#cod soap x reader

-----

It starts, as many great and terrible ideas do, with Graves. He’d made some offhand comment about the PBR rodeo passing through while the county fair was going on and damn near had a conniption when none of your teammates had a clue what he was talking about. 

“Seriously,” he says, aghast, as he looks from one blank face to the next, “Y’all have gotta be kidding me. Not a single one of you has been to a rodeo?”

You laugh, hooking an arm around Soap’s neck and dragging him down so you could ruffle his hair, “Graves, they’re British,” you pointedly ignore Johnny’s protest, "Closest they’ve ever been to a bull’s a steakhouse.” 

Graves makes a face, like he’d forgotten there were people out there that hadn’t experienced one of the so-called “great American Past Times”. He lets out a long suffering breath and you can see him steel himself, “We are in Texas.” He crosses his arms over his chest, eyes up the group, and continues, “Do you know what that means?”

“Heatstroke?” Soap offers, finally weasling his way out from under your arm.

“Rasism?” Gaz deadpans.

Graves looks less than amused. “Rodeo,” he says. “I don’t care what you have to say about it, we’re goin’. You have an hour and then y’all better be in the truck.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the smile that spreads over your features. It’d been a while since you’d had the chance to go to a rodeo - you’d missed it.

-----

Sure enough, an hour and a half later you and your teammates pile out of Grave’s truck and into the dusty lot of the county fairgrounds. Dirt kicks up around your boots as you walk, sticking to your jeans in a fine powder. 

“Smell that, boys?” Graves asks, hands on his hips as he surveys the crowds, “That’s freedom.”

“Tha’s heartburn,” Ghost mutters behind you and you have to muffle a laugh.

Soap looks bewildered, wide blue eyes taking in all the peculiarities around him, “I expected, like, a horse and a couple guys in jeans - this is like Disneyland for cowboys.”

Gaz sidles up beside you and nudges you with his elbow, “This normal to you, Yankee?”

“I grew up around stuff like this,” you say with a shrug. This chaos had been part of your life for so long that now it just seems like an ordinary day. 

It must not seem like such a big deal to your teammates since they just shrug and follow you and Graves into the fairgrounds, but for you it’s second nature - the scent of hay and livestock and fried food, the blaring of loudspeakers and carnival music. You feel at ease in the wash of noise and neon and finally, in the weeks you've been back on your native soil, you finally feel like you’ve come home. 

And then, before you’re more than thirty paces from the ticket booth, it happens. You catch the movement of a rodeo staffer jogging by in your peripheral, and you catch the exact moment he recognizes you.

“…No fuckin’ way,” he gapes, the walkie talkie at his hip buzzing. He ignores it, staring wide-eyed at you.?

“Shit,” you say under your breath as he approaches.

“No way. No way. You’re [Y/N] [Last Name]?!” The guy claps you on the shoulder. “Didn’t know you were in town! You’ve been off the circuit so long I thought you were dead! You still riding?”

“What the fuck,” Ghost says. You can hear Soap and Gaz whispering quietly. Price is silent, but you can feel the weight of his eyes on you.

You swallow, pointedly ignoring the baffled stares of your teammates. “Oh, uh, I’ve been out of the game for a while…”

“That’s too bad,” the staffer says, sweeping his hat off to scratch at his thinning hairline, “they’re short a rider. Widowmaker’s up soon and no one’ll touch him.” He shoots you a sly glance. “What d’you think? One last ride for old time’s sake? Crowd would lose it to see a legend back in action.” 

You know you’re being baited, but damn if it isn’t tempting to get back in the chute. To show off for your teammates, just this once. “Yeah, alright. S’pose I’ve got a few minutes.” 

The staffer beams and steers you swiftly away from the rest of your team to the competitor’s area with the promise of getting you some gear. You’re happy to avoid the team’s questions for just a little longer.

-----

Not long passes before Graves manages to wrangle the group into an empty section of the bleachers surrounding the arena, especially with the promise of watching you ride. They manage to catch the tail end of one ride and see the full run of another competitor, but all five are paying attention as the announcer starts his next introduction. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he bellows, voice so magnified by the dozens of speakers that the vibrations rattle through the dirt. “We've got ourselves a miracle! You might know him as the two-time national champion, he made quite a splash with a record time on his last ride two years back -” A man climbs the fence behind a massive black bull, leaning on the top rail for a moment while he pulls on his gloves and checks the straps on his protective vest before shifting to settle onto the bull’s back. “And now he’s back for one night only to challenge the one and only Widowmaker. Let’s see what (Y/N) (L/N)’s got in store for us tonight!”

