#Gaz knows her back injury just as much as Price

[gomzdrawfr]

I've never drawn Raven with Gaz specifically, so I did just that

heh

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roomates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: angsty (very minimal), injury(very minimal), john not knowing how to handle certain situation.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3!! - part 4

-----------

That's when it started, the weird energy that set the scene for every interaction between the two of you. He couldn't help but start to see this so-called “tension” gaz had mentioned fulfill its way into your lives. Not only was it your beauty, it was the domesticity that settled in your relationship. You need that lightbulb in your room replaced, you politely knocked on his door, car troubles? Yeah John should know how to do that. But what scared him the most wasn't the attraction he felt towards you, it was your lack thereof. He never seemed to catch you sparing him any extra glances than were necessary. Unlike him he couldn't help but catch his greedy eyes secretly soaking in every inch of you when given the opportunity. 

But he couldn't be further than wrong 

Because at the opposite end of your home your mind seems to be obsessed with the thought of john. What a man he was. He must’ve been getting some back on base and you couldn't even be jealous, aroused though definitely. He's actually all 6 foot something of fine, absolutely climbable. But god does that man often look like he wants not a thing to do with you. Especially most recently you rarely even see him and when you do he barely speaks or spares you a glance.

—-----------------

“Hey, haven't seen you in awhile.” you surprise him extremely early in the kitchen one morning.

“Oh um good morning, I’m fine just been a bit busy. Why are you up so early?” He lies then quickly changes the topic knowing being awake during these hours of the morning  isn’t your forte.

“Scheduled a client for 6AM instead of 6PM and it's too late to cancel.'' He hums in response, willing himself to say something more but his mind comes up blank as it often does in your presence. 

So he leaves without a word and nothing in hand he just leaves. And you stand there absolutely thrown through the loop at the moment that you two just shared. 

—--------------

“We were doing great as roommates. You know I was comfortable and he seemed comfortable but now I swear that man avoids me like the plague.” you say to the longtime client in your chair.

“Maybe he’s just not social.” She chimes in, you concentrate while trying to part her hair before replying.

“I could see that being the case if he hadn’t been so social the previous two weeks you know, we’ve made meals in the kitchen together, watched television in the living room so I don’t understand what changed.” you say applying product to the sectioned hair.

“What if he doesn’t like you?” your hands pause for a second as you ponder the thought.

“Well I guess he doesn’t have to like me to live with me.” you say with very visibly discontent.

“But you on the other hand strive when people like you.” she replies, reading right through you.

“Well yeah I think anybody would.” you shrug.

“Not a military man who’s probably widely hated.” She's always right and you hate it.

“What's not to like about me?” you genuinely couldn't come up with an answer yourself.

“Are you a messy roommate or do you bother him a lot or do you nag him for his mess?” You can’t think of doing any of those but maybe asking for his help from time to time.

“I might be bothering him but nothing I would consider too much , just some help from time to time.” she laughs from her seat and you unenthusiastically spin the chair she's in to face you.

“Was it in the contract that he'd have to help you from ‘time to time’.'' You give her a quizzical look and she just continues.

“Men like to do the bare minimum and that's it. They hate being bothered. Take it from me. I'm married with three sons and they're all the same. Oh they have to do the dishes, sure, but will they dry them, or put them away? No, because that's not what I asked.” you hum understanding her point but still finding it hard to see john really feeling that way.

“So then I shouldn't ask him for anything and maybe he'll come around?” you ask in an unsure tone.

“yup.” she replies blunt, fast and very sure of herself.

—-----------

So you listened, this whole week you've not asked John for a thing which was pretty easy up until now. Your luck never fails to run out at the worst times. A flat tire in the middle of the road on your way home. You pull off to the side contemplating what to do as the sun is beginning to set and there's really only two options.

One, call John and ruin your streak of leaving him be. Two, call the car service company and pay their ridiculous prices to change the tire out. Of course you go with option two cause calling john seems to make you more nervous.

It takes 3 hours for the mechanic to get to where you are, change the tire, and point out other imperfections about your car that you pay no mind to. When you finally make it home you’re bothered, exhausted and broke.

John doesn't miss the unusualness of your late arrival but also doesn't question it, even though he wants to. Your groans of frustration echo through the hallway and he immediately can tell it was a bad day.

You change out of your work clothes and go into the kitchen for a snack as you do your daily phone call to your sister to tell her about the events of your day. John creeks his office door open to hear a little better but nothing noticeable. 

“He charged me six hundred dollars, I mean how is that even legal?” You complain into the phone that’s balanced between your neck and shoulder. 

“It was just my tire that was flat, nothing else.” you follow up while chewing on an apple. You swear you could cry by repeating that monstrosity.

John can't help but feel a bit confused and upset that you hadn't just called him instead of calling whatever dick that charged you that much for something so simple. Changing a tire is an easy 30 minutes that he definitely had on his hands especially for you. You had not hesitated asking for help before so what's changed now?

—-------------

“Okay, unscrew the old bulb and screw in the new bulb, very simple.” you reassure yourself as you stand on top of the tall ladder to replace the porch light. It’s icy outside and cold sweeps under your layers of clothes making your normally shaky hands shakier.

“Okay okay- damn it.” You drop the bulb that burnt out onto the floor watching the glass scatter.

You screw the new one in and step down, closing the latter with frustrated groan, then going to pick up the bigger shards to toss out before sweeping. You should’ve known that bulb glass was insanely thin and sharp but sometimes your brain leaves out the important stuff.

“Ow, fuck fuck fuck.” You cry out at the shard of glass that forms a long clean cut on your palm. You cry as you run into your home holding the cut tightly. Finding the sink you turn the water on and rinse it clean. Your ears don’t comprehend the loud footsteps that make their way towards the kitchen.

“What happened?” A deep voice sighs out behind you.

“Nothing.” Your hiccups escape involuntarily as it continues to bleed dramatically. You squeeze your eyes shut as it begins to burn more and more.

“Let me see.” He tries to grab at your hand genuinely concerned.

“I’m fine, it’s just a cut.” You resist him by keeping your hand under the water.

“Cut from what?” he's a bit frustrated at your refusal of letting his trained mind and hands help.

“I was changing the light bulb outside and one broke.” you admit quietly.

“Why didn’t you ask me to do it?” once again what is with you no longer asking him for his very available help.

“Cause I can handle myself John.” You’re irritated at the obvious evidence that you cannot. Your non wounded hand rips a paper towel from the roll and you hold it to the cut to go bandage it in your room. 

You leave John standing in the kitchen and don’t even look back as you make your way to your room. He stays in that same spot for a second wondering where your random change in attitude is coming from but in the end he comes up blank and goes out to the porch to clean the rest of the glass up.

—----------

You feel terribly guilty when you wake up the next morning to see the porch swept clean and ladder put away from the previous night. You toughen up and put your big girl pants on to go apologize. You knock on his bedroom door and hear ruffling on the other side before he answers.

“hey john i'm really sorry for-” you stop noticing him dressed from head to toe in his military attire and damn.

“For what?” He takes notice of your pause and one up.

“For um the way I acted last night I know you were only trying to help and um why are you dressed like that?” You can’t help but question it.

“I have to go on base for a little bit, maybe a day or two. It shouldn't be too long but who knows, let me grab my check for you.” He walks back into his awfully clean room and grabs something out of a drawer and hands you a white envelope that consists of his monthly rent.

“Oh okay.” You can’t even hide the blush that laces between your features and although he notices it he can’t pinpoint the reasoning.

“Also don’t be sorry we all have our days and I shouldn’t have overstepped.” You nod in response not really knowing what to say. 

“Okay bye then I guess.” You awkwardly wave at him even though you stand mere inches away from his tall frame. 

“Bye doll.” He says before you walk away entirely thrown over whatever conversation that was.

----------------------

comments and reposts and appreicated <3

thankyou for all the love on this story so far.

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[vcnillazelda]

can i req young! reader w 141, just like platonic headcannons and whatnot about like her being a rookie and sparring w ghost or konig or soap or alejandro n ect n stuff, ty!!

ghost team/141 + könig sparring with rookie! s/o

characters: ghost, soap, könig, gaz, alejandro, rudy, price

warnings: mild injury??? maybe?

a/n: aw omg i love this!! + alejandro’s walk omg 😭

✞———————❖———————✞

ghost

it was your first time sparring, and you went straight to him???

he’d rather watch you spar and give you tips, but the way you’re begging him to do it with you is swaying him

he’s so tense and worried he might hurt you but with your assurances he’s willing

he does it in more of a private setting, but he still makes notes on your techniques, strength, agility

gives you little tips if you’re dealing with larger opponents

at one point he had you trapped and he will never admit the way you let out a breathy giggle and struggled in his grasp made him fluster behind his mask

is all impressed if you manage to beat him, but on the inside he was going easy on you

ofc you find out after watching him spar with johnny and you’re like “why are you holding back with me???” and he admits he’s just scared he’ll hurt you

when you two are in private afterwards he’ll give you a soft kiss

at the end of the day, he’d rather watch you train rather than partake, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he hurt you, even in a controlled setting

-

johnny

unlike his lieutenant, he’s into play fighting with you, so he’s all the way down to spar

ofc he knows sparring is training for you guys and not like a sport, but he still thinks it’s fun and wants you to enjoy it too

he won’t hit hard, he’s a gentleman, and he pretty much always lets you win even though he shouldn’t bc it’s meant to be a fair fight

his old partner in sparring was gaz, but now he has you and he’s actually really enjoying being able to spend extra time with you

the two of you make little jokes to each other as well as trash talk each other, but at the end of the session you’ll hug and be like “you did great :)”

he’s got amazing sportsmanship, so if you genuinely beat him when he’s trying he’ll congratulate you and offer to get you a drink

10/10 best training partner

-

könig

nope.

he’s a big boy with anxiety, he’s terrified of hurting you and (unlike simon) he will voice his concerns to you

it will take A LOT of convincing

he stays on the defensive and sometimes never even lands a blow on you, which leads to him getting scolded

you will have to sit down with him and state that you’re not made of glass and that you’ll be fine, so he eases up and genuinely spars with you

however… he got a bit carried away with adrenaline, and he pinned you in a way that pulled a muscle in your shoulder

apologies. all the time, even after your muscle heals

please assure him everything’s okay bc he will genuinely start crying as if you hate him now 😭

it will take him a while to start training with you again, and this time he’s more aware of his strength and keeps you from genuine harm

like johnny, he’s very sportsmanlike so if you beat him he’ll smile and kiss your forehead with some muttered congratulations in german

treats you to lunch afterwards all the time, bc he loves training in the morning, and will chat about techniques to help you out considering you’re still a rookie

contrary to people’s beliefs, he’s quite a chatty partner when he gets to know you, and will happily give you tips and tricks

-

gaz

yay! you’re both close in age! you both immediately click together. you’re like best friends

loves sparring with you, it’s his favourite activity when on base with you

it looks like the two of you are play fighting most of the time, but tbh kyle just wants to have fun with you whilst also working with you

you both need tips from price, who happily gives them, then observes as the two of you try to use them

you both get really competitive so it takes a while for anyone to tap out

i hc that gaz is into wrestling, so he’ll definitely imitate an announcer to make you laugh and hopefully catch you off guard

loves getting you in a headlock but never hurts you, as much as a goofball he is he’s very aware

if he manages to trap you under him he makes a few jokes in a low tone and steals a kiss

his eyes will always be slightly flirty, and he will 100% flirt between jokes

11/10 amazing partner in general

-

alejandro

immediately agrees, and because he’s been serving for a long time, he takes on the role of teaching you about sparring

always praises you, loves praising you for every little thing

he’s totally not using this as an excuse to be close to you

at one point in time he had you stuck in his grasp and the way he whispers to you is just 😩

(he definitely knows you’re weak for his voice and uses it to tease you)

no matter what happens in training, even if you’re the one who taps out, he will kiss your forehead and say that he’s proud of you

he’s another one that’s extremely aware of how much strength he’s using, but he won’t hesitate to be a little more forceful with you

you need to learn somehow

if you try to kiss him to distract him he’ll chuckle and ease up before getting back to training

he’s such a good teacher that when you’re not training with him you’re winning most of the time against other opponents

he’s so proud :,)

-

rudy

this poor boy is such a soft lover, so the idea of accidentally hurting you is always in the back of his mind

tries to go slow, but sometimes he doesn’t remember his strength and immediately backs out if you let out a small pained noise

hugs you after bc he feels bad

he’s skittish, but overall a good training partner once you two have a talk

uses techniques that alejandro taught him, and tried teaching them to you

he’s not an amazing teacher though…

still praises you

he’s quite young too, but he’s been serving longer so he’s meant to be able to teach you things

however… he still has a lot to learn, so sparring is a learning experience for both of you

wont admit it, but he gets a little jealous when you train with other people

cuddles 100%, cuddling is mandatory after training

if your muscles are strained he’ll give you a massage too bc he’s such a sweetheart

will 100% tell you to go rough with him bc it’s still you learning as a rookie, but if you don’t want to he understands

he just wants you to succeed :)

-

price

this papa bear is the one who offered to train with you

he saw you and gaz mucking about and decided to mentor you, much like alejandro he’s your teacher

gives you genuinely good advice and tips on how to break out of someone’s grasp and take them down

wont go soft on you, but he won’t go too hard either

he knows your limits and adapts around them, therefore he’s a really good teacher

will always assure you that backing down is okay, there’s nothing to kick yourself over

there’s no chance he’d ever actually hurt you, he’s confident in his abilities and knows his strength and limits

however, he can get too rough if you’re seemingly fine, he’s just trying to test you.

if you’re being quiet about him being a little too rough he’ll sense somethings up and encourages you to talk, sparring is meant to be affective and good for both people involved, it’s training after all

will apologise if he accidentally hurt you without realising, even if it’s just a minor bruise

always aspires to get you to the best of the best, wants to watch you rise in ranks because he knows you have what it takes to be an amazing soldier

he’s so good at sparring and enjoys it so much that sometimes it doesn’t even feel like training and wants you to feel the same way, he’ll help as best he can

[multi-fxndom446]

You came? You called.

Scenario: John Price, Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, John ‘soap’ Mactavish and Simon ‘ghost’ Riley

This is part one to three parts. All of these include the, “you came…you called.” As different scenarios I saw them being used in for these characters.

Honestly I can do a part two to this or even do an individual one-shot for a specific character. So if either of those sound interesting please please request it.

All of these were written in mind of different tropes but pretty much boil down to you both love each other. (Sorry if some of these are ooc I did my best😭)

Part Two Part Three

~~

Captain John Price

Warning: blood, pretty open ended 👀

“Does anyone have eyes on Y/n?” Price asked after several minutes of silence from you. He had been trying for what felt like hours to get in contact but you either couldn’t hear him or you were in a place you couldn’t respond.

There was a third option but he didn’t even want to think about it being a possibility.

“The house straight ahead of you,” ghost gruff voice cut through the silence. “Looks like backup was called over there.”

Price took a deep breathe, his eyes zoned in straight ahead. You had to be there.

As he opened his mouth to start giving off orders the sound of a soft whisper came through. So soft none of them caught it the first time.

Then it came again, “captain..” it was your voice. You were whispering like you were scared of getting caught by someone.

He felt his entire body tense at the way your strained voice finally clicked in his head. “I’m going to get her.”

Before his men could even argue price was running toward the house. He could hear a small curse and more footsteps joining not to far behind and he knew his men were running to join him.

“Price. I don’t know if I can get out of this one alive.” You words had him speeding up and with the help of the rest they cleared the house in no time.

Price found you not even a second later, you were trying to put pressure on a wound and he could tell you lost a lot of blood from the way you couldn’t focus your eyes on him.

You went completely limp the moment he picked you up in his arms like you knew you were finally safe.

It’s all he could think about while he stood outside the medic bay. He carried you inside and handed you off to let them take care of you so all he was left to do was wait.

But only a few minutes later your voice came back to him louder as you screamed his name from inside. He could hear the nurses trying to calm you down but you kept screaming for him.

He rushed in and as soon as your eyes connected with his you immediately stopped struggling. Your body slumping into the mattress as you looked at him.

“Price.” You sighed out smiling weakly. “You came.”

He knew you weren’t just talking about right now but about him coming after you even if he wasn’t sure you were going to make it out alive.

He was at your side in a second his hand grasping yours softly. It felt colder. “You called.”

You didn’t respond but he could see the way your eyes started fogging over. “You need to let the nurses fix you up yeah?” He asked gently, squeezing your hand as your soft gaze continued to stare up at him like you were committing it to memory.

“I just needed to see you.” Was the last thing you muttered before he was ushered out.

~~

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

Warning: injury, your hinted at being a nurse here. Friends to…

It was late when Price and Soap all but dragged Gaz into the medic bay. Heaving him carefully onto a bed which squeaked slightly from the sudden pressure.

He watched his captain tell the nurses what happened but none of them were who he wanted. “Soap.” He groaned out turning to his friend who was at his side. “Give me your phone.”

Soap did so without question and sat in silence while Gaz called you, unaware of the time. “Hello?” Your voice came through a few rings later. Slightly groggy but still twinged with worry. “Soap?”

“Y/n.” Kyle breathed relieved to just hear your voice. “Nice to hear your voice.”

“Kyle?! When did you get back? Why do you sound like that? Are you hurt?!” He could hear shuffling on your end like you were running around. “Damn it Gaz the one time I don’t take a night shift.”

That caused him to pause. He pulled the phone from his face to look at the time and winced when he saw the small 4am in the corner. He felt worse knowing you didn’t sleep very well and he probably woke you up.

“I’m okay, just needed to hear your voice go back to sleep.” He hung up before you could respond. His hand suddenly feeling too heavy to hold the phone to his ear.

“Stay with him.” Price pointed to soap as he marched out, most likely to finish reports before he came back.

Nurses were bombarding him with medical talk and sticking him in every which way. It was more annoying than anything.

Only a few moments later the doors slammed open and there you stood, chest heaving as you scanned the room almost instantly finding him.

“Y/n.” He smiled weakly, the blood loss mixed with the hit to the head making him woozy. “You came.”

You looked at him like he was an absolute psychopath to even assume you wouldn’t after the call you just had. “You called!” You exclaimed marching towards him. “Did you fall out of another damn helicopter?”

“Definitely not-“

You looked to Soap pointedly who nodded his head solemnly. “It’s part of my charm I feel.” Gaz muttered, sighing in relief when your hands took over the work of the other nurses who left as soon as you came in, knowing you could handle the rest on your own.

“You’re gonna kill me one day Kyle. I swear to god.” You whispered as you dressed his wounds, freezing when you felt his hand graze your cheek.

“Don’t say that.” He frowned. “I never want to be the reason of your pain. Let alone death.”

You almost told him you were joking but in the next second his eyes closed and his hand fell to his side.

You almost panicked till you saw his chest rise and fall in soft breathes. The injury taking all the energy he had left.

