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thatgoblin · 4 months

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Summary: You're at the end of your rope and things come to a head that end in near tragedy.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, near miscarriage, affairs, I will not apologize for putting Mike Baker from Rainbow 6 Siege into this. I do what I want.

~::~::~::~::~::~::~

“Mum, Dad, what are you doing here?” I asked, keeping my distance from the pair. Moira and Seán MacTavish were in their late 50s, but did their best not to look like it. Mum had her hair dyed a lighter blond as Dad had put black dye in his beard and hair. Johnny looked just like our dad too, dark hair, stormy blue/gray eyes, hell is Johnny had a full head of hair and a beard it would be hard to tell them apart. Mum looked just like Saorsie. Both had the same sandy blond that would glimmer like rays of sun on a warm day with hazel eyes that would swirl into more green some days.

I, however, looked very little like them. My hair didn’t shine like my Mum’s and sister’s or have the same depth of black that Johnny and my dad had and my eyes were dark, with no fleck of blue or green. I had some of my mom’s features, faintly the same nose, but very little in common with my Dad.

“Your brother let us know of your situation,” my Mum, said as she stepped forward to meet me and John with my Dad next to her. “We wanted to see if it was true and see if any help was needed.”

“You want to offer help?” I asked, scoffing at her. “After nearly a decade, after lying about me to the family and friends and anyone who would listen, after blaming me and making sure everyone knew you blamed me for Saorisie’s death, you want to offer help? Fuck off.”

“I knew she would be like this,” Dad said, shaking his head.

“You didn’t know shite,” I snapped. “You washed your hands of me years ago. You don’t get to come back into my life and act like you both are offering some saving grace as I flounder. I’ve been doing fine without you.”

“You got pregnant after getting drunk with a stranger,” Mum hissed. “You don’t have to like it, but we’re here to make sure you don’t ruin your life.”

“Well, I haven’t ruined my life. It’s honestly pretty good. I have friends and I have a partner and I’m having this baby without your help,” I said. “Now, you’ve done what you came here to do, so leave.”

“Do you really think you can raise a baby? That’s a commitment. You can’t go out and party when you want to or take the baby with you. What about when you go to work? Who’s going to watch the baby? Not the baby’s father,” she said.

“We’ll figure it out and it’s none of your business,” I snarled at her. She didn’t flinch though, keeping her stance. “I don’t like you, you don’t like me. Why are you here? What did Johnny say? That I’m drinking or doing drugs or trying to get money from John?”

“He didn’t exactly say that, but he did say that you were pregnant with his captain’s child,” Mum said with a small huff. “Don’t ruin this for him. He’s worked so hard to be where he is. Johnny doesn’t need you to come in and screw it up for him.”

“Oh fuck off,” I spat with a scowl.

“That’s what will happen because that’s what you always do. You ruin things.” I couldn’t answer, swallowing back any retort or else I’d burst into tears. Even after all these years, I was still crippled so easily by her words. “You know that I’m right.”

“Enough of this,” John growled. He had been uncharacteristically quiet the whole time, but when he pulled me by the arm, I noticed my Dad was standing further off to the side. When had he stepped away? “Bugger off, both of you,” he snarled as he walked us inside. His grip was tight, painfully so. I didn’t have time to tell him no or to stop before we were in my place.

“Okay, ow,” I huffed, jerking my arm away. “What was that?” I asked, rubbing my arm where he’d gripped it.

“Sorry, Love,” he said with a soft sigh. “I didn’t think your parents were that bad, but I was quickly proven wrong.”

“You didn’t believe me?” I asked, stepping back. “Are you fucking kidding me? After sticking up for me with Johnny and everyone else, but you didn’t believe me this whole time about my parents?”

“I didn’t say that,” John said, facing me. “I didn’t say that you were lying or that I didn’t believe you.”

“But you did. Just now. You thought I was lying to make my parents sound like monsters!” I cried, shaking my head. “Why would I lie about that!?”

“I don’t know!” John yelled, throwing his hands into the air. “I didn’t think it was as horrible as you made it because sometimes we think the horrible things that happened to us growing up seem much worse than they really were. When you said your parents favored your sister and brother over you, I thought it was because you didn’t have as many activities as them to go to or maybe because you were the youngest, you thought it wasn’t fair that Johnny got to leave so soon after school or your sister got the car instead of you because Johnny wasn’t there.”

“Oh my god,” I said, moving further away from him. My head was feeling hot and fuzzy as my chest began to tighten up. “You were humoring me this whole time and-God! I’m so stupid!”

“No, Love, please-”

“Get out,” I snarled. “Get out of my house! Get out of my life! I’m done! I’m fucking done, John! I have gone above and beyond for you! Letting you into my life because you’re the father of this baby, but you've changed so much of my life and keep trying to change more when I tell you to stop it. I am done being bowled over by people in my life. I was better off alone and I’ll be better off alone. You just bully and push till I give you what you want, saying you care about me, but really it’s just control.”

“Please, let’s just take a moment to calm down-”

“No! I’m not listening to you anymore! You’re not going to bully me into giving you what you want,” I said, pointing at the door.

John stood there, mouth open like he was trying to make words come out, but nothing happened. I stood my ground, keeping my finger pointed at the door. He took a deep breath before nodding. His heavy footsteps followed him out the door, leaving me in silence.

Just when things were seemingly working out, of course it all went to garbage.

‘You ruin everything.’

~::~::~::~

Johnny had kept to himself mostly after the screaming meltdown he’d had with his sister. He had tried to reason away everything their parents did, that maybe they did it to keep them all safe or were just tired of this out of control child. With a busted ankle, he had nothing but time to mull everything over and really process it. When he first ran into his estranged sister and saw she was obviously pregnant, he wanted to turn around and run. The thought of getting caught up in that drama and getting guilted into helping this poor single mum did not sit well with him.

Then it turned out that she and his Captain had had a fling and it was his baby. After years of listening to what their parents went through while trying to help her only to get spat on, Johnny was not going to let his Captain fall victim to her. It probably wasn’t even his.

Price swore it was and that they hadn't slept with anyone else, but he still didn’t know. Even when they nearly came to blows at his place, it took Simon pointing out the flaws in the lies he’d been fed to get through that maybe his parents were showing favoritism and there was something much deeper going on. Usually he could sniff out a bad situation, but it was his family and he trusted them. Simon didn’t have that luxury growing up and knew that people could be cold and cruel, no matter the kind and caring face they put forward for the world to see. It helped him grasp the possibility that his sister was telling the truth.

Johnny wasn’t ready to believe her 100%, but he wanted to talk to their parents first. He called them up a few days after seeing her again and talking about what had happened. From seeing her pregnant in the grocery store to it being his Captain that was the father. They had some problems with that, automatically calling her several choice words and agreeing that it either wasn’t Price’s baby or she had done it on purpose to get money out of him. There was no mention of them coming to visit, though.

He didn’t speak to them again till after he was screamed at. It was the tipping point in him beginning to believe his sister. When he brought up everything, they always had something to explain why they did what they did, but the more he pushed, the more they began to turn on him. They’re choices sounded insane and the reasoning was flimsy and were done not to combat an unruly child, but punishing someone for the sake of punishing them.

A story from school came to mind as he stewed. The story of the Whipping Boy. The Prince wouldn’t be punished, no matter how awful he was, so The Whipping Boy would take the punishment. No matter how terrible or if the Prince misbehaved on purpose, the Whipping Boy was the one to take every whipping or beating. That was his sister, but worse. Their parents didn’t wait for Saoirse or Johnny to mess up to take out their anger and frustration on their youngest child.

It was too late, though. Johnny had driven the final nail in the coffin of their relationship.

He sat on his sofa, picking his phone up, wanting to call or text his sibling, but dropping the phone each time. Johnny felt the need to fix things between them. He didn’t have any other siblings and neither did she, and with how their parents went about things, the two would be the only family they had left.

Until John came through the front door.

The man looked exhausted, his shoulders limp and stance bowed. His eyes were red and wet while his nose was irritated as he kept sniffling. What had happened?

“Cap?” Johnny said, moving to stand and limp over to the older man.

“I’m going to put this as simply as possible,” John said, his face hardening into a pointed snarl as he faced Johnny. “Do not talk to me. Do not ask me anything. Until I can keep myself from trying to strangle you, fuck off.” His voice was terse, deeper and more gravelly than usually.

“What?” Johnny said, hurt and confused about what was being said. Had his sister told Price he did something wrong?

“Your bloody parents showed up is what,” Price snapped. “I was making things work. We were going to be okay, but then your parents showed up and made sure it was fuckin’ flushed down the drain. Your dad, yeah? Your dad offered me money to leave your sister and my daughter to make sure you weren’t affected by our relationship.”

“I didn’t know they were going to come here and see her or you!” Johnny cried. “They didn’t say anything about it and I certainly didn’t call them to complain or tell them to do that! It’s not my fault our parents did that!”

“It is!” Price snarled. “It is your fault! You were told by me and by her that your parents were fuckin’ abusive and horrible, but you ignored it and ran to them the moment you could!”

“I’m sorry, okay! I thought she were lying! I thought she was trying to get you locked into a relationship for money!” Johnny yelled back.

“You were told by multiple people that your parents were lying! You were told! There was no reason to involve them and now I have to go to a lawyer so I can have rights to see my daughter because her mother doesn’t want anything to do with me!” Price yelled.

“How is that my fault!? How is that my parents fault!? Did you take the money!?” Johnny bellowed, knowing full well he was digging himself a hole as he kept arguing with his superior.

“I didn’t take the money,” Price said, suddenly deflating. “I. . . Told her I didn’t realize they were that bad. She took it as that I didn’t believe her and now she’s kicked me out of her life and the baby’s.” The men were quiet as they stood there. Johnny had thought he’d lost his sister for just a bit, not permanently. With the new development, it looked like he may not have a chance to fix things.

“Oh,” Johnny said softly. He didn’t know what else to say. Johnny did feel bad for Price, but he didn’t have guilt. It needed to be there, but he just didn’t have it.

