Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stay Awake

Chapter 1

“Listen, Sergeant Grey,” General Shepherd started, moving around you in circles, eyes not leaving you. There were a couple of soldiers surrounding you, but you didn't care. “Your attitude has been quite a problem. I will not hesitate to demote you!” His eyes were glued onto yours, penetrating your soul almost. He has his hands stuck on the table in front of you, leaning over to your body to get a good look at you.

“I'm afraid you can't do that, General.” You hissed his title, he was never a general to you. “Might I remind you that I have been the most helpful soldier you have ever got this year. Demoting me would be a pain to all of your asses!” You yelled back, cockiness dripping from your voice. You smiled, “Actually, I couldn't give a fuck! Move me to another group, it's better than serving you.” It sounded like a favor, and you were afraid he wouldn't agree. But guess what? He wanted you out of his group, too. 

“Watch your language and goddamn tone when talking to your senior, your general!” He shouted, pointing a finger at you recklessly. “And yes, you are leaving my side. I'm bringing you to Captain Price.” Oh. You've heard of him, caught a few glances too, but never interacted. How bad could it be? At least it isn't Shepherd. “Finally, something to thank you for.” You mumbled, an excited feeling bubbling up your chest as you threw your beret in front of him, slamming those colonial doors. 

As you roamed around, forwarding yourself towards the little base of Task Force 141, you heard praises directed to you from spitting crap in front of Shepherd's face, something not everyone had the guts to do. You grinned in response, feeling the proudness in your chest. “Captain!” You yelled, catching the attention of a good-looking John Price. “Yes, Sergeant? Greetings.” You internally died, that accent whilst your title rolled of his tongue was b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l-! 

You went and gave him a bow, and immediately give him the papers that the General has signed. It read the fact that you were being switched onto Price's hands, for good. You watched as the captain scanned his eyes over the words, mumbling as he read everything. He looked up at you soon after, a smile forming on that handsome face. “We've finally got you, Sergeant.” There was a welcoming in his voice, you loved it. He gave you a hug that ended in him patting your back a few times. Why didn't you know that Price was a sweet old man? The complete opposite of you-know-who. “Enter those doors, the main members await you.” He chuckles, folding the papers you gave him, as small enough just to fit the pocket of his pants. “Thank you, Captain.” 

A lot was on your mind, you were hesitating for the first time in your cocky life. “Hello?” You muster up the courage to finally barge in those doors, (of course you knocked.) and meet the rest of the members. “How may I help you, gorgeous?” A man in a mohawk asked you, how sick! “I'm your new member! Sorry for the random appearance, it was made up by the General just now, no bullshit— straight to the point.” You smiled, a genuine one. A part of it was because the mohawk dude was nice, and the main cause was because you were here for the words and actions you have presented the higher-up, Shepherd. “What a surprise! Come on in, I go by Soap!” Heck, was this man an energetic beam of light. “Soap, I go by Grey.” You shook his hand as his tightened around yours, showing the excitement he had. A total child. “Grey? You mean Sergeant Grey? Like— Aspen Jones?” You looked at him quite eagerly, “How'd you know?” You were truly curious, did you meet before?

“Holy shit! Those fuckin' rumors! Sergeant Grey, I am more than pleased to meet you.” His hands guided you throughout the common room, it was like a sacred place that was solely made for the members of this task force. It suited them. “Likewise, Soap. Also, if I may ask, what rumors were spreading around that made you know my name?” He had a grin on his face, “Your kill count.” He breathed a laugh, “Is it true?” Man, this guy was looking for answers like you were a whole celebrity. “Yeah, it's more than that now, of course. My life is technically a killing spree.” You were absolutely out of your mind, but Soap enjoyed every word. “I'm fucking hooked.” And there you knew it, he was gonna be your pal throughout this hell of a life. 

You weren't at ease, moving to a whole new place and all. Fast forward, you already moved your stuff in. Earlier, Soap made you enter a door, it was your room. All to yourself, just because you were the only girl. Why didn't you have this kind of privacy when it came to the General? You spent hours trying to make your room the coziest you could've done it. Eventually, you were satisfied and left your body to lay on the sheets and sleep. 

The birds were chirping their morning song as you rubbed the sleepiness on your eye. You looked at the clock on your little desk, it was nine in the morning. You forgot you had a little briefing today, a mission to talk about. You weren't supposed to be in the mission but you were a member now, they adjusted. “Good morning, MacTavish!” You hit his back as you grabbed yourself a coffee, hearing him grunt playfully. He glared at you jokingly at the use of his surname, but he greeted you back. “Good morning, Jones”.

You took a sip of your coffee as you rushed back to your room to get dressed. The meeting was simple, nothing formal. Price entered the room a couple of hours later, all of us greeted him in chorus. “Hello, Grey. C'mere for me.” You stood up quite fast, you obeyed. Your eyes gave Price a look that told him ‘yes, sir?’ You heard him answer you, “She is our newest member. Sergeant Grey. I want you to treat her like how you treat your fellow members in this task force, but a bit more with care. Am I understood, 141?” His voice was stern, scary. You grinned at the thought. To your pleasure, they agreed in chorus. “Yes, Captain!”

Price left you to adjust to your teammates and have a little heart-to-heart introduction. Soap took the lead, and babbled about your information and how you were the most active soldier the general has ever had. As he mentioned that part, sir skull-face's head perked up, you made eye contact with him, but he broke it. He eyed you down which made you heat up, the fuck is with this guy? “He's Lieutenant Riley, he goes by Ghost.” You muttered his military name, you liked how it rolled off of your tongue. “This is Gaz!” The man cited looked at you with such adoration and excitement, “Hi, Sergeant.” You gave him a grin, and you're surprised to how quickly your heart warmed up in this task force. Greetings were over. Now, everyone was huddled up, looking at the map plastered down on the table. Ghost stood tall and pointed his finger on a nearby island. “This is where we land.” You looked up at him, that accent was fucking heavy. You thought Price's was handsome, but you were mistaken. Ghost and his accent? G-o-r-g-e-o-u-s.

“Any thoughts on the mission?” Ghost asked, hands folded on his chest. “What about reinforcements, sir? We aren't sure about the amount of soldiers waiting and holding the victims hostage. It's better prepared than not, am I right?” The other members hummed at my thought, a hum that told you ‘good question’. Ghost blinked for a couple of times, “Right. We don't know if we're out manned.” He groaned, a hand on his head. “If the situation seems impossible, fuck that. We'll fight to death, like we always do.” At that, he folded the map and threw it on the sides. His eyes held so much determination that it angered you. You weren't used to anyone else outshining you, but him? Oh lord. This is gonna be fun. 

It was finally the hour of the mission, all of you were in your gear, arms and legs covered with random straps and buckles. You couldn't reach the back strap of your clothes, you wanted someone to help you out but everyone was busy, including Soap. “Need help with that?” That rough voice rang inside your ears, like honey. “Yes, sir.” His gloved hand unknowingly traced your back as he searched for the strap that needed to be put in place. “This one?” he asked, tugging on it so you could feel it. You hummed in response, and as he got the hint, he tightened it. “Tell me if it's alright.” He adjusted the straps, from loose to tight. You grunted as he tightened it a bit too much. “Too tight, Lieutenant.” He quickly loosened it to your liking, a bit taken back by his title being mentioned by you. “Better?” You heard his gear shuffling as he stopped. “Thank you, Ghost.” He nodded, and reminded you that you'll be leaving soon. He turned his back away from you and assisted the others in the plane. And as he wasn't facing you, a look of amusement spread through his hidden face.

The noise of the plane was deafening, to the point that the other soldiers who joined you as back-up had to yell. “Get in!” Some shouted. You were in between Soap, and Lieutenant Riley, with Gaz and two more soldiers in front of you. “Nervous, Jones?” Soap teased you, emphasizing your surname. You glared at him, “Oh, not at all, MacTavish.” He rolled his eyes and laughed, patting on your thighs. In the corner of your eyes, you swore Ghost was looking down at where Soap's hands were placed, but he looked away immediately. You wanted to think about it and mess with him in your mind but you were too worried that your drop would be a disaster later. Maybe MacTavish was right, you were nervous. 

“Jumping on three!” A soldier yelled, the countdown was starting and you were sweating bullets.

3...

You tightened your grip on the parachute behind your back.

2...

Excitement was taking over at this point.

1...

Each and everyone of you jumped, eager to land on the forest below. The parachutes opened in sync, a satisfying sound as it did. You landed on your foot eventually, and got rid of the parachute. You raised your weapon and patted your thigh to check if the melee weapons were in place. Ghost did a signal to come closer, “Soap, Gaz. You clear point Alpha and Bravo. Grey is with me, we're taking point Charlie and Delta. Copy?” They all nodded their heads, but you wondered why you had to be paired with this hotheaded person. Leaves crunched as you moved forward, “Targets are in sight.” you addressed. Ghost gave you the permission to shoot and clear the front area. “Headshot.” You closed your other eye as you looked through the scope, “Area cleared, Lieutenant.” You held you sniper down, looking at Ghost. “Well done, Grey.” You couldn't help but feel a little knot in your stomach. 

