#soap x reader
warenai · 2 days
Y/n, about to do something risky: I’m so doing this and neither you, Ghost, Price, or even the Los Vaqueros can stop me
Soap: *takes out his phone and starts typing on it*
Y/n: Soap…
Y/n, nervously: Johnny, what are you doing
Soap: *puts his phone away*
Y/n: Johnny, what the hell did you do
Ghost, suddenly appearing in the doorway: Y/N L/N!
Price, from upstairs: *incoherent screaming*
Y/n: OH SHI-
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mockerycrow · 14 hours
Hello Dearest!
May I request König (I love this man) and the 141 squad (separately) where fem! reader catches them staring at her joocy ass as she's slightly bent over a table, translating some papers for them, and when she turns to see if they're listening she catches the way their eyes panic and look elsewhere.
Please my lord, I'm on my knees
Fem!Reader Catches The 141 + König Looking At Her Ass
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cod masterlist
A/N: i hope you enjoy!! also this gets a bit dirtier than i intended,,,,
You’re standing up with your hands on the table, slightly bent over it with your eyes scanning the documents in front of you. The words that flood these pages hold valuable information and it’s a language none of the main members of the 141 understand. Your their main translator for any documents and prisoners as you’ve studied and have become fluent in a variety of languages. Your eyebrows furrow as you lift one of your hands and move the document a bit to the side to reveal the one underneath it, and then that hand hovers over the laptop you have set aside to type up your translations. Your back is arched in such a way where your ass is slightly bending outwards. “Hey, where did you guys say you got these document from?— What Country?” You pick the document up that caught your eye and your eyes scan every word, muttering quiet translations. You notice he doesn’t say anything, causing you to look back at him. “Hey, are you listening?—“ Suddenly his head looks the other way with a clear of his throat and you’re left confused. Did this topic make him nervous? Did something happen when they got these documents for this reaction to occur?—and then it hits you. He was staring at your ass. “Were.. were you looking at my ass?”
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-> John Price
He clears his throat and his fingers go to his chin, rubbing at it nervously. Price hoped you didn’t notice him staring; he couldn’t help it. The way your back is arched just puts your ass on the most perfect display, and the way your pants are hugging your ass?? God, it’s like you wore them to kill him.
He can’t deny it, not when you so clearly caught him red handed. “Guilty.” He responds, his eyes darting anywhere but you. He’s being careful, as he knows this could very well go a way he didn’t want. “I’m sorry.”
Price has always noticed you around base, always thought it was a pleasure working with you. Your skills and talents in quick translation always impressed him. Your quips and your remarks have always intrigued him as well. It’d be a lie to say this is his first time staring.
“I don’t mind.”
He nearly asks you to repeat yourself but the glint in your eye, combined with your eyelash batting and the way you’re sticking your ass out even further, openly letting him take it in.
You then turn back around to your work, purposely bending your leg to stick your ass out into such a glorious pose, causing him to swear under his breath.
-> Kyle Garrick
He laughs with a nervous hue, his hands behind his back, one hand gripping the wrist of the other. Kyle can feel his heart pounding through the pulse on his wrist. His face feels hot from embarrassment as he clicks his tongue and rocks on the balls of his feet for a second, avoiding any eye contact with you. “Nope.”
You smirk because you know he was, you saw that split second of enthrallment, admiring the way your pants hug your ass, curving in on the underside, folding in such a perfect way, showing off how grabbable it is, how the meat of it would sink under his fingers. His face begins to heat up as his fingers twitch, the want to squeeze filling his gut.
“Mhm, sure.” You didn’t sound mad, in fact you sound.. amused. You turn back to your work, but not before pulling your pants up even further, digging into the crevices of your muscle. You pretend you don’t hear the quiet, shocked “damn” come from his lips for his own sanity.
-> John MacTavish
His cheeks are red while his hand scratches the back of his head, which he does when he’s embarrassed. Soap hesitantly looks at you again after a second of not responding. You look back at him with a smirk curled on your face, tilting your head as you oh so innocently change poses by leaning your back more into a down position, arching your back ever so slightly more than before.
Okay, now he was definitely obvious with his staring. Soap has to admit that he’s glanced once or twice before, but he never stared when he thought there was a chance where he could get caught.
You hum and turn back to the documents below you, and Soap thought that was that for a moment—oh, how he was wrong. You begin to talk.
“I know you were,” You quip. “How long?” He jolts ever so slightly, offering a nervous chuckle. You note his accent seems to thicken and drip from his voice like thick honey now. “What d’ya mean?” You look at him with a raised brow, and he gives you a smile that shows his gums. You roll your eyes playfully.
“Y’know, if you just admitted it, I would’ve let you touch.” Wait, what?
-> Ghost
He weighs his options and lets out a heavy sigh with an admission of guilt which you grin at; it’s not easy to get Ghost to admit to something like this. Admit to a mistake made on the field, sure, no problem, he’ll take full ownership but fuck, this is different.
You tread carefully, but you bite your lip, keeping your eyes on his. You notice the way his eyes are slightly wider than normal and he’s looking away; you guarantee that he’s blushing under that black grease and dark skull mask and you love how nervous he seems.
“It’s alright to look.” You murmur, and you turn your head back to the papers in front of you. As soon as he knows you look away, he looks back at you, and more specifically your ass. “I know these pants are tight, hm?” You can’t help but tease him about it, bending your spine so your ass is out more. “I beg your pardon?” His words are slow and connected in a swift sentence, his voice slightly tight.
You don’t respond verbally, but you shoot him a look over your shoulder that says it all, and he returns a lidded look that involuntarily pulls a grin from your lips.
-> König
“I apologize..!” He blurts out as he looks away, his fingers intertwining nervously. He did not mean to stare, really, but your pants are so tight and he’s usually really respectful and he doesn’t usually stare, and he can usually keep his eyes from wandering—
You tilt your head as you notice the man just lock up in place and you can’t help but bark out a laugh, causing him to glance at you before glancing away, pure shame radiating off of him. “König, it’s fine, I don’t care,” You begin, the corner of your lip lifting in amusement.
König keeps his eyes off of you even after you say you don’t mind as he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but that doesn’t stop his mind from wandering. He wondered if those pants fit you that tight everywhere? Did you own any pants that fit you tighter?
His eyes do end up on your ass again as he wonders if you own any tight leggings, the type that are sheer and and hug your legs and waist tight. The type that leave little to the imagination as it hugs the swell of your ass and the roundness of your cunt—
“König.” “Es tut mir Leid!!”
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pastelalchemy · 3 days
how you met:
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warnings: none.
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simon 'ghost' riley met you at a bar he frequently visited with the men when they were off deployment. you were sat at the bar surrounded by a bunch of your lady friends, drinking and chatting, when suddenly your eyes met his. you couldn't help the blush that rose to your cheeks as you quickly looked away, captivated by the masked man. simon continued to look at you, watching the way you tucked your hair behind your ear and swig your drink before ordering another one, giggling with your friends. you thought about walking over to the masked man, thought about introducing yourself, but you decided against it. he probably always gets females throwing themselves at him. soap had noticed the object of simon's stare and smirked before whispering "why don't you just go over and say hi."
plucking up the courage, simon downed his whisky before slowly, and unsurely, making his way over to you. he was half-way there when he noticed your friend watching him before bending over to you and whispering something. you turned your head to look at simon, smile lighting up your face. he thought about turning around and cutting his losses, but you stood up and walked the remainder of the way, meeting him. "hi," you said softly, holding your hand out. "i'm y/n."
"simon," he replied, taking his hand in yours and shaking it. "but you can call me ghost."
"ghost huh?" you asked with a tipsy giggle. "i like that."
you sat at the other end of the bar for the rest of your time at the bar, talking with simon. when you had to go, you pulled a tiny notepad out of your handbag, scribbling your number on it and giving it to the man infront of you. "text me," you whispered, before turning around to meet up with the rest of your friends and leaving the establishment. simon looked down at the piece of paper with your number on it and he hoped that it was legitimate.
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könig met you at a supermarket. he was shopping for the essentials and wasn't looking where he was going, when all of a sudden his shopping trolley ran into yours. "verzeihen sie mir," he whispered, looking at you apologetically.
"huh?" you asked, tilting your head.
"forgive me," he translated, a shy blush creeping up on his cheeks as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.
"it's okay, happens all the time," you smiled politely. your words put könig at ease and he felt like he could finally breathe. "are you german?" you asked, taking note of the german language used upon his apology.
"austrian," he corrected you quietly.
"sorry," you responded, a blush now spreading across your cheeks. "do you come here often?" you asked. könig nodded, unsure of what exactly to say. his face was flushed red with embarrassment but he watched as you continued to grab your shopping items off the shelves, occasionally looking over to him. "it's a good supermarket," you said randomly, trying to make small-talk with the man who loomed over you. "as far as supermarkets go anyway."
the man chuckled and nodded, "ja, as far as supermarkets go," he repeated.
"i've always wanted to learn german," you admitted, just letting your brain do all the talking as the two of you began walking through the aisles together.
"i could teach you," he said.
your eyes lit up, glistening with excitement. "really?" the man nodded in response. "my name is y/n by the way," you said, realising you had never told him your name.
"könig," he replied.
