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themurderofcrowscollective · 8 months

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The 141 and you!

(Second attempt at putting the reader in this sort of situation) So you're a new sergeant, being dropped into the 141 because you have something good to offer to the team. Instantly you're a bit intimidated by the death glare Ghost is giving you but you're met with Soap who's excited to see a new face and Gaz who is more welcoming. Price is Price, getting the formalities out of the way as fast as he can since they're... kinda boring as shit. As for Konig, you don't dare look at him in the eyes cause that's a fucking tree, not a man and Horangi is just watching you from the corner as you speak with Soap and Gaz. Alejandro and Rodolfo seem to already be happy to see you, having heard some good things about you. This is nice, although you're still a bit intimidated by the two towering giants of the squad.

Around the first few weeks of being part of the 141, you've mostly stuck with Soap and Gaz whenever you had the chance if not on missions or training recruits. They're always happy to see you and hear your stories, sitting at lunch together and chilling out on breaks so you at least aren't simply minding your own business and overthinking yourself to death about what everyone thinks of you. Aside from those two, you don't dare cross paths with Ghost, Konig and Horangi unless you're working with them. With Ghost, you and him are compatible on missions while you and Soap are an unstoppable force to be reckoned with. With Konig, you love working out with him and trying to take him on in a spar and with Horangi, the two of you seem to both like drawing so when you get the chance, you show him your drawings. With Price, he's indeed the squad's dad. It was 5 months being in the 141 when you finally (albeit accidentally) called him dad and Gaz owed Soap 100 dollars that day. All Price had to say was 'ah shit I've gained another child' while shaking his head and chuckling. Forget about it when it comes to Alejandro and Rodolfo, you three aren't allowed near any tequila if you're all in the same room. However you three do have a flair for cooking so you like to share recipes with them and teasing Ale when he's flirting with Rudy. (I don't care, Ale and Rudy are married)

And then... you and Ghost. Your bond with him started growing when you started having night terrors while Soap and Gaz were off on missions, unable to spend time with them if these happened. You couldn't bring yourself to talk to Ale, Rudy, Konig, Horangi or Price and while you sit there in quiet panic, you decide to sneak into the kitchen and find something to drink. Settling with some warm milk as it reminded you of your mom, you made sure to clean up before leaving once you were done with the drink. However once you started going back to your room, you turn the corner and bump into Ghost. Instead of reprimanding you or telling you to get to your room, he doesn't say anything and offers his hand to you. Puzzled you decide to accept it, having no idea what's going to happen as he leads you to his room instead and tells you to sit on his bed. You do and he sits next to you, reaching his arm over your shoulders and letting your head fall on his shoulder before asking if you want to talk about it. You felt the urge to ask him if he was sure about it but you decide to spill it anyway. As you talk about it and slowly come to tears, Ghost rubs your back as he reassures you and in his own way, comforts you by letting you sleep in his bed with him. Turns out he's a cuddler just like you so once you both got comfortable, you slowly put your head on his chest and wrap your arm around him as he holds you in his arms. The next morning though you didn't expect to find Konig and Horangi in the room, also sleeping on the bed. Ghost gives the best cuddles and he's made it clear to his friends that they're always welcome, so while you were asleep, Konig and Horangi joined in. It really isn't something you expected, waking up surrounded by hot men- YOU MEAN INTIMIDATING MEN. (Part 2 is out!)

#i don't know #just take this #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #john price #kyle gaz garrick #konig mw2 #kim horangi hong jin #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #alejandro x rodolfo #christ so many fucking tags-

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off22theraces · 1 year

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hiii apocalypse factventure fic i havent come up w a title for yet!!! u get this first tumblr enjoy

warnings: descriptions of injuries, blood, not beta’d

word count: ~3000

a/n: the apocalypse au i have (w my other friend) is kind of just like the purge but 4ever. no zombies or anything. ppl r just batshit (oh and fact’s name is aaron) (oh and human au!!)

ANYWAYS ENJOY

The grass was soft underneath Rick’s feet as he ran, his breath leaving him in quick gasps. He periodically glanced behind himself, hissing through his teeth when a tree branch brushed the open wound in his side. Blood trickled down from the cut, caused by a close call with the people running after him.

He nearly tripped over a rock as he stumbled forward again, pressing his hand against the wound in an attempt to stagger the bleeding. The sweat from his palms made it sting. He bit the inside of his lip, his feet sore and moving beneath him without thinking. The people behind him yelled something unintelligible.

His heart ran laps in his chest. He glanced around swiftly, trying to find somewhere to catch his breath. He spotted a collection of bushes, shielded by three trees. He leaped for the cover, chest heaving as he dropped to the ground.

He waited for the sound of people going by. It never came.

