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whispermask · 2 years ago

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gasoline in your heart ch.10 | soap/ghost/könig

read on ao3 | first ~ prev | ch wc: 3.7k, total: 34k | completed

tags: smut, eventual ot3, fwbs to lovers, porn with feelings, jealous!ghost

dead dove time: this fic as a whole features a brief mention of a past suicide attempt, briefly graphic past child abuse (not CSA), past abuse of alcohol and present alcohol use, and at times dubious consent (consuming alcohol and engaging in sexual activities; dubcon voyeurism; dubcon sexting)

summary: soap and ghost start hooking up; soap and könig have apparently been hooking up; ghost doesn't know how to deal with it (eventual polycule)

preview: Simon scoffs a wet laugh and rubs furiously at his face with his other hand. He meets König’s eyes again and sees his worst fear mirrored there, an acknowledgement of the reality they almost had to endure. A world without Soap. A thrumming tension still so fraught that it might grow tangible and actualize itself if they even speak its name. An understanding passes between them: they have to stay vigilant, or else.

Soap gets captured by an internationally wanted arms dealer in Azerbaijan.

It’s not something he or anyone could have anticipated; what had been a relatively simple, one-man recon op to infiltrate a mid-security hydropower plant in Yenikend pivoted into a desperate scramble to stay alive as armed guards swarmed the facility and descended on Soap in an unexpected display of firepower. Ghost had listened over comms helplessly, just two clicks west of the plant. Sending Soap alone was a stupid decision of monumental proportions on Price’s part, which Ghost had all but roared in Price’s face as the blinking light of Soap’s tracker faded from the toughbook screen.

Ghost counts Soap up there with the best of them, knows he didn’t go down without first giving his captors absolute hell. But it’s been forty-eight hours since Soap went dark and Ghost’s worried enough that he’s called for backup.

“I understand how we’ll get in, but what’s the plan for exfil?” König asks. He’s in his full tac, veil, helmet, the works, a far cry from the last time Ghost had seen him.

(completely naked and spread out face down, hips and arse up on the sheets while Soap sank inside him, so slowly, making sure Simon had a good view from where he sat on the armchair propped in the corner of the room, close enough that he could see the shine of the lube in the low light, far enough away he couldn’t reach out and touch if he wanted to—and he wanted to)

“The way I see it, we’ve got two options,” Ghost says. They’re standing over a series of maps and schematics for the facility and surrounding territory. Ghost’s highlighted, in very uncertain terms, the loose plan for recovering Soap (alive, fuck Johnny, please be alive) in bright red marker.

“If we enter here through the auxiliary room and use the maintenance tunnels that run through the safeguard buildings, we can gather intel on where he’s holding Soap from his last known location, which is here, Division Four’s—that’s this area that’s built along the hillside and not over the dam, primarily administrative.” Ghost uses his gloved index finger to walk through their steps as he talks. “We can’t know what the exfil will look like until we know where Nazim is holding Soap.”

“Achso, what a shame,” König says. He brings his thumb and forefinger to his chin through the veil as he thinks—Ghost will find the time to be charmed by it later. In the last two days, he’s compartmentalized the part of him that has that attachment to König, to Soap even, though there’s an ocean of jumbled and overwhelmingly violent feelings simmering under the surface likely ready to overflow at the slightest provocation. König knows him well enough by now to not rock that boat, to maintain his calm, which in turn is keeping Ghost grounded through this ordeal.

(and the way he had taken Soap, writhing so beautifully for him, the long lines of his body tense and trembling, thrusting against a pillow Soap had placed underneath him to keep his hips raised just so, and Soap, Christ, the bunch and flex of his arse and thighs, the sinew of his back, the strength in his biceps as his hands clutched at König’s thighs and waist, pulling König back into his brutal, booze-sloppy thrusts)

“We’ll find him,”

(now’s really not the time)

This part is easy.

They move through the maintenance tunnel that leads from the auxiliary room where they’ve just wrenched the door off its rusted hinges. He’d shared a look with König over the laughable ease with which they’d breached the plant. He’s starting to get why Price assumed it would be get-in-get-out for Soap alone, but as they’re coming up on the entrance to the first safeguard building, it’s evident that Nazim must be on high alert. Two guards are posted outside the thick double-doors, chatting in Azerbaijani, distracted.

Ghost doesn’t hesitate, never was one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He moves in on the left guard, sees König slinking along the wall towards the right. He buries his dagger in the man’s heart through his clavicle, lowers him to the ground still sputtering before he falls quiet.

König’s stabbed the guard from behind through the kidney first, has him whipped around to jab the blade once, twice in his lung and neck. The guard is falling to his knees and choking on his own blood by the time Ghost turns around to look.

They move through the facility like smoke, dispatching guards as they go, making efficient, almost elegant work of it. As far as Ghost can tell, Nazim likely isn’t even here, and Ghost’s more concerned with finding Soap than exacting revenge.

In no time at all they’re standing before the heavy metal doors that lead to Division Four, where a guard fumbles to reload the clip he’s just futilely emptied, a fatal mistake.

When König has the guard pinned to the ground with a knee between his shoulder blades and the guard’s right arm twisted up in König’s grasp at a dangerous angle, Ghost puts a gun against the back of the guard’s head and says in broken Azerbaijani, “The SAS officer you took captive yesterday. Where is he being held?”

The guard lifts his head at an awkward angle and tries to look into Ghost’s eyes as he spits at Ghost’s boot. Without missing a beat, Ghost moves the barrel just left of the guard’s head and shoots the ground. The guard screams, either from fear or because Ghost’s just ruptured his eardrum.

König leans down and speaks into the guard’s good ear, “You should really tell him what he wants to know, or we could shoot you and find another guard. Your call.”

“Sub-basement level of Division Four, in an unused boiler room,” the guard responds in English. “That’s all I know, I swear!”

Ghost puts a bullet in the back of his head. He’s not Nazim, but it will have to do for now.

Four days after they recover Soap, he’s released from the hospital in Azerbaijan and into Ghost’s care. Ghost files him back to the air base, and then immediately onto a plane to London, mission be damned. Price can figure it out.

Soap had been unconscious when they’d finally come upon him, chained up and bloody in the corner of a dingy, rotting room. His face had been a riot of bruising and nearly unrecognizable, his left arm broken in two places and bent at a horrible angle. The worst of it is a puncture in his chest that had penetrated his right lung. When they’d found him, he’d been rasping wet breaths, head limp on his chest. He looked so small.

Ghost had stepped out of the room fighting nausea and gasping in great lungfuls of air bent in half with his hands braced against his knees. He got control of himself, compartmentalized some more. They were here to bring Soap home, there would be time for feelings later.

“Johnny,” König says when he sees them in the doorway of Simon’s flat, voice gone quiet and breathy. He’s dressed down to civvies, bare face unbearably young and vulnerable in the low light.

“As handsome as you remember, right Klaus?” Soap asks, eyes shining as König approaches to pull him into a crushing hug. Soap looks better from the last time König had seen him, though his face is still swollen in some places, his right eye blackened and the sclera blood red where a vessel has burst. His broken arm is in a neon green cast.

Soap gasps as König’s hold tightens, and König releases him, taking a step back as if to keep himself from touching. Soap laughs and says, “That’ll take some getting used to.”

“Öha, maus,” König says, “I’m just so happy to see you.”

“Believe me when I say the sentiment is mutual,” Soap says, and glances back at Simon where he’s still standing in the doorway, face mask settled over his nose as he watches the two of them. Soap beckons him closer with his good arm. Simon closes the door.

It’s close to midnight when Soap requests that they retire. König had made dinner for them, some kind of lemon-y chicken broth soup with rusk on the side. Simon had helped himself to seconds and was considering thirds when Soap had stated he was too tired to keep his head up.

Simon hadn’t considered sleeping arrangements when he’d instructed König to rendezvous at his flat, and as he turns down the sheets, he realizes that sharing with Soap while he’s still recovering might not actually be feasible. He sits heavily on the half un-made bed as clarity settles over him like a lead blanket. They had almost lost him.

Since that time at the New Year’s party, it’s like a dam’s broken, and Simon finds that his eyes grow hot and moist more and more easily these days. Without even realizing he’s started, he’s crying, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Simon?” König says, darkening the doorway of the loo where he’d been helping Soap strip down to his briefs. Concern creases his brown when Simon meets his eyes. He looks away too quickly, and König must see the glint of the wetness on his face. Simon expects him to call out for Soap, but he surprises Simon again by lowering himself onto the bed next to Simon, and carefully takes Simon’s hand from where it sits uselessly grasping at nothing in his lap in both of his. Anchors him.

“He lived, you know,” König offers.

Simon scoffs a wet laugh and rubs furiously at his face with his other hand. He gets the meaning behind König’s words, to stop acting like Soap died in Azerbaijan. He meets König’s eyes again and sees his worst fear mirrored there, an acknowledgement of the reality they almost had to endure. A world without Soap. A thrumming tension still so fraught that it might grow tangible and actualize itself if they even speak its name. An understanding passes between them: they have to stay vigilant, or else.