"would you... like my number?" you asked sheepishly, looking könig in the eyes. the man nodded, face still flushed with embarrassment as he realised you were coming on to him. you smiled softly and ripped a piece of paper off the bottom of your shopping list and wrote down your number. nervously, you handed him the piece of paper. "text me?" you asked, hopefully.
"i will liebe," he said as he took the piece of paper off of you and stuffing it into his pocket. and with that, you said your goodbyes and went off to purchase your groceries.
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johnny 'soap' mactavish, like simon, met you in a bar. you were sitting by the bar all alone, seemingly downing your sorrows in copious amounts of alcohol. from the moment johnny had walked in, he had a feeling that he should keep an eye on you. it was obvious by your red-eyes that you had been crying, and johnny didn't want any of the men in the bar trying to take advantage of you. he watched as the bartended poured you drink after drink and admired the way in which you downed them.
it wasn't long before someone was stalking over to you, starting up a conversation. johnny felt himself tense as the man placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly. he drowned out all conversations in the bar and focused on yours.
"you should come home with me," the man slurred to you.
you shook your head and wiped the remaining tears from your eyes as you spoke, "no thank you."
"aweh why not sweetie?" the man continued to press.
"i'm happy here," you replied. "besides, i'm waiting for someone." it was obviously a lie, and the man bothering you knew that.
"i can wait until whoever you're waiting for shows up," the man slurred, taking a seat awfully close to you.
"that's not needed," you said, shifting away as the man came closer to you.
johnny did what a real gentleman would do. he couldn't sit back and let this drunken creep harass you. so, he pushed up his chest and stormed over to you a smile on his face. "there you are! i'm so sorry i'm late."
you whipped your head round to face johnny who sent you a subtle wink, letting you know he was only trying to help you out. you breathed a sigh of relief and stood up. "don't worry about it," you replied. "sorry, i have to go."
you turned to the drunken man next to you who simply grumbled in response as you walked away with johnny. you sat down across from johnny in the booths and smiled at him. "thank you so much," you said, taking a deep shaky breath as you looked at him.
"don't mention it," johnny replied, taking a sip of his drink. "truth be told i've had my eye on you since i walked in. thought someone was bound to try and bother you at some point."
you felt your face heat up at his comment, a warmth spread across your stomach knowing he was looking out for you. "i'm y/n," you smiled, mimicking his actions and taking a sip of your drink.
"johnny, but you can call me soap," he smirked. "let me walk you home?"
"i'd like that," you smiled. you and johnny stood up and made your way out of the bar and to your home. when you finally made it to your apartment, you turned to johnny with a look of appreciation across your face. "thank you."
"it's no worries," he smiled back at you, placing a hand on your shoulder.
"would you like to come in?" you asked awkwardly, unsure of the social etiquette for people who protect you from drunken men in the bar.
johnny shook his head "no it's alright, i better head home myself, but thank you."
he was about to turn around and walk away when you opened your mouth, "johnny," you said. "would you, maybe, like my number?" johnny couldn't stop the smirk spreading across his face. he hadn't done all of this just to get your number, but he wasn't going to say no. he fished his phone out of his pocket and passed it to you. you texted yourself and handed him back the phone before pressing a kiss to his cheek. "thank you again," you smiled.
"don't mention it," he replied. "have a good night, y/n."
"have a goodnight, soap."
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john price met you at a coffee shop. you were the barista, working behind the counter and serving people their coffee and food. this was a particular coffee shop john had never been too before, and he wondered why. the atmosphere inside was overwhelmingly beautiful. he waited in line to get his coffee and when it was his turn, you looked at him with sparkling eyes that made his breath get caught in his throat. "what can i get for you today?" you asked sweetly, your voice dripping with honey. john's mind went blank momentarily before he snapped himself out of it, ordering a coffee to-go. you nodded with a smile and quickly made his order. with that you bid him a goodbye, not expecting to see him again.
but john returned. not only was the coffee possibly the best he's ever had, but he had to admit that he thought you were beautiful and the main reason for his constant return. he became a regular at the small coffee shop, had learnt your name was y/n and that you were the manager there. on this particular day, john was feeling bold, very bold. he walked in and greeted you with a smile "good morning y/n."
"good morning john," you smiled back, waving as you made the other peoples orders. when you got to him, you leaned over the counter, "what can i get you today john, the usual?"
"yeah," he replied, biting his bottom lip before adding. "with a side of your number."
you chuckled and began making his order, writing your phone number on the side of his cup. when you had finished john's order, you passed it to him. "here you go, a regular with a side of my number."
john was slightly taken back that his lame pick-up line worked, but took the coffee nonetheless. "thanks y/n, you'll be hearing from me soon," he said before turning on his heels and leaving.
"i'll hold you to that!" you called out with a smile as he left.
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phillip graves met you at a charity event. you were general shepherd's daughter and were the co-host of a charity event hosted by your father. when phillip walked in, his eyes automatically found you. you were dressed lavishly and stood by your fathers side, thanking everyone for coming as they entered.
he walked over to you and your father, making himself known. "general shepherd," he said, nodding towards your father before turning his attention to you. "and you are?" he asked politely, turning on his southern charm.
"my name is y/n," you smiled, holding your hand out for him to shake. "i'm general shepherd's daughter."
phillip was slightly taken back by this, but took your hand and pressed his lips against the top. you blushed lightly as he kissed your hand. "my name is phillip graves," he introduced himself, slowly putting your hand down to rest at your side.
"lovely to meet you," you smiled softly.
"the pleasure is all mine darlin'," he whispered back and with that, he waltzed off to mingle with the crowed.
throughout the night, phillip continued catching your eye. either you caught him staring, or he caught you staring. before you knew it, you were in a game of cat and mouse as phillip tried to get you alone. eventually, phillip caught you, grasping your arm gently and pulling you onto a balcony. "hi phillip," you breathed innocently, looking up at him through fluttering lashes.
"hey gorgeous," he smirked with a wink. "how's your night goin'?"
"as good as formal events can be," you replied with a slight laugh.
phillip smirked at your sense of humour and let go of your arm. "you look lovely," he said, gazing into your eyes.
"you don't look so bad yourself, mr graves," you replied flirtatiously. "i must head back inside now but here," you said holding out a napkin. "i thought you'd corner me eventually. here's my number."
"why thank you darlin'," he grinned, taking the napkin and admiring the numbers scrawled over it before placing it into his tuxedo pocket.
"hope to hear from you soon, phillip," you smiled before turning around and walking back into the charity event, leaving phillip alone on the balcony.
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a/n || hey guys, i hope you liked this first little cod scenario, there'll be plenty more where this came from. requests are currently closed but due to financial difficulties my commissions are open (here) - so if there's something you'd like to see, feel free to send in a commission!
tags: @sarahs-secrets2
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mistydeyes · 3 days
141 and what their patient file looks like
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summary: This is what I imagine everyone's favorite pharmacist as well as medics see when they look at 141's medical file.