You give the chutemaster a nod and he pulls the gate, Widowmaker explodes into the arena, nearly two thousand pounds of muscle launching itself into motion, pitching wildly in an attempt to unseat you. It’s that instant that the team realizes it’s you on the bull.

Graves is hollering so loud he’ll undoubtedly be hoarse tomorrow and Price chokes on his beer, coughing wildly as he attempts to reconcile the subdued young man he’s come to know with the spitfire risking his life in the arena. Gaz drops his popcorn and doesn’t even seem to notice, hands gripping the railing in front of him so tightly his knuckles ache. Soap’s clutched onto Ghost’s arm, eyes wide and mouth dropped open in awe. Ghost’s as quiet as ever, but it’s something different from his normal silence - there’s something appraising behind it.

They can’t tear their eyes away - can’t stop looking at the way you move, shifting and twisting with the bull as it rampages. One hand in the air, the other twisted tight into the rope, your thighs tense, shirt tight across your heaving chest as you mock gravity. Despite the exertion, you’re focused - perfectly in control. Your head comes up, eyes searching through the clouds of dust to fix onto your team - a smile spreads across your lips like wildfire and you wink up at them.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap says, without meaning to. He can feel heat spreading across his face, but he knows it’s not the Texan sun to blame, not when there are far hotter things around. If he hadn’t suspected he was attracted to men, he was certain now. And he had reason to believe the rest of the team were going through the same thing.

Gaz makes a pained sort of sound, something between a sigh and a moan and a dying animal. His fingers tighten further around the railing, and he wishes ardently it was something else he was holding onto.

Ghost swallows hard behind his mask, a smaller black disposable mask, and he’s never wished more for the anonymity his normal mask affords him. It’d be much easier to hide his feelings that way. 

Price tips his head back, draining what’s left of his beer in a few large gulps, but he can’t look away from you even then. There’s too much to look at - so different, but so much the same. A new interesting feature to a comfortable truth. God, he wants to know more.

And Graves - Graves is watching on like the cat that’s caught the canary. “Told you you’d love rodeo,” he says, all too pleased with himself as the buzzer sounds and you slip down from your place astride Widowmaker. 

One of the pickup riders comes and pulls you up onto his horse with him to escort you out of the arena while they work on wrangling Widowmaker back into the stock area behind the pen. You look back over your shoulder as you’re carried off, nodding as you catch sight of your group once more.

-----

After it’s over, you make your way back to your group, knowing you’ve stalled long enough. You’d prepared yourself for their inevitable barrage of questions, but you hadn’t been ready for… whatever this reaction is.

Price can’t seem to meet your eyes, and Ghost is standing closer to you than he normally does to anyone, the heat of him warm against your back. His eyes look darker than usual as he looks at you. Gaz is rambling, talking about damn near anything but the bull riding, and Soap won’t stop staring at you, mouth opening and closing like he’s got something to say but can’t find the words. 

“That was impressive,” Graves says, clapping you on the shoulder, and you’re grateful at least one member of your weird little group is behaving normally. “Really. I don’t think anyone else had nearly such a good ride. And just out of retirement? I’d have loved to see you ride while you were actively competing.”

“Was that illegal?” Soap asks, “It feels like it should’ve been.”

“Nah,” you laugh, waving it off, “Bull riding’s pretty common and the bulls are really well taken care of. Rodeo’s come a long way from what it used to be.”

Soap’s face goes even redder than it was and you remind yourself to see about getting him some aloe for his sunburn when you get back to base. “Not what I meant,” he says quietly.

“How did we not know this about you?” Price finally manages.

You shrug, “Didn’t think it was important.”

“Not important-?” Gaz chokes, “Not important? You just rode a one-ton killing machine and it’s not important?! God, next you’ll say the freaking crisis you gave me doesn’t matter when I think my whole damn world view has changed.” He puts his hands over his face and you’re a little concerned about the whole crisis bit until Soap distracts you by taking your face in his hands.

“You gotta tell me,” he says seriously, wide blue eyes trained on your face. “Is the thing about wearin’ a cowboy’s hat true?”

"I didn't lie. I just... omitted some information." You answered, trying not to raise your voice. This was a stake out, after all.

