You were 16 when you found out Simon Riley wasn’t actually your father. He had always been cold and distant with you, but you chalked it up to that being how he was. You didn’t know he hated you. Everyone told you that your mother abandoned you, but your dad stepped up. Raised you alone. You were why he went on less and less missions. He didn’t like leaving you with other people, saying they didn’t know how to handle you. That did confuse you. You were a good kid, after all. You almost never got in trouble.
One night, after crying yourself to sleep on your 16th birthday because Gaz had to go on a mission so, predictably, your Dad forgot it was your birthday at all, you woke up to whispers.
“What are we gon’ do when she turns 18?” Simon whispered in frustration.
“I’m not sure,” Price sighed. You could hear him puffing on that nasty cigar.
“Not sure? We’ve got less than two years. We need a plan,” Simon was sounding increasingly annoyed.
“I know, I know!” Prince growled as you crept closer to peer into the living room. “But what are we meant to do? She’s Makarov’s daughter. We can’t let any of his people find out she’s still alive.”
You’d heard that name before. In hushed whispers. When your Dad and the rest of the task force were drunk. How close Johnny had come to death. How they thought he had died. Held a funeral. Everything. Only for him to be dumped nearly a corpse with a taunting note attached.
What were they talking about someone being his daughter? Did they mean you?
Your stomach was rolling. Chest nearly heaving. Bile burning your throat.
“See ‘im every time I look at her,” Simon gruffed, tightening his jaw under his balaclava.
“That’s not her fault, Riley. She’s just a kid.” Price’s words were right, but there was an unfamiliar note of disgust in his tone as well.
“Kid or not, she’s his. Had to waste these years caring for her. Acting like she’s my own. Fucking disgusting,” Simon sneered.
You tried to turn quietly. To hide the tears, but you knocked into the little table in the hallway that you and Simon always tossed things on. Keys. Wallets. Random shit from your pockets.
Both men stopped talking.
Simon cautiously called out, “Kid? You there?”
Tears trickled down your face. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. They heard you crying anyway.
Price was the first to make it to the hallway. He saw you crouched on the floor. Hugging your stomach. Eyes already swelling as you sobbed.
Simon came next. Face unreadable as always. Yet, he was the one who crouched down beside you. Patting your back.
“Kid, why are you crying?” he gruffed out, but you could tell. He knew you knew.
Of course you didn’t answer. There wasn’t enough air in your lungs to wheeze out words. Instead, you both crouched there while you let the floodgates swing open. With Price awkwardly supervising.
When you were done, Simon muttered, “I was just mad. You’re still mine.”
When you shook your head, chest still heaving, face still wet, eyes still swollen, Price interjected. “Maybe she should spend some time with me.”
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Oneshot: Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!Reader
18+ Post, MDNI
Warnings: Mentioned drinking, Mentioned Car Sex, Mentioned Drunken Sex
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Tags: Johnny "Soap" McTavish lives, Not beta-read, Second Person POV, Reader is originally from the States
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Chapter Word Count: 1.5k
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Description:
Simon was a gentle man.
In bed, at least—or, actually, in an old, smoke-scented, Cadillac on drunken Friday night.
Your Lieutenant, Simon—Ghost—held himself to a standard to not drink at work, nor in front of his colleagues. No one can really control themselves when inebriated; and as much as he trusted himself, he wasn’t sure about the others. He also, much to the shock of many of the people around him—those who didn’t know his life, at least—wasn’t really even a drinker.
But, after a particularly stressful work week in which his team went on mission after mission, he desperately needed some relief. He just needed to wind down and take a breather; he deserved it. He was going to just light a cigar, of which he did regularly, and open a bottle. His captain had other plans though; Price, in order to let his team relax, hosted a small party with drinks in a private booth at a karaoke bar near the base. Ghost knew it was a bad idea, “work” parties never stay work parties for long...
When Ghost arrived, most of his colleagues were already at least a couple drinks in, but he tried not to judge, especially when Soap pushed a tall, large glass of bourbon into his hands. He tried to hold strong, slowly nursing his drink, watching everyone else take turns singing. Outside the small window on the back wall, he could see the light of the day slowly fade into a seeping darkness of night. That’s when he let himself really loosen up. It started with one drink… then another, and another. He didn’t mean to drink so much, but his mind escaped him in the moment.
Ghost only truly realized how drunk he was when he found himself flirting with someone else on the team. He was always a smooth talker, but never flirty—he kept his romantic life far, far away from work. But, there he was, getting handy, leaning close, laughing at jokes he didn’t think were funny… He forced himself out of the booth to go get fresh air, but he never made it outside.
