#Alejandro Vargas x nurse!reader

[imaginedreamwrite]

Happier Than Ever

Part 4: Fate Thou Art Twisted

“My base is your base.” The words were reminiscent of what Colonel Vargas had said before, when Ghost mentioned Commander Graves of the Shadows assisting in finding Hassan.

The join task force would hunt Hassan down in the hills he was hiding in, leaving no single crevice in that hideout uncovered. There was no probability of failing, this mission had to be a success, and whatever missiles Hassan had, needed to be found.

With the weight of more than just American lives on the line, the task given by General Shepherd and Laswell couldn’t afford any small measure of force. There would have to be an unseemly pressure put on Hassan and the hills he was hiding in.

“You good for this?” Soap had questioned you again, as if you had the opportunity to back down, as if you could change your mind and head back to the US. “You’re heading into gunfire.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Your heart was racing, and dread had settled in your stomach. It was your 4th mission with Ghost & Soap, and you’d yet to gather or steel your nerves. Not like they had, and not how you particularly should have.

You followed Soap & Ghost into the armoury, standing nearby as they grabbed ammunition and assault rifles, checking the weapons over. There was no shortage of artillery here, heavy and handheld weapons to kill or disarm, another necessary adage to the mission.

While you were a medic, and you had completed your nursing degree, you weren’t necessarily a soldier. You had gone through your 6 weeks basic training, you had learned to survive in a war zone, as best as Alex Keller could teach you.

You had gone through your crash courses, you had gone through as much training to solidify your skills as a combat medic. Pushing yourself through every necessary test to get your rank as private, you hadn’t faltered.

You completed your training, but you were not like Soap & Ghost. You wanted to put your focus on keeping them alive, on keeping them breathing.

“Take the damn gun.” A smaller rifle was handed to you, an order from Ghost.

As your CO, he had been responsible for yourself and Soap, and any fatalities were purely his responsibility. “And keep your head on straight.”

“An XM7,” Soap had spoken over Ghost, tapping the barrel of the gun with his fingers, twice, and then looked over his shoulder, “sergeant Parra is taking you to the med-bay. Get whatever supplies you need, we leave in 10.”

He already had his gear on, with the Kevlar bulletproof vest that bared the flag of his country, his rank, and the emblem belonging to Los Vaqueros. His vest was similar to Ghost & Soap’s, the indicators that would lead anyone to know that they were soldiers.

Unlike the soldiers' bulletproof vests, your tactical vest was emboldened with MEDIC, in English, in bright white letters at the front, with MÉDICO, in Spanish, below.

As on the front, there were the same distinguishing patches on the back of your vest, accompanied by a caduceus, a snake, and a pair of wings to symbolize your status as a healer rather than a fighter. A commonality among the three of you was the flag from your countries, a patch that identified just how international this mission was.

“Leave in ten.” You nodded your head, acknowledging the order Ghost had given you, and then you stepped toward Sergeant Major Parra.

He was waiting for you, and had reviewed you once, before he directed his attention behind him with a nod of his head.

When you first approached, you noticed his hands were held behind his back, though when he began walking with you, they dropped to his sides. As you walked with relative silence between you, you glanced over at him, rather of the identifying soulmate mark on his wrists.

One, you noted, was already emboldened and lined with black. One of the phrases was securely etched into his skin, as usual with marks like that, meaning he had found one; however, there was another out there.

You diverted your attention once you had reached the doors of the med-bay. The small clinic was dark upon your approach, something that had been rectified when you’d stepped inside. The automatic lights turned on, and you were greeted with shelves upon shelves of medical equipment.

“Take what you need.” Rudy Parra had leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched you, waiting for you to gather some things.

“Yes sir.” You stepped toward one shelf, looking over the different kinds of bandages and gauze there was, and then further to the threads for stitching.

You grabbed what supplies you hadn’t already had, mostly newer gauze and bandages, some cold compresses and extra thread, before you took a side-eye toward the narcan. You reached for the glass vial, looking over the label before you closed your fingers around the bottle and shoved it into your bag.

“You don’t seem like the type to be in a fight like this,” Rudy’s voice had caught you off guard, and you’d looked over your shoulder toward him.

“I’ve got more interest in being a medic, or combat nurse, than I do physically being caught in gunfire. But… I’ve always wanted to be in medicine, I’ve always wanted to be a nurse.” You moved down the shelves and then hummed under your breath.

“Looking for something?” His accent was light, his voice was relatively calm as he stepped further into the med-bay, closer to you.

“Necesito un frasco de morfina.” It was just natural for you to ask in Spanish, given that he was a native-born Spanish speaker, and you’d never questioned yourself until Rudy looked at it with furrowed brows.

“Hablas español?” He reached above you, grabbing a few glass vials of the drug you were looking for, handing them down to you.

“Yeah, I’m… I wouldn’t say I’d be as fluent as someone who was born in Mexico, but I learned Spanish from the time I was 7 to 18.” You thanked him and placed the vials into your bag, feeling at odds with yourself for letting your second language slip.

“Es necesario en los Estados Unidos, no?” He didn’t question why you weren’t forthright with your ability to speak Spanish, rather, he’d questioned you about something related.

“The United States has a lot of Spanish speakers in the country. I don’t know if it's mandatory to learn it in school in every district, county or state, but in my school it was.” You took another look around the med-bay, double-checking your supplies and what you’d taken, before you zipped the top.

“Tu español es muy bueno.” Rudy held the door open for you when you finished.

“Gracias.” You stepped by him as he allowed you to step out first. It was while you were stepping by him that you tilted your head, eyeing the edges of his second soulmate mark.

The words were lined with an edge faint black, as if he had come in proximity to his soulmate, but the words themselves weren’t spoken. They were in Spanish, and while you had said the words in your head, you whispered them under your breath.

“Todo puede ser lanzado al aire al menos una vez?” You whispered faintly under your breath, almost entirely incomprehensible.

You glanced toward the mark again and then looked away, your eyes drawn toward Soap & Ghost as they stood by the fleet of humvee’s. They were geared up, as usual, bearing weapons that were far more formidable than your own, even though yours had the same potential to maim and kill.

“PT!” Soap called your rank from across the open space, directing you toward a series of vehicles parked and waiting. “Move your ass!”

“Yes sir!” You walked directly to your CO’s, your gun by your side and ammo stashed in the pockets of your tactical vest.

There was a certain amount of tension in the base that was directly tied to the mission to find Hassan. It was a tension that overshadowed any previous anxiety you had, with the knowledge that this could be someone’s last day breathing.

This could be your last day breathing.

“Get your head screwed on right, lass. This could get ugly.” Upon approaching Soap, he motioned with a single nod to get into the vehicle beside Ghost, the position open for you.

You’d tossed your bag to the floor of the humvee and climbed inside, taking your place beside Ghost, while another soldier had taken his place to the right of you.

Ten minutes had been enough time for you to grab what you needed, to secure necessary and life-saving tools to keep them safe. It was also enough time for you to reveal yourself as someone who could not only understand Spanish but speak it fluently enough to carry a conversation.

You hadn’t been aware of Soap or Ghost wanting you to keep your ability to speak Spanish a secret forever. Nevertheless, there was a certain expectation that you’d act as their translator, and it was impossible to do so without someone, at some point, knowing you were bilingual.

“You good, kid?” Soap turned in the front passenger seat, looking back at you as Colonel Vargas drove. “You ready for this?”

“You’re three years older than me, if you call me kid, can I call you senile?” Your back and forth with Soap was ordinary for the two of you.

It was partially due to his boyish charm that never faded, and your relationship that was like brother and sister. You were friends, but it also felt like you were family.

Your comment drew a cold response from Ghost, a side-eye that you had grown used to when in his company. At this point, you hadn’t even known if he was aware of what he was doing, or if it was some natural reaction to the people around him.

However, if Ghost had given you a dirty look, then Soap was almost gleeful about the comment.

He had laughed, as he usually did, and shook his head, flipping you off over his shoulder. He was eased, far more than you were, yet not as calculated as Ghost was at the moment. He was the neutral point between the two of you, the balance between your anxiety laced anticipation and Ghost’s cold composure.

The drive away from the compound and base was quick. The trip toward the hills outside the city, that had been overrun by the Cartel and had been the hiding place of Hassan, had taken less than twenty minutes. The overhanging cliff side and rolling hills had come upon you, with a single road in and out of the encompassing stronghold.

As the vehicles had come to a stop, Colonel Vargas voice came through the earpiece in your right ear, the order firm. “Team leaders circle up on me. Weapons hot Vaqueros. Let’s move.”

You had followed Ghost out of the humvee, your medical bag and supplied thrown across your shoulder to drape on your hip. The XM7 rifle was heavier than you anticipated now that you were on the cusp of the first assault to find Hassan.

“You’re with me, private.” Ghost addressed with his usual calculated and neutral tone, an order that you couldn’t disregard.

You regarded his order with a nod of your head, and adjusted your grip on your rifle. You’d been placed here as a medic and your job was to keep them alive, you had the tools and the training to save their lives to the best of your ability in the field.

You had 6 weeks of basic training, you had been taught how to handle weapons. Alex Keller had taught you everything he could in six weeks to prepare yourself for missions like this. It was always a possibility that you would have to lean more into the military training rather than medical, and this was one of the moments you had been trained for.

Regardless of whether you wanted to classify yourself as a soldier or not, you were going to have to defend yourself if someone had come upon you without being stopped by the soldiers that had come before you.

“Where are they holding Hassan?” Soap approached Alejandro and Rudy, and almost immediately got an answer.

“White two-story building. Back of town.” Alejandro raised his hand, directing Soap’s attention to the village tucked behind 7 foot white sun-stained walls.

With the direction given, the soldiers had begun to move, their weapons raised and their guards up. They approached the first gate that kept the village contained, a thick wooden double set of doors that had remained barricaded.

“Todos los vencedores en espera.” Alejandro had spoken into the comm system, his voice echoing in your head as you approached the last soldier, hanging behind like you had usually done.

“Tres, dos, uno...ejecutar.... ejecutar!” The order was given, and the doors had been kicked open, the soldiers pouring into the compound.

A sense of resolve had taken over every sense you had, and your instincts lead you. You tuned out the world, centred your mind, and followed Ghost and Soap as they stormed the abandoned town like planned.

The houses were empty and used as storehouses or labs for whatever the cartel wanted. The civilians had fled the town, no safety within the walls of the village that was now taken over by the Las Almas Cartel.

“Down! Get down!” The first rounds of gunfire erupted, and you ducked behind cover as commanded, the tang of smoke from the ammunition spent stinging your nose.

This, all this around you, was the shadowy underbelly of the beautiful city.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

You kept yourself quiet, studious as you dug through your bag and compartmentalized the hours between hitting the ground in Las Almas, and the moment you were in now. The gunfire in the abandoned village had resulted in finding out that Hassan had been there in the hideout, until he was moved.

Further up the river and in a secondary hideout is where they had found him hiding, with the assistance of Commander Graves and the Shadow Company. The joint Taskforce had succeeded in securing the terrorist to be questioned; however, there was little to be said about the methods of interrogation he may be hit with.

You had done the task given to you, you had succeeded being a combat nurse after another gunfight. Bullets were removed, gashes and wounds were secured and cleaned, and no one had lost their lives. It was a “success” by the standard; however, there was more to this task than anyone had even known.

You, as you sat on the sidelines and dug through your bag, had rattled nerves. It wasn’t just due to the gunfight you’d survived, it wasn’t just a circumstantial effect of patching up soldiers in the field.

No, this was something entirely different. And when all eyes were off you, you looked at your arms and felt your chest constrict.

“Maldito cabrón,” had been harshly yelled through the gunfire by the leader of Los Vaqueros, a fact that hadn’t hit you until you had a moment to think.

“Maldito hijo de puta,” had come through the communication system, something spoken by a voice you thought was Rudy Parra’s.

Both men, both Mexican special forces officers, had spoken the keywords to solidify themselves as your soulmates. And those key identifying words were ensconced in thick black lines, emboldened and complete. It was a moment that was life altering, coming at the worst possible time for you, and for them.

Still, you remained quiet about this revelation, and you distracted yourself by paying attention to the brief interrogation of Hassan, and the sound of his feet being dragged across the gravel. The only light had come from the yellow hued headlights of the truck and humvee that were driven here, one of which was Hassan’s escort.

“On your knees.” Soap had grabbed Hassan’s right arm, escorting him to the focal point before a camera as Alejandro removed his hood.

“Y’all got a clear picture?” Graves crouched under in front of a truck, adjusting the angle to get Hassan completely unveiled by the camera.

“Crystal.” General Shepherds voice echoed through the comm, and you leaned forward with your elbows on your knees, hands tucked under your chin.

“All set.” Laswell was the next to speak, the next to address in this interrogation effort, while Hassan was kept hostage.

“Alright. We are live, folks.” Commander Graves stood straight and walked toward Hassan, almost arrogantly, before stopping in front of him.

You were aware of Ghost’s position near the back of the truck, a position he took as a guard in case Hassan decided to bolt. Soap and Alejandro were standing behind Hassan, far enough away not to distort any recognition tactics.

“You speak Arabic?” Hassan’s hands were held behind his back, a set of stiff cuffs keeping him bound.

“No.” Graves stopped in front of Hassan, hands on his hips and a look of compressed disapproval on his face.

“Farsi?” Hassan’s lips began to form a smirk, another arrogant expression that was almost fitting for the mad bastard.

“No.” Graves replied with annoyance, and as he did, you could hear howling coyotes and the noises of nature at night in the background.

It was another reminder that although beautiful, there was more wilderness to this place than you realized.

“Of course not. Then I’ll speak your bastardized Medieval English because you are all uneducated street dogs.” He looked around at you all, that same cocky half-smirk on his face, even as Graves stepped closer.

“Ahh, see...we’re getting off to a bad start, Hassan.” Graves, ever disappointed, kicked some gravel toward Hassan and shook his head.

“You’re talking to a Quds Force officer.”

“You're the commander of a foreign terror organization.” Graves continued the interrogation, a sight that you had briefly tuned out when you looked back at your wrists, and the soulmate identifying words that had now become a reality.

Fate had decided that it was time for you all to be intertwined. Fate, the fickle bitch, was not going to wait any longer and this was the time for you three to come together.

Regardless of circumstances or opportune timing.

Wildlife and coyotes yipped again, signalling more scurrying from the distance as the night carried on. You had lifted your head, directing your attention from the soulmate marks to the man being questioned. The terrorist still on his knees while Soap and Alejandro were nearby.

“I’m a hostage here, this is illegal.”

“You’re a prisoner of war.” Alejandro’s accent and husky voice had drawn your attention to the fearless leader, and dull heat boiled in your stomach as the recognition re-centred itself.

“Iran is not at war with Mexico. I’ve broken no laws. These men and their commanders are the lawbreakers.” He pulled against Alejandro’s hand, tugging twice before he was settled back into a place of submission at the colonels hands.

“You and your beloved general Ghorbani broke every—“ Soap had spoken, and a physical and verbal reaction from Hassan had made both men nearly lose their hold on him.

Hassan had stood with rage, he spoke with fury as he cut Soap off. “DO NOT SPEAK HIS NAME!”

“You executed him, and you will pay for your crimes—“ Hassan had looked at Soap, at all of you, like you were the scum of the earth.

You averted your eyes and shifted positions where you sat, just as heat blistered your stomach from the inside out. It was a visceral reaction to the settling bond that had been melded. Nothing more complicated than breathing, it was almost as natural.

The curse words in Spanish, inked on your skin as a gift from Fate, had now been completely visible and strengthened after being spoken. You wondered if you had managed to say the trigger words for them. If you’d managed to give them what they needed to feel this same heat.

“—without proof, we need to turn him loose, see where he leads.” Shepherd spoke again, a kind of finality in his tone.

“He’s right here, you can’t be serious.” Soap had taken an approach you knew was palatable, one that even you had felt.

If they let him go, would they find him again?

“Did we get anything from his phone?” Ghost spoke after looking down at the phone in his hands and then glancing toward the camera.

Laswell had remained silent for a single moment before she replied with something good, something minutely hopeful. “Affirmative. We got a hit.”

“Good, now take him back and let him go.” Shepherds order was forcibly accepted, and with a nod of his head, Ghost had signalled to Alejandro.

The bag was pulled, with force, over Hassan’s head and the terrorist was yanked to his feet. “Hasta el culo. vamos.”

He was being led away by Alejandro, the interrogation over. With this whole incident wrapped up open-ended, you had also risen to your feet. You yanked your medic bag up from the gravel road and slung the strap over your shoulder, feeling the thud against your hip.

“You really have to let him go?” You questioned Ghost, glancing slowly from Soap to himself, stepping toward the vehicle. “That’s bullshit.”

“That’s an order.” Ghost spoke plainly, matter-of-factly, tugging on the door handle to the truck. “Get your ass inside.”

“Todo puede ser lanzado al aire al menos una vez.” You muttered under your breath as you got into the truck, sliding to the rear driver's side.

“English, L/N.” Ghost took the rear passenger seat and slammed the door behind him.

“Everything can be airdropped at least once.”

