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Kyle makes the mistake of meeting up with Johnny in Scotland, in a very small pub that is packed to the brim with punters of all ages, whilst there's a football game on and Scotland is playing.
After several very loud declarations of, "Get it right roon ye."
The occasional, "Christ, the only baws he plays wae are hus ain."
And shots after every goal, Kyle's both drunk and delighted to be included in the celebrations when Scotland wins the match, everyone inside seems willing to talk to the strangers around them about the match. He even gets a "Yer no bad fir a wee Englishman" from an older gentleman who buys him and Johnny a pint when he clocks them as military.
Later, Kyle will forever treasure a blurry video on his phone of himself, Johnny, and the countless faces of people he'll never meet again, roaring along to 500 Miles, all various stages of drunk and red in the face. It should be embarrassing, clinging to a stranger's shoulder and belting out tunes while slightly off tune, but Kyle will always remember the smile on Johnny's face and the light in his eyes.
He thinks a lot about the way Johnny's hands stilled on his own as the man passed over a cigarette outside, the way he hooked a finger around Kyle's pinkie just to keep contact between them.
He wonders how they fit a man with so much to him in such a small urn.
what if… Gaz shares a wall with reader… the walls are thin so he can hear everything. Everytime you curse as you stub your toe, as you search through your draws, when you roll over during your sleep.
He gets back to his room late one night and hears your whimpers and whines, clear you’re getting off. He’s arrived at the end though, listening to how you muffle yourself as you cum. He’s about to take his cock out to stroke himself when he hears a sniffle, then soft crying.
He doesn’t know what to think, so many thoughts going through his mind. All he knows is that he wants to immediately go to your room to comfort you.
I may of sent this before but my wifi was messed up so I don't know if it went through, but!!! Can you draw 141 doing communal shower antics and maybe if you'll be soooo kind to bless me with some gaz stuff just doing anything on duty love him in your style, keep creating😘
Grace is an Omega serving in the Australian Defence Force, attached to special operations and occasionally seconded to work alongside multinational task forces. She has a reputation for being calm under pressure, fiercely competent, and impossible to intimidate.
Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish is an Alpha in Task Force 141. Unlike many Alphas, he's never cared much about status or dominance games. He's loud, loyal, protective, and relentlessly charming.
Neither of them expects to find their mate during a joint operation.
2,724 words.
My first fic in a while. i will admit that while i have played the games i know absolutley nothing about the military
They touch down in Sydney at 0200 Australian time. They're all tired, cranky and barely avoiding taking swipes at each other. The back of the airlifter is saturated with the overwhelming scent of unsettled, irritated, unwashed Alphas making the other operatives they'd hitched a ride with visibly uneasy, sitting stiffly in their seats.
Soap stands with a groan once the plane opens, adjusting his weapon strapped across his chest before rolling his shoulders in an effort to try and get the knots in his back out after sitting for more than 20 hours with limited success. His attention is pulled away when Ghost passes him, the Beta headed towards the airlifter’s opening, making the most of time already.
They're here for what Price had called Operation Southern Cross. They were currently moving on a need to know basis, pissing off everyone on the taskforce. Soap finally moves after Gaz passes him, following closely behind Ghost, eager to stretch his legs. Price still inside talking to the Captain upfront.
The moment Soap's boots hit the tarmac, heat slammed into him unlike anything he'd ever felt before.
"Fuckin' hell, it's hot," slips out before he even thinks about it. There's noises of agreement from both Ghost and Gaz before Price is shouldering past him making his way towards another soldier leaning against a dark SUV on the other side of the tarmac, AMCU uniform in proud display under the dim light shining overhead. He straightens, snapping to attention once he sees Price.
“At ease,” Price grunts.
He relaxes near instantly, opening the side of the door for Price before rounding the car to get into the driver's seat, leaving Gaz, Ghost and Soap to climb into the back.
Soap groans almost immediately at the thought of more sitting, his body still protesting after the flight.
