#past nik/price

[hirik0]

Old magic and ancient forest

Witch!Graves/Forestkeeper!Price

Enemies to friends to lovers

The ancient forest is looking peaceful you wouldn't even think that it's Keeper is considered an evil Sprit but nobody is brave enough to banish him, so that a new keeper and witch can protect the forest together. Such as the ancient rules demand it, but not this forest this one is ke for 300 years just protected by its keeper. No witch even attempts to claim the spot as its witch, its well known to all witches that you pay with your life if you try it. But you only can't stop fate, fate will find all the loopholes, squeeze through the smalest crack to blow the wall open. The animal of the forest are observing the witch from a distance. Some don't think he will make it other hope he will and some are ready to rat him out to Price the second he steps in the forst. Also the Spirit of the old witch of the forest is mustering the young witch, that he assumes is fresh out of training the first daring to try to claim this forest as theirs in 200 years. And he really thinks Price will learn to like this witch over time, just like their cooperation took some time to take of and a lot of angry sex. He really hopes his love can finally move on, because the forest really needs a witch. First parts if the forest are becoming sick.

The only witch that dosent know and is chalenging fate is Phillip Graves, CEO of the American PMC Shadow Company. To be fair he doesn't even knows he's a witch, getting baptised as a baby truly ruined that. But magic blood is magic blood and it often starts to rebel against the christian claims in one way or another. So Phillip looks down at the peacefull looking old forest trying not to think about the rumors in the village. That someone dangerous beast lives in there, how they still use old pagean offerings and rituals, so they are allowed to use the forest for wood and food. The rumors about how the monster of the forest appeared after a big fire in wich a witch died if you believe the old legends. And that all they are for Graves legends thinks you tell children to behave, he is here to retreated a experimental piece of pentagon technology. General Shepard said he deserves an easy contract from time to time, for beeing such a reliable partner. And he don't really agrees, but an easy job to get to get to know the 4 newest Shadows sounds nice. He's wrong nothing about this mission will be nice. The first think that is happening when they enter the forest is Graves feeling a intense fear. He feels nauseous, about to see his breakfast again. All his instincts tell him to get the fuck out of this forest. He also has the feeling of being watched, like something is looming in the crowns of the trees, but also as if he's getting followed. Of course he knows that only his fellow Shadows are here with him. Some raves are flying in to the center of the forest to wake up Price telling him another witch dares to try to replace Nikolai.

>>You should not be here, he will be angry when he figures out what you are <<

A voice is echoing in Graves head. The voice in his head has a Russian accent, but Graves brushes it off as nerves. He shakes his head, about the fact that the talk of the locals getting his imagination starting. It jsut don't makes sense that his imagination is making up a Russian voice. He slowly leads his Shadows deeper in to the forest. Till the voice is speaking to him again.

>>You should make sure you can't get separated if you wand yo get further, the deeper you go the more likely it is he will notice you. The ravens probably already rat you out to him <<

The voice Graves is hearing is the former witch of the Forest Nikolai. Died in a fire, as some up and coming witch caused to get his spot as the forest witch. Nik would call them a power hungry idiot. Now he is a spirit only able to move on when the keeper Price finaly moves on, allowing a new witch. And he has the feeling this witch is the perfect fit. He is also what he thinks the young people in the village call a cute twink with a nice ass, what ever that is suppose to mean. He only gets the nice ass part. He follows the witch for some time getting conformation that the raves rat the witch out as the first member of the group gets stucket in a suddenly appearing wall of thorns bushes. Not shorty after a false unicorn is luring away the next member. And the witch clearly with some military training is not even noticing it.

>> You know you lost 2 people in the last 15 minutes?<<

Graves stopes abruptly and turns, the voice is right Miller and Smith are missing. "Where are Miller and Smith?" He ask. Smith was stopped by a wall of ranks the second Graves entered the outer circel of the oldest part of the forest trapped in it, poisson thorns burying themselves in his skin, paalysing him so that the plant can later eat him. Miller started to follow a strange lookung dear, the flase unicorn about 3 minutes ago leaving the group. Beeing lead in some of the more dangerous parts of the forest, inhabited by a pact of feral wolfshifters. The other two sergeants just shrug their shoulders and Graves is about to lecture them, when they hear a teribbel growl from deep in the forest. Graves hairs are standing up everything telling him to get out of here or he will die.

>>He notice you, hope you can run fast because hiding is no option here <<

The voice in his head sounds vaguely amused but also very worried. "Stay close", he yells to the sergeants. They walk a good 20 minutes further into the forest before they get the first evidence of the keeper. A giant paw print of a bear is crossing the path they are on. Its several inches deep, as long as a bicycle and as wide as Graves arm is long. The three man are looking at each other, confused and nervous. Tompsen is turning a unhealthy shade of green while Mulers eyes are about to pop out of his skull. Graves just gets the stronger urge to run as far and fast as possible out of this forest.

>> Stop standing here, like your waiting for the carrige to pick you up, move <<

The voice is urgenting them on, honestly Nik don't care if they move further in to the forest or out. They can't stay here. Price would find them and kill the witch. Movement only come back in to the men when suddenly all the birds in a close radius are in a panic leaving this part if the forest. A angry Price was about to parole this part of the forest again. All three man in their hast are sprinting of in a other direction, Graves running further in to the forest, Muler runs back the way they came from and Tompsen running straight in to the arms of the keeper.

>>Turn left. When you pass the tree that got split in two by lighting turn right <<

Graves isn't even sure why he does what the strange Russian voice in his head is saying. But he has the feeling he probably shouldn't be ause it's leading him further in to this forest. The trees look old, like really old.

>>ROOT<<

But to late Graves is already lying on the floor, because the of sait root. He pushes himself up again but his right foot is protesting. It hurts probably strained.

>> Well, that is really inconvenient <<

"As if you not lead me here." Graves yells.

>>Well you need to reach the middel of the forest before one of the others die. And let me tell you 3 are in a really bad spot.&lt;;<

"What?!" Graves asked paniced, what is going on in this forest.

>>One is about to get eaten by a plant, the other is hunted down by a wolfshifter pact and the last one is about to get ripped apart by the keeper <<

"What is this keeper think?", he ask. But the voice is staying silent. He hears a loud growl probably of the gigantic bear that left this gigantic paw print.

>> Hurry up, it's not that far. Price is also not that far if he figures out the poor lad is not the one hes looking for you're next <<

The voice is urging on, but graves dont really feels like moving a bit further, the voice kinda already lead him in to a shitty situation.

>> MOVE! <<

Graves is holding his head as the vocie is screaming insite his head. "Okey, i will move. No need to give me a headache", Graves murmers, hes getting really anoyed. This was supost a job a easy job. Getting shot in the middel east was easier than what ever the fuck is going on here.

At the same time Price is towering over the person that waht he assumes is the witch, trying to claim Niks spot. But then he hears the ravesn shouting at him. "Not him, he's not the witch. The witch is nearly in the center already." He frecces roaring angrly. letting the human allone to return to return to the center of the forest. This witch will not get past him.

>> It would be good if you would move like now, the ravens just rat you out again and you will not be able to get past Price if he gets there before you <<

The slight panic in the voice is getting Graves to move, even pushing him to ignore his injured foot. "How fast?" he ask the voice. Instead of an answer a picture is apearing in Graves mind. It loks like his goal is right behind the row of bushes he sees in front of him. Suddenly Ravens a screaming over his head and he sprints as fast as he can. Hes not sure how the ravens are ratting him out or why, but if hes not fast the bear or more the monster will be there before him and if, big if he can trust the voice this is the worst case. The nearer he comes to the pushes the more a feeling of coming home is spreading in him, as if he never knew is is looking for this place. If it wouod go after Graves he would never return to this forste ever again. He more falls on to a clearing and just a mear second later a gigantig grizzly is rushing on to the clearing. Graves is eyes with eyes with what the voice called the keeper or Price.

If Price goes by the screams of the ravens the witch is already every close to the clearing in the center of the forest. He already is running as fast is he can with the trees this near at each other. When he dashes on the clearing a man is already standing on it and the magic of the forest is bubbeling up. The hole forest is screaming that the new witch finally has arived. He screams out in frustration. he failed after 200 years a new witch arived in his forest here to replace Nikolai.

[cod-dump]

Price: Is Simon autistic?

Laswell: John, Nik bought him a fifty gallon barrel of mixed lego pieces and that boy has been spending WEEKS organizing them

Price: … so maybe?

Laswell: John-

[charliemwrites]

Part 4!! (No content warnings)

Fuck these men :)

You roll your neck, trying to loosen muscles tense from keeping your head locked in place. Hard work denying natural instinct to look at whoever is speaking, but the 141 doesn’t deserve any more of your attention than they’ve already stolen. Even if they didn’t know they had it at the time.

You’ll have to ask Nikto if he’ll massage out the knot forming there. He’s handy with anatomy like that.

“Listen, about what happened…” Gaz starts.

“Not relevant,” you snap, crouching behind a barrel.

“I’d say it’s pretty relevant,” he replies. “It’s not right, how we left things.”

You nearly snarl. ‘Not right’ is the understatement of the bloody century.

You twist on him. “You’re being unprofessional. Shut up and take this seriously, Garrick.”

You duck as a sniper shot pings dangerously close to your head. Spot Nikto across the way, hand-signaling to ask if you need back up. You reply with a ‘no’ and turn back to Gaz.

Thankfully, it seems he’s caught the message and keeps his mouth shut for the rest of the stupid drill. You resist a snappish comment when it’s over. Up until Gaz starts up again.

“I just think you deserve—”

“I don’t care what you think I deserve,” you interrupt. “I know what I deserve. And it’s a partner that can keep their feelings in their vest.”

Speaking of, Nikto appears at your side like a shadow in shifting light. There’s a disapproving tilt to his head, aimed at Gaz. You shake your head and tap your knuckles against his.

“Need a water break?” You ask, worried about how long he’s been under the helmet.

He shakes his head, then surprises you by bumping his forehead against yours — his version of a kiss. Even in private those are rare. You hum at him.

“Thank you, Nik.”

You have to run the next drill with Soap. Know from the start he’s going to be a stubborn prick about it. Can see it in the set of his jaw and the flicker in his eye.

“Didnae have to be a knob to Gaz,” he says.

You don’t respond, slipping away as the exercise begins. He calls after you and hurries to catch up, nearly blowing your cover.

“He feels bad enough for what happened, ye know.”

You level him a cool, blank stare. “You speak for him now?”

His eyes narrow. “If you won’t give him the chance to, aye.”

You knock his leg out from under him and fire at the “enemy” combatant, Nova. She sportingly goes down, but mutters that you should have let her take the shot. You should have.

“You compromise this drill again,” you tell a toppled Soap, “I’ll tell Laswell direct that you don’t belong on this mission.”

You spin on your heel and continue the exercise, ignoring any and all attempts by Soap to get you to speak again. At the very least, he picks up the slack, earns his callsign.

Nova finds you again when it’s over, arms around your neck and chest plastered to your back.

“Look’it you go, mamas,” she coos. “Shot me through the heart all over again.”

You laugh bending your legs to let her hop up for a piggy back ride. Yeah, you’re tired. But never too tired to carry your girl around. She giggles in your ear as you carry her off back to your captain for her next drill.

“With Price now,” he says, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Sure thing, boss,” you answer, doing a good impression of enthusiasm.

You know your place, settle into position just behind Price’s left side. No overtures about the past this time. Whatever iota of lingering respect you have for him grows as you complete the drill flawlessly. When it’s over, the two of you are at the furthest point from the designated “start”. And that’s when he decides to open his stupid mouth.

“It wasn’t personal, you know,” he says.

You smooth out your expression even though you don’t turn to him, already starting back.

“Okay.”

“It was the best call,” he explains, falling into step with you.

You tilt him a sideways look, don’t even bother with your full gaze. Spent far too much time looking up to him, by your estimate.

“Okay.”

“I look out for my soldiers.”

You turn forward again. “I wouldn’t know.”

Your captain happens to intercept, sweeping you up with one arm. You yelp, though can’t help grinning as you hook your fingers in one of his chest straps.

“Shouldn’t sneak up like that, sir,” you scold.

“That’s how I’ll know when I need to retire,” he replies with a crooked grin. “When I can’t sneak up on you anymore.”

You huff, snatching his sunglasses off his face to wear all the way back to the start point. Keegan meets you, looks directly at you as he salutes.

“Captain,” he says.

You laugh, give your CO his glasses back.

“Keeping fuckin’ around, Russ,” the captain rumbles, “I’ll take it out of your ass later.”

You gasp, scandalized, and laugh as the little skin visible through his smearing face paint turns pink.

“Off with you, girl,” your captain says. “We’re done after this, so keep it quick and clean.”

“Yessir,” you reply, jogging off to meet Ghost.

Fucking Ghost.

You don’t spare him a single look as you set up for the exercise. If nothing else, you have every expectation that he won’t say a single goddamn thing to you. No attempted apologies, no reprimands, no justifications. Just radio silence, like always.

What you don’t expect is for him to treat you like nothing’s changed. Like you’re still a fresh transfer that can’t watch their own six. You consider just putting your “gun” away and trailing after him until the exercise is over, but that would be just slightly too immature.

So you suck it up, grit your teeth, and do your job. Up until he gets in the fucking way. You’re about to get a sneaky shot on Keegan — a rare thing indeed — but Ghost moves. Goes out of his way to get the shot you already had and loses you both the element of surprise.

“Fucking oaf,” you snarl, scrambling behind a wall. “Is this your first fucking day or something?”

His eyes flash across the corridor. “What the fuck did you just say?”

You don’t reply, getting low and kicking your boot off, carefully sneaking it towards the corner like you’re trying to peek out. Keegan comes around, aiming too high and in the wrong direction, and Ghost shoots him.

Keegan “goes down” — goes out of his way to land on you, actually. You huff and shove at him.

“It’s not nap time,” you groan.

“Can’t hear you, I’m dead.”

You snort and shimmy out from under him. Not so different from most mornings, actually.

“If you two are done…” Ghost growls.

You suck your teeth and stalk off, giving Keegan one last pat to the back. The rest of the drill is barely civil, Ghost’s eyes more on you than on the training grounds.

When it’s finally, finally over, you sigh and pause, trying to work out that knot again.

“Haven’t changed a bit, have you?” Ghost sneers.

It’s meant to hurt. Meant to piss you off. Maybe remind you of the last things he said to you. You don’t look at him, bending to re-lace your boots. Thrilled to realize it’s like poking at an old scar. The skin is deadened, even though a mark remains.

“Fuck you’re so immature,” he growls.

You straighten and just start walking. Keegan finds you almost instantly.

“The hell was that about earlier?” He asks, frown audible.

“Ugh, he got in the way. I would have fuckin’ had you, otherwise.”

His eyes spark with outrage. “He fuckin’ what?” He snarls, turning like he’s about to say something to Ghost. Which… no. Just not worth it.

“Keegs,” you sigh, “c’mon, I told you this would happen. He’s not worth it.”

He scoffs, laces his fingers with yours. “‘Course he’s not. Don’t waste bullets on the dead, right?”

You snort and tug him along. The rest of your team will be waiting.

[rodolfoparras]

Three’s a crowd.

Summary: Price is your first love but you aren’t his.

Pairing: John Price x Male reader

Cw: enemies to lovers, past John Price x Nikolai, angst with a happy ending, not actually unrequited love, near death experience

A/N: this is from a spitball session that’s been completed, separate parts can be found here i, ii, iii,

Thinking about Price and Nik who used to date back in the day. While Price considered Nik to be his first love, Nik just didn’t feel the same way.

They still keep in touch, hooking up every once a while but it’s clear that Price is hoping that they’l get back together one day.

Both Price and Nik were sure that Price would never be able to move on until one you came along.

You’d been dubbed the troublesome soldier, kicked out of every squad you’ve been in but for whatever reason Price had taken you into his team and under his wing.

You don’t really know why since you vehemently denied any help he tried to give but you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t develop feelings for him.

But any flicker of hope is quickly snuffed out when you find out that he’s had a past with the Russian man.

While Nik buys Price gifts like records from his favorite bands, Price has to patch up your wounds because you got into another fight.

While Nik knows the tea Price likes to drink when he’s sick, you know how to push every single one of Price’s buttons until he’s fuming

While Nik knows how to fuck him right, you’ve never even slept with a man.

So you keep your mouth shut, choosing to only admire him from a distance.

But by doing so you also miss to see that the tea Nik buys for him, Price makes for you when you’re down with the flu.