Based on this pharmacist and 141 interactions
pairing: Task Force 141 x medic!Reader
warnings: medical/pharmacy terminology, medical inaccuracies, swearing, depiction of wounds, mention of substance use disorder and abuse
PMH - Past medical history - the total sum of a patient's health status prior to the presenting problem
FH - Family history - contributing family history, generally parents and siblings
SH - Social history - contributing social behavior and routine
a/n: not canon at all! this is just a reference for me
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Height: 1.88 m (6' 2'')
Weight: 93 kg (205 lbs)
Blood type: O+
Extensive physical injuries
21+ stab wounds - 2 required antibiotics for recurrent infection
9x bullet wound - 5x in the extremities, 4x in the chest (no perforation of vital organs), healed without complication
5x abrasion collar - 1 near right eyebrow became infected following medical eval and stitches
3x diagnosed concussion
Previously evaluated for tinnitus and hearing loss
Father - deceased at 76 from liver disease - 50 pack years, mycardial infarction (x2)
Mother - deceased at 84 due to chronic heart failure (CHF) -Glaucoma, asthma, CHF
Sister - Sports induced asthma, hypothyroidism
Negative family history of diabetes, hypertension, and cancer
Smokes - 30 pack years
Drinks regularly - 4-5 hard liquor each weekend; 1 glass of whiskey occasionally
Physically active - Enjoys recreational activities such as hiking, swimming, and biking
Has 1 dog, currently under the care of pt's younger sister
History of monogynous long term relationships, currently single
Medication list + indications
Amoxicillin/Clavulanic acid 625mg - Infection
Morphine 15mg + Ketamine 3mg - IV - Pain
Paracetamol 750mg - Pain
Buproprion SR 150mg - Smoking cessation - not-taking est 2004
Aspirin allergy - Reaction: hives and asthma - ONLY PRESCRIBE PARACETAMOL
No environmental, food, or animal allergies
Patient has denied smoking cessation options
Height: 1.88 m (6' 2'')
Weight: 91 kg (200 lbs)
Blood type: O+
7x stab wound - 6 required antibiotics for recurrent infection, 2 MRSA resistant
2x bullet wound - 2x in lower extremities, healed with no complication
6x abrasion collar
2x broken collar bone - healed, with no complication
Lactose sensitivity - Recurrent IBS if ingested
Chipped first left molar following opening a beer with teeth
Father deceased at 68 due to heart failure - Type 2 Diabetes Mellitus, high cholesterol
Mother - Stage I HTN (hypertension)
Sister #1 - Postpartum depression, generalized anxiety disorder
Sister #2 - Elevated cholesterol/triglycerides
Brother - No known chronic health issues
Positive family history of diabetes and hypertension, but no cancer
Drinks regularly and heavily - 8-12 beers and 2-3 glasses of hard liquor each weekend; 1 glass of scotch occasionally
Smokes socially - 5 pack years
Physically active
Close relationship with family, has 4 dogs at home under the care of pt's mothers
Avid fan of The Glasgow Football Club
Medication list + indications
Clindamycin 300mg with ciprofloxacin 400mg - Infection
Amoxicillin/Clauvanic acid 625mg - Infection
Vancomycin 18mg/kg - MRSA resistant infection
Paracetamol 500mg - Pain
Morphine 15mg IV - Pain
Doxycycline 100mg - Acne discontinued in 2004
Insect stings - Observed anaphylaxis to childhood bee sting
Patient demonstrates medication non-adherence, counsel ESPECIALLY with antibiotics
Scored 6 on Alcohol use disorders identification test for consumption (AUDIT C)
Height: 1.86 m (6' 1'')
Weight: 93 kg (205 lbs)
Blood type: B-
3x stab wound - healed, no complications
1x broken collar bone
2x broken femur
Diagnosed concussion - evaluated in Oct. '19
Father - Type 1 Diabetes, high cholesterol
Mother - Vitiligo, Stage 3 breast cancer
Positive family history of maternal cancer and diabetes, but no hypertension
Social drinker - 3-4 beers each weekend
Does not smoke
Physically active - Enjoys morning and evening runs
Enjoys spicy food and tries to introduce into diet
When on leave, enjoys attending concerts and music festivals
Medication list + indications
Piriteze 10mg - Allergic rhinitis
Fluticasone Propionate - 93 mcg/actuation - Allergic rhinitis
Paracetamol 500mg - Pain
Seasonal - Pollen and pet dander
β-Lactam allergy - Reaction: anaphylaxis evaluated in '19
Organ donor
Height: Weight: 1.93 m (6' 4'')
WeighT: 100 kg (220 lbs)
Blood type: AB-
Extensive cuts and scarring to entire body
4+ stab wounds - healed, no complications
Gun shot to lower abdomen - healed, no complications, evaluated in Nov. '22
13+ collar abrasion
2x broken nose
Childhood injury of broken tibia and large toe
Psych eval - History of depression and post traumatic stress disorder, childhood history indicates emotional and physical abuse
Father - status unknown Diagnosed alcohol use disorder
Brother - deceased, cause of death non-contributory - Substance use disorder
Mother - deceased, cause of death non-contributory - Hypertension, thrombophilia (blood clotting disorder)
Positive family history of hypertension, but no diabetes or cancer
Social drinker - 3-4 glasses of hard liquor each weekend
Smokes socially - 10 pack years
Physically active - Enjoys nightly walks
Psych eval - Other squad members act as his emotional support
Expressed interest in cats and tattoo art (FLAGGED: Further input and comments from other medical professionals would be appreciated)
Medication list + indications
Paracetamol 1000mg - Pain
Amoxicillin/Clavulanic acid 625mg - Infection
Morphine 20mg + Ketamine 4.5mg IV - Pain
Mafenide acetate 5% topical - Antimicrobial, burn wounds
Fluoxetine 20mg twice daily - Depression - not taking est 2001
NKDA - No known drug allergies
No environmental, food, or animal allergies
Psych recommends evaluation of a pet, such as cat, for pt while on leave
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undeadcannibal · 12 hours
Could you do headcannon of the Taskforce 141 boys having a civilian fem!spouse? I’m not a soldier so I am curious to see what they are like and how they meet said spouse. ❤️
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Summary: Headcanons for how Price, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz meet their civilian SO
Genre: Headcanons, request(s) Characters featured: Price, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz!
Warnings: none!
A/N: Hopefully you enjoy these! I had fun coming up with different ways they’d meet ‘em. ( Gif credit: xxx )
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He’d be in the middle of a discussion with some of his friends when one of them casually mentions the name of a dating app that’s supposedly hot right now.
At first, he doesn’t care. Reassures himself he’s too old and busy to waste his time with such a thing... until he has a rough night during his downtime. Loneliness weighing heavily on him to the point he finds himself downloading the damn app during a moment of weakness.
At first, he doesn’t use it much. His profile is simple: he’ll post a few photos of himself, vaguely mention what he does for a living, what he’s looking for. And that’s that for a few months. Whenever he had the time, he’d swipe through a couple profiles here and there, but nothing serious had ever come from it.
Until 6 months later, when he finds himself humoring that deep ache in his heart, browsing through profile after profile until he lands on yours.
He knows better than to be fooled by looks, but he’d also be a liar if he said that he wasn’t smitten with you the moment he’d laid eyes on your photo. With a swipe, he silently hopes that the two of you will match, and when you eventually do, he’s over the moon but plays it as cool as he possibly can.
When he takes you out after talking for a while, he properly wines and dines you, doesn’t even kiss you after the first date either. Instead, he’d taken your hand in his and kissed it before asking if he can take you out again.
It takes a few years, but when he proposes, he goes all out in every way possible but makes sure to keep it all private. He can’t stand public proposals.
He was home for the holiday season when he’d met you in a super market. You’d looked as lost as ever when browsing the food, so he couldn’t help but ask if you were okay. You mentioned that you were shopping for a relative but weren’t local so you had no idea where to even begin.
He’d helped you grab everything you needed before he felt a rush of anxiety hit him like a train. He’ll never understand what drove him to feel as if he couldn’t let you go without at least asking for your number, but he was thankful for it for the rest of his life.
You’d talk to one another over the phone throughout your entire stay and long afterwards too... By the time the holidays are rolling around again, the two of you had been long-distance for quite sometime, but it’d be the first time seeing you in person after so long. After spending the holiday together between both of your homes, Johnny can’t help but want to keep you in his life for as long as you’ll allow it.
2 years down the line, the two of you are visiting his family again when he decided to propose to you, and when you accepted, best believe both him and his family were excited and quick to initiate a group hug in celebration.
When Simon is off duty, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He struggles with finding things to keep himself occupied while he’s home. Stress and other emotions make even the simplest of tasks difficult for him. So, over time, he’d developed a habit of heading down to a local park to try and relax. Sometimes he’d take a book, other times he simply sat at a bench and allowed himself to get lost in his own mind. Mostly, he’d sit in silence and just enjoy watching the world pass him by.
One day when he’s walking over to his usual bench, he sees you there with a book in one hand and a drink in another. Captivated by the words on the page to the point that you don’t even notice him when he sits down on the opposite end of it, not saying a word or even glancing at you afterward. Instead, he simply watches you out of his peripheral vision. Wondering what you’re reading that has you so engaged.
He didn’t speak to you then. Instead, he’d allowed it to happen a few more times until you finally broke the silence between you two. Glancing up at him from behind your book with a shy smile as you introduced yourself to him. Behind a dark disposable mask, Ghost’s lips quirk upwards into the smallest of grins, thankful that you’d taken initiative. After you greet him, you do your best to make the occasional small-talk before you’ve to leave.
The same thing happens a few more times before he finds himself purchasing a burner phone just so he can give you a number to reach him at.
From there, the two of you would get to know one another better, sharing park dates together before you began to suggest other types of dates. Next thing Simon knew, the two of you were officially together and he was absolutely mad about you, thinking about you every second of his days. Despite the fact, he’s a complicated man with a lot of baggage, so he takes his time with your relationship.
4 years later, he’s the one to beat you to the punch and proposing to you in the very same park you met at after he takes you on a picnic.
IMO, Gaz seems like the type to frequent a coffee shop/cafe he enjoys to the point he’s basically a regular. Has his own favorite table, order, and everything. That is, until one day he arrives a bit later than usual and he sees you sitting there.
Normally, he would have just let you have the table but before he could even turn away to find another one, you were asking him if everything was alright. He couldn’t find it in himself to say yes and turn away. Instead, he somehow manages to not only ask if you two can share the table, but give you a dazzling smile after he does so as well. Taking special notice in how you had blushed afterward.
He wouldn’t ask you out right away. Instead, he’d build up to it. Gives you his number that first day so you two can get to know one another better while he’s off duty. He has to head back for another mission soon, but rest assured whenever he has any time off and it’s safe to do so, he’s spending all of his free time messaging and calling you. Getting to know you better.
Eventually, after the two of you have spent a few unofficial coffee dates together, he works up the courage to ask you out on a proper date. He’s upfront - but vague - about what he does and how it can affect his free time, but thankfully, you never cared. Instead, you’re just happy he finally asked you out after months of beating around the bush.
After your first date together, it’s all downhill from there. He’d fallen head-over-heels for you to the point even his fellow Task Force members noticed and teased him about it. Even more so after he’d gush about how he swears “you’re the one”
Little did they know by the end of the next year, the two of you would be engaged~
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d0youc0py · 17 hours
The 141 (or anyone) reacting to fireworks with their ptsd :(
And reader giving them noise cancelling headphones/ music/ a movie/ lots of cuddles to drown them out
Love me some hurt/comfort
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He had a pillow pressed tightly over his head. Not that it did much. You were sleeping so peacefully completely unaware of the war going on outside. Well to him that’s what it sounded like. To everyone else it sounded like a bunch of stupid teenagers who got their hands on some explosives. He was so close to waking you up. Yet every time his hand extended towards your body he stopped himself.
