This is a fic I wrote back in 2015 and I have to be honest: I think it was awful. Many Call of Duty stories I wrote at the time were... well, not very good but this one in particular kept bugging me, I don't know why. So, after endless procrastination, I decided to rewrite it.
Posted on this site mainly for archival purposes so, yeah...
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Disclaimer: I don't own Call of Duty Advanced Warfare or its characters. They all belong to Activision and Sledgehammer. No copyright infringement intended.
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Warnings: Unbetaed work. English is not my first language. Explicit language. Ableism. I would warn for smut but I know y'all here for that Mitchell porn.
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i.
His lips crashing against yours in a bruising kiss was the way he always greeted you when you were alone.
And you couldn't blame him for his manners, of course. You knew what to expect from him whenever he visited your dorm, and he also knew that you weren't one for pleasantries. The thought of making small talk before sex was something that frustrated you to no end, given your experiences with guys that talked your ears off and tried to sweeten you in hopes of getting into your pants. Thankfully, Mitchell had never been one to enjoy endless conversation either. In fact, he'd always been a little withdrawn around others, keeping more to himself than sharing his every thought.
It was hard to be talkative when Joker was around, either way.
You'd barely begun to work for ATLAS as a nurse in one of its many medical facilities, and you were already tired of dealing with the constant barrage of date requests and phone numbers that always found their way in the pockets of your scrubs. Even renowned captain Gideon— elite operative for none other than Jonathan Irons, and any woman's wet dream— had tried to chat you up at some point. However, you knew better than to fall for his charm. He was notoriously known to be quite popular among the ladies and it was almost an unspoken rule that he belonged to everyone, so no one was allowed to be his girlfriend without the approval of his unofficial fan club.
Your coworkers said that it would soon settle down. You weren't the first intern to catch the attention of the male population in ATLAS. It was all because you were young, pretty, and fresh meat in the eyes of those testosterone-driven soldiers. They all loved the competition and a little flirting could do no harm— unless they tried some funny business, of course. It wasn't like you were obligated to go out with them.
Honestly, you could care less about hooking up with anyone.
Until you met Jack Mitchell, at least.
The man had piqued your curiosity when he'd dropped by the medical facility to have a general examination, prior to joining ATLAS. He was a rookie and rumor had it that he'd been specially selected by the CEO himself to enter as a private military contractor. Which meant that he was given automatic admission and whatever tests you ran on him were just a simple formality to fulfill.
After the death of his only son, Irons seemed to have found some sort of refuge in William's best friend. He really wanted to help the young man and you thought it was a very noble gesture, considering that Mitchell had been discharged from the Marine Corps and didn't have many prospects. That and the fact he'd lost an arm.
Working for ATLAS must have been a no-brainer for him.
So as soon as he'd applied for a job, he was fitted with a state-of-the-art prosthetic replacement and received special military training under Gideon, his new commander. He was placed with the best of the best and, though it might have seemed like he had it easy, in reality he was under a lot of pressure to deliver the best performance and had many expectations to live up to. Mitchell couldn't disappoint Irons after he'd given him this golden opportunity and, more importantly, he wanted to prove to himself that Will's sacrifice didn't go to waste on someone unworthy.
Honestly, at the time you didn't see it that way. With the obvious preferential treatment he was receiving, you'd imagined Mitchell to be this cocky and big-headed guy taking advantage of the generosity of his friend's father for his own gain. You'd half expected him to use some lame pickup line on you, like many others before him (oh, boy, if you had a dollar for every time you heard one of those), but instead of trying to score a date he chose not to say much and let you do your thing.
It surprised you to be the one making conversation for a change. He spent a good portion of his visit in silence and, aside from the occasional reply whenever you asked him routine questions, there had been the casual grunt or weary sigh. He even avoided your gaze as you worked on him, and you couldn't help but feel a little weirded out by his attitude— mainly because it wasn't what you were used to.
His taciturnity was kind of unnerving at first, but Mitchell seemed pretty comfortable to keep interactions and words to a minimum. Honestly, it was a welcome change to have a guy who didn't feel the need to try his luck with you but you didn't really know what to make of him. After you were finished with the tests and filled in various forms, the doctor took a look at the exams and made a few more questions before declaring Mitchell was fit for admission.
He didn't give you his phone number nor asked when you were free to go out for drinks. He simply offered an awkward thanks and left.
Ever since then you couldn't get him out of your head. Which was ridiculous, as you'd barely talked to him! Yet it was precisely that reserved attitude which made you curious about Mitchell.
You didn't have to wait too long to see him again.
It was only a month or so later when he was assigned to his first mission. Sent to Nigeria to rescue the Prime Minister, who had been taken hostage by a dangerous terrorist organization known as the KVA, it was no small feat what they asked of him on his first day but he pulled through and accomplished the objectives. Gideon was pleased to see the results of Mitchell's intensive training and so was Irons.
