembly, three with me. We must be about fifty in all. Captain Price comes forward at the end of the table, in a leadership position. I try to settle silently in the first empty seat, as long as no one notices me, but Captain Price seems to have other plans for me.

"Captain [y/ln]. Please come sit here," he says in a voice commanding enough to silence the assembly and turn all eyes on me. I quickly make my way to the indicated seat beside him. All seats are taken. The meeting can begin.

The captain discusses the progress of the mission that is being conducted. I thought he was going to start by introducing me, but I was pleasantly surprised. I'm not a fan of being the center of attention. The meeting is about the current mission and I am learning more and more about it. I take notes on the fly of information that seems important to me. It is a manhunt. They are looking for a certain F. Basquat, a rich French arms dealer who does business with the Russians. As I take notes on the latest information, I hear that a certain silence hovers. Is the meeting over?

"Well, one last thing before we close this meeting. I introduce you all to Captain [y/ln]. She comes to us straight from the United States Air Force. Captain [y/ln] will be in charge of the strategic commands of the Basquat project and will be inserted into Task Force 141 very soon. That's it. Dismissed."

End of the meeting. A certain tension seems to hover but it is immediately erased by the discussions which resume. I don't know what to do now. Fortunately, Captain Price approaches me to enlighten me.

"Captain, we are going to give you a few formality tests after which you will join your comrades of Task Force 141. Gaz will take you to the exercise site today. We'll meet back here tomorrow at 0800."

He then beckons a young man to approach, whom I assume to be the one called Gaz. He looks to be a little older than me, a little taller too. The captain gives him some instructions and then leaves us alone.

"Follow me Captain [y/ln]. I'll take you to the examination area," he says, smiling warmly at me.

Gaz seems to be a nice and honest person. I immediately feel less tense.

The examination ground is a large vacant lot that was a few kilometers from the hangar this morning. After some physical and psychological tests, it was time for me to show my shooting skills. First with a revolver, then with an assault rifle and finally with a precision rifle. Gaz had left after taking me to the shooting range and I thought I was working alone out of sight. I had just finished shooting the assault rifle and it was time for me to switch to the sniper rifle. Moment of truth. I was once the best sniper in my section. I set up on the roof of a concrete block to hit my metal target, and despite all the time that had passed since I had last held this weapon, my whole body was placing itself around my weapon of choice. One shot, two, three. I loved the silence that always preceded the moment of detonation. Four, five. No more ammunition. I had hit all my targets. It must be said that I had had a lot of training.

As I climbed down from my perch, I was wondering what I was going to do, when a voice at my back startled me.

"Captain [y/ln], you are even more impressive than they say. Congratulations."

Captain Price stood before me, an admiring smile on his face.

"You are too kind!" I replied with a laugh.

As I stepped forward to shake his hand, I saw Gaz behind him, wearing the same admiring smile. I stepped forward to shake his hand.

For the first time, I felt truly admired and respected. As I stepped back to face Captain Price, I saw a third person behind Gaz. The first thing I see are those eyes. Crystal blue, cold and deep. A snowstorm, pure ice. And in all this cold, a form of breathtaking warmth.

"Captain[y/ln], meet Captain MacTavish. Code name Soap. He and Gaz are two of your new co-workers. You will meet the rest of the team in the coming days."

Captain MacTavish. His face is strangely familiar. My heart serves itself. That face sends bitter sweet feelings back to me, but it's impossible to put my finger on it.

"Nice to meet you captain.” I say as I walk over to him to shake his hand. “It's a pleasure to work with you."

Our eyes are plunged into each other. I get lost in his eyes, for a moment, while he takes my hand to shake it. His grip is firm, his skin rough, bruised and cold. But when he withdraws his hand, a warm feeling spreads over the palm.

"Likewise captain [y/ln]. Welcome to Task Force 141."

He has an accent. Something about it. I couldn't bring myself to take my eyes off him. It was mesmerizing.

Finally, Captain MacTavish looked away from me to Price, who was showing us the afternoon's program.

Who are you? Why do you look so familiar?

˚✧₊⁎ next chapter

𝒱𝒾𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒 ❧❀

[ninou-violette]

_________Devotion. (2)

John Soap MacTavish x f!Reader

It is 10:50 am. I just landed in Las Vegas. I'm not here for tourism unfortunately, I could use a little vacation. The wake up was rough but it could have been worse. I took a civilian flight, so it took longer but at least I had the right to a decent breakfast. When I arrived at the airport, I saw that a young man in a military uniform was waiting for me with a sign on which my name was written.

"Captain [y/ln] ? he says

- In the flesh," I replied with the best smile my tired state could muster."