"Suck it up, lads. Last leg of the journey and then we can all get some rest," Price says. His voice strained, feeling the same fatigue as the others. He turns to give them all a quick look, the Alpha standing tall and adjusting his weapon before swiftly climbing into the front seat and closing the door behind him.
Gaz sighs, tips his head back briefly before facing forward again, adjusting the strap of his gun before heading to the backdoor of the SUV. The Beta climbed in with no hesitation. Ghost and Soap take the opportunity to also adjust their weapons. Ghost heads to the other side of the vehicle to get into the SUV that way, leaving Soap to climb in behind Gaz and leaving the poor Beta in the middle.
The Australian soldier introduces himself as he starts the SUV. His name is Garret, a Beta who joined the Australian Army when he was nineteen. He explains that it's currently the start of summer and that's why it feels like Satan's asshole outside, ripping a laugh straight from Soap before he settles down again.
“It’ll take us about six hours to get to where we need to go and then you’ll be in the hands of Halo, we’ll reach our destination at 0830, until then, I suggest you guys try and get some shut eye. Things are gonna get very hectic very quick”.
Price tilts his head back giving them all a quick nod before looking forwards again. And that's all they need, so with all three of them squished in the back, knees touching each other, pressed shoulder to shoulder they sleep.
—
Soap sleeps for most of the ride. Years of sleeping in rough places make a cramped vehicle feel like luxury. He wakes while they’re going through a small country town. The sun, now high enough to shine through the window, breaks him from his rest.
WELCOME TO YASS blares from a sign at the edge of the town, the name funny even with his Scottish roots. The car is silent. Gaz is still asleep but Price and Ghost are awake. The silence is comfortable so it remains.
—-
Some time later they come to the outskirts of the biggest rural town they’ve come across since being here. Gaz is now awake and taking in the sights from Ghost’s side of the car. Ghost is resting with his eyes closed, head tilted back on the seat.
Soap stares at the road sign as it flashes past the SUV window.
"Wagga Wagga."
Gaz looks away from the window.
"What about it?"
Soap points at the sign.
"Wagga. Wagga."
"Aye?"
"They named it twice."
Ghost doesn't even open his eyes.
"Leave it."
"Ah'm serious. Who the hell names a place Wagga Wagga?"
The Australian soldier shrugs.
"The locals."
"Did nobody stop an' ask if they were havin' a stroke?"
Gaz chokes on a laugh.
"Mate—"
"No, because imagine tryin' tae explain that." Soap puts on his best serious voice.
"'Where d'ye live?'"
"'Wagga Wagga.'"
"'Sorry, mate, ye already said that.'"
Garret is visibly fighting a grin now.
"There's a reason for it."
"Aye? What's that?"
"It means crow."
Soap nods.
"Right."
"From the local Aboriginal language."
"Right."
"Reduplication makes it plural."
Soap stares.
"So it's Crow Crow?"
"Basically."
Soap throws his hands up.
"That's even worse."
Ghost finally cracks one eye open.
"Says the man called Soap."
"That's different."
"How?"
Soap opens his mouth.
Pauses.
Closes it again.
"Ah hate this country."
Garret can’t help it. He laughs.
—
The drive through Wagga Wagga takes 12 minutes. They’re on the highway for a few minutes before Garret turns off into an outside suburb called Kapooka.
“Welcome to the Blamey Barracks Gentlemen!” Garret says pulling up across from a checkpoint near surrounding homes. Soap nearly throws himself out of the car in relief, thrilled to stretch his legs, his weapon shifting with his every movement. The low groan behind him lets him know that Gaz is feeling the same relief.
He feels movement to his left. Turning, he finds Ghost stepping up beside him while Price climbs out of the SUV. Garret is already talking to his Commanding Officer who was outside and waiting for them. Price approaches Garret and his Commanding Officer with Ghost, Gaz and Soap a step behind.
“Commander Andrew Sturge,” the Alpha introduced himself, offering his hand.
