#Soap is a Godsend

[tanked-up]

No one knew Ghost’s birthday except Price, but he knew well enough to not make a deal out of it. Ghost wasn’t the type to care or celebrate his birthday, so when Soap found out he missed Ghost’s birthday, almost went feral. He couldn’t believe he would missed such an important day. That kinda got him mad at Price and Gaz for not telling him about it. Later on Price explained how Ghost didn’t want anyone to make such a big deal out of it and shit like that. Soap wasn’t paying attention at a single thing Price was saying, his mind was thinking of stuff he could gift Ghost, which was a big problem considering the place they were stationed in had no places that could get him something nice for Ghost. So he went “diy” and made a necklace and decided today was the day he finally gave it to him. “What’s this?” Soap carefully handed the necklace to Ghost with the letter a charm “S”

“An S?” Ghost eyed it, not without glaring at Soap

“I won’t last you forever, LT” Soap reminded

Ghost scoffed and accepted the gift. Believe it or not, that’s the first gift he ever kept. Few months passed and you’d see him wearing it occasionally around the camp. Recruits talked to each other about the meaning of it. Ghost never cared to explain, but did he have to? The only person he truly cared enough to explain, already knew.

[seokshinedk]

Managed to turn in my take-home exam 5 minutes before the deadline..definitely not my best work but I don’t care if I need to remediate atp I am Done

[yanderenightmare]

TW: NSFW, dubcon/noncon, slave darling, crude and derogatory terms, classism, abuse of power, death threats

fem reader

Thinking about the poor kitchen maid who's suddenly told she's to be the spoiled Prince's new chambermaid.

It hasn’t even gone a day yet, but you already miss your job in the kitchens.

Sure, the sweltering heat of the ovens always left you in a state of fever, and kneading dough from dawn ‘til dusk made your arms acidic with burns – unyieldingly sore – not to mention never getting a chance to sit down and rest before collapsing in bed at the end of the day. But the smell of freshly baked buns and the chance to sneak a bite out of those that came out of the oven just a bit too burnt for serving had always felt like payment enough.

That and not having to deal with the royal family.

You know you should feel honored. You know it’s supposed to feel godsend to be picked to become the Prince’s personal servant. But… there was a reason he so often required a change of maid.

You still remember the last one they’d taken from the kitchen. She was pretty and young and shouldn’t have been working there in the first place – that’s what everyone used to say before she disappeared.

You wonder if such words carry curses… and what you did to deserve the same things being said about you.

You nearly cried standing outside The Prince’s chambers, chewing on your lip with his breakfast tray in hand, wondering what rumors were true – if he really was as terrible as everyone claims – wondering where the other kitchen maid went and whether you’d end up in the same place… wondering what you could do to keep it from happening.

You don’t know what you were standing there waiting for, nearly pissing yourself when you knew he was still out – busy hunting down a couple of runaway servants for sport. It was almost as though you feared the room itself, as though it would bite once crossing the threshold. 

None of the sorts happened, though a gust of warm wind hit you like the breath of a beast once you opened the door.

Inside, there were around a dozen heads mounted on the wall – dragons, bears, lions, wolves, and other creatures you weren’t too sure of – all with mouths big enough to bite yours off.

You took only a second to look at them before they looked as though they’d leap from the walls and eat you alive, just like you’d predicted.

You set the tray of food down on the bedside table and walked to the bathroom to draw his bath – deciding work would keep your mind off it.

Stepping out a second later, you fixed a fire in the hearth and made to make the bed, stretching the duvet and the quilt over the massive mattress while eyeing the thread count with envy and the hand-stitching with awe. Left to wonder how many ducks had been shot to stuff the mountain of plush pillows he’d all but thrown onto the floor to make space for himself.

Walking through the steam to the bath again, you opened the cupboard to pick out soaps and oils – overwhelmed by the sight of every shelf stocked full of all sorts you’d never seen – glad you had somewhat decent reading skills – unlike many of the other maids.

Soaping the water, you sat on the edge and waited with a hand wading through the warmth – and while biting your lip, you let your mind wander again – daydream, like it so often did – imagining what it would be like to feel it on the rest of your skin, warm and smooth, sucking all the stress out and leaving you soft like a newborn.

He watched you enjoy yourself, his stark eyes calmly assessing what they saw with a tilt of his head – trailing from the tip of your worn-out shoes to the tattered edge of your grey maid’s dress, up your lap to the cinch of your waist where your white apron was bound – taking his time until your eyes fluttered open to find him standing there.

You nearly fell into the water, hopping up to a stance. “Sorry, your majesty- I forgot myself! Please forgive me.” You bowed, looking down at the muddy stains on your gray shoes – in anxious wait of his wrath.

But instead of a backhanded slap that would send you straight to the stone floor or a spit of venom which would make you flinch and cry, he spoke a calm and patient “Come here-”

Though spoken in a certain tone of authority that forced you forward in quick steps until stopping just short of him – still with eyes downcast.

“Mh, I'm glad they haven't run out of cute ones down there.” He said then, once you stood only a hair's length from him – voice just as calm as before and inspiring just as much surprise in you still, though now joined with visible confusion in the crinkle it caused between your brows. A furrow that only deepened once he reached out his hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Your majesty?” You questioned.

“It’s master.” He corrected sharply, and you grew unsure if his voice wasn’t just cold rather than calm. “I like that better. Now quit wasting my time and undress me, slave – I have important shit to attend to today.”

You wavered only a second, feeling the words like a flick to the forehead. “Of course, your majes- master. Forgive me.” You blurted with hands quickly jumping forth to help detangle the knots keeping his robes together. 

Small fingers working hurriedly to appease him, setting aside the light leather cuirass upon his dresser once loosening it from his torso – wondering if you should tell him your name, though thinking better of it as he’d opted for simply referring to you as a slave instead of asking. 

You hadn’t been called that in a long while – slave – never by anyone in the kitchen, at least. You’d nearly forgotten it was what you were – a slave – and not just a busy member of the crown’s staff.

You bit your lip with another bow of your head, not wanting the Prince to see your face in its hurt while you undid the ties to the braces on his arms. The castle had become your home rather than a prison over the years, but… with the echo of your title wringing in that very heavy tone of his, along with standing there – bowing your head while undressing him of all fine body armor and robes – you couldn’t suppress the reminder of being of much lesser blood and birth. A fact that – despite never before having bothered you much – somehow seemed to strangle you now.

He’d dragged mud in with his boots – and given he’d not bothered taking them off, you were left to believe he wanted you to do it for him. And though humiliating as it was, you crouched down and began undoing the laces nonetheless – further feeling degraded while caressing the boot.

You pulled it off and repeated the action with the other foot – wondering if he meant you to remove his breeches and tunic as well until he, fortunately for you, lifted the shirt off and pulled the strings to the trousers himself. Leaving the undergarments in a pool on the floor next to you.

You kept your eyes down until he was completely submerged in the water, afraid to see something you weren’t allowed to – before getting up and padding back to the cupboard. You'd never been any lady's or lord's maid before, but you had been trained in the duties – and though heat rose to your cheeks at the thought of those duties, you still made to grab the soap and loofa in shakey hands before kneeling down on the stool next to the tub.

You’d never seen the prince if not from afar atop the castle balcony during speeches by his mother, the Queen – and had only ever heard of his appearance as something twisted and foul – but looking at him with his eyes closed, he really didn’t look as demonic as people had made him out to be. But further thinking about it, scrubbing his chest with soap and water and oil – you realized that none of those people were likely to have seen him up close either.

He looks every bit royal with his strength of face – cutting edges as though carved in marble, with chiseled muscles gleaming in the water and oil.

He was no doubt very handsome, you concluded silently – finally understanding why he was more of an eligible prince than what his attitude would otherwise allow – that, along with the kingdom’s riches, of course.

He sagged forward while you mindlessly amused your findings – though paying attention enough to take the cue – squeezing water onto his back with the sponge before rubbing over the broad flex of muscles, freezing once hearing him let out a heavy moan.

He leaned back again after you were done. Spilling water onto your dress once pulling his arms out to rest on the frame with a sigh – his chin tipped upward, lounging lazily on the back of the tub.

You reached for his face next – now with a silken cloth – stroking it lightly over the few droplets of blood splattered from when he must have cut into those poor runaways after hunting them down with swords and dogs in heel.

You shuddered some at the thought and must have let your eyes linger too long – or at least long enough not to notice him opening his – staring at you silently with eyes jaded in something that seemed to seize you by the throat.

“I’m sorry, ma-” You tried, but he seemed disinterested in it, reaching for you with wet fingers rubbing on the hem of your collar.

“You’re not dressed properly.” He said then, voice lazy yet loud – unimpressed, though not enough to be outright angry.

Gulping at the feel of his large hand so close to your neck, your voice only barely held it together. “I’m sorry, master. They hadn’t the right maid livery in my size, but I’ll have it ready tomo-” You started, hands folded neatly on your lap.

“Take it off.” He interrupted.

You blinked – tensing with your throat closing – sitting there stunned for a moment before mustering an ever so hesitant answer.

“Your majesty?”

“It’s master. Don’t make me tell you again, slave." He growled through grit teeth right at your face after yanking you close by the fabric of your shirt. "And you either dress properly, or you go naked. And right now, it looks like it’ll be the latter. Unless you want to be whipped for poor servitude?”

Your eyes – moon-big now while you shook your head – breathing thin through your nose. “No, master... I’ll undress.”

“Good.” He broke off your collar, dropping you back down onto your seat on the floor before rising with water rushing fast and heavy down along his limbs, dripping onto you as he stepped out with an unfettered splash.

You got up as well, beginning with the buttons on your shirt. Feeling him eye you while he wrapped himself in the towel you’d laid ready for him – his burning gaze leaving you goosefleshed and nearly in tears, bashful as you stepped out of your skirt – naked before him.

You didn’t dare look – even as he stepped toward you. Keeping your head bowed low – breath in shivers while eyeing the hand he reached for you, his fingers stopping just short of touching your bare skin.

“Clean yourself.” He said then, wafting the same hand to the tub he’d just used. Still filled with bubbles of lavender, though no doubt also of his own grime. But you wouldn’t refuse, no matter the degradation – your thoughts still lingering on the former kitchenmaid who’d disappeared not long after becoming the Prince's personal servant.

You stepped in, feeling the warmth close around your legs – still hot enough to prickle. Lowering yourself down, you sat there – swallowed by the bubbles with the loofa in hand, lathering your flesh with the mix of oil, soap, and water – brushing off soot and sweat – leaving you soft-skinned and smooth to the touch, but also riddled with goosebumps that wouldn't lower under the heavy leer the Prince was giving you.

“Get out and come here.” He said a short moment later, and you got out as told – taking slow steps toward the man, with footprints leaving soapy puddles in their wake.

He reached behind you to pull the pin from your worker's bun, letting your hair cascade in flowy wisps down around your shoulders – before brushing them behind you to clear your face and chest.

He’d dried off but didn’t offer you the towel – having dropped it into a wet pile on the floor – now reaching out to feel the smooth gloss of your breasts with brazen digits. Inspecting and assessing while caressing their weight as you stood there with your head still hung down low – silent and shivering.

Soon his hands fell from your chest down to judge your every curve, sliding over slippery slopes until reaching your cunt – stroking two thick fingers through the drippy curls found there. Gliding them between the lips, he circled your clit with his middle digit – tickling you – while dark eyes watched your lip quiver with a power-hungry gleam.

Stepping closer, the small smirk stretched on his face brushed your hairline where you tried bowing your head even lower in embarrassment – with brows tremoring similar to the hands hanging loosely by your sides.

“Aren’t you gonna bleat like a little lamb? Hmm... slave?” He asked then – low in a whisper, blowing gently into the sweat of your hair – cold enough to make you shiver even more. “The slut before you did….” He added with his smirk sharpening – lips stiffening against your skin where he brushed them in halfhearted kisses down your forehead and temple until reaching the shell of your ear. “I had to wring her little neck just to make her stop squealing.”

You sucked your teeth on impulse, jolting just a bit but not enough to make the dire mistake of moving. 

“I can tell you’re smarter. That’s good….” He continued with fingers kept at your cunt – playing your shivering core where you stood planted – dripping wet with bathwater and terrified of moving. “Weak little things like you do better understanding their place.”

Your hands formed loose fists, flinching at your sides as you kept from the urge to wring your thighs shut until he left your sensitivity alone.

“But smart or not, I believe you missed a spot earlier-” Both his hands found your hair instead. “So get down on your knees, slave.” 

One paw cupped the back of your skull in a ponytail while the other laid flat on your scalp, pushing you down until he had you leveled with his throbbing manhood – thick and high-strung – blushed red and strangled with veins – bobbing with might against the ant trail leading up to his navel and looking every bit impatient to be served. 

“Use this pretty head of yours to do better, and maybe I won't have to wring your little neck too.”

You eyed the swaying length with eyes crossing – sucking your lip at its intimidating reach and how it seemed to rise higher than your head – mumbling out a weak. “Yes, master...”

You dropped your jaw and produced your tongue – feeling him keep control of your head in his tightening hold, yanking your hair before you gave the large cock a flat lick – starting at the base of his balls until flicking off at the very tip.

Not too revolted by the mild taste of lavender and vegetable oil, you locked your lips around the head and sucked it in hopes he’d ease his grip.

“Sh-fuuhck- you really do know your place, huh slave?” He mouthed – his head hanging back in a heavy groan – holding your skull in both hands while using them to bob you against his crotch on repeat, lolling his hips inside the wet warm comfort of your mouth a little deeper for each time – only moaning with a laugh once you gave a whine for breath. “Sweet and obedient- just how I like- with a nice wet throat to fuck too….”

He thought of kicking you when you put your small hands against his thighs to brace yourself – but given how softly you held them there without nails and pinches, he decided he’d grant you the tiny mercy – thinking he’d later teach you to keep your hands on your knees when serving him head like a proper slave ought to.

Tipping his head back again, he looked down at you and the pretty curl between your brows and the cute sight of your teary eyes looking back up at him – giving a hiss at how it made his balls tug in excitement.

“Get up-” He growled, pulling you up by your hair and throat until you shoddily stood upright on unsteady feet – lightheadedly looking at him with dazed eyes and a wet pout. “’This tight cunt as loyal to the crown as your mouth, hm?” He asked with a hand smacking the soft place, making you yelp before he made to bury two of his thick fingers inside the taunt space.

You whined out softly at the intrusion – kept steady and close by the fist holding your throat in a choke – before he used the same hand to throw you over the bed – stomach first with a slap to your ass.

“Bow down, slave- and show me some fucking respect. You’re in the presence of royalty, remember?”

He mounted you with a pent-up groan – and a strong fist in your hair, pushing your face down into the mount of pillows you’d dallied with earlier. His knees dipped into the plush next to your hips, locking you beneath him with his spit-slickened meat resting between the soft valley of your ass, sliding between the cheeks impatiently.

Gathering your wrists in his other fist, he kept them crossed at the small of your spine – before pulling back and letting his cockhead fall right to your sweetly wet and welcoming opening – wasting little time in piercing it nice and deep in a direct aim – like an arrow shot straight through a target.

You winced and bucked your hips at the attack – feeling your walls weep and sting – fluttering hot around the size of it.

He leaned across your back – heavy against your shoulders with his mouth at your ear in gritty whispers. “I like docile slave girls like you who know a thing or two about pleasing a man. Good submissive sluts who understand they’re nothing but warm soft meat for men like me to devour.” 

His words groaned in nibbling bites on your earlobe – with a hand kept strict and harsh in yanking your head back for him as he slowly started dragging himself out and stuffing you so fast you couldn’t keep from yelping at the breach. Toes gripping the cold rocky tiles as your legs shook under you – being rocked into harsh and deep by the muscle strength of the beast on top.

“I'm not the first one you’ve bent over for, huh?” He continued with a grin, haughtily chuckling in low breathy condescension. “Probably the first one you’ve had take you in a proper bed, though, hm? And not in a hayloft on whatever dirty farm you grew up on.” 

Your fingernails punched into your palms where he wrung your wrists tight, keeping you pressed flat beneath him while he heedlessly rutted into you like you were nothing but his own snug fist. 

“I bet the whole village had a go seeing how pretty you turned out.” He laughed again, scoffing at it with his tongue tickling your ear. “Did they all fuck you like this? From behind like a farm animal? On all fours with your pretty face moaning in the mud?” Simpering, he sped up as though aroused by his own words.

Twisting your hair tighter and groaning louder against your ear – chasing your deepest parts with balls clapping hard against your clit.

“You’re all fuckin' inbreds- It’s a fucking miracle your filthy parents created something like you- prettier than all the bratty princesses I have to listen to yap all day.” He moaned – now fully drooling against your face, nomming on your ear with heavy breaths.

Fully draping you in his sweaty muscles, you lay gasping beneath the weight – cunt clenching hard around his shaft – making him hiss.

“Ah fuck- It's nice coming home to an obedient slave- so tight and warm- grateful for a royal cock in your poor slave cunt, huh?”

You winced at his pounding, so deep you felt it choke you – making your stomach fold and curl, trying to protect itself from the assault. “Yes- thank you, master- thank you-” You cried while he placed sloppy layers of wet kisses down your temple and cheek in return – until finally pulling off.

“Come here, down on your knees-” Ripping himself to his feet, he pulled you with him by the fist riddled in your hair and pushed you down at the foot end. 

Tugging on his cock in the other hand – quick faps in the slick – he kept you looking up at him while slapping the wet weight in sticky taps against your lips. 

“Open wide, slave- here it comes-” 

Only one more jerk and it all blew in thick white beams shooting across your face – spewing in clusters, hitting you once on your forehead and another over the nose - dripping to your lips into your gaping mouth where he focused on squeezing out the rest – tapping the plush creamy tip against your tongue while panting. 