You had stopped him before he got to the door, and his throat tightened. Of all the people that could have followed him, you were the one person he didn’t want. You had been his favorite thing to stare as of recent. He had rationalized it in that staring never hurt anyone. It surely never hurt him to stare. But, talking might…
He couldn’t tell you off when you leaned closer than you should have—to “check up” on him. He couldn’t not listen when you cooed your less the subtle advances towards him. He couldn’t help but love how your hands rested on his chest just so delicately… And, worst of all, he couldn’t stop his hands when he slid them around your waist and pulled you flush against him.
The next couple hours only got blurrier—he isn’t quite sure how the two of you got in his Cadillac all the way outside, nor how no one saw you slip away; they were all probably too drunk to notice. He does, however, remember the feeling of your hands roughly grabbing onto the fabrics of his clothes. He does remember how you pulled off his mask and crashed your lips into his in a sloppy, passionate kiss. He remembers how he let you, encouraged you even, as he grabbed onto any part of you he could.
He remembers your gasps, your moans, the sounds of your breath tangling with his, the movement of your bodies warming the cold car. He remembers stumbling out of the car, pulling his mask back on, and sneaking into the booth hoping no one saw the two of you and decided to be nosy…
Finally, he remembers how he immediately knew how desperately he had fucked up.
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And now, you’re both sitting in a meeting over a less than important issue, trying not to steal glances at each other because every time your eyes meet, the tension between you grows stronger. Every one else is focusing on whatever Laswell is saying; normally you would be too, but it had only been two days since the party—and you can’t get the taste of your Lieutenant out of my mind or your mouth.
You know he’s thinking about it too. By the way he’s been bouncing his leg under the table, idly playing with the pen that was once abandoned on the table before he grabbed it just to have something to do with his hands.
You also know that your fellow soldiers were beginning to notice the tension. Not between the two of you; but Ghost was typically calm, collected, not fidgety and absentminded. They occasionally glance back at him as he stares quietly ahead, brows furrowed and shoulders tense.
“You’re all dismissed.” Laswell speaks, turning to power off the board behind her.
As she speaks, Ghost immediately stands up, not aggressively, but still swift. He walks out of the room, discarding the pen once more; you stare at it for a second.
“What do you think is wrong with him?” Gaz asks, his voice the typical smooth tone it always was. The two of you walk out from the conference room and towards the mess hall for lunch.
“I don’t know.” You shrug.
You know exactly why.
Gaz looks over to you; you try to keep a poker face—something you are horrible at—as he reads over your expression—which he is wonderful at. It’s always made you mad how good he is at reading people, it was just a talent he seems to naturally have, especially with you. As if the gods themselves decided to make your life as hard as possible
“You know something.” He says, and you can’t keep your face from flushing horribly, “You did something.” he continues with an obvious smile, one that makes your stomach twist.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You mutter, pushing the doors open to the mess hall. You avoid his gaze; can he please stop staring at you like that??
“What did you do…??” He whispers, nudging against you. “Did you say something stupid? Weird? Did he take off his mask and you caught him?”
“Stop.” You mutter, thinking back to when you pulled his mask off when you were pushed up against him, about to disgrace—
“Yankee?” Gaz snaps you out of your trance and you look up at him. The warm blush that spreads across your cheeks made him just knowsomething happened. “You did it, didn’t you?” He grins, and you feel like a fly caught in a trap.
“Stop it, Garrick.” You glare at him, but he’s already too entertained. Damn bastard…
“Took him forever to show us? How’d you do it?” He thinks back to that night, and as he slows down, you hurry off the grab your food. You feel your heart slow for just a moment, and doesn’t take long for him to notice and rush back towards to you.
“Come on, you can’t just not tell me?” He asks, continuing to trail you as you walked over a table in the corner.
You sit down with a sigh, “Gaz, I swear to god.” You say as you open a water bottle, beginning to take a sip to try and wet your throat.
“Does it have something to do with when you both disappeared for about two hours?” You choke, water coming out the sides of your mouth. You cough slightly, trying to recover as Gaz stares at you with a grin.
“What??” You ask, staring at him, trying to regain your bearings. “You noticed?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. When you realize your mistake, though, he’s already speaking again.
“Me and Soap.” Gaz smiles, and you can only sink down in your seat, feeling a wave of embarrassment and shame wash over you. “You have to tell me what happened now.” You can help but bury your head in your hands.
