#Cod x gn reader

[gofishygo]

ok guys but hear me out..,

back before simon was drafted and he was still working in some butcher around the outskirts of manchester, he remembers a little bakery a few blocks down from his shop. although never particularly crowded, he's noticed the older locals go by in the mornings for coffee, kids guided in by their parents after schools to get a snack. but he doesn't seem to lounge in the corner of that cafe for either of those reasons- instead, he finds himself fawning over the pretty baker.

and you're nice to him, too- always smiling when you see him around, voice so sweet when you're at the butchers to buy some meat for the pies, sneakily trying to slip him a discount whenever he goes to buy a sandwich- 'hospitality workers gotta stick together, right?' it's no wonder that he finds himself falling for you, a stupid puppy crush that he tries, and occasionally fails, to suppress. and sometimes, simon lets himself believe you like him too, with the way the blood rushes to your cheeks when you spot him across the shelves, with he notes how you nearly fumble a frothing pot of milk when caught staring at him. it's a little attempt of young love that he thinks will be smothered out as he gets older.

but now it is twenty years later, he is working with the sas, and he is meant to be dead. but simon finds himself strolling his hometown, genuinely surprised that he sees the cafe still up, that he sees you, still working behind the display cabinets. you're older now, more mature, but your smile is just as pretty as it was those years ago. and he sees that glimmer of recognition in your eyes, how your head perks up at the sight of his figure outside of the window.

ghost smothers his cigarette and bins it before walking through the doors. may as well pay the bird a visit.

[the-palelady]

“simon?”

pools of amber glide up along the apples of your cheeks until he meets your gaze. he sits lazily on the sofa. the side of his calf rests against his knee and his arms are spread eagle on the back of the cushions as he takes you in.

“everything alright?”

he’d been in a trance this entire time, enamored by the routine waltz you did around your shared space everyday.

“s’nothin’ dove.”

he smells the doubt that wafts off of you, and stands. his big bear paw of a hand encompasses your waist when he walks by, a kiss pressing to the crown of your head.

“jus’ love ya is all.”

[selfmessages]

Face sitting w/ König | gn!reader

You climb on top of König's face and lower yourself. Using the headboard for balance, not quite putting your full body weight down. König groans in faux annoyance before using the hands around your thighs to lower you onto his face. You yell at him to wait, and he immediately relents.

"Is something the matter, maus? I thought you said you were okay to do this. Do you want to stop?"

"No, I just don’t want to crush you." You mumbled nervously.

König lets out an airy chuckle at your response. His breath lightly fanned your skin.

"You’re much too small to crush me, schatz."

It was true. No matter how much you weighed, you would still be small to König. You would always be his little maus. König used your moment of hesitation to put your full body weight on his face. He eagerly starts licking and sucking at your sex, his tongue teasing and exploring every inch of your sensitive skin. You moan and grind against him. You struggle to move some of your body weight off of him, but your thighs are trapped as he holds you down harder, picking up on your attempt to move.

One particularly harsh suck causes your body to jolt, and you let out a whiney, high-pitched moan. One hand grips the headboard, while the other grips his hair tightly. The hair pulling is only egging on König even more as he sucks and licks at your sex. Too lost in the pleasure König is giving you, you give up on trying to move and instead grind on his face, chasing after your high. You move your hips back and forth in long motions, causing König's tongue to drag across your sex.

"Ah, fuck fuck fuck that feels so good, Köni-"

You’re fucking yourself like a madman on his tongue. Grinding, bouncing, and moaning. You feel yourself getting closer to the edge.

"Fuck Köni, I’m going cum-"

It doesn’t take much from König, as he sends you over the edge with a scream. He doesn't stop, though, continuing to lick and suck until you're trembling with aftershocks. You lean on the headboard, completely fucked out. You try to lift your leg to get off, but König keeps you secure.

"Uh Köni… what are you doing?"

König offers no response; instead, he takes a few long licks up your sex.

Oh.

Oh.

[luboy7rt]

 How Task Force 141 Would React to You Being Injured on the Field (GN - Teammate Reader Addition)

(Warning? Reader does pass out in one paragraph each, with no big details of any injury involved. Not much detail on the injury, just don't want to accidentally not warn someone of what is involved. So not many in-depth details on the injury :)

(Note:(GN - Reader. These can be seen as mostly platonic but can be seen as romantic and these are just my headcanons, feel free to disagree or agree, thank you) (INCLUDES: John Price, John 'Soap' MacTavish, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick and Simon 'Ghost' Riley)

Jonathan (John) Price:

- John is quick in dragging you off to a safe point, firmly placing you in a nice nook to ensure no stray bullets hit you. He does protect you, barking out orders for you to cover the wound and apply pressure as he focuses on killing the remaining enemies and makes sure the area is safe before helping you.

- Once it is ‘safe’ enough, he drops on one knee, questioning how you were ‘feeling’, scale of pain, how many injuries, just gives you a hell of a lot of questions to answer as he pulls out his small medical kit.

- He does basic procedures to ensure the wound wasn't fatal, disinfects and bandages as quickly and efficiently as he could as there might be enemies still around.

- He would question if you could stand, if not he has no problems helping you walk, looping his arm either over your shoulders or around your waist to pull you along to the evac point.

- You might owe him a drink, or two. He makes a ‘joke’ about it as you two walk (he isn't joking despite it coming off as one. You will end up paying for a round).

- He does take good care of you, ensuring you weren't in much pain, as he settles you into the evac helicopter, calling for a medic over comms when he could.

- He'd pat your shoulder or head and stay hovering near you until you get back to base, his eyes always coming back to check up on you.

- Depending on how much experience you have in the field, how many injuries you have had in the past, and how bad the injury was, if you were new to the team, he's a bit more ‘eh’ the medics know how to do their jobs but I'll stay nearby. If you are someone that has been on the team longer, he's sat by your side, rubbing your shoulder with one hand or the back of your neck, talking to you, questioning how you were. 

- If it's a ‘small’ injury, he's more relaxed, allowing the medics to do their jobs and not being that overbearing. 

- If it's a bigger injury? Good luck escaping his view, his eyes are on your wound while it gets patched up, ensuring everything goes smoothly while holding your forearm firmly in his grasp. His eyes would go from your injury to your face to see if it was affecting you badly or not. He forces himself to shut up, his jaw subtly clenched trying to let the medics do their job but he has to bite back comments of worry.

- If you pass out? He looks a bit surprised, his reflexes acting quickly catch you, his hand on your lower stomach and shoulder as he moves you to sit back in the helicopter, ends up sitting next to you the whole flight to keep you in place, he stays strong despite the silent worry in his eyes.

John (Johnny) ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

- He's antsy when you get injured in front of him, he swiftly deals with the enemy soldier that caused it, dropping down to your level and taking you into his arms. He asks ‘are you okay’ in many different ways, along with ‘where are yer hurt?’ a few times.

- His hands find your wound to apply pressure, or quickly bandage it, unable to clean it in the fast-paced situation, as enemy soldiers were still around, his main focus was simply getting the bleeding to stop and he would clean and bandage you up better later.

- He'd put his body between yours and the enemy soldiers, trying to block you from getting injured more while also firing back, trying to complete his job but also ensure you are protected.

