#modern warfare 2 beta

[feedingfrenzy91]

Call of Duty Player Visits Activision Office

God willing Activision will change its ways soon but if not then I hope that if and when the Microsoft Takeover happens they will take over the Customer support themselves.

Gameplay: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 Beta

May God bless you all.

Thumbnail: https://charlieintel.com/modern-warfa...

[runnerbunny483]

Beta is downloading at 1'50mb/s speed. Pray for me and my ping.......

Anyway Who wants to play together owo

[trandtalk]

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 Beta | best advantage

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 Beta | best advantage

One of the most notable differences between the Call of Duty franchise and other FPSs like Battlefield or Squad is the perk system. The perk system is one of the most notable differences between the Call of Duty franchise and other FPSs like Battlefield or Squad. And that’s because players have complete freedom to create their own unique classes that suit their playstyle. But, of course, there…

[bigassmoonchild]

The Aftermath

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2k

The first part does give context, but isn’t required for this read.

Summary: You knew the difficulty the process of being a mated Omega in the military. You understood how much you would lose, but you never thought about the difficulty in your normal life. Never thought about the panic you would have, or how much it would effect you and Ghost's personal relationship.

Content Tags: Hospitals, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, No use of Y/N, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost

A/N: I was not expecting such a good response to Maple Syrup, and since y'all seemed to like it so much here's basically the next part. Let me know if you want anything specific, my asks should be open. <3 I'm adding a 'keep reading' link to make sure you can scroll on if you want.

Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

Everything felt wrong. Ghost wasn't injured, but he was being held overnight in the medbay. The Maple Syrup had run its course through him, but he could hear chatter echoing in the room. He could smell you, you weren't too far from him but he wasn't allowed to see you. Price had come in not too long after the doctors had checked him over and cleared him, arms crossed as he sat in the chair next to the bed Ghost was in.

"We'll need to talk, you know," was the only thing Price had said, leaning back and relaxing in the chair.

"Is the Doc okay?" Ghost asked, looking in the direction your scent was coming from. The sickly sweet smell of heat was becoming stale, but you were on lock and key just in case any Alpha soldiers tried to come in. Price looked in the same direction, giving a faint shrug.

"I'm going to be updated once she's steady enough for the doctors to leave her alone," Price said. "Gaz is on watch outside her room," Ghost nodded. Gaz was a Beta, so it would be fine for him to be that close. Ghost still didn't like it, he didn't know how his pack was, where everyone was, if everyone was safe.

It took a few hours, it was well past midnight before any movement came from the direction of your room. The curtains surrounding Ghosts bed was moved, the Doctor gesturing for Price to follow him. Ghost had tried to listen in, but it wasn't worth it. He was still in mild pain from the mission, the place where the tranq had stabbed him still throbbed every so often.

Price walked back in some time later, looking at Ghost with a sigh. That didn't make him feel good, panic started to flow through him, thoughts of you dying flashed in his mind for a few moments.

"She's gonna be fine," Price started. "They got her heat back under control, they're just waiting for it to finish cycling through her. Outside of that, she's fine," Price sat next to Ghost. "I can't ask you about what happened. I can only tell you what will happen," he looked away.

You woke up, head foggy and throbbing with a headache. You could see a form moving next to you, checking your vitals. You gave a soft groan, your neck throbbing alongside your core. Everything hurt, but you weren't able to tell if it was everything.

"You finally waking up?" The voice asked, and you could recognize it. "You've been out for a few days, you've even had Ghost trying to get in," she giggled a little. Amanda. That was her name, she was one of the nurses you'd been working with prior to the mission that went south.

At the mention of Ghost, you sat upright, vision spinning before righting itself.

"It was a really bad heat you were sent into, y'know. Took us a few hours to stabilize you, but you're doing good for yourself," she smiled, trying to lay you back down but you pushed her off of you.

"I need to talk to him," god even your throat hurt. She nodded slowly, sticking her head out of the door. You rubbed your head, headache now making you feel sick. It took a few moments, but you heard footsteps come in the room, a figure standing next to you. When you looked up, it was Price.

"There are some procedures we need to go through. I've already got some officers in, but we still need to talk about what happened," Price started, moving to sit in the chair near you. "Ghost has already spoken with them, so it'll be you, me and the officers. I think Laswell has flown in as well," you stared at Price.

With a few blinks, you looked down to think. Ghost had already spoken with the officers? You knew what the rules were like, and you knew that your career was now in his hands. It pissed you off, if you could really focus on feeling much outside of pain.

"The officers are trying to get him to make a decision on your career. I can't let you two talk about anything yet, the Adjutant Officers still need to figure things out before you'll be allowed near each other," Price looked away, your jaw tensing. You really had no rights anymore, did you?

It took another few days before you were released. The second you had clothes of your own to wear, you were gone off into your room.

Someone had been here. You could smell a stale scent, but you weren't able to place it. It was too distant to be able to decipher, but your room was exactly the same as it had been left before you were hospitalized. You didn't feel comfortable in your room, knowing someone had been here.

A knock on the door made you spin, nerves set tight. As you opened the door, a large figure came into view.

"Doc," Ghost started, before being yanked into your room and having the door slammed behind him. You turned on him, staring at him sharply. You pointed, opening your mouth before shutting it and groaning, running hands through your hair.

You kept trying to start talking before you stopped yourself, eventually kicking at the wall in irritation.

"What did you say to them?" You hissed, back still turned and facing the wall. You could hear him shift behind you, boots scuffing against the ground. You turned, storming up to him, chest to chest. "What the hell did you tell them? You gonna dismantle my career? Make me some fucking house-omega?" You were growling now, you could feel your muscles tensing.

When he didn't respond, you groaned, tossing your hands up in defeat and walking away from him. You turned, hand on your hip, waiting for a response.

"I don't want to take your career away," he whispered, finally. You barked a laugh, rubbing your wrist against your bitten gland. His hand reached out to grab you, but you moved away from him. "I don't want to make decisions for you," he added, voice growing more desperate.

You shook your head, pulling your hand away from your gland and shaking them out. Ghost reached out to you again, hand catching your shoulder before you shrugged him off.

"I don't know what to do," you whispered. "I'm terrified, because now I'm outed to so many people, and there's quite literally nothing I can do to save myself," you turned to look at Ghost.

He scoffed. "You think I'm going to ruin things for you? I've already told you, I don't want that kind of control over you," he looked away, crossing his arms. You could smell the distress on him.

"You have done shit to make me trust you!" Your voice raised before dropping, a hand running down your face. "I have zero control left, you know how many rights I have as a mated Omega?" He shook his head. "None," you glared at him.

Ghost glanced at you before looking away again. He shook his head, moving to leave before you blocked the door from him.

"You don't get to walk out when we're talking," you growled at him and he growled back.

"This isn't a conversation, this is you getting all pissy on me," he loomed over you, forcing you to take a step back. "I didn't want this to happen, I would have chosen any other way to save us, but we didn't get a choice, did we?" You looked away.

"Get out,"

He could smell the distress on you the second he spoke. Your scent left him spiraling, he was panicking. His Omega was distressed, and he was the cause. He wanted to fix it, correct the problem and make you happy again.

Ghost could do nothing when you repeated yourself.

"Get the hell out," you glared at him. Ghost opened his mouth to give you a retort, but you had turned away. He bit his tongue, turning to stare at the door.

"You know that's not what I meant," he whispered, opening the door and leaving.

Even after walking aimlessly for ten minutes, he could still smell your distress on your scent, the sour taste stuck on the back of his throat. This wasn't how he had intended to talk to you, he wanted to make a plan for when they asked him more questions regarding your career.

Ghost was pissed off, more so with himself than you, but he wanted to comfort you. Fix what he had said, take it back.

But he had a meeting to attend, and he needed to make sure he didn't say anything wrong.

You sat in the conference room, Price, Laswell and an Adjutant officer sitting across from you. This was the third time you'd gone over what had happened.

"So you say this 'Maple Syrup' is what caused Ghost to go into a feral rut?"

"Yes," you deadpanned, glaring through the Adjutant. "We've already been through all of this, there is literally nothing else that I haven't told you," the Adjutant hummed.

"We need to make sure everything is covered," he told you, looking at the paper he had been writing on for the past hour and a half.

You looked at Price, hoping he would help you in any way. He looked away, leaning further back into his seat.

"What about my career?" The room went silent, the Adjutant stopped reading, glancing over at Price who had finally looked at you. "I want to know what's happening," you whispered. The last few days had left you unsure of yourself. You wanted to confront Ghost, you wanted to apologize for snapping at him, you wanted to fix what you'd said.

None of them spoke, Laswell had opened her mouth to speak before closing it, taking a deep breath. Her fingers tapped on the table, looking at Price and the Adjutant.

She looked back at you. "You aren't allowed to make any decisions regarding that, you know," your head dropped back with a groan, wrist rubbing against your bitten gland roughly. You were terrified, you didn't know what the future was going to hold.

You had so little control and it was getting worse. You stood abruptly, going to walk out the door before Price spoke.

"Would you like to speak with Ghost?" You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. With people around, you wouldn't snap on him, but you also didn't want to see him since his last remarks. You really needed to know if you still worked here, or if he was going to force you to become a house-omega.

You nodded, turning around and sitting back down while staring Price down as he made a phone-call. A few moments later, Ghost walked in and sat beside you, but you still couldn't look at him. It was silent for a few minutes, everyone looking at each other, waiting for the first to speak.

"You still have a job here," Ghost spoke up. "I didn't let them remove you, but they won't allow you on missions anymore," he added the last part quietly. You nodded.

You could hear Price and Laswell ushering the Adjutant Officer out of the room, the door closing with a click behind them. Neither you nor Ghost talked for a few minutes, you could smell a certain level of stress on him.

"Thank you," you whispered, glancing quickly at him. He was staring at you, eyes watching your every twitch and shudder. "I'm... sorry, for the other day," you fiddled with your fingers. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

Ghost shook his head, hesitating before grabbing your hand, pulling it close to him and in turn tugging you towards him. You finally turned to look at him, and his eyes visibly softened.

He looked down, then back up to you. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said what I did. Not in the way I did," he tugged you even closer to him, nuzzling into your gland. "I don't regret having you as my mate now, but if I could've changed what I did, you wouldn't be stuck with me making decisions for you now," you leaned in to him, pressing your face into his chest.