“We will too,” König adds, maybe more a reassurance for them both.

“Daunksche,” Simon says, and squeezes König’s fingers. He doesn’t give himself any time to overthink it, which has been his modus operandi where König is concerned, and presses his mouth to König’s, a sudden fervor to touch burning just under his skin.

“Oi!” Soap says from the bathroom. “Don’t start without me!”

“You good?” Simon asks. He nuzzles his mouth against Soap’s jaw. Soap breathes out slowly, then nods, sinking back into Simon’s bare chest where they’re propped upright against the cushioned headboard. It still feels daring to touch Soap like this, to let König touch him like this too. To be touched at all in return, maybe. He doesn’t remember ever wanting someone this much, a desire so sharp it aches.

“Can I—?” König asks, slipping a finger under the waistband of Soap’s briefs.

“Oh fuck,” Soap breathes, and then, “Yeah, yeah, I want to.”

It feels like a revelation to watch König free Soap’s half-hard cock from his briefs, slip the waistband under his balls, leaving him bare. Even though he’s still mostly dressed, Simon feels exposed in a way that would feel mortifying if he weren’t so turned on. He tries not to grind too roughly against Soap’s arse where it’s pressed flush against his groin. His cock drags against his briefs inside his jeans, already so hard he’s leaking. König’s hand smooths over the curve of Soap’s thigh and hip, then grips into the meat of him as he sucks at the head of Soap’s cock, electric blue eyes glancing up to find both Soap and Simon staring down at him.

“Fuck,” Simon says, lips parting on the word and he finds that he’s panting slightly. Soap moans in agreement.

König hollows his cheeks and swallows Soap down to the hilt and Simon swipes a thumb against each of Soap's piercings, toying with his nipples. When it’s all said and done, he’s coming down König’s throat in less than two minutes. Simon places a gentle hand on his chin to turn his head into a searing kiss as he finishes, and Soap moans his pleasure into Simon’s mouth, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

With Soap settled against the pillows, Simon reaches for König, fumbling at the button of his pants with one hand, his other gripped up in König’s hair to pull him into a brutal kiss that’s all teeth. The cut on Simon’s lip burns with the force of it.

They haven’t done this yet, not really, but it's something he's been thinking about since New Year's, holding König down, fucking into him while Soap watches.

Behind him, Simon hears Soap hum appreciatively as they strip down to nothing. Something lands on the mattress next to them, and Simon blinks his eyes open to stare at the bottle of lube he keeps in his bedside table. He glances up to see Soap smirking, because of course Soap knows how badly he wants this, needs it even, after everything that's happened. Simon curses and rocks his hips into König’s, their bare pricks sliding against each other, skin already sticky with sweat and slick. Simon grabs the lube and pops the cap open.

“Mein Gott, oh fuck,” König gasps against the comforter, face down next to Soap who strokes his head and back as Simon fingers him open, gets him ready. “Simon, please, please—”

“You want it?” Simon murmurs, crooking his fingers again. König’s breath leaves him like he’s been punched, sent staggering with pleasure.

“I want—bitte, I want you, I want—” König breaks off, rubbing his face against the comforter, trying to ground himself.

“I’ve got you, Klaus, I’ve got you,” Simon whispers, and presses another finger in. He admires König’s fluttering hole as it stretches to accommodate three of Simon’s fingers, and it’ll be nothing compared to Simon’s prick.

“Verdammt!” König rocks back, trying to push Simon’s fingers deeper, and Simon presses his other hand down hard against the small of his back, pinning him in place. König’s whole body goes hot and tight. A shudder rolls through, and Soap says, “He’s ready, fuck him now or he’ll come before you can even get inside him.”

Simon doesn’t answer, just leans over to kiss König’s nape as he slides his fingers out. He slicks his cock, his hand sliding over his bare skin obscenely, and then he’s settling on top of König, knees on either side of his legs, big and heavy enough to hold him down without even trying, something he’s learned König can’t get enough of. He spreads König open and guides his cock to nudge at his winking hole, swiping it a few times and rubbing the sensitive head through the lube slicking König’s skin.

“Relax,” he says in response to the initial resistance he meets. Commands, really. König obeys beautifully, and the tight-hot heat around him as he sinks in skirts the edge of pleasure and pain. Beneath him, König’s gasping with it by the time Simon’s fully seated, squirming helplessly, pinned, spread, open and aching.

“Fuck, Klaus, look at you,” Soap breathes.

Simon’s hips shift, pushing his cock impossibly deeper, and König gasps open-mouthed against the comforter. “Scheiße. You’re so good, you feel so fucking good,” König moans.

“You too,” Simon says, and means it.

König reaches back to grab at Simon’s bare thigh, knocking him forward and pulling him closer, close enough that Simon won’t have to bend too far to fasten his teeth in König’s skin, close enough that Soap can brush a hand against his forehead, grip his jaw and force Simon to look into his eyes when König says, “You can—gemma, move.”

“Yeah?” Simon’s hips shift, roll, his clock sliding out an inch, then back in. “Like that?”

“Harder,” König gasps. “I can take it; I’m not going to break.”

“I know you’re not,” Simon says in his ear. His next thrust is fast and deep, shoving König up the mattress, rucking up the blankets underneath them. König grips the cloth tight to brace himself, moaning, as Simon starts to move in earnest. His cock slides almost all the way out, then slams back in, then again and again. It all seems overwhelming: the feeling of König around him, the submissive line of his body where he arches his back to angle his hips for a deeper screw, Soap’s eyes on them, Soap’s parted lips as he watches them, half-hard again despite the obvious physical toll his orgasm had taken on him. Simon can’t image the sight they must make, starkers, a man of König’s stature spread open and held down while Simon fucks him hard and Soap watches. He’s never felt so out of control. He’s moaning raggedly on every breath now, rocking the bed on its frame with each thrust, holding König open so wide for his plunging cock that it must hurt.

Simon pulls König up suddenly so that his front is flush with König’s back. He wants Soap to see his face when he comes. He reaches around, fumbling for König’s cock, which he finds huge and aching, wet with pre-come that’s slicked the shaft and makes the glide of Simon’s palm smooth and fast as he jerks him. Soap shuffles closer, using his good hand to hold König’s face, thumbing away what must be tears as Simon fucks in harder, harder still, a punishing, brutal pace, life-affirming in all the best ways.

“God, I fucking love you,” Soap says and it’s not clear who he’s said it to, probably both of them, “look at you, fucking Christ. Klaus, he’s gonna make you come all over this bed and it’s all gonna be for me–” Simon risks a glance at Soap, eyes black, flushed from his cheekbones down to his chest, just from watching him fuck König.

“Oh Gott, oh fuck, Simon, please, please,” König begs, dazed.

A wave of heat rises in Simon, swallowing his senses, and he feels it start to crest when König starts to come on a sharp, bitten-off gasp, the rhythmic clenching of his muscles milking his orgasm from him. “Klaus, Klaus, fuck, you’re mine and you’ve always been mine and I’m going to keep you, I swear, I’ll keep you both—”

Simon slams in and goes still, his cock pulsing, and the liquid heat of König’s flexing hole as he comes creates a feedback loop of white-hot euphoria that keeps creating. Soap leans forward to kiss König who groans into his mouth so loudly Simon could swear the walls shake. He tightens his hand on König’s cock, feeling the molten spill of him as he spurts over Simon’s fist and onto the bed. He strokes him through it, and far past it, until König is batting away his hand, kitten-weak, even though he’s still rocking his hips back to grind Simon’s cock even deeper inside. Simon comes down a centimeter at a time, feeling a primal sense of satisfaction as he pulls his softening cock from König. He admires his handiwork, fingers his dripping come back into König.

“Fuck,” Soap agrees, and tips his head back on a breathless, ecstatic laugh.

Bam dotes on Soap with all the love and concern she’s shown Simon over the years, which Simon expected. She even takes a shine to König, and the two bond over colorful German swears and crocheting. What he didn’t expect was for Bam to conspire with Soap and König to get Simon to take a real holiday.

The three of them spend ten days in Mallorca— it’s less of a fuck you to his dad and more a lifelong childhood aspiration after his mum had described in tedious detail how wonderful the resort was. Now he can admit that yes, the resort is quite wonderful. Since it’s a few months before summer, the resort is largely quiet, which puts him at ease enough to let his guard down. When he does though, Simon finds that he’s forgotten how to unwind. Soap and König remind him, with sex, with food, with bourbon, with spa appointments for massages that leave him boneless and docile, with their love, their endless love, and by the end of the ten days he has no desire to return to London.

So they go to Edinburgh, back to Soap’s studio where it all started. König returns to active tomorrow, Soap and Simon not far behind him. They’re living on borrowed time. Simon tries not to think about it, especially after Soap’s most recent close call.