[lxstfathier]

Hi could you please do sex pollen with bass or Alejandro Vargas or both with an inexperienced female reader please

Anon? anon who is bass?? i couldn’t figure out who you meant so, here it is, i did it with ale ;)

Flowers

Alejandro Vargas x Reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, p in v, sex pollen, squirting, age-gap, another fic of Ale taking our virginity cuz we love that shit!

A/N: i actually loved writing this lol, it was fun. you know english is not my first language, so there might be some errors, but i hope y’all like it 💗

You don’t remember exactly what happened. The mission went wrong, and you followed colonel Vargas into the woods, trying to scape from enemy fire, accidentally running into some bushes full of strange colorful flowers that you had never seen before. Then it all went blurry.

Now, two hours later, you’re on base again, feeling really weird. Your whole body is sensitive, as if it has been set on fire, heavy breaths escape your lips and a thin layer of sweat starts to appear on your skin. How are you supposed to deal with it? you don’t even know what is going on, but you try your best to stay quiet while a nurse examines all your vital signs.

“You’re fine” she says after making sure that you don’t have anything that could possibly affect your health. “But it seems that you’re under the influence of some… natural aphrodisiac. So i’d suggest you to, y’know, relieve all that sexual energy, it will make you feel way better.”

Natural aphrodisiac? oh, so now you finally understand why your poor pussy is so wet, clenching around nothing and practically begging to be fucked. It makes sense. However, you don’t have a problem with masturbating a few times until the effects wear off. So you thank her, and then make your way out of the medical bay, walking straight to your own room.

But you didn’t expected to run into you colonel again. Those flowers should have affected him the same way as you, that’s for sure, what is he doing in the hallway? he should be inside his room, doing god knows what to help himself with that issue.

“Sargento” Alejandro calls you, forcing you to stop dead on your tracks, even though both of you are not in the mood for talking. “What did the nurse told you?”

“She said i’m fine. It’s just the effects of a natural aphrodisiac what’s making me feel so weird.” you answer, smiling at him, trying to play it cool. “Why? do you have the same?.”

“Si” he nods, but you don’t hear the rest, all of your concentration is now looking at his pretty brown eyes, his lips, his stubbly jaw, his broad shoulders, his strong arms in that tight shirt, and that obvious bulge inside his cargo pants.

He’s always been a good looking man, you won’t deny it, but right now? he’s fucking sexy, radiating a strong masculine essence that makes your knees go weak and the heat in your belly grow more intense. Almost as if you were a bitch in heat.

All of your shyness is gone, and before you know it, you’re grabbing his hand to guide him into your room, not even caring that he’s way older than you, a colonel who is supposed to be your superior. The arousal clouds your mind, not being able to think about anything else than getting pounded by him all night until you can’t remember your own name.

And Alejandro knows he shouldn’t be so eager to fuck his sergeant, but how can he tell you no when you look so pretty and so damn needy?

Once you’re both inside, with the door locked and the lights on, he pins you to the wall, kissing you passionately as his big hands roam your clothed body. Something new to you, considering the fact that you had never been touched by a man before this.

Should you tell him that he’s about to be the your first sexual experience? maybe, but you don’t wanna ruin the mood, so you just let go, feeling your tongues dancing with each other, running your hands over his strong chest.

But, as much as you’d love to keep kissing, the heat caused by the aphrodisiac is now unbearable, forcing both of you to pull apart and take your clothes off. And it could be part of the effect of those annoying flowers, but when you finally see his muscles, his tan skin covered in sweat, and that big veiny cock springing free, your mouth waters and your pussy throbs, clearly enjoying the view.

“Like what you see, mi amor?” he asks teasingly, and you just nod. “Cause i really do, who would have known my sergeant had such a pretty body? huh?”.

Now that Alejandro sees you all exposed for him, admiring every detail of your being, he’s sure that you’re the most beautiful girl he has ever met. If he had known what was he missing on, he would have pushed you into those bushes way earlier.

You don’t really know what to do next, you’re flustered and too inexperienced, so when he notices your hesitance, he gently guides you to the bed, telling you to lay on your back and relax.

Alejandro kisses your neck, and then slowly goes down to your tits, playing with your nipples between his teeth. It’s almost like a torture, you want more than that, involuntarily bucking your hips to get at least a little friction, anything.

“Just fuck me already, please” you beg in a high pitched voice, desperate to feel him inside you.

“Such a needy little whore” Alejandro says, mocking your pathetic cries. But you don’t care, even less when he drops to his knees, prying your legs apart to have a good look at your perfect pussy before devouring it like a starving man.

He licks and bites at your slick folds, savoring the sweet taste, dives his tongue into your hole and goes up to your clit, sucking hard. It feels really nice, better than any of those times where you played with yourself at night, and it’s not long until you’re moaning, feeling that familiar knot in your lower belly while tugging at his dark hair.

You cum easily, arching your back off the bed, almost crushing his head between your trembling legs. But that doesn’t stop him, he keeps eating you sloppily until you ride out that first orgasm.

When you come down from the high, Alejandro is already on top of you, holding your legs on his shoulders, guiding his cock to your tiny wet hole. And, without a warning, he slides inside on a singular hard thrust, making you scream at the new sensation.

He’s big, so the sudden stretch is a bit painful, but once you get adjusted to his girth and he starts moving slowly, your pained cries turn into whimpers filled with pleasure.

“F-faster Ale, please, ah- god-“ you moan into his ear, going literally stupid on his cock that you can’t even say a simple sentence.

“Yeah? you want me to destroy this pretty little pussy?”

He starts thrusting harder, pounding your tight heat in the most delicious way, hitting that sweet spot inside you over and over. It’s good, way too good actually, and you can’t help but writhe under him, digging your nails on the nape of his neck.

Another orgasm is near, you know it, and he can feel it too by the way you’re clenching around his cock.

“That’s it, preciosa, you’re taking me so well” Alejandro growls, one of his large hands going down to find your clit, rubbing it fast in circular motions. “Cum for me again, come on.”

His words, mixed with the stimulation and the way he’s ramming into you, is just what you need to see stars. You come undone once more, feeling the intense pleasure in every inch of your body, moaning so loud that probably the whole base heard.

“Fuck, look at the mess you made” he says, looking at how your sweet juices are coating his abs and pubes. Did you just squirted? hell, that’s new, you didn’t knew you could do that.

Alejandro doesn’t take long to reach his own orgasm, thrusting a few more times until he’s cumming inside, filling that pretty pussy of yours with his thick seed as he bites your neck, letting out an animalistic grunt.

You both stay like that for a minute, too fucked out to move, catching your breath. And you’re feeling better, but the effects are still not gone at all.

“That was amazing” you say, stroking his beard, pulling him in for a quick kiss. “Can we do it again?.”

“As many times as you want, preciosa.”

[daisies-daydreams]

I got a funny short fic idea here. Task 141 + König + Los Vaqueros x fem!reader reacting to their bodies being switched with each other.

A bit of a scenario, both of them went on a mission and happens to get ambushed by a gas fume in a room, after some lingering time time trying to get out of there (they did eventually), they passed out and the other members had to drag both of their bodies to base. The next day they woke up in the medic room but found something is wrong with their own bodies. Could be either sfw or nsfw

Characters: 141 (Ghost, Soap, Gaz), König, Alejandro Vargas, Reader, Original Character (Dr. Laura Winston) Warnings: Some NSFW Elements (“self-examination”), Descriptions of Genitalia, Mentions of Blood, Swearing Word Count: 2k+

A/N: Thank you for your request! I’m sorry if it’s bad-I tried my best but I've never written for a scenario like this before. 😵‍💫

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

It was a shit show.

Price had sent the 141, Alejandro, König, and you to raid a covert facility in Columbia. Things seemed to be going smoothly...until a pair of doors suddenly slammed on all of you just as you were about to escape. Your eyes widened as billowing clouds of gas began to pour into the room from the vents in the ceiling.

“GET DOWN!” Ghost’s voice boomed. All of you laid flat on the floor, military crawling towards a slit of light poking through a pair of doors on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes began to water as your lungs felt stung with each shallow breath you took. Your head grew dizzy as you watched König rise to his feet. He grunted as he slammed himself against the doors repeatedly, Ghost soon joining him.

Everyone coughed and sputtered as the fumes filled the small space. Your vision became blurry as you reached your hand out, your lungs feeling like shrunken plastic bags. The door thumped a few more times before König finally burst through, the humid night air spilling into the tight space.

“This way!” he coughed, waving his arm. You nodded as you slowly slithered forward, only to collapse once you reached the threshold. The last thing you remembered was being picked up by a pair of heavy arms.

+++

Your eyes snapped open as you gasped. A sheen of sweat coated your body as you launched forward in your bed. You winced as you slam your head into a light shining above you.

“Careful!” you heard an unfamiliar voice shout. You blinked a few times, the image of the room coming to you slowly. You recognized this place as the medical facility near the base you all were deployed from. Doctors and nurses bustled around.

"Forget your own height, Colenel?" the doctor quiped.

"Whuh?" you slurred. That wasn’t your rank...

"How are you feeling, sir?" the man asked. You blinked.

Sir?

You shook your head slightly as you gazed down. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when you saw a wide, expansive chest. Your arms were utterly HUGE-wait-all of you was huge. You nervously glanced down between your legs-

“H-Hi?” you said. You clasped your hands over your mouth. That wasn’t your voice. It was raspy and guttural. You looked down, eyes widening at the sight of your massive, veiny hands.

“Sir? How are you feeling?” the doctor repeated while tilting his head. You tried to steady your breathing, though your accelerated heart rate showed up on the monitor. The doctor frowned before scribbling something down on a clipboard. You fidgeted where you lay, large hands wringing the medical gown that covered you. Your eyes scanned the room, seeing the rest of your team out cold.

"I..." your words failed to come out of your new mouth. It felt like you had pebbles in your cheeks whenever you tried to talk. Your eyes glanced over the man's shoulder.

Your breath hitched when you saw your own body lying in the bed across from you. Every inch of you crawled as you mindlessly slid out of your bed.

“Where are you going?” the doctor asked. You cleared your throat.

“I-er-restroom?” you stammered awkwardly. The doctor looked you up and down before narrowing his eyes.

“Yes. Let me go…please,” your voice rumbled. The doctor seemed to shrink away as you tore the IV from your arm. You grimace at the sight of blood suddenly spurting from your arm. You hissed as you wrapped your hand around it as you hobbled towards the bathroom.

“Hey! You can’t-“ You shot a dirty glance at the source of the voice. The doctor clamped his mouth shut as his face grew pale. You tried to be quick, but you weren’t used to the long, heavy strides. You walked around like a newborn baby deer, nearly tripping over your large pair of feet.

Relief poured over you when you made it to the restroom, locking the door behind you. You rested your hands on the sink before taking a paper towel and putting pressure on your wound. You were very cautious as you gazed up in the mirror. You gasped and touched your face, your arms-everywhere.

Well…almost everywhere.

Your eyes trailed back down as you swallowed thickly. You bit your lip. Was this wrong? This wasn’t your body, after all. You exhaled through your nose as you slowly slid your hand down your gown. Your eyes bulged when you felt a flaccid cock being squeezed in your palm. The sensation sent a jolt through your body. You winced as you flicked your hand away.

“Fuck, he’s massive,” you thought. You glanced up at the mirror again. It’s the first time you’ve seen König without his mask on. He looked rather ruggedly handsome, if you say so yourself. Ginger hair, baby blue eyes and a scarred face with sharp features gazed back at you. You laughed to yourself as you shook your head.

“Man, this is one of the craziest dreams I’ve had in a while!” you thought. You pinched your arm, only to still be staring at the same visage. Your brows furrowed as you pinched yourself harder.

Nothing.

The sound of a commotion outside stirred your attention away from the mirror. You unlocked the door and walked down the hall to hear doctors and nurses trying to calm someone down.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you-I’m not me!” your voice shouted. You had to steady yourself for a second, your hand falling against the wall. It was your voice, but the accent was…different. You slowly stepped back into the bay to find your body scowling as you were being surrounded by medical staff.

“Please, we need you to calm down,” one of the doctors said. You scoffed and started walking towards your original body.

“Nein! You don't understand! This isn’t mein,” your body yelled while gripping your hair. Step. “This isn’t mein,” your smaller hands pointed at your eyes. Step. “And these aren’t MEIN!” your body finished by grabbing and shaking your breasts. You scowled as you broke past the gaggle of medical personnel.

“Get your hands off of me! What the hell is wrong with you?!” you boomed, your new voice nearly shaking the walls. You watched your (E/C) eyes widen as you snagged your wrists, König’s massive palms engulfing yours. Your eyes locked with each other for what felt like an eternity.

“Maus?” your voice whispered. You gasped, hands slipping away from your wrists.

“…König?”

“Call security! Now!” a doctor ordered.

“That won’t be necessary,” a woman’s voice called from the doorway. The whole room halted as the source of the voice stepped into the room. A bespeckled lady in a white lab coat strode towards you, her steely gray eyes scanning you up and down. “You all are relieved,” she stated calmly.

“But, Doctor-”

“I don’t want to repeat myself,” she said. The personnel quickly filed out, leaving you and your team in the hands of this mysterious woman. She straightened her turtleneck before clasping her hands together.

“I apologize for my team. They aren’t entirely used to your…dilemma,” the woman vaguely explained. König shifted in the bed uncomfortably while you fiddled with your new fingers. She held out her gloved hand.

“Dr. Laura Winston,” she introduced herself. You took her hand, your palm swallowing her own. Your hand fell back to her side. Just as you opened your mouth, a sudden grunt rang through the room.

“Hijo de puta,” Ghost’s voice grumbled. All of you snapped your heads over as the lieutenant rubbed the back of his head.

Holy shit.

“Al-Alejandro?” you gulped. Ghost blinked a few times, his dark eyes squinting at you. He huffed out a hearty chuckle, something foreign and somewhat terrifying to you.

“Of course, cariño. Who else would it be?” Ghost laughed. His eyes widened as his lips drew into a tight line.

“Ah, so then Lieutenant Riley must be-”

“FUCKIN’ HELL,” Alejandro’s voice groaned as his body lunged forward in his bed. Ghost blinked, his brows knitting slightly as he pointed a shaking finger at Alejandro.

“¡D-D-Diablo!” the man yelled. Alejandro scowled before his face fell. The men pointed at each other, words failing to leave their lips as they stared at each other with bulging eyes.

“Right, that leaves-” A clamor echoed through the examining room as Soap flung himself out of bed. His vision seemed unfocused as he yawned and scratched his face.

“Christ-I need a drink of water,” he spoke. All of you watched silently as he padded down the line of beds. Your face turned beet red when you saw the outline of his ass peek through his hospital gown. He suddenly froze where he stood before slowly turning around. Doctor Winston seemed unfazed as she tried her best to give him a reassuring grin.

“Oh, good. You’re-”

“WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK IS GOING ON?!” he screamed. His voice stirred Gaz from his sleep, prompting him to look around the room. A wide grin stretched across his face.

“Phew, didn't think we were gonna make it,” he sighed. His smile faltered when his gaze crossed his own body staring back at him. Doctor Winston cleared her throat.

“Now, let’s all just-”

The room erupted into a fit of rancor. Shouting was heard left and right-Gaz gripping Soap by his gown, Alejandro and Ghost still pointing their fingers at each other as they yelled in their respective languages. You and König remained still, awkwardly looking at each other before with pale faces before looking back at the scene before you. Doctor Winston cleared her throat.

“IF YOU PLEASE,” she boomed. Silence quickly filled the room. “Thank you,” she nodded. “Now-as for all of you returning to your original bodies-there appeared to be a compound in the gas that flooded the corridor just as you all were escaping the facility,” she began. Gaz’s eyes instantly glazed over. “Thankfully, we were able to obtain the name and chemical structure of the substance. However…” her voice trailed off.

“C’mon, spit it out,” Alejandro huffed in irritation. She sighed.

“However, it will take a while to properly replicate it,” she finished. You felt your chest tighten.

“So we’re stuck like this for God knows how long?!” König sputtered. Dr. Winston nodded slowly.

“I’m sorry-we’re working as fast as we can,” she stated. Ghost stepped forward.

“Why in the world are you trying to replicate the thing that caused…this?” he asked, motioning to everyone. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“I believe that if we simulate the incident, it could swap your consciousnesses back into the correct bodies,” Dr. Winston said. All of you blinked.

“How does that work exactly?” Soap asked. She frowned.

“Do you want to sit through a day-long lecture?” the doctor asked. Soap's eyes widened before he stepped back. She adjusted her sleeves before looking around to each of you. “Try to hang tight. We’ll be monitoring you in case there are any psychological or physical abnormalities,” Dr. Winston said. You understood why Gaz (Soap?) was starting to nod off.

“If you’ll excuse me-I need to return and check the status of the gas,” she said before seeing herself out. You all exchanged weary glances.

“Are we sure that gas wasn’t a fuckin’ hallucinogen?” Gaz asked dryly. Ghost chuckled, though it was clearly strained. You swallowed a lump in your throat.

“What about you, love?” Soap asked, his voice a little softer than usual as he gazed at your original body. You craned your neck down and stared at the man. König frowned and pointed towards you. Soap gasped as he tilted his neck up. “Er-(Y/N)?” he asked.