It relaxed you, his scent, and allowed you to think much clearer.

"I'm just so scared,"

Next

[yumethefrostypanda]

Cpt. Price

[centaurisolarflare]

A soft little König blurb after all that filth:

I have this specific image in my head of being at the airfield or base or wherever right when he gets back from a mission, so he’s still decked out in all his gear. Once the two of you are away from prying eyes, he leans down as you pull his sniper hood up and hold it back over his helmet so you can kiss him. It’s a hungry kiss – full of “I’m so glad you’re safe; thank you for coming back to me” and “I thought about you every night; we’ll always find our way back to each other”. 

It’s urgent yet loving and you’re pressed as close together as you can be – some of his gear digging into you – both his hands holding your face, but then he can feel you start grinning against his lips. It morphs into you smiling so much it isn’t even a proper kiss anymore, until you’re outright giggling into his mouth. He pulls back, quirking his brow at you in question, but you’ve dropped your head to his chest. He holds you steady as you shake with laughter, smile now pressed against his tactical vest. When you pull yourself together enough to speak you do so with a little tug at his hood, telling him how it’s like you were pulling up a bride’s veil. 

He’s frozen, starring down at you with so much adoration it hurts, and he grips your biceps when he asks you, softly, if you’d wear a veil at your wedding. He doesn’t specifically say if you were marrying him, but the hope is plainly evident in his eyes. The hope boils over and scalds the inside of his chest, trickling down his ribcage, when you giggle again and say how it’d only be fair that he has to push past some fabric to get to your lips after you’ve done it to him so many times. 

He surges down to kiss you again and the only thing he can focus on for the rest of that week is wondering exactly how lovely you’d look standing with him as you exchange rings.

[carbondioxda]

A cigarette

Simon ,,Ghost” Riley/reader

a/n: might contain a little swearing, i think i’m projecting my grief, english isn’t my first language sorry for any mistakes!

c/w: angst ig, hurt no comfort, no beta we die like men aaand reader is a girl, no use of y/n

He sat on the couch, in complete silence. The apartment was so empty, it was overwhelming. Just like the amount of guilt he felt.

Why did he scream at her right before she went out? It was the only time she seemed scared before a mission. The only time she desperately didn’t want to go.

,,Pull yourself together, for fuck’s sake, you’ve been panicking so much it’s making me wanna blow my head off.”

That were the last words Ghost said to her. The last he ever will.

,,No, wait, I’m so sorry, Si-”

She stuttered, while another soldier pulled her slightly by her arm.

,,I love you Si!”

She managed to shout, but he wouldn’t have time to respond anyway. Now that he thought about it, Simon had never seen a look like that on her face - like she was certain she’d die. The girl he loved so much wanted to say a proper goodbye, or stay if that was even possible somehow.

He couldn’t even cry. Everything felt so normal here, like she’d come home any second and yet, his ears were ringing ever since Price called.

The ashtray was dirty with whatever was left of her cigarettes. The milk wasn’t finished. He bought her new shampoo a few days ago. A charger wrapped in tape was still plugged to a wall.

He was deadly afraid to touch anything. It was like he’d cause her to dissapear completely, even though she was already gone. His conversation with Captain echoed in his mind from time to time.

,,I’m so sorry for you loss, L.T.”

,,…Was it at least quick?”

He spat the question out. He had to know she didn’t suffer. Price didn’t want to answer for a moment, then he heard a deep sigh.

,,…I’m sorry”

The response made his heart drop. He wished it just stopped, the same moment hers had. She died a long, painful death, alone somewhere on a mission. He might’ve as well been the one that killed her, because that’s how he felt anyway.

It was unimaginable. He really would never touch her skin again? Hear her voice? Touch her hair?

He looked at the stupid kitchen counter. She’d always sit up on it on the weekends and make his coffee right when she heard him wake up, so that whenever he came out of his room, his coffee was ready. How the fuck would he be able to make himself coffee ever again without her to drink it with?

A wave went over him, weakening his muscles. He finally broke when he noticed a strand of her hair one of the pillows. There were traces of her everywhere, like she purposefuly wanted to haunt him out of spite. Remind him of his horrible words.

The callendar marked 14th September. It was already the 16th, but the world stopped on the 14th. How dare did the world go on, when his froze. How did everybody just live without her? She’d miss out on so much. He wouldn’t be even able to tell her all about it. It wasn’t supposed to happen, not to her, his girl, the only one that he ever loved.

Her death wasn’t something he could just…move on from. He’ll stay there, in that very apartament, still drinking coffee, with her sitting on the counter. Charging their phones with a broken charger.

[themoonbrokenbylife]

Has anyone ever wanted/been interested in using a beta reader for fanfics and if so how does one get into that? I know it's something I'd 100% be down for. No fee. No cost just the love of fanfiction and being able to discuss them with some truly amazing authors and help them out. I know when I write, at some point you've seen and critiqued your own work so much you need fresh eyes. 🙏🏻

[konigbabe]

heartburn

Pairing: John Price x fem!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Tags/Warnings: established relationship; (emotional) hurt/no comfort; angst; smut; p-in-v sex; soft sad sex turned rough(ish); female reader; female anatomy; fem oral receive; cunnilingus; unprotected sex; spoilers in the upcoming tags; breakup; heart break; cheating accusations; unintentional exhibitionism

Summary: Dressed in nothing but your desire, England was an entirely different beast. Ready for the remarks, John stomped into the shared bedroom, legs freezing upon the sight of you—skin bare, eyes wide, heels on but clothes not.

Part of my A to Z kinks game [L is for lingerie]. Inspired by Power by Isak Danielson.

masterlist  • faq •  AO3 • ko-fi

Like a starved animal, begging for every ounce of you; to feel every inch of you. He already stole your heart. Took a part of you with him whenever he got deployed. Lost it on the battlefield; returned with gifts instead.

All you wanted him to do was make it up to you. Make it all go away, rip the rest of your heart out, leave an empty cave inside your chest only to fill it up with his essence. Only him.

John’s arm tightened around you when your lips brushed over his. Chasing that spark, that electrifying flicker. The gentle brush of your tongue over his lips, a silent cry; or a plea. 

There isn’t much to save, anyway. Is it really worth trying?

Words spiralled in your head, the sour taste of cheap wine painting your tongue crimson red, making your world spin with each step. You watched as the wine splashed on the bottom of the sink, few droplets bouncing onto the rim, some clinging to your fingers.

The walk upstairs took way too long. Lights out. The strong flame of the candle cast dancing shadows over the kitchen counters. The perfect blend of musk, patchouli, sage and mahogany cologne remained you of him; Midsummer’s night—it served as the accurate distraction from the bittersweet loneliness.

The doors to the bathroom smashed open as you stumbled inside, hands shooting to rip the sweater off of your body only to notice it already gone; probably discarded on the way. Untying the knot on your sweatpants, you undressed completely; the chilly air coming from the simple white files caressed your heated flesh. The lukewarm water started filling the bathtub as your eyes fell on the beige bag, resting on top of the unmade bed. Lonely and abandoned. With a dizzying step into the bedroom, your blood-painted nails scrapped the soft, silky fabric.

The car ride was silent, only his fingers drumming on the steering wheel breaking the quiet. Heart racing, Price was eager to finally get to his destination; home, to you. A day earlier, mind already filled with plans on how he’s going to make it up to you—all the missed time, the months of lonesomeness he caused you.

The sun had already begun to dip below the horizon by the time he and his men landed back in England. Painting the sky in a wash of oranges and pinks. By the time he was already pulling up onto the familiar street, the darkness set in. Moon shining bright, enlightening the empty front porch of your shared bungalow; the one you designed and he help build with his own hands.

Still in uniform, John parked the car next to yours. His eyes remained focused on the front door; waiting that maybe, just this time, you’d come out. Welcome him with open arms, that adorable smile on your face. In that pretty sundress he bought you last time.

(“For the neighbour’s welcoming party,” his lips touched your forehead momentarily, hand warm on the side of your neck. The light gold necklace he gave you after returning from the previous deployment shone in the sunlight as he stood before you, a soft smile hidden underneath the overgrown beard. But in the end—

—he had to leave the morning of the party, leaving you to participate alone. As always.)

Rubbing his hands together, eyes fixated on the slight flicker of light in the kitchen, John came to the conclusion that you weren’t coming. That he had to go, fish the keys from his pocket and actually enter the house by himself.

“Good evening, Mr Price,” a soft voice genuinely surprised him while closing the door, causing him to slam them shut harsher than he intended. Looking at the pavement, he registered a woman walking her dog; the black tight pants blended into the night, making it look as if she was floating, matching a dog’s fur as it stood by her legs. It was big, strong, and John was sure that if the dog wanted, he could’ve easily dragged the woman by the leash.

She was pretty—made John feel sick with himself for even thinking about that.

“I’m your neighbour,” she followed with her name, catching onto the man’s confusion, “I had a welcoming party few months back. Your wife came. Brough Shepherd’s pie, said you baked it together.”

He felt his throat tighten; the pie was meant to be your lunch. You made plans to bake a cake together for the party or go buy wine. Yet apparently, that cake was never created. It made him wonder—what did you do after he left? In the early hours of the morning, when the sun was still half below the horizon. He left you in the bed, his old shirt clinging to your sleeping form, exposing a sliver of skin on your hip, the curve of your waist. It made him question himself; When was the last time he saw the skin of your torso? Traced the scar under your collarbone? Kissed the softness of your breasts?

“Girlfriend, she’s not my wife,” John interrupted the woman, swallowing to relax his throat.

The woman’s lips parted, “oh, well, um—who knows,” she shrugged, watching her dog sit.

But John knew; he saw the outcome, the impending ending. And you did too. The neighbour didn’t, she didn’t see what was going on in your house.

“She sure is very lovely,” the woman rambled on but John’s mind already drifted elsewhere, not really paying any attention to the neighbour no more.

“Have a nice evening,” he dismissed her. Back practically turned to her as he marched toward the front doors. The dog barked; he wasn’t sure if it was at his looming figure, covered by the night, or a random squirrel hidden somewhere in the trees surrounding the whole neighbourhood.

The smell of cedar and vetiver enclosed John, the candle’s fire barely surviving at the bottom of its thick glass. It made his head throb, the strong scent overwhelming his senses. Entering the room, the kitchen was a mess; used plates still laying on the dinner table, glasses stained with red substance thrown into the sink, one of them cracked at the rim. His fingers traced the line. One slight push and the glass would explode under his calloused fingers.