“Damn it Kyle.”

~~~

John ‘Soap’ Mactavish

Warning: toxic ex, abuse, protective Johnny, best friends to…

Your phone was on two percent when you called Johnny in the middle of the night. You swore you almost started crying when his voice broke through the storm in your head. “Lass?”

“Johnny.” You sobbed into the phone before the call cut short. You pulled the phone from your ear only to see it shutting off and you felt all resolve start to crumble.

After the fight you and your now ex boyfriend just had you needed him.

You needed his help. You needed him.

In all the years you’ve known Johnny you can almost count on one hand the amount of times you’ve seen him angry.

You’re sure it happened often given his occupation but never in front of you. He hated you seeing him like that.

Which is why you’re almost surprised when you open the door only ten minutes later to see Johnny standing there, a frown adorning his usually smiling face.

“You came.” You all but sobbed in relief.

“You called.” He said as he let himself inside. He closed the door behind him and grabbed you into a warm embrace. “What’s goin on-?”

His confused gaze immediately hardened further when he pulled back just enough to see the red mark on your cheek. Delicately he traced his thumb over it, examining it. “He do this?” He seethed and you could only nod.

“Where the fuck ‘s he?” He demanded but you just shook your head and stepped away from his grasp.

“I don’t know he left after the fight but he’ll be back he has nowhere else to go.” You spoke as you led him further into your apartment. “I need help getting some stuff and leaving before he does. Can you help me?”

“Course I can Bonnie.” You didn’t even need to ask him, he would walk through fire if you needed him to. “Tell me what needs ta come.”

You led him to the bedroom and pointed things out to him and within ten minutes he was finishing packing all the essential things you needed.

You were in the living room grabbing anything sentimental when the front door slammed shut. Instantly Johnny was marching his way to where you. Where he saw you were being crowded into a corner of the wall as your ex got in your face.

Johnny saw red the moment he saw your body trembling beneath him. In a second he was in front of you, shoving your ex back who looked shocked for only a moment before he scoffed.

“You’ve a lotta nerve comin’ back ‘ere.” He ground out, jaw clenching when he felt you clutch onto his arm.

“Of fucking course it’s you.” You ex seethed taking a step closer. “You’re the one she cheated on me with aren’t you? I fucking knew it. I always knew there was more between you. The fucking way you look at her like a lost puppy gives everything away.”

He took a step toward you both again and Johnnys arm moved to shield you further behind him. He had no idea what was going on but he knew you would never do something like the man is accusing. You loved him with every fiber of your being and it’s something that killed Johnny everyday.

“You’d be wise to take several steps back.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll fuckin’ kill you. You’re lucky I don’t kill you now for what you did.” Your ex seemed to finally understand the glint in Johnnys eyes and instead of saying anything more, just shook his head and walked back out the front door—pictures rattling from the slam. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“I didn’t-“ he paused when he heard you try to speak. “I didn’t cheat on him. I never would’ve-“

Johnny hushed you as he pulled you into another hug. “I know Bonnie I know. Even if you did he had no right putting his hands on you.” He pulled away only to grab your things and lead you out the door. “You’re gonna stay with me fer awhile aye?”

You could only nod.

(Soap part two- 6 Months)

~~

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

Warning: none really. Pretty tame for my boy. Exes to…

You called him in the middle of the night on a random day of the week, whispering a soft “Simon?” Into the receiver that went unanswered.

You waited for a moment longer wondering if he would say anything but when he didn’t you just sighed and continued to speak. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from right now but I-“ you paused to take in a deep breathe. “I can’t sleep without you.”

It felt like a heavy confession and it made you feel weak to even speak it out loud but it was true. You couldn’t sleep, not since he broke it off only a month ago. And in the time you couldn’t even get an ounce of sleep without him next to you.

Silence continued to fill the amtosphere and you almost wondered if you even pressed call. But with one quick glance you knew you did and he in fact did answer, just refused to speak.

“Sorry.” You sighed, resigning to the fact that you just may never sleep again. Being in the military it was hard to find something that made you feel safe enough to sleep but you did and it was Simon. He broke whatever was going on off. To scared that one day you would wake up and realize he isn’t the one that you should be with. “Forget I called.”

You hung up immediately after. Your heart couldn’t take the silence coming from him any longer instead you went around your small room and got ready for another sleepless night before you were sent back into the field early the next morning.

You had just turned off the lights and tucked yourself into bed when a rough knock echoed in the silence that was drowning you.

You let out a sigh and rolled out of bed already annoyed. You swung open the door ready to give whoever was on the other side a piece of your mind but instead you stood there frozen.

“You came.” You were shocked to see Simon was the one standing on the other side, eyes boring holes into you.

“You called.” He muttered before glancing behind you in silent question to which you immediately let him in.

“What-?”

Before you could even ask he was already taking off his shoes and pulling off his hoodie, which he hung next to yours on the door. A sense a familiarity washed over you. “You have a mission tomorrow. You need to sleep.”

You didn’t ask how he knew that information or where he even got it from. Instead you followed him to the small bed in the corner where he was already making himself comfortable. “You don’t have to do this Simon. I’m sorry I called.”

“Lay down.” He ordered and you obeyed quickly melting into his warm embrace as his arms tightened around you.

You didn’t know how he managed to do it but in only a few minutes your eyelids became heavy and slumber was quickly taking over. “I’m sorry.” He whispered softly but you didn’t register why nor did you care about what he was sorry for.

You only cared he was here now. “I miss you.” You mumbled and you swore you could feel his arms tighten further.

(Ghost part two- Say don’t go)

~~

Next parts to include,

Alejandro, Rudy, Graves, Valeria, Alex, Keegan and Konig :)

And I will post the rest tomorrow I’m too tired to do this again tonight.

[d0youc0py]

“Her and Soap would make a good couple, no?” Alejandro smirked, watching as you and the Scot took turns drowning each other in the pool.

“No they wouldn’t.” Ghost said quickly. A little too quick. Price chuckled knowing exactly what was running through his head.

“Why not? I don’t think I’ve seen Soap laugh so much and they seem pretty affectionate with each other.” Alejandro continued. It’s true, you and Soap were a bit touchy touchy but in a headlock and kick each other type of way.

“They’re friends- nothin’ more.” Ghost was growing annoyed of this conversation. He couldn’t blame Alejandro though. From outside eyes you and Soap could be seen as a good pair. Simon hated the thought of anyone thinking you were with anyone but him- yet he did almost nothing to make it seem like you were with him. Only the most observant people- such as Price- noticed the little things Ghost did for you. The way he always carried extra of your ammo in case you ran out. The way he always made extra of his breakfast for you to have some too. The way he would put up a fight when Price wanted to send you on a mission without him.

“I’d have to agree with Ghost on this one.” Captain sighed, standing up from his chair. He patted Ghost on the shoulder. “I’m gonna get started on lunch.”

“I’ll go with you!” Alejandro and Rudy were quick to stand up.

“What you don’t trust me?” Price raised a brow.

“Well I don’t know if you brits are very well known for you food.” Alejandro chuckled, wrapping an arm around Prices shoulder.

“You kiddin’? You know how many cooking show take place in England?”

Ghost sunk down in his seat and tugged at his balaclava. The heat was getting to him. Plus the way you, Soap and Gaz splashed around in the pool looked so refreshing.

“Hey Lieu?” You swam up to the side of the pool, resting your arms on the hot surface. “You sure you don’t want to come in the pool? I could use some back up in here.” God how he loved your smile. It was almost enough for him to rip his clothes off and hop in. It wasn’t that you hadn’t seen his face before. You were a jack of all trades- one of the trades being medicine. You had treated him for a head injury a while back and the way you accidentally called him handsome made it easy for him to take his mask off in front of you. It was the rest of him he was worried about. The bullet wounds on his abdomen. The burn mark across his chest. The deep angry scars all over his back- and all over him really. He wasn’t ready for you to know how fucked up he really was. He didn’t- couldn’t scare you off. So here he was. Sitting in a lawn chair, drinking a bourbon, in a pair of jeans and a grey t-shirt.

“Lieu?” You repeated. He knocked himself out of his trance.

“No, I’m alright.” He took another swig of his drink trying to drown out your pouty lip.

“Alright.” You sighed. “I was hoping we could’ve formed an alliance. I’m getting tired of Bubble Boy and his attitude!” You yelled the last part, causing Soap to shoot you in the head with a water gun.

“You’re just mad cause I’m winning!” Soap yelled.

“She’s kicking your arse.” Ghost shouted. His comment caused a whole new wave of competitiveness between you and the Scot- so much so that Gaz stepped out not wanting to get a black eye.

“I feel like we should be filming this.” Gaz chuckled, pulling out his phone. It was quite entertaining watching two highly trained soldier go after each other with water guns.

About an hour later Alejandro announced lunch.

“Thank god! I’m starving!” You groaned, pulling yourself out of the pool. Ghost suddenly decided the sky was much more interesting to look at than your dripping body. When he looked back down, he had to stop a groan from leaving his lips. There you were- wearing his shirt. His shirt. It was plain black- but had L.T Ghost printed on the back. His insides were swarming, and he barely had any time to process as you ran inside to start eating. He needed to stay there for a moment. He needed to calm down. He wasn’t use to this. Such little things completely throwing him off. He looked down, noticing how his bag and your bag were so close, that’s when he noticed another black clothing item. He grabbed it, holding it up. It was another entirely too big for you black shirt. The one that was probably suppose to be your cover up. So it was a mistake. You meant to grab yours but instead you grabbed his extra shirt. That helped ease the tension in his eyes. He should’ve known you were too good of a girl to be such a tease.

••••••••

The sun had finally started to set. All of you were still coming out of your food coma, and spread all over the house to digest. Times like this were your favorite. Eating delicious food. Hearing and sharing stories with your almost chosen family. Now here you were sprawled out on the tile, your feet dangling in the water as you stared at the pink sky.

“You against company?” Simon asked. You lifted your head to see him sticking his head out the door. You quickly shook your head, giving him a smile. He grabbed a chair and sat down next to you. He followed your gaze and looked up at the sky. Your eyes left the sky in favor of his jawline. He had taken off his mask to eat and couldn’t be bothered to put it back on.

Feeling your eyes on him he looked down to meet your gaze. The mask wasn’t able to hide his emotions anymore- not that you caught the obvious adoration across his face. Your eyes traced over the scar that extended from his cheekbone down to the corner of his lip. He watched you watch him- knowing exactly what you were looking at. Yet he didn’t feel insecure. You had a glint in your eye, it wasn’t judgement or pity. The closest thing he could compare it to was understanding. You didn’t feel sorry for him. You didn’t look at him with any disgust. You just admired it. Like people would a painting that they couldn’t quite understand but enjoyed the feeling it gave them nonetheless. You enjoyed the feelings he gave you. The security you felt with him. You knew instinctually that he would always be there. Guiding you. Watching you. Protecting you. Making your day better- even in the smallest ways. His scars were assurance of that. He’d always fight his way out to be there.

The look in your eyes made it possible for him to say something he’d wanted to all day.

“Wanna go for a swim?” He asked.

[roosterr]

murphy's law

a/n: ive had this idea in my head for a while so i decided to dump it out of my brain for all of you to enjoy. somewhat inspired by lunarvicar's amazing wonderful fic to the flame i really love her writing so check it out yo also i haven't written anything in years so cut me some slack :')

pairing: captain john price x gn!reader

summary: when a simple mission goes south, you get left behind in the confusion. you just can't seem to catch a break.

no use of y/n, callsign is 'vantage'

no physical description, but reader is (very) vaguely implied to be shorter than price

warnings: descriptions of injury (nothing too graphic), canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, minor character death, i don't know how the military works lmao, lots of swearing bc i can't help myself

word count: 8.6k

read it on ao3 here

✹✹✹

it was a straightforward mission; in and out, grab what you need, and you'd be home in time for dinner. nothing you hadn't handled before.

ghost and price were on overwatch; the lieutenant was positioned with his rifle on a rooftop across the street, whilst the captain stayed in the suv with a laptop to keep an eye on the surveillance cameras around the exterior of the building.

you'd had your eyes on this intel for months now, biding your time and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. your opening had finally arrived, and with all that time spent planning, it was going so well.

that should have been the first red flag.

the second, more apparent, warning sign was that anything you found as you, gaz, and soap swept the building was either something you already knew, or irrelevant. how was that possible? the location of this facility was a heavily guarded secret, you'd fought tooth and nail to find it; why spend so much effort hiding something which had such little value?

you'd ventured to the second floor, up the damp stairwell and further into the eerily quiet building. there must be something worth hiding here, you just had to find it. you certainly weren't planning on going home empty handed.

you paused your movement into the dark, staring down the empty corridor through the sights of your gun. you felt your stomach turn, and swallow down the sick taste of bile in your throat. for everything you'd done to get here…

it was going so… well.

bringing your hand to the radio on your chest, you don't bother to calm the shake in your voice before speaking.

"does this feel off to anyone–"

you're cut off by price's shouting, a twinge of panic in his voice you aren't used to hearing from him.

"fuck– it's an ambush! get out of there, now!"

you're about to respond, when you hear gunshots from below you. soap and gaz were downstairs, where the hostiles were pouring into the building, and you were on your own upstairs.

the shots from ghost's rifle make your ears ring, even from across the street.

"vantage, get yer arse down here, there's too many of 'em!" soap's yelling brings you out of your haze, and you can't find the energy to respond as you take off running, back to the stairs you came up. "shit– man down! gaz is hit! they're coming up, vantage!"

you just about register what he said when the door to the stairway bursts open only a few metres ahead of you. diving into the nearest open room, you narrowly avoid a bullet to the gut, and slam the door shut behind you.

shit. fuck. fucking shit.

you counted at least four hostiles up here, and with gaz injured, soap would most likely be dragging him back to the suv you all arrived in, where price was waiting, which meant…

you really were alone.

well, ghost was out there, but he was a man of self preservation. he wouldn't risk coming in here to save you. not when you were this fucked.

your chest felt tight, now, and you could hear the enemies shouting on the other side of the wall. come on, you plead with yourself, do something!

snapping your head to look around the room you'd trapped yourself in, your eyes linger on the filing cabinets lining the wall next to you. you can drag them over here, barricade the door. 

prolong your survival, or delay the inevitable.

you hadn't noticed how hard your nails were digging into your palms until you went to grip the cabinet. the half-moon divots stung against the cool metal as you heaved it in front of the door.

now the hostiles are outside, rattling the wall with their attempts to kick the door down.

you drag another one, for safe measure. you pray they'll be heavy enough.

through the blood rushing in your ears, you can just about make out price's voice.

"vantage, answer me dammit! what is your bloody status!"

"i'm good– i'm good," you manage to get out between pants, never once taking your eyes off the door. willing your heartbeat to slow down. "not injured, just– stuck in a room upstairs."

"that doesn't sound good to me."

it all went quiet when he spoke to you. at first you thought it was just because your focus had shifted– because it was him– but it really was quiet now.

"yeah, i… they're– wait, they're not at the door anymore, they…"

hold on.

what?

"ghost, you got eyes? what's happenin' over there?" there's a sense of urgency to your captain's voice, and for a single selfish moment, you think he might be worried for you beyond that of a just soldier. your frenzied mind lingers on that thought.

the gruff voice of ghost brings you back to reality,

"they're setting charges– vantage, you need to find a way out."

charges. explosives.

all you can muster is a half-hearted, "shit…"

deep down, you know that isn't going to happen. you wouldn't have time to run down the stairs, and even if you did you'd only be walking right into their bullets. there's nothing they can do to help. and you think, deep down, they know that too.

this is it, then, you think to yourself, am i really going to die like this?

and for another fleeting moment, you're filled with regret that you would never get to see john's face again. all the stolen glances, lingering touches, inside jokes; none of it would ever amount to anything. would he remember you? would he even come back for your dog tags?

the tightness is back in your heart, but it's different this time.

your eyes still don't leave the door as your back hits the wall. the faint moonlight gives the room a soft glow, serene, and your heart sinks further into your stomach.

the moonlight;

the window, the outside.

not an ideal escape route, but these were hardly ideal circumstances.

you didn't waste a second with hesitation and backed up for a running start. you thank every deity you can think of that you always insisted on wearing a helmet.

this was going to hurt, but it was better than the alternative.

"van, you have to get out, please!" you're not even sure who's talking in your ear anymore, but you know who you want it to be.

for him, you think to yourself, i have to make it back to him.

with a deep breath, you take off into a sprint, tucking your head into your elbow and diving shoulder first through the glass.

as you free fall out the second storey window, you think you hear john calling your name, your real name, and you think you feel a flutter in your chest. it was almost peaceful.

and then you hit the ground.

with a thump and a sickening crack, you rolled unceremoniously and ended up on your side, in the snowy alleyway behind the building you were just trapped in; the building that was about to be demolished. your elbow muffled your pained cry.

right, explosives, the reason you jumped to begin with.

your teammates are still going berserk in your ear, yelling at each other or you or both, but you can't bring yourself to respond. you could answer them once you were a safe distance away– and when you could breathe without heaving. as you stand, swaying on your feet, you feel your ribs shift in a way they definitely aren't supposed to, filling you once again with the innate urge to vomit.

but you swallow that down; it'll have to wait, you need to get as far away as possible, now.

your hands braced your broken ribs– and you notice, then, that your shoulder is killing you too– as you stumble down another alley, leading away from the building. you slip and almost fall on the untouched snow, but somehow manage to catch yourself. in the back of your mind, you notice you lost your rifle at some point. you'd have to survive with just your pistol.

for a moment, you almost felt that you'd gotten away, that you'd made the perfect escape.

of course, it was too perfect.

the charges finally went off. you were thrown forward, and despite your helmet, everything went black.

✹✹✹

your ribs flared with agony at the ragged breath you took, blinking your eyes open as consciousness returned to you. darkness swarmed your vision, contrasting the pure white of the snow that was slowly freezing your extremities, and you fought with every bit of self-restraint you had not to cry. your eyes stung anyway.

how long were you out? you were still in the alley, and you hadn't been found by anyone yet, so it couldn't have been long. i need to move, is the only thought swirling in your head. with what little strength you could muster, you rolled yourself onto your back to look at the ruins behind you.

dust filled the air and coated everything in sight, obscuring your vision almost fully; but what you could make out, was the lights from your enemy's guns as they swept the rubble.

looking for you, presumably.

shit shit shit.

you had god knows how many broken ribs, your shoulder was fucked, and now your vision was swimming, and to top it all off you could barely hear yourself think over the violent ringing in your ears. this night just kept getting better and better.

it took everything in you not to scream at the agony as you dragged yourself behind a fallen dumpster, sitting up against the cold brick of the building behind you in an attempt to catch your breath.

in. out. in. out.

in.

out.

every move had your bones creaking in protest, the longer you sat here the more you felt every little cut and bruise and shard of glass littering your body. the dust in the air tickled your throat and threatened to make you cough up a lung, spots in your vision danced like fireflies, luring you back into the clutches of sleep.

no… i can't rest yet, you urged yourself to fight your drooping eyelids, i have to get back to the suv… they're waiting… for me…

the crunch of debris under heavy boots snaps you back to the present.

someone was approaching.

the optimist in you wanted to believe it was price, coming to rescue you. but you couldn't take that chance. your hand grips the pistol on your hip, drawing it out slowly to make as little noise as possible.

the shadowed figure came stumbling into view. your arm straightened to aim at their unprotected head, eyes wide and breathing laboured.

the man– the boy– locked eyes with you, flinging himself backwards to the wall opposite you with his hands held high.

your expression hardened. he was your enemy. his uniform made that clear. for a moment, neither of you moved, you weren't even sure if he was breathing anymore. like two wild animals, locked in a staredown, each of you waiting for the other to make the first move. which one of you was the hunter, and which one was the prey?

shooting him will draw his comrades over here. sparing him means he can call them over himself. a lose-lose.

lost in your internal debate as you stare at him, you vaguely notice his hand lowering to his belt, and in a moment of panic, your heart clenches in time with your finger to deliver a shot right between his eyes.

his body slid down the wall, a perfect mirror of your own as the life fades from his expression.

shit. again.

his friends must’ve heard that. with renewed, adrenaline fueled vigour, you scramble across the alley, and begin rifling through the packs on his chest and belt.

a twinge of guilt fills you as you notice his empty holsters. he wasn't even armed.

shaking your head, you find what you're looking for; a morphine shot. at least, that's what it looked like, the words on the label were swimming with the concussion you surely had. it would have to do.

you take the syringe carefully, and stick the end into the muscle of your thigh, through a rip in your pants you hadn't noticed before, and inject the solution. it would take a minute to kick in, but hopefully the painkiller would help you at least make it back to the suv where your team was waiting.

where price was waiting. god you hoped they were okay, him especially, though he was probably in the least danger of you all. what you wouldn't give to have stayed in the car with him.

pocketing the empty syringe, you spare another glance at the boy's face. his wide, lifeless eyes. the pack he was reaching for. the same one you found the morphine in.

he… was going to help you. and you'd killed him.

oh god. the realisation has your stomach turning for the third time that day.

you pressed his eyes shut and pushed yourself to stand. as you trudge your way to the far end of the alley, you keep your eyes forward. there wasn't time to linger.

with a deep breath, you steel yourself and begin to make your way through the cold, abandoned streets of the small town. the suv wasn't far, only a couple blocks away. it wouldn't take you long to get there, even with your injuries.

somewhere in the distance, you could hear terrified screaming, presumably the residents who were forced awake by the sound of the explosion.

now that the ringing had died down, you realise that you hadn't heard your teammates in a while. absent-mindedly, you bring a hand up to press the comms, and you almost start talking before you feel the plastic crunch under your fingers.

"oh for fucks sake."

of fucking course your radio was broken. it must have been crushed when you were flung forward by the explosion.

brilliant.

whatever, the suv would be in your sight soon anyway, you don't need it.

the cover of night made it significantly easier to hobble through the streets unseen, thanks to your all black gear. the enemy were still hovering around the destroyed building, but at least that meant they thought you were buried under there. hopefully they would stay distracted long enough for you to make it back.