The records Nik buys for him, Price mentions to you in hopes of finding something in common with you.

He even finds himself visiting Nik less and less because all he can think about is you fucking him into the mattress.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Although the two of you can’t see it, everyone around you is aware of the feelings you harbor for each other, especially Nik.

You’re all Price talks about when Nik and him are hanging out. Many times he’d call off one of their hm- meetings because you needed him that night and it’s hard to miss the love struck look in Price’s eyes, something Nik hadn’t even seen when the two of them had been dating.

Nik thought that Price would confess his feelings, take any opportunity to move on from the man he’s been hung up on for years but for whatever reason, Price wouldn’t confess, even played stupid when Nik brought it up to him.

So Nik tried another approach, by making you jealous in hopes of that being enough to make you fess up but instead it only managed to push you further away.

Nik almost pulled his hair out, flying a helicopter was much easier than getting two people together so he gave up, and let universe handle it instead.

In the meantime 141 was on your ass about it, telling you that it’s so clear that the captain reciprocates your feelings.

For one moment you had allowed yourself to believe it. With one too many drinks in your system you had stumbled over to Price’s office in an attempt to confess your feelings.

However what you saw had shattered your heart.

Stupid, stupid so stupid you think to yourself tears trickling down your cheeks as you sprint to you room, far away from Price’s office.

Of course Price didn’t reciprocate your feelings, he was busy getting fucked by the man he was actually in love with.

“What is he going to think? Fuck!” Price says after you had hastily walked away. kicking the trash can laying around in his office, still half naked.

“John cal-“ Nik tries to say but gets interrupted by the older man.

“Don’t, Nikolai, just please leave, please? I would like to be alone for a moment”

Nik wants to argue but instead he lets out a sigh and picks up his clothes off of the floor, quickly dressing himself before walking out through the door.

“You should tell him you know?” Nik says with a sad smile on his face. Price doesn’t even get to spit out an impromptus lie about how he doesn’t like you in that way before Nik is walking away.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The opportunity to talk doesn’t come around. His days are filled with missions and his nights are filled with paper work that just seem to be piling up and when the two of you have some sort of interaction Price doesn’t even know what to say because it’s not like the two of you are anything in the first place.

He did nothing wrong by fucking Nik he was just lonely and tired of pining for the man who doesn’t even seem to noice him. But then that very same man walked in at the wrong moment and everything came crashing down on him.

Stupid stupid so stupid, Price thinks to himself as he sulks in silence.

Weeks have passed after that incident, the two of you are distant as ever. Price thinks that maybe it’s meant to be this way, you weren’t even anything in the first place.

But just as the thought pops up in his head there’s blood - your blood splashing across his face and you’re falling to the ground while he rushes towards your bleeding body.

You’re muttering I love you’s while he’s carrying you to the emergency room, because you’re so sure you’re going to die that day and Price is repeatedly saying that he won’t say it back not yet because this isn’t a goodbye and if you’re going to confess your love for him you have to ask him out on dinner first. You have to be alive and well when you do it, goddammit!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

There’s going to be a next time he says as he sits in the emergency room while you’re being operated.

There’s going to be a fancy dinner and he’s going to wear the suit that barley fits him anymore, even if the doctors had told him there were complications.

There’s going to be an opportunity to say that he loves you, he thinks to himself as he watches you still asleep in the hospital bed, monitors connected to every bit of your body.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The sun is pleasantly warm as it shines down on your face, the drink you’d been nursing is cold in your hand. The only thing missing is-

“Clementine ?” Price says already knowing what you’re thinking. Your face lights up, shining as bright as the sun and you eagerly nod at his proposal.

It’s certainly not a dinner like you had promised but due to your injuries you were still recovering and sitting outside on the grass on a warm summer day and eating clementines is as close to a fancy dinner as you’ll get.

Price can’t help but laugh as he hands you a piece. “It’s funny no?”

“What is?” You say biting down on the fruit, tasting the sweet and sour goodness.

“You hate the smell of clementines yet you love eating them” he says before giving you another piece which you gracefully take.

“They’re good as long as I don’t have to peel them” you say with a playful glint in your eyes.

Price scoffs as if offended but you can still see the smile on his face as he hands you another piece. “What am I then? You personal Clementine peeler?”

“Yes yes you are” you say, a laugh escaping your lips but quickly disappearing as you see the mischievous look on him.

Before you know it he’s burying his face in your neck, the smell of clementines engulfing your sense and his sticky fingers touching all over your face.

“No go away you stink” you say through fits of laughter but Price doesn’t care, continues to nuzzle his face in your neck while lightly dragging his sticky fingers alongside of your ribs to not agitate your injuries.

“Okay okay you win! You’re not just a Clementine peeler is that what you wanted to hear?”

Price halts his actions, eyes peering up at you with a playful smile on his face.

“You know what I want to hear” Price says, and as he says the words you feel heat creep up your neck ears and cheeks but nonetheless you say the words he’d been longing to hear.

“I love you Jo-“ you don’t get to say anymore than that before he’s slotting your lips together.

You can now taste the fruit juice on his lips can even get a whiff of the cigar he’d been smoking as you lose yourself in the kiss.

But it doesn’t last long before he’s pulling way.

“I love you too” he says with a flush on his face “so much”

The end.

Spitball w/ me?

[foap-enjoyer]

If Soap swapped with Price during the mission Gaz fell out of the heli

Nik: The Sergeant, he's gone! Gaz: I'm not dead, Nik, I'm hanging from a bloody rope! Soap, speeding past on a motorbike: LET ME GET A PHOTO OF THIS REAL QUICK, HOLD STILL NOW, GAZ Gaz: FUCK OFF, JOHN! Soap: SMILE FOR THE CAMERAAAA

[love-lilly02]

The Challenge- Ch. 7

An- hey. (drops random half edited chapter that’s probably the shortest one i’ve ever written) see ya🚶🏾‍♀️

A total of two months, three and a half weeks and six days. 

That was how long you had been MIA. Each time another day was added to that count, you grew more restless than before. You wanted to go home, to sleep in your bed, eat american food, damnit just to have a different color shirt to wear. 

And yet you were still stuck here. 

Each day started off the same. You would wake up at the ass crack of dawn, eat something akin to breakfast with Nikolai and wait to see if today was the day you were going back. Instead, he would silently place a knife on the table— some days it was different— and walk out of the room. The same routine, every day. for the past two months.

It was enough to drive any normal person insane. and it had almost driven you insane, definitely would have if you weren’t in the military. 

You had managed to work up the courage to ask why he didn’t immediately send you back one day, why he tolerated you staying with him for this long. 

“If i send you back they do things different. Look at you oddly, treat you weirder. Here you can rest, regain your skills.” He had said, not pausing to spare you a glance. 

“I take you back when you ready.”

according to him, you had not been ready in a long time. 

you never really gave up hope. Not actually, you knew logically at some point he had to bring you back to them. And going back on your own was a suicide mission, one even worse than the thing that had gotten you into this mess. So you waited. 

If it took five months or seven years, you would wait. 

Kate Laswell was a woman of action. 

She knew this for a fact, it had been thrown back into her face so many times she lost body parts to count it. Which is why your disappearance bothered her so much. You were a person of action as well, it’s what prompted her to introduce you to the 141. So then why had you been MIA for the past three months? The thought sat there constantly, turning even the best days sour. 

That, and what you were doing to the team.

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out, although you did have to look a bit harder to see the changes. Especially in people like Ghost and Price, whereas Kyle and Soap might as well have worn their emotions on their sleeves. She wished she could do something to help, to find where exactly you were. Or if you were alive, even. 

All given evidence suggested otherwise. 

She had replayed the shitty camera footage of your disappearance, watched it frame by frame, pixel by pixel. Mutiple times, and she couldn’t figure out how there could be a way for you to get out of there. It just wouldn’t have added up. 

But she didn’t give up there, of course she wouldn’t.

She kept searching, looking for any sign of you. As a civilian, one of the russian’s captives, anyone. anything could come into play, you were a smart girl and everyone knew it. 

Unfortunately, that also meant you could cover up your tracks well. 

It took another month for anything good to come up. And that something good came as salvation always does.

In the form of a call. 

John had made an attempt to push the situation out of his mind, to allow you to handle your own business. His thoughts screamed at him to be more active, to do something more, but there was literally nothing for it. 

Or so he thought. 

The call came in while he was walking out of a meeting, silently dreading the mound of paperwork he would now have to do. When he saw the caller ID he had to do a double take, and he rushed to answer the call. 

“Nik?”

“Captain. It’s been a while, no?”

“Damn right it has. Makes me scared.”

His old friend laughed, and Price could imagine the way he was shaking his head.

“Yes, yes. But i have gift—what? okay, okay sheesh. I have… surprise… for you.”

Price just stared. “Is there someone else there? What’s goin on Nik?” 

There was silence on the other end of the line, then a lot of rusting. 

“Um. Hey.” 

Price almost dropped the phone. 

The process of getting you back wasn’t as hard as they thought it would be, but it certainly took a very long time. 

In reality it took two weeks. But to them each day felt like a decade.  

The entire flight took 11 hours, and they weren’t allowed to meet you halfway (something about using military vehicles for non military purposes. all four boys thought that was absolute bull shit but they couldn’t do anything about it) So they did the next best thing. 

wait. 

And they waited. and waited. Each time a chopper landed on the helipad they were rushing to the window, seeing if it was you. It got to the point that they had someone constantly surveying that area of the base, just so they could be immediately notified. 

And finally, finally you were back. 

It was a whole ordeal, theatrics that even soap had to roll his eyes at. The moment you got off the plane you were swamped with people asking questions, doctors trying to assess how you were alive and unharmed, people just staring in awe. 

But you ignored them all, scanning the crowd with a panicked expression. It didn’t disappear till you saw the four of them, standing far, far away from the mob of people surrounding you. 

Nik walked out behind you, placing a steadying hand on your shoulder. The two of you made your way down the ramp to the group, and Price smiled for the first time in a long time when he saw you. 

“Welcome back, kid.”

this was gona be an akward chapter anyways, i had NO idea how to write the reader's return. I'll make it up to you guys next time, pinkie promise

My Masterist

[igotanidea]

Nikolai Lantsov x inferni!reader : Traitor

It was the same nightmare over and over again. Making her wake up in the middle of the night in tears with heart beating way to fast and ragged breath.

If only it was just a nightmare.

But it was more.

It was a memory.

Flahsback

“Here she is. My favorite Inferni.” Darkling smiled with his brightest smile, greeting Y/N as she entered his chambers.

“General Kirigan” she acknowledged him without any hesitation in the voice, and yet screaming inside. He was nice, too nice and she knew exactly why. He needed something from her. More precisely, he needed her.

While everyone at court were fooled by Kirigan’s charm and well put-on pretenses, Y/N was the only one to see right through him. The king, the queen, all the Grishas…. So silly when confronted with his bright smile and practiced speaking.

If only Nik was here…

But “the puppy prince” left few years prior, leaving her alone to deal with the potential enemy of the state and it hurt like hell. Firstly, because it seemed like Nik never cared about her at all, secondly because all the court and royal family believed her to be insane and mentally impaired the very second she even hinted at Darkling’s intention being dishonest. Y/N knew he was searching for the sun summoner and why was he doing this, but had to keep it a secret. It was like being torn into two opposite direction. She had to protect the royal family and Ravka she swore an oath to and that came with exposing Darkling, but at the same she had to protect herself and that meant getting into general’s good graces to avoid getting hanged for treason. And still protect the Lantsov, even that fool or a price Vasily.

Being some sort of double agent came with a heavy price.

Poor girl.

This was why she was called upon Kirigan every night and walked into his chambers. He always wanted something in return for keeping her secrets. Sometimes he needed her big brain and Inferni skills, sometimes it was .... more .... but it always, always left her with scars.

“Please Y/N. There is no need for formalities here.” He eyed her with those predatory eyes

“Why am I here tonight, general?” Y/N asked, still keeping her head high, back straight and gaze hardened.

“I….” he took a step closer and waved a hand towards the guards dismissively. The men bowed and left immediately “I have needs tonight.”

“Why… why don’t you ask Zoya?” she hissed “she’ll be more than happy to help you with those.”

“Oh, yes, Zoya…. You are not really in the good terms lately, are you?” he smirked, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer. “but then, you are not really anyone’s favorite Grisha, even in your own order, am I right?” his grip became unbearable “do not worry, dear. It’s a fair exchange. You give me that fire of yours and I keep you protected from anyone else” he muttered into her ear and she knew she was trapped for that night.

***

After everything she was left with pure hatred towards herself. She knew this was just a begging since intimacy was the first step. And after he made her a sobbing mess on his mercy, there were more …. practical tasks. Fires, strategies and plans she was always good at making.

But even with her help, Kirigan was slowly slipping. Slowly, yet consistently, and soon enough Grisha started seeing past his charm. Especially when he brought the sun summoner to the little palace. Y/N though herself to be smart enough to warn her about general’s purpose and tried to reach towards Alina.

Sadly, she was not.

And her attempt to warn miss Starkov ended up with the real, physical scars on her back. Those that could never properly heal even with Genya’s help.  The tailor was probably the only person in the palace who knew who did this to Y/N, but never said a thing. At least she was a bit of support.

However, the pain coming from the cuts was unbearable and was following her for days.

And so she made a decision to flee and search for Nikolai to bring him back to the country. She escaped during the night and when it was discovered the next morning she was quickly announced the wanted traitor.

***

She found Nikolai a few moments later, by accident, while walking the streets in some small village. She was exhausted and was slowly losing hope for the future when she heard noises coming from around the corner. A man and a woman, Shu, judging by the looks were laughing and bantering with each other and when Y/N raised her bloodshot eyes she saw the person she was so desperately looking for.

“Ni….” she started, but he was faster.

“Leave us.” He commanded his companions and only when they left he came towards her, wrapping arms around her. “Y/N” he whispered, breathing her in but quickly pulling away “you look terrible. And you could definitely use some cleaning.” He smirked “Why are you here?”

“Nik….” She sobbed desperately, tears falling from her eyes like a fountain she could not contain once they started “I….”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. Sh….” He hugged her tightly against his chest “you can tell me. Although I may have to warn you, no one here, except Tamar and Tolya knows my real identity. I’m Sturmhond.”

“The pirate?” she frowned, looking at him with surprise in the eyes

“Privateer….” He hissed “Now come on, whatever happened to you, you are safe now.”

He took her upon the ship and listened carefully to her story. She told him everything, except for the part how Darkling damaged her. It was not important, the country had to be put first. And it was, since they both created a plan to save it. First, get the sun summoner, secondly get Nik back to his prince-self and third, defeat the Darkling.

***

They were spending too much time together on the Volkvolny. There were to many jokes, silly fights and tension. And soon the crew started making ambiguous allusions to the character of their captain and the Inferni’s relationship. And Y/n soon had enough of it so gathering herself she confronted Nik about it.

“Captain, can I have a word with you?” she entered his cabin, not really caring what the answer would be.

“My favorite Inferni….” Unknowingly he used the same words as Darkling and it made her flinch “missed me that much?”

“With all those comments I hear all the time it feels like you are always with me” she rolled her eyes

“Is that why you are here? Came to make the rumors a reality?”

“Not exactly. I came to remind you I will never….” She never get to finish when with one long stride he was right in front of her, grabbing her waist and connecting their lips. At first she froze, shocked by the unexpected action but when he tried to pull away, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him back to her.

“You were saying….?” He muttered

“Oh, shut up…” Y/N locked her hands around his neck, wanting more and knowing he could give her that. She did not protest when he lifted her and walked her to the bed, laid her gently and slowly started to undress her. Saints, she wanted more and more and more, getting so greedy. “Nik….” Her little moan only spur him on.

“Tell me what you want…” Nikolai’s lips moved onto her neck, hands getting under her coat, caressing the skin on the sides and stomach.

“I want….” She panted and smiled lightly, teasingly “I want you to show me if you are truly as good as you are bragging to be.”

“Hm…” she smirked “not sure if you ready for this, love.”

***

As much as she hated to admit it, he was good. Really, really good and left her fully satisfied when she fell asleep in his loving embrace and woke up in them a couple hours later. Her back to his chest. 

“Where did you get those scars?” he muttered kissing along her neck and shoulder, avoiding the damaged skin.

“I…. I don’t really want to talk about it.” She sighed deeply “at least not yet.”

“That sentence just confirmed you see us together in the future. I mean, of course you do, you caught a prince, fireball. A big fish, am I not? ”

“You are unbelievable….” She turned to the other side to face him

“But you love me, don’t you? You admitted that quite a few times …”

“I hate you.” she punched his chest “what time is it? Isn’t your crew going to look for you?”

“Maybe. But those marks I left on you will be enough of the explanation.”

“Marks?” her eyes widened “oh my…..”

“Besides, I am also sure they heard you scream my name.”

“I’m going to kill you, Nik!”

“Come on, it was good, wasn’t it?” he caressed her shoulders “you can admit it, I won’t judge. After all, I am the one who lost his mind for you.”

“You lost your mind when you were a kid, and never found it since.”

“And all of it, because of a certain Inferni which I feel in love with.”

“What….?”

“I’m serious, Y/n.” he looked straight into her eyes “I love you.” 

“I love you too, Nik.”

“Great. Now that we got this covered, time to get up and get back to work!”

***

Besides that little unplanned thing, everything went smoothly. Soon, Alina and Mal joined the crusade and they all returned to Ravka happily, ready to stand against Kirigan. Sad part, old rumors did not die and soon, the prince heard about Y/N’s past and about her apparently being a traitor.

End of flashback

She was with Kirigan again. He was too close, causing her so much pain and she could not endure it all. Her skin aching, reddening and bruising. Again and again and again.

And that made her woke up. Sweaty, shaken and terrified, turning around and trying to reach to other side of bed but she found it empty. He was probably in the adherent room, listening to all his advisors and Grisha filling him in on the country situation.

“Nikolai?” she came thought the door and surprisingly found him alone, sitting on the chair, head hung low, running a hand through his hair. “What happened, my love?” in a second she was next to him grabbing his hand and caressing it gently.

“I… I’ve spoken to some people.” He started “about the country.”

“Is it that bad?”

„Were you conspiring with Darkling?” he said suddenly, his voice cold as ice and she could not recall any time in the past he was so indifferent towards her.

“What?” she gasped taking a step back, utterly terrified by that simple question. No,no, no, no. Oh, saint, please no.

“Answer me, Y/N. Were. You. Scheming. With him?” now his tone was angered, he was clenching his teeth to prevent himself from yelling.

“How could you even ask me that?” she stuttered, her heart breaking.

“I have every reason to suspect you have not been loyal. First of them being the fact you never told me about your past here. You were not ready to talk about it, huh? Now it would make sense why you have those marks on your back. This was punishment, wasn’t it?” he stood up, towering over her and suddenly she felt so small, so vulnerable against his rage. How could she ever explain it to him to make him understand?

“Nik…” poor girl trembled, hurt beyond any recognition “you don’t believe the rumors, do… do you?”

“Give me a reason not to.”

“You have no right to judge me! You don’t know what it was like! What is felt like to be forced to do things you don’t want to just to keep yourself alive!”

“Don’t I?” he looked straight into her eyes and that struck her with the force of lightning.

“You…. You really think what they say is true…. You….Oh my god, you think I am a traitor!” she cried and hid face in hands to avoid looking at him. He thought she betrayed the Lanstovs, so how come at this moment it felt like he was the one to do exactly the same to her.  

“I’m not accusing you of anything. “I just don’t….” he took a sharp breath and closed his eyes “I don’t want to see you right now. I need to think.“

“Nik….” She cried “Please, you have to listen to me…. It’s not what …..”

“What I have to is for you to leave.”

“Please!” she tried again, reaching for his hand, but he just turned around “Nik, I love you, I was nothing more than loyal, all my life and this is what I get in return?”

“Leave.” he commanded with his price voice

“No.” Y/N was not going to give up so easily

“Don’t make it any harder than it already is.” He warned coldly, but his eyes showed that it was painful for him as well.

“Let’s just talk about it, love, I’m begging you. Darkling, he….”

“I’m sorry Y/N….” his voice broke a bit “you leave me no choice….”

“So what, you are going to call your guards to escort me? Put me under lock and key until you clarify the situation?” she mocked “Don’t bother. I’ll make it easy for you. Might as well save any remnants of dignity I have left. “

 “I promise, you will get fair judgment if you cooperate.”

“Fair judgement? How…. How is this fair?” she sobbed “how is this fair that you believed them against me? I….. you know what? Fine. I’ll go.” Y/N angrily wiped away the tears and fixed her pants “You may not have Lantsov blood in your veins, moi tsar, but you surely act like one.” She turned around and walked away with the guards, missing that utterly broken and hurt expression on his face. But he had it coming.

***

He regretted treating her this way the moment she walked thought the door.

He was torn.

He was a king, he was supposed to be firm, unwavering and deliver objective justice by not being biased by personal likings and feelings.

But it was so damn hard.

He loved her, like no one before, with all his heart. Nik had already forgiven her for everything or at least desperately wanted to do so, but King Nikolai had duties, obligations and had to protect Ravka and put it first. He could not tolerate any symptom of not being loyal. Not under the current circumstances. 

But she was so broken…. So hurt and scarred. He was the reason tears showed in her eyes and that urge to just run after her, grab her, pull her close and kiss the pain away was overwhelming.

Nik would believe a single word of denial of those allegations coming from her mouth, but king Nikolai needed hard proof.

He had no idea what to do apart from running hands through his hair in despair.

As if that could help

***

“I don’t envy her. First she was used as a Darkling toy, now got into the black books of the prince”

 “She should have been more careful. Playing double with Lantsov and Kirigan couldn’t have ended well.”

“But still, in addition to those scars on the back she will have some mental damage. I pity her. Truly.”

“I don’t. She always had too big appetite and ambitions for her own good and…..”

“What are you talking about?” Nikolai peeked through the door, overhearing the guards chattering

“Moi tsar” they both saluted and bowed in respect

“What is this about?” he insisted, demanding explanation “Talk. Now.”

And that was how he learned the other side of the story.

And it left him heartbroken and full of unimaginable amount of guilt.

She was never going to forgive him for treating her this way, but he was ready to beg on his knees just to see even a glimpse of warm feelings from her.

***

While Nikolai was listening to the story and swimming in regret, Y/N was lying on her bed, back to the door, curled up, sobbing and shaking. It was just too much. It felt like she was accused of so many terrible things, since she was 15. First by Lantsovs, then by Kirigan, then by her fellow Grisha (give or take a few exceptions), and now by Nikolai. The last one hurt the most.

He should have believed her, not the gossip.

He should have listened.

He shouldn’t have ask her for explanation of the matter.

He broke her heart with the use of one little word.

Traitor.

How could he think she would ever betray him or his famliy. Even after everything the Lantsov did to her?

She got scars because she never lost hope he will return and put Ravka back together.

She was used, manipulated and laughed at, just because she saw more than anyone else.

And now….

Now he wouldn’t want to see her.

“Y/N…..”

“Genya?” Y/N propped herself on the elbow, meeting with the scarred face of her best friend. “What…. what happened to you?”

“nietchevo’ya……”she whispered looking down onto the floor, hiding her damaged face behind hair

“Oh, Genya!” the Inferni stood up and hugged the tailor, both of the girls started crying even more “I am so, so, so sorry. You did not deserve this. None of us ever deserved this.”

“I….” Genya stuttered “I should have taken your side. Back then….. But I chose to be silent and …..”

“Sh, sh….” Y/N caressed her hair “It’s in the past. We cannot dwell on that. We need to stick together now, that;s the only way….”

“Please, forgive me for everything …..”

“You did nothing wrong, my friend.” Y/n looked her straight into the eyes “you hear me? Nothing. We have to make hard choices sometimes and carry the results with us. But it doesn’t make us bad people. It does not make us monsters.” 

“Is that what you truly believe in?” a small, broken male voice came from behind and both girls turned around only to spot Nikolai, with disheveled hair and reddened face.

‘moi tsar” Genya try to bow, but Y/N stopped her from this

“not until the coronation.” He simply stated

“I will leave you two alone….”

“Y/N…”  Nik whispered taking a step forward trying to make her back away “I… I don’t even know how to begin expressing …..”

“Why are you here, Nik?” she fixed her gaze on the floor, not ready to look into his eyes

“I know everything now.”

“Which is?” now she raised head, single droplets falling down her cheeks “You know how I got the scars? Did they tell you how I was treated by everyone here? By Darkling? By your mother? By Apparat? Like no one.”

“I know….”

“Did your informer told you I created dozens of plans and strategies in case of any attack from Darling attack on your family and shared them with generals and they called me insane? Did they tell you I was a playtoy? Did you believe them only because you saw Genya damaged in similar way? Did they tell you…..” she broke and fell onto the ground, clutching her heart desperately. It was all coming back and she could not breathe, feeling the panic attack taking over her.    

“My love.” In a blink of an eye, Nikolai was next to her, embracing her, hoping she would not push him back. Luckily she clung to him tightly, searching for that safety and protection she always felt in his arms. He messed up. Really bad. And yet she wasn't figthing him. “Saints, I swear I never meant to cause you any harm.”

“I…. I…… I know….. I.... need to tell you the whole truth, you deserve it."

"You don't have to say a single word, darling."

"I want to..... I....." she took a sharp, shaking inhal ready to go on, but was stopped.

“No. Hush. I’m so sorry.” He kissed her head and pulled her closer “I can’t even tell you how, love. I was torn between being your Nikolai and the king everyone wants me to be. Guess I failed at both.”

 “No.” she shook her head and slightly moved away, but still staying in his arms “you… did not....”

“I did, my love, if it puts you in such state.”

“No.” she gulped “you, Nik, have the power to make Ravka a better place. To make everything better. I know it. And it comes with hard choices and  …..”

“And you should never be one of those. You are my priority and I;m sorry I was blinded.”

“Heavy is the head who wears the crown….” She quoted the poem they used to know and mock as children “guess we only understand the true meaning behind it now.”

“I love you….” he cupped her cheeks and wiped the tears away

“I love you too….”

“Can you forgive me?”

“As long as you promise to never doubt me in the future. And to talk to me if something bothers you. I will never cause you any harm.”

“Guess now you will have to.” He smirked “You’re gonna have to make us even.”

“Idiot.” She rolled her eyes “you are an idiot, moi tsarevich. Here, I just offended the head of the country. Is that enough for you?”

“That’s a start.” He smirked and captured her lips in his, slowly, gently, caressing her scared back at the same time. “I swear to you, everyone who ever hurt you will be punished. I will hit Kirigan with everything I have. And as for my mother.... mother of Ravka" he muttered "I should have known what my family was capable of. I am sorry, my love...."

"Just be better."

"I will do the best I can as long as you are by my side." she nodded" now, come on, we got job to do and I need you with me.”

“Ugh! After a kiss like that I was expecting a bit more of an apology..."

“I solemnly swear to continue once we are done. Is that worth waiting for?”

“Let’s hope you can live up to your promises, prince.”  

@bradleyroosterbradshawfr

@hauntedenthusiasttragedy

[captain-mj]

Ghost's Birthday

Proofreading? Having heard of her. Editing? Who is she?

Ghost had the tiniest of smiles on his face when Price handed him the baby blue bag with an obnoxious “Happy Birthday” on it. Before he had a chance to ask, Price smiled at him. “Your leave is approved. There’s a gift for you.” 

Ghost relaxed. “Thank you, sir.”

Price patted him sadly. “Of course, Simon. You’ll leave at the end of the week. If I had noticed the dates, I would’ve tried to it get it done sooner.”

“It’s okay, Captain. I appreciate it.” Ghost held the little bag in his lap, gently running his finger over the corner. 

“Simon if you ever wan-”

Soap and Gaz started to pound on the door, clearly scared to death. Price laughed. “We’ll talk later yeah?” Once Ghost nodded, he raised his voice to be heard by the men outside. “Come in.”

They rushed inside and closed the door. Gaz noticed the bag and went quiet as Soap explained how this was not really their fault and how could they know their actions could have consequences. 

Ghost picked up the bag and glass clinked in it, which got Soap’s attention. He nodded at Price and then his two sergeants before making his leave. The three of them stared after him and the small bag in his hand. 

Gaz and Soap slowly turned to Price. 

Nik threw the door open. “You two! Outside now!” He was seething, teeth bared and gritted. 

Gaz and Soap looked at Price, their savior, for protection. He shrugged. “Nik, you’re doing the paperwork.”

“I’ll take that deal.” 

Nik made them clean the mess they made in his helicopter and then had them sweep the sunshine off the stairs outside. He noticed them talking and made his way over again. 

It was then that they found out Ghost was going to go on leave for the week and Soap immediately had an idea. They’d have to pull a few strings and they’d have to do it fast, but… 

Ghost was so glad it was the last day before his leave. The past few days had been miserable. Everyone kept talking and then shutting up when he came in the room or hiding messages from him. Paired with the general feeling of this time of year, it wore on him. He didn’t particularly feel like getting out of bed, or his desk chair, or the floor when he was dumb enough to lay on it for a minute. So he just stayed on the floor now. 

There was a pit in his chest that had metastasized to his stomach. He wondered if it was cancer. If like his dad, he could be cracked open and there would be decaying flesh. 

Ghost groaned. He was being melodramatic. Like his dad. 

He was sure that’s why everyone had been avoiding him. He was an empty shell of a person. His chest also hurt. 

The little bag stayed on his desk the entire week. He gingerly picked it up, pulling it to the ground in front of him. Blue tissue paper stuck out of the top. 

Price knocked firmly. “Got a message from Alejandro. Emergency in the meeting room.” 

Ghost was out of the door and at his heels. He realized a tad late that he still had the bag in hand. 

They walked into the the meeting room and paused. 

Everyone had realized that jumping out at two seasoned soldiers who had a platoon’s worth of PTSD was not a good idea, so they settled for just making sure the door would close behind them before the decorations could be seen. 

Price, who had not been informed because they didn’t want him to tell Ghost, had turned rather pale. 

It was simple. Lots of blue balloons though. Same color as the bag. They arched around the room. 

One table had a cake with a photo of the 141 on top and the other had several gifts, all packaged in the same wrapping paper. He assumed, correctly, that the wrapping was a last minute thought. Something that made the lump grow in his throat was that each present was clearly wrapped a different person. 

Someone had made a banner that said “Happy Birthday Ghost”. 

Price and Ghost were silent as half of SpecGru stared at them. 

Alex raised a cup of whatever they had for the drink. “To Simon Riley!”

“Simon Riley!” Several of them raised their cups and cheered. 

Price glared at Soap and Gaz. 

Ghost quietly turned to the table of gifts and set the bag on top of it. He carefully took off his mask and set it right in front of it. 

There were so many gifts. He couldn’t remember ever having so many as a kid. His record was four he was sure. Usually at least two were clothes. 

Gingerly, he picked up one of them. He could tell it was from Rodolfo by the neat wrapping and the handwriting used to write his name. Careful not to tear the wrapping, he undid each piece of tape so that he could unfold it. He carefully straightened it so it was flat and set it to the side to look at the gift. 

It was a tac vest with a rib design on it. It also had some stuff to help with camouflaging and extra knife holders. 

He heard Laswell angrily whispering to Price that she was going to kill him for not telling him it was Ghost’s birthday.

“It’s not his birthday.” Price said quietly and several people were confused. “It’s Joseph’s birthday.”

“I go visit his grave.” Ghost said quietly, unfolding another present silently. “If you guys want the presents back, that’s fine. I’ve never had someone throw me a party like this. I just want to know what’s inside.”

“Of course you can keep the presents.” Chuy told him. “Especially mine.” He shoved his towards him. 

Ghost carefully undid the wrappers. “My mom used newspaper until I was 8. It was cheaper because my grandad like reading them. After he died, she started using wrapping paper. Always easter themed because my actual birthday is in May and it would be on sale.” He pulled the mothman plush out of the paper, staring at it. 

Simon was sure if he was capable of crying, he’d be bawling like a child. But he couldn’t, so instead he smiled. It was incredibly soft. He felt… strange. Surrounded by friends. People he considered close. 

Price gently patted his shoulder. “You alright, son?”

“Yeah.”

“You keep everything.” Soap said softly, watching an unmasked Ghost go through a range of emotions. Nostalgia, sadness, a depth of grief he had no way of understanding. If anyone wanted their gift back, he’d personally pay them for the replacement before he let them take it away from Ghost. 

Reyes had gotten him a new knife holster and some booze, Gaz got him a new knife and Soap had gotten him bourbon and some sketches of Riley since he knew he missed her now when they went on long missions apart. Farah had gotten him a matching keychain with her that was tombstone that when set next to each other said “Buried alive”. She must’ve gotten it custom made. 

Everyone looked away when Ghost had to compose himself. He laughed a little, sounding wet and sad. 

Soap eventually asked if he wanted to open the bag. “You know. For Joseph.”

Simon hesitated before quietly pulling out the tissue paper. There was something methodical about the way he treated each present. He made sure nothing was torn or crinkled if he could help it. 

The bag held a gun, several traveled sized bottles of bourbon, a joint and a small teddy bear. 

The gun was unloaded. 

Soap didn’t ask. He didn’t think he’d like the answer very much. 

Ghost put the teddy bear next to the mothman plushy. They had gotten candles, but hadn’t bothered to set them up, not sure if Ghost would enjoy them. Gaz quickly put a few on the cake and Ghost blew them out. He smiled a little and everyone was determined to keep the good vibes going. 

Alex, with permission, spiked everyone’s drinks and someone broke out cards. They all played and Ghost kept smiling. 

Price watched him carefully, worried he’d reach his limit. He didn’t. Everyone knew how to avoid his boundaries and it meant that Simon got to be around. 

Soap kept staring at him, starry eyed. Everytime Simon laughed or smiled or told one of his shitty jokes, Soap would look a little more smitten. 

Ghost got up after a while, drunk and full of good vibes. “I’m going to go.”

Soap protested immediately, grabbing his sleeve. “Already? Come on it’s not even midnight.”

“Early flight out for Manchester. I appreciate it though, Johnny. I appreciate all of you guys.”

Soap nodded and squeezed him. 

Price waited until Ghost was about to leave before patting his back. “Gun stays unloaded.”

“Gun stays unloaded.”

A week later, Ghost came back. He looked tired, but the moment he was back around his friends, he looked happier again. 

Maybe he looked a little happier around Soap, but no one would call him out for it. He was back to being the scary man on base, even if he had two stuffed animals on his bed now. 

[callsign-bunnie]

Would you write Nikolai x Price?

Like something happens to Price and the 141 get to see Nik just go nuts to get him back? Laswel involvement ofc

If you want to

Another draft that I never posted

Also, I'm sorry it's not more involved, I'm not the best at writing long drawn out action scenes, try as I may, so I went with this, instead. I thought it'd be cute

--

36 hours. 

That’s how long it took Nikolai to find Price.

It had been almost exactly, just five minutes shy, of 36 hours from when it had been revealed that Price had even been taken. Gaz, Soap, and Ghost were still putting together clues to even find the fucking man, and Nikolai had brought him back without a damn scratch on him.

Of course, Nik was coated in blood. Laswell, herself, had a fair amount, but it didn’t compare to the sheer amount of blood that Nik had. 

All three had stood there, their mouths stupidly agape, as Nik and Laswell escorted Price back onto the base, Price grinning from ear to ear, and had watched the two bloody individuals drop into chairs, exhaustedly. “Will not make that mistake again.” Nik muttered, dropping a combat knife on the table.

Laswell? She just snorted as she dropped a handgun. Both were bloody. 

“I’m thinking a shower.” Price had chuckled, putting his hands on the back of Nik’s chair. Nik had just snorted. “Damn, guys, did you even look for me?” He’d joked to the three.

Even Ghost had looked… beyond shocked. But, eventually, he’d just crossed his arms, huffing. “We were starting the process. We didn’t even know where you were.”

“Only three people know where Price would be on a Sunday.” Nik muttered. “Me, Kate, and the bastard who grabbed him. It was… easy to find him. Child’s play.”

“Child’s play?!” Soap spluttered, shaking his head. “It was hardly a day and a half, Nik!”

“Would have been less.” Laswell commented, rubbing off what looked like dried blood on the back of her neck. “But the helicopter malfunctioned.”

Nik nodded, his expression solemn. “But we managed.”

Price beamed behind them, his expression full of pride and joy. “I’m a little disappointed you two rescued me so fast, I was almost to my good material. I’d only gotten past the ‘you won’t get away with this’ bit.”

Gaz shook his head. “Wait, wait. Nik how would you know where Price usually is on Sunday? Like you said, I don’t even know that.”

Nik blinked at him and then shrugged. “He gets tea and crumpets from the same little shop, and it’s always playing the last football game. He sets an alarm for 9 o’clock, hits the snooze button, and then sleeps in until 9:30, where he then finally gets up, takes a shower, and walks there. Of course, he almost always stops by this animal shelter to pet the dogs, which puts him at the cafe at 10:30.”

“God save us if you ever become an assassin.” Soap mutters, but Price’s grin only widened. “So… how did you find him?”

“Well, I knew who had to have taken him. An associate of Makarov, though I wouldn’t call him an ally.” Nik continued, accepting a towel from Laswell and wiping his face. “And I knew a chain of people to go through to get the location. Ultimately, it only took one chain link.”

“Either of you ever slowly dismember someone?” Laswell asked, leaning back in her seat. “It’s not for the weak of heart.”

“Or stomach.” Nik agreed. 

The lieutenant and two sergeants just stared, again. 

Price had finally sighed and leaned down to Nik. “My love, that shower?”

“I’m coming.” Nik nodded, standing, and both men exited.

Laswell had remained behind, chuckling at the three boys. “Close your mouths, boys. You too, Ghost, I can see the concave in your mask.” All three did as told, and she shook her head. “I knew as soon as Nik had been the one to find out that this would happen. Word of advice? Don’t fuck with someone who only has one thing to lose.” She had finally stood, neatly pushing in her chair, before bowing and leaving.All three had shared a look between them, silently agreeing to one thing. Price calling Nik my love had not been the strangest thing to happen in the last 36 hours.

--

I can't believe I don't have a Nikprice taglist. I mean, it makes sense, I never write them (I never get asks) but damn.

Do you want to be added to this taglist? Reply to this post that you wish to be added to the taglist and I will start to tag you in it every time I post it. You can also use this form!

[siilvan]

Could you please write a platonic fic with reader and Nikolai? Maybe with a little bit of peril involved so they are both worried for each other?

crash site

characters: nikolai

summary: after your pilot crashes in the middle of a war zone while trying to extract you, a reverse rescue mission ensues.

genre: general, gn!reader (bravo 0-5; no desc.)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, mild descriptions of injuries, inaccurate medical care, nik and reader get hurt, mutual worrying, i wrote this w/ a migraine i’m sorry

word count: 3.2k

note: anon i hope you know i love you for requesting something that i already sorta wanted to write

also so sorry this took so long, i hope you enjoy <3

you instinctively raise your gun when a bullet flies past and pierces the half-destroyed concrete wall just in front of you. various shouts in a language you can’t understand soon follow, and your heart races as you spin around to confront the enemy.

the mission was supposed to be simple. get into the city, take out the target, and get out without being compromised.

the first two objectives went without any trouble, but your escape was compromised the second the target’s body hit the ground. that’s how you ended up in this situation - with a single magazine in your gun, a city of armed men pursuing you, and no signs of backup in sight.

not to mention the approaching sandstorm, you mentally add to the list, blinking back tears as rough grains of sand whip around and obscure your vision.

you manage to take out the group actively giving chase, which then leads to your next problem: you’ve completely run out of ammo. even your sidearm was emptied as you fought through the small militia, and you lament the speech that price is going to give you about "being prepared" once you make it out.

vaulting over the short wall brings you to a city square. you crouch low near a stack of crates and building supplies, hoping that the chaos of the situation and the sandstorm would mask your presence to the various search parties nearby. you scan the area for any weapons while moving undercover; the last thing you need is to be caught without a way to defend yourself.

if you had a nickel for every time things did not go to plan today, you’d be rich enough to retire. a yell and a bullet landing near your feet signaled that, despite your best efforts, one of the parties spotted you.

you rise to your feet and lift your hands, praying that a surrender would buy you some time. the square fills up, and soon you’re stuck in place as several dozen guns are pointed right at you. there was no way you’d be getting out of this, even if you did miraculously find a weapon during your brief search.

the apparent leader of the group steps toward you, repeating some command - or, perhaps a question, you couldn’t tell - while the others slowly form a half-circle around you. several of the soldiers look antsy, hands twitching as they adjust their grips and rest their fingers against the trigger, like they were just waiting for an excuse to open fire. your stomach churns at the thought of someone getting a little too anxious.

your radio suddenly crackles to life for the first time since you confirmed the target’s death. at the same moment, a distant silhouette in the sky catches your eye. you focus on it and squint, trying to make it out through the ever-increasing cloud of sand, before a familiar voice catches your attention.

"0-5, get down!"

before you can even register who the voice belongs to, you follow the order and drop to your knees. the sound of heavy gunfire surrounds you immediately after, forcing you to lift your hands in an attempt to protect your head as every other person in the city square was gunned down. you bite back a panicked noise when the men closest to you are dispatched, worrying that whomever was in control would accidentally hit you, as well.

when the dust settles, both literally and figuratively, you cautiously lower your hands and lift your head again, scanning the area once more.

as expected, every soldier around you laid dead. some laid on their stomachs due to the unexpected ambush, others were on their backs after attempting to confront the source. your eyes flicked back to the sky, towards the silhouette you had seen before.

even through the sand and dust, you could make out the all-too familiar helicopter hovering near your position. it was a little unsteady, clearly a victim of the intense wind and debris in the air, but you grinned at the sight nonetheless.

"ace shots, nikolai." you let out a relieved laugh after reaching for your radio. "i’m surprised you can fly in these conditions."

"not for long, so let’s make this quick," he says, and you watch as the chopper attempts to land on one of the nearby roofs. "the storm will be here any minute. seems like i got here just in time, no?" he adds with a smug chuckle.

"i’ll be sure to send a thank-you card after this!" you huff and rush to the building he was landing on. for the first time today, things seem to be going according to plan; a ladder inside leads directly to the roof, which you quickly ascend with renewed vigor, and wait impatiently for the chopper to touch down.

you aren’t sure why, but a wave of cold dread washes over you once you reach the rooftop. your attention shifts from your escape to the nearby buildings and streets as you give your surroundings a once-over. surely it’s just adrenaline, you tell yourself.

you spot a figure in the window of a house just a block away. they’re kneeling behind the edge, eyes trained in your direction, pointing something directly at the building you were standing on top of. you stare at the mysterious object in their hands, until they carefully shift their aim a little higher. directly at nikolai, you realize just a second too late.

"watch out–!" you frantically shout into your radio. even if the weapon, which you now recognize as an RPG, hits the building and damages it, your chances of survival were far superior to nikolai’s own.

before your warning can reach him, however, a rocket is fired at the helicopter. you can only watch helplessly as it connects with the tail and sends the vehicle spiraling out of control. despite the damage, nikolai manages to maneuver it upwards while attempting to regain control. a second rocket is fired shortly after and hits the engine, stripping the pilot of any control as the vehicle practically falls from the sky. it crashes into the ground a decent distance away, and your stomach drops at the scene.

you scale the side of the building at breakneck speed and start towards the crash site, completely ignoring the eminent threat at your back as you pray for his safety. you didn’t care about empty guns, failed escapes, or compromised assassinations - you’d take a hundred of each before losing any of your teammates.

you’re swiftly given a cold reminder of your situation during your mad dash to nikolai. you duck into an alley and press your back against the wall as a team rushes down the street, no doubt heading to the same place as you. with a deep inhale, irritating your throat as sand and dust contaminates the air, you push off and follow their path.

come on, nik… you mentally beg the man. this is no way for you to die.

the combat knife tucked in your vest, your last line of defense, finds its home in the neck of one of the soldiers when you attack him from behind. you grab his rifle and dispatch the nearby soldiers, silently thanking the sandstorm for finally hitting the city in full force. it was impossible to see more than a few feet in front of you, but such was the same for the enemy.

"0-5… can you hear me?" a strained voice comes through your radio and just barely cuts through the raging storm. nikolai. thank god.

"i hear you– nik, what’s your status?"

a pained grunt and the sound of creaking metal answers your question. "i don’t think we will be flying out of here–" he cuts himself off with a sharp hiss. "i’m not sure i can even stand."

"i’ll get us out of here," you tuck yourself into the shadows again as a patrol passes by, the lights on their guns permeating through the dust cloud and highlighting their position. "just stay put for now. get to cover if you can, i’m on my way."

"the enemy will have me surrounded within minutes, 0-5. you cannot fight a militia alone."

you click your tongue and shake your head from side to side, as if he could see you. "i’m not leaving you, nikolai. i’ll sooner drag you out by my teeth than abandon you." a stiff laugh and a muttered comment about your "stubbornness" was his only response.

the group that previously passed you was now stopped in an intersection, exchanging words with another small party. you squint at them and manage to count eight in total. difficult, but manageable. you had the benefits of stealth and surprise on your side, at the very least.

with a slow inhale and exhale, you open fire on the group. you take out two of them before the others start their search, frantically pointing their guns in every direction. once again, the lights gave away their positions; your rifle didn’t have a flashlight, allowing you to stay concealed as you picked the remaining members off one by one.

you reach for your radio again after you confirm the kills. "still doing okay?" you ask, continuing towards his location.

a second passes before you get a reply. "i am still alive, at the very least," nikolai grunts softly, and you recognize the sound of not-so-distant voices through his radio. "they haven’t found me yet. too worried about you to conduct a proper search, i assume."

"hopefully i can reach you, then. it’ll be difficult, but it’s not impossible to slip by." you notice the crash site after rounding a corner and running a few more blocks. it was yet another area that resembled a plaza, with several soldiers dotting both the inside and the outskirts.

"be careful." he speaks slowly, and you push down the worry that stems from his tone. instead, you try to reassure him. "always am, nik. just try to keep your blood in until we get out of here."

you approach the entrance and quietly dispatch the trio standing in your way. judging by the sounds of panic that followed, the gunshots weren’t entirely drowned out by the winds. that’s fine, you inwardly boast. even if they investigate the noise, they’ll come up empty-handed; you move on before the alarm is even raised. weaving through their sights is easy enough, thanks to the soldiers’ scattered and uncoordinated paths. nonetheless, you take out as many as you safely can.

before long, you come across debris from the crash, and you follow it until the main body of the helicopter is visible. you physically cringe at its ruined state until a whisper-shout of your name from somewhere nearby catches your attention. doing your best to follow it, you shove some metal scraps - hot to the touch, even through your gloves - out of the way.

you have to choke back a relieved sigh when you finally locate nikolai, leaning against more of the wreckage while clutching his side.

"never been so happy to see you," you chuckle and reach for his free hand. with a soft grunt of effort, you pull him to his feet and guide him to rest his weight against you. "i’ve got you, just lean on me."

"we need to hurry…"

nikolai’s words are brushed off by your gentle shushing as you make for an exit - easier said than done with the state he’s in. "i know, i know… we’re almost there, just need to get out in one piece."

"you don’t understand–"

his warning is cut off by bullets whizzing past your legs. you regret brushing him off as your adrenaline is sent into overdrive, and you practically carry him out of the plaza. you search for cover before your eyes settle on a small house with boarded windows; inconspicuous, but you really don’t want to back yourself into a corner.

an acute pain in your shoulder makes you reconsider the latter concern. you stumble forward, tightening your grip on nikolai as he nearly collapses from the sudden movement, and resign to your fate.

your lungs are burning by the time you reach the building. you shove the door open and haul the both of you inside before kicking it shut again. cautiously, you scan the interior, fingers twitching as you prepare to grab the rifle slung over your shoulder. the house was meager, you realize; a small sitting area bordered an even smaller dining room, with a modest kitchen that was surely emptied a long time ago.

you stagger to the torn-up sofa in the sitting area and maneuver nikolai to lay on his back, apologizing under your breath at every pained noise that left his lips. the rifle is leaned against the wall as you shove a tall wooden shelf across the room to block the front door, creating a decent barricade.

well, "decent" was a generous description. it would buy you a precious few seconds, at most.

the sharp pain in your shoulder bleeds into an agonizing throb from the effort, and you desperately try to shake off the feeling. your minor injury didn’t matter right now.

"we don’t have much time," you say while shifting your focus back to nikolai. "i’ll patch you up as much as i can. no point in escaping if you bleed out, yeah?" you add with a forced chuckle, trying to ease the both of you. the only interior doors lead to a bedroom and bathroom, and you search both for any supplies.

following the apparent theme of this mission, the only useful items you find are fabric, some foam, and a basic first-aid kit. the kitchen and dining room are equally as frugal, with a half-emtpy bottle of alcohol and a pair of small metal rods as your only rewards.

"you’re not a medic," nikolai says, staring at you from the corner of his eye while you gather the supplies on a nearby table. you huff and begin looking over his injuries. "it’s me, or a grave. pick your poison." you briefly meet his gaze and smile. he concedes and remains silent as you continue the examination.

considering what he had been through so far, his injuries were surprisingly minor. the worst of it was a laceration on his forearm and a fracture below his knee. there was also the bruised and broken ribs, but you couldn’t do anything about those. the smaller cuts just needed to be disinfected and bandaged, depending on the severity - all things that you were perfectly capable of doing.

despite the bad luck, you managed to gather just enough to make a splint for his leg. a shitty splint, but it’s better than nothing.

you start with the fracture, doing what you can to stop the bleeding and disinfect the wound. he hisses in pain when you try to move his leg to apply the padding, and you mumble another apology. the rest of the process goes as smoothly as it can, given the circumstances. you manage to make the splint and wrap his lower leg with the cloth you found, securing it in place.

after checking the splint, you move on to his arm. the first-aid supplies included a suture kit that you were already loathing having to use. your hands shake as you prepare it and clean the wound, taking a deep breath and internally recoiling at the scent of blood.

the stitching is about as torturous as you expected, for nikolai more than yourself. he is remarkably calm, though the occasional grunt or groan still escapes his tightly pressed lips. you finish the procedure as quickly as possible for his sake, tying the thread off and cleaning the area again before wrapping it in the leftover bits of cloth.

"it’s not much, but it’ll suffice for now." you send him another smile. he breathes deeply and nods his head, inspecting your work.

"you are a better medic than i thought," he confesses and nods again. "i’ll definitely put in a good word with the captain." he chuckles softly. his gaze shifts to you, and you’re reminded of your own injury.

before he can say anything, you stand up and grab your gun from its spot. "i’ll be fine. we’ve already spent too much time here, anyway." you sling it over your uninjured shoulder and head to the wall opposite of the front door. the planks boarding the windows were weather-damaged and easy enough to pull off. you detach one and peek through the gap.

the street was quiet, thankfully. the soldiers must have lost track of you after you ducked into the house - at least, that’s what you hoped for. further down the street, you spot a car. your escape.

"see anything?" nikolai asks. you turn back and hum affirmatively.

"there’s a car down the road. if it has fuel, we can drive out of here."

"the militia won’t follow us outside of the city."

you nod towards him. "exactly. i’ll head over and check it out."

nikolai jolts upwards, before grunting and clutching one of his various injuries. "you’re not heading out there alone. the enemy could easily ambush and overwhelm you like they did before."

"it’ll be far faster for me to look at it alone," you argue while pulling the other planks off the window frame. "you can’t walk on your own, let alone fight, nik. this is our only option."

you swing one leg over the edge of the window and shoot a glance towards him. "i promise i won’t be gone for long."

the storm immediately takes you off-guard again, and you clutch your weapon close as you jog towards the car. it was an all-terrain vehicle, left behind by one of the militia groups. you check the fuel gauge and sigh a breath of satisfaction at the half-full tank of gas. best of all, the keys were left in the ignition.

must’ve abandoned it during one of the skirmishes, you think. those weren’t so unlucky, after all.

you head back to the house and find nikolai trying to lift himself from the sofa. "so impatient," you comment, pulling his arm over your shoulders and offering yourself as a support once more. "seems like the car is going to work. just a little further, nik."

he mutters something in russian that you assume is positive, based on his relieved tone, as the two of you head for the exit. both of you stumble towards the car together, fighting against the storm and your own exhaustion that is slowly but surely creeping in, ignoring the painful ache that plagues you from head to toe.

you get nikolai settled in the passenger’s seat before circling the hood and turning the keys in the ignition. the vehicle sparks to life, and every horrible twist and turn is all but forgotten as you speed down the street. the edge of the city isn’t terribly far from your current location, you can make it.

"it’s funny," you say, barely audible over the turbulent winds. "usually you are the one driving and saving our asses, but now the roles are reversed."

nikolai shakes his head. "one save does not make up for a hundred, 0-5. you still owe me." he replies with a self-satisfied grin, earning a frustrated curse from you as you cross the city border.

sure enough, the captain had his speech prepared before you even left the medical bay.

[cod-dump]

*at a Chimera safe house*

Price: Nik, we’re back! Sorry it took us so long- … Nik…

Nik, sitting on a suspiciously large trunk: Yes~?

Price: What… have you been up to?

Nik: Eh, cleaning up

Price: Right… so-

Graves, walking in: The fuck is with the trunk?

Nik: Oh! The trunk? My ex rudely forced himself inside the safe house to try to have a conversation with me! So I knocked him over the head and put him in here until one of my men can come pick him up and dump him somewhere far away from here

Price, slowly taking out his gun: your ex-?

Graves, also getting his gun out: I know of only one ex-

Nik: Oh, put those away! I handled it!

Makarov, from inside the trunk: NIKOLAI

Nik: Oh, look, he’s awake. Mustn’t have hit him hard enough

Graves: What the fuck-

[charliemwrites]

Guilty By Association Commission from the very sweet and patient @soleilak

You (Callsign: Giggles, Gigs for short) are a medic on temporary assignment with the 141. The only problem? You're a former member of Graves' Shadow Company.

Content: Injury, angst, power imbalance, fingering and oral (reader receiving)

“Get your arse in gear, Gigs!”

Already exhausted and aching, the rough bark of your temporary captain urges your heavy feet faster. Gunfire sprays all around – you’re so addled you can’t tell if it’s enemy or friendly. All you know are your orders, a cry of survival in the uneven pounding of your heart. A bullet plows into the ground dangerously close to your foot.

Just a few meters ahead, Gaz curses and tumbles to the ground, hat lost. It’s not even a decision to alter your course. You can’t tell instantly what the damage is; if he’s been hit or just tripped. So you tuck and dive, grabbing an arm and leg as your back rolls across his chest. The momentum gets the two of you up and moving again, adrenaline taking the edge off his weight.

“Get us to the trees and I can run again!” he shouts in your ear.

You settle your blurry vision on the forest line ahead. Blessed cover – and your extraction point just a mile further. Goal set, you push through the pain of bruised ribs, a wrenched arm, and the ricochet of a bullet across your thigh. You wheeze your way well past the tree line, weaving between trunks until Kyle’s palm smacks at your side.

“We’re good, we’re good,” he says.

You grunt as you set him down, give him the quickest onceover in the history of medics. His calf is bleeding, just above the tops of his boots. It’s an ugly wound; it’ll need packing – but he can survive until exfil.

“Where the fuck are you two?!” Price growls through your headset.

Kyle pats your shoulder and takes off again, only the slightest limp indicating his injury. You grit your teeth and try to follow his example.

No one helps you into the chopper when you’re the last on the ladder. You’re not surprised, but it still stings. Salt on the day’s wounds.

Once the heli is up in the air, you scoot over to help Kyle with the wound on his calf. It’s almost hypnotic, the press-wind-press-wind of packing the deep gouge. Almost like unspooling your own tension through the care of a teammate. Every inch of bandage seems to amplify your own pains, though, as the mission high ebbs.

You hurt.

When Kyle’s done, you sit back a bit to assess him for any other wounds. The twitch of his mouth and slight bob of his head tells you he’s sorted, though – and it’s more thanks than you usually get.

“Where the hell were you?” Price demands.

“I got held up, sir,” you admit. Had been ambushed by two men you thought were on another floor. Bad luck, that. Or just poor preparation on your part. Your side twinges as you ease yourself into a seat. “Won’t happen again.”

Price grunts, mollified. “See that it doesn’t.”

You get maybe thirty seconds of peace before Soap’s voice cuts through the tentative peace.

“Gonnae take care o’ that or keep bleedin’ all over Nik’s seat?” he teases. Or at least it would be, if not for the sharp glint in his eyes.

What’s that saying about sins of the father? Well, Phillip Graves was definitely not your father, nor was General Shepherd – though he was old enough to be. In their absence, it seems you’re paying for their crimes regardless.

“Right,” you sigh, tearing off the bottom of your shirt, “sorry, Nik.”

“Just stay alive to clean it up, eh?” he replies jovially.

It’s not much of a joke, but you laugh anyway. You don’t live up to your callsign much nowadays, so you’ll take the levity when you can.

You tie off the makeshift bandage with a grunt and lean your head back, too uncomfortable to doze off.

At least the infirmary is a friendly sight. The staff are always grateful for an extra set of hands – even if they once belonged to a Shadow. And you have a lot of time to help since you’re not encouraged (never mind invited) to any non-professional activities with the 141. Working with the nurses during all that extra time has gained you some friends at least.

Dana is on call when you limp in. She fusses about you looking like the walking dead – then goes on to tell regale you with details from her current first-time watch of the show. The stream of words soothes you in the quiet little treatment room.

“Think we need an x-ray, dove?” she asks, prodding at your already discolored ribs.

“Wouldn’t help,” you sigh, “we can just wrap ‘em and call it.”

“Alright, dear, but you know what to do if it gets worse.”

“’Course,” you answer, summoning a grin, “can’t be keelin’ over before your nephew leaves that tart.”

“Oh, don’t even get me started – you know what she said at Sunday dinner?”

You giggle through her undoubtedly embellished story until she gets to your thigh – and the terrible bandaging.

“A piece of your shirt,” she scolds.

“My bag was too far, and my ribs hurt,” you complain.

“And what are all those big burly men for then, eh?” she huffs.

You shake your head. “I can’t ask them to help.”

Dana scowls past your hip. “Just because you’re the medic—”

“Pardon.”

You jolt in surprise at Captain Price in the doorway. Christ, he takes up the breadth of it too, shoulders brushing the jamb on either side. Even mission-dirty and stern-looking, he’s a hell of a welcome sight – though an unexpected one.

You try to sit up at some semblance of attention, but he waves you off. Can’t say you’re not grateful, unable to help wincing as you lie back.

You don’t notice him pause as Dana washes the wound, too busy sucking air through your nose.

“What’s… the damage?” he asks carefully.

You open your mouth to answer, but Dana beats you to it.

“Contused ribs, sprained shoulder, and a bullet wound to the thigh,” she rattles off. You’re always impressed by the undercurrent of disapproval and accusation she manages to weave into each word. “Not to mention dehydration and sleep deprivation. You’ve been staying up again, haven’t you?”

You clear your throat and turn your eyes skywards. “Oh, look at the ceiling. What a lovely ceiling.”

She clicks her tongue and begins packing the wound as you had for Gaz.

“Bullet wound?” Price asks sharply. Your eyes flick guiltily to him. “Why the hell am I hearing about this now?”

“It’s just a graze, sir,” you reply. “Sergeant Garrick’s was worse.”

His jaw does that thing you secretly (ashamedly) drool over, where it tightens and jumps. You know it’s not good but hey, silver linings right?

He doesn’t ream you out though. Just crosses his burly arms and lets out a long, heavy breath. You’re… not really sure what that means.

“Debrief at 0700 tomorrow, Gigs,” he says, voice unusually subdued.

“Yessir,” you reply dutifully.

As always, a strange mix of relief and disappointment twists in your chest as he walks away. Talking to him is a bit like being under a microscope – if that microscope was ready to brand you a low-down, no-good, dirty, rotten traitor at the first hint of suspicious activity.

You get it, you do. Graves and Shadow Company tried to kill Soap and Ghost, Los Vaqueros, and committed unspeakable atrocities. As much history as you had with him, he deserved what came to him, and Shepherd will deserve the same when he’s found.

Not that your hands were clean before Las Almas, but you drew the line when the orders came. Couldn’t bear to detain or shoot the friends you’d made in Los Vaqueros, or join the hunting party for Soap and Ghost. You’d been labelled a turncoat by your own teammates, thrown into a cell to be “court-martialed.”

Kate Laswell coming to your rescue was a second chance, a small-time miracle that you’ve been determined to earn ever since. In your more pathetic moments, usually in the small, dark, lonely hours of sleepless nights, you wonder how much it will take. How long you’ll be guilty by association.

At least this isn’t shaping up to be one of those nights. You’re half asleep by the time Dana sends you off, arm chilly from the IV fluids she bullied you into. For once, you might get a few decent hours.

Your second surprise of the night comes just outside your barracks door. Soap is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, head back and eyes closed. Awake, though. His index finger is tapping a steady but rapid pace on his bicep.

“Soap?” you say, alerting him. “Did you… need me for something? You’re not injured, are you?”

He straightens up, drops his arms to his side. You pause a noticeable distance away, uncertainty leashing you to the safety of space. Not that you feel threatened. His posture is the loosest it’s been around you since… well, since before Las Almas went to hell.

“’Course no’, I woulda – tha’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh…” You process the strange wording. “Why are you here, then?”

He shifts his weight, a little line appearing between his brows as he seems to gather himself.

“I’m here to apologize.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Look, what I said during exfil – it was bang outta order. You’ve been nothin’ but good to us ‘n I’m still holdin’ on to old shite.”

You shift, adjust the stupid flimsy sling for your sore shoulder. “It’s… not that old,” you reason, “and I don’t blame you, either. Not after everything.”

“Still, ya did the right thing back then – and ya’ve proven yourself half a dozen times over, besides. I’ve got no reason to treat you like an enemy.”

You swallow past the lump in your throat. It feels like you’ve swallowed a grenade; any moment the pin is going to come out and an explosion of gory emotion will splatter the walls.

“Thanks, Soap.”

He grunts something about “not thanking him” and ducks his head, shuffling past you.

“Seriously,” you say, voice strained from keeping it even. “I really appreciate it.”

He pauses, gives you a genuinely kind look. “Rest up, lass.”

It’s the best you’ve slept in a long while – after you cry into your pillow, that is.

At 0700 the next day, you’re in Price’s office, sore but in high spirits. Gaz sat next to you and Soap said good morning at breakfast. Even Ghost seemed less frosty than usual, grunting at you in acknowledgement when you’d sat down.

Of course, the good luck couldn’t last.

The debrief itself is fine. You speak when it’s your turn, listen when it isn’t. About as normal as it gets for a special ops squad.

It’s as the rest of the task force is filing out the door that the other shoe drops.

“Gigs, a word,” Price calls.

You freeze mid-step, shoot Gaz a panicky glance. He glances over your shoulder, snorts, and pats your arm in solidarity. Not as helpful as he thinks.

With a deep breath, you pivot back around. The door closes behind you with a damning click. You can’t even hide your hands behind your back to fidget at parade rest – your arm needs to stay in the sling for the rest of the day.

“We need to discuss yesterday,” Price says, palms flat on his desk.

You tilt your head. Wasn’t that what the debrief was for?

“Sir?” you ask. “If I – did I do something wrong?”

He deflates a bit, big shoulders dropping before he pushes himself up and rounds the desk.

“No, you’re not in trouble,” he explains, “but I have concerns.”

When he gestures for you to take one of the visitor seats, you do. You’re a bit surprised when he takes the other – though you can’t help an appreciative glance while his attention is elsewhere. He practically dwarfs the stupid little chair, and the way he spreads his thighs trying to get comfortable…

“Concerns, sir?” you parrot, trying to corral your scrambled braincells.

“What you said in the infirmary,” he begins, expression solemn, “is that really how you feel?”

“What I said…?” You try to recall anything of note from last night, but most of what came out of your mouth is a blur at best. “What did I say?”

He leans forward, lacing his scarred fingers together. You try not to stare, though the way he rubs at the knuckle of one thumb with the other is distracting. It’s an unusual gesture for the disciplined, determined man you’ve been honored to call captain for months now.

“That you can’t ask us to help you.”

A block of ice drops into your stomach.

“That’s not – I know you guys would help me if I needed it,” you hurry to say.

He gives you a long look. “Then why don’t you ever ask? You were shot and didn’t say a bloody thing.”

You shift, unable to meet his eyes. Can’t find the words to answer. It’s not that you didn’t think you could ask. It just didn’t feel right with the bad blood between you, Soap, and Ghost. Besides, you’re the medic, you’re supposed to be the one fixing everyone else – not the other way around. What use are you otherwise?

You try to explain this to Price, but you sense (from the grim set to his handsome features) that it’s not helping.

“I’ve been a shite captain to you, haven’t I?” he sighs.

You jump. “No, sir! You’re a great captain. I trust you with my life.”

He chuckles, but it’s devoid of humor. Sounds almost self-deprecating.

“I’ve not done a bloody thing to earn it.”

You shake your head. “Sir, you’ve kept me alive for months now. That’s plenty.”

Beyond that, he’s always been fair with you. Doesn’t give you shit assignments or the most dangerous roles in missions. Always makes sure you’re alive and accounted for. Calls you out for mistakes and faults, sure, but it’s for the sake of you and everyone else. He’s been just as ready to pat your shoulder for a clever maneuver or praise a good shot.

“You know damn well it’s not,” he scolds.

You huff, almost amused. “Sir, with all due respect, get off the cross we need the wood.”

His eyebrows jump up nearly to his hairline. Normally, you wouldn’t dream of being so cavalier with Price of all people. Soap’s truce last night gives you the confidence to continue.

“I know you didn’t trust me as a former Shadow at first,” you say, “but you looked out for me anyway. After the first few missions… it seemed like things evened out.”

He sighs and sits back, running a hand down his face.

“Laswell vouched for you – it’s the only reason I didn’t send you right back on that plane,” he admits. A small but genuine smile curls his mouth. “And then you put your life on the line for my boys time and time again.”

You mirror him, the tension in your shoulders easing away with each word.

“I knew things weren’t great with the others, but I thought it was best if I kept out of it. Let you lot sort it out so long as you all cooperated when it mattered,” he continues. “I didn’t realize how bad it got, and that’s on me. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head and lightly tap your boot against his. “It wasn’t the wrong call, sir. I think things are going to get better from here on out.”

He hums, eyes searching your gentle smile for any hint of insincerity. But you believe it, and it must show, because his eyes crinkle as he smiles back.

“Speaking of better,” he says, clearing his throat. “Mind if I take a look at those ribs? Dana had some choice words for me this morning.”

You giggle and tug your shirt from your waistband, hiking the hem up high to show the reddish-purple mottling all over your left side. Price makes a noise of sympathy, easing out of his chair to the carpeted floor. On his knees, he inches closer, leaning in to inspect the damage.

“How’d this happen?” he asks, voice lowering.

His fingertips skim over the edges of the bruises, featherlight. Your voice gets strangled in your throat as tingles race across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Um, hostile kicked me. A lot.”

His eyes flick up to yours, hard as ice. “Dead?”

“Yessir.”

His gaze softens, a proud, smug quirk to his lips. “Atta girl.”

You can’t fully suppress a shiver. It’s not just the gentle, considerate touches. It’s the purring praise from a man you’ve admired and harbored a sizeable crush on.

“Cold?” he asks.

This is your chance to wave it off. To pretend you are not so inappropriately infatuated with a man you thought only tolerated you until a minute ago. A little white lie, you could smooth your shirt back down, and be on your way.

But you don’t want to do that. Not really.

And from the way his pupils are slowly, steadily subsuming his irises, neither does he.

“No, sir,” you whisper.

His slow exhale caresses across your tender ribs.

“Then would you be comfortable if I checked on your ‘little graze’ as well?” It’s a tease, but also a genuine check of your boundaries. Another out, freely and openly given, that only solidifies your resolve to see where he’s going with this.

“Yessir,” you answer, shifting to get at your belt.

Price tsks, though, big hands spreading across each thigh and urging you down again.

“Now, now, don’t aggravate that shoulder,” he murmurs. “Let me help like a good captain.”

You swallow back an embarrassing noise as deft hands unbuckle your belt, thumb the button of your pants open, and drag the zipper down tooth by tooth. His thick, warm forearms rest on your thighs the entire time, keep them spread to accommodate his wide shoulders. He’s in no rush to continue his “checkup,” toying along the length of your waistband before easing it down.

“Lift up for me, darling, there we are,” he murmurs. You gasp softly as his palms brush your ass while sliding your pants down. Then outright squeak as he squeezes a cheek in each hand, a low noise of admiration rumbling in his throat.

“Gorgeous girl,” he chuckles. “Gorgeous arse.”

Your face feels hot as he tugs your pants down to your ankles, though the square of gauze and tape on the back of your thigh is long revealed. It takes conscious effort not to squirm under his hot gaze, praying a wet spot isn’t already visible on your panties.

“Let’s just get this one free…” He works the pantleg over your boot, leaving the other pooled around the laces. “Now then.”

You bite into your lip as he hauls your calf up into his shoulder, propping your leg up to get a clear view of your thigh.

“Not bled through,” he notes, tracing the neat edges of the medical tape. “You’ve been taking good care of it. Well done.”

You can’t help the little twitch that evokes, your whole body reacting to the deep timbre of his voice. He’s not oblivious to his effect on you, a glint in his eye as his bristly jaw brushes the inside of your knee.

“T-told you, it wasn’t too bad,” you manage weakly.

He hums and your pussy clenches helplessly around nothing. His eyes flick down and you know it’s all over.

“And what about this, hm?” he asks. You whimper as his thumb skims the lace edge of your panties. “Have you been taking care of this?”

Flustered and yet so, so turned on, you can only shake your head. He coos in mock disappointment, rubbing slow circles across your labia, closer and closer to where you’re aching and needy.

“It’s alright sergeant,” he soothes, “your captain will take care of you.”

Except he only rubs you through your panties A maddening pressure back and forth along the wet seam of your cunt, never delving deeper. You break down in hardly any time at all.

“Sir, please,” you whine, wriggling. He’s quick to brace you still again, leisurely movements never faltering.

“Please what, darling?” he teases.

“I-I need…” You whimper with embarrassment, squeezing your eyes shut. “I need you to take care of me, please, captain.”

He practically growls as he tears through the hip of your panties, tossing them aside in a sodden heap on the ground. With two fingers, he parts your labia, eyes hungrily drinking in the cream shimmering between them.

“All this and I’ve barely touched you,” he rasps, awed.

You nearly sob with desperation for something, anything. He shushes your fussy little noises with his thumb, dipping into the pool of slick at your entrance. Gets the pad soaked before drawing a line up to your swollen, sensitive clit. Your mouth falls open as he starts drawing tight, firm circles over that bundle of nerves.

He treats your body and your pleasure with all the confidence and competence you’ve come to expect of John Price. It takes shockingly little time for him to learn just how to press, how fast to rub, the patterns and circuits that get your legs shaking. And that’s before he twists his wrist and sinks a finger inside you.

“Practically sucking me in, love,” he murmurs, petting at your walls. You shudder and wordlessly beg for more, rocking your hips. “Need another already, greedy girl?”

He doesn’t even wait for your nod before stuffing you with another, curling and scissoring, exploring. You keen as he finds a sweet, sensitive spot inside you and begins toying with it, his thumb still swiping relentlessly at your clit.

He settles into a rhythm that has you moaning and keening, the heel of your boot digging into his shoulder blade. All the while he showers you in praise and encouragement, the dirtiest compliments that make you clench down tightly on his hand. Your body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending lit up with pleasure.

It’s builds and builds and builds, never quite cresting. You’re near tears when you moan his name, trying to find some leverage or angle to finally tip you over the edge.

“Do you need to cum, doll?”

“Yes, yes,” you cry, “please, sir, I wanna cum for you. Please, I’m s-so close.”

He hums, bracing your thigh with his free hand as he leans in. Your foggy brain doesn’t have enough time to process before he latches onto your clit and a third finger bullies into you. You wail. Your thigh twinges from the dull pressure of his shoulder, but the slight pain only adds a delicious edge to the pleasure.

His tongue swipes across your puffy clit once, twice, three times and you’re gone. You gush all over his hand, his beard, onto the chair. Your hips jerk as he works you over, fingers abusing your g-spot relentlessly despite how tightly you clamp down. Your body feels nuclear, nerves popping like firecrackers.

He only relents when the waves of ecstasy threaten to drown you in overstimulation. He eases his fingers from your twitchy hole, making room for him to lick you clean. It’s loud and obscene, yet there’s no room left for embarrassment anymore. You shiver and pant in the aftermath, your body unravelling into a puddle.

“Wh-what about you?” you ask as he begins straightening out your clothes. There’s an absolutely delectable-looking bulge in his fatigues that you’re dying to get your tongue on.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “If you want more –” (“I do.”) “- then you’ll have to wait until you’re healed up. Non-negotiable.”

You try to pout, but the effort is thwarted when he chucks you gently under the chin.

“C’mon, let’s have a lie down.”

He steadies you as you wobble to the couch off to the side, lying down first and letting you cuddle up between his legs. It’s a comfort more than you would have expected from a clandestine little triste, but you should know better than to doubt your captain. Head resting on his chest, you let yourself drift for a while, lulled by his fingers carding through your hair.

“Price…?” you ask after a while.

“Hm?”

“You didn’t do this just to… I dunno, make up for something, right?”

He huffs. “No, sweetheart. I’ve been arse over teakettle for a while. Staring like a complete muppet when you train.”

You hide a grin against his collarbone. “Good. I thought I’d have to start making things up for you to owe me.”

His chuckle rocks through you, and for the first time in a while, it feels a bit like home.

[rodolfoparras]

I've been lurking for a bit, but I love your stuff. Any random ̶t̶h̶o̶t̶s thoughts? - 👾Anon (if that emoji isn't taken)

Thinking about how Price knows exactly how to make you jealous 18+

It’s not by flirting with a recruit because Price knows you wouldn’t feel threatened by someone who can’t even make eye contact with their superior. But then there’s someone who can do more than that: Nikolai or Nik as Price likes to call him.

Nikolai and Price who seem to be glued at the hip; with the Russian happily following Price to whatever mission he’s going to, and having his name somehow being brought up in every conversation, “oh Nik had been thinking of..” or “oh we should ask Nik” and even having Nik fly out a handful of times to see the older man

And just like so many times before Nik flies over for a visit, this time unannounced and whether it’s on purpose or not you don’t care but watching them interact so closely manages to make you jealous.

Before the two men have the time to register what’s happening you’re pulling Price away from Nik’s grasp, and into his office, muttering some excuse that you need help with something.

But instead of sorting through paperwork, you’re pulling off his clothes, before pushing him up against the door.

He grunts out in pain but doesn’t move away as your hands slide down to his ass, taking out the plug he usually keeps on him before prepping him with your spit slicked fingers.

"What?" Got nothing to say now?” you say, voice breathy and strained, taking note of how he looks absolutely wrecked with only your fingers inside him. “No ‘Nik this’ ‘Nik that huh?’ Should we call him over him? Show him how much of a whore you can be for me?”

“Please please-” he slurs out, forehead pressed against the wooden door as he bucks down onto your hand.

“What do you want, pretty hm?” You say fingers curling up and hitting the spot that has him wailing.

“Fuck me please! Please god-“ he cries out, blunt nails clawing at the wooden door while clenching down onto your fingers.

“You sure you don’t want Nik to help you with this hm?” You say teeth biting down his shoulder and watching the way his back arches at your rough touch.

“Ah fuck! No no, just you just you - please please-“ he tries to say only to be cut off by someone else.

“John?” You hear a baritone voice trickling through the door “Are you okay in there?” Nik. He must’ve heard the thudding sounds and mistook them for something else. Although you feel a twig of annoyance you can’t help but also feel a twig of excitement at the turn of events.

“Answer him” you say before you line your cockhead up with his entrance.

“Yes- ah!“Price cries out as you slide past his puckered hole, swiftly biting down on his hand to prevent any more noise from slipping through the door.

“Are you sure?” Nik says, concern still prominent in his voice.

It takes a moment for Price to respond, thoughts turning into static haze as your hips set a steady pace. “Mm sure sure- we’ll be right back Nik”

“Alright…” is all he says before the Russian walks away.

When the two of you return again, Price tries to look as put together as possible while you couldn’t care less. But Nikolai still takes notes of the mark on Price’s neck, the way he sounds out of breath trying to talk to him even how Price waddles over the chair next to him.

That day Nikolai learns not to come unannounced and maybe even not to visit as frequently as he does.

Spitball w/ me?

[polakina]

the company of whiskey

'scars do heal' chapter 10

pairing: captain price x reader

rating: explicit

outline: the missile was gone. the job was done. what came next was the decision that would either make or break you.

warnings: canon typical war and violence, mentions of sexual activity, smut, shower sex, creampie, begging, flirting, dirty talk

requests are open! hope you enjoy, petals <3

a/n: this is it. the final chapter. i've loved writing this, and it feels sad to finish it, honestly. hope you've enjoyed this series as much as i've enjoyed writing it

masterlist II 'scars do heal' masterlist

II

The helicopter ride was fairly quiet, only the whirring of the blades filling the sound of the metal compartment. The helo swayed slightly every now and then with the weight of the missile suspended below. It made you nervous. Such a deadly weapon only held up by metal ropes and hooks.

Gaz sat opposite you, and you swear you saw him looking at you when he thought you didn’t notice. But then again, you felt eyes on you constantly while in that helo. From everyone. Price was sat up at the front with Nik, you couldn’t hear what either of them were saying, but you wished someone would say anything back here. It was eerily silent.

The plan was set. There was an old rig out at sea that Hassan had used a few months ago when he transported the missile between his men. They used it as a safe house of sorts, nobody able to track him out there or see what he was doing. It was the perfect place to detonate the missile safely and out of the way of innocents. 

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Ghost kick Gaz in the ankle, and you were growing tired of whatever secrets they were keeping. “Got something on your mind, Gaz?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow at him, seeing him look at you like a deer in headlights.

“Nah, no. Nothing,” he shrugged off, looking to the ground. But you saw Ghost’s mask twitch upwards in a grin. Something was going on here. But pressing him on it wasn’t going to help the mission at all. You had to stay focused.

-

“I’ll keep her down here until you guys are done,” Nik shouted over the helicopter blades. He’d set the helo down on shore back on land after dropping both you guys and the missile on the rig. Soap had managed to rig a time-lapsed detonation, accessible from the control room at the rear end of the rig. Ten minutes was the maximum it could give you. Ten minutes to get off the rig, onto the boats still tethered to the lowest level, and as far away as possible. 

You and Soap were in the control room, you observed as he sorted out the detonation. You didn’t really know how he did it, but it was fascinating to watch him excel at something besides being a fucking idiot. Price was pacing, his phone ringing constantly. It was Shepherd. It had been Shepherd blowing up his phone for the past few hours, but he had been ignored, which enraged him even more.

“For fuck’s sake,” Price growled, pulling the phone from his pocket and answering it. Finally. Putting it on speaker, you all gathered around the cell, listening in closely. You could have been in a different room and still have heard him. His bellows could have shattered glass.

“Price where the fuck are you?! My missile is gone. The Shadow Company is gone. And you left Graves handcuffed to a fucking pipe like a stray dog.” Soap chuckled quietly at that last one. That was his idea. 

“You’re lucky we didn’t kill him, General,” Price spoke lowly, his tone dangerous. “It’s not your missile. It never was. You’re not using this to weaponise your army, to wipe out a whole fucking country.”

“You’ve got no authority here, Captain. You'd do well to remember that.”

“You act as though you’ve got a say in this, Shepherd. You’re not starting a war, not while we’re breathing.”

“You’re going to regret this, Price. I’ll have your command, your task force. Everything.”

Price grinned, but you could tell he was furious. You all were. “Once we’ve done this, we’re coming for you, Shepherds. You’d do well to remember that.” Not really the time to be having these thoughts, but it was so attractive the way Price held himself through that conversation. So commanding. Authoritative. Jesus, you needed to pick a time and place and this certainly was not it. Hanging up on the General, Price motioned for Ghost and Gaz to follow him, leaving you and Soap alone. You stood by the door, clutching your weapon tightly in your hands, eyes peering out into the darkness. The others had gone to check on the lifeboats, doing a sweep of the rig as they went. You were stationed in the control deck while Soap finished up. The waves lapped at the sides of the metal structure, and it sounded as though the rig swayed with violent waves crashing up on it.

“So,” Soap cast you a wavering glance. “How long you been fucking the Captain, Nix?” If your finger was on the trigger, you probably would have pulled it accidentally. Your head whipped round so fast it almost detached from your neck.

“What?! The fuck are you talking about?” You glared at him, but he had this mischievous smirk on his face, as though your facial expressions had confirmed it for him. Only he would feel so confident asking such an out of pocket question. 

“Don’t play dumb with me, Phoenix,” he rolled his eyes. “I’ve had my suspicions for a while now. Just answer the question.”

You sighed, your face showing a nonchalant expression, but inside, your heart was erratically racing in your chest. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Soap. Where did you even get that idea from? It’s so ridiculous that I’d be sleeping with my-”

“Gaz caught you both when we were all waiting for Nik to show up in the helo.” Well that stopped you dead in your fucking tracks. You side eyed him, and he noticed, causing him to laugh. A proper belly laugh erupted from his throat at your ‘caught red-handed’ expression. 

“Ummm…so…right okay. Yeah, I can’t defend myself here,” you admitted, shaking your head defeatedly. 

He chuckled again. “Nope, you can’t. So answer my question. How long?”

You huffed, turning towards him. 

“Since Chicago, when we were hiding from Shadow Company,” you admitted, it felt a lifetime ago that you were in that motel room.

Soap’s eyes widened. “Jesus, that long? I’m surprised you kept it hidden so long. Cap wasn’t nearly as subtle about it as you though.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You didn’t see him after you got kidnapped by Hassan, Nix,” he looked over. “He was scary. Protective. Never seen him like that before.”

You smiled a little, casting a glance outside the door. “Huh. Never knew that.”

You waited in silence until Soap finished off, grabbing the receiver and following you outside, the two of you descending down the rig to the bottom level where the guys were waiting for you. 

“Feel like I’m gonna have to apologise to Gaz,” you giggled, walking down the steps hurriedly, Soap following close behind.

“Yeah, probably.”

-

The heat from the blast burned at the back of your necks as the boat drifted away from the rig. The missile was gone, as was General Shepherd’s leverage. He was going to be on all of your tails now, figuring out your every move. All you had to do was stay one step ahead.

“Laswell is meeting us tomorrow evening so we can plan our next move against Shepherd,” Price said as you boarded Nik’s helo.

“Our next move?” Gaz asked, looking puzzled as he took a seat beside you. “I thought that explosion was our last.” Price just shook his head, speaking through comms since it was the only way to hear him over the blades.

“Shepherd’s going to do everything to find us after he finds out what we did. That’s why Laswell is coming to us. She has ideas for a plan. But nothing she could discuss over the phone. Too risky.”

The ride was quiet. Price was no doubt thinking of what to do next, and it looked like Ghost was doing the same, from what you could see as he sat across the helo from you. His eyes were like pin fires, darting around the floor as the cogs turned in his head. 

Soap was asleep. Completely flat out. His head lolled to the side and he nearly whacked it on the metal walls behind his skull until Ghost noticed. He gently laid his palm on the side of Soap’s head, and guided it to his shoulder. Soap didn’t wake up once as he slept against Ghost’s broad shoulder. 

You smiled at Ghost and he caught your eye, pupils piercing into yours as his head tilted to the side in a warning. We never speak of this. It was as though he said it directly into your ear. You nodded once and turned to look at Gaz.

Gaz kept his eyes down, his hands fiddling with one another. “Oi,” you nudged him gently. Your comms were cut off. Nobody could hear eachother anymore. But Gaz could hear you. He turned his gaze to you slowly.

“What’s up, Nix?” He smiled, nudging you back.

You sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder. He sat half a head taller than you, so it wasn’t uncomfortable on your neck to lean against him. “Feel like I have to apologise to you.” You felt his shoulder shift as he looked down at you. Gaz poked your arm gently with his finger.

“What have you got to apologise for?”

You tilted your head up. He knew exactly what you were talking about. Your eyebrows raised in that ‘really?’ sort of way and he looked away quickly. “Don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Liar,” you smiled. “You know exactly what I’m on about. You just don’t want to talk about it.”

He laughed gently, his shoulders shaking and rocking your neck back and forth. “Talk about what? How I got a full view of your ass in broad daylight and our Captain fucking you? Get why I wouldn’t want to talk about it?”

Your eyes widened and you couldn’t stifle your chuckle. “You saw my arse?!”

He nodded between laughs. “Yep. And then some. Can’t lie though, it’s not a bad arse you’ve got there, Nix. Not as good as mine, but pretty damn good.” You both laughed with one another, happy to have that whole memory and scarring experience for Gaz behind you.

-

Alejandro and Rudy had departed you, but left behind the keys to the Mexico safehouse if you were ever in need of it. They had their vaqueros to take care of, and you didn’t blame them for parting with the 141 when they did. They had done their part, this wasn’t their fight. Not anymore. 

Nik dropped you and the boys off just at the cusp of the Mexican border. Price had arranged with Javier and Manuel to leave a truck by the drop point so they didn’t have to walk the six hours to the safehouse. It was ready and waiting with a full tank of gas. You took the passenger seat beside Price, who took seat as driver. Soap and Gaz took the two back seats and Ghost opted to ride in the truck bed. You didn’t question why. He needed the time alone. All of you had been through so much these past weeks. These past months. Time alone would do you all some good. 

“All good, love?” Price asked you, his voice quiet. He patted your thigh gently, squeezing once before releasing his grip and moving his hand back over to his own lap. But you caught it before he could move it too far away, taking his hand in your own, your fingers tickling along his calloused, bruised knuckles.

You smiled at him, turning your head towards him. “Home stretch, John. We’re nearly there,” you grinned, squeezing his hand in yours. He returned your smile, turning back to face the road, his fingers still intertwined with your own.

The barn was quiet when you arrived. Eerily quiet.

“I’ll check around back,” Soap said as you all clambered out of the truck. He nodded in your direction and you followed him around the back of the barn, clearing the small sheds on your way. It was clear. The place was empty. You were safe here. For now. 

After eating, filling your stomachs after what felt like the longest time, you all sat around the meeting table in the centre of the open space. Laswell was meeting you across the border in a Texan bar the next night, so all you needed to do was to wait until then. From what Price had said, she was to help take down Shepherd, stop his plans and his deceptive ways. To take out Graves and the Shadow Company so that they could never find another way to leverage their army. With Graves and Shepherd gone, there would be no war. No death. No genocide.

“So this is it. Our final job,” Price was the first to break the silence. Ghost sat opposite Price, with Soap on his right. Gaz stood by the door entrance, keeping a wary eye through the window for any signs of…well, anyone. “We meet with Laswell. Secure the plan. Then we’ll be well on our way to take out Shepherd.”

Ghost leaned forward, resting his hand on Soap’s knee. “And what comes after that? We take out Shepherd, then what are we?” It was a fair question. One that Price couldn’t answer right now.

“We focus on the task at hand right now, Ghost. What comes after, we’ll figure that out later,” Price said.

“We can figure that out over the drinks that Cap promised us,” Gaz smiled from his place in the doorframe. You smiled with him.

Price huffed a chuckle, leaning back in his chair. “But right now, we should sleep. Rest before tomorrow. It’s going to be a long day ahead of us.”

And that was that. There was nothing else to do but sleep. But to wait for the morning that was to come. Tomorrow would bring you some comfort, knowing how to take out Shepherd and his pawns. You’d find comfort in the plan that would be made. You’d find comfort in the whiskey you would drink, and the men you’d drink it beside.

Gaz retired to his bed first, a passing comment about being able to sleep in a room alone since he knew who’d be doubling up now. It only made you laugh as you turned your attention to Ghost, who’s eyes almost popped out of his head.

“Sure…Ghost and I have no issue with it,” Soap smiled, oblivious to the knife-cut tension in the room. “Right?” He turned to Ghost, who only stared at him in return.

Ghost rolled his eyes, ignoring your faint giggle stifled by your palm. “Shut up, Johnny,” he whispered.

“Well, while you two have a little lovers quarrel,” you managed to say, holding back a smile. “I’m going to search for a shower. There has to be one here. This palace is fucking huge.”

Gaz was already asleep by the time you’d walked past his room. His snores filled the hallway and you swear you saw the doorknob shake from the vibrations. He and Soap were in serious contest here, you couldn’t tell who was louder. Eventually you found the shower. It was the room next to the bedroom no doubt for yourself and Price, since Soap had already dumped his and Ghost’s things in the bedroom at the other end of the hall.

Stripping yourself of your clothing, you didn’t even let the water warm before stepping under its cold embrace. Goosebumps appeared on your arms and chest, your nipples hardening under the cold water. You let it run down your body, into your hair until your head felt heavy with the weight of it.

Eventually, the water warmed, and you sighed peacefully. You were thankful that you’d picked up some bathing supplies. Mango was your favourite scent, so when applied to your body it soaked the air in that scent you loved so much. Your eyes drifted closed under the water as it beat against your skin, your face, your hair. 

You might have been in there for too long, but at this moment you didn’t care. This was your selfish moment of calm before the storm. In the trance of the shower air clouding your vision, the scent filling your senses, and the warm feeling that the water calmed you with, you didn’t hear the bathroom door click as it opened. Or hear clothes fall to the floor behind you.

But you felt a hand touch your stomach and you panicked, only for a second. Until you recognised the familiar touch.

“Easy, love,” Price whispered in your ear, stepping behind you. “It’s only me.” A sweet smell invaded his nose, and he smiled at it. “Mango?”

You nodded, turning your head, pulling your hair away from your face and behind your ear. “What are you doing in here?”

He smiled, kissing your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your waist. “Can’t I enjoy a shower with you? Before shit hits the fan?”

“Of course you can, John. Showering alone is not nearly as fun.” Your head tilted back as his lips met your neck, kissing your wet skin softly. His beard brushed against your skin and you couldn’t help but giggle at the ticklish sensation. “Didn’t think you’d be so bold though, while your men are sleeping down the hall.”

“Darling, when have you ever known me to be someone who isn’t bold, hmm? Besides, it's not like its a secret anymore. They practically forced us into the same room together,” Price smiled as you gasped, feeling his hand drift lower. “I think it’s best to relieve a little tension before tomorrow. Clear our heads.”

You turned to face him, his hands gently kneading at the flesh of your ass. Your hands came up to the sides of his neck, his wet beard now soft under your fingertips. “Is that all this is? Clearing our heads?”

He smiled, dipping his head to kiss your lips softly, passionately. “Not to me. To me, this is all I need. It means more to me than that.” You cupped the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his hair. Your kiss grew deeper, his tongue parting your lips and licking into your mouth. Price pushed you up against the tiled wall, the cold feeling soothing your burning skin from his touch. With your bodies pressed against eachother, not a breath of air between them, you could feel everything. How he hardened with each waking moment of kissing you, how his wandering hands grew more firm with each inch of skin he explored.

His hands gripped the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up, wrapping your legs around his waist before focusing his touch back on your arse, holding you up. Your weight was resting between his body and the tiled wall, secured in place as he gripped and groped your skin, kissed and bit at your lips gently, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Please,” you whispered, almost pleading. He loved when you begged for him. It only egged him on further. “John, please.”

His lips kissed your neck, your collarbone, before devoting its attention to your tits. He pushed you up, higher against the tile. Sucking on the soft flesh around your nipples, his teeth left marks and his lips left red bruises. You covered your mouth as you moaned softly into your palm. The enclosed space of the bathroom would only amplify the noises you would make, and you really didn’t want them hearing you from their rooms.

“What do you want from me, love?” He muttered against your skin, his eyes tilting to look up at you. “Tell me.” He sank you down lower, slowly. You felt the tip of his cock tap your clit as he lowered you down the tile to meet his eyes head on.

“I-” You cut yourself off with a soft gasp as he teased the entrance of your cunt with his cock. “John, please.”

He just smiled, grabbing his cock at the base with one hand while holding you up with the other. “Use your words.”

God, you loved it. This side of him. The way he pulled words from your throat with such little effort. “Fuck me. John, please fuck me.”

That was all it took. He sank you onto his cock without a further word. He groaned quietly, feeling you tighten around him, gripping him with force until you finally adjusted to his size. You bit your lip, stopping your moans from filling the air. “Atta girl,” John praised, kissing your neck, sliding his cock in and out at an easy going pace, the sounds of skin on skin being the only thing you heard. “You got it, baby.”

His thrusts became more forceful, pushing into you harshly. His hand on your ass guided your body above him, bouncing you on his cock. You couldn’t keep quiet anymore, wrapping your arm around his neck to keep steady, the other digging your fingernails into his shoulder painfully deep.

But he was quick with it, his free hand covering your mouth the second your own hand left it. His little finger rested just under your nose, and you breathed heavily with each thrust, feeling your own breath blow warmly back into your face.

The water hit his back harshly, the temperature you had set the shower for burning sharply into his skin. How you could even shower in these temperatures was something he’d never understand. But he’d learn to get used to it.

Your eyes rolled, head pushing back against the tile with heavy pressure to the point you thought you were going to crack the tile. “Come on. Come on, darling. I know you’re close.” He knew your tells by now. Your thighs tightened around his waist, your ankles interlocking at his lower back, caging him against you. Your orgasm was powerful, violent as it hit you. Your walls clamped around his cock, unrelenting as you came. Moaning into his hand, your head lolled forward, your muscles squeezing around bone as your high overtook you.

Price followed not far after, a more shortened version of your own orgasm, but just as powerful. His thrusts halted suddenly and his cock twitched inside you, spurting his seed inside your walls, coating your insides with his release.

He kissed the side of your head, letting his hand fall from your mouth to rest on your hip. “There’s my girl,” he smiled, resting his forehead against yours. “Told you it’s good for clearing your head.” You couldn’t help but smile, laughing softly.

“As long as this doesn’t stop, I think I’ll be good,” you said softly, a pang in your chest preparing you for any sign of a rejection. For him to tell you that you’d just remain professional after all this was over.

But he smiled, kissing your cheek before letting your feet touch the floor, reaching behind you to switch the shower off, stopping the water in its tracks and allowing for cool air to hit your bodies. “That sounds like a good plan to me, rook.”

Drying yourselves, you returned to the bedroom and climbed into the soft bed, covering yourself in the sheets. His body pressed against yours, a warm broad chest hitting your back. That’s how you slept, encased in his arms, his breath against the back of your neck as he hummed gently in his sleep, sending you to your own slumber.

-

The bar was quiet, and dark. But that’s how you liked it. Nobody questioned your presence in the bar. Everyone went about their time in the bar, finishing their drinks and often ordering a second in replacement. You sat at the corner of the bar, Ghost on your right, Price on your left with his hand resting on your thigh comfortingly.

“Glad to see you all alive, still,” Laswell announced her presence from behind you. She watched as you all turned to face her, a smile on yours and Gaz’s face.

“Kate,” you smiled, standing to embrace her. “Glad to see you made it.”

“You too, Nix. Heard it’s been pretty rough for you guys recently,” Laswell said as you all seated yourselves at the bar once more. She patted John on the back as she sat in the empty stool.

“You’ve got no idea, Kate,” Price responded, smiling at her. “But we’re out of the woods for now.”

Kate motioned for the bartender to bring her a drink, and he nodded and poured her a glass, sliding it down the bar into her waiting hand. “Not for long. Shepherd is pissed. At all of you. He’s going to bring heavy fire down on your heads once he finds you.”

“Not if we find him first,” Ghost muttered from your right hand side, his fabric mask showing his eyes, and the rage you saw in them even more evident now.

Laswell smiled. “Exactly. So that’s what we’ll do. But first, a drink. You lot stopped a war. I think that’s cause for a celebration, don’t you?”

“Well, if we’re drinking,” Gaz pointed out from the end of the bar. “I heard that drinks were on Price.” A low chuckle emanated from the group and Price accepted defeat.

“Yeah, I suppose they are,” Price admitted, waving down the bartender and ordering a round for you all. 

You were quiet, as you sipped your whiskey, and Ghost noticed. Price had conversation with Laswell about the upcoming ambush you were planning. He nudged your arm, eyes meeting yours filled with concern.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Nix?” He saw your fingers trailed across the deep scars left by Hassan’s men all that time ago. Ninety two days worth of suffering that had been forced upon you. Your eyes deep in thought, your face fixed in a brooding glare. 

“Nothing, just…thinking.”

“About?” He questioned, coaxing a full answer out of you.

You sighed, dropping your hand from your slashed arm. “About whether all of this, the shit we’ve been through as a team. Hassan, Valeria, Graves. Whether it’s all going to be worth it. Whether we can actually beat Shepherd. Or this will have all been for nothing.”

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning against you gently, little weight on your shoulder. “We’ll make it worth it. Scars do heal. I would know,” he gestured to his own arms, adorned with his own faded scars. “It all depends on whether you let those scars consume you, or fuel you into getting your own revenge.”

You smiled softly. “Is that what you did?”

He looked away momentarily. “Not at first. But I learned. And now I guess I’m teaching you the best way to handle it. We’ll finish this. One way or another.”

More drinks flowed as your plan came together. Now you just had to enact it. Then you’d be free. You’d all be free of the grip that Shepherd had on your throats. No one singular man could be left to start this war. As a team, you had to make that happen. With the 141 by your side, you felt more confident. You could do this.

This was what the 141 was made to do. Now only one man stood in the way of your freedom from this caged war. But not for much longer.

His time would come soon.

[crabdrabbles]

141 + Nikolai Reactions to Soap Coming Back/Being Alive

Words: 2.8k Warnings: Mentions of depression, alcoholism/self destructive behaviour Ships: Ghost/Soap, (implied) Nik/Price A/N: i swear this was only supposed to be around 600 words but my brain wouldn't stop until i wrote all of this. up next: los vaqueros reaction.

- Price / words: 683

Soap’s death had been sudden. Unexpected. He was so young– the youngest, but he was one of the best. Only a Sergeant, but he could have gone as far as becoming something of a Captain in a few years time if he kept his head screwed on. All that promise and potential, taken away by one single bullet– no. Not the bullet– the man wielding the gun. Price doesn’t remember the last time he had slept more than 4 hours in the night since they spread Soap’s ashes. There was too much to do. There were other lives to save– other lives that were yet to be lost. Mourning for the man would have to come later. Later. Later. Later. There was only so many times that Price could push his needs to the back of his mind before it boiled over. So he took to cigars– cigarettes, if he was in desperate need. Alcohol became a common nightcap for him. Not enough to affect his performance as a Captain, but enough to garner worried looks from Ghost, Gaz, Nikolai and Kate. He couldn’t have them worrying about him– not now, not when they themselves were all reaching breaking points of their own. Ghost had withdrawn on himself to the point he was even worse off than when Price had first met him. He grunted and mumbled his words or avoided conversations entirely. He was still a beast on the battlefield and during missions, almost scarily so. His kills became more brutal, more messy. Dirty, Nikolai had called it once as he watched overhead as Ghost snuck up on a man and stabbed him 27 times. He had counted. 

And Gaz. Who had blamed himself. Price didn’t need to be a therapist to know that. What broke his heart the most was when he was escorting an exhausted Gaz back to his room when the sergeant muttered something under his breath. 

“Wazzat, Garrick?”

“... should’ve been me, sir.” Price didn’t have the words to respond to the statement. It shouldn’t have been Soap. Or Gaz. Or Ghost. It shouldn’t have been any of them. If anything, it should have been Price himself. If Soap hadn’t rushed in head first to save him, then Soap would still be here–

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Price would deny to his dying breath that he choked around his cigar when a familiar face entered his office. He had been run ragged and thin these past few weeks– chasing leads on Makarov and also juggling the emotions that hung in the air since Soap’s untimely demise. Or ‘apparent’ demise, considering said man had just walked into the room as if nothing had happened and Price hadn’t watched his head successfully catch a bullet while trying to save his life. 

“... surprise…?” Soap said awkwardly as he shut the door quietly behind him, scratching the side of his head as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing in the first place. Like still being alive. Price could have snorted at the absurdity of it. Instead, he rose to his feet and ignored the screeching of the chair behind him. He stared at Soap as he rounded his desk, striding towards the not-so-dead-Sergeant.

“Fuck my old boots, I’m going crazy.” he breathed. Jogging the last few steps, he envelops the scot in a hug. One arm wraps around Soap’s back, the other cradling the back of his head. The body beneath the palms of his hands is warm, thrumming with a steady and strong heartbeat. 

“John.” he whispered and arms wrapped around him in return, squeezing some of his jagged pieces back into place. The time to explain how or why would come later. For now, he was comforted by the fact that Soap was still living and breathing. He was still here. He had unknowingly given Price a second chance– one that the dear Captain would not squander.

“Preferred it when ye called me sunshine, sir.”

“Don’t push your fucking luck, Sergeant.” If Price’s grip on the other man tightened, neither said a word.

- Gaz / words: 565

Gaz has been running laps every single day since Soap died. He had been training, pushing himself as hard and as far as he could go. He wasn’t quick enough. He wasn’t quick enough to help when his team needed him most. He wasn’t quick enough to help Soap when he stared at Death in the face and watched as he pulled the trigger. He should have been faster– he convinced himself that he had to be faster. For Ghost. For Price. He wouldn’t fail them like he had failed Soap. He still thinks about the day they lost the scotsman. Remembers the blood pooling around his head like a sickening halo. He uses it as an incentive. As a reminder for what he lost that day– for what he still has left to lose.

Another lap came to an end in the form of him wheezing and almost stumbling to the finish line. He was bent over, hands on his knees as he tried to even out his breathing. He had pushed himself again today and he felt the telltale signs of nausea curl in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t beaten last week’s record yet. He makes a move for one more lap, but a voice stops him. Usually it was Price who stopped him before he pushed himself too far and ended up in medical. The Captain would appear seemingly out of nowhere, cigar in one hand and Gaz’s shoulder in the other.

‘That’s enough for today, Sergeant.’ He would say, and silence any words of complaint or refusal from Gaz before they were even spoken, ‘That’s an order, Kyle.’

“Whoa there, not the best idea to push yerself so hard. You’ll make yerself sick ya daft tit.” 

Either Price had adopted a Scottish accent in some deranged form of honouring their lost Sergeant, or Gaz had begun hallucinating from overexerting himself. It was likely the latter. He didn’t want to think of Price hiding a mohawk underneath his hat. A hand meets his shoulder and his own slaps over the top of it on instinct. Looking up, he squints as his eyes adjust to the sunlight– begin to focus on familiar features in front of him. Grinning familiar features. 

“Oh, you’re a bloody bastard.” He said, still regaining his breath from his laps. He knows that he hasn’t gone crazy– not yet, anyhow. He knows that the hand on his shoulder is real– that the man in front of him isn’t a figment of his imagination. His other hand claps Soap’s shoulder, gripping hard as he struggles to keep himself together. “You’re a bloody bastard, you know that?”

If Soap heard the crack in his voice, he’s kind enough not to mention it.

“I’ve been told. I only came back ‘cause you owed me twenty quid.”

“Last time I checked it was only fifteen.” Gaz raised an eyebrow, tears in his eyes but a smile on his face as they both fell into a similar routine as if Soap had never left. 

“Interest fee.” Soap quipped back, clapping Gaz on the back and bringing him into a tight hug. 

“Welcome back, Soap.” They fell into silence, the embrace lasting a little longer than usual.

“... I’m not giving you your twenty quid, by the way. If anything, you owe me twenty quid for the emotional damage.”

“Awa’ an bile yer heid!”

- Ghost / words: 1215

Ghost had withdrawn in himself after Soap’s death– or, more specifically, after the funeral and spreading of his ashes. He hated it. Hated watching as the breeze carried Soap away, spreading him across the Scottish countryside. It… it had been too final, for him. An end. The end of Johnny. That’s what it had felt like. The end. And he couldn’t fucking take it. 

Price had given Johnny’s dog tags to Ghost a week or so after everything. It was likely an excuse to talk to the Mancunian– to try and coax him out of his room. It had worked, albeit slightly, as it was an effective reminder to Ghost of who he still had left. Cutting Price and Gaz off wasn’t the way to go– and most definitely what Soap wouldn’t have wanted for him. 

It had been around 2 months, 11 days, 13 hours, and 42 minutes since Soap had died. The days had somehow blurred together but dragged in such a way that Ghost was still aware of the time passing in the back of his mind in some tortuous slew. It was a rare day that he had not only left his room, but the base entirely. His therapy sessions had gone from monthly to weekly to even bi-weekly sometimes. Price had forced them on him after the funeral. Ghost only went to get the old man off of his back. The sessions were generally an hour long, maybe a little over if he accidentally overshared. Most of the time he only sat and listened to the psychiatrist talk about different ways to deal with thoughts of depression and other ways to deal with bereavement. It was all a load of shite. Don’t get him wrong, his psychiatrist was a wonderful person– very passionate about their job but Ghost had been so overwhelmed by his grief some days that going to his appointments was just a waste of time, resources and money. Today’s session ended like the rest, a curt and professional goodbye and the arrangement of another session at the same time the following week. Ghost wondered just how many more sessions he could attend before Price stopped forcing him to go. The last time he didn’t, Price had wrangled him into Nikolai’s helicopter and had the Russian personally escort him to and from his appointment. How Soap would have howled with laughter if he had ever bore witness to it.

Price and Gaz were talking. That was the first thing that Ghost noticed when he walked past the common room. Whilst that wasn’t uncommon in the slightest, what was suspicious was that there was a third voice amongst them– one that Ghost was yet to forget. Likely it was his mind playing tricks on him again, filling the void that Soap had left in an attempt to save himself from the pain but still managing to gouge more wounds into his heart. Despite the apprehension, he was already opening the door before his brain could even comprehend it. 

“Hey, Lt.” Soap said, turning around to face Ghost when he entered and smiling like he wasn’t supposed to be dead and his body spread across some cliff in some backend of scotland. From the way Price and Gaz were looking directly at the sergeant, it was clear that he was no figment of anyone’s imagination.

“Ghost? Ghost!” For the second time in the space of around 12.5 seconds, Ghost’s body was already walking before his brain caught up. He was walking back to his quarters, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him. A few seconds later, desperate knocking filled the room. 

“Ghost, lemme explain!” How dare he? How dare Soap come back like this and treat it like none of the 141 had mourned his loss. 

“Simon… Si, please.” 

The mancunian leant against the closed door, struggling to even out his breathing. Silence fell, only broken by the occasional shaky exhale from Simon’s lips. It stretched on for several minutes, maybe even longer– 

“... Did’ja hear about the cheese factory that exploded in France?” What the fuck was Johnny talking abou– “Da-brie was everywhere.”

Simon almost snorted at the absurdity of the situation and the stupidity of the joke. Looks like the time Johnny had spent being dead gave him time to brush up on his jokes. 

“As I get older, I remember all the people I lost along the way. Maybe me budding career as a tour guide wasn’t the right choice.” Damn him. Damn Johnny for coming back like nothing happened and standing outside Simon’s door telling him goddamn puns. Simon still remained silent, not wanting to give Johnny the satisfaction of making him laugh. 

“Even people who are good for nothing have the capacity to bring a smile to your face, like when you push them down the stairs.” Alright, Ghost would admit that had wormed a soft snort of amusement. Johnny grew silent for a few seconds and it didn’t take too much brain power to imagine the shit eating grin forming on the sergeant’s face, undoubtedly hearing Simon’s mirth. 

“I was digging in our garden and found a chest full of gold coins. I wanted to run straight home to tell my wife about it. Then I remembered why I was digging in our garden…” Awful. Absolutely awful– Simon had taught him well.

“Do you know the phrase ‘One man’s trash is another man’s treasure’? Wonderful saying, horrible way to find out that you were adopted. I can do this all day, Lt.”

That’s what he was afraid of.

Simon sighed to himself as he stood up and opened the door that currently separated the two soldiers. There was a loud curse and a thump as Johnny fell backwards and into the now open doorway. He must have been leaning on the door and didn’t expect the sudden opening. Serves him right. 

“Hi, Simon.” the scot breathed, staring up at Ghost like he had hung the moon. 

“Where did Joe go after getting lost on a minefield?” Simon found himself saying as he stared down at the man who was supposed to be dead. “Everywhere.”

Johnny’s face scrunched up in disdain and he groaned, throwing an arm over his face and still making no move to get up from his place on the floor. 

“Terrible.”

“And yours were any better?” Simon knelt by the fallen sergeant, head tilted to the side as he regarded him, drinking in the visible parts of his face. The shorter man moved to sit up, hands hesitating just before they touched Simon as if afraid of his reaction.

“They got you t’open the door, didn’t they?” Damnit. Simon held out his hand, palm facing up. Johnny took it as it was and placed his own over the top, intertwining their fingers. 

“Gonna take a lot more than jokes to fix this, Johnny.” 

“I know, Lt. Got a lot to make up for but lemme make a start. Permission to kiss you, sir?” The fact he asked where before he would simply act was enough to melt Simon’s heart– just a little bit. 

“Permission granted, Sergeant.” Forgiveness would be a low thing– but feeling Johnny’s warm and soft lips on his own was definitely a step in the right direction.

- Nikolai / words: 332

The first thing Nikolai does when he finds out Soap is alive is punch him. Not hard enough to break anything or bruise too severely, but hard enough that Soap will be reminded of it for a few days afterwards. 

“That is for making everyone think that you were dead.” It’s still fresh in his mind. Watching as Price fell apart at the seams after they spread Soap’s ‘ashes’, as the guilt ate him up from the inside out. As the ‘what if’s plagued his mind, ruined what little sleep he already didn’t get in the night– and stole his happiness, for a time. Nikolai can remember the week where Price smoked so many cigars that the Captain woke up with a tight chest, wheezing like a man starved of oxygen and clutching onto Nikolai’s shoulder as he gasped and spluttered– only to repeat the process the following day. 

‘I can stop when I need to.’ Price had said to Nikolai, brushing off any concern that the russian had voiced about the almost permanent smoke cloud that formed in Price’s office. 

Nikolai was not stupid– soldiers were lost all of the time in war. But not all soldiers left lasting impressions like Soap had to his Captain and teammates. He had touched the hearts of many with his shining personality and enthusiasm, Nikolai himself included. He had been fond of the Scotsman, even a partner in crime once during a prank that involved several bags of glitter and the helicopter fan blades. 

The scowl on his face morphs into something softer as he watched Soap try and massage the pain away with his hands. He brings Soap into a hug, pressing his forehead against Soap’s newly scarred temple.

“And this is for coming back to us. We all missed you, солнышко (Sunshine).” Despite the gentle words, his grip tightens until it is almost bruising. “Don’t do that again or I will kill you myself.” Soap doesn’t doubt that even for a second. 

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[love-lilly02]

The Challenge— Ch. 8

AN: This is a preview for the next part, where we will find out more about the readers past and get to explore the existing elation ship between the boys. it got posted early so the next chapter could take a while or come out like tomorrow, idk

“Hold still,” Price said, holding the packs above your hands. You nodded, shifting nervously on your knees. “Only gonna hurt for a second.” He lied every time, but the brief attempt at comfort made you feel a bit better. 

The second the medication touched the burns you cringed, tensing immensely. You heard him try to tell you to relax, but his voice was drowned out by a wave of pain. Every time you two did this procedure it only seemed to get worse, but you were slightly thankful for it. 

Coming back home had been rough. Nik only stayed for a few hours, making sure that you were situated and properly taken care of before he returned to his desolate corner in russia (they always preached how lucky you were to make your way to him, instead of heading in your enemies direction), and you had been thrown into testing immediately after that. 

It felt like something out of a marvel movie, they assessed your injuries and just how well you were able to operate, thanks to Nik, you were still able to participate in field work as a long distance asset, you gave them the information you stole from the russians, and they gave you medicine for the many burns you had on your body. 

Which was why you found yourself in this position. 

You could still use your hands, thankfully. They were good for a manner of things, fighting, eating, and the like. But you couldn’t do things like write or hold a brush, which was the exact task required to apply the medicine that the doctors gave. So Price had to help you. 

At first it was awkward, sitting there half naked on his desk while he applied a cream that burned worse than the one Nikolai gave you all over your body, but you two slowly got used to it, even breaking the tense silence with small bursts of conversation. Usually about something that had happened earlier that day. Never about the indecent that put you in this position. 

There was one burn that required special attention, seeing as it hadn’t healed correctly. On the back of your neck, just in the juncture connecting your shoulders, and the only place you couldn’t reach. That one specifically hurt the worst, and you couldn’t stop yourself from moving to touch it once the cream was applied. 

Price’s solution to this was to have you sit between his legs while it was applied. 

It did help, of course. Any time you tried to shift your neck or flinch away from the pain, he was there with a steadying hand on your head and a slight “Don’t wana do that,” and you were still again. 

Some nights were better than others, but you were always distinctly aware of the position it left you in. 

Just as you were always aware of the way he would go half-hard every time you two did that. 

“There you go, all done.” You sat back, looking up at him with wide eyes. You didn’t miss the way he had to swallow a bit harder, or shift his hips ever so slightly. “Wasn’t too bad.”

“You try having second degree burns and come back with that same bull shit.” He just laughed and shook his head. 

“Ya know… if you want to talk about what happened—“

“John, it’s okay.” Truth be told, it wasn’t okay. It was the farthest thing from okay, but you weren’t going to bring it up anytime soon. “What happened happened.”

He just grunted. “ ‘Boys still haven’t given up on that challenge.” You just laughed, wincing at the sting of the burns. 

“Honestly, you guys find even one photo and i’ll sing your praises.” You could feel his eyes on you as you got dressed, and sure enough when you turned back around he was staring at you with a different kind of intensity. 

“It took you being gone for two months for us to realize we hardly know anything about you. Why is that?”

You blinked in surprise, stepping towards the door. “I have my reasons.” The hall was empty, and you sort of wished John had people outside eavesdropping on your conversation. 

“Find those photos and you’ll figure it out.”

me when i wanna write sex but they aren’t like that yet

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