"Same thing, B. You were being a bad Beta."

You sputtered, your eyes leaving the building you were supposed to watch to look at him, horrified. How dare he? You could tolerate him randomly calling you Beta here and there, but calling you a bad Beta? He's not even your Alpha! Does he even realize what it's doing to your instincts??

You're not a bad Beta. You're a good one. A wonderful one. Any pack would be lucky to have such a good be-

"I was pulling your leg, B." He said, stopping your spiraling mind. As he gotten closer to you? You don't remember the two of you being close enough to touch but you now felt his warmth pressing against your side. "You fuck up, but that doesn't make you a bad Beta. Maybe just a bad Sergeant." You huffed at that while he simply chuckled softly.

"What was I supposed to do? Go up to him and say; Hey, Cap. I definitely know someone broke into your barrack because it didn't smell like anything at all??" You muttered, making a point to look back at the enemy base and not him.

"Yes." He answered. Simple as that. Just yes.

"No offence, Lieutenant, but do you hear yourself? I would have sounded absolutely insane!" You whisper-shouted.

"B, you had only been with us two days that you already had proved to us that your nose is just as good as an omega's. If I had to thrust anyone telling me something was suspicious because it’s lacking a scent, it would be you." Ghost pressed a bit more against you as he spoke.

"How did Price even found out about it?" You questioned.

"Gaz and Soap said your lips are apparently a lot looser when you're half asleep."

...Fuckers

Three days and one long stake out later and you were finding yourself in the transport back to base, stuck between two grown men whining at you like pups while you were giving them the cold shoulder for ratting you out. It's not like you would be mad at them forever. But you could be, just for now.

You were not mad about going back to base, the ache in your chest was easing more and more the closer you got, but you weren't looking forward to the lecture your Captain was bond to give you.

"Alright everyone. Unwind but don't unpack, we're not staying long. We roll back out for the actual raid in a day max. We're just here to resupply and meat up with the Shadow Company." Price said as the truck pulled into the base before turning to face you. "I need to check up on how things went while we were gone, but we're having a discussing right after that."

You managed to squeak out a small "Yes, sir." before scurrying off the vehicle.

You didn't even need to step foot in the barrack to know something was wrong. You were barely at the door that your inner beta was already howling and that there was something thick sticking at the back of your throat. You only had to crack open the door to know why.

You didn't think, just bolted back towards the boys' barracks.

Should you be polite and knock before barging into Price's office? Probably. But the situation had gotten you too mush on edge for that.

"Sergeant, I'm in the middle of a meeting he-" The Captain started sternly.

"Shesinheat." You blurred out without letting him finish.

"What?" He asked, confused by the jumble of word you had just pseud out.

"Ophelia is in heat." You forced yourself to say, slower this time.

"Couldn't you have stared with that?!" Price snapped harshly, making you instinctively flinch. It took your beta a second to realize it wasn't at you he was growling, but at the other person that had been in the room with him. Some soldier you didn't know but could vaguely recognize.

"I didn't know!" The poor man sputtered.

"I task you to look over one omega while we were gone three days and you didn't know she was in heat?!" Price growled. His scent took on a burnt note that had your nose prickling.

"She looked fine to me! Omegas are so bloody rare now days, how do you expect me to know what one in heat looks like?" The soldier answered, clearly getting defensive in the face of the clearly pissed of alpha.

"Rare or not, I'm pretty sure even a child would recognize that!"

"Enough!" You find yourself snapping at both of them. And, surprisingly, you do not find yourself getting growled at for it. Instead, you find yourself getting stared at by two truly incredulous pair of eyes.

Your inner beta was stressing at having snapped at her the Alpha, but you did your best to ignore it for now. That wasn't to the most important thing at hand right now.

"Ophelia, was she snappy this week? Sluggish, not wanting to get out of the barrack, scarfing down food like there was no tomorrow?"

"Yes." The soldier answered, somehow empresses you described his experience of the omega so well without having been there. Price, for his part, gave you a look you couldn't quite place.

"Then she was more then likely in pre-heat while you were watching over her and only just got into the real deal." You explained. "At least she more then likely hasn't been alone too long, so she shouldn't be in distress. But she's going to need help now."

Price ran a hand over his face and nodded before calling for Soap. It doesn't even take the younger man a second to come in. It wasn't hard for you to figure out he had more then likely been listening in on the argument.