god, fuck, you really couldn't wait to get back to base. you desperately needed a shower hot enough to melt your skin to scrub off all the dirt and blood from your body. the morphine had started to kick in now, but you still felt your ribs shift unnaturally with every heavy step. you'd definitely need a few weeks off to recover from this one, and you’d probably get an earful from the captain. you’d kill to hear his voice right now, even if he was yelling at you for being an idiot.

only a little further. then you’d be back with the safety of your team, with this godforsaken place in the rear view mirror. with the promise of being able to rest, your limbs seemed to grow heavier as the exhaustion finally made its way into your bones.

except, when you turn the final corner, you freeze, an ice-cold dread sweeping through your veins.

the car was gone.

it wasn’t there.

they weren’t there.

there was a stretch of tarmac that fresh snow just beginning to fall had yet to cover, tire-tracks that showed the u-turn the suv had done, blood on the snow from– you assume– gaz, empty bullet casings from the fight they put up.

but no suv.

no teammates.

no john.

no. no, no no no. they couldn’t have left you. that wasn’t how you did things in the 141. it was no man left behind, you knew that. maybe they’re just circling the area, you rationalised, desperately trying to calm your ragged breathing, yeah, they went to look for me. they wouldn’t leave me behind.

but they weren't here.

and as you followed the tire-tracks down the street, they didn’t go back into the town. they made a straight line, directly to the dirt track leading into the wilderness, clear as day in the snow. back the way you had all gotten here earlier that night.

your knees dampen from the snow, the painkiller in your system keeping you from feeling the impact. when did you fall over? there was no attempt to stop the searing hot tears this time as they ran through the dirt caked to your face. your throat constricted, lifting a hand to your mouth to muffle your hyperventilating.

they were gone.

long gone, without you.

they really had left you behind.

a mumble from somewhere to your left interrupts your breakdown. grief morphs into blinding rage for a split second; can i get a fucking break? you swing your arm still holding the pistol to point at whoever was watching you, twisting your abdomen in a way that has you gritting your teeth.

a woman, clutching her young son, shielding his eyes and ears from you.

you lower your gun. that’s not a mistake you’ll make twice. catching her eyes, you gesture for her to be quiet, which is quickly met with her frantic nodding.

it reminds you, you’re still not safe here. you were supposed to be, but hey, it looks like plans change. no man left behind– what a load of horseshit. you push yourself onto shaky legs, you only had a few hours until the morphine wore off, and you needed to be out of here before that happened. as fast as you could possibly muster, you begin to stumble towards the dirt track that disappears into the treeline, following the slowly disappearing tire-tracks.

✹✹✹

you managed to make it into the woods faster than you expected, and you found a fallen tree slightly off the path to take shelter behind while you licked your wounds. literal and metaphorical.

this was unbelievable. how could they leave you like that? if they’d only taken the time to do a quick lap of the building, they would’ve found you laying face down in the snow, and this whole mess could have been avoided. where were they off to in such a hurry anyway? it’s not like you guys had found anything sensitive. 

oh, wait. gaz was shot. that had briefly slipped your mind. perhaps you were being a little selfish by getting so worked up by this, but then again, for all they knew you could have been in the same condition– or worse. they…

your breath hitched. and not from your injuries.

they thought you were dead. that would make sense, in the chaos of everything, and amidst your panic, you didn’t really do a good job keeping up with answering your comms. still though, you were definitely going to rip them all a new one when you got back; or maybe it would be the other way around.

either way, you couldn’t sit here and dwell on it all night. you needed to make it to the safehouse before they flew back to base. if you missed them this time, you really were well and truly fucked.

✹✹✹

"i've gotta be at least half-way by now," you lament, flopping down against another tree with a grunt in an attempt to calm the burning in your legs and chest. the morphine had worn off about a few hours ago, and you were finally feeling all the bleeding wounds you'd ignored before. nothing lethal, you hoped, aside from your shoulder, ribs, and splitting headache, it was mostly just a lot of glass in your skin.

when you left the town, it must have been just past midnight, and at this pace it would be well after morning before you made it back. you could just about see the first signs of dawn poking through the cloud layer.

the snow had gotten heavier, casting a haze over the horizon, but it hadn't escalated into a storm yet. even under all your gear, the cold was starting to bite at your limbs. your lack of gloves was a decision you were coming to regret; if you lost any fingers because of this you really were going to kill price.

"fuck, he thinks i'm dead…" you groan as you stare up at the sky. snowflakes catch in your eyelashes and threaten to freeze the tears as they well up in your eyes. was he as distraught as you currently were, you wonder? was he even moved at all, or were you just another soldier, just more paperwork he had to fill out?

being in love with your captain was so, so difficult. a mistake, most would say, and you used to tell yourself the same thing. but after knowing him, seeing the vulnerable parts of him he keeps closely guarded, you can't bring yourself to care. seeing his expression when you gifted him the cigars you bought for him, learning his favourite drink when you all went out after missions, trading stories over paperwork in his office late at night. even after everything you've been through together, you know, in your heart, he doesn't feel the same; he's your superior, you're his sergeant, and he is nothing if not an honest man. it can never work between you two. but despite it all, the only regret you have as you sit bleeding in the snow, is that you never told him how you felt.

please, don't leave me here… 

in the back of your mind, you know they wouldn't go home without at least id-ing your body, but you were so shaken by the ongoing near death experience that your train of thought wasn't making much sense anymore.

the distant whirr of a helicopter snapped you back to reality. maybe it was… no, the 141 didn't have a helicopter here, which could only mean it was a hostile one. fucking fantastic. where you were slumped was right at the edge of the road, with very little cover from above. you needed to move further off the path, under the protection of the forest canopy.

with a laboured grunt, you pulled yourself back onto your feet, using the tree behind you as a crutch until you could catch your breath again. the helicopter was getting nearer now, close enough that you could almost make out the spotlight through the falling snow.

a brief jog was all you could manage to get away from the road. the snow wasn't deep enough to leave tracks that would be noticeable from the air, not through the shade of darkness. you still as the helicopter passes overhead. there's no change in its course, and you huff a breath of relief. at least you wouldn't have to try and outrun a chopper.

you watch the helicopter's silhouette fade into the night sky. there was nothing to do but carry on. you needed to get to the safehouse.

this was going to be a long night.

✹✹✹

hours, it had been hours since you first set off, so long in fact that it was essentially daytime. the sun hadn't fully risen, casting the world in a dim light that was just dark enough to keep you tripping over roots and holes in the ground.

the snow had let up a while ago, but the overcast clouds had stayed, the perfect match to your steadily declining mood. you thought you felt like shit earlier? if only you could have predicted how much worse it would get. you were acclimated to the pain by now, it reduced to a constant throbbing where your bones were broken. perhaps the icy temperature around you was numbing your injuries; it was either that or the shock.

ahead, you recognised a set of worn tire-tracks making a hard turn through a gap in the forest. there was no way of knowing it was the right way, but a spark of optimism ignites in your chest. maybe you were finally getting close. you just had to pray that your sense of direction was good enough to be leading you in the right direction.

you were right on top of the tracks now, and upon closer inspection, the pattern of the treads might just match the ones on the suv; you've had to fix that damn car so many times you'd know it in your sleep. they were messy, the snow making it hard to pick out, but you needed the hope right now.

this had to be them.

you go to continue down the clear path, to follow where your team had gone, but your luck just doesn't improve.

the mud slides under your foot, catching your ankle and toppling you in your attempt to struggle through. the breath is forced from your lungs as you impact the ground. you cry out through gritted teeth, feeling the strain of your muscles twisting far further than they're supposed to.

pain strikes through your ankle like lightning. drawing a breath is almost impossible from the pressure of your ribs. as you fight to sit up, the mud fights to drag you back down like quicksand.

fuck. another injury to slow you down.

muddy snow covers you from head to toe, the stabbing pain in your shoulder coming back in full force.

was that a car? the low rumbling from the direction you came from drew your attention, and you faintly see beams of headlights through the darkness. you momentarily forgot about your injuries, a frenzied panic making your blood run cold. another patrol. i need to go.

then, as you struggle to get up and out of sight, you feel a concerning pop from your kneecap, and you don't even have to look to know it's dislocated.

but there was no time to check the damage, you had to hide, now, or the truck would reach you and you'd have a lot more problems on your hands. you scramble onto your hands and knees, and yank your ankle free of the wet mud, practically throwing yourself behind the undergrowth just in time for the truck to round the bend.

your ribs are displaced again, injecting fresh pain into the shuddering breath you took, on top of your newly twisted ankle and dislocated kneecap bent uncomfortably beneath you.

it's a miracle you were able to keep quiet as the vehicle passed by.

by some stroke of luck, or just divine stupidity, your enemies drive straight past the space in the trees and your hiding spot. the headlights cast ominous shadows as they cruise by, but they didn't see you.

struggling to your feet once again, this time you give the muddy path a wide berth as you make your way deeper into the forest.

✹✹✹

one foot in front of the other. dragging your injured leg behind you. cradling your broken ribs.

just keep going.

limping through the mud took every resource your body had left, the effort of keeping upright was almost more than you could take.

how much longer could you possibly go, before you can't get back up again?

you couldn't lose hope.

ahead of you, a break in the sea of trees.

just one foot in front of the other. that's all you need. it's all you can do.

closer, stepping out into the open, squinting against the sun.

against the pale light of the morning sky, you see a dark shape. a building? you couldn't tell, you could only pray it was the warehouse you'd been longing for.

one foot in front of the other.

closer still, despite the bone-deep exhaustion in every limb. you could make it out now, the rusted metal siding and fresh tire-tracks in the mud. you were right there.

you taste the salt before you realise you're crying. 

almost,

somewhere between the agony, you hear yourself think,

still too early to celebrate.

your heart stutters. they were here, they had to be.

they had to be.

one foot in front of the other.

closer again, you focus on the keypad beside the door. your ankle twists uncomfortably as it drags along the gravel.

the handle became your crutch as you mustered the energy to lift your arm to enter the code.

seeing double, vision swaying as the edges fade.

a distant beep. a red light turning to green.

the handle turns under your weight, and the door swings open.

you find the floor coming up fast.

voices are all around you.

you give in to unconsciousness.

✹✹✹

the distinct hospital smell is what rouses you from your deep, dreamless sleep. hands prod at your busted ribs, drawing a scratchy groan from your dry throat. you grab the wrist of whoever is there as you fight to open your eyes.

"sergeant vantage?" they call out to you, and you realise with a disappointed sigh that it's the medic and not your captain. you open your eyes fully and see her standing above you with a clipboard in one hand. apart from her, you're alone in the medical wing. she notices you looking around, and looks down at the clipboard as she continues,  "glad to see you finally awake. your teammate gaz got off pretty lucky, the bullet went clean through his leg. you on the other hand, i'm impressed you made it back at all."

your ankle is in a boot and elevated on some pillows, and you can feel your knee is tightly bandaged under the blankets. an ache starts to form in your shoulder at the effort of holding your arm up.

"vantage, i need you to let go of my wrist." she says, and after an awkward pause you free her from your hold.

"sorry doc…" you mumble, bringing both hands up to your face and observing the tiny cuts littering your skin. you let them flop down to your sides again, but the aching doesn't subside.

"how are you feeling?" she breaks the momentary quiet, setting her clipboard down on the table next to your bed, "want me to get you anything?"

"i'd kill for some water…" you wheeze, the dehydration was catching up to you.

"alright, i'll be right back," the doctor affirms, making her way to the door. she turns back to look you in the eyes with a stern expression before she leaves, "please don't go anywhere."

and with that, the door clicks shut and you're left truly alone with your thoughts again.

your bones creak as you push yourself to sit up, your movements sluggish still with exhaustion, and you're reminded of just how badly you were hurt. everything aches, and it feels as though you'd been asleep for years.

gaz was okay, that's a relief. a little insulting that he got shot and was still in better condition than you, but whatever.

you look around the room for something, anything, to take your mind off the pain, and your eyes eventually land on the table beside you. a few cards sat on top, all with some variation of get well soon on the front, along with a small vase of flowers. you pick up the card closest to you and open it to read the scratchy handwriting inside.

'i swear you could survive a nuke, you're like a cockroach! get better soon, lots of love, soap! xxxxx'

what a charmer soap was. you chuckle at his lighthearted message, he always did try to keep your spirits up in times like these. as you place the card back where it was, your gaze is drawn to the empty chair next to your bed. there was a thin blanket folded over the back, probably left by whoever was last sitting there.

your mind begins to wander; how long were you out? your teammates clearly visited, does that mean price did too? you feel your stomach flutter at the thought of him worrying for you, watching over you as you recover. and if he fell asleep at your bedside? the heart monitor might call the doctor back if this train of thought continues. but then again, you doubted he'd be that forward, he would most likely be buried in paperwork like he usually is after a mission. and the mission you just came back from would require more paperwork than most.

because they… left you behind. that's right. you had to walk yourself back to the safehouse on all your injuries. who knows how long you were walking for but it must have been at least ten hours, considering the sun had risen by the time you got there. the butterflies were swiftly melted by the hot anger rising within you.

you were going to give him a piece of your mind, just like you promised.

all thoughts of the pain you were feeling are out of your head as you fling the blanket off your lower body. you grip your injured leg and lift it over the edge of the bed, swinging your other leg to plant both feet on the floor.

just as you were about to pull yourself up to stand, the door opens again and the medic walks in with your water bottle in her hand. she stops, an icy look in her eyes as she observes what you're doing.

you look back at her, debating whether you should give it up and lay back down, but your anger quickly wins over. the heart monitor picks up again as you work yourself up.

"i swear to god, if you don't sit back down right now," she makes her way over, setting the water down on the table you were using as a crutch. you meet her eyes indignantly, and go to step around her anyway. "no! you need to rest!" the doc puts her hands on your shoulders, and she stops your movement embarrassingly easily.

"fuck that," you croak, your voice still hoarse, "where's captain shithead? i need a word."

she maneuvers you back into sitting on the edge of the bed, and hands you the water. you keep your sour expression, but still drink half the bottle in one go.

"i assume you mean captain price? he's in his office, hasn't come out since you all got back." she takes the bottle from you when you're done, setting it down again, before moving to take the iv out of your arm. if she feels your glare, she doesn't acknowledge it. "whatever it is, it can wait."

"yeah right, i got a few strong words for him, and he is gonna hear 'em."

the doc hesitates as she works.

"i don't know exactly what happened out there, but i think you should know… that he hasn't visited you," she speaks softly, watching your angry expression fall. "your other teammates did, i even saw ghost sneaking out of here one night, but you didn't hear that from me."

silence overcame the small room again as her words sunk in. he left you for dead, and now he was avoiding you? even ghost visited you, and you'd barely had a single conversation with him. your heart feels tight again, the same way it did when you were trapped in that building.

"how long was i out?" your voice is low, almost a whisper.

"two days."

you should have listened to all the people who told you loving him was a bad idea. you'd almost died, and he still didn't visit you? that stung. god, you haven't even been awake an hour and you already want to throw up.

i guess i really don't mean that much to him, huh?

you think back to the night before the mission, when you'd sat with john while he did paperwork. at first, he tried to convince you to get some sleep, 

"you wanna be well rested, love."

but you stayed anyway, saying that you'd just sleep on the flight. you would rather spend your nights of insomnia with him anyway.

the two of you had talked for hours that night, about anything that came to mind. it was the early hours of the morning when you finally retreated back to your own quarters. he'd insisted on seeing you back, despite the fact that it was the middle of the night and your room was in the next building over. the way he'd lingered by your door as you said goodnight, you really thought he was going to kiss you then. but he didn't, and you went to sleep with a heavy feeling of disappointment that persevered into the next day.

"i'm sorry vantage." the medic sets something down on the end of the bed, and you turn to look. a pile of your clothes. "i know how you soldiers are, you're gonna get up as soon as i leave no matter what i say, so i'd rather you not walk around in a hospital gown."

she was right.

"...thanks, doc."

despite the overwhelming pain in your heart, you were still about to rip into price.

✹✹✹

you limp out of the infirmary after dressing yourself as quickly as your injuries would allow, which is to say, not very fast. thankfully there weren't any stairs between here and your captain's office, you definitely wouldn't be able to make it up them with your crutch.

the sun was already setting, a pink hue filling the sky as you pushed open the doors of the medical wing. you tried to think as little as possible as you made your way steadily across the courtyard. it would only upset you, and you desperately wanted to be pissed at him. you wouldn't– couldn't– let price see how hurt you were, he probably didn't care anyway. he was just your captain, after all, realistically there was no reason for you to be this upset.

but you were, and the few people you encountered in the corridors could see it written on your face, staying well out of your way as you shuffled past them.

as you stared at the closed door of john's office, your anger wavered. despite the ache in your heart, you considered for a moment that perhaps you were being dramatic. he was your captain, you were just one of his soldiers. it made perfect sense that he'd prioritise the lives of three others over yours alone.

it was his job, and he did it well.

you love john, of course you do, and that's why you're so affected by that fact. maybe you were letting your selfishness get the better of you. honestly, you didn't have a real reason to believe he felt the same way about you. everyone on task force 141 was close, that's the way things are, you couldn't confidently say he treated you differently.

but he was smart. he had to know how you felt, had at least had to know that you don't go out of your way for your other teammates as much as you do for him.

then again, even ghost had visited you while you were out, and you considered yourself much closer to price than him. so maybe he hated you now, he'd finally gotten tired of your poor decision making skills. it was the reason you were in this situation to begin with.

you were just about to abandon the idea of laying into him when price's voice sounded through the door.

"whoever's standin' out there, hurry up and come in, or piss off." he sounded exhausted, his tone blunt with annoyance. it wasn't unusual for him to get like that, especially whilst buried in mind-numbingly boring paperwork, but you could feel something else under the surface of his sharp tone.

well, there goes your last chance to run. you took a moment to steel yourself, to remember that you were in fact angry at him, and open the door with the harshest look you can muster.

he didn't look up as you let the door close behind you, keeping his nose buried in whatever report he was currently scribbling on. his hat was discarded on the desk next to him, and the hand in his hair was keeping it the messiest you'd ever seen it. you breathe in deeply through your nose.

"oh you'd love to get rid of me that easily, wouldn't you?" you spit, coming to stand in the middle of the room.

john's head snaps forward at the sound of your voice, the hand in his hair dropping to his desk, allowing you to finally get a good look at him. his eyes were wide and tired, you could tell the bags under them were darker than the last time you'd looked him in the face.

"vantage…" he spoke with something almost like disbelief, like he couldn't fathom that you were really in front of him. the hard lines of his face soften as his eyes meet yours, and then even further when his gaze falls to your crutch and boot.

fuck, how were you supposed to stay mad at him when he looks at you like that? you channel every ounce of bottled up frustration you have before his blue eyes consume you.

"well unfortunately, i am still alive. not that you give a shit; you got a restraining order on the infirmary or something?"

he murmurs your name– your real name, and as he rises to stand, his eyes don't leave yours for a second.

fuuuuuck.

"what? you leave me for dead, now the cats got your tongue?" you hiss at him, but you can feel the venom leaving your words with every second. the way his expression falls ever so slightly has you regretting what you were saying. you came in here needing to hurt him the way he hurt you, but you were quickly losing your nerve.

"don't do that…" he was almost pleading, as he made his way around his desk to stand in front of you, his piles of paperwork long forgotten. he goes to grasp your elbow, but you pull back before he can touch you. 

"sorry if you've already filled out my death certificate, i'd hate to cause you any more headaches." there was little fight left in your voice now, as you stared each other down in the middle of his office.

in the pause, john screws his eyes shut, turning his head to the side, before fixing you with a hard stare.

"don't. you know i would never've left you if i had any other choice!" it's not anger when he raises his voice, it's desperation; trying to convince himself as well as you. he takes another step towards you, toe to toe now as you lock eyes.

"do i know that? because from where i'm standing, it looks like you couldn't get far enough away from me," you can't help the way your voice cracks, nor can you disguise the hurt when you continue, "even fucking ghost visited me, but not you…"

another beat of silence.

"i couldn't…" john mumbled, eyes showing his mind was somewhere else. your chest tightened; every trace of anger was gone, replaced with the heartache you'd gotten so familiar with when it came to him.

"correct me if i'm wrong, but i really thought you cared." you try to take a step back, put some distance between the two of you, but he grabs your upper arm– successfully this time– to stop you going anywhere. it takes an impressive amount of restraint not to melt at his touch.

"of course i fuckin' care!" he growls, tugging you marginally closer.

your eyes hardened again; of course he did, just not in the way you wanted him to.

you jab your finger into his chest as you speak, your expression sour. "well you could've fooled–"

he grabs your hand as he cuts you off, and you can see the muscles in his jaw clenching, his face turning sharp again.

"bloody hell, just shut up! it killed me to leave without you, y'know that? if it weren't for simon i would've sent 'em back without me! i waited, as long as i could," he wasn't shouting, but you went quiet as if he was, any retaliation you thought of dying on your tongue. john let out a heavy sigh before he continued, "but you didn't come. you were stuck in that building, and then when it went up in fuckin' smoke, what was i supposed to think? i– we called out to you so many times, but you never responded."

the silence between you was heavy. deep down, you had already assumed everything he was telling you, but to actually hear it from his mouth had you choking up in his grasp.