Ghost stopped in his tracks, and you did too. You were about to ask why but he pulled you closer to him and hid behind a tree trunk. He covered your mouth tight, your chest tightening and your breathing ragged. He held your waist and gripped on it to tell you to keep calm, he sure wasn't fucking helping. There were two soldiers roaming your area, they were armed to the brim. You tapped on Ghost's leg several times to tell him that you couldn't breathe right. He hesitated for a moment before letting go of you. You quietly gasped for air as you leaned on Ghost's body to hide. It was the same position you were in a while ago but without his hand on your mouth. 

Ghost signalled you to follow him and kill the soldiers, he'll take one and the other was yours to devour. You grabbed the other soldier by his neck, forcing him to look at you. You waved a ‘hi’ before you stabbed him with a knife which you dragged down his body to make a wide and lengthy slash. Blood dripped from the tip of your knife, you shook it and put it back on the strap on your thighs. You looked at Ghost who stabbed his target one more time. Was it for confirming his kill? Or was he just insane? Who knows. “Sniper, Lieutenant!” You grabbed him and pulled him down to your level, making him lay on the ground on his chest. “Fuck, we've been spotted. Careful, Grey.” You rushed behind a bush and reloaded your sniper. You didn't ask for permission to kill this time, you wanted that threat gone. “One down.” You groaned, getting yourself back up patting the dirt off of your pants. “Two.” Ghost added, killing another one. 

You moved ahead of Ghost a bit too fast, excitement bubbling up your chest once more. You craved bodies, you craved murder. ( in a good way ) “Main target visible.” You heard him warn, preparing his knife as he crept closer to the door of the building. As he entered, he was greeted by a single guard guarding the inside. He wasted no time in killing him. “Grey, move forward, I'll clear downstairs.” You nodded in response, creeping up the stairs of the building. In the corner, you saw a female guard, a pistol in her hands. “Hey, bitch!” You whisper-yelled, grabbing her hair and slashing her throat. Blood spurts out and you wince in disgust and annoyance. You clicked something near your ear, talking through the radio connected to everyone's. “This is Grey to Ghost. Do you hear me?” A static sound came from your little speaker, but immediately felt relief as he replied back. “I hear you, Sergeant.” 

“Upstairs cleared. You good down there?” You wiped the blood off of your face as you waited for an answer. You heard gunshots from below and after it ended, he replied. “Pretty good down here, cleared. Wait for me.” You did as you were told, you leaned your back against the walls of the place, liking how cold it was that it passed through your thick clothes. “Sergeant.” You were startled as Ghost appeared, ‘no footsteps?’ you thought. “Shall we move, Lieutenant?” He nodded to your question, making a signal to come closer and be quiet. There were two soldiers once more, guarding a door. Ghost shooted at one, but it only hit the soldier's arm. “Fuck!” He cursed. The other soldier immediately threw a smoke grenade, blocking your field of vision. You squinted your eyes as Ghost was nearly impossible to see, the small area being filled by several layers of thick smoke.

“Mmph!” You groaned as the soldier locks your neck with his arms, choking you. “Get off of me you dumb fuck!” You hit his stomach with your elbow, but he smacks the side of your head with a gun, and you felt like passing out in the moment. Your eyes fluttered shut, threatening to completely close. You trigger your pistol and shoot it on the soldiers neck, which was originally aimed at his head. You were hit and dizzy, your aim was shit.

You touched the side of your head and winced, “Douchebag...” You whispered, your fingers covered with your blood. “Grey!” Ghost yelled, “You alright?” He asked, kneeling down in front of you, checking for wounds beside the very obvious hit you got. “Yeah, got hit by the base of a gun, nothing much.” His eyes eyed you down gently, you wish you could see his face. You stood up before he did, “Oh, shit.” You cursed, your head spinning as you leaned on the wall for support. Your head was throbbing, it was making your vision black little by little. “Grey,” Ghost asked, a hint of concern in his voice. “Can you still make it? Do I have to call reinforcements?” You shook your head furiously, “Fuck you. No one will replace me. Plus this is only a fucking hit to the head, I am so not dying.” You tried to stop your headache as if you actually ‘could’ do that, and you moved forward, hearing the cries and whimpers of hostages. “Here, Lieutenant.” You pointed at the door, holding your gun down, shoulders up against the door. Ghost kicked it open, immediately preparing his gun and searching the room. Fortunately, only the hostages were there and you've successfully eliminated the guards. 

Tears threatened to come rolling down your cheeks when you realize the hostages were children. “Oh, love,” You ran up to them, hugging them tight as a reward for staying alive and making it through hell. “We're here, kiddos. We're getting you home, alright? Do us a favor and be quiet on the way out.” They nodded obediently and shook their wrists as Ghost untied them. What do children have to do with terrorists? Everytime Ghost would do something absolutely random, the children would flinch. You felt so bad that you stayed there for a while to talk to them about how they're never going through this again. You promised. “It's okay, he's with us.” You smiled, engulfing them in one last embrace before you scanned the area once more, returning back to the meet-up point. “Good job, Grey.” You heard Ghost praise you, you heat up for a moment. “Not so bad yourself, Lieutenant. Thanks.” You heard him breathe a chuckle, the first time you've ever heard him do so. You were happy, your first mission as a part of 141 was a success. You couldn't ask for anything more. 

“This is Sergeant Grey, anyone out here?” You waited for a moment, hoping that the rest of the squad members are alive and well. “Soap and Gaz! Glad to hear your voice, Sergeant Grey.” Oh thank the heavens, they were alive. You were about to speak, but you happen to hear a click, a click that was very, very familiar to you. “Ghost! Get the kids and yourself down!” A sniper was on the roof, aiming; prepared. A bullet was sent straight to your shoulder, “Grey!” Your eyes close shut as the bullet penetrated you, “Oh, fuck!” You groaned, tossing yourself behind a tree, an arm squeezing your bloodied shoulder. You grab your sniper and tried your best to aim at the sniper's head as your arms shook from the pain. “Oh, God kill me!” You swore, wanting the agonizing pain to end. You pulled your trigger and knocked the sniper out, threats all cleared. “God, God, God, please.” You chanted, throwing your head back as your eyes were squeezed shut. You saw Soap from the corners of your eye that wasn't shut tight, running up to you. Gaz, on the other hand kept the kids to safety. “Grey, holy shit!” Soap ripped a piece of his clothing off, trying to get it to make contact with your skin. You hissed, “Fuck,” You dragged the word out, wincing in pain. Ghost comes up to you, throwing his gun to the side. “She's losing a lot of blood, get her out of here!” Everything was a blur, the words were muffled and inaudible. A flash of your shoulders down to your chest soaked in blood floods your vision before you let out a small huff, “Stay with me, Grey!” was all you heard before you succumb to the pain.

Chapter Text

 Apology

Chapter 2

Your eyes adjust to whatever was lighting this room so well. You clamp your hand on your left arm, “Ouch.” Your voice was croaky, like hoarse gravel. You heard shuffling beside you, it startled you. It's Mr. Mohawk. “Soap?” He starts moving, rubbing his eyes. “Aspen!” He stands up, bending over to your side, carefully yet tightly hugging you. “Missed me?” You patted his back several times before pulling him away yourself rocking him back and forth. “How long was I out?” You gasped, biting your lip harshly, “Oh fuck, was the squad wiped out? Are the kids safe? You? Riley? Gaz? What happened?” You drop your arm in terror, covering your eyes. “Woah there, love.” Soap smiled, ruffling your hair before sitting down at the edge of your bed. “First of all, I did miss you. Second, Lieutenant missed you the most. Third, you were out for a few hours, don't worry. Kids are safe, Ghost took a hit but it was just a scratch to him. Me and Gaz? A-okay.” He huffed a breath out after answering all your questions and you replied with a smile, a genuine and comforted one. “Thank the heavens.” 

Soap stood up to get you your glass of water, but you asked; “What did you mean by Ghost missing me the most? I bet he didn't even bother visiting,” You sighed, laying back down in bed. Soap gave a hearty laugh, “Oh that's what you think, Sergeant. He visits very, very often. A few minutes and he's back. If he comes back here as soon as I leave, you get to give me anything I want. Just now he— left to get air. He was scared you wouldn't wake up. He was whispering so much words to you while you were here, unconscious. Saying things like, ‘You bitch, you shouldn't have taken that bullet to protect me.’ shit like that.” You don't blink for several seconds, soon a shit-eating grin covering your face. “Sounds concerned.” Soap nods and hands you the glass, “Gonna alert the people of your condition, yeah?” Taking a sip, you put the glass on the table beside you. You hum in response. “Good to see you, Grey.”

