#yes this is The Jeep Mission

[mrslankyman]

Failed Mission

Montague (fortnite) x (fem) reader

-> smut / unsafe sex

-> gun use

->idk shit about guns

->Montague forgot his tripod stand. Maybe your ass would work better

->2k words

(request)

Too bad working for the Society meant going on missions with the most annoying man ever. 

Montague. 

His french accent: annoying 

His outfit: ugly

The way he nitpicks everything: infuriating 

He never wanted to listen to You. He never got the right things on the list for the mission. Always forgetting something. Last time he forgot the sticky bombs. Wonder what he will forget this time. It was just a steak out mission. 

There was a rumor that The Under Ground would be attacking Lavish Lair today. That’s how you found yourself on top of one of the snowy mountains that surrounded the mansion. Montague right next to you. His supplies are back in the Jeep. The two of you were just watching below. Trying to see if anything suspicious or off was going on. 

You both just sat in the snow. You mentally hated it. Back at your mansion there was no snow. You lived closer to Ritzy Rivera. So coldness wasn’t something you cared for. Montague on the other hand? He must be as cold as his heart. 

“Wait.. I see something.. I think it’s that Hope girl Valeria talked about.” He got up spraying snow all over. Some of it landed on you, letting out an annoyed groan when you got up. He walked over with his Sniper Rifle. 

Here we go. 

He loaded it and held up the gun. Until he noticed one thing. 

He had the wrong scope. So aiming to hold it up wasn’t going to happen. He shook too much.

Mistake number two.

He didn’t even bring the tripod.

“What now? Did you forget something again?” Your voice was laced with annoyance already. 

“Yes, in fact I did. I have the wrong scope.” He looked over at you as he spoke. Eyeing you up and down in thought. 

“So? Get the tripod and aim the best you can.” You rolled your eyes as if it was obvious. 

“I didn’t bring it.” His voice was lower now. Almost menacing. He was obviously annoyed at you too but he had an idea.

“So what now? I only have my AR that isn’t going to do shit from up here.” You practically yelled at him. He did this too often. 

“I’ll tell you what we're gonna do. Get on your knees.” He demanded pointing near the edge of the cliff. “What the hell, why?” You questioned glaring at him. 

“Just do it, trust me.” He kept pointing at the spot. He was far too strong to deny. He could just shoot you right now if he wanted too. So you listened and groaned as you let your knees sink into the cold snow. You mentally thought of ways to get him back. Maybe on another mission you could dump cold water on him or-

You were cut out of your thoughts when he shoved you down to the ground completely with his foot. Your face shoved into the snow and your arms slid down.

Your back end was arched up, ass in the air. You spit out snow as you lifted up your head. Using your hand to wipe off the snow. “What the fuck is your idea?” You looked back at him as he got on one knee. Laying the barrel of the sniper on your ass.

“Put your head down or i’ll blow it off.” He warned and watched you slowly lower your head.

“Hurry up.” You groaned. What the fuck kind of idea is this. 

Montague on the other hand was having a hard time aiming right. One reason; you were moving too much.

Another?

He was staring at your ass. The position he got you in so easily. You both always got annoyed at each other and got into fights. Yet you both always chose to do missions together despite the hatred. With hatred comes tension. Sometimes the tension feels a little too sexual. 

His eyes wandered from the target below to you to the target.

Once he finally focused in he got a good aim. His hand on the trigger ready to blow this Underground agent's head off you moved.

“Fuck!” He yelled pointing the gun's muzzle at your head. “Stop fucking moving.” He growled as he watched you freeze. You knew his dumb ass would never pull the trigger. But it did scare you slightly. 

“My bad i’m in the freezing fucking snow with an idiot using my ass as a tripod for his fucking gun!” You yelled not even looking at him. Keeping your face forward as you felt the gun move from your head. It was replaced by his hands gripping your hair. He pulled you back to his chest. He dropped his sniper and leaned into your ear. 

“Stop talking back.” His accent slurred most of his words when his voice was this low with anger. His other hand laid on your thigh.

“What are you gonna do if I don’t? Shoot me?” You smirked as him tugging on your hair didn’t make you scared. It makes your mind wander to other things. He was also losing his focus on the mission. His eyes looked down at you, how your lips slightly parted and you looked up at him fully. His hand tangled in your hair. 

“No, I might do something else though.” He warned his eyes were half lidded now. The feeling of you pressed to his chest made him feel things he tried to ignore when around you. Now he was letting those feelings go freely. 

“What is something else, Montague?” Your voice closed in a whisper as you got to his name. If only you knew how that drove him crazy. He could feel himself hardening. Dick straining against his dress pants. 

“You really wanna do this?” His question was almost a whisper as he leaned his head down closer. His stubble looked so much better up closer. His blue and brown eyes looking into yours. The scar made him look menacing despite the blush on his cheeks. 

His frosted tipped hair moved with the motion of the icy wind. 

“Maybe I do.” Your hand moved on top of his hand that was laying on your thigh still. That gave him the answer he needed.

He closed the gap between you two and let his lips engulf yours. All the feelings of anger, annoyance, and sexual tension went into the kiss. All the times you two argued and got into each other's faces now came to a close. Any time you two argue after this it is surely going to end the same way this mission is going to end. 

His hand moved yours off his as he slid it further down to the inside of your thigh. His hand in your hair pulling your head back further. He didn’t really like his angle of kissing. He wanted to grab your face and shove his tongue into your mouth. 

Despite that desire he kept you in this position. 

You pulled away from him and gasped slightly. He went to lean back in wanting, no needing more of you. He wanted your lips back on his. He actually wanted them all over his body. 

“It’s too cold for this.” You sighed, you could feel his hard dick against your ass. Or was it his belt? Either way it was extremely hard. 

“Why not?” He practically begged. His voice was still low but it had a desperate array to it. He wanted you now. He didn’t wanna wait. 

“Let’s go to the Jeep.. come on. Je veux te baiser.” He cooed in your ear his french accent even more prominent as he spoke in his native tongue. “What does that mean?” You asked, laughing slightly.

He got closer to ear his hot breath tickling your neck. 

“I want to fuck you.” His voice was so low and husky you could feel yourself throbbing. 

“Then take me to the Jeep.” You whispered back and without a second thought he had lifted you up and was trudging through the snow to the Jeep. You littered his neck with wet sloppy kisses before he laid you down in the back seat. You scooted to the other seat as he crawled in. He leaned up to the passenger seat and grabbed the lever. Shoving it all the way to the front to give himself more room. 

He loomed over you and smirked. “I want you on my lap now.” He growled and sat back in the seat. You crawled up to sit on his lap. He spread his legs out a little more. His diamond belt buckle really added to his outfit. 

You leaned closer and kissed him. His medallion hitting your chest as you got closer. He kissed back. His plump lips moved with yours in such a needy fashion. He wanted you so badly. He wanted to fuck you so hard you’d forget about any other man who ever pleased you. 

He pushed you back and took a breath. You took this pause to unbuckle his belt. Undoing his dress pants and just pulling out his dick from his boxers. You didn’t bother pulling his pants down. You just pushed the flaps of his pants to the side and his belt. He helped you slide off your pants quickly and underwear. He stared at you before leaning his head back against the headrest of the seat. 

He grabbed your hips and lifted you over his perked up dick. “You ready?” He asked as he slid one hand down to line himself up with your entrance. 

You nodded and slid down on him. You bit your lip holding back your moan. Montague on the other hand? He let his moan echo in the car. He didn’t hold back on the noises. He hadn’t fucked someone in so long. 

He was too busy keeping the Society in order. He loved how your pussy tightened around his dick. This feeling was better than any successful heist he had ever been on. Money made him have a happy feeling but this pussy made him want to live. 

He wanted to wake up every day knowing he could fuck you when ever you wanted. 

He wanted to please you instead of annoy you. 

He made a mental note to forget the tripod again.

“Montague..” You let his name slip out of your mouth in a high pitch moan. He grunted and slurred out random words or phrases in french. You didn’t understand them but you assumed they were good. 

He held you still by the hips and slammed his dick up in you. Letting his hips go up and down ramming his dick into you. You both let out moans of pleasure. He slid one of his gloved hands down and used his thumb to make slow circle motions around your clit. 

“Fuck.. I’m gonna cum..” You squealed as you felt yourself coming undone with each thrush of his dick. He groaned in agreement and grabbed your face with his free hand. Slamming his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. He moaned as he felt you cum on his dick. His motions became sloppy and he moved in and out at different paces. You watched his face scrunch up in pleasure and a low “oh fuck” came out of him before he pulled out and came on his vest. 

Good thing he had 500 others.

He looked you in the eyes as you both calmed down from your highs.

“Oscar can defend himself.” He chuckled and pulled you back to him.

#montague #montague fortnite #montague x reader #montague fortnite x reader #montague smut #montague x reader smut #montague fortnite x reader smut #wtf is this #sorry

[lunarw0rks]

hi!! just wanted to stop in and give an idea ig

141 with a reader who’s like a mother hen after a mission, making sure everyone’s not injured, and god forbid they are, she’s trying to stop the bleeding, and scolding soap for being so reckless!! even after they get back to base after a long day, she’s fussy.

IDK JUST A RANDOM BLURB??

A/N: Such a cute idea, not one I would've thought of on my own! Hope I did the request justice <3

Summary: It's in your nature, the motherly role you feel towards the other members of the Task Force. Patching up their injuries, and scolding the two most reckless ones, it's all become routine.

Warning(s): platonic!141, fem!reader, canon-typical violence, blood/minor injury mention, mild language, suggestive banter, no use of y/n

Word Count: 2.1k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ ao3 ver.

Troublemakers // Drabble

Though you hadn’t said a word on the ride back, at least outside of ones pertaining to the operation, the look on your face said enough. For every mission, no matter the time and place, something goes wrong—someone gets hurt.

“Anybody broken?” Captain Price comes through the comms, the static crackling through the jeep.

“Everybody’s fine, Captain. For now.” Your voice hissed back into the radio, eyes scanning their faces for any signs of an injury. Right now, there weren’t any signs. But the second this jeep stopped, there was no way in hell they were getting past you without you at least checking. It had become your unofficial job; the mother of the team, the medic without an official title, even the ‘buzzkill’ at some points.

There was no time to fuss over them at first, during evac. Everyone had piled into the vehicles too quickly, and you were eager to get out of there just as much. You were a natural nurturer, but not blinded by your instincts—there was a chain of command, after all. When your Captain says to evac, you evac, no questions.

Once the titles and formalities fizzled out, once the comms went quiet, that side of you always came out.

The jeep was moving at high speeds, and the passing landscape was a blur. A secluded, abandoned field where the operation went wrong; the taperings of town turning into the city; fizzled out until it turned into the secluded dry field again—when you reached the base.

In usual fashion, everyone got out first, and you last.

It was second nature, ushering them out like a clown car, then examining the inside of the empty vehicle to make sure nobody forgot anything. It was comical to them, so comical they still shot amused looks as you cased the car. Any further into this role, and you would start saying “C’mon kids” every time you went somewhere with them.

Another challenge to their chivalry was the way you held the door open for each of them, eyes glued to them as pursed your lips in discontent. But, they knew the drill just as well as you did.

First, you peered at Simon, though he just walked by with his usual scowl, probably finding a dark corner to brood in. He was the only one you didn’t bother to fuss over, unless you wanted to get chewed out, naturally.

It was the other two you were the most concerned about—Gaz and Soap, the troublemakers. If you could call them that in the field, you would have a thousand times already, and most likely more than that, knowing them.

Heavy sighs filled the room, sweaty brows wiped as they relieved their bodies of the extra pounds their gear gave them. Vests and buckles undone, muscles stretched as the adrenaline coursing through each of you steadied itself.

For once, you were also overjoyed to see the bland walls of this base, and them too, as much as they gave you grief. Each mission was like watching a toddler climb up to the top of a playset, waiting for the inevitable injury that comes once they fall—and every time, your hammering heart nearly came through your chest.

Yes, they were grown men, trained soldiers, but that instinct still prevailed. You couldn’t trust them with your life if they didn’t have theirs, could you? The world kept turning, and the clocks kept ticking, all as long as you played your maternal part in this arrangement.

You squinted at the two troublemakers, that gut instinct showing itself. “You sure nothing went wrong, you two? No blood?” It was a series of accusations, not naive questions. You knew something was up, there was that bubbling in your chest.

Gaz’s lip tightened into a line like he was trying not to reveal the truth. “No blood.” What a liar, and a bad one at that. Knowing these two, Soap was probably pinching his skin where you couldn’t see, trying to contort it until you were left with no suspicions.

There was no way you could force the truth out, so if they didn’t want your help, they weren’t getting it from you.

With a slow nod, you began to take off your own gear, gathering your pack and all the extras. Perhaps, for once, it would be a happy ending. You would settle into your dorm, lay back on your cot, and catch up on some paperwork, maybe even some light reading—

Well, that fantasy came about as quickly as it went.

Soap’s palm was hovering over his side, letting out a grunt of pain when he put his backpack over his shoulders. He had turned so abruptly, nearly scampering down to reach his own dorm. But he wasn’t quick enough, and your iron grip on his wrist—it was as unyielding as your grit.

“C’mon, I’m fine, Lass.” Soap grunts, like a child embarrassed when his mother dabs his face with a napkin. “It’s just a—”

“—a scratch?” You scoff, lightly smacking your free hand against his tender side. No matter how tough he was, how well he thought he was going to hide it, he had keeled over and held the spot you barely made contact with.

Gaz was attempting to contain his laughter, which was only met with the kick of one of Soap’s legs to his shin.

You couldn’t believe it, from causing trouble and bickering to working as a team and failing miserably.

The grip on Soap’s wrist loosened, instead now on the strap of his bag, gently sliding it off his tender shoulder. “Let me look at it, please.” You pleaded, trying to keep your tone both firm but concerned all at once. It seems it wasn’t just a scratch; once again you were right.

“I got nothin’ but admiration for you, why do you do this to me?” Soap whines, still not budging and letting you examine the wounds.

You ran your tongue over the inside of your cheek, cocking a brow at him. “Sit down, Johnny. Now.”

Your finger was pointing at one of the spare dining chairs in the kitchenette, and it wasn’t a request either. He knew that by now. Soap could try and swoon you, butter you up until you left it alone, but it wouldn’t work.

“Yes, ma’am.” His tone was defeated, but he still had a smirk on his face, like he was enjoying the attention.

Gaz snickered from behind you, and you could hear him begin his trek out of the room. “Better to just listen to the lady, or she won’t stop.”

Before you could even lay eyes on Soap’s injury, your head snapped in Gaz’s direction. He was on just as thin of ice, he was only lucky you could tolerate his jokes. “You’re part of this too, Gaz. I suggest you don’t wander too far.”

It was ironic; men who had worked so hard, trained to kill, and yet, they were downright gutless when in your sights, especially when caught in a lie.

All apart from Simon, who maintained the same distance with you as everyone else—that you could accept, it was just the way he was. But from these two clowns? Not for a second.

It wasn’t coming from thin air, either, this was a two-sided deal. The first time you were injured in the field, you attempted to diminish it, to write it off and suffer by yourself. It went about as well for you as it was for Soap right now—forced into a chair and stitched up with an icy glare, one that says “don’t ever do that again” without any actual words surfacing.

That’s how you knew this wasn’t in vain, even if your work didn’t always come with a response of gratitude.

You were strong where they were weak—and in return, they would quite literally kill for you, in and out of the field. God knows you’ve had to hold them back more than a few times; order comes out wrong at the restaurant, you get ghosted after a date, or someone insults your abilities as a soldier? It’s a mess.

Your eyes stayed on Soap’s pout through the reflection of the window above the sink, scrubbing away the grime on your hands before you got to work on him. In mere minutes, you’d retrieved the very used first aid kit, laying out any supplies you might need. Knowing him, it could be as small as a papercut, or a gushing wound under the fabric of his shirt.

He had already removed his, cheeks rosy and lips crinkled like you hadn’t seen this a thousand times. Not to mention, you were patching him up, not asking for a striptease. He was the one making things awkward, for the record.

Aside from the dirt, the scars, and small scrapes, it was an injury that needed to be looked at, regardless of how stubborn the patient was. A nasty bruise was forming on his peck area and below it a gash with some tiny glass shards still embedded in it. The shoulder had no visible injury, but based on how tender the skin was, he had sprained it again.

“Christ. How do you manage this? It was a simple sweep mission, MacTavish.” You shook your head in disapproval, putting on a pair of disposable gloves with a loud snap of the blue latex.

He takes the hits like a dog that knows he’s in trouble, only it's a look of acceptance rather than apprehension. It was coming from a place of care, not anger, and by God did Soap’s reckless behavior make your heart drop often.

Your rambles continued, almost as if you were talking to yourself. Your fingers worked carefully, using the tweezers to get any debris out of there.

“Can you do anything about this, Captain?” Soap’s words made your work slow, not stop.

“No, I cannot, Sergeant.” Even Price was aware of this dynamic, and frankly, he was thankful for it, one less person to worry about getting in trouble. You scolded it, didn’t partake in it—and that left less paternal instincts of his own to run dry.

Price’s boots retreated without another word, probably to work tirelessly in his office for the rest of the night. Now, it was clear to Soap that there really was no way out of this, no way to shimmy away from your caring nature.

Might as well take advantage of it the only way he knew how. “You look like you need a drink, Lass. Always so tense.”

You stared up at him through your lashes, wrapping the gauze a little tighter than you usually would. What were you supposed to say to that? He was right, you could use a drink, but he wasn’t going to get the satisfaction of being right—being right was your job.

Before you could utter a witty response, Simon spoke up for the first time since the mission. “She has a scalpel at the ready, Johnny. I would tread lightly if I were you.” For once, his cynical humor had landed on your side, and it nearly made you spit out a laugh, if you weren’t so focused.

If you were as childish as Soap, you might’ve said I told you so, but your stern look said enough. After you finished disinfecting the wounds, you bandaged them up, patting the cotton with your fingers to make it stick.

“All better now, just don’t do it again.” A satisfied beam appeared on your face, that worry in your gut dissipating when he was patched up. “Please?” Now, it was desperate and anxiety-filled.

He probably would do something like this again, but maybe next time he would at least think first, and you could live with that.

Soaps fingers find his shirt, slipping it over his head slowly with a pained groan. “I can’t promise that.” Then, they find the nearest bottle of whiskey, in true fashion for him. “But I’ll find you first next time, ask permission to get hurt.”

You scoffed and let out a sarcastic ha-ha, but stepped back enough to give him space, discarding the gloves into the waste basket. Once he had collected his things, keeping them in his uninjured arm this time, a cheek smirk appeared again.

He waited until you had turned your back to wash your hands again, and to be safe, a few feet further from you. “Thanks, Mom.” Soap turned on his heels and whipped around the corner, down the hall before you could show him your face of shock.

On second thought, maybe next time he wouldn’t have to ask to get hurt, and it would be your own two hands making him pay for that comment.

#mw2 #mw2 fanfic #call of duty #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #simon riley #soap mctavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain price #141 x reader #task force 141 x y/n

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 5

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |-| Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

AO3

Summary: Egan's first mission since Cleven's disappearance proves disastrous, leaving Frankie to clean up the damage he left behind

Warnings: Language, vomit, this one's angsty guys

Word Count: 4k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58

The smell of cigarette smoke stung Bucky's nose, his warm breath fogging up the inside of the cockpit windows as he stared aimlessly at the early morning sky, dull grey gradually giving way to a vivid blue as the sun crept above the horizon. He had no idea how long he'd been sitting there, glaring at nothing, but this certainly wasn't his first cigarette, a pair of burnt-out butts on the floor by his feet a testament to this. It could have been sadness or anger that had driven him up here, but when the two combined it felt awfully more like numbness than anything else.

A sudden hammering against the glass broke his train of thought, dropping his cigarette in surprise as if left a small scorch mark on the inside of his trousers. Turning to his left, expression contorted in shock, he came face to face with Frankie, her furrowed brow only inches from the window after somehow managing to clamber up onto the wing without him noticing.

"What the- get down!" Egan cried, stomping out his cigarette before it could become a fire hazard.

"If that cockpit's full of cigarette butts now, I'm gonna beat your ass," She warned, her voice slightly muffled by the glass.

"...No," He shook his head, attempting to covertly use his uniform cap as a makeshift dustpan to clean up his mess, but when he looked back up at Frankie her eyes had narrowed at him. "What do you want?"

"Colonel Harding's looking for you. Personally, I just didn't want to deal with the smell after you drink and smoke yourself to death in here. I'd much rather you do it somewhere else, please."

A flicker of a smile crossed Egan's face, perhaps the first he could remember since he'd heard the news about Cleven. Half-empty flask tucked in his pocket, a hat full of ashes in his hand, he clambered out of the pilot's seat, weaving his way through the plane's interior to drop down out of the door. Frankie was waiting on the tarmac for him as his feet touched the ground, peering discerningly up at him. She swiped the flask from his pocket and took a swig for herself, giving a shrug of almost-approval at his choice of drink as she handed it back.

"I'm not gonna ask if you're ok," She frowned, yanking the cap from his hand and upturning its contents.

"Good," Bucky nodded, slinging an arm around her shoulder as they wandered back towards the jeep she had come in. "Weather report?"

Frankie glared up at him. He knew she objected to his participating in the next mission - it was only a matter of time before she actually tried to argue about it. Really, it was more a question of whether she was going to fight him, or try and take on the general. "Clearing up. D'you need me to drive you back?"

"If it was anyone else I might have said yes, but you... you're really bad at driving," Evidently she had anticipated this response, for her bike was already sticking out of the trunk, waiting for her to surrender the vehicle to him.

"Alright, one sec," Frankie gestured for him to turn and face her, surveying his appearance like she was a mother about to send her son off to the school dance. Reaching up, she tugged his tie straight, brushing a few flakes of ash from his jacket with the back of her hand. "Open," She demanded, and he opened his mouth without question, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Taking a whiff of the alcohol on his breath, Frankie frowned, and Egan found himself unable to utter a word before she shoved a couple of breath mints into his mouth with such force he almost choked.