"i…" you tried to say something, anything, but the words just wouldn't come. despite your best efforts, the tears welling up in your eyes were close to spilling over as your gaze fell to the floor.

john sighed again, softer this time, and using the hand on your arm he brought you into his chest, letting go of your hand with his other and wrapping it securely around your back.

you rest your cheek against his chest, bringing your own arms up around his torso, and revelled in the feeling of his embrace. listening to his elevated heartbeat, you wondered if he could feel just how hard yours was beating too.

"when you came crashin' through that door the next mornin', alive, i swear i've never been so relieved. but then you wouldn't wake up, and you were covered in so much blood… i…" his voice breaks, actually breaks, and you try to lift your head to look at him, but his hand on your arm moves up and presses into the back of your head, holding you tight against him. "...i was fuckin' terrified, love." he whispered.

"... why didn't you visit me?" the question you'd been meaning to ask all along, the real reason you had been upset at him.

you feel him press his lips into the top of your head, gently rocking you both where you stand. the crutch falls from your arm, but neither of you make any move to retrieve it.

"i couldn't. i couldn't face you, layin' in that hospital bed, hooked up to all them machines… knowin' it was my fault…"

"Hey, you know it wasn’t…" you murmur with disapproval; as much as you hate to admit it, you dug yourself into that hole.

"fuck, i'm– so fucking sorry love,"

"don't apologise… please, you did what you had to," you lift your head, and you can look him in the face again. his eyes were slightly red; if your heartstrings were pulled anymore they'd surely break. "plus, i was never really mad at you anyway."

he huffs out a small chuckle, his breath fanning over your face, the crease in his brow melting away as your eyes meet, "well ain't that a relief?"

"i thought you were pissed at me, and that's why you didn't visit…" you clear your throat and avoid his gaze, "i mean, i did lock myself in a building full of hostiles… not my finest moment,"

"no. as stupid as you are sometimes, i could never be angry at you." 

"that is a relief."

a quiet overcomes the two of you, standing in eachothers arms as the evening sun casts the room in an orange glow. you wanted to stay like this for the rest of time, but it was getting increasingly difficult to ignore the voice in the back of your head that said this was inappropriate. the way he was talking, holding you, had your hopes high, just like that night before the mission. the one where you went to bed disappointed. it didn't help that you were expecting the let-down now, if anything it only made your heart sink even lower.

you notice that, exactly like you, john was staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face. you tilt your head, wordlessly urging him to tell you what's going on. he sighs, scanning the multitude of cuts and scrapes that litter your face, "i promise you, i will never let anything like that happen again, alright?"

"i believe you." you smile softly, and you do; of course you do, you'd trust him with your life. it wasn't something you'd admit out loud, but you would do just about anything if he asked you to.

"i swear, i'm not lettin' you outta my sight." the look on his face has you squirming is his grasp, under the intense gaze he pinned you with.

"alright, i get it," you chuckle, your face heating up at the implication. this was doing nothing for the enormous crush you were harbouring. shuffling backwards slightly, you put enough space between you that you can comfortably rest your hands on his chest.

"i don't think you do, love," you feel his chest rumble as he speaks, and his gaze becomes serious, "i coulda' lost you. i thought i did. fuck, when soap and gaz came outta there without you? i thought my heart'd stopped… i just– i…"

it was rare to see your captain so lost for words. you feel his heart beat faster under your fingertips, the distant look in his eyes giving away the internal debate he was surely having.

"john?"

"if i'm out of order, say the word and we can forget all about this, but vantage…" his voice was low, and you felt your cheeks heat up to a boiling point as he cradled your face with one hand and leaned in closer, chest to chest again. the anticipation and the proximity might just make you sick. "you mean the world to me, i don't know what i'd do with myself if i lost you."

was that… what you thought it was? it sounded an awful lot like a confession, and you really really wanted it to be, but… was it too good to be true?

the lack of a response from you had john pulling back with an uncharacteristic cough that radiated embarrassment. he let go of your face, hovering next to your cheek as if he couldn't bear to let go, and you frown at the absence of his warmth.

"just ignore me, i shouldn't've–" he begins to back-pedel, going to move away from you before you cut him off.

"no!" you exclaim, with a bit more panic than you intended, and grasp his shirt in your fists to keep him close. "i get it, i really do. i- i care about you too, probably a lot more than a teammate should." your face heats up at the admission, and he lights up with surprise. "i think i always have."

slowly, he moves his hand back to its place cupping your jaw, searching your eyes for any signs that he was misinterpreting your response. when he found none, he smiled at you so genuinely you doubted anyone had ever been so sincere towards you.

"yeah?" he murmurs, the slight disbelief gone from his expression but still present in his voice.

"yes, john," you mirror his tone, bringing a hand up to hold the back of his neck. his skin burned hot under your touch.

"well thank god for that," his voice is barely a whisper now, as he draws your lips closer to his. the air separating you felt thick enough to be cut.

you let your eyes fall closed, and with a small burst of confidence, you lean forward and close the final distance between the two of you. he kisses you so tenderly, with so much emotion, it makes your head spin. you sigh into him, tilting your head and pressing yourself impossibly closer, revelling in the feeling of being in his arms at last. all your many months of pining had led up to this moment, and you felt like your heart might just burst. regretfully, you find yourself needing to break away for air, and to your delight he follows your lips as you pull back.

"maybe i should get injured more often, if this is what i get," you breathe, a dazed smile on your face as both your eyes flutter open, and his chest rumbles under your hand with a deep chuckle.

"you better not; i'll have your head if you do, love."

✹✹✹

[mactavsh]

Situational Awareness

Synopsis: The boys get captured following a lead on Shepherd and it’s up to you to save them before its too late.

Relationships: Task Force 141 x Gender Neutral Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 3.9K

Warnings: violence, swearing, mentions of blood/injuries

Note: someone said feral reader so here we are

Masterlist

You should have been with them. You weren't sure if it would have made any difference but you belonged with your team. The previous mission left you with a decent gash along your arm, just enough that you were benched for the current excursion. While the boys shipped out you worked overwatch with Laswell, gathering intel and guiding the boys in the field.

A lead on Shephard and the remnants of Shadow Company led the team to an abandoned factory compound. Throughout the mission, they were in constant contact with the base at least they were supposed to be. Gaz announced they were breaching another building and that was the last contact you received from them.

After a half hour of silence, Laswell started trying to pull up satellite images, anything that could shed light on what happened. Kate managed to get a drone to the area but there was nothing, like they disappeared without a trace.

Two weeks later you finally found something actionable. You led a small team to a safehouse Laswell discovered. After a bit of not-so-gentle persuading, the Shadows there gave up a set of coordinates.

As soon as you were back on base you practically ran to Laswell's office to give them to her. Much to your dismay, she didn't share in your urgency or so you thought.

"That will take too long!" You paced the room, shaking your head as you spoke.

"We can't go in blind, Y/n"

"If we wait any longer they'll all be dead if they aren't already." You stopped in front of her desk.

Laswell sighed and stared ahead at her computer. She had put the coordinates in and was looking at satellite images of the area. "We have their location that's good but it's not enough. We need to get a team together, find building schematics."

"You know as well as I do, not one of them will talk. As soon as Shepherd gets bored they will be killed."

"I can't authorize an op without more information. We need to surveil the building first. Figure out how many people are there, if Shephard is there." She stood from the desk, her tone shifting. "However, I am technically not your commanding officer."

She turned to face the window and you realized what she was doing. You quickly took a photo of the screen, making sure to capture each image before you stepped back.

"I understand." You spoke as she turned back around to face you. "You know how to reach me."

As you turned to leave Kate spoke once more. "Be careful, Y/n."

"I will."

-

It wasn't hard to formulate a plan, after all, you were recruited by Price for a reason. Your strategic thinking went almost unmatched and your propensity for stealth made you deadly. You waited for nightfall before sneaking off base with all the gear you'd need and some that packed a bigger punch.

The drive was tense as you got closer to your target, you stopped in a clearing a few miles north to avoid detection and hiked the rest of the way. No overwatch and no backup, you triple-checked your gear. There was no room for error here.

The two-mile hike seemed to pass in an instant, your feet carrying you on autopilot through the dark forest. Looking up at the building when it finally came into view you gathered what information you could. Three floors, unknown if there was a basement. One large receiving door and two entrances on the northern and western sides of the warehouse.

Your plan was to use stealth to take out as many Shadows as possible. Moving floor by floor looking for the boys. You knew you would inevitably be discovered, so you'd hoped at that point you would have found at least one of them and that they were in any condition to help you fight.

You decide to enter through the northern entrance. The first objective was to steal a uniform so you could move through the building easier. As you went you were to keep an eye out for weak points, places to set one of the many charges you had brought with you.  After tightening the straps of your vest and double-checking the C4 in your backpack, you readied yourself as you moved out of the tree line and toward the door.

Situational awareness. They practically beat it into in when you enlist, it could very easily be the difference between life and death. You thanked whatever high power was up there for granting you a natural affinity for the skill. You were on high alert each cell in your body buzzing, your highly trained eyes scanning the environment for threats.

Approaching the door you turned the handle slowly. Peeking in you checked both directions before entering fully.

The door opened to a long hallway that was empty as you entered. Slowly you moved in deeper, listening closely for movement. The familiar weight of the rifle in your hands was welcome as you delved further into unknown enemy territory.

The rifle however was simply to keep up apprentices while inside until all hell broke loose. Shooting it would attract every Shadow in the building to your presence. You had also attached a silencer to your sidearm but even still the shot could be heard if someone was close enough. Even if the noise wasn't heard, the blood would certainly be noticed. Snapping necks or choking them out was dangerous because you had to get up close but it was clean and quiet. Stealth takedowns are your best option for ensuring no one knew you were infiltrating the base until you wanted them to.

A single set of footsteps could be heard approaching from behind you so you ducked into a closet. Leaving the door open a crack you waited for the Shadow to be in front of it before pouncing. You grabbed him in a chokehold and dragged him back into the closet. He thrashed in your hold but not long before you had enough of a grip to snap his neck. He fell limp and you slowly guided his body down to the floor.

Lucky for you he seemed to be about your size so you made quick work of relieving him of his uniform. You momentarily removed your tac vest to put on the jacket with the Shadow Company emblem. Your vest was already black so it fit in with the uniform. It had seen you through countless missions, quickly becoming an extension of you. Price had given it to you when you joined the 141 and it has been with you ever since. You grabbed the gaiter and helmet next, adjusting them to fit properly over your face, effectively shielding your identity.

You strapped the dead man's rifle to your back for later and brought yours up as you exited the closet once more. Head held high you continued pushing forward.

Turning down the next hallway you paid close attention to the attached rooms. It was quiet, you couldn’t hear many voices if any. You didn’t have time to clear each room but some of the doors had windows allowing you to confirm those particular rooms were empty. You stashed that information in your mind for later.

Footsteps approached from in front of you but you held fast. A Shadow rounded the corner, not paying any attention to you. A plan quickly formed in your head. You waited until he passed you and was standing next to the door of one of the empty rooms before calling out to him.

“Excuse me,” He paused his walking and you approached so you were standing in front of him. “I seem to be a little lost, could you tell me where the armory is?” You lied.

He rolled his eyes and just as he was about to speak you lunged, maneuvering him into the empty room and kicking the door shut behind you. He fell lying on his stomach, so you straddled him and held his wrists against his back. "Where’s the 141?"

He gritted his teeth as he squirmed. "Fuck you, I’m not telling you shit.”

You tutted in his ear. “Is that really how you want this to go?”

“I’m dead either way." He grunted as he struggled beneath you.

“So you’re not entirely stupid then.” You shifted both of your positions so you were on the ground behind him, holding him firmly with your thighs as you pulled his arm at an awkward angle.

"You have a choice here." Your voice was low, calm. "I can kill you quickly and painlessly. Or," You tugged on his arm earning a groan from him. "I can make sure you bleed out nice and slow where no one will find you."

He grunted at the pressure before he spoke. "The Captain is in a cell on this level, south hallway with the Brit two doors down from him."

"What about the other two?" When he didn't answer right away, you pulled on his arm once more, popping it out of the socket.

He yelled in pain and you quickly brought a gloved hand over his mouth to muffle the noise.

You waited for the man to still before removing your hand. He spoke hurriedly as soon as the barrier was gone. "The Scot was being annoying so they pulled him out of his cell and brought him to the top floor. The big guy is there too."

"What's up there?" You shifted again, putting him in a chokehold.

"Interrogation."

“What about Shepherd?”

“He left a few days ago, I don’t know where.”

"Good boy." You patted his head before snapping his neck. You stood and dragged the body deeper into the room, out of view from the door. You planted some C4 in the room before readjusting your gear back into place. Stretching your neck you headed out of the room and toward the southern end of the building.

The building was large and you mentally kicked yourself for entering on the opposite side of where the boys were, not that you could’ve known. The long walk however did give you an opportunity to take out many of the patrolling Shadows as well as get a better idea of stairwells and possible escape routes.

Finally, you entered the hallway in question. There was only one guard stationed outside the doors. Obviously, they didn't think anyone would be stupid enough to storm their castle. You waited until you were right in front of the guard to pounce. Quickly reaching up and snapping his neck then lowering the body quietly to the floor. You pulled the keys off his belt, opened the door, and dragged the body in with you.

The cell was dimly lit and smelled strongly of blood. Price was chained to a chair in the middle of the room. He slowly raised his head looking at the dead Shadow then at you, a weary expression crossing his bloodied features. You pulled your mask down as you approached him.

"Y/n?" He spoke, voice horse.

"Nice to see you, Cap."

He paused squinting at you through a black eye as you unlocked his bindings. After you finished you hooked the keys back onto your vest and stood in front of him.

"Where's your team?" The Captain questioned, finally noticing no other soldiers were with you.

"My team went and got themselves captured."

Price grabbed your bicep as he stood. "Y/n, did you come here alone?"

"Didn't have a choice. You boys were running out of time and Laswell's hands were tied."

"Christ."

"I know, reprimand me later. Gaz is down the hall, Soap and Ghost are on the top floor." You handed him one of the guns you looted off a Shadow. "We're all we got."

He took the gun and nodded. "That's all we need."

You moved toward the Shadow you had just killed, quickly relieving him of his uniform and helmet then handing it to Price. "Can't have you breaking my cover just yet."

"As soon as we have everyone, we're blowing this place to high hell." He spoke as he got dressed, wincing when he tightened the vest over his chest.

"What d'ya thinks in my backpack?" You smirked.

"Remind me to separate you and Soap from now on."

"Aw come on, sir." You feigned offense as you stepped up to the door, pulling your mask back up and preparing to move. You pulled more explosives from your back, carefully affixing them to the wall.

With your back turned you couldn't see the small smile that crossed Price’s features as he looked at you, a sense of pride swelled in his chest. He pulled up his mask as he took position behind you. "Take point, kid."

"Copy." You opened the door, looking both ways before stepping fully out. Quickly you moved two doors down. You unhooked the keys from your vest and unlocked the door.

"I'll watch the hall." Price spoke, closing the door for you as you entered the room.

Gaz's cell was the same as Price’s; same dim light and metallic scent. You pulled your mask down and the scent hit you hard. Shaking it off you moved toward Gaz, his head was limp against his chest, slow breaths could be heard emanating from him.

"Gaz?" You kneeled down and set a hand on his shoulder as soon as you were close enough. Blood slowly trickled from his nose and you assumed it was broken by the new angle it was bent at.

"Come on Kyle, we gotta go." You gently shook him, a light groan left him as he woke.

Bleary eyes met yours as he regained consciousness, a smile forming from cracked lips. "My hero."

You rolled your eyes and smiled at him before gently removing the chains holding him in place and standing in front of him. "Can you stand?"

Tentatively he stood grabbing your shoulder for support. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them, clearer than they were before. "Ready to roll."

The door opened and Price dragged a dead guard in with him. You felt Gaz tense next to you and realized Price still had his mask up, so you addressed him. “Having fun out there without me, Captain?”

Price pulled his mask down and looked toward Gaz who relaxed his grip on your shoulder. "Wouldn’t dream of it. Good to see you're still standing, Sergeant."

"You too, Cap." Gaz let go of you, rolling his shoulders back in preparation for the fight to come.

"Get dressed," You pointed at the Shadow Price just dragged in. "Soap and Ghost are on the top floor."

"Don't you have a squad with you?" Gaz questioned.

"No, they came by themselves." Price interjected.

"Badass." Gaz moved to high-five you.

Price grabbed Gaz's wrist before his hand could meet yours, placing the Shadow's uniform in it instead. "Don't encourage them."

You smiled sheepishly at Gaz as you moved back toward the door. "We should get moving. I've made a dent in their numbers but it's only a matter of time before someone finds the trail of bodies I've left and sets off some alarms." You pulled some C4 from your pack and affixed it to the wall next to the door. "Ready?"

"Got your back," Gaz spoke as he finished getting dressed. Price handed him the gun that the Shadow had been carrying. He pulled his mask back up and you and Gaz mirrored the motion.

You opened the door, the two men falling into step behind you. You lead them to one of the stairwells you’d noticed earlier, it would take you straight to the top floor. You didn’t want to prolong your stay here any longer, neither of the men with you would admit it but you could see the physical toll their time here had taken. They both moved cautiously and you could see a slight limp from Gaz.

After ascending the stairs, stopping a couple of times to plant explosives, you slowly approached the door. You peeked through the small window in the door. The top floor was much smaller than the rest, the door opened to a large room with one door situated to the right, and one guard stationed in front of it. He was a hulking figure, taller than Ghost but leaner. He stood between you and the room that held the rest of your team.

Years of sparring with Ghost had taught you how to fight an opponent who was stronger and bigger than you. He wanted to make sure you knew how to defend yourself in any situation. Mentally, you thanked him as you formed a plan of attack.

"Let me get him out of the way. Keep going," You unhooked the keys from your vest and handed them to Price. "Ghost and Soap should be through that door. As soon as I engage, move."

"Y/n-" Gaz began to protest but you cut him off.

"Neither of you are in any condition to fight him off and we can't make too much noise until we get through that door. That big fucker is the last thing standing between us and them. I'll be right behind you." You pulled three comms from your vest and handed one to Price and Gaz then put the other in your own ear. You pulled out two more and handed them to Price who tucked them into his pocket. "And if we're still doing our dance by the time you're done then I'll shoot him and we can blow these fuckers sky high."

“Shouldn’t I be giving the orders?” Price spoke with no real heat.

“I’m open to suggestions, I’m a just and fair tyrant.” You smiled and Price shook his head.

"We'll be fast," Gaz spoke up and patted your shoulder.

"You better." You spoke as you exited the stairwell and headed straight for the guard.

He stood up straighter as you got close, eyeing you incredulously. “No one is allowed up here. Name and rank?” He spoke, voice stern.

“Ah yes,” You stopped right in front of him. “Sergeant none ya business.” You smiled and could have sworn you heard Soap’s voice from the other side of the door.

“Who’s your commanding officer?” He raised his voice more, crossing his arms as he stared you down.

“That would be Captain kiss my ass.” This time you were sure you’d heard Soap laughing. Deciding not to further press your luck with the bantering you sent a swift kick into the man's crotch. It was a low blow sure but this was Shadow Company and they deserve far worse for their actions in Las Almas. He doubled over and you used your leverage to throw him to the side and away from the door.

“Now, Price!” You yelled into your comm. Quickly the pair ran from the stairwell and toward the door, unlocking it and heading inside.

Your opponent had recovered and lunged toward you, but easily you dodged. Kicking a leg out you knocked him off balance and onto the floor.

It was a momentarily lapse, your mind focused solely on the opponent in front of you, and you didn't notice the one that had just exited the stairs. A shot rang out, then a scream tore from your throat. The bullet lodged itself into your pelvis and you fell backward. The first guard lunged positioning himself on top of you and wrapping his hands firmly around your throat.

“Y/n what’s going on?” Price’s worried voice sounded in your ear but you couldn’t respond. Your body acted on pure instinct then, grabbing your sidearm and firing two shots. One for the man above you and one for the other, both bullets hitting their mark.

The Shadow fell limp on top of you, effectively knocking the wind out of your lungs. Your side screamed in protest at the weight but you were unable to move.

"Y/n, how copy?" Price's voice rang through your ear again as your vision began to blur. Strength slowly left your body as you tried to push the dead Shadow off of you to no avail.

Suddenly the weight was lifted off of you. Ghost and Price threw the Shadow to the side while Soap kneeled next to you. “Y/n you keep those pretty eyes open for me, aye?”

“Doing my best, Johnny.” You wheezed out, the fog quickly leeching into your mind.

He smiled softly at you. “I know.”

Ghost was staring at you behind his mask, worry creasing his eyes. “What’s our exfil?”

“There’s a truck two miles north of here in a clearing.” You spoke, wincing as Soap put pressure on your wound.

"Reinforcements?" Ghost questioned.

Price sighed, "Y/n came alone."

"Bloody hell." Ghost feigned disappointment, despite your current state, he was impressed.

"That's fuckin' badass." Soap beamed at you, squeezing your shoulder.

"That's what I said." Gaz smiled, wincing when he reopened his lip again.

"Stop encouraging them." Price shook his head as he spoke. “Ghost grab them let’s get the hell out of here.”

The conversion sounded further and further away as blood pooled beneath you. You used your last bit of energy to pull the detonator from your vest and handed it to Soap.

“Do the honors would ya?” You breathed out before the world went dark.

-

Heat radiating in your side brought you slowly to consciousness. Your brain struggled to regain traction in the fog that clouded it. The mission came back to you slowly, the fight, the gunshot, the boys. Panic set in, you didn’t know if they got out. Your eyes shot open as you sat up, violent dots danced in your vision and you could hear movement near you, something beeped incessantly to your right.

A familiar voice entered your ears. “Hey, you’re okay, I got you.”

Calloused hands settled on your shoulders, grounding you. The beeping slowed. “You’re in the hospital on base.”

Your eyes finally cleared and you could see Price standing next to your bed. He gently guided you to lay back down and that's when you noticed the rest of the team at the foot of your bed. Various bandages and bruises littered their bodies but they were alive.

