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siddhigirls · 5 months

Text

it’s just my job

pairing: josh hutcherson x afab!reader

warnings: very aggressive degrading, choking, and lots of sex

you worked for one of the biggest mafias in russia. your ex boyfriend pulled you into the lifestyle, although you guys dated, he went behind the mafias back and did some dirty work against you guys… that’s why he’s an ex boyfriend, he’s dead. you were often praised for your hard work and dedication towards the mafia, the head mafia, leo, was so in love with you. he bought you everything you’ve ever wanted, he protected you, and put you in charge of everyone and everything.

leo gave you a new job to work on, you had to spy on your rivals and get some information from one of the members. you’ve been working on this for a couple of months and since you’ve kept your identity so hidden nobody knew you were in one of the most notorious mafias in the entire world. you don’t really have family or friends, everyone you talk to was in your mafia and you mostly talked to leo. now it’s hard to ignore the fact that you and leo had a secret relationship, you guys fuck almost every night and god he’s good at it. you were driving to your next location, pulling over to check your most recent text from the person you’ve been spying on, josh. josh is one of the rival mafia members, he knows quite a lot of information for you to tell leo.

josh was a stupid american adult man, he sees a hot woman and you gave him the thought that you would give him a chance and he immediately is going crazy for you. you were currently in the streets of L.A waiting for the text for you to leave the car and go inside his house. you looked outside in the palm trees and the bright sun, you don’t have this in russia. you get the text from him telling you to come inside. you open the door letting yourself in and taking off your shoes, you smell food from his living room. you see him waiting for you standing with a row of food waiting on his dining table, your heart melts a little, despite him being so fucking dumb you liked his quirkiness.

“i got this for you!!” he pointed at the food on the table and went up to you to give you a big bear hug but his perverted mind he just wanted to feel your boobs against his chest. you sat down and you acted like nothing was going on and just kept on talking to him, while you guys were talking he talked a lot about his brothers and the mafia, and you were just recording every single thing he was saying. time passed by so quick you didn’t even realize it was already 1:30 A.M, you got up and you looked at your phone, you decided it was time to leave.

“no no y/n please don’t leave i’m not done hanging out with you.” you giggled at how clueless he is but he walked you to the door, giving you one last bear hug, he tried leaning in for a kiss, you kissed him back and feeling absolute fucking amazing, without a single thought in the world, you just pushed him against the wall and started taking off his shirt, breathlessly taking your lips off his. you guys were kissing going into the living room, you pushed him on the couch and he was staring into your eyes as he was looking up at you, you felt so fucking weak.

“i am so fucking obsessed with you y/n, i just want to fucking ruin you.” he says darkly, unbuttoning your jeans and pulling your pants down with your victoria’s secret underwear. he kissed your stomach all the way down to your pussy, he got up and pushed you against the nearest wall and got down on his knees again, he spread your legs, taking your left leg and hiked it up and let you rest it on his back.

he pushed your underwear to the side seeing your wet slick, he ran his fingers through your clit coating it, he looked up into your eyes making intense dark eye contact as he licked your clit, you threw your head back in pleasure as you pulled his hair, “if you look away again y/n you’ll fucking regret it, look at me” he says grabbing your neck forcing you to look at him. he was sucking your clit inserting his index finger in your tight cunt. you keep letting out pornographic moans that echo through the loft not breaking eye contact once, it was hard for you to not look away. leo would be so mad that you were basically selling your body to another man.

he added 2 more fingers which caused you to arch your back and groan in pain, you looked away which caused him to take his mouth off your wet pussy and taking his fingers out making you feel empty. he got up while your legs were wobbling. he gripped your neck and slammed you against the wall, he got to your ear and started whispering little nothings into your ear like “you’re one of the most beautiful woman i’ve ever laid my eyes on” and “i just wanna destroy you in the worst way possible.”

he pulls away from you and going to his side table pulling out a camera, he presses record, since you were so fucking drunk from pleasure you didn’t even realize what he was doing. “look at this slut, didn’t think i would find out” he said taking off his joggers to reveal his lengthy dick, he took off your white shirt along with your bra watching your boobs bounce, the camera paneling towards his dick entering your tight pussy, “this is what happens to sluts when they think they’re getting information when in reality they’re the ones getting fucked.” fuck. you were panicking but you just couldn’t bring yourself to push him off of you, he was fucking you so good that leo can’t even compare.

“she sabotaged herself into thinking that she can runaway with this fucking information, stupid whore.” he panels the camera in your hopeless face, the the makeup running down. “tell me that my cock is the best you’ve ever had you whore.” he says, “please..” you moaned, “fucking say it or else i’ll personally send this to leo so he can see how much of a whore you are, you think i wouldn’t find out? i’ve been watching you for years, he can watch his girl get fucked and cum continuously if you don’t wanna fucking say it.” he says blackmailing you, “it’s the best i’ve ever had please” you said as he keeps thrusting in and out of you

“listen bitch, im gonna fuck you and you aren’t going to tell a single fucking soul about what i told you, if you did i will tell leo about how much his bitch girlfriend loves his rivals cock” he says grabbing your neck as you felt yourself getting closer, you squeezed yourself around him as you felt his strokes getting slower and slower, “i need to cum please let me cum” you begged, “let it out baby” he says pressing harder around your neck, you cum as you felt air not entering your body, he switched the camera down to his dick seeing your cum around his dick and he got deeper into you and came deep into your pussy.

he pulled out showing the camera closer footage of your pussy leaking from his seed. he switched the camera to your face and exchanging a nasty kiss, spitting into your mouth, you looked into his eyes and swallowed his spit, “good girl.” he muttered as he turned off the camera.

#josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson smut #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutchersons girl #the hunger games #fnaf movie #mike schmidt x reader #dark josh hutcherson #smut #josh smut #hutcherson

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the-froschamethyst4 · 1 month

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Husband Of The Year

𖤐Pairing: Retired! Soap x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: Smut, fluff, language, Scottish slang, teasing, P in V, fingering, feminism, breadwinner Y/n, male wife Soap, kissing/making out, groping, nipple play, male masturbation,

𖤐Summary: Soap had retired from the Military a few years ago, and when he got married to his wife he started to become the best husband of their lives.

————

4:00PM

Y/n was coming home and her husband Soap had just made dinner for the both of them. He poured out some red wine for Y/n and poured some whiskey in a glass for him. He saw headlights pull into his driveway knowing it was his wife.

He goes to the front door, opening it and then seeing Y/n get out of her car and sees her husband.

"John."

"Hi, mo luaidh (my darling)." Soap says, placing his hand on her waist. "Come on," he says guiding her into the house.

Once the door was opened and Soap moves down and removes Y/n's heels from her feet. His hands were gentle on her ankles and his fingers gently caressed her calves up to her thighs.

"What did you do?" She asked.

"Nothing...am I not allowed to cook for my wife?"

"You are allowed to," she smiles at him.

"I always cook for you, mo luaidh (my darling)." He kisses her knee and then stood back up.

"What did you fix?"

"Your favorite," he says, guiding her to the dinning room and showing her the meal he made for her. "Red wine too," he says.

"Thank you, John, I'm gonna change and come back down," she says. Soap nods and sits at the end of the table.

Y/n soon came downstairs in a light purple silk nightgown that stopped at her mid thigh, Soap's eyes widened as Y/n's hair was a bit messy as well, doing it on purpose teasing Soap.

He smirks leaning back in his chair, he stood up pulling her chair out for her to sit, she does and he pushed her closer to the table.

"You look gorgeous, mo luaidh (my darling)." He leans down and kissed her temple.

"Thank you," she smiles at him as Soap went to his chair.

"How was work?" He started to make small talk with his wife.

"A mess," she says.

"How so?"

"We have an employee that calls in almost everyday, her excuse is pulling the 'I'm sick' card when she isn't sick, it's because she doesn't want to work and it's very obvious, she has come to me many times complaining about work, and then saying she'll call in because 'she's stressed out'...stressed out about what? Watching videos on your phone? She doesn't work!" Y/n was an exclusive director for the company she works at.

If she could she would fire this woman, but it's not her call. It was obvious that the woman gets under Y/n's skin a lot. Even the General Manager has an issue with this woman and they've both talked to her and the CEO about her.

Soap usually hears a lot about this woman and how she is basically a problem for the company. All that woman has to do is order products make sure they come in on time and calls people to let them know their products come in, but she never does it half of the time and sales people have to do her job for her, which pisses them off.

"I bet, what number is this?"

"23 and counting," Y/n says annoyed by this woman. Y/n eats her dinner as Soap just listens her her rant and enjoy her company.

"You're lucky you don't have to deal with someone like her," Y/n says.

"Well, I dealt with people like that in the Military."

"Really, how come you never told me?"

"Just never brought it up," he chuckles. "But I can tell you about the one who was released early from duty."

"Tell me!" She says, leaning on her hand to listen to her husband talk.

Soap tells her about a new recruit coming to the Military and two days in was released from duty because of bad conduct making him go to court because of his stunt.

"Yeah, you never told me that," she giggles.

"Again, we've never talked about it," he says. "Not only that it was a while ago, when I went to Russia for a week, I kind of forgot about it till now," he says as he moves his fork to his mouth.

"I see."

"Anything else going on?" He asked her.

"We...fired a girl," Y/n says.

"Fired someone?! What happened?"

"Remember that one girl I talked about when I caught her in the bathroom with a male employee?"

"Oh yeah!"

"Well, she was caught in the male bathroom...masturbating and we called a meeting with her, with all managers and directors and...the CEO decided to fire her."

"H-How the hell did she get into the males bathroom without getting caught going in?"

"I'm not sure, the person who caught her doing it was the director of Marketing, she left the door unlocked and was caught."

"Holy shit-did you bring up the time you caught her?"

"I did in the meeting after we fired her, we discussed the times we caught her and how we hid it till we called a meeting with her," Y/n says.

"Your company is a shit show."

"Oh I know, we try our best to control it, and it seems like a shit show when the CEO leaves for anything, and his assistant tries to control everything when he's gone," she pokes at her food.

"Anyways enough work talk. You done, mo luaidh (my darling)?"

"Yes," she says as Soap stood up taking his and hers plate to the sink. She stood up and walked to her husband. Her arms go around his waist.

"Mo luaidh?"

"I'll be upstairs," she says, walking away and Soap watches her walk away.

-----------

Soap turns off the lights downstairs and walk upstairs through the hallway and at the end of the hall was his shared bedroom with the light on. He pushes the door open seeing his wife still in her silk nightgown, she was on her stomach reading one of her books, she looks over her shoulder and smiles at her husband before putting a bookmark in her book.

She rolls over and look at her husband placing her book on her nightstand.

"Come here," she says with her arms open and Soap crawls on top of her. She kissed the top of his head and he kisses her neck. "John?"

He starts to move down kissing her neck, chest, between her breasts, and then her stomach. His hands groped at her breasts, his hands move under her nightgown and his fingers played with her hard nipple.

She lets out a soft moan as he was gentle with her. Ever since Soap's retirement, he treats Y/n like she is the last thing on Earth, their sex was amazing because of Soap and how he would make her feel, and how he started to figure out what she liked during sex.

They tried new things they've never tried before, or they would do things they both knew they got off.

Soap then moves down pulling at her panties, pulling them down and off her ankles, he tosses them somewhere in the bedroom. He then starts licking his lips and then starts licking between her wet folds.

He kisses between her folds. He spits on her clit and rubs a few minutes earning moans from Y/n, her hand holds his wrist as he then shoves his middle and ring finger inside of her.

Her back arches with the pleasure overwhelming her. Soap smirks at her and then starts licking and sucking on her clit. His tongue flicked against her bud a few times, moans filled the room, he used his free hand and pulled his dick out.

He pumps himself a few times. He loves her moans, her back arching because of the pleasure. She used her hand to help him. He moans letting her do all the work.

He kept licking her and kissing her slit. Her hands pumping him quickly and teasingly slowly down. She'll pick up the pace just to hear him moan and the vibrations from his mouth against her clit made her feel good.

He then moves his mouth and fingers and she whines when he moves away. Her hand wasn't touching him anymore. He pulls his boxers off and then starts aligning himself up at her entrance.

She smiles placing her hands on his neck bring him close to her, lips touching as he first starts out slow and easy, them both rocking back and forth against each other.

Their make out session was soft and easy, but back rough with her biting at his bottom lip as he pulls away and groans when feeling her teeth pull at his lip.

His thrusts were rough and sloppy. The same with his kisses, they were sloppy and messy. Y/n's moans filled the room and skin slapping as well.

Soap kissed her neck, jawline and the back to her lips. Y/n's nails then dug into his muscular back. He groans when feeling the sudden pain digging into his back, but he ignored it, he was on a mission to make his wife feel good.

He looks down at her, her face all red and his ears were filled with moans. Y/n then dragged her fingers from his back to his shoulders and then down to his buff chest.

Y/n felt herself close to coming. She let's out another moan and then tightened around Soap's cock, he moans feeling her tighten around him.

"Come on, mo luaidh (my darling), cum for me," he groans as she did what he asked, she ended coming on his dick, he pulls out and watches as cum leak from her clit slowly.

He bends down and starts licking her clean. Her hands held the end of her silk nightgown lifting it up as Soap was cleaning her up.

The retired Sargent, sits up on his knees smiling down at his wife and picked her up taking her to the bathroom.

He places her on the sink and starts a bath. Making sure it was hot and then placed some bubbles in the bath, Y/n removes her silk nightgown placing it on the floor and Soap picks her up and placing her gently in the bath.

"I'll be right back," he says, kissing her lips and heading out of the bathroom, she could see him snatch a clean pair of boxers and hurried to put them on.

She messes with the bubbles in the tub and cupped them in her hands and placed it back on the bubbles. Soap comes back with two glasses and the red wine he poured before.

He gives her one and then held the other, he leans on the side of the tub to watch his wife, his head resting on his arm, she talks to him and he listens.

"Do you want wash you?" He asked.

"Yes," she says as he grabs a loofa and puts her body wash on it. He starts to gently rub it on her arms, shoulders, she gently stood up. He then washed her stomach, back, between her legs, thighs and butt.

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30 Minutes Later

Y/n was on the bed with Soap holding her against his chest as she reads her book and Soap was watching TV on a low volume so Y/n could read her book.

She flips the pages with one hand and then other played with his arm hair as his left hand rested on her thigh and the other resting against her stomach and that hands rested close to her butt and he gently tapped her side to a random beat.

She closes her book, placing it on her nightstand and then looking at the TV to see what Soap was watching. Soap has been on a kick on watching old documentary's about old military planes, and wars that had happened in the past.

"What's this one about?" Y/n asked.

"Old planes and Vets stories about war," he says.

"Oh," was all she said as she cuddled up to Soap closing her eyes and falling asleep.

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Next Morning (6:00AM)

Y/n had woken up to her alarm, groaning as she turns it off, she rolls over to face Soap, he was big spooning her, his eyes closed and he looks peacefully sleeping.

Y/n kissed Soap's lips and got out of his buff arms, she gets up like normal, brushing her hair, and starting her shower getting in and washing her body and hair.

As the water run, Soap wakes up and hears the water, he rolls over seeing the bathroom light on and the door cracked trying not to shine the light on him as he slept.

He stretched up and got out of bed. Heading downstairs to then make tea for Y/n and himself some as well, Soap doesn't drink tea as much as Y/n, she only drinks it to be calm before she works.

Y/n walks downstairs seeing her husband making the hot tea, she was in a towel around her body and another holding up her hair. Soap smiles seeing her.

"How was your shower?" He asked.

"Fine," she yawns as she was handed her mug taking a small sip. Soap walks behind her placing his hand on her hip kissing her temple as she sipped from her mug again.

