#Kate Laswell x oc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soaps-hoe-141 · 1 month

Text

Drowning In The Depths

Hey, life has been busy and rough and I am so sorry it has taken this long but by god I have finally finished so I hope y'all enjoy

Part 13

Pairing: Price x Male!Reader

WC: 9.7k

Synopsis: A stressful flee home

Warnings: Blood but I think that's it

“I can’t do anything else, sir,” quiet words reached your ears as you neared a corner. “We need to leave. Now Price. We never should have stopped in the first place.” There was a slight pause just before the Scotsman continued in this one sided conversation, “The bullet in his abdomen never exited and the one in his thigh barely missed his femoral artery. I can patch up a wound or two but not…” Another pause succeeded in making the worry bubble back up, and so soon after you’d just put it to bed, “Not that.” The admission in Soap’s voice reverberated throughout the stairwell. There was nothing else they could do.

A thought to interrupt slid into your mind, to interject and offer whatever help that you could. No, they obviously wanted privacy and you were going to give it to them. You pressed against the wall of the hallway just beside the doorway, staying where you were just out of sight and therefore out of mind.

They’d had to seek out the solitude of the stairwell to avoid the other team members, and though you weren’t sure exactly why they did at first, you were pretty sure you knew the reason for it now. Though they didn’t seem like the type of team to hide anything from one another, this was a bit different. If Konig had heard Soap talking like that you were almost certain the man would have lost it. No more operator and hello worried best friend who would do anything to protect Watcher.

You reached a hand down to the freshly rinsed fur, your fingers running gently over one of his ears as they continued their hushed conversation inside the stairwell. You could feel John’s concern from here but your blood ran a bit colder when he asked, “Can we even move him, Soap?” There was a tense silence that followed the question, neither daring to say anything for a second before one of them finally let out a breath and you imagined the shorter man giving the Brit an unsure shrug of his shoulders before the older man responded for him, “Dead if we do and dead if we don’t.” John’s hushed tone made your stomach sink, Watcher really was as fucked as you had been afraid of it would seem. Or at least he was on the fence enough that neither were comfortable with the potential outcome.

Soap answered quickly after that realization and you could imagine him nodding along as he did, “Aye sir. There’s nothing more that I can do here. Just keeping him comfortable for now. He’s gonna need another transfusion soon though and I’m out of my O negative. I can’t give anymore blood either, so we have to be fast before he bleeds out. And, you’re going to have to give him some of yours, Price.” You didn’t need to see them in order to picture a tense jaw and the storm in his eyes while his mind whirled, trying to come up with a solution.

You could picture it in your mind, his mustache flaring upwards as his mouth worked in that unique way you’d only ever seen him do. His upper lip not so much curling as it simply seemed to just lift before returning to its resting state. Broad, muscled shoulders undoubtedly tense as he remained unnervingly still in the shadows of the stairwell. Thoughts were whirling through his head at this point, you knew that from your own experiences leading a team. The worries and the potential roads never stopped. A constant circle to get lost in if you weren’t careful. You even found yourself, for a short moment, happy about the fact it wasn’t you that had to make the decision this time. The weight of responsibility had finally been lifted and you enjoyed it, no more tough calls for you.

John not only had to take into account Watcher’s life which hung in the balance, but also the rest of your lives. Hell you’d all been forced to stop the night before to tend to his wounds after he’d nearly bled out in the van with only Amaan’s hate-filled words to drown out the horrendous groans of pain that rattled around the enclosed walls. Though that might have been a bit unfair to Watcher, after all it hadn’t just been his unstoppable bleeding that had forced you to take shelter in the only safe place around that any of you knew. This was a complicated equation that not one team leader you’d ever met had truly wrapped their head around. It was hard to sacrifice a man you spent every day with, even for the good of the others.

And driving in the middle of the day you were sure as hell to hit a roadblock looking specifically for you and your team. Sure night in no way eliminated that possibility but it lessened it a great deal, especially nearly a whole day afterwards. Even if you were to hit a roadblock in the dark it would be easier to slip by unnoticed with tired guards and the darkness to hide the inconsistencies of your disguise. When Laswell had said they were set up on every road from here to the border last night it had been a no-brainer to stop in the one place the team was guaranteed safety at least for now. Especially when not even her and her team with their unlimited resources could find a way through the maze that had erected around you.

The real question being asked now though was whether John was ready to risk the rest of the team’s lives in addition to Watcher’s. The rest of you could have stayed holed up in this little, run down building for at least another week if you had needed to. There were enough rations to last you in here along with running water. But the kid was in a bad way, for him it was no longer an option. Either you all left now or he died before he ever really had a fighting chance to stay alive. A losing situation either way for John if things went south.

It was now the difference between a known fatality and a risk for more. An easy decision this would never be, but you already knew what you would do in this situation back when you still ran your own team. You also knew how the rest of the men you led would react in the face of this risk. To save one of the men who’d put their life in your hands you’d have moved heaven and earth to ensure you did everything you could to not let them go home to their families in a box. And there would have been no man on those teams who would have done any differently. That mentality was nurtured and honed from the minute you had signed up for the military and it still had yet to die.

Whether you were invested or distant, callous or passionate, these men quickly became the one thing in life you could rely on. They were your family. They were your friends. They were your brothers in everything but blood. John’s face filled your thoughts in that moment as another lingering thought whispered in your mind, they became your lovers.

Oh the things you knew you would have done for that damn Brit at this point. Moving heaven and earth couldn’t compare in the slightest to what you’d do for that man. He was a reason for dying. No Speck let’s be honest with yourself, he was so much more to you now. John was a reason for living. You were in far too deep for barely even knowing the man, but you didn’t need to know him to know how you felt about him. Fuck it, when did you ever take the safest option on the table? You were a SEAL for fucks sake. John had caught you like a fish; hook, line, and sinker.

Finally that guttural voice grabbed your attention again, snatching you back from the depths of your thoughts and throwing you into the present, “Get him ready to move, Soap. And go ahead and get a line ready, I’ll give you a bag just in case he needs it.” Soap didn’t say anything but you nearly immediately heard boots hitting the floor in the next couple of moments. You slipped back around the corner, pressing your back to the wall with Cerberus standing idly at your side. The young man turned out of the door and down the hall back to the main room and towards his patient, and you observed quietly as he went. Not once did the Scotsman’s focus waver from the objective he had been given. And you had no reason to distract him by making it obvious you’d heard nearly every word.

Neither man probably would have ever known you’d been there if John hadn’t stopped at the threshold to watch Soap heading back. Staying silent you listened as he took in a deep breath, there was worry etched in the way he stood, the way his head hung just a bit and you knew he was questioning himself. Not even John Price could be a Captain all the time. You slid around the corner silently just before his head slowly turned and he locked eyes with you. His brunette brows raised in question though not surprise, never surprise. Then you spoke softly, “I’d do the same.” Not much comfort coming from someone like you but it seemed that it was enough for him.

John’s dark brows lowered then and he gave a short nod before he stepped towards you. It was an instinct, a reaction you couldn’t help as the taller man pressed his body into yours and your arms locked around him. You almost didn’t know what to do, you certainly had no clue what to say. Just stay quiet, no need to ruin this with your inability to conjure the right, soothing words. His forehead laid against your shoulder as his arms squeezed your midsection. He pulled you impossibly closer as he took whatever comfort from you that he could, and both of you knew this would be the last physical intimacy you would be getting from one another for the foreseeable future. A last dose to tide you over until you got your next fix of one another.

Then just as suddenly as it had happened he was pulling himself away from you once more, his fingers dragging over your sides as the both of you regretted the loss of one another. Without a word he turned on his heel to head after Soap and vanished through the door at the end of the hall. It would seem the team needed to get ready to move, sooner rather than later. Time to get yours and Cerberus’ shit together and finish this thing strong. You couldn’t be a burden now, the team was already dragging around a helpless Watcher and that deadbeat Amaan, whatever you felt and however much guilt you were carrying was irrelevant now. Focus up and get it done.

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

The van jostled the lot of you around in the back as y’all rode in a tense, unbroken silence. John was next to you stock still, it was like he’d forgotten he was alive instead of a marble statue. More than a few times you’d found yourself stealing a quick glance his way just to make sure he was still breathing as worry bubbled up inside of you. Meanwhile Ghost and Konig were across the narrow aisle, the latter leaning forward over Watcher’s resting body just as motionless as the man beside you was.

Despite the hood across his face you could see the worry that had taken up residence in his expressive green eyes. His whole body seemed like you could have cut a single cord and he would have fallen to the ground in a heap of body parts. Konig’s gaze was focused solely on the young man who had been going in and out of consciousness for the past hour, showing more concern for him than you’d ever seen out of anyone before, of that you were almost certain.

Gaz was stuck in the driver’s seat up front, disconnected from the rest of the group as he tried to get everyone home in one piece. Meanwhile the only other Scotsman on board was sitting between Ghost’s spread legs, all of you having to make the most of the space allotted to you which wasn’t much in this little closet-like cubby that had been carved out. Soap had taken the worst seat as he needed to be as close to Watcher as he could be, however you doubted proximity would have mattered much at this point. Not after you’d overheard Soap and John before you left the safehouse.

Darkness engulfed the road outside as the other Sergeant drove the lot of you back to base. So far you’d been lucky to avoid any of the roadblocks while Laswell, and whoever worked directly under her, secured the team a plane home once you got back. Another pothole shook the whole van and Watcher groaned out in pain at the sudden movement. Skinny, blood soaked fingers tried desperately to clutch at his wounds just before Soap guided them elsewhere, as much of a distraction as he could be.

Konig slid to the edge of his seat, his body going rigid as he watched the young man helplessly. There was nothing he could do, at least not right now. Y’all were in the middle of a warzone, it was a miracle he was still breathing, it was almost asking too much for him to make it through this if you were being honest. The tip of Konig’s boot slammed into yours, a slight shock of pain rattling up through your ankle and dissipating as it reached your knee. It wasn’t like you could move any further away though, not with Amaan snoozing and under sedation beneath yours and John’s feet. Konig physically couldn’t get closer no matter how much he wished to in that moment.

As Watcher’s face evened out and he settled down once more you all seemed to take a breath in unison that no one had even realized they were holding. Oh thank fuck he hadn’t erupted into some fit of searing pain, the bullet had to be agony inducing still stuck inside there. You could only imagine the pain if you were being honest.

Slowly your gaze slid around and back to the small space between the front seats, watching Gaz’s lone form as best you could through the small slot. There was no telling how far you still had to drive at this point, it could have been hours or minutes and you would have been none the wiser. You still had no idea where the base was even located, though you could wager an educated guess. God how long had you spent out here? Too long you knew, but the days always seemed to mold together, turning into an immeasurable block of time that one day you were almost sure you would end up forgetting. That was if you made it that long anyway.

A heavy thwack against your leg broke you from where your gaze was stuck on the young man up front. Your eyes dropped to find the excitable dog as he inched closer to Watcher, as careful as any human would have been; it was like he knew how close the young man was getting to meeting his maker. Cerberus laid down with the gentleness of a much more intelligent creature, curling next to Watcher’s slender body as his nose gave a few cautious sniffs and he went still.

Pale, bloody fingers slid away from where the blood was still leaking out from the bandage wrapped around them before they nearly disappeared in the thick fur and held tight onto the dog who was currently the only relief the poor young man could find. At least the Dutchie was a patient dog in the face of just about anything, and he was more than content to become Watcher’s caretaker at least for now. After all, anyone would be exhausted after this long with no down time and even Cerberus was no exception.

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

The border was inching ever closer now and the tension that had dissipated not so long ago was suddenly mounting once more, growing thicker with every second. There had been too much downtime now, too many hours spent stuck together in the heat of the van with the smell of iron so close that all of you could taste it. Y’all needed to do something and yet there was nothing that you could do.

Watcher was beginning to shift again and as all eyes shot to him you realized just how the rest of the team saw him. Not as a young man but instead they saw him as more of a child in need of protection than an actual operator, and the attention they paid him would end up getting them all killed one day if they weren’t careful. It was getting harder and harder to believe that they respected him seeing how protective they were in that moment, and you probably wouldn’t believe it if you hadn’t been there when they had actually treated him like an adult. It was a weird combination of emotions everyone felt for him, however you’d seen it before, even in your own teams back in the day. Everyone protected the new guy as best they could even while they hazed the hell outta him and gave him hell any other time of the day

“Oh fuck,” the voice from the front seat almost startled you just as it did everyone else, their attention turning simultaneously from Watcher and instead towards the front of the van in search of the culprit. John, who had been sleeping lightly next to you, immediately stood up and stepped over Amaan’s body to lean towards the front of the van so that he could peek through the small opening between the seats. Your view was blocked but you could see him glance out the windshield before the man in the driver’s seat muttered, “Slight problem up here Cap. There’s a roadblock,” you leaned up in your own seat then to glance out the front window as well as you looked around John’s broad form as best you could, investigating the sight of flashing lights.

A line of cars had been stopped on the road and you had about four car lengths to figure out how to not get caught running an op on foreign soil- you could only assume without permission- with a man near death and another sedated into oblivion. You could hear Gaz tapping his finger nervously against the steering wheel and glancing back at you and John as subtly as he could. With Gaz at the wheel you all knew full well there was no way of making it through this damn roadblock unscathed. It had nothing to do with his skill; he simply didn’t speak the local dialects…You did.

The man who had been on idle next to you for the last few hours was spouting orders in a heartbeat, directing the flow of traffic like a pro. “Trade places with Speck. Now, Gaz, move it.” There was an urgency in his voice that you hadn’t heard since the mission the day before. Your head whipped around nearly immediately as the other man in the front waited till none of the guards were watching and then threw the van in park. He tumbled through the small slot in the van and into the little cubby you had been afforded as he slid onto the bench next to Ghost and then suddenly all eyes were on you.

It was dark outside now so at least most of your movements were covered by the shadows of the night. With darkness hiding the chaos currently unfolding in this already too small space. John was tearing into one of the bags thrown in the corner just as quickly as he’d started shouting orders, pulling out clothes that you quickly recognized as Watcher’s. Well fuck. He tossed you the taqiyah and thobe the ginger usually kept for when y'all were driving, especially over the borders. Your eyes shot between the clothes now in your hand and the brunette who’d given them to you. It was no secret you were a great deal bigger than the young man, hell Soap had a better chance at fitting in them than you did. The unwavering gaze that stared back at you apparently meant that he didn’t give two shits though. This was the expectation and lord you were gonna have to deal with the lot you’d been given.

A quiet curse escaped your lips before you started pulling the long thobe over your head, maneuvering your shoulders carefully inside the suffocating fabric before you reached up to affix the taqiyah as well. You could barely lift your arm, feeling the fabric tighten dangerously around the muscle of your shoulder, and damn how skinny was this kid? It felt like you were holding in your gut for dear life, had you really put on that much weight recently?

The thobe was much too short and clung to your chest and shoulders like a straight jacket, feeling more like a corset that was trying to reshape the proportions of your body than the loose fitting piece of modest clothes it was supposed to be. Good lord how were you gonna pass this shit off to a bunch of a men who knew what it was actually supposed to look like. Role or not this was gonna be a difficult one to pass off, and you weren’t entirely sure you were going to be able to do it. The whole thing was too rushed, there was too much riding on your shoulders and it’d been too long since someone had relied on you like this. Fuck it though, it was time to play the ill dressed cargo van driver who had no business being out in the middle of the night trying to cross borders. Lovely.