You tried to speak but ended up coughing instead. Ghost appeared in front of you and silently handed you a glass of water with a straw.

“Did I miss a party?” You managed after wetting your throat, voice still hoarse.

“It seems we did.” Soap smiled patting your shin.

“How're you feeling?” Gaz asked.

You shrugged. “Good as I can I guess. Just glad everyone made it out.”

“You did good,” Price spoke. “But don’t ever do that again or I will sign your discharge forms myself.”

“Yes sir.” He smiled at you and patted your shoulder. You knew the statement came from a place of worry. Your infiltration could have easily gone a different route and you could have been sitting in the morgue right now.

Instead, you were surrounded by your found family.

A light atmosphere settled in the room, you watched content as the boys chatted amongst themselves. You laughed at the terrible jokes Ghost and Soap were telling each other. Smiled while Gaz and Price told the story of Gaz falling out of a helicopter for the millionth time. The 141 would live to fight another day and god help anyway who tried to stand in their way.

[daisies-daydreams]

Hi! Can I request of TF141 x Fem! Reader who is cold hearted when going in war but she kind snd smile when helping the civilians and children. Like the tf141 never see Y/n smile after joining the military. And when they see her smile the first time, they felt heart warm and almost cry see Y/n smile as an angel.

Take all the time you want. No need to rush.

Pairing: TF141 x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Category: Fluff & Angst

Warnings: Suggestive Comments, Blood, Injuries, Swearing, Depictions of Child Labor

Word Count: 1.6k+

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for your request! (I love your incorrect COD quotes btw, they’re so much fun to read! ☺️).

“Bliz”

That’s what you were known as when you were in the SAS. It was short for “Blizzard”, and that you were. Your taciturn and cold demeanor made other soldiers weary of your presence.

“We call her Blizzard cause ‘Ice Queen’ was just too damn long,” you remember on of your fellow soldiers remarking when he thought you couldn’t hear him. Hopefully, you wouldn’t have to deal with such idiocy now that you’ve been recruited into Task Force 141. When you walked into Captain John Price’s office and he congratulated you on being selected, he seemed a bit put off by your stern attitude.

“Thank you for this opportunity, Captain Price,” you replied, your lips in a straight line. The Captain gave you a small smile.

“We’re on the same team now. Just call me Price,” he said. You stood in place and straighter your shoulders.

“I prefer to call my fellow soldiers and superiors by their rank,” you explained with a flat tone.

Your introduction to the rest of 141 went about the same way.

“Hey there! Name’s Soap. Nice to have a new face on the team!” Soap beamed with an outstretched hand. You eyed him up and down, mouth curved in a frown.

“Thanks,” you muttered as you shifted in place. Soap’s hand twitched slightly as he lowered it to his side. He watched you introduce yourself to Ghost and Gaz before you brushed past them.

“Come on. We have a meeting in five,” you stated. The three men watched you walk towards Price’s office for the newest mission’s pre-briefing. Soap clicked his tongue before walking in the same direction with Ghost and Gaz, your frame already out of sight.

“I thought ‘Blizzard’ was just an exaggeration,” Soap muttered.

“She’s SAS-you know the shite she’s probably seen,” Ghost said. Soap sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“Not every girl’s gonna want to get into your pants, Johnny,” Gaz retorted. Soap scoffed.

“That’s not-“ Ghost and Gaz gave him a knowing, sideways glance. Soap huffed through his nose. “Ah, what do you know? Probably haven’t even held hands with a lass,” Soap waved. Gaz’s nostrils flared but he kept walking. The men rounded the corner and stepped into the office. You were standing at the other side of the room, your arms crossed and brows slightly furrowed. Soap could’ve sworn that he saw you narrow your eyes at him.

“Right. Let’s begin,” Price said. A thick layer of unease settled over the room during the prebriefing. Soap would glance over at you every once in a while. You were like a statue, your eyes glued to the Captain as he explained the ins and outs of the mission.

“Your objective is to infiltrate a weapons manufacturing plant in the town of Nahr. It belongs to one of Al-Qatala’s allies: the Riah Sharquia,” Price explained.

“The Eastern Wind?” you asked.

“Never heard of them,” Ghost added. Price nodded.

“They’ve been operating underground for the past ten years. Just announced themselves publicly about a few weeks ago,” he stated. You nodded, gaze intensely set on the Captain.

“Anyway, back to what I was saying. You are to capture the head of the western plant, Adil Malik, and interrogate him,” he continued. “Best to keep your wits about you: These bastards have the region in an iron grip. They’ve been taking local people and forcing them to assemble their weapons…mostly children,” he continued. Your face twisted into a deep scowl, hands clenched into tight fists. It didn’t go unnoticed by Soap.

“Wheels up at seventeen-hundred tonight,” Price said with a nod. Time flew by quickly and before he knew it, Soap was sitting next to you on the flight. You were sandwiched between him and Ghost, the two imposing men towering over you even as you sat down. Gaz sat nearby along with some other soldiers crowded in the bay. Soap leaned over with a cheeky grin.

“Hey, Bliz,” he smiled. You kept your gaze forward, lips sealed tightly. “What smells like red paint but is blue?” Soap snickered. Ghost rolled his eyes, as if he were one to talk about bad jokes.

“Blue paint,” you replied shortly with a straight face. Soap twisted his lips.

“Yeah that’s…that’s right,” he muttered awkwardly. Some soldiers across from you whispered, only to cease when they realized your icy gaze was locked on them. Soap sighed and leaned back as much as he could.

It was going to be a very long flight.

+++

You pushed through the rickety door, splinters flying across the room.

“BLIZ! YOU BETTER GET YOUR ARSE BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!” Ghost barked. You gasped at the sight before you: a group of children huddled together in the corner of the filthy sweatshop. You heard the lieutenant rush up behind you. His eyes widened when he saw the group of gaunt faces.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he seethed while clenching his fists. You stepped forward and pulled your black mask down, revealing a gentle look on your face. A small lump formed in the lieutenant’s throat as he watched you kneel down on one knee.

“It’s okay. We aren’t going to hurt you,” you cooed softly as you slowly held out your hand. A young boy shuffled forward, hesitantly slipping his hand into yours. You helped him up, causing the other children to mutter to each other.

“GHOST! BLIZ! GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE!” Gaz suddenly shouted over the coms. “THEY FUCKING RIGGED THE PLACE TO BLOW!” Both of you exchanged glances before looking back at the kids.

“Aitabieni,” you said calmly. Some children anxiously huddled near your side as you rushed them forward. Ghost surveyed the area before motioning to move.

“Soap, are the exits clear?” Ghost asked.

“Aye,” the Scotsman replied.

A sense of relief washed over you as you saw sunlight pour through a crack in the exit door. A sudden shriek pierced through the hallway, causing you to stop in your tracks. The other children ran past you as you whipped your head around. A young girl was crying as she held her bleeding foot, a shard of glass with crimson on it lying nearby.

“BLIZ! DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING STOP!” Ghost bellowed. You sprinted down the hallway, grabbing the child and scooping her into your arms as you rushed outside. Just as you reached the gate, you heard a rancorous crack behind you.

“(Y/N)!” Ghost shouted. You curled yourself over the small one, keeping your arms wrapped around their head. The shockwaves sent you tumbling forward. Rubble flew past you as you did your best to shield her from the blast. You held onto the child tightly as the ringing in your ears continued to bombard you. The smoke and embers were searing hot as they cascaded from what remained of the building. You coughed when the dust finally began to settle.

You looked down in your arms, relieved to see that the child was still breathing. The young girl had her face nuzzled into your chest, hands white-knuckling your shirt as she sobbed. You heard Ghost's muffled shouting as he ran towards you, helping you while Soap took the little girl. You tried to stand, only to fall on the ground. The world was spinning as Ghost picked you up in his arms.

“Make sure they’re safe,” you smiled weakly before your vision suddenly went black.

+++

You gasped as you shot upwards on a hard surface. You groaned as a throbbing pain shot through your skull. A dark haired man stood near you, his lips curving into a smile when he locked eyes with you.

“She’s awake!” he sang, his voice slightly muffled. You grunted as you tried to sit up, only to fall back down on the scratchy mat.

“Easy there, Bliz,” Soap said as he came to kneel by your side. You blinked a few times, your vision becoming less blurred.

“Where…what?” your voice croaked. Ghost and Gaz stood in the corner, their attention quickly shifting from their conversation over to you. All of you were in a small room, a lamp dimly lighting up the space. You trailed your fingers over your head, feeling at the blood-soaked bandages.

“You took quite the spill out there,” Soap said. He tilted his head towards the man who was preoccupied with preparing some medicine. “Doctor Kaan said he wasn’t too keen to taking in outsiders-but since you saved his wee lass, he made an exception,” the soldier beamed. A small face suddenly appeared behind the unknown man. Your eyes widened when you realized it was the young girl you had rescued from the hallway. She smiled sheepishly as the man turned and patted her head. He swiveled back to look at you, a wide smile on his face and tears in his eyes.

“Thanks to you, my little Emel has come back to me,” he choked. The girl tugged on his shirt. He chuckled as he brought her into his arms, kissing her forehead gently. The doctor stepped closer, holding your hand and shaking it. “Thank you, thank you,” he sobbed repeatedly. Your cheeks tinted with pink as the corners of your mouth finally curved into a complete smile. Soap felt his heart flutter as he stared at your soft, angelic face. Even the corners of Ghost’s eyes crinkled, and Gaz couldn’t help but crack a small grin. Your face truly shined like the sun when you smiled.

“Anything for the little ones,” you beamed.

+++

Epilogue

Soap watched you with a bright smile as you kicked the football back to a group of kids. They giggled and went on with their game. The empty streets before were starting to bustle back to life. Ghost and Gaz were…busy at the moment. Soap strode over to where you were seated. Your peaceful expression shifted into a slight frown.

“What is it, Sergeant MacTavish?” you asked bluntly. His shoulders bounced as he slid next to you.

“You know you can just call me Soap, right?” he nudged your arm. You rolled your eyes, only to flinch when the ball came flying towards you. Soap reached his hands out, catching it just inches from your face. You blinked as he chuckled and threw it back to the kids.

“How’d you do that?” you asked. He looked at you with a glint in his eye.

“I might have a tad bit of practice,” Soap hummed. You gave him an unreadable expression before turning back to the game.

“Thank you…Soap,” you murmured while looking forward. He grinned.

“Anytime, bonnie”.

————

Thank you for reading! ❤️

@silverwolf-108

[xo-cod]

A fantasy that has been on my mind for some time is being in the poly with the tf141 and having 4 kids that clearly belong to each one of them but all of them treat the others like their own.

I'm just gonna put that idea in your head and run away do what you want with it👀👀👀

ps: I love aaaall your fics but especially how you write the poly ones 😘👌

thank you, my love <33 i hope you enjoy this, i think i misinterpreted this but i loved it so bad :")

4 men + 4 children + you = a recipe for disaster (lovingly)

they all treat the children as their own, there isn't any favouritism shown in front of the children (obvs the dads to each corresponding child would bond a little more closer to them but you get the gist)

it's simply a tradition for each child to receive a kiss before the men go off to work. soap and ghost have rushed out in a hurry but quickly do a u turn and come back to press a tender kiss to the children and then you and then they leave in a hurry

it's a loud chaotic house (assuming you all live together) but you're never alone in taking care of the kids

simon does cooking, price does the cleaning, gaz and johnny washes up and you entertain the children and get them all ready for bed (yes they do the cooking and the cleaning ‼️)

bedtime stories. all the babies cuddled up on their own dad's chest while you read a story for them, resulting in most days waking up to see them sleeping all in one bed since no one had the heart to move the sleeping babies from their chest

deployment can get very hard even if their hours are cut and it draws heavy on their hearts too, being away from you and their baby. each man makes it up to you always <3

but each of the children taking after their dad :") i made the kids into girls, they're such girl dads 😩

price's daughter: a gem. naturally a little more quiet but she's compassionate and a great listener. her heart is gold, always making sure that those around her are good and well. she's is a natural charmer, an observer and a listener. somehow always knowing the solution to the problem wherever all the kids get into trouble.

simon's daughter: she's got the sass from her father. doesn't take shit from no one but a total affectionate baby underneath. loves deeply, always wants the best for everyone. fiercely protective even from a tiny age, somehow always managing to get into trouble in wanting to use the "grown up" weapons instead of the baby ones simon had to buy to make sure there were no injuries since she was so curious. get into a lil bit (or a lot bit) of trouble because they want to train like the soldiers

gaz's daughter: a curious little thing, she is. her eyes always hold interest in whatever is placed in front of her. interested in how everything works, a hard worker. albeit she get into trouble sometimes because she likes testing her limits and somehow always falling off from things which results in her dad getting mini panic attacks everytime she isn't in sight.

johnny's daughter: a breath of fresh air. so much laughter packed in her tiny lungs, hyperactive always, trying to make the best of every situation. always able to make you smile, no matter what state you're in. little ball of sunshine, giggles sure to put you out of a bad mood. and the total prankster of the group. so very sneaky but so innocent looking so nobody suspects a thing

and then imagine if the kids all had total different personalities. price's kid is like gaz, simon's kid is like price, gaz's kid is like johnny and soap's kid is like simon lmfao. it would be so fun to see how they react <3

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

RED-WING BLACKBIRDS AND DARK DAHLIAS (XVII)

|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER XVIII ||

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.3k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, angst, guns/weapons, injury, abduction, talks of abduction, talk of interrogations, protective/worried Gaz, Gaz's POV, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

They called him back to the US the second word got out that you and your mother were gone, and all through the flight, Kyle couldn’t stop clenching and unclenching his hands.

His eyes stared straight ahead, jaw so tight that he could feel his molars screaming at him to let off the pressure. All he did was bite down harder. Leg jumping in one of the metal seats of the C-17, the Sergeant had already run through his gear multiple times just to try and pull some semblance of surety from them—a weight of normalcy. 

He had his magazines, he had his med pouch, and lines connecting his radio. Straps and ties, scissors next to wire cutters. 

None of his mind games were helping. He couldn’t run through his mental checklist any more than he already had; having to be up into the twenties of times he’d counted through items and packed goods. Kyle was always steady—he was always ready. Yet, he can’t say he’d ever been as thrown off his course as he had when he got the hurried phone call from Laswell. 

They’re gone. Get back here as soon as possible. 

There hadn’t been a moment of peace afterward—the man doesn’t even think he’s slept, much less eaten beyond a granola bar and a sip of water. Price had been side-eyeing him since his impromptu interrogation session back in Russia; the blatant disregard of orders. He’d been less than impressed about it, even if it had hailed them the answers they’d been looking for.

Gaz can’t even care to remember the hissed words he’d been passed in the car back to base—can’t think beyond the heavy-set fear in his breast. His heart beat hard in his ribcage, like a hammer shattering glass. The man’s eyes are beady and small. His shoulders wound high.

With a small growl under his breath, Kyle moves his spine back stiffly to connect with the back of the seat, feet resetting themselves. 

Johnny, across the way, spares him a glance, lips thinning. Over the noise is the hard assurance. “She’ll be fine, Mate, yeah? Just focus on gettin’ down there and finding ‘er.”

“Right,” brown eyes aren’t able to convey the same hope, and Gaz says the word on autopilot. He doesn’t want to talk—he needs to move. A man of intelligence brought down to the level of sprinting head first onto the scene because of a single woman. 

The Scot frowns, sharing a glance with Price. It isn’t any use, they know the Sergeant is restless. 

Even as the plane is landing, Garrick’s skin is stiff across his skull, scars pulling tight. When the cargo hold is open, he’s the first off the ramp. 

Kate waits impatiently a small distance away, eyes grim.

“Laswell!” Gaz calls, jogging lightly away from the friction in the air from the C-17. The woman stares at him, blue eyes glancing back as Price catches up easily. The last two follow, bringing down the bags with their gear plus Garricks. Kyle licks his lips before speaking, sunglasses at the collar of his vest swinging. 

“How did this happen?” He hisses, teeth bared. “Bloody hell, you said Alex was on her—I was told she would be under twenty-four-hour watch.”

“Sergeant,” Kate levels. “There’s been more activity here than I’d like to admit.” Her attention shifts to the Captain, who slips up and speaks stiffly. 

“What’s the situation, Kate?” 

“John,” the woman sighs, tilting her head. “It’s good you’re all here—we need as many eyes on this as possible. Follow me.”

“Kate,” Garrick moves forward, but a firm hand snaps to his shoulder, keeping him back. John’s unblinking eyes dig. The correction was as clear as day: show some respect—the information was coming. It wouldn’t help to rush into things, and, under that heavy blue gaze, Kyle won’t. 

When had the Sergeant forgotten his training?

Gaz darts his head forward and clenches his jaw in thin understanding.  

The flight from Russia back to Chicago was over thirteen hours, all four men were tired from running in circles and the time difference. But the job was the job. Gaz would drink as much caffeine as needed, even if he knew that he needed the rest more than anything, if not for his body then for his mind. The meeting room was a short and quick distance—the door barely shut and locked before business began in its regular grisly fashion. 

Gaz refused to sit, instead standing with his hands hanging from his combat vest, thumbs tapping in a repeated, and obviously anxious, manner. 

He needed to find you—safe. Alive. He needed to, and he can’t describe why out loud. The man had thought that maybe your lack of a phone call the night previous had been because of general fatigue and sickness; it would make sense with how you’d been nauseous all the time. On a few calls, you’d been falling asleep mid-sentence.

The flashing images of you possibly injured, bloodied, or even dead, left Gaz’s throat clearing quickly; face going from rage to fear to panic in a split second before forcing itself back to a practiced nothingness he reserved for interrogations. Except it felt like he was the one in the chair this time around. 

Please, he thinks. Please, for the love of God, let her be okay. Fuck…this never should have happened. 

He never should have left.

Laswell starts explaining just as the Captain lets off a grunted sentence. “What’s going on?”

“I went after her, but by the time I heard the gunshot, it was already too late.” The woman shakes her head. “This base was on an entire lockdown—no one was allowed close to our building.”

“Gunshot?” Gaz takes a step forward, head leaning closer as if he’d heard wrong. The others move past it, knowing there’s more. “Why was there already a lockdown in place?”

“Any cameras?” Ghost asks, partially interrupting. His intimidating form looms near the corner, casually leaning against the wall. 

“That’s why I called you back so quickly,” Kate breathes. “Look.” The laptop is grabbed from the side of the main table and dragged over as everyone mulls around. “I didn’t want to risk it over an open channel. Who knows who could be listening.”

“Kate?” John asks, a bit confused as the man’s legs shift weight. “Listening? Who are we talking about?”

“That fellow?” MacTavish asks, glancing at the others curiously. “Chiyou, was it?”

“If it is,” the woman breathes, “then every one of my hunches is proved right.” Blue eyes dart up as the projector whirs to life from above. The light blinks on, shining to the white screen along the wall. “No one else has seen this, and I’d like to keep it that way, boys. All of it from this point forward is completely Black. Off the books.”

“Then let's get to it,” Gaz states firmly, nearly shaking from inaction. His attitude is snappy; body eager to move. He has to do something. “We’re wasting time, Laswell. Every moment is a second lost where Spitfire could be hurt—”

“We all know how much you care, Kyle,” a stern face bares down into his, but the Sergeant’s gaze doesn’t falter for one instant. “But this is far more complicated than anything we’ve encountered before.” A pause. “Focus.”

“I am focused, Ma’am,” Gaz utters, clenching his hands again, feeling the scrape of rough material from his vest. His eyes are sparking with rage, brimming with a deadly promise. “Lazer.” 

“Good,” Is the easy response. “Because you’ll want to see this.”

The first image Gaz sees is you, and for that small instant, his pounding pulse stutters like a schoolboy. The grainy motion of your body as you sit down into the seat outside, placing down your journal and your laptop…brown eyes finch closed in confusion. 

Journal? 

Wasn’t that your father’s? When did you find that? Kyle’s mind runs, but all he can settle on is the possibility of you finding it back at your estate…and never mentioning it to him. Despite it all, there’s a quick flicker of something like a smirk across his lips before he watches you cough into your arm through the video. From there, though, Gaz’s attention becomes sharper, honing in like a blade the longer nothing happens.

Kyle studies every frame—every shift from the bushes and your hands pulling out your coin from your pocket, the item glinting in the low light. He’d never got to ask you why that thing was so important. A pang hits his chest, making Gaz’s sweaty hands twitch a bit harder. Seeing you there made his lungs crush in on themselves—there’s a need to try and break through the projection just to grab you back. 

Focus, the Sergeant has to think. Get her back.

But his mind jumps to every time you’d stared into his eyes up to now, your growing bond that he felt proud of being a part of—some semblance of healing. Your lips so very close to his in the remnants of a dark room. 

By the time the figure slips up behind you, the realization is enough to make Kyle’s hands drop seriously; Johnny, Ghost, and Price all going stone-still as their eyes snap back in slight shock. Gaz’s face drops.

Because it was no one else but your mother that now goes and points a gun at your head. 

“What the fuck,” the Sergeant hear’s Johnny whisper under his breath. 

It’s as if the fire is stolen from Garrick’s chest in one foul gust of wind. A chill so deep it leaves the hair on his arms standing pulls from the depths of his gut—intestines bunching; stomach writhing. His eyes stare so hard, that the tendons behind them pull like a tight string. 

Your mother. 

It all fit together so well, that the sudden realization made his mouth water with the warning of bile. Gaz wants to will the video to stop—and his teeth grind together as he glares at your pixelated form, none the wiser as your matriarch raises and levels the black barrel behind your head just after your fingers grasp at a something from the journal; dropping another piece of paper to the ground before quickly bending to retrieve it.

“Turn around,” Kyle harshly whispers to himself. “Fucking hell, Love, Please turn around.” 

He pleads to whatever God might be listening, no, even then, to any anti-christ or demon that grips at his blackened soul—any of them; any broken, rotten bit of his heart. Something had to move you.

The gun raises, it follows the shifting of your head.

Kyle’s legs wanted to bolt, to run to wherever this footage had been filmed on some off-chance-hope that this was all a big farce—some lie; a test. A test he can break apart and analyze, a test he can understand. But Gaz can’t understand the raw fear that makes his eyes snap from you to the gun like a quivering child.

Suddenly he’s a little boy again, and his mother is giving him his father’s watch and explaining why the man isn’t here. Kyle feels very, very small. In fact, the Sergeant had never felt like more of a failure in his entire life. 

“Please,” is all that he can mutter past numb lips, the others in the room irrelevant in the grainy shadow of a mangled woman trying to piece together her family's broken bits of polished glass. A kaleidoscope of crimson shards, dripping blood over her head; he knew how much it weighed on you, damn it, he knew. The things you’ve already gone through, he burned because of it. All of this is some great brand that sears his flesh: sinner.  

Kyle shakes his head, jaw grinding before his fingertips threaten to draw crimson crescents in his palms.

“Just turn around.” He snaps, voice grating in his throat like a dog—eyes tight.

By the grace of whatever God had heard him, just before the quick flare of the bullet being discharged from the gun, your body drops to the ground. 