"Take the things we had prepared and go help B. Ophelia's known her the longest, she's going to be calmer with her around." It was clearly an order, but not one of a Captain, one of a pack leader.

"You're not coming?" You asked, confused.

"Neither me or Simon are going anywhere close to that barrack." He answered gruffly.

"But she's in heat!" You sputtered, confused and, quite honestly, offended. "You won't help her?!"

"We are not going to let her suffer through it." He said with a quiet, even calm, kind of anger that had you flinched again. Clearly your question had hit a nerve but at lest he wasn't growling at you like he had done with the other soldier. Soldier who had, apparently, sneaked out of the office.

"We didn't have the time to discuss any of this with her and we are only courting her. I'm not letting any Alphas anywhere close to her right now, especially not when she can't properly consent. And that include Simon and me. If you want to make sure she will be alright, go help Johnny." Was all he told you.

"Is that a...?" You started as you entered the room they used for storage.

"A big teddy bear... Aye..." Soap continued, trying desperately not to laugh.

"... with a dick?" You finished, just standing there and staring at it.

"A sex machine." He told you while wheezing.

"What?!"

"Th' bear is a sex machine." He said again, now folded in half with laughter. Clearly, he had been waiting to get your reaction to it.

"Why is that equally disgusting and weirdly exiting..." You mumbled as you stared at the offending bear. "Was the bear... your plan to keep Ophelia from going into distress?"

"Well, no' just that, obviously." He answered, somewhat finally calming down. "Th' bag there is filed with more stuff for her."

You moved through the room, lowering yourself in front of said bag as you start going through it. The first thing you pulled out were two Ziploc bag, one labeled "Simon", the other "John".

"Gym shirts. Yae ken, for th' scent." Soap said as you open one to take a sniff.

"HOLLY-" The only thing you could do was reel away as you got hit with a scent you could only described as a pile of tires burning in hell fire. "-Fuck!? Why the fuck does Cap's shirt smells like he was trying to murder someone? Who thought it would be a good idea to give that to a vulnerable omega??"

"Eh, guess we all jus' got use tae him smelling like that after workouts and didny think farther." The Scott answered with a shrug.

"You got used to your pack leader smelling like a literal war crime after a simple gym session? Are you all okay?" You said, way more careful this time around as you open the bag that was containing Ghost's shirt.

"Yae probably jus' think it's worst then it really is wi' that fine nose of yours." He told you with a shrug. "But I suppose we got used tae some questionable thing overtime." He admitted

Surprisingly, Ghost shirt was nowhere near as bad. Actually, it was quite pleasant.

"Here." You said, throwing the shirt at him. "We can put that one on the... bear." You refused to call it what it really was; a clearly expensive and specialized sex toy.

"Lieutenant fuck bear it is." Soap declared with a smirk on his face.

"I hate the fact that I actually kinda want to name the bear that now." You chuckled has you kept going through the stuff, pulling out a large collar.

"That's one fancy bite collar." You murmured as you turned the thing in your hands. Thick sturdy leader dyed pink, lacy edges and soft velvet lining.

"Fancy? Lassie, I think yae're jus' describing omega stuff in general." He said as he watched you run your fingers over the fabric.

"No, no. Thrust me, even for omega stuff, this is fancy." You told him as your finger found some little bumps in the inside of the collar. "Is that...?"

"Clerk said something about silicon beads mimicking-"

"The felling of having someone's teeth against your neck." You cut in. "Really fancy."

"How do yae even ken what's fancy or not for 'mega's stuff? Yae already ken one or something?" He asked.

"Something like that, yeah. That's why I was the one asked to escort Ophelia." You answered. "What else do we got?"

"Okay, let's say we glaze over jus' how cryptic of an answer that was." He said as he leaned down next to the bag with you. "We got... knee high compression socks since she won't move out of her nest for a few days, giant pink fluffy jacket for warmth without... obstruction, and an insane amount of vitamin water and protein bars over there."

"Good, good. I suppose that's probably all we need for now. We'll figure what we're missing as we go along." You said. "And please, please, put something over Lieutenant fuck while we transfer everything to the other barrack."

"Ready?" You asked.

"Absolutely not." Soap answered, shifting uncomfortably where he was standing. "God Bun, th' scent is insane, even from here..."

"Well, too bad. The more we wait, the more she might distress." You told him. "We'll just have to make it quick."