On that occasion, you'd patched Mitchell up and ran some examinations on his body to make sure everything was in order. All the while, he'd tried to suppress his smile as you disinfected his scrapes and lacerations. He was so happy about the outcome of the mission that he didn't even notice you were sewing a cut close, though it helped that you'd applied an anesthetic spray.
When you pointed out how content he looked, Mitchell flustered for a moment— probably not expecting for you to notice, in spite of his attempts to be subtle about it. In your defense, it was hard not to. Besides, word made quick travel in HQ and the rescue of the Prime Minister with the help of ATLAS special forces was all over the news. In an outburst of honesty, he admitted he'd been terrified of screwing up but the adrenaline high kept him going and made him focus entirely on the mission.
Of course he had reasons to worry about. To an ATLAS soldier, failure was inadmissible. One mistake on his part and his career would have been finished before it even began.
But Mitchell had proved himself to be reliable and already you could tell that he'd earned his place in the team. He had a new life and new prospects, something to look forward to and something to believe in. ATLAS was truly helping to change the world for the better and he was optimistic in the idea of being part of that transformation.
All seemed to fall into place.
He even opened up to you, and occasional meetings at the infirmary turned into last-minute dates and then into late night talks. It took some time and convincing until you could coax him out of his shell. Mitchell wasn't a shy guy, not at all, but William's death had affected him deeply and the matter of their friendship was a touchy subject for him. Seldom did he share any stories about Will, with other people, and you could tell that he had his reservations about pursuing a romantic relationship with anyone. Instead, he became completely focused on his work which had turned into the cornerstone of his life. He chose to honor the sacrifice of his friend by doing something useful with his life.
One could argue that having ties to a PMC was questionable, at best. Soldiers working for military contractors weren't well regarded, in most cases, and many considered them to be mercenaries involved in just about any shady business for money. But ATLAS was different from all the rest, and it proved with actions that it was the way forward to a bright future. Its development of bio-engineering technologies had improved the living standards of countless people. Not to mention the corporation had tirelessly provided aid in numerous catastrophic events all around the world, earning the title of "Savior" from first and third world countries alike.
Mitchell had been in several locations devastated by war and terrorism, protecting civilians, taking down terrorist cells and helping in relief efforts. You'd also been in your fair share of decimated places, providing health care to those who needed it the most.
It was something Mitchell and you could share, the satisfaction and fulfillment of knowing you were contributing to shape a better world for everyone. It was unbelievable to many that, after years of destruction and conflict, these places were thriving and developing fast. What governments couldn't achieve after entire decades, what could only be a dream of peace and prosperity, was a reality thanks to ATLAS.
Mitchell couldn't have been any more ecstatic to serve such a noble purpose. He soon became one of Irons's most elite operatives— even part of his security detail, which was saying something— and a renowned name inside ATLAS. His popularity with the ladies also took off, of course. Many secretly pined for the handsome sergeant though he always remained polite and professional.
You couldn't believe you were the one doing the chasing but Mitchell was worth it. Though not overly zealous, he was quite fun to be around and his diligence was something you admired. Mitchell was a breath of fresh air and you liked his easy-going nature, as there hardly seemed to be anything that got on his nerves. Plus, he was cute as hell but you'd never say that to his face. He was a battle-hardened soldier, after all.
Eventually, he told you what happened to his best friend. Perhaps you were the first person he ever spoke about it, in a long time. They'd both served in the marines, and it was during their deployment in South Korea that Will perished during a gunship explosion.
It was quite... painful for Mitchell to relive those memories. Mainly because, you realized, he'd been living with survivor's guilt all those years because of his inability to save Will back then.
So he needed to make his life worth something.
He thought his life and career were over when he lost his arm. Until Jonathan Irons approached him, during the funeral of his son, and offered him a new chance with ATLAS. At first, Mitchell wasn't sure whether he should join or not given the questionable reputation of PMCs and his commanding officer didn't seem to approve of it. However, not long after that, he was discharged due to wounds sustained and there wasn't much he could do outside the military.
His old man had been a leather neck and Mitchell also decided to follow in his steps, but then South Korea happened and he was sent home. Back there, he tried to re-adapt to civilian life without much success. His missing limb made that readjustment even more difficult, and it was also a constant reminder of what had happened in Seoul. Plus, it was hard for him not to notice the stares and looks of pity everybody gave him. He knew his family was worried about him, but he was tired of them thinking of him as some invalid incapable of looking after himself.
Joining ATLAS was his chance to rebuild his life and find a purpose, when everything else seemed so uncertain.
Still, that didn't mean everything was perfect.
Mitchell didn't want to sound ungrateful, but the loss of his arm wasn't something he could easily forget. That cybernetic prosthetic had been a godsend, of course. After Seoul, he didn't think he would be able to go to how things used to be. A career in the military wasn't an option, yet here he was— an elite soldier working for one of the most prestigious and powerful PMCs in the entire world. But for all the good it did, he was still trying to wrap his mind around the idea this arm was a part of him rather than some external tool he needed for work.
Gideon had tried to set him up on a few dates but Mitchell had always declined. He didn't feel comfortable with the idea, it seemed, and when you asked him about it he said he wasn't interested in having a relationship.