"Go get dressed and I'll make you some breakfast," he says as she walks upstairs getting dressed and taking her damp hair out of the towel.

Soap had made her some waffles and she ate before going back upstairs to do her hair, make up and grabbing her purse and heels.

"Okay, I'll see you later, John."

"I'll see you, later mo luaidh (my darling)." He kissed her lips and he watched her leave for her work.

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l0v3tast3 · 1 year

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AHH Hello!!! I absolutely love your writing, it’s so good!!!!

I was wondering…

Y/n always wear a mask to conceal her identity, in hopes the 141 doesn’t find out that Makarov is her father!!

141 had captured Makarov for interrogation, and y/n is there. As the interrogation continues, they start to notice that y/n and Makarov know each other, by the subtle little informality they spoke to one another. And the truth starts to come out, little by little!!!!

✎ tysm i love you :(( i absolutely love this idea the angst potential is just *chef's kiss* i'm sorry this one took like over a month to make oops, also i tried to keep personal details abt the reader as vague as possible, pls let me know if there's something i can fix!!

✎ tags: female reader, military reader, major daddy issues, violence, mentions of blood, hurt/barely any comfort if at all, not proofread im too cool for that,

✎ word count: 2,704

the silence in the cold, gray interrogation room was so thick that you were choking on it. you knew you had just fucked up, badly.

you had done so well so far, too. you're fabricated identity had fooled everyone. the name you had chosen stuck, and no one ever noticed your old one threatening to jump from your mouth when you introduced yourself. you always kept the childhood memories and little anecdotes vague. you stuck to your rehearsed lines better than a world-famous actor. you did every single thing right.

and now, here he was, your own blood, fucking it all up for you, again.

technically, he had made you fuck it up for yourself. it was just how makarov worked; he was a spider weaving a web in the corner, watching, waiting. this man, your supposed father, didn't know anything real about you. he didn't know you as a father should know his daughter. but he knew which buttons to press.

he only knew what to say to you when it would allow him the opportunity of watching you fall a little deeper towards rock bottom.

you knew that the room had cameras covering every square inch, and the microphones ensured that you're accidental admission to your heritage was heard by your entire task force.

there was a red hot pit opening inside of you, caving your insides in like a black hole and threatening to consume your entire being. it was rage, you realized. something you only ever seemed to feel in the presence of one person.

you briefly considered killing him, right there and then. was this really the straw that broke your back? it truly was just another thing to add to the list. you had known he would do this.

no, you were angry at yourself.

on the other side of the door, the four men of the 141 task force were all stood still in shock. what the hell did you just say?

none of them wanted to believe it. they especially didn't want to admit that it made sense. you had done a fucking fantastic job of hiding it, they'll admit that, but even you couldn't hide everything.

price saw the way you tensed when you were passed laswell's photo of makarov in the bar, after you had all put an end to hassan's plan. he saw the way you dropped it and slid it to the next person quickly, as if touching the picture had burned your fingertips.

soap had asked you if you were okay more than once during the plane ride to russia. you were so restless, so different from your usual grounded self. you just said you were having some flying anxiety. he felt stupid now for writing it off so easily.

and kyle, the first one to trust you (and to even really talk to you), he had seen the anger sparking off of you while you shot your way through the tower to get to makarov. floor after floor, bullet after bullet, you had paved a path of blood through the mercenaries. he wondered if someone else had taken your mask and gear and was pretending to be you.

simon saw the fear in you when you all got to the last door. you had been so quick in your endeavor to get here, but he saw you hesitate to follow them in. he saw how you never took your wide eyes off of him, and how you stayed a few steps back, moving far out of the way when price began to escort him out in handcuffs.

and when they had asked you to go into the interrogation room, they all saw how you stopped breathing, and the sweat collecting on what little skin they could see above your mask. you had stuttered when you quietly agreed.

when you stepped into the room, makarov took one look at your eyes, and you knew he recognized you. no, he recognized the hatred. and it made him smile.

now, sitting in the cold metal chair, you realized that it wasn't just one mistake, but a series of them; you had let him unravel you, again. you understood, finally, that he saw you as he did everyone else. he saw you as someone that held him back.

part of you had always known, ever since you were young, still single-digits, and he would only visit you once every few months, if that. you had elected to ignore it. now you couldn't.

you couldn't move. behind you was the door that would lead you to the consequences of your actions. in front of you was the reason for those actions.

this is what you had wanted, wasn't it? it was like something snapped back into place, and you suddenly remembered that everything you had done up until now, every time you put the mask on before leaving your room, every lie you had told and every person you had killed had been to get you here. in front of your father. you remembered that the image of him with a bullet between his eyes was what kept you going.

if you killed him, would it finally absolve you? the gun on your hip felt twenty pounds heavier now. your fingers, folded together in your lap with a white-knuckle grip, felt like lead. would this sin make all the other wrongs right?

a tiny voice was telling you to just walk away, let the team's wrath come down on you and let them deal with makarov, but you had already thrown the table between you towards the wall, he was already on the ground with your hands wrapped around his throat.

you were yelling, no, screaming at him. all the compacted feelings from years and years of being as quiet as possible came up like vomit, spewing out in a mess that could never be cleaned up.

there were more than just makarov's hands on you, pushing and pulling you away from him and dragging you out of the room, kicking and screeching to let you just finally kill him, while two other blurry shapes hauled him back into his own chair.

the heavy metal door shut behind the two people practically carrying you, and they finally let you go. you stumbled a few steps away, whirling around for the next target of your fury.

your captain and lieutenant were standing in front of you, both tensed, waiting for you to do something. you couldn't exactly make out their faces- were you crying?

"what in the bloody hell just happened in there?" price snarled. it was the voice he used when he was face to face with his enemy.

"let me back in there." it was a demand. you needed to kill him.

"that's not gonna happen," simon barked. john and kyle had come out from the interrogation room to stand behind the other two men. "you need to explain, now."

they all stared at you with varying looks of anger and hurt. it wasn't the first time you'd ever had it directed at you, but this was somehow worse than all the others.

every cell in your body was shrieking at you to just run for the door, to somehow get through all four of these men, your teammates, your friends, and kill makarov. but their glares glued you to your spot.

"please-" your voice was trembling, years of grief and agony dripping from every word, "please, just let me kill him. you have to let me kill him." you spoke slowly and quietly, focusing on just trying to get the words out. you took a shaky breath and focused your eyes on a muddy bootprint on the floor. you didn't want to see the looks on their faces.

"you don't understand, you just- just let me back in there, please, i'll get whatever you need out of him, but he needs to die!" your voice was getting louder, and you briefly wondered if your father could hear you. "his men are probably already on their way here. don't you get it? if i don't kill him now, he will get out."

the men in front of you were more shocked now than anything at the change in your demeanor. you had been coined the "second ghost" throughout the units, partly for the mask, but also because of your detachment. you were kind, but you always held logic above emotion.

in front of them now was nothing short of a nervous wreck.

despite not moving, you were frantic. you were wringing your hands together, pressed tight against your stomach. your eyes darted from side to side, person to person, between them and the door to makarov.

price took a step forward and you took a step back. he was slow, bringing his hand up as if he were approaching a wild animal. if he was still angry, he was hiding it now.

"come on, kid, let's just get out of 'ere, eh? go somewhere away from him," he said lowly. the other three men watched tensely, not moving, but their hands still close to their guns. just in case.

"no, no- just let me- price, you need to let me back in there!" you were a broken record, you knew it, but there was nothing else to say, nothing else you could think about. this was what you had been waiting for, you were right where you had wanted to be for the past- how many years now? how long has he tormented you for now?

you could feel your father's presence in the next room like bugs crawling across your body. it made your head feel fuzzy and your hands shake. was it from rage or fear? you couldn't tell, so you chose the rage.

it was like bile stuck in your throat, all the pain makarov had caused you finally being unearthed. you wanted to throw it all up and spit it out onto him, lay your organs and hatred alike out on the table in front of him so he could see the decay. you wanted him to rot from the inside out like you had.

your eyes glanced at the door one last time before focusing on price. he was watching you, just a couple of steps in front of you now.

"let me back in there, john." it was a whisper, but still the steadiest thing you had spoken since they had dragged you out.

"no." he said your name quietly, and you heard it as the plea it was, but you're head decided it was done listening.

your body threw itself at him, swinging underneath his arms and onto his back to try and get him on the ground. the room exploded into yelling, and multiple pairs of hands were on you in an instant, hauling you off of price and forcing you face-down onto the ground with your hands behind your back.

cold metal latching around your wrists didn't stop your screaming and kicking, lashing out at the air around you. it didn't work well, because you were being hauled back to your feet and pushed into a separate interrogation room.

whoever was carrying you didn't bother with trying to attach your handcuffs to the table, basically throwing you in and slamming the door shut before you could get back on your feet.

outside the cell, the four men stood in silent shock. what was there to say, where would they even start? would they really be able to hear each other over your muffled screams to let you out?

you didn't know how long you had been in there once the door finally opens again, but you had stopped screaming and struggling to get out of the room. you had sat down at the table, your hands folded in front of you on the cold surface. you stared down at the blood beading and smearing around the handcuffs.

kyle squeezed in through the tiny amount he'd let the door open before he shut it quickly, keeping his eyes on you. you didn't look up, your red eyes staying fixed on one point even as he slowly moved closer. he followed them to see the red rings underneath the steel, and a pang of guilt squeezed his heart tight.

he sat down across from you, folding his hands in front of him on the table, mirroring you. you still hadn't looked up at him, or done anything to acknowledge his presence; you hadn't even moved.

"are you alright?" kyle implored. he kept his voice soft, bending over a little to try to look you in the eye.

it took you a few moments to respond; he almost started to think you didn't hear him before you opened your mouth slowly.

"is he dead?" you croaked.

kyle let out an audible sigh while he leaned back in his seat, bringing his hands up to drag them down his face.

"no, we still need him. you know that."

you didn't say anything after that.

after sitting in silence for two full minutes, he spoke up. "you realize not telling us about this makes you look really bad, yeah?"

"you don't trust me anymore?" you whispered it, like you didn't want him to hear and answer. you knew what he would say.

"you aren't making it very easy."

kyle wanted to trust you still. part of him was angry and confused as to why you had kept something like this from them. the other part, the bigger part of him, knew that you were on still on the same side of it all. and he knew the other three men felt the same, but they couldn't just dismiss this.

"we can work this out, ya' know. you just have to be honest with us," he added after you once again stayed silent.

"be honest?" you echoed. you finally looked up at him. "about what? you heard me. makarov is my father. i want him dead. that's all there is to say."

kyle took his turn to not speak, weighing your words, figuring out where to go from there.

"why didn't you tell us?" he finally asked.

you looked back down at your wrists. "if i had told you i was makarov's daughter before i joined the team, then all i would have ever been is makarov's daughter." you paused to take a deep, shaky breath. it was uncomfortable with your mask still on, wet with tears, but you refused to take it off, to give away the last piece of your identity that was still yours at the moment.

"it's something we should have known," he contended quickly. "we could have used the information you have-"

you cut him off, your eyes snapping back up to glare daggers at him. "you think i know anything more than you?" you barked. something between a laugh and a sob escaped your throat before you could continue. "i was eight years old the last time i saw him in person. i was raised by live-in nannies. he only visited, what, maybe twice a year? and i don't know why he even bothered, either."

your hands were clenched into tight fists, and the same sting that circled your wrists was appearing in your palms. you kept going though; you didn't know if you could stop now.

"every time i get somewhere, every time i start making a life for myself again, he fucks it all up. never showed his damn face, but it was him, it was always-" you finally cut yourself off, not wanting to drag more memories out from the dark.

"makarov may be my father, but i am not his daughter. i swear, kyle, i fucking swear it." you were pleading with him to believe you now. you needed them to understand.

you could see it in the way his eyebrows creased that he wanted to take your words as the truth. but he didn't say anything (what could he have said?).

the door opened once again, and price half-entered the room to wave kyle back out. he avoided your gaze, something he'd never done before. then you were alone again.

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ahoycaptainautumn · 1 year

Text

Fell Into You Pt 1

pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader

Part 2 here

synopsis: Ghost isn’t looking for anything and neither are you. But when a mission goes wrong, throwing you two together, where will things go from here?

content: slow burn, sfw this chapter, nsfw later. Pre-established reader nickname as “Crow”

—————————————————————

“Alright team, the breakdown of the mission is as follows. Team 283 has been compromised infiltrating an enemy hole in the center of Kazan. They are now forced to switch between three different safe houses to stay ahead of the enemy. They are using the old septic tunnel system underground to transport between them. Your job will be for each squadron to enter the safe houses and extract the team. We lost contact roughly 2 hours ago, so time is of the essence and we aren’t sure which safehouse they will be in.” Price finished explaining to the rest of Team 141. Price and Gaz would be a squadron and take on safe house Alpha. Graves and a handful of shadows would take safe house Beta. Ghost and Soap would take the last one, safehouse Charlie.

“How many are left of the team that we are aware of?” Asked Graves.

“As far as we know, two marines, sergeant Echo and Captain Crow.” Price replied. Ghost and Soap exchanged glances at the names. Crow had gained some notoriety amongst the different teams. You were known for being a lethal warrior, recently taking on an enemy exit point on your own without alarming surrounding enemy locations.

“Eh maybe this wins me a date with Crow, savin her arse, huh?“ Soap chuckled. Not many other soldiers had worked with Crow, which meant rumors spread on whether you were hideous or breathtaking. Ghost opted to stay out of it, the last thing he needed was thinking of a female in his line of work. He was sure you felt the same, which is why you chose to stay out of the spotlight.

“You wish mate.” Is all Ghost replied. He followed behind Soap, readying up to take the heli waiting for them.

———-

Kazan, Russia - 2100hr

———-

Soap and Ghost sat within an abandoned garage just south of the mission point. Safehouse Charlie was a torn down church centered in a forgotten town just barely on the outskirts of the major city of Kazan. Soap finished a cig, squashing it beneath his boot.

“My eyes in the sky, how are we lookin?” Soap spoke into the radio. A static replied from the above plane circling the different safe houses.

“No tangoes spotted, you are free to make entry. Make it quiet. Enemies were spotted just east of your position around safehouse A.”

“Got it.” Soap let go of his radio and turned to Ghost grabbing his gun. Ghost gave him a small nod, recognizing this was their chance to move. Ghost tucked in behind Soap, keep his head on a swivel as the made their way to the side entrance of the church. There was an old cellar door on the ground next to the church nearly rusted shut. Ghost put a finger to where his lips would be under the mask and grabbed at the door, quietly opening it. Darkness of the basement greeted them. Turning on their flashlights, the two men made their way through the cellar opening. There was nothing but old church literature and stacks of chairs. No sight of anyone occupying. Ghost waved his finger towards the door to the main ground, Soap nodded back. Once again, darkness swallowed them as the entered into the main floor of the church. The cellar opened to a small room just behind the podium of chapel. Soap put up a fist, point to the ceiling. Just barely, Ghost could hear something creaking upstairs.

“Enemy or friendly?” Soap questioned.

“Let’s find out shall we?” Ghost answered. The quickly made their way from the room to find the decaying steps to go to the attic. Ghost didn’t make it but one set of stairs before he was thrown back onto a wall with a knife near his throat. Staring back at him was your (e/c) eyes, shining behind a masked face.

“Friendly! Friendly!” Soap replied, being held at gunpoint by Echo. Echo relaxed his shoulders, whistling at Crow to do the same. You took one more hard look at Ghost before lowering your knife, not relaxing in the slightest. You had (h/c) hair, loosely put up in a ponytail and tactical gear long forgotten with only the army issued t shirt and cargos on. You looked like you went through hell and back. But Ghost now knew the truth to the rumors, you were stunning.