Two plates.

Two wine glasses.

Candle still lit.

The chair you always sit on carelessly untucked, blocking the way to the door.

His legs moved on their own accord, stopping at the bottom of the staircase.

Your sweater, inside out and hanging on the wooden railing.

Heart bleeding. John stomped onto the stairs, heavy breathing, he felt a pile collecting at the bottom of his throat, threatening to spill over.

The silk material hugged you tightly, exposing the flesh of your exhausted body. Lips painted burgundy red, matching the colour of your bleeding heart, your eyes stayed fixated on the reflection in the mirror, shadows from the lit lamp cast onto the side of your face contouring the pale skin.

Door swinging open, your breath hitched. The sharp light being turned on blinded you temporarily. A broad silhouette stood at the door. One hand extended, palm resting on the wooden material; John’s eyes scanned the bedroom first. As you stayed by the dressing table, feeling the cold surface calming the nerves.

He was back.

His name leaving your lips pulled his eyes toward you. You were alone. He exhaled, confused. The zircon blue raging with a storm as John takes you in; after months of separation and only hearing your voice, he mentally beats himself for forgetting the way you look. Especially now, barely dressed as if you were awaiting his arrival—or someone else’s, his mind wanders.

John’s gaze shifted from yours, eyes sliding over the barely covered body of his lover. Of you. The way the clothing highlighted your curves, the straps of the suspender belt hanging in the air loosely, begging to be clipped to the stockings that hug your legs, the soft muscles emphasized by the heels. He always knew you were beautiful, he made sure to let you know on every occasion he had; he used to. Looking at you now, at that moment, you looked breathtaking, magnificent. Made him bleed with a primal instinct—one held back by the heartburn spreading inside him.

It’s your name, escaping his chapped lips in a silent prayer that pushed him inside the lit bedroom.

“Is someone else here,” he breaks the silent wall between you, shattering it to pieces.

Eyebrows furrowed, you watched him turn the lights off again, leaving only the soft glimmer of the lamp flowing over your silhouette on.

“Why?”

Hip gently resting on the side of the dressing table, your fingertips fumbled with the clasp of the belt.

“I saw the kitchen,” John’s steps turned light just as the tone of his voice, the storm in his eyes dying down, softening the hardened features on his face. The same face you dreamt about every night.

Oh.

Oh.

The rest of the alcohol was like a warm current, but then the coolness of the air touched you. Like a snowflake, the liquor evaporated from your system upon John’s words.

“I was lonely,” you exhaled, “I am lonely.”

I am lonely; your words haunted him, a pestering melody he could not get out of his head. Dizzying him, stunning his legs to the freezing point. The forlornness of your words enveloped him, choking him. It was as if someone had slipped a razor blade into his chest.

Just at an arms reach. Fingertips sparking with small jolts of electricity, all John wanted was to touch you, run his palms over the curve of your waist, touch the wet skin of your cheeks. Whisper sweet nothings in your ear—just as he used to.

Now he felt like a stranger in his own bedroom.

“I thought that maybe,” a tear ran down your cheek, the droplet leaving a wet trail behind as it reached your jawline, John’s eyes following, “maybe, if I just pretend hard enough; maybe I could get my brain to believe that—”

His hand moved to wipe away the tears, but he could feel something more pressing than the sadness in your eyes.

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you, John,” his name felt heavy on your tongue, unnatural.

A series of No cascaded from his lips, a stark contrast to the love that had filled the room previously. Arms lingering on your cheek, the rough tip of his thumb caressed the contours of your cheekbones while his heart wept in time with yours. His arm sneaked around your naked middle, brushing over the silky soft belt, fingertips dipping slightly underneath the fabric to feel just a little more of you. A desperate attempt to keep you close.

Your fingernails scratched the unkept beard, the mess on his worn-out face as if trying to hold on to something that was already slipping away. Feeling the rough texture. The pricking of his facial hair. Palm resting on his bruised cheek, the fading blend of purple and yellow partly hidden by the beard. Exhaling, feeling the weight of your bleeding love on his war-stained shoulders, he closed his eyes, letting his head fall into your hand.

John’s arm tightened around you when your lips brushed over his. Chasing that spark, that electrifying flicker. The gentle brush of your tongue over his lips, a silent cry; or a plea.

One last time.

His nails dug into the soft flesh of your back, gripping the belt. Moustache scratching your upper lip, his teeth enclosed over your lower lip. A whimper escaped your throat. And he swallowed it. Like a starved animal, begging for every ounce of you; to feel every inch of you. He already stole your heart, your mind. Took a part of you with him whenever he got deployed. Lost it on the battlefield; returned with gifts instead.

Your back met the edge of the drawer, hips flush against John’s. Hand grasping the back of your head. Desperately holding onto the softness of your hair. Lips crashed over yours, his tongue swiped over the tip of yours, tasting the saltiness mixed with the sourness of the wine you bought earlier. His despair tasted of tobacco, sweet and spicy. And urgency.

His name felt plaintive as you whimpered against his lips.

Leaning into you with his whole weight, you welcomed the suffocating feeling. Nails marking his exposed biceps in crescent shapes, his beard tickled your chin, the edge of your jawline and neck as he tasted your skin, planting sloppy, open-mouthed kisses everywhere he could reach. Tongue slithering over the sensitive skin, soothing the aching bruises he kept creating.

“You’re beautiful.” I’m sorry.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous.” Let me make it up to you.

And you did; all you wanted him to do was make it up to you. Make it all go away, rip the rest of your heart out, leave an empty cave inside your chest only to fill it up with his essence. Only him.

Hand sneaking underneath your knee, he caressed the fabric of the stockings before hooking your leg over his broad shoulder. The tip of your heels dug into his back. Poking the taunt muscle as the man knelt in front of you; before you. Tantalizing touches left a trail of dire longing over the apex of your thighs. One that lingers long after John moves away.

Palm warming the inside of your thigh, his lips trace the damp centre, feeling the wetness seep through the thin material. He missed this. You. Yet he couldn’t shake off the feeling in his heart. Just for this one night, all he wanted was to be selfish and pathetic. Just for tonight. And your moan, the way your hips bucked into his lips as he breathed in your scent, you felt the same.

One last pathetic goodbye.

He cursed. He was a bloody captain; and not just any captain—a member of SAS, founder of 141. A hunter. A killer. A damn good sniper, he’d say himself. Able to face many dangerous terrorists, druglords, and took down a whole underground organisation; but not able to face the truth of his love life. To face you.

Rather opting for a sad fuck. He felt like a coward.

Teeth sinking into the plush flesh of your thighs, hard enough to leave prints, making you moan his name in a series of cries. Maybe if he marked you enough, painted your skin in love bruises, it would make you stay. Tie you to him in an insurmountable knot.

Your hand sneaked into his hair, feeling the strands move around your fingers. Head resting on the mirror, John’s lips brushed over your centre again, eliciting another wishful moan from you. The dull throb inside your abdomen intensified. You needed him. To feel his touch, the stretch of him inside. Heaving a groan, you begged the man to do something; to stop punishing you already.

He wanted it to last forever though.

“Fuck,” he cursed, pushing your panties to the side and collecting the wetness on the tip of his fingers, “you’re dripping, love.”

Somehow, it felt foreign to hear him use the l-word again. Shutting your eyes harshly, the muscles at the back of your thighs stretched uncomfortably as John stood up; your ankle hooked on his shoulder, he could feel the coolness of the heel against his cheek.

“Open your eyes,” his lips kissed your instep, “please.”

You followed his humble request. Watching as the zircon blue of his eyes turned sapphire, his fingers traced your red-stained lips, smearing your juices over them before you sucked his fingertips in; eyes never leaving his, fixated on the way the lipstick stained his skin. He wanted the colour to ooze into his skin. To tattoo it in, make it stay.

Your hand tugged on his shirt. Tongue swirling over the fingers, cleaning them. The taste of brine and salt filling your senses, John quickly discarded his shirt, throwing it behind with careless behaviour—lips crashing onto yours with a new-found desire.

The kiss was short. Aggressive, messy, sloppy. But too short; soon followed by him back on his knees, your underwear pooling around your feet as his mouth latched onto the throbbing nub of nerves. Fingertips teasing your entrance, sending shockwaves throughout your bloodstream, igniting that dying fire inside you.

Hands grasping the side of the drawer, John kept a hand around the suspender belt, gripping it like a collar to steady you. Tongue swirling around your clit, he devoured you like a man starved of water. The sides of his beard tickled your walls—The fork of his nose parted your lips and sent shivers through your body as he lingered on your clit, giving it a flick or two before tracing the length of you again. Then another flick. Another taste.

Tongue swirled and lapped, dipping into you so that he could gather more of you for himself, satisfying his greedy desire for you, selfishly chasing after this hunger to savour you—until finally you heard the knot of desire tighten inside your abdomen, like a violin string too tense to play, until at last it can hold no more and snaps with a great final note that reverberated into silence.

You felt like a coward. Instead of pursuing the man you loved with the remaining pieces of your heart, here you were, letting him savour you—the only way both of you solved your problems. Only this time, as the knot inside your abdomen tightened, with John’s finger scraping your sensitive, gummy walls, this was the last problem to be solved.

“John.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he murmured against your walls, beard scratching the inside of your thighs. Heel digging into the naked flesh of his shoulderblade, you desired to bring him close, to swallow him whole, keep him locked between your legs for the rest of your life; never letting him leave.

Adding another finger, he scissored them inside you, tongue swiping over your leaking juices as his thumb toyed with your clit. White hot flashes shot through you; erasing every thought from your overdriven mind, leaving nothing but the feeling of scorching hot pleasure, bubbling inside you like a volcanic vat near explosion.

You felt his lips curl into a smile. Something you wished to see but the blinding feeling of pleasure too overbearing to allow your eyes to open. Lips parted, his name mixed with moans as he curled his fingers against your sweet spot. His eyes locked on your face. Watching. Memorising the way your mascara smudged underneath your eyes, casting a blackish shadow. Or your lipstick, smeared around your parted lips. In his eyes, you looked like a goddess—to be worshipped, loved, taken care of; not left alone.

Back arching, spine rippling with each new wave of bliss, John’s hand gripping your belt moved to your thigh, holding you steady while you reached the dizzying peak. The sound of your cries a symphony to John’s ears. He never stopped; his fervent passion hadn’t diminished, if anything it only grew more intense as he relished in the taste of you.