Glancing down at Cerberus you gave a quiet command of, “Bleib,” afterall the last thing you needed was him trying to follow you into the front and causing a scene. Unclipping the lead from your belt you handed it off to John quickly, undoubtedly running out of time now. Peeking between the seats into the front you took a quick glance at the men, making sure they weren’t paying attention before you hopped through and into the driver’s seat, throwing the van back into gear as you rolled forward in the queue.

You could feel the eyes on the back of your neck as you forced your gaze to remain dutifully on the road, suppressing the nervous glances you wanted to throw behind you. Complete silence had fallen over the men in the back, even Watcher’s groans had hushed completely now as the severity of the situation seemed to bleed into every aspect of this oncoming confrontation. The only sound that you could hear was John as he mumbled something about the false wall behind you. Then there was the sound of something opening before it clicked securely back into place again. What in the hell were they doing back there? The question itched at the back of your mind as you struggled to keep yourself from looking behind, human curiosity in a situation like this could absolutely get you all killed.

Everything went silent again for a few more moments before the separator between the front and the back closed and you were completely alone. The hot, suffocating cubby completely cut off from you now, and yet the air out here was choking you more than the close quarters behind you had. It was as if you were back to that one man show you’d been so used to lately, and not a single part of you wanted to be there anymore.

Lifting your foot off the brake slowly, you listened as they squealed with protest at the movement, trying to refuse your request to roll forward. Too bad though, there was shit to do. Besides, it wasn't like you actually had a choice as the van continued to roll forward in the queue. Uniformed guards loitered around the roadblock seemingly devoid of sound as their attention shifted completely to the van. Your mind ran through the infinite list of dialects the man was about to throw at you, it of course had to be one you knew. They weren’t about to sit someone at the border without having someone they knew could communicate with everyone who came through here…Right?

One of the men, with his rifle on his shoulder and a frown set firmly on his mouth, made his way over to you. He lifted his hand and signaled to the window which you were quick to comply with as you rolled the window down and sent a prayer up to the God your mother had always told you was real. You’d do anything to just let this go smoothly, anything at all. Please God just don’t let us get thrown in some jail or get shot up in the back of this van. Just go smoothly.

The man was eyeing you carefully as he approached, words rolling off his tongue that you didn’t quite understand. There was a semblance to the languages you knew but it just didn’t make sense so you shook your head and his cautious gaze started to turn to suspicion as he asked in Farsi, “You can understand now?” You nodded in answer before he continued his line of questioning, “Where are you headed?” And so the game began, and you felt yourself beginning to relax into this. Enjoying it even.

Where the hell were you? On the road from Zabol to somewhere south of that. Just say a city, any city south of Zabol, Speck. Easy, “Zahedan,” you answered him and in turn earned the attention of another narrow eyed guard as the men inched closer. The car in front of you rolled off past the rest of the guards as they moved on from the checkpoint and drove off into the night. It was just you now, truly alone and with all the attention focused on what you were determined to make a masterful performance.

You could feel eyes as they traveled down your neck, fixing to the sight of the tight thobe around your shoulders and chest as he inspected you or at least he tried to, part of the darkness was still hiding the bits of you that didn’t quite make sense. His hand moved down to his hip and for a moment your hand tightened on the wheel, a flash of fear that he was about to pull a pistol on you despite the rifle still resting against his shoulder. And before you could even truly react a beam of light leveled at your face and blinded you for a moment.

The guard flicked the beam towards the rear end of the van before giving you an order that left no room for interpretation, “Unlock the back. We need to inspect what you’re transporting.” Immediately your hand moved to the button and the locks clicked, ‘Please have y’alls shit together, John. Please, please, please, please, please,’ a muffled noise came from just around your shoulder and you resisted the urge to look back. You wouldn’t be able to see anything anyway and it would only make you look even more suspicious than you already did.

“What is your business in Zahedan, Mr…?” He left the end of the question open as he continued to fix that narrow eyed gaze upon you. The beam of light blinding you as he kept it leveled at your eyes. Jesus man, you’d think he could at least let you see.

However you gave him as pleasant a smile as you could manage even though it was still tinged with a bit of annoyance, afterall who wouldn’t be, and answered as quickly as you could, “I’m just transporting some goods for the market there, sir. My boss needs it there by morning, it was a late order by one of the stall owners,” you glanced in the side mirror towards the back watching one guard disappear around the open doors.

A couple heavy bodies hopped inside, shaking the van as they moved objects around in the back. Their muffled voices came through the thin walls of the van as they inspected the pointless boxes in the back. Nothing they did though could compare to the way the van rocked violently and something shattered as you heard the contents of a stack of crates dump out and across the floor of the van.

The reaction you had was almost as genuine as it appeared. Your brows began to furrow and you gave the man at the window a look of indignance as you began to shift in your seat, even going so far as to curl your lip up. There were only a couple more seconds that you could take of the crates crashing down behind you and the goods spilling out. The threshold had been met and you scoffed and turned in the seat, your voice raising in what could have only been worry and stress, “Come on really? You cannot just break everything back there because you want to, I have a job to do and a boss to report to, same as you man.”

Dark eyes shot back to your face and you immediately flitted your own gaze away feigning submission to what was, in reality, one of the highest authorities you would have known. Sure you could be exasperated and frustrated with the way they searched the van but the last thing you needed was to bring about your own personal demise because you wanted to get all high and mighty now. Another crash and the muscles of your back tightened, your shoulder blades coming together as you bit the inside of your cheeks and remained as still as possible, still avoiding the eyes of the men currently standing outside your window.

Just keep acting normal Speck, as long as everything stayed quiet back there and they didn’t find the little latch you had nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. You’d sail right on through this roadblock and be home in time for supper...Or really you'd be in time to save the young Scotsman currently fighting for every second of his slowly pumping heartbeats just behind you. After all, wasn't that all that really mattered right now?

The eyes of the man continued to bore into what felt like your very soul, and all you could do was refuse to stare back. You had to keep your head down and remain unremarkable for the sake of all of your lives. Being memorable, a “hero” was how people died and you were all too aware of that fact. Staying out of the way was your specialty, and you’d been doing it as long as you could remember. Much longer than you were willing to admit to anyone.

So keep it together, shoulder the burden for the good of the many. It was the only way you knew really. A hollow knock sounded behind you. Echoing through the cab of the van and amplifying, loud enough for even the man standing outside your window to hear. Out of the corner of your eye you saw his head tilt in…Confusion? Curiosity? Suspicion? Your hands tightened on the wheel as you fought to keep the moment of pure panic out of your facial expressions. Even a bit of fear slithering its way into this instinct driven part of your mind, ‘Do not turn around, turn around and they’ll know something is wrong. Eyes ahead and act normal. Do not turn around, Speck.’

The man at the window pursed his lips, still eyeing you carefully as he took another step closer and insisted, “I need a name.” A name? The fuck was a name? Your name? No, your name would get you killed. Fucking hell, why was it always something. Just gotta be on some other shit today, huh? Always gotta be something in this damn job, always fuckin somethin.

He wanted a name? Couldn’t live without one? Fine. Fuck it. “Kareem Abdul-Jabbar,” your eyes lifted to find a face absent of anything. Even the man behind him was quiet as they both stared at you with slowly narrowing eyes. Were you fucking stupid Speck? Jesus christ. That’s what you decided to go with? Anxiety prickled over your skin, raising goosebumps across the back of your neck and along your forearms. The already too tight thobe suddenly felt that much more tight, a vice around your body like a corset as it tried to cut off your dwindling supply of oxygen.

The commander, or the man who you assumed to be the commander, gestured with a flick of his chin to the man standing behind him. The pen in his hand scribbled quickly, and you followed the movements silently wishing you could read the movements of the pen and nervous that you would stick too readily in their minds. That they would remember this and you, that if anything went wrong you would be the first person they would point to. Then again did it really even matter? You should be long gone from this hellscape by the time they even turn that damn ledger in.

The van shook, rocked back and forth on its worn out shocks once and then twice. Muffled voices spoke what seemed so far away and yet like they were right over your shoulder. Discussing what though? What could they possibly have been saying? Was it about you? Had they found the latch and the rest of the team? What could you do even if they had? Question after question after question rattled around in your mind without a single answer even daring to try and enter. And then as quickly as they had begun they were cut off with the slamming of one door and then the next. Only a single thought remained, ‘Holy shit we actually did it.’

The commander glanced at the guard behind him who nodded and then looked to the men at the rear of the van. Again the voices reached your ears though they were devoid of meaning. Either a language you didn’t know or too quiet for you to truly make out. Slowly you turned your eyes from the road and the steering wheel in front of you to find the face of the Commander. In one quick movement the man turned back to you and nodded, “You’re free to go.” The tension in your back released immediately as you reached for the gear shift.

Throwing the van into gear you tossed the commander a quick nod, not bothering with a smile, hell the man had basically allowed the entirety of the back to be destroyed. He turned to look at the men blocking the road in front of you, illuminated by the headlights, and waved his hand yelling an order at them in another language you didn’t know. They were quick to lift the gate, following their orders, as you rolled forward slowly through the now opened blockade. The sounds of the tires over the asphalt crackling in your ears in a satisfying sound before you rolled the window back up.

Continuing on down the road you finally glanced in the mirror, watching the lights of the blockade disappearing behind the hills as you went. “Well that was fuckin close,” you muttered mostly to yourself, almost forgetting that there were a group of men separated by less than an inch of metal right behind your shoulder. The panel opened the moment you spoke and you glanced back to find an ocean blue gaze staring back at you, darkness surrounding him like a shroud. You were lost in those features for a moment, unable to pull away as your world whittled away to brunette locks and a full beard perfectly kept and straight out of the 70s.

At least until a huge gasp of air came from behind him and the both of you seemed to be shocked from your reverie. His dark brows knitted together and yours quickly followed suit in worried confusion. “What happened, what’s wrong?” Your question broke the assumed silence of voices, though as much as you needed to look behind you, you forced your eyes back to the road ahead. After all if you drove the van off into the ditch what would be the point of getting through that check point back there.

The Captain slid back into his seat before he glanced across the small space to the men on the other side. Muffled noises echoed around behind you, bouncing off the walls before they made their way to your ears. Someone was struggling. It wasn’t until John finally turned to find your gaze again that he shook his head as if to say absolutely nothing was wrong, it took only a second longer of your hardened gaze in the rearview mirror before he finally gave you a real answer, “The sedative wore off. Ghost took care of it.” You gave a slow nod in response and pulled over onto the shoulder of the road slowly, checking the mirrors to make sure there were no headlights headed your way.

You threw the van into park before you turned in your seat to look into the back and finally satisfy your curiosity. Gaz sat on the edge of his seat ready to slip through and take the wheel back and so the two of you did, trading places in a less than graceful motion as Gaz got the lot of you back on the road. The taqiyah was off your head in a moment before you handed it off to John and were forced to catch yourself against his shoulder as the van lurched forward unsteadily. A warm hand wrapped around your wrist and another caught against your hip as he instinctively reached to steady you, blue eyes traveling up to your face with raised brown eyebrows resting just above them.

Warmth flooded into your face and you tensed at his touch even though you wished you could melt into him, thank him with a smile on your face. That wasn’t a possibility though, there were too many eyes on y’all right now. So instead you pulled away, untangling yourself from his grasp as you huffed out a quick, deflecting comment, “Good Lord this thobe is tight. Thought the seams were gonna pop before we got through that damn blockade. Hell felt like I couldn’t breathe in the damn thing.” You pulled at the hem feeling it catch under your arms as you tried to wriggle your way out of it. You couldn’t manage to get it off though as your elbows caught in the fabric and you froze, your shoulders moving painfully one way and then the other and yet still you remained frozen in this awkward shuffle of limbs.

Shit. Once again you made a subtle attempt to free yourself, shifting your shoulders and pinching at the fabric where you could just barely reach it before a defeated sigh left what had to be the very depths of your soul. You had to have looked like a big child standing there with your arms stuck above your head and fingers reaching desperately for an unattainable fabric, unable to even push it back down so you could just pretend like nothing happened. Another moment of dead silence passed and as your fingers began tingling ever so slightly you dropped them to the back of your head in defeat. Your elbows were still held aloft, pinched together painfully as you stared into the white fabric stuck around your head, arms, and chest like a binding. “Well…” You said aloud, following it quickly with a single declaration, “Shit.”

Soap’s laugh was nearly immediate, the escaping near giggles edging on becoming wheezes. You could imagine all the eyes that were probably staring at your hogtied form in the long, ankle-length thobe, and you could feel heat rising in your face and not the kind you had started to enjoy. Embarrassment welled up in your and you swore you even heard Konig let out a quiet murmur of amusement accompanied by the Lieutenant and Captain’s quiet snickering as they looked at your helpless visage in the near complete darkness of the little space. The only thing that made it all worth it was the small giggle of laughter you just barely caught from Watcher somewhere below you, hell you couldn’t see a damn thing around you but that little laugh just suddenly made the whole experience worth it.

A couple seconds of gawking at you and the quiet laughing before strong hands grabbed at your upper arms and you quickly lifted your hands back up in response. As your arms straightened the fabric drug across your skin, and as the collar stuck underneath your chin you shut your eyes and pulled free. It took a few blinks before your eyes readjusted to the dim light only to look back up at the smirking face of John Price who was already balling the fabric back up in order to shove it back into the bag he’d retrieved it from originally.

You couldn’t help but to follow his form for a few moments, eyes trailing over his features before you managed to tear your gaze away and find the others that were still left in the back. Ghost had Amaan shoved underneath his and Konig's legs underneath the makeshift wooden bench passed out once more, either from the big man choking him out or another sedative you weren’t completely sure though you doubted there was any sedative left. At least he seemed to be making a comfortable seat for Soap who was still sitting between Ghost’s knees so he had easy access to the young man who was taking shaky breath after shaky breath.

You situated yourself carefully back where you had been forced to vacate earlier as Gaz continued what now had to be a frantic drive back to base. "See,” you began as you leaned forward on one knee, “Yall are laughing now but I ain't heard not one of ya laughing when I was saving your asses five minutes ago from becoming POWs. Not a single peep," Soap had tears forming in his eyes as his quiet giggles turned slowly into silent wheezes. A quick glance around and you caught Gaz red handed with his phone resting on the steering wheel as it played the sight of you trying to get out of the thobe on repeat while somehow he was still managing to drive. What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

Ghost, the last man you would have imagined would throw even more wood on this fire, was the first one to come back with a quick remark, "What the fuck does 'ain't' mean?" He did his best impression of an American accent, failing rather miserably as he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his chin resting just above the short dark hair of his partner. Eyes were watching you with what you were almost positive was amusement though sadly it was covered up easily by the darkness that still enveloped the lot of you, not to mention the mask that still shrouded every feature but those striking eyes.

The question struck you like every mocking comment of your accent and where you were from had. Reaching up you pulled on your tac vest that John proffered you and began fumbling with the buckles, you shot him a quick glare and lifted your chin just before you did the same with your middle finger as you feigned anger, "Means fuck off skullface, how bout that?" He gave a light chuckle under his mask and you saw his head shake in the darkness as he leaned back once more, huge arms crossing over his chest. The big man wasn't the most talkative but at least he knew how to joke around, a worry you had been carrying up until this point.

Everything began to settle shortly after that, the giggles dying and the whispered comments quieting. Soap sobered back up as he went back to tending to Watcher the best he could, the latter grimacing as he searched for something to grab hold of with his free hand, the team’s medic packing his wounds with a fresh set of gauze and wrapping them up with bandages. The last bandages he was quick to inform the Captain about. Watcher’s lithe fingers tangled into Cerberus’ fur once again, and you watched as the dog seemed to settle in the attention while the corner of your mouth turned up in a small smile.

