Op, Whatever You Took, I Need It

I need a part two, pleaseee

you're a part of a task force - not exactly sure which one, but your team is called in to help.

only - you have no idea which side you're supposed to be helping, so as your team barrels through the area, looking for anyone who might have called reinforcements, you get seperated.

you're good on your feet, you're one of the best with a gun, and you're a quick thinker, so you're on guard but still pretty confident.

that's until you find yourself yourself in a building. its been abandoned, some of the walls crumbling and falling in on itself - you have to jump over a few of the piles.

the room you enter has a metallic tang to it, and the creaking of the door does nothing to calm your nerves. its the breathing that you hear, soft and slow - strained. someone is dying.

the man in the corner of the room has a bullet wound in his shoulder, his eyes are shut and his hand is pressed against the section of his shirt coated with blood.

he's dark skinned, clean shaved with a dark blue sweater, covered by his bullet proof vest. he hasn't seen you, and even if he had, the gun by his arm was only just out of reach. he'd have to fall onto his side to reach it.

your gun is trained on him, waiting for any sudden movements as you check the immediate surrounding area. your radio crackles softly, and you wince, watching the mans eyes flutter open.

"you-" he can barely get a word in before he's gasping for breath and clutching his shoulder in pain. "are you here to kill me?"

you purse your lips, tuck your rifle on your back and respond with "i think so."

you've never felt bad for killing a man before - its your job, you get paid to take people out as though they were rubbish bags. only, this man in front of you, with a half smile on his face and his brows furrowed in pain - you feel guilty.

" can- can i know your name," he stops to cough a few times, "before you kill me?"

you look him over once more, his eyes almost pleading, and then out the window. no one would know he was here, his family- friends, even team, they'd have to declare him KIA.

rolling your shoulders, you push forward, grabbing his gun and tucking it into your belt, before pulling him from out against the wall. you slot yourself under his left arm, the one without a bullet in it.

"i'm not going to tell you my name," you decide, helping him stand up. "because then i can't kill you."

Soap has problems with a washing Machine...

I want write a Mini fic about this situation, but i'm really Bad with that, so if someone get inspired with this and want do a fic THANK YOU

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Nightmares / Part I

Note: I made this two parts since I really wanted to post this but couldn't find the energy to write for the others tonight. Tomorrow you'll get Price, Rudi and Soap tho (I used alphabetical order, that's why they're last). Trope: Fluff, angst, hurt comfort Word count: 1.303 Trigger warning: Mention of torture

Alejandro: Alejandro was no stranger to sleepless nights. It took an eternity for him to fall asleep, worries and sorrows keeping him awake. When he did finally fall asleep, the nightmares came. He'd stand in the town square of Las Almas, having to watch as his family, friends and comrades were put against a wall. He couldn't run or scream, just stand there. When he suddenly stared in the barrel of a gun he finally woke up, shirt wet with sweat, the rooms silence filled by his heavy breaths. "Joder (Fuck)", he mumbled, getting up and putting on a new shirt. It was 0200 (2 am). He decided to get a tea. As he stepped in the community room he was surprised to see the lights on, you standing in pyjamas in front of the boiling kettle, a mug in your hand. "(Name)? What are you doing in the kitchen an two in the morning, tesoro?" You turned around, grinning but tired. "I could ask you the same, Ale" He sighed and grabbed a mug and tea bag (Spanish orange) "Can't sleep. You?" "Same. Do you... Wanna talk about it?", he shook his head. "Not right now, I think.... Just need to think about something else" You shrugged. "Understandable" You two sat down on the couch, sitting in silence, drinking the tea, each lost in their own thoughts. "Would you rather fight one hundred duck sized horses or one horse sized duck?", you suddenly asked. He looked at you like you had grown two horns. "Ehhh, madre mia, the horses, I think?", he answered. "Me too. Even though it would depend on the horse" He chuckled. "Are you trying to distract me?" You grinned "Is it working?" He rolled his eyes "A bit". You leaned you head on his shoulder, and after a moment he put his head on yours. "Good" You continued to banter about random nonsense until, finally, fatigue overcame you and you finally fell asleep. It was the best sleep either of you had gotten in a while.