Shit, shit, shit, shit.
You take a short, controlled breath as you try to speak, despite your embarrassment. “We were drunk. None of it matters and you need—“
Gaz cuts you off before you can finish, leaning close, “Yankee did you shag our lieutenant.”
“Kyle!” You yell, making a few people glance over, but no one really keeps paying attention. “How could,” You stop, sputtering over your words, “I cannot believe you—how could you even begin to insinuate…” You trail off and try to force the blush you had off your cheeks. When you realize you can’t, you just cover your face.
“That’s actually crazy.” Gaz grins, and you frown at him. “I won’t say anything about it, Yankee.”
You look away, you don’t now how or respond. You only know Ghost is going to kill you when he finds out you unintentionally basically told Gaz… Wonderful.
“I hate you.” You mumble as you take a bite of whatever bland food you had grabbed…
“So, was he, you know,” he clears his throat, still grinning, “good, though?”
“Gaz!”
“What!?”
taglist: [empty]
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a/n: would anyone be interested in a prequel...? it's been gnawing at me to write it...
can someone please please please help me find a philip graves fic i literally have been searching for days and hours to find it
so from what i remember it starts where the reader is apart of tf141 and escaping the shadow company in the streets of las almas to meet up with soap and ghost in the church while it’s raining and is injured w a gunshot to the arm
then graves catches her and he pins her to a wall they talk and i remember a specific sentence where he says he’ll let the shadow company watch(?) and they fuck then after he lets her go
Fandom: Call of Duty
Pairing: Captain John Price x female reader/ John "Soap" McTavish
Summary: Soap needs a place a to crash for a few days, what he finds is more than he'd thought.
Length: Medium
Warnings: NSFW 21 +ONLY, explicit content, strong language, detailed smut, m masturbation, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v.
ENJOY!!!
He doesn't take no for an answer.
Johnny likes that about the captain; no nonsense, no bullshit, cut and dry, you never have to guess with John Price who has stated more than once that he hates sugar-coated anything. That goes for food and information, by the way.
Riding shot gun, holding his standard military issued duffel, still holding strong since boot camp many moons ago in his lap, Soap watched as the city lights became sparse. The stacked, snow covered houses and buildings, the noise faded and morphed into faded stop signs and angled parking, was that a town clock tower?
"Yer sure 'bout me crashing at your place? I don't mind a hotel."
"Nonsense McTavish." John said as he rolled his 80's Chevrolet pick up truck to a stop at the light.
As Soap looked around, he realized that maybe this was the ionly stoplight around. Captain lived just outside of the city, nowhere near base, a small town. Smaller than where Soap hailed from even; it felt like a time warp. Gone were modern homes and electric vehicles but older model cars, rusted winnebago's, slanted parking, older brick buildings and a serious lack of a four story brick building in sight.
Instead he saw some young boys chasing each other with snowballs, small piles of snow lined the curb just outside of breakfast diner, a little girl had fallen off her tricycle outside of a pizza joint. Of course Price would live in a town like this.
"My ol' lady wouldn't be too happy with me if I let one of my men pay for some sterile room when we have a perfectly good guest bedroom in wait of use." John chuckled and eased on the gas, shifting gears as the sky bruised and the sun began to descend.
"What size is she?"
John mused. "Perfectly sized."
"Just hope she likes me."
"Aye you'll be a shoe in, sergeant. She maybe a little excited to meet someone new, might rush ya' a bit but she means well." He chuckled again and turned down another street before pulling into a quaint driveway, two car garage, a shovel leaned against the space between. The lights were already on, it surprised Soap to see a little snowman made by the front stairs of the porch.
The captain's house was well kept, maintained and cozy. An afghan draped over a soft looking lounge chair, the loves eat angled perfectly to the TV that HD stood the test of time apparently he hadn't seen a bubble TV in quite some time. A taxidermy pheasant and loon were placed on the coffee table next to an empty glass. There were paintings of farmhouses on one wall, a crocheted cut out of a lion on the other. It reeked of cider, sandalwood, smoke and something that John must've put in a croc-pot before his shift. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious.
"John, is that you?" a voice called out. In shock, Soap remained completely still.
"You know it! brought us home a stray." The captain said hanging up his hat on one of those old school diamond hat racks tacked to the wall, below hung a few coats of military green, muddy boots sat worn and limp on a shoe rack.
"Don't tell me you named it already!"
" 'fraid not little lady; he already came with one."
"Oh rats!"
As soon as he shut the front door, a scratching noise could be heard and as quickly as he looked up he saw a very excited tawny dog came bounding around the corner.