- He would mutter to himself, as if to keep himself on track on what he had to do first, like a subtle ‘check-list’ on what to do, deal with this group of enemy soldiers, clean and re-patch your wound, run the hell to evac point. 

- He would gently brush his thumbs over your eyes if you cried due to the pain of your injury, quietly murmuring a bit of praise to keep you awake and aware before helping you up. He keeps a tight grip on you while his eyes check on you every few minutes before returning to look around his surroundings. His hand firmly on your back, rubbing slowly as his other hand held his sniper.

- If you needed him to carry you, he would. He would either throw you over his shoulder so he could rush to the evac point or hold you a bit more gently as tightly holds you.

- Once in the evac helicopter, he would let the medics do their job, him sorta being on autopilot as he watches over you. His hand going from the top of your head, to your shoulder, to gripping your forearm, to simply just grabbing at you. You were always in his grip, as if he was making sure you were still around and alright.

- If you pass out? He goes a bit pale, putting you down and yelling for a medic quickly, shaking you to try and wake you up. If you wake up, great, he’ll slowly calm down as he ensures you're safe within the evac helicopter. If you don't? He panics a bit, despite being trained not to, he can't help it when he knows a person so well, his own teammate. He ends up sleeping out next to you, his head on yours as the evac helicopter flies back to base, the medic having had patched you up and Soap there for support. But it wasn't known if he stayed with you for your own comfort or his own comfort.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick:

- He stumbles after you, trying to make quick work to check if you were okay, tugging you down to hide behind a bit of stone. He loses all the confidence he had moments prior as he watched your pained face.

- He would quickly bandage your wound, going into simply just repeating what has been drilled into his mind over the years. He is quite quiet during this, going on his comms unit to request for a medic and backup. 

- His eyes softening and he lets out a quiet sigh of relief if you are awake and aware, he grips your shoulders, while keeping a firm eye out for any enemies about. He smiles at you softly as he crouched down right in front of you, giving a brief side hug before going back to protecting you until backup arrives.

- Kyle pulls you up gently when backup arrives, sneaking you out of harms way while trusting the others to handle the few remaining enemies about. He would give you a soft look while murmuring encouraging words, he doesn't want you to pass out on him, so he was really just rambling to try and catch your attention.

- Promises to buy you a snack, or a round, or any drink you want as long as you don't pass out (he ends up buying you anything even if you do pass out).

- If you do pass out, the look of ‘are you kidding me? I said not to’ Kyle had as he caught you, his arm around the back of your waist, to keep you leaning into him instead of landing on the floor. Kyle ends up dragging/carrying you to the helicopter.

- He sits next to you as a medic does their work, looking at the ceiling as he breathed out, he was sure that was maybe the most ‘scare’ he ever had in his career as he cared about you, you being his teammate, he spent about all his time with you and the other Task Force 141 members, his thoughts went to a horrid place. Thinking about what he would ever do if he lost you or any other member he was close with.. he felt ill at just thinking that. But when his eyes went to you, his eyes softened and he relaxed, shaking those thoughts away as he was simply glad you were alright.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

- Ghost ends up killing the enemies who injuried you himself, having snuck you to a ‘safe’ hidden place in the battlefield before doing so. Having tossed his medical kit at you for you to care for your own injuries as He went off to deal with the dangers that still lurked around every corner.

- He comes back after about twenty minutes, silently watching you (if you managed to actually patch yourself up, he's more relaxed, calls you a idiot if you were too injured to patch yourself up) But Ghost leaned down to clean your wound then patch it up for you. Murmuring half- ‘insults’ but it was only out of care due to the fact he wasn't to sure on what to do with himself other than killing those who harmed you.

- There is indeed an awkward silence between the two of you as he patched you up, awkward eye contact, even more awkward touching. Ghost would quietly grunt at you. Shifting to help you up, if you stumble he sighs. Ends up just fireman carrying you or dragging you off, speaking calmly over his comms unit to get a evac helicopter on route.

- His hand would squeeze your shoulder, he wasn't one to like affection that much, but it was sorta like he was trying to keep both of you calm, he just wasn't sure how to show you..? He wanted you to know you could Indeed rely on him.

- If you pass out.. he forgets to catch you. You hit the floor hard as he made a silent ‘shit’ face under his mask, as he had been walking in front of you, having had not noticed until he heard the thud. He silently drags/carries you to evac point. He doesn't let a soul know he allowed you to fall.. he doesn't even inform you once you wake up. No one will ever know of this error.

- He keeps his hand firmly on you as he brings you to a medic, and watches their every movement, there was no room for error patching up one of his teammates.

[vampdes]

( cw. quick drabble, makeout sesh. könig & reader. grinding / dry humping. + google translate german used. )

“mmh! schatz, wai—”, könig and you had a mission no less than four hours from now. both of you knew that, if the two of you were caught by price, again, only god knows how he’d reprimand the two of you this time. [t. sweetheart.]

but könig’s lips were so distracting. they were full, his upper lip being a soft pink and his lower lip being rose pink, with a scar on the left side. if he didn’t want makeout sessions all the time, why would he put on a show just for you?

“jus’—fuck, hands on my hips, babe.” you said between kisses, placing his gloved hands on your hips before going back to gripping his hair and grinding against his cargo pants.

“too—engel, engel–gott, ich werde— zu viel!” he cried, squeezing his legs shut after you had pulled his swollen lips away from yours. [t. angel, angel–god, i’m gonna—too much!]

you grinned, wiping away the stray tears from his tear-stained cheeks, “we have . . a little longer, yeah?”.

“liebe, trainin’—hah, ah!”. you pressed your hand against his mouth, you motioned for him to be quiet as you unbuckled his belt. könig bit his lower lip, nodding slightly as he watched you place his belt on top of the duffel bag. “we—training, though, the mi–oh, god–the mission!” you situated yourself on top of his lap before tilting your head. [t. love.]

“we have time. three hours and some minutes, [we] won’t be late like last time, swear.” you mumbled, pressing kisses against his jaw whilst slowly grinding against the crotch of his black briefs. könig nodded slowly, his mind becoming clouded by his urges, “we—yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, agreeing, his hands going underneath your shirt and situating on your waist.

you pressed soft kisses against his adam’s apple to which he tipped his head back with a soft groan. “yes—we definitely . . hah, we definitely have more time.” könig whispered, licking his lips before smiling and gently pressing his lips against yours.

[skylarsblue]

✦I have more C.o.D Quotes✦

Gaz: How’s your head? Y/N: Well, I haven’t had any complaints yet. Gaz: …excuse me? Y/N: Oh uh, I think I’ll live-

-- (Somewhere in Greece with a fuck ton of cats) Ghost, watching Price sneeze every five seconds: What a catastrophe. Gaz: No. Y/N: PFFT- Soap: Stop, no, don’t encourage him. Y/N: Ahem! Right, right. Not funny. Ghost: I am purrfectly capable of being funny. Y/N: *struggling* Gaz: Sometimes I wish you didn’t have a mouth.

-- Just a scene of Y/N taking out a bottle of whiskey, unscrewing they cap, then putting one of those lid caps on. (Like the ones you have on those fancy Gatorades) Taking a huge swig and closing the cap on it as Soap watches in amusement, & Price in fear.