He glanced up from behind the bushes, through the foliage. He spotted two people receding in the opposite direction, away from him.

He let out a sigh of relief and ducked behind the bushes again, whimpering as he regarded his wound. The cut would get infected if it wasn’t already. He wearily ran a finger along the edge of the gash, wincing at the shock of pain that went through him.

He looked around hopelessly, hoping to spot something other than just more trees. He was about to give up when in the corner of his eye, he caught sight of wooden panels.

He turned his head swiftly, crawling onto his knees to get a better look.

It was a trailer.

He thanked God then and there.

He slowly began to crawl across the grass, no doubt staining his pants as his knees dragged through the dew-covered ground. He crawled, pushing back against bushes and branches, until he reached the back of the trailer, the side that had been facing him. He stood up, slumping slightly, to put his fingers on the windowsill and peek inside.

It was pitch black. He didn’t know what he expected.

It was better than nothing, though. He slowly tip-toed to the front of the trailer, reaching the door and trampling a few weeds.

He tried the door almost hopefully. Unsurprisingly, it was locked.

He groaned, the pain in his side growing greater by the second. He pulled his jacket down to cover the wound, sighing as he got closer to the door.

The worst part of it all was that he was completely unarmed. He’d dropped his gun somewhere a while ago, he presumed when he was cut, and going back for it at that moment would be a suicide mission.

Although, maybe this was too.

Nevertheless, he gazed over at a rock on the ground and an idea began to form. He glanced at the small window on the door of the trailer. Then the rock. Then back again.

It’d be loud, but… what other choice did he have? It was bleeding out to death or dying painfully (maybe) in a trailer. He’d choose the trailer. At least it had air conditioning.

He bent over to pick up the rock, glancing around quickly before bringing it down upon the glass window. He did it a few more times before a crack began to form, at which point he picked up the pace before a few shards of glass disappeared into the darkness of the trailer. He stuck his hand through the small hole in the window, his jacket preventing him from being cut, fumbling around for the door handle before he found it.

He opened the door slowly, pulling his arm out of the hole and stepping inside.

The trailer was as dark as it had been through the window. He shut the door and locked it, taking the time to pull the tiny curtain over the broken window. He stepped back into the trailer, glancing around for any light. There was no lamp anywhere, but there was a stove.

He walked over to it, attempting to turn it on, but to no avail. He sighed sharply in frustration and stood up straight, putting his hands on his hips. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness more, he could see there was a sink and counters next to the stove. The chance there was much running water was slim, but he thought he might as well have tried.

He reached for the tap when suddenly, the sound of footsteps behind him met his ears, all too fast for him to properly react. Before he knew it, he was stumbling backwards into a stranger's grip, his assailant’s arms around his neck. He could see in the darkness the glint of a knife’s blade.

Fuck.

“You have five seconds to tell me what the fuck you’re doing here and who you are or I swear on my life, I’ll slit your throat,” the stranger said. One of their hands came to grip the side of Rick’s neck, fingertips pressed against his pulse point bruisingly.

“I-I…” Rick stuttered.

“One, two…” The stranger began counting down and he felt the cold edge of the blade press against his throat, sending a new wave of adrenaline and fear through him. He struggled in their arms with a series of whines, attempting to break free. “Three, four…” The stranger continued, sounding unimpressed as Rick attempted unsuccessfully to work their arms loose.

The stranger paused. “Do you have a death wish?” They asked.

“Nah,” Rick muttered. The stranger sighed.

“Then you must be really, really stupid.”

He was pushed into a chair before he realized what was happening, the tip of the blade still pressed to his throat as the stranger’s hand rested on his shoulder, securing him in place.

He saw through the dark the image of a blonde, freckled man squinting back at him, looking simply pissed off. He put up his hands defensively as the other man sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Why are you here?” The stranger asked again.

“‘Could ask ya th’same thing,” Rick answered sarcastically.

A small spark of pain went through him as the blade pressed deeper, but not enough to draw blood. “I hope you know I wasn’t joking,” the stranger told him, an odd coo in his tone.

Rick went still and quiet, hands still suspended in the air as he held them up. The stranger paused, before both the knife and hand fell away from Rick and he let out a breath he’d been holding. “Not very talkative,” the stranger noted sarcastically. Rick huffed. “It’s easier t’talk without a knife t’my throat.” He crossed his arms and leaned backwards, his back hitting the cold wall.

The stranger walked over to the door, remaining silent. He let out a surprised yelp and Rick assumed he’d stepped on the remnants of the window. A cold breeze slipped in, making the curtain rustle.

He turned around and glared at Rick. “You could’ve knocked,” he spat. “You would’ve let me in?” Rick asked, tilting his head downwards to give the stranger a knowing look. “Didn’t think so,” he said when the stranger hesitated.

