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bloodyknucklesforme · 18 days

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Nothing Fucks With My Baby |Carnal XVI

Carnal (adjective) : relating to or given to crude bodily pleasures and appetites

Simon and Johnny take Nina out for the first time to teach her to hunt.

Masterpost

CW: cannibalism, sexual assault, rape mention, violence, homophobia,

This is very much a horror fic mostly based around the films Raw (2017) and Bones and All (2022), if you sit through those you should be good here. This is my first horror fic.

Chapter Title Credit: NFWB by Hozier

She liked the way she looked. Her hair in loose curls, dark eyeliner and cherry red glossy lips. A low cut satin tank top and matching black mini skirt. Johnny picked it all out. Made her spin around in the dressing room till she was dizzy. She felt like Narcissus, unable to tear her eyes from the grungy mirror in the club’s loo. The couple drinks and Johnny’s wandering hands on the dancefloor only flamed her confidence. She liked this feeling.

She wished they’d kept the night going. She didn’t want to be shoved away so the boys could have their fun. Simon had said he’d teach her how to hunt.

It wasn’t supposed to be true hunting tonight. Just ‘scouting’ as Simon said, his hands on her waist as he stood behind her near the bar. ‘Keep close to us’

Johnny had ordered her a drink. Something pink and fruity and sweet. They found a table in the corner and she was squeezed between the two men. It was fun. Exciting even.

She’d never been out to a place like this. They both complained about the music and drink prices but she was enamored. Arthur never wanted to go out. She didn’t want to go alone. The music was loud and she felt the bass in her chest. She couldn’t help the smile that tugged on her mouth the whole evening.

“I want to dance,” she yelled over the music to Johnny. He grinned and pulled her out to the floor. She draped her arms around his neck, giggling. She knew she should take it seriously but it was just ‘scouting’. Simon would disappear tomorrow afternoon and return that night with a week’s worth of food. She just wanted to have fun. Dance with her boyfriend in a club, wearing sparkly clothes and music she couldn’t make out the words to.

A hand groped her ass and she pulled herself close to Johnny, craning her neck to look back.

“Fuck off,” Johnny growled, laying a hand over the back of her skirt. She glared at the men standing behind her. Somewhere between Johnny and Simon’s age, would have been attractive if he hadn’t assaulted her.

“Not sharing?” The man laughed, like it was an honest mistake. “Bit jealous.”

“He said fuck off.” Simon growled, grabbing his shoulder and jerking him back harshly. The guy put his hands up and backed away, mumbling apologies.

“You okay?” Johnny cupped her face. She nodded and leaned against his shoulder. In her peripheral she could see him shoot a look at Simon. He stood behind her and let his hands rest near her waist, fingers just brushing against her.

“Go back to dancing. We won’t let anyone touch ya,” He said into her ear. She felt safe sandwiched between them. The mix of Johnny’s body and her drink made her feel warm and fuzzy. She was flipped around at one point, Johnny grinding against her ass and kissing her neck while she rested her hands on Simon’s shoulders. He still didn’t touch her, letting his hands rest on Johnny’s hips. She felt like he watched her the same way someone would watch a bird, simple curiosity.

When her feet started to ache they led her back to their table, Johnny fetching another round of drinks.

“Watch the crowd. Look for the drunk ones.” Simon leaned down to explain.

“Everyone’s drunk,” She said. She herself was feeling the effects of her drink and the sips she’d stolen out of their drinks to ‘taste’.

“Yes but that’s not the only factor. That cunt that groped you. Woulda gone for him if he had a few more in him.”

She shifted, having pushed that moment out of her memory already.

“Still might if I see him again.”

“Does he deserve to die for that?” She looked up at him. He was wearing a black surgical mask, making it harder than usual to read his expression.

“I don’t tolerate that behavior. He did that and he doesn’t even know you. He saw you with Johnny and still thought he could take you.”

“I don’t belong to Johnny.”

“No but what do you think he would have done if you were alone?”

She sunk down in her seat, the vinyl sticking to her thighs. She didn’t want to dance anymore.

She didn’t know if Simon did it on purpose but he picked at her insecurities like a scab. She’d spent her life sickly and small. Killing Arthur was one time she’d fought back. She’d get into arguments with her father but a raise of his hand and she’d back down like a dog. If that man had done worse or if Johnny and Simon weren’t there she didn’t know how she would have fought back. Fight her way through the crowd to get away or rip his throat out with her teeth? She knew how to use a gun but that was hardly helpful in most situations. Too much of a clean up. There was still a stain on her bedroom floor.

She reached for Johnny’s leftover scotch on the rocks and finished it in one gulp. Simon raised an eyebrow at her but stayed silent. Johnny didn’t say anything either when he got back. Bourbon, neat for Simon. A gin and tonic for himself and another pink fruity thing for her. It tasted like strawberry lemonade.

Johnny had his arm around her shoulders, whispering how pretty she was and how he couldn’t wait to get her back home. Simon probably couldn’t wait either. He could try to hide but she knew he watched when he could and listened when he couldn’t. Seeing his shadow on the other side of the bedroom door as Johnny smothered himself between her legs. Did he do it to listen to Johnny or her or both?

Did he fuck his hand during or afterwards? Did he do nothing at all?

There was tension between the two men and she wasn’t blind to being a catalyst for it. Johnny didn’t talk much about their previous relationship, just that Simon was the one to break it off. She didn’t talk to Simon enough to ask for his side.

She understood though. She remembered the rush she felt realizing they were just like her. Some inner animal begging for a pack. She would have a hard time letting Johnny go and she’d only known him for a couple months.

Simon had his arm outstretched, his hand holding the back of Johnny’s chair.

She wanted to find a way the three of them could make it work. She’d be willing to give up intimacy if just meant they wouldn’t leave. If Johnny wanted Simon again, she’d acquiesce. She intertwined her fingers with Johnny’s and leaned against his shoulder. He and Simon talked above her head, making notes of the different patrons. Maybe they would go home with something tonight?

“Finish your drink and Johnny will take you back to the car.” Simon said. They’d go hunting without her. Bring something back. There was tarp already laid in the back of Simon’s car. Nina would end up waiting in the back seat, picking at her nails like she did on the way there.

“Hey, it’s not gonna run away from ya.” Johnny chuckled, pushing her wrist down as she downed the rest of her drink.

“I’m going to the loo.” She clamored over him to get out. He had to catch her from falling. The alcohol was starting to hit, making the world seem wobbly and bloated.

She had made it to the loo eventually.

She smacked her lips in the mirror one final time. She should have brought her purse so she could reapply her lip gloss. She wanted to coat Johnny’s face in sticky cherry flavored kisses. If Simon was going to take him away on a hunt, she’d leave a little reminder of herself.

“Hey, love.” A voice cooed as she stepped out of the loo. She stood quietly, staring down the red lit hallway at the man from earlier. He was with another man now. “Lost your faggot friends?”

There were too many smells here. Cigarettes, cheap liquor, vomit, sex, food. She couldn’t pick out Johnny or Simon. She took a step back towards the main room. If she called would they hear her? She left her phone at the table.

When she went hunting with Price she wondered what the deer felt in the moment between the sound of the shot and death. She knew now.

She turned too quickly to run, making it two steps before tripping over her own feet. She caught herself with her hands, straining her wrists.

“Simon!” She screamed before a hand clasped over her mouth. She was lifted to her feet and pulled backwards. Her heels slide across the linoleum floor. She thrashed in the man’s grasp while his friend laughed.

“I like when they try to fight.” A fist hit her hard in the stomach, all the liquor rushing back up her throat and back down again like a rogue wave. They laughed as she groaned, the man holding her bucking his hips against her. Would they kill her once they were done? Or leave her for the next vulture to find?

The red light mixed with green as she was pulled towards the exit door. She kept her eyes looking down the hall, waiting for one of them to turn the corner. She’d been gone awhile now, right? They’d come looking.

Johnny would look. He wouldn’t leave.

She heard the clatter of the push bar on the door. She opened her mouth as wide as she could, till her teeth caught the side of his hand and she bit down hard. Her teeth caught between the bones of his pointer finger.

She was flung against the exit door, stumbling onto her knees in the back alley. The first man was cursing and screaming. A foot hit the center of her back and sent her face forward to the ground

“Fucking cunt.” the second man spat. “You’re going to fucking die now.”

The air was thick with copper. Her mouth was sticky with blood and tendon. She grabbed at the ground, using cracks in the pavement to pull herself away. A knee pressed against her back.

They’d left her. She was going to die in this alley. Alcohol and tears blurred her vision. She winced as her hair was pulled back harshly. She put her hands in front of her face, a feeble attempt to protect her head.

The alleyway lit up as the door opened again.

“Let me finish her and we’ll get you to hospital.”

She could hear the sound of flesh being cut and torn, a wet squelch of a knife entering someone’s stomach. The first man fell, landing face first next to her. Blood bubbled out of his mouth as he choked on it.

The weight on her back was lifted. She turned her head in time to see the man land on his back on her other side. He was pleading and crying. A boot came down and cracked his skull, smashing his nose in. The boot came down again and again until the man’s head was nothing but bits of broken bone and what looked like bloody ground beef.

She was being pulled to her feet by gentle warm hands.

“Did they hurt ya?” Johnny was cupping her face, turning her head in all directions. She pushed him away. She was choking on her own breaths. There was rapidly cooling blood covering her face and arms.

“We need to go. Now.” Simon ordered, already grabbing the faceless man and lifting him into a dumpster.

“Give me a fucking minute, Si. Look at her!” She wrapped her arms around herself.

“You were gonna…you were gonna leave me.”

“No, no, no. We were not.” Johnny reached for her again, panic dripping off him like sweat. “We came to find ya. Saw the cunt missing a finger and knew something happened to ya. You’re safe now, Neen.”

She shook her head. Her head throbbed. Johnny was still talking her down between snaps at Simon. She felt small. She wasn’t a predator. She was prey as she always was. Panic was running through her, rapidly climbing up her stomach and out her throat.

“Do not scream.” Simon hissed, laying a hand over her mouth. He held the back of her head gently, smoothing her hair back down. “We’re going to take you home.”

He pulled her flush against his chest, pulling the sides of his jackets around her, hiding her from the light and noise.

“Johnny, grab that one. He’s still alive. We’re taking him.”

She could hear Johnny grunt and the man choke.

She wrapped her arms around Simon’s middle, trusting him to lead her out.

He lifted her up when he decided she didn’t move fast enough. They stayed out of the light, creeping out from corners as crowd’s passed. It was getting late, most were headed home. The streets emptied.

Simon used the key to unlock the door rather than click the button. She was deposited in the passenger seat. She pulled her knees up to her chest, kicking off her shoes.

The car shook as Simon and Johnny tossed the back into the back of the car.

“Can I touch ya?” Johnny asked softly, opening the door.

“Just get in the fucking car, Johnny.” Simon barked. Johnny nodded, scoping her up and sitting her in his lap in the car. He tucked her against him, her face pressed to his neck. She wanted to vomit.

“You’re safe, Neen. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

She could still hear the man gurgle in the back. She closed her eyes. His taste was still in her mouth.

The crackle of the gravel drive was her signal she was home.

“Get her cleaned up. I’ll deal with him.” Simon said, already out of the car.

Johnny carried her inside and upstairs. He set her on the edge of the tub.

“Let me get a look at ya.” Johnny combed over her body. He took off her clothes with reverence, eyes moving between her face for a reaction and her body for wounds. Her hands and knees were cut up, a bruise already forming on her stomach. Johnny sucked on his teeth when he saw. He mumbled, “I shoulda gone with ya.”

His hands were bloodied and arms splattered. He’d been the one who stabbed the first man. Simon’s boot did the other in.

The adrenaline was fading away, leaving a dull ache and an exhaust that was trying to pull her to sleep right there.

“Do you want a bath?” He combed a hand through her hair. She shook her head.

He held her steady as she turned the shower on and stripped her underwear off.

“Stay,” She pleaded when he turned away. He stripped down too. His stained clothes joined hers on the floor.

She leaned her back against his chest, letting the water run over her face and down her front. A pink whirlpool formed around the drain. He moved her arms around, soaping them up and rinsing them off. He cooed to her.

She was too numb to respond. Too angry at herself for being helpless. Sickly as always. Little Nina always needing someone to care for her. Too ill in body and mind to do it herself.

The bathroom door opened.

“Si, don’t.” Johnny warned. A tattooed arm reached from behind the shower curtain. A piece of raw meat sat in his hand.

“She needs to eat.”

“She needs you to leave.”

She grabbed it. It was from a thigh judging by the weight and texture. She shoved it in her mouth greedily. It was good. Tasted better than the pure blood. A sweet fuck you. She hoped he was still alive when Simon cut it off.

The curtain opened more. Simon was already naked, covered in blood. Johnny’s protests fell silent but his hands were firm on her waist, keeping her closer to him. Simon brushed hair out of her face.

“You did well. Smelled the blood and knew it was you.” He tilted her chin up to look at him. “I’ll kill anyone that hurts you again.”

He looked at Johnny.

“Aye. Those bastards paid for what they did.” Anger still filled his voice.

“I thought you left me.” She said softly, the numbness cracking into residual terror. “I knew if they got me outside…they…they were.”

“Shhh. It's okay.” Johnny kissed her temple, turning her towards him. “We would never leave ya.”

Simon rubbed her shoulder. She didn’t expect to find herself so comfortable with him like this. She could still hear the sound of his boot crushing bone. Her stomach churned.

“I want to go to bed.”

Simon washed her hair. He was tender. He helped Johnny clean up too. They all smelled like her body wash. The hot water was running out.

Johnny wrapped her in a towel.

“Let’s get ya tucked in.”

Simon was headed towards his room, leaving wet footprints on the floor. He never bothered to grab a towel.

“Simon…” He stopped and turned to look at her. She wanted him next to her, squeeze her between him and Johnny like how they did earlier. Keep her safe. She knew the man in the basement wouldn’t rise from the dead but his ghost scared her. Johnny was kissing her shoulder. Even with him the bed felt empty.

She was shaking, terror or cold she didn’t know. He towered over her. A line of fear rocked up her spine still. She didn’t know what to think of him. She knew that tonight he killed a man for her. Not just killed, eviscerated. Like he did to the man that stabbed Johnny, left him faceless. Unidentifiable.

Simon kissed the top of her head.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

None of them bothered with clothes, climbing into bed like children. Johnny’s arm was around her. Simon was on his back on the other side.

As she drifted to sleep she could hear their whispered argument.

“Bait.”

“I didn’t.”

“Forgive you.”

“Bastard”

“Rip.”

“Her”

“Enjoyed.”

“Fuck off.”

Johnny fell asleep first. She couldn’t quite reach it. Jolting every time she got close. Simon’s hand found hers under the sheets.

“Still frightened?” He asked, turning on his side.

“I want more.”

“More of what?” He wanted her to say it.

“I want to eat more.”

He guided her out of bed, replacing her sleeping form with a pillow. He let her lead the way in the dark, down the two flights of stairs to the basement. The stone was cold on her feet. The table he’d set up down there was stained a deep red.

He turned on the sole light, casting them in a sickly yellow light. She shifted under his gaze, his eyes inspecting her body.

“What are these?” He asked, knuckle brushing against the many scars on her stomach and thighs.

“Never had enough food growing up.” Their voices were hushed though Johnny would have never been able to hear them.

“You will now.” He opened the chest freezer. “Eat.”

She grabbed a bicep and bit into it. It was cold but not yet frozen. She sank down to her knees, ripping and tearing at it. Her bites were angry and messy. Simon knelt down in front of her, moving her hair out of the way whenever needed. He nodded as she groaned, swallowing down more and more. She thought about Arthur and regretted not being able to do this to him. Too many men have hurt her, not enough have suffered the consequences. She wanted to eat them too. They’d be as scared and as powerless as she was. They’d all taste as sweet, fill her up as much.