"There she is! Come 'ere ol' girl, did you miss me that much?" John ruffled the dogs fur, her tail winding before she collapsed on the floor for him to rub her belly. She let out a few excited barks before setting her hazel eyes on Soap, wiggling to get herself up off the floor, his loyal companion bounded at him, sniffing and licking at his hands until he dropped the duffel with a thud.
"Oh! you are a friendly one hey." He bent down and felt her curly q's, it almost looked like the dog was smiling at him. A new friend. He moved her collar, little strawberries with smiling faces with a bone shaped name tag; Mary Jo Price. "Ol' girl is a good girl."
"She sure is." Soap jerked at hearing the woman's voice clearer, mid belly rub of Mary Jo, his eyes moved towards the sound. There stood a leaning woman on the doorframe that must've lead towards the kitchen. It was such a stark contrast on seeing a plaid shirt Price had worn early on in the week be draped around a woman's' form versus the captain. It slouched over her shoulder, tied together to her figure by a similarly goofy apron with dancing banana's on it, in a pair of white crew socks.
Soap was stunned, who was this doll strutting around the captains' house, a one night stand who was staying another night, a roommate of sorts? was she dog sitting while John went to work and messed up her clothes? too many gears were working in Johnny's head to piece things together.
"Sorry 'im late, this is sergeant John McTavish, he'll be stayin' with awhile."
"Oh is that so?" She cocked her head at him before setting blazingly friendly eyes at him.
"Thought we could get use out of that guest room."
"Ah yes, excuses excuses. Now let me meet our guest."
A wave of the softest perfume or lotion wafted and hung around like a halo as she walked over, smile bright as the sun, he was expecting to shake hands only for her to swat his hand away.
"Any friend of John's is a friend of mine." She said and hugged him tightly.
"Told ya'!" Price said taking off his jacket to join his hat.
"Told him what?"
"That you'd be excited to meet someone new." He answered with a shrug.
"Um John… you're naked. Again."
"Wha'?"
She pointed to his hands, something shiny on her own caught his eye before lightly slapping his face and returned to the kitchen, Mary Jo following happily, maybe hoping for more pets and a possible scrap of what was cooking for being a good host.
"Oops." John Price made a face and dug into his front shirt pocket after patting his lovingly, Soap's brain was foggy as he was putting two and two together, watching his captain take out a wedding band and slipped it on without care.
He followed him blindly into the kitchen, face as scrunched as a single served napkin.
"Wait… Mary Jo isn't your ol' girl?"
"Wha'?"
"You said in the truck your ol' girl … wait… you're married?"
"Yeah." John said bluntly and opened the fridge to grab a drink.
"To each other?"
The pair turned to look at him. "Who did you think I was? I'm Mrs. Price. Would you like something to drink, dinner is almost ready. You're not vegan are you?"
"No."
"Good! we're having a shoulder roast, John snagged a deer last month and I've been dying to try out this recipe. Water? beer? iced tea? milk…"
"You're married?!"
"Johnny are you okay?" You asked, a soft hand on his shoulder as Mary Jo circled around the kitchen before laying down on her designated bed in the corner by the back door. More fruit and colorful displays, there was even a lemon shaped bowl on the counter with little yellow wrapped candies piled inside.
"John doesn't like to talk about his personal life on base with the company, puts me and him at risk if anything were to happen to him during a deployment, foreign or domestic." You explained.
It made sense but still, the captain could be cold as a blizzard, short, nothing to push or shove so to see you, a bright and colorful extension of him was blowing his Scottish mind.
Dinner was delicious, the bourbon John kept on a little drinking cart in the living room was even better, followed up by a welcoming house tour and showed him to his quarters.
….
Soap woke up to the sound of running water, a few days later, steam and the captains' shower gel of choice warmed through the early morning air of the home. He rolled over and grabbed another pillow hugging it close to his bare chest, fresh sheets, cozy bed, everything was perfect.
Until it wasn't.
The patter of your feet running towards the bathroom could be heard, walls were thin here, as you knocked rapidly before he could hear the door handle. Nothing out of the ordinary.
"John… John!"
"What is it? I'm almost done then you can--"
"No it's not that. I'm ov--" You rushed out in a huff.
"Wha'? 'old on. I can' hear ya' doll."
The shower soon shut off and your voices were clearer through the tiled walls.
"Repeat."
"I'm ovulating." You exclaimed.
"Now?"
"Right now?"