Price took it without hesitation.
“Captain John Price, SAS.”
It's even hotter in the sun, and Price is in a worse mood than when they landed and Sturge can tell. He wraps it up quickly.
“Garret, take them to where they’ll be staying. Captain, meet back here with your squad at 1600 hours. We’ll continue operations then. Eat, shower and rest. And then you can meet Halo.” Sturge barks before turning into the checkpoint.
Garret throws out a quick "Yes, sir," before turning and leading them to one of the surrounding houses on the base. They get settled inside making a quick meal of what was available in the stocked cupboards. They take turns showering, cleaning their weapons before retiring to bed for some much needed rest.
—
At 1545 it's somehow even hotter than it was this morning. Ghost and Gaz are talking about the bird they heard while walking to the checkpoint while Price is talking to one of the guards and Soap is too busy staring at a fucking Kangaroo just lazing about the reserve like it had nothing else better to do. Which is why he doesn't notice Ghost and Gaz falling silent until Price is already talking to the new soldier standing at the edge of the checkpoint.
“Johnny!” The bark of Price’s voice jolts him out of his daze and he swings his head and nearly stops dead. Right in front of him stood the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.
Hair glowing gold beneath the afternoon sun, blue eyes framed by dark lashes. Amusement danced across her face as she watched his obvious fumble.
“Soap, this is Halo. Halo, this is Soap, Ghost and Gaz.” Price introduces them, pointing to each in turn with their call sign. Halo steps forward shaking everyone's hand, taking them by surprise.
“Please,” she says. “Call me Grace”. She grabs Soap's hand to shake and Soap notices several things all at once:
One. She’s so beautiful that he thinks his heart is going to beat out of his chest.
Two. She might look sweet, but he could tell this woman was dangerous. Extremely dangerous in the right circumstances.
Three. She smelled amazing, like rain and the homemade eucalyptus sweets he used to have at his nanna's house as a bairn.
Four. He was in danger.
She smelt like home.
She smelt like Omega.
She smelt like his.
Every instinct he had sat up and took notice.
He was so unbelievably fucked.
So of course he immediately put his foot in his mouth.
"Well... ye're no' what ah was expectin'." He’s never regretted saying something so quickly before in his damn life.
Silence.
Grace blinked.
Absolute, horrified silence.
Ghost made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort.
Gaz looked away so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.
Price pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Outstanding first impression, Johnny."
"Ah know," Soap muttered.
"Do ye?"
"Shut it."
Grace stared at him.
Soap stared right back.
The handshake had gone on far too long.
Somewhere to his left, Ghost made another suspicious noise.
Grace finally raised an eyebrow.
"And what exactly were you expecting?"
Soap's brain, usually capable of functioning under gunfire, explosions, and active combat zones, immediately abandoned him.
"A bloke."
The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
Price groaned.
Gaz outright laughed.
Ghost looked away toward the fence line, shoulders shaking once.
Grace blinked.
Then, to Soap's immense relief, she laughed.
A bright, genuine sound that caught him completely off guard. "Well," she said, finally releasing his hand, "that's usually the reaction I get."
"Aye?"
"Most people hear 'Halo' and expect some six-foot-six Alpha built like a brick wall."
Soap opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"Ye could still kill me though."
Grace smiled.
"Probably."
"Right."
"Depends if you're being annoying."
Gaz stepped forward immediately.
"Oh, he's definitely being annoying."
"Traitor."
"Fact."
Price finally decided the conversation had suffered enough.
"Can we focus?" he asked.
"No," Gaz said.
Price ignored him.
"Halo—"
"Grace."
Price sighed.
"Grace."
Her grin widened.
"You've got information for us?"
"I do."
Just like that, the easy humour disappeared.
The shift was instant.
Professional.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
Soap felt his Alpha instincts sit up straighter.
This was the soldier he'd smelled beneath the eucalyptus and rain.
Grace turned and started walking.
"Follow me."
The team fell into step behind her.