"Gee, thanks," He spluttered, coughing. "Might choke to death, but at least I'm not gonna smell."

"I can't do everything," She shrugged, stepping away to grab her bike out of the jeep.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," Bucky drawled sarcastically, clearing his throat one last time as he slid into the driver's seat, the engine starting with a roar as he watched Frankie begin to cycle away in the rearview mirror.

It was barely beginning to rain, spots of cold water striking Frankie's face as she pedalled relentlessly, taking it at a somewhat leisurely pace for once, too distracted to sprint the way she usually would. They were running a mission today. They had run one yesterday. They had run one the day before. She was losing track of the last time she'd slept more than a couple of hours in a night, the constant missions meaning tougher, tighter deadlines for all her work. The fixes needed to be completed twice as fast, and it was becoming physically impossible to keep all the buses air-worthy as needed.

Lemmons and the others were already on site and working away as she arrived, a fact that lessened her anxiety ever-so-slightly. In the months since they'd arrived, her begrudging acceptance of the American mechanics had grown more and more willing - they'd proved their worth, their dedication, and she couldn't ask more than that.

"How many can fly today?" She called, abandoning her bike in the grass as she jogged over to the hardstand where Ken was working away.

"Still only seventeen," He sighed. "A couple need fixes to the return lines, but we just don't have time for any big repairs."

"I know," Frankie nodded grimly. "Daily missions are a nightmare, just pull through with what you can, they can't blame us for any of this."

His expression was tense, tainted with guilt. She could tell he was thinking of Cleven again. "Hey," Frankie urged, pressing a reassuring hand to his shoulder. "None of this is our fault." Lemmons nodded after a moment's pause, tilting his head to let his chin rest upon the spot where her hand gripped his shoulder.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time the flight crews began rolling in in their jeeps, Frankie had grown so irritable that she swore her teeth would shatter if her jaw clenched itself any harder. The constant frustration of never being able to carry out the repairs she wanted, the ever-present worry that burrowed into her stomach whenever the pilots left, and the anger she felt at Egan for going with them, were all colliding in an explosive combination. And her fellow mechanics seemed to feel it - even Ken was keeping his distance.

Bucky's car slowed to a halt behind her as she finished up, and she turned to glare at him, a look he was sure he'd never seen crease her face before. "Now, Frankie," He approached with a plastered-on grin, seizing her by the shoulders as he tried to alleviate her mood with his own false joyfulness. "Why is it that we're only flying seventeen buses this morning? I hope Lemmons over there hasn't been screwing with your excellent work."

He had touched a nerve. Unfortunately for Egan, this realisation came a split-second too late. Before he knew it, there was a spanner jammed under his chin, as if she held a knife to his throat, her expression only made harsher by the remark. "Maybe if some people didn't force themselves in where they aren't needed we wouldn't have to pull everything together in such a fucking hurry, eh?"

"Ok, Frank, tough morning, I get it," He nodded, releasing her shoulders and taking a full step back. But he wasn't going to pretend her statement about him being unneeded hadn't sparked his own anger. "But don't take that out on me, I'll pass your concern on to Harding, and we'll see what he can-"

"The only thing I want Harding to get is a smack up the fucking head for letting you fly."

"This is war, Frankie, you think I'm gonna sit out because of what happened? I've never wanted this more than I do now!"

Without fully realising, their voices had begun to rise, argument audible to the other ground and flight crews nearby as they attempted to awkwardly go about their business.

"We both know you're not fit to fly - oh, or does a breakfast of whisky and cigarettes pass the military standard these days? You're burning the candle at both ends and you won't talk to me about it because you're embarrassed by how obvious it's become, John!"

"You really wanna go there? How 'bout we talk about how you spend every fucking night up here working until you drop, and the only times you don't is when you're drinking yourself to the same effect? How many hours did you sleep last night - or the night before, huh? Two? Three? Don't stand there and fucking lecture me about 'burning the candle at both ends'-" He lifted his hands in quotation marks, mockingly mimicking her accent. "- when I'm just following your example!"

Frankie didn't speak for a moment, but as Bucky tried to walk past her, she swivelled on her heel, yelling at him with such force that it was a miracle the entire bomb squad didn't hear. "Why do I have to lose my friend just because you lost yours?!"

He stopped dead in his tracks, stone-cold expression cracking for a second. "Frankie-"

Raising a hand to silence him, she shook her head. "No- you know what? Just fuck off. Get in your death trap and fuck off. At least I'll have one less mess to clean up when you don't come back. I'm sure Cleven will be so proud that his legacy amounted to that."

Frankie could tell she'd hurt him. His glare didn't falter, but she saw the way he flinched when she mentioned Cleven. If she'd been in a more forgiving mood, she might have apologised on the spot - taken it all back, promised she wanted nothing more than for him to return safe and in one piece. But she was tired and she was angry, and apologising was the last thing on her agenda. Hot tears were welling in her eyes as she stomped off, the clanging weight of her toolbox accentuating every step as she officially declared whatever happened next as Not Her Problem.

'Royal Flush' was the next plane along the runway, close enough so that every shouted word of Egan and Frankie's exchange had carried on the wind, the flight crew exchanging embarrassed glances as they tried to ignore the conversation they had suddenly found themselves privy to. Rosie had been about to climb in, but the sudden shouts had given him pause, waiting by the hatch as he watched on with a furrowed brow. Her boots thumped hard against the tarmac as she marched up to them, tools weighing her down on one side.

"Everything looks good?" She demanded, stopping in front of the plane, her usually jovial tone gone.

He frowned, concern twisting his expression. "Everything is - yeah - are you ok?"

Frankie's lip jutted out for a moment, and Rosie grew suddenly worried that she was about to burst into tears. Taking a sharp, shaky inhale, she nodded firmly. "Everything's great."

He slammed the hatch shut, gesturing for her to step underneath the plane's belly so that they were out of both sight and earshot of the rest of Rosie's Riveters. She did so, putting her toolbox down at her feet so that she could wipe away the tears that were forming with the heels of her palms. "I'm really tired."

Rosie almost laughed, a huff escaping him as she confirmed every suspicion he'd harboured about her unorthodox work hours. Lifting a hand to her cheek, he brushed her hair away from where it had stuck to half-dried tears. "Oh, honey," He uttered before he'd had a chance to actually consider the words, the pair of them brushing past the term of endearment without a second thought, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "He's gonna be fine. Egan'll come back in a couple hours, and you can both apologise to each other, and everything'll be fine."

She sniffed sharply, nodding, and he chuckled as she reached up to tug the zipper on his jacket all the way up past his collar, the sheepskin brushing against his chin. "Don't get... like... shot, or anything."

He grinned, nodding affirmatively. "Duly noted. Nice pep talk."

Frankie smiled then too, thumping him in the shoulder like she always did when he teased her. "I'm not kidding," She chuckled. "If every person I'm seen talking to before a flight fucking dies people will start thinking I'm bad luck."

Rosie raised a brow at this, flicking away another stray strand of hair that had gotten caught on her eyelash. "Well... of all the ways to go, I'll take your weird bad-luck-magic any day."

She sniffed again, her eyes still red from almost crying. "Thank you," She nodded earnestly.

"Alright. I'll see you later?"

"You hope," Frankie joked, smile flickering for a moment as she realised the remark may have been in bad taste, but he chuckled nonetheless, opening the hatch and climbing up into 'Royal Flush'. As his head popped up in the belly of the machine, Rosie noticed his co-pilot crouched on the floor beside him, eyeing him with a raised brow.

"... What?"

"Jesus Christ," Pappy muttered, pushing himself to his feet and worming his way through to the cockpit.

"Pappy, what?" Rosie insisted, close behind him. The man batted him away, and he threw up his hands in frustration, sliding into the pilot's seat.

"This thing ain't as sound-proof as you think it is, that's all I'm sayin'."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Frankie squinted in the midday sun as she lay in the grass beside the runway, the tall grass blowing in and out of her peripherals on the cool breeze. The wait was always agony - the uncertainty, the sense of powerlessness, the surety that some of the men who had left were never coming back. It seemed word of her public argument with Major Egan had travelled fast, for as soon as lunchtime rolled around, there was George. She never bothered to walk all the way to the airstrip from the command centre, but today she had made the hike, a paper bag full of cheese and cucumber sandwiches in tow.

Lemmons sat silently, cross-legged in the grass as he enjoyed his lunch. "Thanks for this, ma'am, it was real nice of you," He nodded appreciatively, making up for his and George's lack of familiarity with polite flattery.

"Yeah," Frankie agreed, speaking with a mouth full of cheese. "Much better than the shit coffee and stale crackers we keep in the hut."

George furrowed her brow, frowning questioningly over at Ken. "No refrigerator," He shrugged, offering no further explanation.

Frankie ate with one hand, a difficult task when lying down, half of the sandwich filling falling out onto her chest. But her other hand was draped across George's leg as she painted her nails a subtle shade of mauve, scolding her whenever she twitched. When she was stressed, she smoked too much, and George had long since realised that the best way to curb the bad habit was to distract her with food, or to ensure her hands were indisposed. On a particularly stressful afternoon such as this one, it seemed combined efforts were in order.

"... You don't think Bucky hates me now, do you?" Frankie asked quietly, her two companions frowning down at her.

"What are you, twelve?" George snorted, carefully finishing off the edges of her thumbnail. "He'll get over it. Grown-ups fight, dear."

"You're both having a hard time," Ken added. "He's just blowing off steam, I don't think he meant any of it."

"I meant what I said. When I said it, that is."

"Once you got drunk and told me you wanted to rip my eyes out because I was too pretty - I haven't held it against you," George shrugged. "You definitely meant that at the time."

"I'm easily frustrated."

"Yeah, no shit."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

George's watch ticked steadily past the time they had expected the planes to return. She didn't return to work - didn't leave Frankie's side - sitting beside her in the grass, a deathly silence hanging over them as she began to pick and chip away at her freshly dried nail polish.

"They should have been back by-"

"Shh." Frankie interrupted sharply, an utterly dreadful sense of foreboding hollowing out her gut. She didn't realise how thoroughly she'd picked at her hand until her finger came away bloody. Where were they?

The sound of an engine rattling above made their ears prick, gazes locked on the same spot on the great blue horizon as a single plane came into view.

Just one.

Before she even realised she was nauseous, Frankie had vomited the contents of her stomach onto the grass in front of her. If none of them had returned, it could have meant any number of things. She knew exactly what one plane meant. She didn't even watch it land, just stared down at the stinking puddle before her as it soaked into the dirt.

In her mind, she had a choice now. When the time came to head over, she had to decide on who she was praying would climb out.

Bucky or Rosie.

Even if it was neither, it couldn't be both.

But then a second rumble sounded, and before she'd had time to look up and track its movements, another plane was pulling in, its wings jagged and torn, engines sputtering as it slowly descended.

'Royal Flush'.

A terrible, ragged noise escaped Frankie's throat, something between a sob and a sigh of relief. Scrambling to her feet, George thrust her half-empty flask of lukewarm coffee into her hand, and she downed the whole thing, the bitterness mixing with the acidic tang in her mouth, masking the smell of sickness as best she could.

Rosie hadn't even had time to register her approach. No sooner had he slipped out of the hatch did he feel the sudden crush of another body against his, her arms thrown around his neck, her hand in his hair, holding him steady. Suddenly he was breathing again.

He wasn't sure he'd ever held anybody so tight, relishing the feeling of solid ground beneath his feet as he wrapped his arms around her back, hands pressed so firmly against her skin that he could feel her rapid heartbeat beneath it, a desperate tether to life. She was breathing in his ear, his curls waving back and forth with it, and without thinking he reached up to pluck a piece of grass away that had gotten stuck in her hair.

Her breath didn't come easy - he could hear the laboured way she pulled in each inhale, as if a weight were pressing on her chest, keeping her lungs empty. When she spoke it was barely a whisper.

"Egan?"

Rosie shook his head ever so slightly, the guilt of what he knew he had to say eating away at him. "I gotta wait until after interrogation, I can't-"

Suddenly Frankie pulled out of the embrace, hands clutching either side of his face, forcing him to look at her. Her hands were gentle in the way they pressed against his cheeks, but in that moment it felt like a vice grip. That warmth he had become so fond of was gone, her eyes merciless, and Rosie knew in that moment that if he didn't tell her now she would never forgive him.

"He went down Frankie, they all- ... They all went down."

A horrible, agonising sound tore free from her throat, half whimper, half choke, and immediately she was blinded by the tears that filled her eyes. His fingers found hers, ever so gently prying her palms away from his face so that he could hold her again, pressing his lips briefly to her sweat-soaked temple. If he could, he would have stayed there for hours, for as long as she needed someone to be there whilst she wept. But he couldn't. For someone he'd known only weeks, walking away from her was suddenly the hardest thing he'd ever had to do.

Frankie didn't turn to watch him go, didn't spare a glance to the surviving Riveters as they climbed into the back of one of the trucks, whisked away to interrogation.

What the fuck could they say that wasn't already obvious?

She felt a hand press against her shoulder, and turned her head to meet Ken's gaze, his expression twisted with fear.

"Bucky?" He asked. The simple question was enough to undo her, and all at once Frankie burst into tears, accepting his embrace as he offered it.

Just fuck off. Get in your death trap and fuck off.

At least I'll have one less mess to clean up when you don't come back.

She couldn't breathe. Couldn't feel anything but a terrible, harrowing guilt, so heavy that it made her very bones ache. If she hadn't already upturned the contents of her stomach, she would have done so now, the desperate feeling of nausea left with nothing to cling to within her.

Frankie Bevan had lost people to war before. She had loved people and sent them away, and they had never returned. But not once in her life had she let them leave without them knowing she loved them. Not until now.

"He forgave you," She heard Lemmons murmur, his hand stroking her hair in that way her father used to soothe her when she got too mad - when the world got too heavy, too weighty for her hands alone. "He knew you didn't mean it."

She sniffed loudly, clutching at the dirty fabric of his coveralls. "He loved me, didn't he?"

"Oh yeah."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Rosie sat on one of the benches outside the interrogation hut, staring down at the cup of Red Cross coffee that warmed his hands. They had made too many cups. He had walked in and seen them, laid out row by row, and taken the first of the front row like he was supposed to - leave the rest for the others. But there were no others. And suddenly the bitter liquid was the least appetising thing in the world.

The bench's wooden slats creaked as someone sat down beside him. Frankie was sitting on her hands, staring blankly at a fixed spot in the grass ahead. Wordlessly, he held the coffee out to her, and she took it, the hot liquid scalding her tongue as she took a sip.

"Jesus," She sputtered, grimacing at the sudden pain.

"Still hot," Rosie said.

"Yeah, I noticed," Frankie huffed, sucking in cool air through her teeth to soothe the burn.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about-"

"Don't," She interrupted, shaking her head. "You don't have to do that, it's okay."

At some point during their flight, Rosie had sliced the skin along his hairline, droplets of blood drying and encrusting his forehead. Frankie put the still-hot coffee down, reaching up to brush his curls out of the way with her thumb. Her hand was still warm from holding the cup, and he felt the urge to lean closer.

"That hurt?"

"Nah. It's just a scratch - I don't even know how I got it."

She nodded, hand falling back down at her side. Neither of them moved for a moment, but when Rosie lifted his arm she seemed to get the message, leaning into his side, arms wrapped around his torso. His chin rested atop Frankie's head, the smell of her hair filling his lungs with each slow inhale.

"I don't know what we're supposed to do now."

#masters of the air #masters of the air oc #masters of the air fic #rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x oc #mota #mota fic #john egan #ken lemmons #oc: frankie #oc: george #fic | i'm your man

[silent-sanctum]

✧ Polaris ✧ - Jotaro x Reader

PART 10: LOYALTY

— The previous parts of the fic can be found in the pinned post of my profile. Hope you enjoy! —

word count: 7.3k

After days of traveling, Egypt was finally beneath their feet and they made it despite the many inconveniences on the way, namely the vehicular accidents, Stand encounters, or both.

Including their most recent one involving the now-sunken submarine and a metal-shifting Stand. But none of that matters now when everyone in the Crusaders made it on to land, no longer needing to deal with the enemy user of High Priestess after her teeth got beat in thanks to Star Platinum’s rapid, hard-hitting fists.

A nearby town by the sea made it more convenient for them to stop by and get their bearings to prepare them for the remainder of their mission.

It was there that Polnareff and Kakyoin were able to gather more stuff needed for their trip, for Avdol to get into contact with the Speedwagon Foundation regarding “back-up” being ready to help the team out, for Mr. Joestar and Jotaro to find a rental service for a jeep capable of traversing the desert, and for you to communicate with some of the locals to learn about the typical weather conditions, nearby cities, unusual sightings, and possible pit stops that the guys might need to rest.

By the time the transport was good to go and the necessities packed in the trunk, there was nothing that could stop them from proceeding onward.

It was Polnareff’s turn to man the wheel with everyone else settling to sit on their spots. “Hold up everyone,” Mr. Joestar spoke up, hopping out of the jeep and rushing over to the nearby telephone booth. “I got to make a quick phone call to Suzy. Me falling conscious was not exactly reassuring for her poor heart.”

You followed after the old man with the intention of calling your uncle. Considering the number of stressful events that happened for the past weeks, hearing his voice could soothe the lingering feeling of homesickness at the back of your mind. Though as you got a few steps in to Mr. Joestar’s direction, a hand placed itself on your shoulder.

With one look over your shoulder, you found yourself unable to contain a smile as you stared up at Jotaro standing behind you, falling in line to use the booth. “Well well~ missing someone are we?”

No response as you’d expect, though the pointed stare and red-tipped ears were enough giveaways that he missed his doting mother.

“Hm?… Really? What for?…. Alright sweetie.” Mr. Joestar turned to his grandson with a hand muffling the receiver. “Suzy wants to talk to you.”

A quick glint of surprise flashed in the delinquent’s eyes, not expecting a talk with his grandmother. Though, they did converse for a brief moment as the old man’s replacement before the submarine lost all its connections. Maybe, that’s why his grandma wanted a form of closure from her grandson.

And you can tell that he saw his grandmother with complete respect. There’s that characteristic softening of his eyes when he listened to her talk, the way he never raised his voice once during the whole conversation, and just like whenever he responded to you after that night, there’s a faint pink to his ears as if he feels a bit bashful from the support of the elderly woman.

His gaze free from tension was always a nice sight.

Their talk didn’t last long, most likely just her checking up on her husband and grandchild. Jotaro placed the phone back into its holder on the booth but didn’t let go. There was contemplation in the way he just stood there, not wanting to move away. Did he want to call Holly?

It wouldn’t surprise you considering he actively chose to embark on this dangerous journey to save her life. It would only be normal if he began to worry about her worsening condition. “Do…” You started, letting his attention draw to you. “Do want to call someone else? I can ask Mr. Joestar if you’re too embarrassed to do it.”

You knew he wanted to say “yes” in the long pause in between you, but with a deep sigh, he tipped his hat over his face. “It’s fine.” She’s going to be fine. You assumed as much and you let it at that.

“If you say so. Though, it’s my turn to use the booth.”

Jotaro nodded and stepped aside, standing nearby even as Mr. Joestar had already retreated to the jeep with the others. You clawed through the depths of your mind for that string of numbers you saved months ago. It was told to be a small “cure for homesickness” as someone said.

Eventually, you managed to find the right number and the phone begun to ring. In a minute, a kind-hearted voice you haven’t heard for a while picked up:

“Hello?”

“H-Hi pops…”

“Oh Y/N! It’s been a while since you’ve called! How are you? Have you been adjusting well over there?”

You bit your lip, holding back the tears building up in your eyes. Just like how the delinquent had missed his mother, it just struck you that you had also missed your adopted family back in your hometown.

“There were a couple of crappy stuff that happened, but I’m doing good I guess,” you replied.

“That’s a relief sweetheart. How about… uhm… your nightly terrors? Are you holding up?”

You didn’t want to dump him with the fact you broke down that one time. You didn’t want to worry the poor man when all you wanted was to hear him for a bit. “They’re… a lot but nothing I can’t handle.”

“I know you told us that it’s not necessary and all, but that always remember that if you’re feeling lonely, your auntie and I are always available, alright?”

“Oh but I’m not alone. I made a couple of friends for the past few months here.”

“That’s great news! Have they been treating you right?”

“They’re nice and fun to be around. I’ve gotten close to them a lot…” Warmth sprung to your cheeks with the next words that came next. “Some closer than others.”

Out of the corner of your eye, the delinquent’s face ducked away with his hat serving as the only cover for his equally tinted cheeks. “I would love to meet your new friends when we visit. Don’t forget to remind me!”

You chuckled. “I will.”

“I believe it’s time for you to go.”

“Yeah…”

“We love you Y/N. You take care of yourself over there.”

An abrupt honk startled you from the call and with one more look back, you smiled as the Crusaders began to call for you and Jotaro with the latter not budging from his spot, patiently waiting for you to finish. “You can trust me on that, pops.”

---

You’ve made a lot of progress driving across the sandy landscape when the sound of whirling blades drew close to the group from above.

Looking upwards, a helicopter with the Foundation’s logo painted on its side greeted the Crusaders. This must be that back-up Mr. Joestar had been talking about.

“Wow would you look at that, they actually did send back-up so far deep into this trip,” Polnareff said, low-key dripping with snark. “Could’ve been earlier I’m just saying.”

“It’s better than nothing, I guess. You don’t have to whine about it,” Kakyoin answered back.

Regardless, Polnareff put the engine to a halt and with the jeep parked, everyone got out of the vehicle the same time the flying craft made its landing. “Why can’t we just board that thing and fly ourselves over to where we need to be, old man?” Jotaro asked through the gusts of sand blowing through their faces.

“As much of an appealing offer that is, we have to consider that there’s too much of us. We might end up being too heavy for the craft and besides,” you said back at him. “They’re not Stand users. It’s better not to place more risk onto others.”