Gaz sat quietly in the front seat as he drove now, his phone long forgotten along with the video of your quiet struggling. In the meantime Konig had resumed his quiet vigil with his elbows resting on his thighs once more and the worry obvious in his taut frame and the way his leg bounced. As it always seemed to, your attention returned to the Brit who had found his place beside you once more.

You half-expected to see him watching Gaz in the front seat and helping to keep an eye on the road. Or at the very least watching the youngest Scot as he had the whole ride before now, as most of you had succumbed to doing since you’d loaded him into this van. Instead though he was sitting with his rifle laying across the top of his thighs, his hands holding it steady. That gaze though, those ocean hues were focused solely on you. The heat of it was pouring into you, raging like an inferno as it warmed your otherwise frozen limbs.

A quick dart of your gaze down to his lips and before you could return it to his eyes they had shifted just as he did next to you. His legs spread a bit wider and his knee knocked against yours, his gloved fingers sliding over the gun as he situated himself more comfortably on his seat. John’s warning was silent but clear and you were quick to acquiesce, turning your eyes away to find something else to distract your thoughts. The other men avoided looking at the both of you. Soap was much too busy, Konig much too worried, and Ghost just finding the idea of eye contact in such an enclosed space awkward at this point probably.

The rest of the drive seemed to inch along at a snail’s pace as the last of Soap’s blood bags began to run dry. No one else was able to give blood and so the countdown had begun on how long the boy truly had left. The smell of bloody bandages permeated the entirety of the enclosed space now and choked you in its distaste. It clogged your senses in the suffocating smell, churning your stomach with its odor. It was not quite metallic, not with this much coming from the cavity of his stomach. This smelt almost rotten in comparison. There was an itch to gag tickling at the back of your throat that you were fighting to suppress. It was taking every fiber of control not to let your nose wrinkle at the odor of all these men, and the blood, and the dog mingling together like the beginning of a terrible joke.

Overwhelmed. It was the only word that came to mind as to how you felt right now. You were losing yourself in the way it felt, the way the silence of the van’s small space dampened every sound as if Watcher were already dead. Even the smells seemed to think so. Your eyes slid down quickly to his hand still grasping desperately at Cerberus’ fur and the pain written on the young man’s face. Not dead. Not yet at least. He was certainly getting there though if Gaz didn’t hurry the hell up. You’d lost track of the time but you could see the first rays of light now coming through the front windshield.

Soon, you had to make it there soon. Right? Watcher had long since lost consciousness, his breaths coming shallow and shaky in slower and slower succession. You should have been there. He shouldn’t have breached that room at all, you had just taken too long with that woman and her child. It was always the children that gave you pause. Their wide eyed stares cut too deep and struck too hard. Watcher should be sitting where you were. Why was it always someone else paying for your incompetencies?

Brakes squealed and the van locked down, throwing the lot of you nearly off your seats. All except for Price who was on his feet before you knew what was happening while Ghost quickly followed suit. Your eyes darted back and forth between them as you stood hurriedly, searching their gazes for some kind of order. They all seemed to know what to do next without even speaking, meanwhile you were kept out of the loop. Completely disconnected from this hivemind they all seemed to have slipped into. A routine?

The back of the van opened sending a cascade of light into your eyes just as Laswell’s voice cut through the silence finally, “Let’s go boys, Feea already has everything ready to go. And Wade has the plane loaded, let’s be quick now.” Everything was already happening though, she had no need to ‘get them moving’. Quicker than you thought any of them could manage it, the men in front of you were tossing bags from one set of hands to the other. From John, to Gaz who was now at the tail end of the van, and up the ramp to the waiting blonde vampire you’d nearly killed however many days ago that was now.

Engines roared on the runway in front of you, ready to take off whether yall made it on or not from what you could see. What the fuck kind of operation was this? You’d heard stories of Price, you’d heard stories of the 1-4-1, but to have such ease in finding a plane home without all the paperwork? They just had planes and runways and whatever they needed at their disposal whenever and wherever they needed it to be. You wish you had that kind of pull, you wouldn’t have been in that market about to get yourself blown to high hell if you’d had that kind of pull.

John didn’t spare a glance over his shoulder as he headed out of the van, stepping down it looked like versus hopping out. Konig and Ghost had already knelt down to grab Watcher underneath his arms and knees as Soap shouted out something to Wade about supplies and such he needed for the boy. They had the young man out of the van before you even had a chance to react as Soap followed the both of them. Gaz hopped into the van then, reaching down to gather the Amaan’s limbs before he hauled him up as if he weighed nothing.

This was the end of it then. They were off to wherever the fuck, rest a recoup until their next orders were received and then they’d be off again. Of course this was the end of things, you’d gotten Amaan and that was the only reason John and his team were here to begin with. And now you would be back to living your life, whatever that meant anyway. You had no job, no orders, and no way to get back home. There was no life or money, but that was neither here nor there you’d figure it out eventually.

Cerberus was still laying down where he’d been as Watcher’s company. “Fuss,” you muttered and watched as the dog rose slowly, it was unlike him to be so…downtrodden? A bit of concern touched your thoughts until you realized just how long it’d been since he’d properly rested. Probably just tired, hell you were you suddenly realized as you stepped down out of the van with your gun still slung over your shoulder. You stretched out your abused body, weary from the traveling and the fighting. Your bones ached and seemed to creak with every movement, your muscles and joints screaming and pleading for mercy only to find none. Not even your mind would find a merciful quietness here.

John had forced himself into your life and wrecked you completely, body, mind, and soul. You hadn’t even been sure you had a soul until you’d met him. Now he was about to disappear from it again, just as quickly as he’d appeared in it. There and then gone at the drop of a hat to leave you wanting for more. Always wanting. Your eyes darted into the dark interior of the plane as you tilted backwards. Weariness had finally won over as your knees buckled against the bumper of the van and you took a heavy seat.

God you were tired. There was nothing left to give. The tank was empty as they say. Even Cerberus had spent every last bit of energy he had at this point. Non-stop working had that effect on everyone, dogs were no exception, not even him. Your fingers found themselves in the thick fur of his neck as he sat staring ahead just as you did, watching as Wade loaded the last of the team’s supplies onto the plane. The roar of its engines deafening as you witnessed the departure of yet another chapter of your life. Though you had to admit it was probably one of the happiest chapters, even if it was one of the shortest.

It was time to disappear back into the frays of society. Become the man who other people looked over with glazed eyes, as if you weren’t even really there. A shadow in their memories when someone tried to ask them what you looked like and the best answer they could give them was, ‘He was just a man.’ For a minute there you’d been memorable though, had a taste of what it was like to be seen by one of the…No not one of the, there was only one John Price. He and his team were gonna be hard to move on from, him most of all.

Your eyes slid down to the dog sitting beside your knee then, running the tips of your fingers over the top of his head to ground yourself before you stood. Casting a last long glance up at the plane you were done, ready to walk away. As ready as you’d ever be anyway. Prepared to free these men of the curse that hung around you like death’s shrouded veil, one that had already struck poor Watcher.

He saw you. Of course he did, he had since those nights in the bar. He saw everything, for Christ's sake it was his job. Blue eyes pierced you through the heart from the top of the plane’s ramp as the two of you remained completely still. For once you weren’t nestled into the background of a painting barely warranting a single stroke of the brush. To him you were the artist’s whole subject, the one thing they had set out to capture. The one thing John had set out to capture.

There was one thing that man didn’t need to do though, he’d had you from the first day you saw him and not even you had known it then. He was your everything and it didn’t matter about anything else in life because he was all you needed. Hell he was all that you wanted.

You watched as he jerked his chin, beckoning you silently with both his eyes and his actions. The man before you didn’t need words, it wasn’t like either of you were poets with them anyway. It was as if the exhaustion and weariness in your body dissipated the moment he was back in your line of sight.

Pushing yourself off the bumper of the van you started forward, watching the corner of his mouth turn up in the smallest of smirks. He turned back inside the plane as you started up the ramp. You crested the top of the ramp Cerberus at your side and the moment you did it began to close behind you, the sound harsh on your ears and even worse than the engines in your opinion.

He had been waiting for you. An unexpected yet welcome thought, John had wanted you to come just as much as you’d been begging to follow. You slid past Wade with a satisfied glint in your eyes, barely glancing at him for a moment as he secured everything under cargo nets. Crossing over the empty space of the plane you made your way towards the rest of the team, stopped only by someone clearing their throat beside you.

Your focus darted to the perpetrator and you took in the blonde woman staring back at you. Confident and above you, above everyone to be fair, it was safer for her that way and so much easier. That was something you could understand. “Ma’am?” Your drawl slipped into the word as you watched her, your brows drawing closer together in your confusion as to why she would want your attention.

Laswell’s face remained stubbornly neutral as she looked the two of you over, a man and his dog. As normal as it got, just about anywhere in the world you would find similar combinations. The most memorable thing about you was Cerberus but even he could blend in under the right circumstances. “I have an opportunity for you, Speck. If you’re interested anyway.” Slowly you gave a nod, hesitating only a moment before you remembered if it involved her that it probably would involve John as well. “Good, how would you like a job?”

47 notes · View notes

xbruised-peachx · 7 months

Text

just some girls bonding over their partners 🥰

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #modern warfare oc #cod oc #call of duty oc #tactical peach #oc x canon #kate laswell #laswell #peach renders

77 notes · View notes

dovithedarklord · 10 months

Text

Masterlist

Age of Monsters

Pairing: OFC x Simon "Ghost" Riley, OFC x König

Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, POV First Person, Not Beta Read, Medical Inaccuracies, Military Inaccuracies, AFAB OC

Trigger Warning: The story will contain violance, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

...............................................................................................

Summary:

50 years ago, the world was turned upside down by the appearance of a virus, and monsters destroyed most of the known civilization. For safety, humanity has retreated to colonies all around the world, where life is lived according to strict rules and in fear of monsters. Fortunately, the virus caused something other than just the emergence of mutant monsters, it also awakened the Hunters, who have been heroically protecting the colonies ever since. Leona Woods spends her days in Colony 17 hiding from her duties as a Healer, but her carefree life soon ends when one of her evenings doesn't go as planned. And when karma finally catches up, she is forced to join Liquidation Unit 141 to fulfill her duties.

Life in Unit 141 isn't nearly all sunshine and rainbows, especially when a certain masked Hunter tries to make it even harder. However, the excitement only increases when a new danger appears, which threatens not only the life of the unit but the safety of the entire world. And Leona must decide whether to choose her own interests or the survival of her new team and the world.

The world in the story is inspired by the Guideverse.

....................................

Author's Note

Hello!

I've uploaded every finished chapter here! I upload it regularly!

The story moves quite slowly, so please be patient!

I have pretty much covered all the characters in the tags, but the list could expand in the future.

(I proofread myself before posting, so sorry if there are mistakes! I write the story in my language first, and I translate it after. English is not my first language, so help is welcomed! Just be nice, please! )

If you're interested you can find the story on AO3: Chapter One

........................................

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

........................................................................

Map of the colonies

........................................................................

Other works

Stucked (Soap x reader, Ghost x Reader, Horrorgame au)

79 notes · View notes

credince--writes · 2 years

Text

Jitters, Chapter 1 (Remastered)

Chapter One: Security Protocol

Jitters is a PMC brought onto the support 141 operations, much to the distaste of the 141 group of PMC's.

The Remastered version of the original Jitters.

A/N:

Welcome to the rewrite guys! I actually will have my shit together this time, so that means tag lists will be happening! Lmk if you wanna be on it *as I sensually waggle my eyebrows at you*

This wasn't the first time she was sent out to a base.

This was probably the third, actually.

Laswell would send her where she was needed, so a lot of the time she found herself drifting around. She'd be stationed somewhere, finish up the needed task, and then run back to Laswell like a lap dog waiting to go fetch the ball again.

It sucked,

but so would sitting in a jail cell, so this would have to do.

The particular team she was stationed with was once again some kind of special force needing someone behind a screen that knew what they were doing, mainly to route them through a complex series of tunnels while avoiding security systems. Shutting off power when necessary.

Teaming up with some British team, she couldn't exactly remember the name she was too busy directing Sergeant Dumbass through a tunnel.

"You're going to have a series of laser security systems roughly twenty feet in front of you. Big red door next to it. Don't pass it until I give you the clear." Jitters spoke into her microphone.

"How the hell do you know it's red?" There was a gruffness to his voice, there always was whenever she spoke to the special forces guys- always a bit of a ruggedness at the edge of their voice as they’d trudge through shitty abandoned building after the next. She supposed after long enough they were in it for the thrill- when the glamorized ‘saving the world’ complex wore off. Hunting for adrenaline, pushing until the blood pounding in your ears gave the high they were searching for.

"I'm looking at you. I can see your bald spot." She responded, sighing after the mic cut off and leaning back in her chair.

It was as if they’d never really believe her- as she watched overhead. Either from their trackers or through the cameras scattered throughout a building.

The man she was observing through the screen turned around to face the camera and flipped it off before following his directed path.

"Alright... Hang tight for a moment please." She says, tapping into a separate comm unit.

"Miles this is Jitters, what is the status?"

"Dealing with some issues." His voice calmly- too calmly replied. The kind of shutoff you layer over when something is going wrong and before everything goes to shit.

"What kind of issues?" She cranes her neck over, glancing at the wall that separated the two of them. Her eyes narrowed on the concrete as if she were ready to melt through it-

But it was always like this, and even though she was confident that it would be resolved, that everything would be ok in the end. The tremor in her hands always found itself present, the jittering of her fingers on the keyboard as the anxiety and adrenaline started flowing.

She could never understand why people would seek it- the feeling of adrenaline in their veins.

"They're being resolved don't worry about it." His clipped voice spoke again.

"Miles I have three minutes before I lose stability on my end. Whatever issues you're running into need to be resolved fast."

There was silence on the other end.

It always died into silence.

…

That wasn't the last time Miles had become a major threat to the welfare of a mission, that and pain in her ass. It wasn't that he was totally incompetent- just enough that he was constantly putting teams in danger. A combination of spite and pride. Something she was familiar with, as much as she’d stuff it deep down and ignore it.

Constantly putting people in danger, either because he was still too bull-headed to accept help when she was trying to give it or was trying to prove himself in some respect.

That was until the current team they were assisting left, leaving the two of them with the base squad while another task force was brought in.

It was always some kind of task force- special operations unit, reacted names, and masked faces.

She had heard in rumors around the base that this Task Force- 141 is what it was called was something different. She was never given any real background on the teams, or redacted information but enough to get by to understand the premise of the operations. They were put on the real dirty jobs. The things that needed to be kept quiet.

Things she always ended up in her lap.

She was disposable- not that Laswell would ever explicitly say it.

She’d never be a liability because she no longer had the same ‘free will’ another had.

There was no going home,

Only the next mission.

The next dirty job.

She realized this when she was put into a separate briefing room from the rest of the squad she was stationed with. She was going to know more sensitive information, her and Miles, that is.

It was a pretty simple mission, but from what she understood very bloody on one end. It was infiltrating an enemy base, force, or stealth.

Whatever was necessary.

The day 141 arrived she was sitting on a crate fidgeting with one of the radios a private had brought up to her needing to be fixed. The pleading looks on his face to keep it quiet before his Sergeant found out and ripped him a new one. She didn't know what was up with them, but they seemed absolutely prone to breaking things in the most moronic ways. Made sense though, she saw a group of them dragging a fellow private around the warehouse floor as a mop.