“Just give me some space, you muppet,” John said softly, inhaling sharply through his nose. “It may not be your fault completely, but you had a hand in it. We’ve got time before our next mission and I need to not go into it with a clouded head.” At the end of the day, no matter how much chaos was happening in his personal life, he needed to not let it into his job. If that meant avoiding Johnny for a few days, so be it.

Johnny wasn’t sure what to do to help anyone, but he knew someone who would. Making a quick call and finding they were in town, he was glad to catch them.

~::~::~::~

I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. All that I could do was sit on my couch and sob. I was overwhelmed with so much anger and fear and sadness. Jesse would have been there in a heartbeat, but I needed to do this alone. This new direction meant I would be on my own with a baby and as much as I was used to doing things myself, I had to accept that not even Jesse could be around when I needed someone. He had his own life and his own problems and joys and events that I couldn’t bear to take from him.

Stress pains began to make me nauseous as I rubbed my belly. It was becoming too much and I couldn’t stop crying. John had left an hour ago already, but it was more like he’d died with how I was reacting. Was I grieving? Maybe. My whole life felt like it was spent grieving for something. My acceptance of my parents not loving me, my brother leaving me, my sister dying, the loss of who I could be if my family wasn’t shite. . . I was cursed. It had to be that. That was the only way that these things could be happening.

By the time night fell, I was able to gather myself enough to practice deep breathing as I kept rubbing over my belly while I laid on my couch. There was still pain, not as bad, but it wasn’t coming and going, just staying. It was starting to get concerning, to the point I was about to call for an ambulance as there was a knock on the door. Continuing to focus on my breathing as I worked to stand up, I was overcome with a sharp pain in my stomach that brought me to my knees with a wail.

“No, no, no, no,” I muttered as I held my belly with one hand and the other held me up as best I could.

“Ducky!” A familiar gruff voice called from the front.

“Mike!” I cried. “Mike, I need you!”

The one who had come through when I was alone and in need, it was always Mike to shuffle along and find me. He was my cousin on my Dad’s side and always kept his distance till he was truly needed.

The front door nearly came off its hinges when he came in, ready to fight anyone and anything he had to to get to me. He barrelled into the living room to kneel next to me.

“I’m here. I’ve got you, Ducks,” he said, helping me stand to pick me up. “We’re going to the hospital.”

“My wallet is by the front door,” I said before a sharp pain came over me again. “Shite!” Mike got me into his truck before running back in. He took a minute to come back, but he had grabbed my pack and was coming back out while stuffing it with my purse while holding a pair of shoes for me to slip on. He handed me my things before rushing around to his side. Once he was in the truck, he took off.

“Keep breathing, Ducks. I know it hurts, but keep breathing,” he said. The man had been a part of SAS for as long as I had been alive, to see him flustered even the slightest was unsettling. He was gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as he sped to the hospital. I could only nod and continue to breathe.

Screeching to a halt in front of the emergency entrance, Mike was out and yelling for help as he ran around to my side to pick me up from the truck. He blew past the nurses that were rushing out to meet us with a wheelchair and straight into the emergency center. It took two words of ‘pregnancy’ and ‘pain’ to be taken back to a room. I was put into a gown and had an ultrasound pushed into the room so fast I swore that I saw a dust trail behind it. Through the exams and monitoring, Mike held my hand as I was terrified I had lost the baby. If I had, I knew. . . I just knew I would not survive it.

“Want me to call anyone?” Mike asked softly as the nurse reported to the doctor.

“I don’t know. I’m not-” I choked on the words, trying to calm down, but it was feeling impossible. “I’m not talking to anyone right now.”

“No one?” Miked asked, receiving a nod.

“Mum and Dad came by and as usual, I was treated like shit and the baby’s father was with me. So of course he gets caught up in it and suddenly we’re fighting because he never did believe me about how shite my parents are,” I said, rubbing my belly with my free hand.

“Your Mum and Dad are here? They came all the way here to just give you shit?” He asked, sighing heavily.

“Mostly to reprimand me for possibly fucking up Johnny’s military career. His captain is the father,” I said. “It was a drunk one time thing, we’ve been trying to work it out, but Johnny decided he needed to meddle and now Mum and Dad showed up to make sure I hadn’t ruined something else.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Mike groaned. “This is bullshit. Even after all these years, they still find a way to be fuckin’ knobs. I’m so sorry this happened, Ducky.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said. “It’s no one’s fault, it just happened.”

“I know, but I’m still sorry. I should have come sooner,” he said. “Maybe you wouldn’t feel so awful now.”

“How did you know to come by?” I asked, but the doctor came in before he could answer.

He was quick and to the point, I needed to go on bedrest for the next few weeks. My blood pressure had been so low before and now it was sky high, giving me braxton hicks contractions. The baby was fine and would be okay, but it all boiled down to me needing to get as much water as possible (something they always told me) as well as keeping my stress levels as low as possible.

Well, I would have to figure out work again and I am pretty sure they’ll just let me go or put me on maternity leave early. As for needing to lower my stress level, I had been forced to take on so much so quickly that I wasn't sure if I could do anything about it.

I would be kept overnight at least, meaning I would be given some time to get things arranged. At least Mike was there.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call someone?” Mike asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, rubbing my face. “I basically broke up with John and kicked him out, so I don’t think he’d even want to be here.”

“John? And he’s a captain? You shacked up with John Price?” Mike asked, chuckling.

“Not helping, Mike,” I sighed. “How do you know John?”

“Ducky, I was his CO for his first year in SAS,” Mike said. “I know him. I’m surprised he’s not here trying to sneak in.”

“That’s a big part of our problems, actually. We were going to talk about him bullying me into what he thinks is best for me rather than asking what I want,” I said. “He just came back from a mission and we found out the gender of the baby when my parents were waiting for us at my place. Which, I don’t know how they found it. I haven’t seen or spoken to them in almost a decade. Johnny probably said something,” I said. “That’s the only explanation.”

“Well, despite him having a bit of a runner for a mouth, he did give me a call to come by and see you,” Mike said. “He told me a bit about the row you two had and how you put him in his place, as well as that you and the father were on the outs. Not too much detail, but enough that I came by as soon as I could. I’m on leave for a bit and, if you need me to, I can make it longer.”

“You don’t have to-”

“My Duck,” he said, gently stopping him. “You have no one, according to you, so please let me help you. It’s the least I could do to help make up for not being here sooner.” I was quiet, nodding as I squeezed his bear claw of a hand.

“Why can’t my parents be like you?” I asked softly, looking up at him with watery eyes.

“I wish I had the answers for you, I truly do,” he said. We fell into a comfortable quiet, letting me drift off to sleep for a bit.

What woke me up was the sound of arguing outside my room. I couldn’t see anyone, but I was able to pick out a few voices. Mike was there with Johnny as John’s voice piped in to cut off a very angry Scottish man’s voice. Oh.

“Enough of this shite,” Mike snarled, coming back into the room. “I’m telling her. I’m done letting you control this narrative. I couldn’t be there when she needed me the most when she was younger, but I’m here now and she needs to know the truth.”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” My mum shrieked as she followed Mike closely with my dad, Johnny, John, and a few nurses trying to break the whole group up.

“Ducky,” Mike said, his voice quieting down as he turned to me. “I am so sorry and I want you to understand that I couldn’t be what you needed me to be when you were younger. That was probably when you needed me the most.”

“Mike Baker, shut your fuckin’ mouth!” My dad bellowed.

“Out!” A nurse yelled, while security filed into the room. “Everyone out!”

“Please, let me explain,” Mike said.

“Mike can stay,” I said as the others were forced out. “He can stay.” Johnny helped drag our dad out as well as our mum. Once everyone was gone and the yelling had stopped, Mike let out a tired groan as he took a seat next to my hospital bed. “So, why are you sorry?” I asked, groggy and confused by the sudden appearance of everyone.

“That I wasn’t a better father,” Mike said, going right to the issue. He never was one to dance around the subject. “Specifically to you.” It took a few moments for me to understand as I was still groggy, but when it did this sense of understanding and acceptance washed over me. It made everything click into place, giving me proper balance for the first time.

“You’re my father?” I said slowly. “So, who’s my mum?”

“Moira. She’s your mum,” Mike said with a sigh as he sat down. “Seán and her were having a rough patch after Saoirse was born. It lasted a few years and got to the point that she left everyone for me for a while. She didn’t know she was pregnant till after a few weeks of deciding she didn’t want me after all.”

“That was the same time that you and your ex-wife, Laurie, split up,” I said, putting the puzzle pieces together. He nodded and sighed. “So Mum and. . . Seán, they knew the whole time?”

“Yeah. From the moment she found out she was pregnant, she knew you were mine,” he said.

“And you weren’t around because of your job?”

“Mostly, but also because I didn’t want to make things rough for you. Neither of your parents were happy that I was your father and made sure that I knew they would never let me forget it. It wasn’t until your sister’s death that I was able to see what was going on. I was always away or busy with my own life, add in your parents threatening me if I told you. . .”

“So, it’s all my parents fault,” I said with a nod. “Not this thing, but in general. I’m gonna blame my parents for it. It always goes back to them. Even if I wasn’t an affair babe, they would have treated me differently still.”

“I still take part of the blame for you having the life you did,” Mike said.

“Don’t. You did what you could and they could have chosen any route to take and they took one of the worst ones,” I said. “Thank you for telling me now though. I’m really tired of people hiding things.”

“You’re welcome, Ducky,” Mike said, giving my hand a squeeze. “Your Jo is outside whenever you’re ready to talk to him.”

“I’m assuming you called him and Johnny and Johnny called our parents,” I said, slowly blinking as I looked at him. Despite the commotion and the news, I was still so tired from being given a small dose of melatonin to calm down and relax. It was one of the few things I could have that would help with my stress other than people leaving me alone.

“I called Johnny, but he told John. The boy called your parents to yell at them and everyone showed up at once,” he said, shaking his head.