She finished with a bloody mouth, panting hard. She looked at Simon. His cock was hard. He kissed her, licking the blood from her mouth. He held her firmly, pressing his forehead against hers.

“That’s my girl.”

Tag list: @gogh-with-the-flow @queen-ilmaree @cathnoneofyourbusiness @pssytrux

#Carnal #simon ghost riley x oc #simon ghost riley x john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #modern warfare II #modern warfare #call of duty fanfic #call of duty #john soap mactavish #John soap mactavish x oc #soapghost #simon ghost riley #ghost x soap #dark fic #ghoap

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harveywritings92 · 1 year

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Soap: When have I ever done anything rash or irresponsible?

[R/n calmly pulls a blue fuzzy diary with googly eyes out of their desk]

R/n: I keep a list. It's alphabetized.

#s: tumblr #call of duty modern warfare incorrect quotes #call of duty 2022 #john soap mactavish #cod mw soap #john soap mactavish x oc #gn!reader

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minihotdog · 4 months

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The Lass Next Door

Pairing: John "Soap" Mactavish x OC Isla

OC Appearance: Isla (aye-lah) is a Latina with curly brown hair.

a/n: Proofread like shit. I always imagined Soap having a wonderful mom <3

Word Count: 800

***

“Oh ma dear Johnny, ye’ll loe her!” John’s mom gleams into the phone. She stands next to the phone with a hand on her hip over her red flowery apron. A massive cheetah print clip pulls back her black curly hair.

“Aye, maw?” He smiles, happy to hear his mother’s warm and loving voice for the first time in months.

“She jist moved intae the toon and she’s a pure gem. I invited her fur yer dinner.”

“I cannae wait tae meet her, maw.”

She pulls away to yet at the two fighting kids running through the kitchen.

“Youse bairns are ower auld tae be carryin’ oan like the mad beasts! Tak’ a seat!” She huffs before putting the phone back to her ear.

“Yer wee nephews are drivin’ me aff ma heid.”

He chuckles, his oldest sister’s kids were the sweetest kids he’s ever met but when their mom isn’t around they could terrorize a village.

“So, whin will ye hae some weans o’ yer ain?” She probes.

“A’ll be there braw soon tae gie them a guid skelpin.” He says, ignoring the question she’s been asking for years.

***

“Oh, love, ah’m that excited fur ye tae meet ma ain, Johnny. It’s not often that he’s home.” She motions for you to sit at the table while she finishes up the cooking.

“Why’s that?” You question. With the way Ms. Mactavish speaks of her son, you’d imagine they’d hate being apart.

“He’s SAS, ye ken? He’s a pure success, Ah’m sae proud o’ ma boy.” She smiles really big. You can’t help but smile with her. The way she talks about him is so heartwarming.

Suddenly a loud thud erupts from the backyard. Ms. Mactavish goes running outside.

“Aye! Didnae I tell ye wee yins tae calm doon wi’ yer games?!”

Just then the front door swings open.

“Maw, I’m home!”

“Oh, Johnny!” She cries out, rushing inside. They embrace each other, he bends down to rest his head on her shoulder.

“Oh, how I missed ye!” She grabs his stubble-covered cheeks, giving them a pinch as he protests.

“Come oan, come an meet oor new neighbour, Isla.”

You stand to shake his hand with a friendly smile. Once he comes into the kitchen you’re a wave of shock washes over you.

This is the darling baby boy she’s been talking about?!

He’s massive. He towering over you, his ice-cold eyes match every member of his family present along with his black hair that was shaved at the sides into a mohawk. His shoulders are wide, his arms are muscular and covered in dark hair. Your eyes drop to his boyish grin and just below his lips a scar running along his chin. He’s all man, rugged as can be. His black shirt is a little too tight around his biceps and his jeans stretch over his thick thighs.

Oh dear god.

His massive hand takes your small one in a gentle shake. The callouses on his palm leave your skin buzzing and wanting more.

***Johnny’s POV***

I walk past the old door spotting the dents I’d made in it with a BB gun when I was about 12 years old. A smile glues itself to my face once the familiar scent hits my nose. It smells like home.

“Maw, I’m home!”

She comes running around the corner.

“Oh, Johnny!” She wraps me in her arms.

“Maw,” I mutter.

“Oh, how I missed ye!” Tears brim in her eyes. I try to shake her hands off when she pinches my cheeks like I’m still her wee boy.

“Come oan, come an’ meet our new neighbour, Isla.” She grabs me by the arm, dragging me to the kitchen. Upon turning the corner I see a lass-

Steamin’ Jesus-

Her long brown curly hair falls down her shoulders and back. A perfect background to contrast her figure, slim hourglass falling into her wide hips and a behind I couldn’t wait to peek at when she wouldn’t notice.

She’s wearing these big geeky glasses and behind them, I almost melt at the sight, two warm brown eyes. Her plump lips, little round chin, bone structure of a goddess with just enough roundness to her cheeks to keep her as cute as a doll, and her sunkissed skin unlike anyone I’ve seen in this town. Her t-shirt sticks to her figure and her jeans look like they’d only come off if they were cut.

I try to keep my eyes from wondering too much.

Oh fuck. This lassie is gonna pure make me keel ower.

“Eh! Isla?” I take her hand in mine, dwelling on how soft it feels and fits so perfectly in mine.

“Nice to meet you.”

Her voice, tha’ perfect smile… I may as well ask fur forgiveness now, maw, ‘cause I’m gonna start wheezin’ like a dog.

“Can I call you Johnny?” She asks me so politely.

Fuck’s sake, call me a bastard if ye like.

“Aye, bonnie, that’ll dae fur me.”

“Bonnie…?” She gets cut off by my rambunctious nephews running inside.

“Uncle Johnny!” They yell in unison and jump on me.

“Hey! I was talkin’ tae ma new pal ye scunners!” I laugh at the two, lifting both of them in separate arms.

“Hand on noo. Gie yersels intae yer seats, it’s time tae eat!”

#soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #john mactavish fic #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish imagine #john mactavish x oc #john soap mactavish x oc #soap x oc #soap x reader #myfic #cod fic

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nightingale-ghost-writer · 1 year

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Maybe [Soap x Fem!OC]

Summary: Soap finds a kindred spirit during a trying time

Author’s Notes: This is a little of a long intro, feel free to skip it! I’ve been reading fanfiction for years, and I’ve started dozens of fics. This is the first one I’ve ever finished. (11.8K words!!!) It started off with me wanting Soap to get some medical care for his unaddressed injuries after Alone, and just exploded from there. I wanted to really highlight the bond he and Ghost formed, and then I wanted to give him love (because he deserves it!). I know it’s a bit sparse on the Price and Gaz side of things, but I feel like their bonds with Soap are sort of assumed going into this game. This game, to me, is about Soap learning that sometimes the right thing to do isn’t always so obvious, and Ghost learning to work with a team, thanks to Soap. I loved this campaign dearly, so I have a lot of dialogue carried over from scenes I really wanted to set. That being said, I changed some stuff to better incorporate my OC, Daniela. Writing reader-insert fics is a skill I just do not possess. If you’re reading, I hope you enjoy it!

And to my dear @uselsshuman, who is the furthest thing from useless, thank you so much for your encouragement to write this. Your writing and support really inspired me to get this done. This one’s for you. ❤

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or events from Modern Warfare

Warnings: language, canon-typical violence, suggestive content

Soap tucked himself behind a door, braced his back against the wall, and did his level best to breathe as silently as possible. He could hear the Shadows’ footsteps and radio chatter nearby.

He pulled back the hammer on the desert eagle he’d found in the café safe and held his breath. He didn’t want to get into a gunfight, not here. Not with them. He had decent cover, but his arm throbbed where a bullet was lodged, his ribs stung where his plates had kept him from another, his whole body ached from his jumps and falls in the city, and he was almost certain he’d damaged something in his left hip the day before.

That particular injury came from running along cliff faces to escape the cartel, which was bad enough. Adding the Shadows to that? That was terrible.

As the footsteps faded, Soap let out a slow, low breath and slumped to the ground. He let his eyes drift shut, just for a moment, taking stock of his ability to get across the plaza to the church. To Ghost. As if he knew that he was being thought about, Ghost’s voice crackled through the comms.

“Soap?“ he asked softly.

“Ghost,” whispered Soap.

“You alright?”

Soap opened his eyes and took a deep breath, peeked around the door, and answered “Think I found a way through, LT.”

“Shadows are everywhere. I’ll hold ‘em off until we RV in front of the church and secure a vehicle for exfil.”

“Roger that.” Soap crept up through the shop, taking care to stay low and move quietly.

“Give ‘em hell, Johnny. We’re almost there,” rumbled Ghost. After a moment’s pause, he added “Listen, I picked up an ally. Should help us get out of here a little easier. You’ve just got to us and we’ll get to a vehicle.”

Soap’s eyes narrowed. Ally? In Mexico? Only two people came to mind, and they were both “detained”.

“Is it Price?” he asked after a moment’s thought.

“No, one of Alejandro's Vaqueros. Wasn’t on base when Graves moved in. Showed up, realized something was wrong. We found each other killing Shadows, decided to team up.”

Soap chanced raising his head to peer out of the shop window. Seeing no Shadows, he moved for the door. “And you trust ‘im?”

“Enough, at least for now.”

“Copy that, LT. I’m on my way.”

He wiggled the door handle, but of course, nothing could be so easy. It was locked. So he pulled out the last of his makeshift pry tools, braced it in the door jamb, and pulled.

Lots of things happened all at once, then.

The door swung open. Soap yelled “Fuck!” while the Shadow said “what the- GET DOWN!”, and hit Soap with the butt of his rifle. The Shadow called his position, Soap heard “kill him!”, and then the Shadow dropped to the ground. Soap scrambled back, pressing the heel of his hand into his eye and groaning. His vision swam and his ears rang and he couldn’t get his bearings. Two more Shadows, running for the building, dropped to the sharp report of silenced sniper fire.

“Holy hell. Ghost, was that you?” Soap asked.

“Who else?” snapped Ghost’s rough voice. “Now go!”

He scrambled to his feet. And ran.

He ran as fast as his bruised body would let him, ducking behind cars and spraying with an SMG he’d picked up. He heard gunfire coming from ahead of him and cursed, grabbing for his radio.

“Ghost, how copy?”

“Johnny, got company in the church and they are not here for forgiveness. Get to the steps, we’ll be there!”

In the last few meters, Soap saw Ghost come careening out of the church doors, followed closely by a much smaller figure dressed all in black. They both turned to shoot at their followers as Soap and Ghost called out to each other. Ghost vaulted over the wrought iron fence, followed by their ally, and the three ran back the way Soap had come.

“We need a vehicle. On me!” Ghost barked. “Stay sharp. They know we’re here and they know it’s us. They’ll send more.”

Minutes that felt like hours later, after a brief firefight, the three piled into a pickup, panting and on high alert.

“Alright, Johnny! You made it.”

“We made it, LT.”

After ramming two Shadows with their stolen pickup, and nearly losing Ghost to another, they peeled off down an alley. Soap sagged against the seat, closing his eyes again. His heart and head were pounding.

“How’s that arm, Johnny?” asked Ghost.

Soap raised his head. “I’ll live,” he answered. He shivered violently, once, and Ghost cast a concerned glance in his direction.

“You sure it’s not infected?”

“Of course I’m not sure,” snapped Soap. Softening his voice, he added “But I think it’s just the cold. Between the tunnels and the rain, LT? Feels like I’m back home.”

Ghost nodded slowly. For a long moment, the two just basked in each others’ presence, grateful to have made it back together. Then, Ghost said “Daniela, would you take a look at the Sergeant’s arm? Can’t have him dying on us.”

Soap’s head snapped around to lock eyes with the ally he’d forgotten. Later, he’d remember this moment as an indication of his quickly deteriorating state. In the moment, though, he couldn’t wrap his head around anything but the woman in front of him.

Sometime between their getting into the truck and down the street, the black balaclava and hood had come off. The woman staring back at him had light olive skin and a mass of shiny black curls plastered to her head by rain. A thin, jagged, silvery scar ran from her cheekbone to her jaw, and her full lips were pursed in a barely-there smile. Soap thought he saw scarred flesh at the collar of her jacket. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers. They were the bluest blue he’d ever seen- dark like the ocean, clear like the sky on a cloudless night, and as sharp as glass. Familiar, somehow.

He hadn’t necessarily had expectations of how this ally would look, but this was as far from expectation as possible. He had pictured a man, but even the fact that she was a woman wasn’t most shocking of all. It was her beauty.

He flinched when her hand landed lightly on his right shoulder, pulling gently.

“No, we can’t,” she said. Her voice was soft, musical, lightly accented. The lilt of just those three words had Soap’s head spinning for, at least he thought, completely different reasons than it had been spinning earlier. He adjusted his body so that rather than leaning with his left arm over the seat, his right arm hung over. The woman looked straight to the wound, gently prodding the flesh around the bullet wound, and Soap bit his tongue to keep from hissing in pain.

“Does that hurt?” she asked.

Soap tried to be nonchalant. He shrugged and said “Not so much.”

Ghost snorted. Soap didn’t blame him. The words sounded strained even to his own ears. And based on the older man’s jokes about not watching the cartel’s videos of his death “more than once”, this seemed like just the kind of thing he might find amusing. The thought made Soap smirk. The woman rolled her eyes, setting them on his again.

“What’s your name, hen?”

“I am Daniela. You are Soap, yes?” Soap nodded. Daniela nodded as well, focusing back on his arm. “Your Ghost, he told you that I am with Los Vaqueros?”

Soap and Ghost exchanged a look at “your Ghost”. Now Soap really was smirking, and he imagined that Ghost was grimacing under his mask.

“Aye, that he did,” he replied. He watched as Daniela unzipped her tactical vest and tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of her shirt. She began winding it around his bicep, grimacing slightly at the wheeze of pain he couldn’t hold back.

“Well we have a safehouse. We’ll get there, stock up, get you patched up a little better, and come up with a plan.” After carefully tying a knot in the makeshift bandage, she raised her eyes to Soap’s again. “It’s the best I can do right now.”

“I appreciate it,” he replied. He held her gaze for a moment before turning to face Ghost. “Alright, Ghost?”

Ghost glanced at him again. Even behind the mask, Soap could see his expression soften. “Alright, Johnny. You did well back there.” Soap grinned, and could tell by the crinkling around his eyes that Ghost was grinning, too.

“All thanks to you, LT.”

The rest of the ride was filled with soft chatter about Alejandro, Los Vaqueros, Graves, and the safehouse… and Soap trying, and failing, not to feel Daniela’s burning stare on the back of his neck.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Soap thought he was done for when Ghost shouted for him not to move. His feet had just touched the safehouse floor and Ghost was perched in the window. Before Soap even had time to react, a throwing knife flew past his head, embedding itself in the column just a meter away. Then he recognized Rodolfo’s voice.

“Quién está ahí?”

“Rodolfo!”

Rodolfo rounded the corner. “Soap, Ghost! You’re alive!” Soap could see the moment Daniela mounted the window. Rodolfo’s face crumbled, his whole body seeming to sag with relief. “Daniela!”

“Rodolfo!” She leapt from the windowsill, surging forward to wrap her arms around Rodolfo’s waist. His own arms came around her shoulders and the two rocked back and forth, holding each other, speaking in rapid-fire Spanish that Soap had no hope of understanding. Rodolfo kissed the side of Daniela’s head, holding her to him tightly. Soap looked away. His eyes met Ghost’s and the two shared a slight shrug.

While Rodolfo and Daniela chattered away, Ghost stepped toward Soap.

“Daniela should be able to fix up that arm,” he said. “She’s not a formally trained medic, but she has lots of field training and experience. She told me she’s been patching up Los Vaqueros for years.”

“Aye. How’d you say you found her? Fighting Shadows?”