“C’here,” you murmured, gripping the side of his neck to bring his lips to yours. Tasting yourself on his tongue, sweet and tangy, you swallowed his guttural groans. Fumbling with the belt on his pants, he quickly dropped them to the ground, not bothering to step out of them as his hands undid the hooks of your bra with expertise; the same passion you used to have years ago.

He hissed when your fingers wrapped around his cock. Already semi-hard, your name cascaded from his lips, stained by you; he crashed his mouth against yours again. Pressing his body onto yours with a throaty grunt, hands holding your face steady, you could feel his leaking tip press against your middle. With your hand locked in place by the tight squeeze of his body, he rocked his hips into you.

The air was pungent, filled with moans and grunts; John’s hands moved to your thighs, gripping the plump flesh harshly as he hoisted you onto the drawer. You spread your legs apart, accommodating his narrow hips, feeling the precum stain your centre, press against where you wanted him the most.

John’s hand rested on the side of your neck, thumb brushing over the edge of your collarbone. Lips latched onto the other clavicle, he guided himself inside you. Splitting you apart, slowly taking more of you with him.

And you let him.

You let him take all of you.

Your palm rested on his breastplate. Feeling the coarse hair splattered across his chest. The taunt muscle underneath the scarred flesh, feeling the rapid beating of his broken heart. Taking you apart, filling you up.

When his cock finally kissed your cervix, he stilled. Both of you relishing in the close feeling of the other, feeding off of each other’s desire. He felt the surge of power you got over him. Pulling out with a tantalizing pace, he could feel your walls sucking him in. Like a mockingbird in a cage, his heart sang the song of you; desired, broken. Lonely.

“I love you,” John stumbled over the words in a desperate attempt to cage you in with him.

He rested his head into the crook of your neck. Sucking the skin between his teeth, his hands enveloped your breasts; squeezing the soft tissue, tracing the indents, remnants of the scars around them. Steadily thrusting, feeling the tight, desperate squeeze of your walls, he groaned into your skin. Thumbs tracing over the hardened and sensitive flesh of your nipples.

“John,” a moan left your lips, “stop,” and he did, immediately upon hearing your words. Face buried in the crook of your neck, he moved backwards only for your legs to tighten around his narrow waist, stopping him from pulling out. Confused, his burning eyes met yours, the tip of his nose brushing over the heated skin of your cheekbone.

“I want it rough,” you mumbled, heels digging into the taunt muscles of his asscheeks as if to emphasize your request.

Pushing him off of you, the heels clicked on the floor as you leapt to the ground and turned around. Hands on the drawer, legs far enough to make you bend, you presented yourself to him. Ass pressing onto his hardened cock, there was absolutely no shame inside your body. Nothing but pure, primal desire to feel him deep inside, the deepest he could’ve possibly gone.

To forget it all.

And John was willing; willing to give you everything he could. Every inch of him. Every piece of his heart. Every beat of it. Tear his skin for you. At that moment, he’d give up everything; something he should’ve realised sooner but understood only now.

John's hand was like a vice grip on your waist, so strong and yet still gentle, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body as his fingertips skimmed against the fabric of the lingerie. He squeezed, feeling the flesh move underneath his palm. His knee nudged your legs further apart, making a shiver run down your spine as the cool room air slithered over your exposed, glistening walls. The tips of his fingers explored you with an urgency, feeling how ready and willing you were for him;. how willing you looked.

Guiding his thick cock to your waiting core, he paused—the swollen crown of his cock lightly brushing against your slick nub. A soft moan leaving your lips, your hands gripped the edge of the drawer tighter. With a push of your hips back, you rocked against him, silently pleading, begging him to give you what you wanted. Craved. Needed.

And he eventually did.

A soft growl escaped his lips as John finally pushed into you.

The tightness of your walls encased him, sucked him in with desperation. Grunting, he stayed deep inside you. In slow motion, he pulled out before ultimately giving up. Letting go. Hands grasping your sides, surged in and out of you with ever-increasing fervour. The heat between you built into a crescendo of pleasure, threatening to consume you as it built into a soft wail.

The room was soon filled with the sounds of your wetness, taking John in. With every thrust, it felt like the blunt head of his cock plunged deep inside you, splitting something within you with a dull ache. Like opening your cervix, the pain mixed with pleasure just right to make your mind go blank. Cock-drunk on John; his thrusts drawing his name out of you.

He watched; in the mirror—the way your lips stayed wide open, eyes closed as if you were trying everything in your power not to see his face. The pain indulged him. Maybe if he thrust hard enough, it would make you open your eyes—

—so he did.

Rutting against you, the sound of skin slapping skin echoed throughout the room. Your name spilled from his bloodied lips, the skin cracking with the pressure of his teeth as he bit down on it. The metallic taste drawing the taste of you out, away from his tongue. And he hated it. Hated that even his own body was washing you away.

Bending over your perspiring body, you felt his weight on your back, arms enclosing your ribs. Just for a second, you opened your eyes—the top of his head rested next to yours. And you could feel the wet taste of his tongue, lapping at your skin, kissing the flesh of your back. His thrusts grew reckless. John was losing rhythm, nearing his own high as he felt you clench around him.

It was the way he looked up—as if he felt your gaze upon him, your eyes met his in the mirror—and you let go; completely submitting to the tied-up knot inside you, a cry left your lips, his name mixed somewhere in it too. John’s stare trapped yours as he watched your face twist in bliss and pleasure. The one he gave you; was still giving you. Guiding you through the orgasm, fingers moving to circle your clit, prolonging the sweet feeling. He wanted you to remember this. Needed you to do it.

You felt him reach his climax seconds later; the primal grunt, laboured breaths, teeth scraping your bruised shoulder, lips moving to your back as his hands gripped your sides with his nails digging so deep it felt like he pierced your skin. But you didn’t care.

Bruises and scratches heal over time.

A broken heart doesn’t.

It remains scarred.

His lips stayed pressed between your shoulder blades, relishing in the bittersweet taste of your flesh. Fingers caressing the curve of your waist, he remained still. Seated fully inside.

Maybe that way—with him encaging you underneath—you wouldn’t leave.

But you both knew the truth behind the silent pleas.

She was unable to tear her gaze away from the window; her eyes wider and heavier with guilt with each passing second—guilt of observing something she shouldn't, guilt of not looking away when she should, and worst of all, guilt of feeling a strange thrill from it all. Her skin prickled, breathing grew shallow as she watched, mesmerized. Spellbound.

[anniezsecretz]

Replacement ★ (Ch 1) OC x Simon "Ghost" Riley

ao3 version of this can be found here! welcome back y'all and heres my brainrot of COD <3 callsign "trick" (hence the link name), femme mc but the pronouns switch here and there to they/them im new to this kind of stuff, so if you think sumn (like a tag) is not right, let me know!!! first chapter (this one!) ★ prev ★ next

★★★★★★★★★ chapter tags: // anxiety, older brother price, captain OC, Simon “Ghost” Riley/OC, trauma mentions, emotional support pup, OOC Ghost (for a reason), spiteful Ghost, enemies to lovers (enemies), vague mentions of death, canon deviation, brief-ish panic attack with decent description, angst no comfort, no smut :( ★★★★★★★★★ bite-sized synopsis: captain trick has a rough and anxious first day.

Okay. The first day with a new squad, and here I am. I’m on a cargo ship, landing in 3 minutes, and just barely mentally collected. It’s gotten to the point I have to anxiously pet Axel while taking in deep breaths; ironically he is more relaxed than I am on this plane. Planes always gave me bad anxiety, and my emotional support pups nudged my hand with his snout to alert me. So I sit back in my seat, close my eyes, and brace for the usually-rough landing.

But despite my attempt to relax in my seat, I can hear the soldiers behind me talking. I can barely hear it through my earmuffs, but I can still pick out details of it.

“Did you know 141 is stationed here for the month?” One soldier asked with excitement.

“Yeah, dude! We get to see Ghost! N’ I heard a rumor Captain Trick is joining them, that’s why she’s— on. this. plane! ” Wow. Okay, well it seemed like I was a hot topic.

I dozed off to continue bracing myself, gritting my teeth and an extreme grip on the seat’s armrests. ★★★

We landed. And after 5 minutes we were let out of the plane, Axel staying at my side as we walked off the plane. Uy, it’s cloudy as hell down here. Maybe I even have to change my goggles to compensate for the cloudy conditions— but that doesn’t matter as much. What does matter is who is waiting for me.

“Verdano!” John Price, my good old friend, was there with his taskforce to greet me. We greeted each other with a hug and then talked for a few moments. But already, his squad was gawking at me, especially this one with a mohawk, who I briefly waved at. Then John turned me to face the group awkwardly and Axel forced his snout into my gloved hand to be a comfort. “Everyone, this is Verdano. We met a few years ago and we’ve kept close contact, thas funny, innit Ver?”

I nod at John while I was too terrified to speak to the group yet. So instead, I give a polite wave and a bow of the head. But I noticed that not only was the mohawk gawking at me, but the other guy with a skull mask was also staring at me. Huh. Two skulls, hm?

“I’m Seargent Johnny MacTavish! Callsign Soap,” said the mohawk (now MacTavish) while putting his hand out to shake. Of course, to be polite, I took it in a firm shake and a gentle nod of the head. Then he directed to the skull one. “N’ this is Lieutenant Sim— Ghost! Ghost, his callsign’s Ghost.”

John leaned into my ear like he was telling me gossip. “He isn’t too fond of others sayin’ his name. Other than you n’ I, probably.” I nod in understanding before giving a small wave to Ghost. Jeez, I really do not feel like talking today.

Then they showed me Gaz and Roach. Gaz has a noticeable Union Jack flag on his hat, his posture being upright and much more at attention than the others. But that didn't stop a light smile on his face while greeting me with his name and a handshake. Roach is the silent type like me and waves back. Aww, he has two antennae on his helmet that look like roach antennae. How cute!

“Come on, Ver. I’ll show you around. N’ everyone? Remember, debrief at 1700.” John put his hand on my soldier and led the way to the main base, dismissing his squad as he and I caught up on some much-needed talk. ★★★

That Ghost guy has been stalking me while I'm exploring the base on my own and familiarizing myself with the layout. I catch him looking at me in the shadows, just suddenly appearing in the same room as me, and doing that thing I’ve had to cut my own L.t’s from doing; intimidating the rookies.