MacTavish was right, again. As soon as he left, you heard footsteps outside your door. You thought it was the medical personnel, but no. You were surprised to see that very familiar balaclava. “Lieutenant.” Ghost stands tall over you, eyeing your body, your well-kept wounds and your face. “You feeling... better?” He sat down at the place where Soap recently was. You nodded, having a hard time looking him in the eyes. “You didn't have to take that hit.” You perk your head up, an eyebrow raising. “Sir— it was instinctive, I—” He groans, shutting you up immediately. “I could've handled shit myself, look at you. You're hurt!” Your hand balls up into a fist underneath the hospital blankets. “Why are you mad, Sir? I don't mean any disrespect. But instead of scolding me for something I did out of pure kindness, I atleast expect gratitude!” You snapped, eyebrows furrowed as your throat tried to suppress the other profanities you could've spit out in front of your higher-up. He looked down, and there was a painful, ear-ringing silence in the air. “Sir, I apologiz—” Before you could even finish, he cut you off once more, grunting as he stoop up. “Get rest, sergeant.” And there, he left you. Sad tears threaten to flood your cheeks, “can't even... say thank you,” you whispered, laying back in bed, back facing the windows away from the door. 

It has been a week since your hospitalization, you're doing great. Soap has been assisting you, he has been your left hand since you could only use your right. “Grey,” You moan in your sleep, eyebrows furrowing as you felt Soap's continuous patting. “Wake up, Grey. There's breakfast,” he cooed, sitting on your bed, making it creak. “I cooked for you— and the team,” he chuckled, grabbing your arm. “How thoughtful.” You replied, rubbing your eye as you combed through the knots of your hair. “You feeling alright?” He kept asking that question ever since you got out of the hospital. You gave him a mhm as a response. You wish you weren't newly-woken up so that you could properly respond to this oh-so concerned sweetheart. You followed him as soon as you washed up and changed down to the little common room. “Good morning, Grey!” Gaz was already digging in, beside him was—

Ghost.

Immediately, your mood darkened. Your eyes rolled back in irritation and it was like there was a literal fucking storm cloud over your head, raining over you. “Morning, Gaz!” You faked. You really liked Gaz, but you didn't want him to think that you were mad at him. You didn't like that. So as usual, you fake your pretty mood. You purposely slam your hands on the table, making Gaz flinch. “Woah— You alright?” He weakly laughed, totally scared the shit out of him. “Oh! I apologize Gaz,” He smiled at you and patted your back. Oh, what you're doing was gorgeous. You wanted an apology from Ghost, you're giving out a big hint. If he still doesn't apologize by the end of the day, you are officially hating him. No turning back, he's fucking oblivious. “Grey!” Soap yells, rushing over to you, “Yeah?” You forced a smile to thread over your lips because this was Soap in front of you, you didn't want to make him feel awful. “—meeting,” he panted, “room— fuck, captain is calling you— hurry”

You raise a brow, letting Soap drag you towards Price's office. You wince at his unnecessary speed, what was so important? The doors bust open at Soap's strength, panting as he pushed you to the captain. “You called—?” You fidgeted with your fingers behind your back, ignoring the uncomfortable thoughts in your head, this seems like a mission, you knew it. Price eyed you down, head to toe. “Doing physically better, Grey?” You nodded, Soap catching his breath behind you, hands on his knees. “Very good then. C'mere, I've got a main role for you, sweets.” You looked over at the paperwork and the tablet on his table, revealing a picture of a— who the fuck is that? “Sir?” You questioned, disliking the maniac-ish vibes you got from just looking at the picture. “Drug lord, former detainee, charged with... rape and murder.” Your eyes widen, why was he even telling you this? “What do I do— captain?” Soap was behind you now, a bit closer. Also scanning the information laid out in front of you. “He's hiding his drugs from all over the goddamn world in his work place, a business building. It's scattered around, god-knows-where. This, is a mission for you. You don't think Soap or Ghost will have the guts to seduce a drug lord, eh?” You breathed a laugh, “Right. They could if they tried,” Price grinned at you, moving over between you and Soap. “I need you, Grey, to give your all, get into his building. Doesn't matter what measures you do, sleep with him, date him, just get his trust. He's massive, we can't lose him.” Soap twitched at the idea of you dating a fucking drug lord. “Sir, I mean no disrespect, can't we just rush and do this the military way? Killing, hostages, something like that?” Price looked at Soap, then his eyes trailed down the floor. “Well, you're right lad. But, he's very well-aware of our movements, that's why, in the most unusual way, we're attacking him. Doesn't matter how long it takes for Grey to get him, he's not going anywhere. The only thing that'll change is the amount of his drugs. He'll grow more powerful over the days, so it's better if we're prepared, ready to pounce.”

You walked towards the common room again, this time with absolutely no happiness in you. “Why me,” You groaned, covering both of your eyes with your palms, dramatically dragging them down. Soap chuckled beside you, “Prolly because you're the only girl captain got his eyes on, lass.” You shivered at the thought. “What do men like, MacTavish?” You asked, hands behind your back as you walked. “Ah, they like women.” You laughed at that, shoving him. “That's something I already know. Anything besides that?” Soap hummed, dragging his hands along his hair. “Sex?” He grinned, he knew he was right. “Oh, lord. That's a given. But you don't expect me to have sex with a drug lord, right?” Your eyes were on the floor, watching your footsteps. “Well, lass— seems like sex is very your thing,” You heard him chuckle at his own words, looking at you. You return his gaze, slightly offended. You gasped, “Do I look like I crave sex?” He nodded, and made a sound that said he was unsure. You grinned, hitting him on the sides before running ahead, leaving him. “It's been a while since I had it!”

“What do I do,” You groaned, hands on the sides of your aching head. You almost tear up out of anger, pulling your hair slightly. Your drama was put to a halt when several knocks were heard from outside your door. “Come in.” Oh, and you were damn shocked to see who it was. “What brings you here?” You asked, regretting how rude it sounded when it left your lips. Ghost held a little bag, placed it on your table. “—Came here to apologize.” He sat on your sofa, literally manspreads. Your eyes couldn't avert its gaze on his legs, his thighs and that chest that wanted to be free from that tight fucking black shirt. “I— no need,” You start to embarrassingly stutter, “No need to lie to me either. You've been craving an apology from me, haven't 'ya? Here it is.” He sighs, adjusting in his seat. “I was only mad because,” Your eyes were watching him in anticipation, how could this stone-hearted guy apologize? “—because you were so fucking stupid. I don't want you hurt, that's it. You recklessly almost gave your bloody life for me.” You can't help but smile at that, although you were called stupid. “You walk closer to him, bending slightly and putting your hands on your knees. “Listen, Lieutenant. My body acted on its own. I don't care who I die for, as long as they're safe.” You felt him chuckle, “Even if it's a fucking criminal you're dyin' for?” That deep voice sent shivers down your spine, so you straightened up. “That— is an exception, now shut up.” He pulled your wrist, so that your ears were close to his covered face. “So? Apology accepted, sunshine?” You wanted to squeal, your insides were flipping, turning— lord you were almost shaking. “Yes, sir.” He definitely liked the sound of that, slowly letting go of your wrist, and leaving you.

As soon as he left, so much knots tie in your stomach, you wanted them undone. After minutes of squealing quietly, you notice the bag he left. “Oh, what's this?” You came closer to it, grabbing it carefully before sitting back on your bed. The bag was a pretty paper one, all white. Inside, you saw two bottles of perfume. Victoria's Secret — ‘Love Addict’ & ‘Pure Seduction’ Your eyes widened in joy and shock, “What the fuck—” You took both of them out, removing the caps and enjoying their fragrance. You were in love. Not only with the perfume though, you were sure you're falling for this guy in a stupid balaclava. “I think I love you,” You sighed dreamily, laying in your bed, putting his apology gifts back on your table. You knew deep inside that you really didn't like him, but what's that? He's got you shaking? Nervous? Angry? It was a mixture of all the emotions you didn't even know you could feel. You hated him, yet a part of you craved his presence. Still, besides all that, you had to thank him.

Your moment was interrupted when another knock on your door was heard, “Coming!” The door opens, revealing your captain. “To my office, quick. There are a change of plans regarding your mission, Grey.” You look at him in confusion, “I beg your pardon, sir?” He puts a hand on your shoulder, “This mission has to be accomplished quicker than we thought. Our time is in a small hourglass.” You nodded obediently, quietly following him to his office. You'll be getting that criminal sooner than you thought. How bad can a little seduction be? 

Chapter Text

Whisky & Marcello

Chapter 3

“Jesus!” You shout, looking at the man on your phone once more. “How am I gonna seduce someone like him?” Your eyes watered in frustration, Soap chuckling beside you, chugging on a beer bottle. “Ah, Grey. You'll do great. Let's pray to the heavens and hope he hasn't got any women in his bed lately, yeah?” You glared at him, laughing right after. “Help me pick out my dialogues, help me choose a dress.” Soap said no, “Don't know a single shit about that stuff, lass.” You gave him those puppy eyes or whatever magic your eyes held to get someone to agree. Soap groaned, and tried his best to look away. “Fuck off. If I choose somethin' for 'ya, that's it. Alright?” You agreed immediately, not bothering whether you'll like whatever he chooses for you or not. You grab the keys to your car, toss it to Soap and ask permission from your captain. “Let's fucking go.”