Ghost looked her way, nodding. “Just a few minutes before I got you on comms, I heard a scuffle. Thought it might be you, so I went in to assist. Lo and behold, I find that one slicing up a Shadow. ‘Nother pair showed up, though, and one got her in a choke-hold. Would’ve carried her off to who knows where if I hadn’t shown up.”

Soap nodded slowly. He didn’t need any more explanation. He knew the implications of what Ghost was saying and it made his blood boil.

Ghost shrugged. “She trusted me enough since I’d just saved her life, and I trusted her enough since she was fighting them and didn’t raise her gun at me. Plus, I think she’s as dedicated to the cause as Alejandro and Rodolfo.”

“Why’s that?” asked Soap. But before Ghost could answer, Rodolfo cut in.

“Where were you guys?”

“On the run,” answered Ghost.

“I was on the run,” corrected Soap. “Ghost waited for me.”

Rodolfo nodded. “Of course, no?”

Dread sank in Soap’s stomach. “No-” he began. But Ghost cut him off.

“Yes,” he said firmly, locking eyes with Soap again. “We’re a team. All of us.”

That stunned Soap into silence. He’d known they’d bonded trying to escape Las Almas with their lives, but for all of his teasing about Ghost taking a shine to him, he hadn’t actually believed that Ghost would say the same thing.

He was touched.

Maybe even more touched by the fact that the legendary lone-wolf Ghost considered him part of his team. It was likely the highest compliment he would ever get from him.

So while Rodolfo and Ghost started in on their plan to get into the prison, Soap settled down against the safehouse wall with an MRE from Alejandro’s supplies. The adrenaline shot he’d managed to get his hands on in Las Almas was waning, and he could feel every sore muscle, the bullet in his arm, and his likely sprained hip sharply. He tried to tune in to the conversation, but his attention was immediately lost when Daniela approached him with a med kit.

She grinned a bit wryly at him. “Mind if I take a better look at that arm?” Soap nodded and braced himself to stand, but Daniela jumped forward, holding out a hand. “No, don’t get up,” she said. Soap settled back to the ground as she crouched by him, reaching for her makeshift bandage from earlier.

Soap studied her as she worked. Her hair had dried and now sat at least a few centimeters higher on her head, tight ringlets falling to her shoulders. Her eyebrows furrowed just a bit as she carefully removed the bloodied fabric. Her movements were calculated, washing the wound and looking at it closely.

“How did you join Los Vaqueros?” Soap asked. For a moment, Daniela didn’t acknowledge him. Then she raised her gaze to his.

Instead of answering his question, she said “I need to get the bullet out. It’s going to hurt. Think you can handle it?”

Soap nodded once, sharply. Her gaze softened. “I don’t have any painkillers. This isn’t going to be some… little pain. It’s going to hurt a lot.”

Soap cocked a wry grin back at her. “Just so long as my screaming doesn’t bother you,” he teased. A wicked spark lit in her eyes at that.

“It won’t bother me. Maybe I’d like to hear you scream.”

Soap’s jaw dropped. It was exactly the type of thing he’d say, but having it said to him was dumbfounding. Who was this woman?

Her smile only grew as she watched him try to compose himself. He was grateful when her gaze dropped back to the task at hand, sterilizing a pair of forceps. He was sure his face was flaming red.

“Los Vaqueros saved my life when I was sixteen,” she said softly. “My village leader refused the cartel’s demands, so El Sin Nombre set to burning the village down. I was one of three survivors.” That explained Ghost’s certainty of her dedication.

She moved to his right side, between his leg and outstretched arm, and gripped his bicep below the bullet wound.

“My whole family died that day.”

She set the forceps at the wound’s entry. Soap took a deep breath.

“I have burns all over my body from our house burning down.” That explained the scarring at her neck.

Soap lurched forward, gasping, when she dug the forceps in. The pain was so blinding that he nearly missed Daniela cursing softly in Spanish before sitting on his right leg, leaning her body against his to keep him from moving. Nearly missed. But didn’t.

“Lo ciento,” she whispered, sparing him a concerned glance. He grit his teeth and leaned his head back against the wall, chest heaving as he took deep breaths through his nose.

“I’m sorry,” he gritted out. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you.”

Daniela shrugged. “Alejandro pulled me out of that fire,” she continued. Her tone was light, but seemed forced. Soap wasn’t sure whether it was her attempt to calm him or to pretend her story didn’t bother her.

He felt the moment that the forceps grasped the bullet. Took a deep breath. Steeled himself. Nothing prepared him for the feeling. He’d been shot before, multiple times. Bullet removal wasn’t a walk in the park, but he hadn’t realized just how much the painkillers mattered.

Soap was not proud of the whimper he let out when Daniela yanked the bullet out in one clean motion. She dropped the forceps onto a medical tray and lightly patted his cheek before inspecting the wound closely, muttering about infection and pointedly not meeting his gaze. She poured antiseptic over the wound and reached for a bottle of pills.

“Here, take these. Antibiotics,” she said. After watching Soap swallow the pills, she picked a needle and thread up out of the med kit and continued. “Rodolfo threw a wet blanket over me. They put ointment on my burns and fed me. They offered me a home. They taught me to fight. They’ve been my family ever since.”

Soap felt a pang of kinship at her words. He flinched slightly when the needle pierced his skin, but the pain died to a dull burn as Daniela kept stitching.

“Now that, I do understand,” he said.

“You have no family?”

“No. Just the 141.”

After a few more strokes, she tied off the thread and laid a hand on his chest.

“They are my brothers. We must get Alejandro back.”

Soap reached up to cover her hand, belatedly hoping she wouldn’t be able to feel his heart pounding when she met his gaze. “We will, hermana.”

The smile she gave him was small, but her eyes were warm. It lasted for a brief moment before she arched an eyebrow.

“Hermana?” She leaned forward until her mouth brushed Soap’s ear and he was sure that she could feel his heartbeat stutter. “I certainly hope not.”

With that, she picked up her medical kit and sauntered away, leaving Soap to stare after her in shock.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Getting into the prison compound was easy enough.

“Trash bin on your right, time to take out the trash.”

“Shut up, Soap, fucking hell.”

A giggle from Daniela.

“Shoot him.”

“No, got something else in mind.”

“Fucking beautiful, sir!”

Impressed mumbling from Rodolfo.

“Cut and paste him, Ghost.”

Soap and Ghost’s banter amused Daniela to no end, even though Soap was sure he’d never been so anxious in his life. Having Ghost’s life almost solely in his hands was a responsibility he never wanted to feel again. But working with Rodolfo again helped to ease his mind.

Nearly being killed by Alejandro was less than ideal, but made worth it to watch him reunite with Rodolfo and Daniela.

“Alejandro! Al- it’s me, hermano!”

“Coronel, relájese somos nosotros!”

“Soap, Rudy, Ghost! Daniela!”

“Didn’t think we’d leave you, did ya?”

“What took you so long, pendejos?”

Getting out wasn’t quite as easy.

“Exfil vehicles are set. Ghost planted charges to help us get out.”

“With Johnny’s help.”

“Eh, I can’t call Soap ‘Johnny’.”

“Don’t. Only Ghost can pull that off.”

“Aww, really? Only your Ghost? What about me?”

“Yes, Johnny, what about Daniela?”

“Can it, LT.”

But between Los Vaqueros and the 141, they made it. Soap couldn’t put into words how much relief he felt upon seeing Gaz and hearing the old man’s voice. After being hoisted to the top, he and Daniela ended up shoulder to shoulder, her covering him while he detonated the Shadows vehicles.

“Have you been with the 141 long?” she shouted over the sounds of gunfire.

“The 141 hasn’t been around all that long,” he shouted back. “But yeah, I’ve been with ‘em since the start.” He raised his rifle, picking off three snipers with three shots.

Daniela raised an impressed eyebrow. “I can see why!”

Soap grinned wide, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye as he raised the detonator. “Would you be impressed if I told you I rigged the explosives for these things, too?”

Daniela returned his grin full force. “I would be.”

Soap’s grin only widened before he pressed the button, eyes locked with Daniela’s. He lowered his voice and said “Ka-freaking-boom, baby.” She’d giggled when he said it earlier, and as the APC exploded, she let out another delighted squeal.

“Handsome and clever? This is a good combination, Johnny,” she said. Soap was grateful that shooting was such second nature to him because in that moment, all coherent thoughts ceased to exist. When he managed to look back to Daniela, she was smiling slyly. She picked off a sniper from across the yard and Soap shook his head. Witty, intelligent, beautiful, and a good shot.

When the door to their right crashed open, Soap threw himself in front of Daniela to cover her as they each shot one of the men inside. Ghost barked at Soap about weapons, and he came back to the wall with a grenade launcher. He released several grenades before the last of Alejandro’s men mounted the wall top, and then made sure that Daniela went down the other side before him.

When he stumbled getting to their transport out, he chalked it up to battle fatigue, which he told both Ghost and Daniela when they asked whether he was okay. Neither looked convinced, but neither questioned him. They did sit on either side of him for the ride back to the safehouse, though.

Daniela leaned close to him. “How do you feel?” she asked.

“Never better,” he lied. His whole body throbbed in varying levels of discomfort and pain. At least his head had stopped throbbing. Daniela leveled her gaze at him, and he returned a wide grin. She rolled her eyes and dropped it. Instead, she said “Thank you for covering me. You didn’t have to do that.”

Soap’s grin softened. “I know,” he said.

Back at the safe house, lively music played softly in the garage as Los Vaqueros cleaned weapons, loaded vehicles, and fed themselves. Soap felt slightly out of place, like he and the rest of the 141 were walking into someone’s home. Everyone either had something to say or shook hands with Daniela and Rodolfo as they passed, and they both smiled warmly at their friends.

Soap and Ghost made their way to an unoccupied pair of cots in the corner, observing their newfound comrades. Price had disappeared with Alejandro to formulate a plan, ordering the two to sleep. But exhausted as he was, Soap wasn’t sure he’d be able to.

He couldn’t get comfortable. No matter which way he turned, something ached or stung. He tried relaxing his muscles. He tried breathing deeply. He tried counting sheep.

Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the fire and the blood from the streets of Las Almas. He could hear the screaming and the pleading and the gunfire. He tried covering his eyes, and his ears. Eventually, he rolled to his side, facing Ghost. He was startled to meet the Lieutenant’s eyes.

“Simon?” Soap asked softly.

“Johnny,” said Ghost, equally as softly.

Soap chewed his lip. “Do you ever forget?”

Ghost held his stare, unflinching. “No. You don’t.” Soap hadn’t realized before, but Ghost’s eyes were bloodshot. He looked tired. He’d learned quickly that he slept infrequently, and for short periods of time. It made a lot more sense, now. Ghost rolled over, huffing out a soft breath. “But eventually, you’ll learn to sleep anyway.”

Soap stared at his back, wondering if he would. Wondering if Ghost ever had. He didn’t know how long he stared at his teammate, but it felt like hours later that someone sat gently on the end of his cot. He flew up, grabbing for the bowie knife he kept in his tactical vest.

Daniela raised her hands, offering a tired smile. “Mind if I take a look at that arm?”

“Sure.” Soap swung his legs off of the cot, resting his hands on the edge. Daniela turned toward him, reaching out and carefully pulling off the dressing she’d applied that early morning.

“How does it feel? Any sharp pains or itching? Any dizziness, fever?” As soon as she said fever, Soap realized he’d been sweating more than usual. He’d absolutely been feeling dizzy since that harrowing night on the run, but it seemed to have died down throughout the day. And now that he actually paid attention long enough, it was quite itchy.

“No,” he lied. Once again, those ocean eyes seemed to pierce his very soul, challenging him. She knew. But she didn’t say anything, simply reached into the med kit for the same bottle of antibiotics and handed him two. Soap took them gratefully. The team couldn’t afford to be without him, and Ghost would surely order him to stay back if he thought the Sergeant was at all compromised.

Again, she washed the wound with antiseptic, then applied a fresh coat of salve before covering it with a fresh bandage.

“Why are you awake, anyway?” she asked suddenly. Soap’s head snapped up, eyes flying to hers. She looked nearly as exhausted as Ghost, all bloodshot eyes and frazzled hair and sagging shoulders. Still gorgeous.

Soap shrugged uncomfortably. “Couldn’t sleep. What about you?”

She shrugged back, offering a small smile. “Couldn’t sleep either. It makes sense, though. You’ve been through a lot the last few days.” The last few days? When Soap cocked an eyebrow at her, she fidgeted a bit. “I, uh… I was there in the cartel house. When Valeria interrogated you.”

Several things clicked into place for Soap very suddenly. Alejandro had taken him to the elevator once he got into the cartel house, and another guard had escorted him out and down to the basement. Small, with ocean-blue eyes. Then at the oil rig, Alejandro had sent one man with Soap and Graves to the ship. Dani.

“You’re strong for your size,” said Soap in awe. Daniela had shoved him repeatedly through the hallway, even tapping the side of his face with the butt of her gun when he had begun to look over his shoulder.

She smiled wryly. “Sorry about that. We had to make it real, and we couldn’t risk any more comms than we had.”

“No, no, it’s okay. You did good,” said Soap. “Why can’t you sleep?”

Daniela shifted again. “I don’t do so well the night before big missions. I usually bunk next to Alelandro or Rodolfo, but they’re both… occupied. So, I came over here instead. To you.”

Soap’s heart melted. He was so drawn to this woman, and to know that she felt even a fraction of that bond made his heart swell with gratitude. “You can bunk with us,” he said quickly. Then, glancing around, he realized that there didn’t seem to be any available cots. “Take my cot. I can sleep in a chair.”

Daniela’s face had washed with relief when he spoke, but some tension returned as she looked down at her hands. “Don’t be silly,” she mumbled. “I’m not putting you out of your cot after the week you’ve had.”

“Well then, you’ll just have to share it with me,” teased Soap. He held his breath when Daniela’s head snapped up. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to say anything so bold, but he’d taken it and run with it. “There’s plenty of space for both of us.”

“If I sleep on top of you, maybe,” snorted Daniela. Soap wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Daniela giggled.

Soap softened his voice, speaking more seriously. “I really don’t mind sharing.”

She contemplated for a moment, sighed, and then rolled her eyes. “Fine. Just don’t complain if I crush you.”

Now it was Soap’s turn to snort. He lay down carefully, his back to Ghost’s cot, and raised his right arm. Daniela lay down beside him, turning onto her side and tucking herself under his chin. A perfect fit. Soap gently let his arm come down over her waist, laying his hand on the cot rail.

“This okay?” he whispered. She nodded. Soap nodded, too. His heart was pounding. He hadn’t been close to someone like this in… well, a long time.

The 141 was his whole life. There was always work to be done, and without a family to go home to, there was no real reason to take leave. On the rare occasion he did, he just ended up in his home town in Scotland. He’d flirt, constantly, but he seldom brought anyone home. He longed for something deeper, and sex alone could never fill that void. Plus, no one wanted to commit to someone who could be gone for months at a time.

But this? To be close to someone? This was filling the void just fine. Soap had to fight the urge to pull her further back against him as her breathing evened out, her body naturally leaning more on his own. As he dozed, he was proud of himself for staying still. He drifted in and out of sleep, dreaming empty dreams and feeling her shift against him.

As he finally woke up the next morning, he felt his hip aching fiercely. He started to shift to take some pressure off of it, and froze. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw Daniela’s wild hair. He groggily remembered that they’d shared a cot the night before. All of his pride at his self-control dissolved instantly when he realized that his arm was around her waist, holding her tightly to his chest. She must have turned over in her sleep, because her leg was thrown over his hip, pulling their bodies flush together.

He could already feel a problem, and this was not the time or place. He had to get out of this cot without waking her up. He shifted back, then froze as Daniela’s hand ran up to the back of his head to tangle her fingers in his mohawk. Her eyelids fluttered, her fingers pulled lightly at his hair, and her leg tightened around his hips. Soap’s eyes fluttered shut as he swallowed a groan. Fuck. When he opened his eyes again, she was smiling at him sleepily.