“Yeah?” you replied. His jaw dropped.

"I-you-and...you have a dick now?" Soap asked. You grumbled as Ghost and Gaz snickered. König meanwhile was a flustered mess-his face completely red.

"Yes, So-Gaz, I have a penis now," you irritatedly sighed. Soap looked back and forth between you and König's mismatched bodies.

"So...then that means-"

"That's enough," König barked. Soap instantly shut his mouth. Ghost still chuckled as you sat back on your bed. It creaked as you rested on it. You sighed as you rubbed your hands through your short, ginger hair.

“Bonnie?” Gaz piqued. You gripped your locks between your fingers.

“What are we going to do if it doesn’t work?” you choked. The men around you glanced at each other. You gasped as you felt a small pair of arms wrap themselves around your thick torso. König rested his head against your arm.

“Have faith, Maus. I trust Dr. Winston-she seems to know what she's doing,” he soothed. It felt strange hearing comfort coming from your own voice. Your eyelids fluttered closed as you wrapped an arm around his new body.

“Thank you, Kö,” you breathed. He nodded before patting your back. Your head began to suddenly feel dizzy as you braced yourself against the side of your bed.

“Cariño-” you heard Ghost's voice call. You had no time to prepare as your vision went black once again.

+++

The next time you woke, you were being dragged by a pair of large hands. Your glossy eyes gazed up at the tall, muscular figure dragging you out into the open. Their ungloved hands were warm as they pulled you out of a cloud of gas. The lights blinded you as you coughed and wretched, your lungs burning and eyes watering. While you expected to be in the dark facility you raided, you were instead met with the blurry sight of the medical center’s hallway. Your eyes trailed up to meet with König’s uncovered, beaming face.

“Hallo, Maus”.

____

Thank you for reading! ❤️

[southernbluebellereader]

MASTERLIST

Who I write for: Call of Duty (Preferably MW2 and MW3); Star Trek (everything up to Enterprise + Strange New Worlds); Slashers (Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers); Jack Reacher (Alan Ritchson); SIX (coming soon)

REQUESTS: Closed | INBOX: Open | TAG LIST: Click Here | (*) = WIP

Last Update: November 12, 2024

{JACK REACHER}

| JACK REACHER (Alan Ritchson) |

General Headcanons

General Headcanons Part 2

X Fem! Southern Waitress

Peach Pie and Cream

{CALL OF DUTY}

| IMAGINES/HEADCANONS/REQUESTS |

Imagine Dancing with Alejandro Vargas and Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra

Imagine Dancing with John Price, Ghost, and Soap

Do They Know How to Take a Bra Off? (COD 141 + Alejandro, Rudy, & König)

Routines (Taskforce 141 x Southern Hairdresser Reader (PLATONIC))

Routines Part 2 (Taskforce 141 x Southern Hairdresser Reader (PLATONIC))

Tenderheart Bear (141 x People Pleaser F! Field Medic (PLATONIC))

How would the 141 react to you getting your nails done? (COD MW2) (Task Force 141 - Semi-NSFW)

(18) Request: Imagine Ghost & König with an anal vibrator

Request: 141 x Reader w/ Psoriasis & Vitiligo (SFW & Platonic)

Request: Taskforce 141 x Reader with rumors of being a slut

(18+) Request: Kvinlig Demon (141 x F! Reader w/ Womb Tattoo)

| CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE |

Requests

(18+) NSFW Price x Younger S/O & he is wrapped around your finger ;)

(18+) NSFW Daddy Price x Wife (this a little *spicy*)

Family Day (x Wife Reader; y'all and the 141 go to Disney World as a family)

Personal Nurse (x Nurse F! Reader)

Leg Warmers (x Reader w/ misaligned knee caps)

*Price begging - collar - sub!Price

X Female Escort Reader

[PART 1] Don’t Look At Me Like That (FLUFF/LITTLE ANGST)

[PART 2] Excitement in Patience (18+ MATURE)

[PART 3] Cup of Coffee (Kinda of a prequel)

X Female Wife Reader

Gray Hairs (FLUFF)

X Young Reader with Facial Scars

[PART 1] Bruised Apple (Platonic, Angst, Facial Scars, Mention of Violence)

[PART 2] Apple Slices (DITTO [Mention of Violence & Trauma])

[PART 3] Apple Pie (Platonic, going on slightly romantic, Angst, Fluffity Fluff)

X MILF Single Mom

Forbidden (Fluff, Innuendos, Brief mention of violence)

| LIEUTENANT SIMON “GHOST” RILEY |

Requests

Drake (x AFAB Teammate w/ Tattoo; Simon seeing their tattoo for the first time)

Turquesa (x AFAB Latinx Nurse Reader)

Midnight Dining (x AFAB Civilian Reader (leather jacket Ghost))

Emergency Snack Run (x AFAB Gas Station Clerk)

Personal Mechanic (Mechanic Ghost x AFAB Reader)

X Female Southern Cook

[PART 1] Midnight Snack (FLUFF & PLATONIC)

[PART 2] Tomato, Tom-ah-to (FLUFF & PLATONIC)

[PART 3] Bag of Peas (FLUFF & PLATONIC)

[PART 4] Hash Browns (FLUFF & MOSTLY PLATONIC)

[PART 5] Prickly Pear (FLUFF & DEF NOT PLATONIC ANYMORE)

[PART 6] Peaches and Cream (FLUFF, ANGST, LOVEY DOVEY)

[PART 7] Chicken and Dumplings (VERY ANGST, A LITTLE VIOLENCE)

[PART 8] Hot Links (FLUFFITY FLUFF FLUFF LOVEY DOVEY)

X Female Reader

(18+) Hot For Teacher (Simon's S/O gets a teacher costume for Halloween)

Being Chosen…By A Baby (Single Mom Reader)

| COLONEL ALEJANDRO VARGAS |

X Female Wife Reader

Forehead Kisses (FLUFF)

Alejandro and His Big Ol' Forehead - One, Two, Three, Four

| SERGEANT KEEGAN P. RUSS (COD GHOSTS) |

Fun and Games (x F! reader) (PLATONIC) - His name is said in a funny accent

| SERGEANT KYLE "GAZ" GARRICK |

Requests

A little nosy, aren't we? (x F! Reader gets caught looking at his social media)

(18+) Car Shenanigans (x F! Reader giving head/getting fingered)

Post-Mission Angst (x AFAB Reader)

X Female Signaler/Radiowoman Reader

Guardian Angel (bubbling relationship)

| KÖNIG |

How he likes to show affection by holding you close (xGN Reader)

| COMMANDER PHILLIP GRAVES |

X Pregnant Wife Reader

First Time Husband (first-time pregnancy; little angst, fluff)

| SERGEANT LOGAN WALKER (COD GHOSTS) |

Requests

Headcanons (Both SFW and NSFW)

What would Logan be like as a Father? (fuffity fluff fluff)

Headcanons Part 2 (Both SFW and NSFW)

| SOBIESŁAW "GROMSKO" KOŚCIUSZKO |

General Headcanons (SFW and NSFW)

Supportive Soft Friend (SFW Fluff)

| KATE LASWELL |

x Wife Reader

My Wife (fluffity fluff fluff)

| ALEX KELLER |

x F! New Yorker Medic Reader

Polar Opposites (Golden Retriever Alex, Black Cat Reader; Fluff)

| SERGEANT JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH |

Requests

*Dilf! Johnny x Babysitter

x F! Reader

Calling Him "Stud"

{STAR TREK}

| IMAGINES/HEADCANONS |

Kirk, Spock, & Bones x Southern Reader (SFW)

Do They Know How to Take Bra Off? (Kirk, Bones, Spock, Scotty, Chekov)

| DOCTOR LEONARD “BONES” MCCOY |

X Female Nurse Practitioner

Medical Couple (FLUFF LOVEY DOVEY; TOS/REBOOT MOVIES)

| FIRST COMMANDER SPOCK |

Requests

Pop of Color (x F! Betazoid Quartermaster/Seamstress; STRANGE NEW WORLDS)

{SLASHERS}

| JASON VOORHEES |

X Female Camp Counselor

Instinct (stalking)

{SIX}

| JOE "BEAR" GRAVES |

Requests

Request: Joe Graves X Younger Wife/GF Headcanons

[lazybutsmexy]

Heart-stopping

Alejandro Vargas x f!reader

Warnings: tiny bit of angst, mention of violence, description of injuries, otherwise pure fluff, pregnancy announcement, crack?

Summary: Only Alejandro can kill Alejandro. You may easily give him a heart attack, though.

On AO3

A/N: Sorry, this is not my triumphant comeback. I had to get this out of my system so I can continue my work. I hope to be able to write more soon though!

~•~•~•~•~•~

Only Alejandro can kill Alejandro.

The proverb was often repeated among his peers and subordinates with a mix of awe and reverence, and by his rivals and enemies with spiteful resignation.

You, however, repeated it as a mantra - or a prayer? - in your head whenever his chest rose and fell with every breath. Just like you had for a week now.

Just an hour earlier, the nurse had come with orders from the doctor to pull him off the meds keeping him asleep, and you anxiously wrung your hands together, waiting for any signal of your beloved Alejandro awakening.

When he finally shifted and gave signals of waking up, you released a shaky breath you weren't even aware of holding. His name fell from your lips in a whisper, and his eyes flew open as if a spell had been broken at the sound.

As soon as his eyes found yours, his lips flickered a smile, revealing the dimples that created ripples on his cheeks like the ocean.

"Buenos días, mi amor," he breathed out, his voice rugged and raspy from a combination of sleep and a dry throat.

"Es medianoche, pendejo," you offered him a wide grin, carefully approaching him and cupping his face, pressing your lips to his with the urgency that it warranted.

After the longest week of your life, your lover was finally awake.

A few seconds later, you pulled away and inwardly celebrated the little dispeased noise he made when trying to chase your lips. You offered him a glass of water instead, and he accepted it silently, taking slow sips until his parched throat didn't resemble a desert anymore.

Once he was satisfied, you took the glass back and cupped his face, your fingers stroking the growing stubble and brushing against the bandage covering his head.

"Are you hurting anywhere?" Your voice was quiet as you studied him carefully, looking for any hint of pain.

"I feel pretty numb all over," he groaned, nuzzling your hand like a sleepy cat, "I'm mostly confused as to why I'm here."

Your brows furrowed as you remembered the doctor had warned you about amnesia, and took you a few moments to finally gather your words.

"We were under heavy fire from the cartel while crossing the bridge," your hand slowly moved from his face to his chest, feeling the bandages under the hospital gown, "they got you between your chest plates, and the impact made you lose your balance."

You paused to take in a deep breath, trying to keep the tears at bay while you relived those memories. He watched you closely, his smile slowly falling at the signs of your distress.

"Oviedo jumped after you into the river, but you hit your head at the bottom real hard," you watched as his brows tightened and his fingers enveloped your wrist and his thumb traced your pulse, a silent apology of sorts. But Alejandro rarely ever apologized - or did anything else - silently.

"Lo siento mucho, mi amor," he offered, his heart breaking a little at the sight of the unshed tears pooling in your eyes, "I've made you worry for me again, didn't I?"

A sharp snort left you as you used your free hand to wipe the tears away. "I was worried sick, Alejo, and everyone else too," you briefly thought of Rudy, now in charge of the Vaqueros for the time being, and them too, who often texted you and called you for updates. "You were put in a coma for a week because your brain swelled up."

His eyes widened at the information, his fingers tightening around your wrist slightly. "Verga... That does sound pretty bad..."

You took a deep breathe in to compose yourself, and nodded as you leaned down to press your forehead to his bandaged head, enjoying the gentle warmth sipping from beneath them. "Doctor said you'll be out of commission for a while, until he's sure there's no lasting damage."

Alejandro suppressed a groan and a complaint at the news. He was a soldier commited to his cause, but he was also a realistic man. If he was in no shape to guide his men, he wouldn't dare put them in unnecessary danger. The quickest way to return to his duties would be to heal.

Only Alejandro can kill Alejandro.

The toughest man in the army.

Still, very much a man that can be brought down by bullets one day.

"What about you, mi amor?" He questioned you as he tenerly brushed your cheek with his fingers, eager to focus on something else. He noted the bags under your eyes, and let his eyes wander over your form. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

You kept in silence for a few seconds as you stared into his eyes, but moved to bury your face in his neck instead, immediately raising all the alarms in his mind. "... I'll be out of commission for a while, too."

His hand moved from your cheek to the back of your head, slowly stroking your scalp, "what happened, mi vida? Did they get you too?"

You enjoyed his touch with a secret smile in your lips. Even after all he endured, he cared so much about your well-being that it made your heart swell. It also made you feel just a tiny bit bad about what -or rather the way - you were going to tell him. But you wanted revenge for all those sleepless nights spent worried sick over him "...you did."

Alejandro blinked once before forcing your head off his shoulder so he could look straight at your face. His eyes searched yours in a raising panic as he registered your words.

He had no memory of the incident itself. Had you been close to him when he was shot? Had he hit you in the confusion after getting hit himself? He would never live it down. Even taking into account that in both your careers injuries were common place, he would never forgive himself if he had been the direct cause of any injury on you.

The warning bell from the machine registering his palpitations went off, signaling a worringly increase in his heartbeat, causing you to shake yourself from your trance to look at it.

Oh.

Oops.

"Alejo, tranquilo," you offered him an apologetic smile, laying your hand flat on his chest and rubbing it, "I'm sorry, I was just joking - kinda."

He blinked at you in confusion, his brows furrowing deeply as he looked at you as if you were insane.

"Esos chistes no son graciosos, amor," he scolded you, and you leaned in to kiss him sorry, but he pulled away with a petulant pout, "casi me da un infarto. I didn't know you were the kind of woman to make that kind of jokes."

You chuckled softly and pulled away, reaching into a paper envelope you had left earlier on the bedside table "Bueno, pero si me diste, Alejo," you smirked at him playfully, handing him the square picture, "you got me good."

He glared at you for a little longer before taking the picture, examining it. It had your name on one of the upper corners, and a circle zeroing on a tiny protuberance. "Y esto?"

"The reason I'll be out of commission, mi amor," you smiled at him warmly, "or should I call you papi? I mean, you should start getting used to it."

Alejandro's eyes shot up to meet yours again, this time wide as plates as your words sunk in. "...when did you...?"

"Doctor confirmed it two days ago," you stroked his cheek, watching him closely for any reaction. You hadn't actively talked about forming a family before, other than in a hypothetical future. So, you were still quite unsure whether or not he would take the news in stride or not.

You were rewarded with a wide grin that nearly parted his face in two, and his free hand moving to your body, tenderly landing on your belly. You reciprocrated with your own grin, your eyes flooding with fresh tears, this time out of pure happiness.

"Voy a ser papá?," he wanted to confirm, and you didn't wait to nod your head eagerly, leaning closer to him again until you were in range of a thousand of small kisses he spread over your face before pulling you in for a long kiss.

Only to be interrupted by the machine again, its alarm announcing his rising heartbeat and causing you to inch back from the kiss in a giggle.

"Alejo, tranquilo!"

~•~•~•~•~•~

BONUS:

"Soy tan feliz, mi amor," he mumbled in your temple, his lips brushing your skin. After the doctor had finally seen him after waking up, he spent a whole half a second trying to convince you to join him on the bed. He pulled you closer to him, enjoying your warmth and your closeness.

"I'm so elated," you hummed into his chest, before letting out a soft sigh, "I'm just not looking forward to your mamá berating us for getting pregnant before marriage."

"... Ay, pinche verga, cierto." He whispered in horror, the machine beeping loudly again at the thought of his very catholic mother reacting to the news.

"Alejo, cálmate!"

[the-froschamethyst4]

Something feels wrong

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Alejandro x Pregnant! Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: Emotional, pregnancy, couple, complications with the pregnancy, mention of blood, thinking the worse, language

Request: Maybe some ANGST where there are complications with the birthday of the third baby

𖤐Summary: Y/n is 5 months pregnant; this was hers and Alejandro’s first baby together and something felt off with her. She ends up going to the hospital where some of the doctors and nurses were being rude and unprofessional to Mrs.Vargas

——————

———————

Y/n Vargas was 6 months pregnant, she understood she was supposed to rest for the birth, but she had to be up walking around, sitting still was an issue for her.

She was washing the dishes; Alejandro came around the corner into the kitchen, he looked at her and then placed his hands on her waist.

"Mi amor, go lay down, you need to rest, you can't be up doing things," Alejandro said.

"But I want to help..." she said, leaning into his touch.

"I know, but it's okay, I can do it for you, I want you to rest so you don't stress yourself and the baby out," he said as his hands went under her stomach and held it up. She let out a satisfied sigh and leaned back into his chest loving the height being lifted off her front.

"I can't wait for her to come already," Y/n said as she smiles up at her husband.

"Mami, Santiago took my red pencil," Maria, their 3-year-old daughter came up to her parents with tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

"Maria, we have other red pencils, you don't need that specific one," Y/n said as Alejandro gently brought her stomach back down and she groaned feeling the weight back.

"But it's my favorite one," Maria said as tears now stained her cheeks.

"Maria," Alejandro said, picking up his daughter and kissing her temple. "Let's go find Santiago and get your pencil back," he said as they walked back upstairs to the playroom.