Well, he’s gonna have a rude wake-up call.

I especially noticed it when he was stalking me as I looked over my favorite sniper rifle, the beautiful McMillan Tac-50 in my hands. I even caught glimpses of Ghost looking amused in the eyes, it was… odd. I was fascinated by this man. Like, who names themselves Ghost? And isn’t considered an edgy teen? ★★★

1700 rolled about, Soap sitting to my left and Ghost sitting to his left. But John was punctual as usual, everything being ready for the second it turned 5. 

“A’igh! Now that everyone’s settled, Verdano?” Oh yeah. I was gonna introduce myself. Got it. I took every ounce of bravery in my body and took a deep breath before going up in front of everybody. Shit, I haven’t talked! Does that mean they’re gonna be upset over how I sound?

Fuck. No time to think, I straighten myself out and put on my brave voice.

“Good evenin’ ev’ryone,” my Mexican accent mixed with my Aussie accent obviously stunned some people in the room. Uy. It really was a harsh mix, I remember everybody points that out at least once when they were familiarized with me.

“I’m Captain Annette Verdano. Callsign Trick. You mighta heard o’ me, you mighta not, either way, it doesn’t matter.” I take a deep breath and Axel is nuzzling my hand. “I am officially yer co-leader for Taskforce 1-4-1. It’s a pleasure to be workin’ with y’all, I hope we really do get along! 'N I hope you can kick my ass at least once." Okay, nailed it. Absolutely 100% nailed it despite the pit in my stomach saying otherwise. The pit in my stomach made me feel completely wrong.

But to keep up appearances, I give a nod of my head and sat back down while John took my spot. He was already starting to talk about an upcoming mission in a month, and leaving me to recharge from that.

Sure, I handled platoons before. But I haven’t done one since Xio. Our platoon was the last one I managed, the one she was in, and the one we met through. Fuck it’s been a year. I need to sort my shit out, especially with these upcoming missions. At least I have Axel at my side. ★★★

Then it was sleeping time in the barracks. Since this wasn’t really their actual base, we had two people in a room. MacTavish and Gaz shared, myself and Ghost shared, while Roach and Price had their own. I didn't know why though. But apparently the reasoning for pairing Ghost and I was “the respect that lurks with wearing the mask”. Aka, just so we can wear our masks without pestering the other to take it off.

When I entered the room, there were little to no decorations. Just a perfectly made bed with a few teddy bears. One had a mohawk like Soap’s, the other a mustache and hat like John’s, one with little antennae to hint to Roach, and the last one had a UK hat like Gaz. D'awww, t hat’s oddly endearing. I set my shit and the files I was tasked to read before sleeping tonight on my bed across from Ghost's. Shit, the number of files I had was excessive. Two boxes full of them! Either way, it was time for me to settle down. I took my helmet off just to replace it with a regular hat right after, dropping my vest onto my bed, and just taking off general heavy shit. 

Eventually, I could have the pleasure of a nice shower, especially since we had the privilege of a bathroom each to share in our rooms. I haven't had a shower for a long while, and at this point, I’m sure I reeked, but I know nobody would get close enough to smell. Thank the shower gods for blessing me on this fine day. ★★★

I felt comfortable now. I was fresh out of the shower with my hair washed and dried with a fresh balaclava that had my signature animal skull on it, walking into the main room from the bathroom.

“Ghost?” I called out when seeing him flip through my boxes of files, sitting like a mom waiting for her out-of-control kid to come back at 12 AM.

“Annette Verdano, age 28, Captain at 25. Has two parents in Bendigo, Australia n’ two brothers servin’ the Mexican military in Las Almas, notably part of Los Vaqueros. So you immigrated to Australia, n’ then joined the military for a green card?” Wow. He liked to talk a lot. I lean against the bathroom door frame and stare him down. “Yeeep," I drew out obnoxiously. "Ended up havin’ more fun than I thought I would, been parta the military since I was 16. Over 12 years in service, y’know?” I laughed a bit before walking over to him sitting on my bed. “Put my files down, Ghost. Is there a reason why yous lookin’ through my sheet?”

“You’re three years younger than me ‘n a captain, you don’t think that’s suspicious?” He tried to taunt me by waving my own file in front of me, then standing and putting it out of my reach. Damn, my height.

He was amused by my struggle too. I can see it behind his eye black when he raised it up and over his head, still hella out of my reach. “No. I don’t. I worked damn hard for my position ‘n I fuckin’ deserved it. You can shove my insignia up your ass if you have a problem with it, Lieutenant.” I used my authoritative voice, hands on my hips and that angry captain stare.

Ghost tilted his head, his eyes narrowing back at me like he was trying to square me up. From what I read from his body language in the meeting, I definitely somehow pissed him off. Maybe he’s salty about how he isn’t a captain and I am.

“I ain’ gonna say it again, Lieutenant. You better drop that file before I teach you how to respect your authority again .” With a bite in my voice, he yielded. Dropping the file on my bed and going to his side of the room to collect a few things and disappear into the bathroom.

I sat on my bed with a hard sigh before grabbing the file he was looking over– mine– and reading it. What did they put on my file?

It was a few pages. The first page with my full name, basic details, when I got promotions, and my time at the military academies. Then the second with my qualifications, missions, etcetera, etcetera. Then my health pages, detailing my hospitalizations and mental health shit. I couldn’t help but notice the three sticky notes added to my file at the bottom in John’s recognizable shitty cursive writing.

Allowed to wear their mask! Helps their mental health coping, don’t ask to take off was the first one. It made me smile knowing how long ago John wrote this, he was the one I went to for help to allow the army to let me wear a mask. 

Next note, Emotional support dog (the big ass Doberman) is registered as Axel Rose. All his documents are put in his own file which should be at the back of this one. D’aww. He even got all of Axel’s documents put together for me. I can tell this one is newer, the ink is still dark and nearly untouched.

Last note… Do not mention Simon Riley. At all. Or Xiomara Garcia (their late wife) only other squad members she led are allowed to speak about her. 

. . .

That last note kind of made me feel something in my chest. Hurt. I grabbed onto the dog tags hung around my neck, Xiomara, Simon, and my own dog tags. 

I miss them both. I miss them so much. I miss Simon making me feel safe and assured, watching my six and being my cover fire when I needed him to be while I reloaded my rifle before taking the final shot to save the both of us. And then I miss Xiomara making me feel self-assured, confident. I miss seeing her smile and how she’d cheer everybody up with her encouragement, then kiss me every time some random person asked her out at a bar or in the mess hall.

Fuck. Not even a mask like the one I wear is something to keep me from my past, especially not when fucking John is the one writing them.

To be fair, I did go to him a lot about it. I vented to him, he vented to me. Since both of us are Captains, there is a silent understanding between the both of us about the things we’re forced to witness. Choices we’re forced to make, just to keep everything fucking running.

Yet somehow, all of the emotions in me flowed out the second Axel perked up and jumped onto my bed to curl into me. He laid his heavy head on my lap and closed his eyes with calm breathing. My boy really did know me so well, his ears lowered while showing me unconditional love and care. Well, I guess John really does care about me too if he’s putting these notes in my files for others. As far back as a few years ago, even.

I changed files, flipping through MacTavish's, then Garrick’s, then Sanderson’s. Finally reading Ghost’s files, right in front of his dumbass on his bed lounging. He was glaring at me past his balaclava when I put up his file to block my face. I was s kimming through the information, and I finally actually looked at his name.

Simon Riley.

. . . This day just keeps getting more and more fucked. Every single minute, I get assaulted with something else. I pulled up Simon’s dog tag around my neck and compared the service numbers on the document and Si’s dog tag. But as I expected, it was completely mismatched. Fuck. I hate when I meet other Simon Rileys– it’s happened a few times, but this one was easily the most hurtful since I can’t actually compare faces.  I hold his tags tight in my hand to the point I got white knuckles, doing my best to keep it all in after my heart skipped that fucking much. Then I looked at his tags and read them over again, and stared at the picture of him I had added to a silicone dog-tag-shaped picture frame.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Shit, am I having an attack? I can't tell. My breath won’t steady, my eyes won’t clear, the feeling of a knot in between my stomach and throat. I want to puke, bile running up from my gullet to wedge itself in my throat. My mind hurts, it hurts so much. If Simon had seen me like this he would hug me, Xio would hold me, and I would be taken care of. If they were here, they would make it all better. They would make sure every ounce of pain was gone, every single ounce. They would take every bit of hurt in me away if they were just here.

But neither of them is here. Axel alerts me the second he could and puts his big paw on my hand. I put the file down slowly and took deep breaths. In through my nose, hold, exhale for as long as I can. It took a few moments but with Axel's gentle snout-prodding, my breathing tactics, and clearing my head to think of simple things like mushroom spores... the panic fades slowly from my body. The adrenaline goes down, and I'm left without much breath but much nicer thoughts.

Ghost could see me panicking I’m pretty sure. But he didn’t seem to care, and that’s how I like it. I closed the files after having done a tiny bit of my research on everybody in the group and I decided to pick up on it before I start one-on-one training with the squad tomorrow.

He stared at me with dark eyes like he could see through me but I didn’t care. I just put the boxes next to my bed and lay on my back, content with falling asleep just like that.

While I can. ★★★

I woke up bright and early at 0430, the sun peeking out by the time I was ready and out of the room. I had a quick smoke before going to John’s office after having a protein bar just to keep me somewhat full. “I read up on ev’ryone. ‘N thanks for tha lil’ notes on my file, John. It was real sweet o’ you.” 

John shook his head while sipping his coffee, nearly black just as I remembered. He only adds a spoonful of sugar and that’s it. “No worries, Anne. Y’know I need to make sure the generals can take care of ya!” He belly laughed a bit while leaning back in his chair. “You remind me of a siblin', Anne. I want you to be just fine– even if I know you can watch yourself.”

With a brow raised, I slightly laugh. “Fair dinkum, John?” I asked with a curious tone in my voice while I tilt my head.

“Fair dinkum, Anne. Whatever the bloody hell that means.” He laughed again, just as giggly as I remembered. But he calmed himself down quicker than before to show that old smile I was familiar with. “You’re just like-a sista to me. N’ may God n’ the Queen strike me down to say otherwise.” Ah, he’s even more of a British cunt than the last time I saw him too.