Gaz: Falling asleep wasn't the problem. But as soon as Gaz drifted off into dream land, he was haunted. Faces of fallen comrades screamed at him for not saving them, the screams of agony of their last moments, the pleas of enemies he tortured filled his mind. With a muffled yelp he shot up in his bed, chest heaving. "Fuck", he muttered, getting up and pacing up and down in his room. His heart was beating like a racehorse. He grabbed his gym bag and decided to head to the training rooms. He was surprised to see the lights on, the thudding of fists hitting the punching bag filling the room. "Not bad, (name)", he stepped closer, looking at you. You sighed. "Can't sleep either?", you asked. He nodded. "Yea. Damn nightmares", he punched the bag, making it swing violently. You stepped back, sitting down on the mat and leaning against the wall. "Wanna talk about it?". He thought for a moment before turning his attention back on the bag. You thought he'd just ignore you and stay quiet, but as he started punching the bag, he muttered under his breath. "I couldn't save them. I killed them" His punches got harder and more aggressive. "It's my fault. It's my fault". You weren't sure who he was talking about, but it didn't quite matter right now. "Hey, hey, Gaz", you tried to calm him down. "Cmere", you patted the mat next to you. He seemed to contemplate for a moment, but then finally sat down next to you. A shuddered breath escaped him as he slumped in on himself. You opened your mouth, but quite honestly you weren't sure what to say. So you just sat in silence, but it wasn't an awkward feeling. It felt... Safe. Suddenly, you felt his head on your shoulder, and smiled, leaning yours against his.

Ghost: For Ghost, a good nights sleep was as common as a unicorn. Everytime he closed his eyes, he was there again. Buried alive, in a coffin, squished next to a decaying body. But this time, he didn't get out. He thrashed and screamed, unbeknownst to him not only in his sleep, but it was no use. He was trapped, he was trapped, he was trapped. Panic flooded his every fiber, but he just wouldn't fucking wake up. His eyes widened when he finally woke up. His breath came in short, shuddering gasps, tears staining his cheeks. He wanted to run, he needed to run or else he'd suffocate. He almost fell over putting on his pants and running shoes before he ripped open his door and ran. He didn't know where, he just needed to run. The sky was still dark, with the faintest shimmer of violet light creeping up the horizon. He aimed for the woods behind the barracks, mindlessly running along the paths. "Fuck, Riley, watch your step, big boy", a sudden voice squeaked. He opened his eyes which he didn't remember closing. He looked down, seeing you knocked over on the ground. "Sorry", he mumbled, giving you a hand and pulling you up. "What are you doing here at this time of night?", you raised an eyebrow. He shifted his weight. "Can't sleep". "Me too...", you looked at him. His gaze was weird... Dead, somehow. "Do you... Want to talk about it?", you asked carefully. "No", he said, voice firm. "Come with me", you grabbed his arm, leading him to a bench nearby, guiding him down and plopping next to him. "I'm here for you, you know that, right?" He gulped. "Yea..." A deep sigh escaped him. "...Thank you". You smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. "No problem", you mumbled, feeling him relaxing under you.

Horangi: They were here, they'd kill him, fuck, he needed to hide, he needed to hide. Horangi panted, clenching his fist in the sheets. His eyes opened wide and he rubbed the scars on his face. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes and stepped outside, sliding down the wall. He lit it and took a deep breath, letting his head roll back and closing his eyes. "Whatcha doin there?", you voice suddenly sound beside him. "빌어먹을!" (Fucking hell, may be a bit wrong since I don't speak Korean) He had jumped up, sighing when he saw it was just you. "Stop sneaking up to me like that, (name)". You chuckled. "Heh, sorry". You sat down next to him. "Can't sleep?", you looked up at him. He nodded. "I don't wanna talk about it". "Then lets just... Sit" You leaned against him, feeling the tension melt slightly from his form.

König: As soon as he closed his eyes, the memories came. He was strapped to a chair, only dressed in boxer shorts, his hood gone. He felt exposed. They whipped, beat and cut him, the scars still evident on his skin. He stood up on shaky legs, the scars on his body aching. A small tin of ointment stood on the table, which he grabbed and carefully rubbed it in. He was not gonna fall asleep anytime soon again. With a heavy sigh he put on his clothes and shuffled towards the armoury. He plopped down on a bench and started cleaning his guns. "Hey there", he hadn't heard you, and immediately pointed the empty gun at you. "Scheiße! You scared me!", he mumbled. You giggled, sitting down next to him. "Sorry". He rolled his eyes and watched him clean his weapons for a minute. "Can't sleep?", you asked. "Nightmares", he answered shortly. You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling his muscles move under it as he wiped down the barrel of his gun. "You can always talk to me, you know?", you mumbled. "Yea... Danke"