Y/n smiled at them two and went back to washing dishes, but something felt a little off. She leaned over the counter holding her stomach, she squeezed her eyes shut when her stomach was hurting.

She started panting trying to catch her breath like she just ran a marathon.

"Okay, that problem has been sol-mi amor? What's wrong?" Alejandro asked, running to her and holding her hand.

"S-Something feels w-wrong..." she pants.

"Like what?"

"L-Like...the baby...something f-feels wrong," she said, looking up at him. Alejandro looked around Y/n to see if something was wrong and saw a trickle of blood running down her leg.

He went back upstairs and grabbed a bag that had supplies for the hospital, he also quickly grabbed the kids. He hurried the kids out the door and helped Y/n out the door as well.

"It's okay, mi amor," he tried his best to reassure her, he got her in the passenger side and took the kids next door to their neighbor, Mrs.Torres.

"What's wrong with mami?" Maria asked, tears back in her eyes looking at her mami in the passenger side looking like she was in pain.

"I don't know, amor, we are going to the hospital to find out, you two will be staying with Mrs.Torres for a few hours till we figure everything out, okay?"

"Okay, papi," the kids hugged their father.

----------

Alejandro ran to the lady at the front desk who quickly got off the phone and looked at Alejandro.

"Sir?"

"My wife, she's pregnant and she says something feels wrong with the baby."

The nurse called for a doctor and grabbed a wheelchair for Y/n, Alejandro opened the passenger side door for her, and the nurses and doctor helped Y/n sit on the wheelchair and pushed her inside and got her into a room.

"How far along is she?"

"She's 6 months..."

"Has she been resting?"

Alejandro didn't want to sugar code it. "She rests but will quickly get up and do something."

"So not resting enough," the doctor said, and Alejandro nodded as he looked at his wife in pain and pale as a ghost.

"Is she okay?"

"She will be okay; we'll check on the baby and your wife to see what is going on..."

The doctor moved the curtain to hide Y/n from Alejandro, but he pushed them open to sit next to his wife and hold her hand. The doctor didn't mind as long as they get to do their tests on Y/n and the unborn baby.

----------

2:00PM

Y/n was asleep on the hospital bed in that uncomfortable paper hospital gown. Alejandro held her hand, his big hands covering up her small right hand, his forehead on his knuckles, he looked like he was praying for his wife and baby to be okay.

Alejandro never thought something like this would happen to his family, he was already thinking the worse before the doctors came back to say anything.

"Please, please, please, be okay....I don't want anything bad to ever happen to my family," Alejandro whispered, he felt tears in his eyes wanting to fall and soon let them.

Salty tears fell on his cheeks and fell on his knuckles. Y/n moved around in her sleep and her eyes fluttered open, she looked at her husband whose eyes were red. She brought her hand to his cheek.

"Alejandro? Did the doctor come back?"

"Not yet I'm just...scared for the both of you..." Y/n just gave a lazy smile glad that he is worried for her.

"Alejandro-"

Knock knock

"Alright, Mr. and Mrs.Vargas, I have good news and bad news," the doctor said, flipping his chart and looking at the worried married couple.

"What is it doc?" Alejandro asked.

"Good news...nothing is wrong with the baby, and she will be just fine once born but bad news...the baby will more likely come out too small or will have some sort of disorder, not sure what, downs, handicap, not sure what."

"We don't care as long as the baby is fine and will be healthy, if she is handicap, we will do anything and everything to love her like our other children," Alejandro said as Y/n smiled at him.

"Alright...well, we'll have you guys soon discharged is a little bit and you two could go home."

"Thanks doc," Alejandro said.

He leaned forward and kissed Y/n's forehead and his hand on her stomach. Y/n felt tears in her eyes, and they soon fell, she was relieved that everything was okay, and nothing would be wrong.

-----------

3:20PM

Alejandro helped Y/n back inside the house and took her upstairs to their shared bedroom to let her rest and sleep and soon went next door to Mrs.Torres' house to get their children.

Maria opened the door to her parents' bedroom seeing her mami on the bed. A blanket over Y/n's body and she was trying to sleep, Maria walked up to her side of the bed.

"Mami?"

"Hmmm~ Maria..." Y/n groans as she put her hand on the back of her head kissing her forehead.

"Mami, are you okay?"

"I am...Maria..." Y/n used her hand under her cheek to sit up. "The baby may come out handicap, you know what that is?" Maria nodded; she had a few handicap kids in her daycare.

"Yes, mami."

"That also means we may have to give the baby some extra attention."

"I understand, mami..."

"I do too," Santiago said, coming into the bedroom.

Y/n's glad that her kids understand that her and her husband will have to give more attention to the baby.

----------

Alejandro was helping the kids with homework and even making dinner for everyone, Y/n was asleep trying to rest.

Alejandro fixed burritos for the kids but made soup for Y/n. He poured the soup into a bowl and went up to the bedroom, he pushed the door open and placed the soap on her nightstand with a glass of water next to it.

He sat down in a chair next to her side of the bed and gently woke her up. Y/n groaned from being woken up again, she rolled over and saw it was her husband and could smell the soup.

"Alejandro..."

"I made you some soup and brought you some water," he said, kissing her knuckles.

"Thank you."

"Of course, anything for you, mi amor...I'll come and get your dishes later and I'll come back to check up on you," he smiles.

"Okay," she said as he left the bedroom and left the door open just in case.

-----------

9:00PM

Santiago and Maria had passed out on the couch with 'Bluey' playing in the background. Alejandro turned the TV off and picked his kids up taking them both to bed.

As he tucked in his daughter and son, he walked back into his bedroom, seeing Y/n against the headboard of the bed with the TV playing 'Good Girls'.

"Why are you up?" He asked as he started to remove his clothes and getting sweatpants on.

"I just woke up...and Hailee keeps texting me about what episode she's on for Good Girls and I needed to catch up," she smiles at him.

"Right...come here," he lays down on his side and pulled Y/n close to his body and kissed her forehead and then lips.

"Te amo, mi amor (I love you, my love)," Alejandro said with a goofy smile on his face.

"I love you too," she said kissing his lips.

[n0cturna1-m3]

Like Or Like Like | Bottom Alejandro Vargas x Top Male Reader | Smut

Fem/Minors DNI

Warnings; Brief descriptions of imfected wounds (its not that bad probably), confessions, some kissing, partialism (hands), little bit of dick sucking, anal fingering, anal sex, lotion as lube, soft sex.

A/N; Wow this is,,, it's been a while, haha.... sorry 🫡 i'm here with a much requested part 2 to that alejandro fic! Also im sorry for the middle pic being a white person again 💔 it was all i could find. last time it was tanner but this is just white white.

Synopsis; Unfortunately for Y/N, the bite inflicted by Alexander turned into an infection. He doesn't want to change the dressing of his wound, and luckily Alejandro is more than willing to help him out.

1 (<-READ FIRST!!)

2.7k words

As it turned out, the bite was infected. The man's saliva had entered the wound causing a nasty bacterial infection. Y/N brought himself to a nurse, her face falling upon seeing the crudely wrapped-up hand.

“What the fuck is that…” she asked.

“You remember that bite?” Y/N asked, walking over and sitting on the bed next to her stool.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, face palming and sighing exasperatedly.

It wasn’t bad enough to have spread to the bloodstream yet, so Y/N was left with a tightly wrapped hand, bandages, and ointment. He would dread replacing his bandages. The thought of peeling back the gauze, sticking to the wound and causing the whole ordeal to be more painful than it would have been if Y/N had just used the antiseptic he had been given when he first obtained the wound.

The nurse instructed him to change it before sleeping and to make sure the bandages weren't too tight to make the infection worse.

“I don’t wanna…” Y/N muttered, slumped back on the couch next to Gaz who was chatting with Soap across from him. He glanced at the H/C next to him with an eyebrow raised.

“Don’t want to do what?” he asked.

“Change these bandages…” he muttered back, waving his hand to emphasise.

“Ahh. You did that to yourself, you know,” Gaz commented, turning back to Soap to continue their conversation.

“No jodas, Kyle,” Y/N grumbled, pushing himself off the couch and leaving for his quarters.

He didn't expect to run into Alejandro on his way there, but it was a welcomed interaction.

“Hey,” he said. Y/N smiled at him and reached for the door to his room, opening it. “Are you going to bed? La noche aún es joven.”

“Not yet, I’m changing this,” he said, gesturing to his hand.

“Ahh, right.” Alejandro stared at his hand for a moment. “Want me to change it for you?”

“Por favor, hazlo,” Y/N sighed with relief. “I hate doing this.”

He welcomed Alejandro into his room, the man taking in his small room. It was very messy. He wonders how he doesn't get into trouble with room inspections. Y/N walked over to the desk in the corner and grabbed a few things off it. Alejandro sat on the edge of Y/N’s bed, taking the materials that he gave him. Y/N grabbed the chair and positioned it in front of Alejandro before sitting down and looking back into his eyes. Christ, he could get lost in them. Pitch black and mesmerising. Utterly addictive. Y/N could stare at him for hours, taking in every wrinkle and crease in his tan skin.

Alejandro put his hand out, Y/N resting his in his palm and watching as he began unfurling the dressings. He worked quickly and carefully but paused when he got to the gauze. He raised his gaze, nearly flinching when Y/N's affectionate stare met his eyes. He smiled warmly at him, and Alejandro’s heart skipped a beat. He wanted nothing more than to lean in and press his lips against Y/N's, wrap his arms around his neck and feel his hands all over his body. His hands. God, even when there was a grotesque infected wound on it, it still looked beautiful. He stared at his hand for a moment

“¿Estás listo?” he asked, fingers prodding at the edge of the gauze. Y/N nodded and bit his lip in anticipation. Alejandro carefully began pulling it back, Y/N wincing as it pulled at the dried liquid that had mended the skin and plaster together. He grunted as Alejandro pulled the rest of it off, sighing in relief as it was over.

“Fuck, that hurt,” he muttered.

Alejandro reached for the ointment beside him, unscrewing the cap before squeezing the cream out of the tube, thoroughly coating each tooth mark. He wished it was a mark in the shape of his teeth, minus the broken skin, rather than that man.

He grabbed a fresh gauze pad, pressed it to the wound and wrapped it up quickly to end this distraction.

“There we go. Bueno como nuevo,” Alejandro said, gathering the medical supplies.

Before he could stand to put them back, Y/N placed a hand on his knee, squeezing it gently. He looked up and met Y/N’s gaze, breath catching in his throat.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Y/N responded, smiling slightly. “I just like you. I like you a lot.”

Alejandro's eyes widened for a moment before settling and fixating on Y/N’s lips, flickering between them and his E/C eyes.

“I like you too.”

“Can I kiss you?” Y/N asked. Alejandro took in a shaky breath.

“Sí,” he answered after a short time. Y/N let his other hand comb through Alejandro’s hair, glancing at his lips before tenderly pressing his against them.

His eyes fluttered shut and he sighed quietly, bringing his hand up to hold the back of Y/N's neck while the other held the hand on his knee.

Y/N pulled back and looked at Alejandro's face, adoration was written on his face.

“No tienes idea de cuánto tiempo he querido hacer eso,” Alejandro whispered. Y/N huffed and started to move away completely but was stopped by Alejandro pulling him back. “¿Dónde crees que vas?”

“¿Dónde crees que vas?” Y/N teased, resting his forehead against Alejandro's.

“I want more than a kiss,” he whispered, staring deeply into Y/N’s eyes.

“Okay,” he said back.

He leaned forward and locked their lips once more, slowly pushing Alejandro back onto the bed, manoeuvring him slightly to be laying on it properly. His hand moved up to hold his thigh as he placed one knee between his legs. He tilted his head and parted his lips, letting his tongue peek out. Alejandro met it with his own, slowly running along Y/N’s and humming with contentment.

Alejandro’s hands made their way up into Y/N’s hair, tangling his fingers in his hair and pulling gently, earning a sweet groan from the other male. Pulling back, Y/N pressed a chaste kiss to his jaw before slowly kissing down the side of his neck, nipping at the skin between his teeth occasionally.

“Fuck, get on with it,” Alejandro said, slapping Y/N’s shoulder playfully.

Y/N snicked and slid a hand down Alejandro’s body before slipping it under his shirt, slowly pushing the fabric up and allowing his fingers to brush against Alejandro's warm skin. He quickly sat up and moved to pull off his shirt, Alejandro doing the same and reaching up for Y/N once they were finished. He met his embrace, pressing their lips and chests together. Alejandro tilted his head and rocked his hips up into Y/N’s as he let his tongue slide against his.

Alejandro felt dizzy with emotion, a warmth blooming in his chest. It felt good. Like eating your favourite meal after a long day. Knowing his feelings towards Y/N were reciprocated had him feeling complete for once.

Y/N moved one of his hands down Alejandro's abdomen, tracing the defined muscles and rare scar down to his happy trail. He brushed his fingers down it, slowly making his way down to his pants. He swiftly unbuttoned and unzipped them before placing his hand under the fabric and cupping his bulge through his boxers.

The breathy moan he let out could have easily become engraved in Y/N’s memory, playing on a loop in his brain. He rubbed Alejandro's half-hard cock, feeling it slowly grow to fullness as he rocked his hips up into Y/N’s palm.

“Stop teasing me or I’ll slap you,” he muttered against Y/N’s lips.

“Okay, okay,” he whispered. Y/N sat up and moved slightly to be between Alejandro's legs completely and quickly removing both of their shoes. He hooked his fingers around the waist of his pants, tucking them under the band of his boxers as well to pull them both off at once. Alejandro lifted his hips slightly to aid in the removal, and Y/N tossed the garments to the floor beside their shoes.

His cock was laid against his stomach, the head wet with pre-come. It was swollen and flushed.

“Pretty,” Y/N said quietly. Alejandro reached down to cover himself in embarrassment, only for his hand to be swatted away as Y/N dipped down to mouth at his dick, wetting the shaft with his saliva.

“Oh, Dios mío,” Alejandro breathed out. He tangled his fingers in Y/N’s hair, lightly pulling at the strands/locs.

Y/N looked up at him, meeting his gaze before licking up to the head of his cock and taking it into his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks and giving it a light suck to gauge his reaction.

And oh, how pretty it was. Alejandro's eyes screwed shut, his eyebrows knitting together as he threw his head back and let out a deep moan. He quickly moved his other hand to his mouth, closing over his mouth to stop his moans. Y/N ran one hand up his abdomen before settling to press on his diaphragm for a sense of comfort.

He slowly bobbed his head around Alejandro, running his tongue flat along the soft skin and tasting the pre-come on the back of his mouth. When he pulled off, Alejandro huffed in disapproval, trying to push his head back down to take him into his mouth again.

“Why would you stop?” he groaned as Y/N sat back up.

“I wanna prep you,” Y/N replied. He got off the bed and crouched down to rummage through his belongings.

“With what?” Alejandro asked, propping himself up on an elbow and watching Y/N pull out a small tube of hand lotion.

“It’s unscented. Would this be okay?” he asked.

“Sure.”

Y/N nodded and moved back to the bed, crawling over Alejandro and giving him a quick kiss before pulling away and popping open the cap. He squeezed a generous amount of lotion onto his hand and placed the tube beside Alejandro before dipping two fingers into the viscous liquid.

Alejandro spread his legs further for him as he brought his hand down to his ass, pressing his fingers against his tight hole and rubbing it slowly to aid in his comfort.

Gradually Y/N sank his index finger into his ass, pausing when Alejandro let out an uncomfortable grunt, glancing up at him with worry. Alejandro took a few deep breaths before nodding, signalling for him to move. He did, slowly pushing his finger in and out and relishing in the feeling of Alejandro clinging to him intensely. He was warm inside. Soft and warm, Y/N wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep into his heat and stay there.

It wasn’t long before Y/N was adding a second, and even a third finger inside of him. He bent his fingers into his prostate, consistently scraping against the sensitive gland and causing Alejandro's cock to weep pre-come onto his stomach.

“Joder, dame más,” Alejandro said, shifting on the bed impatiently.

“I’m getting there. Sé paciente, mi amor,” he responded, leaning down and pressing his lips to Alejandro's. He whined into the kiss but accepted it happily nonetheless.

Y/N pulled his fingers out of Alejandro and quickly pulled his pants and boxers down to allow his erection to spring out before he lathered his cock in the lotion in his palm, spreading the cold liquid evenly across it. He grabbed the tube of it and squeezed some more onto his fingers before gently pushing it inside Alejandro for extra lubricant to make it easier on him.

He placed one hand on Alejandro's hip, the other holding his cock steady as he lined it up with his hole, pushing against it slightly.

“You ready?” Y/N asked, squeezing his hip.

“Get on with it,” he grumbled. Y/N hummed and slowly began pushing himself inside, grunting at the tight fit.

Tears welled in Alejandro's eyes as he began fitting himself inside, pausing when the head had fully pushed through. Y/N scanned Alejandro's face for any sign of pain, a wave of relief washing over him when he saw none. Y/N sighed and leaned down, moving one arm to support his weight with the other still holding him steady.

Alejandro wrapped his arms around Y/N’s shoulders and pulled him into a slow, passionate kiss. He began pushing himself further inside, carefully rocking his hips back and forth to ease him open a little more comfortably.

