cod x reader oneshots

eyes up here soldier - soap

I have a problem. I can admit that. I'm honest with myself. I really do, but in my defense, I don't realize it's happening until someone is calling me out on it. It's unconscious, I can't help it.

"You're staring again." Gaz's teasing voice rang out like a song as he sat down next to me.

"Huh?" I asked, my eyes not leaving their mark.

"Jeez, you might be worse than Ghost." Gaz laughed.

I finally ripped my eyes away to glare at him. "Fuck off." I snapped.

Gaz smirked and took a bite of his sandwich. He mumbled something with his mouth full.

With a face contorted in disgust, I spoke once more. "Fuck, swallow before you speak dude."

Gaz rolled his eyes and continued to chew.

"Absolutely disgusting. A feral animal you are." I teased. "Didn't your mama raise you better than that?"

He hummed before swallowing. "My mama raised a gentleman."

Now I was the one to roll my eyes.

"I said, 'you really have a problem.'" He repeated his earlier statement.

"I do not." That's a lie.

"You've also got a lying problem." Gaz laughed.

"I do not!" I laughed loudly. For a brief moment, I looked over to see Soap looking at us. He smiled and offered a small wave. My stomach did flips as I waved back. I tore my eyes from him to continue my conversation with Gaz.

I liked being around Gaz. He was funny, and close in age so we were able to connect well. We often ate our lunches together on the bench outside the mess hall.

Recently, it's been less chatting about our usual topics and more him teasing me for the big fat fucking crush I had on John 'Soap' MacTavish. I had tried to hide it. I really, really tried to pretend I didn't have feelings for the Scotsman, but I couldn't help it. He was so pretty, so unlike everything I had ever known. He was something rare, something new, something special.

If she was being honest, the only person she would tell would be Gaz, but he had caught on quickly. He knew before I even said anything, which made me nervous that everyone else knew as well. That Soap knew.

And that's because I have a staring problem.

Soap was like a work of art. Every little feature about him was perfect and wonderful. He was like a walking painting. His eyes seemed to sparkle, his smile warmed my soul, and even his stupid mohawk sent my head spinning. Every chance I got I would study his face, his features.

He had scars, which I longed to reach out and trace, try and provide comfort for an injury already healed. The most noticeable one was on his chin, the jagged line ran through the light stubble, but I was more entranced by the much smaller one that rested just below his eyebrow. I wondered how he got them. Had they come from a mission? Beaten too badly to leave a lasting reminder. Or maybe it came from when he was a child, still learning how to move in a big scary world.

His eyelashes were long, and one particular night when we had been paired up on a mission stakeout, it started to rain. The small water droplets caught on his lashes and I found myself thinking about imagining snowflakes doing the same. His eyes seemed to sparkle as he looked at the stars. He told me about them, each constellation he pointed out with such happiness and excitement. He had wanted to be an astronaut as a kid. Wanted to travel through space and make new world-changing discoveries. I wondered why he had chosen this path instead.

He had a crooked smile to match a few crooked teeth. The right side of his mouth seemed to turn up just a tad more than the left side. And you would only notice his bottom row of teeth were slightly crooked if you were really looking. You couldn't see it when he smiled or spoke, but when he laughed, when he was really laughing, the kind where tears prick at the corners of your eyes and your sides hurt, his mouth would hang open and that's when you could see it. You had to be observing every little detail of him to pick it out, but I noticed.