If the smell was intense from where you two were standing in the hallway, it was completely overpowering once you opened the door of Ophelia's. Every inhale was like drinking straight from a bottle of simple syrup; thick and excessively sugary.

"God, I wish they made diet omega..." You murmured as you scanned the darkness, earning yourself a laugh, and then a cough, from Soap.

"Ophelia? Can we come in?" You called out, only to be meet by a barrage of chirps. Probably the closest thing to a yes you could have hoped for. "Aright. We're going to open the light, okay?"

You didn't know if you wanted to laugh or coo at the sight you were greeted with. Ophelia, sitting in a disheveled nest, stuck in half taken off clothes.

"Let's get you out of those." You chuckled as you moved closer to the nest. Soap, in the mean time, went to open the blinds.

Thank God for whatever genius had thought of putting privacy film in those. Oh, wait. That was you, wasn't it? Was your head getting fuzzy?

"Mmmm...B! ...B!" Ophelia chirped as you reached her, willingly leaning into your touch. "Look! Look! I made a nest. A nest- a nest with what we- we got when we went out with Si- Simon." Poor thing was slurring her words.

"Yes. I see. What a good nest, Ophelia. Good girl." You cooed at her, pulling some delighted noise out of her. She might be the bane of your existence most day, right now she needed reassurance.

"Really? Really? You like it? It's a good- good nest?" She asked, begged really, as you started freeing her from her clothes.

"It's a wonderful nest, Ophelia." It was a bit undone, but you couldn't deny that it was actually a good nest.

She was trying to climb into your lap, now free from most of her clothes, as you turned to take the jacket and socks Soap was handing to you. Great, now there would be slick all over your pants.

You didn't have mush time for your complains, though, because the next thing you knew, Ophelia was hissing, as if just now seeing Soap.

"Oi, lassie!" Soap let out in surprise as he took a step back.

"Ophelia! No! We're here to help. You don't hiss at people like that. That's-" God, you really didn't want to say it, but you also didn't want her to start snarling at your fellow beta. "You're acting like a bad Omega right now." You told her sternly.

What you got in response was a deep pained whine, and you found yourself surprised to realize that it wasn't only coming from her, but from the Scott as well.

"You're not a bad Omega, but you're acting like one. We're here to help. Please let us help." You kept going in that stern tone.

The omega looked up at you, all misty eyes as she nodded.

"Good, good. Now, I got a nice jacket and some warm sucks for you. I'm going to help you put them on while Soap braids your hair, alright?" It wasn't really a question, but you knew it would pass better as one.

You moved the moment you got another nod, changing her as Soap started to fiddle with her hair. You were really stating to get light headed now, and the room felt like an oven, but you were almost done.

"You're going to be a good girl and let me put the pretty collar on you, right?" You asked only to be meat by eager chirps and an increasingly desperate omega. Putting that damn bite collar on her was quite the ordeal when she was grinding on your thigh and trying to mouth at your neck.

"Ophelia!" You huffed as Soap got done with her hair and moved to get the bear in.

"Yae like bears, don't yae, lassie?" He tried as he got the thing closer to her nest. "Because we got a really special one for yae."

She almost looked interested, that is, until he got close enough and she scrunched up her nose at the bear.

"We're losing th' shirt?" He asked while you just let out a sigh and nodded.

Ophelia seemed a lot less offended by the bear now that it wasn't sporting Ghost shirt anymore, but she still seemed awfully reluctant to leave your laps. By God did you needed her on that bear yesterday, your head was starting to spin quite a lot, your inner beta completely restless.

"Come on 'phelia, I'm sure you're going to love Lieutenant fuck." You said has you managed to maneuver her onto the bear, even with her death grip on your shirt.

One thing was clear in that moment; she wasn't going to let go of it no matter what. The best you could do was crawling out of it and leaving it behind with her, because you needed out of this room now.

You were practically bolting out of the omega's room once you were sure she was alright. Your slick covered pants got drop somewhere in the hallway as you let yourself fall down on the rec room's coach in nothing more than your underwear.

You where flushed, burning up and breathing heavily, and Soap was barely better than you as he crashed on top of you.

"I always made fun of the alphas going crazy over omega in heat stories, but I think I get it now. Fucckkk." You gasped out.

"My head feel like it's pounding. How the hell did we managed that without passing out?" He answered.

"I don't think we would have passed out, per say..." You said before letting out a whine as you felt Soap's hips twitch over yours.