Rather quickly he was able to bottom out, his balls resting against Alejandro's ass. His cock twitched with interest when Y/N pulled back and slowly pushed back inside

“Ah,” he whimpered. Y/N looked at him with half-lidded eyes, being met with an equally lust-filled gaze. “Just like that,” he whispered, locking his ankles around Y/N.

Y/N smiled softly and kept up his pacing while dipping his head into Alejandro's neck and kissing the skin, leaving tender love bites and hickeys as he progressed.

Breathy moans escaped Alejandro's lips as Y/N’s cock scraped his walls perfectly, dragging along his prostate as he thrust in and out, slowly picking up his pace and going faster.

“Fuck,” he moaned, clasping a hand over his mouth. “Give me more.”

Y/N groaned at the request but obliged, quickening and deepening his thrusts and pacing. The bed creaked beneath them, mixing with the lewd slapping sound of Y/N’s balls smacking against Alejandro's ass.

Sweet praises fell from Y/N’s lips as he pounded into Alejandro, who clung to Y/N like a lifeline, digging his fingers into his back and panting into his palm. His walls hugged Y/N's cock tightly, spasming slightly from the overwhelming pleasure. Oh god, he’s good at fucking, he thought, closing his eyes tight. He felt lucky to know that Y/N wanted to do this with him, to share this with him. To be vulnerable and tender with him. To whisper into his ear that he’s infatuated with him and his smile. Everything about him.

The way he laughs, the way he does his hair. How he looks after a shower. The way he stares at Y/N’s hands thinking that he’s being sneaky.

He moved his hand from his hip up to Alejandro’s face, the latter moving his own in favour of taking Y/N’s fingers into his mouth. He pressed against his tongue, a guttural moan ripping from his throat as he started fucking into him faster while indulging him in his kink, one he hadn’t even known he had before meeting Y/N.

Feeling his fingers in his mouth, his hands on his skin, it left him feeling hot and heavy.

“I’m gonna come soon,” Alejandro said, muffled by Y/N’s fingers.

“Me too,” he groaned. His thrusts grew sloppy and hard as he neared orgasm, bullying Alejandro's prostate as he slammed himself inside over and over again. “Jerk yourself off for me.”

Alejandro's hand shot down to his neglected erection, quickly wrapping his fingers around it and stroking himself rapidly. He moaned as his orgasm built up quicker than expected. He desperately tried to hold it in for as long as possible, but he still ended up spilling onto his stomach. Come spewed onto his skin, strips of the white substance coating his skin and sinking into his happy trail.

Because of how hard he came, it wasn’t long before Y/N was pulling out and coming on his stomach, their fluids mixing. Y/N sat up and admired Alejandro. He was completely lost in satisfaction.

“That’s so gross,” Y/N muttered as he took in the mess of fluids that covered Alejandro.

“It’s your fault, pendejo,” he breathed, grinning up at Y/N.

“Tal vez,” he said, smiling at him fondly. He leaned down and kissed him chastely, exhaling happily.

“Clean me up,” Alejandro said, pushing on Y/N’s forehead to get him off.

“What? Why do I have to do it?” he asked.

“Because I said so.”

Y/N groaned but got off the bed and grabbed a couple of tissues and walked back to Alejandro, sitting on the edge of the bed before beginning to wipe the come off of him.

[krypticcafe]

❧ Customer Service Policy

aka The Rules

As much as we love our beloved customers, this cafe is a one-man crew and to make sure the place doesn't burn down and ruin things for everyone, we have our own rules and regulations regarding special orders along with some guidance for the lost.

Many thanks, ✎ Kryptid

❧ Before You Order:

I will do a max of 10 characters for headcanons or fics per request, but you may request more in another one. Depending on the request, I might take out characters or make a second part.

I specialize in masc, amab, dominant, and particularly gender neutral readers, but I'm open to all types.

Readers are automatically written gender-neutral unless requested otherwise.

I do character/reader and occasionally character/character fanfics.

Poly ships are more than welcome! Please state if it is poly, because I will assume you want them all separately.

I will not always accept requests. I write on my own schedule.

If you want a specific kind of reader, please directly state so, such as gender, assigned sex, and/or pronouns. For example,

May I have a transmasc reader with König?

Can I get Din Djarin smut with an amab reader with they/them pronouns?

Can you do Ghost x fem!reader?

I would love to request a könig/horangi/masc reader please!

Remember, it's better to be super specific than super vague for the best customer satisfaction.

✅️Will Write✅️

Polyamory/Open Relationships

Smut (certain kinks and within reason)

Mild Dub-con (depends heavily on request)

Platonic Relationships

Sibling/Related Readers

Child/Younger Reader

AUs

Comfort/Trauma Fics

Readers of all genders, backgrounds, etc

Dark/Psychological Fics (within reason)

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Half-Humans/Humanoids

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❌️Won't Write❌️

Explicit or Graphic Non-con/R*pe Smut

Dark/Psychological fics glorifying actions

B*astiality

P*dophilia

Inc*st

Certain Fetishes

Real People

Pregnancy

A/B/O Mpreg

❧ Flavors:

✎﹏Call of Duty

Simon "Ghost" Riley ('09 & '22)

John "Soap" MacTavish ('09 & '22)

Captain John Price ('09 & '22)

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick ('22)

König

Stray/Hound ('09 & '22)

Kim "Horangi" Hong-Jin

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Farah Karim

Alex Keller

Alejandro Vargas

Rodolfo Parra

Sebastian Krueger

Nikto

Sobieslaw "Gromsko" Kościuszko

Keegan P. Russ

Logan Walker

David "Hesh" Walker

✎﹏Slashers/Dead By Daylight

Ghostface (films)

Danny Johnson/Jed Olsen/DBD!Ghostface

Jason Voorhees

Harry Warden

Michael Myers (films, DBD)

Pyramid Head (games, DBD)

Bubba Sawyer (films, DBD)

Thomas Hewitt

Brahms Heelshire

Trapper/Evan MacMillan

Anna/Huntress

Wraith/Philip Ojomo

Legion/Frank Morrison

Ji-Woon Hak/Trickster

Sally Smithson/Nurse

✎﹏Star Wars

Poe Dameron

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin

Cassian Andor

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Stormtroopers

✎﹏Marvel

Sam Wilson/Captain America/Falcon

Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

T'Challa/Black Panther

Peter Quill/Star-Lord

Gamora

Mantis

Nebula

Steven Grant/Marc Spector/Jake Lockley/Moon Knight

Matt Murdock/Daredevil

Wade Wilson/Deadpool

Eddie Brock/Venom

✎﹏Marble Hornets/Slenderverse

Masky/Tim Wright

Hoodie/Brian Thomas

Jane the Killer

Eyeless Jack

Kate the Chaser

Slenderman

all rights reserved © krypticcafe, all fanfiction belongs to me and should not be copied, edited, published, sold, or translated without permission. all characters belong to their respective fandoms and creators.

[skylarsblue]

✦Who I Write For✦

Rules

(This will be added too over time)

SLASHERS

⭑Bo Sinclair ⭑Vincent Sinclair ⭑Lester Sinclair ⭑Michael Myers (OG, 2007, & Gramps) ⭑Thomas Hewitt ⭑Bubba Sawyer ⭑Jason Voorhees ⭑Ghostface (Billy & Stu) ⭑Tiffany Valentine ⭑Brahms Heelshire ⭑Billy Lenz ⭑Carrie White ⭑Baby Driftwood ⭑Otis Driftwood ⭑Pyramid Head ⭑Herbert West (if a male/masc reader) -Bonus- ⭑Carly & Nick; House of Wax ⭑Sydney; Scream

Dead By Daylight

♢Evan MacMillan - The Trapper ♢Anna - The Huntress ♢Max Thompson Jr. - The Hillbilly ♢Sally Smithson - The Nurse ♢Herman Carter - The Doctor ♢Ji Woon Hak - The Trickster ♢Danny Johnson - The Ghostface ♢Philip Ojomo - The Wraith ♢Amanda Young - The Pig ♢Rin Yamaoka - The Spirit (only SFW) ♢Kazan Yamaoka - The Oni ♢Frank Morrison - The Legion ♢Susie Lavoie - The Legion (only SFW) ♢Julie Kostenko - The Legion ♢Joey - The Legion ♢Adiris - The Plague ♢Caleb Quinn - The Deathslinger ♢Carmina Mora - The Artist ♢Sadako Yamamura - The Onryo (only SFW) ♢Tarhos Kovacs - The Knight ♢Adriana Imai - The Skullmerchant ♢Nemesis - The Nemesis -Bonus- ♢Jill Valentine ♢Leon Kennedy ♢Cheryl Mason ♢Carlos Oliveria ♢Claudette Morel ♢Bill Overbeck ♢Vittorio Toscano

Our Life; Beginnings & Always

❧Cove Holden ❧Derek Suarez ❧Baxter Ward ❧Elizabeth Last (x readers for non-sibling characters) ❧Kyra Preece ❧Tamarack Baumann ❧Qui "Autumn" Lin

Beetlejuice

⚂Lawrence Beetlegeuse Shoggoth ⚂Lydia Deetz (only SFW) ⚂Adam Maitland ⚂Barbara Maitland ⚂Ms.Argentina

Call of Duty; Modern Warfare

✚Simon "Ghost" Riley ✚Johnny "Soap" MacTavish ✚John Price ✚Kyle "Gaz" Garrick ✚Alejandro Vargas ✚Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra ✚Valeria Garza ✚Alex Keller ✚Farah Karim ✚Nikolai ✚Konig ✚Horangi

Random

❦Eddie Brock & Venom (2015) ❦Frankenstein's Monster - Mary SHelly ❦Classic Monsters; Dracula, Werewolves, etc. ❦Krampus(yes you read me) ❦Y/N from Stuck on A Childhood Crush/Friend & Killer (aka Cordelia)

Yes that's write. You can have your Y/N x Reader fics now.

[imaginedreamwrite]

Happier Than Ever

Part 3: An American, A Brit & A Scotsman

Alex Keller, by the bequest of Laswell, had personally gotten you through the 6 weeks of basic training that was necessary.

Alex Keller was the soldier who had worked with Captain Price and had been part of the 141, had tasked with getting you up to speed and ready for the first mission.

In between your time with Alex Keller, wherein you learned orders and combat skills, dependency on your teammates, and how to handle a weapon, you worked in the base hospital.

You were put through constant scenarios and training exercises that had almost broken you. The exercises that detailed what you could live through in the field, what you could have thrown at you, were the focus of your time in the medical hospital on base.

For 6 weeks, you’d been given crash courses on how to survive and deal with the life-threatening conditions of these places you could go to. And with each difference scenario you were thrown into, had been a potential breaking point for you.

Although you had done four years of medial school, and you were a registered nurse, you weren’t prepared to be thrown headfirst into combat medicine.

Your degree as a registered nurse had been encompassed with techniques that were meant to be implemented in the field. It was a complete mindset change for you, to be thrown into this necessary urgency to work as fast as possible while knowing that people would be shooting at you.

Regardless of your fear, regardless of your apprehension of working alongside a covert and deadly squad of soldiers, multinational as they were, you had been prepared as best as you possibly could be.

The first mission you were on had taken you somewhere close to the Russian border, the task of keeping the squad of soldiers alive as they hunted down a nationalist hellbent on destructive weapons entering the Ukrainian border, before being sent to the U.S. You’d attended the mission as one of two medics, thrown headfirst into the dangerous, and potentially illegal, task of finding the enemy.

It was on that first mission that you had felt true, raw fear. You were a medic, a combat nurse, and you had soldiers between you and the enemy; however, you weren’t shielded completely. The other medic you were with had been shot in the leg, a wound that you’d had to take care of while being mindful of being shot yourself.

When the mission was over, Laswell had asked you if you’d wish to continue, if you’d want to change your mind about working for this specific task force. Your mind and body were at odds. Although you had negated leaving because despite being shot at, despite the other medic having an injury that would later require surgery, you’d been stubborn enough to stick around,

The first mission had become two, and two had become three. Now, you were on your fourth with Ghost & Soap and this, despite all the risks, was all you thought you’d wanted to do. This, with the potential of death, was a job you wanted to do.

You understood that their task force and their missions couldn’t have been reduced to a simple case of black or white. There was an incredibly shady area that had hovered above the moral compass that allotted them to go into hell and back to save more people than would even know.

It wasn’t a conscienceless squad that had killed anyone in their sights, it was a chain of command and men and women themselves who had given their all. It was sacrifice and the knowledge that they may not live the next day, that they’d surrendered themselves to.

That you would, in some similar way, allot yourself to.

Laswell had been the one to recruit you; however, Captain Price had been the one to officially concede and have you part of the 141. Regardless of you being a soldier or not, you were a small part of their team, and they were a much bigger part of yours.

You depended on them far more than they had depended on you. Yet, if things had become fucked up in any sense, you would be responsible for trying to keep them alive until they could reach a doctor.

Mission 4 with you working closely with Sergeant Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish and Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley had taken you to Las Almas. And Las Almas was nothing like you had expected, even from a first initial impression.

The first blast of heat that hit you when you stepped off the ramp had been overshadowed easily by the streets that the Humvee was being driven down.

The streets that were laid with cobblestone and concrete, edges with brightly coloured buildings and overhanging trees or fauna, was undercut with dark and tempestuous control. The Las Almas Cartel had a sick hold on the city, one that you’d been warned about from Laswell & Price, and would see its hand now.

“White truck, four armed men in the back.” Soap’s voice was quiet, yet he warned Ghost, the lieutenant flexing his fingers against the belly of his gun.

You looked back over your shoulder at the passing vehicle, the white truck had been during down the road before turning the corner. Each man in the back had a rifle of some kind, all the men seemingly relaxed enough like it was a regular occurrence. Almost as if it were as normal as carrying a cellphone.

“Hey, tranquilo. Easy, that’s normal here.” Colonel Vargas had raised a hand to calm the building tension, and to reiterate the difference between Las Almas and everything else you’d seen before. “Guns on the street is the jurisdiction of the police.”

“Where are the police?” As Ghost questioned Alejandro, you leaned forward and looked out the window Soap was sitting beside, seeing a large and emboldened image of the Virgin Mary on a building, and on top of her image was El Sin Nombre written in black letters.

“Well, Las Almas has a very serious problem. There are few here to uphold the law. And many of those who resist corruption disappear.” Alejandro had spoken so calmly when he spoke of the disappearances, this every day occurrence to men like them was almost no different from experiences you’d had in the U.S.

Hearing of shootings almost daily in the US had been common to you, just as these disappearances were common to them.

“What about the military?” Soap set a hand on your shoulder and pulled you back to sit again, his eyes briefly locking on yours before he looked back at Alejandro.

“Well, because we are well-trained, soldiers are recruited by the narcos.” Another fact, another plain statement that was so common for men like Alejandro and Rudy.

“Why not you?” Ghost and Soap were carrying the conversation while you remained quiet. You were observant, trying to catch as much of the streets of Las Almas as you could.

“We grew up here. They call us Los Vaqueros…cowboys.” Alejandro had looked toward Rudy, the two of them sharing a single glance, almost communicating without words. “We love this place, and we will die fighting for it.”

As the vehicle turned a corner, you’d leaned forward again. You watched a father and his child buying a balloon, a sight which would have been common if it hadn't had been the armed man standing behind the child. The assault rifle in his hands was held down but tightly, and he had worn a skull balaclava like Ghost had borne.

“Kids, guns and balloons, that’s new.” Soap, side-eyed Ghost, his voice holding an edge.

“Think that’s more common than you think.” You finally spoke, muttering under your breath as you took another look at the scene unfolding.

“Narcos use generosity to win over the people.” Alejandro had nodded his head, understanding Soap’s reaction but adding further details into how corrupt the city was.

“Even the children?” It was a shared sentiment, though not one that you could say you’d gone without seeing.

Although not to this extent, with the US having the right to bear arms written in the Declaration of Independence, you could honestly say that you had witnessed men and women carrying guns around state fairs and celebrations while kids ran wild. It was a different atmosphere here however than it was back home, and this had carried with it a weight of corruption unheard of.

“Especially the children….” Rudys voice had carried to the back, and you’d heard him speak but hadn’t registered what he said.

Rather, your attention was grabbed by another image of the Virgin Mary on the side of the building, and a scene in an alley that made your skin crawl.

“What the fuck?” You cursed louder than anticipated, leaning forward to see first hand the taunting nature of this cartel with your own eyes. “What the fuck is that?”

In the back alley was an old truck with its tailgate down and a white cloth covered in black painted letters, the message was no less chilling than it was debilitating. On the stone road had laid two bodies, covered with the same white cloth and black lettered message.

“Narcomantas,” Alejandro rolled down the window of the Humvee, his eyes trained on the grisly sight.

“Cartel cloths,” Rudy had looked through the rearview mirror, catching your gaze as he spoke to you.

“Messages from El Sin Nombre. Warnings, marking territory. Our streets are laced with death.” The window, just as soon as it was rolled down, was rolled up again, and the vehicles started moving.

“Who’s Sin Nombre?” Ghost’s thick accent had bared the question, and it hung in the air for a few milliseconds before Alejandro corrected him.