“Just a bit of a warning,” Mr. Joestar spoke up. “The guy’s a bit of a handful. That’s why it took so long for him to get here.” At the mention, you side-eyed the Frenchman just to see him reel back from his whining from earlier.

Though Avdol seemed to know who exactly the old man was talking about at the aforementioned warning. “Are you really considering taking him with us? Won’t his presence just hold us back?”

“As Kakyoin said, it’s better than nothing. Just be careful around him.”

“You both saying that gives off the impression that our new pal over there is a demon spawn from hell,” you retorted. “A back-up is a back-up. No matter how annoying the guy is, we’re just going to have to suck it up and deal with it.”

“Easier said than done Y/N. I’ve met him before and he’s… a lot. Being the user of The Fool, might cause a lot of inconveniences.”

“Look, if he is as handful as you two have been saying so far, then I’ll make sure he complies with us, alright?” you sighed. “Nothing’s more irritating than seeing unnecessary rebellion when we got dire things to do.”

As much as your words sent some kind of reassurance to the two adults in the group, Polnareff snickered in the sidelines. “I don’t know about you, but The Fool sounds like a stupid name in my opinion.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that. Don’t judge a book by its cover, Pol. “You should consider this a blessing that he’s on our side. You can’t beat him.” Avdol said for you.

And just like their heated argument from India, Polnareff didn’t take his response lightly. He marched over to the Egyptian, grabbed his robes, and said, “I suggest watching your mouth if you know what’s good for you.”

“Pol,” you said, curt. “What did I say about taking things personally?”

The Frenchman spluttered, letting go of Avdol to face you. “But you heard him! He assumed I was weak and-”

“What did I say, Polnareff?” you repeated, this time with enough grit and punctuation on each word to drive your point across your companion’s emotional skull. “Or do you want one of us to nearly die again because of your stubbornness?”

Flustered at this point, he let his pride dwindle a bit and stepped away from Avdol, mumbling incoherent words with crossed arms. In some way of easing him, you placed a hand behind his back in a silent way of saying “thanks.”

Just then, the door opened for the pilot to step down and greet the team with formality. “Mr. Joestar, good to see you.”

“Thank you for bringing him here. It must have been rough.”

“I assume none of you is the alleged Stand user?” you commented before Jotaro could make one. “You both seem fairly polite.”

“You’re right ma’am. He’s there in the back.” One of them walked to the passenger’s door to open it, revealing nobody but a dark blanket covering the seat.

“Hey now, quit joking around you two! What’s the deal? This guy’s short or something?” The Frenchman laughed, smacking the fabric, only to pull back with sticky saliva on his hands. “Ugh what is this goop?”

The pilot responded in a panic. “Hey! Stop that! The ride here was rough so he’s in a sour mood!”

“Pol, you better get back here right now.”

“What’s the big deal? I’m just asking where-” Before he could continue, the blanket rustled violently and something jumped out of the seat it occupied.

A Boston Terrier. A dog.

What the fuck?

“The dog is the-” Kakyoin started, equally surprised as the rest of you, except for Avdol and Mr. Joestar.

“Mhm. His name’s Iggy and he’s the user of The Fool,” he said even as the canine continued to wreak havoc on Polnareff’s silver up-do with relentless biting and scratching. “He’s got the habit of ripping hairs off of people’s heads and to be honest, I don’t know where he’s from. It was Avdol who found him in the streets of New York.”

“And the fella also has a tendency to-” Not that his sentence matters when in the middle of Iggy’s manic biting, he stopped to let out one loud fart straight onto Pol’s face. “Do that.”

You didn’t know if it was the stinky gas or just your general tiredness in dealing with a 24-year-old man like a child, but you merely watched as the said adult drew out Silver Chariot to attack a small, rabid creature. As you would’ve expected, Iggy returned the favor with his own Stand- an entity made entirely of sand, forming together to become a larger mechanical canine.

The fight didn’t last long though. One minute you saw Polnareff sending Chariot to stab Iggy’s Stand and in the next, he’s back writhing on the sandy ground with an aggravated, feral dog chewing his stylized hair into a bird’s nest.

“Have you brought his favorite treats?” You turned to Avdol asking the pilot who nodded, reaching into his pocket to bring out a box full of what appeared to be… gum?

The sound of the packets inside were enough to alert Iggy and spare the remaining hair left on his victim. “Of course. We wouldn’t be able to bring him here otherwise.” With the box now in Avdol’s hand, the dog leaped out of Pol’s body and rushed over to him, giddy and possibly greedy.

Knowing how Iggy works by now, you could tell he wasn’t only after the single stick of gum the Egyptian was holding up. By the time the terrier reached a few feet away from him, one of Silent Sanctuary’s strips zipped past you to snag the box of gum out of Avdol’s hold before the canine could.

“If I learned anything from the orangutan, the dog’s got personality too.” You had the gum in your possession- coffee flavored of all things considered- and Iggy’s attention focused onto you next, growling. “You want the whole thing?”

You didn’t expect any response from him but an attempt to bite your arm. You sidestepped the second the dog charged at you. Iggy turned back, now frustrated. “Do you want the box or do you want me throw it all far away?”

Demonstrating, you let Sanctuary wrap itself around the box and prepared to launch it off into a distance. You heard the dog yelp and sands shifting violently.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Kakyoin said, nearly off-balanced by the moving ground. “Can you just let him have it?”

“The Fool’s emerging again!” Mr. Joestar called out after him.

You ignored their pleas, focusing on your current task.

“Try intimidating all you want but your sand can’t hurt me or this cloth right here,” you said, patting the taut fabric beside you. “So, what’s it gonna be- a whole box of delicious coffee gum? Or none at all?” You didn’t waste anymore time as Sanctuary moved an inch-

Then Iggy whimpered, letting the sands rest with surrender. A wave of relieved sighs swept the air from the Crusaders and the pilots. “You done fussing?” The terrier got on his belly, head bowed. You huffed and approached him with the gum still inside your Stand’s wrap just to make sure he’s not pretending.

“Good boy.” You got onto one knee to level yourself with the growling dog. “I can still launch this to god knows where so you ready to hear me out?”

Iggy nodded, still sulking.

“I’ll give you this whole box now just like you want but,” you said. “What if I told you instead that Mr. Joestar over there will buy you a year’s worth of coffee gum as a reward for you helping us finish this mission?” At that suggestion, Iggy’s ears perked up and his tail wagged with interest.

“Hey now! When did I say that?”

“Do you want our back-up to actually back us up or not?” You quipped at the old man with a smile dripping with snark. And Mr. Joestar went silent, scratching his beard knowing you had a point. Beside him, you could’ve sworn you saw Jotaro’s lip curl ever so slightly. “Exactly.”

You turned back to Iggy, pleased he didn’t make any attempt attacking Sanctuary while you were distracted. “How about it? Ready to help us?” You slowly brought up a fist and with a bark, he raised a paw to place on top of it. “And I expect you to actually help us. No free riding just for the treats, got it? I’ll be watching.”

Iggy barked in agreement.

“Here you go. As promised.”

Sanctuary stretched herself to the terrier, unwrapping the cloth to drop the gum in front of him. Immediately, Iggy pounced on it and began to gnaw on both the coffee treats and the carton they were in.

“Unbelievable,” Avdol said in awe as you walked to where the guys were, dusting sand off your skirt and hands. “You got him to cooperate for the time being.”

“Classic conditioning does wonders to feral animals when done right,” you shrugged. “That and I’m used to talking to stray animals. Being a new citizen to the country can be boring at times.”

With the new ally dilemma resolved, everyone returned to replenishing their stash with medical supplies, additional food and clothing, tracking gears, and a brand new prosthetic hand for Mr. Joestar. In addition, the pilot handed over a camera for the old man’s Stand to utilize with convenience.

But having a camera wasn’t exactly for Stand reasons alone. “Hey everyone! Why don’t we take a group photo while we have this bad boy still in one piece?”

Never wanting to miss the opportunity, all the Crusaders agreed to it wholeheartedly. With the camera in the pilot’s hand, everyone gathered to one spot and got into position- with Polnareff, Mr. Joestar, and Iggy in front, and Kakyoin, Avdol, Jotaro, and you in the back.

The shutter went off and a polaroid photograph was made for the memories.

“Hey Mr. Joestar? Can I borrow that one second?” Before he could reply, you went to grab the device off the pilot’s hand, hurrying back to stand beside Jotaro, slightly caught off guard at the sudden pictorial. “Would you mind if I…you know…”

He hesitated a bit, but after one long stare-off between his borderline glare and your eager gaze, he gave in. “Alright… good grief.”

Excited, you got a bit closer to the delinquent and leaned back a bit, just enough so the angle was right. You pressed the button and heard the shutter activate. Without having to wait for too long, the photo came out as nice as you’d expect it- you smiling with a wink and your hand on your shoulder, with Jotaro closely behind looking at the camera with one eye open (mirroring yours), a subtle curl to his lip, and a faint red on his cheeks.

“Now this is a keeper.”

Jotaro looked at the picture for a second longer and nodded. “Whatever you say.”

---

Jotaro liked the photo. A lot.

He’d keep it if he could, but his stubborn facade held him back from admitting that to you. Besides, you wanted the picture in the first place and he wouldn’t want to take the memento away from you.

With their supplies now stocked and ready to go, time shouldn’t be wasted any further. The helicopter’s blades whirled to life once again, lifting the aircraft up just as the jeep revved with its engine switched on. However, you barely drove across any distance when out of nowhere, a strong gust of wind and sand pushed the vehicle hard, nearly toppling it over.

“What the hell was that?!”

Everyone, with the exception of Iggy who remained asleep, scrambled out of the jeep to look back at the source and to the team’s shock, they saw what had happened. “Is that-”

“The helicopter…” Before them, what used to be a fully functioning mode of transportation now lay in a complete wreck on the golden sand- its body bent in half, metallic skin appeared to be clawed down to its wiring, windows smashed, and its blades crooked and falling apart.

And beneath all that ruined material was a pilot’s corpse, jaw agape and nails bloody from the scratches it had done on the helicopter’s hard exterior. While Kakyoin, Avdol, and Pol went off to inspect the tail end, the remaining crew went on to investigate the shell-shocked cadaver.

Both the craft and its passengers didn’t show any signs that could have sabotaged either. Though in an attempt to pull the body out, Jotaro noticed something in the pilot’s open mouth. “See something?” Joseph asked.

At closer inspection, Jotaro’s brows furrowed with concerned disgust. “Water. Full of it in his mouth.” He grabbed hold of the man’s chin and turned it to the side, allowing the copious amount of fluid to flow out onto the ground. “Saliva doesn’t fill the mouth that much. So it’s not from there but from the lungs,” he said, clearly perturbed. “Shit, that means he drowned in the desert of all places.”

“Rapid water build-up in a dry area like this with no rain? An enemy Stand’s responsible no doubt,” you remarked, already surveying the area for any other suspicious activity.

“Guys!” Your team turned to the other direction where the other 3 was at. “It’s the other pilot! He’s alive!”

The Crusaders re-grouped, forming a circle around the aforementioned man heaving on the sand, incredibly dehydrated and parched. His skin cracked in every area of his body with his bones jutting out underneath. The poor guy struggled to speak but all he could muster were gasps and heaves.

“Quick, Polnareff! Water! He needs water!” Joseph pointed at the nearby fallen canister. The silver-haired adult retrieved the container and brought it to the old man’s hand. “Here, drink up. You need it bad.”

Jotaro would expect the pilot would immediately latch on to it, but suspicion continued to build up the longer the man would refuse to drink from it, let alone go near it even. He grew more frantic the more the stubborn elder kept pushing the canister forward.

And in the last moment, the pilot found his voice.

“GET THAT AWAY FROM ME-”

With no warning, something shot out of the water container and dug its claws into the man’s face, violently tearing at skin, muscle, sinew, and bone until the whole head detached from its body.

You screamed, losing balance as you flinched hard from the abrupt and brutal death. Shit! Jotaro caught you before you could tumble to the ground, pulling you close to him as he shielded your eyes from watching the entity force the fresh head into the canister.

“Everyone move!”

The team jumped off a fair distance away from the now-bleeding object. The delinquent turned to you, slowly removing his hand off of your face once that thing settled. Without asking, you looked back at him with a shaky sigh. “I’m fine now,” you muttered. “Thanks.”

Whose Stand was that just now? More importantly, where was the user to begin with? Throughout their course here, he hadn’t noticed anyone that stood out from the rest of the crowd, nor did he find any silhouette roaming about in the vast desert sands.

Could this Stand be long-ranged just like The Lovers? Or was it remote?

Jotaro took the stillness of the moment to assess his surroundings, bringing out a pair of binoculars to search further and Star Platinum for an extra pair of eyes. Beside him, you helped with scanning the areas behind. Joseph and Avdol lie still nearby, never leaving their sights on the ominous object in front of them.

“Anything?” Joseph whispered.

The delinquent shook his head.

Farthest from the team were Polnareff and Kakyoin, lying across from them arguing something about who’s Stand should be the first to attack it. If they’d be any closer, he might have a way to shut them up and stop them from being annoying in the middle of an ambush.

Then there it was again, a damp spot growing on the sand a few inches away from Kakyoin gradually growing more wet until-

“Kakyoin!” The enemy Stand sprang from the moistened ground to claw both the cherry-haired’s eyes with a single, nearly deadly swipe. Polnareff reacted accordingly and caught his body as it fell lax.

“Get over here! Hurry!” You yelled at them, distressed. At the same time, those close to the jeep climbed on top of the vehicle to get away from the enemy’s range.

The Frenchman wasted no time and got up with his friend in his arms, sprinting as fast as he can away from the hunting Stand. Helping close the distance was Silent Sanctuary extending strips of its fabrics towards them with impressive speed. They latched themselves around wherever they could on both their bodies and with one solid tug, pulled them towards the jeep’s roof before the Stand could land a cut on Polnareff’s leg.

“How is he?” You hurried over to inspect the injuries on the student’s face.

“He’s breathing at least so I guess he’s fine,” Pol panted, high with adrenaline. “He’s knocked out though. Probably will stay like that until his eyes are treated.”

“Look for some bandages. We should stop the bleeding for now.”

Leaving them to tend to his wounds, Jotaro drew his focus back to the sand. Where is it? Now that he knew what to look for, he kept lookout for any puddle appearances or formation of any dark patches. Where are you, you piece of shit. “How do we beat this thing if it keeps going into hiding every time it loses track of us?” Joseph said, concerned with their current situation.

“We need to lure it out somehow. I can burn it with Magician’s Red but only if it’s distracted long enough,” Avdol said in return.

For a moment, they didn’t know what to do. There was a solution in the Egyptian’s plan, but to pull that off was something that still needed a bit more time to polish. Unfortunately for them, time wasn’t given to them when out of the window seat, Iggy barked repeatedly as he leaped out of the vehicle. He continued to do so at them even when his paws landed outside.

You heard him and understood that as a warning. Why else would he jump off if he was fine sleeping in it minutes ago?

“Get away from the jeep!” The guys turned to you as if you had grown another head, questioning why should they when doing so put them on its radar, but you barely got a word out when the vehicle trembled. “Now!”

At the last second, everyone jumped off the jeep’s roof a second before the transport sunk into sand. All of you stuck a rough landing but made it out just in time. Though, you couldn’t move when the fluid Stand crept towards the team.

Beads of sweat ran down your back as Silent Sanctuary hovered above you, ready to provide defense. You’d find out that won’t be necessary when across from you, a watch’s alarm blared out. The hand retracted itself and launched its claws towards the corpse’s wrist, cutting the hand clean from the arm before hiding once again.

“Sound,” Avdol muttered. “It hunts using sound and movement.”

It would make sense. When it first attacked the pilot, the man had screamed in panic. Then its next target was Kakyoin because of his argument with Polnareff. The watch was next after due to the alarm, and last was the jeep itself because of the team’s discussions. Everyone seemed to get the memo with one shared eye contact when all of them remained still and silent.

Testing out his hypothesis, Avdol slowly reached for his silver bracelets. One-by-one, he tossed a hoop onto the empty space in front of him, done in a pace mimicking how someone would walk with cautious steps.

“Jotaro,” He glanced at you, and if he didn’t know whether to be concerned or not when you were already on one knee with a plan in mind. You whispered. “Find a way to traverse the desert without running. The user has to be around somewhere.”

What are you doing? “Avdol’s plan has a high chance of backfiring once he runs out. I have a back-up plan in mind and part of it needs you to do what I told you earlier.” He had his doubts but just as you said, the last of the Egyptian’s bracelets marked itself on the ground, luring out the water Stand to its position.

The delinquent looked back at you with furrowed brows, wanting to tell you that his plan was working and to get down. However, once Magician’s Red hovered behind it to launch a fire ball, the entity dodged it at the last second. Now it was aware where Avdol was.

“Now.” A strip of rose-gold zipped out to shield the adult’s neck where the Stand’s trajectory was aiming for. The same time Avdol retreated back, you bolted out of your safe spot and ran across the sands. “Hey! Over here, you little shit!”

With the taunt, the Stand swam its way to you and leaped. Though it couldn’t do any harm when Silent Sanctuary had a ton of impenetrable fabrics ready to defend its user. Each swipe of its claws could only scratch the silk surface of your Stand, unable to tear at its seams.

You locked one more eye contact with Jotaro and this time, he got to his feet as well.

Get around without running? How the hell will I do that? He looked around him to see what can help him do that. He turned to every one of his companions, gauging if their Stands could do shit relevant to his task. But then his gaze stopped at Iggy, staying put in one spot away from the group.

The user of a sand-based Stand able to form into anything it wanted. Got it. “Hey you,” he called out to the canine. “Think you can make something up to get us across in the air?”

Iggy growled, sharing glares with the delinquent. “Listen mutt, do you want your damn supply of gum or not? You heard what Y/N said.” There was still that reluctance present in the dog’s posture, but given that he’s unable to pass on the opportunity on free food, he begrudgingly complied.

In that moment, the sands went into motion around them, swirling around the canine until it rose to form The Fool in its entirety. Unlike its former appearance, a large glider had attached itself on the mechanical Stand’s back. It rolled forward to pick Iggy in its metallic paws. He barked at Jotaro, telling him to grab onto it to hitch a ride.

The delinquent cocked his head. I can’t believe I’m doing this. He grabbed hold onto The Fool’s arm and using Star’s force, he launched both Iggy and himself up into the sky with one strong leap.

Jotaro looked back to see what you were up to. Suffice to say, you still kept up the distraction as the clawed hand repeatedly failed in landing a single cut anywhere on your body thanks to the glint of silk protecting you. With you keeping it busy, the others used the moment to get the jeep above ground and get it running.

Focusing ahead, he brought out Star’s eyes and surveyed the surrounding areas for any sign of a lone Stand user. In front of him, Iggy sniffed the air, actually helping him search and in doing so, The Fool maneuvered itself to the direction of any foreign scent he could smell.

And after minutes of searching, Jotaro managed to find someone 400 meters away- a man cross-sitting atop a sandy hill, head bowed in concentration with a cane in hand connected to the ground. There you are. However, they couldn’t reach in time as they neared the ground.

“Damnit,” Once his foot grazed the sand, he brought Star out once again to launch themselves up into the sky. But by doing that, he gave away his location to the enemy and he could hear the once-distracted Stand approach, harshly swimming underneath the sands, causing multiple granules to sprinkle against the glider and emit a distinct sound as its trail.

Now that our location’s on his radar, it’ll only be a matter of until- The second the sandy rain stopped falling, the watery Stand leaped out of the ground, aiming straight for Jotaro. Star Platinum hovered before him in an attempt to block it, but to his dismay, the enemy Stand slipped past the humanoid’s fist and landed a clean cut across his shoulders and a hole on The Fool’s glider.

Losing flight again, they drifted low onto land, faster than earlier with a heavy tilt causing his shoes to drag across the ground. Jotaro cursed. The man was so close, so close that he could hear him chuckle as if success was within his reach. Would he even make it there without having to constantly deal with this deadly hand?

Fuck it. Jotaro let go of The Fool, allowing Iggy to swerve away to safety, and got into a stance where Star is able to lend its leg power for one more jump, preferably behind the enemy Stand user so he could get one solid hit to render him unconscious. There was the risk of getting attacked in a fatal area, with the pain radiating on his shoulder serving as a reminder of the danger, but if it meant ending this obstacle then so be it.

The delinquent could feel the shifting of the sand making way for the rapidly approaching liquid. He put all his force into his one leg and just as he made that leap, a voice yelled out in the back.

“Catch!”

Something flew past Jotaro’s leg in high speed and what once was targeted at him, the Stand changed course and retreated back into the ground, hurrying back to return to its user. Glancing back, he saw you from a distance standing on top of the recovered jeep with Pol manning the wheel. Silent Sanctuary floated close-by with one strip loosened being the one responsible for the throw.

But by the time the clawed hand made it in time to slice the item- the bleeding canister- in half before it could reach its user, Jotaro had already landed behind him, remaining still to not alert his position.

It wasn’t too long until the man realized that his target stood just outside the water barrier he set for himself. He made it known that he was honored by the way Jotaro decided to approach him, one that wasn’t simply walking up to a blind man to knock the living daylights out of him.

With silent agreement, their battle would end with one attack. Both would hold themselves for a bit longer until their attacks are fired at the same time just like all those Western movies Jotaro would watch as a kid. Their timer would be the cane the man held, letting it fall slowly from his grasp.

In the end, Jotaro was hailed as the victor of their duel, managing to deliver a heavy punch onto the man’s face while his Stand could only knock the hat off his head.

There were a lot to be asked now that they got one of DIO’s lackeys under their grasp, but that hope for any intel dissipated as the man let his own Stand run itself through his chest, piercing the heart inside. The act surprised Jotaro since he never had encountered someone who’d take his own life to evade questioning.