The sound of a helicopter landing could be heard in closer proximity than normal, and the rolling doors opened to reveal the awaiting squad.

One thing Jitters always found amusing was the strange choices of hair, facial hair, or not that the men in the military would choose. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Miles approach, his chest puffed out in an attempt to stand taller as he approached her.

"I want Skull." He said.

She quirked a brow. "Bet he'll chew you up n' spit you out." She responded.

"Masked ones are always important." He responded. "You can take whatever team the skull guy isn't on."

"Hm." Leaning back and resting her hand against the crate trying to push down the dread that always seemed to rise up in her throat like bile when a new mission was presented. They were definitely observant, they had to be or they would be dead. Scanning and surveying the room. She watched as a grown-ass man with a mohawk stared at the two of them.

She matched his gaze, returning his intensity before he blinked and looked away. Miles had already left her side, walking to the debriefing room where the new arrivals were headed too. She sighed and stood up, following Miles to the room where the men had already gathered and seated around the table. Peeking her head in after Miles, she stepped in.

"Right on time you too." She heard Lt. Gulch say, he was heading the front of the table. Getting ready to explain new developments that had occurred in the last hour or so- papers scattered below on the table. Manila folders and ramblings in his oh-so-familiar chicken scratch tacked to the walls.

Jitters settled at the back of the table, sitting next to a man with a unibrow of a mustache on his face while Miles scurried over to sit in the general proximity of the masked giant at the table. There was a tension within the room- which was to be expected. The task forces were one and the same, usually tight-knit groups of men who would rather die than put their lives in the hands of someone they weren’t familiar with- someone they didn’t know they could trust.

Gulch began to lecture on about developments, explaining that the team would be split into two. One going from under, another storming in from the top of the building to sandwich in the center, then moving on to secure multiple other locations. Usual clearing tactics, no NVG, quick and dirty if need be, but keep it as clean as possible in respect to making cleanup easier. The navigation of the building would be difficult- security constantly changing but a recent finding of a lack of protection in their digital space provides an opportunity for them to breach.

"Which is why we have these two here today, one will be assigned to each of your teams. I'll allow you to choose as they will be a part of your respective teams for the next week." Gulch continued.

She always dreaded this part.

Introductions.

As if they really cared about who they were, and what they really did. Moreso once they understood what she was, her presence here.

Not that they’d ever question it, it seemed that all of them were connected one way or another to Laswell, and with her ‘stamp’ of approval, or ownership they wouldn’t ask many more questions.

Miles stood up, introducing his name and rank, and then sat down.

Jitters looked at him, then looked around the room not bothering to stand up. Avoiding every contact and trying to keep her voice even level. Not to stand and show the shake of her hands and the anxiety that these introductions always brought her. "They call me Jitters."

There were a few questionable glances given in response. Mustache piping up from next to her. "What about your Name & Rank?"

Gulch piped in. "Classified, and Jitters is a PMC sent in specifically for this assignment."

She watched as Mowhawk sat back in his chair and grumbled something to Skullface. Before he piped up. "Why is there a PMC on this job, do we not have techs?"

"Laswell had her sent in specifically, I'm under higher orders from General Spots, and advisement of Laswell. Which I don't plan on ignoring, is that a problem MacTavish?"

Mowhawk MacTavish sighed, and sat back. "No. Ghost and I will take Miles then."

Skullface nodded.

Apparently, his name was Ghost.

Mustache nodded, "Alright then. Jitters." He said with a little bit of hesitancy. "You, Gaz, and I will be the second team infiltrating from the top of the building once our first steps are secured."

She gave him a nod. "Is this still a pack & pull operation? Two, one, and gather?" She asked to the inhabitants of the room.

"Yes," Gulch started. "Team two will be in the field for two days while Team one remains in the field for one, returns to drop off, then stays until Team one meets back. Both teams will then follow to finish in one day- or however long it takes to fulfill the remaining objectives."

Jitters leaned back in her seat. "Are they aware of how it's going to work?" She nods her head back to the man behind her.

Gulch shrugs a little. "Was hoping you could explain, you start losing me when you're going on about satellites."

“Well-” She opened her mouth to speak.

"I can." Miles volunteers, standing up, cutting her off with the ever-present smirk on his lips.

"We are going to be equipping you all with specialized comms' routed through one of our satellites for this mission. We will be able to remotely access cameras throughout your route and give information as needed. Once you reach your target point, question and deal with the target then we will work on acquiring intel in either of these two points." He points behind him at the map. "Once the initial is finished, your teams will separate once more to finish out delegated tasks. The comm. systems are separated to further security, so all traffic will need to be routed through us."

"Why will our comms be separated?" Gaz asks.

"Well…" Miles pauses, faltering for a moment to gather his words.

Skullface scoffs.

She could see the embarrassment burn knot Miles face, hands clenching together at his sides.

"It's in case one of you is KIA, or have your communications compromised. Doesn't compromise both groups, keeps it segregated into one team." Jitters bumps in, shooting a side glance to Miles as his head snapped over to glare. "Miles also forgot to mention the lockout segments of the map where no one will be able to get any communications out. From what we know they lined these segments well enough to half any communication traffic through their walls. You'll all have to resort to more unique means of keeping the communication line open."

"Enlighten us." Ghost said, crossing his arms.

"One of each of your team is going to have to secure access to the vent system once you gain access to the fortified rooms. Your partner will be able to hear you through the vent, and the partner inside the vent will be able to further communicate."

"I won't fit in a vent," MacTavish says matter-of-factly.

"I'm sure you'll manage." Gaz replied.

The door opened, and one of the other Luitenants’ heads popped in "Jitters, you're needed immediately." There was that tone of urgency- not one of dire the world is going to end.

No, that was usually the pre-mission ass-chewing.

Gulch shot a glare. "What is it?"

"Laswell is on the line right now." They responded.

"God Damn it." Jitters groaned. Standing up and turning "Yea, Yea, I'll be there in a second. Miles finish where I left off and don't forget half."

He glared in response.

...

Had the call been important? Not really. It was more as if her mother had called to give her a preliminary chewing out before she was sent off to summer camp. Finishing off the call with "Don't let anything get in the way of this mission."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Walking out of the private room she was pulled into the take the call with Laswell, mind running through the different scenarios of things going wrong and how to fix them all before they actually happened. Taking a stride down the hallway as something bumped into her shoulder. Looking over she was met at an equal height with Miles.

"Don't. Ever." He pushed her shoulder against the wall and leaned up to her, "Pull what shit again in a meeting again." She could feel the heat of his breath on her skin, the venom that dripped out of his words, and the anger that flashed in his eyes when he spoke. She almost wanted to laugh- him making a fool of himself in the briefing and acting big and strong and smart. Only for it to blow back up in his face.

Did she need to call him out in the meeting in the way she did?

No.

Did she do it anyways?

Of course.

"Kids. What the fuck are you doing?" They heard Gulch's voice.

"Nothing Luitenant." Miles answers quickly, before leaving.

"Captain Price and I would like a word," Gulch says nodding his head over to a door, before leading her and Price into the same meeting room as before.

"I need to know that you'll have our backs." Price says, tilting his head down to match her gaze. "We've had a... Bad track record with PMCs." There was a graveness to his tone- one that didn’t feel fabricated in the way the Captains and Luitenants and Seargants would always create to seem more serious. To try and scare someone into submission. But it felt real- a layer of pain beneath the surface of the simple words ‘bad track record’.

There was a history behind them, and it put her on edge.

It was already a losing battle gaining their trust for a short mission, but to already be put so far behind and to have this layered on top of it would spell disaster for the operation as a whole. It made dread crawl up her throat, fingers digging small crescents into her palms before sucking in a breath and leaving her tone out to portray confidence.

She shrugs. "I don't think Laswell would've sent me here if I wasn't going to cover you. I was briefed on the mission before you came here, when it was still supposed to be in the Nordics."

"How do you know Laswell?" Price asks.

Jitters looks to Gulch, nearly desperate to explain why, who shrugs in response.

Asshole.

She couldn’t- wouldn’t lay it all out on the table. It would be stupid to, and he had no reason to know, no right. It wasn’t his place, Captain or not. Even so, she could feel the cocky energy radiating off of Miles hoping to watch her stutter, to watch her fail and prove she wouldn’t be reliable for the mission.

She was sure he wanted her pulled from it.

Fake it til you make it, isn’t that what they say?

"I'm who Laswell sends out when things need to be done right… if that makes any sense." Jitters replies simply. Maybe it was a mild middle finger to Miles, who always seemed to find a hiccup and magnify it until it nearly ruined an op- but it was who she was.

She was sent to these jobs.

She read the redacted paperwork.

And she worked in the background, trudging behind a soldier to download files in the field or to hide behind a screen and direct.

Price nods. "Perfect. See you in the morning."

"Yea..." She says, watching everyone file out, leaving her in the empty room.

Waking up bright and early- it couldn't even be called that. It was nighttime. Dark. And fucking cold. That's what it was. Waking up dark and cold.

Jitters grumbled to herself, pulling on her clothes for the day and picking up two gadgets off of her work table, and making her way outside.

"Good to see you're finally up." She heard Miles say from the side of her as she walked into the warehouse where the men were suiting up.

She walked up to Gaz and Price who were prepping their weapons and gear. "Come here please." She says, rubbing her eyes.

"What's up?" Gaz asks.

Jitters reaches into her pocket and pulls out two small button-like forms. "These are vibrators- God." She groans, face heating up at the statement and realizing once the words left her mouth what a shitty idea naming them was. "Not like that though, here." She quickly adds, seeing the twitch upward in the two men’s lips. She reaches out and grabs Gaz's hand, pulling him a little closer to her. Grabbing his glove and sliding it into the center of his wrist.

"If you're in a situation that you can't verbally respond, you buzz me. I'll be asking yes and no questions. Two for no and three for yes." She explains, handing the other to Price before looking at her watch. "Example." She taps on her wrist twice, and the two men look down at the feeling of the little machine buzzing on the top of their wrists.

"I'll be asking you something along the lines of checkpoint reached. I know this is going to be a stealth operation so minimizing any potential faults in your navigation is at the height of my priority."

"Thanks, neva' had something like this before." Gaz says.

Price nods, "We will establish a connection when we reach point A."

Jitters nodded, "Copy that."

Once she had finished with Price & Gaz, she’d hung back for a moment to watch Miles sputter and suck up to the two other men. It was almost comedic- watching him try and flex his theoretical muscles of technical operations as if they really cared. "You got some brown on your nose." She comments to him.

"Fuck you."

....

After the connections were established, the teams had moved out. From what she gathered Miles was having to deal with all of the feedback from water sloshing in the comms.

Have fun with that, you prick.

Advancements on her end were made quickly and methodically, leading the team through their routes with limited enemy casualties to maintain the stealth the mission required.

Soon enough the garble could be heard over the comms.

"Entering blackout area, be advised. Notify when placement is established overhead."

She waited.

And waited.

In reality, it was only a few minutes before she felt three buzzes on her wrist.

"Establish a connection, notify when established."

Soon enough, three buzzes were felt again on her arm.

"Maintain your location until advised. Waiting for the crash."

One,

Two,

Three.

Yes.

She stood up, looking over to Miles who was frantically typing. Why was he typing? Had they already trigged a security protocol in the building? How hard was it for him not to fuck something up- for once, one time, she begged in her own mind. Just once, for everything to go smoothly.

Maybe when hell froze over.

"Miles I need an ETA."

"Dealing with complications." He mutters out.

She almost wanted to sneer back ‘all you have is complications’, but she held it back. For now.

"Miles I have limited time, sort your shit out, and do it quick."

"Location compromised," Miles yelled out, throwing his back against his chair and tossing his hands into his hair, and groaning, quickly slouching back forward to continue back on working on whatever he was frantically typing for.

"Fuck." Jitters whisper yelled. Rushing back to her desk she established a connection with Price and Gaz. "Changing plans, begin upload procedures now. You'll be seeing friends in less than five."

One,

Two,

Three.

Leaving her desk, but keeping the earpiece for her team in her ear she marched over to Miles. "Tell me what's happening."

"Triggered security protocol Alpha-3."

Her gaze hardened on him. "You're shitting me."

"No!" He whisper yelled back, trying to keep his voice quiet, even though it wasn’t calm by any means. “Why would I be shitting about that?”

"We need our eyes here Miles." She could hear the voice of Mactavish through his earpiece.

"How could you of fucked it that bad?" She asked, hand reaching up and gripping onto his chair, leaning over to take a look at his screen.

"Shut up!" Miles snapped back at her.

That horrible feeling crawled up her spine, the feeling of it like the legs of a spider creeping up to her neck. If neither of them did anything, if Miles didn’t do anything and quickly the entire operation would be a bust and not only would the current operatives in the building be in danger, but more importantly- at least to Jitters- the mission would be a failure.

And Laswell meant what she said on the call.

"Don't let anything get in the way of this mission."

Her arm reached out, grabbing Miles shoulder and pushing on it, trying to get him out of the seat while she pushed forward trying to slot her hips into the chair. "Move."

"What?" He asked, eyebrows raising as if he didn’t hear her the first time, as if her words weren't clear enough. His body pushed forward and he leaned back against it, fighting the of her hand against his shoulder by simply leaning into it and ignoring it.

"You heard me. Move." She urged again.

"Miles!" MacTavish emphasizes in his comm.

"Fuckin', move." Jitters removed her hand, sidestepping behind the chair and pushing his back forward while pulling his chair out simultaneously, his body lurhcing forward then leaning back to no longer be met with the chair, flat backing onto the floor as she quickly slid into the seat. Arms stretched out and tapping a few letters on the keyboard.

"What the fuck is going on over there." Ghost hisses through the comm.

"There is a room 200 feet to your left. It will be next to the main line in the underground system. Get there now." Jitters orders.

"What?" Mactavish asks.

"Move your ass. Now!" She all but yells into the microphone.

"Jitters how copy?" She can hear Gaz ask.

"Hold." She says, merging the two communications teams together.

"Sounded like you were fighting back there." Gaz comments.

"I was. connection established- both ends. Can you hear us?" She asks.

"Affirmative." The four men all but say in unison.

"Security protocol Alpha-3 has been activated, meaning I am going to need some coordination on both sides. Gaz I need you to slide back to where you were a bit ago- the panel with the blue lights."

"Copy."

"Price you'll need to take that cord you've got plugged into the system and remove it, ignore the lost progress it doesn't matter what matters is making sure this isn't fucked."

"Copy."

"Ghost I need you to cover while Mac' opens up the panel that should be next to the outgoing pipe. That is a centralized break. One of them should be labeled with a XX83. When I say, flip it and get ready for it to go dark. You'll need to use your night vision to move through the rest of your trajectory. We are trying to make this look like a simple malfunction in the security system. A glitch."

"In the location" Gaz affirms.

"Gaz remember those two wires I just had you cut?"

"Yes."

"I need you to cut the third to the right- white with writing on it. And You're gonna need to stick the two hot ends together. it's gonna make a light show so don't stick your head in there. Notify when complete."

She waited a few moments, nearly feeling the cold sweat collecting on her neck. The feeling of adrenaline, of anxiety creeping up and making her ears feel hot. Feeling her pulse in her fingers as her hands moved furiously to input information as needed to make sure that the mission was not compromised.

"We have inbound security patrol." Ghost replies.

"Copy. Standby." She replies.

"It's complete," Gaz Responds, a slight crackling in the background of his comms. "You were right, made a hell of a show."

"Flip it now MacTavish."

"Copy."

"Lights will be down for roughly 45 seconds. You need to move now you too. Price, plug in now."