“El Sin Nombre, the Nameless…the leader of the Las Almas Cartel.”

“Where can we find him?” Soap’s focus was aimed forward, while yours was trained on the streets. You couldn’t stop looking at the death, and the corruption they’d spoken of that bled through every seemingly endless faction of this city.

“You can’t. No one knows who he is.” Alejandro looked out the window, an image belonging to El Sin Nombre appearing on the side of a building.

It was different from the ones before. Instead of the Virgin Mary, this image was crafted and created with flowers and bright colours that drew your attention. It looked entirely unseemly, and if you’d not known about the Las Almas cartel, you would’ve almost admired the images that were painted on that old brick.

“And this is a challenge. But Los Vaqueros like challenges.”

“With your mask, you’ll fit in well here, Ghost.” Rudy, attempting to steer the conversation, had spoken in the small moment of silence.

Soap had raised his hand and waved it in front of his neck, a signal not to push the issue, as Ghost glanced toward Rudy. You had snorted softly and laughed under your breath, remembering shortly before that Sergeant Major Rudy Parra had expressed his fear of ghosts.

“Something funny, private?” Soap grinned, nudging you when he heard you laugh. His blue eyes settled on you expectantly.

“Nothing, Sergeant.” you returned the respect for rank and cleared your throat. “Stupid joke.”

Your time spent with Soap and Ghost as their medic, more than most others in the 141, had led to an eased relationship between you and Soap. He wasn’t just your CO, he was also your friend and took the role of an older brother. In a sense, despite only being a few years older than you.

“Fuck, now you gotta share.” Soap’s natural charm had easily won over most people he had met and if you hadn’t seen him in uniform or known he was in the army, you’d never suspected a thing.

“It’s so stupid.” You looked away from him, laughing under your breath again.

“Now you gotta tell me.” Soap nudged you again. “Come on, don’t hold out.”

“You don’t need a parachute to go skydiving. You need a parachute to go skydiving twice.” You laughed under your breath, again.

“That was shit.” Soap laughed regardless of your stupid joke, the two of you conversing between each other in the back, and without needing to turn you could feel Ghost glaring at you.

“I told you it was a stupid joke!” You defended yourself, a moment of eased tension in the Humvee, until the vehicle had come to a slow roll.

“Checkpoint. It’s the army, turn right, and we’ll go around.” There was a barricade in the street with armed soldiers on either side of the entrance further down the street, blocking off any access.

As the vehicle was turned, you took another look out the window at the armoured vehicles behind the barricades. The soldiers who were waiting even further behind the checkpoint with unseen weapons to destroy and eliminate anyone who didn’t pass their inspection.

“Why?” Soap questioned the change, and received a response that was spoken with that same fact-of-life energy as before.

“Some troops are in the pocket of El Sin Nombre. Like I told you, he is everywhere…” There was a beat of silence, half a moment where the weight of his news had settled upon the three of you, and then he spoke again.

“The Cartel is hiding Hassan in the village across the river. Let’s hope he’s still there.” The vehicles picked up speed as the street cleared again, the destination was first going to be Los Vaqueros base.

There was intel they would need at the base, along with a scourge of weapons that would be waiting for both Soap & Ghost. There was no shortage of preparation for this mission, no small risk about following them into gunfire despite you being the medic responsible for keeping them alive.

Regardless of the hell that was being unleashed within Las Almas at the hands of the cartel, the city, and its surroundings, itself were beautiful.

The landscape of the surrounding hills had been captivating on its own without the lush, thick greenery that encapsulated the landscape. You hadn’t gotten a look at the ocean as you were transported to the city, however you imagined that the waters were just as wondrous and captivating as the rest of the country.

You wished you could’ve seen the nature and beauty of Mexico without being here to help track down a terrorist. Furthermore, you’d wished you could’ve spent days and weeks on the water, or near it, feeling the sun on your skin without the weight of your bulletproof vest on your chest and shoulders.

“It’s beautiful here.” Your comment had been aired, despite you thinking it was kept in your head.

“Las Almas is a beautiful but dangerous city.” Sergeant Major Rudy Parra had met your comment with one of his own, and had looked at you in the rearview mirror. “Have any of you been to mexico before?”


“Private here always wanted to go.” Soap nudged you, grinning from ear to ear. “Though I think you’d rather be on a beach somewhere.”

“Yeah, with your head on a pike.” Your back and forth was mutually beneficial, despite the rank and the years of service between you. “Asshole.”

“So temperamental, PT!” Soap’s voice matched his laugh, especially after you’d struck him in the shoulder with your fist. “Maybe you need to sit on a beach somewhere.”

“You first!” You grit your teeth, all conversation dying when the vehicles had come to a slow stop in front of the gate that protected their base from any outside interference.

It was a momentary conversation between Sergeant Parra and the soldier guarding the gate, before it began to roll open and the humvee’s were allowed in.

[imaginedreamwrite]

Happier Than Ever

Part 1: Another Order

Once, and again.

Over and over, you counted and recounted. You double-checked that you had everything you’d need before you even left for the debriefing. You’d been given orders as a medic that you’d be heading out with Ghost & Soap to Las Almas, in pursuit of Hassan.

While you didn’t know all the details of what would be happening once you touched down, you had known that you would be there if shit hit the fan.

You weren’t exactly technically a soldier however you had completed basic training, and took the necessary test to get your rank, rather you were a medic with four years of university under your belt, and 6 weeks of basic training.

You had been scouted out by Laswell 6 months into working as a nurse, with her approach with an offer you couldn’t turn down.

By 25, you’d been on three missions with them. This was your fourth.

It was an offer to work alongside soldiers of the 141, more specifically Soap & Ghost, and occasionally Gaz. You weren’t a doctor, but you had enough medical knowledge to be able to keep them alive if needed.

Your order had come from Captain Price, one of the first and longest trips since you’d had your last leave. Now that you were heading out again, you were ready to get back to work.

”Check and double check.” You made a mental note in your mind, a list of supplies that you’d need in the field if something were to happen.

As you lifted your medic bag from your bed to the floor, you stared at the marks on your wrists. The faint identifying words that would be spoken eventually by your soulmates were hardly anything clean cut.

On the left wrist was Maldito hijo de puta and on the right was Maldito cabrón! Neither of which was easy to explain when you had come across someone who had spoken Spanish.

Regardless of the insults permanently engrained into your wrists, you almost find the idea of having the crass insults on your wrists funny. You had to wonder what your words would’ve been, if your word would have been equally crass, or would it be something less.

”Once and again.” You echoed in your head, stopping once to look back at your room. You wanted to make sure you had everything, that nothing would be missing.

With confirmation that you thought you grabbed everything you needed, you picked up your medic bag and rested it on the crook of your elbow.

You walked out of your room toward the debriefing room, walking steadily as to not be late. You weren’t a soldier, but you had basic training done.

Furthermore, you carried a few weapons, mostly a handgun and small knives and weapons of small calibre like tasers and pepper spray. You had enough to defend yourself and the soldiers you were working on, but not enough to fight the enemies yourself.

You left the fighting to them, the soldiers of the 141, or Bravo 6. You were meant to keep them alive, to patch them up and seal them together until they could reach a doctor.

”Head up, eyes focused.” Ghost had starkly reminded you of the first time you went on a mission with them, cold and calculated but minutely trusting you as you trusted them.

”Head up, eyes focused.” It was a reminder, something you repeated in your head over and over.

Stay focused, stay behind the soldiers, do your job and keep them alive. That was your role, that was your main focus, and everything you had in your kit would have done that.

At least more of the minor injuries and wounds that didn’t require a med-bay.

”Orders are in, Las Almas is waiting.” Soap had already opened the door for you, before you had a chance. He was there in the debriefing room along with Ghost and Captain Price.

There was a map of Las Almas on the screen, in great detail marking out potential hiding places for Hassan, and to the left were pictures of the contacts you would meet in the city.

Colonel Alejandro Vargas, the leader of Los Vaqueros, and Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra were your contacts in Las Almas. They would be wishing for you when you touched down, ready to transport you to the base where Los Vaqueros operated, and then you would get started.

“I don’t suppose either of you speak Spanish?” You asked both Soap & Ghost, dropping your medic bag to the floor near the door.

You dropped it near Soap & Ghost’s gear, the medic bag falling first and then your backed duffle. As you furthered entered the room and took a seat at the single table in the room, there was a subtle negation to your question.

“You do,” Captain Price’s voice interrupted any chance of them verbally answering, and had provided another reason why you were chosen for this, “you’re acting as translator and medic.”

You were going to be acting as a linguistic liaison and medic, an added role on top of your usual. It wouldn’t have been the first time you’d been asked to translate for someone, but never on a long-winded mission like this.

“I can do that.” You didn’t hesitate, you had agreed to this added role, knowing that neither Soap nor Ghost could speak Spanish, beyond a few words. “I can act as a translator.”

“Good,” Captain Price lifted his cigar to his lips, inhaling the smoke, waiting a moment before blowing it out in thick groves.

“Hassan is hiding in Las Almas. We’re going to comb through the city and find that fucker, one way or another. Colonel Vargas and Sergeant Major Parra are your contacts. They would be waiting for you, find them first and meet Los Vaqueros, then find Hassan.”

“L/N is your translator and your medic, she’ll help you bypass the language barrier.” Captain Price had given a few more details of this task, this mission to find Hassan, and when he was done, he dismissed the three of you.

“Las Almas,” Soap looked you over, a half-smirk on his face, “bet you always wanted to go to Mexico.”

“Shut up, Soap.”

[imaginedreamwrite]

Happier Than Ever

Part 2: Welcome To Mexico!

The woman waiting for you in the small booth in the quiet dead-end diner, had been waiting for you after your shift. You’d seen her twice before in the hospital, once when you had treated her for minor injuries, and the second time when she had returned to talk to you.

The first time she mentioned being a nurse who worked for a greater cause had piqued your interest. You were 6 months out of your nursing degree, 6 months working in a busy hospital with a steady stream of emergency patients that came in like a revolving door. She was one of them, though you wondered why she hadn’t gone to one of the smaller hospitals in the area, for faster treatment.

When she had returned to speak with you in the empty stairwell of the hospital, she had made the proposition to do something more. She hadn’t alluded to what she meant when she said initially, however a longer stint into the conversation, and she’d revealed enough.

The job was working as a medic, or nurse, for a multinational joint special services task force that was stationed around the world. The job would take you everywhere the squadron you were working with went, and there was no guarantee that you’d be coming back alive.

“You’re not a soldier, not technically. You’re a medic, a nurse, and your job is to keep them alive to the best of your ability until they can reach a doctor out of the combat zone.” That was the job, a dictated career, running behind soldiers as they ran into fire.

“You’ll be thrown into 6 weeks of basic training. You’ll be learning to survive under the watch of one of the best American soldiers currently in this task force. You’ll learn everything you need to, to become a soldier, but you will specifically be classed as a medic. Furthermore, you will be given a test to earn your rank, it starts with cadet and then sergeant. However, you are not technically a soldier. Your expectations are to keep them alive, to make sure they can reach a doctor.”

The second meeting could have changed your mind, when she went into little details about what to expect. You would go through the same training as a hopeful soldier, you would be put through the same rigorous physical and mental training.

Furthermore, you would be taught commands and how to handle a weapon, you would be sent through more rigorous medical training than you received in school.

The choice was yours, and you were given two weeks to decide. Two weeks to decide whether you wanted to continue working in a busy city ER, where you would be rundown and worn out, or choose to join this task force. A task force where you would be shot at, threatened or kidnapped, possibly even die on the streets of wherever you were fighting.

You’d be in the face of death, a prospect that most people your age wouldn’t dare think about. You, however, had wanted to do this.

Now, after the first two meetings, she was back, and she was sitting across from you in a dingy and shitty diner, offering the job to you again. Her name was Kate Laswell, a woman with an impressive military career of her own, a career that had made her as many friends as it had enemies.

“Have you considered what this means? You will be heading into active war zones, you will be heading into hell without a guarantee that you’ll make it back.” She had sat across from you after those two weeks, you could have reconsidered, giving you the chance to deny her offer or accept.

If you’d declined, she would find someone else. If you accepted, you’d be sent for basic training within days for 6 weeks to learn how to survive.

“I want to do this, I’ve decided to accept your offer.” In the booth across from her wearing dirty hospital scrubs where you were exhausted and drained, you’d taken the offer handed to you.

“I’ll offer your congratulations when you complete your training.” Kate Laswell had given you the order for basic training, and you had left within days, like she had told you previously.

6 weeks of basic training, specifically under combat lieutenant Alex Keller. He had run you through basic training as directed by Kate Laswell, more than once driving you nearly to a breaking point. He had pushed as hard as he could, even further beyond what your limit had been, intending to prepare you for what was coming.

When you weren’t being trained by lieutenant Keller, you were in the military base’s hospital, working through every possible scenario to give you a leg up on what you could possibly face on these missions you would be heading on.

For 6 weeks you were put through it all and at the end, when you’d taken every necessary test to pass and earn your rank, Laswell had offered you that congratulations.

After your training and taking your necessary tests, you had successfully become a private, a nurse with the 141.

Time had passed like a bullet train, sending you surging through one mission after the other, until three were already under your belt.

But by 25, you were heading on your fourth mission with Ghost & Soap specifically, heading to Las Almas. The orders were given by Captain Price to the three of you, with the understanding that you would be in contact with both Colonel Vargas & Sergeant Major Parra upon arriving.

The mission was clear, hunt down and find Hassan who was hiding in the region of Mexico that was clearly overrun by corrupt police and military bought by Las Almas Cartel. Or that is what intelligence had offered before the three of you left for the region, the contact between Laswell and Captain price had set you up for this mission.

“Keep your head up. Las Almas is corrupt, don’t place your trust in the wrong people.” It wasn’t a sentiment that was saved just for Las Almas, it was a fact everywhere you’d gone.

“You ready for this?” Soap nudged your foot with his own, stirring you from your mental escape with his Scottish accent. “You look nervous.”

“I’m fine!” You called back over the noise of the engine, reiterating the position you’d taken as the medic, and translator. “I’ll be fine!”

Between the two of them, Sergeant MacTavish and Lieutenant Riley, you were far closer to Soap. There was a relationship that was comparable to being brother and sister, a friendship that was built through your time spent together on missions, and on base.

Ghost was closed off from the majority of people he had met, his cold heart guarded and kept tightly bound to himself. You’d been told, reassured likely, that while Ghost hadn’t trusted you entirely, he wouldn’t let you die in a gunfight. It was dispelled your anxiety to know that he would protect you if it came down to it, his role as your teammate accepted at the very least.

“Don’t lie to yourself! It’s normal to be nervous!” Soap had called back to you, adjusting his hold on the knife in his hands as he reviewed it.

He was good at quelling your anxiousness, at resolving your inner conflict. You had been on three missions now, but compared to the rest of the squad, you were practically a baby.

“I’ll be fine!” You reiterated, adjusting the throat mic that was around your neck. It was one of your habits, the fidgeting that had helped calm you before a mission. “I’ll be okay!”

“Mexico below us!” The pilot of the chopper spoke, his voice coming through the piece set in your ear, the clear wire wrapped around the back of your ear. “We’re coming to Las Almas in 10!”

The back of the chopper heralded no windows, yet you could almost picture the views in your mind. Though you’d never been to Mexico, Johnny was right in that you’d always wanted to go. Not like this, however, and you’d always wanted to be right on the shorelines near the ocean.

This was not ideally how you wanted to see the country, and if you survived this mission, you would make sure you came back to see those beautiful beaches. Without the threat of death and the weight of this mission overhanging your head. Even if you weren’t anything but a medic, a nurse to patch them up, if they had failed then so would you.

“Head up, private!” Ghost drew your attention to himself, the skeleton mask covering his face had only allowed you to be able to see his piercing green eyes, and even then, only the whites and irises were visible. The skin around his eyes was obscured with black war paint, giving him another layer of intensity and deadliness.

“What’s that say on your wrists?” Soap questioned you, the soulmate identifying words were in Spanish, not English.

You looked down at the words as they were almost faded and light. Once you’d met your soulmates and those specific words were spoken, your soulmate identifying marks would become emboldened and vibrant.

“This one,” you raised your right arm, directing his attention to the words stained lightly, “says Maldito cabrón! Which means, you fucking cunt.”

Soap’s laugh was echoing in the back of the chamber, his amusement at the swear words in Spanish had almost met your own. Thankfully, you had only gotten your soulmate identifying marks when you were 19 instead of a child.

“And the other?” He leaned forward, the knife he’d been playing with was set beside him with his elbows on his knees. “Tell me it’s something good.”

You lowered your right arm and raised your left, gazing at the same kind of faded, light lettering. “Maldito hijo de puta, means Damn son of a bitch.”

“You wonder what yours will be?” Soap’s question had come along with the pilot’s voice, warning you that you were about to touch down.

“Knowing me,” you shifted your weight as you sat, your thumbs slipping beneath the shoulder straps of your black reinforced Kevlar vest, “something stupid like ‘stubbed my fucking toe’.”