-- Ghost: Quit messing with my hand. Soap: Quit messing with my hair! Y/N: Quit being gay. Gaz: PFFFT Y/N: Both problems solved.

-- Y/N, on the comms: You have thirteen seconds before the building fucking explodes you hot topic wannabe- Ghost: … Y/N: And you green gumball son of a bitch. Gaz: Wha-?! Soap: *WHEEZE* Y/N: You have done nothing but ruin my life; I hope you both die.

-- Soap, Gaz, & Y/N: *cackling* Laswell, losing at poker: I miss my wife, Price. Price: *places down cards* Laswell: I miss my wife.

-- Ghost, overstimulated & a lil drunk: AHHHHHH MY BONES Y/N: *frantically getting headphones* Soap, drunk: *wheeze* Gaz: Ah. I know I should’ve- *dies coughing* Soap: *more wheezing*

-- Graves *kicks in door* WHO POSTED MY NUDES ON TWITTER DOT COM?! Y/N: SUCK IT, BITCH BOY!! Alejandro: *aggressively slapping his leg while silently laughing* Rudy: *pointing and laughing* Valeria, in handcuffs: Ha, dumbass.

-- Graves: Bitch, you are gonna get in this car or I’m popping between ya eyes! Valeria: Hey, I know you. I saw your dick on Twitter! Graves: NOOOOOO Y/N: AHAHA!

-- Graves: C’mon Johnn- Y/N: *chucks a rock at Graves’ head* Graves: OW, WHY?! Y/N: NO JOHNNY FOR YOU! He goes by Soap and we respect that! Graves: Ghost calls him that! Y/N: CAUSE GHOST HAS PERMISSION, you EARN the right to Johnny! And I will be damned if anyone else earns the right before me. I been working my ass off to get the Johnny privilege and you will NOT get it for free! Soap, who’s just been standing there the whole time: *leans to Gaz* Have they actually been taking it that seriously? Gaz: Yeah. They’ve also been working real hard to try and get the right to call Captain “John”. Shoulda seen their face when I said they can call me Kyle. Soap: That’s…really sweet, I’ll give’em permission later. Gaz: Why not now? Soap: I wanna see that bastard get chewed out some more.

-- Y/N, perched on Price’s desk: Captain. Price: *sigh* Y/N: Captain I crave violence.

-- Ghost: Your family line deserves to die with you, only shame it didn’t end before you. Graves: ….I just sat down!

-- Y/N: You’re like…the human incarnation of crumbs in the bed. Graves: Oh c’MON THAT’S REAL MEAN Ghost: It’s true though. Y/N: The kinda crumbs that you keep swiping away but somehow they never leave- Graves: Alright! You know what- Soap: Like getting in bed after going to the beach. Gaz: Sand in the bed, yeah. Feels like that when he talks. Graves: I’M JUST GONNA FUCKIN LEAVE! Y/N: *watches him go* Annnd now the sheets have been changed. Ghost: Clean from filth. Alejandro: You all are so cruel and it’s perhaps the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

-- Gaz: Things Gucci with you? Y/N: It’s Goodwill at best, my guy. Price: I don’t know what this means but I feel like I should be concerned.

-- (Mild NSFW Jokie Time) Gaz: You alright? You been zoned out. Y/N: Hm? Nah I’m good, just having depraved thoughts. Gaz: Depraved, you say? Soap: Oh do tell. Y/N: You just…you ever see someone and think “they have pretty eyes”. And that’s normal. But then the little devil in the back of ya skull goes “yeah they’d look good rolled back”. Or am I just a whore? Gaz: That is depraved. Soap: Got a good point though.

-- Y/N: Ooo! Look! Old pictures of Captain, this one’s dated. You would’ve been…19 in this one. Lemme s-…… Gaz: Lemme see! ….. Price: What? Y/N: …..you were a whore, weren’t you captain? Gaz: That’s the face of an arrogant bastard who fucks regularly. Price: I…might’ve been a bit of a playboy. Y/N: And I would’ve fallen for it you god damn bastard, no ones fACE SHOULD BE THAT NICE!

-- Valeria, painting her nails: I might kill my ex, not the best idea. His new girlfriend’s next- Alejandro: ….. Rudy: ….should I be worried? Alejandro: Move away quietly and pray.

-- Ghost: For the record this is self destructive. Soap, chugging his 5th energy drink in the past hour: For the record, I’m aware of that.

-- MILF!Y/N: Boys. Bed, now. I wanna talk to your captain. Price: No, boys stay. Please stay- Y/N: Go. Price: Stay. The boys: *concern, panic, perhaps a bit of fear* Y/N: Go! Price: Stay! Y/N: You go! Soap: *speed walking* Price: Soap, stay! Y/N: NOW! Gaz: *slowly backing away* Price: Gaz, don’t move! Y/N: YOU GO! Price: SIMON- Ghost: *leaving*

-- Ghost: What was Plan A? Soap: …don’t fuck up. Ghost: And what was Plan B? Gaz: Don’t fuck up Plan A. Ghost: And what did you do? Y/N: …fucked up plan a- Ghost: YOU FUCKED UP PLAN A-

-- Ghost: What’s rule number one? Soap, with dynamite: Party! Ghost: NO! No, not party! No!

-- Graves: How about after this, we get a drink? Y/N: …I would rather gouge out my eyes and blindly navigate a way to turn them into earrings than ever be anywhere alone with you. Soap, grinning: Ooooo brutal! Ghost: Karma.

-- Ghost: Wait…Johnny’s into me? Like…he LIKES me?? Gaz: Oh Si…you poor, sad, dense mother fucker.

-- Ghost: At least nothing of importance was lost. Laswell: …Graves was kidnapped. Ghost: I know. I said what I said. Y/N: Nothing of value was lost but we did shed off some trash! Ghost: Precisely.

-- Ghost: These lights make me wanna pull my eyes out and eat them. Medic!Y/N: *turns lights off in favor of a lamp* …alright, so you’re autistic, good to know.

-- Ghost: Should I get my reading glasses? Y/N: Oh no no, this isn’t an eye test. It’s a GAY test. Now tell me, *holds up picture of Farah & Graves; Price being 1* Number one, or number two? Ghost: Number one?… Y/N: Interesting. *holds up Farah & Soap, Soap being 2* Okay now number one, or number two? Ghost: *gasp* Y/N: Number two, right? Ghost: Maybe I am gay?

-- Waitress: So, I’ve gotta ask, I’m really curious. 141: ? Waitress: Have any of you ever used like…the military language in bed? Soap: Naaaah. Y/N: No, I don’t- PFFFT, I- *wheeze* I’m sorry I’m imagining it- Gaz: *biting back laughs* Y/N: “You gonna come?” Affirmative. *laughs* Soap: *WHEEZE* Gaz: *cackling* Price: Oh lord- Gaz, snickering: Picking up speed. Y/N: COPY- *Laughter x100* The entire team: *giggling like hyenas* Ghost: Uh, that’s a no. I don’t think we’ve done that.

-- Price: *smiles at Soap & Gaz being stupid* Y/N: I like when you smile. Price: …huh? Y/N: Your smile, I like it. Makes your eyes crinkle up and your beard makes you look like a cuddly bear. You should smile more. Price, internally on the verge of tears: *fond sigh* Get back to drills, soldier. Y/N: Yes sir!