“It’s better than breaking in the window,” the stranger muttered, sighing as he stepped away into the other end of the trailer.

Rick sat in darkness, scared and unsure and still bleeding. He hugged his middle, keeping his pained winces quiet. The stranger came back, holding a broom and a lighter, now wearing a pair of glasses. He lit a candle sitting on a dresser first, illuminating the other end of the trailer as he lit another by his mattress.

Rick’s eyes scanned the space, taking in the sight. A plain, slightly stained mattress was pressed against the wall, a pink pillow sitting nearest to the wall. A blanket with green and white squares was on the floor next to it, along with the knife from earlier, a candle, and a book with a title that looked something like Hunting and Foraging in Early America.

Next to the candle was a picture frame, the photo blurred from the flame. Rick could vaguely make out the image of the stranger standing next to a woman, who smiled wide as he remained stoic, his arm around her shoulders.

“Who’s the pretty lady in the photo? She single?” Rick joked, relaxing against the wall. The stranger looked up at him, exactly as he did in the photo, expressionless and impassive. “That’s my cousin,” he stated bitterly. Rick’s smile fell.

“Not that it matters,” the stranger sighed, stepping over a pile of books over to Rick. He lit a candle next to the stove. Rick could see the whole trailer then, along with another book on the floor next to a basket in front of the sink. He glanced over at the glass shards on the floor, which the stranger was starting towards. The flames danced in the reflections on the fragments.

The stranger sweeped the shards away, picking up the basket and guiding them towards the opening. Rick propped his elbow on the edge of a table next to his chair, watching the stranger work. “Don’t you store your food in there?” He asked. The stranger sighed. “You ask too many questions,” he answered.

Rick paused. “Do you have any food?”

The stranger stood up straight, looking apathetic and already tired of Rick’s presence. “You tell me,” he replied nonchalantly, placing the basket back by the sink. “If I did I wouldn’t give you any, if that’s what you’re asking,” the stranger said, a small smile on his lips. Rick pouted.

The stranger leaned against the wall next to the sink, looking over Rick with his eyes narrowed. “I just want to know,” he began. “What made you think it was a good idea to break into my house? You know I could kill you. So what was going through… well, I would say your mind, but I’m not sure if you have one.”

“I was runnin’ from a group of people who were not treatin’ me very kindly, thank ya very much,” Rick stated. The stranger chuckled. “I hate to tell you that breaking my window isn’t gonna make me treat you very kindly either.”

“I can tell,” Rick mumbled.

The stranger adjusted his glasses, aloof as ever. “So you chose the chance of dying in a trailer over dying outside?” His arms folded over his chest.

“Y’know, yer a lot prettier when y’don’t speak,” Rick replied instead of answering, smirking as he spoke. The stranger rolled his eyes and groaned, turning his back to Rick and walking to the other end of the trailer.

“I would choose to die outside,” the stranger said softly. He looked over his shoulder at Rick. “At least you can see the stars.”

“Nerd,” Rick snorted. The stranger ignored him, sitting on his mattress with his hands over his knees.

“Do you plan on staying any longer?” He asked, barely hiding his annoyance.

Rick’s smile fell. He sank against the wall, his arms still crossed against his chest. “Well, actually. I have a little bit of a… uh… problem.” The stranger raised an eyebrow, prompting Rick to gesture to the bloodstain on his shirt.

The stranger’s eyes widened, before becoming narrow in clear aggravation once again. “You bleed on my floor, you’re dead,” he hissed with a scowl.

Rick put his hands up defensively as the stranger stood up and began walking towards the dresser, crouching down to open a drawer. He sighed. “How badly are you bleeding?” He asked.

Rick lifted up his shirt for a moment, getting a full look at the wound. It was the dresser, crouching down and opening a drawer. “How bad is it?” He asked. Rick lifted up his shirt to get a full look at the wound.

The edges around the wound were steadily turning a hue of purple, the wound itself deep red and oozing blood. Rick felt the sensation of the maroon liquid dripping down his torso, all the way to his belt. The cut was deep, stretching across his side below his chest. He experimentally ran a finger beneath the cut. Blood trickled onto his finger.

“Not good,” Rick answered in a small voice. The stranger sighed, taking out a first aid kit from the drawer and walking slowly towards Rick. “Can you get up? He asked quietly, motioning to the mattress once Rick nodded.

Rick walked over to the mattress and sat down. The stranger sat down next to him, setting the first aid kit between them with a sigh. “Lift up your shirt,” the stranger demanded with a blank stare.

Rick blinked. “At least buy me dinner first.”

“Ha ha,” the stranger responded, crossing his arms. “I’m being serious.”