He wakes alone for the first time in weeks in Soap’s massive bed. He hears soft voices from the floor below and finds his briefs, pads barefoot down the staircase to find Soap and König standing in the art studio with their backs to the windows, facing the three easels. The sun-washed cotton covers that had concealed the canvases lie in a heap on the concrete floor. Soap holds a paintbrush in his good hand, the wooden tip between his teeth and his shoulders squared with the left easel. His brow creases in focus.

“I think you’ve got it just right,” König says, hand sweeping over whatever Soap is studying on the canvas. “Honestly, I don’t know how you artists do it, I couldn’t look at the same thing for— ah, good morning!”

Simon comes around to stand beside König and Soap. He looks to Soap first, who gives a vague wave of his hand, as if he’s accepted that he’d have to show Simon, so might as well.

They’re not portraits per se, more like loose abstracts with snatches of realism, painted in painstaking detail here, soft edges and muted colors there. It doesn’t register at first, but then—

“It’s us,” Simon whispers, because of course it would be, he should have known.

And it is unmistakably them, the left portrait sporting his skull mask pulled up partially over his face, his jaw and lips visible. König’s face is bare in the right portrait, his eyes a pop of startling blue. And at the center, Soap, the cut of his shoulders and quarter profile softened into something almost dream-like, or maybe that’s just how Simon sees Soap already.

“I’m not done!” Soap exclaims. “I really didn’t want you to see them until they were done, but then I hit a snag and needed Klaus’s opinion on something, and–”

“It’s—they’re perfect,” Simon says, in awe of Soap.

“That’s what I said,” König chimes in.

“You think?” Soap asks, eyes considering as he evaluates his work.

“Yes,” Simon says, but he’s not looking at the paintings anymore.

#soapghost #soapböx #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #könig #cod könig #mw2 #modern warfare 2 #mw2 fic #soapghost fic #soap/ghost/könig #gasoline in your heart #my fic

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rewards-hub · 2 months ago

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nhacaijboviet · 11 months ago

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Các đội tuyển tham dự Euro 2024

Euro 2024 không chỉ là một giải đấu bóng đá châu Âu, mà còn là một sự kiện thể thao quốc tế được mong đợi hàng đầu, thu hút sự chú ý của hàng triệu người hâm mộ trên toàn thế giới. Với sự tham gia của 24 đội tuyển, giải đấu hứa hẹn mang đến những trận cầu kịch tính và hấp dẫn. Đến thời điểm hiện tại, 21 đội tuyển đã chính thức giành quyền tham dự, và 3 suất còn lại sẽ được quyết định thông qua vòng play-off.

Danh Sách Các Đội Tuyển Tham Dự

Giải vô địch bóng đá châu Âu 2024 sẽ chứng kiến sự tham gia của các đội bóng hàng đầu từ khắp lục địa già. Dưới đây là danh sách các đội đã chính thức giành quyền tham dự:

Đức (nước chủ nhà Euro 2024)

Pháp, Hà Lan, Anh, Bỉ, Croatia, Đan Mạch, Italia, Bồ Đào Nha, Thụy Sĩ, Tây Ban Nha, Hungary, Áo, Thổ Nhĩ Kỳ, Serbia, Scotland, Slovakia, Slovenia, Romania, Albania, và CH Séc.

Đặc Điểm Nổi Bật Của Một Số Đội Tuyển

Các đội tuyển tham dự không chỉ nổi bật về mặt kỹ thuật mà còn có những câu chuyện thú vị đằng sau hành trình đến với Euro 2024:

Thổ Nhĩ Kỳ và Áo đều đã chứng tỏ sức mạnh qua các vòng loại. Thổ Nhĩ Kỳ đã vượt qua Latvia, trong khi Áo đánh bại Azerbaijan để giành vé vào Euro 2024.

Anh, đội bóng đứng Á quân tại Euro 2020, tiếp tục thể hiện sức mạnh của mình bằng chiến thắng quan trọng trước Ý tại sân nhà Wembley.

Hungary và Slovakia, mặc dù không phải là những ứng viên hàng đầu, nhưng đã thể hiện tinh thần chiến đấu không ngừng nghỉ để giành quyền tham dự.

Đan Mạch, với lịch sử vô địch Euro 1992, đã phục hồi mạnh mẽ sau thất bại trước Kazakhstan và giành suất tham dự vào Euro 2024.

Kết Luận

Euro 2024 sẽ là một ngày hội bóng đá lớn, không chỉ cho các đội tuyển tham dự mà còn cho hàng triệu người hâm mộ bóng đá trên toàn thế giới. Mỗi đội tuyển đều mang theo những ước mơ, niềm tự hào quốc gia và sự kỳ vọng của người hâm mộ. Với danh sách các đội đã được xác định và vòng play-off sắp tới, giải đấu chắc chắn sẽ mang lại những trận đấu đầy kịch tính và hấp dẫn. Mỗi đội tham gia Euro 2024 không chỉ mang theo hy vọng của quốc gia mình mà còn là niềm tự hào của người hâm mộ. Dù là những trận đấu gay cấn trên sân cỏ hay những câu chuyện hậu trường đầy cảm hứng, Euro 2024 hứa hẹn sẽ là một trong những giải đấu không thể quên trong lịch sử bóng đá châu Âu.

Xem thêm: https://jboesports.com/euro/cac-doi-tuyen-tham-du-euro-2024/

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universal-upvc-windows · 1 year ago

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dewabiz · 1 year ago

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Ketika browsing di internet, ada banyak website yang memiliki kode domain berbeda-beda. Ekstensi domain yang memuat dua huruf merupakan kode domain negara yang bersifat unik. Dengan mengetahui daftarnya, maka pembaca dapat mengetahui dari negara manakah website tersebut berasal. Meskipun tidak selalu terdiri dari dua huruf, namun kebanyakan kode domain mencerminkan inisial dari negara yang dimaksud. Dengan demikian, sebetulnya kode tersebut bisa dengan mudah dikenali. Sebagai tambahan wawasan, berikut daftar kode domain dari 5 benua yang patut diketahui: 1. Kode Domain di Benua Afrika Ketetapan kode domain negara berfungsi untuk mempermudah pengunjung untuk mengakses situs atau web. Salah satunya website yang dikembangkan dari negara-negara di benua Afrika. Berikut daftar kode domain secara rinci untuk masing-masing negara: Eritrea (.er) Afrika Selatan (.za) Komoro (.km) Burkina Faso (.bf) Kenya (.tw) Chad (.td) Ethiopia (.et) Angola (.ao) Malawi (.mw) Benin (.bj) Liberia (.lr) Afrika Tengah (.cf) Guinea Bissau (.gw) Djibouti (.dj) Guinea (.gn) Burundi (.bi) Ghana (.gh) Mauritius (.mu) Gambia (.gm) Botswana (.bw) 2. Kode Domain di Benua Asia Indonesia termasuk negara di dalam benua Asia yang memiliki kode domain yang berbeda dengan negara lain. Penggunaan kode domain tersebut, menunjukkan legalitas dari suatu website. Berikut daftar kode domain masing-masing negara di benua Asia: Jepang (.jp) Cina (.cn) Bahrain (.bh) India (.in) Micronesia (.fm) Korea Selatan (.kr) Malaysia (.my) Indonesia (.id) Filipina (.pn) Taiwan (.tw) Palestina (.ps) Jordan (.jo) Mongolia (.mn) Hongkong (.hk) Pulau Norfolk (.nf) Islandia Baru (.nz) Tuvalu (.tv) Uni Emirat Arab (.ae) Timor Leste (.tl) Pakistan (.pk) Australia (.au) Sri Lanka (.lk) Azerbaijan (.az) Singapura (.sg) Vietnam (.vn) Samoa Barat (.ws) Kiribati (.ki) Tonga (.to) Pulau Natal (.cx) Niue (.nu) Fiji (.fj) 3. Kode Domain di Benua Eropa Beberapa aturan pada kode domain mencakup panjang dan kriteria pendaftaran, perubahan nama domain, prosedur transfer, dan sebagainya. Contohnya penggunaan ekstensi .com yang ditujukan untuk entitas komersial, sementara net. untuk layanan internet. Secara rinci, berikut daftar kode domain di benua Eropa: Andorra (.ad) Belgia (.be) Austria (.at) Bosnia dan Herzegovina (.ba) Republik Ceko (.cz) Pulau Aland (.ax) Denmark (.dk) Swiss (.ch) Belarus (.by) Albania (.al) Irlandia (.ie) Estonia (.ee) Islandia (.is) Hungaria (.hu) Pulau Man (.im) Latvia (.lv) Jerman (.de) Luxembourg (.lu) Monaco (.mc) Finlandia (.fi) Makedonia (.mk) Yunani (.gr) Lithuania (.lt) Montenegro (.me) Gibraltar (.gi) Polandia (.pl) Malta (.mt) Republik Moldova (.md) Romania (.ro) Italia (.it) Portugal (.pt) Liechtenstein (.li) Belanda (.nl) Norwegia (.no) Bulgaria (.bg) Rusia (.ru) Guernsey (.gg) Serbia (.rs) Jersey (.je) Kroasia (.hr) Spanyol (.es) Britania Raya (.uk) Perancis (.fr) Kepulauan Faroe (.fo) 4. Kode Domain di Benua Australia Semua negara yang berada di benua Australia memiliki kode domain negara berupa .au yang aktif hingga saat ini. Kode tersebut mulai diperkenalkan sejak 5 Maret 1986. Penggunaannya dibatasi untuk perusahaan, organisasi, dan individu yang berada di wilayah Australia. 5. Kode Domain di Benua Amerika Beberapa negara atau wilayah seperti di Amerika mensponsori nama domain tingkat atas atau yang diringkas menjadi ccTLD. Penggunaan ekstensi yang memuat dua huruf tersebut mempunyai aturan dan persyaratan khusus. Berikut kode domain di benua Amerika yang bisa disimak: Barbados (.bb) Amerika Serikat (.us) Bahama (.bs) Argentina (.ar) Belize (.bz) Haiti (.ht) Grenada (.gd) Honduras (.hn) Republik Dominika (.do) Kuba (.cu)