“That sounds about right,” I said. “I don’t have the energy to deal with them, but tomorrow I’ll pick one to talk to. Right now it’s resting time.” Mike snickered, nodding. Going back to sleep, I didn’t think about what I was going to say or do till the next morning came with John sitting outside with my favorite breakfast food and flowers and, the thing that told me he was really thinking of me, a set of bracelets made of rose quartz.

Mike looked to me for approval before letting him in.

John looked like a kicked and drowned puppy with how he stood there in the doorway, holding out the food.

“Actions are louder than words and. . . This is very much shouting how sorry you are,” I said. “You can come in and we can talk.”

I could feel the relief as he let out a huge sigh before coming over to hand me the food. After sleeping and having some breakfast, my head was much clearer and not as frazzled or full of rage. “I’m sorry that I screamed at you last night and said we were done,” I said, reaching out for his hand. “I was really hurt by what you had said, but I should not have reacted that way. At most I should have asked for a night off.”

“No, you were in the right,” John said, taking my hand with both of his. “You were stressed and we hadn’t had a chance to talk about us before getting jumped by your parents. I should have kept my mouth shut and let you decompress.”

“Both of us were in a spot and needed to talk about us. It can’t be just one side who’s wrong,” I said. “I think we should go to counseling so we can make this work. The baby needs us to be better than this.”

“Absolutely,” John said, nodding. “Whatever it takes to get us to the good, I’ll do it.”

“Same here,” I said, smiling. Pulling him over to me, I gave him a kiss and a tight hug, before putting his hand to my belly as the baby began to move around. She had started to do that after I ate more and more, which helped with timing as he stared wide eyed in wonder.

“She’s really in there,” he said with a soft chuckle, getting teary eyed. “I know you’re pregnant and never doubted it, but it’s just so different feeling her kick around. It makes it so much more real.”

“I know. I thought it was indigestion at first,” I said, smiling as I stared at his hand on my belly. His calloused and work worn hands were such a stark contrast with my baby blue hospital gown, but it was good. We were two different people coming together when this mish mash of us was created. “Now she’s doing happy dances whenever I eat. She’s a lot like her mummy, happy for food.”

“Well you’re not the only one who likes a good meal,” John chuckled, leaning in to kiss my head. We chit chatted a bit more, getting settled back into our usual rhythm that helped solidify our relationship.

A knock at the door made us go silent. The door opened to show Johnny hanging his head very much in the same way John had. So many mixed feelings shot through me and I wasn’t ready to talk to him.

“I just wanted to stop by and. . .” He trailed off as he looked up at us. “Um, can we talk?”

“Johnny. . . I can’t. Not now,” I said, actively working to keep myself from letting my anger shoot up with my blood pressure. “I don’t know what you want to say, but I can’t. There is too much stress and with you calling our parents? Please just go. If I want to talk in the future, I will come to you.”

It was easy to see his heart break, but he stayed quiet. Johnny nodded, taking a deep breath before leaving.

“You want me to talk to him, don’t you?” I said, looking over at John.

“I don’t want you to do anything unless you want to. This is between you and him,” he said. “If you want to talk to him, I’ll support you. If you never want to see him again, I can do my best as I work with him.”

Shit, that’s right.

“I think some counseling first would be good before I attempt anything,” I said. “You working with him changes things and with what you do, I don’t want our issues spilling over into your work. I need you and the baby needs you. There’s no way that I can risk losing you.”

“I need you, too,” he said, kissing my cheek. “So, I can let him know that things between the two of you will be paused and if anything, encourage him to go to counseling as well. God knows our entire group needs it.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” I said with a nod. “In the mean time, we need to pick your place or mine to live in so we can have a nursery to get ready.”

“Didn’t think that you liked my place,” he said with a snort.

“Eh, it’s not a matter of not liking your place, it’s a matter of comfort. Not having a backup plan makes me nervous,” I said.

“Understood. Let’s get you home first then spin a wheel to decide, hmm?”

“I will spin your wheel, ye daft ninny,” I groaned, rolling my eyes while John snickered. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Love.”

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One Night Stand Masterlist

COD Masterlist

Taglist: @birdstoprey @sebbytheraccoon @pricescigar @alwaysshallow @sae1kie @sleepydang @lexi-zsy09 @ghostlywhiskey @ghosts-cyphera @poohkie90 @neothewitch @shadofireshinobi @sadslasher13 @0alk0msan @xaestheticalien

#captain price #captain john price #cod mwii #cod mw2 #captain price/reader #john soap mactavish #mactavish!reader #john price/MacTavish!reader #john price #john price/reader #captain john price/reader #mike baker #r6 #rainbow six #mike thatcher baker #thatcher r6

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bigguyenthusiast · 2 months

Text

COD P★ LINKS

Yawll……dis is horny… so like fair warning

John price

Price tying you up after he catches you disobeying him by touching yourself :(

Overstimulation with John <3

Price eating you out after a loooooong mission

More price eating pussy (the guy LITERALLY looks like him or am I tripping)

Since you like using them so much, this shouldn’t be a punishment for you, correct ?

John getting you to ride his thigh

Theres a reason why they’re his favourite

Kyle Garrick

Gaz after ruthlessly fucking you for three hours ;3

What you get for flaunting yourself in front of his mates :(

Lazy night in with gaz

Shhh don’t want anyone to hear you

Late night humping with your clingy boyfriend

Roommate! Gaz getting tired of your horny whining

Simon Riley

Just a quick reminder of where you belong

Quick polishing’

A goodbye gift

A welcome home gift

Roommate! Ghost pounding you till you wake up :(

Owner! Ghost with his lil pup

Little film for later

Gettin’ crafty

John McTavish

Riding him until he’s dumb <3

Mornin sex with Johnny boy

Self restrain

Virgin! Johnny

Just his doll

Convincing your friend, Johnny to join your live 🫣

König

Hes just too big you needed a photo for confirmation

Need your colonel to reach you a lesson?

Just a quickie before he leaves for work

Quickie part 2

Good girls beg

#okay yall lemme go to bed #call of duty #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #ghost x reader #captain price #ghost #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #konig x reader #konig #konig cod #captain john price #john price x reader #john price

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whateveriwant · 5 months

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Task force 141 reacting to their very pregnant wife still trying to clean, cook etc

This turned more into ‘Task force 141 preventing their very pregnant wife from trying to clean, cook, etc’ lmaooooo I hope that's alright

Price

HA! Good one!

No seriously, it's actually hilarious that you think you'd do anything for yourself when your hubby's around

That man has been waiting on you hand and foot since you first got together. So now that you're pregnant and you think he'd let you so much as lift a finger? You must have a serious case of pregnancy brain, sweetheart

Price is doing all the cooking, the cleaning, the running errands, etc. throughout the entirety of your pregnancy (and at least the first several months postpartum)

He's kept you practically bed bound these last few months to the point where you think there's a perfect indent of your body molded into the mattress

Seven months in, he's suddenly called away to a quick mission halfway across the globe, and you think finally you'll get some of your autonomy back...

Well, think again because who should show up at your door the next morning than your mother-in-law herself, ready to pick up where her son left off

She came at the behest of your husband, of course, and was armed with a detailed set of care instructions

What does your husband think you are? Some sort of one-of-a-kind, priceless artifact that needs special handling? (Actually that's exactly what you are. Price-less… I'll see myself out 🚶🏻‍♀️)

Ghost

When it comes to having some semblance of independence during your pregnancy, Ghost will give you a bit of a longer leash than Price, but only just so

You’re going for a walk around the neighborhood? Hold on, let him grab his coat to join you. Or you're going into the backyard to tend the garden? He'll pull the weeds while you water the plants

But when it comes to letting you do certain things, there are some hard nos that he will absolutely not budge on

You try to use a stepladder to reach the top of the cupboard? Stop! You'll break your neck! You try to pick up anything heavier than 10 pounds? Stop! Give it here! You try to drive?... Don't even fuckin' think about it, precious.

The farther along your pregnancy progresses, the better he gets at predicting (and intercepting) your next move

You were gonna do laundry today? Well, wouldn't you know, he's already got a load going in the washer. You were about to make dinner? Well shucks, he just ordered takeaway from that Greek place you love

His ability to read your mind is honestly impressive once you get past how damn annoying you find it. Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you're incapable of fending for yourself, and you're tired of him acting as if otherwise

But really, you can never get mad at anything he does for you. After all, what kind of a husband would he be if he didn't take care of his missus and your little one?

Soap

If you take Ghost’s cautiousness, mix it with Price’s thoroughness, and crank it up to an 11, you get Soap

From the moment he found out you were pregnant, he put your house into full lockdown mode, stopping just short of booby trapping the front door in case you got any funny ideas

You want some fresh air? Just open a window. You want to go for a walk and stretch your legs? Just take a few turns about the living room like you're some Austenian heroine

Don't let him catch you doing any kind of physical labor, because so help him Jesus he will grab a spray bottle and use it like you're a feral alleycat he's trying to house-train (he wouldn't really... but don't test him)

You try to unload the dishwasher? Ehrr! Wrong move. You try to remake the bed? Ehrr! Nice try. You try to mop up your own mess. Ehrr! Enough already. You try to– OCH, WOULD YE BLOODY SIT DOWN, WOMAN?!

For nine long months during his requested leave from work, your husband is attached to you like some kind of loving, smothering barnacle

But doesn't he miss his job, or the lads for that matter? What if the world needs saving? What will they do without him?

Well, (in his exact words) fuck the rest of the world! You're his world, bonnie, and he'll give you everything you could ever wish for and then some

Gaz

By far, you have the most independence with Gaz than you would with any of the other three men… at least, at the beginning of your pregnancy, that is

Once you get to around five or six months he becomes just as helicopter-y as all the others; he's just ever so slightly more bearable, perhaps

There's lots of peeking his head around the corner to check on you throughout the day or appearing seemingly out of thin air whenever you're doing something he'd rather you wouldn't

You've lost count of the number of times you've been in the middle of cooking or hanging up the laundry or whatever and his hand has suddenly appeared out of nowhere, gently taking the object from you before directing you to sit and rest

And like, look. He knows you can handle yourself. He knows you could conquer the whole world if you wanted to. That's one of the things he loves about you the most

But seeing you like this – so fragile, so vulnerable, so beautiful and soft and pregnant with his child; his child – it just… It makes him…

He just needs to do these things for you, alright, love? Just let him take care of you, please? Would you let him do that?