“Mh-fuck- clean me off and swallow.”

With breaths heavy and slowing, he detangled his hand from your sweaty locks and made to pet your head instead. Gently running his fingers over your hair while watching you obediently kiss and lick up all the spill in tired and slow yet devoted strokes with your tongue until it was all prettily wiped clean.

“Good slave.” The Crown Prince hummed then.

Finally sounding satisfied – still with a lazy hand holding your head where you so faithfully sat at his feet, swallowing his seed, while his satiated cock grew limp in regard.

“Now go wash off while the water’s still warm, and come out and help me get dressed.” He ordered, voice groggily soft in the after high. “I have a full schedule today looking at potential brides… and I want my little farm animal by my side to keep me going insane from boredom.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo, Naoya

HQ – Oikawa, Sakusa

BLLK – Reo

DS – Doma, Muzan, Sanemi

[diejager]

just thought of something really funny for the monster cod au. what if reader has a small emotional support dog, and reader is just kissing, cuddling and saying “i love you”s to the dog. do you think the animal hybrids would get jealous of the dog bc of their animal instincts?

Cw: jealousy, tell me if I missed any.

You came with a K9, a big Shepherd and collie mix that you took in after you completed you medic training, a little friend you trained and spent your time with. You two were a package deal, the Task Force wouldn’t have you without Milo, and vice versa. You were assured by Laswell that they didn’t mind K9s in the TF, it was a welcome sight to have an actual dog rather than a hybrid or monster. You took it with stride, Milo by your side at all times and they were never bothered by it, how protective he was of you and how much attention you gave him, but you hadn’t expected to see some grow… jealous of Milo.

You watched Soap and König especially turn green with envy, their burning glare shot towards you fury friend when you kissed his nose and praised him for being such a good boy. He truly was, your loyal and affectionate companion that you nurtured since he was a pup, fighting side by side with you when you were on the field. Soap - sweet Johnny - would shift more often, throwing himself at you whenever you were walking Milo. Rather than simply walking a dog, you walked a dog and a werewolf, a jealous and drooling werewolf that kept rubbing his side against yours, panting and growling out words that you didn’t understand. It was hilarious, seeing how jealousy made Johnny act, his tongue lolling out to lick over your cheek, demanding kisses and praises with his wide and gleaming eyes after you gave them to Milo. 

König was as unsubtle about it as Soap was, voicing his envy with nonverbal cues for affection. He would trail behind you, his broad figure so quiet, and tugged at your shirt, mumbling incoherent words until you gave him you attention. He’d stare you down, fluttering his lashes for compliments, whether they were teasing ones or loving ones, he took all and anything you gave him. It was rather… König was less eager than Soap was with praises, but he was more stubborn with it, silent demands and needs for the occasional praise or words of affirmation that you still loved him. 

Ghost and Horangi never showed a sign of discontent about the amount of love you gave Milo, but they did towards Soap and König’s unabashed need for it, some slight disgust and growls, snarling at the other for something you truly didn’t understand. Price and Alejandro were… they found enjoyment in your sticky situation, you caught them throwing you a mean grin when you passed them with either Soap, König or both of them stalking behind you. You remembered them calling Soap and König lost pups with heart eyes.

Then there was Gaz and Rudy, godsends, the gentle but logical figures of the team, they would step in to redirect Soap or König’s attention towards them to let you go about your day. If Johnny followed you around, a big wolf drooling all over the floor, scaring others away, Rudy would send his cadejos to herd the big wolf back. If König became your third shadow, his giant figure looming over you and making everyone hesitant to seek your help when they needed needed it, Gaz was there to offer to cuddle up in the couch and let König run his fingers through his wings. 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ²

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥, 𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥...

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: whispers all around the marine ship warn of a new cadet handpicked by the vice admiral himself, making for fine gossip. meanwhile, the strawhat crew wonders why their captain is so frustrated with a storybook.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: opla!luffy x gn!reader, koby x platonic!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: use of Y/N, gender neutral reader, angst, platonic fluff, koby and reader team up of the century

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤: this is me trying

series masterlist

Koby really wanted Helmeppo to shut up, but didn’t have the heart to say it. So he let his new friend rattle on and on whilst they were meant to be getting important work done mopping the deck.

Though Koby did admit, the hushed whispers around the ship of a new cadet were intriguing. And apparently, Helmeppo knew all about the new recruit.

“New?” Helmeppo laughed. “They’re far from new. Been at this for a matter of months and already they’re at the top.”

“How come?” Koby couldn’t help but ask, leaning slightly on his mop. “Experience?”

“Probably,” Helmeppo considered, turning secretive the next moment. “I hear they grew up with Garp, learned all they know from him and their father, who also happens to be a major.”

No wonder there was so much praise for this cadet. “And they’re really that good?”

Helmeppo nodded through a sigh. “So they say. Apparently, they’ve been assigned to this ship by Garp himself. No big surprise there. If this cadet is as fierce as they claim, we’ve got some competition.”

Koby nodded mindlessly, getting back to swabbing the deck, trying his best to focus, but Helmeppo just moved on to the next topic of his interest. 

“Hey, do you wonder—” Helmeppo stopped short, catching sight of an approaching figure through the dark shrouding the deck. 

Glancing up, Koby saw them too, a puzzled crease forming on his brow. The figure fumbled about the dark, mumbling to themself, two buckets in hand. 

Only after nearly tripping over air and stumbling to a stop did they draw out a sigh and assess their surroundings, finding Koby and Helmeppo watching with equally curious expressions.

“Oh, uhm,” they stammered, stepping into the dim lamplight Koby had set to the side. “Hello. I’m, uh, I was sent me to help.” They set down the buckets and stepped back. “Fresh warm water, and uhm, soap.”

Koby reacted quicker than Helmeppo, who watched this stranger carefully. He went to inspect the first bucket, smiling at the sudsy water. Given that Helmeppo had knocked their bucket over and Koby could only save a quarter of the water, this was a godsend. “Thank you. This helps a lot.”

The words went straight to the stranger’s head, a smile breaking out on their face as they turned to take up a spare mop. “No problem. Anything to stay useful. That’s what my dad always says, at least. A useless soldier's a dead soldier, or something like that.”

Whatever reservations Helmeppo had faded at the prospect of another gossip buddy, prompting an eye roll from Koby as he moved to start cleaning the farther end of the deck.

“Are you new?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you before.”

“Oh, yeah,” the stranger replied. “I just transferred from that marine base we’re docked at.”

Helmeppo immediately stopped mopping and zeroed in on the stranger, like a disarming fledgling hawk to an unbothered mouse. “You would know about Y/N L/N, then. They’re being transferred to this ship too.”

There was a brief silence after the question, only long enough to have Koby cast a curious glance back at them. The stranger stopped mopping too, a thoughtful look crossing their face, before they nodded. “What about Y/N L/N?”

“So you’ve met them?” Helmeppo wondered, cutting the stranger off before they could answer. “I’m curious to see if they live up to their reputation.”

The stranger folded their hands behind their back, face quite expressionless. “Oh… What’s their reputation? From an outside perspective, I mean?”

“Only that they’re responsible for twenty arrests within the span of three months. That’s bullshit, in my opinion. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg.” The stranger’s undivided attention was now given to Helmeppo, and he was living for it. “Apparently, they were trained up by Vice Admiral Garp himself. I hear they’ve even had a drink with Dracule Mihawk. Can you believe that? Honestly, I’m just waiting to meet this cadet and see if they’re as cold hearted as everyone says.”

Now, Koby was smart. He had to be in order to survive. So of course he’d caught on far before Helmeppo, watching the stranger’s grip on their broom tighten and their gaze tighten into a glare. 

He rushed up behind the stranger and mimed for Helmeppo to shut up. All Koby got in return was a strange sort of look and complete ignorance. Koby ran a palm over his face.

The stranger was quiet for an everlasting moment, before they dipped their mop into a bucket and continued to do their job. “It was twenty-three.”

Helmeppo tilted his head as if to hear them better. “Sorry?”

Quite having enough of hearing what other people thought of you, you swiftly whirled back to face him with a steeled expression. “I said I took part in twenty-three arrests in three months. I was raised in the same town as Garp, so yes he trained me as a child. I’ve never met Dracule Mihawk and I’ve never had a drink with anyone.”

You jutted out your chin. “And yes, I’d say I am cold hearted when the situation requires it. Like when dealing with a ignorant, gossiping pain in my ass!”

Jaw slack, Helmeppo searched out for Koby’s assistance, only receiving a pointed glare from his friend. You mopped some more and moved to go back over the spot Helmeppo had already done. “Put some more elbow grease into it, yeah? These decks outta be spotless by morn.”

Miraculously, the deck was nothing but tranquil after that. The three of you worked in silence till just as you’d said, the deck was spotless to your satisfaction. Helmeppo retreated back to the barracks immediately, seeking to collect his pride off the floor, leaving you and Koby.

Koby was going to apologize on his friend’s behalf when he found you picking up your bucket and mop and trudging off to the afterdeck. Koby followed after you, telling you, “Oh, we don’t have to clean the afterdeck. That’s next shift’s job.”

You didn’t reply, setting the sloshing bucket down and starting to work. Koby paused. “We should sleep. We’re setting off tomorrow—”

“I’m aware,” you said carefully, without too much malice. “I know we don’t have to. I want to. I’m not tired.”

The bags under your eyes begged to differ. Koby watched you work before he hurried off, and half of you was sorry to be alone again. But then the boy came back with his own mop in hand, causing you to halt and observe as he started to join you.

“What’re you…”

“I’m Koby,” he said, holding out a hand with a scant smile. 

Glancing down, you accepted his hand and grinned. “Y/N. But you knew that.”

He grimaced. “Sorry about Helmeppo.”

Shrugging, you said, “Eh, I’m used to it.”

And you set back to mopping the night away, having the occasional laugh with Koby who did the same. Only when there was without a doubt nothing left to clean of the afterdeck, yet you continued to go back over it, did Koby stop and get in your way.

“I can see my reflection in the deck,” he tried to joke. “It’s okay to stop.”

You couldn’t tell him he was wrong. If you stopped, you had time to think. If you had time to think, you’d think of him. If you thought of Luffy, well, you’d be lost to your thoughts for the rest of the night. It was a whole cycle you couldn’t afford to go down. Not as a marine. 

Marine’s don’t have time for trivial affairs such as heartache.

But Koby was insistent, snatching your mop away from you and holding you back when you tried to get it back. He held a soft look as you glared daggers into him. “I think I understand.”

You scoffed, giving up and picking up the buckets to put away. You turned your back and headed to find the supply closet. “What exactly do you understand?”

“I... I was on a pirate ship before this,” he told you, causing you to slow enough for him to fall into step beside you. “I was forced to do things I’m not proud of. Sometimes I feel like I’ve got to make up for it.”

You cast him a glance. “I wasn’t a pirate.”

“But you’ve done something you’re not proud of,” he guessed.

Coming to a halt, you bit down on your cheek as Koby turned to face you, confusion laced in his expression. “You don’t know me, Koby. I’m proud of how I got here. That doesn’t make it easier to sleep at night.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “I understand.”

He didn’t. He couldn’t. But it was nice he tried, you supposed. “Okay.”

So he helped to put away the mops and dump out the buckets, following you back to the barracks. All the lights were off, leaving limited sight to find your way to your bunk, clambering through the dark as quietly as you could.

Koby was having a harder time, tripping over something and nearly waking the whole room. You shot him a glare and hurried to bed, hiding under the covers. The bed was hardly comfortable, and tossing and turning did nothing to provide any comfort. 

Rolling onto your back, you refrained from opening your eyes as long as you could before they pried themselves open, and you came face to face with Monkey D. Luffy. His wanted poster was pinned to the underside of the top bunk, something you had thought was a good idea at the time, but now it offered an unwanted spectator to your sleeplessness.

Still, you didn’t have the heart to take it down, pulling the thin blanket up over your head.

જ⁀➴

Nobody wanted to be the first to approach the captain, not when he was in a mood none of them had ever seen him in. If the crew was honest, it made them nervous.

“Somebody should make sure he’s okay,” said Usopp, looking around the lot of them as if to prompt one of them to step up. 

They all leaned upon the railing around the ship’s helm, eyes locked on Luffy. The boy sat cross legged on the deck, a book of all things in his lap. From the crease in his brow, he was growing increasingly frustrated.

“Not it,” Zoro quipped when he caught Nami giving him that look.

She rolled her eyes and pushed off the rail, glaring as she scathed, “Honestly.”

Taking tentative steps, Nami assessed the situation closer, not meaning to provoke whatever was going on in Luffy’s head. The book lay open to the very first page, his face a little too close to the words as he sighed every few seconds. He flipped to the next page, then the next, before gritting his teeth and going back to the first. 

Kneeling at his side, she bumped his shoulder as she settled down. “Luffy?”

“Hmm?” He barely looked up from the page, and Nami wondered if he even registered what she’d said.

“You okay?” When she didn’t get a response, she ducked forward to see what he was reading. “The Two Birds?”

Luffy snapped the book shut so fast Nami flinched, the sudden smile on his face a little bit of whiplash. “Sorry, what?”

“Luffy, what’s wrong?” she asked, concerned. “You’ve been glaring at that storybook all day.”

“Nothing,” he waved her off and tried to hide the book behind him. “Is it time to eat?”-

Nami wasn’t letting him get away from this, not when his smile was a little too bright to be real. Luffy had never been like this, and it was worrying her more than she liked to admit. “Luffy.”

Gaze flickering from each of her eyes, Luffy’s smile slowly but surely lost its enthusiasm, lips curling downward. He brought the book back to his lap, holding it ever so gently, skimming his fingertips over the cover. “It belongs to my lover.”

“Wait.” She blinked. “Lover?”

Nodding, Luffy almost smiled. “It’s their favorite book. I used to have more, but my ship sank. This is the only one I could save.”

The melancholy in how he said it gave Nami a sick kind of feeling, a million different ideas of this stranger’s fate coming to mind. She almost didn’t even ask. “What happened to them?”

“We got separated a few months ago,” he said, before giving the book a firm nod, “but I’ll find them again.”

“How do we do that?” Nami asked instantly, drawing another half smile out of Luffy as he raised his eyes to meet hers.

“Well,” Luffy laughed breathily, “it’s a bit complicated. They’re with the marines.”

They weren’t dead, which was good, Nami supposed. But this? This wasn’t what she’d expected. “Your lover is a marine?”

“Unfortunately. I couldn’t save them. But they’re strong.” His grin wavered. He thought of that sinking feeling when you remained on land, staring after him with this look he couldn't get out of his head. You'd looked like this was what you planned; him escaping, and you staying. It had been noble of you, he supposed, and he could never hate you for it.

Luffy swallowed thickly and his eyes went all misty. “They’re the strongest, kindest, truest person I know. I’ll find them, and I’ll return their book.”

Nami still couldn’t figure it out. “If they’re so good, why’re you burning a hole into their book?”

“Oh.” Luffy’s cheeks warmed at the question. “Uhm, I was trying to read it but… I got stuck. They usually read it to me.”

She should have left it at that. Really, Nami should have patted him on the back and offered to get a pre-dinner snack to cheer him up. But for some reason, Nami found herself looking at the storybook and hesitantly saying, “Can I?”

“Really?” The shine in Luffy’s eyes nearly made it worth it. 

Nami sighed and forced a smile. Only, she didn’t have to force it too much; Luffy’s quickly brightening expression warmed her from the inside out. “Sure. Hand it over.”

She’d barely laid a hand on the book when Luffy whipped his head around and shouted across the deck, “Guys! Nami’s reading a story!”

“Luffy…” she groaned, pursing her lips as Usopp jumped down the stairs, swiftly followed by Sanji and a more reluctant Zoro. 

Luffy raised a brow. “What?”

Letting out a huff, Nami simply flipped open the book. Usopp plopped down beside her, leaning in to see what book it was. 

“A story?” Zoro asked, ever unamused. Nami shut him up with one glare. 

“I personally am happy to hear Nami’s lovely voice,” Sanji piped in with a wink.

Nami gave the chef a deadpan, her head tilted. “Thanks.”

“C’mon,” Usopp urged her. “Let's see if it beats the tales of Great Captain Usopp.”

“All right, all right,” she laughed, turning to the very first page and starting to read off the story to them. 

Every once in a while Luffy would start frowning again, eyes unfocused, the words Nami read piercing his heart. It never lasted too long though, some commentary from Usopp dragging a snicker out of him. And when the story came to a close, Luffy offered his crew a grin. 

“Y/N would like you guys,” he said, raising some confusion among the men around him.

Nami tried to smile and, half to explain and half to reassure, said, “We’ll get your lover back, at some point.”

Maybe three seconds went by before all heads jolted in Luffy’s direction. 

“Lover?!”

>>

[kriffingstars]

Johhny MacTavish; Price's hands are tied, for now

pairing: Johnny MacTavish x Price!Reader summary: Price doesn't know how to keep you away from a very charismatic scotsman who definitely has the hots for you warnings: verrrrrry slight age gap (I imagine reader to be around 20, Johnny is 26), drinking a/n: I hope you enjoy this anon, I'm excited for Reader to meet the rest of the 141 squad eventually!

Price's Niece Masterlist

Naafi: It's what the bar area in the bases are called. The nicer ones usually have a pool table, maybe darts, and drinks are normally pretty cheap.

Johnny texts you back straight away - so you have his number he says.

The next few weeks of his leave are spent on and off texting him and it's not like you can hide this from your Uncle. He gives you a warning look whenever your phone chimes.