As they moved through the checkpoint, Soap caught sight of Australian soldiers greeting her.
Some nodded respectfully.
Others moved out of her way entirely.
One Alpha nearly twice her size immediately stopped talking when she looked his way.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
"How long have ye been attached tae this operation?" Soap asked.
Grace glanced over her shoulder.
"Since the beginning."
"And how long's that?"
"Eight months."
Soap whistled.
Price frowned.
"Eight months?"
"Welcome to why everyone's annoyed," Grace replied.
That earned a snort from Ghost.
"Need-to-know?"
"Need-to-know."
"Lovely."
"Isn't it?"
They reached a low operations building.
Grace swiped a card that she had pulled from her pocket and pushed the door open.
Cool air-conditioning washed over them.
Every single member of Task Force 141 looked ready to weep with gratitude.
"Jesus Christ," Gaz muttered.
"The best invention Australia ever made."
"We didn't invent air conditioning."
"You should've."
Grace laughed again.
Soap found himself staring.
Again.
The woman was a problem.
A massive problem.
An Omega who smelled like home.
An Omega who could clearly handle herself.
An Omega who made him feel fourteen years old and stupid every time she smiled.
She caught him looking.
His stomach dropped.
Her smile softened.
Just a fraction.
Enough that he wondered if she'd felt it too.
That strange pull.
That impossible sense of familiarity.
The feeling of finding something you'd been missing your entire life without realizing it.
For a second neither of them looked away.
Then Price cleared his throat.
Loudly.
Soap nearly jumped out of his skin.
Grace looked away first.
"So," she said, voice perfectly professional despite the faint pink creeping into her cheeks.
"Let's talk about Operation Southern Cross."
And Soap knew, with absolute certainty, that he wasn't going to hear a single bloody word.
—
Grace was absolutely sure about a few things about her new temporary squad mates.
Soap was entirely far too handsome.
Far too confident.
Seemed to constantly smile judging by the laugh lines on his face. And had one of the best accents she’d ever heard.
And he smelt amazing.
Like wood and leather.
Like safety.
Like home.
Fuck.
She was so screwed.
—
The briefing room was cool.
Blessedly, gloriously cool.
Soap should have been paying attention.
Instead he was watching Grace.
Not staring.
Definitely not staring.
Just... observing.
There was a difference.
Unfortunately, Ghost seemed to disagree.
Without looking up from the folder he'd been handed, Ghost muttered,
"Keep staring like that and she's going to notice."
Soap kicked his boot beneath the table.
Ghost didn't even flinch.
At the front of the room, Grace continued speaking.
"The target area is approximately two hundred kilometres west of here. Remote terrain. Limited infrastructure. No civilian population for nearly eighty kilometres in any direction."
She clicked a button.
A satellite image appeared on the screen.
Immediately, every member of 141 straightened.
Business mode.
"The Australian Defence Force picked up unusual activity eight months ago."
Price leaned forward.
"What kind of activity?"
"Missing equipment."
"Military?"
Grace nodded.
"Small amounts at first. Easy to miss."
Another image appeared.
Photos.
Vehicles.
Buildings.
Armed men.
Soap finally dragged his eyes away from her face.
Mostly.
"Then it escalated."
The room quieted.
Grace folded her arms.
"We've got a private militia operating inside Australian territory."
That got everyone's attention.
Ghost sat forward.
"Numbers?"
"Estimated one hundred personnel."
Gaz whistled softly.
"That's not a militia."
"No."
Grace's expression hardened.
"It's an army."
Price's jaw tightened.
"And they're doing what?"
Grace looked at him.
"We don't know."
That answer clearly annoyed him.
"We've had eyes on them for months," she continued. "They don't smuggle drugs. They don't traffic weapons. They don't make contact with organised crime groups."
"So what do they do?" Gaz asked.
Grace looked uncomfortable.
Which immediately made Soap nervous.
"That's the problem."
She changed slides.
A map appeared.
Several locations highlighted.