"Copy."

"Established."

"Alright, the security system is resetting. Clear, for now, finish that download and get the fuck out of there."

She leans back in her seat, glancing over to meet the glare of Miles. Disconnecting the Coms from each other she shot him a glance. "You want your job back? Or are you gonna fuck it up again?" She sneers.

"Get out of my chair." He grits out, jaw tense as he stands.

She pulls his earpiece from her head, tossing it at him and standing. No so gently tossing his chair to the side and listening to it clatter on the ground as she makes her way back to her chair.

"Fine by me, this chair smells like shit anyways."

310 notes · View notes

ksiondzkanexkiii · 4 months

Text

MAYBE YOU'RE NOT A BAD PERSON | JOHN PRICE

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Next chapter (12)

You can also find the story on Wattpad and Neobook

Returning to work overwhelmed Price returning to his routine took time and yet he already wanted to return to his routine. Entering the base Gaz was happy to see the captain as if his best friend had returned to his school desk again after a day's absence and the other two one four one sat and greeted the captain with a smile. Soap and Ghost were second best friendsodź Riley would never admit it out loud he was regarded as a cold and menacing lieutenant and yet under his armpits he always had Soap the idiot who cheers everyone up.

The day wasn't supposed to be long and yet it was maybe if Price hadn't gotten injured he would have stated that the day was too short to catch up on paperwork however getting injured after a successful mission that read , "Save Urzikstan and don't die along the way" was not a good idea. Yet here he was and sitting over the papers Gaz as a good boy asked the captain if he would help him this one however refused to accept his help each time, yet this black man nevertheless found a way for Price to agree.

Each time Price's thoughts drifted away reflecting on this morning as he watched Jinx who was experimenting with her appearance, something didn't sit right with him as if the teenager wasn't telling him the truth, which he could have guessed so easily and yet it was difficult. It was as if he couldn't open the right drawer in his large mind to find the right answer something that would fit him, that he had lived it and knew how to deal with it

So that he would know what to advise

- Captain? - Cried the voice of Garrick, who sat by the captain with furrowed brows looked at his captain and the younger man's brown eyes expressed slight worry. Price on cue looked at the sergeant in front of him with a raised eyebrow as if he didn't know what he was asking him the sergeant noticing this Gaz furrowed his brow - Are you all right Captain? - Asked Garrick

Price only sighed heavily and nodded - It's always good Garrick - He replied quietly as if he wanted to convince the sergeant and himself that it was good. And yet on average it was good, however, he thought too much

- I think it is not good. You are constantly thoughtful - Kyle replied, pointing at the captain with a pen as if it were his accusatory wand - What are you thinking about? - Asked the sergeant curiously, correcting himself in his chair to sit up straight and be able to observe the captain better, he was even tempted to move his work aside and crossed his arms on the tabletop as if he were in a police interrogation.

The captain raised his eyebrow higher and looked at the younger man in front of him - Are you interrogating me Garrick? - He asked calmly understood his curiosity, but as they say curiosity can and does kill. And he did not want that

- Well... - Started to say Kyle now off guard, who took up as if he doubted whether he was doing the right thing - I'm not the one sitting thoughtfully - he replied almost sarcastically and yet in the spirit began to ask himself if he was doing the right thing

- It's nothing important son - replied calmly Price slowly blinking and raising his hand to wave it casually so that Kyle knows that it's really nothing important - A lot of work a lot of thoughts, such a life - he shrugged his shoulders

- Rather not this degree of thoughtfulness sir - muttered Garrick gaining the renewed interest of the captain, who turned his head slightly to the side watching him carefully - Are you sure you're okay? –

- What do you want to know Kyle? What are you getting at? - Leaning forward the captain put down his pen wrinkling his eyebrows the younger man shrank slightly in his chair in front of the captain as if he felt awe of him and now that he was inquiring what the captain was swimming in the sea of thought he simply shrank back and became frightened as if he expected punishment for this. However, after a while he grunted and straightened up correcting himself in the chair

- Do you think a lot or is it because of your return from injury? - Asked the black man playing with the pen he was twirling between his fingers - Or something else happened? -

Price only sent him a characteristic smile in the shape of a "v" while quietly giggling and leaned back to meet the back of the chair, which did not allow him to lean further back, which would have meant that he would have fallen off the chair, and yet the brave chair somehow held the man's weight. He reached into the drawer where he has his cigars put one between his lips and lit it and the sound of the lighter closing was the only sound that reverberated off the walls of Price's office. He let the smoke out of his mouth and the silence that followed in the office could certainly have murdered Gaz with ease, killing his curiosity and confidence.

Price looked at the landscape outside the window he had next to him, again the same frown appeared as every time he thought intensely - Do you have younger siblings? - Asked Price thoughtfully, gaining Garrick's confused gaze

- N-No sir, no sir," he stammered further not knowing where he was going with the older man who was still looking out the window and slowly smoking his cigar his fishing cap was lying on the desk, his brown hair was nicely styled back to keep it out of his way and yet a few unruly strands stood in his way, "Why do you ask that Captain? -

- I took in a teenager to socialize him," replied the captain dispassionately, now looking at the younger man taking his eyes off the window as if it was no longer the most interesting thing in the world and that thing now was his hat. The captain, when he thought looked wherever his brain would command and the gaze of a billion yards on his face was written all too well for him to hide it come what may he was able to do however he felt that in the presence of the younger man he didn't need to hide it

- I guess that's a good thing? - Surprised Garrick, he didn't know what decision the captain had made and wondered how he had found the time to show up at the base - Is he that bad? - inquired Kyle

Price only furrowed his brow - There are many things he doesn't tell me - He stated plainly, the captain had many times to deal with unruly soldiers, whom he arranged to be decent soldiers who foolishly do not risk their lives. He knew how to reach people to change their view of everything, he knew how to listen to people and understand them, at least try to understand. And yet he couldn't understand Jinx's reasoning as if her mind was more expanded on things Price didn't want to understand or thought it unnecessary optionally stupid.

- Among other things, what? - Garrick's eyebrows furrowed and he became all the more curious, Price couldn't handle a teenager? Interesting.

- The name," the captain stated bluntly, now looking into the brown eyes of the black-skinned Briton, "Jinx is rather not a name but a nickname that has stuck to her and she doesn't want to let it go," opined Price taking a drag on his cigar

- What if it's actually her name? - Wondering aloud Kyle, the captain, however, quickly raised his hand not to think so

- Who would name a baby Jinx? What was she born unlucky? - a dry giggle left the captain's lips, this man really needed water or a cigar toss. His rough voice only confirmed this thesis of how much he needed water.

- Or did he? Is it known where and when she was born? - He asked Gaz wanting to know maybe he would shed light on the answer to the question that torments Price so much that he can't sleep peacefully, it takes him longer to fall asleep. The teenager changed his life even if they didn't get in each other's way and she was surprisingly eager to , "change" for good and follow the routine and rules that Price had dropped, but in his mind it was suspicious as if she wanted to lull him to sleep with her diligence and good behavior. The silence that followed was Garrick's answer

- Or did she give herself that name because she sees herself that way? - Garrick raised an eyebrow, throwing up another thesis that may or may not have been correct

- Maybe. I won't know the truth until she tells me," shrugged Price's shoulders, wanting to take another drag on his favorite cigar, but his mind was working at a hundred miles an hour so much so that the taste of the cigar quickly faded and new thoughts crowded his brain.

- Is that all you think about? About her name? - Puzzled, Kyle went back to signing the reports, glancing from time to time at the Captain, who merely shook his head

- She is strange. I mean," mused the Captain, "She's not strange, she's smart in her own way, which I can't understand.

- Meaning? What does the captain have in mind? -

- Graffiti. She sees it as art and delights in it as if she were in a fucking museum, every time we go running routinely she looks at it and delights in it as if it were a toy she wanted so badly - Price was slightly indignant and his hands gestured and his cigar smoke tried to keep up with the burning tip of the cigar - I don't understand how she was raised on the street and how she can see this vandalism as art -.

- Raised on the street? - Garrick's eyebrow shot up even more as if trying to reach the sky with his eyebrow as the captain surprised him even more. He wondered all the more how he ended up here or shouldn't he be in his apartment watching this kid? Yes the captain looks good and back in shape and yet he still has another job to do even if he was injured

- The kid was homeless in the end Laswell and Alex caught him," he explained briefly without going further into the story as he did with the Jinx file, he didn't read it. He didn't read the whole thing he thought there were lies in the middle and he will get the truth from the teenager when she trusts him which doesn't happen, so far, but he will get the truth out of her he always manages to do that. Stupid is always lucky and yet he is a captain

- Homeless people always have a strange perception of the world - shrugged his shoulders Kyle returning to his work - It's hard to understand them are like philosophers - he added after a while gaining the curious gaze of the Captain, which was burning a hole in his head, when he raised his eyes he saw those blue eyes staring at him as if he had killed his cat

- What," he asked confusedly wrinkling his eyebrows correcting himself in his chair feeling uncomfortable with the way Price was looking at him as if he was on the rug, but did nothing.

- Do you think homeless people are philosophers? - Raised an eyebrow Price - Most did not pass school, are alcoholics or all the worse - muttered the captain taking a drag on his cigar

Kyle slumped on the back of the chair to cross his arms over his chest again the same thing happened in the captain's apartment

Two different world views, one room.

- No. - denied Gaz speaking rather quickly and the British accent was coming out of his mouth as softly as Price's case only he had a hoarse voice demanding water - Meaning most do - he corrected himself scratching the back of his neck - They just look at the world differently in terms of experience - he muttered as if he had lost the words he wanted to say and yet the meaning of the sentence remained. Half

- This is also normal with normal people not just with homeless people - Price muttered

- Yes, but the homeless are trying to survive their every day is a struggle for survival and they derive happiness from different ways, those who have money buy themselves something they dreamed of and they can't - Garrick said and Price watched him considering every possible option - Maybe the graffiti we consider vandalism is their sign of winning life? - asked Gaz rhetorically

- Winning a life? - He furrowed his eyebrows Price corrected himself in his chair to sit up straight and leaned his hands on the desk top to cross them - What do you mean? Rather, when they don't have money they are not happy - he muttered

- Maybe I put it wrong," he corrected himself, "Not winning a life but surviving another day," Kyle explained and Price looked at the window. He didn't even look at it that way, maybe some of the graffiti was actually showing that they can survive even the worst of it at least some of the moments some of the graffiti looks like scribbles of words that he can't read or maybe he is too , "normal" to understand them and Jinx understands them, that's why he is fascinated by it

Price looked at his hands - Not stupid - he muttered under his breath more to himself than to Gaz who only nodded. He looked at Gaz wanting to say more but the Price office door that opened effectively interrupted them

- What did Gaz do that landed him on the rug? - Asked Soap entering Price's office with that goofy grin of his and Ghost was right behind him as curious as the Scot himself, both thought Gaz had messed something up and was now getting a reprimand from the captain. Gaz looked at his groupmates and furrowed his eyebrows

- I didn't do anything," he furrowed his eyebrows, the poor man didn't understand the joke and was ready to argue only the scot patted him on the head while giggling at him, "Are we going to get him back alive? - Asked the scot knowing how grumpy Price can be when he was out of humor or someone did something very wrong.

- I didn't do anything," argued Gaz having the urge to pluck that silly grin from the Scot's face, "Soap watch out or Garrick is about to start barking at you," mocked Ghost hiding his face behind his famous skull motif mask crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall staying a piece behind the group, Price could only shake his head seeing his boys teasing each other this time it was Garrick who got ammunition of giggles and derision from Ghost and Soap.

Typical of them, he missed those moments without even realizing it. Price snorted under his breath while shaking his head - Give Garrick a break," muttered the Captain, however he giggled

Soap quipped under his breath and looked at the captain and then at Gaz - Are we interrupting something? - wondered the Scotsman noticing only now that he had entered their conversation, Ghost also pushing away from the wall settled down next to Price's desk on the second vacant chair. It fell to Mactavish to stand over everyone, as they ran out of chairs

Unpleasant

Not at all unpleasant.

- The captain took in a teenager to socialize him back into society and now he's wondering what he chose wrong in his life that he has to deal with this teenager - Gaz joked, but Ghost furrowed his brow and Soap's eyes lit up

- Did you accept the teenager into your apartment? - The lieutenant looked at the captain behind his mask and Ghost's hazel eyes expressed surprise, Price could only sigh he could guess that if he told Gaz about Jinx he would tell the others as soon as he had time to drink even a cup of coffee

- Yes - replied the captain dryly and Soap got even more excited as if Price was giving away ice cream for free

- What is this kid like? How old is he? What's his name? Oh is he mean? - Asked quickly MacTavish barraging the captain with questions, who could only blink and wonder how much air the Scotsman's lungs can take when he speaks in that Scottish accent of his while speaking on one exhale, Gaz joining Soap also began his

- Well! - confirmed Garrick, Price only sent the lieutenant a look saying , "Help" he leaned back in his chair again looking at each of the boys in front of him

- Well. We try to stay out of each other's way," he muttered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, not giving more than necessary, "And that's it," he added after a while shrugging his shoulders

- Seriously? That's all the captain will say? - Indignantly Soap earning a snort from Riley, Price leaned his legs against the countertop crooking gently as he lifted his left leg, he may have finished his treatment and rehabilitation, but the mild pain nevertheless remained and will probably remain for the rest of his life. As if he couldn't complain about the other pains that haunt him

- What else do you want to know? - Sarcasm flew out of Price's mouth slightly annoyed by the questions. What was interesting about what he was doing now in his private time? Laswell should pay him extra for what he's doing and not that he's going to change Jinx for the better after a , "acquaintance" if he does that maybe he'll give up just for the fact that he's annoyed by the visits from Annalisa who prepared Jinx for school. Yes he remembered that there were supposed to be monthly checks however he didn't expect that two weeks after Jinx showed up at his apartment suddenly this brunette would come and be almost every day to , "prepare" Jinx for school however he had a feeling that she didn't.

- Well... All the best," murmured Gaz, scratching the back of his neck. The captain only sighed

- I'll tell you and you will give me peace and quiet - He dropped the offer to have peace and quiet, the three men vigorously nodded their heads even Ghost who rarely spoke and yet was also curious about the teenager who came to Price's apartment.

- Her name is Jinx is sixteen years old, Laswell and Keller caught her when she was sub-twelve years old. For two years they have been trying to socialize her let her go, when it had no effect, Laswell saw something in her and said that after another two years with nowiom socialization. Miracles Laswell somehow managed to get her consent - He recounted briefly crossing his arms over his chest - End of story - he stated already coolly hoping that this was the end of questioning from the younger men and yet he was wrong

- Since you are trying to socialize her again so that she can be in society - began Soap wondering - Then what are you doing here? - Finished Ghost for him and his hazel eyes squinted.

- It's simple. She's in school," replied the Captain straightforwardly, shrugging his shoulders again as if it was the most obvious thing in the world

- Is he already going to school? - Puzzled Ghost thought the teenager was sitting at home with another sitter or whatever somehow the idea of putting a , "crazy" teenager in school looked absurd to him

- Yes. So what? - growled lightly Price not wanting to think for what they are so surprised, teenagers go to school children go to school what is there to think about? - Anyway," he dismissed these ideas waving his hand absentmindedly and standing up, "You reminded me that he should go home already," he muttered casting a glance at the clock after a moment quickly leaving his office. Somehow going back to work did not smile in his mind all the more the insistence of those he had recruited himself to the task force, I guess they don't have enough work he deduced from the way they freely sat in his office and talked.