Echo ushered you all into the attic room, yet another supply room with nothing much but a small candle burning and two bloodied dog tags lying next to it. Ghost cringed at the sight slightly. Crow turned to him, “So what do they call you?”

Before you could get the words completely out a shock rumbled the floor, a second blast bleeding into your eardrums from the left. The floor exploded beneath your left foot and you felt yourself falling back into the empty hole. Russian shouting was heard from the bottom floor with gun shots ringing from your side and theirs. Ghost grabbed your outstretched hand, using his other to wrap around your waist throwing you on top of him and away from the blast site. Ghost landed backwards, with you directly on top of him. Once again, you stared each other in the eyes and your faces were so close you could just barely feel his breath behind his balaclava.

“They call me Ghost” he replied, just as smallest of grins just slightly pulled his eyes up from under his mask. The rumors were definitely false, you were absolutely breathtaking.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #modern warfare 2 #mw2 #reader insert #cod #call of duty #smut #simon riley x reader smut #ghost x reader smut #fluff #angst #fell into you

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 1 year

Text

Black Widow

Summary: How a Black Widow made it out of the Red Room, and onto the 141.

Warnings: there’s a lot of talk of trauma in this, explicit smut, threesomes, jealousy, spitroasting, etc, etc, weirdly long (5k)

Notes: the reader was raised (ish) in the red room but this fic is not at all a part of the mcu – it’s just supposed to be the story of a defector, and how she became a part of the 141

kind of felt guilty while writing this bc it made me feel like ghost was cheating on red fox from the fics by @charnelhouse lmao

feedback and comments are very much appreciated!!!

Masterlist | requests are OPEN! | hmu to be added to one of my taglists!

The first memory you have of an outsider is at eleven years old. You and the other girls are sleeping in the dormitory when Madam Ivanova bursts in and opens the handcuffs binding you all to your beds. She pulls the others from their cots, and you almost don’t notice the man that grabs you by the arm.

He’s wearing a hat you’ve never seen before, and that immediately scares you – you don’t recognize him.

“I’ve found the girls!” he shouts, and others pour in, armed to the teeth. Madam Ivanova is still guiding other girls out of the room, and you can see the fear in her eyes. She’s not a kind person, but she takes care of you. Nothing bad has ever happened to you when you were with her.

Nothing like this.

So you turn around, and punch the man square in the face. It takes him aback, and he stumbles backwards. It gives you just enough time to run from him.

Later, you learn that his name is Price, and that he is with the British. An enemy of the Red Room.

Seven years later, you come face to face with him again. You’re three years into active duty, serving the Red Room, and you look drastically different from what you looked like at eleven.

It’s a mistake from another girl that causes your capture. It’s his face that you see first when the hood is pulled off your face.

In the past few years, he’s been the face of your nightmares, so you stay silent. It surprises you when the British don’t torture you. Instead, they offer you a deal. Provide them with the intel they want, and be free of the Red Room.

It takes you three months to accept that deal, and one more to get Price and his colleague Laswell the things they want.

They give you your pardon, and you move to New Zealand, as far away from Russia and Great Britain as you can.

With a fake passport, fake birth certificate and fake story, you leave all of it behind.

You wake up early, shrieking out of your sleep from a nightmare. Your first thought is to call Sarina, an old colleague who also made it out, but you know that she’s still asleep – at least the people in her time zone are. Instead, your feet carry you outside to the lake.

You fish around in your jacket, finding a cigarette and lighter. There’s a nervous feeling in your gut, ever-present. Trained into you since you can remember. This country is the safest and most isolated you could manage, and yet, there’s always the imperative of looking over your shoulder.

You hear Price walking onto the gravelly beach before you see him.

“You know I moved here to be left alone, right?” you tell him, taking another draw from your cigarette.

“I’ve got a job for you.” Price says instead, and you shake your head.

“I’m done with contracting work.”

“So you live off of government support and the intel you sell on the dark web?” he asks.

“That’s my business.”

“It’s about the Red Room.”

You pause, glancing over at him. He looks sincere, but you can also see the earpiece he’s wearing.

“Laswell on the comms?” you asked. You still remember the woman, distrusting as fuck from the moment she met you.

“Yeah. She’s helping with coordinating the team.”

You snort with disdain. “I don’t work in teams. We aren’t trained to.”

“You’ll like them.” Price promises.

“I doubt it. I don’t like you very much.”

Price gives you a dry laugh, and you know he doesn’t take it as personally as you want him to.

“I know that this is personal to you. You got out at eighteen – that’s later than most. You know what they do.”

“Ask any other defector. Sarina, or Antonya. I’m not interested.” You tell him firmly.

“We’re not taking many prisoners from the Red Room.” Price begins again, and you’re about to cut him off. “You can kill the head. Get the girls safe, and you can do with Dreykov whatever you want.”

The offer is too tempting to turn down. To be able to kill the man that ruined your life? The man that ruined the lives of all those other girls?

“I’m in.” you say, and Price gives you a grim smile in return.

“Pack your things. You can meet the team in England.”

Soap

Price had said that he was going to New Zealand for business. He hadn’t realized that ‘business’ entailed a woman.

“That yer girlfriend?” Soap asked, and the woman gave him a look so mean that she almost compared to Ghost.

“I’d hope not.” Price replied. “I’d be dead before morning.”

The woman sat down at the end of the table silently. She looked around, before her hands grabbed a pack of cigarettes from her jacket, lighting it up again.

Ghost was quiet too, but fuck, he knew Ghost. This woman didn’t say a single fucking word, but Soap still knew that Price didn’t have any kind of power over her.

“What’s the mission?” he asked impatiently, and Price set down a stack of Manila folders onto the table.

Laswell pushed off from the wall she’d been leaning against, pulling one of the folders from the stack.

“To most special operatives, the Red Room is a myth. A story made up by the KGB, and nothing more. But the Red Room exists, and we’re going to take it down.”

The woman made a sound for the first time, and it was a disdainful laugh. The others turned to stare at her, but Laswell cleared her throat to redirect their attention back to the right person.

“Over the years, the US and Britain have worked together to take the Red Room down, but it’s evolved from a KGB branch to a human trafficking ring. They take young girls off the streets all over the world and turn them into trained killers, mostly targeting politicians. Taking down the Red Room would mean putting a stop to their ongoing crimes and potentially explain some of the most unclear assassinations of the past seventy years.” Laswell said.

Soap glanced over to the woman, who was watching Laswell with close to no emotion on her face. Stubbing her cigarette on the steel table she leaned back, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“And she’ll be a part of that?” Gaz asked, nodding to her.

Price nodded. “Her call sign is Black Widow.”

“Got a name too?” Soap asked, and she told him, quickly. Quietly.

“What do you do in the field?” Gaz asked her. Soap noticed that Ghost was watching her closely, as if he expected her to pull a gun on the team.

“Hand to hand combat, espionage, sexpionage. I can be a sniper if you want me to.” She answered quickly.

“She’s here to show you the way into the Red Room and make the girls there trust you enough to get them out.” Price added.

“What, don’t want to get punched by a kid again?” she said, and Price rolled his eyes. They knew each other, but they didn’t like each other at all.

When the meeting ended, the team began to file out of the room, but Soap stayed behind, hoping to catch her and introduce himself. Ghost shot him a warning look, that Soap chose to ignore.

“Welcome to the team.” He said.

“Thrilled.” She replied dryly.

“I’m John. Everyone here calls me Soap though.”

“I know. I read your file.” She deadpanned. She could have been funny if she hadn’t been constantly mean.

“Ya got access to that?” he asked.

“No.” she replied.

Of course she didn’t.

Ghost

They’d tried to get into a smaller base of the Red Room first, to gather some more intel. None of the team had expected there to be any people, much less a bunch of teen girls armed to the teeth.

It didn’t end well.

Out of the thirty girls there, they’d managed to get seven out alive. The others had either died via cyanide pills or while fighting them.

Black Widow had explained that they were brainwashed, and that was why they’d immediately committed suicide when other options ran out. She didn’t seem to be affected too much by it. At least, she tried to pretend that it was that way.

He’d taken a bullet to the thigh, and it had been her to stitch him up in the safehouse before he could call the medic. She’d been grazed by something, and she took care of that herself as well.

They’d all managed to get some time under the shower, and now, they sat in the living room together. She was in the cargo pants she’d worn on the mission and a black tank top, and Ghost could see the tattoo on her right shoulder blade while her back was to him.

The square hourglass symbol, followed by a number.

1047.

He didn’t have to ask to know that she was the 1047th girl they’d taken. He wondered how many of them had died at his hands, while he didn’t know that he was fighting children.

Price was working on the radio they’d found in the safehouse, but finding an enjoyable station in the middle of Russia was proving to be harder than expected. Eventually, he landed on a classical music station.

She didn’t seem to mind, scraping her can of tortellini clean, until a new song played. Ghost did not recognize it, but he saw her hands curl around the can tightly, knuckles turning white.

“Change the station.” She said. Price looked up. It was the first thing anyone had said in a few hours.

“Why?”

“Just change the fucking station.” She snapped. “Please.”

Price nodded, turning it to something else. A Russian voice chattered into the room. Ghost could see that she was listening, probably understanding every single word.

“What are they saying?” Price asked.

“That there was a fire in the warehouse we were in.” she said.

“Nothing about us?”

She shook her head. “From what they’re saying, they don’t have a clue. The Red Room will know.”

“Why?” Ghost asked.

“They chipped us. They know the last location of the girls, and they know that seven of the chips moved without the rest. I had the medics take them out, but it took them a while to get here. By now, Dreykov will know that something is going on.”

It was the most she’d said in one go so far.

Ghost didn’t trust her, but he didn’t mind her either. Most of the team disliked her, and Price couldn’t seem to stand her. Soap had his mind set on talking to her. But Ghost… he didn’t know who she was, only that she was as quiet as he was.

He knew that Soap wanted to ask about the scars that littered her arms and what they could see of her back, and he knew that she would not answer.

Suddenly, there was a shout of frustration from Gaz.

“What happened?” Price asked, immediately on his feet.

“Heater’s out.”

Glancing outside, Ghost saw that it was snowing heavily. Black Widow got up from her spot in the room. Ghost could hear her shuffle inside one of the cabinets.

She returned with blankets, dumping them in the middle of the room before taking one for herself. Ghost said nothing as she sat down next to him, an arm length of space between them. The snow only got heavier, until it turned into an all-out blizzard.

“We’ll be snowed in tomorrow.” Soap noted.

“Let’s worry about freezing to death first.” Gaz said. He was chattering, despite the blanket around him. Black Widow had gotten herself a second already, and she still looked cold.

“Taking first watch.” Ghost muttered, sitting down by the window.

“I’ll join you.” Soap said. Ghost knew that Soap wanted to chatter about something idle to distract himself from the image of 23 dead fourteen-year-olds.

The others shuffled together for warmth, except for her. She stayed where she was, leaning against the counter of the small kitchen.

“Ya think she’s from the Red Room?” Soap asked under his breath.

“Course she is.” Ghost replied.

“I heard they take the girls when they’re three. Teach ‘em ballet and how to be all pretty while killing a man. Then they send them out when they’re fifteen.”

Ghost nodded, letting Soap know that he was listening.

“Ya think that’s why she wanted ta change the station?”

“Huh?”

“They were playin’ sum ballet song.” Soap said. “Maybe she knows how to dance to it. “

“Doubt she does much dancing.” Ghost replied.

“Sight for sore eyes though. But after what she did today…” Soap mumbled.

Ghost still remembered it. How ruthlessly she’d fought against those girls. Wasn’t she supposed to know that they had no choice?

They had all obviously gone through the same combat training, but she was older and stronger. Those girls knew that. She knew that.

Ghost had watched her snap the neck of one with a twist of her hand. Something like that was so grotesque that even Ghost seldom did it, but with her it looked like the starter to a five-course-meal.

“She ain’t happy.” Soap said.

“No shit.”

“Ya think she’s a good person?”

“I doubt it.” Ghost replied.

“I think she could be. Maybe she’s an ass due to circumstance.”

Ghost snorted. Only Soap would say something like that. When he glanced over to her, he saw beady eyes glancing back in the darkness. He wondered if she’d listened in to their conversation.

She didn’t sleep for most of the time Ghost and Soap were on watch. A few hours in, she picked up her pack of cigarettes and lighter and offered them to take over watch.

Ghost nodded, about to get up and go back to bed, but Soap was hesitant.

“It’s fucking cold sleeping on tha ground.” He said.

“We can sleep close. For warmth.” Ghost replied.

“Nah. I’ll stay on my feet.” Soap said.

Ghost shook his head. What the fuck was going on with Soap?

You

You were back to square one, thanks to some wrong intel. On top of that, they all saw what you did to the other girls. You weren’t sure if their pity was worse or whatever they did now.

All of them except Soap, who still seemed determined to chew off your ear. Currently, he was telling you about his hometown in Scotland.

“You’re from New Zealand, aren’t ya?” he asked finally.

“I just lived there.”

“Then where are you from?” he asked. You shrugged in response. Russia was where you were raised, technically, but you did not know where you were taken from.

Soap smiled at you brightly, completely unguarded. It threw you off. He was a special ops, and yet, he sometimes behaved like anything but.

You didn’t need classes in the Red Room to know that he was attracted to you. Yet, you weren’t sure whether that would help or hinder you.

“Who raised ya? Masked soldiers?” he said, and you were sure he’d meant it as a joke.

“A woman called Madam Ivanova. She was in charge of us.”

“Was? Who killed her?”

“Price.” You replied curtly.

“I’m sorry.” He said quickly. You could see that he was regretting his words.

“Don’t be. She wasn’t a good person.”

“You say that as if she killed your friends.”

“She did.” You replied.

“What?”

“If recruits aren’t good enough, you don’t let them into your ranks.” You shrugged.

“Recruits? Fucking hell, you were girls.”

“Yeah, at the beginning of the program. 1 in 20 makes it through.”

Soap didn’t say anything else that night.

***

You stayed on after taking down Dreykov. By going back into this industry, you’d given up New Zealand, and in your gut, you’d known that when you made that choice.

The team had grown to accept you, and even Price was alright with your company by now. In return, you tried to be less snappy towards them. It worked, most of the time.

The last mission had been a good one. No one innocent had died, you’d gotten the intel, and the bad guys were dead. It was like out of a story, and the group was celebrating.

Price had gotten an empty bar, and Soap was playing bartender, giving out drinks like there was no tomorrow, and chugging his own just as quickly. Ghost was in the corner, mask rolled up to drink whatever Soap handed him.

You could see a bit of blond stubble peek out, along with a small scar. You knew how he’d gotten it. It had been in the Red Room, the actual Red Room, and an eight-year-old girl had slashed at him with a sharpened letter opener.

Ghost hadn’t defended himself. You’d pried the girl off him, taking the weapon from her and making sure she wouldn’t jam it into his neck next.

“Here.” Soap said, handing you a shot of Tequila.

“I’ve had enough.” You replied. “If I drink any more, I’ll get tipsy.”

“That’s the point.” Soap said, firmly putting the shotglass down. “You’re lucky we’re not playing any drinking games.”

You snatched the glass from him, ignoring his smug smile as you downed it, holding out your ahnd for a lime wedge. Soap dropped it into your hand quickly.

You laughed at some stupid joke he said, ignoring the stares on your back from the rest of the team. You couldn’t deny the fact that Soap could make you feel less…

You weren’t sure, but when you were with Soap, your past faded into the background. It wasn’t as important anymore. All the blood and fucking gore of it.

Ghost

He wasn’t sure why, but he hated that she was laughing at Soap’s idiot jokes. Somehow, he had convinced her to get tipsy, and it was a good look on her.

She was pretty when she smiled. Not that she wasn’t without, but it made her look careless. At some point, she walked over to him, another shot glass in hand.