-- Ghost: *minding his fucking business* Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: *chokes on air* Pardon? Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: No I-…they’re just brown. Y/N: So? Your eyes don’t have to be blue or green to be pretty. They’re pretty because they’re expressive, and when the sun hits them they look like syrup. I like’em best when we’re all at a bar. They get brighter then. Ghost: Ghost: …stop talking, sergeant. Y/N: Copy that, L.T! <3

-- Gaz: *laughing at something on his phone* Y/N: You have a great laugh. Gaz: Hm? Oh…really? Y/N: Mhm. It’s cute, comes from your chest. I’ve never heard you laugh in anyway that’s not genuine. Really fills the room with joy. Gaz: Dude, you’re gonna make me all soft with words like that. Y/N: All according to plan!

-- Soap: *rambling about something* Y/N: *listening intently* Soap: Then-…ah, I been talkin’ at you this whole time, eh? Should probably quiet down. Y/N: No no, I like your voice! Soap: Eh? Y/N: It’s super energetic and loud, and when you tell a joke or talk about something you love, it’s like you can hear your smile. It’s really fun to listen to. I like when you talk! Soap: *inhale* You’re gonna make me cry- Y/N: I have tissues!

-- König: *fidgeting* Y/N: *takes his hands* You have beautiful hands. König: Wh- Huh?? No they are not. Y/N: They are too! König: Nien, they’re rough and calloused, they break a lot of things… Y/N: They also pet stray cats, make the best coffee on base, and create crotchet works of art. They also mend wounds pretty well. Yeah they fire guns but that doesn’t make them less beautiful. König: *he’s actually crying* …Danke. Y/N: Don’t mention it!

-- Rudy: *rolling his shoulder* Y/N: Anyone ever tell you that you have great shoulders? Rudy: Hm? Oh uh…no, I don’t believe so. Y/N: Well you do! Rudy: Ah, gracias. When I was younger I wanted them to be broader, sometimes now I wish they were more narrow. Can never really be happy with’em, you know? Y/N: Well I think you should be. They’re strong! *gently pats his shoulders* They hold a lot of weight, metaphorically and physically. And even when they’re weighed down, you shoulder it and keep moving. You’re real good at that! I like your shoulders. Rudy, prepared to die for them: …gracias. Y/N: No problem! Now c’mon, the guys are waitin’ for us!

-- Y/N: You have good collarbones. Alejandro: What was that? Y/N: Sorry, I know that’s real specific, but I think your collarbones are pretty. It’s like…the rest of you is bulky and strong, rugged. Then you have these delicate bones. I’m probably being too poetic but it’s like a subtle nod to your gentler side, just, built into your body. Alejandro: …you have a lovely way with words, camarada. Y/N: Thank you! I appreciate that!!

[trashland-llamas]

totally not projecting, bssht

Reader who refuses to call Johnny by his government first name. Sometimes Soap if the situation calls for it but never "John." Not because Price shares the name, it simply just feels weird to call him that. He's always been Johnny to them. So when they do, he knows he's in deep shit. Expletives running from his mouth, his face going beat red. Makes Ghost raise an eyebrow as to ask 'y/n angry is what scares you?' Muttering a 'shut up' as he goes to deal with the matter, metaphorical tail tucked between his legs. Man, does he hate being in the dog house. Johnny's not above groveling either. He'll go to hell and back to get back in their good graces which definitely takes a while with how good reader is at holding a grudge.

[roachesbf]

Hear me out, tiger Horangi and reader whose scent is similar to catnip. Or panther Ghost. Or both. All up to you >:)

Tiger Horangi/Panther Ghost with a s/o who smells of catnip

Your scent to both Ghost and Horangi is addicting!! Ghost likes to keep it on the downlow but this just means more of you for Horangi to hog away, especially in public. Your scent to Horangi makes him interact in a hyperactive way, he wants to play around especially. He likes when the two of your wrestle or when you got him tangled in your arms. Ghost on the other hand, he/others use you to calm him down when he’s upset. It’s more of a relaxer and he can’t help but let his instincts kick in as he relaxes himself against you, rubbing himself against you as much as he can, purring into your neck.

You’re more of a force to distract Horangi, they bring you into a room to get his focus onto something else sort of like Ghost. He could be lecturing someone and you walk into the room. He’s putting his finger in the air as he looks at you and back at the soldier. Saying he isn’t done with them but then proceeds to throw himself onto you.

Ghost is 50/50 about the affect you have on him. He loves that he feels so relaxed and safe with you, but at the same time he becomes so unaware of his surroundings that he can’t be 100% that he’ll keep you safe. It takes a lot of reassuring that you can keep the both of you safe when he’s in a tranquil state. He’s a little hesitant to fully let go but he eventually gives in the more you cuddle him against you.

When it’s the two of you together it’s literally opposites. Horangi has his hands all over you, leaving marks and nibbles as he tries to entice you to play with him. While Simons got his hands around your waist. Pulling you closer to his chest, as you feel his purrs vibrate through your back. Horangis giving your face little kitty licks while Simons nuzzling further into your neck. 2 kitty boys is the realest way to live.

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 2: SPY RINGS AND MOLEHILLS

synopsis: you find a mole, and are all-too-happy to show off your skills to keegan and kick.

word count: 1.9k

ships: Keegan Russ/Reader, Ghosts team & Reader

notes: sorry for long gap between chapters (>A<) also warning for canon-typical violence this chapter

WHY DOES EVIL WEAR A FACE SO FAMILIAR? MASTERLIST

You and Logan stand, side-by-side, behind Rorke as he paces, his hands clasped behind his back as he looks at the ground. 

Before him is Fuerza de Asalto Resol – Strike Force Resol. (Resol doesn’t have a direct translation into English, but it more or less describes the glare of the sun off a reflective surface. And that’s what you and Logan and the rest of this strike force are – reflections of Ghosts. Twisted and sick reflections that hate what they’re reflecting, but reflections nonetheless.)

And it’s all of Fuerza de Asalto Resol. All the way from the top lieutenant to the most inconsequential info jockey.

“I have been made aware of a threat,” Rorke starts, still pacing. “Someone in here has been forking over information to America.”

Your eyes rake over the people that are supposed to be on your side. Everyone has a tell – whether it’s that they’re nervous, lying, or anything else. Body language tells you what the lips don’t.

You reach out and brush your finger against Logan’s glove. His hand twitches, then he moves the back of his hand against yours with more purpose to let you know he’s listening. You grab his hand and extend his forefinger, using it to point at a no-name corporal whose eyes are flitting across Rorke’s face. He doesn’t portray any nervousness otherwise, but you can tell. You’ve been trained to tell. 

Logan takes his hand away from yours and knocks his knuckles against yours lightly in acknowledgement. He’s seeing things from your eyes, and he understands it completely. 

You continue to stand side-by-side with Logan for the remainder of Rorke’s spiel, more like intimidating guard dogs than terriers you are – the ones that hunt down mole burrows. Though you both could still be mastiffs. It was just a matter of context and urgency. 

When Rorke eventually finishes, Fuerza de Asalto Resol starts to file out of the room. You wait by the doorframe and catch the corporal’s wrist just as he’s about to leave.

“We need to talk,” you say.

He swallows, his eyes flitting between you and Logan. Another tell of nervousness. He nods.