But either way, the expression was sweet. It brought an unprecedented smile to my face behind my mask, only being outwardly expressed when I raised my goggles over my cap. “Ah crikey, John. Guess you’re like my damn oldah brother then, aye? Just my third n’ ‘bout hundred years older than me, viejo .” By the way his mustache moved when he squinted his eyes like he was trying to understand and made me laugh. “Oh wait, forgot! You tea drinkers don’t know Spanish. Guess I gotta teach you someday,” I said with a taunting tone. John’s face scrunched with embarrassment, slightly reddening from what I caught.

“Oh, don’t be makin’ me take the piss now, Annes!” He groaned while shaking his head out of frustration. I will forever call him viejito and he will never understand. 

“Viejito blanquito. There. If you surprise me with how whipped into shape these boys are, maybe I’ll consider tellin’ you what that means. But so far with that puto Ghost you mixed me with, I ain’ too impressed,” I explained with a slight huff at the mention of Ghost. “N’ no warnin’ ‘bout his name either, John?” I feign offendedness with an exaggerated tone and a gloved hand dramatically pressed to my chest. “How dare you, you drongo!”

Luckily John had picked up on my humor over the years. He knew I wasn’t actually pissed, but he also knew I wasn’t necessarily positive about it either. “Well, he came about durin’ a good time. It’s just unfortunate the names are exactly to Simon– God bless his heart. I didn’t want to scare you away from this because of it.” He looked at me with sincerity in his eyes and bulky arms folded over his chest. “You know I would’ve told you if it weren’t for that.”

With a heavy sigh, I understood what John was getting at. “A’igh, a’igh. I understand you, mate.” I sat on the chair across from him past his desk, scratching the back of my head. “Still, did you have to put me in the same room as him?”

He noticeably bit his inner cheek while averting his eyes like he was thinking. “I know you don’ like curtain twitchers, ‘n I trust Siii… Ghost. I trust Ghost to not be like that with you, ‘n I know you wouldn’t be like that with him either.” 

“But why not fucken uh… I ‘unno, Garrick? Or MacTavish? Even Sanderson? They all seem like fine lads to share rooms with, y’know?” I bitch and moan about this but with decent reasoning, throwing my head back dramatically.

Price leaned forward. “As much as I love ‘em, Johnny pokes at Ghost ‘bout his mask here and there. In his sleep he even tried gettin’ a peek ‘n the Lieutenant nearly killed him.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a frustrated sigh when recalling the incident. “But Kyle ain’ as bad as Johnny, I’ll give that bloke that, but he still asks about it from time to time. I bet he’d ask Johnny to do the dirty work for him too, as much as I love ‘im.”

Then his head popped up after his shoulder hunched a bit. “N’ Gary? He ain’ too bad, but I know you like your sleep. He’ll be up at night wakin’ you up with him screamen at kids online, that’s why he has his own room. Nobody wants to bunk with Gary.”

With a defeated sigh, I groan like a teenager and lean the chair back, dangerously teetering on the edge. “Fine. Fine. Youuu win, you fucken boga–” The door opening suddenly made me and the chair fall right down from how unexpected it was.

Now I was at the feet of the biggest cunt I’ve ever met after embarrassing myself by falling back in a chair like a high schooler. Just like in high school. Staring down at me like I was a peasant was the almighty– hella tall too– Ghost. Or Simon Riley as I’ve learned to my own dismay. I quickly got up from my place on the floor to see John barely holding it together, stifling his laughter while his face flushed red. I swear, he was about to start banging on the damn table too.

I rolled my eyes at John and held all the embarrassment I had building in my chest, pushing in my chair and pushing past Ghost. “I’m gettin’ brekkie. N’ I ain’ savin’ you a bite either, Jonathan.”

He shut his trap real quick after I used his full name and shut the door on my way out. Then I went back to the barracks real quick to grab Axel– assuming he was even awake by now. Sometimes that dog will sleep well into the morning if I let him. Gotta love him.

After I grabbed him and was making my way to the mess hall with him by my side, Ghost was watching me in the shadows again. Intimidation, hm? Might work for rookies but not me. I might make him give me 50 push-ups just for trying, pull rank on him for all I care. But oh well, I was eventually distracted by the special banana nut muffins they laid out for us under a heat lamp. I grabbed one, some fluffy eggs, and a mug of coffee before going and sitting at a table in the corner. Of course with a plate of eggs and raw meat, they graciously provided for Axel with me, watching him tear that food up.

But my peaceful eating was disturbed. By Ghost, again. Of all things. He had the gall to grab a mug of coffee, a banana nut muffin, and a random newspaper (that I didn’t even know we had access to) just to sit in front of me at my table.

Well, I’m not giving him a response. Instead, I just finished my food and waited on Axel, giving him little scratches on the top of his head. Then we wash up, Ghost washing up right after we leave, and then we go on a run around the perimeter of the base. ★★★

Was he really fucking stalking me now? I’m running around the base and he’s about 3 meters away, so I fall back a bit within earshot of him while he was acting oblivious that he was following me. “Aye, L.t. You keep followin’ me n’ I might hafta assume you have a crush on your new captain!” I shouted out.

“I'm shadowen you, Captain Verdano.” Oh. This was definitely John’s doing.

I roll my eyes and fall back further, Axel at my side while we jogged. “Well, I dismiss you from shadowen me. Y’know he only wants you to shadow so we can bond. ‘N even then, it ain’ gonna work all that well.”

The tension between us was palpable as we jogged, both of us barely breaking a sweat with our heads forward.

“Any stories ‘bout your time as captain?” Ghost finally asked, somewhat breaking the stupid tension between us and making me breathe a sigh of relief.

I had to think… hm. I got one. 

“Mission in Siberia. We were workin’ with a PMC called Kortac. My squad n’ these few contractors were penetratin’ this base ‘n attaching explosives all around it to just wipe it all off. This one massive hulkin’ mass named König was helpin’ us out. He taught me a few things about how bottled-up emotions can really make someone into the deadliest weapon imaginable.” I explained, tone heavy. “We all got in pretty fast, I was usin’ the vents to my advantage to get the drop ‘n snipe them off to just help my crew out. My wife Xio was fucken shit up too! She came in from the side doors, the fastest sweeping I’ve seen, thas beau o’ a lady. Her callsigns Treat, ‘n we always tease her for it.”

“What happened to her? Are you two still married?”

I was so enveloped in talking about her that it felt like she was still here. As if I’d go to the barracks to see her in bed with a book. The sinking pit in my stomach got deeper and Axel prodded me again with his snout to alert me. I felt a slight panic build up again and I’m reminded. Reminded too fucking much of the nights I spent next to her in the hospital bed.

“She passed away a bit ago.” I clenched my fist, deep breathing like my therapist said, while we slowed from a jog to a walk. “This is my first squad since she passed. They got another captain f’r the last one, just so I could take a bit of a break.” Why am I being so open? Eugh.

I shake my head. “Anyhow, that’s outta the way.”

He narrows his eyes at me and I can swear he raises an eyebrow behind his balaclava. “You miss her much?”

With a light feigning smile behind my mask, I go back to stoicism as usual. “With all my life. I miss her ev’ry day I don’t see her, but I know she’d want me to continue my career. She was one helluva Lieutenant, Riley. I hope you live up to her.” I gave him a light nod before going back on my jog.

As much as I love Xio, I have to be a captain. I can cry over her when it’s appropriate but right now? I had some research to do on the boys. ★★★★★★★★★ thank you so much for reading!! and please send in some asksss! i beg of youuu! will post next chapter after some editing tomorrow <3

[feedingfrenzy91]

Modern Warfare 2 Third Person Mode Changing

I think this is good news as I really didn't enjoy this mode in the beta.

Gameplay: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 Beta

May God bless you all.

Gamespot article: https://www.gamespot.com/videos/moder...

Thumbnail: https://www.nme.com/news/gaming-news/...

[lillygene]

Me When I Realize I Never Posted My Writing Examples Part 2 - Rat

Same as before!

Evelyn belongs to me, while Teddy/Cameron is Mangled's character!

Content Warning: Weapon mention, drug mention, me pretending I know anything about the military in the slightest!

For the first time in a long time, Evelyn was granted her own office. It was a small space, and evidently belonged to anyone but her. It wasn’t even her name plaque that faced the large wooden door. But she didn’t mind one bit. It was nice to have a semblance of accomplishment to her rank. 

You hear stories of those who say the higher you are somewhere the better off you are. And usually, that would hold true. But there was always someone above you in the military. Always some rule or regulation keeping you trapped. Being at the top made no difference, because then you had more important things to worry about. 

So her status didn’t always grant her much. She didn’t need it to, of course. Evelyn had gotten along fine by herself for years, with or without her rank being attached to the start of her name. 

However that didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to be self indulgent, before it was taken away from it. And it was, quickly actually. She had been sitting down, briefly going over an earlier report turned in by a second lieutenant she hadn’t taken the time to get to know. Given the contents of the piece of paper staring back at her, she was less likely to want to. It had mostly been a relief when a knock pounded at the door, then swiftly a figure moved their way inside without waiting for a response. 

Evelyn looked up from her desk, then clicked her teeth and stood up. She dipped her head. “Captain.” The man nodded in return and flicked his head towards her stack of papers. “Are you busy?” She took one look down at the sheets and grimaced. “Not at all sir.” 

He seemed to like the answer. So he moved to the side, ushered her to follow him. “There’s something I need you to do. And someone I’d like you to meet.” 

The gears had already started turning in Evelyn’s head. She wasn’t given much context to go off of, so she looked for it in other ways. There were signs you got used to after years of this work. That work being busting heads together, or more amicably; knocking some sense into people. Which is what she assumed she had been tasked with. 

The Captain had said ‘There’s someone I want you to meet.’ Which usually was code for ‘hey, come take care of this guy’. If it wasn’t, it meant she was in trouble. And Evelyn hadn’t done anything noteworthy in a while, so it was looking to be her initial idea. 

It wasn’t uncommon to take things a bit personally. The army had a way of doing things, and by extension so did the MPs. She guessed her former job as a military police had something to do with the call to action. To a soldier it was a warning, to everyone else it was a big red target tattooed on her back. Everybody hates cops, it doesn’t matter the society. And that’s exactly what she had been. So she was being brought in because she was the perfect choice. A former MP turned Special Forces was one track record that wasn’t entirely common. It stood out. On top of which she was a Sergeant Major, which put her in line to set people straight. Finally, Evelyn was just good at it. She had a polished record,but that didn’t mean it wasn’t without hidden meanings. She was the one you went to when the soldiers got out of line. 