“That’s the best sleep I’ve gotten in months,” she whispered. Soap nodded, desperately trying to get his body under control before she woke up any more. To his dismay, she nuzzled closer to him, nose rubbing under his jaw and hips shifting back and forth for a moment. Her eyes snapped open, eyebrows arching. “Feels like you slept pretty well, too, eh big boy?” Hells bells, this woman. Soap barely suppressed a full body shudder as she beamed at him.

“I didn’t, I’m not, I-” he stuttered. But Daniela placed her fingers over his lips, silencing him. Her eyes were full of mirth.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” she teased. Then she languidly stretched, pressing against him as much as humanly possible before climbing out of the cot and sashaying away, tossing a wicked grin over her shoulder at him. Soap turned to Ghost’s cot, which was blessedly empty, and then pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, still fighting for his body to cooperate. Hells fucking bells.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Alejandro called his men, all sound stopped. The place became a real base in that moment. Los Vaqueros and the 141 gathered around a makeshift operations table, listening intently as Price spoke.

“This is a fight against our own. We are not 141 and Los Vaqueros on this. We’re a team. Ghost team.”

Soap’s eyebrows shot up when the Captain dumped out a bucket of masks, then his eyes snapped up to Ghost. Ghost was staring at him, and Soap was almost certain he was steeling himself. Their silent conversation lasted only a moment before Ghost reached up, pulling off his mask, pausing before reaching for one from the table. Price reached a hand up to his shoulder.

“Good to see you again, Simon,” he said.

Soap carefully schooled his features in an attempt to soothe Ghost’s nerves, but he felt a distinct surge of pride in being one of the few to be allowed to know the Lieutenant. As the older man adjusted the mask over his face, the two shared another weighted look. Soap quirked up one corner of his mouth, shaking his head. Quite the opposite, indeed.

Alejandro laid out the plan to get into the Los Vaqueros facility. “We’ll infiltrate the base with two Ghost teams. Team one is Captain Price, Gaz, me, and one pilot. Team two is Ghost, Soap, Rudy, Dani, and Los Vaqueros.”

Ghost and Soap looked to each other and nodded. Then Soap turned to Daniela, raising an eyebrow. He mouthed “Dani?”

She smirked, mouthing back “Johnny?”

Soap grinned. He looked to Ghost, who was shaking his head. But his eyes were crinkled with mirth.

“While Gaz and me locate and secure Valeria, Ghost team 2 will find Graves… and kill him.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ghost team 2 fought their way through the base to the HQ building, then fought their way through that. Soap and Ghost moved together like they’d fought together for years, and Daniela and Rodolfo effortlessly slotted themselves into their dynamic. Between the three of them, no Shadows made it more than a few steps into the open.

Watching Price’s helo go down had Soap’s stomach sinking. “Steamin’ hell!” Soap shouted. He and Ghost shared a heavy look while Daniela and Rodolfo cursed softly. Rodolfo quickly recovered, clambering up the wall with Soap’s help. Daniela followed after, lightly stepping into Soap’s linked hands before joining Rodolfo in straddling the wall. The two of them pulled Soap up quickly, who turned to Ghost.

“Ghost, you comin’?” he asked.

“No. Price and the pilot need help. You three finish this.”

Soap’s head whipped back and forth between Ghost and the other side of the wall until he saw something that made his stomach drop even more. “Look!” he shouted.

“That’s not ours!” shouted Rodolfo.

“Holy shite. Graves brought a fuckin’ tank!” growled Soap, dropping to the ground. He glanced at Rodolfo and Daniela. “You ready for this?”

“Hell yeah!” answered Rodolfo. Daniela nodded curtly. Soap motioned for the three to split up.

“Looks like the hunters are getting hunted now, huh?” came Graves’ sneering voice. “Ain’t that a kick in the ass?”

“Can’t wait to bake this bastard,” grumbled Soap. He, Daniela, and Rodolfo had run into different buildings. Rodolfo tried to call out C4 stashes, Daniela threw grenades as she could, and Soap gestured for both of them to stay down and inside. Then he ran for his life.

“You and your mexicano friends fucked with the wrong hombre, MacTavish!” yelled Graves.

“Come on out and let’s talk about it,” quipped Soap. Daniela snorted, and despite the severity of the situation, Soap found himself smiling.

Graves seemed altogether less pleased. “You think this is a fucking game out here? You wanna play war? Let’s play some fucking war, chicos! One of you dipshits needs to die last. Who’s it gonna be?”

“Go fuck yourself, Graves.” Soap threw a brick of C4 straight into the tank’s path, silently congratulating himself when it blew.

“You got a healthy disrespect for authority, Soap. I like that about you!”

“You’re Shepherd’s lap dog. You get paid to break the rules.”

“There’s only two rules here, boys. Walk away… or win. Guess which one I choose?” Soap vaulted through a window. It wasn’t high, but the landing still made his hip throb in protest. He grunted softly. “Shoulda gone home when you had the chance, Soap- you and that asshole with the mask, hiding behind that uniform.”

Soap’s temper instantly flared. “You wore that uniform,” he ground out. He was crouched by another C4 stash, trying to judge Graves’ location.

“That uniform was a limitation!” shouted Graves. “I shed that skin!”

“Like a fuckin’ snake,” Soap hissed.

“Like a fuckin’ soldier, son.”

“You had to make your own little army ‘cause you couldn’t hack it in the real one.” This time, Soap managed to stick the side of the tank with C4 as it passed. He ran, detonated, and silently cheered again when he heard the second explosion.

Soap managed to tune out most of the rest of what Graves said, until he turned his attention to Rodolfo. His Spanish wasn’t great, but he picked up the general idea that Graves was saying the 141 were no friends to Los Vaqueros.

“Oye, pendejo!” Daniela’s voice suddenly cut through the radio. Most of what she said was lost to Soap, but she sounded furious. He picked out the words “friends”, “assholes like you”, “good people”, and “brothers”, and “death”. Hermanos hasta la muerte.

Graves must have understood more than Soap, because his driving became erratic and he shouted back to Daniela in what Soap did recognize as poorly pronounced Spanish.

Her distraction gave him enough time to sneak up behind the tank and lay one last brick of C4 between the tank’s body and tread. But just as he started to back off, the gun began to swing in his direction. Soap braced himself to run, and then froze.

“Graves!” Daniela shouted. She had leapt up to stand in the window of the building directly ahead of Soap. As the tank's gun swung back in her direction, Soap scrambled to his feet, racing forward.

“Pinche tu madre,” she sneered.

Soap could hear the tank’s gun spinning up.

“No!” He shouted. Daniela’s head snapped in his direction. Her face fell when they locked stares, eyes flashing with anxiety. She took half a step toward him, but Soap launched himself through the window. In one smooth motion, he wrapped his arm around Daniela’s waist, yanked her against himself, and pulled them to the ground. He landed hard on his shoulder as he heard the tank fire and rolled her under him as fast as he could, tucking his head against hers and shielding them both with his arms. The building crumbled under the impact, sheetrock and dust raining down on them. Several chunks of sheetrock landed across Soap’s back. That’ll be a few new bruises.

As it began to settle, Soap raised his head just enough to look down at Daniela. They were nose to nose when she opened her eyes, hands coming up to run over his covered head.

“Y’alright?” Soap whispered. She nodded frantically.

“You?” He nodded. As he shifted his shoulders, bits of rubble fell off and cracked against the ground. He winced.

He looked up and around. Graves’ tank was rotating, looking for them. He glanced to the stairs, then looked back down at Daniela.

“Hold onto me,” he whispered. Daniela cocked an eyebrow, but wrapped her arms around his neck. Soap grabbed one of her legs behind the knee, wrapping it around his waist, and she smirked before wrapping her other leg around his back as well. As serious as the situation was, their position wasn’t lost on Soap. Twice in one day? He swallowed hard. C’mon, MacTavish.

As quickly as he dared, he crawled for the stairwell. He could see Graves’ tank through the doorway on the opposite wall, facing away. In the last meter, he leapt to his feet and ran up several steps, stopping midway to lean against the wall. Daniela slid down his body, resting her hands on his chest. Soap shivered. They were both panting slightly. Her eyes shone as she looked up at him.

“Gracías, guapo,” she said softly. Then her hand snapped up to her earpiece. She started down for a moment, then looked back up at Soap. “Rodolfo moved to Los Vaqueros private channel. He says there should be an RPG downstairs,” she said.

Soap nodded, clicking through channels until he could hear Rudy’s voice. “I’ll get it,” he said.

Daniela grabbed his arm as he moved, stopping him in his tracks. “Be careful,” she said. He nodded, clasping her arm.

“I will.”

He crept down the stairs, peeking around the wall to where he’d last seen Graves’ tank. It wasn’t there. Staying low, he rounded the corner, eyes searching frantically for the RPG.

“Check under the counter, hermano,” whispered Rodolfo. When Soap glanced up, he could barely see the other man peeking around a doorframe across the yard. He crept to the bar counter, slid open the door as quietly as possible, and grabbed the RPG inside.

“Siiick,” said Soap, raising the RPG to his shoulder. With his back to the wall, he slowly made his way to an opening, searching for Graves. Not seeing him, he stayed. And breathed. And waited.

He could hear the thing driving around outside, searching for him or the others. He just hoped they were well hidden.

His radio crackled. “He’s heading your way, Soap,” said Daniela quietly.

“Rog’,” he replied. “Stay down.”

Carefully, he crouched and turned, ready to fire as soon as the tank came into view. He didn’t have to wait long. With a deep breath, he stood, pulled the trigger, and dove behind the cabinet again. The explosion from the tank seemed to rock the very ground. He realized that he’d never detonated the last brick of C4. Double trouble, then.

Slowly, Soap stood and leaned around the corner. Graves’ tank was a ball of fire, smoke and flames billowing into the sky. He heard Daniela step down the stairs, then felt her small hand on his shoulder blade. Rudy peeked around the corner of a doorway, looking around before stepping outside. Soap and Daniela did the same, cautiously walking forward.

“You did it, Soap,” said Rodolfo softly.

“You two and me, hermano,” said Soap.

“Brought a gun to a tank fight.”

Soap chuckled, smiling under his mask. “Yeah we did!” He reached for his radio, clicking back to the main channel. “Soap to Ghost- I’m with Rudy. Graves is KIA. How’s Price?”“Angry. Lost a good cigar in the crash. Pilot’s okay, too. Out.”

Rodolfo relayed the message to Alejandro. They all took a moment to breathe. And then they moved out to meet Ghost Team 1.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Soap’s head was spinning. They had all known Valeria was a wildcard, but he didn’t think any of them had expected her to drop the bomb of information that a missile was in Chicago. Not even Alejandro. Price handed her off to Los Vaqueros almost immediately, the threat in his voice clear. Soap wasn’t surprised, and he didn’t expect to ever see her alive again.

He was surprised when he had to lift Daniela up and out of the container after she lunged for Valeria. He dragged her out kicking and screaming in Spanish, all curses and threats. Rudy followed them out first, trying to calm her down, but there was nothing for it. The other woman was single-handedly responsible for the deaths of all of her family and friends. Soap couldn’t fault her rage.

Gaz came out next, raising his eyebrows at Soap in a silent question. Soap nodded, affirming that he was alright. Daniela had stopped thrashing, but her chest still rose and fell quickly against his arms. He’d had to lean back against the wall, lifting her feet off the ground to keep her from beelining to the container. Now she stood, back against his chest, hands gripping his tactical harness where it crossed his thighs.

“I won’t pretend to know what you’re feeling,” Gaz began softly. He paced slowly back and forth in front of them. “But I do know that she’s not worth throwing your life away.”

“She stole my life!” hissed Daniela. “She took my family. She took everything from me! And now she’s doing it all again! More people will lose their lives, lose their families, if she isn’t stopped!”

“But she gave you a purpose,” said Gaz firmly. He’d stopped pacing, staring directly at Daniela now. “You’ll never let that happen to anyone ever again. We are going to stop her. And I know it’s not the same thing, but she gave you a family, too. Hell, she gave you two families. You, Alejandro, Rodolfo? Los Vaqueros? You’ll always have a family with the 141, now.”

Soap squeezed her just a bit tighter at that, his own silent affirmation. After a moment, Daniela’s hands released his harness and lay flat against his legs. She seemed to sag back against him. Her voice shook slightly when she spoke.

“Gracias, hermano.”

Gaz simply nodded before returning to the container. For several minutes, Soap and Daniela said nothing. Then, very softly, she said “You can let me go.”

“Aye? You won’t kick me in the shins and run off to kill her anyway?”

Daniela snorted at that. “No.” With one final squeeze, Soap let her go. As he did, Alejandro came storming out of the container, followed closely by Rodolfo. He moved straight for Daniela, gripping her shoulders.

“We’re going to be hunted men, Dani,” he said. “I’m not letting her get away with this. Rodolfo and I will handle her, and we’ll handle the cartel. But you…” He looked up at Soap, then back at Daniela. He pointed to Soap with one finger. “You need to go with them. I don’t want you to be a part of this.”

“Alejandro, no, soy-”

“No,” he growled. He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, and Soap realized when he looked at Daniela again that he was tearing up. He lowered his head to her level, staring at her intently. “What did I tell you the night we found you?”

Rodolfo had turned his head away, shoulders stiff. Soap couldn’t see her face, but he could hear in her voice that Daniela was tearing up, too. “You told me you would always protect me,” she whimpered.

Alejandro shook her gently. “This is me protecting you, hermana.” He pointed to Soap. “That man will protect you with his life. You told me so yourself. Rodolfo told me.” He glanced back to Soap, who nodded, stunned. “And I can see it when I look at him, and the way he looks at you. You have to go with them. You have to get that missile, and you have to stay out of Mexico until this dies down. And then you know we’ll welcome you back with open arms.”

Rodolfo turned, reaching out a hand to hold Daniela’s. “This has always been our fight, mijá,” he whispered. “It doesn’t have to be yours. And I know you chose it, but this time… just let us do this for you. Sabes que te amamos.”

Price and Gaz had come out of the container again, Price holding Valeria. They both nodded to Soap, who nodded to Daniela when she looked over to him. Her gaze dropped, and then she looked back to her men.

“Yo sé que tú,” she whispered.

Alejandro moved to Soap while Rodolfo hugged Daniela.

“Go. You have work to do,” he said. Then he pulled Soap closer, and softly said “Take care of her.”“You know I will,” whispered Soap. He backed toward their plane. “Keep fighting the good fight, hermano!” he called.“To the bitter end, my brother!” said Alejandro.

“Good luck, amigos,” said Rodolfo.

Price shoved Valeria into the backseat of Alejandro and Rodolfo’s vehicle while Soap, Ghost, and Daniela moved to board the aircraft Gaz had already started up.

“Ghost!” called Alejandro. Ghost turned back, cocking his head slightly. “No te pierdas, hermano!”

Whatever Ghost said back, Soap didn’t understand. But Daniela smiled, blowing a kiss with two fingers that Alejandro caught out of midair and held to his heart. Then they turned, boarded the plane, and were away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Soap had long since abandoned his fear of heights. Walking down a 60-story building didn’t make him nervous, but the hostage situation did. Ghost’s calm helped him keep his cool, though, and soon enough, Daniela was getting hostages out of the building while Soap and Price moved on Hassan. They cleared entire floors of the building in record times.

“And that’s why they call him Soap,” mumbled Ghost. Daniela’s answering giggle warmed Soap’s heart. Upon hearing this, Ghost added “Did you know he’s the youngest one of us? Got in with the SAS at sixteen.”

“Sixteen? Soap, you get more and more impressive the more I learn about you!”

Soap’s face flamed.

Despite the hostages, the mission was going smoothly. Too smoothly. Then, Laswell announced that Hassan had the controls. Ghost confirmed visual on floor 46, and back out they went.

“Soap, we find those controls, it’s up to you to disarm that missile.”

“Copy that… done it once before.”