“This one?” You asked, walking out of the fitting room, giving Johnny a little show. He eyed you down, “Too red, you look amazing though.” You frowned, rolling the sleeves off your shoulder as you went back in the room. “Try this one on, Grey.” He said, holding a dress out for you to grab. You did, and it looked perfect already. Silky, black and it's hella tight. “You are so making me a stripper!” You yelled from inside, hearing him laugh his guts off. You liked how your waist was defined, your body even perfected. Too short, but it's alright. It looks extravagant yet very simple. Weird, right? You walk out, brushing your hair a bit for Soap to see. His mouth opens a bit, “Oh I know I'm hot, MacTavish.” You grin, punching his chest jokingly. “That's definitely a dress named after you. Gorgeous, we're getting that bitch.” You smile at his compliments, definitely feeling full of yourself. You payed for the things and went back to base immediately. You didn't forget to glam yourself up though. It's your chance of being a woman again, your hair was always kept under a fucking hat or helmet, you hated it. Now, it's free, you brush through it all the time. You felt free from the military's leash. 

“There you guys are.” Price panted, looking like he ran a marathon. “Get ready, you guys are leaving in an hour.” Soap looked at you, his eyes wide. You start to stutter, “Wait— wait— in an HOUR? No, NO. No, WHY?” You almost drop your bag the dress was in, but Soap held your hands, “You have time, I'll be there with you.” Immediately, your shoulders relax, liking the comfort Soap radiates. “—and Ghost.” You tense again, “What,” You were sweating bullets again. Price hummed in agreement, “Yes, Gaz too. It's your mission, but you, Grey— you're the main character here. They're only serving as your bodyguards.” Soap jumped a bit at that, excited. “Guess I have nothing to worry about then.”

“Where the fuck is she?” You heard Ghost say from outside. You were regretting everything at this point, why were you even born? Second, you were scared that you were gonna spoil your dress and spoil it with your nervous sweat, but at the same time, you felt like you weren't even sweating, your hands were cold and shaking, “Oh, come on, Jones.” You give yourself a final slap to the cheek, before opening your door and flipping your hair in anticipation. “Holy smokes,” Gaz and Soap say in unison. You almost backed out, were you too different? “How do I look, boys?” You spun around, dragging your hands to your waist to check on the little zipper. You swore you heard Ghost though. But, you didn't hear it well. So you aren't counting him in the people who complimented you. What you did hear was, ‘bloody hell.’

You sit in the car, in between Soap and Gaz, Ghost driving. They really thought about this. Using a car to enable a little camouflage. It's definitely the right thing to do, you can't just bring a military damn truck, or a tank to go to a drug lord's building. Your hands start to shake, you shiver in annoyance and worry. “Seduce, get his trust, kill. Seduce, get his trust, kill,” You repeat your things to do several times, making Soap grab on your shoulders and turn you to face him. “—Don't get why you're so nervous, lass. Just go barge in those doors and 'ya realize it's done!” That charming smile haunts you, it's like it's so easy for him. “Fuck you.”

Soap and Gaz say goodbye to you as they'll stay in the car and listen to your reports there. Gaz made sure your earpiece was working well. Soap warmed you up with that careless grin on his face, saying it's going to be alright. “You ready?” Ghost asks, walking up behind you as he escorts you to the building. “Not quite,” Your ears were ringing, your head was throbbing, your chest was fucking rising. “You've got this.” He says, turning his head away in embarrassment. Something in you brightened, you liked it even more when it came from him. “Thanks.” You knew his eyes relaxed underneath his mask. “Let me know about your moves, it's like i'm with you the whole time. Goodluck, Jones.”

“Señorita! What brings you to Casa Grande?” A guard asked, eyeing you down quite shamelessly. “Here to party, and to see Señor Fernandez,” You put up your best hot-chic voice, dragging it along. “Ay! Come in!” You enter obediently, startled by the music that greeted you on the main floor. You click on your earpiece, “This is Grey, I'm inside, no sign of Fernandez.” Marcello Fernandez, the former detainee and definitely the future one. You scan your eyes around the room, seeing an elevator on opposite sides of the room, a bar in the middle, a hall on the left and the restroom area on the right. “This is Soap to Grey, captain says he's most likely at the top floor, but be careful. Loaded with fuckin' guards.” You wince mentally, “Thanks.” You move to the bar, getting the attention of the man serving. He's shaking up a drink whilst his eyes trail around your figure. “Ay, señorita, what can I get you?” You looked up, thinking. “Whisky.” He grinned at you, liking the choice. “Seems like you're alone.” No, fuck this. “Sí, I think you could change that though.” What did you just say? You saw his face light up, he could be a key to your mission, sadly not your heart because someone might already be the key to it. “I could. What do you want, hermosa?” He's leaning on to your side of the table, definitely ignoring anyone else. You were disgusted at how obvious his thirst for you was. You start trailing your finger on his jawline, having the urge to pull on that beard. 

You move a bit, so that you were beside him now, no table in between the both of you. You lay your eyes on the cabinets, seeing keys with tags to their room, must be spare ones. You also see a little map, helpful. He owns a radio, who's he talking to? Oh you loved meddling in people's fucking business. You no longer need him, you already saw what you wanted. “I want you, señor.” Ew. At that, a smile crept up his face, pulling you closer to him, “You do know there's a restroom on the right,” He smirked.

And he did pull you into a restroom. 

You stab him with your syringe several times, it wasn't really lethal, it was only a bit of gamma. “Sorry, señor.” Blood and the drug you stabbed into him seeps out of several syringe holes from his neck. “This is Grey, making my way up.” You said, patting your dress down because of what seemed to be a discontinued hook-up. “I never, I repeat, I never want to hear you flirting with a Mexican fucking father-sounding man.” Said Gaz, you can hear him groan. “Jealous?” You hide your syringe in the little strap on your upper thigh, before leaving his unconscious body inside a stall. Hopefully everyone is drunk enough to think that he's also drunk. 

“Ghost to Grey, update?” You smile at his voice, “Using the elevator, saw the map. Room 202. I have the keys— but i'm no way near armed.” You really weren't armed, you had a knife that was close to a fucking machete, a syringe with an illegal drug but you had authority and permission to use, and your stupid dress. Great. “Stay with me, don't disconnect. I'll be with you as you progress, whisper to me about things. I'll try my best.” You grin at that, you weren't alone then. The elevator dings, you get off. The halls weren't guarded, surprisingly. You're guts churned, why did this sound so easy? Maybe they were too assured that no bitch like you would spy and enter the premises like that. Now, you felt afraid. Every fiber of your being was tense, alert. You crept through the small hall, hands gliding through the walls. “Room spotted,” You muttered, hearing your team's chatter in excitement. “Grey, do not enter immediately. Listen and observe for several minutes. Am I understood?” said Ghost, hearing all his authority. “Yes, Lieutenant.” 

You plunge the key in after a few minutes of listening, there was someone inside. You hoped it was Marcello. You unlock the door, slowly and quietly. Oh it was your job to stay quiet, a part of you wished you were loud enough so your lieutenant can shut you the fuck up. As you open the door, someone pulls you and locks your neck with their arms. “Now, who may you be, hermosa?” A smooth, rough accent greeted you. Old-man-like. You tap on his arms furiously, “I don't mean any harm, señor.” He hums, letting go of you slowly before gripping on your waist, pulling you towards him. “Do you have something for me? News?” He smiled, “—or maybe drugs!” he added.

You pretended to return his energy, “I have news for you, sir.” You flatten your dress, bringing him over to his desk. Being the bitch you are, you watched him sit on his office chair with his legs spread, as you sat on his wooden desk. “Drugs. There are drugs in Southeast Asia. The country supplies a lot.” His head perks up in excitement and attentiveness. “Go on,” he says. “Philippines, señor. Drugs are very common there, heard that the government was corrupted enough to allow imported ones to enter.” You smile, giving him all the information. “Sí! Time to make connections, negotiations! Thank you.” An evil, stomach-churning grin spreads to his face, but he comes closer to you, a hand on your waist and on your shoulder, whispering dangerously close to your ear which held the earpiece. “Now, what do you want in return, doll?” This handsome yet sick-headed man wanted to give you something in return, and you're down for it. You disregarded all your shame, “A little share.” His eyes widened, “I never thought a woman like you had a thing for these mind-calming drugs now,”

“I'm afraid I can't give you all the information, but everything, every pack, every box is in here. This very room.” That was beyond what you needed, you only need to secure the location. His lips were very close to yours, and you swore his eyes darted to your plump lips as well. And as if on cue, he kissed you like he hasn't kissed a damn woman in years. You hated every second of it. He reeked of cigarettes and alcohol. “I'm not one to share,” He groans, hands on your ass, pulling you to him. “—but i'm gonna go and make you an exception.” You audibly hum at that, already knowing that this mission was a success. Your free hand trails up his back, to his neck, and as your other hand grazed down your thigh to get your syringe. “Marcello,” You cooed, giving him a kiss on his cheek. He smiled at that, his clouded eyes looking into yours.

“Am I a good actor?”

You stab his neck, hearing him gasp for air one time before his eyes widen and close shut. His body thumping on the floor. “Job's done!” You laughed, clicking on your earpiece. “Breach!” You yelled at your friends through comms. 

“—Freeze!”

Oh no, you forgot that there were still guards. 