Soap frowned.
The locations were scattered.
Miles apart.
No obvious pattern.
No logical reason.
Price noticed too.
"What are they looking for?"
Grace exhaled slowly.
"We don't know that either."
Silence.
"We're meant to investigate a group you've been watching for eight months and nobody knows what they're after?" Ghost asked.
Grace's jaw twitched.
Clearly she'd asked herself the same question.
Every day.
"Correct."
Soap finally stopped looking at the screen and looked at her instead.
Really looked.
She was frustrated.
Tired.
Stressed.
Under pressure.
And somehow carrying all of it without letting anyone see.
Most people wouldn't have noticed.
He did.
For a second her eyes flicked toward him.
She knew he'd noticed.
Then the moment was gone.
Price stood.
"When do we leave?"
"Tomorrow morning."
"Good."
No hesitation.
No complaints.
No second guessing.
Just acceptance.
Something in Grace's expression softened.
"You trust me?"
Price snorted.
"No."
That surprised her.
It surprised Soap too.
Price pointed toward the screen.
"But somebody's got you chasing your tail. If they're making soldiers this nervous, I want to know why."
A small smile tugged at Grace's mouth.
The first real smile she'd worn since entering the room.
"Fair enough."
The briefing continued.
Coordinates.
Supply routes.
Timelines.
Contingencies.
Important information.
Information Soap should have been absorbing.
Instead he spent half the briefing listening to Grace talk.
And the other half wondering if she could hear how stupidly fast his heart was beating whenever she looked his way.
By the time the meeting ended, he knew three things.
One.
Operation Southern Cross was about to become very complicated.
Two.
Grace was hiding something.
Not maliciously.
Protectively.
Like someone carrying a burden alone.
And three.
He was already in far deeper than he should have been.
Because when everyone stood to leave, Grace smiled at him.
Just him.
And the idiot smiled back like he'd won the bloody lottery.
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After the life Simon Riley has had, it’s really not surprising that he just can’t get it up anymore. He’s tried, time and time again, but the blood doesn’t pump through him the same way it did. And it isn’t that he doesn’t have a sex drive, god no, one look at you and he wishes he could fuck you into the mattress until your tears stain the pillows and the only sounds falling from your mouth are screams of pleasure.
You walk around the apartment, his big t-shirt on, no panties underneath, and it drives him insane. You’re an entire decade younger than him, young and sexy, and he can’t help but feel guilty for letting you stay with him knowing that he can’t give you what you want in bed.
It doesn’t stop him from eating you out until your clit is puffy and your walls are rubbed raw by his calloused fingers. When his head is between your legs, he tries, he really does. He gets so worked up, grinding his soft cock against the bed, willing it to get hard so he can fuck you right after, but it never does.
All it ends in is you cumming on his face one too many times and him walking out of the room without saying a word in pure humiliation.
You don’t take it to heart, you know he beats himself up for it, saying he isn’t good enough, that you should find someone who can actually give you what you want and keep up with you at that. Every time you reassure him, that he does satisfy you, that he never fails to make you feel good regardless of how he does it, but it seems to go in one ear and out the other.
But tonight, tonight is different and you will find a way to fuck your man.
You lay naked on the bed, legs spread, juices glistening off your folds while Simon hovers above you. His arms cage your head in as he kisses you rough, his tongue sliding over your soft lips, yours entering to explore the expanse of his mouth. He kisses the length of your jaw, down your neck where he licks the salty-sweet skin, bites just hard enough for you to writhe beneath him, and sucks until purple bruises are left to ache in the best way possible.
Before he can lower himself between your legs, you let your fingertips brush just under the waistband of his sweatpants, and his mouth stills against yours.
“Si… just let me try something tonight. I really want to,” you say breathlessly, pulling away from the kiss, gazing up at him with a look that is more of a beg than anything.
He kisses your forehead, moving his hand down to pull yours away, but before he can you reach in deeper, squeezing the base of him and earning a rumbling groan from him instead. His fingers wrap around your wrist, not moving you, just simply holding on like he has to steady himself.