Even as the teenager asked him why he’d do such a thing when he had a life to live for, his reasoning was admirable even if it was twisted with lies of being given a purpose, and is rooted deep due to cult-like devotion. Even in defeat, his loyalty to his god and his fellow companions was unwavering, that he’d rather die than betray his fellow men.

Their conversation ended not too long after and the man named N’Doul breathed his last and died just like he intended, serving his master until the very end.

For the first time in his life, Jotaro gave genuine respect to someone of the opposite side.

The delinquent stayed around for a bit longer until the sun had set into the horizon, giving the blind man a proper burial grave to honor his sense of devotion one last time. His cane, planted on top of the small lump, acted as N’Doul’s personal headstone.

“You know you didn’t have to, right?”

Jotaro looked over to see you stand beside him, hands clasped over your skirt to pay your respects to the grave. “I know, but it felt… wrong to just leave him as is.”

“For you to treat him like this… I guess you both had quite of a chat.”

“Maybe.”

The sun continued to retreat in the distance. “We should head back,” you said. “Your shoulder has some patching up to do. Pol left some of the bandage used for Nori’s eyes.” Although the pain wasn’t that bad, Jotaro knew you by now that refusing treatment wasn’t in your choices. And so he nodded once.

A bark interrupted the both of you. “Guess who found your hat?” You smiled as Iggy crept up from behind your shins, holding his ripped hat with his teeth. “I gotta say, it’s quite impressive the man’s able to knock it off your head that far.”

“Would you look at that?” Jotaro got onto one knee and waited for the terrier to approach him with caution. He reached forward to grab it off his mouth. “Seems you’re not all that bad. Thanks.”

The teenager attempted to give Iggy a head pat, only for the latter to growl at him and run towards the direction of the jeep. In return, Jotaro scowled as he placed the hat back on its rightful spot.

“Little shit.”

“Reminds me of a certain someone, don’t you agree?” You smiled, cheeky.

“Shut up.”

---

Given how late the day had gotten, everyone in the group agreed to camp out in the middle of the desert, waiting out one night before they could continue on with their trip.

A fire was set up in the middle of their makeshift site filled with sleeping mats and cooking paraphernalia, providing a decent amount of warmth for the team in the midst of the chilly evening air. They had a simple dinner of cooked beans and biscuits, chatted with each other for a while, until majority agreed to hit the hay for the remaining hours.

Until now, you still couldn’t bring yourself to fall asleep. You haven’t gotten any sleep for the past hours and with the exhaustion taking over every inch of your body, you didn’t know whether you even wanted to sleep or force yourself awake. You didn’t want to end up in that manor again after all.

Figuring sleep wasn’t your best option as of the moment, you turned to look for the one person who you could trust yourself to be with at this hour.

“Hey…” You waved at the delinquent resting on top of his mat, staying upright against the surface of the jeep. He looked up at you, curious. “Would you mind if I… sit here?”

Not a word was said in return but Jotaro scooting over to the side was enough. You placed your mat beside his and sat beside him.

“Staying up again?” He nodded. “Don’t you feel tired though? You must have times where you just wanna sleep the night away.”

“It’s nothing new. A day nap or two can help me get by.”

“You’re lucky. What I would give to not worry about taking naps. I’m so tired but alas… here I am eyes heavy,” you sighed, resting your head against the vehicle’s surface. “I don���t want to go back there. Can you help me with that?”

“How?”

You shrugged. “Dunno… Maybe I just like hearing you talk. Your voice is really nice.”

A chilling gust of breeze brushed by, causing your body to shiver from the cold. You tried to keep it in, even shoving your feet in the mat as if that could help, until something lightly nudged at you.

You turned to see Jotaro offering you his gakuran without looking at you. From your angle, you peeked at the bandage wrapped around his shoulder courtesy of you. Trailing up, you could see his averted face bearing tightened lips, almost embarrassed with what he just did.

Either way, your cheeks flushed and you couldn’t help but smile at the gesture. You gingerly took the uniform without a word and let it drape over you, nearly covering your entire frame. In it, you could pick up on the faint smell of that citrus scent you recognized back in Singapore and the more obvious hint of tobacco laced with it.

The material itself was warm enough to shield you from the evening chill and you buried as much of yourself inside, savoring the warmth it gave as you grasped the edges of the clothing and tugged it over each other.

“You know I don’t talk much.”

“Didn’t seem like that back in the submarine though,” you said. “Longest I’ve ever heard you speak without a break.”

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s not!” You quickly butted in. “If anything, it made me stupid for the lack of knowledge I have on ocean life. But that just means you have more intellect in that head of yours than just being an ordinary bad boy. Hell, I might need you to tutor me on our future classes.”

Jotaro deadpanned at you, and you giggled. “I’m joking.”

In the minutes without either of you talking, he reached into his pocket and brought out his silver lighter. You thought he’d reach for his cigarettes next, but he didn’t. Instead he fidgeted with the item, flicking the lid open and close. “What… do you want to know?”

“Anything. Whatever you have stored in that memory bank of yours, lay it on me.”

With some reluctance, Jotaro began to share a couple more facts about all the things he might have read prior to their journey. From animal biology to the mechanisms of ships and planes, to the tropes of his favorite movies, you listened to him with full attention and you made sure he knew that by asking questions in-between, to which he answered to with ease.

Neither of you knew how long this went but you didn’t care. You were invested in the way he’d talk about the things he was passionate in, the way he unknowingly began to open more of himself to you without having the need to do so, and from the way you could see more of his youthful energy peeking through all his many layers of jaded stoicism and teenage angst.

It was endearing. Almost wholesome even. You did say you liked hearing him speak, and perhaps this was why.

It also didn’t occur to either one of you that you gradually leaned towards him until you had your arm pressing against his.

However, you still couldn’t hold back the need to shut your eyes as they grew heavier with each passing second, and accompanied by the baritone voice of your companion and the soothing warmth of his uniform, you gave in to its temptation with a drawn-out yawn.

Jotaro paused, taking the time to look at you. “I have to go back again. I’m so sleepy…”

“Then sleep.”

You closed your eyes as you leaned your head on his shoulder, mumbling out a few more words before fully falling into slumber. “But I don’t wanna hurt anymore…”

Silence. And then a response- deep and raspy, but at the same time soft and reassuring. “You don’t have to worry.”

“I’ll be here."

#jotaro x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jotaro kujo #polaris au

[skinnyazn]

In the Bleak Midwinter

The sequel to this story: The Masks We Wear

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader Chapters: 1/5 Notes: brief mention of military grade hard drugs (I made the mistake of researching what the Americans handed out during the Viet war, do not recommend), graphic violence, gore, eventual smut in the later chapter(s) but we're not there yet lol, explicit content

Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | AO3 | MASTERLIST

The frozen landscape was soundless, not even a stray winter bird chirped, as you surveyed the small compound. Fresh snow was suspended over every tree and surface. The crumbling facades of the shacks all dusted in a hazy white. Your breath lingered in the air as you exhaled.

“Feels off,” you spoke into your comm.

“Agreed,” the gruff, Manchester voice responded through your earpiece.

Simon “Ghost” Riley. His callsign was fitting for a man as stealthy and menacing as he. On missions, The Ghost moved like smoke, an apparition with a penchant for death. Around camp, you’d feel his eyes on you, but then you’d turn around and there’d be no one there. And, like his callsign, he’d began haunting your waking thoughts too. 

You can’t remember when it started—it’s only been a few months since you joined the task force. But since you started working together, had been assigned this mission together, Simon “Ghost” Riley had infiltrated your head—marked by one too many lingering stares and unnecessarily brushes of the hand when exchanging briefs. He’d insidiously worked his way into your thoughts, intentionally or otherwise: what did he look like under the mask, how would his calloused hands feel like under your shirt, what sounds would he make pinned between your thighs. It unnerved you. You didn’t mix business with pleasure. It was a susceptibility.

Your contracts were for your legendary tracking skills, propensity to gather intelligence, and ability to nail a target two and a half klicks away with a single shot. If someone needed a HVT stalked and scoped without leaving a trace, you were their go to. Which was how Kate Laswell reached out to you in the first place. She said there was a team, the 141, who needed help with a particular illusive target. Kept slipping through their fingers. The pay was good (of course, coming from the CIA), so you agreed to hunt for them. What you hadn't accounted for was their towering, beautiful phantom: Simon.

“Walk me through it, Jag.” The Brit’s voice cracked over the comm, interrupting your thoughts. Jag; Jaguar. You ignored the way your name rolled off his tongue.

She needs a callsign, Ghost.

Why do I need a callsign?

Cause everyone on the team gets a callsign! And it has to match. Can’t be something dumb, like Barbie.

Why can’t I be Barbie?

Cause you’re not blonde. Take me for example: got mine for my aptitude to clean a room, all spick and span like. And Ghost’s is… well, just look at the bastard.

Fine. Then what’s my callsign? 

Mantis.

Nah, doesn’t fit her.

Jaguar? …You know, cause you’re smart, stealthy.

A smooth ride? 

Dangerous.

Jesus, you two. Alright. Jaguar it is.

Your frozen fingers pressed your comm. “It’s too quiet, Ghost. We saw vehicles on the drive up, but there’s nobody in the town, not even a single light on.”

Months of hard work and intel pointed to this village on the outskirts of Kokshetau. The perfect place to lay low, forgotten by the world. The perfect place for an ambush.

“It shouldn’t be this quiet.”

Ghost was on the rooftop three buildings to your left, assessing the area too. You’d parked the jeep a mile and a half outside of town, in the forest, and trekked the remainder of the way through the bleakness. Every shell of a building you passed in this liminal village was vacant; it was like walking through an unsettling dream.

“Intel said he’d be here, right?” Ghost spoke. “You and Laswell traced him to these coordinates?”

“Yes.”

“So he’s gotta be here.” Ghost breathed into the comm. “I’m gonna to do an interior sweep. Eyes sharp; watch my six.”

Your thumb pressed down. “Copy.”

Tactically, it made the most sense. You were both snipers, but Ghost was a bear of a man. He towered over you and was build like a god. He’d hold up a lot better in a close-quarters ambush. Plus, this was his mission with the 141. You’d been key in tracking him here, but your specialty was picking off targets from afar. They wouldn’t even feel the tack of the shot that painted the snow with their pink matter. Wouldn’t hear the bullet that would breach the stillness of this place. But that only worked if they were out in the open, or visible through the decay of the buildings.

You followed Ghost through your scope as he climbed down from the roof. His winter camo was an efficient cover. It hooded his black balaclava with signature skull well. Ghost maneuvered through the buildings like a shadow.

“Clear,” he whispered through the mic with each sweep.

You flexed your hands to keep the blood circulating and the cold from seeping in. The fleece gaiter irritated your reddening nose. He’d gone through three buildings already. Patience was a strong suit of yours, but this waiting and watching left a burning in your tense shoulders. Part of you wished there was more backup, but Price wanted to keep it lean and quiet. Don’t want to spook the target with three in a car, should anyone be watching. It was a shit idea when there was already a towering, beast of a man wearing tactical gear and a skull for a face driving. 

Ghost entered the fourth building below. 

It was two stories, which left your heart beating a little faster than before. You were timing his previous sweeps. They were all one-story structures but Ghost was thorough and efficient; each sweep was just under a minute.

Your eyes flicked to the watch on your wrist. One minute, twenty three seconds. You didn’t have eyes on him from this angle.

“Come on,” you breathed quietly.

Two twelve.

“Come on…” you repeated, a little louder this time. You were holding your breath; knuckles white under the gloves.

You pulled back from the scope and scanned around the building. Stillness.

Two twenty six.

“Ghost, come in,” you whispered into the comm.

Three fifteen.

“Ghost, do you copy?” Blood pounded through your ears, filling the silence.

Three forty eight.

“Ghost, come in.”

Three fifty seven. 

Unlucky, unlucky four. 

The back door to the building burst open as a man—not your target and not Ghost—stumbled out. Bright crimson painted the snow beneath him. He was crawling now. You pulled the trigger. The sound of birds fluttering echoed in the distance.

“Fuck!” you cursed under your breath; gloved hands moved the sniper to your back. Your feet carried you quickly off the roof as you landed with a muffled thud; nimble hands reached for the pistol strapped to your thigh, quickly screwing on its silencer. Quietly, you rushed to the back door, stepping over the body and all the red. Ghost’s knife was embedded deep into his torso. You pressed your shoulder against the crumbling facade. Sharp breathe in. You whipped your pistol into the room as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. There was a body in a pool of blood near the front door, and a trail from the man you shot leading upstairs. 

You stuck to the shadows, keeping silent as you peered up the steps. There was scuffling above. Deep breathe out. Your boots crunched over the concrete bits littering the stairs.

In your line of work, a second was the precipice between a grazed bicep or splatter of the head; between bleeding out or staying alive. So when you reached the top of the of the stairs, you had exactly one second to process everything before your fired your pistol twice: one to the shoulder, one to the head.

Ghost was bleeding all over the floor, struggling to right himself from his post-strangulation daze. Your target was supine next to him, twitching the last seconds of his life away. He was a hulk of a man, like the lieutenant. Quite the fight. You scurried to Ghost. 

“Got me good on the head,” he wheezed. A concrete cinderblock was crumbled on the floor around him. Ghost’s skull-plate mask was cracked and there was blood dripping over his left eye. You surveyed the rest of his body: stab wounds in his bicep, a knife lodged in his right thigh.

You reached into your vest to pull out bandages to tourniquet the arm and leg. Your eyes stayed on the stairs as you synched it over his thick clothes, hoping it was tight enough.

“Knife stays in until we get you to a medic.” You reached for his mask. His large hand gripped your wrist with intense pressure.

“Mask stays on.” 

Blood already darkened the fabric of his mask. You just hoped it would clot against the cloth. He released you as you reached into your vest and procured a vial.

“Need you to take this.”

Ghost grunted as he lifted the bottom of his balaclava clumsily and swallowed its contents. “What is it?”

“Amphetamine. Can you stand?”

“Christ,” he slurred.

You shifted under his right shoulder. “On three,” you wrapped his massive arm over you. He was heavy. “One, two, three.”

He groaned as you got him up. The sound etched itself into your brain. In any other situation, you’d beg him to make that sound again. For a split second you wondered if that’s what he sounded like when he—god, what the fuck was wrong with you?

“Fffuck!” he ground out. His weight pressed into your shoulder. Blood was soddening his pants where the knife was lodged.

“I need your help down these stairs, Ghost,” you said solidly as he hobbled with you. “Gonna be a gentleman and help me out?”

“‘M always a gentleman.” 

The drug must have kicked in because he wasn’t leaning as heavily on you as before. You radioed Price as you struggled down the steps.

“Price,” you strained, “target is down. Need an emergency EVAC. Ghost is in bad shape.”

“Copy that,” his voice crackled over the radio. “Can you reach the backup rendezvous? I can’t land a chopper that close to the village.”

It was just under half a klick away. You looked at Ghost. He grunted. You doubted. 

“Copy, on our way,” you confirmed, finally reaching the last step before the solid ground of the first floor. 

Ghost was more coherent now; the adrenaline pumped its way through his veins. You helped him toward the back door that was still ajar. Dull winter light from the outside illuminated its silhouette on the floor.

“Stay,” you whispered, gripping the cold pistol again. He leaned heavily against the wall. You peaked your head through the opening. 

The crunch of snow gave away the man outside who was surveying the top of the buildings—looking for the sniper. Looking for you. It was a clean shot to the back of the head, and his body crumpled to the snow. You hoped that was the last of them as you grabbed Ghost again.

“Let’s go.”

______

To your surprise, you made it farther than you expected before Ghost started to stumble. A steady trail of red saturated the endless white behind you. It was too much blood.

“Come on, big guy. Almost there.”

He stumbled again, falling into the snow this time. He rolled halfway onto his back.

“Jus’ need a second,” Ghost groaned out. Heavy lids and blonde lashes obscured those pretty brown eyes of his. 

“No, no, no, Simon,” you bent over and whispered, “we gotta keep going, yeah? We’re almost there.”

He made an attempt to reach for you but his arm flopped like jelly. You hooked your arms under his shoulder and started to drag him through the dense snow.

“Hey, stay with me. Don’t give in to that concussion. That’d be a stupid way to die.”

“Sorry, sweet’eart.” His head started to lull to the side.

“Simon,” you growled as you continued dragging his body. “Eyes open.” Christ, he was so heavy.

“Tryin’.”

“That’s an order,” you huffed.

Your heavy breathing permeated through the silent forest. Time stretched on. 

“I…” Simon’s head flopped back against your chest. His lashes fluttered as his eyes desperately tried to focus. Blood clotted over his left eye. “Don’t take orders… from you.”

“You do. When I’m dragging. Your fucking heavy ass. Through the snow.” Each sentence was a struggle. You were 5’6” and nearly 130 pounds of lean prowess. But Simon was a colossus. And dragging his dead weight through the thick snow for the past fifteen minutes had every tendon in your body screaming. Your lungs burned.

In the distance, sounds of the helicopter circling finally breached the trees. You looked behind you. The landing zone was still a couple hundred yards away.

“Stay with me, Simon,” you whispered against the crown of his head. Your quads seared with every backward step.

“Leg’s numb,” he managed.

Not good.

“That’s just the cold.”

You wanted to cry from the fire that encompassed every cell in your body. You were burning up; sweating. Every muscle strained to the max. You looked behind you. Almost there.

Simon’s head lulled forward again.

“Make you a deal,” you panted. The whirring of the helo was louder now. “You stay alive. And I’ll tell you one of my biggest secrets.”

Finally in the clearing, the snow fanned across your back. Two medics rushed from the helicopter toward you with a stretcher. They started strapping Ghost down as you nearly collapsed from overexertion right there. Price’s arm wrapped around you as he hurried you back to the copter, shouting over the comms.

The metal of the floor was cold against your face as you collapsed. The helicopter ascended. Price was hovering over the stretcher, and red crosses on white patches blurred as you finally succumbed to your exhaustion.

#uwu #I hope you guys like #again #never played COD #but I'm feral for Ghost #my fic #my writing #simon ghost riley #simon ghost Riley x reader #simon ghost Riley x f!reader #cod ghost #cod fic #mw2 fic #ghost mw2 #captain john price #oc #ghost x female reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader

[fandom-imagination-ss]

IMAGINE: Derek hale destroying your tire so you can't leave Mid fight

You and Derek rarely have fights.

Not since you graduated high school and told Scott and his pack to Suck it.

Between your cousin Scott lying to you for years about the werewolf thing, being shot in my shoulder by Stiles / Void Stiles by an Arrow. And getting No explanation for it. No one told you what he'll be going on. Until Peter mentioned it and Derek tried to shield you from the truth. It only made you mad. So when Graduated you just left no goodbyes nothing.

But time changes a person, you Forgave your cousin, his hot best friend Stiles, and when Life gave you a curve ball and you returned to Beacon Hill. you gladly became friends with Malia and Started Dating Derek. 

the Fight was Stupid. It wasn’t an Earth-shattering Fight, it was a simple Stupid Fight. Derek Forgot about your Dinner date. that you were looking forward to all week. because he was so focused On work fixing a Fancy car. the Idiot who brought in the classic Car. had the Brilliant Idea that if he put Painters’ tape throughout the Entire Car. covering Every Inch of the Car it would protect the paint job... Between the Heat of the Sun beating down on the moving car. and the fact. he used cheap ass painter’s tape. he destroyed the car.. the tape he started peeling off. and took Large chunks of the paint. 

Normally it wouldn’t be a big deal that Derek forgot about Date night. bot after the week of hell you dealt with your co-workers. your boss putting a pass at you. again. and you have to file another report to HR. who just swept it under the Rug and then dealt with Eli. Stealing the Jeep Again for the fifth time. this month, and to Top it all off you were Late... you only realized it today once you were getting ready for date night that you weren’t just a little late. you were 3 weeks late. your Plan was to have a wonderful Date night with your man. Slip off to the pharmacy to snag a pregnancy test and hope along and take it. in the store. because you knew. that Derek and Eli would find it at home. That was your Mission for the night. But Derek came home covered in Grease complaining about how the painter taped around the exhaust pipe that the idiot put on. burnt the pipe. and that led to discovering the Oil was leaking and it was a bigger task than he expected. you stood wearing your summer dress with a jean jacket as he looked at you stunned, “why are you dressed all cute?” 

“Date night?’ 

Derek rubbed his face as he spoke, ‘rain check? I’m exhausted?” he walked over kissing your head as he suggested ordering a Pizza instead as you called him a butthead.  and grabbed your keys and decided you would go to Walgreens and Skip Part 1 of your plans. and go straight to getting the Test. you were sitting in your car at a Red light. the road was empty. as the light turned green. your Car jumped. but didn’t move. you quickly turned to see Derek standing behind your car. as he’s claws were slowly going back to normal. your jaw dropped as you quickly un did your seatbelt as you shot out. seeing he sliced your back seat driver side tire. 

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR DAMN MIND!” Screaming you walked over lookign at your tire it was ruined no fixing it. you would have to replace it complete.y “My Car!” 

‘you don’t get to just Leave!” Derek was trying to contain his anger as you looked up at him. 

“I was coming right Back after I hit Walgreen you Jack ass!” 

‘you called me Butthead!” 

your anger was sidetracked at hearing the hurt ins his voice hearing him say that as you blinked stunned, “I’ve called you So much worst! your fixing this!’ Derek crossed his arms tightly as he snapped, “the last time you called me a butt head you disappeared for three years! you don’t get to just leave because I forgot date night!” 

“I was just going to Walgreens! I wasn’t Leaving! I stormed off  yes but I intended to COME BACK!” you groaned as he spoke, ‘what was so important that you needed to go to Walgreen you sick?’ 

“No. I just- needed.. female products.” 

A pregnancy test counts don’t it?  you hoped he couldn’t tell the difference as he stared at you, “I’ll fix your car. and we can go-” 

you shook your head as you crossed your arms, “you can fix my car, and we Can go home! and we are getting burgers. and im getting a milkshake and we are going to watch whatever i want! I can’t believe you Jump from Butthead to me Running off? where would I go? your my Heart!” 