Two strong-looking men stand at the door, eyes filled with terror as they saw poor Marcello laying on the floor, unconscious. You kick the body once before grabbing the knife from your thigh, throwing it directly at one guard. “Bullseye, you fucker!” The last guard makes his way to you, firing his gun recklessly. You heard muffled shouts and gunshots from below, must be Soap and the rest. You ran to the balcony, “Oh, Romeo, save me!” You grin, as you jumped off. You heard the guard walk over to the balcony, you were still there, hanging from the bars. Your dress was like a mini fucking parachute at this point, whoever was down below you must enjoy what they're seeing. You put all your strength to your arms, reappearing in front of the guard's face. He raised his brows in shock as you kick his chest, making him lay flat. “Last words?” You smile at the handsome man, he was a bit young to be in Marcello's business. He whimpered instead of talking and at that, you felt so fucking bad.

“Oh, don't do that.”

“Spare me,”

You squinted, you disliked the sad face he was giving you. You weren't a bad person, you never were. The world may be cruel, but you were the complete opposite. You may have killed, you may have done minor crimes but it was all for justice. But, you will never, ever hurt an innocent soul.

“How do I know that you're not gonna go cray-cray on me when I get off of you?”

“I won't, just please.”

You got off of him, patting his chest telling him that it's alright. “Drop your weapon.” You ordered, and he complied. You gave a satisfied hum as you avert your gaze from him. He noticed that your eyes wandered around the large room, checking for openings, you needed to see the drugs’ whereabouts. “Under his desk.” The boy stated, moving towards it. “Here,” He rips the center of the rug off, now looking like a poorly made square. You gasped, there was a little hatch. “He usually keeps more in several hidden places, you're gonna need help.” 

The sky was turning into its usual dark color, nightfall will wash over the city soon. With the building lighting up, you felt more exposed to people. “MacTavish!” Soap turned his head to your direction as you saw him in the halls, he ran to you, and you hugged him out of relief. He inhaled your scent, and with all respect, hugged you back. 

“Told 'ya it ain't that hard, woman.”

“Yeah, I get that now.”

Today's mission was done, it'll now be up to the other soldiers to catch those drugs and lock those who are at fault. “Captain, we're returning to base.”

All energy left your body. The night's glow engulfed the city as soon as you travelled back to base. The team knew you needed rest, so on the way back, they didn't dare chit-chatter you up. Now, you were dressed in your normal attire, jeans and your sleeveless white top. You recalled everything that happened. You were filled in about the happenings while you were out cold in the car. Another team, Alejandro Vargas’ took over and scanned the building for the hidden drugs. Fernandez was took, interrogated before being locked up. You wondered how the bartender in the bar and how that guard you left alone was doing. 

“Things heavy on 'ya?”

Ghost sits beside you, handing you a bottle of alcohol. You look at him with refusal in your eyes, and he understood. “Don't worry, no work tomorrow.” You smile back, he knew you wouldn't drink when there's a mission the next day, it'd hurt anyone's head when they wake up. You pull a cigarette pack from your pocket, take one, and offer one to him. “You smoke?” He asks with the slightest shock. “I guess I do.” He accepts it, and asks for a lighter. Soon enough, hot smoke fills the air. You feel sorry for Gaz and Soap or whoever will enter soon.

“I couldn't shut my mouth when I was with the General! I swore at him, I disrespected him, anything to get me off of his team!” You cracked, taking in what seems to be your sixth shot, and third cigarette. Ghost lets out an amused noise, “Wonder what else that pretty mouth can do.”

You freeze, “Come again?” He looks at you, being oh-so comfortable. His arm was on the couch's head, while the other was dangling in between his legs. “You heard right.”

“That's good, it'd be a shame if that wasn't what you said.”

Fuck dirty talk, you were on his lap just because of that. You were talking about the General and now you've got a whole man underneath your clothed cunt. He adjusts in his seat, groaning at how you teasingly grind yourself on his crotch. “You know, Lieutenant, I drank too much. Might not remember this in the... morning,” You couldn't speak right, but you knew you were stable. It wasn't even the liquor which was driving you insane. It was Riley. 

“Want me to put my mouth to better use?”

“Stop talking and suck.”

Chapter Text

The night was frigid, and you knew exactly how you were gonna warm up. He picked you up a while ago, having enough decency to rearrange your guts in a more comfortable place. “Ghost,” you muttered, clenching your thighs as the heat boiling in you was starting to become irresistible. “Simon.” He corrected. You tested the waters, rolling his name off of your tongue. He liked it, it sounded richer when you said it. You giggled as he plants rough and affectionate kisses on your hickey-filled neck. “Simon, lay down.” He visibly rolls his eyes at you through his mask, obeying you quite easily.

You get on top of him, liking the dominance. Your hands were placed firmly on his tough chest, feeling every muscle flexing at your touch. “So pretty below me,” You cooed. You were definitely drunk. You lower yourself down on his body, never forgetting to kiss each and every part your hands trail off to. At some spots, he audibly grunts. You liked that. It ignited the fire inside of you.

 The bulge in his tight cargo pants was a bit hard not to stare at. Everything was agonizingly slow for him, so he gripped on your wrist, threatened you using those eyes of his. You laughed. You got his point.

You unbuckled his belt, the clicking was naughtily satisfying you. He groans as pressure was relieved, adjusting in his place. Now only a thin piece of cloth was in between you and his cock. “This is new.” You joked, looking at your well-respected Lieutenant, loving how impatient he looked. “Shut up.” He hissed, bucking his hips.

Lastly was the zipper, it creaks as you pulled it down. Pulling his boxers off quick, his cock sprung out, gently hitting his lower abdomen. You didn't know what to say, he was huge. The head looked perfect, you wanted it to stretch your cunt beautifully. He felt the cold air hit his cock and so he hissed again, urging you to take him. And so, you did. You obeyed. Your tongue lapped everything, from his pre-cum to your slick your tongue drooled. You focused on his reddened head, giving him small and short kitten licks. 

You bob your head up and down, taking him like the good sergeant you were. You tried your best to hollow your cheeks to his delight, your tongue circling on his pretty slit. Your hands travelled down his creamed base, his cock thrusting in it. He gave quiet, hot and troubled noises that turned to shameless moans. You moved your mouth away from his cock and let your hand do the job. He completely melts in your touch, your hands covered in slick and his visible arousal. 

You couldn't take it, you wanted your release, too. Your free hand dives under you and goes down to your clit, you start rubbing circles on yourself to relieve some of the pressure. “Yes, yes, yes,” You chanted, smiling at how you pleasured him and yourself at the same time. Though you both knew that for you, your finger wasn't enough. 

“Close,” He panted, thrusting in your hand gently several times. 

“Go on, sir.”

You pump your hands a few more times before ropes of his release cover your hands and your face. He pants, breathless. “You look,” He catches his breath, “—prettier.” He complimented, liking how his cum was all over your face, especially your lips. You take your finger and smear it on a place where most of his release was, tasting his salty-sweet taste on your tongue. You suck on your finger, removing it with a sweet and lewd ‘pop!’.

He watched you with adoration, with longing and impatience. Without warning, he switches. He lays you down a bit aggressively and excitedly, hovering over you. You giggle as he tickles your sides, kissing and marking your neck. He knew concealer wasn't enough to cover your small lewd bruises. “Gorgeous,” You heard him say. You could've smacked him in the face, but he flips your top up, exposing your bra-covered breasts. He took a moment to admire you like that, before snaking his hand under your torso, looking for the clasps. 

He undid it swiftly, you found that quite hot. He tossed it somewhere in the room before completely disregarding your top. He kisses your stomach, down to your hips, and back up to your breasts. You felt his hot tongue circling on your tits, sucking on them like you were a popsicle and he was a man in a desert. Whilst he gave attention to your other breast, he fondled with the other. Pressing on it along with subtle twists, making you clench. He listens to your pathetic noises, wanting to tease you a bit. But, his rapid-building erection says otherwise.

He kisses you, your tongues fighting for dominance. You tasted sweet on his tongue, and he enjoyed every second. He bites on your lower lip, before pushing two of his fingers in your mouth. You whimpered, massaging the pads of his fingers with your tongue. He pulls his fingers out, licking them himself a bit. 

He plunges both of his fingers inside your cunt, startling you. You moaned, feeling his thick and long fingers penetrate and stretch you out for what's next. 

He presses on your lower abdomen, not helping with the heat coiling inside your stomach. He presses on it mercilessly, ramming his fingers into you. “Fuck,” You choked out, tears swelling in the corners of your drunk and hazy eyes. You heard him chuckle as he curled his fingers, purposely hitting your soft and sensitive spot. “Found it.” He teased, watching the drastic change in your noises, drunk from pleasure. 

Your breathing was ragged, your head ached for the lack of breath, he was doing you so good. “Simon—” You cried, feeling a tear roll down your cheek. “I know, let it out.” He kept curling his fingers, everything touching your walls. He was in deep, you felt every bit of your body shake at his touch. “Yes,” Heavy profanities slip out of your mouth, followed by hot and messy incoherent sounds. 

He plunges in you hard, being the last straw. You pull his hands away from you, trembling underneath him. “What a good girl you are,” He retrieves his slick-covered hands, pushing them in your mouth. You moan at the taste of yourself covering your tongue, and to enjoy that himself as well, he kisses you— lapping his tongue on every inch of your mouth. 