You already have so much you have to carry. Let him ease some of the burden off your shoulders. Let him do these small things for you because they don't even compare to all that you're doing for him 🥲

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karliiiis · 4 months

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ok but

being a part of the 141 (+konig) and having to dress up in disguise for a mission in some rich, fancy casino. the boys are waiting on you, talking amongst themselves.

you walk out wearing a slim black dress, low neckline exposing the top of your cleavage. the dress is fitted to your curves and loose at the bottom to hide the pistol strapped around your thigh. you’re looking down, smoothing out your dress, you don’t notice how every head snaps up at the first sound of your heels on the hard floor.

you don’t notice the way ghost straightens up from leaning on the table, arms still crossed and mask hiding the red creeping up to his cheeks. you don’t notice the way konig shifts awkwardly on his feet, blue eyes darting up and down not knowing where to look. you don’t notice the way gaz bites his lip, almost hard enough to break through the soft flesh and draw blood. you hear soap let out an exaggerated breath, a quick “godda-“ before he’s cut off by a smack to the back of the head from price.

you whip your head up at price’s chuckle, seeing soap rubbing the back of his head. “does this look alright? you can’t see my gun, can you?” you ask turning around to show them the back of your thigh where it’s strapped tightly. you miss the way ghost bites his fist, eyes rolling to the back of his head as soap nudges his shoulder giggling like a school boy.

#call of duty #ghost cod #cod #simon ghost riley #konig #john soap mactavish #john price #simon riley x reader #konig x reader #soapghost #soap cod #task force 141 #kyle gaz garrick

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bagofshinyrocks · 5 months

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Government name vs Military callsign

Prompt: What scares them worse? Addressing them by their full government name, or addressing them by their military callsign?

Featuring: Task Force 141 (CoD: MW2) - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish (separately) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Warnings: none

John Price

Government name.

Calling him Captain or Skipper just ends with him sauntering to where ever you are and ask (in an obnoxiously self-satisfied voice) what you wanted. Like a cat pretending it can’t hear the urgency in your tone when you say to get off the counter.

“If you want me to ‘shake a leg’, call my name, luvie.”

Now if you holler “Jonathan Price”, he’ll drop something. Either the newspaper in his hands, or his heart into his stomach. He sure as hell moves his ass with a purpose, and he’s peering into the room with an apology on his lips.

“Yes, luv? What’s wrong, poppet?”

“Lift the other end of the couch, would you?”

He does, and you shimmy it further back in the room. “Anything else I can do, love o’ my life?” He’s hovering, and gently coaxing you into his arms. Gauging how mad you were at him. You curled into him and kissed his chin. Then stepped away with a pat to his chest.

“No, sweetheart, just wanted you to shake a leg is all.”

When he remembers your previous conversation, he groans and tells you to fuck off.

Simon Riley

Military callsign.

When you two are alone, and he’s already given you permission to call him Simon, don’t call him Ghost. When you say that word, he assumes one of his mates are at the door or on the phone, and goes from Simon to Ghost. Stalks into the room with narrowed eyes, only to find you in the kitchen. By yourself.

“Ghost, you want a sandwich too? Turkey and cheese.”

“Fuck you callin’ me that for?”

Once he sees you’re alone, he swoops in and wraps around you like a hoodie. A firm kiss to your ear, then your cheek, then spun you around. Back pressed to the counter top. Settles his face right close to yours.

“We playin’ games now?” You didn’t want to upset him, so you pressed a kiss to his nose. His grumpy look faded a bit.

“Sorry, baby.” Arms wrapped carefully around his shoulders. And your fingers scratch his scalp. Another kiss to his nose. “I’m sorry for playing games with you. Simon Riley.”

Hearing his name on your lips finally cracked, and he gave you a smile. A little scar on the upper lip. You gave it a kiss, and then pressed a kiss to his lips.

A quick surge forward, and you only just had time to shove aside the things behind you before you found yourself on the countertop.

Kyle Garrick

Government name.

He doesn’t mind being called Gaz, and you’ll use Kyle and Gaz interchangeably. Doesn’t even mind if you use “Kyle” or “honey” in front of his squadmates. Though “Kylie” he does have some displeasure with.

“I’ll have you know, Soap is still calling me Kylie, you asshole.”

Call him ‘Garrick’, and he knows that you are pretending to be mad at him. He slinks over and rubs his face against your cheek. He’s too cute for you to stay mad.

If you shout “Kyle Garrick”, he comes running. He could have sworn that he put his clothes in the hamper. And did the dishes. And taken out the recycling. Damn, what was it that he forgot?

“Kyle Ga-”

“Yes, dear!” Shit, he didn’t mean to ‘yes, dear’ you. “Yes, my dear, I’m right here.”

You pause your laundry folding and summon him with a crook of your finger. Once he’s close enough, you tap your lip with the same finger. “I need a kiss.”

He blinked once. Then twice. “God damn you.” He squishes your face in his hands and gave you a quick, firm kiss. “Don’t stress me out like that. Thought you were mad.”

“Give me another kiss, or I will be.”

He rapid fire kissed your mouth, chin, and cheeks, then gave you a smack on the ass before returning to the living room.

“In my own fucking home,” he muttered.

John MacTavish

Military callsign.

He’s got some thick skin. And he’s had his name shouted angrily many a time. He would all but skip into the room with a big smile on his face. The only people who shouted that name (and wore out the scare-factor on it) were his family members. Shouting “John MacTavish” meant you loved him. You were also mad at him, but you loved him. That was more important. Even with your scowl and the gross pile of garbage he kept forgetting to take out. You loved him.

Now shouting his callsign reminded him of his superior officers.

“SOAP!”

Shit shit shit. He put down his beer and ran from the garage to the backyard. Leg brace over his sweats, low cut muscle shirt that you also wolf-whistle at when he wears. You were only weeding the garden boxes.

“JOHNNY!”

“I’m here, bonnie,” he hollered, rounding the corner. You were sitting in the dirt, a tidy pile of weeds and dead plant bits next to you.

“C’mere, c’mere.”

He leaned down next to you, hand on your shoulder and good knee on the ground. “Wassit?”

You pointed to the leaf in your hand. “A caterpillar, Johnny. An itsy-bitsy caterpillar.”

He sighed heavily and kissed your shoulder. “Bonnie, I thought something was wrong.”

“Hm?” You spared him a glance. “What are you talking about, bubba?”

“You called me Soap.”

“Did I? Didn’t mean to spook you, loverboy.” You gave him an apologetic kiss on the lips. “Just wanted you to see the caterpillar before he wiggled off.”

Posted: 2023 Dec 10

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chamomiletealeaf · 6 months

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Thought of this at work today lmao

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loveindefinitely · 3 months

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task force 141 with a controversially young civilian girlfriend.

-> mentions of large age-gaps, referenced sexual content, alcohol use. afab!fem!reader. minor dubcon (everyone's drunk.)

thinking that you're studying in uni. working on the side to try and afford rent and, if you're lucky, some noodles every other night. you don't really get seen compared to your friends, who go out clubbing and spend their spare time on dating apps.

one time, your friend drags you to a bar. not usually your scene, considering its clientele is more for tradies, and military-type men. not like the stuck-up blue collar boys at your uni.

cue you getting drunk off your ass, barely even standing, when you bump into one johhny mactavish.

he holds your elbows, your chest crashing into his. gentle with it, too -- kind and sweet and grounding.

"y'alright, lass?" he asks, a small smirk on his face, eyes darting across your frame greedily. he, in all fairness, looks nearly as drunk as you. he stumbles a little with your weight.

you giggle, tilting your head to look at him. say something stupid like, "you don't look like a student."

his brows raise, his dimples deepen. "aye, very smart, hen."

you preen with the compliment, a cheesy grin stuck to your face. you make no move to stand up and leave. you think your friend just left with a guy anyways.

johnny moves you, muscled arm around your waist as he takes you to a booth.

three other men sit in it, only one looking somewhere in a ten-year age bracket to you. they're all impossibly large, filling out the space with ease. your stomach swoops, but you easily blame the alcohol.

manoeuvring you so you sit in his lap, johnny's hand is a comforting weight on your waist. he huffs a laugh.

"didn't realise we were goin' for jailbait, soap," the youngest one chimes, dark features shining in the pub's dim light. his eyes trail your frame silkily.

you can't stop the roll of your eyes -- your inhibitions have made you senseless. "'m not, 'm completely," you drag out the syllables, "legal."

a hand on your thigh makes you jolt, and when you look over, a blonde man with a black medical mask raises an unimpressed brow. "got a problem, kid?"

you shoot him a weak glare. "not a kid. weirdo."

the arm around your waist tightens, as does the weirdo's hand encompassing your thigh.

"not scared of anythin', are you darl'?" the final man in the booth asks, hands folded together where they rest at the table. he looks at least double your age, and that simple fact along with his drawling words has your core tightening.

"what's there to be scared of?" you ask, stupidly. your head tilts to the side, unknowingly moving to rest on johnny's shoulder. he doesn't comment.

"miss bein' young and drunk," gaz sighs, hand softly gripping the gin sat on the table in front of him.

"you look young," your brows furrow, not understanding. how old could he really be, to act so nostalgic of your current predicament? "how old are you guys?"

it's an embarrassing question -- makes you feel like a child all over again. but your interest is quickly peaking, and your need for answers overpowers your need for decorum.

johnny's the one to answer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers.

"gaz, the pretty one over there, he's twenty-eight," he murmurs, heat stirring low in your gut as you nod mindlessly, meeting gaz's eyes.

johnny stokes his thumb over the skin of your hip, and you curl into him further -- stranger be damned.