"Relax, we're just friends. He says hello by the way," you add, your smile mirroring his in the way your cheeks scrunch slightly.

"Yeah, that's what I'm worried about," he grumbles, going about the kitchen as he makes himself a brew. Maybe it isn't too early for a whisky?

Johnny pops in to see the both of you on his way back to base, with the excuse that it's a long drive and breaking up the journey is easier. Price knows full well he's driven in much more uncomfortable vehicles for much longer when they've been away.

But they're not away right now, and there's no way he can justify not letting Johnny come round to his niece.

When they're finally back on base things seem to be going back to normal. They're all busy (maybe that's because Price keeps it this way) and finding time to text you, for either of them, is few and far between.

Price starts to relax a little, there's been no mention of you from Soap and you haven't mentioned him either, not the he comes up in the mundane conversation between the two of you.

Usually, you reminding him not to spend hours in his office pouring over paperwork, like he does when he's at home and him checking in on you, making sure you're remembering to eat in between working on your assignments.

It's not until he does actually heed your warning and spends his evening in the Naafi with the lads that his alarm bells really start ringing.

In between pints and banter, Soap is continually checking his phone. It's vibrating in his pocket every few minutes or so and he's quickly smiling at the device and firing off a response.

It's Gaz who's the first of them to say anything.

"Someone caught your eye on leave or something? You've been on that thing all night," he teases, as Soap's eyes widen, a light flush on his ears.

Price perks up at that, he's not stupid. He knows it's likely you're the mystery sender. It's frustrating, he can't tell you who you can and can't be friends with, but there's a niggling feeling that despite your insistence that you just get along with the man, that something else is brewing.

"Aye, something like that. Just a friend though." he coughs, avoiding eye contact with Price completely.

Confirmation. It is you. Your texts are a lot more regular than the 'every now and again' you said they were before he left.

"Good for you man, must be a godsend to put up with you though,"

They laugh, as the conversation moves on. The rest of the night is fairly nondescript. Just the usual banter and chatter fill the evening until Ghost begins to bid his good evenings, heading back to the bunks.

Gaz gathers the empty glasses, quickly taking them back to the bar, before chatting to whoever was bartending that night.

"I'm not saying anything."

That's all Price needs to put the fear of god in Soap, he doesn't need to say any more to get the message across, loud and clear. Don't get involved, don't take this too far.

That night Price lies awake, mind running through all the ways he can nip this in the bud. He can't tell either of you to stop, what he can do, is make sure Soap has a lot less time to be talking to you.

Over the next couple of days, he gives Soap the job of inventorying the entire armoury. It's tedious, boring and most of all time-consuming. Every weapon and piece of equipment needs to be carefully dismantled, examined, cleaned, and put back together, before logging on the ancient computer that crashes every twenty minutes or so.

You don't hear much from either of them, until you get a call from your Uncle, just as you're sitting down to eat.

Dinner abandoned, you fill him in on how uni is going, you're currently on your early Italian module, and thinking about trying to get some work experience over the summer in Florence.

"I'm sorry I haven't called more, sweetheart. We've been up to our eyeballs in admin."

It's okay you promise him, as long as he's not working ridiculously late into the night.

This pattern continues for the next few days and the other guys are starting to pick up that something is going on. Soap's been getting a lot of the tasks that some of the less experienced guys usually do.

Price uses that as his excuse, muttering something along the lines of, "If you want it done properly, you need to do it yourself."

Or send the guy that you're trying to keep away from your niece.

It doesn't come to a head until Ghost knocks on his office door, one afternoon.

And he asks, and reluctantly Price divulges a bit more information.

"Soap's been distracted recently, he needs to get his head in the game, Lieutenant."

He knows he can't carry on with this, he's letting his, and now their, private life interfere with work, but he doesn't know what else he can do. He can't give Soap a bollocking for something he hasn't done yet, and he knows better than speaking to you about the matter.

You'd be a good officer he thinks, as you diplomatically shut down his attempts to bring up your budding friendship.

That night is spent sipping on the whisky from the bottom draw of his desk, and nursing one of his favourite cigars.

[captain-mj]

can you plssssss write a part two to the love potion thing- pleaseee

I finally finished it! Part 1 here

Ghost saw Soap look at them. He hated it. He loved his lord and lady so much, but he did not like sleeping with them. But he did it to make them happy. 

Ghost shivered. He knew about MacTavish’s inclination to talk as well as his distaste for elves. 

Pilar grabbed his face and tilted his head towards her. She kissed him softly. There was something like pity in the kiss. It tasted too sweet. Cane syrup. 

“That’s enough.” Roba ordered and she got off of him, leaving to just lay there awkwardly. He ruffled Ghost’s hair. “Get dressed. You’re dismissed.”

Ghost got up, legs shaking. His body felt… wrong. Someone else’s, not his. He quietly put his gear on and went outside, a little surprised to see Mactavish still there. 

Instead of saying anything, he just stood there beside him to hold guard. 

“Got anything you’d like to say?” 

Soap glanced at him. “No, sir. Not any of my business what you and them do.” 

Ghost nodded. “Good.” They stood there in icy silence rather than their usual banter. “Long night.” 

Soap swallowed. “Yeah… Not going to whip me for this are you?”

Ghost laughed and it made Soap almost jump out of his skin. “No. I’m not. Not your fault they left the door open.”

Soap nodded slowly, though he didn’t look convinced. Their replacements came and Soap quickly left, barely speaking to them. 

Ghost sighed softly and went to find the only person who had any idea of what was he was. 

Roach. 

The man in question was at his shop. Despite the early morning, he was already up. A cup of tea was on the counter. Waiting for Ghost. Always waiting. 

Gary smiled at him and waved him over. Ghost took the food that was offered a moment later. He was starving and he quickly raised his helmet just enough to start eating. 

Roach stared at him as he did, eyes bright and shining. Ghost wondered sometimes if he suspected. He certainly suspected some things about Roach. Only one type of creature that he was aware of would cover their ears. 

“Thank you, Gary.”

Roach’s eyes moved like he was smiling. He kept refilling his tea and giving him more food until Ghost didn’t feel like his insides were eating each other. 

Roach then placed something down. Ghost stared at it for a moment, confused. It was like a small brick with a bow on top. “Is that soap?”

Roach nodded and pushed it closer. Ghost brought it to his nose, smelling the herbs he had mixed in. “Guessing you had some extra tallow?” Lavender. Camomile. Some flower buds from the woods. It smelled really good. 

Roach nodded to the question. He signed slowly. “Should help with your scarring.”

“Thank you, Gary.” Ghost said softly. He watched the soft blush appear on Roach’s face. If he didn’t love Roba so much, he thinks it would be easy to fall in love with him. Really easy. 

Simon glanced away. He shouldn’t be thinking like this. His lady would be upset. 

Roach shooed him away and Ghost smiled at him before leaving. He went home first to grab a few things. Change of clothes mostly. With his little gift, he headed back out. 

Ghost knew of a little spot near the river. It was a spring. Before the village was here, it was considered holy. Now it’s… just a spring. The thought made him sad sometimes. 

Ghost checked that no one was near and undressed. He hid his clothes, so people would just assume that he was a random elf. It may cause some trouble, but the woods were seen as a no man’s land. There was no need to bother each other when the only reason they’d be in the woods was for survival. 

The spring was always warm. Cold water hurt his scars but he hated feeling unclean so this was a godsend for him. 

Ghost sank into the water with a purr. It was one of the few pleasures he allowed himself. He started by wetting the soap, inhaling the sweet scent. 

Despite his attempts to stay quiet, he made little chirps and purrs of pleasure. He stretched and started at his shoulders. He scrubbed and scratched at his body, craving the feeling of being clean. 

His arms couldn’t quite reach his back. After a moment of awkward maneuvering, he gave up and instead soaped up his chest. The bubbles fell into the water and the moving the spring only made everything more fragrant. 

Footsteps. 

Ghost’s ears swiveled immediately and he glanced over. “Johnny.”

Soap stood there, leaning against a tree. He watched him impassively. 

Ghost leaned against the rocks of the spring. Another person Ghost felt would be easy to fall in love with. 

“You look human.”

“I’ve found that’s a lot less differences between us than people believe.”

“By people you mean humans?”

“I mean both. Humans. Elves. All bleed the same.” Ghost stared at him. “What are you looking for? You follow me into the woods to just stand there?”

Soap bit the inside of his cheek. Ghost could see the subtle flex of his jaw. “I…”

“Are you denying you followed me?”

“No. I was simply making sure you aren’t…”

“Aren’t what, MacTavish? I’m not dangerous. Been you’re Lt a long time. You have a problem with anything, that’s your problem.” 

Soap got down and undid his shoes silently. He looked at him quietly as he slipped off his shirt. 

Ghost swallowed, admiring his body. Tan skin, scarring, soft patches of hair along his chest. 

Soap pulled off his pants as well but left his undergarments on. He sank into the water with him. The spring had plenty of room and Ghost was up to his nose in it. 

“How long have you been with your lord and lady?” 

Ghost thought about it. “Don’t know. Years. I think. As long as I can remember, I loved them.” 

Soap made a face and looked away. “Right. This place is nice.”

“It is. Don’t tell anyone else about it. Don’t want people ruining it.”

“You okay if I use it?”

“...I don’t mind.” Ghost closed his eyes and another purr tore out of him. He felt Soap take the soap from his hands. 

Soap moved behind him and scrubbed at his back, fingers trailing over the deep whip marks. “Who did these?”

“Lord Roba has odd tastes. Masochism is one of them.”

“You enjoy this?”

“I didn’t say that. I said he does. I put up with it for him. As long as he’s happy.” Ghost said softly. 

Soap grabbed a handful of water and wet Ghost’s hair. “I see. What do they do for you?”

Ghost frowned. “Nothing.” Sometimes, selfishly, he wished that they cared about him as much. That wasn’t fair. They had so much to deal with. Rules and regulations and villagers. They were so busy. The least he could do is let them have their fun with him. “It’s okay though. It’s our relationship.” 

Soap nodded and hesitated. “If I wanted to ask about magic, could you answer?”

Ghost hummed. “I could try.”

“Love potions…” 

Ghost whipped around, looking at him with disgust. “What? Can’t get laid of your own charm? I never thought so low of you.”

Soap blinked, startled. “What if I said I wanted to break one?”

He metaphorically put his blades back down. “Oh. I don’t know. I feel like I should. But who needs that kinda stuff?” Ghost relaxed back into the water, making a steady purring noise. 

[waves-against-a-cliff]

10 Weeks - Gaz x Reader - Bakery AU

content warnings - fluff

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

The next two months go by fast, the only time it seems to slow down is when your packages arrive for him. Initially, he was able to keep his packages mostly to himself. Obviously Price knew as his CO and if Ghost knew, he didn’t say anything. No, the person Gaz was worried for was Soap who seemed to want to stick his hand into every pie.

But two months is a good track record but even Gaz knew he was bound to slip up. You hadn’t been lying about sending him his favorite candies, sometimes baked into the cookies and sometimes still in the packaging. Despite the staleness of the cookies and brownies, they were getting noticeably better and better. He was excited for this next batch, knowing it would be the last batch he would get before he returned home.

Your packages had been a godsend, he swears. Each cookie felt like he had been kissed by the goddess of healing, his stitches didn’t even hurt that badly after eating some of your goodies. But all things must come to an end, Gaz is walking back to his tent, package in hand when Soap jumps out. “Garrick! Whatcha got there?” He asks, his eyes focused on the package in Gaz’s hands.

”It’s not for you Soap.” Gaz says but Soap of course doesn’t listen. Soap circles him like a vulture and Gaz vaguely wonders if this is what those guys felt like when dealing with Soap. Gaz narrows his eyes at Soap who’s grin just grows.

”Ye got a package, is it from a bonnie lass?” Soap wiggles his eyebrows at Gaz and Gaz scoffs.

“It’s none of your business.”

”Aye, but I can make it my business.” Soap lunges for the box and Gaz yanks it out of reach just in time. “Oh come on Gaz! At least share with yer brothers in arms!”

“I don’t think sharing is in the hand book.” Gaz retorts, keeping the package close to him. Maybe he should have waited a little while longer before getting it, he really didn’t want to share anything. Your baked goods felt like his reward, a reason to keep going, which sounded ridiculous when he thought about it. But these were your gifts to him, things to keep him going and also for him to taste test.

”Aye, well I dinnae care.” Soap laughs and yanks the package from his hands.

“Oi! Soap give that back!”

”I just wanna see what yer gettin’.” Soap says as he whips out his knife and cuts open the package. “Oooh, yer gettin’ baked goods? And ye’ve not been sharin’?”

”They’re for me.” Gaz retorts and Soap shrugs, Gaz just exhales from his nose but lunges when he pulls out the letter you wrote for him.

”Wha’s this now?” Soap turns it over in his hand and Gaz barely misses it. “Careful.” Soap tuts, “Wouldnae want it tae rip.” He looks at the letter and mutters your name. “Well, Gaz why dinnae ye say ye’ve got a hen?” Gaz clenches his jaw and Soap gasps, “Nae. Ye havenae asked ‘er out yet? And she’s sendin’ ye goodies?”

Gaz looks around when people are glancing at the two of them and groans under his breath. “Shut your mouth Soap. I’ll share my brownies.”

”She’s sendin’-“

”Hush!”

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

☕️A Song of Ice and Fire, because it seems like everyone on Tumblr has a hot take on that one and I'm interested in yours lol

god okay please nobody yell at me but I don't have a spicy take on them, I just think they're really fun. it's been years since I read the books but I would do it again in a heartbeat to refresh my memory if George Reorge Rartin Martin ever actually finishes the series. I read all the books that are out now in one summer when I was working 8 hour shifts alone with spotty wifi almost every day and they were such a godsend, there's so much scheming and drama and bullshit. literally they're low fantasy pulp novels. it's a soap opera to me, it's so silly and delicious.

[itsohh]

Death Goes to Disco Part 2

A/N: Female reader, my child is finished. Heres the ending, hmu with that chu think cuz

Summary: On the run from Shadow Company, Soap is a witness to what your like behind closed doors. Of course, Shadow Company can’t be in Las Almas forever and with their unevitable downfall you are forced to pick what side your on.

Word count:  4195    

Warnings: Angst?

AO3 Masterlist Part 1 Part 3

Injured and alone John swore under his breath. "Fucking Shadows."

"Just focus on yourself, Johnny." Ghost's voice in his ear was a godsend, one of the only things keeping him sane.

As he crept about eventually his head thought back to you. "So Disco." John couldn't help but think of that smug look on your face right before you had kissed him

"What about her?"

"Think she played us?"

"Negative." Ghost's reply was a surprise at that.

"Why? I mean she did seem pretty surprised. You would think he would tell his second in command about things like this."

"Most likely a need-to-know basis. She let me go."

"What?"

"Held me at gunpoint and then let me go while you were escaping."

"Think we can trust her?" John asked as he crept out of the building and back into the alleyways.

"Wouldn't go that far." Johnny poked his head around a corner to hear Graves's voice.

"Shit, Graves." He muttered into the com and stayed still to listen.

"What the hell was that Disco? My grandmother could have made that shot." His voice was harsh, frustrated. Your voice didn't sound too happy either.

"I missed." It was a bite between your teeth.

"Since when did you miss huh?" John watch as Graves got up in your face.

"Call it a bad day. Sir." You bit out the title and he narrowed his eyes at you.

"A bad day? You seemed fine early on the boat with Ghost." John's eyes flickered between the pair of you. Did Graves know? Did you tell him? Or perhaps he just figured it out?

"Maybe I'm not used to shooting fucking unarmed civilians in the streets of their own homes. Guess it makes my hand a little shaky."

"Oh shit." John could see the redness on Graves's face and held his breath for his reaction. He could see the fear in your eyes as Graves's hand twitched on his gun. The gravity of the situation dawned on your face and you took a step back.

"Fuck, just give me a few minutes okay. I'll sort my shit out." You backed down.

John let go of his breath and Graves took a step back. Still mad but a bit more relaxed. "Do a double on the houses, don't disappoint me, Lieutenant." His voice was still harsh but no longer a shout. "Rest of you spread out. I want those two found yesterday!"

John watched as everyone dispersed and you were left alone. You ran a hand through your hair and swore out. You walked into the building.

"Sound like Graves is pretty pissed at Disco." John eventually told Ghost through the com.

"Why's that?"

"Heard 'em, her aims off. Protested about gunning down the civ's."

"Brave, foolish."

"Yeah. Graves got real pissed at that, she backed down though. I don't think I really want to bump into her."

"Would be the best plan. When it comes down to it Johnny. It's either you or her."

"Yeah, I know."

Around the houses, he crept. Until he heard your voice. Now with a gun in his hand, he held it at the ready.

"Shhh shhh shh." Your voice was pretty quiet and he could hear muffled whimpers. Around the corner, he peaked to see your hands up in front of a man, woman and young child.

"[I don't want to hurt you. Please stay quiet.]" Your Spanish was perfect, practised and far better than Graves's. "[Do you have somewhere to hide in your house? An attic? A crawl space?]" The man nodded and John watched as your shoulders relaxed just a tad. "[If they see you, they will kill you. Don't fight them, go hide there. Do not come out no matter what you hear. Not until at least sunrise.]" Your voice was so soft, practically begging them.

"[Yes, yes.]" The woman shook her head a muffled her sob. You watched as they pulled back a rug to expose a hidden hole.

"[I will cover it again and remember to stay silent.]" The woman grabbed your hand for a moment and kissed it before she took her child down there.

"[Thank you, thank you.]" The man was crying as he followed them down and pulled the trap door close. True to your word, you covered the trapdoor with the blanket and left the room.