"Shit, sorry Bun. I don't- I don't know what's getting over me." He mumbled out.

"It's okay- It's fine. I think breathing in lungs full of omega sex pheromones might have an effect on us..." You told him, fighting the urge to grind back against him. He was your college for Christ’s sake. A very desirable, good-looking college, but a college none the less. And not a mate.

Either Soap didn't have the same quarrels as you or simply no more self control because it only took a few more seconds for him to start grinding on you with mumbled apologies.

"Sorry, Bun. Sorry." He kept mumbling.

"Honestly? I think I might consider murder a viable option if you stop." You said through gasped breath. "God, this is-"

"Maddening?" He tried.

"Yes..." You breathed out. And you didn't want to admit it out loud, but the friction between you was the only thing keeping you sane.

"Yae smell good right now, Bun. Almost sweet." He told you, his head pressed against your shoulder.

"I think you're just smelling my scent mixing with Ophelia's." You answered.

"Bloody Hell, is it me or it's burning in here?" Soap asked, straitening himself just enough over you to take of is shirt, pulling a frustrated whine out of you as he stopped the delicious movements of his hips.

What are you doing? You shouldn't whine, shouldn't ask for more. Christ, Price might ripe you apart if he finds you like this with one of his packmate. God, what are you-

The friction came back. Blissful, mind numbing friction your body and inner beta were craving for right now. Although it felt different this time around.

You barely managed to lift your head to find him in dressed down to his boxers and looking painfully hard. Shit, did he look more flushed then he did a minute ago? More affected?

"God, Bun. I'm sorry but this is-" He started, his hands finding your hips to help with his movements. "-torture. I feel like I'll combust if I stop."

"Don't stop. Don't stop." You begged before you truly think about what you were saying.

"Cannae stop, Bun." He answered.

Before you knew it, you had his bare cock grinding against your panties, making you purr in delight.

"Christ, Bun." He gasped. "How are yae so wet? Yer knickers are soaked through. Are yae slicking?"

"Betas don't produce slick, dumbass." You answered fast. Maybe a bit too fast.

"Might just be out of touch with th' lassies, then." He mumbled out, now clearly more focused on watching himself smear pre-cum all over your wet underwear than the conversation.

"Just- just need a bit more, Bun. Just a peak." He groaned, already hocking his thumb in your panties to push them aside. You could find it in you to complain because God did you needed this as well. There was that need burning rampant inside of you. Soap's cock grinding against your entrance and hitting your clit with every movement was the only this keeping said fire under control.

It had you moaning, twitching underneath him. Instincts begging for more while the rational part of your mind still warn against it.

"Just the tip, Bun. Please? Just- just the tip." he continued. This was torture. So mush yet so little. You could feel frustrated tears rising to the corner of your eyes every time he barely breeched your entrance.

"S- Soa- Johnny!" You whined pathetically. Gone were all your worries about how unprofessional this was. Your ó̶̳̣̰̌́̂͠m̸̬̏̋̌... your Beta needed him. Needed this. Whatever effect Ophelia's pheromones were having on both of you, it was strong.

"Just a little deeper, Bun. Please, please." He moaned out, his grip on your hips now bruising. Thank God. Thank God he was finally fucking you properly, every trust of his hips going a bit deeper, making you see stars, pulling the most sinful noise out of you.

So close. God, you were so close. That fire burning deep inside you was raging like a Hellish inferno. And then? Soap finally bottomed out inside of you with a laud grown. It felt like instant relief as a new kind of heat spread inside of you.

It took you a couple of seconds to realize what at happened, your instincts slowly retreating, but the sight of Soap, flush, panting, but looking extremely satisfied told you what you needed to know.

He was seemingly coming back to himself to, because the next time he opened his eyes to look down at you, he looked mortified, scared even, searching your own face for... something.

"Shit, shit, shit! B-Bun, I'm sorry. I don't- I don't ken what came over me. I-"

And you, in all your wisdom, could only answer with a huff and a mumbled, "You own me an orgasm."

Previous Next

ytvr6urbtnh This took so long to write!! Not cause it was hard, just cause I had a lot of other shit to do.

Tag list:

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

“Save it for tomorrow!” Kyle hollers. 