"i'm thirty," he hums, and god, he sounds so fucking sensual you're about to melt into his arms. if you aren't already.

"the guy in the mask?" said man's hand tightens impossibly against your skin, fingers just shy of grazing your aching pussy, "he's thirty-seven. got a lot of experience, aye?"

you shudder.

"what about you?" you end up voicing, shyly meeting the last man's gaze. he takes a slow sip of his whiskey.

he leans back into the cushion, eyeing you carefully.

"forty-three."

your thighs squeeze together, and fuck, if that's not a turn-on. no matter how unsafe you should feel, surrounded by four military-grade, older men, it only manages to have you wet beyond belief.

all you can manage is one question.

"take me home?"

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ohbo-ohno · 6 months

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Kinktober Day 31 - Free Use

Poly 141 x Reader - 4.3k (on ao3)

summary: Glimpses into your life as a housewife and free use toy for the 141 post-retirement. (Reader POV, second person)

cw: soft sex, half-drunk sex, light somnophilia, anal sex

note: last kinktober of the month! sorry i got off by a day at the end here, but i hope you guys have enjoyed everything so far :) btw this is less "free use" and more "sex with the 141 while living in domestic bliss"

Your days are filled with sex. Sex with all of your boys, in every position you can think of, in every room of the house they’d bought for the five of you after retiring.

You all split the chores evenly these days. No one does more than they’re more comfortable with, and you’ve all found your stride, something to give you purpose, after the rigidity of the military.

Gaz has taken to bee-keeping. As odd as it sounds, he’s got the patience for it, and he’s quite protective of his bees, even has nearly an entire library of books he’s taught himself with. Price helps him out by selling the honey he harvests, keeping track of his profits and managing the household’s finances.

Ghost hunts, spends his days out finding game to bring home, tracking herds and predators around your property. Johnny does a little of everything - fixes things when they break, chops firewood every morning, helps Simon skin his prey, tries to help Gaz and his bees.

And you take care of the house. You make the meals, clean up after everyone, and find yourself perfectly happy to keep your men fed and warm.

Your other chore is to bend over whenever they want. Well, bend into any position whenever they want, Ghost and Soap tend to enjoy getting a bit more creative. It’s not really much of a chore, considering how eager you are to do it.

It’s a great deal for you. Johnny and Kyle are always eager to get you off, and neither Simon nor Price is stingy with the orgasms these days either. You live your life floating between domestic labor and orgasms - not a bad existence, by your metric. You get to live without a care in the world, four men to take care of and four men to take care of you. It’s like a dream come true.

———————————————————————

You hum to yourself as you dance around the kitchen, wearing nothing but a frilly apron as you wait for your pancakes to cook. The small radio on the dining room table plays music from a local radio station, something cheery to start your day. It’s hard not to smile, with sunshine pouring in from the windows and a batch of fresh eggs to scramble on the stove.

Your small moment of bliss is interrupted by a pair of hands on your hips and a large body bracketing yours.

There isn’t even a moment of fear, you instinctually lean back into the man behind you. A moment later, a rough beard brushes over your cheek.

“Pancakes this mornin’?” Price asks, big paws resting on the softness of your hips.

“Hmm,” you hum, tilting your head to claim his lips. He sways the two of you back and forth slowly, to the beat of the song, and lets you take your time with him. “Blueberries in yours,” you tell him when you come up for a breath of air.

One hand shifts to your ass, the other to your stomach, and you feel him smile. “Thank you, love. Got time for a quick round before they burn?”

You mimic his smile, let him bend you over slowly. “You’re just in time, Captain, I haven’t cracked the eggs yet.”

“Perfect,” he purrs, pressing himself to your backside. He tucks his plaid pajama pants down a little, rubbing his warm morning wood against you. You fold your arms beneath your head, let your eyes drift closed as his fingers make quick work of getting you ready.

Moments later, the heavy length of his cock fills you slowly. You moan, shifting your legs a little bit wider as he massages your waist.

“There you go,” he sighs, bottoming out and grinding himself slowly inside of you. “Tight as always, perfect girl.”

You giggle a little drowsily, wiggling your hips against his. “Always for you, John.”

He sighs contentedly, pulling out slowly. “Don’t I know it.”

He fucks you slowly, a steady pace that drags against all your most sensitive parts on every thrust. John’s thick, and the stretch isn’t quite comfortable with no prep. But you’re still a little loose from your time with Soap and Gaz last night, so it’s far from painful to take him.

He hunches over you as he gets closer and closer to the edge, elbows resting on either side of you and breath ghosting across your nape.

“Aw,” you hear Soap say,voice rough from sleep as he steps into the kitchen. “I wanted first go today.”

“Early bird gets the worm, Johnny,” Gaz teases, settling into a chair in the little breakfast nook Simon had built soon after moving in. “You’re the one who stayed up so late with her last night.”

“Wasn’t just me, jackass, you’re the one who-”

“Boys,” Price grunts, hips slamming against yours, leaving you squirming beneath him. “Will you shut the fuck up while I’m balls deep in our girl?”

You can’t help but snort beneath him, pushing yourself up enough to arch your back further, stick your ass further out for him. “Ye-yeah, boys.”

“Hush,” Price scolds, one hand shifting to your neck where he forces you flat to the counter again. “‘M almost there…”

He groans lowly as he buries himself deep inside of you, pumping slowly as you tighten up, trying to milk him. “Fuck, feels good…”

You smile against your arms as the pleasure that had been building inside of you starts to dull to a simmer, something warm in the root of you.

Price pulls out only moments later, two thick fingers tucking into you to keep any of his come from dripping out. “Keep me safe inside you, pretty thing, c’mon. Clench down.”

You take a deep breath and try your best to listen, straightening up and doing your best to keep yourself from dripping down your thighs.

He turns you around, leaning you back against the counter and cupping your cheeks in his hands, tugging your face up to give you a soft kiss. “Thank you,” he whispers into your mouth, just quiet enough for you to hear.

“Of course.” You reach up to grab his wrists, holding him close. “Never gonna say no to you, John.”

The two of you linger in the moment, sunlight warming your skin as you breathe into each other.

It’s Soap that interrupts you, an intentionally obnoxious clearing of his throat nearly making you jump. “Any chance at coffee sometime today, bonnie?”

You huff a laugh into Price’s mouth, pushing him away and shooting a half-playful look to Johnny. “Can’t give me a minute of peace, can you?”

He smirks, “Nope.”

John scoffs as he pulls away, moving you with him and giving you a quick tap to the ass to send you over to the counter with the coffee machine. “Someone’s gotta teach you some patience, MacTavish.”

“If Ghost still hasn’t gotten it into him, no one is,” Gaz laughs, shifting enough for Price to join him on the bench.

“Who says I haven’t?” Ghost says, stepping from the hallway. He’s already got a cigarette lit between his lips, and you wave him away with a spatula.

“No!” You scold, trying to shoo him closer to the window. “No smoking in my house! You know I hate the smell.”

Ghost rolls his eyes good-naturedly but lets you herd him to the open window, resting a shoulder on the windowsill and blowing a mouthful of air. You hmph, satisfied, and move to flip the pancakes. “You’re not the one who has to get that smoke out of all the furniture, you know.”

Ghost sighs, but he’s dramatic enough about it for you to know that he’s intentionally exaggerating his annoyance. “Awful early for all that nagging, woman.”

You glare at him playfully, picking up an egg to crack. “Awful early for a cig, too.”

He huffs and you crack your egg, the kitchen shifting into a comfortable silence. You continue your humming as the song changes to something more upbeat, unable to keep a smile from your face.

———————————————————————

You’re half tipsy, giggling into Soap’s mouth as the two of you stumble into the house. You manage to trip over the lip of the entrance, and you yelp as you start to fall.

Johnny just barely manages to twist and catch the both of you in time, grunting loudly as he hits the ground. The breath is knocked from the both of you, and you lay there in the dark for a moment, still.

You’re giggling as soon as you can breathe again, unable to stay still with all the energy and wiggling against his chest. “Jo-Johnny!”

“What?” He pants, still not fully able to take a breath in. You can see the outline of a smile, though, and his hands come up to fully cup your ass. “You were the one taht tripped, lass!”

That only makes you laugh harder, kicking your feet against his shins. “I-I know!”

Now he laughs, a full-bellied sound that has you bouncing on his chest. He manages to push himself up so that you’re in his lap, and presses his mouth to yours without warning.

You make a high sound of surprise but quickly kiss him back, licking into his mouth when he parts his lips.

Your kiss is messy, both of you a little too drunk and a little too needy to bother for tact. Johnny’s softer than he usually is, all tongue and no teeth. You wrap your arms around his neck, shifting so your knees rest on either side of him and squeeze his hips.

“Need you,” he pants into your mouth, shifting you over him to start a slow grind. “Need to be inside you, bonnie.”

“Yeah, please,” you say, quickly dropping your hands to his belt and clumsily working at his belt. It takes several tries for you to get it undone, and both of you get more and more desperate. Your underwear get more and more damp as you work yourself over the rough denim of his jeans, your skirt rucked up around your hips as he palms at your ass.

“Come on,” he growls, landing a harsh slap against the meat of your thigh. You yelp at the sting, then giggle, and finally manage to get his belt loose, quickly tugging it off.

“There you go,” you mumble, throwing the belt to the side and hearing it slide against the hardwood. “C’mon, c’mon, need you now, Johnny.”

He nearly snarls into your mouth, jerking your panties to the side and stuffing two fingers into you with no warning. You jolt higher on your knees and moan, digging your nails into his shoulder.

“Sit still,” he growls, tugging you back down and scissoring his fingers quickly to spread you. He slips a third finger in easily, your cunt already slick and dripping for him. “Stop fuckin’- stop wigglin’ around.”

You can’t help but giggle again, pushing your smile against his lips and nipping at his chin. “Can’t hold me down, MacTavish?”

You feel him grin, growling playfully, and before you can keep prodding him he’s got you flipped onto the floor beneath him. You squeal when he somehow manages to keep his fingers inside of you, pushing deep as he pins you down. He tucks your knees higher, both of your legs resting on his shoulders.