Rick paused. “Really?” The stranger pursed his lips. “Yeah. I need to see the wound in order to bandage it. Idiot.” His eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

Rick’s mouth hung open for a second, before he muttered out an “okay” and lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing the cut. The room was beginning to smell more and more like iron. The stranger thought for a second, getting up from the mattress to grab a towel.

“You owe me a lot after this,” the stranger mumbled, taking rubbing alcohol from the drawer. He turned around to face Rick, who was staring at him with something like fear in his eyes. “What?” The stranger asked.

“It’s gonna sting,” Rick said quietly, staring at his lap. The other man narrowed his eyes. “You’ll be fine,” he cooed mockingly, reseating himself on the mattress and pouring rubbing alcohol onto the towel.

He began to reach towards Rick, halting just in front of his abdomen to look up into his eyes, giving a small warning. “Don’t whine,” he said simply, before he pressed the towel to the cut and Rick did exactly that.

He liked to say he had a high pain tolerance, but the way the stranger was glaring at him made him feel humiliated, making him sniffle and look away. The towel was pulled away after it cleaned off some of the blood. The stranger set it down on the mattress and reached for the first aid kit, opening a gauze pad and beginning to gently press it against the wound.

The stranger’s touch was soft, and it was clear although he didn’t seem to like Rick that much he wasn’t attempting to cause him more grief. Rick’s eyes wandered from the other man’s fingertips, up his thin arms, to his face. There were bags under his eyes and freckles dotting his cheeks, speckled across his pale skin like stars against the sky.

He looked fairly gaunt—Rick assumed this was a result of the aforementioned lack of food—but he still looked strong, like through it all he was still unshakable. Rick took in the curve of his eyelids, how long his eyelashes were, because god were they long, and just below them were the prettiest pair of eyes Rick thought he had ever seen.

They were unusually pink, although maybe it was just the lighting, and deep and sweet and determined. He could look into his eyes forever, he thought.

Falling over the stranger’s forehead was curls of blonde hair, fluffy and looking soft to the touch. How curled and gentle his hair looked contrasted the sharp angles of his face, the point of his nose, the lines of his cheekbones. Rick thought he was quite a sight to take in.

“Excuse me, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t stare for so long,” the stranger said quietly, gazing up at Rick through his eyelashes before his eyes flickered back to the task at hand. Rick snapped back to reality, feeling the sensation of the stranger’s fingertips brushing against his torso once again. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

The stranger hummed in reply, ripping a piece of adhesive tape before pressing it against the gauze. He repeated the process once more before pulling back to consider his work. “I’d say you should be fine now.” He began to reorganize, getting up from the mattress with the kit in one hand and the towel and rubbing alcohol in another.

“If it isn’t already infected, that is,” he added. Rick slumped, pulling his shirt back down to his hips with a sigh. “Real optimistic… uh..” He realized he hadn’t gotten the stranger’s name.

“What do I call ya, sweetheart?” He asked, flashing a smile.

The stranger turned around with narrowed eyes. “Not that, surely,” he responded in contempt. He walked over after discarding what he’d been carrying into the drawers, sitting back down next to Rick on the mattress.

He folded his arms over his chest as he answered, hugging himself. “Aaron.” He turned to face Rick. “My name’s Aaron.”

Rick smiled brightly, enthusiastically putting his hand out to shake. “Hey there Aaron, ‘m Rick.” Aaron hesitated, staring at Rick’s open palm in what seemed like disgust before shaking it slowly, wiping his hand on his pants once the handshake was over.

“Guess I can sleep on the floor,” Rick sighed as he began to stand up. Aaron’s brows furrowed. “So, you are planning on staying?”

Rick glanced at him. “Yea?”

Aaron sighed. “With your injury, I doubt sleeping on the floor would be much help. We can share the mattress.” He looked away, seeming disdainful.

“Sharing?” Rick swallowed thickly.

Aaron turned back to him, glaring. “Sharing.”

And so that’s how they ended up, laying on Aaron’s twin sized mattress with Rick’s chest pressed against Aaron’s upper back. Rick attempted to avoid touching the other man, his hands folded uncomfortably underneath his head. The only pillow they had was only wide enough for one person. Aaron had done Rick the courtesy of pulling the blanket over the both of them though, so that was nice, Rick guessed.

“Goodnight,” Rick began to whisper.

“Sh,” Aaron responded.

“Goodniiigh-”

“Sh!”

“…Geez, okay.” Rick shifted his hands beneath his head, attempting to get comfortable with Aaron pressed beside him.

“…Goodnight, Rick,” Aaron’s voice came quietly after a moment.

Rick cracked a smile. “Night, Aaron.”

#also uploading it here first so i have an excuse to beta read it later #just take this #apocalypse au #fanfic #factventure

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