Guatemala (.gt) Panama (.pa) Bolivia (.bo) Meksiko (.mx) Chili (.cl) Ecuador (.ec) Nikaragua (.ni) Dominika (.dm) El Salvador (.sv) Brasil (.br) Itulah daftar kode domain negara yang dikelompokkan berdasarkan benua. Perlu diingat bahwa nama domain tidak selalu terdiri dari dua huruf. Sebab, ada juga kode domain turunan yang lebih panjang seperti biz.id, co.id, we.id, sch.id, dan seterusnya.

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iichiigoo · 5 years ago

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Its been a while

#countryhuman #country #counrtyhumans #countryhumans #countryballs #countryball #ch azerbaijan #ch art #ch comic #ch hungary #Alia-xoxo

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incorrect-countryhumans · 6 years ago

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azerbaijan: my kink is people respecting me and treating me like the amazing person i am,

georgia: stupid and unrealistic. settle for bondage or vore like the rest of us.

#ch azerbaijan #azerbaijan ch #ch georgia #georgia ch #i LOVE azerbaijan ok. he deserves love #countryhumans #countryhuman #source: tumblr

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pulet · 4 years ago

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Dtiys😎

#dtiys #draw this in your style #turkey #azerbaijan #country balls azerbaijan #countryball #country balls turkey #oc #ch oc #country humans oc #my art #my drawing

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alottamoney · 2 years ago

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Hello, I have been around the block and I'm so irritated that Taennie shippers are taking moral high ground to other shipeprs when their source is one criminal sasaeng from Azerbaijan asdfghjjkjl. There's not even the usual suspects on the case like yellow journalism is dead wbk

If they were real, we'd be seeing at least something from the Korean side pics rumours. People have too much faith in Dispatch's morals lol when this is the story of the decade + if we're assuming HYBE doesn't care about dating rumours in ch 2 wouldn't Dispatch would have the greenlight too? And if this was a 'private IG' a/c or whatever Taennies think, more photos would be available that aren't mirror selcas and the leaker / editor wouldn't be polling for opinions (wtf?)

Also I feel like Tae wouldn't be staying silent if his privacy was being violated, I just think he would be brave enough to confirm and / or say they were friends etc

I feel like antis cooked this up, like Tae x Joanna, maybe overestimating how negatively Army would react or banking on the GD homewrecker - cheating angle They're using anon accounts on Twitter and Telegram to avoid legal liability cause HYBE can't sue foreigners.

YG notoriously gives no fucks and this attention works well for their international debut award show. Hell it might have even gotten some curious Armys to show up for the VMAs.

I think HYBE is playing along because a. they've already taken care of the source of the leaks and these aren't that dangerous (if it's an edit, we're probably looking at someone linked to the style team - outfit selca and the mirror picture. Third one is just totally faked sorry not sorry what kind of a couple takes a selca mask on) But also, the more straight rumours Taehyung has going for him, the better. It's not that he was 'wild' at the Celine show, he just seemed so comfortable and at ease in the scene and hugging queer men. It trended worldwide and probably got local chatter too (maybe even the male model who said he wasn't gay was panicking because it's such a no-go to out a fellow LGBT+ person).

And I think Taehyung is cooperating this time because he gets this logic even if he doesn't like it. And in Joanna's case she's a 'civilian', also linked to a powerful family, and there were also other crazy rumours and Koreans don't see chaebols positively. While idol rumours are super common and they're postively seen.

that's my take, please let me know what you think!

I agree that Taennie shippers are going unchecked lol, but a lot of them just seem to want it to be true for the drama just like TaexJoanna shippers before that ship "sunk".

I also agree that the tabloids are either slacking or they have nothing to report.

As for Taennie themselves, I think they're just following standard kpop procedure. I think Tae is impulsive and that's why some outbursts happened on weverse. I really wouldn't overestimate the intent behind either his outbursts or his silence. The real reasons are never as well thought out, or intricate as fan theories.

I'm only wondering what that twitter account person is getting out of this, but stranger things have happened.