Free to scour the house, Soap didn't see you for a while. Not until he was outside of the mechanics. He had just round the corner but unfortunately for him, you were the one Shadow with light footsteps. You round it at the same time. Eyes locked on his, it was obvious you hadn't expected to actually find him. Light came from the corner of Soap's eyes and he knew he had to act fast.

You moved and he couldn't take any risk. He ducked around to your back and wrapped his arm around your throat. Choked almost completely silent, you didn't try to get him off you. Only lightly clawing at his from instinct. So close to you, he could hear you manage to choke out those words. "Thank you." Before your body went limp in his arms.

John settled you on the ground. He didn't have much time before he zipped into the mechanics to hide from the next shadow. "What the hell?" Soap panted out, confused by your words.

"Oh shit!" He could hear the man rush up to you. "Disco's down!" The Shadow places his fingers on your throat while Graves swore through the coms. "She's still breathing." The Shadow breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Take her back to base and get a medic on her. When she wakes I want her at the prison."

Soap couldn't help but feel a little tension die down. He hasn't killed you. And now, he wouldn't come across you again either.

-

Graves had been royally pissed at you. But after you woke up in the infirmary he seemed a little less pissed. Still, he hasn't talked to you and you received your orders from a shadow that you were relatively close with, a friend. Derek. You had only seen Derek for a few moments. He had been the one to take you to the infirmary but after you were up, the pair of you were forced back to work. Derek found himself on guard duty looking after Valeria while you had your orders to keep an eye on Los Vaqueros.

True to Shadow fashion you kept up appearances and fist-bumped Cadin when you arrived. A young man, a Sergent but not someone you particularly knew rather well.

"Fuck so this is what everyone was doing while we were taking care of that missile?" You asked him when you first arrived at the old prison. He walked with you as he showed you around.

"Yeah, orders came just after you guys left secured the missle from what I heard. Had to work fast, their guys would put up a fight but fuck we outnumbered them 3 to 1."

He showed you where all  Los Vaqueros were being kept. "Surprised you didn't know. Honestly thought he would have kept you behind to help but I guess he needed you there."

"Graves didn't tell me squat." You huffed and avoided the Vaqueros's glares you received as you passed the men.

"Hey, Disco. All's quiet here. You outta candy?" Next to you, Jamie asked when you neared them.

"Not in the mood for anything sweet right now." Your voice was low and you looked away. Next to you Cadin laughed and put an arm around you.

"Damn Disco. First time I've ever heard that. Graves not telling you really got you down huh? I reckon you're overthinking it. Probably just wanted you focused." He tried to cheer you up and you had to restart your mind.

You knew some of the Shadows had felt conflicted about the situation and you had told them to keep it quiet. These guys certainly did not feel the same. Cadin continued next to you until you hit solitary.

"Here's the cowboy himself."

"I want to talk to him. Alone."

"You sure that smart? He's a fighter." Cadin gave you a worried expression.

"I can handle him. He knows this city inside and out. If there's a way that this could backfire on us- especially this facility. I want to know. He's not gonna talk if there are multiple of us in there. Just stay in the hallway and only come if I yell. That's an order."

"Yes ma'am." It wasn't very often you got formal like that, falling back into how you used to be. Cadins words were serious but he spoke with a light tone. You glanced through the hole where Alejandro was but didn't see anyone. There was no way he would have got out.

"Alejandro." You banged on the door. "I want to come in and talk. But you need to be in vision." Nothing. "Alejandro I swear to fucking god don't make me tear gas this room. We need to talk." You hissed out the last part a lot quieter.

Slowly Alejandro came out from behind the door and into your vision. With a glare on his face, he stepped to the back of the room. The door opened and you stepped in.

"We have nothing to talk about."

"Alejandro."

"[Don't you dare say my name you fucking bitch of a traitor.]" He hissed towards you and you let out a sigh and wiped your face. His eyes flicked to the knife that you pulled out. Yet that expression change when you turned it around to offer it to him. Slowly you approached him and he wondered if this was some type of trap.

"I don't want this Alejandro. I don't know what the fuck is going on with Graves but it's certainly bigger than me."

"Then let us go."

"I can't-"

"-Yes you can-"

"-No I fucking can't. Even if I wanted to. There are about fourteen men in that hall behind me. Then a whole shit ton more all over this prison. Even if some listened to me, there's a lot who won't. They get their order directly from Graves. If I let you loose, it will get back to him. Fast. They will send more men and everyone in this prison, me, you and your men will all die." A sigh left your mouth and you rubbed your face. Begging with your eyes you pushed your hand towards him. In response, he took the knife from you with a nod. Perhaps he understood the situation you were in. You didn't know.

"I need to find a new fucking job." You breathed out with a sigh. "Questions? If I have the answers I will tell you."

"What happened to Rudy?"

"MIA. Haven't heard from him, he's not here. We don't have him."

"Ghost? Soap?"

"Negative on that. Last time I saw Ghost he was fleeing into Las Almas. Soap ah he was choking me out. I presume both are fine. Graves is still pretty pissed so I doubt they were found." You swallowed and debated if you wanted to tell him, wondering if he even knew.

"They ripped Las Almas to shreds looking for them. It was executions in the streets. I'm sorry." Alejandro flinched towards you, rage in his eyes as he gript the knife tighter. On one hand, you didn't want to die, on the other, you didn't blame him. Yet, he didn't attack you. His eyes cast down for a second and his grip lessened.

"Pick wisely when you use it. You will only get one chance."

"You would be fine me killing your men?"

"We all make our own decisions as individuals. If they make one which means they die, then that's on them."

"Will you help us?"

"I will do what I can from the Shadows. You need backup regardless. I can not actively help you, not in the open. That being said, all the armouries, including the one just down the hall, are rather well stocked. Unlocked. So if one did happen to get out they could very easily gain access to said weapons. Which would be a shame for us shadows.  I have to go now, I've spent too much time here already but I wish you the best. I'm really, really am sorry for all of this. Nothing about this situation is right." You have him one last look and banged on the door. "Oi Cadin open up." Alejandro didn’t say anything as you left.

-

The next time Alejandro saw you, it wasn't the way he had expected. With Gaz, he was to secure Valeria. The pair of them stayed in place as they walked around.

"So did you hear about Disco?" The guard next to the shipping container spoke up.

"Nah what happened?" Two of them chatted away.

"Dude Graves is so pissed at her that the prison got taken."

"Damn, that sucks. I don't think I've ever heard her mess up like this. Think she's gonna get demoted?"

"Maybe. I heard Darren saw her earlier. She looked so fucking tired."

"Didn't she get choked out or something?"

"Uh-huh. Which is crazy cause she's so good at hand-to-hand. Better than the Commander from what I've heard."

“Shiiiiit, glad I wasn’t out there against those guys.” Just as Gaz was about to gesture to Alejandro the side door opened. Both of them straightened up at the sight of you, just a little. A pair of glasses covered your eyes and you waved the men off.

“Disco.” One started and your head turned his way.

“Mmm? What's up, Derek?” You did sound tired. He froze in his spot and stuttered for a moment.

“Do you have any candy?” You stared at him for a moment and opened your front pocket before you threw him a strip.

“Gum?” He seemed surprised. “Thought you didn’t eat gum.”

“I used to eat it all the time. I missed it.” Your voice was low, sad almost. “Sorry, I don’t have anything else.” As you spoke the two men went about taking down all the people in the room, the three of you far too distracted to notice.

“Don't worry about it, this is still great thanks.” He unwrapped it and put it in his mouth. “So what are you doing here? Thought you would be with Graves.”

“Making sure she's not trying something while all this shit is going on. Last thing we need.”

“You were put on guard duty?” He popped the gum in his mouth. Your head tilted to the side slightly.

“That's one way of putting it but sure. Wanna play cards?” Derek let out a laugh and so did the man next to him.

“Shit hell yeah.”

“Shouldn’t we be you know looking out for people?” The blond man next to Derek asked and you shrugged.

“I’mma be real Pepper. We kinda fucked here, at least I can get one last game of card out of it.” You sat down on the ground and started to shuffle the cards you brought out from your pocket.

“What?” Pepper looked at you stunned but sat down. You blew a bubble and popped while you dealt him in.

“Dunno if you have noticed but everyone else in the room is dead.” You stated not looking up. Pepper flinched, his hand snapped to his gun and you continued. “I wouldn’t do that if I was you.” You picked your cards up.

“But-”

“You can if you want. I may be your Lieutenant but eh. Think I might go home after this.”

“Home?” Derek asked.

“Yeah, might reenlist with the NZSAS. Think it’s time I go back there anyway. Do you have a home to go to Derek, Pepper?”

“I have a wife and three kids back at home.” Pepper itched to look over his shoulder but didn’t

“Still got my fiance at home. He's the love of my life.” Drake nervously looked down.

“I’d like it if the three of us would make it home.” Finally, you looked up and cast your eyes directly to where Alejandro was sneaking a look at you. “Which is why we are going to put our guns to the side.” You made a show of it, sliding your rifle against the floor alongside your pistol. The two men looked at each other and slowly started to do the same. “Oh, here's the annoying part.” You winced before you started to pull the many, many knives from your person.

“Hey, Disco how the hell do you walk around without stabbing yourself.” Derek laughed, nervousness in his voice.

“Very carefully.” Gaz walked out and Alejandro appeared next to him. “Anything else you boys want? Nice makeup.”

“We are here for Valeria.” Gaz notified you and you looked towards the shipping container.

“Be my guest. She's all yours, I don’t have any use for her.” Gaz watched as Alejandro walked up to you and stopped. His gun was lowered.

“Didn’t see you at the prison after we spoke.”

“Was having a really good nap.” Your eyes looked towards Derek and Pepper. “Don’t tell Graves, he’ll have my head.” You winked at him. Alejandro banged on the container door and received a response from her before they started to report back to the rest of Ghost team.

“Whos your friend?” You gestured to the man.

“Gaz, one of Ghost’s friends.”

“Ah, your back up at the prison I see. Told you that you would need it.”

“We also uh, gained a couple prisoners? I think?” Gaz spoke into his com.

“What?” A voice you were rather unfamiliar with spoke, Price.

“How did you manage that?” That voice you did recognise. Soap.

“They sat down played cards and put their weapons to the side,” Gaz answered

“Disco.”

“Disco.” Both Rudy and Soap spoke at the same time and you looked up.

“What the fuck- why am I known for playing cards? Lots of people play cards.”

“You do play a lot of cards.” Derek admitted and you pointed accusingly at him.”

“Shuddup you. I gave you gum.”

-

“Haha get fucked.” Derek slammed his cards on the ground as the group of men walked into the hangar. You avoided their gaze.  Alejandro and Gaz continued to allow the three of you to play cards but had long since taken your weapons away. The men went to see Valeria and you didn’t try to listen to what was happening.

“Wow, you got me. Good job.” You revealed your sad excuse of cards.

“Nothing hidden away?” Pepper asked surprised and you shrugged.

“Got unlucky.”

“Well, I didn’t.” Pepper put down his cards to Derek's disbelief. Then you heard your name. Your actual name. Not Disco, not Lieutenant but your real name. You looked up at the man and swallowed.

“It's been a long time since I was called that. How can I help you?”

“A moment of your time.” You looked back at the two men and stood up.

“Sure.” You followed him outside. Out into the dusk sky, you found yourself. The outside of the base was rather different compared to when you first went in.

“From what I’ve heard with Graves KIA the next in command is left to you.” He started and you choked out a laugh.

“Oh fuck no, I’m good thanks.” You pressed your lips together and wet them. “Nah, I think technically I’m not part anymore because I surrendered? Not sure how that shit works uh… I didn’t actually think I caught your name.”

“Captain John Price. You’ve already met my Lieutenant, Ghost.” Blood rushed from your head and you could feel your face grow cold.

“Ah, I see. How did you know my name? It's not something I go shouting about.”

“Had a friend look into you.” He leaned back and leaned forward. “That was after I heard some rather interesting things from both Ghost and Soap.” Your hands went clammy as you looked away. God had they told him they slept with you? At that moment you couldn’t figure out if yes or no was better.

“Why did you join Shadow Company?” The question caught you off guard. “Money?” He offered.

“I needed a change of scenery.”

“Why?” He immediately asked and a piece of you wanted to snap at him. Yet you held your tongue, now was not the time for that. The possibility that what you said to this man could decide your entire future dawned on you.

“I had to get away from it all. My squad was attacked. So many died there and honestly, I should have died with my squad.”

“Mmm, only two of you survived the ambush wasn't it?” His voice wasn’t harsh or accusatory. It was a little bit soft. Sympathetic.

“Yeah.”

“How did Graves find you?”

“I saved his life.” Price raised a brow at this. “Was in America at the time, travelling. Trying to clear my head. He was in a car crash. I did CPR on him until the ambulance could come.” You flashed a small sad smile at the memory.

“Had no idea who he was at the time but I went to the hospital with him. Took three days for him to wake up. I didn’t stay the entire time of course. Just went to check up on him. When he woke up the pair of us talked a lot and eventually, he offered me a job. At first, I thought he was fucking with me but he wasn’t. Doesn’t really matter now I guess.” You gestured around to the remnants of his empire.

“You don’t want to take over Shadow Company?”

“I’m no leader. I’ve always believed that. Some people are made to lead. Others aren’t.”

“Some would argue against that. You managed to convince two of your men to lay down their arms in the middle of an attack.”

“It was either certain death or whatever this is and for what? Nothing good comes of us occupying this base. I don’t even know why Graves picked this fight to begin with.”

That caught his attention. “You don’t?”

“No? Ethical reasons aside, strategically it makes no sense. We have men, we have the firepower. All we gained was a temporary foothold that we can do nothing with. For starters there's no war with Mexico, then I mean, we have no legit claim to this place. In the process not only does he burn any ties we would have gained with Alejandro but shows a bad example to Mexico. Don’t get me started on the shit pulled downtown. We burnt any ties we had with you SAS right?” You vented out and let out a sigh. “Maybe that's why he didn’t tell me. Cause he didn’t want to hear why it was a stupid fucking idea. He really bit himself in the ass with this.”

“And now, if we were to let you go what would you do?”

“Probably contact my Embassy. Try to get home.”

“And if I offered you another path?”

“Depends on the path. What happens to Derek and Pepper?”

“That's not up to me. But your future is. I’m offering a position on my team. It's up to you if you want to take it.” He met your eye.

“What position?”

“You were a Sergent when you left the NZSAS yes? We will look to re-enable those ties. You would be on my team but through them.”

“Why?”

“Why?” He repeated your question with his brows raised.

“Until this moment I should be seen as your enemy. Why would you then trust me on your team, to have your back so blindly.”

“From what I’ve heard you already had my back. Looked after my men when I wasn't in a position to do so. Had the perfect continuity to take in or kill Ghost but you didn’t. Then from Soap. From the sounds of it, you didn’t even try to put up a fight when you were faced with him.”

“So? I slept with them. Call it courtesy.” The Captain coughed out, stunned by your blatant admission. Mentally you slapped yourself in the head at your immediate response but stood your ground. He fished out something from his jacket and offered it to you. It was your knife. Your lower eyelid twitched slightly as you squinted at this.

“From Alejandro. He told me about what happened at the prison.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You did enough. Soap told me about some civilians you protected in Las Almas.”

“He was there.” You realised and he nodded. You hadn’t noticed him at all.

“Soap saw a lot of things. Despite your…” His voice trailed off. “Personal activities, I trust Soaps word to be unbiased. The same goes with Ghost. Now, me and my friend have already discussed this and agreed on this offer. The four of us have to go to deal with this final missile. You don’t have to answer now but when we finish up I’d like an answer. Up to you.”

“Alright, I'll think about it. You’ll have my answer.”

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

You Cannot Run From Your Past Pt. 3

Mobster!Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader

“Do you think this will work? That we can finally get rid of him?” You had always dreamt of killing James but given how powerful he was it was simply a suicide mission.

A/N:here we are! there's going to be one part before the big finale! same warnings as always, mentions of abuse, violence, blood, smut

“They won’t be staying, James needs to find a way to get me back from Simon. I’ve seen it happen before.” The jealousy was pouring off of him in waves, nearly drowning you in it.

“How can you be so sure? Why not just kill us when we’re least expecting and take you back that way?” Price wasn’t looking at the bigger picture.

“Because that leaves too much space for things to go wrong. Natasha’s one of the best stealth killers I’ve ever met, but going into something without a solid plan gets you killed. James hasn’t personally gotten his hands dirty in a while, he’s not going to start now.” No, he’d have his henchmen do all the dirty work for him while he sat at home.

Price wanted to argue with that statement, sure James didn’t have the manpower but if Natasha was as strong as you claimed they could get away with it. However he started to analyze everything and you were right, the only way they’d be able to get Price, Soap, and Gaz without alerting you and Simon would be with knives. And knives were not always the easiest weapon to work with.

“Alright, what do you suggest we do?” Price was willing to do whatever it took to ensure yours and everyone else's safety.

“I’ve been in contact with his best friend Steve, he’s willing to talk to me and stop James from killing anyone else.” Maybe that wasn’t the full truth, but you’d discuss that somewhere more privately.

“Let’s get back to the house, better to talk there.” Price left enough money to cover the bill along with a hefty tip.

You headed back out to the limo with everyone else, sliding into the back with Simon close behind. Soap kept an eye out until everyone was inside safely, sliding in last and shutting the door. It was definitely obvious that James had already left, the only people that were looking seemed to be tourists. The drive back was quiet, Price typing away on his phone to someone before it began to ring with a call. He sighed softly before answering.

“Laswell, long time no talk.” Price was relaxed, so whoever he was speaking with wasn’t an enemy.

“Price, any particular reason you’re looking to come visit me in New York this time of year?” Kate wasn’t shocked that Price had a sudden interest, but there was a reason.