“I’ll show you held down, lass,” he growls, smile just barely visible above you. “Want it rough, then?”

You bite back another laugh, pushing up just enough to bite his bottom lip and tug it down with you. “As rough as you’ve got, MacTavish.”

It works as the perfect taunt you’d meant it as, and he’s buried in your tight heat before you can try and push him any further. Your head falls back against the hardwood floor as his falls to your throat, both of you moaning loudly as his hips meet your thighs.

“Fuck,” he groans, teeth pressed against your throat. When you arch your neck even further, he bites into your flesh, sucking a hicky and making you ever wetter between the thighs. “Fuck.”

“She tight, Johnny?”

You both yelp at the sudden voice, Johnny jolting away from your neck and shifting inside of you, causing you both to melt again.

There, in the corner of the room, is Ghost. He’s smoking a cigarette by the window, illuminated only by the glow of his cigarette butt and the moon. You can’t quite see his expression, but you can just imagine the cocky smirk.

Johnny groans above you, sinking back down to press kisses along your throat and forcing your knees almost to the side of your head. “Scared the shit outta’ me, Ghost,” he sighs, pulling out just enough to give you a few tiny thrusts. You moan, letting yourself relax into the floor.

“Not surprised,” Ghost says, and you watch as he stubs out the cigarette and take a few steps to where the two of you are tangled in each other. “How much did you two have to drink?”

You laugh at the question, but it melts into a moan as Johnny starts to find a rhythm that works for both of you. Your knees nearly knock against your own face as he makes his way across your neck, leaving bruising kisses.

“Not-” you choke a bit on a particularly rough thrust, just barely managing to keep your eyes open and watch as Simon settles into an armchair. “Not that much.”

“Yeah,” Johnny pants, lifting himself up enough to look down at you. “How-how much’ve you had, L.t.?”

Ghost snorts, taking a swig from a beer bottle you hadn’t noticed before. “Less’n you two, I can tell that much.”

You and Johnny both snicker, half out of breath already, but none of you try and keep speaking as Johnny starts to really fuck into you, finding a perfect rhythm that’s just a little messier than usual, a little jerkier.

The two of you make no attempt to be quiet, moaning and whining loudly as you work to find that peak. Even with folded in half as you are, you try to push into him as much as you can to help him hit the perfect spot inside of you.

You nearly scream when he does, clenching down so tightly onto him that he’s forced to a still inside of you, his length throbbing in time with your heartbeat.

The world blurs around you as Johnny takes your lips again, pressing your tongues together in a slick slide as he batters inside of you.

“Clo-close,” you gasp, clawing down his shoulders. Your nails dig in enough through his shirt to have him moaning, arching further into your touch.

“Me too, bonnie.”

He shifts enough to lean his weight further onto your thighs, newly freed hand smoothing down your chest and stomach to work against your clit. You melt beneath him, muscles going loose as you turn into nothing but a limp doll for him to fuck.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your orgasm starts to overcome you, Johnny’s work against your clit and the hot length inside of you finally shoving you over the edge.

“Fuck- fuck!” Johnny nearly shouts above you, your orgasm triggering his own. You cling tight to him, dragging his body as close to you as possible while your muscles clench down around him. The two of you are nearly drooling in each other’s mouths, eager for as much physical touch as possible.

It feels like an impossible amount of time later when you hear Ghost crouch down next to you, see his shadow cast over both you and Johnny. “You two done, then?”

You feel Johnny huff where he’s leaned against your cheek, feel his smile grow against yours.

“Yeah, Si,” you say, squirming a bit beneath Johnny to try and get out from under him. “I think we’re done.”

Johnny gans a little but he obliges and shifts back enough for his softened cock to pull out of you. You both whine in sync at the separation, and he finally lets your legs fall to the ground, heels thudding against the floor.

Johnny rolls off of you, flopping to the floor next to you. “Carry us to bed, L.t.”

You giggle and blink up at Simon, softened from your orgasm and the lingering buzz from your night out. “Yeah, L.t.,” you lift your arms high, making grabby hands like a toddler. “Carry us to bed.”

Ghost snorts above you, but he still leans down and scoops you up beneath the knees and the back. You squeal when he hefts you over his shoulder into a fireman's carry. He ducks low again and you grasp onto the bottom of his sweatshirt, then giggle when Johnny flops bonelessly over Ghost’s other shoulder.

He carries the two of you effortlessly down the hall, and Johnny’s soft laugh joins yours - well, at least before you hear a muffled slap and he quiets himself/ Of course that only makes you laugh, earning you a spank of your own.

You’re dropped rather carelessly onto the massive mattress all five of you share these days, hand flopping against what you’re sure is Price’s chest as Ghost falls on top of Johnny where he’s dropped.

You hear a muffled oof! from next to you and curl into Price with a smile, tucking yourself close to his chest. He rumbles a low noise, instinctually tucking you close. You can hear Gaz getting annoyed with Ghost and Soap, feel him kicking at them to fight for his own spot on the mattress. You fall asleep with Ghost’s back to yours and Price’s chest to yours, surrounded by warmth.

———————————————————————

You groan into the sheets in frustration, fists clenched tight. “Simon, come on, please.”

He spanks you sharply, but the pain is hardly noticeable compared to the need you’re drowning in.

“Quiet,” he grunts, three fingers spreading your ass. “Need to stretch you out properly, don’t want any tears.”

You whine, arching your back and pushing your ass further into the air. “I’m ready, I promise, just need you inside. I’ve been stretched for the last ten minutes!”

“And you’ll get stretched for ten more if you don’t quit complaining.”

It’s almost impossible to bite back a complaint at that, but you manage to dull it down to just a near-painful eye roll. You try your best to stay still for him, stay patient, even as you feel like your pussy is dripping like a faucet.

Ghost has fucked you with far less prep than this, you know he’s just trying to be an asshole - no pun intended. You also know that the more you rush him, the slower he’ll go. So you force yourself a little looser, let your body sink more comfortably into the position he’s got you in.

It doesn’t make the wait any easier.

You’re not sure how long it’s really been when he finally deems you stretched enough, but he finally pulls his fingers free. You whimper at the cold dribble of lube as he spreads a bit more across your stretched hole, the slick sounds echoing in the room telling you he’s likely spreading it across himself too.

“Alright, love,” he says, notching himself at your back hole with both hands on your hips. “Loosen up for me now.”

The stretch is sinful as he finally gives you his cock, enough for you to feel the sting but not at a painful point. Your eyes roll back in pleasure instead of frustration, and your knees shift just a little wider to welcome him more fully into your body.

“Fuck, you feel good<’ he grunts, grip tightening on your hip.

On a normal night with Ghost, you’d expect minimal prep and long rounds of edging. He likes to keep you from coming for as long as possible, then coax an orgasm that feels earthshattering from you when he finally shoves you off that ledge. Either that, or he fucks you quick and dirty - in the yard outside, in the shower, in the middle of the night, really any time he feels like getting off. With you around, there’s no need to masturbate. That leaves you getting bent over and used at any time he feels the slightest urge to get off, but you couldn’t mind less.

Now, though, Ghost paces himself far more slowly than usual. His thrusts are long, bottoming out and pulling back until the head of his cock just barely breaches your hole. If you couldn’t feel the way his hands bruise your hips, you’d almost call his pace leisurely.

The two of you are near silent as he fucks you, content to fill the air with soft moans and the occasional whine instead of dirty talk. It feels nice, such slow sex with Simon. It’s a side of him he rarely lets you see, even now.

He knows you can’t come from anal alone, and is feeling generous enough to grab one of your hands and shift it down, telling you, “Rub your clit for me, love. Wanna feel you come.”

And, well, who are you to disobey?

You bring yourself to a slow, rolling orgasm with rhythmic circles against your clit, hips working against his even with his grip. You moan more loudly now, moith open and spit spreading across the pillow.

“Si-Simon,” you gasp. “Feels so good, so deep.”

“Yeah? Deep in your ass, huh, love?”

“Mhmm, mhmm. Can hardly br-breathe around you, Si.”

“I know, so big in your little hole. You’re taking me well, though, being such a good girl for me. Gonna - fuck, love - gonna make me come, give you a nice load then plug you up.”

“Yes, yes…”

“You want that? Want to be stuffed with my come? Keep me inside of you ‘til I say you can take the plug out?”

“Yes, I’ll keep it in for you, Si, be so good for you.”

“Oh, I know it, love. Always a good girl for me, most perfect girl… fuck, feel so good around me…”

He groans when he finally gets himself off, pulling you back onto his harsher thrusts and letting your channel squeeze the come from him. You rub your clit a few more times, ignoring the aftershocks in favor of forcing your muscles to milk him a bit.

When he finally pulls out, he tucks a good-sized plug into your loosened hole before any of his come can slip out. You shift from your knees to your stomach with a soft hum, tugging a pillow into your arms as your eyes drift shut.

“You stayin’ in here for a bit?” Ghost asks, brushing some of your hair away from your face and dipping down to press a dry kiss to your cheek.

“Hmm. Gonna take a nap before dinner.”

“Alright. Need any help tonight?”

“No,” you hum, curling deeper into the bedding. “You can set the table, if you really want.”

You hear him laugh as he pulls away, weight shifting off of the mattress. “I’ll leave that to Johnny, I think.”

A few moments later the door click softly shut behind him, and you float into a peaceful slumber while trying to half-plan dinner.

———————————————————————

You’re half-asleep when you feel someone shift in bed next to you, their body covering yours. There’s a distinct hardness against the small of your back, and you press back against him.

“Stay still,” you hear Gaz whisper in your ear as he urges you further onto your stomach. You hum a little in response as he settles over you, kneeing your thighs apart enough for him to rest between them. “Don’t wanna wake anyone else up, right sweetheart?”

You hum again in what’s probably supposed to be agreement, but is really just a half-asleep sound. You trust all your boys, though, so you’re perfectly content to let Kyle do whatever he wants.