Standing up, Johnny waves away your fiance’s suggestion and grabs a mic. “Has to be tonight. I’ll be too busy getting to know the bride’s cousins tomorrow.” He throws a wolfish grin to the crowd which is received with groans and cheers. You and Kyle laugh, amused by the sergeant’s antics. Kyle, with a smile on his face, concedes. 

The room falls silent as everyone eagerly waits to hear what one of the groom’s co-workers has to say about the happy couple.

Which in the beginning isn’t anything that different from what’s been said so far. However, after singing both your and Kyle’s praises, Johnny’s speech takes a sudden turn. 

“And you all want to know something,” Johnny starts, his words slightly slurred, “Kyle here has never once thanked me for making this happen.” He ushers to the two of you. You feel Kyle tense which only piques your interest. “If Kyle hadn’t lost that bet, he would have never gone out with our beautiful bride here.” The once quiet room erupts with whispers and murmurs. You stand up straight, confused by the Scotsman’s words. 

John grabs at Johnny to sit down, but the babbling Scotsman pulls away. With a mic in hand and a beer in the other, Johnny walks towards you and Kyle and continues, “Oh yeah, lover boy here thought that our beautiful bride was anything but that, so after losing a bet, his punishment was to go on a date here with…” Johnny stops to think. He snaps his fingers and calls to Kyle. “What’s the nickname you had for her?”

Your fiance stands up and commands Johnny to stop. Your skin starts to prickle as you feel all your friends and family’s eyes fall on you. 

Johnny stands in thought for a few more seconds when hollering, “Got it!” Your ears ring as the sergeant recites a nickname that hits on your biggest insecurity. Gasps and choked laughs accompany the ringing. Your fiance completely freezes, eyes wide in shock. 

Without realizing what he’s done, Johnny continues, “and Kyle was mad, going on and on about how he’d rather die than be seen out in public with our bird here.” He mindlessly laughs as he recalls what he considers to be a fun memory. 

You turn towards your fiance as memories of your first date come back to you. You recall Kyle’s quietness and stand-offishness, which for the longest time, you took as nerves, but now you can’t help but read them as distaste… or even disgust. Really, when you look back at your entire relationship, you come to the daunting realization that most of your dates with Kyle had either been inside his or your apartment, or somewhere incredibly private, something that you never questioned as you thought Kyle just respected your hermit-like tendencies. However, now you wonder whether he did that more for himself.

Thankfully, before Johnny can say anything else, Simon rushes the sergeant and rips the mic away from him. But unfortunately the damage has been done. You rise from your seat, ignoring the sudden uproar in the room, and turn towards your fiance. Kyle opens his mouth in an attempt to say something but is silenced when your hand slides across his face. 

“Fuck you,” you hiss before leaving what was the happiest night of your life. 

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Simon rolls his eyes but ultimately allows Johnny to give this impromptu speech. He rests his chin on the top of your head and murmurs against your skin, “better today than tomorrow.” You can’t help but laugh at your fiancé’s words. 

The crowd cheers and eggs Johnny to speak as the mic falls into his hands. With a wave of his hands, the Scotsman asks all of your friends and family to quiet down. “Tonight there’s no question that these two don’t belong with each other. I mean look at them, two peas in a pod… disgusting,” he jokes. You, Simon, and everyone in the room laughs. 

“But, really what I want to do tonight is start from the beginning, which might surprise you all,” Johnny announces. You tilt your head as you aren’t sure where the sergeant is going. You turn towards Simon who’s still with his eyes locked on his best man. 

Now with all the attention focused on him, Johnny commands the room. “You see, Simon despised our lassie here when she first joined the team. Never knew how much hatred L.T was capable of till she joined.” The room is completely silent with a few awkward coughs here and there. Oblivious to the tension in the room, Johnny continues, “I mean it was bad. He’d beg our cap’n here,” Price ducks as Johnny motions to him, “to drop her, even threatened to leave her behind if he didn't, which he probably would have if Kyle and I didn’t step in. I mean there was one time--”

“That’s enough, Johnny.” Simon barks. His fists press against the table, slightly trembling, as his eyes burn with rage. 

Unfortunately, Johnny is oblivious to the groom-to-be’s anger. “I’m getting to the best part.” With a smile on his face, the best man turns your entire world upside down. “One time, I even caught L.T here trying to mess with our girl’s radio before a mission. Thankfully, I caught him before it was too late. But hey at least it wasn’t a parachute,” Johnny howls in laughter. He’s the only one. 

At least it wasn’t a parachute.