“Soap insists you drink another. He wants to see you tipsy.”

Ghost took the glass from her, ignoring the fact that he enjoyed their hands touching.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Ghost paused.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re quiet. You always are, but you’re like… quiet tonight.” She said. He wanted to scoff at her.

“You and Johnny fucking?” he asked. He wasn’t sure why.

“What?” she asked. “Where the fuck is that coming from?”

“Don’t want my team messed up.”

“Oh in that case, you don’t have to worry Lieutenant.” She spat. Her entire body language had shifted in a moment, and it was telling Ghost to fuck off. “I’m going for a smoke.”

Ghost watched her storm out, before glancing over to Soap. He’d stilled his movements, looking after her.

Ghost followed a few seconds after, leaving the bar. She stood outside, clicking on her lighter angrily.

“Don’t fucking say anything stupid.” She told him, throwing the lighter away with a frustrated movement. Suddenly, Ghost surged forward, grabbing her jaw softly. He had to lean down to look at her, even if she wasn’t short.

“Wha-“ she began

“I thought you learned about all of this.” Ghost mumbled, suddenly unsure what to do. Her hands surged forward, pulling the lower half of his mask up.

His hand moved the back of her neck, covering pretty much all of it. He could taste the sourness of limes on her lips. Her lips were so soft Ghost thought he might forget about everything else.

He ghosted over her jaw, and felt the tenseness in it. Carefully, Ghost broke contact.

“Relax.” He told her.

“I am.”

“This isn’t a mission.”

“I just- I haven’t done this just for the sake of it.”

Shit. Ghost felt terrible when she said that.

“Don’t stop now.” She whispered, and Ghost obliged, his lips meeting hers again. Her jaw wasn’t as tense as it had been, and her arms hung loosely around his neck. Slowly, he let one of his hands slide down to her waist, pulling her in closely.

She let down a quiet oof as she hit his vest, letting him guide her towards the wall of the bar. His other hand pillowed her head, making sure that she would not hurt herself.

He hated to admit that kissing her was everything he wanted in that moment.

It was so perfect, the taste of her lips, her small hands on his chest and his own encircling her waist. Their closeness.

And then, the illusion shattered.

She sprang back from him, looking towards the door of the bar.

“Soap?” she asked, voice hoarse.

Soap

He’d only come out of the bar to check on her and Ghost, expecting them to be at each other’s throats. They were, just not the way he’d thought.

“Soap?” she asked, surprise apparent on her face. Ghost’s hand was still on her waist, but she’d backed away from him as soon as she’d heard his steps.

His stomach dropped. He wanted her. Simon fucking knew that. He’d wanted to do that to her since he’d met her, and he’d told Simon. He’d told him about what he thought of her and he did this?

And from the look on her face, she knew how he felt as well.

“Fuck you, Riley.” He spat, turning back around. Ghost stayed where he was, but she followed him.

“Please don’t go.” She said. “It was- I didn’t mean to-“

“What? You looked like you were about to fuck him right there.” Soap replied. He knew his accent was thick due to anger, and he didn’t care. He didn’t expect her to push him like a petulant child though.

Soap barely stumbled, and that only seemed to enrage her more.

“It was a heat of the moment thing!” she finally said. “He got me angry, and it worked, okay?”

“I don’t know why you’re so upset.” He finally replied. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“But I like you.” She blurted out. Soap blinked dumbly.

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it again. It makes me sound so childish.” She said. Behind her, Ghost moved.

“So why’d you make out with him?” Soap asked. She didn’t reply, but for the first time since he’d met her, she blushed. Furiously.

Oh.

He glanced over to Ghost, who towered behind her. He saw it too. Their eyes met, and Soap saw the idea that was coming to his mind mirrored in Ghost’s.

Oh.

They’d never even come close to something like that, but maybe…

Softly, he tipped up her chin, There were the beginnings of tears in her eyes, but her cheeks were still flushed from kissing Ghost and the Tequila she’d had. Her pupils were still dilated.

She was so fucking hot.

He could share with Ghost.

This wasn’t the first kiss Soap had imagined, but imagination be damned, it was still fucking amazing. Soap pulled her closer by the loops in her belt, feeling her body press against him. Her hands grabbed his neck, pulling him closer.

Soap could practically feel Ghost hover behind her, feel the impatience rolling off of him.

“Let’s get outta here, yeah?” Soap offered, and she nodded, grabbing him by the hand. Ghost followed, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He leaned in, whispering. “She’s never had sex for the sake of sex.”

Soap nodded. If she knew they were talking about her, she ignored it.

“I wasn’t planning on not focusing on her.” He replied.

Ghost

They found a dingy motel, and Soap barely managed to scrape money out of his wallet before he was already sprinting up the stairs to their hotel. The woman behind the desk gave them a look that told Ghost she knew exactly what they were planning.

Not that he cared much.

He caught up with her, grabbing her by the waist and throwing her over his shoulder. Soap shook his head, unlocking the door to their room as quickly as he could.

Ghost let her down on the bed, crashing lips onto lips. She gave a surprised squeak that turned into a moan as his hand wandered to her tits, greedily squeezing.

Blindly, she pulled Soap onto the bed, causing it to groan from the weight.

“Might break it if we keep going.” Soap said.

“That’s the goal.” She replied, before kissing him. Ghost didn’t know why he didn’t feel jealous but he was glad. Carefully, he set to work on pulling off her jacket, and then, her shirt.

He paused when he saw a massive scar, running from under her left breast until her hipbone. Ghost ran a thumb over it carefully. There was another, low on her stomach. Ghost didn’t want to think of where they’d come from. Kissing up her breasts, she felt her hands tug at his vest.

He shrugged it off, watching as she wrapped her legs around Soap’s waist, flipping him onto his back.

From under her hair, he saw the tattoo. It disappeared again when she leaned forward to suck on Soap’s neck, softly biting his shoulder.

Soap groaned and Ghost suddenly felt his pants grow uncomfortably tight.

He moved to kneel behind her, feeling her grind against the bulge in Soap’s pants. His hand snaked onto her neck, and she turned to kiss him.

“Good?” she asked. Simon and John nodded at the same time. She’s the most naked out of all of them, bra and pants still on, and God, it’s not enough for him. He picked her up, knowing exactly that she knew this was nothing for him, and beginning to open her pants.

Soap sat up, looking almost offended at being left out but then, he leaned back, giving her an appreciative smile.

Simon had almost managed to not feel guilty for making out with her behind the bar despite what Soap had told him.

She’s a pretty lass. I think she’d kill me if I told her.

That was the first thing Soap had told him, and Simon had silently agreed. He’d had no idea that Soap’s simple attraction would turn into a full-blown crush, like that of a lovesick teen. He’d had no idea that he’d follow so closely behind.

It had happened to him after the mess with the Red Room. She’d come out of Dreykov’s office, covered in blood, slick with it, and collapsed at his feet. He’d picked her up and carried her to the medics, but not before he’d caught a glimpse of the office.

Dreykov’s body, scattered across the room, his bodyguards dead with him.

He’d seen her carnal violence, and she’d held his hand afterwards, as they stitched her back together. Three bullets and six stab wounds, and she’d squeezed his hand so hard he was sure it would fall off.

They never spoke of it afterwards, but there was something there then.

There’s a moment of awkward rustling where Soap and Widow pull off their clothes, and Simon stands off to the side, unsure whether he should take his off as well.

Instead, he lowers himself to the end of the bed, pulling her towards him until her cunt is in front of his face. She crosses her legs for a moment, and Simon begins to work on her thighs. It takes her a moment, and then she lets him touch her.

Soap is somewhere above him, making out with her so intensely that Simon can see her chest heave with each breath. He’s so hard in his pants it almost hurts.

But this is about her. For her.

The first moan he coaxes from her is muffled, almost swallowed by Soap’s kiss, but the second comes more loudly. Simon stays where he is, until her legs wrap around his head with a trained strength and he can barely breathe.

He’d die happy between her legs.

Soap

Everything that’s happening turns into an avalanche once her clothes are off. She’s still sweaty from the bar and walking to the motel, but he couldn’t care less. Her tits are in his face – he has no right to.

Ghost is somewhere, doing something, and he can barely concentrate on what he’s doing with the sounds that are coming from her mouth. She’s not fragile – he knows she isn’t. And yet, he feels like he has to hold her like she’ll break apart.

“I want…” she begins, but trails off again, into another moan. Johnny throws a look behind his shoulder and sees her legs wrapped around Ghost’s head, so tightly that he isn’t sure his friend is still alive.

“What do you want?” he demands from her. She could ask anything from him right now. He’d shoot his own brains out if she wanted him to.

“Please, I need you.” She begs, and he thinks he’s going to lose his mind in this shitty motel.

Slowly, she lets Ghost go, and he stands up, pulling his mask over his face again. He’s still wearing his clothes.

Soap lets her get on top. Ghost is somewhere, holding her somehow, but all he can focus on is the feeling of him inside her. It’s never-ending, golden, and Soap knows nothing has felt more right.

“Fuck.” She mumbles, her arms shaking as she tries to steady herself on his shoulders. Ghost had done a number on her, and it looked amazing.

When she began to move, the scar on her stomach stretched, pulling on her skin. Soap wanted to take her away from it all. Him and Ghost, they could protect her. Let her truly retire.

She was younger than both of them, and had worked this kind of stuff long before them. Only Price had more experience.

Suddenly, she leans forward, her lips grazing his ear.

“Ghost feels a little left out.”

“We don’t want that, do we now?” he replies.

“I have something that might work.” She says, and Johnny trusts her. She turns around, offering her cunt to him from behind, facing Ghost. He takes out his cock, stroking leisurely, and Soap wants to gulp with her.

It’s fucking massive. She wants to suck him off when he’s that big?

But then she’s practically begging him to fill her cunt again, and all thoughts of possible or not possible are gone when he’s inside her.

He watches, through a haze, as Ghost feeds her his cock. She gags on it, and Johnny can feel himself twitch inside her. She feels it too.

Ghost is careful with her at first, whispering praises.

Good girl. You’re doing so well.

And then, he kind of forgets all about that, slowly guiding her head. The enormity of him causes her to rock back against Soap, and he wishes he could see her face.

He feels himself growing close, and suddenly he panics – there’s no condoms.

So he pulls out of her, and both Ghost and her halt their movements.

“You on the pill?” Soap asks quickly.

“I can’t have kids.” She replies. He halts at that for a moment, but then, she and Ghost are back at it, and he doesn’t want to miss out.

His hand snakes down to her belly, finding her clit. It causes her to clench around him and it takes Soap all of his willpower not to come then and there.

He doesn’t know where to look. The perfect fucking curve of her back. Her ass. Her face in Ghost’s crotch, taking him as if that wasn’t a fucking challenge.

Soap barely manages to coax an orgasm out of her before he cums. He's so close his brain has turned to mush. She shudders against him, and he has to hold her up, feeling her pretty ass bump against him, always begging for more. He gives as much as he can, making her moan around Ghost’s cock so loudly that the woman behind the desk downstairs has definitely heard.

One last time, he grabs her hips tightly, cumming inside her, before he pulls out and leans back.

He gets to enjoy the view as she continues to suck off Ghost, his cum dribbling out of her cunt. His handprints are on her hips, already beginning to bruise. Ghost doesn’t take much longer before he comes too, holding her head down. Soap hears her choke, and it’s enough to make him hard again.

She collapses onto the bed next to him, sweatier than before and hair in tangles thanks to Ghost.

Soap takes the stringy towel Ghost gets him from the bathroom, wiping down her thighs and offering it to her for her face.

“No need.” She says with a proud smirk.

“God, stop. You’ll be in for another round otherwise.”

Ghost sits on the bed across from them before she waves him over. It’s barely enough space, but she manages to squeeze between them. Soap scratches her back carefully, and she purrs like a cat.

“Was that good for a first?” Soap finally asks.

“Oh no it was totally terrible.” She answers, her voice sarcastic. “It’s not like I came all over your dick.”

“Jesus.” Ghost manages, but Soap sees his massive hand already on her ass.

“Round two?” Soap asks, and she gives him an adoring smile. There’s a moment where he feels himself falling in love with her even more, and maybe even with Ghost, for taking care of his girl.

“Give me a moment.” She says finally. “But yeah, let’s go for a round two.”

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soapyghost · 1 year

Note

Could we get captain price with a younger/inexperienced reader? Like someone who’s only had shitty hookups that didn’t care if they got off or not. He would completely ruin you for all other men omg. Like knowing that he’s the first person to really make you feel good would be so hot to him

TRUTH OR DARE? A PRICE X F! READER

A/N- I actually had a lot of fun writing this bad boy. I really hope I did this prompt justice~

W/c- 2.1k

WARNINGS- Smut, language, fingering, orgasm(s), p i v, choking, rough sex, inappropriate relations with your boss, and like a ton of SMUT. Ok cool enjoy.

Of all things, of course a children's game would be your downfall.

It all started after a you and the rest of 141 finally completed the 2 month long mission in bumfuck Russia. Safely back at the bunker, the squad pops open a bottle of whisky, bourbon to be specific, so even Ghost joined in. The game of cards long since abandoned in favor for a rousing game of Truth or Dare.

"Minx, you're turn" Soap slurs, "Truth or dare?" "Truth" you respond, after seeing the last dare done in the group you chose the hopefully safer answer. Gaz had last chosen dare and the image of his bare ass is now forever ingrained in your brain.

"Oh that is so not gonna save you missy," Price mutters, taking another sip of his drink. You raise your eyebrow at him as Soap asks "how many time has a guy made you cum in one night?". You spit out your drink at the bluntness of this question. You usually can hide your emotions pretty damn well, as it was part of your job. Your were 141's espionage agent. Their "honey pot" , which is how you got your code name, Minx. But this question, off of Johnny's drunk lips caught you off guard.

"I'm sorry, WHAT did you just ask me" you retort. "Oh you heard me." he counters. You take a sip of your glass and muse on how to get out of this one. But you know there is no way out, its either answer this question or down the rest of the bottle. Your stomach doing flips at the thought of drinking that much. After a long sigh you shrug your shoulders in defeat, "Not a single time Johnny boy" exhale. Every head in the room snaps up to stare at you in pure shock.

Johnny lets out a chuckle, "I can change that for you Sweetheart" he boldly asserts. "Johnny you couldn't figure out the difference between a pussy and an asshole" Price quips, which manages to get what sounds like a chuckle from Ghost and full on howls from the rest of the team. You feel your face redden and you look up at Price to try and come up with some snappy comeback but the words die on your lips when you see how he's looking at you. It's different now, hungry.

It's been a few months since that night in the bunker, but you can't get the image of Price's face out of your head. Are you falling for your Captain? You don't have the privilege's of loving anyone in your line of work. Not only can they be killed, but most men would lose their minds watching you flirt with mob bosses. How fragile their egos can be, but that's what makes it easy to get information. Which comes in handy on your next mission.

You slide on the little black dress laid out for you in the hotel room of some fancy 5 star hotel in the heart of Mexico. This mission was simple, get in, get close to the some high up cartel douche and get the information off the USB he's carrying. Slipping in the earpiece that is near invisible you breathe, "hear me alright lads?". "Copy" responds Price, "Loud and clear Minx. Remember the plan and stick to it." "Yes sir" you reply. The rest of the squad was outside, hiding in the shadows incase anything went awry and being subtle was no longer an option. You stalk out of the hotel room and down to the casino on the first floor, ready to outsmart yet another idiotic man. You catch the attention of every man in the room when you walk in, some even blatantly staring. You saunter over to the bar and order yourself a drink, ignoring the man at the bar trying desperately trying to get your attention. You swipe up your drink and leave him with his mouth open as you go to sit in the lounge and wait for your prey.