What a weak excuse for a dog.

Keegan rocks in his wheely chair, picking at his nails and flicking out the muck from underneath them. The room is quiet aside from the whiny squeak of the chair and the taps of Kick’s fingers against his keyboard. 

There’s nothing to do. Keegan had pushed for an expedition out to The Divide when the Ghosts had gotten wind of you and Logan going out there, but was shut down many times over. Alas – he’s just a sergeant. And as much as he had insisted, he was still just a sergeant.

So Keegan’s stuck here with Kick, in some out-of-the-way briefing room, playing with his hands –

There’s a sudden sound, and Kick jolts and hits the underside of his desk with his knee. Keegan’s head snaps up.

The screen of Kick’s laptop flickers, and an image slowly fades in. It’s… a live feed of some sort. 

Firstly, you look… different from when Keegan saw you last. Obviously he had seen you after you had become a victim of proselytization, but never this close, not with this amount of detail. You’re dicking around with the camera, trying to get it to focus or something like that. Keegan can’t rightly bring himself to care at this moment.

All he really cares about is how you’ve changed. How a scar carves into your hairline, leaving a thick line of raised skin in its wake. How your lower lip is permanently split at one of the corners, dragging one side of your mouth into a fake frown. How one of your eyelids droops lower than the other because of some physical trauma Keegan probably can’t even bring himself to imagine being inflicted upon you. 

(And how Keegan wishes, more than anything, that he was there to kiss the scars away. No, he couldn’t kiss away the mental trauma or the physical reminders that it occurred, but he… Can you forgive him for just wanting – needing – an excuse to kiss a lover? His lover? (Ex-lover.))

Keegan’s line of thought is broken when you suddenly smile, wide and crooked. It’s not the soft, loving smile he’s used to: it’s something crazed and twisted. 

You prop up the camera on something that provides a wide-shot view of the room you’re in – a table or chair, maybe. You adjust the camera, still with that smile, and step back. 

A man, in an undershirt and compression shorts, is tied to a chair, his arms bound behind him and his legs tied to the legs of the chair. His eyes are wide with fear and his breath is labored.

“We found your friend, Kick,” you say. You take the back of the chair and shake it, jerking the man around. “Rats tend to turn up when you lay out glue traps.”

“What the fuck?” Kick snaps. 

But it doesn’t really seem like you can hear Kick, nor do you really care to. You circle behind the man and prop your chin on his shoulder. 

“That’s the thing with us Americans, isn’t it?” Your eyes flick to the camera lens, then away. “We take. We take and take and you’ve seduced a man of the Federation with your appetite.”

You inhale deeply, slowly, and dig your fingernails into the bound man’s arms, causing him to grunt and grit his teeth. You continue, your eyes flitting about the room. “There’s this story from the Bible. Something… something about Christ finding one of his temples polluted by money-changers and beasts. But… did he ask them to leave? Did he cry? Did he just walk away?” 

Your eyes find the camera again. “No. He drove them out. He…” You exhale heavily and tighten your grip on the man’s arms. “He found them. And he made his temple peaceful again.”

Keegan can only watch as the man groans and small trickles of blood start to run down his arms. The screen makes it seem so far away, but he can swear he can smell the sweat that beads your brow, almost taste the blood you’re spilling.

“Are you watching?” You spit. “I want you to watch as we cut your communications. We found your rat in San Jose de las Lajas… just south of Havana. He was so close to home. So close to America. I wonder how many others are out there? Or just in Cuba alone.”

Your hand flies to the man’s throat, your bloody fingernails digging into his skin. You grit out, “I said, “I wonder how many others are out there?””

“No sé!” The man says. “I don’t know!”

“I find that hard to believe,” you hiss into his ear. “A spy ring doesn’t just consist of one spy. At least do your country one last service and tell us where they are – who they are.”

“But I don’t know!” The man insists. His face twists as he tries to strain and get his neck out of your talon-like grip. “I really don’t.”

You sigh, exaggerated and condescending. “Tell me, corporal. Do you enjoy killing?”

The man shakes his head the best he can with your hand almost crushing his throat. 

“Do you think I enjoy killing?”

Again, the same.

“You’re right,” you say. “But, when done with a purpose, killing is a chore, just like any other. Don’t you agree?”

“S-sí,” the man stutters out. “A chore, yes.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I just…” The hand that was still on his arm drops to his belly. You drag your fingernails over his shirt, surely digging into the skin underneath. Your nails leave a smear of blood in their wake. “Because it’s just a chore. Right?”

“But I’m not!” The man insists. “I’m not a spy! I swear, on my mother, on my daughter.”

“Those are some fairly innocent women to swear your loyalty on,” you say. Your eyes find the camera.

Don’t do it, Keegan thinks to himself, as if trying to project his thoughts to you. (You used to be able to read him so well.) Don’t fucking do it.

You bring out a small mobile phone and walk off screen. The man’s eyes follow you, his breathing still sort-of quick and panicked. 

Keegan and Kick exchange a glance. Neither can bring themselves to speak – to tell the other what they think you’re going to do. 

You come back a few minutes later, the phone cradled to your ear. (Keegan exhales heavily when he sees that you don’t have the actual child.) You mumble Spanish into the receiver, then hold the phone to the man’s ear. “Josefina wants to talk to her papí.”

The man stiffens and leans into the phone’s speaker. “No… no. Por favor, Josefina… por favor, cálmate. Estoy bien. Papí está bien. No escuches a la persona mala. Josefina, por favor…”

Keegan can just barely hear a voice on the other end of the line. It’s high-pitched and quick and very obviously panicked. He can pick up snippets – “Papí,” “por favor,” and sniffling sobs.

“Fucking child.” You swipe the phone away from the man’s ear and shout Spanish down the line before hanging up and throwing it onto whatever’s propping the camera up.

When you turn back to the man, it’s with a backhand across his face. He reels, his face screwed up in pain and his teeth gritted. He doesn’t give much of a reaction besides that.

And it’s like that sets off a switch within you. You grunt and bring your hand across his face again, forehand this time. People fall when pushed by your hand – so why isn’t he falling?

At least, that’s what Keegan thinks you’re thinking as you beat the shit out of this man. Your hand is made into a fist and your fist is made into a weapon. And that weapon was quickly turning bloody and bruised. The only sound is you and the man grunting and the sound your fist makes on impact.

After a few minutes, you pull away, cradling your hand, huffing and panting. The man is infinitely worse. His nose is broken in several places, there’s a gash beneath his eye, and his bottom lip is swollen and bleeding.

You circle behind the man and prop your chin on his shoulder again. That twisted smile returns to your face. “Your rat is resilient, Kick. I’ll give him that.”

Your hands go down to his arms and rub over the crescent-shaped scabs forming there. The man winces. 

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” you say, your voice a hissing whisper. “I will find your trained dogs. And I will kill them.”

You round the man and pick up the camera, quickly cutting the connection. Kick’s screen goes static, then his laptop crashes and restarts. 

He turns to Keegan. “What the fuck was that?”

Keegan’s still staring at the screen. You were so close. It’s like he could’ve reached out and touched you if he tried hard enough. 