#ask me questions

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travmalyubvi · 2 years ago

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Ok, hello, everyone. Sonya aka me decided to share her ch Russia headcanons. So let’s go.

~~~~ Russian Federation 🇷🇺🇷🇺hc ~~~~ human name: Ulyanova Yelena Ivanovna (rus. Ульянова Елена Ивановна).

Gender: Female🚺

sexuality: heterosexual

pronouns: she/her

bday🎂: November, 7th. Scorpio♏️

Height: 205 cm (sooo tall)

weight: 80 kg

Hair: blonde, long

Eyes: light blue

Personality: she’s introverted. Russia is kind, but it's better not to make her angry. She is strong-willed and purposeful. She is proud of herself and her achievements. She loves her family and friends so much. She can be vindictive and touchy. Russia never forgives betrayal. She likes👍: Russian literature, winter sports activities, science, history of Russia, space, Military equipment, Russian cuisine, sweets, tea, cats, honesty.

She dislikes👎: betrayal, sanctions, When she's called an aggressor, hypocrisy, West and NATO, Insulting her family, opposition, nazism, Russophobia, when someone calls her insensitive.

Religion: Russian Orthodox Christianity

Family:

parents: USSR and Russian Republic.

piblings: Russian State and Alaska.

niblings: LPR, DPR, Abkhazia, South Ossetia.

siblings (biological): Belarus, Ukraine, Kazakhstan, Georgia, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Tajikistan, , Kyrgyzstan.

grandparent: Russian Empire

great-grandparent: Tsardom of Russia

Friends:

LPR and DPR, Belarus, Kazakhstan, China, North Korea, Serbia, Brazil, India, South Africa, Abkhazia and South Ossetia, Crimea, Syria. Enemies:

Ukraine, USA, Poland, Latvia, Lithuania, Estonia, NATO.

She is so smart and erudite. She can shoot firearms. She’s good in judo and sambo. love interest: China🇨🇳

So, that’s all. Thanx.

#countryhumans #headcanon #countryhumans russia

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incomodtutorials · 3 years ago

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FINAL Spain vs France FREE Live Streaming Online - UEFA Nations League 2021

Spain take on France in the UEFA Nations League final at San Siro in Milan on Sunday 10 October at 20:45. Predicted line-ups Spain: Unai Simón; Azpilicueta, Laporte, Pau Torres, Alonso: Gavi, Busquets, Koke; Sarabia, Torres, Oyarzabal France: Lloris; Koundé, Varane, L Hernández; Pavard, Tchouaméni, Pogba, T Hernández; Griezmann; Mbappé, Benzema

Spain vs France live stream - watch the UEFA Nations League Final for free

Find below all the sources where you can watch this match online for free. You can also find a list of all the TV stations in the world that broadcast the UEFA Nations League 2021 final.TV Channels in Europe and across the globe will be broadcasting the Final UEFA Nations League . Find your local UEFA Nations League broadcast TV Channel below. Europe Albania: RTSH/DigitAlb Andorra: Tf1/M6/TVE/Mediaset Armenia: Armenia TV/Shant TV Austria: ORF/Perform DACH Azerbaijan: CBC Sport/Almasport Belarus: Belarus TV/Almasport Belgium: RTBF/RTL/VTM/Eleven Sports Bosnia and Herzegovina: SportKlub/Nova BH Bulgaria: BNT Croatia: SportKlub/Nova TV Cyprus: CyBC/Cyta Czech Republic: Česká televize/AMC Networks Denmark: Discovery England: Sky Estonia: ERR/TV3 Sport Estonia Faroe Islands: Discovery Finland: Viasat France: Tf1/M6/L'Équipe Georgia: GPB/Almasport/Silknet Germany: ARD/ZDF/Perform DACH Gibraltar: GBC Greece: Open TV/COSMOTE Hungary: MTVA/AMC Networks Iceland: Stod 2 Sport Israel: The Sports Channel/Charlton Italy: Rai/Mediaset Kazakhstan: Qazsport/Almasport Kosovo: RTK/DigitAlb Latvia: TV 3 Sport Latvia Liechtenstein: Landeskanal Lithuania: LRT/TV3 Sport Lithuania Luxembourg: RTL/Eleven Sports/RTL Belgium Malta: TVM Moldova: GMG/Almasport Montenegro: SportKlub Netherlands: NOS/Ziggo Sport Northern Ireland: Sky North Macedonia: SportKlub Norway: TV2 Poland: TVP/Polsat Portugal: RTP/Sport TV Republic of Ireland: Sky/Virgin Media Romania: ProTV Russia: Channel One/Match TV San Marino: Mediaset/RTV/Rai Scotland: Sky Serbia: SportKlub Slovakia: RTV/AMC Networks Slovenia: SportKlub/SportTV Spain: TVE/Mediaset Sweden: TV4 Switzerland: SRG/CH Media/Perform DACH Turkey: TRT/S-Sport Ukraine: Media Group Ukraine Wales: Sky Outside Europe Afghanistan: SonySix Algeria: beIN Sports American Samoa: ESPN/Univision Angola: SuperSport/Star Times Anguilla: ESPN Antigua & Barbuda: ESPN Argentina: DirecTV Aruba: NOS Australia: Optus Bahamas: ESPN Bahrain: beIN Sports Barbados: ESPN Bangladesh: SonySix Benin: SuperSport/Star Times Bermuda: ESPN Bhutan: SonySix Bolivia: DirecTV Bonaire: NOS Botswana: SuperSport/Star Times Brazil: Esporte Interativo Burkina Faso: SuperSport/Star Times Burundi: SuperSport/Star Times Cameroon: SuperSport/Star Times Canada: UEFA.tv Cape Verde: SuperSport/Star Times Cayman Islands: ESPN Central African Republic: SuperSport/Star Times Chad: beIN Sports/SuperSport/Star Times Chile: DirecTV PR China: CCTV/Super Sports Shankai/Tencent Colombia: DirecTV Comoros: SuperSport/Star Times Congo Republic: SuperSport/Star Times Costa Rica: Sky Mexico Cuba: ESPN Curacao: NOS/ESPN/DirecTV Democratic Republic of Congo: SuperSport/Star Times Djibouti: beIN Sports/SuperSport/Star Times Dominica: ESPN Dominican Republic: Sky Mexico Ecuador: DirecTV Egypt: beIN Sports Equatorial Guinea: SuperSport/Star Times El Salvador: Sky Mexico Eritrea: SuperSport/Star Times Ethiopia: SuperSport/Star Times Falkland Islands: ESPN Fiji: Fiji TV French Guyana: Tf1/M6/L'Équipe/ESPN/DirecTV French Polynesia: Tf1/M6/L'Équipe French Southern and Antarctic lands: Tf1/M6/L'Équipe Gabon: SuperSport/Star Times Gambia: SuperSport/Star Times Ghana: SuperSport/Star Times Grenada: ESPN Guadeloupe: Tf1/M6/L'Équipe/ESPN/DirecTV Guam: ESPN/Univision Guatemala: Sky Mexico Guinea: SuperSport/Star Times Guinea-Bissau: SuperSport/Star Times Guyana: NOS/ESPN/DirecTV Haiti: ESPN Honduras: Sky Mexico Hong Kong SAR: i-Cable India: SonySix Indonesia: Mola TV Iran: beIN Sports Iraq: beIN Sports Ivory Coast: SuperSport/Star Times Jamaica: ESPN Japan: UEFA.tv Jordan: beIN Sports Kenya: SuperSport/Star Times Kuwait: beIN Sports Kyrgyzstan: Uzreport/Almasport Laos: UEFA.tv Lebanon: beIN Sports Lesotho: SuperSport/Star Times Liberia: SuperSport/Star Times Libya: beIN Sports Macau SAR: TDM Madagascar: SuperSport/Star Times/L'Équipe Malawi: SuperSport/Star Times Malaysia and Brunei Darussalam: Astro Maldives: SonySix Mali: SuperSport/Star Times Mariana Islands: ESPN/Univision Martinique: Tf1/M6/L'Équipe/ESPN/DirecTV Mauritania: beIN Sports/SuperSport/Star Times Mauritius: SuperSport/Star Times/L'Équipe Mayotte: Tf1/M6/L'Équipe Mexico: Sky Mexico Midway: ESPN/Univision Mongolia: UEFA.tv Montserrat: ESPN Morocco: beIN Sports Mozambique: SuperSport/Star Times Namibia: SuperSport/Star Times Nepal: SonySix Nevis: ESPN New Caledonia: Tf1/M6/L'Équipe New Zealand: Sky New Zealand Nicaragua: Sky Mexico Niger: SuperSport/Star Times Nigeria: SuperSport/Star Times North Korea: UEFA.tv Oman: beIN Sports Pakistan: SonySix Palestine (Gaza strip & West Bank): beIN Sports Panama: Sky Mexico Paraguay: DirecTV Peru: DirecTV Philippines: UEFA.tv Puerto Rico: ESPN/Univision Qatar: beIN Sports Réunion: Tf1/M6/L'Équipe Rwanda: SuperSport/Star Times Saba: NOS/ESPN/DirecTV Sao Tome and Principe: SuperSport/Star Times Saudi Arabia: beIN Sports Senegal: SuperSport/Star Times Seychelles: SuperSport/Star Times Sierra Leone: SuperSport/Star Times Singapore: UEFA.tv Somalia: beIN Sports/SuperSport/Star Times South Africa: SuperSport South Korea: SPO TV South Sudan: beIN Sports/SuperSport/Star Times Sri Lanka: SonySix St. Barts: Tf1/M6/L'Équipe/ESPN/DirecTV St. Christopher: ESPN St. Eustatius: NOS/ESPN/DirecTV St. Helena and Ascension: SuperSport/Star Times St. Kitts: ESPN St. Lucia: ESPN St. Martin: Tf1/M6/L'Équipe/ESPN/DirecTV St. Maarten: NOS St. Pierre & Miquelon: Tf1/M6/L'Équipe/ESPN/DirecTV St. Vincent & the Grenadines: ESPN Sudan: beIN Sports/SuperSport/Star Times Surinam: ESPN Swaziland: SuperSport/Star Times Syria: beIN Sports Taiwan/Chinese Taipei: Eleven Sports Tajikistan: Uzreport/Almasport Tanzania: SuperSport/Star Times Thailand: UEFA.tv Timor Leste: UEFA.tv Togo: SuperSport/Star Times Tortola: ESPN Trinidad & Tobago: ESPN Tunisia: beIN Sports Turkmenistan: Uzreport/Almasport Turks & Caicos Islands: ESPN Uganda: SuperSport/Star Times United Arab Emirates: beIN Sports United States of America: ESPN/Univision Uruguay: DirecTV U.S. Virgin Islands: ESPN/Univision Uzbekistan: Uzreport/Almasport Venezuela: DirecTV Vietnam: VTV Cab/VTC3/K+ Wallis & Futuna: Tf1/M6/L'Équipe Yemen: beIN Sports Zambia: SuperSport/Star Times Zimbabwe: SuperSport/Star Times Read the full article

#fotbal #france #franta #meciurilive #spain #Spain-FranceFREELive #SpainvsFranceFREELiveStreamingOnline

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whispermask · 2 years ago

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gasoline in your heart ch.8/10 | soap/ghost/könig

read on ao3 | first ~ next | ch wc: 5.4k, total 34k | completed

tags: smut, eventual ot3, fwbs to lovers, porn with feelings, jealous!ghost

summary: soap and ghost start hooking up; soap and könig have apparently been hooking up; ghost doesn't know how to deal with it (eventual polycule)

preview: It’s the bizarre reality of seeing a coworker outside of the office, stripped of their usual pomp and ferocity. König’s comfortable in his skin, something Simon can’t say is true of himself off the field. He has an awkwardness that Simon supposes one could call charming, says ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ too much to the server as she deposits steaming plates of food on their table. He even catches a wayward condiment bottle before it can hit the ground after he knocks it from the server’s tray.

The morning of New Year’s Eve, Simon rises early. He’s up long before the sun, with Soap still snoring softly in bed curled around where Simon had been sleeping. He finds his cigarettes and lighter, dons a pair of sweats, and descends the staircase.

A crittall window behind Soap’s studio cracks open enough for him to smoke out of. As he stands there, shoulder leaned against the cold metal frame and gooseflesh rising in the morning chill, he studies the covered easels. He wouldn’t dare look without Soap’s permission, but the temptation is there.