“Lovie, please. Don’t embarrass me now,” he whispers, voice rough and low, wavering ever so slightly when your hand begins to trail further up his limp cock.
You don’t reply, but you do run your thumb against his tip, swiping the precum beading from his slit, evidence of his arousal despite him remaining soft. Lips meeting him again, he’s reluctant, but eventually he finds your rhythm.
Pushing his sweatpants down, you pull his cock out, stroking it gently and your warm, soft palm against him feels like you're touching his raw nerves. Even if he couldn’t get it up, it is still incredibly sensitive from months and months of pent-up need and no sex. Not that you hadn’t tried before, because you have, and every time he gets frustrated.
There’s not much you can say to convince him to try again on the same night.
Nonetheless, you focus on his tip, gliding your thumb under the ridge, rubbing against his slit, and you feel his cock twitch barely in your hand. You pull his body closer to yours, resting his cock on your folds, and he hisses from the sheer pleasure of that alone. Your body heat, your slick, the thought of him touching your aching clit like this has him beyond needy.
“Just slide against me. It’ll feel good, yeah,” you say, nodding your head slowly in encouragement.
His hips roll against you, his cock sliding underneath your palm and through your folds, and he bites back a whimper while shivers run down his spine. Simon can feel his cock hardening, just barely, just enough that he might actually be able to feel your walls wrap around him, so he wastes no time in finding out.
“Please, please,” he says under his breath, begging his body to let him pleasure you in ways he usually can’t, just for tonight if that’s what it takes.
He grabs the base of his cock, positioning at your entrance, and it takes a few tries but his semi-hard tip pushes through your entrance. You gasp softly, the feeling foreign and orgasmic, and your walls clench hard around him. A guttural groan rips from his chest when he begins to rock into you, his eyes meet yours, passion and desire swirling around as his pupils dilate from the sight of you taking him regardless of the conditions.
“You feel so good, Si,” you moan, lifting your hips to give him easier access, glancing down every few seconds to watch the way his impossibly large and yet still soft cock rubs through your walls.
“You feel like a dream,” is all he can get out before his eyes are shutting tight and his fingers are tangling in your hair.
Your body meets his, helping him through it, helping him get to where he needs to be so that just for tonight, he can feel man enough for you. And when he cums deep inside of you, his tip pulsing with long, thick ropes of warm cum, ‘thank you’s’ fall from him repeatedly before he kisses you with a newfound confidence.
“Again Si, don’t stop.”
He doesn’t. He stays rocking inside you, cumming again and again until his cock is too raw, until your pussy is full of his cum, and you feel every last bit of him. When he’s done, he lowers himself between your legs, cleaning his mess and sucking your clit, watching you cry from pleasure, watching you squirm away, but there is nothing he could give you that would ever come close to the feeling of showing him that he is enough for you.
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A/N: since someone had an issue with the fact that i said the reader is a decade younger than simon and "young and sexy" let me clarify that i never specified an age anywhere in the fic lmao the reader could be 24 and simon be 37 the reader could be 35 and simon be 50 for all i care thats for you to decide and that is why i dont specify certain aspects of the reader i simply wanted to emphasize an age gap to make the guilt simon feels more profound simon finds the reader sexy and shes younger than him there is nothing to read in between the lines or imply about that literally at all
Kyle and Johnny stand frozen in Feral’s room as Feral’s fingers curl deep inside them, whining into Ghost’s jumper.
An omega. Their pack mate is an omega. An omega in heat. That’s dangerous.
“Johnny, go find Price or Ghost.” Kyle tells him. “I’ll make sure no one tries to get in.” He moves beside Feral, stroking their sweat slicked hair. He hears the door click behind him.