You both knew that wasn't enough, still.

He flips you over, your stomach laying on the mattress. “Wait, enou—” He rubs the head of his cock on your throbbing clit, feeling him slowly stretch you out. “I just came,” You cried, overstimulation starting to hit you. It was a mix of pain and pleasure as waves of lust hit you like a slap. “So bloody fucking tight.” He ruts into you like crazy, his pace was a deliciously fast one. He grabs your hair, forcing you to face him. He kisses you, a messy and heated kiss. His mouth ate all of your troubled moans. 

He was nearing his orgasm, and you were gonna reach your second high, too. He flips you over, now seeing your pretty tear-stained face. “You're in so deep,” You cried at how painful it was to adjust to his abnormal size. “I want it to hurt.” He said, spreading your legs even more. “Think you can handle this much, sweetheart.” At that, you clenched on his cock, and you knew he felt it. He shudders as he rammed into you harder, liking how your cunt gave his cock a warm welcoming. “Yeah? You like that? You needy fucking slut.” Your eyes were rolling back and you were starting to see what heaven technically looks like. “Yes, sir. Such a slut for you,” You whined, aching for your release. “Starting to be afraid that I can't keep things...” He groans, “—professional with you,” You were surprised he could still think, but an unprofessional relationship with your Lieutenant was turning you on. “Fill me up, oh God yes!” 

He reaches for your clit as he continued pushing his cock into you, liking how it vanished completely. His tip was kissing your cervix real good. He loved how everytime he abuses your sensitive spot, you can't help but roll your tongue out and pant like his good slut. 

“Oh, I'll fill you up alright.”

You were so cock-drunk for this man, the fact that you just drank was sending you over the edge even faster. Was he another substitute for liquor? Maybe. 

“I'm gonna—” You bite on your lip, hard. Letting your head rest deeper onto the mattress. Your eyes were practically at the back of your head. He presses his forehead onto yours, the intimate action making you want to cry. You were scared this was a one-time thing.

“Where do you want me?”

“Inside, please cum inside.”

“Fuck—” You sputtered, clenching on his cock hard, reaching your orgasm. He follows a few thrusts after, painting your walls white and hot. He make sure everything is in you, so he pushes all his cum back in. 

You take several huffs, trying to get the air back in your lungs as he did the same, grunting with small moans. He burrows himself deeper in you before pulling out with a hiss. He abruptly lays down beside you, a hand on his face, covering his eyes. He laughed. 

“That was amusing,” He grinned. 

“Piss off.”

You sit up, an uncomfortable feeling washing over you as you felt so wet. He taps on his shoulder, signalling you to lay your head down on him. “You felt heavenly,” He whispered, looking at your tired, pretty face.

You smile at him tiredly, “You do realize that nothing will be the same now, right?”

“And? I've been fuckin' dreaming of this.”

“Really now?”

“Affirmative.”

“We have a meeting, Ghost.” He looks at you, a look that says he doesn't really care since he knows everything going to be discussed. “I'll fill you in right now.”

“No—”

“You aren't leaving my side.”

“But—”

“That's an order, Aspen.”

Who were you kidding, he was technically your boss. Your boss who you fucked with, literally. 

“Yes, sir.”

Chapter Text

Forced

Chapter 5

You basked in the sun's warm, welcoming glow. It was nearly 7 am, Ghost's light snoring comforting you and snapping you back to reality. His hands, his breath, his body on yours— did that really happen?

Tracing the scars on his back, to his shoulders too, you admire how strong he was to survive such lengths in the military. Not to mention how he manhandled you last night. How strong indeed. 

You shift slightly, rustling the sheets that you both shared. He mimics your movement, pulling you closer to him as if scared you'll leave. “Get up, Lieutenant.” You whispered, tracing your fingertips on his cold yet warm skin. “The fuck do I have to do that for,” He replies, grunting as he sits down, leaning on the headboard. 

“There's an assembly,” You smiled, “—you of all people should know.” At that, he groans. A flash of how he took care of you a few hours ago passes through your mind. A familiar heat spreads through your face, and your thankful it wasn't too bright in there.

A sudden knock at your door makes both of you jolt back into life. You ruffle your hair back to place, trying to get rid of your bed hair. Ghost sits up, swiftly putting his black shirt on. You couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed, all that muscle hidden from view. Well, the shirt doesn't really do much. 

It's Gaz.

“Assembly is cancelled,” He pants. “—Price needs us, now.” Panic boils inside you, you feel Ghost tense beside you. Atleast you aren't alone. 

After reassuring each other that it's probably nothing to worry about, you rush towards Price along with Gaz. Prepared physically, you didn't think you were, mentally. 

…

“WHAT?” You slam both fists on Price's desk out of instinct, it feels like an out-of-body experience, watching yourself erupt in flames. 

“What the fuck do you mean Marcello is alive— and what does Shepherd have to do with this?” If it was possible, smoke would be coming out of your ears from the bubbling anger inside you. Slight mortification from the fact that you couldn't even kill properly.

Soap gives you a look, “We all thought he was dead. Unfortunately, someone rushed to help him. He shows you a photograph, and—

“FUCK!”

You could feel yourself tremble from rage. The boy you excluded from your killing spree. He was the one to revive Marcello. Tears start forming in your eyes, threatening to burst. “I spared him,” You gasped in pain and irritation. “Do you even know who he is?” Price asks with concern lacing his voice. You shook your head.

“Graves.”

Your eyes widen impossibly, “No,” You breathe. You knew who he was from Shepherd's shit-talk, all mighty and proud of the man. But you never really knew his face. “That can't be— that'd mean there's a traitor on base,” Price heaves a sigh; a heavy, pained, and tired sigh.

“I'm confused as well. Graves and the General— they're close, allies even. I don't know if Shepherd has anything to do with this, but considering that Graves is with Marcello, it must be a simple act of betrayal.” Tense. The room is everything and anything except not tense. Soap plops on the couch adjacent to Price's desk, Ghost leans on the wall, arms crossed. Gaz grabs on his own collar to relieve him of the heat and anxiety. Price stands up, readjusting his cap, “We're taking Graves hostage. We need a shitload of information from him before we slash his throat open— and, of course, information to end Shepherd, once and for all.”

…

Ghost plants a kiss on your forehead before splitting up to gear yourselves to the brim. A flush of sorrow blooms in your chest, aching for it to leave.

You grab yourself your favorite knife, the one you used on your first mission with Simon. Grabbed yourself a sniper, too. You asked Ghost if you could bring an AK-47 instead, but he says you were great at snipers. More than great, so you believed him and brought a pistol instead. 

The team would be flexible if we had a sniper on guard. I trust you with that, sweetheart. We rush, you stay and shoot. Am I understood?

“Yes, sir.”

The plane was ready for 141. You put your best anxiety-free expression as you gripped Soap's hands, searching for comfort. In the corner of your eye, you see Shepherd. 

Eyeing the plane as if he could will it to burn.

…

“Landing in 10,” Your earpieces were working in perfect condition, knives strapped to biceps, and if not, thighs. Sweat was prickling your skin, small and short strands of hair sticking to your forehead. “Ghost,” You call with worry flooding your eyes. He seems to notice that and stiffens, running a hand down your thigh. 

“It'll be okay, Grey.”

“Let's go through the mission again!” Price yells with all authority in his voice. “A little game of capture or kill here, soldiers. It's either we bring Graves alive or we meet him dead if things get rough. But take note, we need him alive the most.” The rest of you give him a two-finger salute before officially stepping out.

“Snipers on watchtowers, both sides.” You alarm, clicking on your radio. “Roger.” Soap replies. It takes you less than 20 seconds to get your job done before a weird feeling of satisfaction engulfs you in flames. “Now. Move.”

As you hear them advance towards the site holding Graves, you feel a sharp pang in your chest. They are at risk, a whole lot of it. You move to another place, controlling a drone to watch over above. “Clear. Soap, Ghost, go.” They agree, and after a while, Gaz and Price follow your lead. You tuck the control panel back, heading inside as well. The site was enormously unnecessary. It was like a 1-story castle. “Find anything useful?” You ask, sorting through paperwork on nearby desks. “Nah, full of drugs.” Price states with disgust, and a chuckle. You smile unknowingly, loving how he helps ease your tension.

You scan the place with your eyes, soaking in every crack and hole. Along the cracks on the stone bricks, moss and weed collide. It smells damp and earthy, strangely addicting but without thinking about how drugs inhabit the place. Pipes are scattered, exposed and cut. The fissures on the wall match the fault-line-looking cracks on the floor as well. You took note to avoid that one specific crack.

Suddenly, gunshots ring your ears to life. “Fuck!” Soap yells through the radios, hearing his ragged breathing. “Johnny!” You scream, changing to your pistol— prepared for close combat. “They know we're here, it's an anticipated breach!” Shit. Shit. Shit.