You sleep naked these days, so it’s easy for him to spread your cheeks a bit, to rub at your folds. You’re still a little damp from the shower sex with Price you’d had right before bed, and Kyle doesn’t seem to think you need much more than that.

You’re almost asleep again when you feel the tip of his cock at your hole, and then the familiar weight of him entering you. It’s hard not to groan, especially when you’re so dazed, but you think you do a good job.

Well, until Kyle shushes you loudly, stuffing a few of his fingers into your mouth.

You make a small offended noise, but it shifts into a sound of pleasure when he sinks fully inside of you.

“Hush. Don’t wanna share you right now, just needed to feel you for a bit.”

You feel his hips shift against yours before he sort of falls to the side, taking you with him. You’re left spooning him, his cock buried deep inside of you and kept warm by your body.

He sighs, pleased, against your back and pulls his fingers from your mouth, letting his hand float down to rest on one of your breasts. He squeezes you for a few moments, but that only works you up more and has you squirming against him.

Kyle makes a small, whining noise and squeezes you more tightly to him. “Stay still, love. Just want to hold you, let you hold me. Go back to sleep, yeah?”

You sigh, debate trying to get him to finish what he started, but ultimately decide that it sounds like far too much work for your current state.

So instead you let yourself relax into Gaz, body quickly adjusting to the weight and stretch of him. It’s easier than you might’ve thought to doze off like that, held close to Kyle’s chest.

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sant-riley · 6 months

Text

[Touchy feely] [tf141 headcanons]

(Romantic impied Task force 141 boys x gender neutral!reader headcanons :))

Summary: Being the sweetheart of the task force means the boys are not shy about the fact that they're all simps and always want some sort of contact with you at all times.

Consists of romantic/suggestive headcanons for each of the guys and little things they do with you <3

Words: about 1.5k (this was supposed to be short, whoops)

Warnings/Info: Can be read separately but it is intended that they all harbor feelings for you at the same time, possibly out of character for everyone, some swearing, the guys manhandle you, as always, let me know if I miss something!

Thinking about how each of the boys is so touchy with you, it doesn't matter where you are or who you're with, they're shameless.

Other units and teams who will sometimes share the base with 141 know better than to ask questions or directly say anything to one of the guys or you for that matter. Not that they could anyway, seeing as you always have at least one of them attached to your hip.

Price:

Anyone who walks into Price's office late at night to turn something in is used to seeing you next to the Captain on the little dingy loveseat he has in there.

John is usually smoking a cigar, taking care to not blow smoke your way while your head is resting on his shoulder. Your eyes closed as you hum at his words. It's terribly domestic for a military base.

John likes to gently play with your hair while he speaks about missions he's been on, always somehow trying to braid despite not knowing how to for jack shit, whether it because it's you or just the mindless motion, he's not willing to say.

John will usually walk you back to your room after dinner or time in his office unless he's swamped with work.

A small hand on the small of your back while he leads you. It's always a respectable touch, though he tucks you into his side, nodding at everyone you may pass.

If you're comfortable with it, he likes to press a kiss to your head, smiling that goofy ass smile, and tells you to get a good night's rest.

He lets you help him trim up his beard, he won't let you do all of it but he likes the closeness of it, him sitting down while you gently shape it up, tilting his head up and he tries his best to not stare directly at your chest.

The fact that he's letting you this close to his neck with a razor is a sign of trust, maybe small for others but for a man that doesn't drop his guard and doesn't truly trust others, it speaks volumes.

The first time he let you, you were barely putting any pressure and he grabbed your hand in his and showed you. "You're not gonna hurt me, put more force into it, yeah?"

Don't get me started on going out on walks in London with Price, he wraps you up in his beanie and some big leather jacket he has that dwarves you, helping you move through crowds by once again holding the small of your back, or taking your smaller hand in his. (He doesn't correct anyone if they mistake you as married)

He likes to kiss the back of your hand and laughs when it makes you blush and sputter out that his beard is scratchy.

Ghost:

Ghost is a subtle one, he won't actively reach for you or your hand but he does have some part of him against you most times.

Whether it be his leg, arm, or thigh, anything works. A normal place yall will be seen together is in the dining hall, you've both learned to ignore the stares from everyone else.

Simon never eats there, just sits with you until you're finished and then you both move on to either his quarters or somewhere else so he can peel his mask up to eat a bit.

However, while you're eating and telling him about anything under the sun, he'll lean over and wipe some crumbs off of your mouth with his thumb softly, which again, you're used to so okay whatever but Recruits always are taken aback in their seats.

Ghost's reflexes kick into overdrive with you. His hand going to cover a corner of a table 9/10 times before you completely wreck your shit, but when he does miss (sometimes on purpose).

He'll bring a hand up to rub at your head for you, chuckling under his breath before cooing down at you "That hurt pretty? Sure look like it did."

Whenever you two specifically are paired onto a mission, doesn't matter if any of the guys complain, he will share a cot/tent with you. He claims he runs the hottest (he doesn't, it's Johnny but he will not lose on this) and can keep your body the warmest.

He pretty much lugs you on top of him and wraps his arms around your waist, he'll press a hand against your head if you keep fidgeting, rasping at you to go to sleep. He takes great pride in the fact that you're usually out like a light very shortly.

I've said it once and I'll say it again, Ghost likes to hook a finger into your body straps and pull it really hard and let it smack you to get your attention if you're not actively paying attention to him, he'll soothe the area but he's smirking behind that fucking mask.

On that note, he definitely does the "You got something right here." And points at your chest and immediately pull up to flick your nose hard as fuck, he KNOWS his own strength but sometimes your eyes water and he immediately feels bad.

Ghost rests his head on your chest a lot, he finds your heartbeat to be soothing and reassuring, also grunts if you don't wrap your arms around him in return, bro literally shoves his head into you and groans

This is a grown man but it's cute so you let it slide bc he'll never ask for it outright, he just assumes you'll cradle his head.

Soap:

Johnny is the most shameless motherfucker here, I'm talking about draping himself over you, grabbing at your cheeks, ruffling your hair, kissing you dangerously close to your lips (it drives the others mad), he's the most unapologetic about it and will gloat to the others.

Manhandler #1, isn't above grabbing you by your hips and picking you up to move you somewhere, he's literally gone and grabbed you from some rookies side to come stand next to him with a smile and you're just so used to it that you just shrug and go along with it. (He gets slightly jealous, why would you stand next to some random ass dude and not him??)

Throws you over his shoulder, or likes you to cling to his front or his back and just carries you, he says it's a comfortable weight. If you ever dare say you're too heavy, he's gonna go to the gym and work out even more to PROVE to you that he simply doesn't care, he will carry you.

Extremely bad habit of sneaking into your room to fall asleep with you, Price has come into your room many times to see Soap sprawled on top of you, he's drooling and snoring and you're knocked the fuck out (he's like a glorified weighted blanket).

I've touched on this before but he only wants you to cut his hair for him, yeah he can go to the barber on base but he much prefers you and loves it when you scratch at his scalp. He also likes to just have his head in between your thighs but that's something else for another time-

Soap specifically slings you over his shoulder a lot, especially off base where he truly doesn't have any fucks to give.

You're not going to bed because you have other work?? Too bad, shoulder time you go. You're not willing to get up and make yourself food? Good thing he's here, either pick what you want from the kitchen or throw some clothes on bc he IS dragging you out of the house.

Johnny likes to draw on you a lot, it ranges from scribbles, to sometimes his name if he's feeling cheeky (he's drawn it on your thigh before and you didn't notice until Gaz shot you a look), to intricate drawings of whatever he can think whether it be a landscape or an animal.

He always holds you steady and it isn't uncommon for your limbs to fall asleep but it's worth it, if only to see him smile.

Gaz:

Gaz is probably the most secretly clingy person out of the four, he CAN function without your touch but does he PREFER to? No.

His first instinct in any situation is to grab you and shield you, he's the fastest of the four so his body moves without thinking and it's saved you more times than any of you would like to count.

The one mission where you both fell out of a moving truck, he tucked your body into his despite it costing him his shoulder popping out of the socket, you couldn't help but freak out while Ghost moved to pop it back into place.

"Why the fuck would you do that? Look at your arm!" "It's nothing." "Garrick what the fuck-"

When you're out anywhere off base, he's holding your hand, good luck trying to pull away bc he is not letting go. Too bad so sad, resign to your fate.

I think Gaz is definitely good at dancing, at least with you and when the right music is on, you cannot tell me this man wouldn't twirl you around and shit-fight me on it. He'll even lift you off your feet, laughing when you scramble to grab at his shoulders.

He goes stark still if you rest your head on his shoulder, not because he's nervous but because he's worried about waking you up when he knows you deserve a rest.

He'll usually wrap his arm around your shoulder to hold you in place so the heli ride doesn't jostle you so much, gentleness rubbing his knuckles along your arm to soothe you.

Gaz is the one who holds you when you have nightmares, on rare occasions when Soap isn't in your room and you just need to be held with no talking, you always without thinking find yourself in Kyle's room, his arms wrapped around your waist as he tucks your head under his chin, no questions asked.

He'll maybe hum a tune to help you relax but other than that, he lets you lead the way.

8K notes · View notes

criminalamnesia · 3 months

Note

Simon x Reader whose already work with TF 141 for a pretty long time. And one day, there's a traitor around the base, leaking their information. All of the proof are leading to reader but reader always deny it! And they interrogated reader, and reader always deny it! And he's (with other 141 members, of course, but it mostly him) do their torture methods to get information out of reader. They keep doing it until someday, the real traitor finally captured!

And make the reader traumatized, pls. Like, she would have trust issues, trauma, and others. She wouldn't forgive them, tho.

ooooo the angst. had to sit on this one for a few days before I wrote something, but here goes nothing.