The RPG could have ruined the whole plan, but Soap and Price were both lucky that it missed them. They moved into the building as quickly as possible, clearing yet another room in record time with Ghost’s sniper support.

When Gaz called that they had the target cornered, Soap and Price raced in his direction. Then came Laswell saying that the missile was launching. Everyone was speaking at once.

“No, no, no!” screamed Price.

“Fecking hell,” growled Soap.

“Watcher, where’s the target?” yelled Price.

“Unknown, we’re working on it.”

“Copy. We’re going for Hassan. This way Sergeant!” he yelled to Soap. Then, “Gaz, where’s Hassan?”

Price and Soap were rounding the corner when Gaz answered. “End of the hall! Hassan’s holed up behind those doors.”

Price’s response was furious. “Let’s clear this out and bag him, then.”

When they got the snake cam under the door, the whole thing went to shit.

The door blew. Soap and Price flew back and Gaz collapsed like a bag of rocks. Soap’s ears were ringing, he was bleeding, and he could hardly breathe. Only Gaz’s quick recovery saved his life. He was dragged into cover before Price took a bullet and Gaz went back for him, too.

Everything after was a blur. One moment, Soap was leaping down a falling elevator shaft. The next, he was running from the man he stole the laptop from. Then hiding. Then detonating the missile with Laswell’s help. Then, running for his life, again.

“Nicely done, Johnny. Now for the hard part,” said Ghost.

“That was the fuckin’ hard part, LT.”

“Let’s find out. You need to stay alive, take out the guards, and kill Hassan.”

Soap looked around frantically. “I just need a weapon,” he said.

“Make one,” Ghost replied. He sounded so nonchalant. It made Soap huff out a laugh.

“Aye. Like old times, huh LT?”

Ghost’s voice was fond when he said “Seems like yesterday.”

Soap replied with equal fondness. “It was yesterday.”

He hid. He ran. With Ghost’s help, he fashioned some makeshift weapons. Then he ran headlong into Hassan. Before he could react, his world went dark.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Soap came to, he was being dragged by his foot. At first, he wasn’t sure where he was. Then he recognized the office he’d been chasing Hassan through.

Hassan. It was Hassan dragging him along.

Sluggishly, his mind went through his team. Ghost. Overwatch. Price. Holed up trying to recover. Gaz. Unknown. Daniela.

Daniela.

Alejandro had sent her with him and he didn’t even know where she was, whether she was safe. His heart twinged painfully. He didn’t have time to think, though. Hassan was yelling about fire and thinking they could stop him. Soap couldn’t focus on it.

Ghost.

“Ghost,” he whispered into his throat mic.

“Soap!”

“Watch… the window,” he managed.

Something exploded.

Hassan dragged him to his feet. Still going on about invading, not attacking.

He thrust Soap in front of him, pushing him toward the window. Soap desperately tried to keep his footing.

“Soap,” said Ghost. Soap vaguely recognized panic in his voice. “Soap, I see him, but I can’t-”

“Take the shot, LT,” mumbled Soap.

“What was that? What are you saying?” Hassan had him by his vest now, shaking him violently.

“Soap, I can’t get a clear-”

“Take. The shot.” Soap’s jaw was clenched. It took all of his power to hold onto Hassan’s wrists enough not to fall back. Hassan was still pushing forward, shouting, and Soap was fighting a losing battle. Hassan was going to push him out of the window.

And he couldn’t stop it.

“I’m sorry,” said Ghost.

Then, just as Soap’s heels touched the ledge, searing pain shot through his chest. He lurched forward with the impact, falling into Hassan.

Hassan’s eyes were wide. Soap thought he saw blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His rattled brain couldn’t make sense of it as they both fell to the ground.

“Johnny, MOVE!” roared Ghost. With the last of his energy, Soap shoved as hard as he could, rolling off of Hassan’s body. Another piercing shot rang out and Hassan’s head cracked backward against the ground.

Soap blinked at Hassan’s body. Ghost was shouting for him through his earpiece. Suddenly, the pieces clicked into place.

“You shot me,” he said dumbly to Ghost.

“Oh thank God,” muttered Ghost. He could hear Daniela shrieking in the background, too.

“You saved me,” he said. The whole room seemed colorful and soft. Spinning. Like a carousel.

Soap smiled, head lolling down.

He could vaguely hear Ghost and Daniela and Gaz yelling, but he was too tired to listen. Just a wee nap. That’s all I need.

Footsteps pounded nearby. With great effort, Soap turned his head. It didn’t hold where he wanted it to, just flopped onto the ground on the other side. He watched a small black pair of boots race across the floor toward him.

“No no no no, hijo de puta. Por favor, Dios, no.” Suddenly, Soap’s head and shoulders were being lifted. Then he was dragged back against something soft. He looked up. Daniela was running her hands over his head, his chest, clawing at his tactical vest. “Por favor, Dios, no,” she repeated. Her voice shook as badly as her hands and tears streamed down her face.

“Hey,” Soap said. He grinned up at her. “Whassa matter? Why’re you crying?”

He reached a hand up to her, wiping her cheek with his thumb. He couldn’t keep it raised and it flopped back to his side.

“John Soap MacTavish, you’d better not die on me,” she muttered. She had gotten his vest loose and was pulling his shirt up roughly.

“Hey, bonnie, at least buy me dinner first,” he slurred. He chuckled. It was silly. It was all so silly. He could hear Ghost yelling faintly, but he wasn’t sure why. Daniela was leaning heavily on his chest, and he wasn’t sure about that either.

Suddenly, he felt as though he’d been sat out in snow for a good few hours. “Hey, are you cold?” he asked Daniela.

“Hey,” Daniela said sharply. She gripped his chin between her fingers. “Look at me.”

Clarity hit Soap like a ton of bricks. He’d been shot. He was bleeding. Cold from shock. That’s why Daniela was crying and Ghost was yelling. He’d been knocked out. Likely had a concussion. He looked up at her solemnly, grabbing her wrist with his hand. Don’t die on me, she’d said. He was dying.

They’d talked quite a bit over their few days together. Talked about their hopes and dreams, and how those fit into their dangerous lives. Talked about their dedication to their teams, their values, their futures. Talked about growing up, their families, how they’d gotten there.

She’d asked him if he’d ever been in love.

He’d said he hadn’t. But he wasn’t so sure that was true, any more.

When he’d asked her, she’d said “maybe” with a sly smile his direction, all twinkling eyes and rosy cheeks.

He blinked, hard. He wanted to know what that meant.

“What did you mean… when you said maybe?” he panted out.

For a moment, Daniela just blinked at him. Then her eyes softened, tears slipping down her cheeks as she understood his question. “I meant I might be,” she whispered. “I’m not quite sure yet. You’ll have to give me some time to figure it out.”

Soap hummed, eyes drifting shut. “I’m pretty sure,” he breathed. Daniela gasped, but he reached up to touch her cheek before she could say anything. “You,” he began, voice a whisper. “You are the most… the most beautiful, intelligent, amazing woman that… that I’ve ever-”

Daniela didn’t let him finish. Her lips were on his before he knew it. He was kissing her before even registering that she’d leaned down. Her lips were soft, just like he’d imagined. She tasted like strawberries and mint and salt. Tears. She kissed him desperately, and he kissed her desperately back. His hand slid back to tangle in her curls. So unbelievably soft. He could hardly move his head, but she tilted her own to deepen the kiss. She ran her tongue along the seam of his lips and he moaned, low in his chest. He weakly tried to pull her closer. No point hiding it now. Besides, if he was going to die, what better way to go? More footsteps pounded in the door. He could vaguely make out Gaz and Price’s voices.

And then, above them all, nearly a full octave up in his panic, Ghost. “Johnny!”

Daniela’s teeth lightly grazed his lip. Soap sighed, then everything went black.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Soap woke to a gentle beeping. His head and mouth felt like they were stuffed with cotton. His body felt like one big bruise, but with shards of glass sprinkled throughout it. He couldn’t open his eyes. There was light pressure against his right hip.

He breathed deeply. Ouch.

Slowly, his eyes cracked open. The room was dark, but moonlight streamed in through a window out of the corner of his eye. He could see that the ceiling was bright white.

“Johnny?”

Slowly, he turned his head toward the familiar voice. As he did, Ghost rose to his feet from his chair, taking two quick steps to the bedside.

Soap opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Ghost scrambled to pour a cup of water, then gently helped Soap lift his head to drink. As he did, Soap realized what the pressure on his hip was. Daniela.

Her head lay at the junction of his torso and legs, black curls shining in the moonlight. The bags under her eyes were nearly as dark as Ghost’s grease paint. Her right hand gripped his thigh, and her left hand held his. She didn’t stir.

Soap swallowed several times. “What happened?” he finally asked.

Ghost’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Do you want the short or long story?” he asked. His voice sounded exhausted.

“How about the short one, for now?”

“I shot you,” said Ghost. For a moment, Soap thought he wouldn’t elaborate. Then, Ghost looked up to meet his eyes. “I shot you, Johnny. Because you told me to. Because you’re the best of us, and you’re clever.”

Soap nodded, eyes drifting shut, not processing Ghost’s words.

“You’re lucky I’m such a good shot,” Ghost added, grumbling.

Soap chuckled softly, wincing as he did. “That I am,” he said. “Hassan?”

“I shot him, too. Twice, actually.”

“Through me the first time, eh LT?”

Ghost looked unamused. But when Soap grinned at him, his eyes softened. “That’s right, Johnny.”

“Perfect shot, LT.”“You called it, Sargeant.”

“The best of us, huh LT?”

“Can it, Sergeant.”

For a moment, the two shared a companionable silence. Then, Ghost spoke so softly that Soap thought he may have imagined it. “I almost didn’t take it.”

“The shot? Why not?”

“There was no shot. He had you directly in front of him, and he would have thrown you out that window before I had time to move.”

“You still got him, LT. I’ll call that a win.”“We got him, Johnny.”

“I’m starting to think you really have taken a shine to me, Simon.”

Ghost hung his head before looking back up. “Maybe I have.” He turned, picking up his chair, and sat it right by the bed as quietly as he could. “That one has, for sure.” He nodded to Daniela.

Soap looked down at her. “How long have you both been here?”

“Since you got here,” Ghost mumbled. Soap’s head snapped back to him.

“And when was that?”

Ghost shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Four days, give or take.” Soap stared at him. Finally, he threw up his hands. “You, Sergeant, should have died.”

He lifted one gloved hand, ticking off fingers as he spoke. “You have a field-treated gunshot wound to your right arm, which was in fact infected. Thank your lucky stars that Daniela saw through your idiocy.” That explained a lot of little things he’d missed. Like a passenger in a getaway vehicle. “A bruised bone in your hip. Three cracked ribs. A grade four concussion. Multiple hairline fractures in your legs. And a shredded left pec from a 50 caliber bullet. Might I add that last one only missed your heart by centimeters?”

Soap snorted. “Well, that explains a lot about how I feel. Hell, how I’ve been feeling.”

Ghost just shook his head. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Thought we lost ya. Again.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy, LT.”

“Good,” grumbled Ghost. He looked toward Daniela. “I had to pry her off of you,” he said softly.

Soap looked down at her again. She looked younger than before, peaceful in her slumber. But he could see the exhaustion plainly on her face. “Yeah?” he asked.

“Mhmm,” murmured Ghost. “Could hardly get her across the hall to shower.”

Soap let his eyes drift shut, exhaustion washing over him all over again. “Where are we, anyway?”

“Amsterdam. Laswell has friends here. We’re in a private hospital.”

“Price? And Gaz?”

“They’re trying to find a lead on Shepherd.”

Soap nodded sleepily, relieved that their squad was still intact. “She kissed me,” he murmured.

“Doctors say she saved your life with that.”

Soap hummed, cracking one eye open to peer at Ghost. He shrugged.

“Something about the adrenaline helping to push off the shock.”

Soap hummed again, letting his eyes slide shut.

“Sleep, Johnny.”

He did.

When he woke again, sunlight was streaming through the window. He shifted slightly, and felt Daniela spring up when he did.

When he opened his eyes, she was staring at him anxiously.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Soap murmured.

Tears sprang instantly to her eyes. She squeezed his thigh, standing and reaching her hand up to cup his face.

“Oh, Johnny,” she whispered.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry,” he said. He reached up a hand to hold hers against his cheek. “I’m right here.”

She shifted a leg up onto the bed, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m right here,” he whispered again. “Ghost said you saved my life.”

She made a strangled sound, half laugh and half sob. “I couldn’t let you go like that.”

Soap shifted his hand to her face, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well,” he said. “If you remember, I was a bit out of my mind.” He tilted her chin up gently, whispering “Care to give me another taste of those lifesaving powers of yours?”

Daniela lunged forward, sealing her lips to his. Soap eyes slid shut as he grinned, pulling her closer. Her mouth opened against his, and he ran his tongue against hers. When she whimpered into his mouth, the primal need to have her close overcame him. He leaned up as far as he could, cursing the sling on his left shoulder, chasing her mouth. His hand moved to the back of her neck, holding her against him. She straddled him carefully, elbows coming to rest above his shoulders.

Her whole body shuddered when his hand came to rest on her hip.

His eyes snapped open. “I’m sorry-”

“No,” she cut him off, panting. She reached one hand up, threading her fingers through his mohawk. “There’s no reason.” Soap groaned when her nails lightly scratched his scalp.

“Woman, the things I would do to you if I wasn’t stuck in this bed…”

She shuddered again before she leaned down and kissed the place that his jaw and neck met. His whole body involuntarily arched off the bed, hand moving from her hip to the small of her back to pull her against him. She gasped at the contact. However light she was, her weight on his hip hurt. But he was too far gone to care. He leaned up again, gently sucking her lip between his as she sighed into his mouth.

His mind was clouded with the desire for intimacy with her. He wanted all of her. First in their single shared night, and now in their kiss, Soap saw waking up to her every morning, cooking together, trips to the stormy Scottish coast and the sunny Caribbean. He’d been drawn to her from the moment he saw her, and he knew from the way she looked at him that she’d been drawn to him just as much. He’d tried so hard to remain professional. To keep distance. To be a gentleman. To pretend he hadn’t fallen in love with her the moment he heard her speak.

Then she’d slept in his cot and he’d had to know what it was like to have her in his arms. Having tasted her once, there was no going back to professional and distant. Having tasted her twice? She owned him. There was no pretending, now.

His train of thought was interrupted by a sharp cough from the doorway. Daniela sprang up, scrambling off the bed with one hand covering her mouth. Soap’s head whipped toward the door. Ghost was there, finding something very interesting to look at in the ceiling, along with a pretty nurse who was smiling widely.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better, Sergeant,” she quipped. Soap grinned wryly first at her, then at Daniela. “My name’s Cat, I’m a friend of Kate’s. Mind if I take a look at you?”

Soap nodded, Daniela sat herself in the corner, and Ghost continued to pay close attention to the ceiling and walls. Soap narrowed his eyes, watching the Lieutenant closely.

Cat turned to Daniela and Ghost. “Would you two-”

“They can stay,” Soap cut her off. Cat turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. He smiled. “Nothing they haven’t seen already.” When she helped him sit up and lift his gown off, Soap got his first real look at the damage. At Los Vaqueros safe house, and then later at their base, he’d been too rushed and too tired to really look at himself.

Purple bruises so dark they nearly looked black covered his ribs. Just above his boxers, he could see more bruising on his hip that was nearly green now. Scrapes and cuts covered his knees, his arms, his sides. The bullet wound in his right arm was healing nicely, but the skin around it was still pink and tender. He was grateful that his chest was wrapped tightly so he couldn’t see the damage from Ghost’s sniper.

Soap looked away.

“So Cat,” he asked. “How did you meet Laswell?”

“Oh, she and I met probably fifteen years ago. She was still on the field, back then. I was still in training, working in a field hospital. I patched her and John up after a rough mission. I guess she decided she liked me, because as soon as I graduated, she snapped me right up.” She turned to Ghost, who had finally looked her way, and smiled. “Good thing, too. I’ve fixed this one up more times than I can count, and Kate tells me he won’t let anyone else touch him.”