"Incoming now Minx" you hear Ghost breathe through your earpiece. Not a minute later incomes your target, a rather short man in an overpriced suit, Angel. All the pictures you'd been briefed with made it easy to spot him in the crowd. You take a slow sip of your drink and as he walks past you, you slowly look up at him with doe eyes. You can see in his eyes he's fallen for it hook line and sinker. After a few minutes a man in a black suit taps you on the shoulder, "Excuse me Miss. But Angel would like to speak with you" he whispers into your ear, accent thick. "Oh does he?" you respond, "well who am I to decline?"

You follow the man to the back of the casino and he leads you to an elevator. "He's on the top floor" he gestures to the door. "Gracias" you respond, voice dripping with honey. "You could work on that pronunciation." Gaz snorts in your earpiece. As the doors shut and the elevator moves you take a big gulp of air. "Shut it Gaz" you spit. The doors open to a dimly lit club, filled with music and smoke. "Hope you boys are ready for a show," you breathe as you step into the club.

He sticks out in his flashy white suit making it easy to pick him out of the crowd. You slide into his lap and purr "you wanted to see me handsome?" His hand slides onto your ass and you suppress a gag at the smell of his god awful cologne. "mmm, I've wanted to lay my hands on you from the moment you looked at me" he moans into your ear. "Well, I'm here" you murmur into his neck, placing kisses from his ear to the nape of his neck. You hand slides down his body, nearing his groin. You slip your hand into his pocket and slip the USB into your dress. "We should take this back to my room" he hums. "Mmmm, you'd think I'll just follow you anywhere?" You pull back, eyes wide, "I would feel much safer back in my room. But I need to freshen up first" you move your hand up his chest. After a few more minutes of some pretty heavy petting you get up, "you can find me in room 603" you whisper into his ear as you slink away. Of course that wasn't your room number, you weren't even going to be in this country by the time he figures that out.

The minute your outside the hotel you find a way to slip into the backstreets to rendezvous with the team. "I feel like I need to take a scalding shower for the rest of my life" you groan, still feeling his hands on your body. "Let's exfil and get you that shower, you earned it" Price smiles once he has eyes on you again. You wonder what a shower with Price might be like... you shake your head to get the image out of your mind.

After debrief and a long hot shower you get a text that surprised you

My office- 10 minutes. It's from Price. What could he possibly want with you at this hour? Your mind races with the possibilities as you leave your room, mostly of terribly dirty thoughts of being bent over Price's desk. As you approach his office door you pause, unsure of if you want to knock on the door or pretend you didn't see his text. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you rap on the door 3 times before you hear Johns gruff voice, "Come in."

You slide in the door and close it softly behind you, "You wanted to see me sir?" you choke out. The air in here thick with cigar smoke and anticipation. "Your performance on todays mission was good kid, but that's all it was, a performance." he mutters, voice low. "Sir?" you inquire. "You've never wanted to take a man to your room, none of them could please you" his words go straight to your core. "I've been thinking about this since that night in Russia" he continues, standing slowly from his desk chair, "and I know you have too" his eyes flick up to yours. They have that same hungry look from all those nights ago. You gulp, "have I now?" you tease, hoping to regain some control of the situation. "Oh you know you have love" he grumbles. In an instant his hands on your neck and your back is on the door. You let out a yelp of surprise and pleasure. His lips meet yours and the fire in your belly ignites. You had been thinking about this since that night, many times with your hands between your legs and the image of him in your mind.

"Why don't you show me then? What it should be like?" you moan as you nip at his neck. "I'm going to ruin you" he growls, flipping you around and face down onto his desk. The tone of his voice and the force he moves you around with is more than enough to get you soaked. He rips the booty shorts you wore down your legs, to reveal your bare ass, a perfect site to behold. You can hear him hum in delight at the sight of you bent over his desk. Your breathing is ragged as he takes one hand to hold your head down on the table and the other begins to rub your folds. His touch alone tightens the band in your stomach, he knows exactly what to do. "Wet already?" he croons, taking his thumb to your clit. He starts slow, moving in a circle causing your back to arch. The fire in your stomach turns into an inferno as he takes one finger and slides it into you. You gasp at the feeling of his rough callous fingers. He pushes up against you, his cock throbbing through his pants and slides in another finger. "Fuck John" you moan. "Shhh, let me show you how you deserve to be fucked" he grunts. His pace begins to quicken, fingers sliding effortlessly in and out of your hole. You've never felt this burning inferno in your stomach unless it was your own fingers. "Holy Shit John" you whine, your eyes loosing focus at how incredible this feels. "Cum for me" he commands, fingers moving at a speed you didn't know was possible. The gruff command is enough to send you spilling over the edge into an orgasm. You cry out his name as he doesn't relent. You have to bite down on your arm to ground yourself, the world going black from pleasure. "That's my girl" he praises, removing his fingers from you with a satisfying pop. Before you can catch your breath, you hear him unbuckle his pants. Shudders run through your body in anticipation for what comes next. If his fingers could do that, you can only imagine what his cock can do to you. "Ready?" he whispers. You're so fuck dumb all you can do is manage a nod, as he slides down your panties which are just a soaking mess. He teases you, moving his cock back and forth between your soaking folds before he finally slides his tip in. He's so much bigger than anyone you've ever been with, you cry out as he slides a couple inches deeper. "Breathe love" he groans through gritted teeth, "You have to relax for me". With one final thrust he's in, his size struggling against your walls. You whimper as he begins fucking you. His hand moves from your neck to your head, hands filling with your hair. Pulling your head back, he picks up his pace. Every thrust fans the flame of yet another orgasm. "Fuc- John I'm gonna- I'm gonna" you yelp. Words won't come out of your mouth, your brain to scrambled from the last orgasm. "Fuck" He grunts, and with one final punishing thrust you feel him empty inside you. His cum mixing with yours as you're thrown into yet another orgasm. His forehead on the back of your head, cigar smoke filling your senses.

"What are you doing to me Minx?" he breathes. You're still bent over the desk gasping for breath. You've never been fucked like this in your life, its nothing like those shit one night stands you've been used to. Your whole body feels like its on fire, but your head is where its the worst. Words are failing to come to your lips, all you can do is whine. He slides out of you and kisses your forehead.

"Truth or dare?" you finally gasp out. Shakily hopping up on the desk, regaining a miniscule amount of control of your body. A smirk crosses Johns mouth, "Dare" he answers.

"I dare you to make me cum again" you challenge, voice still shaky. His eyes light on fire again, "Gladly".

#price smut #captain price x reader #captain price smut #mw2 #mw2 x reader #mw2 smut #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #price x reader #modern warfare 2 smut #captain john price #captian price

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16woodsequ · 3 days

Text

Things People Seem to Forget About Steve Rogers (aka the past is complex)

Things in the future didn't happen in a vacuum, and while Steve missed a lot of stuff while he was in the ice, he would have seen the roots of things like the Civil Rights, Women's Rights and even LGBTQ+ Rights movements in his time.

While I'm sure Steve encountered a lot of people expecting certain right-wing behaviours from him, due to his birth year and the things he missed in the ice, this doesn't mean he would act that way—even right out of the ice.

But first lets take a look at the things Steve missed and see what he did in fact know:

The atom bomb. Steve never saw the atomic fallout, but what did he see? Hydra bombs literally being flown to his home city. There is also a possibility that as a specialty team, he learned about the German Nuclear Program during the war. His unit was tied to the Strategic Science Reserve, so I wouldn't be surprised if between that, and Hydra's bomb initiatives, Steve was well aware of the potential of a bomb threat. I doubt Steve has clearance to know about the Manhattan project, and I think he would be horrified to learn about the impact of the atom bomb on Japan (especially since he essentially thwarted the same thing from happening to New York) but majorly powerful bombs would not surprise him.

• The Cold War. Steve may not have experience the Cold War, but he grew up surrounded by the outcome of the First World War after the Communist take over of Russia. The debates surrounding Communism, Socialism, and Capitalism aren't new. Steve would have grown up with them and would probably be familiar with American pro-capitalist, anti-communist rhetoric. But would he agree?

Here's some things we know about Steve: He's an artist, he grew up during the Depression which was heavily mitigated by socialist measures, he grew up poor, he grew up disabled. As an artist Steve would be well aware of the debates between the political movements, and with his background, and the success of Roosevelt's New Deal reforms, it would not surprise me if Steve leaned more towards the Socialist side of the scale.

All this to say: Steve would not be unfamiliar with the tension between Russia and the USA. Especially since even though they were allies during the war, there were already concerns that the USSR wasn't so much 'liberating' the countries they drove Germany out of, as putting them under new management.

Steve would be familiar with the tensions underlying the Cold War, and his background might lead him to have a critical view of some of the pro-Capitalist propaganda that came out during the Cold War. While I don't think Steve would approve of Russia's methods and the ultimate outcome of Communism there, I don't think he would approve of the Red Scare Witch Hunt that happened in the States either.

• Civil Rights Movement. While Steve missed the major changes that occurred during the 50s and 60s, he would not be unfamiliar with movements for equality. Steve would also not be unaware of the inequality that minorities faced in his country.

For example:

National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) was established in 1909 and is still run today. The NAACP fought and fights against discrimination and advocates for equality.

In the 30s President Roosevelt responded to "to charges that many blacks were the "last hired and first fired," [his administration] instituted changes that enabled people of all races to obtain needed job training and employment. These programs brought public works employment opportunities to African Americans, especially in the North" (Link)

"The first precedent-setting local and state level court cases to desegregate Mexican and African American schooling were decided during [the late 1930s]" (Link)

In 1941 thousands of Black Americans threatened to march on Washington for equal employments rights which pushed Roosevelt to issue an executive order that "opened national defense jobs and other government jobs to all Americans regardless of race, creed, color or national origin." (Link)

The Double Victory or Double V Campaign during the war was an explicit campaign to win the war against fascism in Europe and the war against racism as home.

All this to say, Steve would not be unfamiliar with many of the issues tackled during the Civil Rights Movement of the 50s and 60s.

Not only that, but Steve led a multi-racial special unit during the war during a time of active army segregation. Not only does he have a Black man on his team, but also a Japanese man. This would have most definitely led to backlash from higher command as well as discrimination from other units against Jones and Morita. Steve and the entire Howling Commandos would be explicitly aware of prejudice against two of their members and likely had to fight for them many times.

• Anything space travel. It's true Steve wouldn't know anything about attempts to reach the moon. But there were still several space discoveries he could know about, especially since he and Bucky are clearly interested in scientific discoveries, considering how they went to the Stark Exbo before Bucky shipped out.

Some discoveries:

Hubble's Law: In 1929 Hubble published evidence for an ever expanding universe, and thus provided evidence of the Big Bang theory.

1930: Discovery of Pluto (makes me chuckle to think this is a relatively new discovery for Steve and he wakes up to find it is a dwarf-planet now. You think Millennials are protective of Pluto? I think Steve would be too 😆.)

1937: "the first intimation that most matter in the universe is `dark matter'"

Personally I think Steve would be absolutely amazed by the advances in space travel.

• Women's Rights. Like with Civil Rights, while Steve may have missed the large movements during the 50s and 60s, he was around for the early movements. The 60s movement is called Second Wave Feminism for a reason. This is because there was already many pushes for women equality in Steve's time.

For example:

1920: White women win the right to vote. This means Steve's mother first voted in his lifetime. I feel this alone would make Steve heavily aware of inequality faced by women. (As a side note I feel that Sarah always emphasized voting to Steve since it was such a major development in her lifetime.)

Also in the 20s the Flapper trend rose, along with hemlines. Women's skirts were shorter and they smoked and drank with men. Middle-class and working-class women also worked outside of the home. The 1920s-1930s 'modern' woman is very different from the Victorian vision of a woman in petticoats and skirts.

Early Birth Control movement: Was "initiated by a public health nurse, Margaret Sanger, just as the suffrage drive was nearing its victory. The idea of woman’s right to control her own body, and especially to control her own reproduction and sexuality, added a visionary new dimension to the ideas of women’s emancipation. This movement not only endorsed educating women about existing birth control methods. It also spread the conviction that meaningful freedom for modern women meant they must be able to decide for themselves whether they would become mothers, and when."

1936: A Supreme Court decision declassified birth control information as obscene. Legalised doctor-prescribed contraceptives.

WW2 Watershed: Women serve in the army and work factory jobs. The government establishes universal childcare while women work.

Women also wore pants and form fitting clothes to work in factories. We also see Peggy wearing pants during the last assault on Hydra. While Steve may need to get used to modern fashion, he would already be familiar with the 'morale outrage' over women's clothes in his time, and probably try to manage his surprise in private as well as possible.

• LGBTQ+ Rights. Like with the rest of the equality movements, LGBTQ+ rights movements also started before the late 1900s.

1924: "Society for Human Rights is founded by Henry Gerber in Chicago. The society is the first gay rights organization as well as the oldest documented in America." This organisation was broken up soon after founding due to arrests, but it published "the first American publication for homosexuals, Friendship and Freedom."

In the 1920s and 30s "the gay and lesbian movement started taking shape. Social analysts began rejecting prior medical definitions of "inversion" or "homosexuality" as deviant.

Communities of men and women with same-sex affiliations began to grow in urban areas. Their right to gather in public places such as bars was tenuous, and police raids and harassment were common." (Link)

WW2 Watershed: While many LGBTQ people lived in rural areas or outside 'queer neighbourhoods' the war brought people from all backgrounds together. "As with most young soldiers, many had never left their homes before, and the war provided them an opportunity to find community, camaraderie, and, in some cases, first loves. These new friendships gave gay and lesbian GIs refuge from the hostility that surrounded them and allowed for a distinct subculture to develop within the military."

They still had to hide their identities for fear of persecution and a 'blue discharge', however "Gay and lesbian veterans of World War II became some of the first to fight military discrimination and blue discharges in the years following the war."

It's unclear how much Steve would have known about the gay and lesbian rights movement. But in the comics he has a gay friend Arnie Roth, and there are many meta posts (X X X) about how Steve may have lived in a queer neighbourhood.

And, according to my history professor, gay and lesbian soldiers were often protected by their friends in the army instead of outed. This is not to downplay the discrimination and pain outed veterans faced, but there was a comaraderie and understanding that developed between soldiers that protected many gay soldiers.

• Computer and the internet. The seeds of modern computers began during World War Two. Arguably it began earlier with Ada Lovelace. While technology has changed a lot for Steve, there is a long history of it's development.

Colossus Computer: Kept secret until the 70s, it's unclear if Steve's association with the SSR, Peggy (who was a code breaker before SSR) and Howard, would have led him to know anything about the "the world's first programmable, electronic, digital computer", but we see electric screens and machines being used in Captain America: The First Avenger. So he would know something of those mechanisms.

Also the first American TV was broadcasted in the 1939 World Fair, And since Steve and Bucky are already shown going to a science fair, I believe it is reasonable for Steve to know about the concept of television, though it looks much different in modern day.

• Rise of Neo-Nazis. Steve already saw the rise of fascism in his own country before the war, so while I think he would be horrified and saddened to learn of the Neo-Nazi movement, I don't think he would be surprised.

Because:

Eugenics: A large part of the Nazi campaign, this part of the movement originated and was inspired by the United States Eugenics movement. "It is important to appreciate that within the U.S. and European scientific communities these ideas were not fringe but widely held and taught in universities."

Lobotomies and institutionalisations were part of the treatments for disabled and 'weak-minded' individuals during Steve's time. With Sarah being a nurse it is likely Steve knew of these treatments and more. And as a disabled child of immigrants, I have no doubts Steve brushed up with eugenics beliefs many times.

1939: More than 20,000 people attended a Nazi rally in Madison Square while "[a]bout 100,000 anti-Nazi protesters gathered around the arena in protest".