‘Don’t bother them.’ Pounded over and over in his head. His heart was beating so fast he was surprised it hadn’t given out. There was surely a sweat outline of his body against the sheets. You moved. A simple sleepy stretch causing soft moan escaping you.
‘Please wake up.’
Didn’t you realize his arms weren’t around you? Didn’t you feel his shivering body? Couldn’t you hear his ragged breathing. Didn’t you hear the attack outside? Didn’t you smell the gunpowder? Didn’t you hear the screaming?
“Sweetheart.” He couldn’t bear it anymore. “Sweetheart.” He repeated again. His head rested against your pillow, his face burying itself in the back of you neck. His arms returned to your waist pulling you so close the two of you couldn’t be differentiated. You groaned.
“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked. Another- much louder boom echoed through the house. His grip on you tightened a soft whimper leaving him.
“Si.” You repeated again, this time out of worry. “It’s okay Si. Why don’t we move to the couch?”
“I’m sorry I woke you up.” He still wasn’t completely present. “I’m sorry.”
You tried to turn in his grasp- he loosened his grip to let you.
“You never have to be sorry.” You pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He pressed his sweaty forehead against yours. “Do you want to go to the couch? Watch a movie?”
He shook his head. “Just wanna stay like this, please.”
You mumbled a small ‘okay’ before pressing your cheek against his, your head sandwiched between his and the pillow. Your fingers traced back and forth over his jaw- something he usually did to self soothe. He closed his eyes, completely allowing himself to sink into you touch.
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He was trying his hardest to keep it together. He was always fine with these types of things- maybe jumping a time or two, but something was different. Maybe it was all the people. Maybe it was the fact you were here- his urge to protect doubling. Maybe it was the total black night sky, that made him unable to see his surroundings. Whatever it was was almost sending him to his knees.
You watched with wide eyes as bold colors filled the sky. Fireworks never ceased to bring out the childlike wonder in you. You looked up at John expecting to see a similar look across his face. His eyes were frantically searching the area, his body ridged. Even over the loud boom you could hear his shuddered breathing. Your reached a hand out and pulled at his sleeve. His eyes quickly fled down to yours. He didn’t even need to say anything before you were tugging him away from the scene. You suddenly became all to aware of how loud it was. You felt horrible. You should’ve know better than to bring him to a firework show. You found shelter in a small restaurant around the corner.
The explosions could still be heard, but were muffled by smooth jazz and idle chatter.
“Two please.” The waitress quickly showed you to your table.
“I’m sorry, Sweetheart.” You quickly shushed him.
“It was my fault. I should’ve know better.” You took full responsibility.
“No. If I didn’t think I could handle it then I would’ve said something. I don’t know what got into me.” He said. He gripped your hand pressing a kiss to your knuckles before squeezing it in his. “I’m sorry I ruined our night. I know how excited you were.”
You shushed him again.
“Please stop apologizing. It’s not your fault and I’m a big kid- I can handle a little disappointment. Do you feel better now?” You pulled your hand back along with his, resting both of them in your lap. He nodded his head.
“I do.” He smiled, giving your hand a squeeze. “How ‘bout I buy you dinner so this evening isn’t a total waste?”
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You giggled wildly as you were spun around. Two large hands found their way back to your waist, pulling you against him. He pulled away- just to spin you around again.
“You’re making me dizzy.” You snickered, poking at his chest.
“What?” He shouted, pulling a headphone away from his ear.
“I said you’re making me dizzy.” You shouted back. He smiled at you before doing it again.
“Johnny!” You pouted. He let go of you, jumping up and down bobbing his head to the blaring music.
As soon as you received a note on your door about a neighborhood party you decided it was the perfect night to do a silent disco. Both of you had your headphones in with Taylor Swift playing at the highest volume.
“Want to have a dance battle?”
“What?” You yelled, removing your headphones.
“I said do you want to have a dance battle?” He yelled back. Your eyes lit up.
“Loser makes dinner!”
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“How ya doing?” You asked, peering up at Kyle over the blanket.
“I’m alright baby.” He assured, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Although if you were trying to distract me you should’ve pick a different movie.”
“Finding Nemo is a great movie!” You gasped. You couldn’t help but poke at his cheek while he smirked. He moved his head and playfully bit at your finger.
A loud boom echoed from outside. He jumped instinctively pulling you closer. The noise was bothering him more than he let on. He hated it. His attention should be solely on you. He was with you. Safe, warm and devastatingly happy. Not out there- in constant danger, cold and scared. He rubbed his cheek against your head, taking a few deep breaths to steady himself. You wrapped your arms around him.
“Do you want to play Mario Kart?” You asked softly. His eyes shot opened.
“Now that’s a distraction!”
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bits-and-babs · 24 hours
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Soap's always getting bored during recon. Sat in the pitch blackness in a car and staring at an empty building in the vain hope that their target will arrive with Hassan in tow. He genuinely couldn't think of anything more mind-numbing— which is why he pulls a complete blank, inhaling sharply when you lean over the gearstick of the car to take his cock in your mouth.
"Steamin' Jesus, love-" Soap chokes out, eyes rolling back into his skull when you take the length of him down your throat so easily. The door to the building he's surveilling blurs, then doubles in his vision, because you're sucking on the head of his cock as he throbs against your tongue.
"Gonna cum all over yer face if you keep that up," Soap rasps, his fingers pushing through the hair at the crown of your head.
"I'd be a pretty picture, don't you think?" you muse, lips dragging against the swollen, ruddy tip of his cock. It has Soap groaning through gritted teeth, using his hold on your hair to drive himself further down your throat.
"Gotta keep up now, Hen. Can't be makin' promises ye can't keep."
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ᰔᩚ 18+ — minors dni — thank you! ᰔᩚ
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soaps-loverrr · 19 hours
Hey love your sleeping headcanons, but I was wondering if you could do headcanons for 141+konig and keegan, where they fine their s/o asleep in one of their clothing? Can be spicy if you want I don't mind, love your writing btw :)
Oohh this is so cute!! Some of them will be NSFW and some will be a lil fluffy. And Tysmm<33
141 + König, Keegan, and Alejandro finding their s/o asleep in one of their clothing
Warnings: some smut (not much), somnophilia
Sorry if some of these suck, I was being very lazy while writing this Lmao
Not proof read
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Today was the day that Simon would finally come home after months of being deployed. It was around 1 in the morning and you were asleep, wearing nothing but one of Simon’s shirts and a pair of panties. The covers were messily thrown off of you due to your rough sleeping and how hot it was in the room. You forgot to turn the AC on last night but you were too tired to care.
Simon had come in quietly, trying not to wake you. He’d set his bags down and taken his boots off before entering your shared room. ‘Fuckin’ hell’ He said quietly, as he saw you sleeping in his shirt. He took his mask off and set it on the dresser, and before he could even get his clothes off to go to sleep, he crawled up to you on the bed and started kissing your neck softly.
You started stirring in your sleep as he continued, before finally waking up. “Simon..” you mumbled, still half asleep. “You look so fucking good in my shirt baby.” Simon whispered, causing a shiver to run down your spine. You giggled and opened your eyes to look at your massive boyfriend. “I do?” You asked, running your fingers through his hair. “You do, love.” He said softly, before returning to kiss your neck.
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It wasn’t even 8:00 yet and you were already passed out on the couch, wearing one of Johnny’s shirts and a pair of his boxers as shorts. It wasn’t uncommon for you to wear his clothes, but it never failed to turn him on. It was definitely one of his biggest turn ons. It fueled his size kink. A lot. The way his tightest shirts were so big on you. Steamin’ Jesus. He’ll have you in the bedroom in seconds.
He’d just gotten home after being away for weeks. He didn’t expect you to be asleep since it was so early so he didn’t hesitate to make any noise as he walked in. “Bonnie, I’m home!” He yelled before dropping his bags and taking his boots off. “Y/n!!” He yelled again after you didn’t answer. He started to walk towards y’all’s room but stopped when he saw you sleeping on the couch.
He walked over and kneeled down next to you. “Y/n…. Wake up lass, I’m home.” He said softly, peppering your face in kisses. You stirred in your sleep before slowly opening your eyes, smiling up at the scot. “Hey Johnny” you said tiredly, pulling him on top of you. “Hey, love” he smiled down at you before kissing you softly on the lips.
“Have I ever told you how fucking hot you look in my clothes? Because you do.” He said. “But… you’d look 1000 times better with them off.” You giggled before kissing him again. “So why don’t you take them off of me?” You asked, tracing his cheek bone with your finger.
He picked you up and brought you to the room and tossed you onto the bed. He climbed on top of you before ripping your (his) clothes off in a second. Let’s just say you couldn’t walk for a week after that night.
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It was late when Gaz finally arrived home. He hasn’t seen you in months. He quietly entered the house as not to wake you. His heart melted when he saw you sleeping with his hoodie on. ‘So damn cute’ He whispered.