After that, the young man drove me to the base. Next to ours, this one was gigantic, we could not see the end of it. There were a lot of people working around us, noise and bustle in all directions, brand new equipment.

On the way, the young soldier gave me the information I was missing. I had to go to building D at noon. He then left me in a tiny room and told me he would be back in half an hour. I still have some time before the appointment time, I take advantage of it to make myself more or less presentable in these clothes that would make me look like a simple civilian if I didn't have the brooch of my rank nonchalantly hung on my white top. Then I brush my teeth too. It's horrible to talk to someone who has bad breath and doesn't know it. Finally I didn't have time to do more, the young man knocked on my door to take me to building D which was actually 10km from where I had arrived.

In this region it is still warm, and the warm breeze caresses my face as we drive quickly towards the confines of the base. I close my eyes. These kinds of moments, cut off from the rest, make me come alive. I feel alive. After about ten minutes, the young man gently pulls over the Jeep convertible we are sitting in. He tells me that we have arrived and therefore takes me out of my reverie. I thank him and he leaves again towards the blurred horizon. Building D is only a small concrete building, perfectly insignificant and almost ridiculous in this so huge base. The interior is even more sinister, it is dark, the only source of light comes from a small lamp which projects a yellowish light on the whole room.

A woman leads me with a hurried step upstairs into a small room furnished only with an iron desk and three metal chairs.

"Captain[y/ln], or am I mistaken?"

A man is sitting behind the desk on one of those metal chairs. He is smoking a cigar. He has a British accent, almost warm.

"You're not mistaken, it's me," I replied as cordially as possible.

The man beckons me to sit down. Once settled, he speaks again.

"Captain, I will make this short. I am Captain John Price of the 22nd SAS regiment. I have come here and brought you here to make a proposal for a mission. I lead Task Force 141, a multinational special operations unit. We have heard of your prowess in the U.S. Air Force and would like to enlist you in our special unit to take part in our current mission."

The captain leaves a brief moment of silence, as if to allow me to understand what was just said, and then continues.

"We need a fairly quick response. You have until this evening to answer me- "I accept."

My sudden answer seemed to throw my interlocutor off a bit. The captain looks me straight in the eye.

"You are not unaware of the dangers you will face throughout this mission. You will no longer be behind a desk all day long. You will be in the field this time, Captain. Things are different in the field.

I know that this is the official procedure and he has to repeat this kind of thing to me. That way I can't say I didn't know. But it's still a little hurtful to feel like I've been reduced to a slacker position.

"I'm well aware of all this, Captain. My response remains unchanged."

A while ago, I would have done anything to avoid going back on the field. Too many memories. But the long, repetitive days spent behind my desk, studying maps, writing reports, assessing the situation hour by hour, made me tired. I can't stand it anymore. Nor the hateful look of those around me. I want to get back into action.

I want to feel alive with every deadly step I take. I want to feel the adrenaline rushing through my veins and make me lose awareness of the surrounding danger. I don't want to die behind a desk. All this mental processing must have shown on my face, the captain looks convinced by my answer.

"There is a flight waiting for you to Manchester tomorrow. Don't be late."

We shake hands cordially. A new page turns for me. I will finally exist, after so many years of feeling like I am disappearing. As I am about to leave, the captain calls out to me.

“Captain [y/ln], tomorrow is an official meeting. I strongly recommend that you wear your uniform.”

A little ashamed, I wave to him that I did, and I walk out the door.

˚✧₊⁎ next chapter

@ninou-violette 𝒱𝒾𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒 ❧❀

[ninou-violette]

__________Devotion. (1)

John "Soap" MacTavish x f!reader

/!\ Very slight mention of violence. [y/hld]= your homeland [y/ln] =your last name

* * *

I am sitting in a helicopter, wearing a military uniform and holding an assault rifle in my hands. My surroundings become more defined and two people appear in front of me, sitting and dressed like me. They are rather smiling, talking to each other. I too feel myself smiling. I turn my head. We fly over a snowy mountain range, the landscape is entirely covered with white as far as the eye can see. There is nothing here. Someone is calling out to me in front of me. Alina. She speaks to me warmly. I feel rather good. The sound of the propellers rocking me. I feel at peace. And suddenly I am violently propelled on Alina. The helicopter has hit a mountain peak. We are no longer stable. The machine is out of control. One of my teammates is thrown out of the helicopter. I hear in the chaos his desperate scream as he falls and his body breaking on the ground. How did we get here? Everything was going so well. Alina stumbles and slips over the edge. I see myself screaming her name and grabbing her wrist, trying to hold on to what's left in this helicopter of doom. But the sudden shock of this in extremis catch makes me let go of my grip on her wrist and Alina disappears in the snow. As I too fall, a seatbelt wraps itself around my arm and holds me from my fall violently. I dislocate my shoulder. Under the pain I lose consciousness.