He jumped into the car immediately revving it up with a roar and set off toward the city to return to his apartment. Every so often he would stop at a traffic light and his gaze would rest on the pictures painted on the walls, maybe people didn't want this, but what if Gaz was right? What if the homeless so express their strength in such a weak situation every day for them is a new challenge as if they have little of it

They need to find a new place to stay, if they haven't found it further. They have to somehow find a place to sit, drink often going so far as to steal because no one who has money wants to give it to the homeless maybe fearing that they will spend it on beer or other alcoholic products and others just don't sympathize with them thinking that they themselves caused them to end up there on that nasty and cold street.

What if they had been born there? And they didn't know normal life? What if Jinx is like that?

No... she had a home, she had to have one after all how would she be born? What homeless woman would want to have a child who had to live in such conditions?

The captain didn't know the answers to these questions, but they made his mind curious and he tried to find answers to these questions, maybe one day Jinx will explain more to him. Or maybe he will open his eyes to new perspectives and finally understand her, further for him these scribbles on the walls are crap and vandalism and not a sign of surviving another day. It's all heavy

The captain sighed as he parked the car in front of the apartment, however, not yet getting out he leaned his head against the seat back and looked at the door from the apartment building.

He felt as if he had flip-flops, on his eyes that prevented him from seeing more perspectives on a subject and yet he didn't want to pull them off or his convictions that weighed on his wrists like chains prevented him from pulling them off. He didn't know anything anymore, he knew, but only one thing

In fact, two

Graffiti is vandalism and he will somehow convince Jinx to see it that way too

He has to finish the work at home, because the drug cartels don't sleep even if he would really like them to. He doesn't yet know what to do with Jinx if he has to go on a mission, but Kate will probably come up with an idea.

24 notes · View notes

mayflora-18 · 3 months

Text

Incorrect CoD Quotes #10

Sherlock: Sarge, I am way too sleep-deprived to deal with your negativity right now.

Gaz: -_-

---

Soap: We gotta get to the hospital and we gotta get there fast.

Ghost: Then, I should drive.

Soap: Why you?

Ghost: I've got nothing to live for and I drive like it.

Soap: Okay, let's do it.

[Later]

Ghost and Soap in the car: AAAAAAHHHH!!!

---

Sherlock: What if…

*Sherlock frowns in concentration*

Roach: Ooh, Sherlock's wheels are turning. Your brain baby is crowning.

Gaz:: Roach, please, that's disgusting.

Sherlock: No, it's helping, I am having a brain baby.

Gaz: Then push, babe, push.

Roach: *lets out deep breaths* Breathe.

Gaz: You can do this, you are so strong.

Sherlock: I got it!

---

Price: Quick, you're losing a lot of blood! What's your type?

Nikolai: Smart, brunette, British, you-

Price: Your blood type, Nik.

Nikolai: Oh! Red.

---

Nikolai: Sherlock is taking the day off so I'm gonna light something on fire.

Laswell: ...Why?

Nikolai: She's like 80% of my impulse control.

---

Price: Naw, bitch. I'm not being petty.

Gaz: You just said, "naw, bitch."

---

Roach: Okay, here are the ground rules: you can punch me, kick me, pull my hair. I am a-okay being stabbed. Biting and scratching are ON the table. You CAN use fire.

Soap: 😰 These are the ground rules? Is there anything off limits?

Sherlock and Gaz: 🤨🤨

Roach: Damn, man. You got something really sick you wanna do, huh?

Soap: What- Uh-

Roach: Oh, you little pervert. Alright, I like it. Don’t tell me. Surprise me. Ooh, this is gonna be fun!

Ghost: 🤦‍♂️

———

Sherlock: Did you just eat all of the powdered donuts?

Nikolai: …No.

Sherlock: Дядя, I can see the powder on your pants.

Nikolai, brushing off his pants: That’s cocaine.

(Дядя = Uncle in Russian)

———

*Sherlock’s phone rings*

Sherlock: Sherlock’s authentic stolen military police badges. How can I help?

Gaz: Hey, it’s Garrick.

Sherlock: Oh, hey Kyle.

Gaz: Hey, do you carry a hairdryer in your purse?

Sherlock: Of course, I’m not an animal.

Gaz, on the other end: Told you! You owe me 20!

Farah: …

———

*Graves escapes from the 141*

Price: This isn’t over! I will hunt you to the ends of the Earth!

Graves: I love you, too! 😘

———

Ghost: All right, you’re clearly not listening to me. I can say whatever I want.

Price, paying attention to something else: Tell me about it.

Ghost: I murdered Johnny this weekend.

Price: I feel you.

Ghost: Now that I have the taste for blood, I can’t stop murdering.

Price: Been there.

———

Gaz: Well, remember when you told me not to burn down the base?

Price: You burned down the base?

Gaz: No! I had the fire put out immediately. This is a success story.

Price: …

———

Alejandro: I need some 141 drama, stat!

Ghost: I don’t think we’re that dramatic.

Alejandro: We’ve been gone for one week. Gaz and Sherlock are dating, and they’ve killed a person.

———

Sherlock: This is where we came the night that I won our bet and you fell in love with me.

Gaz: Sherlock.

Sherlock: The night that you flirted with me for 20 seconds and I became obsessed with you forever.

———

*preparing to infiltrate on a mission with Ghost zip lining through a window*

Soap, over the comms: Is the equipment secure?

Ghost: Check.

Soap: Weapon loaded?

Ghost: Check.

Soap: Did you have breakfast?

Ghost: What? That’s not on the checklist!

Soap: I added it because I care about you.

Ghost: No, I did not have breakfast.

Soap: Unacceptable! Look in your pocket.

*Ghost fumbles through his pockets until he finds a granola bar and unwraps it*

Ghost: Hey, there’s little chocolate chips in this.

Soap: Yeah, I’m not an idiot, I know how to trick my best friend into eating his fiber.

———

I’m posting again! 🥳 Still working on the other fact drop, but I will post it ASAP. On a different note…

🎵Tomorrow, tomorrow! I’m 21, tomorrow! It’s only a day away!!! 🎵

#call of duty #call of duty oc #incorrect cod quotes #cod sherlock #chimera sherlock #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #captain john price #cod nikolai #kate laswell #inspired by brooklyn nine-nine #phillip graves #farah karim #alejandro vargas #kyle gaz garrick x oc #incorrect call of duty quotes

46 notes · View notes

witch-oftheflowers · 5 months

Text

Does it hurt?

Ximena Riley x 141 Task Force

AN: OH get ready. Here comes some angst. This will get dark and emotional. So get ready ~

Masterlist This leads to events

Dim lights filled the space. A small confined room. A single chair in the middle. And a single person. A woman.

Her curls swept forward as she leaned in. Her hands bind behind her, and she softly was breathing. Trying to keep herself awake. Her deep brown eyes scanning around as she gave a small tug on the rope. She almost got it off.

But the door spilled open, letting the hallway lights flutter in. Her eyes linger to the door and the large pair of boots coming in. Gentle even, which the past few weeks it hasn't been like that.

"Ximena... Come on Lass just give us what we want." The voice was stern but trying to be gentle. A soft scoff left her lips as she shut her eyes.

"I told you what I know John... And I'll keep repeating what I know is true. I didn't betray you lots." Ximena stated as she scoot back in her seat. Her curls cascading down her shoulders and down the back of the chair. Her feet were tied apart. Knowing she can get out most holdings.

Price had a force thin smile. Rubbing a hand through his beard as he walked around her

"Anything. Give me anything Ximena. We have a faithful resource that said otherwise" he stopped behind her for a second. Softly yanking her curls back.

Snapping her head back as she winced in the pain. Her eyes snapped to him as she growled

"let go-"

"You need to give us something. We don't wanna hurt you anymore Ximena!" He shoved her head away as she groaned a bit.

"Then hurt me! I don't care!" Her voice was a bit hoarse. She felt the pain internally but as a trained soldier she never needed to show it.

She couldn't, it was a liability. It could risk her life, even now with those she loves. Her eyes stuck to the floor as she frown. A deep sadness in her eyes as she shut them.

Don't give in. Don't give in. Don't do it-

The door opened again and shut. Price went quiet as he stared at the larger man. A man he was hoping to not see.

"Ghost-"

"Let me at 'er Capt. I need a go...." His gravely voice was a bit softer. But the edge was clear. Even Ximena felt it as she sat back in her seat. Her posture corrected as she glanced to the man she loves.

Worse part was during all of this. She wasn't mad. She was just saddened by the leading events that lead to this.

Some damn bastard...

Her thoughts trailed as she didn't noticed Price left them be. Her eyes softly shook as she gazed down to the floor. No. No. Don't leave me with him...

His steps were calm. Walking towards her as he yanked her head up. Her eyes tried to stay stuck below her, but his warm hands forced to her look up. Softly he squished her cheeks as he forced her lips to pout.

"Speak up. That's all you havta do..."

"Never. Because there's nothing to say!" She spat at him as she yanked her face away. Glancing to the side as she noticed the torture tools in the room. All littered with her blood by now.

Her breathing became a bit shallow as she sighs. Trying to keep her emotions in line-

Ghost yanked a fist full of her curls as he knealt to her height. His brown eyes bore into hers. The mass wave of sadness and frustration painted his eyes.

"I need ya to say something. Anything. I do not wanna hurt you Ximena-"

"If you don't get the right thing you want. It'll lead to getting hurt more... So no." She told him with determination in her face.

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

After viscous hours of pain and torment. Ximena's face was bruised and beat up. Blood was dripping down her face. Feeling her cheeks swell and her eye sight blur.

Cuts litter her exposed body. Her blood was splatter on the floor.

Ghost himself was litter with it even.

The door burst open. And a rookie coming in huffing, spoke up. Ghost was close to ringing him out till the words echoed in the quiet room.

"She's... Not the traitor..." He said as he stared at the two.

"There was no traitor..." He said as he noticed the pair stiff.

Ximena's eyes shook as she processed this. Her head rolled back as the blood loss caught up to her. She stayed stump in the chair as her body lost consciousness

Ghost stared at the rookie with blinded rage

"You're fucken kidding?! You ot to be fucken kidding me right now!" He roared the words as the rookie left the room. His breathing became labor, harsh and brittle even.

"you're ...fucken..." He let a sigh out as he ran his gloves hands over his face. Starting to feel terrible. He glanced to his wife with concern.

He did this

Did

This

The realization hit him like bricks. He was a terrible soldier. He tortured an innocent person.

He harmed his wife.

His other half. And worse he didn't believe her for a second. Not a second through the months of this rigours process.

Doubted

Her

For

Months

The words swirled in his head as he shut his eyes tight.

How could he fix this. Them. Their relationship. Their family. Their everything-

The door opened again as his thoughts were going a million miles a minute. And Laswell stared at the two. Her eyes shook a bit as she got the medics in to take Ximena away for treatment. Once it was just Ghost and her she walked over to the younger man as she touched his arm.

He flinched as he stared to the short woman. His eyes glazed as he wanted to cry. But he was forcing himself to keep it together.

"Laswell..." He whispered her name as the older woman gave him a soft smile

"You couldn't have known.. none of us did.. well besides her.." she said as she noticed Ghost flinch at the last bit.

"She was right... She's 'ways right ya know.."

"Usually she yes. But we didn't see it.. come on.." she escorted him out as she lead him to Price's office.

The trio sat and spoke. Even Ghost yanked the mask off as it felt constricting in the moment.

His blonde hair was buzzed short. As he processed the findings. His brown eyes bore to his boots as he felt stiff.

Yet his chest was pounding. Feeling his heart spike as he was still flooded with the pain and memories of her face. Of what he did to her.

Price was calm as he tried to pull the man out of it.

"Simon look at me-" he said as he got around his desk. On his knees as he stared to the already broken man.

"We couldn't have known..."

"But she did John." He said as he didn't look up. Besides he shut his eyes. Feeling uneased

"The person that gave us these details is being detained. They won't be out till we know why they picked her." Kate said as she stared at the two men

John sighs as he pat Simon on his knees

"Look at me."

Simon blinked a bit as he finally met eye to eye to his captain. His friend.

"She'll be fine.. have a speedy recovery. She's a tough girl- she's gone through a lot worse physically..."

"But we hurt her John. We. Her team. Her family. We broke her 'rust, we broke her. I BROKE HER." He roared the last bit as he didn't realize the hot tears drip down his cheeks.

But Price did. And Laswell. The pair felt sympathy in the moment. They didn't wanna ignore the mental damage this could cause

"Of course we did.. physically and mentally.. that was us. Mentally she might take longer. She'll need longer Simon. But we'll be here with you both every damn step of the way if we must. Because you two are family.." John said firm but clear. Making his and Laswells, along with the Task Force intentions clear.

They'll be there every step of the way.

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

When Ximena woke up. Her curls were pulled into braids. Tucked over her chest.

Her eyes stung a bit. Realizing she was out for a while then -

Glancing around she was alone. It was also dark outside. Middle of the night more likely. Her hands squeezed a bit as she was checking her body.

Hands still moving. Her legs felt like sandbags, more likely from the pain medication they had to give her. Her feet sore even as she knew the needles she had in them for a few hours did some damage-

The room door open as a nurse came in. She blinked a bit as she spoke up.

"Mrs Riley... I'll inform the doctor you're awake. We have a bit to discuss with you ma'am..." She said as she slipped out a bit surprised the woman was up so early

Ximena groaned a bit as she laid there. Her body aching as she finally felt the pain her body had to endure.

She had cuts in so many places. She knew she looked like a tiger now, the bruises would go away slowly. Her nails would come back eventually- her eyes soften as she sighs. Remembering that they more likely seen her bare thigh at some point. The small carving she had on her thigh from Simon-

Where was Simon? Her kids? A bit of panic filled her chest as she tried to sit up. A groan left her dry lips as she whined. Forcing herself up from the stiff mattress. Her eyes hazed a bit as she heard the doctor gasp as they tried to get her back down. She waved her hands around as she didn't wanna lay anymore. She has sores all over her body from being in that stupid chair for three months-

Three months...

And her babies had to be three months old now. Her family-

Her eyes snapped open a bit later. Light beaming in, looking around she didn't realize she blacked out last night. A huff as she got up again. Sitting in the bed, but her eyes shifted to the sight besides her. Seeing Ghost in the chair. His brown eyes piercing into her as they finally made eye contact.

"Sim-"

"Please don't talk..." Ghost leaned forward as he was pondering how to speak. How to try and fix his mistakes. He didn't know if she'll forgive him or the team

"I'm.. not mad." She said as she got a chance before he spilled his guts. She knew what their job detailed. She knew that at any given moment it all could be swept away from them. Like the rug tugged out from underneath them. And when she was dragged into the interrogation room, it just made sense. Sadly she knew since Soap had been injured, the team didn't trust just anyone. And she was just someone that helped from time to time. Even if they've all broke bread together in her home.

Ghost stared at her for a second as he took in her words. He felt his mind spiral as he pressed his face into his palms. Leaning forward into the bed as he stared through the mask holes

"But we.. Ximena we did so much to you. Three months." He said as he felt his breathing quicken and panic rise

"But I get it.... We just.. Simon we could of lost Johnny. Anything or anyone can betray us.. and I get at the time you all believed I did something..." She said as she leaned forward. A groan left her lips as she felt the stitches on her stomach ache from the pressure

"I'm not mad... I'm not mad at any of you..." She repeated the words as she sighs. Bringing her hands over his as she knew he was close to a panic attack.