Sleepless

Ghost never sleeps. At least nobody ever saw him do it. On missions, he'd always take the night watch, the most he did was close his eyes and snooze a bit, immediately waking up if anything happened. When he slept on base, his room was always locked, and he obviously had the room farthest from the rest. Peaks of being a lieutenant. But now here you were, in a safehouse in the middle of nowhere, crammed together in the tight space. Ghost was not pleased, to put it mildly. He didn't show it, but you could see it in the way his jaw clenched under his mask and his voice got even more gruff.

"Y' go to sleep. I'll take the watch", he ordered, sitting down heavily on a chair. "With all due respect, sir, you look like shit. You should sleep a wee bit too", you remarked, looking him up and down. Even with the mask he couldn't hide his tired and droopy eyes. "Watch your mouth, sergeant", he gruffed. You smiled and raised your hands "Just being honest, Lt" An annoyed and tired sigh escaped him. "Go to sleep. Don't make me force ya"

You giggled, but relented. Taking off the heavy vest and settling down on the floor. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep, the exhaustion from todays work kicking in.

A loud bang ripped you from your peaceful slumber. You shot up, alarmed, gun at the ready. After a few seconds another bang. Worry set in. Was Ghost in trouble? Had you been discovered?

Quickly you got up, clearing the house. Nothing and no one was there. Until you got to the entrance, where Ghost was set for night guard. You didn't see him immediately, which by his size was hardly possible. He was leaning against a wall, facing the door. As soon as you saw him, you froze. That wasn't Ghost. That wasn't the deadly, tough and cold man you knew. He was scared. Hunched in on himself, arms wrapped around himself, knees pulled up to his chest. He was trembling.

You didn't know what to do, so you just stood there. He shook and trembled like a scared puppy. It hurt to watch him like this. "Ghost?", you asked, carefully. He began muttering under his breath. "No no no no, don't touch me, don't fucking touch me!", his chest began heaving with effort, his fists clenching the fabric of his uniform. You took a step closer to him. "Stop, please stop, it hurts, please!", pleas kept falling from his lips.

Should you wake him up? It didn't seem like a good idea, but he kept banging his head against the wall, which you were sure was too loud for your both sakes.

So you placed a gentle hand on his hand, shaking him slightly. "Ghost? You gotta wake up", his eyes shot open in an instant, they went from fear to rage in a split second. He growled lowly, leaping forward and pinning you on the ground under him, his giant, gloved hand around your throat.

His eyes bore holes into you, but they didn't seem focused. He seemed to be still somewhere else. "Ghost!", you called out, trying to get him to let go of you. No reaction. "Lieutenant!" Still nothing. It became hard to breathe. "Simon, please!" His gaze went sharp, focusing on your eyes.

"Fuck, shit", he cursed, immediately letting go of you. He sat next to you, looking worried. "I-I'm so sorry", he whispered. You could see remorse in his eyes.

"Everything is fine, Ghost, I'm fine", you assured him, despite a blue ring forming around your neck. "No, it's not, I hurt you", his hands reached out to you, without touching you.

"Is that why you never sleep with us (get your mind out of the gutter)?",you asked. He nodded. "I don- I can't. The next time I maybe wake up when it's too late."

You sighed, pulling him to his feet. He looked lost.

"Then I stay awake with you"

Help me I was just at a job fair and went to the army and there was this guy in full combat gear and mask from the special forces and I talked to him about his job and he had these deep brown eyes and was so nice I swear I was trying to listen. But. We were talking about how much his gear weighed and he chuckled, took my hand and put it on his vest so I could lift it and see for myself. Then he told me he could just pick me up and carry me.

Help

Alive / Part I

Word count: 244 Simon firmly believed that regret was one of the most painful things someone could experience. It set his body ablaze, burned through his skin and into his bones.

The few seconds it took to run over Soaps limp, unconscious body, all of the things he wanted to say flung through his head like shrapnel from a bomb, boring their sharp edges into his mind.

He knelt down next to him, shaking hands desperately trying to find a pulse. There was none.

„I‘m sorry, Johnny. I‘m so sorry.“, his voice strained with shock and despair. „I love you. I need you. Please don‘t die, please.“ The black fabric of his mask was wet with tears.