John grunts beside him, arms shifting, and a great heaving sigh rattles through Gaz’s lungs. Your figure scrambles as pages erupt into the air—the journal on the table having been struck at the angle your mother had pointed the weapon; trailing down with her arm steady at the force. 

The sense that she’d held a gun before was a quick thought, nothing more, as Kyle’s brown gaze sears the projector screen. Scrambling, the Sergeant holds his breath as you break for the cover of some potted plants, limping because of your thigh before your mother turns her head and calls sharply to someone out of the camera's range—there’s no sound on this footage, so the command is lost. 

There’s a crackle on the screen, and the video snaps to black. Kyle’s heart breaks itself.  

“Bring it back up!” He barks, neck straining itself. Gaz rushes forward, grabbing at the computer as his Captain gruffly reprimands his actions. 

“Garrick!” 

“This is all we could grab,” is the even tone. “There were multiple arrests in our surveillance building, they’re all being questioned right now. No one’s spilling.”

The Sergeant’s hands run the keys, messing with the space bar. Brown eyes land on the silent woman in barely hidden desperation.

“Where’s the rest of it? Where’d she run off to—there needs to be more we can go through. A–” He trails, teeth snapping. “A direction, a lead, something, Laswell.”

“What the fuck is going on,” John grinds out, moving his glare from Garrick to Kate. 

“Her own mother?” Soap adds, raising a dark brow and making a noise under his breath. “Talk about a special family, aye?”

“Could say that again,” Ghost utters, huffing. “She got the package deal.”

“Bloody watch it,” brown eyes barely move from the screen as silence seeps into the room. Gaz’s fingers shift back the time to when you were rushing past that potted plant. A sharp sheen of horrified analysis was rooted like veins into Kyle’s sights now—a feral want.

You had to have left him something to find you. You were smart like that; you were devilishly sneaky when you needed to be—when there was only a second of lightning-strike action. 

You had to have.

An aggressive fire so rare to the Sergeant seems to easily overtake him every time your mother’s face is visible to the camera. A blood-red adding of his brain so much so his hands visibly twitch along the pad. 

“Major breach of all functions on base,” Kate answers the Captain, looking deathly serious. “We have no clue how long this has been going on.”

“The mother,” John levels. 

“I had a hunch,” the woman admits.

“Why didn’t you say anything,” Kyle’s body straightens from where it was hunched over the computer, anger getting the better of him. “Fucking hell, Laswell. Spitfire,” he breathes, “my charge is gone and you had doubts?!”

“Sergeant,” the Captain’s voice is deathly cold. “...Stand down.”

Blazing brown meets Kate’s deep blues—drilling.

“I left her here,” Kyle forces out, shaking hand moving into a slow fist over the laptop. 

The room is swept with a delicate pause. 

Laswell sighs, blinking. She looks to the side, averting her eyes. “There was no actionable intel on her mother. I did the best I could without support, but it was limited to what Alex could find out and relay to me.” The woman shakes her head, motioning with a hand. “Medicine was going missing from the hospital building, but the records never showed that was the case—it was word of mouth. Business dealings that didn’t add up from years back after the failed interrogation of Spitfire’s father; all of it not enough. The tracks were hidden so well, it would have taken a team that sat in the hundreds—thousands, even.”

“Needle in a haystack,” Ghost breathes. “The cell overseas?”

“East China?” Kate blinks, tilting her head.

“Only lead we’ve got,” John grunts, shaking his skull and glaring at the table. “Doesn’t help much, Kate. Whole country.”

“That’s if she’s still alive,” MacTavish adds under his breath, sharing a glance at Gaz. 

The other Sergeant isn’t even listening—the pointless babble of the ones who’d ripped him away from you; as if it wasn’t his own hands that had sent in that reassignment form. ‘

“C’mon, Spitfire,” Kyle bites his lips, fastly tapping the arrow keys to see every frame over and over again. 

Your quick duck, the whites of your eyes, that slackened jaw of terror—he doesn’t think you even realize that it’s your mother, just the threat of death enough to block it out. You turn, and the item in your hand bunches with the tightness of your grip. 

Gas interrupts the hurried speaking from the others. 

“The journal—the USB, did you find them?” 

“All of it was recovered,” Kate answers. “Except whatever it was that she was holding.”

Kyle’s spine hunches, looming closer to the screen. It’s the grain that blocks his vision from the truth—the utter shite of the quality pathetic even to him. 

“Where was this?” The Sergeant asks. “The camera recording?”

Laswell nods, giving away the information as if citing off a report. “It’s a small rest area off the back entrance of building C. We kept them both there as new personnel cycled through.”

Kyle’s already out the door, only blinking at the last image of your hand slapping the side of a potted plant and the glance backward as your mother once more raises the gun. A stupid hope was that you’d be here, despite it all. But the slam of his boots only echoed to his ears alone.

Brown eyes shifted from one area to the next, scanning table and chair—everything had been searched already; most likely by Laswell and Alex. 

“Anything,” Kyle turns a circle, hands sweaty. He needed you back. He needed you here minutes ago; hours ago. Your rare eye contact, your laugh that he had become addicted to drawing out of you like honey, the way you spoke, and walked. It had become too much for the man, and his affection for you was so deep now that it was impossible to deny—you’d snuck your way into his heart when he wasn’t looking, and even if you never returned the feelings that you’d infected him with like a poisoner, this agony was unlike anything definable by vocalization. 

This was torture that he couldn’t fight against. 

“You’re smart, Sweetheart,” he gasps, expression pained. “You left me something, I know you did. You left me something to follow.”

If you were the hare, then Gaz would become the hound. You wouldn’t be gone for long, mark every work he’d ever said and most certainly the ones that he hadn’t. He was getting you back beside him, and then he needed to look into your eyes and spill every secret that was ingrained into his DNA. 

Lashes moving, Gaz’s legs carry him across concrete and patches of grass, the crunch of it underfoot. He glances at the table, giving it a once over, bending to study below it—nothing. Kyle grunts lowly, growing more desperate as the seconds draw longer. 

The man passes the potted plants, shifting to run his boot over the grass and ruffle anything that might be stuck in the earth. 

Nothing. 

“Spitfire,” Kyle growls under his breath, backing up a step stiffly. He runs a hand over the base of his neck, fingertips dragging to stimulate the heated skin. 

When it’s all nearly lost, there’s a moment when the light of the sun perfectly aligns with something metallic from the corner of the Brit’s vision. A tiny glint of reflection from the sun leaves Gaz’s eyes flinching in a reactionary display. Grunting, the Sergeant’s head tilts away in annoyance, looking over with a growling ill-temper to the dirt of the first potted plant, ready to snap at it with vitriol. 

But the insult to the inanimate object dries like a desert storm slashed through Gaz’s mouth on the back of a lion. It’s a small thing, hidden under the deep brown of the dirt—the Sergeant doesn’t even know what it is or if it’ll even help before his hands are grasping and ripping away the top layer rabidly. 

His heart pounds, bruising his ribs with the frantic pulse of life. Dirt flies through the air, and Gaz’s grip slides over something metal—something cold. A sharp hiss is barked from him as he accidentally slices his fingertips as he snatches it, the crinkle of paper mimicking before that, too, is stolen with a fast thought. 

“That’s my girl,” Kyle chuckles, though it's serious—lacking anything more than a hurried second of relief. “That’s my fucking girl…okay. Okay, I can work with this, yeah?”

What is pressed into the soil is your coin, the one you always try to carry no matter what, and a piece of lined paper. 

Gaz thinks out loud.

“From the journal?” He asks under his breath, brows pulling in. His attention jumps from one word to the other, but the sudden color of red steals the only ounce of hope he may have gotten. 

Blood. 

Your smeared fingerprints spread along the page and Kyle’s face balks back with a blink of panic, eyes snapping this way and that until it’s clear that the display of gore was more than residual splatter—it was circling a sequence of numbers; if the contents of the letter were anything to go by, the date of your expected graduation from college. 

A sequence of numbers. 

Kyle’s jaw slackens, and he reacts much slower than he knows he should just off of the anxious shaking of his hands as he clenches the paper and the coin. 

“USB,” he utters, breathing heavily. 

And the coin—that tiny piece of your life, that small item you fiddled with but never showed beyond a quick glimpse when you were twirling it. Kyle flips the image as he stands fully, licking his lips as he begins to jog back to Laswell and demand the USB. 

Yet, there’s something that makes a startling amount of pained sense about the inscription on that coin. But he still takes it like a knife to the stomach with a sharp breath. 

‘TO THINE OWN SELF BE TRUE: UNITY, SERVICE, RECOVERY.’ A triangle with the image of the Roman numeral ‘I’.

It was a one-year Alcoholics Anonymous sobriety coin.

—

“Where was it?” Laswell takes the note and blinks down at it, face stiffening at the smears of blood. Kyle’s fingers grasp and drag the laptop to him, panting from how he’d run. The man doesn’t answer, muttering under his breath the numbers as the screen blinks to life. The USB was already plugged in—a result of the fast call that Kyle had thrown the woman’s way, needing it to be ready for him.

Kate passes the paper to Price, who walks to stand behind Gaz—Ghost and Johnny both following to see what the Sergeant had found before he busted back through the meeting room door. 

“She hid it,” Kyle grunts. Long fingers tapping, the keys give way as the numbers are typed in one after the other. “I knew she’d left me something—there was no way she wouldn’t.”

His Captain’s fingers push away dark particles of dirt, but his blues blink up to stare at Garrick as, finally, that password screen breaks away to the pop-up of the file selection. 

“Yes!” Gaz says under his breath, eyes intense; nearly unblinking. 

There isn’t much left to do except look—study. But there wasn’t time for that. Wherever you were, if your mother had you, there was an urgency that couldn’t be overlooked. There had to be something in this USB that gave the answers that everyone was searching for—what you had been searching for.

The location of a hub. But now…there could be something even more valuable in these files—a place where Gaz could bring you back to him.

Brown eyes slip from one file to another, all labeled from ‘2006 Dealings’ to ‘Reports from 04-03: Row’. All organized neatly, maybe no more than ten plainly visible.

“Sergeant,” Kate shifts closer, reaching. 

“I’m getting there, Laswell,” he breathes, “I need to find her before she’s gone forever.”

Kate and John share a look. The woman breathes, “This needs to go to the proper channels for analysis. We can’t rush this intel—one wrong step and the USB could wipe itself if there’s a failsafe hidden in the code.”

Gaz huffs, clicking through documents ruthlessly. “Bullshit.” 

Soap blinks in shock. They all knew that Garrick could be hotheaded and stubborn, but it never extended itself so much as to be a repeated hindrance to the team—in Russia and now were the exceptions. 

“Gaz,” Price says under his breath, watching tightly. “We all know you’re worried, but until we get solid intel, we can’t move after her. Location is only a part of what needs to be understood, Sergeant.” 

Long fingers flinch to slam into the file near the very bottom, and the screen freezes before Gaz blinks at it in anger—in rage—as his palm slaps the table, eyes spearing the individuals behind him.

He barks, “You’re not the bloody people who promised her she’d be safe!” 

The second the sentence sparks electricity in the room, an explosion of blueprints, diagrams, and progress charts move over the laptop screen. Attention snapping back, flinching wide, Gaz’s face pulls as all of it settles on the very last image—the only one he needs to see. 

It was an aerial view of Eastern China, and along the vast coastline, there were markings in the tens of navy-colored pinpoints. Port locations, maybe; warehouses and factories. But all locations.

Gaz stands up, blinking down at the map slowly. 

Taking a slow breath, Kyle swallows down the saliva in his throat and grinds out lowly into the deathly silent room, “When are we starting, Sir?”

TAGS:

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[cowyolks]

SMOKED

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Gn! Reader

Request: a oneshot where Ghost is smoking but his gf warned him about smoking and that it's bad for his health and then he holds the smoke in his mouth and kisses her and blows it in her mouth or smtg :D thank youu!!

Words: 0.8 k 

Warnings: Mentions of injury, Loss of Hostages, Smoking.

It was silent in the infirmary. Something that made your body stiffen and mind race in worry.

The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall, and the steady patter of raindrops upon the rooftops.

Your nail was in your mouth, already chewed to a pathetic nub. A nasty habit, something you had difficulty breaking. But you couldn’t help but worry. He told you it would only be a quick mission, forty-eight hours tops.

That was ninety-four hours ago.

You stared at the mug sat upon your desk. It became a tradition that after Simon returned from his mission the two of you would indulge in tea and comforts. It was something little, yet it still made your heart soar.

A heavy knock interrupted your staring, quickly you tore your eyes away from the ceramic mug and to the squad all packed in the doorway. Immediately you were on your feet, the office chair sliding back a few meters.

“Bumps and scrapes, Doc. We’re okay. All of us.” Soap had ensured, the weight lifting off your shoulders immediately as you ushered them in.

By the time you had finished stitching Price and wrapping a bandage around Gaz’s arm, the clock chimed. Alerting you that it was now two in the morning.

You rounded on Soap, the air silent between the two of you as you dressed the graze on his torso. His chest expanded with air, before letting it out as your needle pierced his skin.

“We were delayed with the storm, it was pishin’ a doon out there. Couldn’t see any of the hostages through the rain. One of them died before we got there.”

You hummed, finishing on the stitches with a simple tie.

“I’m glad you came back in one piece; I’d be awfully lonely without my favorite gossip girl around.” You teased half-heartedly, finishing the dressing before patting his bare torso.

“Fuck off.” Soap brushed you off, a broad smile on his lips.

“Where’s Ghost?”

“He’s off sulking, the hostage that died was in his quadrant. I tried to say it wasn’t his fault.” Soap mumbled, pulling his shirt over his head again.

“I’ll find him. Get some sleep, Sergeant. That’s an order.”

“Right away, Doc.”

He left your office quietly, and once again you were met in eerie silence. After picking up your messes and sanitizing the area, you shuffled to the stairs, tiredly climbing them as you pushed open the door that led to the roof.

He was there, his body slouched as his head was tilted up and looking at the raging storm. In all honesty, Simon Riley was a storm himself, his body tense and coiled like rumbling thunder, and his mind like flashing lightening, quick to protect those loyal to him, and to flash in anger when those did him wrong.

That’s what most didn’t understand about him. He cared, sometimes cared too much.

You shivered against the wind and stray drops of rain but found yourself standing next to his side robotically.

“You broken?”

“No.”

You tilted your head, taking a peek at him. His jaw was clenched, half his balaclava was rolled up to his nose, enough room for his burning cigarette to slip between his lips.

“You know it wasn’t your fault.” You softly reassured, but Simon said nothing, just brought his hand up to his lips, letting the nicotine escape through his mouth in a heavy wave of smoke.

“You’ll get sick out here, rain’s cold.” He grunted.

Thank you for coming up here.

His opposite hand reached around you, pulling you into his side. He wasn’t smothering you, but the warmth of his side felt nice against your body.

“You know what else gets you sick? Cigarettes.”

An amused huff escaped him, just as he tilted his cheek to rest upon the crown of your head.

“Cheers, love.”

You rolled your eyes, watching as he took one last pull before throwing down the stick and stomping it out with his heel.

He shifted, turning to you with a dazed look in his eye. His fingers maneuvered to the back of your neck, tilting your jaw up to his face as he bent into your personal space.

With a hum of pleasure, you pulled his lips between yours, but with wide eyes, you ripped away from him when you felt the rolling smoke in your throat.

A cheeky smirk was plastered across his face, as you coughed shorty.

“That’s how it’s going to be, huh?” Your hands gripped onto his belt loops, pulling him down to your lips again and tasting the remaining nicotine in his mouth.

Simon let out a surprised grunt but relaxed against your lips anyways. He pulled away, his finger tracing down your jaw.

“Let’s warm up inside, I can make some tea.”

[rookiesbookies]

Monster AU

Thank you to @shotmrmiller for helping me idea generate for this

Hc under the cut for 141+ Konig, Krueger, Alex Keller, and Keegan

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, don’t forget to leave me a comment or a request in my inbox to let me know what yall want to see!

General background for the AU:

When the blood of monsters was first found at ancient sites, the first thought the humans was: Can we bring them back. And when they couldnt, the second thought was: can we make ‘hybrid’ humans with the blood and will it give them special shit?

Long story short? It did. And so the race for the best and most monster/human soldiers was born

Some side effects were wanted. The speed, strength, the aggression, the dexterity.

Some side effects weren’t. Like the voices in the soldiers heads, the loss of life from incapability between a monster and a human, and the ruts, heat cycles, & craving to breed.

So the government hires what they call Operation: Darlings - a group dedicated to their monster infected lovers to keep them docile and content no matter what when they’re on base. Each given a year's supply of: military grade birth control, spermicidal lube, and condoms and one goal - be a monster's mate.

When wind of this got to other military companies, they did basically the exact same thing.

Price

Griffin. His beard now looks like furr now and less like hair. His muscles which were once covered in thin layers of fat, are now bare. The fat melted away. His wrinkles are now much lighter. His has more energy and is much less motion sick.

His eyes now have a predatory gaze. His nails are sharper like claws, and he’s much faster and more agile. His reflexes were much sharper.

With his darling he has the urge to scent her all the time. He loves nothing more than her warming his cock, his tight balls sitting on some chair as he rubs her hips while filling out paperwork. Cooing at how well she takes his fat cock.

His room is now full of pillows and blankets and baby proofy, he cant have his lionese accidentally getting hurt? Even if its just small bumps.

Soap

Phoenix. He now runs hot as an oven, everyone swears his skin glows, and he has this bad habit of insisting he needs random sticks. Every time he dies his injuries and infection turn to dust and fade off into the wind minutes to hours after and he walks away.

His nails are now just a bit more tough like talons and if he drinks alcohol or gas he can breathe fire.

He has this craving to sit in high place too, always has to have almost a perch to sit on above everyone.

When he gets his darling he has this urge to preen all the clothes she’s wearing off her like they’re dirt in her feathers. He makes little clicking noises at her and will fluff out his mohawk to get her attention, almost dying it red and orange and other bright colors because the phoenix voice demanded they had to be flamboyant and bright to truly keep a mate. Loves to rub his nose against her like a bird rubs its beak on things it loves, nuzzling into her especially if she’s nude.

He also craves nuts and seeds as a snack.

Ghost

Barghest. A bug black bad omen of death. Also has a skull face in some depictions. A big fuzzy stain in Yorkshire mythos. Simon immediately noticed how his hair on his head stayed its blond color but the rest of it (pubes, chest hair, happy trail) turned thicker and black as the night. In the dark he can see much better. He’s less sensitive to cold. And he craves raw meat.

For other physical differences he notices how his cock swells differently. His whole body leaned and slimmer. He runs faster, and endurance is significantly better.

He growls deep in his chest and uncontrollably when people try to touch his stuff. When he’s around his team he lets out a purr similar to that of a rottweiler.

He also notices he finds it harder to stay away during the day, as he prefers now to exist at night.

Gaz

Aswang. His teeth are now much sharper. His eyes now randomly bleed but not in a medical issue. His skin mow ashier than it normally would have been but that's fine. He’s more worried about the blood. His tongue is now long and snake-like, too long for his mouth and flat.

His body is leaner than before. Shoulders becoming broader. And his ears are slightly pointed. He’s also off put but his fingers got longer and his hands got stronger.

He hates how it’s voice hisses and whispers so loudly in the back of his mind. Never quiet.

Konig

Cthulhu. Of all his comrades who were chosen, he had some of the most physical change. Tendrils sprouted from his spine, his skin turned cold and the texture closer to a shark. His teeth all got a bit sharper, and his eyes became slightly better suited for seeing in the night. The worse his anxiety got the more tendrils littered his face and wings threatened to sprout from his back. The voice made the madness grow in his head, loud and ringing. His body was an impermeable surface. His fingers had grown a bit longer, more claw like. His voice got even more booming and he was always cold.

When he got his mate, his skin warmed. The voice of the monster that infected him calmed for the first few days. She didn't mind the odd texture of his skin or the tendrils that littered his body. She let her warmth seep through his body.

Krueger

Amarok. As seen in his tattoo on his back. He notices small things like thicker and darker hair on his body and the need to spend more time alone.

He notices his body get meatier, the muscles taking up more space. His hair is growing longer than he’d like, and much faster. He’s much stronger and much more durable, the usual overwhelming stain of the butt of a gun to the face now just a mild sting.

He growls from his throat when he is annoyed now, and is very off put by it because he never realizes when its happening. He has also grown a bit, not taller than Konig still but he is a least an inch and a half taller than he was. His arms now much wider and beefier, with a soft yet flattering layer on top.

He can now hear much better and he doesnt know if he likes it. If someone is fucking on base he can hear it all so now he has to constantly wear his shooting range headphones to hear how he did before the change.

Keegan

Minotaur. His body now gets too hot when under armor. He craves to suckle a tit like a calf and hide in darkness. His eyes are not adjusted well to the lights at all, he now has to constantly wear sunglasses. His nose is now a bit wet and leathery. His body now more easily builds muscle and the skin of his feet and hands thicker. His nails are stronger, like the human equivalent of hooves he guesses.

His breathing is now heavier, his body much heavier. He now stalks around instead of a natural walk. He craves meat, the monster wants him to consume human flesh but Keegan is satisfied with a steak.

Alex Keller

Hydra. He can grow back any lost limps and heal quickly. Only limp he cant grow back is the leg he already lost because he lost it pre-infection. Physically it changed very little, his eyes turn to slits in bright lights instead of small dots, he occasionally gets scales if his skin is extra dry, and he now had crazy sharp fangs for canines but not much changes.

He also hisses at threats and keeps building nests in dark places (his room with the lights off) with stolen blankets and pillows, pulling women into his room to show them hoping they compliment it as a sign of agreeing to mate.

When he gets his darling the little hydra voice in his head goes wild. She compliments the nest, doesn’t mind his painful love bites to stake claim, and most importantly doesn’t mind staying in the nest until the nest smells like her and she smells like him.

Also he has two dicks (human ones, not snakes), one on top of the other, upper one is slightly smaller.

[siriusleee]

23:20

a/n: please reblog I love this piece.

pairing: ghost x medic!reader (hazy) tags: not really romantic, religious symbolism and imagery, dying, gunshot wound, blood, lots of cursing, lots of switching between character pov, obvious ptsd

Part 2 1.8k words

Exodus 23:20 Behold, I send an angel before you to guard you on the way and to bring you to the place that I have prepared.

He's going to die in this alley. Simon lets his head fall back against the brick behind him. His comms are lighting up - Johnny screaming on the other end for backup, for an exfil, for Simon to fucking answer him. But Simon can't; he doesn't know how much blood a human body needs to lose before it stops functioning - (cut through the femoral artery, hit the ribs just right and it doesn't matter because they'll be dead before you can even think about the blood) but he knows he's getting close to it. It's ironic, he thinks, that this is where it happens: some quiet alley in some fucking city a thousand miles from home and not face down in the desert somewhere. A quiet death for a man who doesn't deserve it. 

It would be poetic if he had the brain for poetry.

Simon Riley has never believed in angels. He's seen too much to believe in them. there's been too many he's been too late to save who needed an angel more than Simon ever will - the angels never appeared for them. There is no divine savior coming for him. Johnny isn't going to sweep in and take him to safety. No Price to shake him sober. No Gaz to be the eye in the sky. Simon wouldn't deserve it anyway. 