“Love,” Simon calls out to you, panic clearly in his voice. You remain still, eyes still glued on your family’s terrified faces as Johnny’s words repeat in your head. It wasn’t a parachute. 

A parachute. 

A parachute had taken you out of commission. A parachute left you no choice but to take that admin job. A parachute had forced you and Simon, who kept you never connected to in the beginning, to get closer. A parachute was what led you to this moment. 

“Sweetheart,” Simon cries out. You finally face him and nearly pass out as guilt swirled in those beautiful brown eyes. “When I realized what I had done…”

You get up. You can’t bear to hear this. However, before you can leave, Simon grabs your wrist and begs you to stay. “Please, I love you now.”

You pull your hand away and cradle it as if it was burned. You stare Simon down and with the last ounce of strength you have, you whisper, “and I never hated you.” 

John Price 

“You don’t have to,” John assures the clearly stressed out lieutenant. However, Simon is adamant on speaking. After going back and forth for a bit, John surrenders.

With a slight tremble in his hand, Simon raises the mic to his mouth and speaks, “Hi, I’m Simon and I’ve known John for a really long time.” You look at John who stares at his right-hand man with pride. “And in all those years, I’ve never seen John look so happy then I do now.” People cheer for you and John. Overwhelmed by everyone’s love, you lean over and kiss John on the cheek which only gets the people to cheer louder. John looks at you and cradles your face in his hands. 

Infected by the good vibes in the room, Simon continues, “and I’ll be honest, I never thought I’d see John happy again after Emma left.” The energy in the room shifts as everyone tries to figure out who ‘Emma’ is. You, unfortunately, know who.

Emma. Your former intelligence supervisor. She was a strong woman that had little patience for incompetence. You remember following her around like a lost puppy on the 141 base, just hoping that by being near her, you’ll catch just an ounce of her aura. Her and John had a great relationship, filled with quips and mutual respect. But after some late night intelligence briefing between her and John, she left, citing professional differences. You were caught off guard by her departure but didn’t stress too much about it as you were promoted  to head intelligence officer which allowed you to get closer to your John. Heck, you even stayed in contact with your mentor and invited her to your wedding.

You look out at the crowd and see Emma’s burning red face staring right at you. You look over at John for reassurance but gasp as you see his eyes locked on her. She’s not looking at you, but at John. 

Oh.

You get up from the table which breaks John from his impromptu staring contest. He tries to follow you out but you wave him away with a trembling hand. 

“Don’t.”

John “Soap” MacTavish

“Let’s go Kyle!” Johnny cheers. Your fiance pulls you in for a kiss as Kyle grabs a mic. A couple more guys, specifically your fiance’s co-workers, cheer as the sergeant clears his throat.

“Let’s give it to the beautiful couple!” The crowd cheers you to which only eggs Johnny to pull you in for another kiss. You can’t help but laugh against his lips. You couldn’t believe he was yours.

After reeling the crowd back in, Kyle chuckles in the mic before continuing. “Truly what a beautiful couple. We have our beautiful, radiant girl who’s smile could make any soldier fight harder just to come home to her and Johnny.” The room laughs. “I mean really, why Johnny?” Kyle turns to you. Everyone laughs at Kyle’s faux confusion. 

Kyle, enamored by the attention, keeps going. “Honestly I’m surprised you two worked out cause if I’m honest here, you’re nothing like Johnny’s type.” Johnny stills and signals Kyle to stop. He doesn’t. 

Now failing the crowd, Kyle describes Johnny’s type, which is the complete opposite of you. “I mean the minute anything remotely close to that walked in the room, Johnny followed it like a dog with a streak. So imagine our surprise when Soap brought her along for drinks one night.” 

The room goes quiet. You try to laugh to break the awkwardness but it’s way too tense in the room. You look over at Johnny for back up but his head is down and his shoulders are hunched over. 

Why isn’t he looking at you? You can’t help but assume the worst. Is he getting cold feet? Did he just realize how incredibly average you are compared to his exes? Sure, you might not win a beauty contest but you didn’t think you were that bad? 

“Johnny?” You reach for his arm but he immediately jerks it away the moment you touch it. He freezes as he realizes what he’s done  

“Wait, mo ghàidh.” You don’t bother to hear him out. You shake your head and leave the table, leaving both the dinner and relationship behind. 

Word Count: 1877

Thanks for reading! — Folded’s Page Guide + Masterlist