I wake up with a start, short of breath, soaked in sweat. Again and again. Again and again these memories. I thought I had buried them there. But they never stopped coming back. Every night. Every empty moment. I will never forget. But here I have no right to make these memories live. It is a past that must absolutely be outside of me, that I must never be associated with. It's a matter of life and death. And then, I don't want it myself. I suffer from it. I suffer from this painful past.

5 o'clock in the morning. It's too early to get to work and too late to fall asleep. The day does not yet pierce through the curtains of my room. Winter is about to arrive here, but right now it is terribly hot in my room. The sweat makes my skin sticky, the sheets stick to me. I get up, open the window and head for the shower. The cold water burns my skin and brings me out of my fever. Little by little I get out of my anxiety and I become aware of the current state of things. The world wakes up. Sounds of plane engines in the distance and footsteps in the corridor. The day begins. I finish getting ready by putting on the first military cargo and t-shirt I see on the floor before heading for the door with my files. I take a deep breath and then stride out into the hallway towards the meeting room.

I have a fairly high rank in the US Army. A rank that many would dispute. I was not born an American. I grew up in [y/ Hld] until I was 12. My family stayed there. I started traveling to England as an exchange student, then I stayed in Russia for quite a while and then when I was 22 I came to the United States. I went to college, which I did not finish because I joined the military. In fact, I have been on the field very few time. But I have more than lived up to my billing as a strategic choice. I determined a few missions that were a real success, and despite all the reluctance of my superiors to acknowledge it, I was eventually promoted to captain. Mostly because the role of commanding strategic choice was perfectly incompatible with my previous status. In short, they needed me and I was told over and over again that a very big exception was made in giving me this rank and that I had to be discreet about it at all costs. As if I didn't deserve it.

The room is open. I take my seat, my name engraved on a small golden plaque. It is the morning meeting, no one is wearing their official military uniform or rank. At first glance, we all seem to be on an equal footing. But I see the contempt in the eyes of some of my neighbors. I know what they are thinking. I can feel that they don't want me at that table. I am not the only woman, only the least deserving of them in their eyes. It doesn't matter. I'm going to pour myself a cup of coffee in the corner of the room before the meeting starts. I don't care what they think.

The colonel and the lieutenant-colonel settle down. Discussions follow one another. On the subject of financing on the current missions and projects and those to come. The morale of the troops, the progress on the ground,... Then comes my turn. I am asked about the strategy for the continuation of the current project. I unpack what I have prepared. My superiors nod their heads. I know I am doing my job well. I know that I am up to the task. The meeting ends with my presentation. The current situation is stable and rather to our advantage. The news is good. Everyone heads to their offices. I gather my things and head for the door to go to my office, but I am stopped in my tracks by my superiors who call out to me.

They wait a few moments until we are alone, then they signal me to sit down.

"Captain [y/ln], we won't be long. You have a flight to Nevada in the morning, you will be flying to Nellis Air Force Base. You are expected for a meeting in the early afternoon, you will get more information when you get there. That's it, dismissed."

I leave the room after a brief bow to my superiors. This is not the first time I have had to cross the country for an interview. I can only hope that I don't have to leave too soon. I stroll across the base to my office.

I know you're giving me the stink eye. I don't care.

˚✧₊⁎ next chapter

@ninou-violette 𝒱𝒾𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒 ❧❀

[ninou-violette]

_______ Devotion ✮꒱ ˎˊ˗

John "Soap" MacTavish x f!reader

My first fanfinc! English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes I may make. I haven’t played much COD and I don't know much about the military and special forces but I'm researching as much as I can. Don't forget that this is a fiction ;)

I'm currently writing this fanfic so I can't put all the tags here but I'm putting the ones that will follow the general plot of my story.

If there is anything to mention in particular, I would put tags at the beginning of the chapter.

I hope you enjoy the reading. Don't hesitate to comment!

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[y/n] : your name

[y/ln] : your last name

[y/ec] : your eyes color

[y/hc] : your hair color

[y/hld] : your homeland

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꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ Links to chapters : ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱

Devotion (1)

Devotion (2)

Devotion (3)

Devotion (4)

Devotion (5)

Devotion (6)

Devotion (7)

Devotion (8)

Devotion (9)

Devotion (10)

Devotion (11)

✎﹏﹏﹏ 𝒮𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎, 𝒱𝒾𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒 ❧❀