ghostofthesoul · 2 days
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Y/N: Hey Lt! Has anyone ever told you how pretty your eyes are?
Ghost:…thank you?
Y/N: You are welcome :D
Y/N like two seconds after her filter flys away: You know who would look good with eyes like yours?
Ghost: Who?
Y/N: My future children :D
Ghost: …
Soap and Gaz who just entered the room: ….
Soap: Oh god
Gaz: Nope. Not happening.
Gaz dragging Y/N by her arm: We goin’ to Price he will make you rethink your life decisions
164 notes · View notes
rrtt4 · 2 days
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(Fixed & Remaked) Witch's Atelier -Wood Ash Soap set-
I released this set in Nov 2021 but It had shadow issues, I finally fixed all issues and remaked!😄
Actually, the history of modern soap is not that long. The luxury Marseille soap made with olive oil was only available to the nobility. The common people made soap at home from wood or seaweed ashes. Since that would make the soap a dirty color, I think that it was colored with pigments.
Included in this set are,
Soaps in a glass jar (10 swatches)
Soaps on cutting board (42 swatches)
Soaps in the wood box (30 swatches)
Soap Dish (15 swatches)
Mold with soap batter (30 swatches)
Distressed Metal Bucket (13 swatches)
Distressed Metal Bucket w lid (16 swatches)
Download (Early Access)
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soaps-hoe-141 · 2 days
Drowning In The Depths
IT'S FINALLY DONE. HALLELUJAH!!!!!! I did it, I made it, holy shit I'm sorry it took so long, but finally it is here. Enjoy your meal my lovely readers.
Also the art is from @foreverrunningfree We love to see a good ole southern boy Speck just chillin in his cutoff jeans. Thanks for letting me use the art for the chapter Bones!!! Been waiting to put it on here so everyone can see this beautiful work.
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Part 10
Pairing: Captain Price x Male!Reader
WC: 20.2k
Synopsis: We got a lot going on in this one, I ain't gonna lie. Pretty much just the aftermath of Soap and Ghost walking in on them (barging and running in on them) and Speck finally trying to deal with his past (in a healthy and productive way).
Warnings: Some NSFW towards the end and just the usual descriptions of past abuse for Speck. I'm passing out Speck lore like ain't nobodies business.
Water slid down your face, the warm air around you drying the light sheen from your shower too fast now. You'd hoped it would keep you cool at least for the walk back to the bunkhouses but that didn't seem to be a possibility. Not with the way the sun was glaring down at you from on high in the dry heat of eastern Iran. Damn you wanted to get out of here. A sudden nostalgia for home rang in your mind. A desire for the pine barrens of the south, the red clay that stuck to everything and could destroy a brand new pair of boots in a matter of minutes, and would undoubtedly destroy every item of clothing you owned.
There was a sigh from you as you pushed the thoughts back, no reason to think about a place you'd never be going back to, right? That ship had sailed a long, long time ago. About the same time you'd signed your new contract and sold yourself to the highest bidder. A decision you were starting to regret, but it wasn't all that terrible. Especially considering it had led you right into John's bed, led you to the man who was starting to change you so completely in body, mind, and soul you weren't sure you'd ever recover from him. You certainly wouldn't ever recover when you eventually had to leave.
Opening the door of your bunkhouse with a sigh at the thought you glanced around the room, tossing the towel and the pair of clothes you'd changed out of onto the growing pile by the door. The room was devoid of life, no Lieutenant, no Sergeant, and no Cerberus. How in the hell had they even gotten your dog? Had you left him in the bunkhouse last night?
God you couldn't even remember the course of events yesterday. Your mind was so scrambled after the intense anger of losing your talisman and then the morning you'd had with John. You'd been at every end of the emotional scale in the last thirty six hours and it was taking its toll on your memories of the time. And you didn't even have Cerberus here to ground you, hell you didn't have anything to help keep your mind from wandering right now. You were going to have to track them down if you wanted your dog back it seemed. Couldn't afford to lose Cerberus too.
With another sigh you headed out again, glancing up at the sun with a tilt of your head. There was a moment of stillness as you considered the bright, frustratingly hot orb sitting in the sky above. Your internal thoughts pondered for a quick moment, there was so much you needed to fix. Get Cerberus back, find Wade and apologize, and then handle Ghost and Soap before they decided to blabber everything to the rest of their team. If they even could be handled, that is, you didn't exactly have much leverage on them and their Captain wasn't here to give it to you. Hell it'd probably be worse if he was there with you.
Where the hell would they even be right now? It was the middle of the day, they could be anywhere. The gym, Soap and Gaz's bunkhouse, the squad room, the mess hall- The thought crossed your mind then as you muttered to yourself, "That hungry bastard's probably is in the mess, who am I kidding?" You'd seen the way Soap ate at every meal. The man was an actual garbage disposal, the Scotsman would eat absolutely anything, anytime, anywhere. It was almost impressive. He was constantly shoving as many calories as he could down his throat as if someone was going to steal his food. To be fair though you did the same thing, a bad habit of growing up with siblings. You ate whatever you could whenever you could otherwise you'd be starving.
Glancing down the path you made for the mess hall, mentally preparing yourself for the blackmailing you'd have to start doing in order to keep the Lieutenant's and Sergeant's mouths shut. Sure while you were in the moment you'd kept your head on straight. Kept yourself from going red in the face. You'd even kept yourself from mouthing off and showing the embarrassment and frustration of being caught ass up in their Captain's bed. Your face was burning just at the mere thought of them seeing you naked next to their just as naked Captain. You'd never been caught doing anything like that, and especially not with a man. Good God it was downright shameful, this whole situation was and it had your anxiety flaring about what they'd think of that imagery.
You'd had to go to take a shower just to keep yourself from having a damn panic attack when you left the Brit's bunkhouse. Now John he'd been upset, sorry, almost apologetic before you'd been forced to leave. He'd been telling you he was sorry and that he'd wanted to tell them the right way after everything was settled, not like this. Not getting caught almost in the middle of the act, well right after the act anyway, you weren't as bad Ghost and Soap were. And then right in the middle of his apologies and that sinfully passionate kiss the man's phone had gone off with a string of notifications. It was a crime how often the two of you seemed to get interrupted, but it had happened again like it always did. His phone had buzzed and he was off answering the call of duty like he was supposed to, like it was expected of him to do.
While John had been sorry it hadn’t seemed like the fact that they had found out was what had irked him. He'd been sorry about how they'd found out. But you? The second you left his bunkhouse you’d been all nerves and jittery anxiety. In your experience the military didn’t exactly support…your lifestyle. Hell, no one you’d ever really known before supported your choices…your desires…the way God made you. But then weren’t Ghost and Soap doing the same thing? Hell you’d literally caught them doing it. You’d quite literally walked in on them together and then saw Soap's preening afterwards. Huh, you hadn't thought about that fact until just now. Maybe it was ok then…doubtful.
At least with them you didn’t have to worry about the backlash of someone finding out you were gay. What about the rest of them though? God and you'd been with their fuckin Captain. With the Captain John Price. Veteran SEALs told stories about that man’s black ops. The CIA operatives you’d met in your life working with the Navy and the contracting company worshiped the ground he walked on. You may not have known much about him before you’d met him but you’d known he was a man that deserved respect. Hell if you’d been given the opportunity when you were still in the Navy you’d have jumped at the opportunity to work with the man. It was a career high. A phenomenal way to further your career was to get yourself into an operation with that man.
You’d certainly gone far past just working with him though, hadn't you? So far past working him it was laughable, and it felt good to do it too. Well in the moment anyway. Afterwards you always felt a little bit…worried maybe? Concerned? No, those weren't the right words. Ashamed was probably a closer approximation to the way you always felt afterwards. It wasn't that you regretted finding your way to his bed every time, but it wasn't exactly easy for you to admit how much you enjoyed finding yourself there. Maybe it was guilt? Price was the only man you'd ever been with before, the only person you'd ever actually enjoyed being with and it made you feel guilty for always enjoying your time with him when you never could have done the same with your ex-wife.
With a shake of your head you pushed open the door to the mess hall and pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind. You couldn't think about that when you had to handle Ghost and Soap. There was work to be done and you were a master at compartmentalization. You could keep things packed away until it was a better time to deal with it. You'd kept the death of your team packed away for two years, shame and guilt about fucking a man should be a walk in the park in comparison. Right?
Countless bodies were milling about inside the mess hall. They were shoving past you to head outside and grazing against your back to head inside as well. It was a mess of soldiers in their uniforms right now. A packed out lunch rush that made your eyes widen for a moment at the sheer number of people inside right now. There were even more people in here than the last lunch rush you'd experienced with them. There were so many people it was hard to even see through the throngs of them. At your first glance over the crowd you didn't see anyone you knew but your stomach growled at the smell of food. Your nostrils flared as you took in a deep breath and went straight for the line, following the need of your stomach.
As you stood in the line your eyes scanned the bustling room. A guy as big as Ghost should stick out. The guy wore a big ass skull mask everywhere he went for fuck's sake. Not to mention he was absolutely huge, like a billboard on the side of the damn road, he was impossible to miss. The Lieutenant should have stuck out like a sore thumb and yet you didn't see that big bastard anywhere. Nor did you see the Scottish jackass he was always with, nor did you hear his laughing voice. At this point you weren't even standing in line to scope out the area anymore, you were just standing here to waste time.
But honestly could you even leave now? You'd just gotten your tray and the man behind the counter was scooping some of the food onto it. It would be a shame to waste a perfectly good opportunity to eat now. Stopping to get a tray of food wouldn't slow you down all that much anyway, would it? So you finished moving through the line, letting the men and women behind the counter shovel out whatever the hell they wanted. You weren’t picky. Hell you couldn’t afford to be picky. Not the way you grew up and especially not in your line of work. You never knew when or where your next meal might come from.
Stepping out of the line with the tray you scanned the mess hall again, pursing your lips in thought when you didn’t find the two men you were so desperately looking for, even now after giving it more than a few minutes. A quick glance around one more time and you made the quick decision that you weren’t about to eat in a room full of strangers who all had their own social groups. Not while you were completely alone. Might as well just go and eat outside, at least then you wouldn’t feel like you were back in highschool and were the weird kid who did have any friends. Fuck that.
Making for the door you hurried through the crowded bodies. As you opened the door, a shoulder slammed into you and caught you completely off guard as you scrambled to balance your tray of food in one hand. Pulling it towards your chest before you focused on stopping the wild sloshing of the cup of water in your other hand.
Turning a hard glare on the passerby you stared at their back as they walked further into the mess hall, the bitch didn’t even turn to look back at you. What the hell is wrong with some people? You backed up a step with a sigh and a shake of your head in annoyance and watched the door shut. As it did you turned with a quiet, “Some people ain’t got manners,” and slammed directly into a brick wall of a body.
The tray of food spilled all down the front of a long sleeve black t-shirt and a pair of khaki cargo pants. Your eyes went wide as you stared directly at the chest in front of you. Slowly your gaze slid up the tall form to look up at the tall German. An imposing form with his dark green eyes, dark red hair, and black face mask that obscured all his other facial features aside from a couple scars around his right eye and across his forehead.
“Scheisse! Pass auf, wohin du gehst!” The tall man stepped backwards with an angry glint in his eyes. His dark red brows knitted together as he looked down at the ruined shirt and pants. Konig smacked desperately at the food clinging to his clothes, trying to clean himself off with desperate flicks of his hands all over the front of his body. Of course you’d run into one of the masked ones, couldn’t be someone who wasn’t over a half a foot taller than you, could it? 
Your ears perked up at those first three German words, you knew what those meant right there and you could use your context clues to figure out that he was telling you to watch where the fuck you were going. Which honestly was a bit fair considering you’d just spilled an entire tray of food and full glass of water all over his pants, the man looked like he’d just pissed himself now. His shirt was clinging to him now as well, and pieces of steamed broccoli, mashed potatoes, and some kind of mystery meat were stuck to his pants. Your eyes were wide as you looked him over quickly and gave him an apology, “Oh shit Konig, my bad.”
This whole situation would have been hilarious probably if it wasn’t for the fact that he looked so pissed off. And the fact that the guy had already knocked the wind out of you just trying to “help” as he’d called it. God you could still feel the sting of his palm between your shoulder blades. The urge to run began to edge its way into your mind. You couldn’t have overpowered the German but you could at least make a break for it, and you were confident you could hide long enough to keep yourself from getting turned into mince meat.
The second you spoke though Konig was lifting his face to actually take a look at you. The tall man glanced one more time down at his clothes and then back at you before the frustration melted away and he waved it off, “I did not realize it was you, Speck. Do not worry about it, my friend. You just surprised me, I’m sorry for running into you.” His hand lifted to run across the back of his neck, and his eyes had crinkled at the corner as if he was smiling.
Was he nervous? You looked a bit closer, your own brows furrowing in concentration as you studied his expression for a split second. That was definitely nervousness you just heard in his voice. God this tall motherfucker just kept getting stranger and stranger. He could have decked you right then and there and to be honest you would have just nodded because that would have been fair. Instead he seemed almost anxious to have upset you or something, he was so strange. Though to be fair everyone on this team had some kind of weird quirk. Some of them more than others, the image of your new roommate flashed in your mind as you smirked.
Konig’s head tilted somewhat when he saw the corner of your mouth tilt up as the thought crossed your mind. Then you saw his eyes widen the tiniest bit in concern, the green hues shifting down to look at himself and then back up as he asked, “What? Is it the food? Should I change? Soap said the meeting was urgent though…” He seemed to be debating and for a moment you weren’t listening all that much truthfully. However, the second Soap’s name came out of his mouth you were all ears.
“Soap called a meeting?” Your eyes narrowed curiously at the tall man. The tall man gave a quick nod and a little hum of affirmation as his attention returned to his clothes. He was still working to wipe the food you’d spilled on him off, pieces of whole broccoli laying in the dirt now. “He can do that?” Your face scrunched up questioningly and there was a slight tilt to the tall man’s head in response. He obviously didn’t quite understand what you meant.
It seemed to dawn on him a few seconds later what you meant and he quickly went red across the top of his cheekbones right above where the mask cut off his face, and he shook his head, “No, no, not a meeting as in a mission briefing. This is more of a…well a gathering? Of friends I guess? He just sent a priority alert to the group chat so we are expected to answer the call…Or the text as it were." He glanced towards the door of the mess hall and then back towards you with his head tilted curiously as he asked, "Did you not get the text?" He seemed confused as he watched you. Those green eyes for once were holding eye contact with you unlike how he usually looked just past you or down at the ground.
A sigh left you as you shook your head in answer, "Kinda hard to get a text when I don't have your phone number." Konig seemed to realize the blunder immediately and he looked away and you noticed the red flush of his face grow a bit more where you could just barely see it. Finally you added with a huff of amusement, trying to defuse his obvious tension, "Don't have a phone neither, so…you know. Kinda hard to get any kind of text without that one man." Your smile turned up the corner of your mouth again, doing your best to put him at ease, but that wasn’t exactly your strong suit.
Konig laughed nervously a bit as he gave you a sheepish nod, “I forgot about that. I am sorry. It feels as if you have been here a lot longer than just over a week.” When you just kept looking at him for a moment he shifted on the balls of his feet and glanced towards the mess hall once more. Then he was clearing his throat as he said in a bit of a deeper voice, almost as if he was starting to regain his confidence, or trying to do so at least, “Well if you would like to come I am sure the others would not mind. Come!” His hand moved towards your shoulder but stopped just shy of making contact as he gestured with a nod towards the door you’d just come out of.
They were in the mess hall? You’d just come from there though. There’s no way they were actually in there. He didn’t seem to be willing to let you question him on this though so rather than make a big deal about it you just shrugged and moved towards the door again. Stepping back into the mess hall you tossed the now empty tray onto the others where they were stacked next to the trashcan before turning back towards Konig to follow him.
The tall man hadn’t even stopped, obviously not noticing that you’d stopped for a moment. Now he was halfway across the mess hall and you were about to lose sight of him through the crowd. Good Lord he was fuckin fast. Pushing through the crowd you basically had to jog to catch back up to him. By the time you got back to him he was already opening a door you hadn’t even noticed and was stepping inside. Before you even stepped inside though you heard Watcher’s voice asking Konig, “How’s ya got yer pants wet? Were ya gettin pished without me?”
Konig laughed nervously before he answered, “Ah nein. Speck,” he stepped further into the room so you could look around what was almost just like the squad room with some chairs around a table though it lacked all of the appliances. It was almost like a little mini mess hall with just enough room for all of the guys. Konig continued as you finally caught sight of the short, young, ginger man, “He spilled his food on me, it was an accident though. Just a little collision when he was leaving the mess hall. I figured if we were having a team meeting though I should bring him along. He is part of the team, yes?”
The moment that the German stepped out from in front of you though you stopped paying attention to what he was saying, otherwise you probably would have given him another apology about the food. You, however, were now too busy staring directly at Soap and the big Lieutenant who was beside Gaz and who was still holding onto Cerberus’s lead with a tight grip. It was reminiscent of when Ghost had done just that while Price was interrogating you as Cerberus lunged against his lead excitedly. The only difference was that this time he didn’t have a muzzle strapped to his face.
Ghost glanced down at the dog and then back at you before you saw the hint of amusement in those eyes as he let the lead go. Cerberus shot forward like a rocket, slamming into you with the full weight of his body as he lunged at you. The powerful Dutchie slammed into your chest full force, knocking the wind out of you before you even really knew what was happening. Your eyes widened as you barely had time to lift your arms in time to catch him. You were standing there holding the dog now like he was a toddler as he squirmed in your arms and his tongue slid along your face. Covering your skin in saliva, and he caused your teeth to slam together more than a few times as he accidentally headbutted you.
Now typically a little bit of dog drool wouldn’t have been all that interesting to you, you would have just wiped it off with the back of your hand and kept going about your day normally. You’d been dealing with hyperactive dogs your entire life, drool was nothing to you…usually. Now though you were contemplating dropping Cerberus to wipe it all off as it clung to your growing beard and cheeks. “Nein! Pfui!” You were straining to say the words as you turned your head away from the dog’s mouth, the last thing you wanted was Cerberus’ tongue finding its way past your lips. God no.
Whines escaped the dog’s maw as you grumbled again, “Nein.” At the word being spoken again the whines only grew in volume as if you’d just smacked the poor Dutchie across the face. Your eyes shot up to Ghost who was snickering under his mask, just barely audible as he sat back in his chair at the table. The man seemed to be having the time of his life right now watching as you had to hold the dog in both arms. Cerberus’ head on your shoulder and his paws hooked over each shoulder like he was hugging you around the neck and whining as if he was begging you never to leave him alone again.
To be fair you’d never actually left him alone with anyone else to take care of him so he probably was begging you to never leave again. You however were now dripping with dog drool while using your shoulder to wipe it all off and glaring at Ghost. It didn’t even phase the other man though as he continued to snicker behind his mask while you sat the dog back down on the ground and gave him a few rough scratches on the head. A vain attempt to calm him as best you could.
Cerberus continued to dance nervously on his paws even as you took in the sight of Ghost kicked back in a chair with his feet propped up on the table. Gaz was sitting next to him eating a sandwich while Soap was on the other Sergeant’s side with a wide, very telling smile on his face like he was in possession of the world’s juiciest piece of gossip. And after a quick moment of thought you realized he probably was after the morning you’d had.
Oh just fuckin great.
“Hell naw,” you muttered under your breath and just barely managed to suppress a shake of your head. You had Cerberus back, you didn’t need to be here any longer. He could tell the rest of the team without you needing to be here. Fuck this. Turning on a heel you started back out the door. It wasn’t even a second later a hand grabbed your arm and stopped you dead in your tracks. Glancing down at the skeleton gloves you groaned aloud, already so done with what was no doubt going to be the most stressful situation of the week and you’d defused a bomb a couple days ago.
Cerberus’s nose pressed into your thigh seeking your attention, his tail wagging as he looked up at you with bright eyes. Taking a deep breath you turned to find Ghost who was, without a doubt in your mind, smirking behind that mask. His eyes flicked to the table and he gestured with a jerk of his chin to an empty chair before he let go of your arm for a moment. For a quick moment you considered making a run for it. Why not, you know? You were already at the door, you had your dog with you, and you’d already proven you could beat all these sons of bitches in a footrace.
A voice at the back of your mind stopped you though. It told you that it would only make things ten times worse if you didn’t go over there and just deal with it. Smile and nod right? That’s how you got through twenty years of a marriage you had despised. What was five minutes of bearing the shame of being Captain Price’s bitch? Just get it over with, rip the bandaid off. Fuck it.
So you took a seat at the table, with Cerberus finding himself a spot underneath your chair, and you were unable to suppress the shaking of your head this time. Ghost took his seat next to Gaz once more, while Soap sat up in his chair to slide a little bit closer to the tray of food in front of him. Watcher and Konig didn’t miss a beat as they took their seats next to you on either side. As soon as you sat down Konig turned his green eyes back to Soap with his head tilted, “Why are we meeting here Soap? You said it was urgent.”
In an instant, at the German’s prompting, the Scotsman snaked his arm around Gaz’s shoulders and his hand raised in an arc as if he was painting a rainbow in the air. “Picture it. Price drops a fuckin dog off at our bunkhouse in the middle of the night, isn’t that right Gaz?” His eyes shot to the man he was currently holding close to his side. The other Sergeant was quick to nod back, lifting his sandwich to his mouth to take another bite even going so far as to hum a soft affirmative. Soap turned his eyes back to Watcher and Konig as you set your elbows up on the table, hiding your mouth behind a clenched fist, your other hand holding tight to your bicep as it was crossed in front of you.
The older Scotsman’s mouth was set in with an innocent storyteller look, his eyes wide and lips just slightly parted as he continued his story. “And I asked him, I did. I says to him, ‘Price why tah fuck are ya leaving a bloody dog with us, ya cunt.’ And he didnae like that but that man was on a mission. So he left a dog with me and my mate Gaz here.” He jostled Gaz as the man tried to lift his glass of water to his lips. Your brows raised as it spilled over the sides and the young Brit huffed in annoyance before shifting his gaze to Soap who wasn’t even paying attention to the mess he was currently causing.
Still though Soap persisted with his story, “Well Gaz he was back out in a fuckin second so I took the dog, as one does, straight to Ghost. I hate those howlin bastarts and Ghost likes the little things, so.” You glanced down at the dog between your legs whose head tilted the second you found his eyes. Your free hand reached down then, releasing your bicep from its iron grip in favor of petting the expanse of fur along the top of the Dutchie’s head. Cerberus’ tongue lolled as you did and you listened to him whine happily about the attention he was currently being paid by you.
Gaz turned to Soap then with a curious tilt of his head, “Oh so that’s where you went. I was wondering why you were gone this morning.” Soap’s blue eyes stared a hole in Gaz’s head then as the Brit returned to eating while he smirked. A small smile pulled at your lips despite the dire situation you were currently in. Did Gaz know? How could he not know? The man was Soap’s roommate and if Soap failed to lock the door as often as you were beginning to believe he did then it was very possible Gaz had walked in on them before.
Ghost was glaring at the Brit with narrowed eyes at the man’s other side as well. All the while Gaz studiously kept his eyes on the food that he was currently bringing up to his mouth again. Unlike Soap though the young Brit had no ability to keep the smile completely from his face. His lips were struggling to keep from curling upwards now, nearly breaking your own anxiety ridden mind. It nearly made you laugh at the humorous sight, but Gaz’s spell was broken in the next few moments as Soap made his next move.
Suddenly the hand around Gaz’s shoulder let go and smacked across his shoulder blades with a resounding ‘thwap’. Dark eyes bugged for a moment before he fell into a coughing fit, trying to swallow the mouthful of the sandwich he’d just taken. Very nearly choking on it after the hard slap on his back. Soap didn’t miss a beat though before he was continuing his story while Gaz tried to keep himself from choking, “So there Ghost and I were this morning trying to figure out where tah fuck this cunt had wandered off to.” He gestured towards you, glancing at both Watcher and Konig in turn to emphasize his words.
Glancing down at the table in front of you, you pursed your lips before letting out a sigh and asking, “Do ya really gotta do this Soap? Like is this really what you wanna do?” That beaming smile fixed on you the second that you asked the question as he nodded quickly in response. Clearly this was something that he was currently living for and the telling of it in such dramatic fashion was bringing him joy beyond your comprehension. Taking in a deep breath you wondered if it was even worth it to try and stop him.
Might as well just take this hit with your chin up at this point. Even if you did successfully manage to stop him the others had already heard enough to draw their own conclusions. Another sigh and you shrugged your shoulders before waving a hand at him, “Fine. Get on with it kid, I don’t got all day.” Your arms crossed over your chest as you sat back in the chair, watching him with an even and hardened look.
The Scotsman cleared his throat dramatically then before he continued with an even wider smile, “So we took wee Cerby out ta go find this cunt. Nowhere. Hee haw.” He looked pointedly at Watcher as he said that, before he kept going with his dramatized version of this morning’s events. “Nowhere to be seen. It was like the daftie had gone an’ disappeared.” He paused for a moment to smile at you. It felt almost like he was giving you one more chance to stop him. To give him something else to get his mind off of what he’d seen in John’s bunkhouse. Like he knew how much it was burning you up right now to have to listen to this.
You didn’t waver as you watched him with narrowed eyes. Fuck it. Just get it out there. It was harder to hide what you and John were doing at this point. Easier to just deal with the shame and embarrassment on what was almost your own terms rather than let them see how much it irked you. “Ghost and I were gettin’ a wee bit worried at tha’ point so we went to go find the Captain. And you’ll never guess what we found in the old man’s bunkhouse.” Soap glanced around at the three men still left unawares before he finally blurted out, “What’d we find but wee Speck here heid doon arse up in Cap’s bed.” Jaws dropped around the table just as eyes turned slowly from the Scotsman and to you.
Your cheeks burned hot, but your hand covered the lower part of your face. Keeping them from seeing the physical reaction to Soap’s words being uttered. “Blödsinn,” Konig murmured beside you even as Gaz’s face scrunched up in disgust across from you. And, in the corner of your eye, you could just barely see Watcher too stunned to say anything even as a nervous smile lit up his face and he glanced around at the others to see their reactions to the news as well.
The young Brit across from you turned a look of disgusted annoyance on Soap before slapping the back of his hand across Soap’s shoulder and feigning a gag, “And your first thought is to tell us!? To tell me!? I don’t want to know what Cap does in his spare time. Jesus Soap, I definitely don’t want to know who he does-” The statement was cut off by another gag as he reeled backward in his chair and scrambled off, trying to get away. “Oh, mate, I’m gonna be sick,” Gaz took off towards the door all the while Soap crossed his arms over his chest and watched you with his chin lifted and pride written plainly on his face.
Even Ghost was giving a deep quiet laugh behind his mask as his shoulders shook with the effort. You stared straight ahead at the Scotsman, unwavering in the face of your shame and embarrassment. “Now that you’ve put my relationship out there for all of ‘em to see, may I go now? Or is your boyfriend gonna stop me this time too?” More stunned gazes shot around the group, Ghost’s laugh stopping immediately and his eyes narrowing into a glare. Soap gaped at you, clearly stunned speechless now. 
Your voice stayed so even in tone it was honestly kind of impressive as you stood from the chair, “Good, I’ll see y’all later.” Sliding out of the chair you made for the door, muttering a quick, “Fuss,” and then tapped a finger to the brim of your black hat with a forced smile. Turning on your heel you made for the door right behind Gaz, just get the fuck out with what little bit of dignity you still had left. Just go, go, go…
And so go you did, all the way back to your bunkhouse as you shut the door behind you and your head tipped back against the door. “Good God. Only me. Only I would end up in a mess like this. Goddamnit.” Cerberus was watching you as his head tilted again and you shook yours in response at him before pointing a finger at his wide eyes, “Don’t you start with me. I’ve already gotten enough shit from everyone else, keep your thoughts and your goddamn trauma to yourself.”
The dog’s tongue lolled as his tail wagged on the ground behind him. Again you shook your head, your jaw tensing before you let out a breath and glanced down at the empty bowls beside your bed. “Hungry, Cerb? Did they feed you this morning?” You grabbed one of the bowls and scooped some food out for the Dutchie before setting it back down. Cerberus watched you until you gave him a small smile and pointed down to it, “Go on, eat up,” and the dog lunged forward, digging into the bowl of food eagerly.
Filling the other bowl up with water you glanced around the room, eyes landing on the gear still sitting on the table you had yet to return. If you hadn’t threatened to kill him you were certain he would have already shown up at your door with that clipboard of his and the exhausted expression he always seemed to wear while he pleaded with you to give it back before his numbers came up wrong. But you had threatened him. Hell you had nearly ripped his whole fucking arm off in the process of doing so. And you would have, in that moment, done it without another thought.
You lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose, tension building slowly inside of you. Deep breath in, deep breath out. He hadn't meant it. He didn't know what he was doing. How could the guy have known? He doesn't even know you…None of them know you…Hell you don't even really belong here do you? You were here because John had picked out your face in a crowd. You were here because your one job, to blend in everywhere and stay completely unnoticed and unidentifiable, had been a complete failure.
There was a contract still held over your head by your bosses back in America. Whether they had attempted to kill you or not was still up for debate but you definitely still had to answer to them at some point. Hell you still had a year left on that fuckin contract and there was no way you could afford to lose it now. A passing moment of curiosity wondered if they were still depositing your paycheck into your bank account.
At that thought though the corner of your mouth lifted in amusement because you knew full well that if they weren't still depositing that money your ex-wife would have already tracked you down by now on her own. There was never a week that went by that she wasn’t taking your money without regard for how you would survive the week without it. Hell with how much money she got every month out of you there was no way she'd miss a single one of those deposits. You were her cash cow now and she would never miss a chance to collect.
God forbid you miss a single alimony payment to her or a child support payment for your son. And even your daughter had direct access to it too in order to pay for college, or whatever the fuck else she wanted. You were lucky if you ever saw a single fuckin dime of your paychecks. Lucky as all get out if you could afford to feed yourself through the week when you weren't on a base like this. 
Especially since you still had to feed Cerberus and there wasn't a way in hell you were gonna let him go hungry while you were eating. The meals you'd been getting here on base were the best damn things you'd had in months, that much was for sure. The family of vultures you had made for yourself would pick and eat at every single morsel they could pull out of you. Not having any money for them wasn’t even an option.
It was…depressing. At one point you'd have said without a doubt that they loved you, or at least thought about you sometimes with a hint of care. But now? Now you doubted that you'd even crossed their minds. Not even your daughter probably thought about you anymore. You were undoubtedly the last person that they ever wished to think about again. The father they would cry to their therapists about and the ex-husband your wife would one day tell her new husband about amidst tears whenever something went wrong. You were Lucifer himself to them. A stain in their past that none of them wished to remember and to be quite honest you didn't entirely blame them.
You wished on occasion you didn't remember them either. It would have been easier not to rather than to feel this deep ache whenever you thought about them. Especially when you thought about your precious daughter and son. God you'd have done anything for them, hell you still would if they asked. They were your children, your babygirl and your pride and joy. You loved them even now. Even after they'd left you completely alone in that hospital while you were recovering from that stupid fucking explosion.
Stop thinking about it, it wasn’t going to fix anything. It was just going to put you in a bad mood, better to just get on with your day and try your best not to think about them. With a sigh you moved towards the table and picked up the vest before running your thumb over one of the metal d-rings. You really should get all this stuff back to Wade. It was only right after what you'd done to him, besides you still needed to apologize for exactly that.
Grabbing it all up in your hands you glanced towards the bowls where Ceberus was and said, "Hier!" The dog lifted his head and trotted over to you before you issued another command, "Fuss." As soon as he was attached to your hip you opened the door and the both of you headed out for the armory, supply room, and the cages where you were almost certain Wade spent just about every waking moment unless he was told otherwise. With the bags under those eyes? The guy definitely spent most of every day there.
As you stood outside the building though you saw the gross miscalculation you had made. It was locked. Everything on this fuckin base was locked. Setting the equipment down for a moment you glanced between the keypad and the door. God this was so inconvenient. You kept doing this too, it wasn't like it was the first time. Though you had learned your lesson not to attempt to kick this door down at least. With your luck you'd plant another foot right in your poor Angel's chest again. The man seemingly had an endless well of patience with you but if you did it again you were sure he'd have a few choice words for you. Once is a coincidence, twice though and he might start thinking you were actually aiming for him.
Letting out a sigh you glanced around as if by some miracle one of the men with a code would see you standing here helplessly. Needless to say though, they didn't. "Son of a bitch…" You rumbled low and you saw Cerberus' head tilt in question. It was a phrase you said often when you were frustrated or annoyed and he'd probably picked up on that over the nearly three years you'd had him. "Not you buddy, you're a good one," the dark tail wagged in response and you smiled a bit at him.
At least until you heard a deep rumble behind you, "Who's a good one?" For a moment your eyes widened and you had to force yourself not to jump in surprise. Holy shit that had really caught you off guard. You hadn't even heard the man coming up behind you, he was truly too quiet for being as big as he was. Turning a quick glance over your shoulder you spotted the skull mask behind you and those narrowed hazel eyes with their hard glare.
You turned slowly to look up at him before clearing your throat and gesturing to the dog beside you, "Cerberus. He’s, uh, he's a good one," Ghost nodded quietly in his agreement as he watched you. Hazel eyes flicked down to the equipment now on the ground and back to you before narrowing them with a silent question. Following his gaze you answered his unspoken question, "Oh yeah I've gotta get this crap back to Wade. Don't wanna throw the guy's numbers off, you know?" You gave him a half smile as you watched him.
The gaze seemed to inspect you for a moment, you might have overplayed your hand in regards to his and Soap’s relationship. You could have sworn his hands were about to come up in an attempt to strangle you. Then without a single word he stepped by you towards the keypad and answered you with a hint of amusement in his words, "Worried about his numbers? Heard you tried to kill him yesterday, weren't too worried about his numbers then, eh?" The light on the keypad turned green and he turned the handle on the door, opening it as he stood with his back against the door watching you.
Watching him for a moment you picked up the gear and set a narrowed gaze on him, "Scuttlebutt is you and Soap are breaking those oh so important fraternization rules, don't hear me telling every Tom, Dick, and Harry bout that though do ya?" You shot back at him, maybe you were overplaying your hand but you weren’t exactly accustomed to having people question your actions so much.
Stepping by him into the building as his hazel eyes narrowed and he followed you with his harsh gaze. A strong grip around your shoulder stopped you though, a momentary thought that you were about to meet your doom crossed your mind, but you stopped to turn around towards him anyway. "Don't worry about it, roomie. Not like everyone else in that room didn’t already know. I’m not gonna tell your Captain or anything, not my shit to tell." The big man continued to watch you for a moment, considering your words and the knowledge you'd somehow acquired.
When he finally gave you a hesitant nod and turned towards the cages you watched him go for a moment. Ghost didn't even bother to turn back around though as he unlocked his cage, so you backed up to the supply and armory door and knocked the toe of your boot against it hard enough to get the attention of whoever was inside. The other side stayed quiet as you and Cerberus shifted awkwardly in front of the door. You could feel eyes on your back but you suppressed the urge to turn around. The urge that always persisted whenever Ghost was around and just barely out of sight.
Finally though the door in front of you opened and Wade's tired, bloodshot eyes stared back at you. The immediate reaction was the widening of the shorter man's eyes before the door was hurtling towards your face. Your brows rose in surprise even as your foot slid forward to block the door from slamming in your face. It jammed against the toe of your boot as you started to shoulder your way inside with Cerberus right behind you, "Wade! Hey man!" The door hit you in the shoulder and you huffed in pain as the heavy object slammed into your stitched up limb. It’d been feeling better but after that hit you weren’t sure it would stay that way for long.
The smaller man on the other side continued to try and close the door as your own eyes widened and you tried to reason with him, "Wade! Would you stop!?" The blonde only pushed harder against the door on the other side, trying to slam the door shut even with your body currently jammed in the middle of it. "I'm not here to kill ya man!" It still did no good but now even Cerberus was in on the fun as he reared back to put his paws on the door. His thunderous barks drowning out the words of the other man. It seemed the big Dutchie thought this was some kind of new training scenario, but with his added weight you could feel the door shifting in your favor. So you tried again, "I'm tryna return your damn gear, you jackass!" The weight on the other side stopped struggling.
In the next second the counterweight on the other side disappeared and you fell backwards still clutching all of your gear to your chest. A loud yelp of surprise left you as you hit the ground and the furry dog circled you a few times. Looking up with shock in your gaze you stared into the pale blue eyes of the skinny supply officer as he asked, "You're bringing the gear back?" He almost sounded just as surprised as you looked now as he reached down to grab the vest, helmet, and small pouch you had in your arms. The man didn't even attempt to give you a hand up, he just turned and set himself to organizing the contents you'd brought back for him.
With a deep sigh you sat up, rubbing your back to soothe the spark of pain there as you heard the door shut. Watching Wade turn away your face scrunched up in confusion and you shook your head, "Well yeah I brought it back. Figured it was better late than never, right?" Wade grunted as he finally turned to look back at where you were pushing yourself back to your feet. The two of you watched one another quietly for a few awkward and tense moments.
Wade was watching you with narrowed eyes, his arms crossed protectively over his chest, "Yes I did ask you for that. I didn't actually think you would do it though. All of you operators are the same and you never listen. Especially surprised that you are after what happened yesterday." You continued to watch him for a few tense moments. Your eyes darted down to where the bruises had already bloomed on his wrist in the shape of your hand.
Nodding you let out a sigh, "Yeah, about that. Listen I'm sorry man, about trying to rip your arm off and the whole threatening thing. I didn't mean to hurt ya I just." You paused, a hand lifting to the back of your neck as you scratched at it awkwardly, "I just needed that shirt…a lot. It wasn’t like you knew that though, so my bad man.” Now there was a look of shock that could rival a cat who just saw a cucumber for the first time.
The pale blue eyes went so wide it was almost like they were going to pop out of the man’s skull. It was obvious the man didn’t hear many apologies working with the 1-4-1, or any probably based on the way he was staring at you like you’d just grown three heads. “It- Did you just-” He seemed to be at a loss for words for a moment before he cleared his throat, his hands moving to clasp behind his back before he gave a sharp nod, regaining his composure. “It’s quite alright. I actually have some good news on that front.” He looked you over one more time, as if he was searching for some kind of sincerity in your gaze.
Apparently he seemed to find it a moment later as he turned towards what looked like his desk and squatted out of sight for just a moment. When he stood back up he held up a balled up shirt, torn in a few places and covered in old, dried blood. Covered in your blood. Your mouth parted slightly in shock before you crossed the open space in less than a heartbeat and pulled it from his grasp. The objects hidden beneath the fabric ran under your fingertips and relief washed over you immediately. A strain on your heart being lifted the moment you felt everything secured inside.
Your talisman had been returned to you. Your history, your reason for life, your very soul was back and safe with you. It was like a missing piece had been slotted back into your heart. The relief felt like a boulder had been rolled off of your chest. Even your breaths came easier. How had he found it? Why did he look for it after what you’d done to him? Thank the good Lord above he’d looked for it though because never seeing this stuff again might have actually broken you in the long run.
In an instant your eyes were back on Wade’s, “Shit man you actually found it?” There was a light in your eyes now that hadn’t been there the previous day as you gave him a look of disbelief. Wade merely nodded with a small smile on his mouth, “Thank God, I thought it was gone forever. Thanks Wade,” you didn’t even know the words to properly get across just how much you appreciated him finding this ratty old shirt. “Really man, thank you,” there was a bright look in his eye now as the man seemed to perk up.
A quick nod came from him as you stepped forward, offering your hand to shake in thanks. The ultimate gesture of appreciation you’d been taught. Wade glanced at it for a moment before his fingers wrapped around your hand and you gave it a firm shake as he replied, “You’re welcome, Speck. I’ve actually got the rest of what you asked for if you’d like to sign it out.” Immediately the light in your eyes began to die as you looked at him with a deep breath in and the blonde quickly changed his statement, “Or I can just ask Captain Price or Agent Laswell for their signature whenever I see them next.”
You smirked in response and nodded, “That would probably be wise, Wade.” He sighed as he rubbed his fingers against one side of his temple and cleared his throat. Until he turned and unlocked the chain link door behind him before disappearing into the bowels of his domain. A few moments later he returned with a phone, a lighter, and a few packs of cigarettes in one hand and a pair of work boots in another.
He held them out to you and watched as you took them slowly with the balled up shirt now secured under your arm. “The phone is secure so you don’t have to worry about anything with that. You didn’t say what brand you liked with the smokes so I just requisitioned whatever would get here the fastest. And the boots, well I checked the size of your other pair so I hope they fit.” You inspected each item as he detailed it and watched as he tilted his head and asked, “Anything else you needed?”
Looking down at the items you shook your head with an appreciative smile, “Naw man, this is perfect. Thank you.” He gave you that look of slight surprise again though he was getting better at hiding it now. Thank yous were apparently not all that common for him either. You gave him a quick nod and started to back up, “I appreciate it.” Shifting the items in your hands you held up the balled up shirt to show him, “All of it.” He gave you a quick nod in answer as you made your way out of the armory, glancing once towards Ghost’s cage where he was cleaning a few knives and his rifles.
The Lieutenant didn’t even look up though as you kept going out the door with Cerberus at your side. You shoved the cigarettes into your pocket along with the phone, you could mess with the new technology and the smokes later. Right now you had something much more important to do. Something you'd been putting off for far too long now. Something you should have done years ago. It was time to face reality instead of hiding from it.
Stepping inside your bunkhouse you tossed the shoes into the corner where your duffel bag was at the end of the bed. Then you sat the balled up shirt on the table, staring at the dried blood spatters that decorated the fabric in its heinous violence. Reaching forward you hesitated, the cigarettes and the phone in your pocket digging into your thigh to remind you that this was real, what you were about to do you could never undo. If you weren’t actually ready when you opened this thing up then you could never take it back. 
With a huff you pulled both items out and tossed them onto the table just beside the shirt. Again you tried to reach forward and again your hand stalled just above touching the fabric one more. Just seeing the object made your stomach turn as you swallowed down the bile trying to rise in your throat. Come on Speck, you could do this. You were a grown ass man. There were countless confirmed kills under your belt, countless war crimes you’d committed in supposed defense of peace. Why was this the thing that could make you stop and hesitate?
Quietly you cursed under your breath as you paced in front of the table. You thought you were ready to face these demons. You'd been sure you were ready to put all of this to bed now. And yet here you stood unable to untie the shirt and gaze upon the items you'd stuffed inside for safe keeping nearly three years ago. It was laughable how tumultuous your emotions were when it came to those you had lost and the past you hadn’t the stomach to face. Snatching up a pack of cigarettes you opened the container and slid one between your lips. In the next moment the lighter was in your hand as you flicked it, the flame dancing to life before you stopped your motion to light it, glancing to the other side of the room with a sigh.
Maybe it was best not to smoke in a room when you barely even knew your roommate. Sliding the phone into your pocket along with the rest of the now opened pack of cigarettes and grabbing the shirt you headed out the door. You certainly weren't going to leave the shirt laying around where just anyone could take it now. Hell you doubted you'd be able to let it leave your sight now after the suffering you'd felt the day before. It’d nearly killed you and an innocent man when you’d lost it, the last thing you wanted to do was face that reality again.
Standing on the landing you leaned over the railing as you finally lit the cigarette between your lips and took a deep drag as your eyes shut at the feeling of the smoke sitting heavy in your lungs. It was soothing and sure it was a terrible habit but at least you weren't an alcoholic right? This had always been your safest coping mechanism, especially when you'd been with your ex wife. 
Going home smelling like cigarettes was the easiest way to keep her away from you. She could handle the taste of whiskey on your breath. Hell she could even handle the taste of dip and chewing tobacco, but smoke? That woman detested the smell of smoke in all forms. Sure it would get you yelled at but at least she kept her hands off you whenever you smoked those things.
After all that time smoking them though you just couldn't seem to shake the habit whenever you were feeling jittery or anxious or just plain ole upset. It was almost like once you smoked them you knew you would be alright, at least until the smell started to fade anyway. A conditioned response like one of Pavlov’s dogs. Heh more like one of Rachel’s ex-husband’s. You took in another deep drag, with a smirk even as you sighed and exhaled the smoke in a great plume. Letting the cigarette rest between your lips you held up the balled up shirt in front of you, your forearms resting on the railing as you stared at it.
Two years, nearly three, you'd avoided this moment. Two years you'd kept it all bottled up inside and somehow it had been John Price who had gotten the story out of you. It was your Angel who had figured out the source of your nightmares. The men you saw die every night that kept the wound so fresh in your mind even as you ignored them with every waking moment. He'd gotten you to tell him everything, the only person who'd ever successfully gotten you to open up about anything. Where was he now though while you were standing outside the bunkhouse holding what appeared to be trash to anyone else.
Holding the shirt in one hand you continued to inspect it closely, your lips tilting the cigarette between them up and down as you lost yourself in thought. Another deep breath in and then out through your nose and you raised your freehand up to grab it and tap the ash off the end before returning it to its place where you could let the smoke dull your senses once more. How could you bring yourself to open this thing after so long now? It was as much a bad habit as your smoking was.
The sound of footsteps on the wooden stairs beside you caught your attention and you glanced to your left just in time to see John climbing up the stairs. The man’s head tilted as he saw the object in your hand and then he turned his gaze to your face before moving it down to your lips. “Those things’ll kill ya, love.” His blue eyes slid over the expanse of your lips and then met your eyes once more with an amused smirk hiding beneath that brunette beard. Narrowing your eyes you gave him a shake of your head and muttered back, “Like you don’t smoke? I smell it on you all the time John. Cerberus isn’t the only one who has a nose.” You spoke around the cigarette as you reached a finger up to tap your nose with a half smile. The brunette watched you for a few more moments as the dog laid by the door content and quiet.
He leaned over the railing beside you as he glanced at the shirt you were holding before he gestured to it with a slight nod, “Right…So what’s all this then, love?” A brunette brow rose curiously at you. Your own eyes slid back down to the shirt as you squeezed at the objects beneath the thick fabric. John sounded so British when he said things like that and it made you smile even despite the memories accompanied with the shirt in your hand and their trying to stamp down what little amusement you could currently find in your situation..
You turned towards him, leaning on one elbow on the railing as he mirrored the stance. The two of you faced one another as you held up the shirt between yall and you turned your eyes down to it with a tight-lipped smile, “Wade found it. I thought after our…talk last night I’d finally be able to open it again.” A dark huff shook your shoulders as you looked back up at him, “Thought wrong, I guess.” The Captain pointed with the hand he was currently leaning against the railing with and raised a questioning brow to you as you answered with a silent nod.
An impressed look came over his face and his brows rose a bit as he nodded, “So that’s the shirt that you survived in?” Huh, that was an interesting way to put it. You’d never thought about it like that before. It’d always been the shirt you’d lost everything when you were wearing. The shirt you were supposed to die while you were wearing, but saying it like that almost gave it a different connotation.
When your eyes found those blue hues still affixed to you, you managed a slow nod as you answered, “I’ve never thought about it like that, but yeah I guess you’re right. Sure is the shirt though. In all its bloodstained glory.” Finding the ground with your eyes you stood up from leaning on the rail and pulled the cigarette out of your mouth tossing it over the railing with a sigh.
John was watching you, you could always feel his eyes when he was staring. Hell you were starting to believe you could feel exactly where he was looking every time as well. Right now that gaze was watching every minute expression you were making. Clearing his throat he stepped a bit closer, “Can I help, sweetheart?” The pet name made your face run hot as you turned a small smirk up at him.
Shrugging your shoulders you felt his fingers graze lightly against the small of your back and his head tilted slightly. He was close enough now anyone who walked by would know something definitely not platonic was going on here. Did it matter though? The only ones who mattered knew now. Not to mention how the light touch made you feel as your chin tilted up and you glanced up at the sky. It felt almost as if he was feeding you confidence through the mere touch of his hand through the fabric.
The feeling was freeing. Standing up a bit straighter your jaw tensed for a moment before you glanced back down to the the balled up shirt and muttered, “You know what?” Your eyes turned up to the brunette and his piercing, albeit confused, gaze, “Fuck it.” You shoved the shirt towards him and he looked down at it with a raised brow as John smirked at the bloody and slightly torn up shirt.
“You want me to do it, eh?” Nodding a quick affirmative he stared at it for a few more heartbeats and for an unsure moment it seemed like he was going to refuse. He had the right to do so though. The damn shirt even had your blood covering it, no doubt he wanted to avoid touching that, which was fair. Not to mention these weren’t exactly his demons to face. But then he gave a quick nod and took the balled up shirt from your hands, testing the weight in his hand, “Bit heavy isn’t it?”
A quick nod of your head and he gave a low grunt as he looked down at it with that piercing blue gaze. Finally he gave a slow nod and stood up from where he was leaning on the railing, his now free hand coming up to pat your shoulder before he looked across the path to his bunkhouse, “Mind if I open it in there?” It felt almost like a protective suggestion. Almost like he knew that at any moment while those memories were crashing over you like a tidal wave you could break down. John knew, despite barely even knowing all that much about you, that you weren’t the type to put something like that on display.
Nodding at him his mouth lifted just barely in a small smile as he gave a firm nod and turned to head back down the stairs. The both of you headed across the path and up the stairs of his bunkhouse with Cerberus glued to your hip, your ever present protector. John unlocked the door and stepped inside, holding the door open as you made for the table and the two chairs in the room. Cerberus slipped under the table quietly, laying down with a huff as he went back to his light and quiet napping.
You and John sat down together as you leaned an elbow on the table and then your chin rested in your palm as you watched him handling the shirt carefully. Still cautious and flicking his gaze up to you every now and then as he made sure you were still okay with this. You merely watched with a tense jaw as he began to pull at sleeves where it was tied up.
It took him a few tries to get the knot to start loosening before he finally was able to start pulling it apart. “Bloody hell. You really paid attention in those knot tying classes the Navy gave you, eh?” You smirked a bit at him as he struggled with the next tight knot, his face looking almost exasperated by the time it started to loosen as well. “When you said you couldn’t open it I really thought it was more of a mental thing, but now that I’ve been trying for the past five minutes I’m starting to think you meant you physically couldn’t do it.” Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you tried to suppress a smile, catching his eye as he too seemed to be amused.
The humor helped to put you at ease in a situation that would have been extremely straining on your carefully constructed mental dam if it hadn’t been there. Finally though he got the last of the knots untied and started to carefully pull it open. Swallowing hard, you took in a deep breath with your nostrils flared, doing your best to maintain neutrality in the face of everything that had haunted you for so long now. Your entire body felt tense as you watched the bloodstained shirt open to him, revealing your past in the small things you’d kept with you for so long now.
He set the shirt on the table to keep from dropping anything inside and leaned forward to inspect the items. Your shoulders tensed as he pulled at a piece of metal that was hidden in the folds of fabric and pulled it closer to look at it. A metal tag shined in the light, coated in burn marks and warped almost beyond recognition as he tried to read the damaged tag and the name on it. Giving up he finally turned a questioning look at you, asking a silent question.
Your jaw tensed in response as you cleared your throat, feeling like a frog was stuck in it before you answered, “Xena’s. She had it on her collar when she died.” Raising a hand to rub your fingers over your mouth you leaned closer to him, reaching a hand out for the metal tag. He dropped it into your open palm as you sat with your elbows on your knees. You turned the tag over between your fingers slowly and looked up at him.
His gaze was still on you with a sympathetic look in his eyes as he watched you carefully. “Still good, love?” You nodded quickly before you sat up and placed the tag back on the thick, bloody fabric. He watched quietly for a moment before moving on to another item. The Brit pulled out an old bible and turned it over in his hands. He inspected it for a moment before he flipped the pages quickly like you would a magazine, notes written in the margins of just about every single page to reveal what the reader and owner had been thinking when they’d been reading it. “You’re a church boy then?” There was a hint of a teasing smile on his mouth as he asked and you could see the humor in his gaze then.
Looking at it you smiled just a bit before answering, “No. Not for a long, long time.” There was a quick pause and you clarified, “I used to be, before the Navy and the whole gay thing.” He chuckled a bit but he still looked curious as to why you would hold on to it even if you didn’t believe it. “My grandfather is…was a pastor. He always knew I was gay I think, never judged me for it though. He was a good man. When I enlisted he gave me the bible he used to preach out of, said he loved me, that he was proud of me, that he was scared for me…” Swallowing hard you felt the emotion welling up with the memory of that day before you’d been shipped off and the day a few years later when you’d gotten the call that he was in the hospital, “Said he hoped it’d keep me safe, that it did for him when he was in the marines.” You sniffed a couple times as you wiped at your nose with the back of your hand.
John finally gave you an understanding nod and you tried to keep your eyes dry, though you were failing miserably. Taking a deep breath your hands ran over your thighs as your eyes flicked up to him almost nervously. He laid the bible next to the warped metal tag as he nodded slowly and asked, “Sentimental then?” A quick nod from you of affirmation and your eyes shot to the floor where Cerberus was laying underneath the table just in front of your feet.
It took a few moments for you to get the lump out of your throat before you sat forward in the chair again and looked at the items scattered over the shirt. Reaching out your fingers closed around a yellowed piece of paper, the edges frayed from someone obviously having looked at it many times before it was tied up inside that shirt. The image on it was nearly gone like someone had been rubbing their hand over the crayon marks. And as your fingers ran over the piece of paper it was easy for the brunette sitting next to you to figure out just who had been paying so much attention to it.
His head tilted slightly before he leaned forward and asked, “What’s that then, love?” Your eyes flicked up to his face. His brows were tilted upward and there was a curious look in his eyes with the softest expression you’d ever seen on that beautiful face. Slowly you handed him the yellowing piece of paper, the image of a terribly drawn dog scrawled on it. John smirked and glanced up at you, a hand running over his mustache and then down into the shorter hairs of his goatee, “I don’t get it. A shite drawing of a dog?” There was a hint of humor in his tone and those ocean blue eyes that only seemed to grow the longer he looked at it.
Sniffing quickly and letting a small smile shine through, your arms crossed over your chest, “It’s not all that bad.” John’s face contorted and he snorted as he looked back down to the drawing and back up at you. “Ok yeah it’s terrible, I’ll give that one to ya. But,” you held up a finger to him, preparing yourself mentally to dig up your past. “But, my daughter drew it for me when she was four. Right before I went on deployment. It was my dog at the time, a Doberman named Cooper.” Looking at the drawing again you gave him a tight smile, “She always loved that dog.”
John nodded as he folded the drawing back up, following the creases that were nearly twenty years old now. As careful with the piece of paper as he would have been with his sniper rifle. He picked up a photo next, you and your old team, fresh off a black op with blood and dirt still in the wrinkles of yalls face and the creases of your clothes. Your vision went blurry as you looked at it, tears welling in your eyes as you fought to control the spike of pain that went through your heart. Their faces struck hard at your memories, resurfacing the good and the bad. 
Hell five minutes before that very picture was taken you’d chewed out Suarez so bad the two of yall had nearly come to blows only one step off the damn helicopter. The Brit inspected the picture closely, before you took it from him feeling the tears as they trailed down your cheeks. Wiping a fleck of the dried blood off the picture that had come off the shirt at some point. You shook your head with a pained look in your eye and struggled to mutter, “Damn, I miss them. The good and the bad, ya know what I mean?” Quickly you glanced up at John who was watching with a knowing look. Of course he knew, no doubt he’d lost men before, and you’d lost men before them as well, but it was different when you lost everything…
He gave you a thin smile, sympathetic to the tragedy you’d suffered. “I do know, I’ve lost men before and it’s never easy. It’s especially not easy when they’re all gone in a matter of minutes.” Your eyes turned down again to look at the picture, as you sniffed hard again. An attempt to stop the tears would have been in vain even if you’d tried. What hadn’t come out yesterday seemed bound and determined to come out now. And to be honest you weren’t making all that much of an attempt to stop it now, John had already seen you at your worst might as well just let it out at this point. It was better for him to see it than some poor other soul.
And so they fell. You stayed completely silent though. These weren’t the devastated and pent up sobs of the man who had still believed that if he just didn’t talk about it or think about it then it never really happened. No, these were the quiet tears of knowing you couldn’t change what had happened despite wishing you could have. It wasn’t quite acceptance but it was somewhere on the road to it. That was a step at least. Right?
Not even John existed at that moment. It was just you stuck in your head. In the overwhelming memories of every good and bad thing you’d ever done. You wiped at your face with the back of your hand and took in a shaky breath, laughing as the good, for once, began to outweigh the bad. Handing the photo to him you pointed at the short stocky man beside you with his Bravo Two badge on his shoulder. His arm was thrown around your shoulders as well as your Bravo Three, Suarez’s shoulders.
McCann's smiling face had brought out yours and Suarez's smiles as well, despite the two of you being at odds a few moments before. "He was my best friend. Ryan McCann. Man was about to make E9 and even get his own team. Dario Suarez," your finger moved to point at the other man McCann was holding onto. "Dario had just had a kid, a little boy. The baby was a month old when we left for this mission and he was getting too cautious. Nearly got our Four killed, Levi Knox," you pointed to the young man standing beside where you and Xena were.
John was holding the photo in his hand as he seemed to take it all in. His head tilted as he asked, "How long before it happened was this taken?" You tensed up as he asked, another wave of tears trying to well up in your eyes. When John looked up your tears were not lost upon him. His fingers found the growth of beard along your jaw. The rough fingertips catching at the short hairs as he tried to soothe the heartache you so obviously still felt.
Leaning into his gentle touch you cleared your throat as his thumb stroked your cheek, taking the tears with it. Finally you managed to answer him, "This was taken two months before it happened. Three weeks and Ryan would have had his own team…" The brunette nodded slowly as he held the picture between the two of you. You took it back from him with those silent tears still dripping. John's hands fell from your face though, one finding the top of your hand where it was resting on your thigh. The other found your thigh as he gave both a gentle squeeze of reassurance. Letting you know he was still there even without having to say it aloud.
Those hands were warm and comforting. Especially when his fingers tightened and dug into the muscle of your thighs for just a moment. Despite the tears still in your eyes you smiled at him, and he returned that pained look that he saw on your face. He could feel your pain just as much as he could see it. The fact that you could hurt him and you didn't even have to say or do anything inherently malicious was a bit disconcerting for you. It was a power you'd never known before. Others had held that power over you, hell all your daughter had to do, even now, was just look like she was upset and your heart was hurting for her. This was the first time you'd ever held this power over someone else though.
He cared…Holy shit he cared. Not only did he care though, you cared. Oh God you cared. Not good, so very not good. Why did he care though? Did it matter why? Of course it never mattered why things happened. It only mattered that it happened and that it was true. Your brows furrowed and your jaw tensed as you cast your gaze down to the hands that now clung to you. Examining the dark hairs that decorated his long, toned forearms and up towards his biceps which disappeared underneath the short sleeved shirt.
Swallowing hard you pulled your hands away, feeling a bit of panic in your mind at the knowledge you could hurt him. That was the last thing you wanted to do. That was something you couldn't even handle the thought of. His head tilted as he sat back in the chair, watching you for a few moments. He let out a deep breath, unsure what he had done but knowing he had done something to make you cautious. Finally he turned to look back at the shirt and the rest of the items he still had yet to inspect inside.
Moving the other photos around on the fabric you watched as he caught sight of the other moments of your life, all of them pulled out of the depths of time. Your daughter, your son, your parents, and even your ex-wife had been hidden in this time capsule. You'd forgotten how much was hidden within this bloody fabric. It was a burden you'd chosen not to carry for the past few years, a burden you happily hid away to save yourself the agony of reality. The moments trapped within those pictures almost made you forget the dead feeling in your very soul that had come along with those people. It framed your family as happy, loving, and from the outside looking in it had been.
There had been so much no one else outside your household had ever seen. The only ones who had seen it hadn’t cared enough to say anything. Mainly your parents. And it hadn’t been any of your teammates' place to say anything. They’d been helpless as they’d watched you suffer at the hand and tongue of a woman who’d have sooner seen you dead to collect the life insurance policy. You swallowed hard as your eyes zeroed in on the woman, your palms starting to sweat just seeing her face right now.
You didn't even notice when his hand stopped shuffling through the items you were so wrapped up in your past. At least not until he uncovered the photo a bit more and slid it over the tan and green fabric closer to him. You leaned closer but a large hand blocked your view of whatever photograph he was looking at. John seemed like he was frozen though, his ring and middle finger resting on the edge of the photo while his index tapped on it slowly. When you looked up at his eyes though you could see interest, as he picked it up and held it to where the photo was side-by-side with the visual of you sitting in the chair.
John's mouth twitched, his mustache flaring up with the movement as his jaw tensed. When the Brit's head tilted, inspecting you closely, his eyes seemed to light up a bit and he smirked something fierce. His voice deepened a bit and that gravelly tone made your own eyes light up with interest, completely forgetting the anxiety you’d been suffering a moment before. "I like this one, sweetheart. Mind if I get myself a copy of it?" The tears you had been shedding before still spilled down your cheeks but you couldn't help the laugh that came along with his question.
Sniffling you wiped a hand over your nose and then your cheeks before you let out another chuckle and leaned forward to take the picture, "A copy? A copy of what?" You flipped the photo around and your cheeks started to warm at the sight of it. The photo had originally been taken on a dare when you were eighteen. By the same woman you'd gotten pregnant and eventually married. Some of your rodeo buddies had told you to cut up a pair of jeans and see how long it took for someone to say something. So you'd done it at the last rodeo of the season, you couldn’t participate anyway since you’d just enlisted in the Navy. You brought your gear, your horse, your hat and boots, and cut your jeans into a pair of shorts so tight you'd basically been walking around naked at that rodeo.
It hadn't taken long for you to get thrown out of that particular rodeo that day. You'd just signed your enlistment papers with the Navy though a few days before, dropped out of highschool, you had a baby on the way, who cared about what those rodeo guys thought at that point. The fuck it method had already been in place by the time you enlisted, the Navy only watered the seeds of your self-destructive mentality for their own gains. Hell if it hadn’t been funny as all get out though. 
Never dare a southerner to do something you aren't completely sure you want them to do. There's not a single one worth their salt who wouldn't do it just to prove a point. Smirking, you shook your head and turned your gaze back to John, "You want a copy of this? I'm barely even wearing anything." The light grew in those ocean blue hues immediately at your reasoning.
John nodded as he smiled, "I'm well aware. What in the hell possessed you on this particular day to get you into a pair of cutoff jean shorts anyway, sweetheart?" Humor was in his eyes now and your own held just as much amusement as your cheeks heated and you scratched at the back of your head in embarrassment.
A tight-lipped smile took over your face as you tried to suppress it. “I, uh…” You hesitated for a moment as John’s head tilted with that humorous look on his face that made your heart skip a beat at first sight. “My buddies dared me, it’s a southern pride thing. You can’t refuse a dare, especially if you’re a stupid eighteen year old with nothing else to lose, and I was one of the stupidest. Especially if you asked my parents.” You huffed out a laugh as his eyes narrowed curiously at that comment.
The Brit’s hands shot forward to grab the photo even as your hand pulled away. But his fingers wrapped around your wrist before you could escape and plucked the photo out of your hand, just a heartbeat faster than you. Both of you lifted your brows curiously at one another as those ocean hues flicked back to the photograph in his hands as he took in the sight once more. When his eyes flicked back to you he asked curiously, “Why do you have the hat on?”
John’s eyes flicked back up to you with bright eyes as you shrugged and answered, “Whaddya mean why do I have the hat on? It’s a cowboy hat, John, and I’m from the South. Why do you wear that damn boonie hat everywhere?” His cheeks started to go a bit pink before he steeled himself while he watched you. After a few moments of silence you finally sighed and gave him a real answer, “I was on the rodeo circuit before I enlisted. Remember that dream I told you about in that bar? Yeah, well that was mine.” John nodded slowly as he listened but when you stopped he motioned for you to continue.
Your lips pursed as you watched him before you shot forward to grab the photo from the taller man. The Captain moved faster though, completely prepared for your sudden burst of speed as he spun out of the chair and waltzed out of your path. You stopped short just as your knee touched where he had been sitting moments before and spun to look at him as he smirked at you with that tilted head. Photograph still in his hand he waved it at you and asked, “You did rodeos? Like horses and bulls and lassos eh?” Slowly you gave an affirmative nod as your eyes narrowed at him suspiciously.
He didn’t seem to be satisfied with just a nod though. God was he expecting a verbal answer even when you two weren’t in the middle of fucking like rabbits? Taking in a breath you were about to comply until he then asked, “You still got the hat? And the shorts…” He paused for a second as his gaze flickered back to the photograph and he added quickly, “The saddle too and the boots. Shite, I want to see you like that now. You were cute then but now? Shite, sweetheart, now I think I’d have a heart attack seeing you looking like this.” You felt your face heat up at his words, your body responding without your permission. At least before you chuckled lightly and shook your head at him, almost not believing how much he was enjoying staring at that particular photograph.
“I don’t have any of that stuff now. It’s sitting at my parent’s house locked away like it has been since I enlisted and left rodeoing twenty-two years ago. Navy don’t like the idea of their property getting damaged by a bronc buckin em off.” John looked almost disappointed when you said no. Like you'd just crushed his hopes and dreams for the future. It made your heart hurt to see that disappointment in his eyes. Tilting your head you stood a little taller though and asked, “Why? What would you do if I still had all of that gear?” The blue eyes narrowed at you from where he stood and John took a step closer.
Those pure blue eyes were alight with interest now as he started to answer, “There’s a lot I want to do to you, love. Where do I even start-” Before he could continue though you stepped forward to close the distance between the two of you. At first he pulled the photo backwards. As if he thought you were about to lunge for it again despite having failed the first time.
Shaking your head a bit more you gave him a small laugh of incredulity and asked, "You like the gear?" You could see his breaths stop for just a moment as you got just a bit closer to him. The bright, curious gaze turned dark and heated with lust and focus. He was a sight to behold, you had to admit. Every muscle was seemingly tense with anticipation right now. John was an apex predator, and his main course…you.
That heated look never failed to turn you into a puddle of need at his feet. When he finally hummed an affirmative to your question you leaned back against the table with an inviting smile in response. His hand reached out for you but you caught his wrist in a quick grip and your other hand shot out to snatch the photo away from him before you danced out of his reach. A deep sound came from his chest, another low humming noise that rumbled like thunder from him. Holy fuck that was hot…
Apparently you'd said that out loud because in the next moment he was chuckling a bit and shot back a quick, "So is that picture. Now bring it back over here, or I’m going to come and get it myself." When you hesitated John stepped closer again and you hurriedly hid it, as if he wasn't watching every move you made, in your back pocket. Blue eyes narrowed in feigned annoyance with your actions, his brows lowering to cast a shadow over those now dark depths.
An innocent look overtook your face as you blinked up at him, tilting your head, the inside corners of your brows lifting, while your lips parted slightly in an ‘o’ shape. He took notice of that feigned innocence, and ignorance, as you shook your head in confusion, "What photo, Angel?" Was that a flash of amusement? He wasn't flustered this time when you used the pet name. Instead he seemed amused, probably enjoying your amazing acting at playing the innocent young man. Though you both knew that you were anything but innocent now.
Another step forward and John was near arm's length now, even as you took a step back and your knees hit the bed. The Brit still looked almost amused though it was becoming shrouded by his gaze which was heated with something much more primal now. A prickle of nerves ran up your spine at that look, and you had to force down the nervous smile. His deep, gravelly voice spoke up finally, "You're playing innocent with me? Might want to rethink that one, I know what you like for me to call you when I'm fucking you rough, sweetheart." Now that had your face flushing, warmth tingling every nerve ending now.
Your brows were nearly in your hairline at that statement though. There was no keeping your cool when it came to John. He could turn you into a mess with a few simple words. Especially when he had a look like the one he had right now. The pampering was over it would seem. He knew what he wanted and he was going to take it, and it wasn’t hard to see that you wanted him to do it. God, when did you not want him to do it. He could fuck you over a fallen tree in the middle of the woods and you’d be more than happy to go along with it. Fuck it.
You pulled the photo out of your back pocket then, looking down at it in your hand for a moment. Holding out the photo towards him with a tantalizing wave of the object you gave him a poorly suppressed smile and answered, “Take it then.” Those blue eyes narrowed just a bit and then his hand shot forward. You pulled yours back, his fingers wrapping around only thin air this time. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip even as you smiled and gave a short, suppressed chuckle. Oh you were gonna pay for this so good…
In the next moment though, everything turned into a blur of motion. John sprung forward, his strong arms wrapping around your waist trapping you against him and at the same moment you heard a chair fall over as Cerberus lunged out from under the table with blinding speed. Your eyes went wide as you watched the Dutchie open his maw as he was about to take hold. 
Cerberus was about to tear John a new one as he perceived a threat in the actions. Friend or not he would protect you from all dangers, both seen and unseen. “NEIN!” Your voice rose to a shout just before those jaws snapped shut on what you knew were thickly muscled thighs and ass cheeks. A string of whines came from the dog in response as he immediately paced nervously back and forth the moment he heard your command.
John whirled around in surprise to look at the dog, the arms he’d wrapped around your waist releasing you in a heartbeat. His blue eyes were wide as he glanced at you with seemingly just as many nerves as the big Dutchie was currently displaying. Both of them glanced at one another and then towards you, neither really understanding what had just happened. “Shit…I’m sorry, I didn’t think he’d do that.” Price’s wide eyes found you as you saw the calm slowly wash over him, hiding his nervous expression behind that carefully crafted persona of The Captain Price he always wore. For a moment it had been down, that strong, nearly unbreakable wall had cracked to let you see the softer man beneath. He had feared those strong, unrelenting jaws just as any man did.
Your own gaze was full of worry now though as you sat back on the bed and forced calmness into your tone as well as your expression before you said, “Hier, Cerberus.” The Dutchie’s ears were pinned back to his head, whines still escaping him as he pressed himself between your thighs. Cerberus had not been playing though, there were no sneezes or perked up ears. His tail was tucked, his ears were pinned, and he was panting nervously as he found comfort in your warm and familiar touch. The Dutch Shepherd knew that he had incorrectly evaluated the situation and to have heard such a loud negative command come from your mouth was almost as if you had struck him with your fist.
Cerberus hid his face between your thighs as you worked to calm him down, John watching on quietly with his inspecting gaze. Finally though the brunette asked, "He thought I was going to hurt you, didn't he?" A slow nod was your only confirmation as one of your palms rested on the top of the Dutchie's head and the other between his shoulder blades. You didn't pet or coo at him, he didn't need to be coddled. The only thing he needed right now was to know you weren't angry, he needed his confidence to be restored and that could be achieved without praising an incorrect response. So you merely sat there on John's bed quietly, even as the Brit took a seat beside you.
"Is he ok?" That deliciously worried voice asked, shit he even cared about your dog. You were both in far too deep with one another now. Slowly you gave John another nod of affirmation. The whining had stopped as well as the panting. Cerberus had fallen silent once more as he looked up at you, ears still pinned back before he glanced away towards John. That big head tilted, his eyes filled with so much confusion it was akin to the confusion you’d see on a child’s face when they were being reprimanded for doing something they didn’t quite understand.
Catching the dog's attention with a single light click of your tongue against the roof of your mouth had his ears perked up. Cerberus was visibly at attention now, tense and awaiting your command. With a sigh you kept your eyes on the dog but spoke to John with that calm tone, "You have no idea how close you just came to losing an ass cheek." The man beside you seemed to stiffen but you didn't know if it was from trying to hold in his amusement or from his surprise at your statement.
A few quiet moments and then you said sharply, "Sitz." The dog's butt hit the ground in a heartbeat and you awarded him with a soft smile. At first you weren't sure how to proceed, how to correct the behavior. You'd never had to do that before. No dog had ever gone after someone you were about to have sex with so this was new territory. It vexed you for more than a few moments as you watched Cerberus with an even neutral look. Even while you were confused it was imperative he didn't know that, he needed to have confidence in you and your decisions.
Finally you turned that even gaze on John and held out a hand to him, "Remember how I introduced you the first time?" John gave a single nod that he did in fact remember before you held your hand out, palm facing up. "Well then let me see your hand again. He's gotta learn, and he's gotta remember this time, not to go after you without being instructed. No matter the situation." The look on the Brit's was far past skeptical now. He made it very clear that he didn't like it by the furrowing of those dark brows and hard set line of his mouth.
It didn't seem like he wanted to relent on this. Maybe some gentle and sweet coaxing would do the trick. Dropping your hand to your thigh you tilted your head and leaned towards him a bit, smirking at his obvious hesitation. His heated gaze from a few moments ago was gone though. He was ice cold now with a steeled look as you asked, "You don't trust me? You've already done it once, what's one more time?"
John gave a stubborn harrumph before he answered, "I trust you…But it didn't stick last time though, what makes you think it'll stick this time?" He turned a cautious look towards the big Dutchie sitting on the floor. Your smirk turned a little more into a warm smile then, Cerberus eyeing John and vice versa. It was an amusing sight to be quite honest. The two seemingly were at odds when it came to you, especially at this very moment.
You shifted back on the bed, drawing both of their eyes to your movements as you slid behind John. He tensed a bit as you did, your chin resting on his shoulder as you settled against him, your chest flush with his back. Those blue eyes turned to find you for just a moment, considering your closeness with restrained interest. Your arms were wrapped around him from behind with your fingers laced together, your palms pressing against the strong planes of his stomach. When you shifted against him his eyebrows raised, unable to hide the quick intake of breath that was just shy of a gasp.
Slow and steady wins the race with this one it would seem. You had a horse like that once. A snort almost left you at that thought, especially when it occurred to you that you still had a horse like that. Just a bit taller than you with blue eyes, brunette hair, and the nicest beard to run your hands through. Wait Speck, hold on, back it up. You had a job to do. Gotta keep John from losing one of those perfectly rounded butt cheeks you loved to look at so much. Otherwise Cerberus might just take it off the next time when he inevitably went at him faster the next time.
Your fingers released one another, one hand sliding up his side, running over the t-shirt slowly as you felt his intercostal muscles in their ridged fashion just beneath the fabric. His arm raised instinctively then, providing your hand more room to explore as you tilted your face down to press a gentle kiss against the peak of his shoulder. John hummed appreciatively as slowly your fingers traced along the underside of his upper arm. Skimming over his bicep and then his tricep before continuing their slow path down to his forearm. The short dark hairs of his arms caught against your calloused fingers before you wrapped them around his wrist and turned his hand over slowly.
Until then he had been fairly oblivious to what you were doing, distracted by the slow and distracting ministrations of your hands. The second he realized though John tensed and narrowed those blue eyes at you over his shoulder. You held that same calm look though, despite the little jump in your heart when he leveled that gaze at you. Pressing another kiss to his shoulder you whispered with an even tone to him, "Trust me, Angel. I've got you." He melted back against you the second you said that little pet name and you cupped the back of his hand in your palm as you leaned him forward on the bed.
Cerberus, who had been sitting patiently at the edge of the bed while you coaxed John into doing this once more, was already leaning forward himself. The big, black head tilted before you said in a louder, but still calm, voice, "Duft." His long muzzle pressed immediately into Price's palm, sniffing for a few moments before he gave the man a few cautious licks. John couldn't have cared less about the dog though, he was still watching you.
Deep blue eyes leveled at where you were, just behind him in his peripheral view and tantalizingly just out of sight. He could feel you shifting behind him now, your hips occasionally sliding against where they were settled against his backside. There was a red tint to his face now and he didn't seem to give two shits about what Cerberus was doing until you whispered, "Gotta look at him, John. He knows you're not paying attention."
Silence prevailed for a few long moments, his beard twitching around the corners of his mouth before he rumbled out, "I'm paying plenty of attention, love." You smiled a bit before you leaned towards his cheek and pressed your lips just behind his ear. Satisfaction vibrated through him in what had to have been a purr, you’d have sworn it in front of your momma.
You shook your head and answered him quickly though, forcing yourself to stay focused now that John was a lost cause, “Not enough attention. Look at him, not at me, alright?” The brunette was pressing back into your chest now, leaning his cheek closer to yours so you could feel the scratch of his beard against your skin. Great, you’d given him just a bit too much and now he couldn’t pay attention to a damn thing you were saying. This man’s head was in the clouds and if it wasn't for the fact you were so focused on correcting Cerberus you probably would have been just as out of it.
However you had a job to do. You were forward focused on the task at hand. At least until his free hand drifted from where it had been over the back of yours still pressed against his stomach. You felt his fingertips graze over your knee before sliding up the length of your thigh. Oh he was on a warpath today. “Again? Really?” The corners of his mouth raised in amusement as he shifted the swell of his backside against your clothed member.
His fingers dug into the flesh of your hip behind him as he answered you, “As if you weren’t just begging me for it five minutes ago.” John pulled his other hand out of your grip, away from Cerberus’ sniffing nose as he started to turn on you. There wasn’t exactly anywhere else to go though, your back had already been pressed between him and the wall as he found your eyes. That burning desire was back as he edged closer to your lips, sitting sideways on the bed with your legs still framing his body. “Besides I can’t get enough of you, sweetheart.”
John pressed closer, the tip of his nose grazing against your skin as he added with a whisper, “Can’t stop thinking about you.” His beard was tickling your lips now, barely any distance now between the two of you but he wouldn’t close it. Just sat there watching your eyes, waiting for something. What was it he was waiting for? He seemed to know pretty well what he wanted so what could he possibly be waiting for you to do?
Too many questions and this was taking too damn long. He could make requests another time. Rather than wait for him you closed the distance. And the second you pressed your lips to his something started beeping. An angry growl came from deep in his chest as he pulled away. It wasn't anger with you, it was anger for yet another interruption. Yall were always getting interrupted. Every fucking time. He pulled his hands away from your already burning skin to fish around in his pockets until he pulled out his phone. Though even as the beeping continued the screen stayed dark.
Now not only was John angry he was confused as well. To be quite honest, so were you and you couldn't blame him. Confusion controlled your expression as you watched the phone stay stubbornly dark all the while the beeping continued. Until finally it cut off and both you and John glanced at each other until he muttered under his breath, "What the fuck?" You huffed in forced amusement and shook your head, obviously agreeing with that short synopsis of what had just occurred.
However you still had many other things on your mind after you had seen his obvious desire twice now. So, rather than let your thoughts run rampant about the ghostly beeping in Captain Price's bunkhouse you focused back on what you had been doing before it started. Taking his phone from his hand you tossed it on the small table beside the bed. He watched with a smug smile, his brows raised before you grabbed his hand and whispered, "Shut up." John let out a light chuckle as he turned a bit further on the bed towards you.
Your fingers wrapped into the collar of his shirt pulling him towards you. His hands braced on either side of you, caging you in with those strong arms. Impossibly large thighs were settled underneath one of yours causing your knee to hitch up just a bit as he stopped you from pulling him all the way. The brunette's head shook slowly, his lips just out of reach as he continued to give you that smug smile. "Eager now, aren't you?" Fingers grazed over your hip where your shirt had risen up just a bit. Shifting closer to him he pulled his lips away from yours again, keeping them just out of your reach. John's head shook once more as he stated simply, seemingly unbothered by that needy look on your face, "I asked you a question. Don't make me ask again…" His words trailed off, and every single word from him lit a fresh fire in your nerves.
A soft hum left your throat before you managed to get out, "Sorry. I just, I need you. Please," the Brit tilted his mouth towards you before he nodded and leaned forward finally. Letting you have the small satisfaction of his teasing mouth against your own. It was a bandaid for the burning of what felt like your very soul whenever he was near. John could consume you just by being in the same room as you, and it didn't matter whether he was even paying you any attention. It was a deep-seated need for him that seemed to drive every thought and decision you'd made lately.
Not even the burning shame could stop you from wanting this man. His beard no longer prickled against the sensitive skin of your face as much now, your own growing beard providing a little barrier of protection against the beard burn. Still though you could feel the familiar tickle of it against you. Smiling, you leaned further into the slow kiss. John shifted against you turning to face you completely now, his knees finding the bed and his hips settling between your thighs. He was rutting against you through the fabric that kept you from one another.
Your head was craned painfully against the wall but it didn't matter, not right now. Not while John was so close, and especially not when it was him pressing you back into it. Slowly you released his shirt from your strong grasp, sliding your fingers down the front of his chest and then his stomach, scratching his skin through the thick fabric that separated you from the skin beneath. Stopping at the waistband of his jeans you hooked two fingers into them, feeling him buck into you. As he did you could feel his awakening erection just below the fabric and it only fueled your own interested member.
Humming against your mouth he finally pulled his lips from yours, smiling down at you as your hips pushed up to return the favor of the friction against him. His tongue swiped out to wet his lips before he leaned down again, bypassing your lips and headed straight for your ear. Lips pressed against the shell before finding their way down to suck at the lobe of your ear for just a moment before he finally whispered, "Want me to fuck you then, love? Want me to fuck you rough?" Christ his voice vibrated your ear drums just right, driving you wild just through simply asking you a question, it didn’t even matter how dirty his words were.
You arched into him and nodded a few quick times, his lips now suckling at the skin just behind your ear. His teeth nibbling at you like you were a tasty treat he was savoring and you could feel him smile against you. Shit answer him, he's gonna stop, open your mouth and say something. It took you almost too long, you could feel him slowing down, about to pull away again to reprimand you somehow before you finally managed to whisper, "Yes. Fuck me. Please fuck me, rough and dirty. You know how I like it," his tongue darted out to soothe a harder bite against your neck before he nodded slowly. His breath whispering over the sensitive skin that was just above your pounding pulse, goosebumps rising along the skin in response.
"Want me to make you beg? Fuck you like you're my whore, eh?" God yes, yes you did. That's all you could think about. Please, yes. Your desperate nods and the pleading sounds from your throat seemed to satisfy him as he continued to kiss and suckle at your neck for a few more tension building moments. And then he pulled away so suddenly your eyes widened in surprise as you found his hard, blue gaze. His chin jerked towards the head of the bed then as he slid back and off the bed, "Not fucking you against a wall…Not today anyway. Get up there, hurry up." Your groan of annoyance had the hands he'd started to use to unbuckle his belt stalling before he got it undone. "You got a problem with that? Got a problem with doing what you're told?"
Immediately you shook your head, voice springing from your throat just as quick, "No!" His dark brows had furrowed by now, staring at you with that same hard look before you repeated, "No, no problem at all." John's jaw tensed before he gestured with a jerk of his chin to the head of the bed again as his fingers resumed undoing the buckle of his belt again. Sliding hurriedly up the bed you laid on your back, starting to work on your own belt, button, and zipper.
John didn't give you the chance to even start pushing the pants down your thighs before he was moving back onto the bed. One of his hands grabbed your wrists tossing them to the side before he had you by the waist and was flipping you over onto your stomach. The man was jerking you around as if you weighed nothing. Like you were as light as a feather. As hot as that was he didn't stop there though.
Strong hands gripped your hips pulling them up until you felt his cock rutting against your still clothed ass. Glancing back at him you could see he hadn't even bothered to shove his pants and underwear down either. The pants were still hanging around his hips as he leaned down, snaking a hand around to your front. His fingers worked quickly on your button and zipper, his other hand still guiding his leaking cock over the fabric of your jeans. The man didn't even look at you, focused on his own needs right now and it just felt so much more dirty than anything you'd ever done with him. Why was it so hot to be about to fuck with all your clothes on?
It was because you knew, even if neither of you were saying it, that he was about to use you, wreck you, with little regard for your own needs. And Christ if getting used by someone didn't make your erection throb something harsh. The jeans scratched harshly against your skin as John shoved them down, just barely enough so that he could see your entire backside. The familiar feel of his length sliding between your ass cheeks had you turning your face back into where your forearms were braced in front of you, a soft hum escaping your lips.
Just as you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance the both of you froze, hearing it again. That insidious beeping that was quickly becoming your nemesis even more so than all the keypads scattered around this base for which you had no code. Pushing yourself up off your elbows you glanced towards John's phone, your brows furrowing as the screen was still dark. Still you grabbed it, pressing the button on the side to light up the screen just in case but it was just a regular old screensaver. "What the hell is going on?" John voiced yalls question before you even had a chance.
Blue hues darted around the room, his eyes following his ears as you both tried to find the source of the interrupting beeping now. When he glanced down at you he growled out quickly, "It's coming from you. What the fuck, Speck?" His frustrated look turned a bit softer when he saw the clear confusion in your eyes. It was clear to see you had no idea what the fuck was going on anymore, your head was in the clouds.
Shrugging your shoulders you muttered, "It is?" Sitting back on your heels you patted your chest before moving your hands lower quickly until you hit your pocket. Your eyes widened as you let out a few quick curses and dug into your pocket. Pulling out the phone Wade had given you, your eyes went wide at the caller ID on the phone. 'Laswell.' You blinked blankly at the screen for a heartbeat before you slowly slid the answer button and held the phone up to your ear, "Hello?" John huffed behind you his forehead falling forward to land on your shoulder. His frustration was obvious right now, and he wasn’t happy in the slightest.
You'd honestly forgotten about Wade giving it to you, and you wished you'd just left it in your bunkhouse now. The woman's voice sounded on the other end of the line though as she said rather blatantly, "I need you to come in for the interrogation of the mother and son. They don't speak English and you already have a history with them. We're losing too much time now. Al-Mustafa could move at any point. Meet me at the interrogation room in five minutes." She didn't even give you a chance to say anything before she hung up the phone.
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temeyes · 3 days
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ghostsoap but make it pride and prejudice
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mockerycrow · 23 hours
Undercover III (Soap x GN!Reader)
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masterlist - undercover series masterlist • part four
Summary/Recap: After your undercover op has been exposed, Soap has to record an interview of your account of everything, along with any sensitive information you’ve learned. You begin to sort through memories that drag you into a dark hole.
A/N: there is usage of scottish slang, such as bonnie. bonnie is a gender neutral term, i know it’s often used in fem! fics, but please note it’s not feminine specific. also, thank you so much for the love on this!! also i’m lowkey making this a slow burn on accident, my bad—
[WARNINGS: angst, flashbacks, panic attack, very vague unintentional self-harm, violence, vague descriptions of corpses - gore.]
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I keep my eyes on the pillow that’s across my torso and lap, feeling like if I move my eyes to anywhere else, my heart will fucking crawl out of my goddamn throat. I hear Soap shift in his seat ever so slightly, and I think he’s leaning forward because his breathing sounds ever so slightly closer than before. “We had six weeks to prepare our new lives, six weeks to adjust to our government assigned personalities, six weeks to move some personal belongings to different areas of Russia, six weeks to brush up on our Russian.” My voice is quiet because I’m afraid if I talk any louder, it’ll tremble. I have a hard time swallowing whatever spit has accumulated in my mouth, the entrance to my throat fluttering. “I.. I got on the next flight to Russia, said goodbye to my old unit. In the United States, I temporarily, well.. no longer existed. They had to make it look like I never existed in the first place.” I pause for a moment, remembering how much of a pain in the ass it will be to officially exist as a U.S. citizen again after living as a Russian one for a couple of years.
“I was no longer [Name] [Last Name], I was Misha Antonov.” I take a deep breath and decide to risk it; I look over at Soap and he looks.. intrigued, troubled even. His finger twitches over the pause button before deciding against pressing it. “Was’it difficult to get into Makarov’s organization?” He asks, his left eyebrow eyebrow furrowing inwards like he’s hearing something he doesn’t want to—or maybe he feels bad. God. The last thing I want from anyone is pity. “A bit,” I glance at my fingernails to keep myself preoccupied. “He did, heh, ‘loyalty tests’.” My tone is a sneer, and my gut tightens at the memory of what I had to do to show my loyalty to the cause. There’s a heaviness to the air, the tension so thick you would need a meat cleaver and hack at it a couple of times to get through it. Soap is quiet and I reluctantly make eye contact with him, and we both know the unsaid question. ‘What did I do?’ I scan his face, his posture, his body language. Anything to tell me what he’s thinking.
Soap is certainly.. conflicted, like he knows he needs this information but he’s uncertain if it’s right to even ask. I close my eyes for a moment to regain my composure, but that was surely a big fuckin’ mistake because as soon as my eyelids closed, I see the blood of an innocent person spilled, dripping onto the floor, painting a horrifying picture behind my eyes of the different bodies—the different families I’ve torn apart and mangled. I jolt and my eyelids snap open as my heart skips a beat and settles into an unsteady rhythm underneath my rib cage, my heart monitor following along to the inconsistency. Fuck, fuck, why can I smell it?— that mortifying, dreadful smell of metal, licking at my nostrils. I phase out the beeping of the machines, fuck, my chest—it hurts, can’t breathe, I’m sorry, I had to, don’t you fucking understand?? I had to kill them, the world’s fate was on my fucking shoulders!!-
I grab at my chest as my lips part for air, my need for air following into an unsettling similar, inconsistent rhythm like my heart rate. Fuck. I have the sudden need to bolt, so I yank my handcuffed hand, and I barely feel the sharp pain of the metal digging into my palmaris longus muscle, the way it’s slicing through my skin, fucking unlock it, please, just—“Let me gO!”
Warm and callused hands on me—don’t touch me—I think I yell, but I can’t tell, numb, numbnumbnumbnumb—gunpowder, shit-
I form a fist with my free hand and I use all of the strength I can muster—I don’t punch, but I use that strength in my forearm to push them away, hopefully making them stagger. Just fucking leave me alone, please—!
“…amin’ bloody hell, bonnie, breathe!”
Soap’s voice manages to cut through the sheer panic that’s overflowing everywhere around me—his hands are on my face?? Why is he touching my face, don’t fUcking touch my—One of his hands leaves my face and returns with something fucking ICE COLD, sending a shock through my system. “wHa-“ I cough and try to push him away again but I hear a muffled, soft apology before the cold thing moves from my face to the back of my neck. The shock.. feels like my system got reset in a way. I blink rapidly as I pant, my vision flooding back to me, along with my hearing. I have this fucking ugly, heavy feeling deep in my stomach.
My eyes remain unfocused as I look at the man next to me and his proximity makes me jolt; Soap is right up next to my bed but on the other side this time, one hand holding my handcuffed arm and the other holding.. I think an ice cold hand towel? His face comes in and out of focus, and I catch glimpses of worry and concern. “Back wit’me now?” Soap’s voice is a low, raspy murmur as he speaks, like I’ll bolt any second. I nod and shakily take a deep breath to control my breathing completely, and he nods in response. “Good, there ya are.. Take another one, yeah?” I follow his instructions and repeat my last deep breath, the oxygen flooding my lungs, flooding my veins.. Now that my chest no longer aches, or at least ache in the way it does when you have a panic attack there’s this.. stinging pain lining my wrist. I wince with a hiss and look down and the metal ring of the cuff around my wrist is lined with blood, dripping down onto the blanket. “Goddamnit.” I whisper, my voice hoarse. I go to turn my wrist to see if I’m able to view how much I fucked up my skin and joint, but Soap’s hold on my arm tightens and he makes a quick tsk sound. “Don’t’cha move that, maybe it’s a wee bit better t’let the nurse take a look.” I mumble “maybe” and I try to rest my wrist, but I can’t. No matter what I do, it fucking hurts. Soap stands up which makes me look at him and he reaches over to a button pad near my pillows and presses the big red button, a soft alarm going off down the hall. He situates himself back in his seat.
I make eye contact with him and his gaze is so.. intense. So many questions, his eyes searching mine for.. something. I don’t know what that ‘something’ is though, and it’s bothering me. “We can continue the report tomorrow,” Soap’s hand gently lets go of my arm—which I completely forgot he was holding—but he keeps his other hand holding the small hand towel to the back of my neck to keep me calm and grounded. “I honestly dinnae ken ta’reason why they’ve decided to do this shite so early.” I blink as I try to make out what he’s saying because his accent is thick, but luckily I’ve spent some time around some Scots in my lifetime to give me a head start. “Early?” I repeat back to him in a question. Too early to.. get the report?? Of course they’re going to want the information as soon as possible, it’s fucking Makarov! “Early.” Soap confirms back to me. “You’ve barely been awake enough to properly process this.” My eyebrows furrow together; why is this random guy concerned about that? His only job is to literally make sure I don’t try to do some stupid shit before my evaluation. Like kill myself or someone else, something like that. Before I’m able to retaliate what I’m able to sense in his voice, a middle aged man wearing this green scrub outfit. He gives me a wide and fake, polite smile. I fucking hate this. “Hi, I’m Mr. Sutton, one of your nurses for the day. What is going on?” His tone is laced with faux-politeness, and I can see the corners of his smile are tight, like there’s strings pulling his lips into something that isn’t a snarl. I feel my muscles tense and suddenly I feel lighter—but my heart rate monitor picks up a skipped heartbeat and I can’t feel my fingertips again.
Sutton immediately eyes my monitor and furrows his eyebrows, looking back at me. “Are you feeling alright?”
I don’t answer, I can’t.
It’s like I’m fucking stuck in that godforsaken chair again, waiting for Makarov to come up with a new attempt to beat the fucking shit out of me, to wring out my plans.
The adrenaline.
Soap calls me by my name but I don’t look at him. I keep my eyes trained on Sutton.
Fuck, I can barely think.
Why am I suddenly like this? Why is it this particular nurse?
“Maybe it’s best if a different nurse treats ‘em.” Soap suggests to Sutton, his tone laced with a warning.
Yeah, thanks for stating the obvious, captain.
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My eyelids flutter open and I stare at the ceiling as I wake up—my wrist was disinfected bandaged, and handcuffed one again. There’s no noise besides the faint beeping of my machines. I was given medicine so I could sleep, I really wish they hadn’t given me that stuff because now I’m laying here with the image of a mutilated body burned into my memory. Her name was Anya Kozlov. She didn’t do anything, yet Makarov had me slaughter her and leave her remains out like I was a poacher. My fingers twitch as I feel discomfort around my abdomen, which is where some of my surgery stitches are, so my pain medicine is probably wearing off. I stare at the fluorescent lights of my room until I can feel the dull pain of looking at a bright light source for too long settling in my eyes. I blink harshly to “reset” my eyes, my free hand coming up to rub my eyes gently, then going up to my eyebrow muscles and apply pressure, rubbing in slow, firm circles to relax the muscle. I freeze for a moment because this is a habit that developed after I successfully got into the organization—a clear sign of stress.
My thought process is interrupted by a loud snore, making my skeleton nearly fucking jump out of my skin. I quickly look to my right side and.. It’s Soap?? He’s still here??
He’s leaned back into the chair in a position that cannot be comfortable—these are the chairs that have squishy padding as a seat until you sit in it for ten minutes and then your ass goes numb. His legs are spread out in front of him in a manspreading kind of way, one of his hands on his chest and other on his lap which is holding a.. book of some kind? Maybe a sketchbook? Looks like it. His head is limp and is resting against his left shoulder, his lips parted with a line of drool, soaking into his shirt. The corner of my mouth twitches. I notice a pencil behind his ear, which he must’ve been using for his notebook, er sketchbook… Maybe. I feel my muscles slowly untense and honestly, I barely noticed how tense I was a few moments ago, how paranoid I felt when I thought I was alone. I glance at the door and then back at Soap’s his snore dying down into a soft rhythm as he adjusts his head’s position in his sleep. I wonder about the story surrounding that chin scar? The scar runs deep into the skin there, so it must’ve been something nasty. My eyes trace the way his nose is shaped, how the beginning of his eyebrows are furrowed inwards. His long eyelashes flutter ever so slightly which I take as my cue to look away, dragging my eyes across the room to scan for anything new, which of course there isn’t.
This is the reason why I hate being stuck in one room for a long time. Of course, the familiarity is somewhat comforting, you don’t have to stare frantically search for something that may be different, a weapon, a bomb, something, but at the same time? It gets me antsy. I’d much rather be able to get up and leave this room, but one, I don’t think anyone would let me—even if I managed to get myself out of these cuffs—and two, I’m not sure if I can stand. Fuck. My chest tightens at that thought; I’m not sure if I can stand. I can’t help but think back to Makarov and what he did to me, how he found out I was not born Russian. A part of me wants to resent Soap and whoever the fuck was in that room, and trust me, a little part of me does because they did a piss poor job at basically slapping a couple of bandaids on my wounds and then decided to try to waterboard information out of me?? If I didn’t say anything to Makarov, what did these fucks think they’d get out of me? I take a deep breath, feeling my chest expand as my lungs fight to make room for the oxygen. I hold it for a couple of seconds and slowly exhale through my lips. I need to calm down.
The door swings open to my room, making my heart rate spike again, my fingers instinctively grabbing the pillow on my front. Dr. Erikson and Mutton-Chops enter the room, and I don’t feel any better. Their eyes land on me and I can see the surprise stretched across their faces, at the fact that I’m awake, but I have a hard stare and I keep it. My shoulders ache as my muscles lock up once again. The door opening jolted Soap awake, my eyes flickering to him once I hear his sharp inhale from being startled. His head is turned and his eyes are also on whoever entered the room—scanned the room like a soldier. I hold back a quiet chuckle because of fucking course he woke up from that, he is a soldier. “You’re awake, [Name].” Dr. Erikson points out as he walks over, holding a clipboard. I don’t respond; my throat feels tight. He pauses at the fact that I don’t respond and he glances at Soap, then Mutton-Chops, then back at me. Dr. Erikson’s hand gestures to Mutton-Chops. “This is Captain John Price. We know you are having some trouble.. recounting what happened on your end, so Hudson thought it might be helpful for Price for catch you up to speed on his, considering you both have similar goals.”
Soap’s groggy yet loud voice cuts in. “What?” His tone is incredulous as he properly sits up in his chair, closing the notebook sketchbook thing in his lap. Mutton-Chops—the man who now has a proper name, Price—shoots Soap a look, like it holds so many words unsaid. Whatever his look said is enough to get Soap to quiet down. My fingers grip the pillowcase again because the silent, unspoken communication causes this weird fucking anxiety to flare up in my stomach. I don’t like it. I don’t respond again. Dr. Erikson approaches the IV machine—an infusion pump I think it’s called?—and presses a few buttons. I panic and I grab his wrist and yank it away because what if he’s sent by Makarov to finish me off, what if—“He’s just adjustin’ yer meds, bonnie.” Soap’s voice is low but close and I don’t bother to look at him, but I slowly let go of the doctor’s wrist. Dr. Erikson’s face has a troubled expression before he writes something down and takes his leave through the swinging door he came through in. That leads me to look at Price, as I’m left alone with him and Soap. He comes over to the other side, opposite of where Soap is sitting. I keep eye contact with the man and I must be unintentionally glaring at him because he’s looking back down at me with a challenging gaze. Gaze that screams ‘you have a couple of loose screws, don’t you?’
I can’t tell if I’m imagining it or not anymore, especially when he finally speaks. Price’s voice is rough, like gravel, yet incredibly soft. Which I hate because I feel like he’s treating me like a ‘civ.
“We need to get your head on straight.”
taglist: @glitterypirateduck @darling006 @elowynnlane @hardnutpost @boycigs @wolfyland07 [if you are here and your name isn’t grey, it didn’t let me tag you!]
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German!Reader: Schnitzel and Pommes
König talking to Soap after a fight: You saved my life just now... Thank you so much! Soap, who had covered him with his body: Ah no problem, big guy, it was nothing. Gaz: No, you really did save his ass there. König: Ja... that was really brave! You know... When we're home I'll cook you some Pommes and Schnitzel. I think you'll like it. Soap: I don't know what exactly that is but hell yeah, thanks König! König, shyly: You're welcome... Gaz: oh? [A few days later] Reader: I heard you got married, congrats man. Soap, confused: huh? Reader: Gaz told me König made you some Schnitzel with Pommes. Soap: He did, it was really nice. But what's that got to do with marriage? Reader: König proposed to you with that meal! Soap: What? NO! He just wanted to say 'thank you' for saving his life! Reader: HE MADE YOU SCHNIPO!! THAT'S THE EQUIVALENT OF GOING DOWN ON ONE KNEE!!
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ohshititsamber · 3 days
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Everyone loves a little jiggle jiggle 😈
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soapskneebrace · 2 days
I don't know if this is an overstep so if it is feel free to ignore this but do you have any tips on how to write for Soap? I have a few things down already but i feel like I'm not getting his character right. Thank you <3 (love you work btw hoping things are better for you)
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I’m kind of surprised I’m being asked this since I really haven’t written for Soap all that much! I do have a few things I think are important for writing him, which I put into practice when I consider his character and also gravitate toward in reading fic about him. This turned out to be kind of long, sorry lol.
I tend to break Soap down into certain specific traits: he is outgoing, he is provocative, he is compassionate, and he is self-sacrificing.
Outgoing—we see, constantly, that he’s the one offering his hand to shake, that he’s the one asking other people questions about themselves. He does his best to learn Spanish to talk to Rudy and Alejandro. He saves Ghost a seat on the transport in the very first mission of MW2. Soap is warm and friendly, always eager to talk to people and learn about them. He is absolutely the extroverted friend every introvert needs to feel comfortable leaving their safe space to explore the world at large, and he’s happy to be that friend too.
Provocative—Soap likes to push buttons. Nothing shows this more than his interactions with Ghost; “Actually he prefers to be called—”, “The mask…take it off,” “Are you ugly?” And so on. He is willing to say things other people might find less than tactful because of that outgoing nature of his. He isn’t shy about things other people might politely avoid. He does not, of course, cross significant lines; he doesn’t presume to actually tell Ghost what he thinks of the mask. I think this is because Soap is very good at taking the metaphorical temperature of his dynamic with other people—he can see where a boundary might be, and test how permeable that boundary is without outright violating it.
Compassionate—he does not provoke to cause trouble. Soap cares, deeply, both about his comrades and what is right. He’s the one to ask about the families driven out of the cartel compound they search through for Hassan. He’s the one to remember that Alejandro and Los Vaqueros are still on the oil rig before they blow the second missile, and he’s the one to warn them to get clear (I’m pretty sure). Soap likes people very much, and believes in their inherent worth. It’s why he manages to crack through Ghost’s armor; he is not shallow in his efforts to bond with the lieutenant. He actually cares enough to make the effort.
Self-sacrificing—because of Soap’s wealth of compassion, we see that he’s willing to put himself at risk for the greater good. He volunteers to go into Diego’s manor alone to find El Sin Nombre, and he chases after Hassan in Chicago after nearly getting blown up to stop the missile from reaching DC. He is cavalier with his own personal safety, and I think he might also be a little reckless with his own well-being in favor of getting a job done. After all, almost all of his campaign skins have him wearing a brace on one knee, and let’s not forget that he fucking GOT SHOT and kept going anyway without treatment. I think Soap doesn’t really pay great attention to his own pain, because he thinks outwardly; his main consideration is for others, not himself, even to his own detriment.
So those four things are what I’d consider foundational traits for writing Soap! I think they are excellent lodestones to return to if you get lost in trying to figure out how to characterize him. It’s easy to reduce him to bumbling comic relief (and I think that has, in part, something to do with him being Scottish, as Scot characters often suffer reductive treatment), but he can be richly complex given enough consideration.
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namedlunagoddess · 2 days
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eye studies pt 2
(...but it's turned more into facial expression practice LMAO)
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jera-sketches · 6 months
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Some COD sketches
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sapphyrnidae · 5 months
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that iconic lord of the rings drawing except make it call of duty
gaz has to be in the carrier because he’s the one who keeps falling out of helicopters 
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amustikas · 5 months
Tiny Soap rizzing up Ghost hardstyle!!
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bubble-dream-inc · 6 months
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this stupid ass meme has been festering in my brain ever since the mission where these two flirt in comms for an hour
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cannedmuffins · 3 months
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The fact his hood is a shirt with a stupid tuff of hair sticking out the top has not left my mind
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ave661 · 5 months
2022 was a tough year, so I wanted to welcome 2023 with a smile and laughs.
I present to you low quality memes!
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robynrileyart · 4 months
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ass ass ass (also on twitter)
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