In the comics Steve canonically has a Jewish friend, Arnie Roth. If he wasn't part of the protests against the Nazi rally, he would have heard about it and known about the rise of antisemitic sentiment in the US before the outbreak of the war.

So Where Does That Leave Us?

Steve has a history of anti-racist behaviour. While he would still have a lot to learn from the Civil Rights Movement and no doubt has unconscious biases he grew up with, he also explicitly builds a multi-racial team that would have led to clashes with systemic racism in the army. This would have inevitably led to him and the Howling Commandos taking an anti-racist stance in protection of their members.

Would Steve say the N-word? Likely not. The N-Word already held negative connotations by the 19th and early-20th century. I doubt Jones would be willing to follow a man who would knowing use the insult. 'Coloured' or 'Negro' were seen as the more acceptable terms. So Steve may use those words at first, instead of 'Black' or 'African-American'. 'Negro' is a controversial term for some Black Americans, so this would be something for him to learn, but he would not purposely by insulting or hurtful. And I believe he would adapt as quickly as possible upon learning.

Steve saw the early steps of many social movements. Given what we know about Steve—artist, disabled, immigrant, poor, raised by a single mom, gay and Jewish friend, potentially lived around queer people, worked with Peggy and smiled when she punched a sexiest, and built a multi-racial team—Steve would not only be aware of the social movements of his time, but he would be happy to learn of the developments after he went into the ice.

While it would take some time for him to learn all the changes that happened, Steve's background would led him to be pleased with the changes in society. This is the opposite of being racist, sexist, and homophobic. Some things might take some adjusting for Steve to get used to, but he is already open-minded and has a frame of reference for many of the social changes that happened.

People sometimes bring up Steve's Catholic upbringing to argue about some beliefs he might have. But while I do think this upbringing would lead to some biases, I think Steve's life experience helped counter, or helped him unlearn some of those biases, even before he hit the ice.

Also, as an Irish-Catholic, Steve would have faced some discrimination of his own. It is most certainly not on the same level as other minorities, and things were better in the 20th century. Being very clear, any discrimination Steve faced for being Irish-Catholic would not be systemic or commonplace like racism. But adding his heritage to the rest of Steve's background helps give us a better idea of why he was already open to social movements like the Civil Rights movement before the ice. And it may have made him already more understanding of LGBTQ+ people, who he may have lived around, even if he grew up being taught certain biases.

Other Things We Forget About Steve

He is quite tech-savvy. While Steve would have a lot to learn, we know he is capable. There are a lot of jokes about his technical know-how in Avengers, but I think he's actually managing very well considering it's probably only been a few weeks or months since he came out of the ice.

Examples:

Deleted scene where we see Steve using a laptop in his apartment. He presses the spacebar to pause a video, which is a keyboard shortcut. So not only can he set up a laptop to watch a video, but he already knows key shortcuts.

Deleted scene where waitress mentions 'wireless'. Steve is confused and thinks she means radio. But I think he actually knows about wi-fi at this point, but probably had never heard it referred to as 'wireless' before. By this point he knows radio is not as common, so his real confusion is why the waitress is offering him 'free radio'. If she had said free wi-fi (the more typical phrase in my opinion) I think he would have understood.

Canon scene of Steve helping Tony fix the Helicarrier engines. This is my favourite evidence because Tony asks Steve to look at the relays and Steve makes a quip that they 'seem to run on some sort of electricity' indicating he is out of his depth. But we never see Tony tell Steve what to do. Steve figures out how to fix the relays himself. Tony is busy with the debris in the rotors and the next thing we see is Steve telling Tony the relays are all good.

Steve is much better at adapting and figuring out technology than we give him credit for. This doesn't mean he won't be anxious or uncomfortable with the sheer amount of stuff he has to learn (especially if everyone keeps making jokes about it to him). But by 2014, it's clear he's already mastered all of it, which is amazing when you think about it, because that's only two years of learning.

Steve is very book smart. In the comics Steve goes to art college, implying he finished high school. Even if he did drop out of high school to work, we know Steve is very smart.

We see him unloading a whole suitcase of books in the barracks before he got the serum.

The mental math is must take to throw the shield at the right angles for it to bounce back is insane.

Steve is also known as a master tactician. So it is clear he has the brains and smarts to run his team during the war. Not only that, but he is not just Captain in name. He actually has that rank, which means he passed the Captain's exam. I also have a feeling he would have needed to pass some kind of evaluation to get the serum in the first place.

We see in Steve's 2014 apartment that his bookshelves are full of history books. Steve is a veracious reader and spends a lot of his time catching up on what he missed. Things he didn't learn or were taught differently growing up would definitely exist, but Steve is actively working to counter that.

Steve would swear. Swearing has been a constant throughout all of history. So too, the backlash against profanity. Even if Steve grew up being told not to swear he would have heard it. And, Steve became a soldier. If he didn't swear before the war, he most definitely picked up some of it then.

I think Captain America isn't supposed to swear, and I think Steve would be aware of this perception of the symbol of him. But I think when Steve is comfortable with people, he would swear. We see in Avengers he doesn't swear, but in Avengers: Age of Ultron, he does.

We joke about Steve and the "Language" line, but I think that line has something to do with Steve's history of being perceived as a symbol and as Captain America since he said it 'just slipped out'. So, while Steve may have been encouraged not to swear growing up, and expected not to swear as Captain America, I fully believe that soldier, veteran, and Irish man Steve Rogers does swear.

Wrap up

I hope you liked this deep dive into Steve's history and character.

I think it can be easy to take the past as a lump sum and view everyone in the past through one lens. We know the past was racist, sexist, and homophobic, so we view everyone from the past that way.

And while it's true things were different back then, people were most definitely fighting for change and aware of the issues. There is also a lot of nuance to the past, and a lot that can be gleaned from what we know about Steve.

It's true that Steve would have a lot to learn when it comes to terminology and specific technology, but I believe Steve's background would prepare him for a lot of the social changes that happened after he went into the ice.

#steve rogers #meta #deep dive #long post #captain america #historically accurate #research #sources cited #early 20th century #20th century history #20th century #social movements #marvel #mcu #please don't tag the other post #no drama please #iykyk #historically accurate steve rogers

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nevadancitizen · 20 days

Text

-> YOU'RE OUT OF TOUCH – I'VE BEEN OUTTA TIME

synopsis: you died six months ago, but you've come back to haunt johnny. not as a ghost, no – as some twisted version of you that johnny still loves. too bad you don't still love johnny, or remember him in any capacity.

word count: 4k

characters: john "soap" mactavish, resurrected! reader

trigger warnings: talk of canon-typical violence, temporal weirdness, hurt + damn near no comfort

notes: first soap fic.. hopefully i've written him well!! also i couldn't resist incorporating madness combat in this somehow lol it's taking over my life (you don't need to know anything about madcom to read this, don't worry). also tumblr user nevadancitizen using the amnesia trope again? it's more likely than you think.

Somewhere in Nevada, a battered body is denied death, so that it may be granted, en masse…

And six months ago, somewhere in Russia, you were killed in action.

It was a single shot through the skull – nice, clean. You didn’t suffer. Despite your killer more than likely being a terrorist (or working for one), they did you right. It was probably unintentional, but they still did you right.

Johnny couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed, even to piss, for weeks after. He was completely numb to almost everything. The world passed by while he stood completely still, laying on his side in your shared bed, spooning a pillow that was rapidly losing your scent.

(He even tried spraying it with your perfume or cologne, but it didn’t work. It was too strong – it didn’t smell like when you wore it.)

Johnny thought all-too-often about what happened after death. He was ready to die, always has been, but he never really thought about what would happen if (or, more accurately, when) you died. He always cast those thoughts away, because he was done losing people. He was done with grief and screaming, pleading to God, and crying so hard he threw up.

But he eventually returned to his job. He eventually put you to rest. He prayed for the first time in damn near two decades that, if there was really an afterlife, that you were in Heaven.

(He just hoped that, whatever Heaven there was, it was good enough for you.)

But again, six months ago, somewhere in Nevada, a battered body was denied death, so that it may be granted, en masse.

It is a land without sun, without warmth unless you could find it in another body. It is a land without rules, without remorse, without regret.

It is a land of violence. It is a land that fits you well.

Despite being dead, you were sewed back together and cursed to live once more. Someone put a gun in your hands and told you, “Listen bozo, I don’t care where you’re from – just shoot!”

Of course, Johnny didn’t know this. How could he? He watched your casket be lowered into the ground. He knew it wasn’t empty – he had to confirm your identity in the morgue.

But he can’t help but feel his stomach drop when Kyle comes rushing into his office, pointing behind him and, in a panting breath, says your name.

Johnny immediately springs up from behind his desk and almost pushes past Kyle to get out the door. He turns down the hallway to the left, where he knows it leads to the hospital ward.

“No, Soap – Soap!” Kyle sprints after him, just barely catching his wrist. “Wrong way, man.”

Johnny stops and, in his stunned state, lets Kyle lead him down the hallway to the right, away from the medbay, away from where you were surely waiting for him, recovering.

Kyle leads him into an elevator, scans his keycard, and presses the button for -3. They’re both uncharacteristically quiet. It just faintly registers in Johnny’s mind that the floor -3 is below the parking garages, past where anyone typically goes.

(Past where anyone can hear screams ripped from tortured throats, really.)

When the elevator doors open, Soap’s greeted by a familiar sight. It’s a grey concrete hallway, with two soldiers on either side, guarding the way in. Doors line the hall, each one steel with a keypad to unlock it.

Gaz leads Soap down the hall and doesn’t stop for a while. Eventually, he stops in front of the last door and takes a deep, almost shuddering, breath.

Gaz inputs the code into the keypad and opens the door, nodding at the inside. “Come on.”

Soap, almost so quick he clips his shoulder on the doorframe, goes into the room. It overlooks an interrogation room, and it’s fit with a double-sided mirror, recording tech, everything.

Soap freezes when he looks into the interrogation room. It – it’s you, but… not you. You’re pacing, and Johnny can only stare. There’s a grey flush to your skin – no, your skin is actually grey – and bandages cover the back of your head, dirty and frayed, like you haven’t changed them in a while.

You’re angry, a far cry from the person Johnny knew you to be. Sure, you could be angry, and Johnny’s seen you angry, but this…

You’re panting as you pace, fists clenching and unclenching as your eyes dart around the room. Soft mutters and expletives leave your mouth as you look around, surely looking for a way to escape.

Johnny just keeps staring. You’re… alive? Yes, you’re not what Johnny remembers you to be, but you’re still alive.

“Fucking – goddamnit!” You bang your fist on the steel table, causing it to rattle. “I don’t have anything to tell you! You’re all cowards –” you turn to the double-sided mirror and point at it “– especially you, Sheriff! Don’t tell me you’re not back there!”

You immediately turn away, your hands coming to clutch at the sides of your head, your fingers digging into the bandages, almost ripping them. “I swear, when I get my hands on you…!”

“We don’t know what to do,” Kyle says softly. He looks over at Soap, his gaze obviously sad and sympathetic. “Do you want to try ‘n talk ‘em? Even if they’re feelin’ a tad… neurotic.”

Johnny can’t rip his gaze from you as you throw a steel chair at the wall, still cursing out someone named Sheriff and his lackeys. The chair bounces off the wall and one of the legs hits your shin, causing you to curse it out, too.

“Yes,” Johnny says quickly, decisively.

Soap shifts on his feet, oddly impatient, as he waits for Kyle to unlock the door to the interrogation room. As soon as he does, Johnny shoulders past him and into the room. He hears a faint click as Gaz closes it behind him.

You immediately whirl on Johnny, your eyes wide and your breath labored.

“You!” You point at Johnny like it’s meant to be some offensive gesture. “What do you want?”

You move closer, and Johnny catches sight of the dogtags hanging from your neck. You were buried with one, and he kept the other. He even gave you one of his own because, on that day, a part of him died with you. But… instead of two, you have four hanging from the metal chain.

You shove your finger in Johnny’s chest, your fingernail digging through the thin fabric of his fatigues. “Answer me!”

Soap immediately takes your wrist and cradles your hand to his chest. “Bonnie, please, calm down.”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!” you bark, ripping your hand away from him. “I just lost one of my team and you’re telling me to calm down?!”

“Your team?” Soap echoes.

“Deimos!” you snap. “You – you killed Deimos.”

You take a step back, your fists still clenched and your eyes still angry. “I saw your stupid fucking Engineer murder him. He was dead from the first five bullets, and you know he knew that! But oh, let’s just make sure he’s dead by unloading clip after clip into him.”

You heave a breath, almost growling. “Let’s desecrate his corpse. All because he’s a dissenter. Let’s make it oh-so-hard to bring him back.”

Johnny steps forward, just barely moving his foot, and you jump back like he took out a knife.

He breathes out your name, soft and unbelieving. “Are… is it really you?”

“Of course it’s me!” You turn and rest your hands on the steel table, obviously resisting the urge to bring your fists down against it. “Always has been, always will be. It’s always me.”

Johnny circles around the table and leans down a little, taking in your face. The grey makes you look dirty and unwashed, like you’ve got a layer of dirt on you that you couldn’t wash away.

You look up at him through your eyelashes. “I know you.”

Johnny’s heart leaps into his throat and, for a hopeful moment, thinks that you remember him, that this is all some sort of stupid trick, that you went MIA instead of being KIA, that this is really you. The you Johnny knows, the you Johnny loves. But his heart is crushed beneath your boot when you speak next.

“I know soldiers like you,” you say softly. “Soldiers, produced en masse, told to shoot first and die quietly. We’re both clones, you know? But there’s a difference in what we want.”

You stand up straight, glancing at the double-sided mirror before turning your eyes back to Soap. “You follow orders. When they say jump, you ask how high. But I…” you laugh beneath your breath. “I am fighting for change. Normality. You’re comfortable living in this… this chaos.”

“Bonnie, what are you on about?” Johnny reaches across the table, trying to take your hand. You snatch it away before he even comes close.

Gaz slides into the room, holding a tablet. You whip your head around and glare at him.

His eyebrows lift a little, and he raises the tablet, as if in a defensive manner. “Your tablet. It –”

You snatch it from Gaz’s hands before he can talk again. You set it down on the table and stare at it, waiting.

Johnny can just barely see the interface. The top of the screen reads COMBASIC .9(beta). It looks like some sort of chat room. A few messages pop up in quick succession.

FellowD9: GOTEM FellowD9: YOU WERE RIGHT FellowD9: HE WAS COMPLIANT 2BDamned: Neat FellowD9: CHECK MY SECTOR FellowD9: ANCHOR HIM NOW [user:FellowD9 IS OFFLINE]

The messages seem to relax you, even if Johnny has no idea what they’re talking about. You bring a hand to your forehead and laugh breathlessly, then set to typing.

CrosshairF6: lol hey im still alive CrosshairF6: aahw assholes gave me my tablet idk why CrosshairF6: check my sector & get me back 2BDamned: Getting Deimos right now, I’ll get back to you CrosshairF6: better do it right CrosshairF6: saw his corpse, looks like he ran through traffic [user:2BDamned IS OFFLINE]

Johnny watches as you tuck your tablet back in one of the inner pockets of your jacket, casting a suspicious glance at Gaz, like you expect him to take it back.

Gaz raises his hands and slips back out of the room, leaving you and Johnny.

“So.” You look at Johnny. “Why are you trying to act all buddy-buddy with me?”

“You’re… you were…” Johnny sighs, an overwhelming feeling settling in his chest. “Do you remember… dying?”

“Of course,” you say, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “2B brought me back.”

“2B?” Johnny echoes. “Like, the one you were talkin’ to? 2BDamned?”

“Yeah.” You move and lean back against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s all doctor-like, y’know? Brings us back when we need it.”

“And he’s… on your team?” Johnny asks. He feels a deep pang of… something in his chest when the thought of you actually being on another team, separate from him, settles in his mind.