Like the records said. It was her job, and she was damn good at it. 

But there were some glaring problems. The lack of what most people deemed professionalism wasn’t a deal breaker, but it could turn into one. She needed to be aware of that. Sure, she could throw up some big, intimidating speech about problems that needed solving. But if they expected her to go any further, she was going to need a better reason why. She was good at knocking heads around, but she didn’t do it without good justification either. So she counted the facts like cards in her head during their walk, your move Captain. 

His move had been jarring to say the least. When he pushed open a small office room door in front of her, and coaxed her to walk in first, she was expecting one of a few things. First, she was waiting for there to be a handful of guys in the room. Not just one. You don’t drag an SM out of her work for just one guy. Not unless the cause was a higher priority, and in that case she would have been approached in another way all together. 

Secondly, she was pretty sure she was in trouble now. That, or her Captain had a death wish for her. 

Evelyn G. Finlay stood at a nice 5’10, and she weighed well into two hundred pounds. For all parties concerned, she was a big girl. A heavy hitter to be exact. She’d taken down men and women alike who had been bigger than her, too. She had a nasty elbow swing, and a good gauge for movement. If Evelyn got into a fight, she finished it. One way or another. 

What stood before her wouldn’t go down easily. He was very well over 7’ and he was built like a truck. He had dark red hair, and was mostly shaven. Freckles littered his skin, along with two light pink notches dug into his nose. Overall he would have looked normal, if it wasn’t the house of a body he sported beneath all that. 

He was massive. She could feel a strain pull from the back of her neck as she rested her gaze on his shoulders. It moved upwards to his face. She was expecting something to come of her slow adjustment. She guessed he was used to this. New people always shared a similar disbelief at his proportions. She probably wasn’t any different. 

Evelyn waited for a grin, a cocky expression, sort of look young boxers give before a match. Confident in their ability to win. Maybe a snarl, even, looking to scare off whatever enforcer had drawn the short end of the stick to come down here. But she was met with something entirely different. A soft smile. A small nod of his head accompanied it, even if no words had been spoken yet. She wanted to compare it to a politician’s smile, the kind filled with approachable ambivalence. He didn’t look like a politician, he looked like a monster.

“This is lieutenant Cameron Laverne. We just call him Teddy, though.” 

She waited for something to follow. She was prepared for him to start listing the drugs they used to mold him to look like that. It had to be a relatively long list. Steroids would be involved too. Which gave her a bit of a relief. Fighters on steroids were never really that good. They got used to winning with one punch. It left them open and unsure for the following movements. They weren’t great, but she was starting to like her odds just a bit better. 

“Pleased.” He had spoken, which ended up crushing her relief like a bug. Steroids messed with a lot, but definitely not your vocal cords. Anyone she had been unlucky enough to come in contact with who was so dosed up sounded like a little lady. Their voice never matched their size. 

His did. 

Evelyn turned to the Captain, she scanned his features for anything. He just grinned at her and clasped his hands together in front of him. He was enjoying this. She tried not to give much away, but it was clear she had been put off by the whole situation. 

“Teddy, meet Sergeant Major Finlay. You’ll be helping her out today.” 

‘Helping’. Maybe that was a new code word for burying. It wouldn’t take much for him to do so either. Her features tensed. It was such a silly reaction really, but she was cautious. Sometimes more so than she needed to be. It landed her in situations like this, where her mind ran ninety to nothing, preparing the most plausible solution. A plan.

She ended up not needing the plan. The Captain walked towards a filing cabinet in the small room, she hadn’t even noticed it was there behind the giant before her. He reached for a bright orange folder, it was thick and stuffed to the brim. Paired with it was bright red lettering on the outside. ‘Important.’ It claimed.

“Our friends from Chicago are rearranging their warehouses. We’ve offered to take some items off their hands.” 

By now the world was becoming a lot more clear. Things clicked together slowly but surely. She’d been on the receiving end of this line of work however, so whatever they wanted her to do still felt like a mystery. 

“The shipment just came in. We need you to look over the contents, make sure everything really is in order. Teddy here will be assisting you. Im sure you’ve noticed by now he’s not falling behind in the heavy lifting department. You two will be all set.” 

The Captain drew closer, rested an awkward hand on her shoulder and hushed his voice. “We’re trying not to make this a big deal. You’re low on helping hands today. Sorry about that.” 

The woman still didn’t speak. She just side eyed the Captain, before ultimately giving in with a nod. Again, he was pleased, so he began directing them to their new work space. A part of her had been expecting some back alley operation. A bit cliche, but not out of the realm of possibility. What she wasn’t expecting was an open loading room, full of other personnel just close enough to see. 

He caught her questioning expression and shook his head, like there was something else at play he couldn’t touch on. “It’s better this way. Out in the open, it looks better on paper at least. Don’t worry, it’s a busy day. They won’t pay you any mind. Just unload the crates, check them, and get them ready to be moved.” 

She still didn’t say anything. The gears had turned, she was changing objectives. 

Teddy was a little out of his element too, to be honest. He had been briefed hours ago that the command planned to put him on working duty today. They said, and he remembered the quote due to how it was said, ‘you’ll be sweating real good after tonight’. What exactly that meant could have been a lot of things. And unlike others he didn’t want to think about it. He’d do what he was told, and he’d do it well. 

Later on he had been given more information, it was a standard procedure. Just lacking in the common man power team. Some joked that they didn’t actually need a team with him around, but he didn’t let their words reach him or his ego. What ever he had of it. 

Even given his rank, the lieutenant was used to heavy duty being assigned to him. Not because he was bad at his job, but because of his build. In all sense of the word he made a great lieutenant, and an even better tactical position holder. He was a good soldier, and he had the muscle mass to prove it. Being just shy of 7’4 made him a wall. A wall with legs, and hands, and a brain that drove it forward. 

It’s something he dealt with all his life. From grade school to home, to the military itself. He had a glaring aspect to him that was not easily overlooked. They made good use of him most of the time. He had been tasked with a handful of breaches not long ago. He made well on the promise to use his body to it’s limit. He had time and time again. So had the military. 

It’s what they planned to do now. Trade him in for what most definitely required more than two hands, just because he was big. There was no use in fighting it, so he didn’t. Teddy was a practical man. Not a pushover, but he also knew when to bite his tongue and bide his time. 

‘They’ll make you sweat’. He was starting to understand the double meaning behind the comment. He stood in a cramped room, his back inches from a cold cabinet surface. A captain, one whose name had incidentally slipped his mind, had come to get him from the commons area just a few moments ago. He was told to wait for his superior in the room. The one who would be handling the important stuff, while he did the heavy lifting. 

Teddy was given just a bit more context than Evelyn had been, yet questions still hung on the tip of his tongue. When she entered, some of them were answered. Most of them however hadn’t been. 

She gave him a look upon the initial shock. He was accustomed to it by now. Everyone went through a few stages when they first saw him. Whether it be fear, excitement, bewilderment, or maybe a little bit of each. Then, if they made it past that hurdle, they moved on to the next line of thinking. How likely am I to beat this guy? He’d seen it run through heads a thousand times. From yards away, all the way up to inches from his face. 

They all fell into two categories. There were those who were smart, or maybe just cowards, and realized that was a fantasy. That attacking him would be a death sentence in itself. 

Then there were the idiots. They thought so highly of themselves, that their hubris blocked out the sheer muscle tone that indented his clothes. 

He wasn’t exactly sure where to put Evelyn. He watched her work her way through it, brows creasing ever so slightly. She looked all over him, she was thorough for sure. And he would have assumed she was smart. But then she started leaning into category two. She was seeing herself winning, somehow. Maybe. Maybe by the skin of her teeth. 

The Captain introduced him then. He had almost missed the call. 

‘Pleased.’ 

He had said. Because it wasn’t really a pleasure, and he didn’t really know what else to say. Evelyn fell back into category one. Which made him feel a bit guilty. He had a routine, a way of making himself just a bit more approachable. He never went out of his way to make himself smaller, that was a stupid thought. The effort wouldn’t always be appreciated, but he didn’t care about that. He cared about how the effort would take a toll on him. So instead he had learned to just smile, relax his shoulders, and squint softly. 

She was quiet, and he wondered if she was still teetering on the edge of his categories. He didn’t have time to continue thinking, they were being led to work. The rest of the conversation had been tuned out, minus the mention of her rank and name. And his task as her accompanying muscle. 

When they entered the open area, he stood by with uncertainty. The silence continued even after the Captain had left. The two waited there, motionless, boxes filled to the brim with weaponry staring right at them. 

Teddy’s arms came to cross over in front of him as he waited. Again he recalled what had been said to him. ‘His Superior.’ He had almost assumed the Captain himself, or another Officer. He had heard what Evelyn was called, Sergeant Major. By all technicality, he was her superior. If he really wanted to, he could have been the one ordering her around. 

But he wasn’t, and he didn’t plan to. Sergeant Major’s weren’t ones to be messed with. He’d heard horror stories of lower ranking officers testing their luck, and being sentenced to six months worth of what was deflated-ly called “respect training”. Even going so far as to  be forced to be evaluated by a shrink. So, people tried not to push their buttons. 

He was wondering what exactly that meant for Evelyn when she finally spoke up. 

A hand laced through her hair for a moment, then it dropped to her side. She had caught his dull staring and returned it with a shrug of her own. “No use in standing around. Let’s see what they brought us.” 

Teddy was starting to like his odds just as much as she had. She opted to pick the first crate up by herself. It heaved off the large rack and settled uncomfortably in her arms. She carried it to the next platform anyways, harsh puffs of air falling from under her lips as she let it go. It only fell about an inch or two, but it was a loud enough sound to catch the attention of others. They stopped, looked, then went back to whatever they were doing. 

Rough fingers pulled at the locking mechanisms, then proceeded to pry open the first box. On the way there, she had been given a few sheets of her own paper. He guessed they were detailing whatever was supposed to be within the boxes. Specifics on the guns, ammunition, and the necessary amount. Evelyn pulled most pieces out, inspecting them one by one. 