"I'm right here... Hey I'm right here. Simon miede.. look at me.." she whispered to him as he finally. Finally lifted his head up a tad, looking up to his wife. And she broke in that moment.

"I 'hought I lost ya... I 'hought I wasted years.. I believed you betrayed us. Our family. Our promise..." His voice shakes, the hot tears streaming down. Soaking his mask as he pressed his face into her palms. Taking in her warm dainty hands.

"I'm sorry mamas... 'm so sorry.. I should of believed ya...I should of known you wouldn't..." He said as the pain raked over him. His shoulders slumped as he felt the weight slowly fading off his back.

Her eyes creased as she leaned in. Pressing a soft kiss to his forehead as she softly shook in his touch.

"I would never .. and I mean it, would never hurt you. Or this team.. we're a family.. we're all we have left." She whispered as she softly hums. Her eyes flicker to his. Trying to range his emotional state and well being.

"How are you?" She asked as she waited for him to response.

His eyes soften as he peer into hers. Softly his brain swirled with so many thoughts. Their family had to endure these past months. Their new born twins, their elder children. How her family was left out of the situation. How the team had to handle and deal with the consequences now.

He ran a hand over his mask as he sighs.

"Not well... 'he kids miss ya. 'm not gonna lie, I missed you. I don't know it's been a storm without mamas 'm not gonna lie... I lost myself a bit..." He whispered as if it was a sin. A sinister act that he had done, and knowing he was here now. Hand in hand with hers as he gave her scar hands a rub.

" 'M sorry love..." He whispered as he pressed a kiss through his mask. Softly giving her a few as he wanted to make up for his sins towards her.

She softly watched him, her brown eyes soften. A small flicker of light in them as she listened to his words.

"I'm probably crazy... I know most would be outraged or upset. Probably never talk to you lot every again...But don't blame ya... I can't, if something similar happened I would of done the same. More likely would have to either way..."

Her voice was soft as she looked down, she tapped her foot as she felt an odd normalcy

"Did they say when I can go home?"

"Mmm no.. John wanted speak to ya..." He said looking at her. He never let her hand go, not wishing to make another mistake again.

"Ok... That's fine then... I hope soon. I wanna see the kids..." She softly smiled to him as she beamed with joy. A soft light.

Ghost felt like his wife was an actual angel, and him the sinner in church that didn't deserve the attention.

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

When she returned home. The kids surrounded her.

Her four tots were thrilled mommy was home. But she did look different.

Her leg had a wrap around it, on her thighs. Her curls were a bit shorter, mid back now no longer the hip length she worked for.

Her scar hands linger as she rubbed them over her sweet children's heads. Her body aches even as her eldest surrounded the thirty something woman.

Simon sighs as he swayed his kids off

" 'Lright tots, let mum breath. Go sit, 'M gonna help mum over."

The kids sigh and agree as they waddle into the living.

Ximena gripped his hand as he eased her into the house.

He knew she came back differently. Mentally and physically, she sighs a bit as they settled on the couch. The kids and her snuggles up as she softly felt peace creep inside her.

Simon sighs a bit as he was content with her finally being home. Feeling their home be full again, the light that was missing was brought back in.

And he knew that, along with his kids. He noticed the infants in their playpen as they were kicking and giggling. The little girls were excited as they heard their mums voice.

He went over and picked up the three months old twins. Bringing them over as he tucked them into his wife's arms.

"They missed you too..." He whispered as he knealt besides them. He glanced to his wife as he thought of her

She was his stars, the moon, and the sun all in one being. He sighs as he rest his head against her thigh.

The family felt complete now.

But sadly who knew how long it would take for them to heal. Or how this would effect the family structure they created.

Ximena knew one thing for sure. She missed three months of her children's lives.

Especially the twins she gave birth to. But only time could tell.

Months would pass since. And the family wasn't the same. Ximena softly spiral. Even had to go therapy since she was released.

She noticed she didn't have a bond with her twins. The girls seeking their father more often.

She felt terrible, like she was failing in life since she was released. Her curls framed her face as she sat on her bed. Softly sobbing as she didn't feel like herself anymore.

On the other side of the bedroom door. Simon leaned on it. Knowing it was his and his men's fault. They destroyed a very able woman. One that was once feared by many.

And turned her into a crumble of a woman. Now a shell of who she once was

And he knew. He softly created a monster of a woman. But not one to fear. One that feared others.

He saw the way she stared at him. Or the lads when they came over.

Soap was the only one she was close to now. Since he was injured during the time. He wasn't given the okay till she was released.

Both bonding over their trauma. Sadly for different reasons.

Simon slid down the door as he prayed

Prayed this wasn't the end of his beloved marriage. Along with his precious wife he had devoted all his time to. He prayed to whoever would listen.

He didn't want it to end like this-

Nor did she.

Both truly distraught over the relationship they had once. Where laughter was all the house was once filled with. Love and smiles was painted on the walls of the built home.

This home was created from scratch. Their relationship was crafted from time together. So much time together.

And tots that filled its halls. Because they had an undying love for the other. An undying devotion to each other.

But the strain on each other began.

Arguments were a bit frequent. Soft fights about the children and them going out on dates. And him being gone often for deployment.

It started to take a small toll. But they seemed normal on the outside.

But as the sobs filled their home. Thankfully no kids home. Just them in a broken house. A broken relationship. A broken home.

33 notes · View notes

princessdimondheart · 1 year

Text

Sea of Cortéz | Price x Daughter! Reader | Ch.2

Pairing: Price + Daughter! Reader, Reader x OC, TF-141 x Platonic! Reader

Warnings: 🔪- blood mentions

Edited: No

A/N: The suspense. That’s all I’ll say. NCIS is mentioned here! Hopefully as the chapters progress the word count increases. It’s 5am and I haven’t slept :/

Masterlist

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 [Here] | Ch. 3

“… So, this Gunny is going to become a Medal of Honor recipient?” Price stood from the bench.

Laswell nodded her head. “Yes… he will. It’s practically guaranteed that in a few weeks the proposal will be on the President’s desk and signed.” She sighed. “Let’s talk more in private.”

She led them to a small room that usually held debriefings but was now converted into a storage room. The projector and computer monitors were still up and covered in dust.

“Tell us more about the Gunny, Laswell.” Gaz looked at her and then to his Captain in worry. They both sat in the old chairs, arms resting on the light gray table.

Laswell sat across from them. “Well, he went through a lot in the last few years. Put his poor wife through lots of heartache with his recovery and all…”

“Wife?” Both Gaz and Price questioned. John shook his head. Was the Gunny cheating?

“Yes? They’ve been married for several years now. I’ve collaborated on several occasions with her.” Kate leaned forward. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Kate, this man knows my daughter.” John stuffed his hand into his pocket and pulled out the skimpy photo of his little girl, now grown woman.

Laswell’s eyes widened, but then her expression changed to an awkward grin. “That’s his wife. Y/N Cortéz, that’s your daughter?”

“You know her by name? How do you know my daughter?” But instead of saying Price after her name, she said Cortéz. John was becoming more confused by the second. His knee was bouncing slightly and his hand was messing with his beard. It took him a moment to process all of her words. “Wait-, you said Cortéz? She… she’s never told me that she was seeing anyone let alone married to them. What the hell is going on here, Kate?”

“I-I don’t know what to say, John. She’s never mentioned her side of the family before. Just her in-laws and their kid.”

“Kid?” Price stood up, palms slamming on the table. “Do you mean to tell me that I have a grandchild out there?”

Kate put a hand to her mouth in shock. “My god… you didn’t know.” Her eyes wandered off to the wall, contemplating. “You don’t know what the life of your daughter has been for… years now?”

“No. Which makes no bloody sense since I talk to her every chance I get!” His voice rose in frustration. Kyle felt like he was in some poor written soap opera that his aunties would watch when he was younger and had stayed with them. On second thought, it was every time he saw them.

“John, Y/N works with me in CIA. She’s a Special Agent in the counterterrorism division.” Price sat back down heavily. “Umm, I have resources in the Naval Criminal Investigative Service that could lend a helping hand on this situation. I’ll give them a call, since the Gunny is a Marine and Y/N is a dependent so she falls under their jurisdiction.”

“Thank you, Kate.” John paused. “I hope they can set everything straight.”

With that Kate left the room. She couldn’t believe that the girl whose office was only a few doors down from hers was the daughter of her best task force Captain. Kate shook her head as theories ran through her mind. Pulling out her phone she dialed a number. She hoped that the late hour in Washington wouldn’t be a bother to the person on the other line.