You trusted all of them enough to handle themselves, so you bust through several rooms looking for Graves. You were careless, but you couldn't give a flying fuck right now. “Show yourself, asshole!” You press your hands to your chest, gun on standby. There's a double door, the only odd-looking one. Made of steel with wires plastered on the front. “Bingo.” You barge in, outstretching your arms. You're greeted with no one but the man himself.

Phillip Graves.

“Now come on sweetheart, drop the gun.” He has a gun of his own, but more powerful. You were a bit too far to make reckless decisions, so you comply. You hated the feeling of being small in his vicinity. “Fuck off.” You breathe, feeling his presence circle around you. “I'm glad you treated me so, so well,” He whispers, you felt his warm breath fanning on your neck. “—wonder what would happen if you killed me on the spot the first time we met.” He laughs, humorless. The clicking of his boots sends you to insanity, the urge to tear him apart growing. 

“I owe you one.” He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you shiver in disgust. “Shut the fuck up.” You sneer, liking how his eyes widen at your response. “Now, that's no way to treat your— what'd you call me? Romeo?” This time, his laugh is genuine. So genuine that your eye twitches with pure rage. 

“You came back for me, Juliet.” 

Before you could protest, 2 soldiers barge in with their guns pointed at you. “Sir!” They call for Graves, the look on their faces contorting with confusion. “I need my sweet girl here alive.” At that, their guns lower down with faint clicking noises. “What happened to the rest?” Graves crosses his arms, his eyes hopeful. “Two are down, sir. Currently held in cells.”

Crack.

Your heart shatters into impossibly millions of fragments. Your breathing speeds up inhumanly, an invisible hand of regret tearing through your flesh. 

Phillip smiles, while you're trapped in the horror of their words. “The skull-face and Captain escaped.”

The littlest bit of relief fights with the horror flooding inside of you. You felt slight guilt for worrying over your lieutenant the most. 

“Let them go,” You whimper, dropping your gun in front of Graves. “I'm afraid I can't do that, sweetheart.” He forces a smile, moving close to your gun on the ground before kicking it away from you. Tick. Your head throbs.

“I do owe you,” He whispers. “How about I spare one of them, like what you did to me, yeah?” Tears start spilling through your pathetic eyes, a rock forming in your throat, feeling how impossible it is to swallow. “One of them...?” You ask in confusion, eyes fixated on the ground that seems to fade in and out below you. “Yes, one.” No, no you can't live with the fact that you failed to save one of your teammates.

You drop to your knees, feeling terror gnawing at your remaining bits of sanity, hands on your face. “Hm,” He hums, kneeling in front of you, hands on his other leg. “Why not make a deal, princess.” You look up at him. 

“You join forces with me.”

Crack.

The world seems to stop in a horrifying way, it's like you're drowning in nothing but midnight-black waters, desperate for air but only greeted with painfully suffocating hands on your throat.

“I'm sorry?”

“Yes, you got it. It's either you obey me, or I kill one of your little friends.”

A sudden flash of them unconscious, drugged, chained and locked runs through your head. Your eyes dart to every known direction. You didn't know if you were having a full-on panic attack or if you were experiencing a near-death experience. 

Guilt replaces every fiber of your being. ‘I'm doing the right thing,’ You comfort yourself. A weak attempt to do so. “What do you say, princess?”

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Before you could start to terrifyingly agree, a mocking laugh comes from behind you, making you crane your neck in that direction. That was painful.

“Hermosa!” The man laughs. “Marcello,” you whispered to no one, your eyes focused on the scar on his neck, fresh, pink, and disgusting.

Both anger and the feeling of having failed on a mission engulfs your chest in a slow, agonizing manner.

Someone, just shoot me.

You're stuck between the thoughts of messing things up and go on a murder-fucking-spree, or just drown in all your suicidal thoughts and die on the spot.

Both are tempting.

“I won't let you go so easily,” Marcello whispers from behind you, grabbing your hair harshly. You grit your teeth, stopping yourself from letting all the vulgarities slip free. “—this, hermosa, is my revenge.”

He lets go of your hair not less harsher than how he grabbed it. Realization hits you like a ten-wheeler truck. You didn't really have a choice. Gaz or Soap could die if you didn't do what you were told.

What have I gotten myself into,

A tear slips past your lashes despite your body trying to put walls up to barricade them all back. It's no use. 

“You'll be treated like a fucking queen,” Graves promises, grabbing your arms gently, pulling you back to your feet.

Both men are suffocating you agonizingly slow. You wish you could slice their throats open and drink from them to ease your current thirst. 

There's no turning back now. I'll be back, Ghost.

Nothing is worse than being forced.

Chapter Text

The Other Side

Chapter 6

The sun is hidden behind the massive clouds, the Earth damp from the rain a few minutes ago. As much as you wanted to touch the car's illegally tinted windows, you couldn't. Your hands were tied in front of you, and oh, was it nicely done. 

Graves drives the vehicle effortlessly, he speeds through the tunnels and highways, humming an annoyingly familiar tune. You decided to break the silence, “Where are we headed to?” Great, typical question. “To headquarters baby, let's get you warmed up and ready to bomb the bad guys.” He gives you a sly smirk through the car mirror, followed by a mimicked “whoosh” sound. 

“Aren't y'all the bad guys?” You scoff, looking through the window again. Wait, it looks like you're looking only at your reflection with how tinted those were. Graves only smirks and cocks his brow through the mirrors. 

You sigh, defeat washing over you. Soap and Gaz are locked up in the other cell— the cell which you guys thought was the real headquarters. Turns out it was an abandoned prison with loads of drugs. 

You fiddle with your fingers, your mind wandering around. Do you fuck with your restraints? No. Too big of a risk. Marcello was beside you, clouding the van with the smoke of his minty cigarette. “Don't even think of it, Hermosa.” Marcello laughs, a smug look on his face. His hands trail up your thighs, squeezing them. “I don't want any form of disobedience from here on out. Do you understand?” His voice drops, mouth deadly close to your ears. You refrain from shuddering. “Alright.” You manage to say, and it only earns you stomach-churning laughter from both evil men. 

Ghost

Present

“Where the fuck is she!” he yelled, splaying all the things on top of Shepherd's desk away with a swipe of his angry, desperate hands. “Lieutenant, we do not know of her whereabouts— now if you would just—”

“No!” He shouts, feet planted firmly on the ground, his fists clenched tight. “What are we supposed to do, huh? We go and play dolls in this pathetic excuse for a base? We stand and sit here while they're out there suffering from god-knows-fucking-what?” His voice was laced with a deadly tone, somewhat similar to venom. Ghost was furious. “Sergeant Jones will be alright.” Shepherd says, arms crossed and unaffected by Ghost's outburst. “How do you know that? Graves and Fernandez— those fuckers have her- have Johnny and Garrick!” He turns away running a hand through his hair. 

He has his mask taken off.

The room was tense and the soldiers guarding Shepherd seem to have backed off a few steps seeing Simon in an angry haze. “Graves has nothing to do with this, he is one of our best soldiers, a great leader—”

Ghost cocks his gun, aims it on Shepherd. The other soldiers mimick his actions, but, aim their guns towards Ghost in an attempt to protect the General.

Shepherd raises his arms in defense. “Let's not do this, Lieutenant Riley.” His voice was predatory, a tone that can rival Ghost's. 

“If I find her dead,” Ghost presses his gun on Shepherd's stomach, “The rest of this place will be a living hell, and I assure you— the flames will eat you fucking alive.”

The sickly drive was finally over. You're greeted with a massive concrete mansion with huge driveways big enough for tanks. You can't help the little sound of awe slipping past your mouth. 

Graves pats your shoulder, eyeing you down. “I know, right?” He has that stupid grin on his face as he squeezes you, hands lowering down the small of your back to guide you inside. Guards are everywhere— not just any normal guard, they were armed to the brim. You were about to ask why, but you didn't. It was practically a given since they're criminals on the look out for the heroes.

“You have your room, Marcello will get to that later— also,” Graves looks at you, a mischievous grin on his face yet again. “—you will be trained, princess, trained-trained. You will be my very own wildcard. Something to lure the enemies to bay.” He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear before leaning close, “I'm sure 141 would love to see their princess in the arms of another,” He laughs, “worse— in the arms of their nemesis.” 

Screwed. That's the only word to describe your current— might be permanent- situation.

He left you alone in the eerie— well-decorated yet deserted hallway. Surprisingly, they trusted you enough that they freed you of your cuffs. Curiosity took over and you found yourself walking gently towards a very obvious door, golden accents in the form of swirls highlighting its edges. Along the walls, you find paintings and pictures of morbid, dismembered bodies, group photos in which Marcello has his hand on Phillip's shoulders. 

You shrugged it off, but one photo successfully grasps your attention. 

A photo of military men with the General in front, making a salute, as if to lead them. To his left, Graves holds a gun. 

Shepherd really has something to do with this. 

Guns. Knives. Those are the only things on your mind right now. To kill is your objective. If Ghost was there, you were sure he'd let you go on a rampage.

Before planning to creep up on the next row of doors, you heard an engine rev from the backside of the mansion. Hastily, you snuck towards the sound. 

Through the window, a soldier speaks to his communication device. “Apprehended individuals are in place. Will be moved to cell 45. Both are sedated, sir.” He clicks it shut and checks on his earpiece. His gaze almost lands on the window you were spying through.