“James Barnes made a visit to us, I need to make sure it’s not going to happen again.” He could hear her soft intake of breath. This was a personal matter.

“I’ll make sure there’s no issues when you fly over, remember to be safe.” Kate hung up before he could reply, though he didn’t blame her, he’d asked for a big favor.

The boys would end up packing everything when they got back, making sure to keep any weapons hidden and discreet. You would all be in enemy territory, worst case scenario was word getting back to James the moment you landed. If all went well you would be able to land in New York and meet up with Steve before James even found out you’d left England.

“So, the plan is we head out tonight, I’ve got intel that James won’t be able to fly out until tomorrow morning.” Price slipped his phone into his pocket, full attention back on everyone else.

“I’ll let Steve know when we’ll be landing, he’s been under James’ radar for this long, I’d rather not ruin his life.” Steve had been a silent godsend for you, he’d helped you escape and was willing to take the heat if needed.

You’d contact Steve first and foremost, letting him in on the plan to make sure that he even felt comfortable joining you. If all went well you’d call Tony, god knows the man deserved to get his revenge once and for all. Alex pulled into the garage after what felt like mere minutes, pulling you back down to earth as you went over the plan in your head once more. Price headed into his office right away, making all the calls that would be necessary. Gaz and Soap headed off to their rooms to pack.

Simon led you back to your bedroom, fingers grazing the skin on your back softly as if he was suddenly afraid to touch you. You wanted to assure him that things were fine and you would gladly accept his touch in any way he was willing to give it. You stepped into the room slowly, reaching down to take off your heels now that you were home.

“Finally, hate wearing those damn things.” Your feet were sore from the few times you’d had to walk around.

“I would’ve carried you if you needed darling.” Simon pulled off his jacket, loosening the tie around his neck.

“Had we been out for longer I would’ve taken you up on the offer.” You slipped the straps down and off your arms, the top of the dress pooling around your waist.

Simon watched you undress slowly, hands working on autopilot as he pulled off his tie and began to unbutton his shirt. The lace of your panties began to peek out from the dress as you pushed it off entirely, your breasts shining in the setting sun. Simon would lie to anyone who asked how he reacted in that moment, not wanting them to live through the memories he’d store away forever. Without hesitation he threw off his shirt, letting it fall carelessly to the floor as his arms wrapped around your waist. You traced your nails along the tattoos adorning his arm, finding out just a little bit more about your new husband.

“Now darling, why don’t you be a good girl and get on the bed for me.” Simon pressed his hips against you, reveling in the way your body heat melded with his own.

“Mmm, yes sir.” You pulled away from him gently, sliding your thumbs beneath the waist of your panties and sliding them off onto the floor.

Simon was hard in an instant, gently palming himself as he watched you crawl seductively overtop of the sheets. You turned to lay on your back, body fully on display for Simon to do as he pleased, with your permission of course. Simon may have done bad things in his life, but he’d never touch someone without their full consent.

“God, look how delicious you are.” Simon unbuckled his belt, sliding the thick leather from his slacks and tossing it to the side.

“Why don’t you come over and have a taste yourself.” You spread your legs slowly, your thighs glistening with the sweet nectar he was so desperate to taste.

Simon nearly tore off his slacks, along with his boxer briefs and socks so that he was naked as the day he was born. Your eyes drifted down his torso before landing on his fully erect cock, your heart began to race with the realization of how big he was. How the hell was he going to fit? Pushing all the insecurities you had you crooked your finger in a “come here” motion. Simon smirked and stalked over to you slowly, like a predator stalking its prey.

“How badly do you want this sweetheart?” Simon wanted you to beg, to hear you whimper his name.

“Please, Simon, don’t tease.” You gripped the sheets harshly, back arching slightly as he grazed his hands up your calves.

“So polite.” Simon pressed kisses along your inner thighs, each kiss getting closer to where you so desperately needed him.

Each time he would reach your sex he’d pull away, listening to the way you’d whine loudly, begging for his touch. He could feel the heat from your body, legs quivering beside his head as he dipped down slowly. You hadn’t expected his lips to wrap around your clit, suckling softly to warm you up. You reached down to grip his hair, pushing his face closer to your dripping sex as you begged for more. Simon groaned into the soft flesh, slipping down to savor the slick that was pouring from your body. 

You’d tasted sweeter than any honey he could ever imagine, a divine treat that he would savor every chance he could get. Tasting you from his fingers had not done you justice, and now he was simply addicted. Your moans echoed throughout the room as his tongue slipped inside of you, curling up to bring you the utmost pleasure. Simon began to grind his hips against the bed slowly, hands gripping onto your waist to keep you from pulling away.

Heaven, that was the only way you could begin to describe the way that one Simon Riley ate pussy. He savored you as if you were his final meal on earth before he descended to heaven, leaving no area left ignored. One hand abandoned your hip to slide down to your opening, two fingers sliding in as he flicked his tongue over your clit. You screamed into the air as your orgasm crashed over you, soaking Simon’s face.

You had been so blissed out that you’d completely forgotten how long it had been since you shaved at all, clearly Simon didn’t care. Another tally for Simon, he was starting to seem like the perfect man to you right now.

“Think you can keep going?” Simon pushed himself up slowly, fisting his cock slowly to help alleviate the ache.

“If you don’t put that inside me I may just cry.” Maybe it was a little dramatic, but the man could clearly fuck and you weren’t waiting a second longer.

Simon chuckled, grabbing your legs and pulling your hips flush to his own. Your body slid down the bed, head barely resting on the pillows that sat at the top. He groaned softly, cock sliding between your folds as he slowly grinded against you. The tip of his cock hit your clit just right, sending a bolt of pleasure up your spine.

“Simon, please!” Your legs were shaking slightly, back arched harshly as you tried, and failed, to get him inside.

“As you wish.” He grabbed the base of his cock, placing himself at your entrance before pushing in slowly.

The only way that Simon could describe it would be euphoric, your body pulled him in like a warm tight hug. He wanted nothing more than to slam his cock inside you but given his size he knew it wouldn’t be pleasurable for you. Simon waited until your hips bumped gently, his cock nestled in you to the hilt before taking another breath. His chest shuddered at the way you enveloped him, if he moved too soon this would be over before it could start.

“Hold on sweetheart.” Simon smirked down at you, hoisting your legs up until your calves were resting on his shoulders.

It felt as if his cock had nestled itself all the way in your throat with how deep he was. His hips pulled back before slamming forward, a guttural moan slipping through your lips. Simon barely gave you a moment to breathe before his hips were slamming into yours over, and over. The sounds of your coupling were encompassing everything. You were thankful that Simon had at least tried to prepare you for his cock.

“Look at you sweetheart, taking my cock like such a good girl.” Simon moaned as he watched you take his cock like you were made for him.

His hand slipped up your body, palm resting gently against the base of your throat. He didn’t want to push you into something you weren’t comfortable with, but when your cunt tightened around his aching cock, he was done for.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good.” You could hardly catch your breath, eyes rolled into the back of your skull as Simon became determined to bury his cock into your cervix.

“You gonna give me a baby, let me fill this pussy full til you’re dripping?” Your pussy tightened over his cock even more, legs quivering as your release began to creep up on you.

“Yes! Fill me up!” You would agree to absolutely anything that Simon said in that moment, as long as he didn’t leave.

He tightened his hand around your throat, cutting off the airflow to your lungs. Your back arched harshly, hands grabbing onto his arms to keep yourself stable. Simon’s thrusts didn’t falter as he continued to pound you into the mattress, the sounds of your coupling surrounding you both. His grip on your throat was suddenly gone, both hands sliding to wrap around your middle. You were sure you’d gotten whiplash with how quickly Simon had you suddenly straddling his lap.

“Fuck, look how much prettier you look sweetheart.” He kept one hand on your waist, the other reaching up to grope your breast.

You threw your head back, a flood of slick pouring from your body at the new sensation, the head of his cock ramming into your g-spot over and over. His hands were surely going to leave bruises on you, ones that everyone would be able to see. He wanted the world to know that you were his and only his. You slid your hands up to grip the back of his neck, your right hand gripping his hair to help ground you.

“Fuck, Simon, m’gonna cum.” You could barely string together a coherent thought, let alone focus on just one thing that Simon was doing to you.

His lips trailed along your collarbone, suckling gently at the skin, teeth nipping higher and higher until it reached the base of your throat. Your moans sounded like the most gorgeous music as he ravished your body. 

“C’mon sweetheart, cum all over my cock.” It took one, two, three more thrusts before your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, body locking up as the blinding white pleasure took over.

Simon gritted his teeth at how tight you were, hips slamming against your one last time as his orgasm took over all his senses. You mewled softly at the warmth filling you up, body exhausted from the intense pleasure that Simon had given you. He panted, carefully laying you down onto the bed to make sure that he hadn’t hurt you. Besides the delicious ache between your legs, you had never felt better in your life. He pulled out slowly, catching your slight wince as he tried to be gentle.

“Sorry, forgot how sore you’d probably be.” Simon scooted off the bed, heading into the en suite to get a cloth to help clean you up.

“Mmm, a good sore though.” You could barely move your legs, or your arms, okay maybe it was your entire body.

Simon dampened a cloth with warm water before heading back into the bedroom, gently prying your legs open he cleaned up any of your slick and cum that had managed to slip out. You could barely put up a fight as Simon started his aftercare. Shit, you had to pack a bag and leave in a few hours, how the hell were you going to manage?

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll pack a bag for both of us.” Simon would gladly buy you an entirely new wardrobe over in New York if it meant keeping you comfortable.

“Thank you.” Your eyes slid closed, breathing evening out as you fell asleep.

Simon couldn’t help but watch you sleep for a few moments, heart racing as all the feelings he’d always tried to deny came rushing to the surface. He barely even knew you and yet he wanted to protect you with everything he could. Pulling the comforter over your sleeping figure, Simon made sure you hadn’t woken up before pulling on his briefs. He’d let you nap while he packed, he had plenty of energy to do so as it was.

The halls were silent as he made his way to his room, grabbing two different suitcases. He packed his clothes meticulously, making sure nothing would get wrinkled. Once half of the suitcase was filled he zipped it shut to leave space for your own things. Then it came time to pack his knives, and guns. Knives would be preferable if he wanted to take anyone out without leaving too much of a trace. Wasn’t always doable, but he’d manage if needed.

“Hey, boss wants to make sure you’ll be ready to go in an hour.” Gaz was standing in his doorway, fully ignoring the state of undress that Simon was in.

“Yeah, just need to finish packing first.” He slid one of his favorite knives into its holster, he’d never gone without it.

“I’ll let him know, thanks.” Gaz knew not to make a total scene over how Simon looked, it was obvious the two of you had hooked up, who was he to judge?

Simon pulled out one of his shirts and a pair of sweatpants for you to borrow on the plane ride over, you’d need all the sleep you could get, and why not be comfortable at the same time? He shook his head slowly, he’d only known you for such a small amount of time and yet he felt the need to protect you. You weren’t truly his wife, so why did any of this matter in the first place when once James was taken care of you could just leave?

No, he wouldn’t let his thoughts go down that path, it wasn’t worth getting caught up in feelings when there were bigger fish to fry right now. Heading back to your room with the clothes in his hand Simon couldn’t help the rush that washed over him. You were a goddess sent down for him and he was so ready to just throw you away before. How could he possibly be even thinking like that?

“Sweetheart, time to get up.” Simon wanted to do anything he could except for wake you, but Price would be on your ass quicker than he could protest.

“Five more minutes, please.” You rolled onto your side, back facing Simon as you tried to hold onto those few precious minutes.

“Nope, you need to get dressed so we can get going.” Simon rubbed your back gently, plopping down beside you on the bed.

You groaned before pushing yourself up, it was obvious you weren’t going to be allowed to sleep before the flight. Maybe you could get some sleep then and worry about everything when you landed back in New York. Simon shyly held up the clothes in his hand, gesturing for you to take them. Once you realized exactly what was in his hands your cheeks warmed, he was really letting you wear his clothes around everyone? Shit, you were definitely falling in love and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“Thank you, are you going to get dressed too?” You pulled on the shirt first, forgoing a bra entirely. The fabric would do a good enough job hiding your chest, why bother wearing something uncomfortable when you didn’t need to.

“I wanted to make sure you were awake first, I’ll get your stuff packed and then we can head down.” Simon pressed a kiss before sliding off the bed, heading over to your closet to grab enough clothes to last at least a few days.

You copied him quickly, rushing over to your drawer to grab a clean pair of panties. Simon chuckled at the way you wiggled your hips as you pulled them up your legs. Simon wasn’t someone who found joy in much of anything anymore, not after working for Price for so long. It was nice to be able to laugh and smile so carefree without worrying for once. 

“Get your pants and some shoes on while I finish packing, I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Simon laid your clothes over one arm, being careful of any delicates.

“Yes sir.” You weakly saluted him, laughing when he rolled his eyes and headed out of your room.

The pants were a challenge to get on in general, since Simon was so much bigger than you were they pooled at your ankles. You tied the drawstrings as much as you could, hoping they wouldn’t accidentally fall down when you started walking. Deciding that you could only do so much with your current predicament you headed down to Simon’s room. The faint sound of Soap’s laughter began to get louder with each step.

“You can’t keep your hands off one anotha it seems.” Soap had dressed down to a comfortable sweater and a pair of jeans, Simon dressed in something similar.

“The feelings are very much mutual.” Simon folded the last piece of clothing, setting it into the suitcase, zipping it closed as you stepped into the room.

“There she is!” Soap walked over to you, wrapping you up into a tight hug.

You laughed lightly, a little confused as to why Soap was being so affectionate all of a sudden, what in the world had Simon told him before you arrived? Simon merely shook his head, if to gesture not to ask or that he wasn’t sure of Soap’s affections you weren’t entirely sure.

“Now don’t you look awfully pretty there.” Soap pulled back, keeping his arms on the top of your shoulders.

“Soap, let go of her so we can finish packing please.” Simon was exasperated, wanting nothing more than for Soap to leave you be.

The Scot threw up his hands, heading out and leaving you and Simon to continue packing in what you hoped would be a peaceful silence. Your body was still overstimulated from Simon’s amazing lovemaking. There would be moments you’d surely slip up in front of everyone, pressing into Simon’s side like a cat.

“Do you think this will work? That we can finally get rid of him?” You had always dreamt of killing James but given how powerful he was it was simply a suicide mission.

“I do, I believe in the men I work with and I trust them with my life.” Simon hadn’t trusted many people in his life, but they were his family now.

“I trust you, Simon.” It was a long shot, taking down one of the most dangerous men, but you had faith they could do it.

Simon grabbed both suitcases before facing you, his expression was determined, and by god did that turn you on even more than before. Simon was a man on a mission, and he would do whatever it took to ensure everyone’s safety.

“Let’s go, the faster we can leave the better.” He pressed a soft kiss to your hair before heading down to the garage.

Gaz, Soap, and Price had been discussing the details amongst themselves, deciding on the best course of action when you landed. First and foremost you would contact Steve Rogers and see if he would be willing to help. If Steve was willing to help you’d get into contact with Tony and figure out the next steps. However if he wasn’t willing to help you’d need Price to call Tony and see if he would help do the dirty work.

It was now or never, you would make sure that James Barnes couldn’t harm a single person in one of his angry tirades ever again.

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

Text: The Assassin’s Laundromat always smells faintly of blood, flowery soap, and hydrogen peroxide. It’s a godsend if you can find it, and if you can afford the subscription fee.

[starlight-shades]

Called Home to the Depths of the Forest Ch. 9

• summary – Johnny gets arrested (x2)

• rating – M

• wordcount – 4.3k

• warnings – mentions of previous character deaths, corrupt cop

• This is my first fanfic, so please let me know if there's anything I forgot to tag. Feedback is welcome and encouraged

Read on Ao3

Ch. 1 Ch. 8 Ch 10.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He allowed the steady beat of the hammer to lull his mind into a sort of static. 

Ghost wasn’t thinking about anything. No. That had been all he did last night instead of sleeping. Today, he was working. Today was for making Ailsa and Duncan feel safe again, for keeping them fed and safe and happy. 

Price and Gaz had been a godsend in that regard. The gryphon had returned some time in the night and the two of them had helped him. There was no mention of Johnny. Simon didn’t ask.

Currently, Price was half-shifted with his wings out, and he and a fully shifted Gaz were tossing a squealing Ailsa through the air. 

They were high enough off the ground that it made Simon nervous, but everyone involved had reassured him that no, no one was going to fall, and even if they did, it wasn’t high enough to hurt. He had only agreed after they dragged the extra mattress outside to serve as a landing pad. Duncan had made a game of being dropped onto it from the air only to bounce when he landed. 

“My turn!” he announced. It made Simon smile. This game had been the first time he had noticed Duncan having so much fun that it brought him out of his shell. Even when he got excited about various insects to show Simon, he was quiet. He showed his emotion where his sister shouted hers. 

“I want to keep going!” Ailsa protested.

“We’re taking turns, darling,” Price reprimanded gently as Gaz swooped down to scoop up Duncan. “How about you give the mattress a jump?”

“Fine!”

With the sounds of happy children in his periphery, Ghost continued to hammer away at the cabin extension. He had finished the foundation the week before, and now he was beginning to erect the frame of it. 

When he was finished, there would be three additional rooms. They were all slightly larger than his own bedroom. He was still debating if he was going to add a second bathroom for when the pups were older. That might be a project to put off for a later date. 

Besides, the one bathroom was working fine for the four of them. Or would it be three of them?

No. He was not thinking about it.

Something startled the shifters playing below him.

“Simon!” Ailsa yelled. “The phone!”