“Sorry it’s so late, Jethro.”

~~~~~

Price stayed where he was for a moment just staring off into space. Only startled by Kyle placing his hand on his shoulder. “Maybe we should head back to the med tent and see if there are any updates on the Gunny?”

Price looked at the younger man and then rose to his feet. “Yeah, there’s no use just sitting here.”

They soon found themselves in their previous position on that old bench. Waiting for any news. An hour passed by when a doctor, presumably the surgeon who operated on Cortéz, exited the OR and came up to them.

“My guess is that you guys were the ones who found Gunny Cortéz?” She looked at them attentively.

“Yes, we found ‘im.” Both John and Kyle stood up. John continued, “He’s still alive, right? No complications?”

“Yes, he’s been taken care of. Lots of bleeding so he needed a few blood transfusions. No head trauma, but he’ll be in and out of consciousness for a while. He might need another surgery if we find anymore bullet fragments.” She looked between the two of them. “He’ll be moved to a different room in just a few moments. Next of kin will be notified of his condition and efforts will be made to get him back to the states.”

Price thanked the doctor and shook her hand. He had a lot to think about and he was definitely going to send a rather strong message to his daughter about the situation.

Dad: I know about your husband.

Seen

Dad: Hey, Y/N, I know you’ve seen this. Answer

Seen

Dad: Hello? Y/N

Seen

Dad: Hey! What’s going on? Answer me Y/N!

Delivered

Dad: Y/N? Are you okay? Please

Not Delivered

🔖 Taglist:

@rand0m--fangirl @starre-eyes

156 notes · View notes

sparky-draws · 3 months

Text

Moon 45 - Leaf-bare

so much happened this moon! Sorrelpaw was also scarred by a wolverine but I decided not to make a whole drawing for it

this is the first time Laswell has shown up since Fawn & Doe's birth 30 MOONS AGO 😭😭

and its so funny faralex's kits keep getting taken by twolegs, bc in my backstory for alex he has a collar from rescuing some of his old loner buddies from twolegs

catch up here

#queue called it sergeant #clangen #cod oc #call of duty mw2 #laswell x her wife #laswell cod #kate laswell #warrior cats

21 notes · View notes

cas-backwards-tie · 11 months

Text

Chapter One: An Unexpected Pair

COD men x Reader

Trials & Triumphs

Summary: You've been selected to lead a ragtag group of operatives through a covert long-op. Determined to take down NATO's latest focus: a prominent underground sex-trafficking ring, you're put to the test when you're unexpectedly saddled with a strike team you've only heard of through rumors: TaskForce 141.

Words: 4.2k

Warnings: Alcohol, Peer Pressure, Tension, Cursing

A/N: So... this is sort of a self-indulgence, and idk how far I'm gonna go with this, so I left it up to fate. It could wind up a simon-ghost-riley x reader or könig x reader... maybe even keegan x reader. Who knows.

Sent in by NATO, you find yourself in command of a ragtag team made up of specialists from a handful of different countries. It didn't take long to figure out that Laswell had apparently heard your request all those months ago to be considered for a project in this territory. Sure, some of the recruits for this mission were familiar, though most are not.

Handshakes all around, you take in the people you'll be spending the next few months--or possibly--years with. It doesn't take long for Laswell to brief you all on the current circumstances and protocol for this project. While you'll all have the next few hours to pack and get ready to ship out, what comes next is unexpected.

"Captain, this is TaskForce One-Four-One. They'll be your Strike team upon identification, extraction, and recovery. You'll be in close contact throughout this mission," Laswell explains with an outstretched hand presented toward the door. Everyone's eyes on the additions to your team, you're not too surprised when you spot who walks into the briefing room.

What followed devolved into more or less what you'd describe as an argument. It was unclear whether this TaskForce 141 was reporting to you, or you, to them. Laswell simply dismissed both parties' worries and insisted you figure it out on your own.

Despite the confusion, you're determined to follow through with your praised routine for missions. On the way out of the briefing room, you managed to snag their Captain's number to make a group chat for the time being. Everything in order, you text the plans for this evening. Everyone is to pack their belongings in order to ship out tomorrow morning at 04:00 hours. Once they're done with that, they can meet up at Rockie's, one of the bars just a few minutes walk off base for an icebreaker.

There was the debate of dressing up. Revealing your features, having fun with some of the buddies on your squadron you'd done dozens of missions with, yet, this isn't that. It's not a celebration or a victory; not a job well done, this is a meeting... an introduction. Therefore, bare face is out of the question. If anything, it's best to stay on guard until you get to know the outliers on this project.

Nevertheless, that doesn't mean you can't have a good time with your friends while still getting to know the others! Eyes scanning over the warmly lit bar, you revel in the mid-week relative quiet. In all honesty, it's not quiet, but considering how rowdy it can get on the weekends or after a homecoming, it sure can be described that way. There's a game of pool going on in the back corner, and a game on the televisions on either side of the bar. Though you're more intrigued by the small crowd of people flitting about. Elbow keeping you propped up against the dark wooden bar table, you watch one of the bartenders mill about, hopefully, getting your drinks.

"Was not expecting to see you here, Cap," Keegan voices his surprise. He'd been holding it in the entire meeting, eager to congratulate you on what can only be considered a promotion of sorts. Being put in charge of a covert long-op is something usually only experienced vets get put on. While you're not a newbie by any means, he hadn't anticipated seeing you on the mission, let alone in charge of it. "Can't wait to see how you go about this." With a pat to your back, the exposed rounds Keegan's cheeks rise. You can tell he's smiling.

Returning from the bathroom, McKay and Wilson laugh alongside one another. A small smile graces your lips; you're not sure where you'd be if you hadn't been fortunate in meeting and getting to know them. Junior Lieutenant Amala McKay you'd been through basic with, having both enlisted at the same time. While you hadn't known each other prior, it was safe to say that you'd both come from fairly different worlds and mindsets... yet, opposites attract, right? Corporal Olivia Wilson you'd met upon resettlement after graduation, being stationed at the same base and in the same sector. She was a tough nut, that's for sure. Though through your hard work she'd easily come around and determined you were a strong enough character to befriend.

"Keegan, this is-" raising a hand toward the approaching women, you offer what you can of a smile from behind your balaclava.

"Private McKay," Keegan greets. With an extended hand, McKay easily meets it with her own, tugging him into a shoulder bump of sorts. That sort of stereotypical 'bro' greeting you've gotten accustomed to in the military.

"You'll be pleased to know it's Junior Lieutenant now, Sergeant!" She informs him, a smile instantly lifting her already bright demeanor, the woman practically beaming with a sense of pride.

"Corporal Wilson," the slightly shorter blonde woman greets. Her typical stoicism replaces the jovial attitude she'd had upon exiting the bathroom.

"Sergeant Keegan Russ," he responds with a nod and firm handshake.

"Oh great," Wilson sighs, ducking her head. Following her reaction, the group spots who's just walked into the bar. You may not know him personally, but you've seen him around and have heard a thing or two about Commander Phillip Graves. Alongside him walk in the other assigned specialists Laswell and NATO had enlisted at the behest of KorTac, a separate private military contractor from yours.

McKay nudges Wilson with her elbow, eliciting a groan from Wilson as she drags a hand down her face. "You know them?" Keegan questions, an eyebrow raising from what you can spot beneath his balaclava.

"Me? No... but it seems Wilson does," you answer, teasing your friend. Wilson shakes her head, blonde hair obscuring her features as she turns on her heels and announces that she needs a drink, departing in favor of the bar.

"Wonder what that's about," Keegan voices his thoughts aloud, curious eyes following Wilson's retreating figure. While your gaze turns in suit, it's only a few seconds before you're drawn back to your previous line of sight with a call of your rank.

"Captain, right?" It's him: Phillip Graves. Taking in the approaching figures, you nod, extending a hand out toward the man. "This your team?" With a reciprocated shake, the Commander grips your hand tighter than needed, an abrupt shake leaving your brows tensing just subtly beneath your balaclava.

"Once upon a time, maybe," you respond. The playfulness in your tone may go over the Commander's radar, however Keegan releases a quiet chuckle to himself. "Meet Sergeant-"

"Keegan Russ," announcing his own namesake, he only offers a nod in the Commander's direction before turning to the two others beside him.

"That there's Junior Lieutenant-" you extend an arm in presentation.

"McKay," Amala finishes, extending a firm shake to each of the men before her. "It's a pleasure to meet you, though I'm gonna go check on Wilson," she excuses herself. With that announcement, your eyes flit over to the blonde hunched over the bar haphazardly sat on a stool.

"I'll be back," Graves states, heading off in the direction of the bar--which leaves you worried for half a second--till he swerves under the signs leading to the restrooms.

"Hello." The man that'd been next to Graves looks like a dwarf in comparison to the Giant beside him, however the fact that he still looms over you in the way most of your associates do says something. "I am Horangi," he introduces himself, extending a hand. Adorned by a plain black face mask and dark sunglasses, they both leave room for mystery. He has an accent, and while you know where he comes from based off the files you'd obtained in advance of your meeting this afternoon, his voice wouldn't be a signifier otherwise.

"Nice to meet you, Horangi," you respond, introducing your own last name and ranking of Captain. With a gentle grip and firm shake, you offer him a smile from behind your balaclava. As soon as he proceeds to introduce himself to Keegan, you move onto the only one left: the Giant.

"Hallo Captain," the Giant greets, "I am König. It is nice to meet you." Though he doesn't offer a hand, you do. Watching the man's eyes shift behind his mask at the movement, he has to crane his neck downward in order to see you properly. Simultaneously, you also have to crane your neck upward to meet his gaze. It's awkward, but the man accepts your offer and brings his gloved hand up to gently shake your much smaller hand before quickly releasing it.

The files aren't needed to know by his accent that this is the Colonel KorTac sent. The insertion specialist, if you remember correctly. While you hadn't had a great lengthy time to look over everyone's files, you'd at least gotten a vague general sense of their positions and rankings. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Konig," you respond. "Everyone's just getting here, so feel free to get a drink, look around. I don't know how familiar you two are with this base." König nods in response to your words, a quiet 'Danke' passing between you before he follows his partner's lead and introduces himself to Keegan as well.

Just in time, the server from earlier drops off the drinks you'd ordered. Keegan grabs a beer, while you partake in the cider you'd gotten yourself, the few shots on the tray up for grabs since you'd wanted to provide ground for a casual vibe. The server asks if the two new additions to your group would like to order anything. Both men seem interested but ask questions that leave the server amused and offering for them to follow him to the bar to give them samples and an actual menu.

Deciding to take a seat at the barstool on one side of the table, you're joined by Keegan, a friendly but comfortable silence lingering between you two. Some of the hot oldies play, garnering a few bouts of singing along inbetween sips of cider. It's only once she's gotten her drink that McKay rejoins the table with a glass of beer. She's always been one for tradition, you'd come to learn.

"Nice of 'em to finally show up," Keegan comments under his breath before downing the last of his bottle. He places it on the tabletop before standing, tacitly offering his seat up to McKay before nodding towards the bar. You get his gist and nod in response; he's going to get another drink.

"Want a shot?" You offer to your partner, eyes finally taking the time to take in who Keegan was referring to. Swiveling on your stool, you face diagonally to the entrance. Under the warm lights of the bar walk in a group of four men, one of them unintentionally signifying their identity in the form of a skull mask.

"Why the hell not? If we're off to Al-Mazrah tomorrow then I'll need it, huh?" She laughs, nudging your bicep with her elbow. An amused smirk sets upon your lips beneath the balaclava, though your eyes don't leave the group lingering by the door. It only takes your lackluster response to earn the addition of Amala's attention. "You seem apprehensive," she comments, following suit as you both take in their appearance. "Can't blame you though. Did you even know they were on call for this?"

The slight clench of your jaw gives her the answer you really hadn't wanted to provide. You wish she hadn't asked, but there's no doubt the information would come out sooner or later anyway. "No... but there's no reason we can't make it work. Right?" You reassure. Though if you're honest, you don't know if it's directed more toward her or yourself. Motion a second nature by now, you pull down your balaclava just enough to down the rest of your cider before pushing the bottle into the middle of the table alongside the shots. Hands on the polished table, you push yourself off the stool to stand. "Speaking of-" Interrupted, all eyes in the bar jump to the loud and boisterous voice by the front doors.

"'EYA GRAVES, LONG TIME 'N NO SEE!" A loud and booming accented voice signals you in on its owner. Through all the files you'd skimmed, there was only one person from this place, and while you usually have a harder time pinning few similar accents, this one is more pronounced in this moment. John MacTavish, the only Scottish member of Taskforce 141.

Watching the loud soldier head toward the bar, the rest of them walk over to a table just a few feet away, another bar table set in the distance between. The darker-skinned man takes off his hat and jacket, placing the items on a barstool before turning to a mustached man who shreds his own jacket. While they converse, it becomes clear how they're setting up camp at their own table, not bothering to even introduce themselves first unlike the people who were relatively on time according to your instruction.

"Should we-?"

"I'll go over, try to get them to join," you announce. Hand coming up to halt Amala from getting up, you send her a knowing look before leaving her with a quick playful wave. While it should be easy to squeeze into their conversation and welcome them to your team, you find yourself daunted. Whether it's the infamous skull mask everyone has heard rumors of, and his unflinching cold stare, or the fact that they're all a part of one of the special black ops taskforces you'd only heard were solely fiction made up to scare newer recruits until today. Nevertheless, a group of tall men in uniforms, bigger, and presumably stronger than you isn't anything new. Though for whatever reason, you can't help but stumble in place as a shiver runs through your body.

"Ay, it's the Cap'in, innit?" Eyes shifting over and up to the man speaking, you hadn't expected such a gruff and deep voice from him.

"Indeed, it is. Pleasure to meet you..." The amused, partially giddy smile begins to crack at the seams of your stoicism. No matter how old you get, there's no denying the universe girlhood that's currently peeking through: your fondness for men with accents.

"Cap'in Price," he announces, a hand extending outward across the man beside him. "Good to meet ya." With a firm shake, you give him a nod of your head in response. It's interesting to meet someone of the same ranking, though from another country, not to mention a different unit altogether. You're curious to hear about his profession and see how he handles situations. While their Captain may be a decade or two your senior, you can admire the nice beard he has going on.

"You've got head on this op, isn't that right?" Eyes shifting over and up at the man right beside you, he crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Name's Kyle, but you can call me Gaz," he informs you, an easygoing smile on his lips. You can admit to yourself that he's attractive, his big nose suiting the features of his face, thick eyebrows, plump lips, curious dark brown eyes. Before you can finish introducing yourself to Gaz, the forming smile that'd been tugging at your lips comes to a halt.

"An' you've got us out here, hours before departure. For what?" The smile dies. Everyone's attention shoots over to him: Ghost. You'd heard of him, sure. Even a continent away the rumors spread; he didn't have a name, only a motive: kill or be killed.

Searching his eyes, it only takes a fraction of a second to see the questioning, the frustration, the anger. You'd been known as a good people reader, and while masks might make things a bit more difficult, the dim lighting of the bar only exacerbates the shadows surrounding his face. A cocky smirk instinctively displays itself on your lips beneath the mask. With a shake of your head and an amused breath huffing out your nose, you finally meet his eyes again. "To get to know one another. There's no point in going out there if you can't even begin to try and see how your other operatives think."

"An' you think drinkin' and makin' idle chitchat is gonna fix that?" He questions. Eyebrows raising beneath your balaclava you don't stand down or look away this time. You're not willing to give him the sort of submission he might expect. While your ranking does stand higher than his, you also know that when it comes to the military, there's no shortage of misogynistic men. It's too soon to judge, and he's certainly made no clear indication of that mindset, but his questioning raises flags on your end that might be worth looking out for.

"No, but it's a start," you retort. Crossing your arms over your chest you turn from facing him head-on to open yourself back toward the other men. "When you'd get off your last deployment?" You inquire. Either Ghost's simply getting ahead of the game and is putting himself in the mindset he may need for whatever this mission calls for, or something tells you he might still be holding onto whatever baggage came with the last.

""Bout three weeks ago, innit?" Gaz comments, head swiveling as he double-checks with the Captain who nods in confirmation. Though your sightline is more directed toward Ghost, you don't miss the way Gaz attempts to subtly nod over toward the bar. "Why?" The seemingly talkative one of the bunch says, attention back on you.

"Just curious," you answer. Surely that question isn't a common one, but you were genuinely interested. "And regardless, I know Laswell said we need to hash this out, but for the moment, I appreciate you coming. I think it's important to get to know everyone we'll be working with the next few months." While you take your time with your words, you don't let it go over their heads that their participation is expected from you. Business out of the way, you gently slap on Gaz's back--he was closest--and smile. "Now why don't you go get a drink!"

The men to your right chuckle, the Captain and Gaz instantly brought out of whatever tension was between you and Ghost and into much higher spirits. "Can't say no to that!" Gaz comments, starting to walk away and toward the bar. The Captain turns to leave before slinging an arm around your shoulder and guiding you away from their table.

"Don't you mind him. He's... a tough nut, yeah? He'll come around, eventually. Good soldier- does what he needs to. I can assure you I don't think we'll have any trouble, just... let him come around, alright?" Captain Price speaks quietly, though you wouldn't exactly call it a whisper. Eyes roaming over his shoulder to spot Ghost in the same position you'd all left him, you can't help but wonder what the hell his problem is. The Captain comes to a stop, his eyes searching your face as you haven't responded and he's waiting.

"Sounds like a plan," you concede, nodding for good measure. The Captain offers a smile before leaving you with a friendly slap on the back. With a lick of your lips beneath the fabric, you try and think of what to do next. Vision drifting around the room in search of someone, it isn't long before you find them. Walking back to your table, you see McKay slowly acquiring a frothy foamed mustache from her beer.

“Do you know who that this?” Your comrade, McKay, questions, baffled by your audacity to command the 141 and their Lieutenant around. She shifts between staring at him over her shoulder and looking away.

“Only by rumor,” you answer. Everything you’d heard up until now had all been gossip. Stories, tales that were woven by people who’d simply heard something from someone, and the list went on. All of it could be chalked up to nothing. You don’t know him, you haven’t heard of his work and the exact details through any trustworthy sources so all in all, you can’t bring yourself to care about the rumors.

"Well, he seems like trouble. Don't know he's going to follow orders willingly... might even go rogue," McKay comments between sips of her beer. Her brown eyes shift over to meet your gaze, unsurprised that it's still stuck on him. "Wouldn't let it get to you though." Her attempt at relieving you only spurs on the challenge in your mind. Amala's eyes narrow as she has a guess at what you're thinking, or rather, planning.

Being close to the woman, you know she'll catch on. With a quick flash of a smile in her direction, gaze torn from the mysterious figure, you steer her off your scent. "Maybe I'll offer them the shots? At least try to get on their good side," you offer.

"Sounds like a plan," she muses, teasingly quoting a pleasantry you'd often make. With a raise of her stein, she wishes you the best of luck with a pat on the back.

Carrying the tray over, your eyes drift over to the folks at the bar. It seems that the KorTac folks have finally settled on drinks, while Graves and Wilson talk, clearly making some type of progress. For the better, you can only hope. Keegan's gaze catches yours upon surveying the premises; with smiles exchanged, he too, offers a raise of his beer. It's then that Gaz introduces himself, the Captain quickly following suit. Entirely all too aware of the piercing gaze following your figure from the Taskforce's table, irregardless of your attention. You won't give him the satisfaction. Nearing the table, you can feel your heart racing in your chest, nerves climbing up your spine, latching onto whatever crevices they can reach.

With careful hands you set the tray on their table, gently pushing aside the condiment carrier, making sure nothing falls. Hand encircling the glass, you pull down your balaclava just enough to expose your lips before sipping at your second cider. "What's this?" He finally speaks. "Tequila shots?" The Ghost asks, taking a step closer toward the table.

"A peace offering. You might think it's stupid, but in getting to know my team, I usually get them the food and drinks--on me--when it's an activity I deem necessary. So, by all means--"

"An' who's this lovely bird? You not gonna introduce me, Ghost?" Interrupted, you turn to meet the sound of people approaching. The quiet groan that slips past Ghost's reserve doesn't go unnoticed by you, but you play none the wiser.

Gaz shoves his hip into the curiosity you'd read was John 'Soap' MacTavish, the codename, you couldn't possibly surmise a reasoning to. "Bloody hell," he curses, "That's the Captain, idiot!" With either hand around his teammate's shoulders, the bump from Gaz sends him leaning into their own Captain, John. It only now crosses your mind that with two Johns on their team the need for codenames must be more a necessity than simply security.

"Please excuse him, he might have..." the Captain's words trail off as he looks over Soap's shoulder at Gaz. "What was it you said? He went pre-gone? Decided to do a premie?"

Gaz slides Soap's arm off his shoulder before crumbling in half, hands on his knees as he laughs. "Pre-game! He decided to Pre-game, Price! Hell," the man snorts every once in a while as he laughs his ass off.

"Mm," you hum. "He pre-gamed, I see. No worries-" you begin to excuse the soldier, even if amusement rumbles in your chest, threatening to come out in an equal fit of laughter.

"Captain what?" Soap asks, his other arm slinking off their Captain's shoulder only for the man to push Soap toward one of the stools.

"Fuckin' idiot," Ghost curses more to himself than anyone.

"Oh, you're talkin' codenames already?" Graves rounds the table to stand between Soap and Ghost, a beer bottle settled in his grip.

"Anyway, since it seems everyone's coming over I got a round of shots for you all. Please feel free," you announce. While sliding the respective shots on the tray in the direction of the people surrounding the table, you purposefully lift Ghost's shot and place it before him. If anyone needs to relax, it's clearly this man.

"Watch out!" You hear Keegan's voice before you feel his gloved hand on your waist, tugging you out of the way. Wilson and McKay slide the nearest table together, making the table big enough for all of you. "Thought we'd make it big enough for everyone to sit together," he informs you.

"Thanks, Keeg," you respond. A smile unconsciously tugs across your lips as you hadn't realized anyone had cared enough to notice and join your efforts to try and get everyone together.

With the rejoining of König and Horangi at the end of the table, you're all together. "Any ideas for a team name?" McKay questions, looking around the big table.

This question elicits lots of laughs and verbalized thoughts, which in turn manage to garner everyone's opinions. All in all, you'd say that things may have start off rocky, but have finally turned into a proper icebreaker. While everyone might have differing opinions and feelings about the people on their team, you can at least say that now you're beginning to get to know the people you'll be working with. One can hope it'll lead to friendship and smooth sailing when it comes to group dynamics, but you suppose only time will tell that story.

~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

147 notes · View notes