"-are you ok?"

"-the fuck is that?"

"-grab under his shoulders we can-"

Two sets of small hands grab Simon. He tries to tell them to go away - Johnny'll be here any moment to get him, but he can't articulate the words. Above him, the stars spin in a dizzying array. His feet stumble beneath him; when his knees hit the ground it doesn't hurt. The hands grab at his vest and haul him up. The voices merge around him - he can't make out what they're saying through the ringing in his ears. 

Sorry, Johnny; I won't be here when you come looking.

He can feel his boots catch on the concrete below him as he's being dragged - he tries to get his feet beneath him, but they won't listen. His toes are freezing, but the air against the exposed part of his face is warm.  

Can you guys fucking slow down?

The sound of a fist on a door rips through his skull. Shut the fuck up. 

Simon Riley doesn't believe in angels, but one opens the door. 

***

He stumbles on your doorstep, barely held up between the two boys on either side of him. One of the boys you recognize from the neighborhood - you had stitched him up earlier this year after he cut himself in a skateboard accident. He looks at you and then at the giant of a man he's struggling to hold up. A tactical vest - a skeleton mask - a patch that you don't recognize. Maybe you do, but it's unrecognizable beneath the blood spatter and viscera. 

"I think he needs your help."

It takes two seconds for your years of training to kick in. You can feel your shoulder screaming at you - an old injury that never healed quite right - as you help the two boys drag the guy across your small townhome, a bloody trail left in the wake of the hurricane. 

He's fucking heavy and you wonder what a miracle it was that the two boys could even drag him any distance to you. You're not sure what miracle worked to get him onto the kitchen table. 

"Leave," you tell the two boys, "go home and lock your doors and do not open them for anyone do you understand me?"

They understand you. 

The man on your table is barely breathing.

***

She's on top of him - he wants to make a quip about it, but his brain isn't connecting enough with his mouth. Johnny would be able to think of it faster than him. He knows she's talking to him; he can see her mouth moving, but her words are a soft hum. He can't tell if she's beautiful, her halo is blinding him. 

Take it off.

"-name. What is your name?"

A breakthrough. A crack in the static. 

"Come on dude; you cannot fucking die on my kitchen table."

I'm already dead sweetheart, otherwise, you wouldn't be here.

She curses more than he thought angels would be able to. Maybe it's not in their by-laws to keep a clean mouth; that must be reserved for mortals.

She's rough as she pulls off his tactical vest, her hands sliding underneath his drenched t-shirt. I don't fuck on the first date, sweetheart.

Can angels fuck?

It seems like the kind of thing that would be forbidden.

Her hands are so fucking soft and warm; Simon didn't realize he was freezing until she touched him - her skin is like fire against him. Her hand traces up his bicep, to his neck. She grabs his shoulder; maybe he needs to roll over for her. That's stupid though because he can't. His shoulder lights on fire as her nails dig into the shoulder there. Stop that.

The kitchen ceiling above him comes into sharp focus until she fills his entire vision. Her halo is gone.

"What is your name?"

She's begging him to answer.

I like that.

His lips are like sandpaper; his tongue is glued to the top of his mouth. His lips form around the word, but he can't make himself say anything.

***

His eyes light up when you pinch his trapezius muscle; beneath his mask, you can see his face rearrange in a grimace. 

That's good.

He's not dead yet.

Your medic bag is dusty beneath your bed, but everything inside of it is still good. His shirt is drenched in blood; you drag off the tactical vest the best that you can do after cutting the thick canvas on the side. The shirt cuts off easier, so blood-soaked that the blood drips onto your knee.. 

Through the blood you can't tell where he ends and the injury begins. You think as you press the Quikclot to the wound that you should have put on gloves - who knows what this guy could have. But you never had time for that out in the field either. What difference is this? It was one of the first things you learned as a medic. Every battlefield is the same, every victim is just another body beneath your hands. 

Keep 'em breathing. Keep it moving. 

You hold the gauze with one hand, the other trailing down his arm to his wrist to take his pulse. 120. 

Fuck.

You hear your old captain in your ear, walking you through all the steps.

Feet up.

Blanket on top. 

Pressure on the wound. Add a new bandage on top of the one if the one below becomes saturated in blood.

Pray. 

Fuck.

Beneath your bare feet, the floor is slippery with blood. 

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

The comms on the guy's vest lets out a hazy sound of static and you reach for it, running off instinct and adrenaline. British voices explode on the other end - angry and searching.

"This is call sign Hazy looking for exfil. Last townhouse on Miller Avenue. I've got one down and bleeding out - he's going into shock."

The words slip out of you and for a moment you're back to mortar shells and blood on the sand. Dust in your mouth. Screaming in your sleep with blood caked underneath your bitten-down nails.

"Who the fuck 'r you?"

You repeat yourself, hand slipping on the button from sweat and blood, yelling over the voices on the other side.

"This is call sign Hazy looking for exfil. Last townhouse on Miller Avenue. I've got one down and bleeding out - he's going into shock."

A hand reaches up to wrap around your wrist. The guy on your table is looking at you, eyes alert but searching. When he speaks, it's barely a whisper.

"Ghost."

His hand shakes where he holds you.

"This is call sign Hazy looking for exfil. Last townhouse on Miller Avenue. He's dying on my kitchen table. Please."

***

She's hurting him. It fucking hurts when she presses down on his side. If Simon could open his mouth, he might scream at her. Might beg her to stop. His heart feels like it's about to break out of his chest; he can't breathe through his stupid fucking mask. He's gasping, hand reaching out to grasp her wrist. He doesn't remember trying to do what.

"Ghost."

He doesn't want her to not know his name. If she's his angel, she needs to know what to call him when she delivers him to where ever they're going together. What kind of first date would it be if he didn't at least tell her his name? Aren't angels everlasting? Are they going to be together forever?

That might not be too bad.

"This is call sign Hazy looking for exfil. Last townhouse on Miller Avenue. He's dying on my kitchen table. Please."

Hazy. What kind of name is that? Fitting though, he thinks, because he can't make her features about above him as she presses on his side. 

Hazy. 

Hey.

Hazy.

That fucking hurts.

***

They don't even attempt to just open the front door - it shatters off of its hinges as their boots connect with the flimsy wood. They come in guns pointed; it's not the first time this has ever happened to you. Might not be the last. 

They're screaming at you to put your fucking hands up, and you're screaming at them to get you a fucking towel because he's bleeding through and you don't have anything else to put on top. It is a cacophony of noise; your ears are ringing, and your hands shaking against Ghost's side. 

This is exactly why you left in the first place. 

This shit fucking sucks. 

One of the men - the youngest-looking one - finally listens to you and snatches a towel you have laying on the back of the couch. Outside you can hear an ambulance screaming; intermingling with the men screaming into their comms, screaming about getting someone there now. 

Thirty seconds.

Thirty seconds and he's gone - loaded onto a stretcher and rolled out of your townhouse, the remnants of your broken front door slamming against the wall behind them. One man is still screaming at you, hand grabbing your shoulder roughly as the blood from your hands drips to the linoleum below.

***

Her hands are replaced with rough ones; they drag him away from her - he tries to stretch his hand out towards her to grab her, to bring her with him. Guardian angels have to come guard. He can't get anything to work. 

It nearly fucking kills him, turning his head back towards her to catch a glimpse of her standing there, hands bloodstained and dripping. Johnny's screaming at her; he reaches out to grab her shoulder. Simon wants to tell him to take his fucking hands off of her - she's here for Simon anyway. Johnny doesn't get the girl this time. 

She doesn't look at Johhny - she only has eyes for Simon.

That's good. 

She disappears around the corner, her halo the last thing Simon can see in the darkness.

Hazy.

Fuck.

[neoarchipelago]

And they were Roommates (part 15)

A/N: I feel like i keep saying this but, all my chapters are long... SOO anyway. I don't know how i feel about this chapter, i'm torn between hating it and hating myself. Reviews are greatly appreciated and please be honest, don't try to make me happy, i truly want constructive critisim, so go on my babies, break my heart.

Also all lot of you seem to want to be my good girls or good boys. So yeah, sure, i'll be ya'lls mommy.

Yes. Hate me.

Warnings: Mentions of death, injury, 18+ content etc, just minors don't. F-Reader.

You sighed. Turning around in the black sheets. You could still smell his cologne in them. It's been two weeks. And you missed him like hell. You missed his voice, his touch, his eyes. You touched your neck. He had taken his dog tags with him. It felt like you lacked something now.

You groaned, throwing one of the pillows over your head. A knock rang in the room. 

"Sparrow. Come on. Get up." Bishop called through the door. 

You groaned again as a response. 

"Come on!" 

"Fine!" 

You decided to get up. You'd spend the day in bed otherwise and you had to go to base. The squad had joined Los Vaqueros to hunt down the two cartel's bosses. You had stayed behind with bishop and Coyote to remotely track any Intel on the dark web. Aquila, Carkeys and Grim went on site to collect Intel and use drones and other equipment to help the squad. 

You spent time in between the base and your house where Melissa and the team joined you as often as they could. 

It took an hour at best to get to base with everyone. You had walked into the IT quarters with a coffee in hand. 

"Rough morning?" Laswell asked. 

"Where are they?" You asked. 

She shook her head with a smile on her lips. 

"They got into the city last night. They managed to get a few high ups of the cartel." Coyote explained. 

"We managed to capture some conversations on a blank website. Two of their hackers were trying to throw false Intel to throw us off. But we managed to find their ID's which was much more interesting." Bishop added. 

You nodded sitting down at your computer. 

"Grim and Carkeys are following closely the squad with the drones and satellite images. We have made sure to protect those and are gate keeping them so they can't use those to track our soldiers." 

You sighed of relief.

"I wouldn't have made it without you guys… thank you…" you said. 

Bishop winked at you while coyote smiled. 

"Aquila is making sure they're safe, keeping track of their equipments." 

You took a deep breath. 

"Alright back to work." 

You got back to work, trying to focus as best as you could on it. The day passed by in a flash again. You felt like the anxiety would kill you at every new piece of information coming your way. At the end of the day you looked around the room full of screens. 

"Hey sparrow, come here" Bishop called with a smile. 

You walked up to her, blinking as you looked down at her screen. 

"HEY THERE!" Soap's voice rang. 

You felt a rush of adrenaline. 

"We managed to create a remote link so we could video call with their base." Coyote explained, the freckled on her nose dancing as she smiled. 

"Thank you… hey soap. How are you guys?" You asked. 

"We are good here, we are getting closer to the target." Gaz answered. 

You smiled at them. Price and Alejandro now appeared behind them. You noticed the blush on Coyote's face. 

"Oh, look, it's our ladies!" Price called. 

You chuckled as the girls giggled. 

"Princesa!" Alejandro called. 

As by magic, it immediately summoned him. HIM. Your breath caught in your front. Simon.

"My princess." 

His voice was rough. Ghost was on edge. Alejandro raised his hands up, showing there was no sign of threat from him. 

"Hey…" you greeted with a smile. 

He nodded. 

The conversation kept going, now Carkeys, Aquila and Grim showing up as well. It felt nice to be able to talk with everyone, but all you wanted was to tell him you missed him. You needed him. You wanted two minutes alone with him just to tell him you loved him again. It must have shown. Because the team did exactly that. 

You were now sitting in front of the screen with only him. Only him. 

"Hey…" you said again. 

"Say it bunny." 

You smirked. 

"I miss you… want my Simon back." 

He chuckled. 

"Miss you too bunny." He said. 

"Is everything ok on your side? You aren't hurt?" You worried. 

"I'm fine. Don't worry darling. I'll be home soon. Alright?" 

You nodded. You heard Price calling in the back, marking the end of the call. He got closer to the screen, you did too. 

"Simon… I love you…" 

You saw through the pixels how his pupils dilated at the sound of the words. 

"Don't do this to me bunny… I'm too far away to fuck you into my mattress…" 

You smiled, biting your lip. He wouldn't say it. Not yet. But you'd be patient. 

"Guess you're going to have to come back for that." You teased. 

He chuckled. You bid your goodbyes, heart heavy. 

You stared at the now black screen. You were doomed. Completely doomed. He was king of your thoughts at all times. He had managed to capture the little sparrow and make it his. You closed your eyes, biting your lip. 

"You alright?" 

You opened your eyes looking at the girls next to you. You smiled faintly nodding at them. 

"They'll be fine. They've had to fight worse." Bishop started. 

"And they have us. We'll keep them safe." Coyote added. 

You sighed. You nodded faintly. 

"Come on. Let's go home." 

You turned around to notice Laswell standing not too far as well. You stood up, the girls heading to the door. You took a last glance at the black screen before following them. 

The next few days, things started to get complicated. Tension kept rising for everyone. You'd spend more time at base. Sometimes staying there overnight. Laswell was keeping an eye on you like a hawk. But you couldn't get yourself to go home. You had ended up bringing Reaper with you everywhere. No one had commented on it. 

You were looking at the fluffy plush on your big desk. The sound of panic made your blood run cold. You stood immediately, watching everyone's voice rise and run. 

"What's going on?!" You asked. 

Bishop froze looking up at you. 

"An attack. We've lost communication." 

You cursed, sitting back down and getting to work on your computer. 

You were focused on trying to find a link, a connection, anything to create a form of communication. Every ticking second felt heavier on you. You felt trapped in an hourglass, sand filling up and pouring around you. Suffocating. 

Soon the seconds turned to minutes. Minutes to hours. You were on the verge of a breakdown. 

"We got them!" 

You ran to the screens. 

"Bravo six ?" Laswell called. 

You held your breath. 

"Bravo six do you copy?!" She called again. 

Silence. Heavy silence. 

"Bravo six copy." The rough voice rang. 

You closed your eyes, releasing the air in your lungs. Price's voice filled you with relief. 

"What's your status bravo six?" 

"Took a hit, lost a few guys, but squad 141 is operational."

Laswell turned to you. You wanted to cry. You wouldn't. Not in front of everyone. They're fine. Fuck… he's ok. 

You sat in a nearby chair. You let them talk over the radio as your mind tried to grasp what happened. You had almost lost him. It hit you how fragile this was. You could lose him at any second. You felt dizzy for a second. You looked up to see Bishop and Coyote with worried looks on their faces. 

"Bishop. Coyote." You called. 

They turned to you. You called them to you. 

"Let's not pretend I don't see your worried looks. I can see you guys have got a little something for a certain captain and a sergeant." You smiled. 

Coyote blushed and Bishop smirked. You grabbed their hands.

"We're ok. We're gonna make it. We're together." You tried to comfort. 

"Of course we are. That mohawk cutie better come back. Got to take him out." Bishop teased. 

You smiled. 

"Well… i…i don't know if the captain would be interested…" Coyote said with a little frown. 

"Ah don't worry. We'll help you with that." Bishop teased again. 

You nodded, winking at her. 

"Come on, let's get back to work." You concluded. 

You stayed all night. You had used the locker rooms to shower and change. Laswell kept nagging you to go home but you refused. Melissa had passed by with Amy, bringing some food and snacks. You had enjoyed the time with them. But it got late and they had to leave. The room was awfully quiet at night. Bishop and Coyote had gone back home as well, they needed rest. 

You needed it too. But your mind was a mess.

You couldn't get it out of your head that you had lost contact with the team and almost lost them. It felt sour. You held Reaper in your arms. Your eyes burnt a bit. You were tired. Laswell was still here. She kept throwing glances at you. 

"Hey… you should sleep." She repeated again. 

You looked at the bottom of the screen. 4 am. 

"I know… but I can't…" you whispered. 

She walked off with a sigh. 

You refused. You refused to leave. You needed to stay here. This was the closest to him you could be. And for the moment, this is what you needed.  

The next morning the team had walked in. You had nodded off around 5am but woken up an hour after. Bishop had brought coffees and snacks. You were grateful for it. 

You felt heavy worried stares. You ignored them, drowning yourself back into work. 

"Sparrow." Bishop called softly. 

You blinked. Standing up. You felt dizzy again for a second but brushed it off. You walked to her. You closed your eyes for a second when you saw it. The screen showed an empty website. Pictures of bloodied dog tags lined up. 

"Tell me It's not what I think it is…" you said. 

"I'm afraid… it's exactly what it is…" coyote explained in a sad voice. 

"They're keeping them as trophies. For each soldier they've killed." Bishop added with a hint of disgust in her voice. 

You looked at the names on the little metal collars. 

"I'll go report to Laswell… keep an eye on these…" you said. 

You felt a knot in your throat as you walked out of the room.

 

Having that kind of talk was rough. And it had been, for you and for Laswell. Families had to know the truth, and condolences had to be sent with proper decoration for lost soldiers. You knew it would never heal the emptiness the news will leave in these people's hearts. You had walked back to the IT's wing. Bishop had dragged you to a screen immediately. 

You felt your heart drop at first, your mind instantly thinking about the worst things. 

"Oh look at our little mama bird…" 

Your eyes filled with tears. The image was blurry. The sound wasn't top quality, but the faces on screen made you want to cry. 

"Johnny…" you tried with a little smile. 

Bishop hugged you as soon as she saw your glossy eyes. Coyote held your hand in here. 

"Come on, we're all ok! Gonna need more than that!" Alejandro joked. 

"We were worried about you guys!" Bishop scolded. 

"Yes… please be careful…" coyote added. 

"Look at that, our ladies got all worried about us…" Price said, winking at the screen. 

You felt Coyote tense. You smiled to yourself squeezing her hand softly. 

"I haven't seen Konig in a while, how's he?" You asked. 

"Well he's been spending a lot of time with Grim. They keep talking in German so… we have no idea what they're saying." Gaz explained. 

"They get along very well though!" Soap said with a wink. 

"Where's..?" You asked. 

"Hum… not too far. He's a bit…" gaz started. 

"Pissed. He's pissed." Soap finished. 

You sighed. 

"I'll go get him." Alejandro said. 

You nodded. The rest of the team talked a bit. 

"It's getting complicated. They're feeling surrounded. Becoming more aggressive.." coyote warned. 

"Yeah… we're going to change tactics here." Price added. 

The call suddenly fell silent. The boys rose, nodding as they walked away. Bishop and Coyote dropped a kiss on each side of your face before stepping away.  

"Simon…" 

The word fell from your lips. It was like a call to an unknown god. 

"Y/N." You heard. "You haven't been sleeping well." His voice was stern. 

Your face dropped. 

"You almost died." You countered. 

"Bunny." He warned..

"Simon." You said in the same tone. 

He sighed. 

"I'm ok. I'm worried about you right now" 

Somehow it did not comfort you. You were worried about him!

"You have to sleep. You hear me?" He scolded. 

You sighed too. You nodded slowly. 

"Good girl." He praised. 

It made you smile. 

"Have you been sleeping in my bed?" He asked. 

You bit your lip. 

"Maybe…" 

He leaned closer to the camera. 

"Good. I love it when my pillow smells like you." 

You smiled. 

"You'll have me next to you. You won't need that." You teased. 

"Hmm. Careful bunny. I'm not going to forget those words." 

"You better not. I hope it motivates you to come back." 

He chuckled. The sound of his laugh warmed you. 

"On my way baby…" 

A month. A full month and half. You were going insane. People probably thought you were insane, walking around base with Reaper hanging out of your bag. You had been forced by Laswell and Simon, over a video call, to go out with Melissa for a few hours after work. You had finally given in. There you were, in front of a restaurant on base. 

Melissa welcomed you with a hug as you walked to your table in the restaurant. 

"How are you feeling?" She asked. 

You shrugged. 

"Could be much better… could be much worse." 

She smiled at you. 

"How about you? Any news on Eric?" You asked with a worried voice. 

"No, not any. Since you talked to Hopkins I feel babysitted at all times." She said, rolling her eyes. 

"Good. Very good." You answered with a smile. 

She laughed, making you relax. The dinner spent with her lifted some stress and pressure off your shoulders. You had to be honest, it helped you feel better. You had insisted to pay for dinner, it had helped you so much. As you walked out of the restaurant, the cold air made you shiver. You were talking to Melissa when she happily waved at someone. 

You turned to watch the K.9 team discussing, not too far. You walked to them. 

"Sergeant Gallegos !" A woman greeted. 

"Hey Jenny." She greeted back. 

The woman turned to you, palling a bit. The German shepherd next to her sitting calmly, its pink tongue out, did not let her master leave its sight. 

"Sparrow.." she tried with a bit less friendlyness. 

You smiled, trying to relax her. 

"Don't worry, I'm out here completely harmless." You assured. 

Her shoulders seemed to relax a bit as she smiled. 

"What are you guys doing tonight?" Melissa asked. 

"Oh hum… we're out to throw a goodbye party…." She answered with a little sadness in her voice.

"Oh… someone leaving?" You asked. 

She nodded turning her body so you could look behind her. The team was talking, their k9s on leash next to them. You frowned, confused. Jenny walked over to them, making Melissa and you follow her. 

"Guys, Sergeant Gallegos and … Sparrow came to say hi." 

You waved with a warm smile. You were glad they didn't seem too nervous around you. 

"So, who's leaving?" Melissa asked. 

"Oh… it's um… it's him." A man said. 

You followed his gaze. A black shepherd laid on the ground. His beautiful brown eyes shining under the restaurants lights. 

"Oh he's retiring?" You asked. 

"Hum not really…" another said. 

"Can… I?" You asked. 

Jenny nodded. 

You stepped towards the dog kneeling next to it slowly. You let him sniff your hand as his head rose. He let you pet him, making you smile. 

"His soldier was KIA. He hasn't been eating since." The soldier holding the leash explained. 

"KIA?" You asked. 

"Killed in action." Melissa explained. 

"Oh…" you frowned. 

"Sometimes it happens. The dogs see their soldiers die and refuse to eat for a little while. With time and lots of patience and love it usually gets better. But… he just seems to have given up." Jenny explained. 

"He's been through foster homes and vets but… he just gave up." Another soldier explained. 

You felt your heart shatter as you looked into it's eyes. 

"What's going to happen to him.." Melissa asked. 

"Well… I'm afraid he'll have to be… you know…" he explained. 

You bit your lip. You felt the colar underneath your fingers, through the semi long furr of his neck. You grabbed the little tag on it reading the name. 

"Riley …" you let out. 

"Oh… Sparrow…" Melissa tried. 

You felt something like a flash coursing through your blood. Something that urged you to do something. 

"Is there no other way?" You asked, turning to Jenny. 

"Well… we've tried everything… we can't chose for him… and in the end it's the commander's choice… even if it breaks the team's hearts" she said. 

You bit your lip. Looking back at the big pup, you felt yourself melt and at the same time cry inside. He looked down… like he had truly given up. He missed his soldier. His family. Just like you. 

"Sparrow… i don't think that's a good idea." You heard Melissa, as she seemed to read your mind. 

But it was too late, you had already made your decision.

"I'll take him." You said in a decisive tone.

The team looked at each other, taken a back. 

"Ma'am… I don't think you can…" a woman said. 

"The commander's orders…" Jenny tried too. 

"Get your commander on call. Tell him Sparrow wants to keep K9 Riley." You said with a smile. 

She hesitated. Melissa had given up on trying to tell you no. She was just smiling, her arms crossed. Jenny turned to Melissa who simply nodded. As Jenny took out her cellphone, the team seemed to perk up. 

"Ma'am… are you really going to keep him?" The soldier holding the leash asked. 

You nodded with a big smile. 

"It'll take time… but I have patience. And all the time in the world." You said. 

Jenny started speaking on the phone. The team fell silent. 

"Hum… the commander would like to speak to you…" she said. 

"Sure! Put him on speaker." You agreed. 

She did. She walked up to you and put the phone on speaker. The team surrounded you.  You almost wanted to laugh at the team around you. How silent they were. 

"Hello?" The phone rang. 

"Hello commander." You greeted. 

Silence. Melissa held herself from laughing out loud. 

"Sparrow?" 

"Yes, commander?" 

"Hum… are you really asking to take one of the K9's?" 

"Absolutely. Is there a problem with my request…?" 

"Well… more than one but… I'm not sure I'm allowed to refuse either." 

You laughed a bit. 