Ghost looked away again so quickly that he missed Soap’s gleeful expression. “Oh, is that so?” teased Soap. Ghost shot him a warning glare. Something to ask about later.

“I trust her,” muttered Ghost.

Cat beamed at him. She looked back to Soap, smiling conspiratorially. “Quite the compliment, eh?”

“That it is,” he answered smugly. Ghost held his stare, unamused. Soap looked back toward Daniela, eyes softening. She smiled back at him, looking tired but content. Cat was wrapping up her check, talking about physical therapy and taking it easy. Soap couldn’t wait to have a moment with Daniela again.

“Alright, well I’ll be back tonight to check in with you again. Simon, would you walk me out?” Soap’s eyes shot back to Ghost at that, but Ghost refused to meet his gaze. Definitely something to ask about later.

When Cat and Ghost had gone, Daniela came back to Soap’s side, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. She gently took his left hand, careful not to lift it or otherwise disturb the bandages.

“Take all the time you need,” Soap said softly. Daniela lifted her eyes from their joined hands, cocking her head. He held her gaze. “You said I’d have to give you some time to figure it out. Take all the time you need.” Now it was Soap’s turn to look down at their hands. He grinned, lopsided. “I’ll be here.”

Daniela reached out, lifting his chin with her fingertips. Her dark eyes watered slightly around the edges. “I’m pretty sure,” she whispered.

“Oh, now that sounds familiar,” chuckled Soap. He leaned toward her, eyes flitting down to her lips. “C’mere, you.”

Their first kiss had been desperate. Their second quickly turned heated. This one was soft, slow, gentle. Exploratory and sweet. Soap stroked her cheek, looking up at her from under hooded eyes. “Tell me you feel it, too,” he whispered.

Daniela nodded, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his. “I feel it.”

“Yeah? Not just ‘maybe’?”

Daniela smiled wide, smacking his shoulder lightly. Soap laughed, loud and full, and immediately regretted it. Wincing, he smiled back at her.

He was anxious to hear from Price and Gaz, and nervous about what would happen when Alejandro and Rodolfo called Daniela back. They’d have to go after Shepherd, and she might have to go back to Mexico. Maybe nothing would ever truly have a chance to start with them. Maybe they’d die. But maybe not. Maybe everything would be alright.

#john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x oc #modern warfare #cod mwii #call of duty #neil ellice #soap mactavish #ghost riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley #john mactavish #soap #ghost #nightingale writes

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cloudofbutterflies92 · 4 months

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We're in this together

A little gift for my twin @chloekistune and my favorites😌💜, I love you so much and I am so proud of you twin🫂💜

#oc chloe valentine #call of duty oc #cod oc #john soap mactavish x oc #soap mw2 #soap mwii #original character #cod mw2 #call of duty original character

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a-world-with0ut-dr34ms · 7 months

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Lieutenant Tanya "Fluff" Lewis

I forgot to post about my OC ू(ʚ̴̶̷́ .̠ ʚ̴̶̷̥̀ ू)

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thelaisydazy · 2 months

Note

idk if you've ever watched either of the 9-1-1 shows (or Chicago Fire) but...

in my mind, firefighter!Johnny is Evan Buckley coded always getting injured bc he pulls off the most difficult rescues without thinking and gets written up constantly.

idk if that's something for you!

ABSOLUTELY!!

I've never seen those BUT I can totally see him being just like that.

Price is constantly having to write Johnny up for something stupid he did. Like the time he ran back into a burning building to rescue a little old lady's cat despite being told not to go back as there was a risk of flashover.

Simon even had to pull him out from a search and rescue after Johnny's oxygen ran out and he refused to leave. He ended up passing out from smoke inhalation and needing to spend several weeks recovering.

---

His head cleared and he could hear a roaring in his ears as an oxygen mask was pressed to his face. Johnny took several deep breaths, a hand coming up to hold the mask more securely to his face, startling the paramedic standing over him.

Johnny’s blue eyes opened to see the paramedic staring wide eyed at him before his eyes found the furious gaze of Simon.

“What the hell were you thinking MacTavish!” It was Captain Price’s voice that shouted over the chaos. “There were live rounds in that building! You could’ve been killed!”

Johnny might’ve cared more about being reamed out on a stretcher by his captain, if it wasn’t for the look on Simon’s face.

“Si, I-”

“Go to the hospital Johnny,” Simon said. He took a step closer, leaning over the Scotsman. Their faces close enough that had it not been for Simon’s mask, Johnny might’ve been able to feel his breath. The lieutenant's gaze was intense and even with the mask, Johnny could tell Simon had been seriously worried. “You sc-” Simon cut himself off. “Be more careful, yeah?”

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itsscromp · 1 month

Text

You're such a tease

Alright, lets start of this experiment with Johnny and Bridget. Warnings: PG-13 content and slightly suggestive themes. Word count:2K

Johnny had gotten some time off from work, How was he going to spend it you may ask, Why treat his lovely amazing wife to a getaway up in the mountains. Nice and quiet, only the two of them. He knocked on the bedroom door with an envelope behind his back.

"Hey my Lennan" He smiled (sweetheart)

"Johnny" She smiled up from her task when she saw him. She missed him for many months, so it was good for him to be home.

"I got us a surprise" He smiled mischievously.

"Oh, What do you have planned ??" She perked up.

"Close your eyes" He smiled.

She raised an eyebrow but then covered her eyes with her hands. "Ok..."

He then pulled out the envelope. "Ok you can open them"

She looked down and saw it, Happily taking the envelope, opening and pulling out the contents, Inside revealed an Airbnb booking confirmation.

Her bottom lip wobbled as she looked up at him in glee. "Really ??"

"Really" He nodded.

She smiled even more and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "I love you so much"

"I love you too lass" He smiled and pressed a kiss on her head.

She couldn't wait, she soon began to pack, finding her... pretty set of underwear she recently bought for just an occasion like this, she knew Johnny would get flustered over it.

Soon they were both packed and off they went. "It's been too long, I can't wait to spend a week with just you my love" He smiled, looking at her briefly before back at the road.

"Me too Johnny, I really missed you so much" She smiled and looked at him, reaching over and giving his forearm a gentle, lovingly squeeze.

The two shared a nice conversation as the car made it's way up the mountains, Soon after the slight twists and turns, they finally made it.

"Oh my gosh... Johnny it's beautiful" Bridget smiled.

"As beautiful as you" He smiled and kissed her.

"You go find the keys, I'll go see if i can get the power and hot water started ok ??"

"Ok" The two then hopped out of the car and Johnny went behind the cabin to find the circuit board. Bridget then followed the instructions and found the key under a fake rock. She entered inside and took in her surroundings, The place was just so beautiful.

Johnny managed to get the power running and the hot water boiling, entering inside and wrapping his arms around her from behind. "How are you liking it ??"

"It's very rustic looking" She smiled and looked behind her, Swaying side to side softly.

"I love you so much..." Johnny smiled and leant in, Kissing her deeply and passionately.

Bridget could not imagine being with anyone else bar her husband. She couldn't have dreamed of anything better. "I love you too."

The two for the first couple of days just relaxed in each other's company, reading books to each other, playing board games with each other, cherishing every single moment. But one day, Bridget was feeling a little flirtatious, she hadn't seen her loving husband for so long. So when she woke up and saw him sleeping, she went off to the shower, got her pretty set of underwear and took a quick shower.

Johnny woke up to the sounds of the water turning off and smiled tiredly seeing the light under the door. But when Bridget opened the door, He completely woke up fully, seeing her in her underwear. "Lennan..." His ears were turning bright pink.

She dried her hair and let it lay where it wanted. "Good morning Johnny" She smiled, acting oblivious on purpose.

Johnny was trying to compute at this point, But his face was heating up. "New... Ne... New underwear ??" Was all he could manage to get out.

"Oh, you noticed, yeah! Do you like it ??" She took the opportunity to give him a little spin, showing him all of it.

"Where did you get it ??..."

But she wasn't spilling the tea. "You don't need to know that" She smirked, walking over to the bed, swaying her hips each step.

"Well... Wherever you got them... You should go there more often." His face was now officially bright pink. "Is... Is it getting hot in here ??" He fanned his shirt a little.

"I have no idea what you mean" She smiled and leaned over, crawling into the bed and sitting on his lap.

Johnny wrapped his arms around her waist as they cuddled up. Don't stare, don't stare, don't stare he thought to himself.

She bats her eyelashes slowly at him. Even if he isn't doing great at eye contact at the moment. He looked up at her. "You... You look beautiful" He tried to cover up.

She smiled, That little devilish smile she gets. "Thank you John"

He then smirked and lowered his hand, smacking her lightly and lovingly on her butt. "Sorry, My hand slipped"

She jumped lightly and softly shrieked, Giggling and leaning down, tilting his head and kissing him. "Sure it did"

The two shared a deep passionate kiss for a little while before going on their day, Bridget staying in her underwear. If she could tease Johnny, then so can he. So late in the afternoon, he noticed the place "Needed firewood" So he went outside and took his shirt off, readying the axe and chopping wood.

Bridget knew he'd been out there for a bit, so she made some coffee and headed to the back porch. And the sight she was blessed with. Johnny with the axe, shirtless, sweaty, and with a determined face. She immediately went to place the cups down as her arms were now turning into Jell-O.

Johnny looked up and saw her. "Hey, Lennan" Smiling and waving. She could not get one word out, a stumbling mess that she was. "You ok there ??" He tried not to smirk, placing the axe down and walking to the porch.

"I... ahh..." She went completely blob

He pressed a kiss on her cheek and wiped his forehead. "Worked up a sweat there" He definitely did not flex his bicep as he did.

She was now completely red, Looking him up and down like he was a piece of meat. "Uh... Hu.." She vaguely pointed to the coffee she brought out. "Oh thank you" He smiled and went to take a sip.

"You sure your ok ?? You look a bit flustered" Still trying not to smirk.

"I'm ok... I'm actually... perfect..." She finally got out.

"Good, I'll bring in the firewood and take a shower" He smiled. Bridget was on muscle cloud 9. That was her husband !!!

So Johnny went and took a shower, but he wasn't done there. Like Bridget, He too walked out of the bathroom, only in his underwear. when Bridget saw him walk out. She was ready to melt, But she powered through it. "Ok come here you !!" He chuckled and went over to her.

She touched his chest, running her hands up his pecs and around his neck. "You're such a tease, You know that"

He chuckled "I have my moments, and only for you my love" He smiled.

She giggled and started to kiss his collarbone. Not wanting to leave the glorious sight in front of her.

"Question though" He smirked a little. "I just bought this underwear recently, Do they make my butt look good ??"

She looked up at him and blushed, taking a chance and looked down behind him. If she shared her thoughts she'd probably be sent to a certain internet jail.

"It looks... really good... Yeah"

He chuckled and flexed his butt a couple times. "I remember a few times I caught you staring"

"Hey, I..." She went even more red and reached out to smack it. "I have every right"

He chuckled again and let her, He knew what he was doing. She giggled and leant forward, deciding to full on grab his butt. "Nowhere to go now" she smirked at him.

"That you have" He smiled softly and gently reached up, cupping the cheeks of her face. "Your so beautiful" he whispered. She smiled softly at him, it meant the world to her every time he said that. "And your the most handsomest"

He gently stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, looking at her with so much love and wonder for her. "I wish we could stay here forever, not worry about anything." She leant into his touch, gently cupping his hands with her own. "I love you..."

"I love you too..."

The two shared a deep and passionate kiss, wanting nothing more than to not go anywhere. Johnny then smirked, an idea popping into his mind. "How about I put on... a show for you"

She blushed and giggled lightly "John...."

"What... You know you want it" He smirked, well knowing her answer.

"Oh when I get my hands on you" She smirked.

He then lifted her up like a princess and moved to the couch, gently sitting her down and standing back. "Be prepared for Scotland's pure glory" He started with his biceps, raising his arms and flexing hard, snake-like veins popping out.

She squirmed a little, blushing deeply.

He smirked and then turned around, His back facing her as he flexed his back a bit before moving to his butt.

She covered her face, Peeking in between her fingers.

He looked behind and smirked. "What, see something you like ??" He winked and began to flex each cheek individually.

She bit her lip and giggled a little, now she was the one who thought it was getting hot in here.

He gave his butt one last wiggle and flex before turning back to face her, flexing his abs and pointing a finger at each of them. "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 Full abs" He was super proud of it.

"What a hunk you are..." He voice broke slightly.

"The best hunk in all of Scotland ??" He smirked.

"The best hunk I've ever had the pleasure of looking at"

"Then feast your eyes on this" He held his hands behind his back, soon popping his pecs, Her favourite. "Boom boom boom boom" He said as he popped them.

Oh, she liked that, She really liked that, She was starting to fan herself. "Just... Keep doing your thing"

That I will, I picked up a trick along the way, Wanna see ??" He smirked.

She nodded her head vigorously "Go for it..."

He began to pop his pecs so fast it was like they were shaking rather than popping, that's how fast they were going. "Oh yeah" He looked at her and smirked.

She blinked, Oh... Oh, John... John... John what have you awakened inside her ?? She blushed so deeply, she was like a tomato.

"You like that huh ??" He smirked.

She nodded vigorously !!!

He chuckled, slowing down the speed before popping them normally again. "Boom boom boom !!"

She giggled softly and blushed deeper, ready to melt into the couch and pass away. It was too much and yet not enough.

He then stopped and walked up to her, smiling. "How would you rate that ??"

John.... that was a 100000/10 !!!

She blinked, trying to speak "Yep... I married the sexiest hunk..." she hid her face as he sat down next to her. It was always the pecs for her. "You always know what I like" She finally reached her hands out and rubbed them.

"I've been married to you for too long, I know everything" He smirked.

I still remember the day you first showed me it on one of our dates" She giggled and hid her face, remembering it all.

"That I do too" He smirked further.

"I couldn't stop giggling and blushing, my god !!"

"I couldn't get you off me either" He snickered.

"It's not my fault your sexy !!" She lovingly huffed "I called you Dwayne Johnson"

"I'm better then him" He leaned over and kissed her. "So, so much better and I've got you"

She giggled. "That you have" She then looked up at him with puppy eyes. "Pop them a bit more ??" It's been too long for her ok !!??

He smiled, happily obliging and sitting up, popping his pecs again. She could watch them all day, that's how sexy her husband is. It was good to have him back.

Taglist: @callofdudes

A/N: Did you guys enjoy it ?? Was there anything that could be improved on ?? Let me know in the comments.

#call of duty #call of duty imagine #John soap mactavish #John soap mactavish x OC #John soap mactavish imagine #experimental writing #call of duty x OC

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ghouljams · 5 months

Note

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT85Aw5FH/

My first thought seeing this was that's just Soap talking about Moon

-Hot Mess Rambler

The couple that's so enamored with each other, but somehow always getting into it... Moon loves hearing Soap gush over her, but not to thousands of strangers.

#ghoul speaks #x oc #cod x oc #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x oc #soap mactavish #oc: moon #they're so fucking funny

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bloodyknucklesforme · 2 months

Text

Drag My Teeth Across Your Beating Heart | Carnal XV

Carnal (adjective) : relating to or given to crude bodily pleasures and appetites

Simon was born with what his father called 'The Curse'. A wanton craving for taboo meat. Since meeting the similarly cursed Johnny, the two had formed a bond. They didn't just fight together, they ate together, slept together, and shared everything.

When a favor to Price reveals another cursed person, Simon worries she could destroy everything.

Masterpost

CW: cannibalism, smut, voyeurism

This is very much a horror fic mostly based around the films Raw (2017) and Bones and All (2022), if you sit through those you should be good here. This is my first horror fic.

Chapter Title Credit: Howl - Florence + The Machine

Body disposal isn't hard, not for Simon. It was a ritual. One passed down from his father.