Your gut tells you that both means McTavish and Gaz. 

If you could congratulate your guts, you would've done it once you saw the soldiers drag an unconscious and battered Johnny and Garrick. Your heart sinks to your stomach but a burning pit of rage starts to unravel. Targets locked.

Now, where's that cell 45?

They drag them until they're out of sight and you're left with more questions. You decided that you still have time, but limited.

“Exploring headquarters, yes?” A deep, accent-coated voice replaces the revving of the immobile vehicle behind you. Marcello eyes you down curiously, like— he's found a toy. “Off to your room, Hermosa. You may be uncuffed but that doesn't mean you are a free bird in my land.” He mimicks a pair of wings, flapping. 

A bead of sweat starts to roll down the side of your head. “I was— looking for the bathroom?”

“I see. Go down, then to your left, go past a few metal doors. You'll find it.” He pulls my face closer to his using his hand, making my gaze lock on his. “Be quick, Hermosa. You are held captive. Remember that.”

He stares at you, his hands lingering on your face for a few more seconds before he retreats, snapping his finger to order one of the guards.

“Held captive my ass.” You echoed, seeing as he walked away already. You dash through the halls; careful with every stride forward. It's an endless maze of carpeted floors and stairs along with blood-red walls. Gold frames with blood-stained photos, too. 

It's a living version of hell.

Your heart skips a beat as you're greeted with a dark doorframe with metal stairs leading into a dark area. Shady, but literally. “Could it be—?” You whispered as you grab the rusty handles gently, your foot an inch closer to whatever that basement holds. As you go lower, the air is stale. You find it hard to breathe. 

“I'm just going to find the bathroom. Just the bathroom,” You repeat to yourself, shivering as the familiar scent of dried blood wafts in the air. The light finally becomes a brighter, clearer entity as you progress.

“Oh- fuck—!” You cover your mouth and hide behind one of the massive pillars.

Guards.

Both are armed, but not too extra. They had pistols in hand and boy, were they big. “Shit.” You grit your teeth and wait for them to be a few meters a part before you walk closer.

“You. How do you know this place? Retreat.” Says one as you got closer, faking innocence. “Ah, I kind of got lost on the way to the bathroom,” You chuckled, hand on the back of your neck. You eye the soldier down slowly and he seems to believe your act. “I'll bring you there. Jesus, you can't be down here again. It's... forbidden. You'll get yourself dead, kid.” He tucks his gun in the holster and walks with you. 

“Hey! What's that over there?” You pointed far behind you. The soldier looks back and jolts angrily when you get a hold of his gun. “Why you—!” 

Bang!

“I don't really need to pee,” You whispered as you blow on the gun— the gun you marked as yours just then. You step on the bloodied body and move forward. You're off to hunt the guard that was with him a while ago. He'll be trouble if he isn't kept quiet.

Striding towards god-knows-what, soft mumblings and continuous coughing grasps your attention. The halls were dark, the light fixtures were swaying and flickering up above rivaling your faltering vision. 

You tighten the grip on the pistol as you come across a huge metal door with a box to see inside. Eerily like jail. You slowly get on your toes to peak but audibly gasp when you see a very, very familiar hawk.

“Johnny— Gaz,” The tears unintentionally streak down your face as you find yourself trying to unlock the door. It's padlocked. Without thinking, you cock the gun and shoot. The metal locks click and unbuckle. You fiddle with it, hands shaking as you hurried. 

No doubt about it, it's cell 45 alright. “What the actual bloody fucki—” Soap grunts, holding a hand to his temple. “Jones?” His eyes widened, his hand on the wound on his stomach.

“They didn't even bandage you guys up? Son of a bitch!” You cried, running inside to capture them in an embrace; an embrace filled with longing and hurt. Both their eyes exchanged relieved looks, but before they could speak and ask for an explanation, you hushed them. “There's no time and I am absolutely not shitting you. You have to get out of here,” You wiped the tears off of your face to pull them up to their feet. 

“Here, take the gun. Go up the stairs and navigate your way out of this damned place. I already knocked the other guard,” Your eyes were blinking away every tear, “Go, fuckers! I'll follow. They'll suspect me if I'm gone for too long.” Without being told another time, they both nodded and took the gun from your trembling hands. 

The air was harder to take in now that it's filled with panic and hurry.

The heavy door groans as Gaz creaks it open, he winces and looks behind his back to see you and Soap hushing each other. “I don't think there's anyone he—”

Creak!

“Oh shit,” Gaz recoils, but he grabs the gun and rushes outside the cell. “Clear!” His hands are shaking but he remains calm. You're suddenly aware of their injuries and feel immediately horrible. 

You'll get them to the medical wing once you're all back to base.

Both Johnny and Gaz were out and you were the only one in the cell now. “Let's go home, Grey.” Soap manages to grin, a hand on the side of his bleeding stomach.

You shake your head and smile, reaching out for his outstretched arm. 

Before your hand connects with his, time slows. Your ears ring and your vision blackens with strobes and pulses. You try to blink the pain on your left leg away but no, you couldn't. 

It was a bullet.

You drop to the floor, clutching your wound trying desperately to hold the annoyed scream that bubbles up your throat. “Crap!” Gaz fires at the guard, Soap turning to you with concern. “Jesus, I'm sorry Grey— can you stand? There's no more guards here, come on lass— we can go, right?” His voice trails off, seeing the prickles of tears in your eyes.

“Go.” 

His eyes widen in anger and confusion, “What the fuck do you mean? Get up! We won't leave you—!” Soap groans and runs an angry hand through his hair. “The gunshots must've alerted the rest,” you stated, still rooted to the ground. “You have to go, I'll follow.”

“That's bullshit and you know it.” He kneels down, face-to-face with you. “Are you sure?” He asks, voice lower than usual. “I am. You know me, Soap. I'm a reckless woman but that doesn't mean I mess everything up. I got one thing right today, and that's getting you out of that shithole.” You emphasize your point by pointing at the bombed up cell behind you.

Footsteps can be heard from the other end of the hall.

“Go!” You whisper-shouted, wincing as your leg throbs.

You sense hesitation. They lock eyes and turn to you again before reluctantly moving away hurriedly. Soap stops for a while, “You better get to the other side, lass.”

Just as you lost sight of them both, Graves yells from behind you. “What in the goddamn world happened?!” He looks at you, then down your leg. “Who did this to you?” He asks, his eyes aflame. You visibly swallowed and did what you did best.

Lie.

“The mohawk did— they were trying to escape and I,” A sob escapes your throat and you lean into him. You wanted to vomit but here you were, feigning innocence. He seems to have bought it.

He tightens his grip on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. “Fernandez! Get your ass here and bring her to the nurse!”

The rest of the conversation was a blur. You were stupid to think that you would escape with your comrades. It feels like an anchor was keeping you further and further away from 141 and hope was a wretched thing.

The ghost of your teammates’ voices linger around the air and you sobbed harder. Once you calmed down, you muster up the energy and courage to whisper, “I'll get there.”

Chapter Text

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1ew2fJ6vXhflI6mJ30wn9Z?si=mNa51seNSIibBDpR8Aigkw

Chapter Text

Turning

Chapter 7

“All you have to do is barge in the base and grab the files I need. You still have your ID, you'll get through security. They know you. Just act like you’re back.” Graves pats your shoulder, smirking. You look at your shaking hands and legs. You’re going to be a traitor. “You work for me, sergeant.” He leaves the room and yells for the other guards. You're left staring at nothing. “Betrayal...” you whispered shakily, looking up at the ceiling. All you knew was that love comes first. Graves wanted you to steal private military information from one of the offices on 141’s base. You weren't sure if he chose you to break your heart even more and to completely lose your sanity, or he just because he has no other choice. The base is covered with biometric scanners. Heavily guarded. Maybe you really were his only option.

“Your first mission, Hermosa!” A familiar voice echoes from behind you. Your jaw clenches. Marcello walks with pride, twisting and playing with the keys to his car. “You'll do great, my pretty little thing.” He holds your chin in one hand, the other tapping your cheek to annoy you. “Fuck you.” You grit your teeth, anger boiling within you. “Get in the car.” He laughs, pushing you aside. Things will get real once you step foot in the vehicle.

———

“Get in there, speak into the intercoms and get me that fucking gold baby.” Graves grabs ahold of you chin, his gaze scrutinizing your very soul as he speaks. You swallow thickly, reluctantly nodding. “There’s one person you don’t have to worry about, and it’s General Shepherd.” You grind your molars, your jaw clenching at the familiar pang of being so small and vulnerable. “Fuck you, you traitors!” You spit, turning your head away from his grasp. A flicker of something— hope, perhaps, flares in your middle as you step outside the SUV. Maybe you could just run, tell everyone you’re being held hostage— you almost sigh in relief at the vision of freedom, but it all cracks and crumbles to dust when Marcello attaches something on your waist.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

“The moment we hear your cries for help,” Marcello coos, twisting a strand of your hair around his finger, “Boom.” They both make an explosive gesture with their hands.

Sergeant Aspen Jones,

Reporting to Phillip Graves.

To be continued.