Price grunted and Soap had to cover his face, wondering if he should get up and leave the house for a bit, go for a walk, see the town, maybe the diner was open. But he stayed put, laying there with those fluffy pillows and blankets, he was so warm and comfortable but he didn't exactly want to hear his superior and you get it on.
"Yes. Right now." You answered.
"Well shit, let's do this."
"Language!" You scolded your husband with a slap somewhere on his body.
"He can't hear me."
"You know how I feel about swearing in front of guests. You owe a quarter to the swear jar, mister."
"Fine fine, jus' get in the room and take those panties off this instant, want that pretty cunt on my face stat!"
Jesus H! Soap covered his face with his hands, he was burning hot hearing the exchange and even more so when he could you giggling, running back to your bedroom with a yelp and the slam of your bedroom door just down the hall. Only the bathroom to separate you and even that wasn't enough to drown the sounds you were making.
Clearly you had shed your clothes, your hands had slapped against the wall or headboard, Johnny wasn't quite sure but the captain certainly wasn't some pussy eating slouch by the whines you let out. He covered his ears and rolled over, the soft plush thread count felt light and airy on his bare skin. Which didn't help the situation at hand.
Maybe he should quietly get up and leave the house but then they would know he was listening, not on purpose but he could hear you moaning, muffled sure, but moaning just the same.
"… keep it down or he'll hear you."
"I can't help it when you're licking me like that." You whined out, breathlessly.
"Cover your mouth or I'll find something to keep you quiet."
"Is that an order or a threat?"
John's laugh was bold and carried down the hallway with ease.
"Both. Cover your face or you'll be tasting yourself on your panties."
With that he got back to work, your noises and squeals of delight more muffled as you had complied.
Johnny's cock was stirring beneath the sheets, waking to life, urging him to do something. Anything!
He didn't really want to think about his captain and his wife to get off but damn did you sound great. Pleasured by your man, trying for a baby, knowing you were ovulating, knowing for a fact that Price would emptying his balls into your cunt made him hotter.
Fuck it.
Johnny sat up against the smooth headboard cool wood against his naked back as he propped himself up, pulling away the covers, pulling down his boxer briefs as he let himself out.
"Alright princess, on your back, hold them knees up for me." He could hear Price say, his voice a lower, bedroom voice.
"Is that an order, sir?"
"You bet your sweet ass it is, hike 'em up or I'll do it for ya'."
"Ohhh."
Your laugh turned into a gasp just as Johnny grasped his cock, giving it a few wake-up strokes, which didn't take long once he heard you begin to breathe differently, huffing out little puffs of air as your husband was doing god knows what. Whatever it was you liked it. And so did Soap who spat almost gleefully into his large palm, he even spat right on his shaft too for some added help. Small strokes at first, listening carefully with a well conditioned ear, his stomach clenched when you moaned out his name which happened to be his own. Just his luck, he thought mid stroke as he closed his eyes and went a little faster.
"… just a little more, we're almost in ya', all the way."
"Oh god, come on John just give it to me. This needs to take."
"It will honey, it will. Just don't want any damage to your body, no rippin', no tearin', can't mess you up. Can't mess this up." John sighed and pushed forward, filling you up as you sobbed into your hands, muffled begs and pleads, the chants of 'breed me' and 'faster' got Johnny going quicker than he was used to. Watching porn was one thing, listening to it was another but having it so interactively, the pace, the push and pull of the act was something unsuspecting.
"That's it that's it, you're lucky I didn't have you on your knees, fuck that pretty throat of yours. You're so good at swallowing me down, look at you, squirming like a worm on a bait line."
"That's not-- uh, that's not an attractive imagine, John." You huffed.
"Suppose not I guess," John chuckled lowly, "but you sure a wiggling around, maybe I do this instead."
Soft slapping sounds hit Johnny's ears, he couldn't make it out just right but…
"Oh look at you! my darlin' lady just loves having her clit slapped with my big fat cock, isn't that right?"
"OH FUCK!"
"I told ya' to keep it down now. Behave."
He did it again and the way you wailed made Johnny's stomach tighten, his pace on his own cock faster with the leaking pre-cum from the tip. He used his thick thumb to circle the head before he spat on himself again.
"I can't help i-it, I've got 8 inches of rock hard steel fucking into me."
"That's it."
There was shuffling and something got bumped along the way, but now he could hear him moving around, grunting at you to get your ass up, spread your legs, hold yourself open for him as he changed positions. Johnny fucked his fist faster and faster, little gasps of his own.