Soap’s laughter echoed again, sharing your sentiment with a nod of his head. He agreed that you would say something stupid like that, something shitty, when you had curse words on your wrists. His laughter had been overshadowed by the chopper jerking lightly as it touched ground.

Soap had stood first, grabbing his knife and shoving it back into it holster. He raised his hand and braced his palm against the wall, nudging you with his boot again. In silence, you grabbed your kit and slung it over your shoulder, the heavy canvas smacking against your hip.

“Las Almas,” Soap grinned at you, smirking as the back of the chopper dropped open, and you got your first view of the colonel and sergeant major, “welcome to Mexico, kid.”

“Shut up, Johnny.” You rolled your eyes and stepped in line behind him, moving toward the exit of the chopper.

Even from the ramp, you could feel the heat of the Mexican air. It was stagnant and hot, the sun beating down on the tarmac. Maybe twenty feet from the edge of the chopper’s ramp were the two soldiers you were supposed to be meeting, Colonel Vargas and Sergeant Major Parra.

From what you could see, both men appeared to be on par with Soap when it came to their height, if not a few inches shorter.

Of the men who were standing side by side, one had thick dark hair that was pushed back out of his face with the side cropped close, and the other had thick dark hair that seemed a tad longer than his counterpart. However, instead of having the sides close cut, his had seemed to be brushed back.

“Alejandro!” Soap stepped off the ramp, greeting the colonel with earnest. You’d followed, walking behind Ghost and Soap with your bag of supplied tucked against your hip.

“Sergeant MacTavish!” Colonel Vargas met you three halfway between the chopper and their humvee’s in the background, stopping to shake Soap’s hand.

“Call me Soap.” Johnny made the pleasant exchange, glancing toward Ghost as he prepared to make further introductions.

“Lieutenant,” Colonel Vargas’ attention had drifted toward Ghost, glancing over the other soldier who you’d been assigned to, “Laswell says they call you Ghost.”

“Actually, I think he prefers—“ Johnny started speaking, looking back at Ghost and almost immediately getting cut off by him.

“That’ll do!” Ghost’s thick British accent hung in the air, and then you felt eyes on you.

Brown and intense with warmth, you had initially expected.

“This is our medic,” Soap directed his attention toward you, introducing you with the same kind of respect that he’d introduced Ghost with, despite your obvious difference in rank, “Private L/N! A nurse!”

“You come with your own medic?” The question was raised and attention had fallen from you quickly, Alejandro Vargas focusing on the two men to your left and right. “Welcome to the “city of souls”.”

Your stomach flipped unexpectedly, nerves possibly from being on the ground finally.

This was the start of it all, the mission that wouldn’t end until Ghost & Soap found their target, or you were called home. This was your fourth mission now and while you were still inexperienced compared to the other two, you had been getting your grounding when it came to being in the midst of such chaos and strife.

This however, felt different.

“Never been to Mexico!” Soap nudged you, tilting his head to get you to follow him and Ghost.

“This isn’t Mexico…this Las Almas.” Alejandro had raised his arms, stretching his hands out to direct your attention to the tarmac and the heat that had radiated from the intense heat.

For a moment, you had tuned out the conversation as you took a long look around. The scenery beyond this place was beautiful, the hills and the endless blue sky that seemed unhindered by clouds. It was a sight that you’d wished you could have seen in different circumstances.

“My base is your base.” Alejandro had addressed Ghost and Soap while you followed behind, trying to do another mental check of what you’d need, and what you’d packed.

“Good. Now, where’s Hassan?” Ghost’s voice had an edge, one that had caught your attention.

“Cartel safe house, not far from here.” Alejandro approached one of two Humvee’s, looking back at the three of you with his intense brown eyes. “Get in.”

The door was opened and Johnny got in first, sliding all the way to the left of the back seat, settling himself against the leather. You were next to slide in, following him, and slipped your med bag around your shoulders, dropping it to the floor between your feet.

“Vamos. ¡Vamos a movernos!” Colonel Vargas addressed his men with a sharp whistle, directing them with a single command.

The door had been shut and Sergeant Major Parra had started the vehicle with the push of a button, the Humvee coming to life within a moment. As Parra hd started drive following the first vehicle, Alejandro had turned his head to look at the three of you, introducing you.

“This is my second in command, Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra.”

“Tengo miedo de los fantasmas…” The statement made you turn your head, glancing at Ghost with a natural reaction to laugh under your breath, however you had kept it to yourself.

“You know Spanish?” Alejandro asked the three of you, though you’d barely been able to open your mouth to speak before Soap cut you off, answering for you.

“No.” Soap flashed you a look, a warning with a single look.

You knew that Captain Price had assigned you to act as translator, however Soap and Ghost hadn’t yet wanted to let that information slip. Not yet, at least.

“You will…” Alejandro spoke with a smirk on his face, the Humvee pulling away from the airport, the chopper left behind momentarily.

“Welcome to Mexico, private.” Soap nudged you, a smirk of his toying on his lips.

[thezombieprostitute]

I’m curious, too, if Alejandro and Rudy are feeling the effects! Everyone seems so good at being able to hide or compartmentalize. Honestly, I’m glad Reader still gets nervous before missions, this is only her fourth one. I imagine it takes a lot before you really get to Soap and Ghost’s levels.

And thanks for that last line! I really liked that!

Happier Than Ever

Part 4: Fate Thou Art Twisted

“My base is your base.” The words were reminiscent of what Colonel Vargas had said before, when Ghost mentioned Commander Graves of the Shadows assisting in finding Hassan.

The join task force would hunt Hassan down in the hills he was hiding in, leaving no single crevice in that hideout uncovered. There was no probability of failing, this mission had to be a success, and whatever missiles Hassan had, needed to be found.

With the weight of more than just American lives on the line, the task given by General Shepherd and Laswell couldn’t afford any small measure of force. There would have to be an unseemly pressure put on Hassan and the hills he was hiding in.

“You good for this?” Soap had questioned you again, as if you had the opportunity to back down, as if you could change your mind and head back to the US. “You’re heading into gunfire.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Your heart was racing, and dread had settled in your stomach. It was your 4th mission with Ghost & Soap, and you’d yet to gather or steel your nerves. Not like they had, and not how you particularly should have.

You followed Soap & Ghost into the armoury, standing nearby as they grabbed ammunition and assault rifles, checking the weapons over. There was no shortage of artillery here, heavy and handheld weapons to kill or disarm, another necessary adage to the mission.

While you were a medic, and you had completed your nursing degree, you weren’t necessarily a soldier. You had gone through your 6 weeks basic training, you had learned to survive in a war zone, as best as Alex Keller could teach you.

You had gone through your crash courses, you had gone through as much training to solidify your skills as a combat medic. Pushing yourself through every necessary test to get your rank as private, you hadn’t faltered.

You completed your training, but you were not like Soap & Ghost. You wanted to put your focus on keeping them alive, on keeping them breathing.

“Take the damn gun.” A smaller rifle was handed to you, an order from Ghost.

As your CO, he had been responsible for yourself and Soap, and any fatalities were purely his responsibility. “And keep your head on straight.”

“An XM7,” Soap had spoken over Ghost, tapping the barrel of the gun with his fingers, twice, and then looked over his shoulder, “sergeant Parra is taking you to the med-bay. Get whatever supplies you need, we leave in 10.”

He already had his gear on, with the Kevlar bulletproof vest that bared the flag of his country, his rank, and the emblem belonging to Los Vaqueros. His vest was similar to Ghost & Soap’s, the indicators that would lead anyone to know that they were soldiers.

Unlike the soldiers' bulletproof vests, your tactical vest was emboldened with MEDIC, in English, in bright white letters at the front, with MÉDICO, in Spanish, below.

As on the front, there were the same distinguishing patches on the back of your vest, accompanied by a caduceus, a snake, and a pair of wings to symbolize your status as a healer rather than a fighter. A commonality among the three of you was the flag from your countries, a patch that identified just how international this mission was.

“Leave in ten.” You nodded your head, acknowledging the order Ghost had given you, and then you stepped toward Sergeant Major Parra.

He was waiting for you, and had reviewed you once, before he directed his attention behind him with a nod of his head.

When you first approached, you noticed his hands were held behind his back, though when he began walking with you, they dropped to his sides. As you walked with relative silence between you, you glanced over at him, rather of the identifying soulmate mark on his wrists.

One, you noted, was already emboldened and lined with black. One of the phrases was securely etched into his skin, as usual with marks like that, meaning he had found one; however, there was another out there.

You diverted your attention once you had reached the doors of the med-bay. The small clinic was dark upon your approach, something that had been rectified when you’d stepped inside. The automatic lights turned on, and you were greeted with shelves upon shelves of medical equipment.

“Take what you need.” Rudy Parra had leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched you, waiting for you to gather some things.

“Yes sir.” You stepped toward one shelf, looking over the different kinds of bandages and gauze there was, and then further to the threads for stitching.

You grabbed what supplies you hadn’t already had, mostly newer gauze and bandages, some cold compresses and extra thread, before you took a side-eye toward the narcan. You reached for the glass vial, looking over the label before you closed your fingers around the bottle and shoved it into your bag.

“You don’t seem like the type to be in a fight like this,” Rudy’s voice had caught you off guard, and you’d looked over your shoulder toward him.

“I’ve got more interest in being a medic, or combat nurse, than I do physically being caught in gunfire. But… I’ve always wanted to be in medicine, I’ve always wanted to be a nurse.” You moved down the shelves and then hummed under your breath.

“Looking for something?” His accent was light, his voice was relatively calm as he stepped further into the med-bay, closer to you.

“Necesito un frasco de morfina.” It was just natural for you to ask in Spanish, given that he was a native-born Spanish speaker, and you’d never questioned yourself until Rudy looked at it with furrowed brows.

“Hablas español?” He reached above you, grabbing a few glass vials of the drug you were looking for, handing them down to you.

“Yeah, I’m… I wouldn’t say I’d be as fluent as someone who was born in Mexico, but I learned Spanish from the time I was 7 to 18.” You thanked him and placed the vials into your bag, feeling at odds with yourself for letting your second language slip.

“Es necesario en los Estados Unidos, no?” He didn’t question why you weren’t forthright with your ability to speak Spanish, rather, he’d questioned you about something related.

“The United States has a lot of Spanish speakers in the country. I don’t know if it's mandatory to learn it in school in every district, county or state, but in my school it was.” You took another look around the med-bay, double-checking your supplies and what you’d taken, before you zipped the top.

“Tu español es muy bueno.” Rudy held the door open for you when you finished.

“Gracias.” You stepped by him as he allowed you to step out first. It was while you were stepping by him that you tilted your head, eyeing the edges of his second soulmate mark.

The words were lined with an edge faint black, as if he had come in proximity to his soulmate, but the words themselves weren’t spoken. They were in Spanish, and while you had said the words in your head, you whispered them under your breath.

“Todo puede ser lanzado al aire al menos una vez?” You whispered faintly under your breath, almost entirely incomprehensible.

You glanced toward the mark again and then looked away, your eyes drawn toward Soap & Ghost as they stood by the fleet of humvee’s. They were geared up, as usual, bearing weapons that were far more formidable than your own, even though yours had the same potential to maim and kill.

“PT!” Soap called your rank from across the open space, directing you toward a series of vehicles parked and waiting. “Move your ass!”

“Yes sir!” You walked directly to your CO’s, your gun by your side and ammo stashed in the pockets of your tactical vest.

There was a certain amount of tension in the base that was directly tied to the mission to find Hassan. It was a tension that overshadowed any previous anxiety you had, with the knowledge that this could be someone’s last day breathing.

This could be your last day breathing.

“Get your head screwed on right, lass. This could get ugly.” Upon approaching Soap, he motioned with a single nod to get into the vehicle beside Ghost, the position open for you.

You’d tossed your bag to the floor of the humvee and climbed inside, taking your place beside Ghost, while another soldier had taken his place to the right of you.

Ten minutes had been enough time for you to grab what you needed, to secure necessary and life-saving tools to keep them safe. It was also enough time for you to reveal yourself as someone who could not only understand Spanish but speak it fluently enough to carry a conversation.

You hadn’t been aware of Soap or Ghost wanting you to keep your ability to speak Spanish a secret forever. Nevertheless, there was a certain expectation that you’d act as their translator, and it was impossible to do so without someone, at some point, knowing you were bilingual.

“You good, kid?” Soap turned in the front passenger seat, looking back at you as Colonel Vargas drove. “You ready for this?”

“You’re three years older than me, if you call me kid, can I call you senile?” Your back and forth with Soap was ordinary for the two of you.

It was partially due to his boyish charm that never faded, and your relationship that was like brother and sister. You were friends, but it also felt like you were family.

Your comment drew a cold response from Ghost, a side-eye that you had grown used to when in his company. At this point, you hadn’t even known if he was aware of what he was doing, or if it was some natural reaction to the people around him.

However, if Ghost had given you a dirty look, then Soap was almost gleeful about the comment.

He had laughed, as he usually did, and shook his head, flipping you off over his shoulder. He was eased, far more than you were, yet not as calculated as Ghost was at the moment. He was the neutral point between the two of you, the balance between your anxiety laced anticipation and Ghost’s cold composure.

The drive away from the compound and base was quick. The trip toward the hills outside the city, that had been overrun by the Cartel and had been the hiding place of Hassan, had taken less than twenty minutes. The overhanging cliff side and rolling hills had come upon you, with a single road in and out of the encompassing stronghold.

As the vehicles had come to a stop, Colonel Vargas voice came through the earpiece in your right ear, the order firm. “Team leaders circle up on me. Weapons hot Vaqueros. Let’s move.”

You had followed Ghost out of the humvee, your medical bag and supplied thrown across your shoulder to drape on your hip. The XM7 rifle was heavier than you anticipated now that you were on the cusp of the first assault to find Hassan.

“You’re with me, private.” Ghost addressed with his usual calculated and neutral tone, an order that you couldn’t disregard.

You regarded his order with a nod of your head, and adjusted your grip on your rifle. You’d been placed here as a medic and your job was to keep them alive, you had the tools and the training to save their lives to the best of your ability in the field.

You had 6 weeks of basic training, you had been taught how to handle weapons. Alex Keller had taught you everything he could in six weeks to prepare yourself for missions like this. It was always a possibility that you would have to lean more into the military training rather than medical, and this was one of the moments you had been trained for.

Regardless of whether you wanted to classify yourself as a soldier or not, you were going to have to defend yourself if someone had come upon you without being stopped by the soldiers that had come before you.

“Where are they holding Hassan?” Soap approached Alejandro and Rudy, and almost immediately got an answer.

“White two-story building. Back of town.” Alejandro raised his hand, directing Soap’s attention to the village tucked behind 7 foot white sun-stained walls.

With the direction given, the soldiers had begun to move, their weapons raised and their guards up. They approached the first gate that kept the village contained, a thick wooden double set of doors that had remained barricaded.

“Todos los vencedores en espera.” Alejandro had spoken into the comm system, his voice echoing in your head as you approached the last soldier, hanging behind like you had usually done.

“Tres, dos, uno...ejecutar.... ejecutar!” The order was given, and the doors had been kicked open, the soldiers pouring into the compound.

A sense of resolve had taken over every sense you had, and your instincts lead you. You tuned out the world, centred your mind, and followed Ghost and Soap as they stormed the abandoned town like planned.

The houses were empty and used as storehouses or labs for whatever the cartel wanted. The civilians had fled the town, no safety within the walls of the village that was now taken over by the Las Almas Cartel.

“Down! Get down!” The first rounds of gunfire erupted, and you ducked behind cover as commanded, the tang of smoke from the ammunition spent stinging your nose.

This, all this around you, was the shadowy underbelly of the beautiful city.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

You kept yourself quiet, studious as you dug through your bag and compartmentalized the hours between hitting the ground in Las Almas, and the moment you were in now. The gunfire in the abandoned village had resulted in finding out that Hassan had been there in the hideout, until he was moved.

Further up the river and in a secondary hideout is where they had found him hiding, with the assistance of Commander Graves and the Shadow Company. The joint Taskforce had succeeded in securing the terrorist to be questioned; however, there was little to be said about the methods of interrogation he may be hit with.

You had done the task given to you, you had succeeded being a combat nurse after another gunfight. Bullets were removed, gashes and wounds were secured and cleaned, and no one had lost their lives. It was a “success” by the standard; however, there was more to this task than anyone had even known.

You, as you sat on the sidelines and dug through your bag, had rattled nerves. It wasn’t just due to the gunfight you’d survived, it wasn’t just a circumstantial effect of patching up soldiers in the field.

No, this was something entirely different. And when all eyes were off you, you looked at your arms and felt your chest constrict.

“Maldito cabrón,” had been harshly yelled through the gunfire by the leader of Los Vaqueros, a fact that hadn’t hit you until you had a moment to think.

“Maldito hijo de puta,” had come through the communication system, something spoken by a voice you thought was Rudy Parra’s.

Both men, both Mexican special forces officers, had spoken the keywords to solidify themselves as your soulmates. And those key identifying words were ensconced in thick black lines, emboldened and complete. It was a moment that was life altering, coming at the worst possible time for you, and for them.

Still, you remained quiet about this revelation, and you distracted yourself by paying attention to the brief interrogation of Hassan, and the sound of his feet being dragged across the gravel. The only light had come from the yellow hued headlights of the truck and humvee that were driven here, one of which was Hassan’s escort.