It was a surprise for you, as much as it was for Mitchell, when months later you ended up in bed with him.
Well, not actually shocking considering the growing sexual tension between you two. While he kept his distance with other women, somehow he didn't have a problem in flirting with you.
It was all a joke, at first, until all those innocent text messages suddenly turned into raunchy sexting and soon there were late phone calls with dirty talk. You weren't even surprised when you began to have make-out sessions with him.
God, you missed him when he was away on missions but he tried to keep in touch as much as he could. Sometimes he was away for entire weeks, taking down KVA cells whilst you hoped he would be safe and sound (ATLAS soldiers were the best, but they were not immortal!). And while you waited for his reply, going on with your day to get your mind off your fears, he would have the nerve to ask you for pictures of you wearing something sexy— or, better yet, nothing. He wanted something beautiful to look at, he said, and while one could imagine the uses he would give to that picture, there was also the unsettling thought of the awful things he saw in whatever hellhole he was that would push him to seek such distractions.
So you would usually humor him. Besides, you trusted he would never show his pals those pictures. Mitchell didn't seem like it but beneath his easy-going and friendly manner, he was a jealous man. The one occasion Joker tried to ask you out, Mitchell's glare was burning in the back of his friend's skull as you smiled and politely declined the offer, like you'd learned to do with dozens of other men before.
Gideon had laughed it off, as if he knew what was going on between you and the young sergeant. Even Joker found the whole thing amusing and swiftly picked up on Mitchell's sulky mood. And though there was endless teasing from his buddies, telling him that he'd better get laid once and for all, Mitchell seemed to be holding back. He didn't say why but you could guess his reasons.
He didn't like it when you paid too much mind to his arm, even if it was your job to make sure he was in healthy condition and that— of course— also included checking his prosthetic was functioning properly. But Mitchell always said that, if there were any problems with it, he'd have the technician run some diagnostics and readjust the calibrations. There was no need for you to go out of your way.
He rarely let you touch it and always made a conscious effort to offer his right hand whenever you wanted to hold it. If he held you, it was always with his right arm.
It was no wonder that, despite all the suggestive talk, Mitchell was self-conscious about the idea of actually doing more than just flirting and kissing. You understood his doubts and thought maybe he needed some time to be in a proper state of mind. But God, you'd be lying if you denied the fact you wanted him to ravish you and have his cock ramming inside of you until you didn't know who the hell you were. Sure you sounded like a nymphomaniac but Mitchell looked so unbearably hot and adorable, all at the same time, that you couldn't bear the thought of him feeling that way.
Eventually, and with your reassurance, Mitchell felt confident enough to spend the night with you. He'd been a little nervous, you could tell even if he'd tried to act all cocky about it. Deep down, he was hesitant of what you'd think of him once his clothes were gone and it became obvious something in him looked awfully unnatural, no matter how technologically advanced that arm was designed to be. Despite how useful and life-changing it proved to him, it still was a piece of machinery— not his own flesh and bones.
But none of that mattered when his hands explored every inch of your body, and you surrendered— eager to feel his touch; when they held your sensitive breasts as you rode him hard, moaning his name again and again in an almost agonizing state of drunken ecstasy; when his arms hugged you close to him, as he drove deeper into your abused core.
That was the first time you got him into your bed and you had no regrets. Most of his friends enjoyed teasing him, saying that he probably never had any in his life. It had to be the blue puppy eyes and that innocent look that deceived them.
If they knew what an animal he was when it came to fucking you, they would have thought twice about making any jokes. Mitchell was dominant under the sheets, and you weren't complaining at all. It was an interesting game-changer since he was always a gentleman with you and very professional in his job. His reputation was impeccable and he was always at his best behavior in front of others, so you couldn't deny you had lots of fun making him flustered with sexual innuendos. Or pissed, depending on the situation.
Either way, it always ended the same: him claiming payback for all the frustration and embarrassment you put him through. And that usually meant you would have your mouth full of his dick before he smeared your face with his hot cum. As strange as it sounded, you never felt humiliated or used— after all, you'd known all along what he would have in store for you if you kept provoking him. Besides, Mitchell was a very caring partner and though he had his rough moments he always made sure that you knew he loved you and would never bring any harm upon you.
His nightly visits became common occurrence. PDA was a big no-no during work, and of course you had to keep your trysts a secret— or, at the very least, not present an inconvenience to others. Not that the policy of ATLAS forbid your relationship. After all, you didn't belong to the same branch nor worked directly together. In fact, Mitchell and you were free to pursue romantic interactions, so long as you remained professional and your performances weren't affected. Even if someone raised any questions, Irons always had the last word and he most certainly would seek to humor the younger man— whom, it would seem, he almost considered family.
So when Mitchell showed up at your door at late hours of the night, you couldn't say you were surprised.
You knew what he wanted.
And you were more than eager to give it to him.
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I'll post the next chapter as soon as I finish the revision. I'm almost done ;u;
Thank you for reading. Votes and comments are appreciated ♥♥♥