Disfigure

Dismember

Dispose

As easy as any prayer. On his knees, a rag over his mouth and nose, a saw in hand. A ritual like any other. This time it felt like mass without the sacrament. Nothing to slip into his mouth, no savior, no priest.

He’d never been one for church. His mum had dragged him and Tommy a couple times mostly for Christmas and Easter Sunday. The only days that mattered. They’d been baptized Catholic because that’s what his father was raised as but never did any of the following sacraments. They’d stopped going by the time he was ten and he stopped believing in any possibility of a God after that first meal with his father.

He had a new religion. Led by his father. He supposed all fathers are god in a sense. That’s what it felt like the first time they ate together. Divine Salvation.

The stable smelled like rot. It was cold enough that the body hadn’t started to turn to sludge but the smell was acrid. He stripped his clothes and left them folded on a table in the tack room. Skin is easier to clean than cloth.

As many pieces as possible. Start with the joints and a brick, smash until the bones break then cut through the flesh. Humans are fragile. His father had taught him that at a young age. Even the smooth leather of a belt could cut skin if struck hard enough. Soft skin made him feel vulnerable. Calluses were armor.

He liked soft on others. Spilling between his fingers. Made him feel powerful. A show of strength to hold something fragile and not break it apart.

Nina looked soft, like the flesh of her neck would mold into his hands. His arm had wrapped around her waist so fittingly.

Johnny still had soft parts. Thighs, neck, arse. His favorite position was Johnny on his back, thighs wrapped around his waist. Simon would grip his arse like it held him to earth. Simon’s teeth would drag against Johnny’s throat. He’d cum inside him and Johnny’s spend would slick between them.

When Johnny asked Simon to bite him last Summer, it twisted something nasty in his stomach. The monster he’d always fought down reared its head. The same monster that controlled his father. The one that took control in Mexico all those years ago.

He hacked and hacked at the body. The smaller the parts the better. The harder to reconstruct, the easier to scatter. He’d seen crows nearby. He could feed them over the winter with this. Simon never liked waste.

He took a hammer to the teeth, porcelain pieces. Tips of the fingers cut off. No tattoos to skin off this time. Man to meat.

It took several hours. The floor of the stall was covered in blood. He was covered in blood. There was a hose, still working. He gathered the meat into a cooler and sprayed down the stall and then himself. He paced the stable, keeping his blood warm while he dried off.

There was something sweet in the air. Straw and glass, brown with Nina’s blood from the other day. Johnny’s scent was mixed in there too. She’d been wearing his clothes at the time. His cock twitched. He smacked the side of his face to snap himself back.

Gathered his clothes and walked back to the house. He heard them as he stepped inside. Johnny’s hurried babbling and Nina’s moans. He quietly took his boots off and crept towards the sound. It was wrong, yes. Hearing Johnny again made his blood hot.

There was a mirror on the wall opposite them. From his angle in the hall, he could watch unseen. They were mostly clothed, only a small disappointment. His cock strained against his jeans.

They looked good together. Like something meant to be. Even with Johnny’s lack of experience he could work her up well. Simon watched the muscles in her back stretch, sweat glide down her back. He wanted to walk in, lick it off. Slip his hand between her legs. Tell Johnny what to do, how to touch her. He wanted to show her where to nip and where to kiss. Johnny fell apart whenever Simon’s teeth grazed where his jaw met his ear.

She was crying Johnny’s name. Johnny stared up at her with glazed eyes, the same eyes that used to look at him. Those eyes flicked to the mirror and Simon took a step back. He crept back down the hall and outside. He walked back to the stable.

He found himself by the pile of bloodied straw and glass. He grabbed a handful of straw and held it near his face, breathing in. He fumbled with his zipper and button, haphazardly pulling his cock out.

His fantasies were a crowded mess of bodies, sweat and cum. Nina and Johnny’s smell mixing with his, herby and sweet. All the positions they could arrange themselves in. Take turns riding and fucking. He wanted Nina to sit on his face while Johnny rode him. Fuck Johnny while he buried his face into Nina’s cunt.

Simon groaned, cum mixing with the mess on the floor in front of him. He sighed, shaking his hand off. He’d have to wash the floor again.

He stood, looking at the floor, the smell making his eyes roll back. He wanted the three of them to be together. He would make it happen. He tried being the lone wolf. Separate himself from Johnny but look at what had happened. They both needed him. Johnny can’t hunt on his own and Nina seemed incapable of it entirely. He’d have to teach them both. Keep them alive.

They’d have this house, some place to stay. No more shitty hotels and hostels or car back seats. He could outfit the cellar to better butcher meat.He never told Johnny but he didn’t even have a flat himself. Any leave had him traveling around, hunting and camping. They’d never go hungry. It could be good. Something stable.

He thought about his family. The ones he failed. He could still smell them, his stomach twisting while his mouth watered. He made a vow that night. He was the only one allowed to eat his loved ones. It was only right. His right. He’d failed them. He wouldn’t fail Johnny or Nina.

He made dinner that night. Steak cooked with garlic, butter and thyme. The smell dragged both Johnny and Nina out of their bedrooms and to him. Nina’s hair was still damp from her shower. Made the whole house smell like vanilla.

“Nina,” he said after they’d all sat down. She looked up from her plate. Her chair was touching Johnny’s. Simon laid a hand on Johnny’s thigh, earning a side glance. “I want to teach you how to hunt.”

“When?” She asked through a mouthful of food.

“This weekend.”

“Si-” Johnny attempted to interrupt.

“Do you want to learn?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he smiled.

Tag list: @gogh-with-the-flow @queen-ilmaree @cathnoneofyourbusiness @pssytrux

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harveywritings92 · 1 year

Text

{Soap is talking with his boyfriend Smoke, while Iris (Smoke’s daughter with Cami.) quietly colors and watches cartoons on a tablet.]

Soap, telling Smoke about argument he heard his neighbors have: And then he called her a- * awkwardly looks at Iris*

Soap: *ahem* B-I-T-C-H.

[Iris stops coloring and stares up at Soap.]

Smoke: ….She can spell.

#S: castle #call of duty modern warfare incorrect quotes #call of duty crossover #watch dogs crossover #cod mw oc: Alan 'Smoke' Monroe #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x oc #soap x smoke #cod mw oc: Iris Lyons-Monroe

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wolfieisacat · 3 months

Text

i promised @shotmrmiller i'd write them a fic, and Johnny meeting Mia's sister and her family is an idea i've had bouncing around almost as long as Mia has been a character, so here it is:

warnings: mentioned overdose, mentioned loss of loved ones, mentioned Makarov, mentioned drug abuse, mentioned religious trauma, small children.

It was... nerve-wracking. To say the least. For the both of them. It was nerve-wracking for Johnny because, obviously, he was going to be meeting the love of his life's older sister and her inlaws. It was nerve-wracking for Mia because it would be the first time in over a decade she would be seeing Abigail. Abigail, her oldest sibling, who had been the only other survivor of her family's slaughter. Abigail, who was almost a full fifteen years older than her.

But what Mia remembered of Abigail and her husband, Robert, was that they were kind. Incredibly so. So for most of the fifteen hour flight, Mia was reassuring Johnny that they'd love him.

Two days before Thanksgiving, they arrived at the house. It was massive, almost a mansion. Before Mia could knock, someone opened the door. It was a young man with scraggly black hair, wearing the most emo clothes Johnny had seen since he was in high school. The kid groaned, and threw his head over his shoulder, yelling out "MOM! THEY'RE HERE!", which was followed by the quick pittering of paws on the hardwood floor and footsteps. Two very excited beagles bounded over, immediately throwing themselves on the couple. Mia let out a yelp of surprise, almost falling over. Abigail stepped into the doorway, quickly welcoming the two in.

"You must be Johnny! It's great to meet ya. Ever since Mia and I got back into contact, you've been all she talks about," she said with a chuckle.

"Ah, I believe it. According to Simon, I'm all she really talks about ever," he replied with a laugh. Mia stood next to him, green eyes drilling holes into the side of his head.

"Well, uhm, make yourselves at home! Sorry for the mess, my triplets are little demons..."

"Dinnae worry about it. I don't mind a little mess, especially if it's one that proves children are taken care of." Mia smiled, glad her boyfriend and sister were getting along.

When Thanksgiving came along, the house was more full than Johnny could've thought possible. He opted to hang out with the kids instead of hanging out with the other husbands, simply because they seemed incredibly rude. As he was playing with the small children, he spotted Matthew, the boy who had opened the door for them when they'd gotten there. He had his face buried in a sketchbook, a pen scribbling furiously. Johnny walked over, sitting next to him.

"Hey, what're you drawin' there lad?" he had a soft smile on his face. Matthew glanced up at him before going back to drawing. "Not much of a talker, aye?" Johnny chuckled.

"No, 'm not."

"I see. Would you like me to leave you alone?"

"Yes."

"Alright, I'll see you later then."

At dinner, the topic of Mia and Abigail's childhoods came up. The look of terror that spread across Mia's face when Robert asked Johnny if he knew about Walter could've been sold to Hitchcock.

"No, she hasn't. Who is he?"

"Walter was her big brother, my Abby's younger sibling. One time, when they came home, Mia found him dead and rotting in the tub." He said it casually. Johnny almost felt sick. Abigail simply nodded.

"At his funeral, the priest said that he would've never died if he hadn't gotten addicted to morphine. That it was his own fault, really."

Johnny could see the way Matthew's face tightened.

"That's a horrible thing to say about someone who obviously died in pain," Johnny said simply, wrapping an arm around Mia. "How old were you when that happened?"

"I was eight. Six years before Makarov came and screwed everything up." Johnny held her tighter. Robert's eyes widened.

"Oh! Has she told you the-"

"Dad! Shut up! Nobody else wants to talk about this shit! They died, Aunt Mia was kidnapped by sex traffickers for ten years, we get it! Nobody cares!" Matthew's voice was loud and sharp, unwilling to listen to this anymore as he stood up and stormed to his room. The table was silent for a moment, before Johnny excused himself.

He knocked gently on Matthew's door.

"What?"

"You alright lad?"

"No."

"Can I come in?"

"...Fine."

Johnny opened the door and closed it behind him, sitting on the bed next to the teen.

"What's wrong?"

"M-My dad is so insensitive to other people's feelings. It's insanity. I asked him not to talk about any of that..." Johnny glanced at the wall, which had a painting of a naked man sacrificed on an altar with his face painted with blood.

"Ye don't seem to have any problem with gore or violence..." he commented, looking away from the painting.

"M-My..." the boy choked up. "M-My best friend committed suicide last week. I-I don't wanna hear about how good I have it compared to my mom because "she found her entire family dead" or whatever bullshit my dad was gonna throw at me." Johnny's face turned sympathetic.

"I'm so sorry lad... do your parents know?"

"Yeah, I told them. I-I don't get it. Wh-why?" the boy started to cry, burying his face into Johnny's arm as he held him.

"Dinnae worry, lad, I'm here... I've got you..."

#john soap mactavish #mentioned makarov #john soap mactavish x oc #i think Johnny would be a good dad #i can't end stories #this is shit sorry

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credince--writes · 1 year

Text

Humble Beginnings

AN ACT OF ARSON

JITTERS AU

AO3

A/N: IT IS HERE! I SPLIT IT INTO TWO. WELCOME TO THE CONTINUATION OF JITTERS!

WARNINGS: SA Themes are discussed. Not fuckin around on that note.

At first, it started with the shitty online tutorial classes. Following Reddit threads and watching hours of YouTube videos as if she were learning an entirely new language. She was scraping up as much information as she easily could to harass her high school's IT guy.

Maybe he allowed it because she was interested.

Maybe he was a pervert.

Either way. She had started to get what she wanted- feeding the beast, soon enough it changed from reading Reddit threads not understanding what was happening to selectively strangling the internet connecting in a class she didn’t want to work in, maybe even remotely triggering the fire alarms in a separate building if there was a test.

Then, it morphed into more.

When she was sixteen, she had begged her friend who had her driver's license- and such a rickety and old piece of shit car that it was a wonder they got to their destination in the first place- to take her to a college party. For them both to slink around the background of the party to rub elbows with a computer science major she barely knew- one she was fascinated with.

He spoke with sweet, honey-like words that made her feel like she was special. Like she wasn’t a stupid teenager that he could easily manipulate because the simple concept of his attention made her giggle as no one had ever gotten her to do before.

The way he softly touches her shoulder lures her into a sense of safety.

The way he would pick her up after school and take her to get food before dropping her off at home- not that her parents were home to notice that she wasn’t walking home anymore. That it wasn’t her friend taking her home and dropping her off.

The time that he was unconscious, in the back seat of one of his friend's cars while she sat next to him. Leaning down and reached into his book bag because he’d come straight from the university- there was no time to stop and drop his things off. Just toss the bag in the back of the dar, drive to the party and then move about his night with it in tow. Sticking her hand into his back and pulling the USB drive that held all of his TA documents, logins, files, and grading information. Quietly tucking it into her pocket and playing dumb and innocent when he couldn’t find it the next day.

And he would fade from her life, when she was no longer fun to play with. When she didn’t put out enough she supposed. When she wasn’t going to reach that goal of another pin in the wall for him to brag to his friends about. As if all of those sickly sweet words never meant anything- which she realized now never did mean anything.

It made her feel a lot less guilty about all of the drives, files, passwords, and more she’d stolen from him.

It marked the change.

Her realization.

The malicious intent blooming in her.

She knew his fucking birthday - what his first dog's name was.

It was the first time she’d felt so alone- her friends could only do or say so much. Not that there were many for her to console her pain in. Horrified of admitting her faults outward to her parents in fear that yea, maybe she would be reprimanded and punished on top of her emotional suffering.

It was the first time she had wanted to give that pain right back to the person that brought it onto her.

And what a dark, dirty feeling that was. It scared her- it really did. To look into the mirror and to be able to say ‘I want to ruin his fucking life for breaking my heart’.

But she didn’t.

It was her pain.

Not anyone else.

Maybe that was her way of wallowing in her own sorrow. For her to say ‘This is it, I’ll never do this again because I’m gonna make sure it really hurts this time.’ Like she was little, sticking her hand on the metal coil burner on top of the stove wondering why it had turned red.

Or that she was terrified- terrified of hurting the same man that hurt her. That maybe those sickly sweet words still had some purchase. That she was still worth something in his eyes and that all of it wasn’t a lie- even though she knew it really was.

But life lives on.

She graduated high school and started her work on classes at college at seventeen.

Then her parents got divorced. They just wanted to wait until she was old enough to move out- she was the only reason they were together in the first place .

And she had to move into the dorms.

And they stopped talking to her.

Her grandma died-

Then her grandpa.

Said he couldn’t live with a broken heart.

Couldn’t blame him.

The familiar light blue of her bedroom walls turned into white-painted cinderblocks in the dorms. Where they hid a air fryer under their bunk rather than a bottle of wine so that they could fry up snacks late at night while she crunched on a topic, going above and beyond as she always did because lackluster wasn’t a fucking option in her mind. She was proving herself, proving that she could set the curve without any remorse to those behind her. That she was able to build friendships- build bonds with the people around her.

Searching IRS documents and finding the home address of Zoe’s- her roommates- professor. Some staunch asshole who taught physics. The two of them made a trek out early in the morning- timing it out with maps from the rough time it took for him to arrive in the university parking lot every morning, calculating the rough time of his sitting in a coffee shop line, to leaving his house safe some traffic. That his TA would unlock the door, drop some shit off, and pick up papers before leaving for the printer room. Just so that she could plan the perfect time to go in for office hours- catch that TA and bat her eyelashes in a way that made Jayme want to vomit.

The way Zoe’s eyes followed the TA, trailing down as if she were going to drool onto her dark purple top and stain the basic cotton fabric.

“Hey.” Jayme hissed.

“Sorry, I can’t help it.” Zoe would whine.

The two of them, sat on the floor of their shared dorm room.

“We need to make a blood pact if I’m going to do this.” Jayme said, casually.