He was standing somewhat behind her now, though a safe enough distance away. It didn’t take a lot to look over the shorter woman’s shoulders. Once everything was out, she had begun to load it back in, and reseal the crate. 

By then Teddy was aware of his job, so he walked over to the first platform and unloaded the reasonably heavy box. This time, he spent a few extra seconds thinking before he set his own box down. 

“Are you going to go through each one? By yourself?” 

It was the second time she had heard him talk, so the voice didn’t register right away. She didn’t jump, but she was stirred from her thoughts. “Well, you’re here. Aren’t you?” 

Maybe he should have been worried after all. His next words could make or break the day itself, but he took his chances. 

“I’m just here to do the lifting, ma’am.” 

Evelyn huffed, but it wasn’t as exasperated as he would have expected. A small grin pulled at the small of her lips, curling up ever so slightly. Like it wasn’t even there. “How big is this magazine size?” She had asked, pulling an MP5K right up before her. It was missing a few parts, mostly for safety reasons. It was a nice gun, clean and dark black in shape. It fit well in her hands. 

It had fit well in his too, sometime ago. 

“Thirty rounds.” 

“There you go. You know enough.” 

He tried to think of a rebuttal, but she just continued on anyways. 

“—Don't worry, though, I won’t be making you help. You have your job, I have mine.” She said it with a certainty that didn't exude displeasure. It was just the obvious. “Besides, I don’t need to look through everything. If they were that worried about the cargo, you and I wouldn’t be here.” 

Her nose scrunched. “Maybe you would. But I wouldn’t. This is a trivial matter. It’s a numbers thing. I only really need to look halfway into the box, any further than that would be unnecessary. Any less would be a mistake.” 

Teddy listened to her explanation. He would have liked to think it wasn’t demeaning, not from her anyways. She was just walking through her thought process. He hoped, but he couldn’t be too sure. The lieutenant was taking a lot of risks, but what was one more? So he pushed on. 

“Why is that?” 

She smiled at him again, but she waited a few seconds before speaking. It was an awkwardly placed game of chess. They were both trying to get a read on each other. 

“Arms deals are messy, but this comes from one of us. It’d be safe to assume we shouldn’t have anything to worry about. But if we didn’t, like I said before, we also probably wouldn’t be here. Both figuratively and literally. So something is wrong on some end, maybe the numbers guys have been wrong in the past. Or maybe the identifiers have been wrong. Which are both pretty hard to do if you think about it.” 

He listened, they both worked as she spoke. 

“Let’s say it’s also safe to assume they’re only somewhat worried about this, then.” 

“So?” 

“So that’s where we come in. We do the work, the kind of work that isn’t the highest on anyone’s priority list, and some guys up top get a break for a few hours. Deserved, or not.” 

“Isn’t that a bit contradictory?” 

She didn’t mind the questions. He was calm in his approach. He didn’t try to tear down her ministrations just yet. 

“No, not really. We thoroughly check the items on the top, and then in the middle. Any slip ups would be there, not at the bottom. That’s where they started loading up. It was fresh in their mind.” 

“What if it’s a test?” 

“For who?” 

“Us.” 

Evelyn thought for a moment. She was just about to lock up the next one. She was moving slower than she would have liked, but that’s the cost it took to be thorough in her wording. 

“It’s plausible, but not practical. If they really wanted to test either of us, they’d do it differently. I’d be somewhere else entirely, maybe somewhere where it’s hot instead of cold. And you… you’d be bashing in a door somewhere, if I had to really guess.” 

He shifted his weight and hummed. It was a deep sound that rumbled from his chest, like an attempt at a laugh. The Sergeant Major made enough sense, and he wasn’t here to question her anyways. She had entertained his thoughts, he was happy enough with that. 

So, just like that they fell into a nice rhythm. His help was greatly appreciated. She found herself casually indulging in it, skipping out on carrying the boxes every other trip. It wasn’t the most righteous way of going about things, but it was what he was here for anyways. If she really wanted to stick it to him, she could have decided to sit back and let him do the whole operation by himself. He was strong enough to, and clearly competent as well. 

For what it was worth, Teddy didn’t mind the job. Evelyn wasn’t the worst company he had. Now, that didn’t mean he thought they’d be toasting together, but it also didn’t mean the work detail had been unbearable. It was just that, work. 

Work that was interrupted by a sharp ‘smack’ against the concrete floor, and a shout.

They both paused from their work, the noise had drawn them from concentration. 

Another recruit was standing between two other sergeants. They were staring down at him like he was their next meal. Or maybe like he had ruined theirs. His hands were trembling, even they could see it from this distance. They weren’t going to do anything drastic. Not out in the open like this. Though Evelyn didn’t like taking her chances with the muscle heads. 

A shout rumbled from her chest as she set a crate down. Her hand rested on her hips as she turned her full attention to the other men. They had heard her thundering ‘hey!’ from across the room. They stood still, then their gazes left her form. It was an unusual maneuver, she was their superior after all. Most of the time that was enough to keep their attention locked on her. But it didn’t, because behind her stood something more threatening. 

She only turned her head a few inches, but she could see the way Teddy had tensed up. His shoulders were upright now, his hands clutched at his sides as he just watched the trio. Evelyn rolled her neck slightly and turned on her heel, back to the task at hand. 

It took the behemoth beside her another second to fall in line and continue just as well. She was observant, so she let out a hum. “They won’t try anything. Not after that display.” 

She spoke to nobody in particular.  

It wasn’t a fast change, nor drastic. More moments of silence followed, the only prominent reminder that Teddy was still there was the shuffling of the weight in his hands. At first his movements had been relaxed, as though he had all the time in the world to complete the job. Now they were strict and concise, he wanted to finish quickly. She didn’t comment on it. She’d done a lot of talking already.  

Evelyn was banking on his return to normalcy. And soon in time it did. He had calmed himself some, not that his discontent had been all too noticeable in the first place. She only picked up on it because she had been looking for it this entire time. Even during her earlier explanation, she found her thoughts daring to lead themselves to where they had been before. There was still a person in the back of her mind whispering ’If you’re going to fight, hit first and make it count.’ and while she tried not to size up everyone that came her way, it had become a habit. So she still waited for the opportunity, a reason for her to strike first. 

It still never came. She set the box down on the proper ledge, pried open the seal and looked inside. She bit the inner of her cheek, then tossed a coin in her head. 

“You stand up for the little guy. It’s admirable.” 

Maybe she was trying to comfort him. Maybe she was trying to comfort herself. 

“But like I said. They won’t try anything.” 

He still didn’t answer. She guessed the opportunity for conversation had passed too. 

Evelyn was about to return to looking over the weapons when she heard a half grunt. Then a puff of air followed by the voice that grew in familiarity. 

“And you don’t?” 

He had asked, but she wasn’t caught up with his train of thought. 

“What?��� 

“I stand up for the little guy, right? What about you?” 

Big, intimidating, yet considerate. But maybe too interested in the world around him for her liking. More accurately, more interested with her train of thought. Evelyn shrugged her shoulders, then rested a portion of her weight against the box. 

“I don’t think. Not really, at least.” 

“What was that back there, then?” 

Just as quickly as she had spoken, he had a comeback. He was talking again, but she chalked it up to the fact the other men in the large building had begun to disperse. Everyone was done with their jobs, except them. 

“That was my job.” 

He didn’t say anything in return. Just gave her a look. Evelyn frowned in return, trying to brush off the gaze. 

“My job,” she said again. “And a personal duty, you could say. It’s not so much the little guy that I care about, it’s sticking it to the big guy. He thinks he can get away with anything.” She paused, bit back an unusual smile. “I like to prove him wrong. That’s all.” 

“Do you really believe that?” 

Now it was Evelyn’s turn to go quiet. She just didn’t know what to say. They both had an answer amidst the silence. What was there to say in response to a question like that. It didn’t come easy. And that’s what this was supposed to be, easy— no, busy work. The space between them where they worked felt dangerously heavy, almost as though it were a pliable substance. Like an open wound nobody wanted to address. 

So they just didn’t. Who knows why. Whether it be for the thoughts the larger man kept swirling in his head, or for Evelyn’s own dignity. Nobody said anything. 

When they were finished, all the crates had been loaded exactly as they had been placed before. Everything was in order. The woman was happy enough with it. It wasn’t uncommon for dealings with arms to go south, even if it was just checking over their storage units. She’d seen many cases in her past, cases that had less significance for starting. 

So even if it had been busy work, she didn’t mind doing it. And Teddy wasn’t an unbearable partner either. He wasn’t too rowdy, he wasn’t too uptight either. He was a good kid all things considered. Perhaps erring on the side of odd, but then again most military personnel were. It’s why they were in the military after all. 

He had something going for him, yet something working against him too. Evelyn could tell. It stopped being because she was worried about an altercation, but because it was second nature. For almost thirteen years it was her job to pick apart that sort of thing. Now her job was to do whatever was asked of her. Which wasn’t entirely different, though given the circumstances there was a clear line between the two occupations. And, her job wasn’t entirely finished yet. 

“Thanks for the help.” 

Teddy’s lips curled up again, that same closed off smile. She almost let her mind wander to where he had picked the expression up, but it didn’t take a genius to guess. 

“I have papers to finish now. The work never stops.” She tapped a hand against the wood and pushed herself off of the crates. “I’ll be sure to put something good about you in the reports for today.” 

It was, by all means, the least she could do. But it elicited a wider grin from Teddy. It was genuine this time, small, but not insignificant. Like he really was okay with that outcome. 

Evelyn smiled too. She was right, he was a good kid. 

I actually have a little story I'm working on for Evelyn and her involvement with the 141. If this gets enough traction I may post it.

Maybe...

[trandtalk]

Modern Warfare 2 Update: What to Expect So Far

Modern Warfare 2 Update: What to Expect So Far

We talked quickly about the changes coming to Call of Duty in the previous article. In this article, we will go deep into what they are adding in this Modern Warfare 2 update. Most, if not all, of these updates are for Modern Warfare 2’s multiplayer. Credit social media Modern Warfare 2 Emergent gameplay Emergent gameplay refers to the various innovations and updates that Infinity Ward is…

[patricksteel]

The Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2 Open Beta in a Nutshell

[drawntolove]

Can’t have shit on this fucking maaaannn 💀💀😭😭

[malbosia117]

Modern Warfare II: Open Beta Gameplay - First Impressions

Modern Warfare II: Open Beta Gameplay – First Impressions