Derek sighed heavily as he spoke, “it was Rough the first time you left.. you just called me a fucking Butthead and then you were gone i didn’t even get to know hwere you were” 

“Derek- to be fair.. we weren’t close back then you kept your distance.- I would Never leave you.. if i leave you- i’m taking you with me. i’ll stuff you into my trunk- your stuck with me forever.” 

he nodded his head stepping over as he cupped your head softly, “im sorry - I overreacted and broke your Car.” 

you nodded your head, “Sorry I called you a butthead and stormed off I just- it’s been a rough week.. and I was looking forward to just you and me time.” he sighed heavily soothing your hair, ‘you did look beautiful. you do look beautiful, lets get this car fixed and go have a date.” you smiled weakly as you spoke, “by the time you fix the tire, i’ll be passed beauitful and want to go home.. Lets just fix it. and go home. and order in.” he nodded his head saying okay kissing your lips as he pulled back as you helped him take your tire off, and use your replacement. that he forced you to have in your trunk. when the car was fixed you kissed him and said you would meet him at home as you drove to Walgreens. 

you only ever taken a pregnancy test Once, when you were in university. your roommate was worried about taking one so you took one with her. you weren’t pregnant. you weren’t at all in danger of having a bun in the oven. but Now? Now you were in a relationship with a guy who looks like the Greek Gods carved out out of marble! your relationship was at the ‘honeymood” stage... bene together for almost six years. and your “Fun time” was Very much Healthy Relationship. and Sure.. Sometimes you both get caught in the moment and forgot to be smart. and responsible! 

Which as you stood at the walgreens counter paying for your Pregnancy Test yo were shocked you were here. buying a test. Sure Rationally you knew, you weren’t excatly “Safe’ 100% of the time.. especially lately. But it still surprised you. you were just paying when Derek came in. and caught sight of you instantly. he’s eyes grew large seeing you holding pregnancy box as he fainted. 

Nothing could perpare you for seeing your boyfriend. falling forward completely passed out in shock as you bolted over to him as you rubbed his arm trying to wake him. he woke up instantly as he looked at you as he spoke, ‘your pregnate?” 

you shook your head, ‘no- well I mean.. I dont kow..” 

“were you going to tell me?” 

“yea.. after i took the test.. I didn’t- I didn’t think taking the test at home would be a good idea..” 

Derek got to his feet as you helped him as he spoke, “why not?’ 

“Derek I was hoping to surprise you with the news.” he rubbed his face as he spoke, ‘okay.... Lets go take it.” 

“What?” he grabbed the box as he spoke, ‘come on. they have a public bathroom.’ 

you laughed but was shocked as he picked you up as you gasped he hosted you over his shoulder as you gasped loudly. as he headed to the bathrooms. getitng itno the  womens bathroom he went to the wheelchair accessable stall and put you down as he spoke, “here you go.” 

he handed the box to you as you spoke, ‘thanks..... we never talked about babies..”  

he nodded his head as he spoke, “I would Love- if you aren’t pregnate.. can we have a baby?” 

you couldn’t help but smile at the way he asked as if he was asking for a puppy. “you want a baby?”  he nodded his head, “I want to have a baby with you. i want our family to grow. I always wanted a big family. you want kids. we talked about this.” 

‘yea- Like on our first date! Derek!” 

“is it cause we aren’t married yet? Because i’ll pospose right here and we can elope oyu never wanted a big fuss of a wedding!” you couldn’t help but smile. you shook your head fast. 

“as much as getting postpose to in the bathroom. is intoxicating. can we pick another time to ask me.. Like when we aren’t in a public bathroom?” 

he sighed heavily as he stepped over, “just- can you pee on the stick? I want to know.” 

you chuckled as you spoke, “well- leave the stall and I’ll do the test.” 

“can’t i stay?” you laughed as you shook your head, “No sicko go!” he grinned slippng out as he closed the stall door as he stayed in the bathroom. you rolled your eyes. Even if he went outside he would still listen in. that’s the problem with having a wereowlf boyfriend. you did what the test required as you walked out. ‘would- it be 50/50 if it’s like you or me right?” 

“yea why? does it matter?” 

“well Yea! if im gonna nurse i dont want my bits bite off! Oh my god! what if i ahve the baby on a full moon! Derek! does it matter? what if-” derek stopped your rambling as he cupped your face softly, “I would be right there to help, and it wouldn’t be like that. just a little babe. and the powers awaken later.” you nodded your head relieved to that as he spoke, ‘So you would want it?” 

you nodded your head softly, “A Chance to see you with daughters. Hell yea.” 

he chuckled softly as he spoke, “not a boy?” 

“Nope a girl.” he smiled to that as you reached up cupping his face kissing him. when the 2 minutes were up. it was your time to faint. as Derek caught you. you were infact. pregnant.

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #derek hale #derek hale imagine #fandom #fandom imagine #imagine #fluffy #TW #TW imagine

[basilone]

Fandom: Masters of the Air Written for: @blind-dates-fest as my second 2024 entry! Introducing: Lucy Jones

Bubbles can’t fly like this.

It’s the first thing that pushes past the loop of flying today up in the sky today flying today that has been rampaging through his head since they sent for him. Harry needs to take only one look at Bubbles – miserable, shivering, looking pale and peaky – to know that his friend’s grounded by circumstances beyond his control. It’s a fact of life that Bubbles would be up there no problem if his stomach allowed for it, just as it is a fact that he’s huddled beneath a blanket looking mightily sorry for himself right now.

He pays Bubbles the same glowing compliment the man always pays him – you look like shit – and is rewarded for it with a supply hand-off and the worst news Harry’s heard all week.

“We’re leading the wing today.”

Harry’s somewhat proud of himself for not dropping any of his supplies. Even prouder of the fact that his voice doesn’t quite squeak, really, when he tells Bubbles he can’t just lead a wing. They can’t let him do that. They can’t just stick him up there and make that happen. Aren’t there rules to this sort of thing?

But Bubbles is talking already – talking mission, talking fact – and Harry’s got no choice but to try and commit it all to memory. He’s creating a visual in his head that he hopes Bubbles stored on paper in that hand-off somewhere. A map, a direction, anything beyond the vague sense of foreboding that resides in his gut and the near-gibberish that’s running its course in the back of his mind. Leading the wing. Leading the goddamn wing.

“Great Yarmouth,” he confirms once Bubbles finishes up. Harry feels as sick as Bubbles looks – all queasy inside – but he nods to make Bubbles feel better about handing off a bombing run like that. “Yeah.”

“Don’t be nervous.”

“And don’t stand so close to your buddy,” pipes up a new, rather upbeat voice somewhere to his left. “Unless you wanna get sick on the plane.”

The first thing Harry sees when he looks in the voice’s direction is a raised eyebrow that could rival his mother’s. The second thing he sees is a white uniform, pristine except for some faded pink stains at the sleeve cuffs, and dark hair pulled into a tight knot. Her face is passably familiar – dark eyes, button nose, little dimple in her chin – but Harry will be damned if he can remember a name to go with that.

“Nobody’s getting sick on the plane, Lu!” shouts Major Egan, clearly knowing the woman a hell of a lot better than Harry does. “Scout’s honor!”

“Boy, you’d better pray that’s true,” mutters the woman – Lu – loud enough for Harry to make out. “Don’t know what the hell you were thinking letting him on the damn plane in the first place. Sick as a dog and all. If this is a virus, John”– she remarks, now raising her voice for Major Egan to hear –“you are gonna regret that take-off like no tomorrow!”

“Hey, if we all get sick, can we be in your club?”

Harry decides he rather likes Lu when she heaves a deep sigh and stalks over to the jeep Bubbles is seated on. She is thoroughly ignoring the major, who’s standing behind her with his arms wide and looking almost as quizzical as Meatball does when DeMarco’s hiding his treats again. Lu slings her bag into the back of the jeep before stepping closer to Bubbles.

“When I drive you,” she says without preamble, “you lean backward as far as you can go. Tilt your head back and breathe. I’ll not have you sick up in my baby, all right?” She pats the jeep’s side almost lovingly. “Any move the jeep makes, you lean the other way. Breathe deep.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Does that help?” asks Harry, curious despite himself. “The breathing?”

“Eh, fifty fifty,” she says, wobbling her hand back and forth uncertainly. “Sure doesn’t hurt, though! Little trick one of the airsick girls taught us. She’s in ops now, but we owe her for that one.” Lu’s hand disappears into one of her pockets. “Got something else that might… Yeah… Hang on.”

“Lu, the club?” asks Egan again, coming to stand beside Harry. “Are we in or not?”

“Which club?”

“Y-Yeah,” shivers Bubbles, “what club?”

“No, John, you won’t be in my Lucy’s Losers club,” she remarks patiently as she pulls her hand out of her pocket to proudly show off a small bottle. “You’ll be chewing on this. Ginger. Keeps you from sicking up in your plane. Keeps whatever he’s got”– she nods at an increasingly morose-looking Bubbles –“at bay, too.” A pause. A frown. “I hope.”

“It’s probably just food poisoning…”

“That is in no way the reassurance you probably intended for it to be,” says Lu, frowning even more deeply at Bubbles as she holds the bottle out to them. “You’ve all been eating the same meals, for crying out loud. You, what’s your name?”

Harry blinks at her. “Me? It’s, uh, Harry. Harry Crosby. Ma’am.”

“Okay, Harry, you take the bottle. John’s going to be popping these like candy if left unsupervised, so I am entrusting you with it.” Her frown vanishes into a bright flash of a smile as Harry takes the bottle from her outstretched hand. He smiles back a little tremulously, not daring to hope that she’s just handed him his actual salvation. “There’s a good man. You hold on tight to that, okay?”

“Hold on to this, too,” says Bubbles, shoving something else into Harry’s increasingly full hands. It’s small, round, and entirely too fragile for Harry to be holding. He swallows as Bubbles clarifies. “Lucky snow globe.”

“Thanks?”

“Lu, if we still get sick despite the ginger and the breathing,” says Egan, clearly not feeling the same slight glimmer of hope that’s taken firm root in Harry’s belly despite his best efforts to remain calm, “I’m going to rename my plane.”

“You do that.”

“I’ll name it Lucy’s Losers. Can just see it now. Nice lettering on the side. Splash of color.”

“You’re forgetting I have friends in high places.”

“Your twin might disown you at last, though,” he counters, smiling. “Can just hear her now. Unbecoming of the Dorrance-Jones name and all that.”

“That’s not new,” snorts Lu, “but my boot up your ass is going to feel real new if you dare put my name on the side of a fortress, John Clarence Egan.”

“You’re not wearing boots, so I’ll be safe.”

“You’re not getting sick,” she warns, smiling back, “so the point is moot. Now go on, off with you. You’ve got a flight to catch, don’t ya?”

“Nurse’s orders,” grins Egan as he strides off toward their plane without so much as a farewell word for Lu and Bubbles beyond a wink. “You ever argue with those?”

“Can’t say I have, sir,” says Harry, trying to keep up while juggling multiple items in his hands. “Doesn’t seem smart to. Like arguing with your wife.” He hasn’t argued with Jean except for that one time she was stressing out over napkin placement at their wedding. Still, the point stands. “They know what’s good for us.” He holds the bottle up to the light. Squints at the pieces of ginger inside. “Worth a try?”

“I don’t get sick easily, but pass it around the plane. Just in case she’s right. It’s a bit of a ride to Norway.”

I’m gonna need all the help I can get. Harry nods. Clutches the bottle a little tighter. Leading the wing. Norway. He takes a deep breath. Then another. Follows Egan up into the fortress and prays Lucy Dorrance-Jones knows her way around queasy stomachs.

It can’t get worse, surely?

#blind dates oc fest 2024 #masters of the air #oc: lucy #harry crosby #john egan #joseph 'bubbles' payne #basilonefic #surprise surprise THERE'S TWO OF THEM #actually the Dorrance-Jones clan is very big indeed

[ghostssweetgirl]

crazy over you ~ simon ghost riley x reader slow burn/enemies to lovers

description: y/n gets transferred to task force 141 and quickly becomes friends with soap and gaz, but her and ghost "hate" each other for the first part.

warnings: mentions of violence and death (duh), alcohol intake, smoking (at some point), nsfw (at some point), subtle flirting with soap. i'm new to writing? so don't expect this to be the greatest. this is not in line with the game campaigns or missions. the only characters i included are y/n, soap, gaz, price, & ghost. i have no knowledge of the military this is just creativity

disclaimer: i do not own modern warfare or any of its characters.

chapters: next [distraction - strangers] last

A/N - Either I'm being too critical of myself, but I think my writing is getting worse lol, I hope you guys still enjoy though, sad chapter - I'm so sorry!

--

You stayed in the range for about an hour, shooting targets, brushing up on your throwing knives skill just in case, because now would be one of the best times to impress Ghost. The time alone was tranquility; you had an awesome night and morning, so it was nice to relive the moments in your head while you were training. 

After another 30 minutes, you sighed and started cleaning your gun. They should be ready anytime now, you thought. You were ready to get this over with. You walked over to the safe house to gather your bags, seeing Soap and Ghost gathering their equipment and greeting you.

"Hey, lass, you ready?" Soap asked.

"Just gotta grab my stuff, too. Just one sec," you informed. You took note of how Ghost didn't speak to you, or even look at you. 

--

Gathering into the vehicle, Ghost started going on about the mission. "We're going to a destroyed village scoping for survivors, other forces in the military called us for help. Price and Gaz are doing a quick mission and will join us as they finish. Enemies might be hiding out, we got to watch each other's six's." 

"Yes sir," you and Soap said together. 

"'S gonna be a long ride," Ghost sighed, starting the jeep and driving off.

You caught up on some much-needed sleep during the ride. 

--

Arriving to the site, Soap's mouth opened in surprise, "Steamin' bloody Jesus..."

"Absolutely destroyed..." you added.

Well, this was going to take forever, you thought. A whole village, strips of shops and bundles of houses completely destroyed to rubble, along with furniture and what was left of the food in the shops. From what you could see, there would be no survivors, and if there were, they were surely to die before you found them.

Everyone gets out of the vehicle, strapped with their weapons. 

"Fuckin' bastards..." Ghost rasped as he checked his heartbeat sensor to see nothing as of right now. "Be lucky if anyone survived this."

"Right..." you looked around, taking in all the damage, wondering what happened but learned better than to ask questions. 

--

It took hours to sweep through what was left of each building, looking under rocks for people, animals, any signs of life. The only thing you guys found was a kitten, and it was in bad shape, all black. He limped towards you, meowing, nearly screaming for you to notice it.

"Aww, little fella... Hey..." you cooed at it before carefully picking it up. Soap came over to pet it, frowning at its condition.

"L.T..." Soap called in a sad tone.

"We're not having a kitten, 's another mouth to feed, and it's likely to die," he said plainly.

"Have you no heart for this little cutie?" you brought him to the Lieutenant. "Look at him. Just look at him."

He sighed, rolling his eyes before he glanced at the kitten. "Yeah... I guess it's cute... I'm not taking care of it. Put it in a box in the jeep or something, we're not really in a position to hold onto it, especially in the middle of a mission."

"Cannae believe how it survived... Must be so scared, little one," Soap worried. 

"Thank you! Just for a little while you'll be alone in the jeep, baby. I promise we're coming back for you. You're safe here. I'm going to take care of you," you cooed at it while you found a box big enough to hold it in the jeep, thankfully the weather was neutral, and though you worried, you figured at least you'd try to rescue it. 

--

You met them after you had to backtrack to the jeep to get the kitten to safety. As you met them, they were crouched watching the heartbeat sensor, there were a group of people up ahead in one of the least destroyed buildings. 

"There's at least 20 of them," Soap whispered.

Ghost looked around, calculating the best options. "We sneak up on them on the left, they're aimed towards the right as if they're expecting company that way."

"Ready, Diamond?" Soap nodded towards you.

"Ready as can be."

You followed suit, sneaking up on the left side of the alleyways. As everyone crouches behind a cement block, Ghost snipes one, getting their attention but they couldn't see you guys. 

"Move," Ghost ordered as they looked down the middle path, searching. 

As you guys get closer, a gas fills the air, instantly taking your breath. It burned. Your eyes, your mouth, your nose. Choking and gagging, surely to give away your positions, you leaned down, covering your face to no avail.

The men were choking as well, they moved forward taking cover, but you were unable to see where you were going, following them to the best of your ability. But you couldn't see. 

"Fuck! Guys, I can't see!" you called.

Suddenly you collapsed in front of them, bleeding from your abdomen. Hardly able to react from exposure to gas, you groaned in pain, crawling to them. Ghost looked back and forth from you and the enemy, concerned; distracted. Not like him.

"Fuck! Guys... guys..." you panted, grabbing your stomach while you started feeling faint, seeing stars and flashes of white mixed in with the burn of the liquid of the gas.

The ringing in your ears caused you unable to make out what they were saying, but they both took care of the rest of the enemies as the gas evaporated. Your vision slowly coming back, but consciousness fading, the pain was unbearable, and reminded you of when you saved Ghost. Just your fucking luck, right? Injured again. This time shot. You didn't make out Ghost screaming into the walkie that he needed evac asap, that his soldier's been injured and needs help now. There was a strain in his voice, like he's lost someone before, and it couldn't happen again. 

Your vision was black, a deep sleep enveloped you while you were being carried to the helicopter. Price and Gaz showed up at the very end, and the enemies ended up defeated.

--

You regained consciousness the next morning, to a hospital room, looking down, you see gauze wrapped around your stomach as memories came rolling in, reminding you what happened. Fuck. 

"Fuck, I hope the kitty's okay..." you whimpered quietly. 

A few moments later, a nurse brings you your breakfast, nasty grits with toast and scrambled eggs with a cup of grape juice. Ugh. 

 "You have a visitor, sweetie," she smiled at you as you painfully sat up to take your first bite. "Should I allow him in?"

Him? Ghost.

"U-uh sure..." you looked away, now worried. You know you've disappointed him twice on a mission now that you've been injured again while with him.

He walked in after the nurse exited, but he seemed disgruntled, the black paint around his eyes was smeared, eyes seemed heavy.

"Hey..." you muttered.

"I... I'm glad you're okay," he sighed, standing straight with his hands in his pockets. Weird, you'd think he'd come sit on the bed with you.

"I... I'm sorry, Simon," you apologized, your teary eyes meeting his tired ones. "I-is the kitten okay?"

You share a moment of silence, anxious for what he was to say next, you couldn't tell if he was mad, sad, hurt... What was it? 

He chuckled at your concern for the kitten, shaking his head 'yes'. 

"I couldn't see... I panicked, honestly, I-"

"We can't afford this, y/n," he broke you off, earning a confused, hurt look on your face. 

"What? Simon... Really? I really, really like you... Please..." Fuck, you don't know why you're begging. It became instinct when you heard those words.

His brows furrow in a way that showed this may have been hard, or uncomfortable... He looks you over one last time before breathing out before he turned around. He grabs the door handle, looks back at you and quietly mumbles, "Can't afford distractions, soldier."

"Simon, please..." 

Not like this. 

You push your food away, losing your appetite while you stared at the ceiling. Unable to think, unable to move, you barely hear your heart monitor beep faster. You burst into tears, the shaking of your body as you cried made your wound ache worse. 

You didn't react to the nurses rushing in, them checking your pulse, waving their hands in front of your face. 

Just like that. It felt like you were strangers again. Starting all over. Why? 

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick #cod mw ghost #cod mw #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #ghost mw2 #ghost stories #simon ghost riley x reader #captain john price #ghost soap #task force 141 stories #modern warfare 2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley #ghost cod #simon riley x you #slow burn #ghostssweetgirl

[luvzxr]

Innocence pt. 2

Nsfw 18+ mdni!! I will cry. Summary: The youngest and most innocent member of the redfield siblings finds herself falling for the broken and not so innocent blonde agent whose been a well known long term friend with her two older siblings.

This fic consists of possible nsfw, mentions of deep and depressive topics, violence, gore, pet names, small age gap, no use of y/n your/you're, oc name is used but you may use you own if you'd like! Part 1! Word Count: 2,942

Sophie was never much of the talkative type, even less when she was drowsy.

She was quiet-- reserved for herself and close companions who understood her so It wasn't much of a shock when there was no noise except the soft murmuring of the radio playing some sort of old time rock and the humming of the heat flowing through the small vents of the interior jeep that currently was cruising down the dimmed out, paved roads. Her head rested against the glass window, staring out as she watched the world seemingly go by in a blur. Her legs curled under the dash, closely huddled towards the passenger side door and her frail arms were folded lazily over her chest. She was eager to just get home. Leon didn't necessarily scream uninviting but it was just an odd case scenario. And an awkward one at that. He never offered her a ride home but that might also have to do with the fact he was never in a predicament where he had to. He didn't even have to now. He could of easily ignored the sleepy girl that was sat in that metal chair that looked far too uncomfortable to be falling asleep in but she was making it work. It made his back ache, every muscle in his entire body twitched in a way that made him feel he just finished an excruciating training session. How the girl managed to sleep like that was beyond him. Sophie had no right to feel any remote fear over him. He was an agent. He protected innocence and kept them out of harms way but the unknowing about him is what bubbled that anxiety deep within her. And if he was anything like her brother, he had hidden emotions stuffed so deep inside-- stuffed down so far to try and suppress but eventually that all just snaps. All the pent-up anger, heartbreak, and depressive thoughts all shoved into one thing and one thing alone. Killing.

She was curious, yes, and she asked a lot of questions. Probably more than for her own good sometimes. But she wasn't dumb. Ditzy but not dumb. She knew when it came to Chris, he used the missions and the military as an outlet to release all those emotions out without being forced to talk about what really was going on inside his head. Without having to open up and where he could stay and play the unbothered hero like everyone looked to him as. And she knew better than to play shrink and try to get him to spill. She learned her lesson the first time.