“Simon?” Soap mutters. Simon sees him taking the last stair on to the first level in one of the shirts he packed and soft sleep shorts.

They had crawled right back into bed after Soap had shaved his beard, taking turns bringing each other off, a new way each time. Once with two of Soap’s fingers buried in Simon’s ass, crooking just so while he sucked his cock, swallowing around the length of him and looking up at Simon through his lashes. Another time with Soap rubbing off against his chest, gripping his left pec while he worked his cock against the right, coming all over both in long stripes.

Simon’s favorite time; Soap had asked if he could take pictures while he was bollocks-deep in Simon’s ass, Simon had consented on the condition his face be left out, felt a thrill of possessiveness when he heard the camera shutter behind him. On his hands and knees, the soiled sheets gripped tight in his fists, he had arched into Soap’s thrusts, trying to catalog the feeling of Soap inside of him, just as eager to hoard these moments.

When they had been able to tear themselves apart, Soap suggested a shower that devolved into wet grinding half-way through. Simon had hurried Soap back up the stairs, had laid him out on the bed and slid inside him so slowly, had Soap begging around the head of his cock alone. By the time Simon was pressed inside him as deep as he could go, Soap’s eyes were brimming with tears. Simon had kissed them away, and fucked Soap like they had all the time in the world. Held Soap’s jaw in place with one hand to force him to hold eye contact while he used his other hand to stroke him off between their stomachs. His own orgasm had been more of an afterthought, so transfixed at how easily Soap came apart under him. He’d kissed Soap when he felt him begin to come, gentled him through his fifth orgasm in the last twenty-four hours, which was barely more than a splatter of jizz across his navel while he clenched down on Simon.

The hours blurred into a litany of more and more and more because it would never be enough. Azerbaijan loomed before them, Simon would take what he could get, already devastated by the thought of never touching Soap again, for one reason or another. He’d fallen asleep with Soap spooned up behind him, had no sense of around what time he slipped off, so lost in the hazy cloud of endorphins and a smug sense of satisfaction he could feel down to his toes.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” Simon says. He ashes the cigarette on the outside of the window, pinches out the tobacco and tosses it into a nearby rubbish bin.

“I want one,” Soap says with a pout as he reaches for the pack.

“Not on your life,” Simon says, holding them just out of reach to grab Soap’s wrist and pull him in for a kiss instead.

A low moan starts in Soap’s chest, but cuts off when he tries to mumble something against Simon’s lips.

“We’ve gotta,” Soap says and points a thumb over his shoulder. “The airport.’

“Right,” Simon says.

“Happy birthday,” König says as he opens the passenger door. He’s scruffy and bespectacled, so unlike the clean shaven, family-friendly version Simon had met him as in London.

“No,” Simon says, and reaches to pull the door shut. König blocks him with ease, slides his backpack off his shoulder and slips into the seat, closing the door before Simon can dump him and drive off.

“What? It’s your birthday?” Soap asks, leaning forward between the front seats to look between Simon and König.

Simon pulls away from the curb into the line of traffic under the breezeway. Soap had rented a car–a little black jag–as it became a necessity to accommodate the three of them. Simon had pilfered the keys off of Soap as soon as they had left the rental office on their way to the airport.

“A resounding no,” Simon says as he drives, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Lt.,” Soap whines, sounding anguished. “You need to tell me if it’s your birthday or not right now.”

“It’s tomorrow, actually,” König says as he pushes his clear-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose. He’s pulled his hair back into a short ponytail, the tuft of it jutting from the crown of his head and revealing shaved sides, emphasizing the angle of his cheekbones and sharp jaw.

“I’m not doing this,” Simon says as he turns the wheel to merge onto the motorway, heading in the direction of Soap’s flat.

“You’re a Neerday babe?” Soap’s voice has gone high and excited.

“If that means I was born on New Year’s fucking Day, then yes. Unfortunately.”

“Why didn’t you tell me!” Soap says.

“Could barely stand to keep the secret in,” Simon deadpans.

“How’d you even know?” Soap asks König, placing his hands on König’s shoulders as he hooks his chin over the seat, so that their cheeks are almost touching.

“I have my ways,” König says, side-eying Simon.

“He knows because we were both in Argentina during my birthday three years ago.”

“Was that–?” Soap starts.

“The time with the Nazis? One of them, ja,” König says.

“Laswell let slip that I was turning ‘the big four-oh.’ König thought it would be a right fucking laugh to throw an over the hill party.”

“And I was right,” König says. He sways into Soap’s touch with a small smile, knocking their heads together.

“You don’t have to be a smug bastard about it,” Simon says. “I wasn’t laughing. It was you and–”

“Anderson,” König says, expression darkening. “Au weia.”

“Indeed.” Simon clenches the wheel, knuckles white at the memory of Argentina, and Anderson.

“Why indeed?” Soap asks.

“Anderson was a snake,” Simon says, an edge in his voice. “Working for the enemy.”

“Tried to kill me,” König says, and pulls his jumper out from the waistband of his pants, lifting it to reveal two three-inch scars below his navel. “Geist,” König says with a shrug towards Simon, “was the one to shoot him off me.”

“That’s what these are from?” Soap asks, and moves so that he’s resting an elbow on the center console to run his fingertips over the raised lines.

Simon sees them out of the corner of his eye, can’t help but to glance at where Soap is touching König. Of course Soap has seen the scars before. He looks up to see König watching him from behind his glasses with an unreadable expression, always so observant. Simon jerks his gaze back to the road.

“What’s the plan for New Year’s?” König asks after a beat as Soap withdraws his hand.

“Well,” Soap says. “We could go to my local pub, get pissed, have ourselves a classic Hogmanay ceilidh with the good folk of Leith.”

“Or?” König asks, because he knows Soap well, Simon realizes. He’s beginning to see their years together the longer he’s around them.

“Or, my mate is throwing a party at his place.”

“A big crowd?” König asks, his tone hesitant.

“A little more intimate, maybe fifteen-twenty guests at most. Plus, I promise not to leave you alone if I can help it.”

“I could do that. In Edinburgh?”

“Aye, and it’ll be Gatsby themed.”

“Gatz-bee,” König says, unfamiliar. “Is that–?”

“Like the book The Great Gatsby. Means the roaring twenties,” Simon says.

“Bootlegging gangsters, flapper girls, art deco, hedonistic jazz, the full monty,” Soap adds.

“A very idealized version of the nineteen-twenties,” Simon amends

“I rest my case: Gatsby themed,” Soap says.

“Krass!” König says.

“It’s very American,” Simon comments.

“To be clear, we don’t have to go,” Soap says, and places a placating hand on Simon’s shoulder.

“I think it could be fun,” König says.

“But if not all of us want to go, then none of us goes.”

“You two could–” Simon starts.

“Bist du deppert? ” König interrupts. “Johnny’s right, we should do something together.”

Simon glances over to see Soap’s imploring eyes and König’s cool regard. Conspirators, Simon thinks.

“Fine,” he concedes, eyes back on the road. “We can go to the party.”

Soap whoops and claps him on the shoulder.

“Easy, Johnny. ‘M driving,” Simon grumbles, though he can feel a smile tug at his lips, happy to make Soap happy.

König says, “But what will we wear?”

Simon drives them back to the studio so König can drop off his backpack and take a shower to wash off the airport. Simon tries not to think too hard about how he and Soap had defiled the bathroom not even forty-eight hours ago. As he sits at the kitchen island, he realizes that König and Soap have probably fucked in that shower before, maybe many times. It doesn’t hold a candle to his one-point-five.

The thought brings back a memory of Soap’s hands on König’s shoulder in the car, how he had touched the scars on König’s stomach, König’s steady gaze watching Simon’s reaction. Had König been gloating? The niggling feeling in his chest drops to sit heavy in his stomach, making bile rise in his throat.

“You okay?” Soap asks, glancing over at him from where he’s seated on the sofa sketching idly in a notebook Simon’s never seen before.

“Hm,” Simon replies, neither here nor there. He craves his balaclava, feeling suddenly naked without his beard. He settles for a black beanie and cloth mask he finds in his duffel, pulls both on before checking the pocket of his jeans for his smokes and a lighter.

“I’m going to make a call,” he says, already grabbing his jacket and phone from the entryway.

“Okay, but–” Soap starts, but Simon cuts him off when the front door closes behind him. He takes the stairs to the ground floor two at a time, rounds the building façade and finds a concrete wall to sit on. The temperature while bone-chilling is not nearly cold enough for snow yet. The wind cuts through his clothes all the same as he pulls his mask down and fishes his cigarette carton out of his pocket.

Bam picks up on the third ring.

“Hello Simon, dear,” she says, singsong.

“Bam, what am I doing?” he asks by way of greeting, pulling on his cigarette.

“I ‘unno you big lounce, i’ve been waiting for you to ring so you could tell me!” Bam answers.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Simon says.

“With Soap? Of course you should be, love, he invited you.”

“But he has…someone else. A boyfriend.”

“Surely Soap’s not cheating?”