He chuckled. It was probably Laswell letting him know she was coming. 

“Did you hear that from all the way out here?” Simon asked, smiling softly at her as he climbed down from where he was perched. Something twinged at the motion, reminding him that he got up to some vigorous activities the day before.

Both she and Duncan barreled over to him, clinging to his legs.

“I heard it too,” Duncan insisted, not one to be left out.

“What big ears you have,” he teased, picking him up and propping him on his hip while he ruffled Ailsa’s hair with his free hand.

“No, silly, it’s because we’re wolves,” she argued.

He could hear the ringing as he approached the door, moving swiftly so he could catch Kate before she got the answering machine he was half certain he had set up.

When he picked up the phone, he skipped the greeting and said “So when are you getting here?”

“Hey, Si…”

It was not Laswell.

Simon signed his name on the last of the forms as he waited for one of the uniformed officers to bring Johnny out.

Arrested. He scoffed. So that’s where he had been.

Before he left the house, he had finally asked Gaz about the night before.

“We ran together for a bit before he said he needed to be alone to sort some things out. I thought he was just gonna have a think, not do something stupid!” Gaz had said, defending himself against Price’s dour look. 

“It’s Soap. You didn’t think he was going to do something stupid? When his pups and his… Simon are involved?”

He hadn’t stayed to hear the rest of the conversation.

The police station in town was small. He recognized most of the people working there even if he didn’t know them by name. They apparently knew him, though. And Johnny.

“Alright, Mr. Riley, Mr. MacTavish will be out in just a minute,” the receptionist said when he handed her the pile of completed forms. 

He hadn’t introduced himself.

Tension crept its way into his shoulders, leaving them high and tight. He had to deliberately relax them to adopt the appearance of nonchalance. Didn’t want to draw any more attention than necessary.

Soon enough, Johnny appeared through the doorway that led deeper into the station. He looked disheveled, like he hadn’t slept. His hair, which was normally tousled, was unkempt with flyaways going in every direction. There were deep purple bags under his eyes. The button-down he had worn for their date was wrinkled worse than it had been when they got back to the cabin. There were some stains that he couldn’t identify sprayed across it as well. One that looked suspiciously like blood.

“Simon,” he breathed. The expression on his face was a cross between embarrassed and relieved. 

Without saying anything, Ghost turned around and left the building, unsurprised when he heard footsteps behind him. They walked in silence to the car, but as soon as they were inside, it was broken.

“Si, I can explain—“ Johnny started. 

“We moved too fast,” Ghost cut him off. 

“What?” 

He sounded confused. Simon couldn’t bring himself to look.

“We moved too fast,” he repeated. “It was irresponsible. We have Duncan and Ailsa to think about.”

“What are you saying?” There was a hitch in his voice. “If this is because of last night, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said what I said. It was uncalled for, I was just frustrated!”

“John.”

There was a pause before Johnny launched back into desperately trying to get him to understand. “I wasn’t going to do anything, I was just watching Collins! The bastard wouldn’t leave us alone, so I wanted to see how he liked it. He was at the pub, so I had a few drinks, I wasn’t even drunk!”

“You were arrested for drunk and disorderly!” he yelled, finally raising his voice. Calming slightly, he spoke again. “You were arrested, John, for being drunk and getting into a fight.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again because I will always defend my pack—“

“What am I supposed to say to the children? They heard the phone call, they know you were arrested. What kind of example are we supposed to set for them?” Ghost’s voice was low, serious.

“I’m sure they’ll understand if I explain—“

“They’ll understand what? That going out of their way to fight humans in public is okay? As long as they’re ‘protecting their pack?’ They’re five! Except now you’ve drawn more attention! You accuse me of not doing anything, but this is exactly what I was trying to avoid!” 

“Si, will you just look at me?”

He turned the key in the ignition without acknowledging the question. The rumble of the engine as he pulled out of the parking lot was the only sound for several minutes.

“My priority is and always will be Duncan and Ailsa. The best way I know to keep them safe is to keep them away from everything. The less anyone knows about them, the better.”

“I’m sorry,” Johnny murmured. “Please look at me, Simon.”

“I shouldn’t have let my personal feelings compromise that,” Ghost continued, still ignoring Johnny.

“Please don’t do this,” he begged. Simon had never heard him sound so small.

“I still need your help with the children. They need to know how to be wolves. But you and I, we’re done.”

“Aye… okay…”

He allowed himself one small glance over at the passenger seat. 

Johnny was leaned back into the headrest with his eyes closed, silent tears streaming down his face. He looked utterly exhausted. 

They had nothing more to say to each other for the rest of the drive back to the cabin. 

Simon refused to identify the pain he was feeling as heartbreak. 

Duncan and Ailsa were still in their human-shape when they arrived home. 

They eased the hurt in the way that children do so easily with their joy.

“Johnny!” Ailsa squealed, barreling past him to jump into Johnny’s arms.

He caught her easily, spinning her around once before setting her back on her feet.

“Hey there bonnie girl,” he chuckled. Simon could see his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

As Duncan came over, Simon scooped him up and propped him on his hip. The boy nuzzled his face into Simon’s neck before he turned to look at Johnny.

“Hi, Johnny. What’s arrested?”

So they were going to get right into it. 

Simon raised a brow at Price and Gaz who gave him sheepish looks. When Johnny looked at him beseechingly, he just stared back.

“Uh, well. I broke the rules, so the police took me to jail for the night, like a time-out…” He stumbled his way through an explanation when it was clear he would not be getting any help from the other adults in the room. 

“The mean man who keeps asking questions?” Ailsa asked, reaching up for Johnny to pick her up again. 

“Yeah…” It was clear he didn’t know how to answer her. 

Taking pity on him, Price spoke up.

“Ailsa, love, why don’t you show them the picture you did?”

She visibly brightened and squirmed her way out of Johnny’s arms, racing over to the kitchen table which was covered in crayons, colored pencils, and markers. Ailsa snatched up the open sketchbook on the table, and ran back. She paused before she showed them her drawing. Her gaze was trained on the floor in an unexpected display of shyness. 

“Um, well, I drew us, our pack,” she explained, turning the sketchbook around so Simon and Johnny could see. 

There, as little stick figures, were six shapes in the center of the page. There were two blobs in the middle with triangle shaped ears. One one side were two figures with wings, holding hands. They both had what appeared to be hats. On the other side were two more figures. One sort of squarish while the other was lankier with two triangles on the head. 

“That one’s me,” Duncan said quietly, pointing to a vaguely wolf-shaped blob in the middle of the page. 

“I could tell,” Johnny hummed. “This is very good, Ailsa. I like how you gave me my wolf ears.”

She giggled and blushed. “Simon’s not a wolf, so he has regular ears, see?” Her little finger pointed to the rather comically large ears she had put on the square figure with yellow hair.

“I like the faces you drew on the clouds,” Simon added. 

Both Ailsa and Duncan’s smiles faded.

“That’s Mummy and Da. They’re up in the sky now,” she explained. 

“I’m sure they’d love your drawing too, darling,” Simon told her, gathering her close and kissing the top of her head. “What do you say we put this up somewhere?”

She smiled again at that, nodding eagerly before running off to find the perfect spot. 

“Did you do anything fun, Bug?” he asked, craning his neck to look at the child in his arms. 

He gave him a secret sort of smile and nodded. 

“Yeah? What did you do?” Johnny pushed gently.

“We read some books, didn’t we?” Gaz provided, coming close to ruffle Duncan’s hair. “We read ‘A Very Hungry Caterpillar,’ on account of the caterpillar.”

“I liked it,” Duncan whispered to Simon, “But I like when we read at bedtime better.”

“That’s cuz Gaz isn’t very good at reading,” Johnny mock-whispered, nudging Gaz with his elbow. 

“Oi! I can read perfectly well, thank you very much!” he protested, shoving Johnny right back. 

“Well tell that to the five-year-old who says Si is better,” he laughed, looking up and meeting Simon’s eyes before his grin fell away.

They stared at each other for a moment, letting all the what-ifs sink into the space between them. The children looked at one, then the other. The silence was definitely awkward.

He cleared his throat and set Duncan back on his feet. 

“I’ll uh, get started on dinner,” he muttered, escaping to the kitchen. 

“Si…” Johnny started, but Ghost just brushed past him. 

It’s quieter in the kitchen. Price and Gaz stay out with the pups and Johnny in the living room. 

Simon goes through the motions, ignoring every echo of a memory when he does something that Johnny taught him. It helps that he’s making so much more food than usual. Though it’s not the first time Gaz and Price have stayed for dinner, and he’s grateful that by now he’s mostly figured out the right amount to make. 

There’s a lull when he sticks the roast in the oven. He’s not entirely sure what to do with himself. He can hear Ailsa laughing in the other room, and after a moment Duncan’s quieter giggles, but he’s deliberately got his back turned.

When a hand touches his shoulder, he startles, whipping around and twisting the offending arm backwards.

“Just me!” Price announces a moment too late. He winces when Simon let’s go of his arm.

“Sorry.”

“No, I shouldn’t have snuck up on you,” he said, shaking his hand out. “You’ve got good reflexes there.”

He grunted, moving towards the cabinet where he kept the liquor. This seemed like the evening to have a drink. Simon looked back at where Price had settled back against the counter and held up the bottle of whiskey in a silent offer. 

“Yeah, I could do with a glass.”

Between them, the only sound was from the ice clinking in the glasses and the slosh of alcohol. Wordlessly, Price accepted the tumbler from Simon. They stood on opposite sides of the kitchen, sipping at their drinks while waiting for the other to be the first to break the silence. 

With a sigh, Simon decided it would have to be him. He didn’t have the energy to beat around the bush. 

“Is this where you tell me to give him another chance?” Simon gave him a droll look. 

“No,” Price admitted, surprising him. “I wanted to make sure you knew that no matter what happens with you and Soap, Gaz and I’ll always be here for you and the little ones. You’re pack now.”

“Oh,” he breathed, letting his shoulders fall back. “Thanks.”

“I will say one thing on Soap, though.”

Simon tossed back the rest of his glass in one go, letting the burn of the liquor brace him. 

“John’s a good man. Can be an idiot, but the boy’s as loyal as they come. I hope he does right by you, Simon.”

He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. The burn behind his eyes was from the liquor, not tears, he told himself. When Price took his drink and left the kitchen, he was nothing but grateful. 

“Why don’t we go outside for a bit? I bet I could find a few flames in me,” he heard him say, gathering everyone so Simon could be alone.

So he could cry in peace. 

That’s the thing that got him. No matter how many times he was reminded that it was the people he trusted who could hurt him the most, it still hurt when he pushed them away. He couldn’t win.

Simon sank to the floor, clutching his empty glass to his chest and let silent sobs wrack his body. 

He would do it again, he told himself. No price was too high to keep those children safe. Even his own broken heart.

The next few days were awkward. Simon and Johnny no longer shared the bed with the pups. It was one or the other again. If it wasn’t about Duncan and Ailsa and their care, they didn’t speak to each other. When it was the two of them alone in a room, Simon quickly left. 

There were a few times when Johnny had tried to speak to him, but Simon shut him down every time. 

Duncan was the first to pick up that something was very different. He sat on the ground, watching Simon measure out where the door should go from the main cabin into the extension. 

“Simon?”

“Yeah, Bug?” 

“Are you mad at Johnny?”

Oh.

He sighed. “Um, yeah. I’m not very happy with him right now.”

“Oh.”

Simon looked back at Duncan who was quietly shredding a blade of grass. When he felt Simon’s gaze on him, he paused and looked up.

“Are you mad at me?”

He immediately dropped the measuring tape and got to his knees, gathering the boy in his arms. Duncan very quickly settled into his favorite position with his face tucked in Simon’s neck.

“Oh no, Bug, I’m not mad at you. Whatever happens between me and Johnny will never change how I feel about you.” He stroked Duncan’s hair, pushing some of the longer pieces out of his face. “Okay?”

The boy nodded. 

Ailsa was less tactful in her questioning. Simon was sitting with her as she drew in her sketchbook. 

“Does this mean you and Johnny aren’t married anymore?”

He choked on his saliva, coughing a few times. 

“Umm, no,” he started. “Johnny and I were never married.”

That confused her. She paused what she was doing, her face scrunching up in an expression he should not find as cute as he did. 

“But you live together. And you smell is all mixed up together like Mummy and Da’s.”

“Yes, but he moved in when you and Duncan started living here,” he tried to explain, choosing to ignore the comment about their smell. Sometimes he forgot about the heightened senses. Simon didn’t believe in lying to children, but he also wasn’t sure how much to tell her. 

“Where did he live before?”

“With Price and Gaz.”

“But Price and Gaz are married. Does that mean Johnny was married to them?”

He had to stop himself from chuckling. “No, love. Just because adults live together doesn’t mean they’re married.”

“Oh.” 

She then went right back to her coloring, leaving Simon feeling like he just went a round in a boxing ring.

When the time came for Simon to go down to the police station for his appointment with D.C. Collins, things were still very strained. 

“I don’t know how long I’ll be,” he said as he shrugged on his jacket. 

Johnny nodded. He had the look of a kicked puppy these days. Simon found it distracting.

“If the phone rings while I’m gone, it’s probably Laswell. She should be coming any day. You can tell her where I am. If it’s anyone else, take down their information then hang up.”

“Aye.”

Simon ducked down to kiss each of the pups goodbye. They were in their wolf-shape today. 

“Be good. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

The drive to the station was uneventful and soon enough he found himself in front of one of the more unpleasant people he had ever met. 

“D.C. Collins interviewing Mister Simon Riley,” Collins spoke into the machine recording their conversation.

They sat in an interrogation room. The chairs were uncomfortable. Stainless steel. So was the table they sat at. 

As Collins flipped through the file in front of him, Simon glanced at the metal ring welded to the table. It was used to thread handcuffs to to keep subjects’ hands visible. His eyes flicked around the room. There was a disturbing amount of familiarity to it. Ghost catalogued every item he could see, picturing in his head how he would use it to break Collins.

“Simon Riley, age forty-three. Single it says on your taxes.” Collins looked up at him as if to confirm. 

He nodded. Ghost was very familiar with the file on the table and all the lies it was filled with. It was blank in a lot of places too. It had been a rush job when he retired. He hadn’t wanted to spend too much time on it.

“If you could speak your answers out loud for the recording,” he said, sounding annoyed. 

So there was no video. Good information to have. 

“I’m not married.”

Collins nodded. “There’s very little in your file on your background. No work history.” His eyes narrowed.

Ghost shrugged. “Should I be flattered you’ve spent so much time looking into me?”

“How long have you lived in the area?” 

“Six years or so.”

“And where were you before that?” he pushed.

“I’m not at liberty to say.” 

Collins barked out something that resembled a laugh. “You’re not at liberty to say…” he repeated. “Well can you tell me where you were on March 14th?”

Ghost settled back in his seat. This man was an amateur. “As I said before, I don’t keep a diary.”

Collins mirrored him, leaning back. “So you don’t have an alibi.”

He didn’t say anything, just waited for him to get to his next question. 

“Your file says here you’re an only child—”

While he knew it was in there, Simon did not expect the pit in his gut at the words.

“So you’re unfamiliar with the bond between brothers,” Collins continued, his voice hard and low. “Let me educate you, Mr. Riley. My brother and I? We were as thick as thieves. He was my best friend. Jeff would do anything for me, and I would do anything for him. So when he didn’t call like he said he would, I was surprised. He was supposed to come back from his trip and see me on his way home. But as I’m sure you’re aware, he never did.” 

He whipped out a second folder, slapping three photos on the table, one of each of the hunters. Collins tapped so hard on the first one that it was a wonder he didn’t break his own finger. 

“So you look at these men, and you tell me again you don’t know where you were on March 14th.”

Ghost had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. 

“Like I said, I couldn’t tell you.”

The other man did his best to stare him down. 

He leaned forward, and tried a different line of questioning. 

“What is your relationship to the children in your care?”

“They’re under my guardianship.” Simon hoped Laswell had gotten all the paperwork properly filed in time.

“You’ve adopted them?”

“It’s in the works.”

“How did they come into your care?” Collins was far too curious about the children.

“I’m not sure how this is relevant, Detective Constable.”

“Humor me.”

“I don’t think I will. If you’d like to continue this conversation, I will require my legal counsel be present.”

“Hmmm,” Collins hummed, staring him down.

When Ghost didn’t budge, he glanced down at his watch. Whatever he saw had him smirking. Simon did not like that.

“Interview concluded,” Collins said into the recording device before shutting it off. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Riley.” 

The smile on his face left Simon feeling uneasy. 

As he was escorted to the lobby of the police station, the sinking feeling in his gut plummeted even further. 

“Simon!”

“Johnny!” 

What was he doing here? Why was he in handcuffs? Where were they taking him?

“They let me call Price and Gaz. They’re on their way to the cabin for the pups,” he called, tugging his wrists away from the officer leading him towards the back. 

“Don’t say anything, Johnny, I’ll get you out!” 

Despite being rather roughly hauled away in handcuffs, the look on Johnny’s face had been rather soft when he looked at Simon. 

He hurried over to the receptionist’s desk. 

“Is there a phone I could use?”

She directed him over to a phone that was hooked up off to the side. Quickly, he plugged in the number for his own landline. 

He cursed as he heard it ringing. Again and again. Just when he thought no one would pick up, he was answered.

“Hello?”

“Gaz,” he breathed. “They’ve just brought Johnny in in cuffs.”

“Shit. Me and Price are with the little ones, but we have a guest staying over, and she insisted on coming. I’m sorry, Simon, we didn’t have time to stop her,” he rushed out.

“Do you trust her?” His knuckles were white where he gripped the phone.