It seemed to almost become an animalistic instinct for not only Chris or Leon, but also Claire. How they always expected the worst to come out of whatever roller coaster they unfortunately were always first in line for. Placed directly on the front lines every time. Sophie managed to see them be put to work once or twice through her lifetime, watching how they were two completely different people with little ammunition in that chamber and the deathly grip that held that pistol in their palms as if it was life or death. Because it was. Day after day consisted nothing but survival for all of them, coming in close contact with death only to directly laugh in it's face when they lived yet another day. As the youngest sister forced to sit at home, living her average days like the average civilian at home while her two other siblings left more often than she'd like them to and the constant worry that bubbled inside, wondering if they would be coming back in one piece, alive or in a body bag was often the worst nightmare only she could hope never became a reality. Leon was cold, his redden knuckles slowly turning white due to the grip of the steering wheel. He was tired. More like, exhausted. All he wanted to do was get back to his small, singular residential apartment where he then could find peace, crashing into the plush of the mattress where he would or wouldn't manage a decent eight hours of sleep. Only his body would mange the luxury he desperately longed for right now. But here he was, being yet another 'hero' in some sense to the younger girl who he'd occasionally give a head nod or a lazy wave just to be polite but never really acknowledged her anymore than that. He had his own reasons to keep people on a six foot long pole. Sophie just happened to be one of those people he needed to keep farther away than usual. She was the youngest of his two pals but she was also the only one who wasn't roped into the same tormented nightmares they had. It was best to keep it that way. To some extent, he didn't mind the plus one company he had sitting in his passenger seat because most nights the drive home felt much longer and drawn out-- like he was stuck in a loop of going down the same old road he started on, only to find out that wasn't the case and it happened to be his muscle memory taking the same route he always did. His mind was just on auto pilot the whole ride home. The only difference now is he had to be at least a little present because it wasn't just his life at risk anymore. "Leon!"

Forearm pulsing against the wheel from the sudden sound that ripped right through his personal thoughts. His gaze flickered from the where the shriek emerged next to him and then back to the road. A split second decision needing to be made-- he jerked the wheel, swerving the vehicle to the other side of the road in an attempt to avoid hitting the dumbfounded raccoon scurrying across the pavement. So much for paying attention. "Shit," he huffed, repositioning on his side of the road before taking a glance over to the petrified girl next to him, "Are you alright Soph?" "I-I think so.." Leave it to the blonde to get lost in his imperial thoughts and manage a split second decision. Most times that ended in a flipped vehicle, explosion or worse-- However, he'd prefer not to mention that to the her, especially when almost the entirety color of her slight tanned skin was almost completely flushed white. He'd also never muster up the courage now to mention he'd probably was in desperate need of a eye sight check up. A prescription was almost one hundred percent certain, he was just far too stubborn to book the appointment. She looked like a ghost and in more ways than one, Leon couldn't blame her. Stupid dumpster puppies.

The rest of the car ride was short and painless. Sophie didn't dare to let go of the handle connected to the passenger door, knuckles turning ghostly white from the grip she held to it. And Leon now was hyper focused on the road and surroundings along with it. He felt he'd done enough damage in the short period of time already and refused to dig a deeper hole he already was practically buried in. Being the one he was throwing theoretical dirt over top of his casket six feet in the ground. Leon didn't want to say anything, but the silence was almost deafening, and it was starting to cause a slow burn of anxiety. Although he didn't believe he truly deserved the comfort because he just pushed the girl into a huge tidal wave of emotions that he was mentally beating himself into a pulp over. No doubt Chris would be physically doing so if Sophie uttered a single word about it along with never trusted Leon to take her home ever again. Leon wasn't one for silence. But the small girl in the passenger's seat seemed like the silent type, leaving him in an impossible situation. He didn't bother to turn to her for a conversation or anything of the sort. He wasn't too sure if he could carry it on, anyway. His eyes sewn together in distress. The far to familiar feeling of his stomach twisting into knot after knot, the walls of his throat clenching as they were slowly closing to cut air flow. The forming beads of sweat littering his palms that where firm to the wheel, almost completely slipping from the leather each time he made a turn. The anxiety he tried so desperately to rip away from since he was the bright blue eyed 21-year-old rookie so many years ago. But, no matter how much he tried to run, hide, shove it down-- anything. It was always still there. A lurking emotion ready to swallow him whole. When the motion of the jeep finally faltered, parking in the abandoned driveway Sophie felt a ting of relief wash over her heightened nerves, more than happy to finally be home and more importantly, not moving. Leon tried not to make a mental note of how ecstatic the girl seem to be to finally escape his company- sure it was awkward and of course he understood a little further looking back on the near accident he caused but it wasn't that bad, was it? It never dawned on him that the average civilian life was far different than the one he was forced into.

The life he was plunged into after the horrors of Raccoon City. Forced to take part in high military training that nearly took his life the first week of it, not that he didn’t already want to take that opportunity and be the one to end it himself with a single bullet to the skull but it left him almost bitter. The thought of the government being the one to kill him instead of himself was the more pitiful thought. The mere place that stripped him of his entire personality, took away any hope of him to escape this nightmare and try to muster up that average lifestyle he now only ever dreamed about. He was nothing more than the shell of the puppy like boy he was forced to leave behind much sooner than he had hoped for.

So when near death experiences tend to rise it doesn’t quite strike him as shocking but instead the average daily occurrence in his life. Leon shook the question from his mind, protruding behind Sophie with his hands plunged deep into the fabric of his pockets and playing gentleman. If he was going to start off the night acting as such, he mise as well end it the same way. He'd never paid much attention to her at all before, mainly because he was far too deep and drowning in his exhaustion or his work to notice, but he could see her. Very clearly, actually now that she was walking in front of him. For starters, she was tiny. For some reason, Leon just couldn't wrap that around his head-- Her brother was Chris Redfield, her sister Claire and even though he'd seen things over 12 feet tall the two siblings where one of the tallest he'd ever met. How the hell was the girl under 5'0? Did the genes just stall out once they got to her? He could probably plainly ask, and she’d tell him. Leon could probably ask Sophie a lot of things and she’d tell him. If he hadn’t almost killed the both of them on the short car ride to her house, perhaps. Under different circumstances where he didn’t have the girl quivering in her seat and latching on to anything in sight, maybe.

The front door to the Redfield residence opened only a few seconds after Sophie was knocking, and Claire was currently standing on the other side. Her eyes fitted between the two, eyebrows raised until she noticed the two familiar faces and the expression that was once confusion was nothing more than genuine surprise and a hint of cheer in her eyes. It was a genuine surprise for Claire to see Leon there. Not that he didn't come around often because he was almost at the house everyday, if not every other day but it was odd to see him with her little sister rather their older brother. She got the hint though, as Sophie stepped in through the door after Claire moved to allow her inside. "Chris was still busy at the firing range," He heard her murmur, "So Leon drove me home." Leon winced. He was hoping the younger girl wouldn't go about mention to Claire about mere moments ago on the road, for he'd appreciate being able to live another day before being pummeled to death. "I'm sorry I was late," Claire just let a soft chuckle slip, "Sophie, you're 25 years-old," Claire's hand rested gentle on her forearm, "You're no teenager running late on curfew." An internal feeling of relief washing over Leon, watching as the small girl chose to keep the incident as just their little secret. Feeling lucky enough the girl had some mercy on him. "Right.." She was used to Leon bringing Chris home, for the men often went out late on the town to a close by bar where both would drink for a while. Most times however, Chris would get smashed out of his fucking mind more nights than just one, forcing Leon no other choice than to escort his mate stumbling in through the front door. All while trying to keep himself upright in the process as well. Or nights where the two stayed a bit later than intended at the office to read over case after case before finalizing anything. She was just having a hard time understanding how on earth Chris conned her into going with him in the first place. "Thank you, Leon," She allowed Sophie to file past into the house, "I'm sorry you had to go through the trouble of bringing her home. I'm not quite sure why she didn't just call me but I appreciate it." Leon just nodded. "It's alright," shrugging his shoulders. He wasn't quite sure what else to say, "it's not a bother." "How was the training?" Her voice lowering almost to a hushed tone. For some reason, finding the topic inappropriate for their younger sibling despite her being a 'big girl.' Claire just didn't see the purpose of bringing it up around Sophie because in some sort she felt it may tarnish that innocent mind of hers and Claire just couldn't handle doing that. Leon frowned slightly, taking note of the sudden change in her demeanor. Then chose to yet again, shrug, "Same old, same old. Muscle are achy and tired. I feel like an old man." "You are an old man." "Watch it, Redfield." This made Claire smile. She loved Leon dearly, for he was like another piece of family to her and has been since Raccoon City-- If anything happened to that man, she had no idea what she'd do. Especially knowing the mental torment Chris went through. She could only imagine the things Leon tortures himself with late at night inside his own head. She worried over him more than she'd care to admit. "Well I should probably head out," Leon said, slipping one hand from his pockets to direct his thumb behind him. Throat clearing as he begun to back away from the front door, "my bed is calling my name." "Right," Claire gave a soft nod, "I'll let you head out. You deserve some sleep. And Thank You again, Leon." "Sure thing," His smile was small, but Claire learned that, that was enough. He wasn't exactly the smiling type of guy. At least not anymore. "I'll see you sometime soon, I'm sure." "Right. I'll see you Fri-" "Oh.. Is he headed home?" The sound of Sophie's small voice was the reason he faltered in his tracks, coming to almost an immediate stop. Surprised when he peered over his shoulder to see her head peaking out from behind Claire in the doorway.

He had convinced himself that she'd crashed out on the couch or even made the efforts to drag herself up the small flight of steps to her bedroom, but apparently not. Instead, she managed to swiftly stray her old clothing and slip into something more appeasing for the night. The attire consisting of pastel pink matching sleep set of Bugs Bunny, for it had the cocky bastard of a rabbit slapped right in the center of her crop top along with the same image down the left pant leg of her pajamas. Only difference was it was much larger on the leg than in her shirt. "Yeah," Claire shifted over, "Would you like to say goodnight?" Sophie knew what she was hinting at. Her sister had never made it difficult on what she expected from her younger sibling and the manners needing to be used and right now, Claire was gesturing for Sophie to say thank-you. She stepped forward, her head ducking under Claire's arm to get a better view of Leon outside. She had a gentle smile on her face now, she looked far more calmer now that she was in the comfort of her own home. "Thank You," He couldn't help but return the same gesture to her, finding it very hard not to find her gentle demeanor amusing. Now that she wasn't anxious, huddled against the passenger side door or silently praying under her breathe to just be home. He could find it in himself to muster up a reluctant nod of his own for her. "Not a problem, Soph."

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x oc #leon s. kennedy #leon x oc #resident evil #resident evil leon #resident evil x oc #fanfic #leon s. kennedy x oc

[otherperson12]

Masters of the Air: The Angels of Death

Major John Egan x WASP! Oc

This is a little something I wanted to share with the fandom. I know I been a ghost for a few moths, but 2023 was an awful and horrendous year for me. I got depression and my grandma died and I had to take care of my family, and during my summer (I’m from the South) I was very depressed too lol. So know I’m back at university and this helps me to distract a little.

This comes from the idea I have for the BoB I’ve been working for years (yes, years, and no publications yet). I don’t plan it to be very complicated, like I just wrote it down and put it here.

I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. This is based in the series and only the series.

Special thanks to my beta reader: @vrygoodbadthing Who came to de hbo war fandom thanks to me (watch the goddam series).

Introduction

Bucky was having a really good time in England. Without counting the combat and missions of course. The rest of the 100th would be with him soon, and then, about a two weeks from that day, the war would get more interesting than the little man with a mustache.

The moment he saw his friend entering the officer’s mess hall with a cocky smile and doing a little dance, Major Gale Cleven got worried for whatever was about to happen. Or whatever that was going around Bucky's mind. He knew Bucky was a, well, interesting and care free man, out going and always wanting to experience life at most. When John saw his friend at the table, looking at him, Bucky did a little more of a show and sat in front of his fellow aviator.

“Isn’t this a beautiful day to be alive?” Bucky asked Buck. The last one didn't answer at first, then he smiled at him.

“Every day is a gift to live at war.”

Bucky laughed a little, “You’re starting to sound like Curt,” He pointed out. “But in this day in particular, my friend, angels would be coming to us like the very gift of God.” He informed (even if the big boss told him not to).

What?

“What?”

John laughed at his friend’s face, because obviously he didn’t understand a word of what he was talking about (again, Colonel Harold had ordered him to stay quiet).

“You are a prude, Buck.”, he liked to point those little facts about his friend, “Maybe we can get you a little of fun now.”

Yup, Buck had zero idea of what he was talking about.

Bucky leaned forward to the table, he did not wanted anyone hearing of it and spoil his fun. Buck did the same.

“After Pearl Harbor the Air Force pilots number reduced in a 30 percent, the man who got in to combat didn’t live very long. Most of the resources went to fight japs, a little more came like us to fight nazis. Then there wasn’t enough man to fight the war so they geniuses started training women.”

Gale had heard a little about it, in his training when the war started. Woman started piloting in no combat positions, but it looked like Bucky was meaning about other kind of duties.

“And?”

“And, they started training them to have combat positions. Fight pilots. They made them their own brand new plane model. I don’t know the details but I heard that it flight like a hawk.” Bucky explained while eating his friend toast. “They are coming today to be our escorts in missions.”

Buck was surprised. Astonished.

“Our own guardian angels.”

Later that day, before supper, Bucky did the same thing than that morning, instead of entering at mess hall, he entered at the officers barracks, howling about a how beautiful day it was to be alive.

“Buck! Time to go, the angels are coming!”, he said way too loud. The mentioned put down his book and reluctantly followed Bucky outside to the jeep.

John spent the whole ride to the base singing. Gale was not very sure of why he (Bucky) was so happy. Maybe, and probably, was the chances of getting laid right at the base, having fun closer enough to sleep at the barracks after drinking instead of doing it outside (Bucky’s experience).

Already at the tower, they waited for the girls to arrive.

Colonel Huglin was there too, and so other officers. Some questioned why Gale was there, “The full welcome from the 100th, sir.” Were John’s words.

Major Browman greeted them with a funny face. “Who would have say it, huh? We fighting along side woman. Equals.”

“There’s something bad about that?”, Buck asked.

“Of course no! For Pete’s sake. I’m just worried.” Red explained quickly. “I’ve heard they are good, like beating records kind of good. They are a special unit from the W.A.S.P, they are called the ‘Angels of death’, girls who where carefully chosen for it. And spent months training. The best of the best.” He informed, “But the boys are not going to be very happy about it.”

That one was true.

“What about their plane?”, Buck asked curiously.

“A special secret model.”, Colonel Huglin said. “Small, cheap, fast. The Supermarine Spitfire can fly to 606 miles per hour maximum burning a lot of fuel, the P-WN I can go to the speed of one of our fortress burning less than a third part of the tank.” He explained, looking back at the sky.

“So they can go to Germany, slap Hitler and come back like nothing.”, Bucky said.

Buck laughed, “Yeah, something like that.”

In that exact moment, the sound of the plane engines began to be heard in the distance. With binoculars, everyone who got them watched what was coming.

“They are here.”

Punctual, 12.00 hours.

Bucky and Buck saw how a bunch of sparkling dots flew towards them from the east, approaching quickly until they were able to see the planes. It were just like Huglin had said, small and fast.

Movement started at the tower, communication between them and the newcomers. They gave permission to land.

“Roger that.”

Every one watched how quickly those planes got in formation to land, in a fast and clean maneuver. They knew their thing.

When the planes where close enough, they could finally see how they looked like: it was like a mini Spitfire, pocket size. It was just the metal, glowing in the sun, the wings were long as thing as the nose, which was painted blue, white ad red. It was quite beautiful. It almost bordered on delicate.

One by one they landed and parked one beside the other, they looked like silver glowing statues.

The ones who were at the tower started heading to the newcomers while every pilot began to emerge from their planes, one by one from their cabin like butterflies and greet each other, happy for a easy flight and a safe landing.

John and Gale hop off the jeep like the rest of the men. They saw every girl with their flying uniforms and their bags in hand, obediently getting in the trucks that would take them to interrogation (it was just a formality).

Buck saw Colonel Huglin were talking with whom he supposed was the CO of the girls. Bucky had that funny smile of him, he looked around him until he saw a girl standing in the wing of the plane with a smile, eyes closed and feeling the British air. The only thing he could pick out of her, was her red hair. Another girl approached her and the first one jumped to the floor, they went to the trucks and Bucky was able to hear their conversation.

“Did you satisfied your hunger for flying?”, the girl who accompanied the redhead asked sarcastically.

The redhead laughed, “As if I ever could, Priya.”

Another woman, a blonde captain standing next to Huglin, heard this and said, "Don't worry, Ross, you'll have fun soon!" She exclaimed as the girls finally climbed into the trucks.

"Yes, ma'am."

All the girls laughed, the redhead blushed, obviously knowing what a mystery to Bucky was.

Soon she would know.

#hbo war #band of brothers #original writing #masters of the air #mota fanfic #john egan #major john egan #gale cleven #major gale cleven #buck egan #bucky cleven #curtis biddick #meatball #world war 2 #fanfic #history fanfic #robert rosenthal #robert rosie rosenthal #harry crosby

[just-another-siimp]

I was wondering if you could write a fluffy piece about Gaz and his partner having a sweet domestic moment in bed. Thank you

The Gaz homies are in the house today???? Please keep the Gaz requests coming!!! I fucken insert feral screaming here love him. This is more than a sweet domestic moment, but it counts right???

Warnings: No use of Y/N, Reader goes by Chip. Read the Enemy at the Gate series to understand some of the lore about where Gaz and Chip live!! I overdid it again. I'm sorry

Leave was something that every military member craved at one point or another, for you and Kyle leave was something neither of you saw often. When the Captain had announced that the 141st would be going on a two week leave it was a surprise, a pleasant one at that.

There was a buzz of excitement that radiated from Kyle as you both packed the jeep, an excitement that once upon a time you did not share. Except now that excitement was shared with him as you both prepared for the long journey home, it was roughly a 9 hour drive from the base in London to your home in Metz, France.

Normally you and Gaz would divide the driving into 2 hour blocks, arriving home just as the sun set and with enough time to go into town and buy a hot meal. On this occasion however, Kyle had convinced you to stop in Paris for a few nights. It had taken quite a bit of convincing, even Ghost had stepped in telling you about a new exhibit at The Louvre. When you finally caved in Gaz promised that he would organise the rest.

That was how you ended up in one of the fanciest hotels you'd ever stepped foot in, you almost felt out of place with some of the dirt and grime from previous missions still clinging to your skin. While Gaz spoke to the lady at reception you took a moment to send Soap a selfie, trying your hardest to showcase the grandness of the foyer.

S: Looks fancy as dove! I'm staying at Lt's place for a few nights, I'll show him the picture.

C: Try not to murder each other while you're there.

S: No promises, C. Ghost says congratulations!

Before you even had time to think about what Soap had said Gaz was by your side again, gently taking your phone from your hands and replacing it with a keycard. You gave him a questioning look, head tilted to the side as he ushered you forward.

"Come on, love. Our room is ready."

-

You didn't have a chance to interrogate Kyle on the way up to your room, the attendant in the elevator having struck up a conversation with you both as he took you to the top floor. Kyle's hand had slipped into yours as you were guided through the halls, eventually stopping in front of room 141.

Kyle laughed.

To say that the room was lavish would be an understatement, the evening sunset gave the room a gorgeous orange glow as you rushed forward to look out of the window. The busy Paris nightlife bustling below your feet as you turned to look back at Kyle.

"This is amazing!" You took a second look over the living room. It was spacious, decorated with plush white couches, priceless artwork and fresh flowers. "Kyle this is perfect.. thank you."

"Just wait til you see the bedroom." There was a joke hidden somewhere within that statement, one that you would have made if Kyle hadn't practically dragged you into the bedroom. You could've sworn that this was all a dream when your eyes caught sight of the familiar tower just outside the window.

It was hard to contain the squeal that came from you as you ran out onto the small balcony, taking in the magnificence of the Eiffel Tower. This really was the perfect surprise.

"This is- Kyle this is too much." You blurted out, turning to face him with a smile.

"I wanted to surprise you with something nice, dove." He stepped closer to you, body framing yours against the balcony. "Do you remember when you first joined the 141st? That time I got shot-"

"Because you jumped in front of a bullet, to save my life." you interrupted him, chest clenching at the memory. Kyle soothed your worry with a kiss.

"Yes, that time. Do you remember what you said to keep me awake?" Your eyes went wide, suddenly remembering what you'd told him that day. "You said 'one day when I go on leave, I'll book a hotel room that looks out at the Eiffel Tower and eat enough croissants to last a lifetime."

"I really did didn't I?" Your heart felt as though it could burst out of your chest, smile never leaving your face even when you kissed him. That night was spent in the hotel, admiring the view and eating croissants until you both passed out in the comfiest bed imaginable.

-

Kyle had always been an early riser, something you secretly hated about your beloved. It was the way that he could be awake and functioning before 9am, while you were still trying to consume enough caffeine to wake you up. For once both of you slept well past noon.

The both of you took your time to wake up, over time you'd moved from his side to laying on top of him. Enjoying the feeling of his hand in your hair, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and how it rumbled when he laughed at something you said.

It was moments like these that made everything you both fought for worth it, all of the violence you'd both seen made moments like these possible. Even then the selfish part of your brain never wanted it to end.

"Kyle?" His hum in response forced you to look up at him, slowly creeping forward so that you could press a kiss to the corner of his lips. "I wish we could stay like this forever."

"Me as well." He whispered, lips pressing to your forehead silence taking over the room again. Eventually you rolled off of him, settling against his side and taking his hand. Comparing it to yours.

"You have pretty hands, Kyle."

"I think yours would look prettier with a ring on it." he spoke softly, index finger pointing to your ring finger. "Right there."