He climbed onto your shared bed after he took most of his clothes off and cuddled up behind you, which woke you up. “Gaz!!” You say excitedly, rubbing your eyes as you turn around to wrap your arms around him. “Hey y/n” he giggled, kissing you softly on the lips. “You should wear my hoodies more often. They look so good on you babe.” He cooed. “Oh I will.” You say, cupping his cheek in your hand.
Later that night, Gaz ended up in the hoodie with you snoring lightly as you held him tightly. Scared he’ll disappear if you do.
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John had gone out to the bar with some of the boys and got home late. He knew you’d be asleep. But he didn’t know that you’d be wearing one of his favorite shirts because when he left you were wearing your own. But boy did he fucking love it.
He walked into the room and saw you sleeping, wearing his favorite shirt. The one he wore all the time. He can’t handle himself. You look too good in his clothes l, he has to fuck you right now. He took his shoes off, followed by his clothes and climbed on top of you, kissing every inch of exposed skin.
He pulled your underwear down and grabbed the lube from the bedside table and slathered it all over your cunt, before doing the same with himself. He slowly slid into you, causing you to stir in your sleep. After he starts grinding his hips into you, you wake up, moaning softly. “John” you whine. “Shh.. you look so good like this baby.” He cooed. Now fully awake, you pull him in for a sloppy kiss. “I should wear your clothes to bed more often.” You chuckled. “That you should baby.”
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König was finally home. He had made it home pretty early so he didn’t expect for you to be asleep. But that quickly changed as soon as he walked into your shared room. You laid there, the covers thrown messily around the bed as you slept in nothing but a pair of his boxers and a bra. You were laying starfish style, snoring lightly as König crawled on top of you and ran his hands up your waist.
He lifted his mask up just enough to kiss all over your body. The way his underwear was so big on you, it drove him crazy. You woke up to König kissing your inner thigh. “Hey Kö” you giggle. “Hey Schatz“ he smiled up at you. “You like wearing my clothes?” He chuckled. “I love wearing your clothes.” You said softly, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt to pull him up to you. König kissed you on the lips before reaching his hand down to grab the waistband of his boxers you were wearing.
“As much as i love seeing you in these, I’d much prefer them to be off right now.” He cooed.
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Keegan had left not too long ago to go to the store to grab a few things. When he left, you put on one of his shirts and took your pants off before crawling into the bed and turning on your favorite show. Not even five minutes into the episode you were watching and you were already passed out. Not long after that, Keegan had made it back home.
He walked inside and set the bags down on the counter before calling out to you. “Y/n, I got the stuff you asked for!” He yelled across the house. When you didn’t answer he went looking for you. He stepped into the bedroom and found you passed out on the bed, wearing his shirt and a pair of panties. You were on your back, the remote in your hand as the show you turned on still played in the background.
He crawled onto the bed and slowly pulled your panties down, before throwing them across the room. He spread your legs and sucked on two of his fingers to get them wet as he slowly started to rub your clit, causing you to stir in your sleep. He leant down and started eating you out, licking up from your entrance before sucking harshly at your clit. You woke up with soft moans escaping you. “Keegan.” You whine, reaching down to grab a handful of his hair.
He said nothing as he continued to sloppily eat you out, soon sliding two of his fingers into you as he pumped them slowly in and out. Your grip in his hair tightened as he continued. “What’s this for.” You giggle, but turns more into a loud moan. “For looking so damn cute in my clothes baby.”
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konigsblog · 23 hours
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he wants a kiss so badly i can't
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secretsynthetic · 3 days
141+ Los vaqueros with a sugar baby, who’s new to being a sugar baby, so she’s all like
“Jesus fucking Christ- Nono- you don’t have to buy all of it- what do you mea- NO YOUR NOT BUYING AN ENTIRE ISLAND FOR ME-“
Like. They probably were in poverty before them, so they’re new to having a lot of money. Wakin up like
“Time to go to wor- …” *looks over to her sugar daddy* “never mind. I keep forgetting your rich…”
are they responsible to spend the behemoth amount of money they’ve been given? …maybe
“You just gave me 12k. I’m going to buy this cardboard cut out of Markiplier. Why? Because it’s funny.”
LMAO ANON this is adorable yes 😭😭 i personally freak out when people get me expensive things so i hardcore relate i’d be like nonononooo that’s too much i’m gonna pass out
btw price, gaz, and soap find it funny and absolutely double down on nonchalantly buying you expensive things 🙈 and ghost pretends he hates it when you buy stupid stuff but honestly he finds it funny as hell 😭
alejandro is the ONLY considerate one bc he thinks it’s funny when you freak out but is always like shhh amor let me spoil you while the others are more like lmao…. anyways! scream i love it
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alliddewrites · 3 days
Texting 'I love you' to TF-141 late at night
Content disclaimer:
Excessive use of the '🥺' emoji,
Gender neutral reader
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Just a small idea I did quickly. :3
Also very janky because I couldn't find a better website-
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glossythor · 3 days
READY TO COMPLY : chapter 4 ; непоправимый
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непоправимый or irreparable,
is defined as; (of an injury or loss) impossible to rectify or repair.
read all previous chapters here!
warnings: pov changes, mentions of previous amputation, themes of depression, mentions of red room typical misogyny and s/a. also, introducing another marvel character !! this one’s an asshole HYDRA and red room soldiers are misogynists, but no explicit fem pronouns are used, so you can easily imagine the reader as still gender neutral.
note: like always, russian is in bolded italics, the english translation will be right after in non bolded italics.
word count: 3,723
playlist: francis forever - mitski, will also be linked in fic
🏷️: @viylikescats @whore4dilfs @warenai @fullmoon-94 @breadboyye @kiroshang @lunitalloronaa @itzzjxlyn @lonely-ofc @briacreations96 @zvdvdlvr @m0rganit3 @badbishsblog @wolfyland07 @angelsdemonsmonsters @unkn0wnd3ad
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When you passed out in the chair during your amputation, the doctors didn’t stop their work. They continued sawing through until your left arm fell clean off, and your shoulder was met with cold air.
Once the amputation was complete, the main doctor cleaned and wrapped the wound to prevent any infections.
The doctors’ all scanned your unconscious figure up and down, hungry and lustful. Every doctor practically undressing you with their eyes, burning holes into any piece of exposed skin. Their eyes lingered on your heaving chest, before moving down to the space between your legs.
“You know as well as I do that we don’t have time for that. As much as we all want to. We need to get the arm replaced and put the subject into cryo as soon as possible.” A new voice entered the room, a New York accent this time. It was a muscular American soldier wearing a tight muscle shirt, cargo pants and boots. His hair was dark, almost black and he sported a mohawk with barely any fades on the sides. His mouth wore a disappointed frown as he stared at the subject.
The way he spoke about you was dehumanizing. He didn’t refer to you as a person, only ‘the arm’ and as ‘the subject’. He spoke about you like a piece of meat or a warm hole to use as he pleased.
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He beckoned the doctors over to stand by his side with just a flick of the wrist. It was clear that he had more privileges than anyone else in the room. As far as they were concerned, whatever he says goes.
“Of course. Right away, Sir.” The doctor said with a nod.
Two doctors left the room and a few minutes later, returned carrying a heavy metal case. They carried the case over to the table of medical instruments that sat next to your chair. All of the doctors began prepping for the second procedure. Two doctors ensured that all of your restraints were secure, tightening all of them just in case you woke up and became violent. Another two doctors left the room to retrieve a large metal case, before returning to wait at the door for orders. Finally, the last doctor was preparing your shoulder for the new arm. He turned to the tray full of medical equipment and picked up a steel circle plate that was measured and cut to fit your shoulder exactly.
The plate had different ridges and serrated blades on it, meant to make it excruciatingly painful to remove the arm. In being excruciatingly painful, it meant that it might as well have been permanently welded to you.
The blades were on both sides of the plate, so it wouldn’t just help to attach the arm - but if anyone attempted to remove the arm, the blades that were against your shoulder would dig into your already shredded flesh.
He pressed the steel plate flat against the stump of your amputated arm, steel against shattered bone and mangled flesh.
“винты, сейчас.” Screws, now. The doctor ordered with his hand outstretched. An assisting doctor quickly handed him the thick screws.
The doctor then held the first screw against the plate before picking up the drill from the tray of instruments.
He turned it on by pulling the metal trigger and the machine whirred to life. One by one, he drilled ten screws through the plate and into your shoulder. The drill met your bone each time and made a dull, knocking noise as the screws were forced in. More blood seeped from around the plate as the screws kept shredding your already torn muscle.
The assisting doctor huffed, seemingly inconvenienced, and pressed gauze pads to the edge of the metal plate to absorb the blood.
“Субъект готовится к протезированию.” Subject is prepped for prosthetic. The doctor said, waving over the two doctors that were waiting by the door with the metal case.
The two doctors walked the case over, each doctor letting out grunts with how heavy it was. They set it down in front of the doctor that was preparing your shoulder before leaning down to unlock the case.
The case opened with a hiss, vapor pooling from the cold container. Inside the case was a metal prosthetic arm, molded almost perfectly to the size of your actual arm. It was silver with a red star engraved just below the shoulder. It matched the red star that was engraved on the double door exactly. The arm was covered in ridges to promote mobility, flexibility and functionality that perfectly mirrored a human arm.