“No, no. He, we, know about each other. He’s here for New Year’s.” And at Simon’s behest no less. His efforts had been earnest, a desire to please Soap. He’s still figuring out what Soap wants from him, if he’s even capable of giving it.

“Oh, Si,” Bam says, voice gone soft.

Simon sighs a plume of acrid smoke. “It’s a monumentally bad idea, I am aware.”

“Not necessarily,” Bam offers. “If you’re happy–”

“I don’t know what I am,” he says.

“Let me finish,” Bam chastises. “If you’re happy, then the rest is just noise.”

“I can’t ignore the noise, though,” he says, meaning König.

“What’s this boyfriend like? Real possessive type?”

“Not at all,” Simon admits. “If anything, that’s been my M.O.” He longs to rewind the clock, go back to when he first touched down in Scotland, wants to cash in on those hours alone with Soap in his bed all over again.

“Is he fit?”

“Barbara,” Simon says, not quite a warning.

“Since I’ve known you, you’ve rarely let yourself be happy,” she says, unexpectedly serious. “You’re like a clenched fist. What if I told you, you don’t have to be?”

“I’d say you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies.

“That was redundant, you arse,” Bam replies. “There’s so many ways to love and be loved in this life. We’d be fools to go without because we only ever expect to get hurt by all of it.”

Simon is quiet, considering. Then, “I want to try. I am trying.”

“That’s the best any of us can do,” she says. “Now, tell me about your New Year’s Eve plans.”

After he ends the call with Bam, Simon returns to the studio, mask up, to find König and Soap whispering at the kitchen island. They stop when they hear the front door, but Simon knows they were talking about him.

“Hey,” Soap says, casual. “I was thinking after we grab breakfast, we should do some sightseeing. When’s the last time you were in Edinburgh?”

“It’s been ages,” Simon says, entering the kitchen to stand at the head of the island, Soap and König on either side of him. “Not since I was a much younger man.”

“Alright,” Soap says. “Let’s head out.”

Simon drives as Soap directs him to a nearby cafe. Once seated, he makes himself as small as possible, and observes Soap and König together.

They’ve chosen to sit shoulder to shoulder across from him, heads bent together to watch a video on Soap’s phone. Simon studies the slouch of König’s shoulders, and can feel where his knees are pressed against the underside of the table. At this height, he’s easier to pick apart.

Simone finds fault in the length of his neck, the width of his nose, the severity of his angular face, the shake of his left hand as he brings the mug of tea to his lips, the sardonic pout of his lips, even the subtle gap between his front teeth.

But at this distance, he starts to understand how Soap could be interested in someone like König, an aesthetic appeal he hadn’t previously acknowledged to himself in as many words. König laughs without self-consciousness, smiles like it’s an unlimited currency. His hands are elegant, long-fingered and strong, piano player’s hands. His gaze is steady and sure when he does meet your eyes, and the intensity there is difficult to look at for too long, even behind the glasses. Gone is the towering yet somehow still unassuming operative behind the dark veil, and what’s left is disarmingly pretty but no less deadly.

It’s the bizarre reality of seeing a coworker outside of the office, stripped of their usual pomp and ferocity. König’s comfortable in his skin, something Simon can’t say is true of himself off the field. He has an awkwardness that Simon supposes one could call charming, says ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ too much to the server as she deposits steaming plates of food on their table. He even catches a wayward condiment bottle before it can hit the ground after he knocks it from the server’s tray.

As König is placing the bottle upright on the table, he catches Simon watching him and winks. Simon looks away, pulls his mask off so he can have something to do with his hands while he feigns ignorance at being caught.

They eat quickly, Soap and Simon both ravenous from the previous day’s activities, the last meal they’d shared being some stale crackers Soap had scavenged from the kitchen cupboard. As the server is coming to clear the table, Simon pulls the mask back on. Across from him, Soap’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out to check the notification.

“Maisie says our costumes are ready,” Soap says, and turns his phone so Simon and König can read a text that says “Come and get ‘em, boyo.”

“Who’s Maisie?” König asks, and Simon feels a small victory at König being as out of the loop as he is for once.

“Childhood friend from Glasgow first, costume designer at Edinburgh Playhouse second. They just wrapped on The Wild Party and I’m cashing in on a favor,” Soap says, pocketing his phone.

“This all seems very, what’s the word,” König says. “Auspicious.”

“If you’re implying what I think you’re implying, you’re wrong,” Soap replies.

“I’m only implying that it seems very convenient, schatz,” König says, and puts a hand on the nape of Soap’s neck, right over a bruise that Simon had sucked into Soap’s skin, now an angry shade of purple. Simon’s hackles rise.

Soap senses the tension, glancing between König and Simon. But König doesn’t move his hand. Instead he adjusts his grip to hold Soap’s neck more firmly as he moves in closer, not taking his eyes off of Simon. Under the table, Simon feels a foot slide against his, the angle all wrong for it to be Soap’s.

The server returns with the cheque, unaware of the scene she’s just disturbed. Simon reaches for his wallet at the same time König does. The foot against his pulls away, returns a moment later, this time resting on top of Simon’s boot.

“Bitte, allow me,” König says, and presses down on Simon’s toes.

Simon’s hand stills, returns to rest palm-down on the table. He can feel Soap’s eyes on him, assessing the threat level. König finds his wallet, flips it open on the table to recover his credit card which he drops on the table next to the cheque.

He hasn’t spoken a single word to either of them since they arrived at the cafe.

On the drive to the Playhouse, Soap sits in the passenger seat, placing his hand above Simon’s knee like penance as he provides directions, voice low. König is sprawled in the backseat with his feet up to accommodate his height.

Simon grunts his replies if he can, keeps it curt if not. He’s afraid the tight lid he’s keeping on his temper might come unscrewed if he says too much. He can tell Soap knows he’s not in his element, and is trying to give him some attention to pacify his discomfort, but the coddling feels too much like pity which sets his teeth even more on edge.

Soap directs him behind the Playhouse when they reach the parking lot, and has him pull up in front of a nondescript door.

“I’ll be right back,” Soap says, holding eye contact with Simon, a silent plea not to shed any blood in his absence. He exits the car and pulls the door to the building open, disappearing inside.

Without missing a beat, König says, “Du gehst mir auf den Keks.”

“English, König,” Simon snaps.

“I said, “you’re getting on my nerves’,” König responds, looking up from his phone to stare at Simon in the rearview mirror, his glasses flashing and eyes obscured.

“Why’s that?”

“If you don’t mind me saying Lieutenant, you’re behaving like a gschissana.”

“What did I just say?” Simon asks. He’s being petulant on purpose.

“You invited me,” König replies. “I don’t understand why you act like I’ve intruded on your weekend.”

“I haven’t said a damn word.” Simon keeps his tone even, betraying nothing.

“Exactly,” König retorts.

Simon looks away first. König doesn’t press him.

Soap emerges from the Playhouse, carrying three opaque garment bags. He indicates for Simon to pop the boot with his free hand, walks around to the back of the car presumably to store said garment bags before slamming the trunk closed and joining them in the car.

“Maisie says hi,” Soap says as he does up his seatbelt.

“Hi Maise,” König replies, looking back at his phone, the picture of indifference. Simon says nothing.

“Alright lads, let’s go see some sights,” Soap says, recovering quickly. Simon puts the car in drive.

His bad mood persists.

Soap takes them to the Royal Mile, where they wander the shops and museums without purpose for a handful of hours. Soap suggests they stop for coffee at the cafe outside of the National Gallery, and Simon’s glad for the change, feeling out of place among the art with König and Soap walking ahead of him, their fingertips brushing. Simon thinks they look nice together, that Soap deserves to be with someone beautiful like König, that König could find a marble podium to stand on and be mistaken for Michelangelo’s David.

Soap keeps glancing over his shoulder at Simon, seeming to be unsure of whether or not to give him his space. He’s tried to bring Simon into the conversation, but Simon has rebuffed him each time. As they’re passing in front of a Rembrandt on their way towards the exit, Soap pulls Simon aside without warning and asks him, “What am I doing wrong?”

“It’s not you,” Simon reassures him. From where they’re standing, he can see König chatting with a young woman in excited German, but is sure König is aware of them. Knowing they’re being surveilled makes him want to touch Soap, cup his face and pull down his mask to lean in for a kiss. He’s never been overly performative with his affections, especially in public, but being around König brings out a side of him that rarely sees the light of day anymore, and it’s stretching its legs for the first time in years.

Soap rests his head on Simon’s chest, falling into him. “What can I do to make it better?” he asks, sounding exhausted.

Simon grabs his shoulders to move him back a step, finding Soap’s eyes. “Johnny, it’s not you,” he promises.

“Is it him?” Soap asks.

“Negative. I asked him here, I’m dealing with it,” Simon answers.

“I want you to have a nice time, too,” Soap says, voice soft on a whine.

“Then stop acting like you’re not with him in front of me. It’s making me uncomfortable,” he says, vitriolic.

“That’s what’s making you uncomfortable?” Soap exclaims.

“I’ve seen you two shag, if you want to hold his hand you should. I won’t be scandalized.”