"You can. But I usually get what I want." 

"What should I even say to General Hopkins?" 

"The exact truth. I met Riley. I decided to keep it. I told you. You couldn't refuse. That's all." 

You leaned down again, petting the black dog. 

"Hum.." he hesitated.

"If he has something to say. Please tell him to directly come to me." You warned. 

The team looked shocked. Melissa rolled her eyes. 

"Well… alright, I'll take care of the paperwork and have it delivered to you to sign by the sergeant." 

The soldiers around jumped happily, silently though. You smiled to yourself. Was this a very thoughtful decision? No. It definitely wasn't responsible but you'd make sure to own up to your brand new responsibilities. 

"Thank you commander, have a good night." 

Jenny took back her phone, ending the call after a few last words with her commander. The team cheered. Melissa smiled at you. 

"We have to celebrate!" One said. 

"I can't believe this just turned into a celebration" Jenny cheered. 

"Yeah… Sparrow has a thing for Riley's." Melissa teased. 

The team awkwardly looked at each other. 

"So… it's true? For… you and Lieutenant…" jenny asked. 

You nodded trying to not make a fuss out of it. 

"He said he wanted a dog. I think he'll be thrilled… or probably scold me but he'll get around eventually." You joked. 

The team laughed a bit. 

"Let's grab a drink!" A man said. 

"Oh… well… just one. We got lots of work tomorrow…" Melissa said. 

"Yeah. And I got to find lots of stuff for my new furr baby." You said. 

"We'll help you with that! We can give you a few stuff for the night." Jenny assured. 

You smiled. 

"Alright. One drink." 

You walked to the car with your new friend. You were surprised how Riley followed you without a problem. You opened the passenger door of the black jeep. Simon had left his car obviously, and insisted that you'd use it. You looked down at the dog, sitting, looking up at you. 

"Come on Riley. Let's go home." 

He seemed to understand as he jumped into front seat. You closed the door, dropping all the things the team had given you in the backseat. Walking around the car you got into the driver's seat. The black dog was sitting next to you, looking at you. 

"It's ok. We'll be ok." You assured. 

You turned the key, heading home. 

You walked into the doorway. The house was quiet..empty. You turned on the lights as you closed the door behind you. You bent down to take off the leash. Riley didn't move. You started walking to the kitchen, watching him follow you slowly. He really looked sad. You dropped the things on the counter. You looked down at the dog who looked at you. 

You grabbed the bag of dog food, walking to get a bowl. You filled it with food and grabbed another bowl to fill it with water. Walking back to the dog and softly putting down the bowls in front of him. He looked at them. He went for the water, lapping a bit. He smelled the food but refused to eat. You sighed. Of course it wouldn't be that easy. You sat down on the floor next to him. He laid down next to you, looking at you. 

You grabbed his collar softly, petting the sides of his head. 

"I know… I know… you miss your soldier." 

He whined. 

"I miss mine too…" 

The next day you had warned Laswell you'd be a bit late. She didn't mind. You had drove with Riley to the base's Vet. 

You walked in with him heading for the receptionist.

"Hi, good morning, I'd like to buy some dog food and vitamins." You asked the man. 

"Oh… hum.. Sparrow…i mean… ma'am…" he stuttered. 

"It's alright. Breath." You smiled. 

He did so. He looked relieved. 

"Hum… so you have a dog?" He asked. 

"It's very recent but yes." You said looking to your side. 

The big black dog was sitting next to you, looking up at you. The man rose above the counter to look down. 

"Oh.. that's…that's Riley…" he said. 

"You know him?" You frowned. 

"Hum… yeah. We took care of him when he came back from the field… and when he refused to eat. I thought he was going to be put down." He said with a frown. 

"I decided to take him in." You said. 

The man smiled. 

"I'll be right back gonna see for the vitamins, I'll help you choose some food for him." He said. 

You nodded with a smile. Other soldiers stood with their dogs in the waiting room. They looked at you, recognizing you and the black dog. They seemed anxious. Suddenly you heard the voices from behind the counter, in the back of the clinic. 

"Tell this woman she's waisting her time. The dog was scheduled to be put down this afternoon and I can still do it. But she's waisting money and time." 

You frowned, feeling the anger rise. 

"Hum… ma'am… I think we shouldn't…" the receptionist tried. 

"Fine I'll tell her myself. It's stupid to waist vitamins and food on a hopeless dog." 

Now you were furious. You felt a nudge in your palm. You looked next to you at the dog looking at you intensely. You bent down to pet him and drop a kiss on top of his head. You heard the voice get closer to the front desk. You were hidden behind it as you were cuddling Riley. 

"Where is she?! Ma'am I suggest you hand the dog over, he should be put-" 

You rose to your feet, eyeing the angry woman. She had frozen in spot. You glanced down looking at her badge, taking in her name. The room had fallen silent. 

"I didn't come to ask for your opinion. Did I?" You spat. 

Her gaze faltered. 

"You'd be kind enough to give me what I asked please." 

The woman cleared her throat. 

"I have to remind you-" she tried, in a softer tone. 

"Again. Didn't ask." You answered angrily. 

She swallowed. 

"You're not gonna give it to me?" You asked, raising a brow. "Very well. Hum… dr… Jenkins." You squinted your eyes exaggeratedly. 

"Come on Riley, let's go somewhere else." You turned around before stopping. 

"Wait! Hum.. we'll give you the vitamins and food. But you're waisting your time." She said. 

"You're the one waisting my time. And I'm getting pissed." You warned, looking back at her. 

Riley whined. You looked down at him, petting his head. 

"Hum… how about we look into the different foods?" The receptionist asked, trying to ease the situation.. 

You nodded, throwing a dark glance at the vet. You'd be sure to have a talk with Laswell and Hopkins later. 

An hour later your arrived at the IT's IQ. Riley followed you inside, you had a bag with dog food, a water bottle and a cappuccino in hand. The room fell quiet when they saw you walk in with the black shepherd.

"Hum… Sparrow." Laswell called confused. "What's that?" 

"A cappuccino." You answered. 

She rolled her eyes. 

"Sparrow. Why do you have a dog?" She asked. 

"Oh. That's Riley. He's my dog now." You said matter of factly. 

Bishop laughed while coyote looked confused, gasping. Laswell looked just as confused. You decided to go to your desk to sit at your chair. Riley had followed you, laying down at your feet. 

"No. No. Sparrow. We're not going to ignore this." 

You put Reaper down. It seemed to get Riley's attention. He stood, siting now. You looked at the dog, then at the plush. 

"We can share. But you need to be gentle with it. Ok?" You said. 

The dog tilted his head to the side, curious. You picked up the plush, slightly worried of your next action. You gave it to him. He very gently grabbed it with his mouth, falling back down to the floor. He put it down in between his paws, sniffing and pushing his nose into it. He was gentle with it, and did not sink his teeth. You smiled, turning back to your computer. 

"No! Sparrow! We're going to talk about this!" Laswell warned.

You did not, in fact, talk about it.

The day turned out to be much more important than you thought. It turns out the day prior the boys were very close to tracking down the brothers. And they had finally reached their targets. You had been feeling an absolute mess. You had noticed it seemed to affect Riley. He stood closer to you. Nudged your hand or leg, grasping your attention. 

You'd always pet him or cuddle him. When the news had finally fallen that they had gotten their hands on the target, the room filled with joy. It was over. The mission was a success. But not to you. Not until you had him next to you. Bishop and Coyote were stoked. Laswell was smiling at you. Yes. It relaxed you. But you only had him in mind. Only his arms around you. 

"Hey. It's over. They're coming back." Coyote said. 

You took a deep breath. Yes. They were coming back. 

You remained in the room for hours. Even after. You remained until you knew they were back on their base. Bishop and Coyote we're much more relaxed. Laswell kept in touch with the general once in a while and the authorities there. You just wanted to talk to him. You were glad they had finally caught the cartel brothers. But your mind kept running to him. He was finally coming home. 

You smiled at the pup next to you. He seemed to be curious and to watch you very often. Through the day you tried to feed him little pieces of treats or food. He had first fully refused, then slowly bitten a treat. You had been delighted, causing him to perk his ears up at your reaction. You showered him with 'good boy' and pets. Laswell kept trying to question you about your new companion and you ignored it. 

He had attracted all the attention from the women in the room and some men too. 

When the sun had started to set outside, you were called to video chat with the team. 

"Hey!!" Bishop called to the screen. 

"Well hello there, pretty eyes." Soap flirted. 

"Get out, you'll flirt later!" Gaz groaned. 

You smiled. 

Price and Simon weren't present. You chatted with the group, Konig, grim, Carkeys, Áquila… it felt great to know they were ok. 

"We're getting an extraction in a few hours! We'll be home soon!" Car-Keys said, relief in his voice. 

You had rolled your eyes, the girl nagging him about when he had lost his Car Keys on a field mission.

When Simon finally showed up, he greeted the girls before the rest of the team gave you a little privacy. 

"I got a surprise for you!" You smiled at the screen. 

"Hmm a surprise?" He looked curious. 

You picked up the big dog into your arms, Riley licking your face. 

"His name is Riley !" You happily announced. 

You heard him chuckle. 

"Where did you get a dog?" He asked, a hint of a smile in his voice. 

"He was being taken to be put down… his soldier was KIA. He wasn't eating, he let himself die. We're slowly getting used to each other, he eats very tiny pieces…I'm trying to get him to feel safe." You explained. 

There was a little silence before he spoke again. 

"Here you go again… saving a Riley." 

You blushed, looking at the screen. The pixels weren't enough. Not anymore. You wanted your soldier back. 

"Come back to me…" you said. 

"I'm coming home, baby. We have plans."

You bit your lip through a smile. Yes. He was coming home.

 

Night had settled in. You had driven home right after ending the call. For the past 2 hours you had been happily roaming around the house. Riley was curious watching you pace around. For dinner, you sat down on the floor next to him, trying to motivate him to eat. He had not eaten his food. He had accepted two little bites of the steak you were eating. It was enough to cause a happy squeal from you each time. 

It was almost midnight when the girls showed up. Melissa included. Amy was with a babysitter for the occasion. Bishop had brought a bottle of  vodka to celebrate the end of the mission. 

Riley always remained close to you. The girls loved to pet him. A conversation had settled in, time passing by without any of you noticing. Eventually, it was 2 am, and you were giggling together. You had decided to only drink a shot or two, not really wanting to get drunk. 

Riley was laying on the couch with you, bishop and Coyote we're cuddling on another couch with Melissa at the other end.  

"God! You need to be more confident darling! We see how he looks at you. He's curious" Bishop teased. 

"He's… I don't know…" Coyote blushed. 

"I say. Go for it." Melissa added. 

You giggled again.

A knock interrupted your conversation. You heard the door unlock. You frowned before hearing Laswell's voice. 

"We're here Kate!" You chuckled. 

The girls laughed too, a new friend entering the circle promised more jokes and gossip.

When Kate stepped into the room, the air shifted. Hopkins walked behind her. The air had grown suffocating. You had lost your smile. The girls had gone silent. They were dressed officially. 

"Kate?" You questioned.

She seemed to swallow hard, eyes not leaving yours. You stood up, the girls doing the same. You walked over to them, the tiny footsteps of Riley on the floor following you. You crossed your arms in a comforting movement. 

"Squad 141 initiated extraction 45 minutes ago." Hopkins started.

You frowned. 

"During extraction, they were confronted with an ambush." He continued. 

You felt your heart drop. Was he injured? What happened?

"Can you skip to the news please?" Bishop interrupted. 

He looked at her, thinking. 

"Listen… Y/N…" Kate stepped forwards to you. 

You felt the walls closing in. Something terrible hovering over your head. 

You felt a nudge on your arm. Riley tried to keep you grounded to reality. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just… something else. You were overreacting. 

Kate looked torn. She wanted to talk, obviously. But something seemed to hold her back. 

Hopkins sighed, clearing his throat. 

"We are sad and sorry to inform you that Lieutenant Simon Riley and Captain John Price were KIA." 

What.. what was that? That sound… your ears were buzzing. You felt nauseous. You felt like your whole body had gotten heavier. Like it no longer belonged to you.

"No." You let out. 

"Y/N. Listen to me, please.." Kate tried. 

She reached for your hand but you took a step back. 

"No. That's… no." You looked at her. "Kate…" you begged. 

Her eyes were filled with tears. She didn't speak. She looked away. It was true. It was… 

Hopkins took a step forward. Riley suddenly growled, inching closer to your leg. 

"Sparrow, I would advise you to-" 

"Get out." 

Silence fell. 

"What..?" Kate questioned. 

"Get out. All of you." You said again. 

You felt surrounded. Your brain felt on fire yet you felt like you were drowning. 

We have plans.

"Y/N…" bishop tried. 

"Please. Get. Out." You warned. 

Melissa grabbed Coyote by the shoulders, hugging her. They walked towards the door, Bishop and Kate following, dragging Hopkins with them. You heard the front door close. 

Silence. Deafening silence. 

You let yourself kneel to the floor, Riley alert next to you. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be true. No. 

You felt something fall on your hand. You looked down, the little droplets shining under the light. You were crying. You felt like someone was ripping your heart out. 

Your mind had decided to torture you, reenacting every kiss, every hug every promise in a tangling loop. It felt like you could hear his voice. Him. Calling for you. But it wasn't true. It wasn't real. Never again…

For the second time in your life, you screamed. You screamed until something deep in your throat broke. And just like last time. Under attack in the training grounds. You screamed for him. You poured your mind, soul, heart into a scream you knew. You knew despite the mind wrecking hope. He would not answer this time.

-----

Everything must come to an end...

or not...

SIKE

see you on chapter 16

[greatstormcat]

Burn, Baby, Burn

This is a rage post feel free to ignore it, its pretty much just crack. Serious writing will now resume, but seriously, screw Activision.

It’s a sunny, lazy afternoon at the Taskforce’s barracks, the news plays quietly on the television while the team and their compatriots occupy themselves with various tasks around the rec room and kitchenette. They’ve worked long and hard, risked their lives many times and saved the known world with little thanks. A little R&R is the least they deserve.

The door bursts open and Laswell, looking harassed and worried, marches in, shutting off a phone call with a terse goodbye. She scans the room quickly and strides over to Price who sits in his armchair reading something on his tablet, his glasses perched on his nose.

“What now, Kate?” he asks her simply, an unamused tone to his deep voice at the interruption to their down time.

“I know, John, it’s important though,” she huffs, hands on her hips. “KorTac have just taken the Activision-Blizzard building hostage and are threatening to blow it up,” she explains. Price glances at the tv over his tablet, then back up at her, before going back to reading s though totall unaffected by what she has just said.

“I know,” he rumbles. “It’s all over the news.” A moment of silence passes as Laswell waits for more, but he says nothing else and doesn't move.

“Right… so we need you to,” she begins but he cuts her off holding up one hand.

“Not this time, Kate,” he says firmly. “I’ve got this injury.” He extends his trigger finger, displaying the Hello Kitty plaster wrapped around his digit. “Can’t help you.” 

Laswell’s eyes go wide at his response, her mouth agape for a moment. She turns to face Ghost and Soap who sit at the dining table, a bottle of black nail varnish and box of tissues between the two men. She marches over and sees Soap painstakingly painting Ghost’s nails, cursing as the wet polish seeps into the cuticle.

“Lieutenant , Sergeant…” she begins with a hopeful smile.

“Cannae help until this is dry,” Soap chimes in without even looking up from his task, hunched over slightly as he works with the same level of attention he'd give to diffusing a bomb. Laswell turns a beseeching look to Ghost, but his eyes are fixed on Soap as the other man concentrates.

“Ghost, surely you of all people know this is serious?” she begs him. Soap looks up and meets Ghost’s eyes, raising a single eyebrow.

“Sorry, Laswell,” Ghost says from under his mask, turning his eyes on her momentarily. “Gotta let Johnny finish or there’ll be hell to pay later.”

Laswell feels the urge to scream as she chews her lip in frustration. Next to her on the sofa, Gaz lies on his back playing Pokémon Scarlet on his Switch, his long legs propped up on the back of the cushions. Before she can even form the question he shuffles his shoulders deeper into the seat and shoots her A Look.

“Don’t bother wasting your breath,” he mumbles darkly, frowning as the Eevee he is trying to catch breaks out for the third time. “Get in the arsing ball,” he hisses, brow pinched in frustration and sparing her no more thought.

“Oh come on!” Kate exclaims in frustration, throwing her hands up at the lack of action from anyone.

“Sorry ma’am,” Alex says firmly, drawing her attention to him. He sits behind Farrah, his thick fingers working deftly as he braids her long, dark hair. “I’d normally jump at it, as you know,” he continues, his fingers never ceasing in their work. “But since we branded Farah’s people as terrorists I’ve been trying to mend our… relationship,” he says, his mustache quirking slightly with his crooked smile. “Unfortunately, my hands are tied,” he says.

“You’re a good man, Alex,” Farah tells him, her voice low and tender, making his cheeks colour slightly and he clears his throat. Farah shrugs her shoulders at Laswell with a smile

On the TV, the news shows a huge man with a sniper hood swinging from a rope outside the glass and steel building, a molotov cocktail burning in his gloved hand.

“For fucks’ sake,” Kate mutters harshly, and catches a movement by the still open door behind Price. Quickly looking up, Nik walks in and sees her expression, and backs out of the door again mumbling something about checking the helicopter still has blades on it.

In desperation Laswell stomps towards the kitchenette, a sweet smell wafting from it that makes her realise she hasn't had anything other than cheap coffee and cheaper cigarettes all day. Her stomach growls as she approaches Alejandro and Rudy, stood side by side at the small sink as they wash-up mixing bowls and other items.

“Colonel, surely I can rely on you to help with this?” she says, trying to ignore they way her mouth waters at the smell coming from the oven. 

“I understand your frustration, Kate,” Alejandro consoles her, looking over his shoulder as he scrubs the wood spoon in his hand before passing it to Rudy for it to be dried. “But if I let this cake burn, or don’t clear up after myself, mi abuelita would never forgive me.” “It’s true,” Rudy nods, “he’d never hear the end of it, nor me.” Laswell’s shoulders slump in defeat, and she peers into the window of the oven.

“Wait, is that tres leches cake?” she asks with sudden enthusiasm.

Price chuckles to himself as Laswell gives in, and looks at the news on the TV screen, the building now fully on fire. He leans forward and uses his bandaged finger to press the button on the remote to switch it off.

“Fuck ‘em,” he mumbles, looking across at Gaz with pride.

-----------------------------------------

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[blood-grove]

//body horror, monster! 141 + reader , death, gn!reader

other; c/n = callsign

a/n: idk how the military works neither do igaf much also this story was not planned this was just something i needed to get out of my system do nto expect it to be good

Shapeshifter!Reader whos always since they were a kid felt itch that there skin was ready to shed and peel like a snake, Who always felt like there body wasn't right had to be perfect flaws and all because that was human.

But they weren't human, weren't hybrid either.

The first time they had ever shifted they were eleven there Father in one of his moods again taking it out on there poor mother.

Something inside them itched at that moment hearing her cries there old dog bite injury felt like it was on fire now as they itched and scratched at it till the skin gave way giving the breathing room for transformation.

The next time they open there eyes they were being kicked there Mother sobbing as she screamed.

Father laid dead mauled beyond recognition.

Did you do that?

Why was she screaming at you?

You were kicked into the foster system the next day narrowly avoiding Juvenile detention your mother had given her last bit of gratitude by explaining to the police that you were defending her you thought she'd praise you after the police left.

You were packing your clothes that night.

You got a DNA test when you arrived due to your mothers alibi to the police.

Human.

They figured it too your mother being clearly traumatized and you sudden violent act of self defense could have made her see anything at moment.

Still didnt explain the injuries that only a dog could cause.

You were 15 when you had a good grasp on what you were.

By 18 you were barely you anymore picked pieces from other peoples faces and bodies till you felt like you looked normal.

By 19 your mother had passed the news reached you slow and the grief went slower.

By 21 you've already been in the military for a while now, If that means with a new face and body each time some higher up sticks there nose into your business then so be it.

Shifting from human to human was easy the more you practiced it.

More harder things like non-humans and animals were doable but animals were getting easier and easier.

You've tried been a K9 once didnt work out for long.

You've had a few nice call signs.

Few you quickly forgot.

[c/s]

Thats been nice to be called recently.

Oh.

Right.

You should focus your meeting your new task force.

Right.

We should focus.

Woof.

Heh.

Its been a few days and wow these guys were something.

Did you mention they were monsters?

Not in a negative way of course.

But getting to know them while they were around base was nice.

Gaz you felt was the easier to get to know the harpy felt open, Talked about how they've never had a human on the team before.

Nice.

Threw Gaz you got to know Soap, You felt like the man was holding back the calm energy around him felt forced at times as the days past both of them seemed to get to know you better and you got to know them better as well.

As for the Captain and Lieutenant you were honestly nervous,

Price had a welcoming aura to him his voice gruff and firm you warmed up to him soon enoug.

Ghost?

You tried.

And shuffled away every time he looked at you.

He noticed.

He noticed?.

You eventually did warm up to Ghost!

You realized he wasn't glaring at you for once and tried to talk to him it was..awkward to many silences but it was a conversation.

So you and him were okay.

Were you okay now weeks later slowly making your place into the team?

No.

You were itching beyond belief this wasn't a good sign—

Actually you didn't even know what kind of sign this was.

You had all just gotten back from a particular rough mission a few more injuries than you all would like you got a few stitches in your arm and every since you could just feel them moving.

Being shifted around stubbornly as if they were a dam in a river.

You couldn't do that here.

You were in the confines of your own room but what if one of them walked in?

Would they report you?

Get you kicked for the military?

Maybe if you could just shift slightly enough to easy the unease under your skin.

The sound of cracking bone was sure to grab attention.

But surely you could just pass it off as stretching?

You could not pass it off as stretching and you were currently hiding in the rafters near sobbing.

Gaz had came in to check on you and caught you half shifted you panicked and lunged at him or the door you couldn't remember you were pretty sure one of your bones were jutting out of your skin as it readjusted into place.

You didn't hurt him.

You were just hoping you could calm yourself enough to shift into something smaller and run away shift into a new person new age try again at childhood maybe?

Maybe you panicking too much?

There also monsters they'd understand?

You didn't mean to lie about what you were.

You just.

The fear of the unknown paralyzed you to afraid of what'll happen what people will think.

You know you could be a threat.

Someone able to take face and shape of anyone?

You could understand if you were saw that way.

But you didn't want to be seen that way.

Every since your mother stared you down in fear not admiration not even shock.

Fear.

You knew you could never let someone look at you that way again.

Not someone you cared about.

Maybe if you hid away long enough they'd forget.

Memories fade.

Faces fade from recognition.

But that's all what you wished what have happened.

Now you were in a awkward stare off with Gaz not to subtly watched your arm pop and snap back into place along with your head.

"I see I should have knocked.."

"Yeah you should have."

A voice of not your own replied.

You hated when your body was out of sync.

You were using the wrong voice again, rearranging your own brain and vocal cords was odd.

Odder when one of your new teammates watched.

"Are- Are you okay?-"

"No" Ghost's voice replied.

"Oh..I-..Er..Do you..need a medic I.."

"No" Your own voice replied finally.

"Can you please leave..My ribs are still not in place and I doubt you'd want to see how that works."

He left.

Probably to tell Price rather then not wanting to see you basically play with your own rib cage like tuning a piano.

a/n; idk where this was going i did not plan this out i just wrote it on a whim