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The doctor sitting next to you reached to pick up the metal arm with great care, immediately feeling the heaviness of the prosthetic. He carried it over to the tray of instruments before setting it down gently. The arm made a metallic clinking noise when it made contact with the rest of the metal tools.
He picked the prosthetic up by the shoulder and the elbow, supporting the heaviest parts of the arm.
He aligned the shoulder of the metal arm up to your amputated shoulder before clicking into the ridges of the plate and locking the arm in place.
The ridges that ran down the metal arm shifted as he tested the mobility of the prosthetic, bending it and then straightening it.
He determined that the prosthetic replacement was successful.
“Субъект готов к помещению в криогенную камеру.” The subject is ready to be placed in the cryogenic chamber.
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Two weeks.
It had been two weeks since your capture.
Fourteen days since you fell for the redheads trick and right into her trap. Fourteen days since you were stabbed and your arm was broken. Fourteen days since you crashed into that freezing water and dragged in the biting Russian snow. Fourteen days since you were yanked from the woman's grip and shackled into that chair.
Thirteen days since you were torn from your drug induced sleep, injected with an off market drug and forced to witness your arm being cut off. Thirteen days since you saw pools of blood gush and spurt from where your shoulder was supposed to be. Thirteen days since you heard the revving of the saw as it spliced through the meat of your muscle and tendons. Thirteen days since you could smell the burning of your flesh and skin being cauterized by the saw. Thirteen days since you saw your own fucking bone being cut through, splintering off and shattering.
Thirteen days since you were torn apart and put back together you’ll never be whole again. Thirteen days since you were put in the cryogenic chamber and frozen in time. During those thirteen days, you were pumped full of various drugs. Many to keep you sedated, pliant, obedient for them to do what they wished. Others to heighten your senses and strength.
Now, it had only been one hour since you were taken out of the cryogenic chamber and transferred to a new room.
This room was small and lonely with no windows. The only light that the room had was shitty panels on the ceiling that kept flickering on and off. The ceiling was dusted in cobwebs and dirt. The walls and floor were all concrete, cold to the touch. The door was locked with a deadbolt.
You were laying on a hard, small cot in the corner of the room with no blankets or pillows. You had been changed out of your tattered, bloody uniform and into a black muscle shirt and black cargo pants. The muscle shirt was long sleeved, but only on your right arm - on you left arm, it was sleeveless, leaving your new prosthetic arm on full display.
You awoke with a gasp as your eyes flew open. The first thing you noticed was that you had no idea or recollection of how you got here. The last thing you remembered was getting on that helicopter with that woman.
Your memories were in fragments, returning in bits and pieces. Trying to comfort that woman only to have her break your arm and stab you. Her killing Nikolai. The helicopter going down. Falling unconscious only to wake up in that hallway. Being chained to that chair.
Before you could even begin to attempt to remember anything further, you noticed something else. Something that made your blood run cold and stopped your thoughts in their tracks.
You noticed that your left arm was.. numb. It wasn’t even just a pins and needles feeling. It felt like nothing. You racked your brain trying to figure out how you injured your arm and why it’s so numb.
You spared a curious glance at the afflicted arm only to be met with the sight of metal where your arm should be.
“No..” You whispered, lips trembling.
Where your warm flesh should be was now replaced with a metal prosthetic robotic arm. All of the scars you had collected over time and the tattoos that previously painted your skin were now replaced with ridges and indentations that ran down the arm.
“No.” You cried out in disbelief and despair. The more you looked at it, the less you could breathe.
The arm felt like a parasite invading your body, eating away at your flesh and polluting your blood stream. Even though it was attached to you, it couldn’t feel more foreign. Alien.
Your lungs burned and your vision blurred as you tried to inhale but it was as if your throat was paralyzed. With every passing second came an onslaught of burning and stabbing pain that ebbed from your arm prosthetic and flowed through the rest of your body.
As each wave of pain washed over your body, a new memory hit you. The doctor injecting you with an off market drug that flayed you alive from the inside out. The doctor bringing out a bone saw and cutting through your skin and muscle. Just remembering the smell of your flesh burning was enough to make you gag in the present. You remembered the saw finally hitting your bone and causing it to splinter and shatter. You remembered passing out from the pain and shock. You remembered all of the nightmares you had while you were unconscious, all of the different loops where you could’ve escaped — only to fail every time.
You only knew that you had started sobbing from the taste of your salty tears as they fell down your cheeks. Your throat went raw as you wailed, curling into a ball on the uncomfortable bed. As you were curled into a fetal position, your head was resting against your knees which is how you realized you were no longer in your uniform.
Your eyes widened and you felt sick.
Someone had undressed you in your unconscious, vulnerable state. Someone had gazed upon your naked, bloody body with their filthy eyes. You could only hope it wasn’t any of those men.
You shivered at the thought of what would have happened if it was them. You were hesitant to pull down your cargo pants in fear of finding any evidence of abuse or trauma. You could only imagine what you might find; the myriad of bruises on your thighs from brute force or dried blood running down your legs. You opted to not look altogether.
In an effort to expel those nauseating thoughts from your mind, you thought about your team instead.
You thought about how they might have reacted when you never returned from the helicopter. Would they have sent out a search team to find you?
You laughed humorlessly. Probably not. No, definitely not.
Not that you blamed them. They had a mission to focus on. They couldn’t afford to just drop everything and look for their run-of-the-mill medic. Especially not when you could be replaced so easily.
They could find a skilled medic at any time, at any place. Sure, you were good at your job, but they could find that anywhere. And they could definitely find one that wasn’t a distraction to two of their top soldiers.
Even if they did send out a search team and even if they did find you by some miracle, what use would you be to them now?
What use could you possibly be to them when you were drugged for two weeks on end? When your arm was hacked off and replaced with some unrecognizable.. thing. What use were you when you could still feel the stabbing pain from the arm that was no longer there? What use were you if you couldn’t even look at the metal arm without spilling your guts out?
You were of no use to them anymore, so you might as well be thrown away.
It was better that way, you thought. Resigning yourself to being inevitably replaced, you thought about what your team they might have thought when they found out about you disappearing.
Price would be concerned with your whereabouts, just like he would if it happened to anyone else on his team. He would demand details from Shepherd and Laswell. But then he would inevitably find out about his friends death and any concern for you would be tainted.
Gaz would be naive, for lack of a better word. He would probably push for a rescue team to be sent for you, only to be shut down by Shepherd.
Pondering about how Soap and Ghost would react is what hurt the most, though.
In all honesty, you knew deep down that the two men would recover from your disappearance quickly. They had each other, after all.
Sure, they might be sad for a few days or weeks but it would blow over, you thought.
They would be able to focus their attention and energy on each other instead of you. They wouldn’t be distracted from their work or their relationship by some outsider.
It was clear to you. Their lives would only improve after your disappearance. They would no longer feel obligated to include you in hushed conversations. They would no longer feel obligated to pull you in for hugs or forehead kisses that you knew weren’t meant for you. You would no longer be a burden to them.
Any trace of you would be sponged from the base, just like any other personnel that was assumed killed in action. You’d seen it all before. You just never thought it would happen to you.
The records of all of your treated patients would be sealed away. You would be removed from payroll and staff records. Your quarters would be emptied of all of your belongings and your title plate would be removed from your door. A replacement lead surgeon would be interviewed and hired. Soon, that replacement would be filling your med-bay, your operating room, with new patients. They would be treating your 141.
It would be as if you never existed.
And a voice in your head screamed, it would be better that way.
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Unbeknownst to you, thousands of miles away in the United Kingdom, the men had just discovered that you were missing in action and presumably, killed in action.
They were standing in that conference room with Laswell and Shepherd, watching the devastating security footage. The last they saw on the footage was the camera sinking in the ocean along with the helicopter.
The screen went black and bubbles filled the audio as it sunk to the ocean floor.
Laswell slammed her laptop shut, turning off the projector at the same time.
The silence that filled the room was deafening. The air was thick as the task force tried to swallow the news of your disappearance. It was heavy — sinking to their stomachs, similar to how the helicopter sunk to the ocean floor.
Price’s fists were white knuckling, his jaw was clenched as he thought about his brightest medic dying.
Gaz’s lips were pulled into a frown and he sniffled as he thought about not having someone to share inside jokes with.
Ghost was still seeing red. The burning embers of his anger painted his vision, matching the crimson that he saw soaking your uniform. His mouth was pulled into a snarl as rage bubbled beneath his chest. Rage against Shepherd for keeping this from them. The task force could’ve started looking for you that very day. They could’ve found you days ago if they knew. Rage against that woman for playing possum and using your kind spirit to lure you into her trap. Finally, rage against himself for not telling you how he felt sooner. He shouldn’t have been such a coward. He should’ve just toughened up and confessed. No matter if you felt the same or not, at least you would’ve known.
Soap’s lips were trembling and his eyes were filled with unshed tears. His throat felt heavy and tight, like it was wrapped in barbed wire that he couldn’t loosen. The gaping hole in his chest was widening every second that your screams echoed in his head. He tried to take deep breaths but he just couldn’t, it was like he was frozen. Paralyzed in fear and shock. He would never see you again. The last thing he ever heard from you was your bloodcurdling screams.
He couldn’t fucking breathe.