Feral whines again, eyes glazed as they look up at him. “K-Ky…”
“It’s okay, I’m here and Johnny is gonna get John or Simon to help you.” He coos, pushing out a calming scent for Feral.
my cat: oh my, what a lovely lap you have there, be a shame if I decided to make it difficult for us both if I sat in the most inconvenient place possible. *gets comfortable on boobs* such a shame
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just some food for thought 💭 imagine being ghost’s civilian roommate who hates price despite still having yet to even meet him.
hear me out; it’s like how my mom will vent to me about her incompetent coworkers and I will automatically develop a one-sided vendetta on principle, except it’s the reader hearing about john from simon and noticing red flags all over the place. if they ever do meet the captain, they won’t try that hard to hide their contempt. they’re like a cat.
ghost will be of absolutely no help should price try to bring it up with him. it’s like that vine “it don’t bite.” “YES IT DO!”
anon I totally get what you mean. I had a bully coworker that I’d rant to my family about and even though it’s a lot better with her, my dad still calls her the cranky old cow 😂 anyway here you go, hope you enjoy it 😁
cw: toxic!price, oblivious!simon. reader is described as tiny but lets be honest, anyone standing next to Simon is tiny.
Simon sighs as he steps into the apartment, the smell of roast greeting him immediately, making his stomach growl. He pulls off his mask just as you round the corner.
“Si! You’re home.” You greet him happily, the brightest smile he has seen in months. “Made your favourite, just like you asked.”
Inside the dining room is a spread of roast lamb with gravy, roast vegetables and rosemary potato, just like his Mama used to make.
“Thanks, gonna be the best meal I’ve had since I was last here. Price had me only eating MRE’s as the other lads needed the food more.” He comments, thinking nothing of it as he sits down at the table.
He doesn’t seem the way your left eye twitches slightly.
-
“Come on, you know how to do this. Jab the nose then a headlock!” He tells you as he tests your self defence that he’s taught you in the past.
You do as he says, fitting his nose with the palm of your hand instead of your fist like you should. The result of which makes you end up in a headlock. Your panting and sweat is dripping down your jaw when Simon lets go.
“We can stop here. You’re lucky I’m the one teaching you and not Price. He’d always make me training until he was satisfied, sometimes I’d pass out.” He tells you, again not fixing how your jaw clenches and you ball your fists, thinking his training is normal.
-
You can’t help but yelp when you walk to the kitchen in the middle of the night to get some water, Simon standing there in the dark.
“Jesus Christ, Si! Scared me half to death, thought you were asleep.” You say, hand on your chest, heart pounding hard.
He shrugs. “Don’t sleep good no more.”
“What? I thought we fixed that before you left?”
“Price had me doing a lot of the overnight watches while we were out, the other lads needed their sleep more.” He explains, putting on the kettle to make himself a tea.
“… When do I get to meet this ‘Price’?”
-
“I’m telling ya, Cap, they want to meet ya.” Simon assures his Captain.
“And it’s because they like me? Not for some nefarious reason, Ghost?” Price asks, adjusting his collar like he’s on a first date.
“Cap, they’re a tiny thing, couldn’t hurt you, let alone a fly. It’ll be fine.” S-Ghost assures him.
When you walk into the bar, Ghost waves you over and the two men stand to greet you.
“You must be the roommate I hear a lot about, I’m John Pri-.”
Before Price even finishes his sentence, you’ve jabbed him hard in the nose. There’s a crack and blood as Price stumbles back, caught off guard as the pain makes tears well in his eyes unprompted. Before he can regain himself, his arm is tugged up so it’s pressed awkwardly against his head, his knee gets kicked out from under him and an arm wraps around his neck, squeezing.
“Fucking hell, now you put the training to use?” Simon asks you as you choke his Captain out.
Hi everyone 👋 just letting you all know that I’m going to Bali so I probably won’t post much the next two weeks not that I’ve been posting much anyway.
I have plans to keep writing and hopefully post when I get back!! There’s an anon I will answer, a song inspired fic and I’m gonna write more feral reader as well, there will be smut. don’t blame me if I don’t post those when I get back though
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