“I—“ Gaz was cut off.

“Simon Riley.”

His breath rushed from him in utter relief. “Kate.”

“We’re on our way. Stay put. See if you can get in to see John.”

He exhaled. There was a mission now. He could focus on that.

Hanging up the phone, he turned back to the receptionist. He should really ask her name at this point considering he had spent so much time with her that week.

“What’s the process for getting in to see someone in custody?” he asked without preamble. Simon didn’t quite have it in him to be charming at the moment. 

“Well, um, visiting hours will be over by the time Mr. MacTavish is processed, so you’d have to wait for tomorrow,” she explained. 

“Is there any way I could see him today?” 

She pursed her lips. “Well not unless you commit a crime yourself,” she laughed nervously, glancing back in the direction the officer had taken Johnny. 

“Okay, thank you,” he said. Simon wouldn’t take his frustration out on her, it wasn’t her fault. 

Looking around, he tried to find something he could use. There was a glass paperweight on the receptionist’s desk. He grabbed it.

“Does this have any sentimental value?” Ghost asked her.

“Well, no, but—“

Before she could finish protesting, he threw it as hard as he could to the ground. It shattered, sending glass flying everywhere. 

A uniformed policewoman came running to the front looking rather frazzled.

“What happened?”

Ghost raised his hand. “That counts as destruction of property, right?”

[fates-calling]

Gratitude

CW: Sexual assault mention/illusion + discussion | victim blaming (?) 

Note: no one outright victim blames anyone, but Soren has very messy and complicated feelings about what happened!

Featuring: Soren (OC) & Astarion

Word Count: 2, 226 

Other Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort | Astarion is pinning the poor guy | Mentioned Tav x Astarion | Implied Tav x Gale

Synopsis:

Soren knew that breaking into the House of Hope was a risky gamble. He was prepared to give his life to get that hammer. He never thought he would have to give his body...

He scrubbed at his skin, blood, and soot turning the clear water of the tub beneath him a murky color. Usually, his baths were so much more than just hot water inside of a wooden basin, but he didn't have the patience to do this right. No bubbles and no scented aromas were added to this one, the way the bard liked it. He just needed to be clean. Soren wasn't even concerned about washing away the blood and soot, no, the reason he was scrubbing his arms raw: was to get rid of its touch. He knew what was at stake when he agreed to lie in bed with the succubus. Soren had known exactly what he was getting himself into, he was well-read on all things demonic and devilish. 

It didn't make his skin crawl any less. His stomach was still twisting itself into knots of guilt about it, Gale was still giving him the silent treatment. It had been the only way to avoid a fight! The easiest way to gain access to the hammer. Lae'zel and her people needed Orpheus. So what if Soren lost a bit of bodily autonomy on the way? He has given more for less. There was no way he would agree to a deal with Raphael, so, breaking into his house had been their best choice. The bard just never thought - he would lose so much. He grits his teeth and drags the soap impossibly harder along his arm. He can feel phantom hot hands on them still. 

He was pissed too, which didn't help as he white-knuckled the poor soap bar. It was threatening to crack beneath his hand. He has tried to explain to Gale a thousand times why he did it! To all of them. Lae'zel was the only one who seemed grateful. She had looked, shocked, afterward. As if she couldn't believe someone would give up so much for her. For a cause that wasn't even his own. He had gotten lectured and told off by most of his other companions for being foolish. For doing something reckless, and that they could have found another way. 

Except. Astarion.

 Soren paused in his vicious scrubbing, as he recalled how the vampire reacted when not five minutes after they left the House of Hope: the bard had felt what was his new curse. Had felt those phantom hands. He had tried to enjoy the sensation, but, soon bile had risen in the back of his throat. His head had spun. This would be forever. He was owned. Not his soul, but his body. The white-haired man had taken notice of the sound that slipped from him.  The way he had been so angry on his behalf. Told him that he shouldn't have to deal with it. How Astarion had looked so sad when Soren emerged from the room, roughed up and marked. 

He knew what it was like. The bard combs a hand through his wet hair and winces. Inside of his chest, further guilt stabs through his being. Swirling thoughts of regret and disgust with himself form. Forgetting all about his pain. It's his nature. He likely reminded his closest friend of all kinds of horrible memories. All the time he used his body to lure victims back to Cazador. How many hands haunt Astarion's body…? The tips of the elf’s ears twitch as he hears footsteps. Soren turns his head to look, catching sight of Astarion. A towel is draped over his arm, he leans against the wall of the bathroom. Staying in the tavern has been a godsend. 

Soren doesn't bother to cover up, even as he feels the vampire's eyes trace over his top half that is above water. He has seen him naked before, and vice versa. Astarion also has soot all over him, and the scent of sulfur hangs in the air. The bard turns away, “I'll be out in a moment, you won't have to wait much longer.” 

The vampire shakes his head and seems to steel himself a bit. He stops leaning against the wall and approaches the tub, Soren eyes him with a bit of wariness. Questioning his motives. The towel is laid on a rack. 

“How are you feeling?” These are not the words that Soren expected to hear. His brows furrowed as he looked at the rouge, who absentmindedly fiddled with his nails. Cleaning blood out from under them. 

The bard shrugs and gives him a cheeky smile. A classic disarming, and well, avoidant one. “Clean.” 

“That's not what I was asking about.” there is almost an exasperated tone to the vampire's voice. Soren begins to stand up, reaching for the towel. The bard's face has twisted up into a bit of a frown. He doesn't want to do this right now. What he feels doesn't matter. It never has. Lae’zel got what she needed. She will be able to help free the Githyanki people. That is what matters. The vampire places his hands on the side of the tub and stands in front of Soren, blocking the taller man in. 

“You don't get to run from this.” There is a demand in his voice and features, his eyes blazing with a strange anger that Soren has only seen on rare occasions. The man is usually so cool-headed or pretends to be. Tries to always be aloof. “Not this time, darling, sorry.” 

He doesn't sound sorry at all. Soren huffs and splashes back down into the tub, smirking as he watches Astarion crinkle his nose as he gets wet. But the vampire doesn't move from his guarding position. His camp leader simply crosses his arms over his chest, and huffs staring off out the window before him. The sun is beginning to set, casting warm yellow and orange light over everything. Astarion can't help but admire the man before him for a moment, before reminding himself why he came here. 

He can still see strange red marks in the form of fingerprints on Soren. As if mildly burned. How there are lines from blunt nails running up and down his arms, those, clearly from Soren himself. Trying to claw it away it seems. He swallows. He knows the feeling too well, and he has a twisting feeling inside of his gut: it isn't the first time. Soren took it too - well. As strange as the thought is. Too easily gave over his body without so much as a flinch. Without fight. Just took it. 

The silence is broken as the bard speaks, “This wasn't the first time I have used my body to get out of a tight spot. I'm fine.” 

His tone is bordering on anger, clearly meant to tell his companion that this conversation: is over. There will be no more discussion. Astarion almost winced. He knew it. He had seen that strange disassociated look that had come across the bard's face when he stripped down before Harleep. It was a look the vampire knew he had carried. He had seen it on his fellow spawn before. So different than when Soren had been with him in the woods. How his different colored eyes had been lit up, moonlight dancing off the bright yellow and blue. 

He brings himself back to focus again, “I don't fucking care if it wasn't the first time. It -” he chokes.

 Everything telling him to back out of this. To stop before he ends up exposing himself. He pushes through his thoughts. Soren needs help. Soren needs someone. But, oh, why the Hells does it have to be him? Where are all his morally good and mushy campmates now? More importantly: where the fuck is Gale? He looks down at the floor as he speaks, his voice a soft whisper. 

“No matter how many times it happens, it never gets better.” he can feel Soren's eyes on him, weeping with his ever-present empathy. Never pity. Not once has he ever seen the man pity someone. No, he only feels for them. Understands and listens. And when he can, no matter the cost to himself, he helps. He gives so much and asks for nothing. Except, maybe, coin. Around all of his sharp words and clever jests. Every leer and joke he makes at others' expense is a man who just wants the world to love him. A man who is always performing. Astarion doesn't need a mirror, Soren was right about that. He is his mirror. 

He doesn't know what the bard sees in him, but, Astarion has never been more determined to keep someone in his life. To - ew - help someone. 

Soren swallows hard, feeling as if the silence between them suffocates him. 

“It doesn't.” He admits and there is a crack in his voice. He tries to hold back the tears. How long has it been since he cried? Decades? Perhaps even more. “I - I just… I never thought - I just wanted to - I needed to -” 

He stares at the murky water beneath him. Staring at his reflection, still frazzled and mostly dirty from their entire escapade. Probably the most unkept he has been the entire adventure. He closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath in and out. 

“I feel guilty.” The words leave in a hushed rush, and waves of nausea seem to crash through the elf. Why did he say that? Why did he admit to his weaknesses? "Everyone is pissed at me for it. Gale is - fuck, Gale is beyond pissed. But I had to, Astarion. We were already risking a fight with Raphael I couldn't have us risk another and because I wanted to help Hope we were already so tired and injured…” he tries to lighten the weight of his words a bit. “I mean, I was also dreadfully curious, to be honest. Raphael is my type.” 

Astarion tries for his sake to be a bit amused, but, he can't. His long ears are pinning themselves down to the sides of his head. 

The bard's face morphs from this sad, broken look to anger quickly. Switching on the dime. “I would do it a thousand times over for that hammer. I just wish…wish it wasn't me. Or that I didn't have to at all. But then… I - I would be a failure. Break my promise to Voss and Lae'zel. But everybody is acting as if I fucked up somehow! Like there were better options!” he slams his hand against the side of the tub rattling the wood. “I give and I give and I give! For all of you! To all of you! I -”

His anger deflates and he sinks, looking so much smaller than he is. “You'd think I would learn.”

The tears have fallen now. Sliding down his face silently, leaving tracks of pain down his features. Suddenly, cold arms made of stringy muscle are wrapping around him from behind. He doesn't even react to the strange temperature of the vampire's body. He feels chills go down his spine, as Astarion buries his face into his neck. His soft curls brushed up against Soren as well. The vampire doesn't even know truly, why he went for a hug. It felt right. Though he has nothing but observing other people to understand how to comfort someone. He was happy it worked, as he felt the elf shift and heard water splash as he spun around to face him. Returning the hug in earnest. 

Astarion mumbles into the man's neck, “Don't worry about Gale or any of the others. They don't - get it. They'll come around and see their mistakes, I'm sure of it, and give you sappy apologies for how they acted.” A bit of a sharp grin flickers into his features, a dangerous gleam of mild threat in his eyes. As he squeezes the man in his arms a bit tighter. Oh, he is such a fool. He should have realized he would fall for him. “They better. Or, I'll cut it out of them for you.”

Soren laughs, “You'd do that for me?” 

Astarion pulls back from the hug a bit to look at the bard’s face, “You'd do it for me and then some. So, oddly enough, yes.” 

“I'll make a hero of you yet!” Soren chirps back and the vampire groans, pulling out of the hug. He instantly misses the warmth of the elf's body. 

“Ugh, don’t say that. If you were anyone else I wouldn't even be here.” Astarion points out of the bathroom, “Now, darling, do get out of the tub. Other people want to bathe, you dragged us through Avernus and decided you got to take one first.” 

Soren shakes his head, knowing the words were in good spirits. Not taking the jab personally at all. He grabbed the towel the vampire had brought for him, and stepped out of the tub. Wrapping it about his waist, he went to leave, he could grab his gear later. He paused and dragged the vampire into a quick hug again as he passed him. 

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Astarion swore his heart fluttered inside of his chest, as these strange cozy-warm feelings filled his body. Every nerve felt like it had been stroked with a delicate hand. His face flamed with pink, as Soren drew away and walked out of sight.

He's doomed. 

[raspberry-bat]

Dukeceit?

Love me some dukeceit let’s go

• Who said "I love you" first

Janus!! It was a sweet little romantic moment and I feel like when it comes to Janus, Remus prefers to show his love through actions, not words

• Who would have the other's picture as their phone background

Remus, Janus keeps everything about himself a secret to everyone except Remus. He’s certainly not ashamed of his man but you never know what homophobe might see your phone

• Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror

Janus, but it’s literally just reminders like ‘buy soap’ or ‘do your fucking dishes Remus or so help me’

• Who buys the other cheesy gifts

Remus gets Janus dead rodents and flowers, does that count?

• Who initiated the first kiss

Oh Remus 100%. As soon as they established they were dating Remus tried to eat that man alive

• Who kisses the other awake in the morning

Janus will wake up early and make breakfast then very sweetly wake Remus up just to get a pillow hurled at him.

• Who starts tickle fights

Remus tries to, he never learns that Janus is immune to tickles

• Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower

This one is always gonna be Remus. Janus always lets him because at least he’s clean

• Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch

Janus has a particularly stressful job so whenever Remus knows he’s feeling bad he’ll come in with a coffee and Janus truly believes he is godsend for this

• Who was nervous and shy on the first date

Janus. As flirty as he is I don’t think he’d be very experienced with relationships so naturally

• Who kills/takes out the spiders

Remus tries to convince Janus to keep them, Janus will burn the house down if it means getting that filth out. He’s not even afraid of them, he just thinks they’re icky

• Who loudly proclaims their love when they're drunk

Janus, and that’s literally one of the only ways you can tell he’s drunk. Cause he’s strangely affectionate

[mrninjapineapple]

Until the Casket Drops

When I first joined Tumblr (and the Fallout fandom), I wrote a number of Valentine’s Day ficlets for a bunch of creators to help me settle in the space. I always wanted to write one of these for the lovely @charomiami and have finally had that chance.

Valentina belongs to @charomiami 

Johan belongs to the greatly missed @helloaschefire 

Story is below the cut:

The house was cold.

‘No surprises there,’ thought Valentina as she sat, draped over the sofa, staring up through a large hole in the roof. The sky was a vibrant pink with golden bands streaking across in the dawn and as she watched, a lazy little cloud drifted by.

Not for the first time, she thought of where Johan could be.

It had been a week since they had left Sanctuary to look into rumours of raider activity by Tenpines Bluff. Johan, as General of the Minutemen, had naturally volunteered himself for the recon operation but Valentina had been persuasive, and persistent, enough to join him out in the field. It was the third consecutive mission she had accompanied him on but every single time, she felt as though she had to fight like hell just to tag along.

There was protective and then there was Johan.

After speaking to the settlers at Tenpines Bluff, they had travelled north around the cliffside and down into the gulch to find a suitable location to set up camp. Stumbling upon the house had been a godsend. It was nestled partly in a natural overhang and covered in ivy and thick foliage. She imagined what it would have looked like before the bombs fell, a beautiful secluded little cottage far from the bustle of city life in Boston.

Though it still held some of its beauty, four nights alone between its walls was beginning to take its toll on Valentina.

Johan had decided to check out Outpost Zimonja as it had been a regular haunt for various raider groups in the past. It was a few days away from the Bluff however and, in the meantime, the settlement needed protection in case the rumours of raider activity turned out to be true.

She had kept watch like she was supposed to, occasionally trudging up to the clifftop and scanning the landscape with her rifle; With Love. The biggest threat she had seen was an especially chubby mole rat but even that had been waddling away from Tenpines.

‘Defending the rear flank,’ she said aloud, imitating Johan’s instruction before he left. Cupid plodded over and pressed his nose under her hip to get her attention. She scratched between his ears and his head flopped onto her stomach, satisfied. ‘Just a nice way to tell me to park it while he goes out and has all the fun. Again. Isn’t that right, boy?’

Cupid’s ear perked up and he snuffled in response.

Being left behind was nothing new. Back when they had grown close, Johan leaving for a mission was commonplace and she understood that, as General of the Minutemen, his duties superseded much in his life. As their relationship had deepened however, she had felt more and more alone each time he left, as if a part of her had left with him.

It was more than reliance or dependency or even fear. She had seen him come back injured. Watched as the doctors patched up the scrapes and the bruises, been by his bedside when the knocks were more serious.

Valentina absentmindedly twirled her fingers through Cupid’s fur as she ruminated and enjoyed how soft it had become as it had grown out. It would need to be trimmed soon but she liked it while it lasted, planting a kiss on top of Cupid’s head and getting a whiff of eucalyptus.

She praised whatever force in the universe created soap and took another sniff, catching a lick for her efforts.

When they were prepping for the mission back in Sanctuary, Johan had tried to tell that five bars of soap for such a short trip was excessive and that she would be better off travelling light. She had drawn a line in the sand however, and the soap had stayed. She had even added an extra bar just in case.

Soap was non-negotiable.

But even soap couldn’t cure her boredom. She desperately wanted to move on and do something. She wanted to run as far as she could until she couldn’t run anymore but also wanted to just stay in Sanctuary forever and never leave.

There had been a strange pressure building within her recently; one she just couldn’t get rid of. She had felt it back at Sanctuary, at her home in Goodneighbor, even when visiting friends in Diamond City.

She had hoped some time out in the field would bring enough excitement to get rid of the feeling but it had continued to gnaw at the back of her mind.

She knew what it was. She had felt it when first waking up in Sanctuary, with Angel looking over her, and again in Goodneighbor, when she had begun to grow close with Johan.

She had been so many things in her life – her lives – that things became blurred from time-to-time. Pre-war blended with present day, people she would meet reminded her of people she once knew, places she had known were the same but different.

The juxtaposition could be difficult to manage.

Valentina paced the small room, following a wall until she hit a corner and then turning to move down the next, Cupid watching with piercing blue disinterest from his spot on the couch.

She turned down the hallway and looked over the bedroom before heading into the bathroom opposite. When she and Johan had arrived, the mirror had been more spiderweb cracks than glass but she had made it her first priority to repair it to halfway decent condition.