You nod. “Yeah. 2B, Hank, Sanford, Deimos.” You tap the dog tags resting against your chest. “We’re a team. Some of us are on a subteam, but still. We’re a team.”

Johnny blinks hard, shaking the thought from his head. “Do you remember anything before you died?”

“Some, but… not a lot. Just blips of fighting, some soldiers, then Nevada.” You shrug. “2B says that happens sometimes.”

Johnny feels his tense shoulders relax, if only a little. “Any one specific soldier, bonnie?”

“No,” you say. You look away and fiddle with your dogtags. “But I’ve got the dogtag of someone named John.”

“John?” Johnny echoes, his heart picking up in his chest. “John ‘Soap’ MacTavish?”

“Yeah.” Your gaze fixes on him again, immediately suspicious. “How do you know that?”

“That’s me, bonnie.” Johnny laughs breathlessly, moving towards you. He makes sure to stay slow and cautious, just in case. “I’m Johnny. Your Johnny.”

You move along the wall, away from him, just slightly. You seem to bristle a little, and bring your shoulders up a bit. “You’re not mine. I don’t own anyone.”

“Not in the literal sense, bonnie,” Johnny laughs, resisting the urge to trail after you. “I’m yours, romantically.”

You bring yourself off the wall, taking a step back. It’s like you’re repulsed by the idea. “I’ve never been romantically involved with anyone. You think I’ve got time for that?”

It’s like Johnny’s been punched in the gut. Tears well in his eyes and he suddenly feels so fucking sick. His feet almost come out from under him as he stumbles to the door, shaking hands putting in the code before slipping out.

He could take the idea of you maybe not remembering him, sure. He could just re-introduce himself. He could take the idea of you forgetting the time you’ve spent together, because you’d remember, right? But the way you were disgusted by the idea of romance, the vitriol in your voice as you spoke…

Johnny doesn’t like the word ‘relapse’ because he thinks it holds too heavy of a connotation, but that’s the best way to describe what he did for the rest of the day, and into the early hours of tomorrow. He rotted in your shared bed, but instead of feeling numb, he felt his heart being wrenched by your hand, by your words.

He just laid there, looking at his sketchbook – a good one with thick paper. The one you’d gifted him for your six-month anniversary. It’s filled with drawings of you: candid ones, ones where he had you pose (even though you were embarrassed), ones of you and him, together, doing couple-y things.

He could only mourn what was lost, because you seemed to have absolutely no interest in recovering it.

A week passes before you’re able to be let out of your cell. You slowly lost the fire and brimstone that filled your heart as you realized that the 141 really did want to help you. You feel better now that you have a few people by your side, fresh bandages, and a renewed sense of comfort.

(But you forgave yourself for acting like that in the beginning because, in Nevada, no one is nice. Not without an ulterior motive, at least.)

You’re practically on a leash as Ghost leads you throughout the base. He doesn’t talk as he guides you through winding hallways and up an exhaustive amount of flights of stairs.

Eventually, he opens a door labeled ‘ROOF EXIT.’ He tilts his head towards the door.

“Someone waitin’ for you,” Ghost says gruffly. “And…”

He fishes around in his pocket and pulls out a carton of cigarettes. Your cigarettes.

Ghost takes your hand and puts it in your palm. “Don’t set anything on fire.”

You close your fingers around it and nod. “Got it, boss.”

Ghost starts back down the stairs, leaving you and the open door to the roof. You move through it and look around.

Johnny’s sitting, cross-legged, on the concrete roof, facing away from you. It’s dark – obviously, it’s night. You look up and take in the stars, and…

“You have a moon,” you say softly.

Johnny looks back at you, a tentative smile on his face. Like he’s scared to be too hopeful. “Yeah. We do.”

You hum and look at Johnny.

“Do you…” Johnny glances at the floor, then back up at you. “Do you wanna sit with me, bonnie?”

You slowly move over to Johnny and sit by him. You keep a healthy distance, but you’re still closer than you’ve ever been to him before.

“Those fags for sharin’?” Johnny asks, a teasing smile on his face.

You look down at the carton of cigarettes in your hand. You grip them a little tighter, causing the thin carton to crumple a bit. “Sure. Don’t know if you’ll like them, though.”

“Nonsense, bonnie.” Johnny bumps his shoulder against yours. “Let’s give ‘em a go.”

You smile and take out two cigarettes. You hand one over to Johnny. They’re hand-rolled and don’t have a filter, so they look more like joints, but the overwhelming smell of raw tobacco quickly quells that thought.

“Got a light?” you ask.

“‘Course.” Johnny reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small lighter. He lights his own cigarette, then pulls it away with a sputtering cough.

“Steamin’ Jesus, what is that?” He asks in between coughs.

You laugh, hitting your knee as Johnny reels from the taste. “It’s good, yeah?”

“Hell no!” Johnny wipes tears from his eyes and looks over at you. Despite his coughing, a soft smile spreads across his face at the way you’re laughing – loud, unabashed. Just like before.

You swipe Johnny’s lighter from his hand and light your cigarette, the cherry basking your face in a soft, warm glow. “Welcome to Nevada.”

“Let’s see that thing.” Johnny reaches over and takes the carton from your hand.

He turns it over, looking at it. The carton is worn, like it’s been refilled many times. There’s no warning about nicotine being an addictive chemical, just a grey box with a simple brand: G01 Choice. There’s a name scribbled on the back – Deimos, in all capital letters.

“Deimos,” Johnny says aloud. “The man died and you stole his cigs?”

“He’s not dead.” You take the carton back and tuck it into your jacket pocket. “Not anymore. Well, he’s died lotsa times, so I guess he’s an... honorary corpse.”

“An honorary corpse,” Johnny echoes, looking down at the cigarette in his hand. He puts it out on the concrete. “Just like you, yeah?”

You take a drag off your cigarette and blow out the smoke in a single, smooth stream. “Just like me.”

A silence settles as you look up at the moon. You can feel Johnny’s eyes occasionally flitting to you, then back up at the night sky.

“Your dogtags.” Johnny points in your direction. “Whose are they?”

You look down and tug on the metal chain, causing them to clink together. “Mine, yours, and my team’s.”

“Your team?” Johnny asks softly. “You never told me about them.”

“Yeah.” You look over at him. “I’m part of an extraction team. My partners are Sanford and Deimos.”

A pain, almost so real he thought he was actually injured, runs through Johnny when you say partners. The logical side of his brain chides him a few moments later because you obviously meant it in a militaristic sense, not a romantic sense.

“Can I see them?” Johnny asks.

You nod and take off the chain, then hand them to Johnny. He looks at the dogtags – he recognizes his and yours as being standard military dogtags, but Sanford and Deimos’ are much more… odd.

Sanford’s reads SANFORD / MELEE + EXPLOSIVES / G02 (NEG) / RETURN TO FAMILY. Deimos’ reads DEIMOS / FIREARMS + TECH / G02 (POS) / NO FAMILY.

Johnny tilts the dogtags so that you can see them and runs a finger along the lettering. “What do these mean, bonnie?”

You move a bit closer and lean in. “The first lines are their names, obviously. The second is what they’re proficient in. The third is what generation clone they are, and their blood types – there are only two blood types for second generation clones. And the last one is what to do with their bodies if they can’t be revived.”

“Wait, bonnie.” Johnny laughs breathlessly. “Clones?”

“Yeah, clones.” You tilt your head a little to the side. “What, you don’t have cloning technology here?”

“Of course not!” Johnny laughs.

You laugh and bump your shoulder against his. “You people are so primitive.”

Johnny smiles back at you and it’s like nothing is wrong. You both go quiet as you stare at each other until you look away.

“I, uh…” you clear your throat awkwardly. “I’m sorry for being so… abrasive. Earlier, I mean.”

“It’s alright,” Johnny says, almost too quickly.

You scratch your cheek and glance over at Johnny, then away. “But it’s not, is it? I should’ve handled things better.”

“Someone you know died right before we talked.” Johnny reaches over and, cautiously, puts his hand over yours where it rests on your knee. “It’s expected that you don’t act like yourself.”

Your breath hitches, and Johnny squeezes your hand reassuringly in response.

“But that’s the thing,” you say. “I’ve seen so many awful things before. People getting shot, stabbed, beaten, Hank tearing people apart with his bare hands. But, Maker…”

You drag a hand down your face, rubbing your jaw. “Deimos is young. So young. He’s only twenty-seven, and he always has a smile like he’s just tied your shoelaces together and is waiting for you to trip. And he’s so smart, even if everyone calls him a bit stupid. Yeah, he’s got a slower reaction time, but that’s what me and Sanford are for, y’know? He…”

You blink hard, trying to will your tears away. A soft, frustrated groan leaves your mouth as you duck your head and put your cigarette to your lips. “Don’t look at me.”

Johnny starts to pull his hand away, but stops when you squeeze his hand. Instead, he squeezes your hand back, averting his gaze.

To Johnny, it again almost feels like nothing ever happened. Like there’s no Russia, no Nevada, nothing besides you and him on this roof, together. But he’s no fool. He knows things have changed – that Nevada has changed you.

You breathe out a shaky plume of cigarette smoke. “I just want to go back.”

“But you’re here now, bonnie,” Johnny says. He tries to ignore the crushing feeling in his chest, tries to keep his composure for you. “Aren’t you glad you’re back?”

“I don’t know this place.” You look over at Johnny, your eyes rimmed with unshed tears. “You keep saying that we’re together, that – that this is my home. But how can this be my home if I don’t remember a thing about it? How can you be my boyfriend if I don’t remember a thing about you?”

Johnny exhales sharply, like he’s just got the wind knocked out of him. “Bonnie, please don’t say that. Please.”

“I know violence, and I know bloodshed,” you say softly. “I know Nevada. This place, this world…” You gesture vaguely with your cigarette still in your hand. “It’s not mine.”

“But there is violence here, there is bloodshed here,” Johnny insists. “Here, we fought together.”

“But I don’t remember us being together, in any capacity!” you snap. You take a breath and try your best to soften your words. “All I remember from before is just flashes. I didn’t remember your face. I just had your dogtag and a weird, empty feeling.”

Johnny sighs and feels tears welling up in his eyes. He can’t tear his gaze away from you.

“You really expected me to trace the bullet and sift through fleeting memories when there was an entire agency playing Pinkertons knocking down our door?” you ask softly. “2B was bandaging my head ‘cause he just finished playing around in my brains and Sanford was shoving a gun in my hands. They pointed me in a direction and told me to shoot. I didn’t have the time to remember you.

“I’m sorry, but I just didn’t.” You squeeze his hand before letting it go.

Johnny immediately scrambles to catch your hand in both of his, holding on desperately. “No, bonnie, please.”

A few tears slip down Johnny’s cheeks as he looks at you. Your face is a mirror of his own, just in greyscale. Your cheeks are stained with tears and your eyes are just beginning to get a bit puffy.

“If you know you’re gonna be leaving again, then just let me hold your hand,” Johnny says softly, his voice wavering. “Just for a few more minutes.”

You nod and, when you blink, a tear rolls down your already-wet cheek. “Okay.”

Johnny slowly moves so that you’re sitting shoulder-to-shoulder to him. He hesitates before resting his head on your shoulder. You smell just like how he remembers, albeit tinged with the acrid tang of G01 Choice cigarette smoke. You’re just as beautiful as the day he lost you.

“Okay.”

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saltofmercury · 1 year

Note

I sure hope you're taking requests currently if not my deepest apologies and please just ignore this

It's more of a fun idea I had about 141 and König: they have a new teammate who talks very little during the job, but after the missions they like to sit with the team, playing cards? Idk. Anyway König loses a game and swears in German and they answer in German (something like "pass auf was für Wörter du benutzt, es sind kinder anwesend" *points at soap*) and the team looks at them all shocked before they shrug an go "I thought you guys knew I'm German?no? Tja"

Just a few funny team headcanons would be brilliant, thank you! (I just want König to be embarrassed about the reader actually understanding everything he's been mumbling around them lol)

Summary: You speak German to the 141. Ft. Horangi + König

A/N: I just reread this and realized you said headcannons my fuckin bad

“Canasta”

Walking for what felt like miles of pure dirt and sand, the heat stung your bodies.

“It's not the same sun over here.”

Soap walked ahead of you, nagging about the rays, wiping his forehead. Both of you, appalled by the summer heat in this country. The sun beat down on your necks, sweat beads formed from your helmet down the nape of your neck.

Soap and yourself were trailing back to base, relief washing over you both that you had captured (then lost) and the target you were after, but thanks to KorTac was KIA. It would’ve been horrible to continue months of chasing back and forth.

Another mission completed, you could feel the exhaustion pounding down on your body, coming from the months of work your team had handled.

‘Back to reality’ ..you thought in your head. You enjoyed being on a mission. Being on high alert, adrenaline rushing throughout your body. There was more of a need for you. Your teammates had needed you for the mission, reached out, and we’re glad you were there to cover them.

However when it got back to base, it seemed like they didn’t acknowledge you.

It’s not to say your teammates didn’t like you, they respected you but for some reason it became harder to really get to know you because they already had their partners.

Soap had his counterpart Ghost. Gaz had his counterpart — Captain Price, the head of the team.

It just seemed they worked together in pairs and you..you were left as a third wheel. Which you didn’t mind. You enjoyed solitude as much as Ghost did, but to an extent. You did hate being the fly on the wall during gatherings.

This changed with KorTac being contracted into your missions.

You had become good friends with some of the teammates there– König and Horangi

Horangi came in with open arms and plenty of dirty jokes to ease you into friendship. König sometimes spoke to you, but the guy was busy in his own world. He seemed sometimes out of it, constantly following Horangi’s orders needing something to do. You caught him sometimes speaking in German about others. He would look at Horangi and they would smile, then fill you in on their secret joke. As much as they were good of a team together, they never made you feel like the third wheel.

On a mission in Russia, König had let out a couple of remarks about the 141… In German.

“Asshole thinks he’s so scary” König told Horangi when Ghost came on the radio. “Skull faced fuck—” stopping himself when you came on.

“Swear these two flirt over the coms get a fucking channel” telling Horangi again when Soap and Ghost had been on.

Another comment was made about you. You couldn’t really get the full gist of what he said, but something about “keep. safe.” Horangi had jumbled your coms set and told you to keep moving.

Which you admired, because you were a part of their group. They looked out for you.

Until, one night when Horangi was curious as to why you always hung around them.

“Hey uh… how come you’re never with your own team?” Horangi raised his eyebrow slightly. He didn’t mean any harm by it, he was genuinely concerned why these guys didn’t include you.

You felt embarrassed, was this him kicking you out? You searched constantly looking at König and Horangi’s eyes for a decent answer, however there was nothing you could say besides “you guys don’t ignore me like the others.”

König made eye contact with you, then said in German to Horangi “drop it, if they need us as a friend so be it.” You felt so relieved, König at least understood, and you didn’t need to voice the pathetic answer of “everyone’s already paired up.”

Horangi then dropped the subject entirely.

It was a cool night. The chill of the air invited Soap to start a small bonfire.

König and Horangi were on base tonight, bringing out their cards and starting their game of canasta.

Horangi saw Soap and had an idea. He told himself it was fairly innocent. The itch that he needed to scratch.

He turned to König, who opened up more cards to play. Spoke in Korean so that he could only understand.

“Let’s play for money? Against 141.”

König looked at him, spoke back,

“How much do you think we can squeeze out?”

Then remembering how fucking awful it is to reinforce his gambling habits…

“Now we gotta teach them the game too?” He mumbled, fixating on how annoying it would be to teach someone canasta.

Horangi continued, “Come on man, easy money right here we have the advantage.”

Soap had already wandered towards you.

“Nice job out there lad, I appreciated you covering me.”