Soap tightly squeezed Ghosts’ gloved hand, getting his attention. The Lieutenant’s bloodshot eyes flashed to Soap’s cerulean glossy eyes. What sent Ghost into even more of a panic was that Soap was hyperventilating. It was no doubt a panic attack from losing their missing piece.
Ghost squeezed his hand in reassurance.
“Price, we need to..” The words died on Ghost’s lips, but it was obvious what he was getting at. Price nodded at his Lieutenant, letting him know that him and Soap were free to go.
The two soldiers stood from their seats as Price cleared his throat.
“When is the search starting?” He asked quietly, blue eyes trained on a blank spot on the table.
“I want all of our allies in on this. Farah, Alex, Alejandro, Rudy.. All of ‘em.” He continued, not waiting for an answer from either Laswell or Shepherd.
Laswell stayed silent, crossing her arms and sending a pointed look at Shepherd. She was done being Shepherd’s puppet and done keeping his secrets.
Price and Gaz looked at Laswell before their eyes darted to Shepherd.
“You know I can’t let you do that, John,” was the last thing Soap and Ghost heard as they walked out of the conference room.
Once the door shut behind them, Ghost pulled Soap into his arms and into a passionate kiss. He needed to be comforted, shielded in whatever way possible from the pain of losing you.
He moved to cradle Soap’s face in his hands, desperately holding his partner close. He licked at Soap’s lips and his tongue, needing to taste him. Soap whined into his mouth at the feeling of his tongue being sucked.
As Ghost kissed him, he could taste the saltiness of Soap’s tears as they fell down his face. Ghost moved from his lips to his cheeks, kissing his tears away. Soap hiccuped as his cries died down, wearing a sad smile. Ghost pulled him into his chest and wrapped his tattooed arms around him, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
After pulling apart, the two soldiers immediately made their way to your quarters. It was completely unintentional, it was as if their legs moved on autopilot.
Before they knew it, they were standing at your door. Ghost’s hand shook as he reached for the door knob. To their surprise, it was unlocked.
Ghost opened it and as they walked in, they were immediately hit with the comforting smell associated with your room. The air fresheners you had plugged in were still releasing a pleasant vanilla fragrance into the air.
They savored the smell as they surveyed your room. Vanilla and berries lingered in their noses as they kicked off their shoes and took off their heavy gear, tossing it on your floor.
Your bed was still made, the (favorite color) comforter folded neatly on the bed and the four pillows were rested against the headboard.
Your desk still had some medical release forms stacked on it as well as some notepads. Your laptop was closed and plugged into the charger. There were some framed pictures of the task force sitting on your desk as well.
One that caught their eye was a selfie you had sneakily snapped one day. It was of you, Soap and Ghost. They remembered it clear as day. The two of them were sparring in the gym one day and you had snuck up behind them with your phone. Ghost was taking a swig from his water bottle so you took that moment to nudge Soap and reel him into your plan. The two of you rushed up to him on each side and Soap held your phone up high to get a good view of the three of you. Ghosts’ eyes were wide as he was caught off guard while you and Soap couldn’t look happier. You two were wearing the biggest shit eating grins and your eyes were so bright.
Ghost would give anything to be ambushed like that right now. To have you tackle him and Soap, laughing about how this was all just a sick joke.
But it wasn’t, and he knew that.
He was pulled out of his thoughts when Soap took his hand and dragged him over to your bed. The two of them laid down against your soft bedsheet that had gone cold from you being gone for weeks.
The two of them pulled your comforter up over them, before cuddling up together. Soap’s head was buried in Ghost’s chest, with Ghost pressing kisses to the crown of Soap’s head. Ghost’s arms were wrapped around Soap’s back, and Soap’s arms were snaked around Ghost’s midsection.
It took an hour for them to find sleep. The pit in the bottom of their stomachs made it impossible for them to relax or shut their brains off. All they could do was hold onto each other for dear life. All they could do was on to the only light that they had, now that you were gone. That only light was each other.
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mockerycrow · 8 hours
Hey hey, can I request the 141 boys + König's reaction to a random soilder slapping fem! Reader's ass, preferably platonic! where they see reader as a sister. Thank you your work is *chef's kiss*
141 + König’s Reaction to Fem!Platonic!Reader’s Ass Slapped By Rando
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cod masterlist
A/N: I feel ehhh about this one, but rest assured that i tried!! also, all characters are aware you can defend yourself. they are just protective.
You were talking with him softly, leaning an arm on the nearby counter with your hips jetted out. You laughed at something he said, your head tilting to the right for a moment before there’s a loud smack! you make a panicked noise and turn around quickly and you’re met with the face with a young man with a smug face, with an expression like he did something that you liked. Your eyebrows furrow and you prepare to give the young man an ass whooping when he swoops in.
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-> John Price
“Keep your bloody hands to yourself, soldier!” Oh, Price is fucking fuming. He doesn’t stand for workplace harassment and unwanted touching for anyone, this is the fucking military—not a place to try to hookup.
Price does not let the man get a word in, even when the man is stuttering out his apologies—that are ordered by Price, by the way—and he drags him out of the kitchen area to file an official report of his behavior.
He subtly threatens the man, ensuring that if this behavior continues, “you will be dealt with. I will promise you on that.”
Price is very aware that you can handle yourself, but he just was not in the mood.
-> Kyle Garrick
He’s seething and Kyle doesn’t hesitate to push the man away from you, shouting, “Have you gone absolutely mad?!”
It does not matter if this man ranks above Kyle, he throws ranks out the window by this point, yelling about how he’s disgusting. “You’re acting like a bloody chav, get ahold of yourself!”
You’re so convinced Kyle is about to punch this guy, but he shows a good amount of self-restraint, spitting another insult through gritted teeth, voice low, “Next time you’re being dodgy, I’m throwing you to the fuckin’ wolves.”
-> John MacTavish
He pushes himself between you and the offender, an unhappy and unamused look prickling at his features. He has a faux-smile, his lips tight and uncomfortable. He laughs and claps a hand down on the man’s shoulder, making the man wince from the force.
“Buddy!” Soap calls him, his tone edging onto unsettling happiness. He’s absolutely furious because no one deserved unwanted touching. Soap sees you as a little sister and he’s always been protective of his little family. the 141
He leans in and whispers something to the man, causing all of the color to drain from the guy’s face and he runs off, causing you to glance at Soap. “What did you tell him?”
Soap just offers you a cheeky smile. “Oh, y’know, If he decides ta’touch anyone like that ever again, I’ll make sure that he physically cannot.”
-> Ghost
Ghost immediately pulls rank, right away. He isn’t the type to do it really, but this is absolute unacceptable behavior. His voice is dripping venom and is rough as sandpaper, nearly snarling with every word—yet keeping a calm composure at the same time.
“Go outside and dig a hole. Don’t stop until it’s as deep as your height.” “W.. What? Sir..—“ “Do not make me repeat myself. Go on.”
He 100% uses PT (physical training) as a punishment on these types of guys, and ordering him to dig a hole is a task laced with humiliation.
His glare screams “I’ll kill you if you touch her again, and I’m not joking”. Ghost is very protective of the ones he cares about, and that includes you,
-> König
Using his size to his advantage, he looms over the man with a deadly glare, the rumors you’ve heard—the terrifying man that belongs on the battlefield? That very man appears in the common kitchen that night.
He’s also the type to pull rank—and this is one of those times no one realizes he’s a Colonel until he mentions it and absolutely does if the guy talks back to him. “What did you just say to me?”
König snarls with every word, berating the man’s behavior, asking him if he would like that done to him or any woman in his life, etc.
You would have to hold this fucker back from actually hurting him, or else you’d end up with König on a two week suspension.
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sprout-fics · 23 hours
I'm having a soft spot for werewolf soap. He isnsuch a puppy for you, full of joy and jumping around and playfull and loves yo wrap himself arround you and suffocate you with his thick fur
And then turns around andis absolutely feral , growling and staking his claims and will rip someone to shreds if needed.
Also just the imagie of a large wolf basically smirking is just to adorkable
I'm so here for bouncy enthusiastic puppy Soap who turns feral as soon as you're in danger.
It’s from one moment to the next that it happens
You’re clearing the route through the jungle with Soap at your side, a routine patrol on the outer perimeter of the temporary camp you and the team have set up in the days-long pursuit of the Narco cell that was responsible for the assassination of a politician. They’d fled into the thick foliage of the dense underbrush, and you and the team had quickly moved to follow, Los Vaqueros alongside you. 
If Soap loved his job on a regular mission, this now seems to be the epitome of excitement for him. Besides having the pleasure to work alongside Ale and Rudy again, the thrill of the hunt itself is addictive to the shifter’s senses. The hum of life in the canopy, the lush scent of greenery, the spongy earth under his feet make the Scotsman practically bounce beside you, eyes glimmering and voice a vibrant cheer. 
He bumps up against you, overexcited, nose brushing under your jaw, fangs just barely poking out in his enthusiasm. He’s paying less attention to the perimeter around you both and more to you, affectionate and adoring with his mate. 
“Down, puppy.” You try for the third time, hands raising to gently push him off of you, and Soap whines at that, big beautiful blue eyes pouting. 
“Only for a few minutes.” He pleads again. “Just a little jog cannae hurt, we won’t be long. Promise.”