The bathroom was a sanctum. Her sanctum.

She stared into amber eyes which shone like molten gold in the soft light which streamed through the window and raised an eyebrow.

Wavy blonde hair cascaded down past her shoulders to her chest, styled loose and effortless. Sharp features, full lips, and high cheekbones drew the gaze to the eyes, where a playful menace always lurked just beneath the surface. She winked and picked a piece of lint from her bolero biker jacket, a gift from Angel long ago.

She had always liked the way she looked. Liked the effect it had on people. There was no shame in that, no arrogance. After all, her appearance was the first thing people saw, it was what people would judge her on before anything else.

She had learned how to utilise her image to her benefit. People would listen more and were far more likely to do what she wanted.

It had also led her down a path she had never intended however, a path that taught her everything she knew about using her appearance to get the results she wanted, a path which had ultimately led her to where she was today, for better or worse.

She would never had made it to the Commonwealth, never survived the apocalypse, without what she saw looking back at her. At the very least, she had to respect that power, that strength.

She had considered all of this before. It led to difficult questions and dangerous territory. It led to internal debates about whether or not her appearance had been a gift or a curse. It led to her questioning whether a new start in the Commonwealth had been worth losing everything else.

It led to staring at the bottom of a bottle and waking up with no more questions.

She shook these thoughts away, fixed a kink in her hair, gave her makeup a final touch-up, and left her reflection behind.

As she made her way back into the main room, a glint of light on the mantelpiece ahead caught her attention. Brushing away the thick layer of dust and grime which had built up over the centuries, she carefully moved a large shard of glass and picked up the picture frame beneath. The frame was broken and rotten and the glass had long since cracked but the image itself was still visible.

Gently wiping away the dirt with an old rag, Valentina stared into the faces of three people. A man in his early thirties with thick-rimmed glasses and a checked sweater vest over a shirt sat on the left of the image. A woman of a similar age stood beside him on the right with her hand on his shoulder. She wore a flower-print blouse and high-waisted skirt and wore her hair in a style which seemed to defy gravity. Between them, at the bottom of the image, was a boy of around eight or nine, with curly hair and a stripy shirt.

They were all smiling at the camera and she felt an icicle in her gut as a familiar pang of guilt echoed through her body.

William.

The name brought bad memories and a bitter taste to her throat, the guilt making her chest tighten slightly. The sensation caught her off-guard and she felt the rush of images in her mind.

The warm glow of a stage spotlight.

Headlights, a loud horn, and a deafening crash.

The clinical smell of a hospital room and the intermittent beeping of medical machinery.

The hiss of an opening cryopod and the first sputtering cough of a new life.

She tossed the picture back onto the mantelpiece and clutched her head, willing the memories away. Focusing on her breathing, she was dimly aware of Cupid whining with worry from somewhere in the room but the sound was muffled as if through thick cloth.

As she centred her mind on the simple act of inhaling and exhaling, she could feel her body respond in kind, relaxing until the tightness had almost entirely dissipated.

Her eyes flicked over to the broken refrigerator on the back wall, a half-bottle of whiskey gleaming within. She felt something at her legs and looked down to find Cupid nuzzling her shins before looking up with his tongue-lolling gaze.

She felt the last bit of tightness fade away and fell onto the sofa, Cupid leaping into her lap to give her kisses. She laughed and rolled to evade but he was too quick and caught her.

‘It’s not gonna happen today, is it, boy?’ she said between the laughter. She patted him on the back and he calmed, rolling over for belly scratches. She spared one last look towards the bottle of whiskey before giving him her full attention. ‘Not today, Cupid. No going backwards today.’

***

A knock at the door.

Valentina woke with a start and grabbed her pistol from the bedside table. Since the beginning of the mission, she had been forced to wear her armoured clothing to bed. Though it made for uncomfortable nights, she was thankful for its protection now.

She moved down the hallway quickly, each step graceful, perfectly placed, and silent. She had taken the time over the past few days to memorise the creaky floorboards and distributed her weight expertly.

Posting up at the end of the hallway, she aimed at the front door and scanned the room. Cupid was completely still, watching her intently for a command. She glanced out of the window. The sky was grey and she could see the brightening light of false dawn but any solid shapes were still too difficult to discern in the gloom.

The knock came again, louder this time, and she waited a few moments before stamping her foot three times.

She gripped the gun and stared at the door for what felt like a week, eyes and barrel trained for centre mass, just as she had been taught. It had been five days since Johan had left and she had been expecting him at any minute. But she had to follow protocol. Had to be sure.

Another knock came. And another. Then three in a rapid pattern followed by two slower ones.

She nodded along to the rhythm and bounded to the door as it finished, unlocking it to find a large silhouette in the doorway.

As he stepped into the house, Valentina pulled Johan into a kiss.

Although he was only six inches taller than her at 6’3”, his large frame made him seem taller still.

He had a lean, muscular physique with broad shoulders and strong arms, only accentuated by the armoured Minuteman jacket he wore. She pulled away slightly and took in his features. Fiery hair framed his face, tied back in a tight, militaristic bun and his beard was cut neat and angular and shaped to a rounded point.

Deep blue eyes were set between bold, distinct features. They stared back at her with love and mischief as he smiled, the skin around them crinkling.

‘Miss me?’ he asked with a grin. She had always found his voice soothing, fairly deep with a gritty undertone which spoke of a life lived.

‘Were you gone?’ came her teasing reply.

It was his turn to pull her in close and they shared a deep, passionate kiss. The smell of machine oil and ozone filled her nostrils and she couldn’t help but smile. The General of the Minutemen had always been a tinkerer at heart and the laser musket slung at his back was clearly his current project of choice.

Johan pulled back as if he had remembered something and dug into his pocket to produce a pearl earring, as pristine and shiny as it was when she had first laid eyes on it over 200 years ago.

It had been her grandmother’s favourite set and one she wore proudly on every possible occasion. When Valentina had taken them as a keepsake, she had kept them safe under the floorboards of her house in Sanctuary Hills and had been pleasantly surprised to find them intact upon waking from cryostasis.

She had grown so accustomed to Johan, as Minuteman General, leaving on missions for long stretches of time that it had become a ritual between them for him to take one of the earrings as a promise to return and bring it back to her.

She gently took it from him, handling it with a care akin to reverence.

‘I am glad you’re back,’ she said softly, pressing her fingertips against his chest. ‘Cupid and I have… noticed your absence.’

As if to reiterate her point, Cupid shuffled over, tail wagging, and gave Johan a quick boop in the kneecap before returning to his seat on the couch.

‘Glad the walls are still standing,’ Johan replied, closing the door and shaking the travel dust from his jacket. He strode across the main room and placed his laser musket onto the table in the corner before glancing around. He stared at the empty seat on the couch with a sour expression before flipping around a wooden chair from the table and hunkering himself down, leaning his arms over the backrest. ‘Everything been good?’

‘Nothing to report… unless chubby mole rats have suddenly become persona non grata in the Commonwealth?’ He gave her his best General stare and she flashed a bright smile. ‘What about Zimonja?’

‘Signs of recent activity but nothing to say they were raiders. Brahmin tracks and no bullets or bodies. All signs point to scavvers moving south on the road to Bunker Hill.’

‘I don’t know, the settlers up at the Bluff seemed pretty sure.’

‘More than likely its Palance seeing what he wants to see… again,’ Johan said, running a hand through his hair. Alan Palance was the settler in charge of Tenpines Bluff and, from the number of reports he had made in the past month alone, prone to flights of fancy. Johan sighed before continuing. ‘I’ve radioed ahead to some of the other bases to sweep the area just in case. If there’s anything out there, we’ll find it.’

Valentina loved seeing him like this; as the General of the Minuteman. She had met him some time ago in Goodneighbor when they were both in very different places, neither of them good. They had pulled one another up from the depths and she was proud of what he had achieved. Proud of who he had become.

Thoughts of the past pressed at the edges of her mind again and she pushed them back down as hard as she could.

‘Cap for your thoughts,’ he said, arching an eyebrow at her expression. His face shifted slightly as he looked at her and she suddenly felt exposed. It was a feeling she wasn’t familiar with. ‘You sure you’re okay?’

The mask slipped on in an instant. Her eyes were warm and comforting, her body leaned into the couch, completely and effortlessly relaxed. She painted on a practiced smile with consummate ease.

‘I’m fine.’

Even such a simple answer left her lips with a convincing energy.

Masterful.

Johan watched her for a few moments before his eyes flicked over her shoulder to the mantelpiece, the disturbed dust and propped-up picture frame attracting obvious attention. Valentina tensed for the questions that didn’t come.

‘I’m gonna go freshen up,’ said Johan as he stood. He placed a hand on her shoulder as he headed down the hallway and closed the bathroom door.

She let her smile fade.

It had always been so easy to wear the mask.

A warm smile for the instant rapport and trust it fostered; teary eyes to act the damsel in distress, ready to be rescued; a trembling hand to show frailty and weakness in the hopes of offered protection.

Joy, sadness, fear. Anything could be used as a tool, all you needed to do was master it.

She had learned that lesson a lifetime ago and it had served her well but she had also come to hate how easy it was to slip into. How easy it was to rely on.

As she had grown closer to Johan, she had been able to open up more but the mask was still a first resort, even after all this time. At the very least, he was one of the few people alive who could see through the mask, if only slightly.

The trouble was she didn’t know if she loved that about him or if it terrified her.

***

The stars were beautiful.

They hung like fireflies against the inky blackness above, swirling in great clusters in some places and sitting alone and distant in others. Valentina had always like how they looked, how they made her feel.

Perhaps it was because after two centuries of destruction and change, they were still the same stars she had seen as a child, peering out from her bedroom window. She watched them drift across the darkness and enjoyed the cool night air against her skin.

Pre-war, the night would have brought with it a myriad of sounds, from cicadas and chirping crickets to dogs and cats and talking and laughter from surrounding houses. The wind would whistle and blow through the trees, rustling leaves and rattling bunting and lines with small bells and wind chimes. The kaleidoscope of sound had always been a balm.

Now, everything was silence. Silence which should have brought a calm of its own but in the Commonwealth, dusk brought only danger. Anything which made a sound after the sun had set didn’t have good intentions. The silence just meant that whatever, or whoever, was out there was hunting quietly.

Valentina broke her attention away from the starscape and scanned the land. She could make out the moonlit peaks and crags of the surrounding cliffs and hills which gave both the settlement of Tenpines Bluff and the surrounding environs their name. A flash of movement caught her eye and her hand unconsciously reached for her jacket pocket before she realised she had left it back in the house.

It was an innocuous movement, one often seen in the Commonwealth. A glimmer in the darkness, any threat of danger, and a wastelander’s hands have to be quick to their weapons.

But it wasn’t her weapon she had reached for.

She allowed herself a small smile as she remembered her childhood back in Switzerland. Her father had been assigned there and each night, her grandmother would tell her stories of the Grim; a creature which stalked the nearby wilds, skulking through the countryside in search of prey.

The stories had given her nightmares as a child and even now, despite the dangers of deathclaws and yao guai in the Commonwealth overshadowing any fairy tale threat, she still kept small strips of dried meat in a pouch to bribe the Grim whenever she ventured into the country or mountains.

Give the Grim the meat you carry and then run as fast as your little legs will carry you or else he will gobble you all up!

She could still hear the words of her Grosi as clearly as if she had spoken to her yesterday.

As her mind drifted into reverie, Johan came out of the house and walked over. He silently draped a thick blanket over her shoulders and sat beside her. She absentmindedly leaned her head on his shoulder and they watched the stars without a word passing between them.

‘When I was young, I would carry around this little sheep plush,’ said Valentina after a time, breaking the silence. Her eyes remained on the sky but her mind was much further away. ‘Her name was Lady Blume. I took her everywhere I went. Shopping, playing, school. She was always there, right by my side.

‘I was around four when I lost her. We were on a train. We got off, she didn’t. I watched her through the windows but there was nothing I could do so I didn’t say anything. Didn’t even call out.’

Valentina raised her head from Johan’s shoulder and could feel him beside her, his breathing slow and even. He locked eyes with her. She continued.

‘Nobody knew I had noticed her on the train. So when they presented me with another plush, exactly the same as Lady Blume in every way, I acted relieved and surprised. I thanked them, took the toy to my room, and never touched it again.

‘They never told me they had replaced her, I never told them I knew. I think that was the first secret I ever had. Definitely the first I kept. It was always easy to keep, though. I guess it was how we showed we cared for each other, my family and I. Or that’s how I always saw it, at least.

‘I never told a living soul about Lady Blume until today.’

Johan’s eyes searched hers for what felt like minutes. He pursed his lips in the way that Valentina liked, when he was faced with a tough problem. It was the same expression he had worn when he first told her about Shaun, the first time he had opened up, way back when in a stuffy room in Goodneighbor.

‘I love you,’ he said simply. His eyes flicked from her to the ground to the seemingly limitless view around them, trying to find the right words. He took her hand gently in his. She could feel the calloused bumps and ridges. ‘I know it hasn’t always been easy but I’m here. With you. And that’s not gonna change.’

Valentina’s mind turned to the image of Lady Blume on the train as it moved away from her. Loved more than she knew, travelling further and further and further away, never to return.

‘I know,’ she said. ‘I just… can’t lose you. What if on the next mission the Minutemen send you on, you-‘

‘Hey,’ Johan interrupted, moving his hands to her face. ‘I always come back, don’t I?’ He tapped her earring as if to illustrate his point. ‘No matter where I go, no matter how far away, I will always find my way back to you, Val.’

She turned her face away. He was right about that. Their arrangement had worked thus far but having seen him injured on missions in the past and being out in the field with him these past few weeks, gaining a true understanding of the dangers he faced on a regular basis, she knew that one bad day was all it would take.

It was a risk she couldn’t take.

Not with him.

‘I’m coming with you,’ she said, facing him. His expression hardened but her gaze brooked no argument. ‘After we head back to Sanctuary. From here on out. I don’t wanna have to fight you every time you head out. And I don’t want to be left behind just to wait, not knowing if a raider got off a lucky shot or if you were cornered by a pack of ferals.

‘I’m coming with you. Wherever you go, however far it is, I’m there. With you.’

‘I need to know you’re safe,’ came his reply. ‘I need to-‘

‘I am safe. Besides, what better way to keep me safe than to keep me close?’ Valentina gave a sly grin and Johan couldn’t help but return one of his own. He leaned his head down and she placed her forehead against his. She could feel his slow breaths quicken slightly. ‘I love you and I’m with you until the end. That’s all there is.’

She kissed him and felt his fingers trace her jaw and go up to run through her hair. He held her close and she leaned on his shoulder, nestling into him. She decided that love was an odd sensation as she felt the feeling deep in her chest, filling her with a surge of warmth. He planted a kiss on the top of her head and she watched the stars twinkle against the blackness before closing her eyes to enjoy the moment.

***

Valentina zipped her pack and stuffed her soap into her satchel. She hefted them both up, clipping them to both her tactical harness and bandolier to make sure that everything was completely secure before taking her rifle from beside the bed.

At the doorway, she took one last look at the rough bedsheets and thought back to the previous night. She reasoned that she must have fallen asleep outside and Johan probably carried her in, careful not to wake her. She smiled at the image of him creeping around the house with her snuggled into his arms.

Her eye caught a purple bottle on the other side of the bedroom and she cursed herself for forgetting such an essential travel item. She made sure it was safe in her pack.

No journey was truly complete without Nuka-Grape, after all.

She made her way into the main room and saw Johan by the fireplace, hunched over to examine the picture on the mantelpiece. Knowing what memories it triggered for her and having heard his stories of pre-war life, she could only imagine the images flooding his mind.

She intentionally stepped heavily on a creaky floorboard and watched as he straightened, turning to face her.

‘Everything packed and ready?’ he asked, pragmatic as ever.

Valentina turned a full circle to model her travelling gear. ‘You good?’ She glanced at the picture on the mantelpiece and a small smile grew beneath his beard.

‘I am,’ he replied earnestly. He looked at her pointedly. ‘You?’

She shuffled up to him and planted a kiss on his lips to answer his question and the faint taste of Salisbury Steak greeted her. She could make out the gravy on his lapel and chewed her lip to keep from laughing.

‘A good night’s sleep helped,’ she said as he headed for the door. ‘The Commonwealth is gonna have a hell of a time trying to get to you. It’ll have me to get through first.’

Johan chuckled and opened the front door. Cupid burst out, tail wagging, excited at the prospect of travel.

‘Jo and Val, together on the road? The Commonwealth doesn’t know what it’s got itself into…’ He turned at the threshold and offered a hand. Valentina merely raised an eyebrow. ‘What’s wrong? Don’t want people to see us holding hands? Or are you planning to run away? Maybe out west, to start your ranch…’

Valentina stuck her tongue out at him and took his hand.

‘I’m with you, until the casket drops.’

He smiled and nodded slowly.

‘Until the casket drops,’ he repeated, almost under his breath. ‘I love it.’

Together, Valentina and Johan walked out into the Commonwealth, the bright sun of the post-apocalypse warming their faces as they left the cold house at their back.

Valentina had never wanted to be an intelligence agent. She had never wanted to marry William. She had never wanted the world to end or to find herself in a wasteland of her old home. But life had never allowed her to choose. Through accidents, circumstance, and dumb luck, she had ended up where she was. Who she was.

Johan was not her first love. She had told him long ago that she would never marry again, that they could grow old and start a family but she would never marry him. He had stuck by her through the worst the Commonwealth had to offer and she had been there for his darkest days.

There was a bond forged between them which neither time nor distance could break. She was on the train, left behind by everyone she had ever known, ever loved. But now she was not alone. Would never be alone again.

Johan was not her first love.

But he would be her last.