But that’s not you. That’s just someone who looks like you – someone wearing your skin and speaking with your voice. He has to tell himself over and over that you’re not you. You’re not you. You’re not you. You’re not –

Kick grabs Keegan’s arm. His head snaps to look at Kick. “You okay?”

Keegan inhales sharply and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just… shaken up, is all.”

But he’s not fine. That much is fucking obvious. You’re not you.

[luci4theminorannoyance]

Hii! Can you do a short Drabble about Valeria x spotted hyena hybrid partner who has a tendency to bite on everything and everyone but is extremely possessive over Valeria and constantly marking his scent on her like biting everywhere etc? It’s okay if not ! Can I be 🐾 aoan?:3

a/n: hiii! Sure! I love anons so much :D

Valeria:

-she adores your habits, all of them. They make you yourself after all, even if it means she has to fix a few tactical vests you chewed on too deeply or cover up a big ol bite mark on her hand because you got jealous one day of one of her soldiers giving her a fist bump

-keeps her old dog-tags on her desk, and still wears them not because of their significance of her past, but because they have your bite mark perfectly preserved as a mark on them

-makes her giggle or smile when she looks at one of her items to see the marks of your sharp teeth or soft bites at something

[gofishygo]

nikto + reader blurb

notes: mostly fluff, sex mentioned but no explicit scenes, slight body horror (nikto's scars), canon typical violence [mentions], god i love it when characters manage to heal and come to terms with their past and fall in love

honestly hoping n praying that nikto learns to live the softest n slowest life ever after meeting reader.

he's never gotten a day of comfort in his life, not after those interrogations. scared away both women and men in and outside of the military ever since then- face and body already nothing short of brutish and jagged angles, a bulk of muscle and fat that shadowed over every figure, weathered down to a near-macabre sight at the result of warfare. now the right half of his gum is exposed, torn apart by shrapnel and knife carvings that dragged across his face. sliced-off nostrils, yellow teeth poised at the world that had wronged him like a vulture preparing to feast- it was his unfortunate charm, the one that left him so often kicked out of brothels and whispered about in bars and revered in the barracks, smoking freely without disturbance in places where such had been outlawed years ago. of course he sees you- all keen and watching innocently, so starry eyed that it seems to blind you from his nature.

nikto would look down at his hands and see them as none further than machines. structured with bone and flesh to take down targets, but a puppet to the whims of the other voices that thrived only in his head. he was no more than the manifestation of his disorders, only set to take down the corpses that kortac had pointed at, the ones that kortac claimed to have wronged him.

and then you truly slip into his life, all doe-eyed and star-crossed. he thinks its none other than blasphemy, some sort of sick joke when you practically glue to him at the coffee shop, fixed on the crossword puzzles between his calloused hands. prodding around and occasionally chirping answers, some curious, but unfortunate, little thing that ended up right between his jaws. and he tries to spit you out, brush you off- your greetings at bars, parks, streetsides, alleyways none other than ignored with cold eyes and a masked face. but your laugh, sweet words- it trickles between cracks, melts the solute of stone, and soon enough, you're in his bed at seven am, tucked under his arm. he'd given you what you've wanted; held your body as gently as he had the ability to, growled some praise in your ear, let you sob into the pillows.

so he doesn't expect it when you show up at his door once again, oh-so-lovely smile on your face. certainly even more surprised when you keep coming, and cant deny the way his head goes a little fuzzy when he sees the notes you leave while he's in deployments, how you fold his sheets and put some flowers in a vase you'd bought that rested on his kitchen countertop. he leaves the door unlocked now, gives you the keys, and lets you in when the nights are cold.

you teach him things- how to tell if he's dreaming. learns to see his hands as more than accessories to murder, uses them as indicators to split his reality from the ones owned by his voices. you're teaching him how to make coffee and trim flowers and all he is learns is how to look at the world without staining it with blood. but it's okay- you help steady his shaking hands, hold the kettle of boiling water with him, and the weeks eventually unfurl into years.

and now, he wakes up next to you every morning, stays in bed cuddling with you until you reluctantly have to shove him away because although he's retired you still have a job, and he waters the plants and feeds the dogs outside, waiting only until you and the furry critters are well away to smoke. but it is not out of stress, no longer to rid himself of his heads, and more of a bad habit now. and the hole that the lack of conflict has left in him is so filled with you and your smile and your patience, with taking care of the garden, making coffee, helping with your paperwork. the never ending spurr of his voices still keeps him up at night sometimes, leaves him twitching. but it allows him to watch you fall asleep, feel your pulse under his cupped hand, even through the throbbing pain.

this is what life is meant to be like, maybe. taking off his mask and unbuckling the straps so he can feel your lips against what was left of his.

[dawnofh]

Hello I hope you day is going well. I don’t know if you do requests but you write 141 so well and I was hoping if you could write a gn reader just going up to the pals and just tagging them and saying tag your it and running away. Please👀.

I don’t really do requests but I loved the idea, thanks. Have an amazing day🫶

Tagging 141 then running away [Headcannon]

Price

“Tag, Captain!! You’re it!!”

As you run away, Price just stares at you, with both disappointment and concern.

His thoughts are, It’s that damn phone again.

Will never entertain your childish behaviour because this is modern warfare not a playground.

However if you tag him and take his bucket hat then he’s suddenly Usain Bolt.

He finna hunt you down.

“You fuckin Muppet, have you lost your bloody mind?!”

Expect to be hit or injured in some way. You’ll be hurt emotionally and physically.

He’s the, ‘I’ll give you something to cry about’ type of parent.

If for some reason he is a parental figure to you, he still won’t entertain your childish behaviour. “Stop it, get some help.”

No matter what he doesn’t give two shits about your dumb game and will simply shake his head trying to figure out when and how he went wrong with you.

Might just pull out a gun or knife on you one of these days, “Tag me again and you’re losing all 5 fingers today.” Please don’t tag him.

Ghost

There is a time and place for everything. I repeat, there is a time and place for everything.

“Tag!! You’re it!!” Simon wouldn’t even react, he would simply watch you run then move on with life.

If Ghost took things personally then Rodolfo would’ve flown through the windscreen for making that mask joke.

Simon would get you back at the worst time, “Lieutenant I’m scared to jump.” You looked down at the cliff, wondering if the water would be able to break your fall. He’d give you that Ghost stare then put a hand on your shoulder and go, “Tag. You’re it.” Before pushing you off.

On a normal basis, just like Price he wouldn’t entertain you nor give you the time of day.

“Lieutenant do you even know what tag is?” You question if this man had a childhood or even had friends. Although he wouldn’t take lightly to the question and just stare to shut you up.

His anger doesn’t show in person so he’ll take it out on you during training, make you run around the base just because he can, “C’mon Soldier, pick up the pace!! I thought you liked running?!!”

Realistically speaking, you actually wouldn’t want to be chased by a 6’4 British man in a skull mask. That’s pure nightmare fuel and would likely give you PTSD for the rest of your life.

Soap

Competitive asf.

“Tag!! You’re it!!” as soon as you run away slowly as a joke you realise Soap actually got up to chase you, “STOP!! I DON’T WANT TO PLAY ANYMORE, SERGEANT!!!!!”

Don’t start something you can’t finish.

Soap is hella competitive and takes the game very seriously, there is no place on this base you could possibly run and hide.

Immobilises you to get a win.