“We have to finish our patrol first.” You chide not for the first time, and he grumbles at you in disappointment. Yet he doesn’t argue, knows that the job always comes first and foremost. Work before play. 
He opens his mouth to say something else- likely to snark at you, but then he pauses. You see it in his eyes, the way his pupils dilate as his super-human hearing picks up on something distant. 
“Soap?” You ask, quieter, concerned. Yet he doesn’t answer, not as his head whips towards the direction of the jungle and he doesn’t even breathe.
“Down!” He bellows, voice thunderous just as gunfire explodes from the ferns, and you yelp as suddenly his form barrels into yours, pressing you down into the soft dirt as bullets fly overhead. 
You curse, try and twist from under him to return fire but Soap suddenly snarls, loud enough to make your heart stammer. His form hovers over you, braced on his elbows with his face just millimeters from your own.
It’s always his eyes that change first when Johnny shifts, going from baby blue to yellow in a matter of seconds as his body begins to transform- broadening, widening, bones cracking as they break and reform in the span of only seconds. You don’t understand how he manages the pain of his entire body re-writing itself, and now with his face contorted into something no less than fury, you remember at once just how deadly the werewolf above you truly is. 
Mere moments, before Soap’s muzzle elongates and his fangs drip with pooling, hungry saliva onto your face, his shoulders drawing close, growing to accommodate his massive size, claws forming from his fingernails near your head. His gear and clothes shred as he shifts, ribboned into rags by his towering form. 
“Stay.” Is all he tells you, his voice ringing clear in your mind as a trembling growl drops deep from the hollow of his chest. It’s the only warning you get before he launches himself in the direction of your attackers, and there’s screams at the sudden massive form that snarls and hurdles towards them with the intent of utter destruction. 
It’s only when you try to shift and follow that you notice the bloody gash in your leg, rendered by a bullet that you couldn’t quite miss. You hiss at the pain, draw the leg up to your chest even as blood stains the fabric of your pants, pools across your gloved fingertips. It’s enough to distract you even as the radio erupts with chatter from Price and the others, pounding in your ears as you attempt to press down on the wound. 
You don’t even notice the rest of the jungle go quiet until a looming shadow falls across you. You look up to see Soap’s huge yellow eyes, the blood caking his maw as he nudges at you, scruff still bristled with a still coiled energy from his carnage. You raise a bloody hand to the side of his face, and your wolf makes a little whine at the touch, concerned, upset, frenetic. 
When there’s a rustle from the bushes, Soap snarls, the sound entirely feral, animalistic like the untamed creature that he is. Paws plant on either side of your form, shielding you from view as he turns in the direction of those that dare approach. Head hanging low in warning, blood dripping from his fangs, Soap issues only one, savage warning to those that venture too close to his injured mate. 
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mactavishwritings · 3 days
going off of another anon's request, what if GN!Reader's anger is quiet? Like, they're usually calm, collected, the person people go to for reason, and then meeting someone from their past that just makes them shut down completely. Like, face blank, voice quiet, almost nonverbal, staring down the person (preferably a man that has done bad things but with a calm and good outer face) and when they meet again, the man stares almost condescending down at GN!Reader and saying something and Reader responds in a deadly quiet voice,
"You touch any of us again and I will personally see to your long, painful death."
There's a slight quiver in their voice, the only hint of their rage, and the most terrifying death glare in their eyes
Only write if your comfy with angry angst, if not ignore this! If you do write, thank you! I wish you a good day and night!
you moved to stand in front of your boys, your team. you had a dark, angry energy around you that almost made it seem like you had grown 3 times. you were shaking violently, not saying another word. Soap came up behind you, a hand coming up to your shoulder. the person from your past looked intimated, but tried to hold their ground.
Price came up and dismissed the person. when they left, your shoulders dropped and Soap scoop you into his arms. Gaz came to comfort you while Ghost blocked the door to prevent anyone from coming in. Price checked in with you, asking you the history there.
Soap and Gaz held you until you calmed down. Ghost took your face in his hands and told you that he was proud of you for standing up for them all.
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mistydeyes · 17 hours
Hi! I don't think your rules link on your master list is working? (It might just be the Tumblr app being silly) but I've like to request a COD fic with a reader who has a moderate to severe penicillin allergy is accidentally given it while out in the field. Cut to the 141 ripping the medic who didn't check the medical tag a new one and being all protective and shit.
omg nooo thank you for bringing this to my attention, I'll get it fixed bc I love it when y'all request things! I absolutely love this idea too!
Just a little PSA but penicillin allergies are SERIOUS. If you have one, you are automatically not allowed to get anything related to penicillin (including amoxicillin, ampicillin, etc). You also are limited in your drug selection as people with severe allergies can't get any similar antibiotic drugs such as cephalosporins. You may experience hives, rashes, and even anaphylaxis if administered. So it’s always important to have a note in your medical file and notify any medical professionals about the nature of your allergy.
Okay, my little pharmacy soapbox is over, let’s move on to the blurb.
warnings: depiction of wounds and violence, swearing
pairings: 141 x g/n!reader
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You were the newest member to join the 141. Excelling through your training, you were eventually handpicked by Captain Price to join his team. You were known for your sniper skills, rivaling that of Ghost. You were even more known for your call sign. In your years of being in the army and part of SAS, you became affectionately known as 'Plaster'. Your buddy came up with it as you had been the only one in the squadron to never need to go to the infirmary (avoiding cuts and bandages aka plasters) and also were notorious for outdrinking any recruit that tried to challenge you.
That's why when you ended up in the medical tent with an infected cut, the 141 boys were surprised. Before your intake, you had been providing overwatch on a building as Gaz, Price, and Soap infiltrated. Ghost was in the building across from you, also providing support. As you checked your sights, you immediately heard Ghost over the coms yell, "Behind you!" It was too late as the enemy had taken the opportunity to pull you by the legs and begun to swing his knife. You tried to react quickly but ended up with a slice to your arm before Ghost could take the man out. You knew once you recovered Price would be teaching you a thing or two about hand-to-hand combat.
However, he would have to wait as you had woken up that morning with a high fever. The cut was shallow, only requiring some soap and water and a simple bandage. Somehow, it had become infected. You groggily went to the field hospital. Once there, they removed the bandage and saw the area was red, extending past the initial wound. The field medic brushed it off, saying they would prescribe you some oral antibiotics for a little more than a week. As he cleaned and redressed the wound, he handed you a small pill bottle with ‘Augmentin’ written on it. Before you left, you popped the small, oval pill into your mouth and were sent on your way.
As soon as you exited the tent, you made your way back to your own to get some rest. Your tongue felt puffy in your mouth as you navigated through the maze of tents. Maybe you had bit it in your sleep?
You walked in and sat on your cot, noting Soap sitting across from you in his. You then felt slightly out of breath but assumed it was due to the humidity and sand debris in the air. You lay down, listening to Soap recount the successful mission before you began to hyperventilate. You felt like you were drowning as you tried your best to breathe.
"Oi, are you okay, Plaster?" was all you heard before the world went dark.
When you woke up, you were surrounded by your concerned squadron. You looked around and realized you were in the medical tent. As you tried to sit up, Price put a hand on your shoulder and lightly pushed you back down.
"God, Plaster you gave us a heart attack. You went into anaphylaxis," he began and you were shocked. It wasn't like you were allergic to peanuts or anything but then you realized you were allergic to ampicillin. Something you had learned after a childhood run-in with meningitis.
Price confirmed your suspicions as he added, "that fucking muppet of a medic gave you amoxicillin/clavulanate. Apparently he hadn't realized you were severely allergic to all penicillins," he said through gritted teeth.
You realized that must have been what that white pill was and mentally slapped yourself for the mistake.
"I'm sorry, guys," you began to say as you looked around at their faces. They looked so worried for you and you felt stupid for the simple mistake.
"Ah, it wasn't your fault, Love" Gaz spoke up. "Plus, the 141 got to show the medic what happens when you almost kill our best sniper."
You laughed as Soap described how once the field medic rushed in with an Epi-Pen and they carted you off to the tent, the boys confronted the medic. Apparently in his haste, he had overlooked the very important note that you were not to be given anything related to penicillin, including the prescribed Augmentin.
"You should've seen his face when Price lifted that poor fucker," Soap laughed loudly. "Better yet, I'm sure he pissed his pants when Ghost walked over and held him by his collar. Ghost is one scary motherfucker." To this comment, Soap received a slight slap on the back of his head.
You were appreciative of their efforts but couldn't imagine the lashing they would be getting from their superiors.
The ever-quiet Ghost ended the story by saying, "It was just a little taste for all of what you went through. I'm glad you're doing alright despite that idiot."
You cracked a smile as you lay in bed, appreciating your teammates who defended you like brothers.
As they left you to rest, you could hear Gaz whisper, "You don't think the laxatives in his tea were a little much?" You realized that this medic's life would be made a living hell for the remainder of your tour.
Years later it became a running joke. As you sat in the bar recounting stories of your service, Soap loudly joked, "And to think, Plaster almost got taken out by a little cut and some medicine." That earned him a hard slap to the back of the head.
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a/n Did anyone else watch NCIS? every time someone mentions getting a slap to the head, I think of Gibbs.
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