“We aren’t making a blood pact.” Zoe sighed.

“Then I’m not helping you.”

“I’m going to fail the test.” She whined.

“Maybe you should have, I don’t know, studied?” She questions.

“Oh shut up, you hermit.”

“Just saying. Why would you take a physics class?”

“It’s in my major!” She protested.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be majoring in underwater basket weaving.” Jayme snarked.

“Not everyone gets to sit with the stinky computer nerds all day long.”

“Submissive and pliant men, ripe for the picking with mommy issues.”

“Maybe you can lure one in with a sun dress and a pot roast.” Zoe joked back.

They laughed.

Then it fell quiet.

She hated the quiet- Zoe was just fine with it.

It meant an empty house.

It meant being alone.

It meant she could go down a rabbit hole of thoughts.

“Please? ” Zoe whined, again.

Jayme glanced up at her, from her laptop screen. As if her glance was going to break her determination- she was sure she’d grovel at her feet even in the showers if she had to if it meant she could get her help.

“How do you know I can even help?” Jayme questioned.

“You found his tax return- I’m sure you could find something to help me with a test .”

She wasn’t wrong.

Jayme sighed.

“Yea. I can help. Just go to class and be normal- I’ll figure it out.”

She honestly felt like a burglar. She’d done this before, didn’t know why it would be so nerve-wracking to do now. The cameras on these hallways didn’t work- she had checked. Always double checking, sometimes triple checking if it was going to be something really sketchy. This wasn’t something horrible- she wasn’t burning down a server room or anything. She was simply triggering a fire alarm- cutesy little gadget tucked into her pocket she’d already mimicked the frequency the trigger would emit when the original handle was pulled.

It was a good purchase, she’d scrounged around for the cash to buy it- doing others' homework and projects for them until she was able to obtain enough funding to buy the gadget all the way back in high school. Which was the first place she had managed to do it. Even though it wasn’t entirely on purpose, sitting in the back of the class fidgeting with the little gadget- accidentally locking it onto a frequency and suddenly all of the fire alarms start going off.

She was wearing a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over her face, a black fabric gater pulled up from her neck covering her nose and lips. Striding out, keeping her steps even as she walked down the hallways meeting the most important factor of the whole thing- look like she was supposed to be there. It was a little scary how complacent people could be, even if the person was a little suspicious- how could they be suspicious if their steps were entitled? If they weren’t nervously walking around, as if they were about to commit a crime?

Was it a crime?

She’s pretty sure it’s a crime.

She glances down at her watch.

Thirty seconds-

Twenty.

Then seven.

Three,

Two,

One.

Her hand slides into her pocket, feeling the slightly warm plastic- smooth with some small notching on its corner. Pushing down on one of the buttons as she keeps walking, keeping her steps even and her eyes on the prize- the doorway she would be walking out of in no time.

The lights on the fire alarms flash first, following the piercing, chirping noise that lets anyone within earshot know that the building is being evacuated for a fire. Drill or not- the teachers never mentioned anything about a drill. Maybe a stoner set the trash can in the bathroom on fire again.

She keeps walking forward, and the doors in front of her push open, lines of students filing out into one giant sea of people heading towards the same door as her. They mesh around her, and she blends into the crowd as she keeps walking.

Went smoothly, and if she keeps up her pace, she won’t be late for class across campus.

“ It is a crime called "identity theft" when a fraudster acquires vital pieces of "personal identifying information" (PII), such Social Security numbers and license numbers, and utilizes them for their own financial advantage. ” He speaks.

He’s older- at least to the point where his hair has begun to grey.

“Our data can be formatted and transformed using cryptography to make it more secure when traveling between computers. Modern mathematics is added to the technology, which is founded on the fundamentals of secret codes and safeguards our data in powerful ways. The manager in charge of security needs a methodical approach to identifying security requirements and characterizing options to satisfy those criteria in order to analyze the security demands of a company effectively.”

Professor Wills.

Cold hard bastard- with a seeming soft spot for gingers. That’s at least what she noticed when she stalked his social media accounts. Well, maybe not his social media accounts. Found photos of women he was seen with taking them out to dinner- no doubt paid by him with his tenured salary.

He had started out the first day of class introducing himself, as well as his ‘resume’. He’d apparently worked for the CIA- counterterrorism projects since the seventies. When he retired- he decided to un-retire himself and crawl his ass back to work. So now he sat here, droning on about the lecture she wasn’t sure why he was giving it- this was all surface-level information.

Maybe this was another one of his tests.

“The Playfair Cipher, which treats diagrams in plaintext as single units and converts these units into cipher text diagrams, is the most well-known multiple letter encryption cipher. The Playfair algorithm relies on a 5x5 letter matrix that is built using a keyword. Let "monarchy" become the crucial keyword. The matrix is created by first filling in the letters of the keyword (after removing any duplicates) from left to right and from top to bottom, and then completing the matrix with the remaining letters throughout alphabetically.”

He projected himself across the room, strides forward, sideways. Maybe if he was feeling especially spicy he would throw something across the room at someone seemingly drifting off.

“One Time Pad Cipher.” He drawls out, meaning he will be starting an important topic- or spiraling into a tangent about Panama. “A secure cryptography system. The message is represented by a series of 0s and 1s. This can be achieved, for instance, by writing all integers in binary or by utilizing ASCII. The key is a coincidentally long random sequence of 0s and 1s. A key is never utilized again after it has been used once. And….” He pauses, reaching over for a whiteboard marker, and stalking up to the board. “Is represented as such.”

‘C/i = P/i K/i C/i - i^th binary digit cipher text P/i -^th the binary digit plaintext K/i - i^th binary digit key ’ Is scribbled onto the board- in his nearly illegible handwriting.

“An extremely lengthy key is needed, which is expensive to make and send. Reusing a key for a second communication after it has already been used is risky since any knowledge about the first message would also reveal information about the second…..” He starts again, her eyes slowly closing as she starts to drift off in the lecture. “Developed by IBM, the digital immune system is a thorough method of viral defense. The growing threat of Internet-based viral spread has been the driving force behind this advancement. Recent years have seen an increase in the effects of two significant Internet technology advances on the viral spread: Integrated mail systems: Programs like Microsoft Outlook and Lotus Notes make it very easy to send anything to anyone and deal with received objects. Systems for mobile programs: Programs can transfer themselves automatically from one system to other thanks to features like Java and ActiveX.”

She swore to herself she’d never fall asleep in class.

She almost broke.

She didn’t quite a few other people did though.

“Remember class. Detection, Identification, Removal .”

…

The SQL Slammer worm first appeared in early 2003. A buffer overflow flaw in the Microsoft SQL server was used by this worm.

She sat- more correctly lay in her bed. Her eyes were tired. Past that point where she had been staring at a screen to long. Feeling cry- maybe borderline itchy. Zoe had offered her eye drops the first time she had complained of it.

She’d never take them.

God, she hated eye drops.

Just the concept of it freaked her out.

Well, it made sense. She couldn’t even open her eyes in the pool.

The sound of the door knob jostling, the jingle of keys, and then the door being thrown open broke her from her trance. She should really be studying. She should really be doing something other than feeling sorry for her dry eyes and actually being productive.

“Jayme!” Zoe charges forward, arms reaching up as she scuttles over the small ladder leading up to her bed, climbing on top of her.

“Fuckin- What?” She half hisses out, moving Zoe over to her side and rolling over to look at her.

“He asked.” Her mouth was split open into a huge grin.

“What?” She asked.

“He asked me out! To coffee!” She squeals, throwing her head back.

“Ohhhhhh.” Jayme grins, raising her hand up and pinching Zoe’s cheek. “See? I told you it would work.”

Zoe lifts herself, pushing off of the bed and jumping down onto the ground, starting to rummage through her things. “No, no you didn’t. You spent the entire time telling me how bad of an idea this was. Because A, you’re bitter and lonely, and B-” “Wanting to fuck your TA is on par with sucking your professor's dick?” Jayme asks aloud.

“No, oh my gosh.” She groans, throwing her head back. “I’m filling in for a coworker at the store until closing, so you’ll be all alone.” She grins again.

Zoe worked at a run-down, stinky, Office Depot. Her uncle was the manager- and sometimes, he’d offer up free school supplies to them. Cutesy little pens, sometimes Journals and notepads. They usually had some kind of flaw about them that made it so they couldn’t be sold on the floor, but regardless. She’d gotten a few nice binders out of it and she wasn’t one to complain. Even if the man's constant wheezing raised her blood pressure and made her swear to herself to never pick up the habit of smoking.

“I’ll enjoy every moment,” Jayme replies, rolling back over, grabbing her pillow, and covering her head with it in hopes it’ll drown out the buzz of people walking down the hallway outside.

It never does.

The buffer overflow vulnerability that the worm took use of was first identified by David Litchfield, whose proof-of-concept code was used to present the worm at the Black Hat Briefings. The only thing this short bit of code does is generate random IP addresses and transmit itself to those addresses. A computer that is running an unpatched instance of Microsoft SQL Server Resolution Service listening on UDP port 1434 and receives a specified address becomes infected and starts spreading the worm program throughout the Internet.

She should really be studying, not working on other people's projects.

But, she was hungry. What could she say?

In all honesty, it wasn’t that hard. As dirty as it was, she was feeding it all through an AI system to generate the text, she would read through it and dumb it down because there was no was this asshole knew how to use the word ‘eloquently’. Then feed it back through, generate some filler to get some dings on his grade, all to make it more believable and then give it back to him. Grab the cash, and go buy something for her and Zoe to eat for dinner.

She owes it to her, really.

Without Zoe she wouldn’t really make it. Yea, she was being supported by her parents and whatever pocket change she made off of working at that stinky ass office supply store went to her crippling shopping habits-

But Zoe took care of her. And Jayme would try to help in any way she could back.

Even if it meant stalking a professor to get the perfect window to insert Zoe into a TA’s life so that he would fall in love with her.

As if love were a real thing, she’d muse with herself. Her parents were in love- or at least they said they were. It left a horribly bitter taste in her mouth to be thinking about it. To be thinking about how it was a long haul to wait until she was old enough to move out- out of high school so that they could move on with their lives as if she were a burden.

Not that they ever called her a burden, it was just how she took it.

She was probably right to take it that way.

It would happen the way it normally does.

Zoe gripped the doorknob and jiggled it a bunch of times as if Jayme ever forgot to lock the door. Not ever- never once in their continued stay in these dorms had she ever found Jayme in the room- unlocked. It was like a paradox.

Pushing the door open after she clatters around with her keys for a good while, throwing the door open giggling and squealing about how amazing the coffee date was, and how he was ‘soooo hot’, he had even opened the door to the coffee shop for her, and pulled out the chair.

Jayme would nod, trying not to rain on her parade with her bitter outlook on the concept, and allow her to ramble, at no one in particular if not her about how great it was. Oh, and how she has to try out this new mocha-chai-something-bullshit concoction that he had recommended she taste. Leaning forward and letting her take a sip out of his cup as if it was the same thing as them aggressively frenching out in the bathroom.

She’s back in the classroom, staring at the whiteboard spacing out as Professor Wills rambles about the importance of the autonomy of American citizens- as well as their online privacy.

“I've made light of the fact that I don't really care if the NSA can read my emails during class. They will not be bothered about whatever I have. There are, however, bigger issues involved. ” He starts, standing up and starting to pace, back and forth and back and forth in a way that makes her motion sick.

“ Our best look at how a government can employ computer surveillance to monitor and control its populace comes from the Chinese government, most likely. ” He snickers at the end of it, as if it were some kind of joke the class would get. No one else laughed, because they didn’t get it. Only he would understand it- probably doing his fair share of rooting through, crossing that fine line in the name of evidence. “ The goal is to compile all online data about Chinese businesses and individuals in one location, score each of them based on their political, commercial, social, and legal "credit," and then compile the results.”

“I bet a lot of you in this room would fail on the social aspect, with those Instagrams of yours.” He teases.

There's a light- may be forced in the name of politeness laugh that fills the room.

“ The three V’s !” He yells, throwing another object somewhere in the room.

“Volume – The amount of data. The size- quantity. How many gallons of dirt do they have on you?

Velocity- The speed at which data is produced is known as velocity. Different processing approaches may be employed depending on the velocity.

Variety- Data might be structured or unstructured. The processing of structured data is ideally suited for computers. Not so with unstructured data. A passenger manifest is an illustration of structured data. Unstructured video from a CCTV camera shows passengers leaving and entering a passenger terminal.

And last of all?

Veracity – Your accuracy.”

There was a stiff silence.

“Um, Professor.” One of the guys in the front pipes up. “That was four.”

“At least someone was paying attention! Class is dismissed!”

The recognition of the worm spreading was recognized too little, too late.

Jayme sits on the cold linoleum-tiled floor, scratching at some kind of chart when the telltale sign of footsteps up to her door breaks her from her train of thought.

The sound of keys jingling first- not the jiggling of the knob. And the distinct sound of her choking on a sob at the door.

She stands, ready to hear about how horrible the date went- that he was talking to another girl. It had happened what- six times already in the few years she had known Zoe? It wasn’t anything new. They’d go somewhere- Trader Joe’s probably. Buy a bunch of snacks and shit talk and pig out until Zoe felt better.

Walking over to the door and opening it up, she’s met with the dark mascara splattered down her face from Zoe’s tears. She opens the door more, stepping out of the way as Zoe drops to her knees- at Jayme’s feet and lets out a sob. One she’d never heard before- ever. She sheer amount of fear- rage- hurt. She blinks, kneeling down with her to realize her horror.

She’s back in her childhood room, sobbing, staring up out of the window, and watching the stars. Her heart aches and the feeling of her puffy eyes and stuffed-up nose do nothing to fight against the horrible headache that blossomed in her head either from the stress, or the dehydration of crying like a baby for this long.

She's standing up, walking into the little bathroom connected to her room, and looking in the mirror, smearing the snot and tears off of her cheeks and seething.

She didn’t want to inflict the pain for her own sake. To make her feel better.

But she would, she will, she would inflict pain for her sake.

The hospital is cold.

Quiet.

The buzz of people moving about doing their jobs. Sipping on stale coffee and listing to the chatter in the radio or clicking on a poorly hidden tab of solitaire.

It makes her itch. The kind of itch you feel when there's a spider crawling up your arm in the dark- you can’t see the spider but it’ll wake you from a dead sleep to freak out. She picks at the skin on her thumb, bites her lip, and taps her foot. Anything while she waits.

One of the nurses brings her a soda from the vending machine.

It was a nice gesture, but she ends up with the tab cracked, listening to the sound of the carbonation fizzling off while she stared off into space feeling nothing but anger- and guilt.

How it was all her fault-

She had started the spiral,

The snowball.

Had she not of given in- had she not of let Zoe blindly chase tail as if she were a neurotic dog. She’d be ok- she wouldn’t have been kneeling at her feet sobbing .

The police arrived. One young male officer, and one female.

The female stepped behind the curtain.

The male officer sat down next to her.

He tried- awkwardly. To try to coax information out of her, what happened? What really happened.

The condescending words as if she had been lying.

As if it was just a jest .

So she calmly, even if she had to stop a few times breaking down crying. Explaining the situation.

He took his notepad and fucked off a while later.

It was three weeks later.

The Disciplinary board ruled in favor of the TA- put him on suspension with no pay due to the circumstances.

She never saw Zoe again.

She Just kind of… Left. One night. She woke up the next morning. She had packed up some clothes, and left in the dead of night.

Leaving her alone.

In Silence.

Again.

Soon enough, one in four computers connected to the internet was affected.

#Jitters Au #Simon Riley #john soap mactavish #john price #gaz garrick #Kate Laswell #Cod #call of duty #call of duty mwii #simon riley x oc #simon 'ghost' riley #john soap mactavish x oc #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #John Mactavish x Reader #SA Implied #I'm serrious ab that warning #JITTERSVERSE #Cross posted #Jitters is a OC

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