You were taken aback, the first time he had spoken to you in front of König and Horangi.

You reached out to pat his back,

“Yeah no worries”

God it came out awkward.

“Whaddya playin’ over here?” He asked again, looking over at König opening new decks of cards, Horangi bringing out his notebook, and you adjusting the cooler between you three.

Horangi’s eyes widened, it was almost too easy.

“You wanna learn how to play canasta? It's a really fun game.” His voice turned sultry, luring Soap into the trap.

Both you and König stared at each other, scoffing at how Horangi could not help himself.

“Come, we need one more anyway.” Horangi captured Soap in, wrapped his arm around him. “You can be partners with me, for the practice round.” He brought Soap over to his side and sat him down.

Soap seemed to get the concept of the game. He picked up the game quite easily, after several practice rounds. He got excited.

“Whaddya say we bring in Gaz and Price in on the game?”

You spoke up, “Well we play on teams —“

“Exactly my point. 141 against you three.”

You winced, he had forgotten you were 141 too.

Horangi basically foamed at the mouth.

“Ohhhhh sure. You know what? We can even make the pot bigger, and play for money.”

König spoke again in German,

“Why don’t you show them how hard you are while you’re at it?”

Your eyes widened, Horangi laughed at König. He really couldn’t help it. Even the smallest gambling had the adrenaline racing through his body.

“Sounds good. Let me go get them.” Soap walked off to go pick up his teammates.

Gaz and Price had come back. Soap started to explain the rules of the game, how to stack cards, which cards to avoid, special rules, and of course how to win the pot.

Gaz spoke, “It’s like, gaining points yeah?”

“Precisely,” said Horangi.

Price cracked open a beer and nodded. “I’ve played this before, let's get in on it.”

Horangi rubbed his hair, unable to stop his hands from itching. He smiled at König and you.

König mumbled in German “Fuckin Horangi… dogshit gambler.”

You laughed next to him, nudged him. He looked at you curiously. Did you even know what he was saying?

The game continued for another 2 hours. As predicted, Soap, Gaz, and Price were hooked and started adding money to the pot.

Horangi had beamed. Soap was a bit upset at losing another round, Gaz was trying to make sure he hadn’t missed an opportunity to steal the pot, and Price was quietly taking a peak at people’s cards.

You and König had been trying to help relax Horangi, who looked like he won the lottery.

By the third hour, Soap had deliberately lost at least 300 dollars. Easily being manipulated by Horangi.

“I tell ya…. Somethin’ isn’t right..” He started up.. “You hidin’ cards over there?”

“Oh Scheiße” König muttered. Clearly witnessing firsthand how Horangi was such a cheater.

“The fuck did you say?” Soap said, a little tipsy, angry at losing money.

“pass auf was für Wörter du benutzt, es sind kinder anwesend” (watch what words you use, there are children present) You said, clearly intoxicated and annoyed at Soap for the comment earlier, and being a sore loser now.

It became silent. Everyone stared at you, Horangi laughing uncontrollably.

“I fucking knew it!”

Gaz looked at you, placed a hand on his knee. “All this time you’ve been… bilingual?”

“You speak bloody German?”

Price had put down the beer he was holding.

Maybe it was the liquid courage you had inside you. You could swear it sounded cooler when you responded, oh so casually,

“What you guys didn’t know?” A small burp.

Gaz looked at you, “Fucks sake, you could’ve at least told us something when we were in fuckin’ Germany.”

“Practically translating through König when you’re 141!” Soap shook his head in disbelief.

You had felt the blood flooding your cheeks. You made eye contact with König, who was now not making eye contact with you, but furiously burning a hole into his cards with his sight instead.

“Eine Vorwarnung wäre schön gewesen..” he said quietly. (A heads up would’ve been nice) it seemed toward you, but you weren’t sure.

You continued to play for at least a couple hours, the sun soon peaking ahead, clouds above you turning baby blue.

You helped Horangi pack up, as 141 picked up the many beer bottles you all drank. Horangi impersonating an absolute terrible British accent

“Same time next week lads?”

They all groaned but happily nodded their heads.

Walking silently back to base, König spoke behind you.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

You looked up at him, juggling the decks of multiple cards in your arms.

He took a hold of at least 5 decks in one hand.

“Didn’t tell you what?”

“You understood me, you spoke German.”

“I — uh, don’t know.” And you really didn’t. You just assumed everyone had their native tongue tucked away, and nobody ever asked. Your report had even said you spoke and understood many languages. You guessed it just went over their heads.

He calmly collected the cards from you.

“So even on the mission in Russia?”

You blinked, staring up.

“You understood me then?”

“Yes.”

He walked ahead of you, and stopped at his door.

“And you didn’t think of saying anything back?”

You bit your lip, unsure of what to say. “I didn’t catch it all you know. Just— keep safe.”

“Guess you’ll never know then.” He smiled, winked at you, and entered his room, saying goodnight in German.

You were left there speechless, running toward Horangi’s room.

#könig #ask #könig x reader #konig call of duty #call of duty #konig x reader #könig mw2 #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain price #I guess????

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sovietpostcards · 13 days

Note

i hope this is not too intrusive (if it is, please ignore!), but i’m so curious about russia and the reality of living there. america tries to paint russia as some third-world country that people are desperate to escape from. how do you feel about living in russia and how the country is portrayed globally? thanks!!!

Hi! I can only answer from my own experience. I think Russia offers a lot of possibilities to live comfortably (esp. in large cities). There's free education and free healthcare (and also paid education and paid healthcare if you can afford it), lots of shops, cafes and restaurants, many sports facilities and children's clubs and playgrounds, public transportation and everything else you need. Many jobs. Online services in Russia are absolutely great, you can do everything online from buying a shirt and returning it for free if it doesn't fit, to opening a deposit/sending money to another person/investing, to applying for passport and paying your taxes.

There are problem areas of course. Low pay for teachers or scientists. Corruption. Elections are a scam. The recent murder of free journalism. Lots of people left the country following the war out of fear of being jailed for voicing their opinion or being drafted.

Basically if you're able to abstain from the news, you can live a happier life. Some days I am. I'm going out for breakfast today to a wonderful cafe and I'm going to enjoy it as hard as I can.

#asks

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ebodebo · 5 months

Text

summary: basically simon and you (sunny) got into an argument and hadn't spoken for a couple of days, during that time, you (sunny) are taken hostage by makarov, and simon and the team come save you.

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x f! “sunny" reader

a/n: basically one of my besties found this prompt and sent it to me and who am i to deny some simon riley angst..i am but a girl. ALSO send me some asks to do over christmas break! :)

word count: 1.8k+

wanna be on my taglist ? fill out this form !

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Operation Eclipse

"Why did you tell Price to pull me out?" You seethe as you close the front door on Simon.

"Are we still doing this?" He sighs, sticking his hand out to block the door from slamming onto him.

"Yes, because you think I cannot do my job." You accuse as you go to the kitchen to prepare a glass of whiskey.

"You know I don't think that." He wipes his hand across his face, rubbing his tired eyes. "And since when did you start drinking whiskey?" He cocks a brow, eyeing your glass.

You glare at him. "Don't change the subject."

"I was making an observation." He walks over to you and gently grabs your hand.

You quickly jerk your hand away from his grasp. "You don't trust me." You breathe out.

"That's not true." He quickly says.

"It is."

"It's not."

"It is."

"It's not." He said, his voice becoming more irritated.

"They why? Why did you pull me out? I was getting-"

"Because you're too emotional." He spits, interrupting your sentence. Your eyes widen, and he sighs as he closes his.

"I didn't-"

"No, you did." You continue, chewing on your lip, a clear sign of your anger. "I think you should leave."

"Sunny." He exhales as he steps closer, though you're quick to sidestep him.

"I mean it. I think you should leave." He stares at you for a moment before he lightly nods and heads towards the door, opening it. He pauses before he steps out.

"Sunny. I didn't-" He starts before he sees the impatience plastered on your face. He drew another sigh before turning and walking out the door, not realizing that this would be the last time he would see you in a state where all your sunshine radiance was intact.

❀・。.。* ❀ *。.。·* ❀ *·。.。* ❀ *·。.。* ❀ *。.

"Where's Sunny?" Soap questions Ghost as he fills the seat next to him. Both are waiting for the rest of the task force to file in for the emergency mission briefing Price called for.

"She probably went to visit her dad for a bit."

"Probably?" Soap quips. "You don't know?"

"Christ, Johnny, do I look like the type of person who would keep tabs on her."

"Yes." Soap quickly supplies.

Simon lets out a soft sigh. "She won't talk to me."

"What did you do?"

"How do you know it was my fault?"

"Because you're a dumbass." Soap chuckles. "Of course, it was your fault."

Simon rolled his eyes. "It was."

Their conversation quickly dies as Price and Gaz stroll in. A sense of urgency was written all over Price's face.

"Listen up." Prices's voice seemed unsteady, unlike his usual steady intonation, it was almost like he was nervous to speak. "We have a new assignment." He looks around, his eyes landing on Simon.

"Wait, where's Sunny?" Gaz gestures to your usual seat next to Simon that was empty.

Price turns to Gaz before sighing deeply. "Like I said, we have a new assignment." Gaz gives Soap a confused expression before directing his attention back to Price.

Price continues, turning to address all of them. "Operation Eclipse." He pauses. "It's a rescue mission."

Gasps immediately begin to fill the small room. Gaz was the first to break the silence. "What do you mean?" He wearily asks. Although Gaz was the one who asked the question, Price directed his attention towards Simon.

"Makarov has Sunny." He continues. "In Russia."

Soap and Gaz quickly stand up, spewing a string of curses.

Simon felt the bile rise in his throat. The thought of that asshole anywhere near her, touching her, hurting her. "How long?" He finally says. Price, Soap, and Gaz all direct their gaze towards him. "A couple of days." Price responds. Simon lightly nods his head. "What's the plan?" Price glances over at Soap and Gaz. "Price." Simon looks up. "What's the plan?" He repeats, his voice sounding polluted with irritation.

As Price goes over the plan, all Simon can think about is you. He would never admit it, but he was scared. He couldn't afford to lose someone else he loved. Perhaps the only person that he has genuinely ever loved at that. Not to mention the guilt that prickles his skin at the thought of your last interaction.

"Got that, Ghost?" Price rests one of his hands gently on Simon's shoulder.

"Got it." He pushes his thoughts to the side. He needed to focus on the mission at hand, and get you home safe.

"Alright then." Price pulls out his walkie. "Operation Eclipse is a go."

❀・。.。* ❀ *。.。·* ❀ *·。.。* ❀ *·。.。* ❀ *。.

Once the team arrives in Russia, Laswell sends the coordinates of the warehouse where Makarov is stationed to Price, and he passes them along to the pilot.

"We're gonna get her back, Lt." Soap pats Ghost.

Simon simply nods while staring out the window as the chopper hovers a bit away from the warehouse.

"Laswell, do you copy?"

"Copy, Bravo."

"About to have boots on the ground."

"Good. There aren't too many of Makarov's people on the ground. Should be easy to slip inside."

"Copy. Over and out."

The chopper lands, and the team floods out. They quietly make it through the wooded area to the back, taking down three men.

"Ghost, Soap slip inside; Gaz and I will take watch."

"Copy that, sir." Soap supplies.

Soap and Ghost stealthily enter the building, taking out two guards inside. They slowly walk around the area, sweeping it clean of men.

"Lt., This way." Soap tilts his head, gesturing to another door, where two more guards stand. Ghost nods and kicks the door open. Soap swiftly shoots the guards before they can pull their guns out.

"You found me." A voice echoes, causing Soap and Ghost to swivel their heads, hiding in the dark.

"Makarov?" Soap questions as he positions his weapon towards him.

He lets out a gruff laugh, standing up from his chair and walking into the light. "The one and only." He smiles, his voice full of arrogant cockiness.

"Guess you got word, I got one of yours. Huh?"

"Where the fuck is she?" Simon spits, his voice laced with venom.

He slowly walks around his desk. "Now, why would I tell you that?" He steps closer to Ghost. "I'm not done with her yet."

Simon dropped his weapon and grabbed him roughly by the collar of his shirt, slamming him against the concrete wall. "Listen, you piece of shit. If you don't tell me where she is, I wouldn't mind putting a bullet in between your eyes."

Makarov lets out a chuckle.

"What the fuck is so funny?" Simon demands as his grip tightens.

"Look at you." He whispers, his voice sounding gravily. "You're soft for her."

"Where. Is. She." Each syllable, each word contains a lethal note.

Makarov spits in his face in response. Simon throws him on the ground, picks his weapon up, and shoots him in the leg, causing him to yell.

"Where is she?" Ghost repeats.

Bundled over in pain, Makorav grabs his leg, trying to stop the bleeding, and doesn't answer.

Simon brings his weapon up once again and shoots him in the other leg, which causes yet another scream.

"I'm not telling you." He grits as he grabs his leg.

Before Simon can shoot him again, they hear a scream coming from a nearby room.

"Is that-?" Soap starts.

"Sounds like her." Ghost finishes as he walks to the door. "Take care of him. I'll go get her."

"Copy that, Lt," Soap responds, as he points his weapon at Makarov's head.

Simon heads out the door and heads towards the noise, but not before hearing more gunshots followed by more of Makarov's screams.

He creeps towards the door, where he hears you. He promptly kicks the door open, not realizing that you have sprinted into a nearby closet, and begins shooting at the three men in the room. Killing them all.

After clearing them out, he scans the room for you. Surely, his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. He definitely saw you. As he continues looking, he hears a faint noise from the closet. He languidly stepped closer to the cabinet, setting his weapon down, before gently wrapping his hand around the handle.

As soon as he opened it, he was met with kicking and screaming. It was you. "Get away from me!" you hoarsely screamed as you violently shook your head. He gently wrapped his arms around you, attempting to calm you. "Get off me!" You yelp and try to push him off but to no avail. "Baby..baby, it's me." He pulls you closer. "It's Simon."

"Si..Simon." You whisper into his chest. You lift your head slightly, giving him a chance to examine the cuts and bruises that are now covering your face. His face and hands twitch at the sight. "Simon." You let out a cry. "You came." You push your face back into his chest.

"Of course I fucking came." He brought one of his hands up and lightly stroked your hair. "Of course I came." He repeated, softer than the first time.

"I...I didn't say anything." You blubber into his chest. "If you're worried about that." He brings your head up so you are looking at each other. "I don't give a fuck about what you said." He brushed his thumb over a bruise forming on your cheek. "I'm more concerned about you."

You lower your head into his chest again, tears still spilling down your cheek. He bends his head down to kiss the back of your head through his mask.

"Ghost, do you copy?" Price's voice booms through Simon's walkie.

Simon grabs the walkie from his vest. "Copy."

"Do you have Sunny?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, because we need to evacuate. Laswell says she can see more people flooding the radar."

"Copy that." He puts his walkie back. He looks back down at you. "Let's get out of here. Okay?" He says softly. You slightly nod as he ushers you out of the room, his arm wrapped around you.

You both make your way to the back door where Soap is waiting. "Good to see you, lass." You give him a tiny smile. You all step outside the door and hurriedly approach the aircraft.

Gaz grabs your hand and helps lift you into the chopper, and you find your seat as Ghost sits next to you and Soap next to him.

"Good to see you, Sunny." Price nods in your direction. You nod back to him as you lean onto Simon. You glance over to your side and notice Gaz staring at you. You reach over to grab his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

Simon gently grabs your hand and threads his fingers through yours; you flash him a little smile.

Even though Simon never really considered himself a religious man, in that moment, he truly felt like he should be on his knees praying to some God that you were alive and with him.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

taglist: @callsign-artemis @yuenity @fivenightsatnattys @minihotdog @harpsinfinity @theloneshadow24

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