"Kyle-"

"Chip- I was going to wait for a more romantic moment but I realised.. laying here in this bed with you. It's the perfect time. Because there is nothing more in this world that I want, than moments like this spent with you in bed but with you as my partner." Suddenly he was moving, taking a small velvet box out of the nightstand offering it to you. "Would you do me the honour.. of marrying me."

It took a moment to process what he was saying, tears threatened to fall as you nodded your head. "Yes.. A million times yes." You whispered, face now hidden in his chest as he held you to him. It wasn't clear how long you'd both stayed like that for, eventually you'd pulled away to kiss him. Your phone aggressively vibrating in the background, ruining the sweet moment.

"It's probably Soap-" You mumbled turning the phone off, realisation hitting you like a ton of bricks.

"What is it love?"

"So that's what Ghost meant by 'Congrats'" You laughed looking at Kyle, watching as he glared at your phone.

"I knew one of those bloody idiots would ruin it-"

-

It wasn't until a year later that you and Gaz visited that hotel, as newly weds.

#kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #captain john price #john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #call of duty #modern warefare ii #call of duty x reader #modern warfare x reader #task force 141 #i'm so sorry #i went overboard #but like i'm a simp for gaz #what can i say #i loved writing this #send in more requests! #simp writes

[kennyomegasweave]

my live thoughts during the finale of The Sign

Obviously, spoilers will be under here.

I had complaints about this show, but I still enjoyed myself overall and I LOVED this finale. It was a really good and entertaining finale.

My boy is def getting shot cause he just basically proposed to his man and said he's gonna do it for real once this mission is done. 😭😭😭

Old woman yaoi! I am very sad for these women but you know old woman yaoi! Phaya’s grandma be making moves. Get it mama!

Man. I don't wanna see Chart get tortured. Kaownah is my fave and it's his birthday today and everything.

Yai would hear Tharn stuck in some ravine in the jungle. I love siblings, chosen or otherwise, so much.

Was Tharn reinstated? Cause he's like “I'm gonna arrest Montree” but he’s suspended? Can he even do that? He might have been reinstated in the last episode, but I can't remember. Oops. lol

YES AT THEM ROLLING UP ON A JEEP RUNNING BITCHES OVER. THE SQUAD’S HERE FUCKERS. STRIKE TEAM: GAY (AND YAI)

Khem is about to get shot. It's dark and he and Thongthai are outside and I saw the preview and I literally have a pit in my stomach. Because I know what's gonna happen and no. NO.

NO CHART NO.

KHEM BABY NO. HE GOT SHOT SAVING HIS MAN AND FELL WITH THE NECKLACE WITH THEIR RING CAUSE THEY WERE GONNA GET MARRIED IT’S BEEN YEARS And this is also why like they probably shouldn't have had Khem and Thongthai on the same team because Khem whole ass threw himself in front of his man and then Thongthai was basically useless cause it's not like he was gonna be able to do a motherfucking thing once his man was fucking shot.

CHART NO AGAIN HOW MANY TIMES IS THIS MAN GONNA GET SHOT

I don't even care about the supernatural shit and the rest of this after Khem got shot right in Thongthai’s arms. We can shut this whole damn episode down.

Oh okay. No Chart and Khem aren't dead. We have a throwaway line that Khem (and Chart) are “safe” and thus not dead. Okay. We can continue this episode. I'm good. Khem’s at the hospital and, even if I never see him for the rest of this episode, I can rest knowing he will be getting dicked down by Thongthai in “we’re alive and getting married” marathon sex once he recovers. My boys WILL be married in the special episode y'all keep mentioning is happening. I know this.

Okay, like, Montree is evil, don't get me wrong. But he kept being like “why won't you just leave me alone” in the warehouse like he's not a drug dealing murderer and then he refuses to confess and is unfazed by a whole damn Naga showing up and capturing him. And it’s a mood how much he doesn't give a fuck. Man said he don't care about anything. lol

Aww Yai and Sand. Yai and his hot ass wife. He couldn't resist telling her she was beautiful. Man loves his brother and his hot ass wife. I love him.

I'm fairly confident we won't see anyone else from the cop side the rest of the episode, maybe Yai cause he's Tharn's brother, but that's it. But you know what. My fucking boy is alive and so is his man and they will be getting married. So I won. I win, you lose, ah ha.

I'm guessing this is the scene Babe mentioned was hard cause it's a love scene but he's sad cause he knows he's gonna leave Phaya but Phaya doesn't know that. I do wish we had seen him negotiate this with Chalothon. Like “fine I'll go with you, but you gotta let me have one more night to get that dick.” 

Paid $16 and the damn ass blur is still there? Pardon me? 

Phaya loves Tharn so fucking much. He is out here freaking out. Running around aimlessly. Baby. Baby boy.

Okay, also, Tharn. Love. You had to know Phaya wasn't just gonna let you leave? Asking why he followed you. Babe. Baby. Babes. He's always gonna follow you. 

Again. Chalothon’s Naga look is really hot and if I was Tharn I would have never looked at Phaya in our first life cause I would have been sat with that man and his hot ass fire look. RIP to Tharn but I'm different. I'm a whore.

Yes at Phaya using his Garuda powers. They were so severely lacking in this show and I’m still butthurt.

THARN BABY OMG. I mean. You would think that maybe Chalothon would have learned by now to not throw spear objects at Phaya. Stupid bitch. Killed the person he's wanted for several lifetimes TWICE in the same way.

I'm here for this montage combining both their lives. Sad it's happening because Tharn got fucking stabbed. Again.

“He's always sacrificing himself for you to be where he doesn't belong. You're selfish.” Now I know your bitch ass isn't saying that when you have now KILLED him twice. Hater ass bitch. Someone is selfish here and it's not the dude who hasn't killed his man TWICE in the same way. Flop ass bitch.

Oh Phaya. Baby. He just loves Tharn so fucking much. 

Damn. They sent Dao’s ass back to France. I didn't like her, but they didn't need to send her ass back to France. lol

Oh. I'm not ready for Yai and Phaya to see each other. Not at all. Phaya is just crying silently and Yai is ugly crying. Neither of them have spoken a word to the other. Oh my heart. 

A YEAR LATER??? Oh they're really doing this huh. Okay. lol I figured something was gonna happen when the still of Phaya with that hair and facial hair came out. Man was obviously going through something and time had passed. 

Phaya. I get maybe there's not other bedrooms in Tharn’s grandma’s house but staying in the room AND bed where y'all last saw each other can't be good for your mental health. Though the hair and facial hair already told me that mental health is hanging on by a thread and that thread is fraying baby.

THE SQUAD IS HERE TO FIND THARN. My boy is fucking alive and with his babe! And Sand is here too! Mine and Yai’s girl! I didn't even see the fine ass Captain, but he’s there too. Is he joining the search or is he trying to get Phaya to start living again? Regardless, even he came down. I love that. In another life he was Tharn's brother. Though Phaya has clearly given up on life. Which again, that hair and facial hair already showed that.

Is this a real thing or is Phaya dreaming??? I know they said it's the 15th day on the 11th moon or something so the Naga can come out so I'm guessing it's real? THE SNAKE DOCTOR FINALLY GAVE THARN UP??? Okay, I love this. I need the second thing they do after getting off this hill is cut Phaya’s hair and shave him. The first thing is fuck, obviously. 

#the sign #the sign the series #spoilers #the show stuck the fuck out of the landing #which is very appreciated since a lot of shows have very much not been sticking the landing #I had a good time with the show overall #even though I do still have complaints about the writing #but this finale was very satisfying to me #totally worth my $16 and getting up at 3AM #regular clyde

[callumsgirl]

IN MY HEAD #11

SAY YES TO HEAVEN

It had been a hell of a week for Bucky.

Starting with the mission to drob bombs over Bremen, Gale missing for two days and his thoughts gone crazy about losing his best friend, his man and lover.

Then suddenly everything happened quickly. The clouds had gathered over England and shortly afterwards there had been terrible thunder and lightning.

John was in the middle of it all, and to make matters worse, he couldn't move as the first raindrops fell from the sky and soaked his uniform. His legs felt like lead and when he tried to move a muscle, nothing happened.

So he stood in the middle of the airfield and rain soaked him fully wet - all alone and petrified. His lips trembled and as the rain intensified, the next thundering sound swallowed his choked gasps for air.

The rain slowly seeped through his clothes and when the damp cold hit his skin, it was as if he could no longer breathe freely. So he stood there, lost in thought.

He had almost lost Gale in all the burning chaos, and he felt as if the devil and life were laughing at him maliciously.

Ever since he had come to England, it was as if the devil was looking over his shoulder, or sitting in the passenger seat of his jeep, or flying in the cockpit next to him over Germany, watching him drop bombs on people. Always ready to throw the coin of life in his hands into the air and seal his or Buck's fate.

He winced as two warm hands placed themselves on his shoulders. For a few moments, he was unable to focus his gaze and stared blurrily through all the rain. It was only when familiar, rough fingertips wrapped around his chin, wiping away the raindrops, that he recognized Gale in front of him.

"What are you doing out here?" Gale asked, his words almost swallowed up by the roaring thunder. "You're all wet and you're going to catch cold, baby," he added worriedly. To emphasize his words, Gale's hands slid over his bare neck, where warm fingertips collided with his cool skin. He sighed in bittersweet exasperation and slowly cleared his throat.

"I almost lost you up there in the sky," John murmured hoarsely, squinting his eyes. "When Harding said your machine was missing, I almost choked, Gale."

Then their eyes met again - ice blue met hazel. The boundless tenderness squeezed all the air out of John's lungs and his chest suddenly felt far too tight again and every breath hurt. A tingle coursed up his spine and trembled as Buck stroked his lips with his thumbnail.

"You're something…you know that, or John Egan?" Gale whispered in a low voice. A voice and pitch that immediately softened and numbed the pain inside him. "I wouldn't even dream of leaving you. Even if the whole world was on fire, I'd find a way back to you."

"Will you promise me that?" whispered John. 'After this damn war, you and I will go away together. To a place where it's just you, me and pure peace."

Gale quickly replied, "I'd follow you anywhere, Bucky."

As these words filtered through the smoke of the rain, the pain in his chest lessened. Somehow less burning and he could finally breathe better again. He gripped Gale's wrists with both hands and the corners of his mouth twitched: "Then there is only one thing left...say yes to heaven, say yes to me, darlin'."

#masters of the air #mota #mota fanfic #buck x bucky #gale cleven #john egan #john bucky egan #motaedit #callum turner #austin butler major gale buck cleven #let’s talk mota #callum turner major john bucky egan #cute #fluffy #men loving men #march 2024

[ilovewriting06]

Always Been His

A/N: This is part two of this fic and it was requested by @allisonargent144.

------------------------------------------------------

Everyone was sitting around Derek's loft for pack night, a new tradition to build up everyone's connection and trust with the others of the pack. Originally, Chris and I weren't going to be a part of it but Allison started dating Scott and joined the pack so Chris and I decided to join too. The pack is mostly teenagers who got the bite for different reasons, except for Scott, Allison, and Stiles. Maybe, Lydia, but she hasn't officially joined the pack yet, but I have a feeling she will soon enough.

Scott was forced to take the bite, Allison joined for love, and Stiles, sweet baby Stiles did it out of loyalty. Out of everyone in the pack, other than Allison, Stiles has to be my favorite. I'm sarcastic by nature and Chris isn't so it's fun to be able to banter with someone. I feel like I've adopted him and Scott as my sons since they're at my house more than they are their own.

Scott and Allison are always, 'studying,' or watching movies and Stiles is dragged along because Scott doesn't have a car to drive. After realizing Stiles literally sat at our dining room table and did schoolwork or research while his two best friends did fun stuff I took pity on the boy and kept him company, that's how I figured out he's the brains of the pack.

I'm also trying to set him up with Lydia, his long term crush, and it's become my mission to get them together so Stiles is no longer the third wheel and actually has some happiness. He's also surprisingly good with children. After I gave birth to Aria, he was a huge help, he won't change diapers but that's about the only thing he won't do. Even Chris likes him and Scott, he just won't admit it.

In my opinion Scott and Allison are absolutely adorable. He adores her and treats her like a princess and Allison loves him more than most people would think possible at her age. In some ways they remind me of Chris and I when we were in high school.

The first time Chris met Scott as Allison's boyfriend it was a bit rocky and Scott looked like he was going to shit himself at any given moment, I have to hand it to him though, I was impressed at how well he handled it.

Chris pulled every page out of every book he's got and was impressed but also annoyed that Scott handled it all so well. Do you want a drink? Oh no sir, I don't drink. You want a smoke? No thank you, I never want to smoke, the smell makes me sick. Do you want to have sex with my daughter? Uh, I feel like that's a trick question, sir. I say yes, I'm dead, I say no and you'll think I don't want her or something. I'll just say that at the moment no, in the future, probably.

I almost jumped across the table to give him a hug but I was too busy gloating to Chris about how I was right and the boy really was a sweetheart. After Scott left and Allison had went to bed I asked Chris what he thought, he answered by saying, and I quote, "She could do worse." In Chris talk that means, 'I like him, he's a good kid'.

Similar to Stiles, Scott isn't afraid to help with Aria, in fact he adores her. I think him and Stiles both secretly wanted a younger sibling and when Aria was born they adopted her as their sister. I can't complain because between the armory in our garage, Scott's fangs and claws, and Stiles' bat, Aria is one safe little girl.

I hum and rock Aria to sleep as I watch the kids play a game of Monopoly, a little worried a fight's about to break loose because Isaac is convinced Stiles is cheating and Stiles keeps responding with, "Dude! If I was cheating I'd be in charge of the money because I could skim off of it without anyone noticing." Or, my personal favorite, "Oh my god, stop acting like a little bitch because you can't manage your money. There's a reason I have cool flannels and a jeep and you have ugly ass scarves and a bike. Suck it up and pay up, you're on Boardwalk and I own that shit, gimme."

I snort at the last one as Chris bites back a laugh and leans over, "I see why you like him, he's sassy. Do you want anything to drink?"

I nod, "Yeah, a water please." He nods and heads towards the kitchen as I smirk when I notice the small, yet noticeable look Lydia throws Stiles when the latter rips the money out of Isaac's hand with a, "Thank you! Now, go back to Baltic Avenue. Bastard. I swear those scarves stop your brain from functioning sometimes."

I look up in confusion when the door to the loft open's but before I can turn around a voice I wished I'd never hear again speaks, "Nephew, I didn't know you were having friend's over."

Derek roles his eyes from his spot on the couch, "Makes sense since you weren't invited."

I bite back a noise of amusement hoping he doesn't notice me but my luck sucks and he's standing in front of me before Chris can get back to me, "Well, hello Darling, it's good to see you."

I roll my eyes as Chris comes to stand by me, "Wish I could say the same."

He rolls his eyes before sneering at Chris and looking back at me, "I see you still associate with the enemy."

I scowl and tuck Aria closer to my chest feeling the need to protect her, "He's only the enemy because he got what you wanted, and I have to say, I am so glad I never wasted a second on you."

He growls and Chris steps a little closer and I notice Derek stand from the corner of my eye. I glance at Aria when she makes a discontented noise and I glare at Peter, "I swear, if you wake her up..." I leave the threat hang in the air which makes Peter growl louder, and that one does wake Aria, and boy does she wake up with a start.

I get off the couch as Aria starts screaming throwing one last glare at Peter before walking away so I have enough space to walk around. However, once again I'm cut off by Peter materializing out of fucking nowhere. I groan as Aria keeps crying, "Peter, leave me and my family alone. I have two kids, four if you count the two stragglers Allison brought home, and I'd really like for them to remain safe, and to be honest, I'm terrified you'll hurt one of them to get to me. So, please leave."

Aria seems to start crying louder and I can faintly hear Peter ranting and raving but I'm to busy trying to soothe my baby to pay attention but I do hear the word divorce, which makes me roll my eyes. I finally zone in when Derek roars at him, "Get out, Peter! You aren't welcome here when they're here. You have an unhealthy obsession with her and it has to stop! She's married, with kids!"

Chris comes to stand in front of me as Peter's eyes glow blue before he growls at Derek, "I can make them all disappear, and I'll do it too if it means I get her!"

I squeeze Aria even tighter to me as Chris pushes me back slightly but it's all for nothing when Derek swings and knocks Peter out with one punch. He stands above his mentally deranged uncle as his eyes remain red, "You guys should go. I don't know what I'm going to do with him but I don't want to take the chance that he'll wake up when you guys are still here."

I nod before grabbing Chris's hand, "Come on Chris. Let's get the kid's home. At that Allison jumps up followed by Scott and Stiles. I glance at them before sighing, "Boys, you should probably go home."

Stiles scoffs, "Hell no Mrs. A. He just threatened you and Aria, besides Scott will be able to sense him if he's close to the house."

I glance at Chris and he nods and I smile, "Okay, you two can come stay over but Scott, you don't go into Allison's room unless Stiles is with you or the door is open."

They all nod in agreement before following us out the door.

----------------------------------------------------------

It's well past midnight when Derek texts that Peter won't be an issue anymore and I'm not interested in what that means but I trust Derek enough to believe we've seen the last of Peter. I slowly get off the couch and tiptoe over the bodies on the floor that accumulated throughout the evening.

As I grab a glass of water I feel arms circle my waist as I look at the mass of teenagers sprawled across the living room floor. I lean into the solid chest behind me as I whisper, "I feel like we've adopted six extra kids, and I can't really be mad about it. They're all good kids, they all just have a few flaws, but hey, so do we."

Chris chuckles as he places a kiss on the top of my head, "Yeah, they're good kids. I can't believe I'm saying this but I feel safer with all of them around." I nod in agreement before excitedly whispering, "Did you see Stiles and Lydia?"

He shakes his head and buries his head in my neck, "You're ridiculous."

I roll my eyes continuing to smile, "But Chris, they're cuddling!"

#teen wolf #scott mccall #allison argent #chris argent #stiles stilinski #chris argent x reader #derek hale #isaac lahey #peter hale

[chadillacboseman]

Summary: Tigue (@mintspider), Kate (@thesingularityseries), Kabal, and Alex go on a bit of a smash and grab mission to get Alex's old car back. Unsanctioned by Kano of course. Echo (@roofgeese) is complicit, even if she doesn't approve.

--

"This is you?" Kate stares at the photo in disbelief until Alex snatches the phone from her hands, "You had an earring??"

"Yes," he answers, exasperated, "and a badass car." He says the last part quietly, as if the memory pains him.

"What kind of car?" Kabal asks from across the room.

"A Hellcat. Blacked out. Zero to a hundred in 3 seconds flat."

"What happened to it?" Kate cocks her head. She's sure she knows the answer, but she wants to hear it from him.

"Repo'd," he answers sadly, "Sitting in some impound lot in Reno."

"Ever thought of getting it back?"

--

"And what exactly do you need a-" Echo checks the requisition form again and glances back up at Alex, "rocket launcher for?"

"Uh," Alex rubs the back of his neck and glances at Kabal, who stands next to him.

"C'mon, Easy E, you know us!" Kabal gestures between the two of them, "It's totally legal."

It's not.

"Does this have anything to do with the recent search histories of 'impound lots in Reno, Nevada'?" she narrows her eyes and Alex feels the childlike need to tell her the truth.

"No!" Kabal answers before he can blow their cover, "Just target practice."

Echo stares at Alex, her gaze burning a hole straight through him. She knows him well, well enough to see when he's involved in a blatant lie.

She decides it's not worth it.

"Sign here," she slides the yellow form to him and he scrawls his name on the dotted line. From a large crate behind her, Echo produces the fabled rocket launcher. Alex feels his heart race at the sight of it- it's an RPG-7, straight from Russia and equipped to take down armored vehicles.

Alex marvels at the weapon. He's used RPGs before, but this one is special. It's equipped with GSh-7VT warheads, designed as anti-bunker explosives.

"Anything else?" Echo pushes her glasses up on the bridge of her nose and looks at them impatiently.

"Do we still have the hot wiring kit?" Kabal knows he's pressing his luck with the question. Alex is still staring at the RPG with wide-eyed wonder.

"You said this was for target practice," Echo deadpans and Kabal shrugs animatedly.

"Yeah, but big dumb over here lost the keys to the jeep," a quick recovery. Alex seals the lie with a rather stupid nod.

Another penetrating stare makes Alex swallow, hard, and return his eyes to the RPG, avoiding her steely gaze. Echo doesn't get paid to interrogate them, in fact, she could care less what they're doing as long as the paperwork is signed and she's not involved.

She produces the hot wiring kit, a simple metal box with cyrillic lettering adorning it, and slides it to Kabal, who snatches it off the counter.

"Thanks, blondie!" he calls over his shoulder as he and Alex exit the armory. Kate waits outside, having been excluded from the lying for fear of her accidentally ratting them out.

She looks at the RPG excitedly; her powers could blow it out of the water, but she's seen Alex take down a Special Forces helicopter with one before- he's a master at his craft.

"Now we need Tigue," Kabal glances furtively down the hallway, "She can get in there and find the thing, then we blow the goddamn doors off."

Tigue is at a work bench, fiddling with her Sanjiegun; she eyes Kabal warily as he approaches, knowing he almost certainly has something up his sleeve.

"Tigue. Tiguester. The mighty Tollevander-" he stops mid-sentence when she shoots him a glare, "Got a proposition for ya."

Tigue looks at him expectantly, fairly certain that whatever he has planned has not been sanctioned by Kano in any capacity.

"You know that impound lot on Southgate? The one we snagged a truck from last December?"

Tigue nods, still trying to parse what on earth he could possibly need from the lot.

"Well, Alex here," he gestures for emphasis, "His car is in that lot. And we could really use your help getting it back."

Alex offers one of his disarming grins, toothy and wide, in an attempt to garner her support. Tigue glances from him, to Kabal, and finally to Kate, who is bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.

"And does Kano know about this?" she cocks an eyebrow and Alex looks skyward, avoiding her gaze.