‘It’s just a prank, bro.’ energy

“Let’s spice the game up by tagging each other with grenades.” “Sergeant what the fuck-“ “Okay fine…knives.” “Sergeant please-“

Is likely to start initiating the game to which Price disapproves of and shuts it down immediately.

Might even take the game a step further by doing it one time during a mission to which Ghost slaps you both at the back of your heads.

Never does it again but would offer to play hide and seek or the floor is lava at the base, so long as neither of you are caught.

Switches up real quick when Price or Ghost are around, “Y/N. How old are you?”

John was most likely that one kid in school who took tag too seriously therefore tag is now banned at the base.

Gaz

“Tag you’re—“ “IT!!!”

Gaz was that fast kid in school. He’s the one kid no one was able to tag and is an ankle breaker.

Will climb over tables and cars just to tag you back.

Probably is the type to trip you when you’re walking, so be warned when playing tag, this man will two feet you just to get a victory.

You two annoy the shit out of Price. He becomes a human shield when you two insist on running around him just so the other can avoid getting tagged.

You and Gaz will probably go around tagging the entire base and somehow get everyone involved. All fun and games until someone tags Price or Ghost.

Tag with Gaz becomes the extreme hide and seek. He’d quite literally sit in a tree and wait for you to walk pass so he can jump down and tag you. Unlike Soap, he genuinely does take the game as a joke but wants to win.

You two might even be able to convince Price to make tag a training exercise. With some terms and conditions however.

During missions you’d sneakily still play. Except tag in ghillie suits is not ideal and there’s a small chance of tagging the enemy.

Tag but make it sniping, “Tag, dude with the hat is down.” “Tag, guy with the balaclava is down.” “Tag, macho looking man is down.”

“Shut the actual fuck up, Muppets.”

Just like that. Tag is banned again.

[selfmessages]

Hate sex

König x gn!reader

Warnings: NSFW(mdni), very short, hate sex, rough sex, foul language, light degradation, off-screen consent (this is NOT dub/non-con), ooc König maybe idk

God, you hated him. You hated him so fucking much, you cannot stand his existence. You hated how arrogant he was, his know-it-all attitude, his unnecessarily huge frame, and most of all, his stupid accent. The same accent that would mock and sneer at you every time you made a mistake. Even when you weren't, he’d make snide comments about your appearance, your voice—every little possible thing. You firmly believe that the world would be a better place without him. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself, because if you practiced what you preached, you wouldn’t be getting your hole stuffed to the brim with his thick cock.

König thrusts up into you as he tightly grips your hips enough to bruise them. You have no idea how long he’s been fucking you. Only thrusting hard and deep, muttering about how much of a whore you are while using you like a fleshlight. You can’t think straight; you can only moan and mewl as you get your hole stretched out by a man you ‘hate.’

"Such a filthy whore—being used is all your good for."

"Haah- go fuck yourself." You manage to say through gritted teeth.

His thrusts get harsher at your words, making you scream. Your back arches, and your nails dig into his back, leaving deep red scratch marks. He lifts you up to the tip before slamming you back down hard, making your vision go hazy. His cock rubs against your sweet spot, sending waves of pleasure through your body, causing your muscles twitch and shake.

"Why do that when I could fuck you instead?”

You don’t get a chance to respond as König’s lips capture yours in a bruising kiss. You reciprocate, kissing him back with equal vigor. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, drinking up all your moans.

His thrusts start to get faster, signaling that he’s close. König chases his orgasm, repeatedly slamming into your hole. The only sounds filling the room are your whorish moans and the sounds of skin slapping. His grip around your hips becomes impossibly tight as he spills his hot seed into you with a low groan. The knot in your stomach snaps as you cum on König’s cock.

Both you and König’s ragged breaths fill the air as you come down from your highs. You both silently stare at each other, reeling from what you two just did.

You were the first to break the silence. "I still hate you."

He grins. "I wouldn’t have it any other way."

[luboy7rt]

Task Force 141 as Your Roommate! (Gn!Reader - Headcanons)

(Includes: Jonathan (John) Price, Johnny (John) ‘Soap’ MacTavish, Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, and Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley)

Jonathan ‘John’ Price:

- He is a clean roommate, whatever he dirties he always ends up cleaning it immediately. He folds laundry very tightly, everything he folds would be able to fit into a duffle bag. 

- John ends up buying quite a lot of the replenishables around the house. He just tends to spot the fact you need more things before you do, he replaces it without you even noticing half the time.

He knows if you have a schedule or not; he just picks up on things. He will attempt to subtly help you if you need it.

- John's great at communicating, every little issue you have with each other can and will be solved easily so there is no issue between you two. 

- He tries to sneak in quietly whenever he returns home late from missions, yet every time it’s one small thing that always happens that ends up catching your attention. (Ex: Accidentally smacking his boot against the door, or placing his duffle bag down too heavily) It’s always a different thing every time. This agitates him to know the end, he is not a clumsy man but it's just a bad habit he accidentally got into as he's not used to having a roommate.

- If you guys have a camera, before he leaves for missions he always says something to the camera, always something sneaky or something he found funny to try and bond with you even if hes away often. If you catch him doing stupid while leaving your apartment, no. No, you didn't.

- John is gone a lot on missions (like all of them are) so he really trusts you to take care of your shared home as he leaves his most important possessions there and will always return back to your shared space.

Johnny (John) ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

(Just using Johnny to not mistake him with Price) 

- Johnny eats all your groceries whenever he is home. He apologizes and gives you money to repay for it, but he also doesn't stop. Tries to make a conscious effort to do so, but he gets to comfortable and ends up eating them all anyway. Always makes it up to you though, gives you money or goes shopping for you whenever you need it.

- Leaves sticky notes around the house of tasks for himself or you to do, some of the notes of just really sweet reminders, requests, or compliments.

- He sometimes would forget to send you his half of the bills, he always apologizes for it and quickly makes up for it, pays it, and ends up buying you your favorite snacks/drinks. 

- Type of guy to sing at 2AM before realizing you probably might be trying to sleep 30 minutes into his amazing set. Peeks his head into your room with a sheepish smile to apologize under his breath if you're awake, and might even mutter an apology if you're asleep.

-Johnny would leave his stuff everywhere, despite the fact he's usually good at knowing where his stuff is. He's a messy ‘I know where everything is’. Will try to clean up If you ask though if you decide you both can't live in messy organized chaos.

- Johnny tries to do the dishes, cleans the living area, and takes out the garbage before he goes away on long missions because he doesn't want to leave it all on you when he knows he leaves it messy.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick:

- Pays the bills on time, he will pay your half but expects you to repay him if you forget. (if you both are 50/50 on bills) he would be willing to change up on what you guys buy or pay for.

- He dances when cooking, and sometimes you wake up to him vibing in the kitchen getting it down while he blasts music, he apologizes a lot if he wakes you up and tries to lower the volume every time he does want a small cooking party. (You will go to sleep one night while Kyle is away on a mission and might wake up to his music in the kitchen while he's partying like he hasn't been up for 42 hours and just returned from a long mission) 

- You'll know when Kyle's home, he tries to make himself known by humming or talking to you randomly to just try and check up on you. Really tries to get on your good side to make up for the fact he's not around very often.