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

when you blink open your eyes, the room is dimly lit. it’s silent save for the sounds of your labored breathing.

you must’ve passed out. one second johnny— a man you’d known for years—was slicing into your skin with a knife. the next, you’re staring into an empty room.

your hands jerk up involuntarily. still bound. the rope holding them to the arms of the chair have rubbed them raw. the skin is bright red and bloody. it makes you grit your teeth.

you look down at your lap, taking inventory of the parts of your body you can see. large gashes break up the fabric of your tac pants. the blood surrounding the deep wounds is dry and crusty.

one of the cuts looks like it’s getting infected. you swear you can see bone.

you’d taken this kind of suffering before. been capture by enemies, held and tortured and pushed to the brink of death. this was different. this was being done by your team. men you’d bled with. cried with. laughed with.

one you’d even slept with. the same one you loved. the one you called yours.

the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a metal thud. your head slowly lifts, eyes squinting to see him. by his stature, you know it’s simon.

he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. instead, he walks towards you slowly. as he comes closer, can make out his eyes in the sea of dark paint he smears around them. the same paint you’d helped him apply a time or two.

“back for more?” you say, and it’s meant to sound sarcastic, but all it sounds like is pitiful. your voice cracks, and pain seeps into your tone.

the first rule they’d taught you about scenarios like this was to never let the enemy know it’s working. never let them know that they’re hurting you— that they’re slowly wearing down your defenses.

well, you’d just broken that rule, and you hadn’t even meant to.

you didn’t know how long you’d been tied up, subjected to torture by men you had once called your family. all because a fucking liar whispered your name into their ears. all because they fucking believed it.

apparently the years meant nothing to them. to him, least of all, considering he’d done more damage to you than the rest of them.

simon comes to a stop in front of you. his hands are empty by his sides, but that’s not reassuring. there’s a table full of weapons off to the side. he would have his pick of the litter.

“ready to talk yet?” he says, and his voice is gruff. his tone is hollow. he’s speaking to you the same way he’d spoken to countless enemies. it makes you sick.

“fuck you, simon,” you spit out.

the betrayal of john, gaz, and johnny had hurt. but simon’s betrayal? that was enough to almost put you in the ground.

you’d stopped pleading with them the second they tied you to the chair. now, you were angry. furious. rage filled your veins, and if you weren’t beaten to all hell, you’d find a way out of these fucking restraints and strangle the man in front of you to death.

the man you loved. you’d thought you meant something to him, but apparently not— because who tortures someone they love?

“if you talk,” he ignores your outburst. “it’ll be easier. quick.”

“fuck. you.” you enunciate the words, your jaw impossibly tight as you grit your teeth. “im not the fucking rat.”

“all the evidence,” he starts as he disappears from your vision. you know he’s going to pick his weapon of the hour. you force yourself not to shudder.

“points to you.”

“take that bullshit evidence and shove it up your ass, riley,” you seethe, ropes pulling taut as you lean forward in the chair.

he’s back in your line of sight now, brandishing a large knife.

“you’re only making it harder on yourself, love,” he tuts, and then he’s swinging the knife down, right onto one of your fingers.

you scream as the blade cuts right through skin and bone. your teeth dig into your lip, drawing blood as you refuse to give him more of a reaction. it fucking hurts, but you’ll be damned if you let yourself cry.

“feel like talking now?” he asks, watching as half of your left pinky finger falls to the floor.

“or should we take off another?”

you look up at him, hoping he can see the hatred in your eyes as you speak your next words. “you could take the fucking hand off and I’d still have nothing to tell you.”

“let’s see how true that is then, eh?” he replies, and raises the knife again. he’s about to swing, when someone comes running into the room.

“ghost!”

it’s johnny. he’s obviously winded as he stops beside simon, dropping his hands to his knees as he struggles for breath.

“what, mactavish? im busy.”

“they’re—” he gasps. “they’re not— the— rat.” he says between breaths.

the room goes impossibly still. so quiet you swear you could hear the men’s heartbeats (or maybe that pounding in your ears was your own).

“you sure?” simon’s voice is softer as he lowers the knife and turns to johnny. the younger man nods, his eyes trained on you. you can see the regret in them, the sorrow.

“it’s fucking shepard.”

it’s not funny, but at the news, you burst into laughter. the men stare at you in confusion, but you can’t stop.

you’re laughing so hard you’re crying, and they’re just standing there.

“are you alrigh’?” johnny’s asking as he moves towards you. he’s fully recovered his breath now, and he drops to a crouch to be eye level with you.

you don’t answer— you can’t. you keep laughing. distantly, you hear the knife simon was holding clatter to the ground. can just make out the sound of more footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards the room.

you pass out.

when you wake up again, you’re in the infirmary. your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights.

“easy, love,” a voice to your right drawls.

your eyes are fully open now. you look down at yourself, noticing the lack of bindings. noticing the iv taped to your arm, the stitched cuts, the black and blue bruises, the missing fingernails and missing finger.

the person sitting next to you clears his throat. that’s when you look up and meet the eyes of your captain.

your captain. the man who was supposed to lead you, to keep you safe. what a fucking joke. he’d started the damn witch hunt.

“how d’you feel?” he asks, his words soft, like he’s trying not to scare off a timid animal.

you stare at him for a beat. then two. then you’re moving, pulling the iv from your arm and shakily pushing yourself up in the bed. price is telling you to stop, reaching out to push you back down, but you slap at his hands.

“get the fuck off me!” you shout, and that takes him aback. he stops, frozen, as he watches you shift in the bed. you throw your legs over the side of it and prepare yourself to stand.

“you really shouldn’t—” he begins after he’s regained his senses, but you pay him no mind. you place your feet on the ground and start to stand. your legs wobble, almost give out, but you’re able to stand. barely.

“shut up,” you growl, stumbling forward and towards the exit. he’s moving to cut you off, and you slide him a gaze that’s sharper than a knife. “and leave me the fuck alone.”

he halts again. he seems almost scared of you— but that can’t be right. even on your best days, he would still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.

he’s not scared of your threats or your frail body. he’s scared of what he’s done to you.

just then, johnny and gaz come through the infirmary doors.

“cap, y’alright? we heard yellin’—” johnny begins, but his mouth snaps shut at the sight of you out of bed.

you’re heaving from your spot next to the bed. your legs are shaking violently, threatening to give out any second. you feel nauseous and numb.

“let’s get you back into bed,” gaz says, and he starts towards you, but you stop him as your gaze snaps to his.

“don’t come any fucking closer. any of you.”

“bonnie,” johnny murmurs. he sounds miserable, but you don’t care. don’t give a fuck about how any of them feel.

“don’t. im leaving,” you grunt out, moving a foot forward slowly. you’d be damned if you fell in front of them.

“you can’t, love. you’re in no shape to be walking.” john says, and you snarl.

“and whose fault is that?”

the men stay silent as they watch you slowly shuffle towards the foot of the bed. you’re bracing yourself to walk on your own when simon walks in.

“get back in bed,” his tone is blunt. you ignore him.

you remove your hand from the bed, move to take a step forward without support, and you begin to crumple to the floor.

simon moves forward, quick as a cat, and catches you. he lifts you into his arms bridal style, and you’re screaming hysterically. your limbs are flailing the best they can in such a battered state. you’re in fight-or-flight mode, your body betraying your desire to put up a steely front.

your palms slap against simon’s upper body and his masked face. he gives no reaction. he doesn’t say anything. the others are watching the exchange silently. the room is buzzing with tension.

“get off me!” you screech, landing a slap to simon’s cheek. “let me— let me go! let me go!” you’re gasping for breath, tears streaming down your cheeks. you’re panicking. your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

“put me down! get— get— off me! stop—” you sob.

the doctor rushes into the room then, yelling at the men for allowing you out of bed. you can’t make out what she’s saying over the rush of blood in your ears. you feel light-headed. you can’t breathe.

“put them down, now!” the doctor yells at simon. “they’re having a panic attack— I thought I told you four to stay away from them? they’re too vulnerable right now—” the doctor is chastising them as simon places you back in the bed.

spots are dancing in your vision. you don’t even feel it when the doctor sticks another needle into your arm. the words being exchanged above your head are muffled. it’s like you’re underwater.

john’s face comes into view, then johnny’s, then gaz’s. as your eyes start to close, you notice the only face you don’t see again is simon’s.

when you wake up again, it’s been two weeks.

the doctor had put you into a medically induced coma to allow your more serious wounds time to heal, without risking another episode. unbeknownst to you, the members of your team had stayed by your bedside almost the entire time— minus simon. he hadn’t come within ten feet of the infirmary since the day of your panic attack.

there’s fresh flowers on the bedside table. a steady beeping of the heart monitor. a fuzzy feeling in your head.

it feels like a dream, all of it does. none of it feels real as you settle into your body again. but then the hurt starts, and you remember the truth.

your family betrayed you. your lover betrayed you. they locked you up and tortured you. they didn’t believe you.

when the doctor came to your side to check your iv, she smiled.

“how’re you feeling?”

you look up at her, and it takes a moment for you to speak.

“don’t,” you begin. your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “don’t let them…in here. don’t…wanna see them.”

the doctor nods in understanding, and she doesn’t say anything else to you. she turns and walks out of the room.

the door clicks shut behind her. she lets out a sigh before turning around to face the three men.

“they don’t want to see you.” she tells them, and their expressions drop. they don’t protest, and like wounded puppies, they walk off.

no one else comes to check on you for a few hours.

you’re in and out of consciousness— can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream. flashes of your torture come back to you. flashes of a smile. of a scarred face. of hands on your hips and—

you crack your eyes open, and the room is dark. the only light is the blinking of some of the machines. it illuminates the room enough to allow you to see a large, dark figure slip from the room. the door clicks shut so quietly it’s almost imperceptible.

that’s when you notice fresh flowers on the bedside table.

your eyes start to droop once more, and you chalk up whatever you just saw to a dream, while simon exhales heavily on the other side of the infirmary door.

————————————————

authors note:

I hope this alright! it’s one in the morning (and I’m half asleep writing this) so I apologize for the errors that are most likely present, and the sense this most likely lacks. I feel like I could write a whole book about this idea, but im cutting myself off to sleep lol.

thank you for the ask, I hope I did your idea justice. 🫶

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