"Tiiiiigue, c'mon," Kabal holds his arms wide, pleading, "just a quick in and out. The man needs his car!"

Tigue is a devil for a secret mission. Plus, if she's lucky, the cameras won't even pick her up.

"I'll do it."

Alex pumps his fist in triumph and Kabal claps animatedly. Kate lets out a squeal of barely contained joy. The security camera overhead seems to stare at them like a red-eyed monster.

--

"Okay. Tigue, you phase in there or whatever. Find the car, tell us the location. We take it from there," Kabal jerks his head at Alex and Kate. The four of them are crouched just outside the chainlink fence of the Silver State Towing lot.

Tigue nods and becomes immaterial, her form barely visible, as if she's made of fog. In an instant, she's through the fence and disappears into the night. The three of them wait, breath held tight in their chests. The minutes tick by. Kabal gets nervous.

Tigue reappears and he screams, causing a few lights to flick on across the street. From blocks away, a dog erupts into frenzied barking.

"Nice one, Kabal," Tigue shakes her head and he clears his throat awkwardly, "See that building on the south side? It's in there. Quick perimeter check tells me there's no one home."

"Keys?" Alex asks.

"Didn't find the lockbox."

Kabal swears under his breath and pulls the hotwiring kit from his bag. It's been years since he's hotwired a vehicle, but the memory is still there.

"Okay. Kate, fence," Kabal nods to the chainlink and Kate's eyes glow a menacing yellow. Two white hot beams of energy erupt from her irises and singe through the chainlink like butter. Alex never gets tired of the laser eyes.

Tigue stays behind to keep watch and recharge as the three of them make their way through the lot. Alex has the RPG shouldered and Kabal has his hookswords at the ready. The building is a hulking behemoth of reinforced steel- they'd clearly improved their guard since December.

"Alright, big guy," Kabal gestures to the large garage door on the North side of the building, "do your thing."

Admittedly, the job could have been done with C4 or a claymore.

Alex kneels and fires the RPG, sending a blast of flame from the rear of it as the warhead launches. Kate lets out a giddy laugh as the projectile hits the door and blows it to bits. Immediately, an alarm blares and bright security floodlights flare to life.

"GO!" Kabal points to the interior and Alex sprints inside with Kate right on his heels.

Kabal zips past them both in a flash of purple and finds the car; it is pretty, all black with big rims and red trim. He tries the handle.

Locked.

"Alex, slimjim!"

Alex catches up to him and yanks the slender tool from his bag. The alarm still blares deafeningly as he works it between the window and the door until the lock clicks. Kabal shoves him aside and ducks in, flinging open the hot wiring kit and setting to work.

"We've got company coming!" Tigue calls from the fenceline, barely audible over the screaming alarm.

"Stall 'em!" Kabal calls to Kate, who nods fervently and erupts into the air. Her palms glow as she soars out of the garage and heads for the street.

Sirens and red and blue lights signal the arrival of the police, and Alex reloads the RPG. Outside, he can hear Kate cackling as she sends a squad car skyward in a flash of bright yellow. He aims down the sights of the launcher and fires; the warhead sears past Kate and hits a car, detonating it in a ball of flames.

"Nice shot!" Tigue offers a thumbs up from back at the fence before shifting into diamond and leaping onto the hood of another car. Inside, the police officer stares at her shining form in disbelief.

She brings a hardened fist down, breaking through the windshield and snagging the cop by his collar. She yanks him from the vehicle and grins as he starts to beg.

"Not your lucky day, pal," she tosses him and he crashes into a hedge across the street. From in the vehicle, his partner fires his sidearm, shots glinting off of her hardened skin and ricocheting into the night.

"Kabal, hurry up!" Alex urges as he loads another warhead. He knows that SWAT will be there next.

"Shut up!" Kabal snaps as he fumbles with the wires under the steering column, "Just keep 'em off me!"

Another warhead sizzles through the air and Tigue jumps, letting it connect with her form and redirect to another rapidly approaching squad car.

"Got it!" Kabal yells triumphantly as the Hellcat roars to life. He gestures to the driver's seat and Alex clambers in excitedly, "You any good with this thing?"

Alex grins and slams the door shut. The interior is just as he remembered- all black leather with red accents. He grips the wheel and punches the gas, savoring the way he's shoved back against the seat by the force.

"Kate, get the gate!" Kabal calls as he streaks behind the speeding car.

Kate shifts her attention to the gate, sending a blast that destroys it and sends it flying. The Hellcat blazes through and screeches to a halt beside Tigue, who shifts back to normal and jumps in the rear seat. Kate clears a path through the mangled wreckage of police cars and the car tears down the street with Kabal in tow. Above them, Kate soars for a while before she drops down and snakes through the sunroof.

Alex watches as the speedometer climbs- 70, 80, 90.

Up ahead, more blue and red lights flash and he grins. On instinct, Tigue grabs the RPG and leans out the window, bracing herself against the frame.

Alex takes a sharp turn and she fires as her window turns to face them. The warhead connects with the car in the lead and sends it skyward in a ball of flame before it comes down and crashes onto the others that were behind it.

Alex whoops and pumps his fist as Kate laughs, bordering on maniacal. Kabal shoots past them, hookswords drawn, and meets the new wave of squad cars head on. One blade drops low and in a swift motion, he slashes the tires of four cars as he flashes by. They swerve erratically and the Hellcat surges past them down the empty street.

Alex can't remember the last time he felt like this.

Beside him, Kate leans out the window, letting the wind whip through her hair as she cheers in earnest joy. Kabal slows and sets a steady pace beside the car; Alex rolls down the window and he jerks his head upward.

"I hear a heli up ahead," he calls over the whipping of the wind and the roar of the engine.

Alex smiles and glances at Kate, who, in one swift motion, leaps from the vehicle and takes to the sky. The helicopter looms into view like a bird of prey, hovering low above the street, its spotlight quickly finding the car. Alex extends an arm through the window and offers them a middle finger.

A cop hanging out the side door yells something into a megaphone, but it's lost in the wind. Alex does, however, catch his scream as Kate launches herself into the cockpit. Two bright lasers cleave the metal beast in half and she erupts out of it, her hair wild as it crashes to the pavement.

Alex swerves to avoid it and Kate slips back into the vehicle through the open window. They're almost out of the city now- he can see the open horizon of the Nevada desert up ahead.

To their left, a SWAT armored vehicle materializes and Alex curses in Turkish.

"I've got it!" Tigue calls, "Get us close."

Alex punches the brake and jerks the wheel, bringing Tigue's window to face the armored car. She leaps out in one swift motion and shifts to diamond form, barreling into the windshield like a bullet. The vehicle moves erratically as Tigue pummels the driver with her hardened fists, then finally connects with a telephone pole.

When she returns to the Hellcat, Alex hits the gas and they exit the city, heading for the base. Kate hangs out the window once more, savoring the cool night air as it rushes past her face. Beside them, Kabal holsters his hookswords and pumps his fists.

"Black Dragon never dies, baby!" He calls into the night and Alex echoes the cheer.

It feels true. He's never felt this invincible before. He has no powers, but he's surrounded by them, and he's never felt safer in his fucking life.

The Hellcat tears through the desert, topping out at 110 with Kabal keeping pace alongside them. The base looms into view and he rushes ahead to open the security gate. Alex guides the car to the garage and his adrenaline finally begins to subside.

"That was fun!" Kate climbs out of the car and claps Alex on the shoulder with a smile.

"Thank you," Alex looks between the three of them, his heart more full than it ever has been, "I mean it."

"Any time, big guy," Kabal sounds genuine for once in his life.

The four of them make their way into the base; there is a commotion in the rec room as several agents sit huddled around the ancient tv on the corner.

On the screen, the 10 o'clock news is blaring at full volume-

"We have an unfolding story here, folks," the pretty brunette newscaster is standing in front of a screen that displays the streets of Reno. Behind her, flames engulf several wrecked cop cars, "It seems that a break-in at Silver State Towing has led to multiple fatalities and a high speed chase. We're still waiting on details, but apparently a police helicopter was involved."

A clip of CCTV footage flashes up on screen; it's Kabal, speeding through the streets with his swords drawn, the Hellcat fast on his heels.

Alex glances over at him. He looks proud, his chest puffed as he watches the clip.

"I look badass," he grins, but it fades quickly as Kano rounds the corner.

"Fancy yourselves as car thieves, hm?"

Alex has no response, and for once, Kabal's silver tongue is nowhere to be found. Tigue and Kate exchange looks.

"Sixteen dead cops. A ruined chopper-" Kano begins to list their crimes as if he's a father scolding unruly children, "a SWAT vehicle down."

"They didn't follow us here," Kabal finally offers and Kano rolls his eyes.

"Oh, thank fuck for that. They only caught all four of you on tape! And for what? A car?"

Alex tunes out his rant, as he's learned to do over the years. Kabal continues to argue with him, but it's pointless. He'll put them all on body duty or cage cleanup for a week and then his anger will die down and he'll get over it.

Alex doesn't care.

He finds Kate's gaze and winks and she giggles. Her hair is still in disarray and there's flecks of blood and scorch marks on her jacket. Sure, he'll be put on body duty, as he always is when he attracts Kano's ire.

But he won't be alone.

#oc alex #mk kate #mk tigue #mk echo #mortal kombat ocs

[ghostssweetgirl]

crazy over you ~ simon ghost riley x reader slow burn/enemies to lovers

description: y/n gets transferred to task force 141 and quickly becomes friends with soap and gaz, but her and ghost "hate" each other for the first part. warnings: mentions of violence and death (duh), alcohol intake, smoking (at some point), nsfw (at some point), subtle flirting with soap. i'm new to writing? so don't expect this to be the greatest. this is not in line with the game campaigns or missions. the only characters i included are y/n, soap, gaz, price, & ghost. i have no knowledge of the military this is just creativity disclaimer: i do not own modern warfare or any of its characters.

chapters: next [a different side] last

CW: your heart might melt omg 

--

You filled out all the paperwork you could, trying to find something to do. Even busied yourself with some light cleaning. Otherwise, Price had nothing for you or the guys right now. Ghost is supposed to be resting, but that's not like him. He walks around as if he wasn't just shot.

You were bored, and you had all day. Your heart raced as you thought of asking Ghost something. Out on a date. Or just to go out. 

You walk to his room and knock on his door. 

"Hey..." you greeted him. "Um... do you want to go do something?"

He cocked his head, stepping to the side to allow you in.

"There's nothing to do... I wanted to know if you wanted to go see a movie or eat dinner or something..." you looked at the ground as you stood awkwardly in the middle of his room.

"Sure," he shrugged.

You stutter as you didn't expect him to say yes, "Okay, great! I'll go get ready then."

You almost skipped to your room, happy with joy. You finally might be able to see a different side of Simon.

You look through your bag and put on some casual clothes. You scratch your head and groan as you realize that movies and dinner will contain people and you don't want to be around people. You hear a knock on your door and allow them to come in.

"Hey."

"Hey, I was thinking... Do you want to do a hotel and delivery service? I mean- if that's not too weird for you! I just don't want to be around a lot of people..."

"Prefer it that way," he plainly agreed.

"Good... great. I'm ready if you are?" you rubbed your hands together, soothing yourself.

--

You two walk to a jeep, glancing at each other, silently deciding who's driving.

"Not it!" you crossed your arms, smirking at him.

"Fine."

The 30-minute drive was silent, but not uncomfortable this time. You two even shared looks at each other, though you still couldn't read him, you could tell he was... calm. 

He broke the silence with a hoarse voice,  "You look good."

Oh, don't do this. You look away, clearly blushing. "Thank you..."

You heard him laugh silently, amused by your shyness. But in truth, you didn't feel like you looked good. You were literally wearing a pair of leggings, a band t-shirt, and a flannel. But you'll do to him what he did to you.

"You look good, too," you gain the courage to look at him.

He chuckles, "Always do."

Cocky bastard. You were... happy. Simon and Ghost seemed to be different from one another. And you hope to see more of this Simon. You like him like this. Playful, nice... You could get used to it.

--

You both arrive at the hotel and get your shared room on the top floor. You and Simon had a small fuss over who was paying. You had the money, you're the one who offered, and yet he still insisted on paying for the room.

"Fine. But I'm paying for food and drinks, then. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Finally reaching the top floor, you look out the windows at the view, "Oh wow, that is a beautiful view. Look! The sun's so pretty right there!"

He glanced and hummed in response. He held his hand out instructing you to stay back as he entered the hotel room. As if there'd be someone waiting for him... paranoid much?

When he called it clear, you ran in and immediately sprawled out on the king-size bed. 

"Oh god..." you moaned.

"What?! What is it? You hurt?" he exclaimed, thinking you were hurt. 

You laugh at his carefulness, "No, silly! This bed... it's so comfy. It's like a cloud."

He rolled his eyes. "That so?"

"Yeah. You should lay on it, big guy. Feels s'good."

His huge frame lays next to you but far away as if he's leaving room for Jesus. You can only understand, though. You both are being respectful.

"Does feel good," he grunted as he stretched out his arms. You couldn't help but be in awe at the way his muscles nearly busted out his hoodie, and the way his arms got larger as he flexed and then relaxed. He makes eye contact with you, furrowing his brows, "What?"

You smirked. "Oh, nothing..."

"I'm going to order room service... Hmm, what do they have?" you asked nobody as you grabbed a menu from the nightstand, picking up the phone before dialing. 

He scoots closer, his weight causing the bed to dip next to you as he looks over your shoulder at the menu. 

"See anything you like? I'm thinking we get 2 bottles of bourbon and if you want we can share one of these huge pizzas! Oh, gosh... We could get two pizzas..." you smile as you get excited about cheesy food.

"God, yes, a fuckin' pizza would be nice," he sighed, also hungry.

"Great!" you picked up the phone and ordered.

"Hi! One large pepperoni and one large cheese... and 2 bottles of... uh, bourbon, please!"

Simon stared at you, noticing how nice you are to the staff. How you smiled through the phone as if they could see you. How you were respectful, and the way your hair bounced as you laughed and talked. How could he not admire your beauty? Especially when you're like this, with him.

"Thank you so much! No worries! Take as much time as you need!" you finally hung up, and look at him with wide, excited eyes. "It'll be here in like 30 minutes!! Ahh! I'm so excited!"

His eyes crinkled as he laughed, "I can tell. Cute."

"They have movies here to choose from!" you jumped up once your eyes spotted the collection in the entertainment center. 

"Simon! Please tell me you've seen Lady and the Tramp..." you held the case up for him to see.

He shook his head, "Nah. We can watch it if you want."

"I want to watch something that you'll like, too!" you gasp as you see the case of Disney's Robin Hood with the fox and bear, "Simon, Simon, Simon! Oh my god!"

His eyes widen as he sees the look on your face, wondering what is it now... He definitely didn't mind you chanting his name, though... 

"Simon! Have you seen Robin Hood?!?"

"Uh, yeah? The- Oh, that one, no..." as he spotted it being the Disney Animated version, he squinted at it. "Looks cute. Let's watch it while we eat."

"Fuck, yes, this movie is my childhood... Well, the good part of it, I guess," you shrugged, smiling like a kid in a toy store. 

--

Simon was a gentleman and grabbed the door for room service while you set up the movie and cleared the table in front of the couch. The pizza boxes were laid on the table, the 2 bourbon bottles chilled in ice buckets. You grabbed cups, pouring one for him and one for you. He took a sip, nodding his head. "Not bad."

You followed, also agreeing. "Damn... It's pretty smooth. Let's dig in!" 

You sat closer to him, your thigh touching his, and opened the first box, revealing a large, cheesy, pepperoni pizza. "Holy shit, it looks perfect. Damn, I didn't grab plates."

"Don't need 'em," he spoke, grabbing one.

You copied, "Was trying to be polite, either way, works with me." You smile at him, watching him take the first bite, he nods his head in approval, moaning at the delicious taste.

Your eyes roll as you take the cheesy pie in your mouth, "Holy fuck."

Simon chuckles at the singing rooster, but he is paying attention. You two eat in silence as the movie plays, it's quite a loveable moment for you. Your favorite movie, your now favorite man... and really fucking good pizza. 

--

Getting to the part where Robin Hood and Maiden Marian go into the forest where 'Love Goes On and On' plays, you lay your head on Simon's shoulder, smiling, almost tearing up at the lovely scene. "I've always loved this scene, it's so pretty. They're so cute."

"It is cute. And pretty," he wrapped an arm around you. "Like you."

You blushed, hiding your face for a second until he reminded you to pay attention.

You're not surprised the two of you almost went through two whole pizzas, you, unfortunately, could not finish the cheese. But you are surprised at how fast the first bottle of whiskey is going! You're starting to feel hot, only 4 cups in, but you did take note of how your tolerance was going up.

--

The movie finished, and you honestly forgot to pay attention because... you were staring at Simon, and how you wished you could see his full face. You were grateful he showed you half of it, nonetheless. His gaze met yours with soft eyes, a shine in them. He pulled you into a tight hug, just going to work at melting your heart right then and there. He quit drinking out of the cup, instead just sipping from the bottle. He handed it to you, and you took it, slinging it back.

"God, you look good when you do that..."

"Do I?" you smirk as you do it again. You're barely able to swallow your drink before he crashes his lips into yours, causing you to whimper in his mouth before you kiss back. He helps you crawl into his lap, never breaking the seal of each other's lips. Fuck, it felt good to finally kiss him. It was like a lightning bolt shot through your spine the way he caressed you ever so gently, stroking your back and cupping your neck as he remembered the texture of your lips, the way you two moved in harmony. 

He pulls away with a tight string of saliva between your lips. Your panting and lidded eyes tell him you want him but he shakes his head, respectfully. "Not like this, luv. Wanna take my time with... you," he speaks softly as his eyes look over your body. "I love seeing you like this... don't get me wrong... But not on the first date, darlin'."

"Mmph... You're right..." you sigh, agreeing it's for the better. At least you know he feels the same, and that the tension is there. You blissfully ignore the hardness you feel in his pants, and take the bottle from his hands, taking one last swig before you hand it back to him, watching him chug the last bit. "Jesus, are you not drunk?"

"Nope," he breathed. "Not on... that, at least." 

He winked. Oh, my god, he winked. It shouldn't be that sexy.

"What shouldn't be that sexy?" he tilted his head at you. 

You held your hands over your mouth, face turning red as fuck, "I thought I said that in my head!"

He gropes your waist, leaning up as he gets closer to your face. "What shouldn't be that sexy, hmm?"

You breathe out as you grab his wrists, "You winking at me..."

He hums, accepting your answer. He hesitantly opens the other bottle, offering you a sip. "Careful, now, duchess... Don't go tryna outdrink me, too..."

Duchess. Hm, you liked that. 

"Oh, no worries..." you giggled, clearly tipsy on his lap. "Just one more sip."

You winked at him as you slung back a long sip, letting the bottle go with a pop, "Ahhh~."

He smirked and took two long sips before setting it down. Staring at each other in awe, lust, and a newfound sense, he peeks at the clock. "Gettin' a little late, luv. Wanna lay down?" 

You nuzzled into the open space of his neck and shook your head, feeling quite the buzz now. "Mm-mm. You're comfy."

--

You wake in the morning, not quite sure yet how you got into bed with Simon as you were laying on his bare chest. Your stretching out caused him to look at you. "G'mornin' sunshine."

"Good morning..." you replied lazily, looking around the room, seeing pizza boxes, whiskey bottles, and the play screen of the movie stilled.

"Fell asleep on me last night," he answered the questions going on in your mind.

"Oh - I'm sorry..."

"For what?"

"I dunno..." you shrugged. "Sleep well?"

"Didn't."

"Why?"

"Felt nice having you sleep on me. Wanted to enjoy it."

You leaned in closer to his warm chest, kissing his peck. He shuddered at the feeling, but you can tell he was content with it. The scars didn't bother you, now, they more so worried you. But it tells a story about him. 

"Oh! Simon!! I forgot they had a hot tub!" you smiled at him.

He looked at you funny, probably wondering where the hell you got this energy this early in the morning.

"We... don't have to if you don't want? I just wanted to mention it. Might help those sore muscles," you squeezed at his bicep. 

"No, I want to," he looked at you. The way he looked at you made your heart flutter. You didn't even begin to think about how this might be temporary, of course, understanding that his demeanor would change on the field. You also forgot to think that last night and today are the most you've ever heard him talk. And it was lovely. You push all the thoughts out of your head as you began to go down a spiral. He interrupted your thoughts, "Quit thinkin' so loud. I wanna go. S'long as I'm with you."

God, there's no way. No way you could be falling this fast. At first, you hated him or were sure that you did. And he hated you. You both have been absolute assholes to each other - just to end up like this. 

You got excited until you realized last minute you didn't have any swimming attire. "Aww, well, I don't have any swimsuits, and neither do you. They have a shop. I'll buy us some, even if it's a one-time thing."

"One-time thing?" he questioned, confused.

"N- I mean, like the hot tub. It's not every day we get to go to a hot tub, silly goose."

The fact that he even questioned your wording made you feel giddy inside. 

--

You bought yourself and Simon some swimwear and headed to the pool room. You both looked at each other with relief when you two were the only people there. You two head to different rooms to get changed and meet each other at the tub, silly you thought he'd take his mask off, but no, it stayed on. You don't question it, it's Simon. Ghost. 

Stepping into the hot water, you moaned in relief. It truly felt so good. You could tell Simon enjoyed it by how his eyes fluttered shut, and you settled beside him with his arm wrapped around you. True peaceful, comfortable moments pass. You dozed off for what didn't seem like long until you heard a phone ring. Glancing at his phone, it was Price. And the clock read 0900. 

Shit. Well, there goes the moment.

"Yeah?" Simon answered.

"Negative, sir."

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, sir."

"See you soon."

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick #cod mw ghost #cod mw #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #ghost mw2 #ghost stories #simon ghost riley x reader #captain john price #ghost soap #task force 141 stories #modern warfare 2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley #ghost cod #simon riley x you #slow burn #ghostssweetgirl