"Princess likes to get spanked, yeah? Doesn't matter where does it, doll? face, tits, pussy, best fucking pussy, her ass. Just a sloppy little mess, yeah? fuck just look at you, held open like this."
"Please sir, breed me," your voice muffled as he could picture your pretty face mushed into the sheets, pillows bouncing, ass bouncing back. You probably looked like an angel. "Come on, fuck a baby into me. You deserve it, you're a good man, even better husband…. fuck yeah, right there! be an even better father, come on baby, give it to me. We deserve it."
"Shit, yeah you wanna' be parents? fuck just playing house huh, let's do the real deal. Mom and dad." John grunted, his hips slamming into yours, skin on skin as Johnny felt a little guilty hearing you two were trying to start a family and yet the image of a juicy cream pie in your cunt made him lift his hips and bite his fist. Cum, ropes of cum spurted out, coating and slicking between his fingers, his body reacting in little tremors as he caught his breath.
"Yes, oh my god yes. Can I cum sir, I'm so close, please?"
"You don't wanna' play Captain Says?"
"Oh god, fine. Captain, please, can I cum?"
Price grunted, slowing his pace to these harsh slams, fucking down into you with each hard thrust.
" 'ave you been a good girl?"
"Yes."
" 'ave you now? you haven't been very quiet, our poor Soap is getting quite the earful this morning."
"Don't say that!"
"Too late."
The thrusts that followed that sentence were obscene and fast, both of you grunting and failing miserably at keeping it down. Johnny didn't mind as he cleaned himself up, listening to you getting railed until you were rendered speechless. Only satisfied moans.
"Captain says rub your clit, cum for me, let it out."
"Oh god, fuck I'm--- I'm-- I'm sorry Johnny! fuck yes, oh my god I'm coming! fuck me harder sir, oh shit!"
Soap stopped cleaning his hands with tissues, pausing mid-motion. In the time he's been here, in your home, he had never heard you call Price, Johnny. Only John and honey. Were you apologizing to him as you couldn't keep your sounds of bliss as quiet as hoped? He smirked at that.
"Give it to me, there you go. Oh lady, you are creaming everywhere. God, hold still and take it, I'm gonna' breed you, breed, breed breed…. fuck!" John made an animalistic noise at the base of his throat, panting for air, for you.
Soap could you two kissing and mumbling words of love for one another.
"Well well, can't have any of this leaking out, now can we, doll?"
The sloppiest of sounds reached Soaps ears and he wondered for a brief moment if he could rub one out real quick. His imagination running a marathon.
"Oh fuck yes John, I love it when you finger your cum back inside me. Uh huh, just like that."
John lowly chuckled and mused that maybe as a formal apology, you both should make him a full breakfast for having to listen to your antics. Johnny's apartment wouldn't be ready for another three days, or so the landlord had stated. Three more days of possible sexual encounters or musings, not that Johnny minded but he if so, he could and would take advantage of bullying the captain about it. Maybe milk him for it too while he's at it, get a nice steak out of his superior.
Sergeant Kyle Garrick is not actively trying for a wife, but when he stumbles across a brainy little thing he can't resist pursuing her. It doesn't hurt that he could pry her out from under that big Austrian's thumb, ambassadorship be damned. He knows he's better for you.
If only you could see what you have.
Kyle Gaz Garrick x Fem/AFAB Reader in an Edwardian Bridgerton-esque AU, no Y/N, Slow burn. ~18K
Teaser 1: Intro Paragraphs
Teaser 2: (caution slightly spoiler-y) - Fic Line Tag game
soap is a really solutions based partner. if you are having a problem he is barely able to listen to you tell him what's going on before he is trying to fix it. it can make it really hard to talk to him when you just want to talk. the good news is he's adaptable, you have to pull him away from the leaky sink he's fixing because he's sure that's the reason you're crying but once you explain what you need he's all ears. sits with you while you tell him what's wrong and how it is hurting you. he'll rub your back and nod and when you're finally wrung out and tired he'll tuck you into your nest... and ask if fixing the sink would still help. it would... and when he's all done he says 'there now... that's one thing less to worry about, love'
we've got a good ol' fashioned soulmate au to go with the prompt, "blue".
thanks again to @narcissosbythepool for hosting this event and bringing it to life! you are one amazing human and i am so grateful for your friendship!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
I usually don’t post this. But. I need Soap x Reader fic recommendations more than I need food or sleep rn. I’m brain rotting over my Scot but most of the ones I find I’ve either already read or are actually Ghoap 😔 (which I like. But. I love Soap)