Through the painful ringing in his ears, he could hear Price order a medevac over comms.

He held him in his arms until evac arrived. Softly cradling his head, silently praying for those storm blue eyes to open again.

His fingers rested on his pulse the entire time, trying to conjure up a faint rhythm, even though he knew that it would not come.

His forehead rested against Soap‘s, nobody daring to pull him away. Suddenly, there was something. A weak, light throb under his gloved fingertip. His head jerked up, eyes wide with a mixture between hope and despair.

Hastily, he pulled the glove off his hand, pressing his finger into Soap‘s neck. There it was again. A pulse. Weak and unsteady, but it was there.

Johnny was alive.

The sharpest lives :)

I'm not sorry

I'm gonna try writing some things for the other boys, but honestly I've never played Cod, so I apologize in advance for making their characters not sooo accurate. Currently listening and watching their cut scenes to get a feeling of their personality, wish me luck

Alive / Part VIII

Word count: 666

Ghost was used to not being able to sleep at night, nightmares and night terrors keeping him awake. But tonight was different. He and Soap settled down on the bed next to each other, laying in comfortable silence. He could feel the heat radiating off Soaps body. Every fiber in him wanted to scoot closer to him, curl up in his side, which he of course didn’t do. Soap was his sergeant, after all, and he didn’t want to give himself the embarrassment of making a move only for Soap not to feel the same. (Ghost is an oblivious idiot).

Ghost hated the feeling of fabric on his skin at night, at base he usually slept only in boxers, today opting for joggers, but no shirt. He wiggled on the bed, trying to get comfortable. „No disrespect, lt, but stop squirming around like a worm“, Soap grumbled, already half asleep. Ghost didn’t say anything, laying down on the side facing Soap, who was facing towards the window.

It took while for him to fall asleep, but for the first time in a long while he slept through the night, no nightmares violently ripping him out of sleep. He woke up to the sound of birds chirping, slowly opening his eyes to see Soaps side empty. He was still sleepy, taking a few sips of water form the nightstand before rolling onto his back with his arms under his head, staring at the ceiling.

The door opened, and Soap stepped back into the room, dressed in boxer shorts and an oversized shirt. He sat down on the bed next to Ghost. „Morning, lt“. Ghost closed his eyes. „Morning, Johnny“. A few moments of silence passed, before he felt a warm hand on his side. His breath hitched and he opened his eyes. Soaps gaze was focused on the skin beneath his fingers, fingertips slightly grazing over a big scar, caressing the raised, silver skin. It burned, but oh God, did it burn good.

„How’d you get this?“, Soap asked, genuine curiosity on his face. Memories flashed in front of Ghosts eyes and he gulped. „Uh, I got captured. Cartel. They hung me up on a hook“, he mumbled. „Must’ve hurt a bitch“ Soap gently rubbed his thumb over the scar. Ghost nodded, closing his eyes again, the memory painful. He didn’t want to admit it, but Soaps touch on his scars felt holy.

„Do they hurt?“, Soap asked. Ghost shrugged. „Sometimes. Not all of them. They feel weird when it‘s cold though. And they’re really sensitive“ Soap grinned, continuing to gently caress the scar.

It stopped for a second, before Soaps fingers grazed the skin right above his waistband. Shivers ran over his body as Soap caressed a faint but long scar that went from his side over his v lin down to his crotch.

„And here?“, he asked, his voice low. Ghost took a moment to answer, his thoughts in a haze. „Torture…. They wanted intel“, he smiled weakly. „They didn’t get it“. Soaps gaze was sad. „I‘m so sorry, Si“, he whispered. Before he could say anything, Soap bent down, pressing his lips on the scar. Ghosts mind went blank.

Soaps lips lingered on the scar, before he slowly, very slowly began to tug the waistband down, revealing a small happy trail. He kissed lower and lower, stopping every few seconds to check in with Ghost, who was looking at him with wide eyes, but the bulge in his pants said enough.

Soap grinned before pulling down his joggers completely, his plans obvious. Ghost stared at him, his mind racing. Was this really happening? He felt like he was on fire. Soap liked him too. This was wrong, so wrong. But fuck did it feel good. It had been ages since someone last touched him like this, at least with consent. He had to hold back a whimper when his fingers grazed over the bulge.

A loud voice suddenly boomed through the house. „Boys! Breakfast!“

I'm ganna upload a few art pieces I made before finals kick my ass