“On your knees.” Soap had grabbed Hassan’s right arm, escorting him to the focal point before a camera as Alejandro removed his hood.

“Y’all got a clear picture?” Graves crouched under in front of a truck, adjusting the angle to get Hassan completely unveiled by the camera.

“Crystal.” General Shepherds voice echoed through the comm, and you leaned forward with your elbows on your knees, hands tucked under your chin.

“All set.” Laswell was the next to speak, the next to address in this interrogation effort, while Hassan was kept hostage.

“Alright. We are live, folks.” Commander Graves stood straight and walked toward Hassan, almost arrogantly, before stopping in front of him.

You were aware of Ghost’s position near the back of the truck, a position he took as a guard in case Hassan decided to bolt. Soap and Alejandro were standing behind Hassan, far enough away not to distort any recognition tactics.

“You speak Arabic?” Hassan’s hands were held behind his back, a set of stiff cuffs keeping him bound.

“No.” Graves stopped in front of Hassan, hands on his hips and a look of compressed disapproval on his face.

“Farsi?” Hassan’s lips began to form a smirk, another arrogant expression that was almost fitting for the mad bastard.

“No.” Graves replied with annoyance, and as he did, you could hear howling coyotes and the noises of nature at night in the background.

It was another reminder that although beautiful, there was more wilderness to this place than you realized.

“Of course not. Then I’ll speak your bastardized Medieval English because you are all uneducated street dogs.” He looked around at you all, that same cocky half-smirk on his face, even as Graves stepped closer.

“Ahh, see...we’re getting off to a bad start, Hassan.” Graves, ever disappointed, kicked some gravel toward Hassan and shook his head.

“You’re talking to a Quds Force officer.”

“You're the commander of a foreign terror organization.” Graves continued the interrogation, a sight that you had briefly tuned out when you looked back at your wrists, and the soulmate identifying words that had now become a reality.

Fate had decided that it was time for you all to be intertwined. Fate, the fickle bitch, was not going to wait any longer and this was the time for you three to come together.

Regardless of circumstances or opportune timing.

Wildlife and coyotes yipped again, signalling more scurrying from the distance as the night carried on. You had lifted your head, directing your attention from the soulmate marks to the man being questioned. The terrorist still on his knees while Soap and Alejandro were nearby.

“I’m a hostage here, this is illegal.”

“You’re a prisoner of war.” Alejandro’s accent and husky voice had drawn your attention to the fearless leader, and dull heat boiled in your stomach as the recognition re-centred itself.

“Iran is not at war with Mexico. I’ve broken no laws. These men and their commanders are the lawbreakers.” He pulled against Alejandro’s hand, tugging twice before he was settled back into a place of submission at the colonels hands.

“You and your beloved general Ghorbani broke every—“ Soap had spoken, and a physical and verbal reaction from Hassan had made both men nearly lose their hold on him.

Hassan had stood with rage, he spoke with fury as he cut Soap off. “DO NOT SPEAK HIS NAME!”

“You executed him, and you will pay for your crimes—“ Hassan had looked at Soap, at all of you, like you were the scum of the earth.

You averted your eyes and shifted positions where you sat, just as heat blistered your stomach from the inside out. It was a visceral reaction to the settling bond that had been melded. Nothing more complicated than breathing, it was almost as natural.

The curse words in Spanish, inked on your skin as a gift from Fate, had now been completely visible and strengthened after being spoken. You wondered if you had managed to say the trigger words for them. If you’d managed to give them what they needed to feel this same heat.

“—without proof, we need to turn him loose, see where he leads.” Shepherd spoke again, a kind of finality in his tone.

“He’s right here, you can’t be serious.” Soap had taken an approach you knew was palatable, one that even you had felt.

If they let him go, would they find him again?

“Did we get anything from his phone?” Ghost spoke after looking down at the phone in his hands and then glancing toward the camera.

Laswell had remained silent for a single moment before she replied with something good, something minutely hopeful. “Affirmative. We got a hit.”

“Good, now take him back and let him go.” Shepherds order was forcibly accepted, and with a nod of his head, Ghost had signalled to Alejandro.

The bag was pulled, with force, over Hassan’s head and the terrorist was yanked to his feet. “Hasta el culo. vamos.”

He was being led away by Alejandro, the interrogation over. With this whole incident wrapped up open-ended, you had also risen to your feet. You yanked your medic bag up from the gravel road and slung the strap over your shoulder, feeling the thud against your hip.

“You really have to let him go?” You questioned Ghost, glancing slowly from Soap to himself, stepping toward the vehicle. “That’s bullshit.”

“That’s an order.” Ghost spoke plainly, matter-of-factly, tugging on the door handle to the truck. “Get your ass inside.”

“Todo puede ser lanzado al aire al menos una vez.” You muttered under your breath as you got into the truck, sliding to the rear driver's side.

“English, L/N.” Ghost took the rear passenger seat and slammed the door behind him.

“Everything can be airdropped at least once.”

[thezombieprostitute]

That bad joke reminded me of another: everything can be air dropped at least once!

Really liking the slow burn here. I'm recognizing stuff from the game cut scenes! You're doing a really good job of incorporating Reader into it.

Happier Than Ever

Part 3: An American, A Brit & A Scotsman

Alex Keller, by the bequest of Laswell, had personally gotten you through the 6 weeks of basic training that was necessary.

Alex Keller was the soldier who had worked with Captain Price and had been part of the 141, had tasked with getting you up to speed and ready for the first mission.

In between your time with Alex Keller, wherein you learned orders and combat skills, dependency on your teammates, and how to handle a weapon, you worked in the base hospital.

You were put through constant scenarios and training exercises that had almost broken you. The exercises that detailed what you could live through in the field, what you could have thrown at you, were the focus of your time in the medical hospital on base.

For 6 weeks, you’d been given crash courses on how to survive and deal with the life-threatening conditions of these places you could go to. And with each difference scenario you were thrown into, had been a potential breaking point for you.

Although you had done four years of medial school, and you were a registered nurse, you weren’t prepared to be thrown headfirst into combat medicine.

Your degree as a registered nurse had been encompassed with techniques that were meant to be implemented in the field. It was a complete mindset change for you, to be thrown into this necessary urgency to work as fast as possible while knowing that people would be shooting at you.

Regardless of your fear, regardless of your apprehension of working alongside a covert and deadly squad of soldiers, multinational as they were, you had been prepared as best as you possibly could be.

The first mission you were on had taken you somewhere close to the Russian border, the task of keeping the squad of soldiers alive as they hunted down a nationalist hellbent on destructive weapons entering the Ukrainian border, before being sent to the U.S. You’d attended the mission as one of two medics, thrown headfirst into the dangerous, and potentially illegal, task of finding the enemy.

It was on that first mission that you had felt true, raw fear. You were a medic, a combat nurse, and you had soldiers between you and the enemy; however, you weren’t shielded completely. The other medic you were with had been shot in the leg, a wound that you’d had to take care of while being mindful of being shot yourself.

When the mission was over, Laswell had asked you if you’d wish to continue, if you’d want to change your mind about working for this specific task force. Your mind and body were at odds. Although you had negated leaving because despite being shot at, despite the other medic having an injury that would later require surgery, you’d been stubborn enough to stick around,

The first mission had become two, and two had become three. Now, you were on your fourth with Ghost & Soap and this, despite all the risks, was all you thought you’d wanted to do. This, with the potential of death, was a job you wanted to do.

You understood that their task force and their missions couldn’t have been reduced to a simple case of black or white. There was an incredibly shady area that had hovered above the moral compass that allotted them to go into hell and back to save more people than would even know.

It wasn’t a conscienceless squad that had killed anyone in their sights, it was a chain of command and men and women themselves who had given their all. It was sacrifice and the knowledge that they may not live the next day, that they’d surrendered themselves to.

That you would, in some similar way, allot yourself to.

Laswell had been the one to recruit you; however, Captain Price had been the one to officially concede and have you part of the 141. Regardless of you being a soldier or not, you were a small part of their team, and they were a much bigger part of yours.

You depended on them far more than they had depended on you. Yet, if things had become fucked up in any sense, you would be responsible for trying to keep them alive until they could reach a doctor.

Mission 4 with you working closely with Sergeant Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish and Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley had taken you to Las Almas. And Las Almas was nothing like you had expected, even from a first initial impression.

The first blast of heat that hit you when you stepped off the ramp had been overshadowed easily by the streets that the Humvee was being driven down.

The streets that were laid with cobblestone and concrete, edges with brightly coloured buildings and overhanging trees or fauna, was undercut with dark and tempestuous control. The Las Almas Cartel had a sick hold on the city, one that you’d been warned about from Laswell & Price, and would see its hand now.

“White truck, four armed men in the back.” Soap’s voice was quiet, yet he warned Ghost, the lieutenant flexing his fingers against the belly of his gun.

You looked back over your shoulder at the passing vehicle, the white truck had been during down the road before turning the corner. Each man in the back had a rifle of some kind, all the men seemingly relaxed enough like it was a regular occurrence. Almost as if it were as normal as carrying a cellphone.

“Hey, tranquilo. Easy, that’s normal here.” Colonel Vargas had raised a hand to calm the building tension, and to reiterate the difference between Las Almas and everything else you’d seen before. “Guns on the street is the jurisdiction of the police.”

“Where are the police?” As Ghost questioned Alejandro, you leaned forward and looked out the window Soap was sitting beside, seeing a large and emboldened image of the Virgin Mary on a building, and on top of her image was El Sin Nombre written in black letters.

“Well, Las Almas has a very serious problem. There are few here to uphold the law. And many of those who resist corruption disappear.” Alejandro had spoken so calmly when he spoke of the disappearances, this every day occurrence to men like them was almost no different from experiences you’d had in the U.S.

Hearing of shootings almost daily in the US had been common to you, just as these disappearances were common to them.

“What about the military?” Soap set a hand on your shoulder and pulled you back to sit again, his eyes briefly locking on yours before he looked back at Alejandro.

“Well, because we are well-trained, soldiers are recruited by the narcos.” Another fact, another plain statement that was so common for men like Alejandro and Rudy.

“Why not you?” Ghost and Soap were carrying the conversation while you remained quiet. You were observant, trying to catch as much of the streets of Las Almas as you could.

“We grew up here. They call us Los Vaqueros…cowboys.” Alejandro had looked toward Rudy, the two of them sharing a single glance, almost communicating without words. “We love this place, and we will die fighting for it.”

As the vehicle turned a corner, you’d leaned forward again. You watched a father and his child buying a balloon, a sight which would have been common if it hadn't had been the armed man standing behind the child. The assault rifle in his hands was held down but tightly, and he had worn a skull balaclava like Ghost had borne.

“Kids, guns and balloons, that’s new.” Soap, side-eyed Ghost, his voice holding an edge.

“Think that’s more common than you think.” You finally spoke, muttering under your breath as you took another look at the scene unfolding.

“Narcos use generosity to win over the people.” Alejandro had nodded his head, understanding Soap’s reaction but adding further details into how corrupt the city was.

“Even the children?” It was a shared sentiment, though not one that you could say you’d gone without seeing.

Although not to this extent, with the US having the right to bear arms written in the Declaration of Independence, you could honestly say that you had witnessed men and women carrying guns around state fairs and celebrations while kids ran wild. It was a different atmosphere here however than it was back home, and this had carried with it a weight of corruption unheard of.

“Especially the children….” Rudys voice had carried to the back, and you’d heard him speak but hadn’t registered what he said.

Rather, your attention was grabbed by another image of the Virgin Mary on the side of the building, and a scene in an alley that made your skin crawl.

“What the fuck?” You cursed louder than anticipated, leaning forward to see first hand the taunting nature of this cartel with your own eyes. “What the fuck is that?”

In the back alley was an old truck with its tailgate down and a white cloth covered in black painted letters, the message was no less chilling than it was debilitating. On the stone road had laid two bodies, covered with the same white cloth and black lettered message.

“Narcomantas,” Alejandro rolled down the window of the Humvee, his eyes trained on the grisly sight.

“Cartel cloths,” Rudy had looked through the rearview mirror, catching your gaze as he spoke to you.

“Messages from El Sin Nombre. Warnings, marking territory. Our streets are laced with death.” The window, just as soon as it was rolled down, was rolled up again, and the vehicles started moving.

“Who’s Sin Nombre?” Ghost’s thick accent had bared the question, and it hung in the air for a few milliseconds before Alejandro corrected him.

“El Sin Nombre, the Nameless…the leader of the Las Almas Cartel.”

“Where can we find him?” Soap’s focus was aimed forward, while yours was trained on the streets. You couldn’t stop looking at the death, and the corruption they’d spoken of that bled through every seemingly endless faction of this city.

“You can’t. No one knows who he is.” Alejandro looked out the window, an image belonging to El Sin Nombre appearing on the side of a building.

It was different from the ones before. Instead of the Virgin Mary, this image was crafted and created with flowers and bright colours that drew your attention. It looked entirely unseemly, and if you’d not known about the Las Almas cartel, you would’ve almost admired the images that were painted on that old brick.

“And this is a challenge. But Los Vaqueros like challenges.”

“With your mask, you’ll fit in well here, Ghost.” Rudy, attempting to steer the conversation, had spoken in the small moment of silence.

Soap had raised his hand and waved it in front of his neck, a signal not to push the issue, as Ghost glanced toward Rudy. You had snorted softly and laughed under your breath, remembering shortly before that Sergeant Major Rudy Parra had expressed his fear of ghosts.

“Something funny, private?” Soap grinned, nudging you when he heard you laugh. His blue eyes settled on you expectantly.

“Nothing, Sergeant.” you returned the respect for rank and cleared your throat. “Stupid joke.”

Your time spent with Soap and Ghost as their medic, more than most others in the 141, had led to an eased relationship between you and Soap. He wasn’t just your CO, he was also your friend and took the role of an older brother. In a sense, despite only being a few years older than you.

“Fuck, now you gotta share.” Soap’s natural charm had easily won over most people he had met and if you hadn’t seen him in uniform or known he was in the army, you’d never suspected a thing.

“It’s so stupid.” You looked away from him, laughing under your breath again.

“Now you gotta tell me.” Soap nudged you again. “Come on, don’t hold out.”

“You don’t need a parachute to go skydiving. You need a parachute to go skydiving twice.” You laughed under your breath, again.

“That was shit.” Soap laughed regardless of your stupid joke, the two of you conversing between each other in the back, and without needing to turn you could feel Ghost glaring at you.

“I told you it was a stupid joke!” You defended yourself, a moment of eased tension in the Humvee, until the vehicle had come to a slow roll.

“Checkpoint. It’s the army, turn right, and we’ll go around.” There was a barricade in the street with armed soldiers on either side of the entrance further down the street, blocking off any access.

As the vehicle was turned, you took another look out the window at the armoured vehicles behind the barricades. The soldiers who were waiting even further behind the checkpoint with unseen weapons to destroy and eliminate anyone who didn’t pass their inspection.

“Why?” Soap questioned the change, and received a response that was spoken with that same fact-of-life energy as before.

“Some troops are in the pocket of El Sin Nombre. Like I told you, he is everywhere…” There was a beat of silence, half a moment where the weight of his news had settled upon the three of you, and then he spoke again.

“The Cartel is hiding Hassan in the village across the river. Let’s hope he’s still there.” The vehicles picked up speed as the street cleared again, the destination was first going to be Los Vaqueros base.

There was intel they would need at the base, along with a scourge of weapons that would be waiting for both Soap & Ghost. There was no shortage of preparation for this mission, no small risk about following them into gunfire despite you being the medic responsible for keeping them alive.

Regardless of the hell that was being unleashed within Las Almas at the hands of the cartel, the city, and its surroundings, itself were beautiful.

The landscape of the surrounding hills had been captivating on its own without the lush, thick greenery that encapsulated the landscape. You hadn’t gotten a look at the ocean as you were transported to the city, however you imagined that the waters were just as wondrous and captivating as the rest of the country.

You wished you could’ve seen the nature and beauty of Mexico without being here to help track down a terrorist. Furthermore, you’d wished you could’ve spent days and weeks on the water, or near it, feeling the sun on your skin without the weight of your bulletproof vest on your chest and shoulders.

“It’s beautiful here.” Your comment had been aired, despite you thinking it was kept in your head.

“Las Almas is a beautiful but dangerous city.” Sergeant Major Rudy Parra had met your comment with one of his own, and had looked at you in the rearview mirror. “Have any of you been to mexico before?”


“Private here always wanted to go.” Soap nudged you, grinning from ear to ear. “Though I think you’d rather be on a beach somewhere.”

“Yeah, with your head on a pike.” Your back and forth was mutually beneficial, despite the rank and the years of service between you. “Asshole.”

“So temperamental, PT!” Soap’s voice matched his laugh, especially after you’d struck him in the shoulder with your fist. “Maybe you need to sit on a beach somewhere.”

“You first!” You grit your teeth, all conversation dying when the vehicles had come to a slow stop in front of the gate that protected their base from any outside interference.

It was a momentary conversation between Sergeant Parra and the soldier guarding the gate, before it began to roll open and the humvee’s were allowed in.