Soap’s lips press into a thin line and a frown creases his brow. Simon knows he’s being harsh, but it’s annoying how Soap is trying to pretend like they’re just three normal blokes, friends even. He wants Soap to stop dancing around it, thinks maybe if he sees them together on his terms he can get over it faster.

Simon crosses his arms over his chest, putting even more space between himself and Soap, resolute in his assertion. Soap’s jaw clenches at that, the expression on his face unreadable, eyes gone stormy. He turns on his heel and marches up to König who stands alone on his phone facing away from them, the young woman having returned to her own group. Soap grabs the wrist not holding his phone and spins König to face him. He reaches up to hook both arms around König’s neck and drag him down into a searing kiss, rising up on his toes to close the gap while König catches up.

König recovers quickly. His arms come up to hold Soap’s waist as he deepens the kiss, angling his chin and turning it into something filthy and performative, closing his eyes as he gives himself over to it. Simon even sees a flash of tongue.

Soap pulls away first and whirls around to glare at Simon, as if to say ‘is this what you wanted?’ before storming off into the next gallery room. Simon expects König to follow, but König surprises him again when he ambles over to Simon, sardonic smile like a knife in Simon’s chest.

“That was weird,” König says.

“I upset him,” Simon says, half-deflated at Soap’s reaction.

“What did you say to him?” König asks. Simon’s getting tired of having to look up to meet his eyes.

“I told him to stop pretending you two aren’t together,” Simon answers. “Bit odd, no?”

“I think Johnny is trying to protect your feelings,” König says. He crosses his arms, mirroring Simon.

“He doesn’t ‘ave to,” Simon snaps. “I’m fine.”

“Red‘ keinen Topfen,” König says, scoffing. “You know what you’re doing.”

“And what exactly am I doing?”

“Scheiße, can we call a truce or something? For Johnny’s sake?” König asks. “I actually like you, when you’re not being a dickhead.”

‘You do?’ Simon wants to ask. Instead says, “I s’pose you’re alright.”

“I think we want the same thing,” König says. “And I know you’re a decent man. I’ve seen it when we worked together, and I see it when you’re with Johnny.”

Simon doesn’t know what to say to that, but he feels something in his chest loosen. Knows he could say the same thing about König.

“Should we–?” Simon asks, and gestures to where Soap had disappeared.

“Ja, gemma,” König replies, already turning.

They walk side by side in search of Soap, whom they find sitting by himself on a brightly colored bench clearly intended to accommodate small children in front of the Stegosaurus fossil. König approaches him first, puts his hand on Soap’s bent head and ruffles his hair. He joins him on the bench, folding his long legs into a near squat. König catches Simon’s eyes and jerks his chin to the empty space on Soap’s other side. Simon obeys the silent order, sitting hip to hip with Soap, half hanging off the bench.

Simon moves first. He takes Soap’s hand and threads their fingers together. Soap looks up at him, swings his head around to look at König, who takes his other hand following Simon’s suit. They sit like that in silence until Soap says, “Bet we look ridiculous on this tiny bench.”

König laughs, breaking the tension. He waves down a staff member and pulls his phone out of his pocket with his free hand. “Would you please take a picture of us?” König asks, unlocking his phone before holding it out to the staff member who takes it and steps back to comply.

Simon freezes. He’s not averse to being photographed, and half his face is obscured by the mask anyway, but something about documenting this moment, the three of them like this, makes it real. Simon releases Soap’s hand as the camera flashes. One step forward, two steps back.

“Danke,” König says when the staff member hands his phone back. He holds it out for Soap and Simon to see, but Simon doesn’t spare it a glance.

“Send that to me, please,” Soap says, still holding König’s hand.

“Ohne zweifel,” König says, tapping at his phone with one hand. “Sent.” Soap’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

“Come on,” Soap says, dropping König’s hand as he stands. “I need coffee.”

The day gets easier. Simon relaxes enough to joke with König while they sit outside of the cafe. König even let him pay for their drinks without protest. To Simon, it’s the least either of them can do for Soap while he’s hosting them, and he realizes it doesn’t matter who pays between he and König as long as Soap feels appreciated.

Soap drags them onto a tour bus next and Simon’s good mood continues, coming easier the more he allows for König and Soap’s familiar, innocent touches, the idiosyncrasies of their relationship on display for Simon’s viewing pleasure. By the time they’ve finished with the tour, visited the Christmas Market, a castle Simon’s already forgotten the name of, and the Brittania, it’s nearing oh sixteen hundred.

He lets Soap drive them home, knackered and feeling his age, with the knowledge that the day is not yet through.

Simon’s struggling to do up the buttons of his dress shirt when Soap finds him. He’s hiding out in the loo upstairs, mask off, half-dressed in a dark suit with more straps than even his tactical gear. He’s even wearing sock garters. Over the white shirt, a pinstripe vest lays unbuttoned against his chest, the hint of maroon suspenders visible beneath it. A matching suit jacket and red tie hang from the hook on the open door behind him. Soap’s provided a pair of shiny black wingtips, just a half size too small but still wearable.

“Oh,” Soap says as he rounds the corner to see Simon standing in front of the vanity mirror. Soap’s wearing what Simon can only think to describe as antique workwear, brown ankle boots and a white cotton shirt under black suspenders, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the hem tucked into his heather gray slacks, tight at his waist to accentuate his trim stature. On his head, he wears a dark tweed cap.

In the next second, Simon’s being crowded up against the sink by Soap, whose hands have found Simon’s suspenders, gripping them tight as he holds him in place to rake his eyes down Simon’s body.

“How are you real? Who the fuck made you?” Soap asks, gaze dark as they stare at Simon’s lips, trace his cupid’s bow and find his eyes.

“I made me,” Simon says. His hands come up to grip Soap’s waist between his palms. He closes the space between them with an urgent kiss, knocking the hat from Soap’s head in his haste. Thinks, finally.

Their lips slide together, greedy after being denied all day, already familiar with what the other likes but still reveling in the newness. Soap bites Simon’s bottom lip and uses Simon’s resulting gasp to lick into his mouth. Simon lets himself be kissed, content to let Soap take what he wants.

Simon’s eyes are closed, he’s so lost in Soap’s touch that he doesn’t hear König coming up the stairs. Doesn’t even hear the approaching footsteps until he’s leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, wearing a near identical suit to Simon’s but in lighter gray and blue tones, sans jacket.

König smirks at him over Soap’s shoulder when Simon opens his eyes to see him watching them. He takes a step forward and reaches a hand up to thread his finger’s through Soap’s hair, holding him by the nape of his neck like how he had at breakfast that morning. Simon watches him, watches his eyes go heavy-lidded at the scene they make before him. He doesn’t feel threatened, just observed, and it’s getting him hot.

König reaches a hand over Soap’s shoulder to grip Soap’s chin, brushing his forefinger against Simon’s jaw in the process, He’s directing Soap’s movements against him, and it’s like König’s kissing him through Soap. His eyes close at the thought, and he feels arousal pool in his belly, in his groin, shocked at his own responsiveness. He feels himself begin to harden in his slacks, the barest touch of König’s skin against his . Unbidden, he moans into Soap’s mouth.

Soap groans in response, and pulls his mouth away from Simon’s to turn his head towards König, straining to reach his mouth. König acquiesces, lowers his head until they’re kissing, filthy and wet. Simon watches Soap’s jaw flex, mouth parted on ragged breaths. The hand that was on Soap’s chin reaches for the back of Simon’s head, drags him in until he’s pressed all along Soap’s front, and brings his mouth to Soap’s neck.

He licks the skin revealed by the collar of his shirt at the base of his neck, up to the hinge of his jaw, bites down on it, breaths coming hard. With Soap pressed between them, Simon can feel the minute shivers wracking his body, starting in his chest and making his hands clench where they’re clutched in Simon’s shirt, wrinkling the fabric no doubt but pulling him impossibly closer.

König backs away first, the weight of him pinning Soap to Simon lifting as he steps back, hands falling away from both Simon and Soap.

“I’ll be downstairs,” König says, breathless, already backing out of the loo and edging towards the stairs.

Soap doesn’t speak, but when his eyes find Simon's chest heaving, his pupils are blown so wide his irises are just a thin blue ring. He unleashes his hold on Simon, pulls himself away like he forgot he was still clinging to him. He bends to retrieve his hat and turns to leave. Simon stands alone, last button still undone at his throat, trying to process what the fuck just happened.

*******

(i do not speak German so suggestions are always welcome from readers who are familiar with the language) Krass: cool Bist du deppert?: are you stupid? schatz: darling Bitte: please gschissana: shithead Red‘ keinen Topfen: stop talking rubbish Scheiße: fuck (in this context) gemma: let's go Danke: thanks Ohne zweifel: of course

#soapghost #soapböx #soapghostkönig #mw2 ghost #mw2 soap #könig cod #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #ghostsoap #soap x ghost #ghost x soap #soap x ghost x könig #mw2 fic #cod fic #gasoline in your heart #my fic

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