#deadwar

[pseudolife]

@deadwar / STARTER FOR SOAP ──

"Pretty sure I just saw Roach looking at Ghost's ass."

[pseudolife]

@deadwar / STARTER FOR GHOST ──

"You don't have to stay, I'm fine."

[pseudolife]

@deadwar / SIMON ──

a kiss after a long time apart kiss meme.

Two months. It wasn't a lot of time when it came down to it. Eight weeks. 60-something days. Roach had been deployed for longer, had been alone longer for several times that. He'd lived and breathed and survived alone for so much longer than two months that the time seemed almost insignificant when it came down to it, in comparison to that time he'd spent suffering and without anyone at his side. It was nothing compared to his entire fucking lifetime of never having anyone there for him... And yet, it was fucking soul-crushing.

The first two months he'd spent alone since retirement (discharge, medical reasons that kept piling up, that Price hadn't been able to hide), and he'd wanted to die the entire time. Two months of silence, two months of not knowing, two months of Soap and Trick and Gaz giving him too-soft looks and popping over all the time and -

Roach had almost broke, had been about to break...

And then Simon Riley had walked through the door like it was another Monday evening. Cleaned up from wherever he'd been and home. Sporting a suspicious slant to his shoulders, but fucking whole and home.

Something breaks in the moment, but it's not Gary Sanderson. It's a glass, maybe, a mug? Something that tinkles and shatters as he drops it, and then crunches under his boot as he flings himself forward into waiting arms. Mouth pressing at first to the surgical mask Simon tended to wear off base, and then to his lips when that's torn from him.

It's not a nice kiss, it's wet, it's fucking sloppy, there's teeth and a suspicious dampness on his face and he's got his fingers dug into Simon's shoulders, heedless of the way he hisses in warning, in pain.

Simon Riley could do with some fucking pain. A two week mission turned into two fucking months. Gary found no pity in himself with the way he digs his fingers in deeper, the way he clings harder, the way his kiss turns into something with bite, that would leave bruises on Simon's mouth for anyone to see.

"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you," He rasps, tired and angry and frail. Voice a whisper. "Where the fuck were you?"

[diazache]

“I’m not trying to baby you. It’s called taking care of my friends.” / soap

🚒 . . . one of these for sure, always accepting || @deadwar

eddie doesn't know why he called and he almost hangs up, fumbling with his phone a couple times and cursing under his breath before putting it back to his ear. opening up to someone that isn't buck will never be easy but this is a friend. he should be more willing to be open with the people he knows care about him. especially someone that might get it. he's just spent so long stuffing everything down until it blows up. he's tired of blowing up his life.

he's been at dispatch for a couple weeks now. it's not going too well and he doesn't know how to wrap his head around the fact that all the people he pulled out, isn't safe at all and is actually dead. he didn't kill them but by letting so many years go by without reaching out it practically feels like he signed the death certificate on every one of those bodies. he knows that's not how it works, but he can't stop his mind from going there. frank tells him it's survivors guilt, he just thinks it's bullshit.

he sighs and looks up at the ceiling. he's glad that he answered, is still alive, but now he doesn't know what to say, it all feels like too much or not enough. he's not one of the people that he saved but they did serve together. he feels stupid. " i pulled them all out and now they're all gone. no one here --- they all get it to a degree. we're all first responders but they don't get it. " he pauses. " did i tell you that i got shot ? just in the middle of the street. was already dealing with an insane case that day then i almost died. i quit being a firefighter, i've been at a desk at dispatch. it scared the kids but i think it scared me more. "

[pseudolife]

@deadwar / SOAP ──

soap's looking at danny's shoulder. there's a clear thought process behind his eyes, glancing up at his profile then back down at his shoulder ... then he's biting him.

While a member of the Shadows, Soap had kept his head down, he'd behaved. There had been rough patches, some internal drama with other members, a spat with Graves in particular that had ended bloody but.. He'd behaved. He'd been... Not Right, Danny knows that now. When Soap had been just John in the ranks of the Shadows, he'd been fucking muted. A shell of who he had been before, a shadow of the man who had gone into Las Almas.

Now, though, now he was... Better. Not perfect, not healed, but certainly better. Relationships patched up, life put back together... Mischief injected right back into his veins.

And it's because of the memories of... The memories of how Soap had been while under his command, Danny finds himself pretending not to notice the look on his face. Pretends not to notice the clear mischief that's about to happen, body shifting just at the last second as if alarmed - but not fast enough.

"Shit." It doesn't hurt, Soap's got the sharp teeth of a puppy, but he doesn't bite down hard enough to break skin - just enough to leave a mark that Danny knows he's going to have to explain to his own partner when he finally got home.

Until then -

"You little shit," Spoken with the utmost affection. Giant hands grabbing Soap before he gets too far, dragging him back so he can rub his knuckles affectionately against his scalp. "The fuck was that for? Little bastard."

[pseudolife]

@deadwar

kick for ghost

"Y'know, you've been lookin' pretty pasty lately, sir. More pasty."

There's a reason Kick doesn't do heavy comm work when on missions, he has a tendency to prattle when he's not concentrating on performing cold-blooded murder. A mouth that gets away from him - and the Jersey charm to back it up.

Too bad for Ghost, this isn't a mission where either of them are killing people. Laswell tended to frown upon unsanctioned murders during surveillance ops, apparently the whole point of under cover was defeated when there was a pile of bodies left behind.

"Mom keeping you out of the sunnier climates?" Kick grins at his little monitor, safe in the bed in the hotel room they shared. Outside? Simon Riley is probably burning up in the unusually warm spring morning. "Remember to drink some water on your run, big guy, don't think they have ambulances big enough for you in this part of the world."

[pseudolife]

@deadwar ── SIMON

"i have no regrets about publicly claiming you." lights out starters - nsfw edition

He fucking should, and that was the point of it, the quiet but furious discussion between them over - over Simon tying himself down with Roach so soon after he got himself together. It was... It was... It was a lot of fucking pressure, and all that aside -

Simon was fucked up, he was damaged goods. He had his demons, yeah, but he was able to be fucking normal about it. He'd picked up the pieces of what remained of Simon Riley and put himself back together well enough that he was kind of fucking normal. Gary couldn't be normal, he couldn't even pretend to be normal. All he had was burnt scraps of who he had been that didn't even fit together into anything remotely people anymore.

It's a stupid fucking argument, Gary knows Simon has no regrets. Gary also knows if he had any regrets, he'd personally rip them out with his teeth and nestle in the place they had been.

But he can't help but feel... exhausted by it. The pressure of belonging to Simon Riley and everyone staring at him because of it, everyone knowing...

"I know," He hisses the words, low and raspy. "I'm - I don't have any but I - I'd like people to stop staring at me for it."

[pseudolife]

@deadwar ── SOAP

"i see the knife kink goes both ways." lights out starters - nsfw edition

Yeah, Yeah... Trick could see that too, could see it and regret seeing it in equal, horrible measures. Did he love seeing Simon and Gary act like teenagers when they thought no one was looking or keeping track? Absolutely, he fucking loved that shit, made his fucking day. But seeing them act like horny teenagers with a knife, knowing very well that they were both very capable murderers? No... He didn't like this very much. Felt very uncomfortable - like watching really serious, edgy porn...

Only he wasn't getting hard for it, in fact, he was feeling so uncomfortable his balls felt like retracting.

"I actually... Hate witnessing this." Was he whispering? Yes. The last thing he wanted was to interrupt their... mating ritual, especially since it now included weapons. "Can we just go to lunch on our own -"