- Kyle leaves you cooked food for when he knows he's going away on missions for long, leaves personally cooked containers in the fridge to try and ensure your caring for yourself while he's gone.

- He likes just being around when he's home, even if it just means silently sitting In the same room doing separate tasks. Kyle likes the ‘normalcy’ of it all.

- Kyle likes hiding nice things for you to find around the apartment (ex; flowers, pretty rocks, money that he definitely didn't place on purpose) he doesn't even tell you, just likes waiting for you to find it and texts him a picture because he gets giddy about it.

- Will always pick up the phone when you need him, sends you a text instead if he's doing something important. Will do you favors. If you ask for snacks on his way home? Yeah, he is getting it for you, doesn't end up letting you pay for it though.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

- He eats your food accidentally some times, he always replaces it before you notice, if you cooked it? Oh wow, You have a totally different color food of the same thing from Simon attempting to re-make it for you. He ends up just leaving cash on top of it as an apology.

- He makes sure not to leave too much of a mess for you, he's busy but he really tries to clean before he goes away on longer missions. 

- You don't know when this man is home he is so quiet, you go for water at 4AM? You'll see him standing in the kitchen like a ghost staring at you until you notice him. (If you freakout, he flinches back but gives you a offended look like he wasn’t the one standing in the pitch black room)

- He moves stuff around sometimes when he's antsy, the living room might be rearranged by the time you leave your room. And he's already gone on a mission so you can't complain until he comes back. (He does try and keep this to a minimum and fixes it if you need him to. If you annoy him enough he ends up just changing his room and leaving the rest).

- He randomly leaves you money to find, simply plopping a 50 in your bag, or in your closet. Simon just doesn't tell you You randomly find it through the weeks. If you try to text him about it he simply doesn't give you an answer about it (also refuses if you try and give it back to him).

[rottingpirate]

Hello!! Is there a second part to the cod MIA reader? If not could I request one? ♥️ :)

No, cause I completely forgot about it 😭

'm sorry, here you go broski

M.I.A. reader who comes back pt. 2

Warnings: typical CoD violence, human trafficking, some angst, kinda ooc

Gaz

Gaz shot upright, gasping and sweaty, tangled up in his bedsheets. Another nightmare. No one else is in the room, no one but him and an empty space next to him. The sun was already shining bright and it slightly hurt his eyes.

Y/N should be here. It's been one week since you've been declared as MIA. So far, there had been no sign of you. No demands had been made, no threats, no body had been found…the silence was eating him alive. 

It was as though you had vanished completely, everyone knew that with each minute that passed, their chances of finding you deteriorated.

Knock knock. Captain Price came into his room. He takes a moment as he surveys the room before sitting down on the bed next to him. Gaz didn't have the patience to wait for him to start the conversation. "Did you find them?" His voice came out as hoarse, rough, probably cause he hasn't left his room in the past few days.

"Yes, we found them," He sounded relieved. Gaz' breathing stopped for a second, he started getting up to reach for his clothes, asking when were they leaving, until Price stooped him "but you're not coming."

"What? Why not? They're my partner."

Price pats him on the shoulder and shakes his head. "You have barely eaten in the past week. You haven't trained nor have you left your room...you need to sit this one out, kid." He wanted to protest. He couldn't stay in his bed and just wait, but the look his captain gave him made him shut up. "Okay...just- bring them back to me, please." Gaz let's out a shaky breath and closes his eyes. You're alive.

The rescue mission took a long time. Longer than Gaz would have liked. He was scared, scared of seeing the state you would be in. He didn't want to think about all the gory and bad images that swirled in his head.

Gaz was staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours and he didn't even realize how he drifted.

When he wakes up, his breath catches in his throat, you're standing there with that dump smile of yours. How long have you been standing there? He could instantly tell that you've been through a tough time, you looked a little bit thinner, your face was littered with bruises and Gaz didn't want to know how the rest of your body was doing. It seemed like you were already taken to the doctor, as you already had a cast on your arm and there seemed to be a lot less blood than he imagined there to be.

He wanted to jump up and hug, to kiss you all over and never let you go and he didn't even realize how he started crying.

You sat down next to him, pulling him into a gentle hug while telling him that everythings all right.

Price

“(Y/N)! (Y/N), please respond!”

Price’s tone was pleading, wanting nothing more than his partner to answer. But, the communications frequency was filled with static. “(Y/N), if you can hear me please, respond….fuck, please” He sounded defeated, the much needed response not coming through no matter how hard he tried to wish for it.

"(Y/N)?” Price’s voice was a low whisper in the end. But no matter how hard he was pleading. Begging. You were not responding.

"We’ll find (Y/N). They’re too stubborn to die,” Soap says, standing next to him, squeezing his shoulder gently. “And if they’re not?” “They’re just missing. We’ll find them,” He assures him. Remembering that only made Price’s heart hurt more. 

For three weeks he waited. Fot three weeks he hardly ate and slept. Three weeks of no messages.

Why Y/N? Why not me?

Y/N could be captured. They could be dead or hurt and waiting for help. You decades of experience under the belt, and the chances of you going down during a mission as simple as this one seem slim, but still possible.

Meanwhile...they took you to the other prisoners. The prisoners that you had to save. You felt deeply ashamed when you realized that he had completely and utterly failed. Completely failed.

It was dim and dirty in the little cell that you were held in.

In these three weeks you have grown a lot closer with the other prisoners. There were two girls, who were about your age and a boy, who was maybe around 17. You weren't physically hurt, but definetly weak. In these past few weeks you barely got any food, sleep, fresh air or water.

141 launched a rescue mission couple days after you went missing, but nothing turned up. But this time, they might have a lead. An old warehouse in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't heavily guarded, and their squad would definetly be able to get past them. He couldn't focus as they began planning the rescue. All he could think of was rushing ahead, jumping in the plane, taking every bastard who had touched you down with his bare hands. 

When they arrived Price was anything but his usual professional self, he came in he stormed through the pile of bodies littering the corridors of whatever this building was, firing shots at anyone not in a guard’s uniform. 

"Found them! Found Y/N!" Ghost shouted through the comms and Price sprinted through the hallways to the location Soap was at.

Price quickly helped you up, while the rest of 141 took care of the other people that were there with you. You were unsteady on your feet as you tried walking to the car. Price suggested he'd carry you, but you protested, telling him that it's okay and you can walk on you own.

Price swore that he would love, protect and be there for you for as long as he lived. There was nothing in this life he wanted more. Nothing was more important than you in this moment.

[skylarsblue]

✦Meeting & Flirting W/ The C.o.D Men✦

~✦Part Two✦~

✧Alejandro, Rodolfo, König, Alex✧ ✦GN!Reader, mostly fluff, mild descriptions of wounds/combat/war, random call signs and some use of y/n, minor sexual tension, inconsistencies with canon timelines because I'm better than the games(/j), I started this before König was called a colonel, poorly translated Spanish & German that I apologize for (correct me please-)✦

✧Alejandro Vargas✧

Civilians let out screams and ducked into houses to hide. Tan colored vans and trucks lined the streets of Mexico as shots were fired. The moments of quiet were as worrisome as the sounds of gunfire in a situation like this. Alejandro cursed as yet another man declared their ammo low. They were running out, at the rate they were going, they’d need to pull back. Alejandro was a stubborn man, however, and bowing down to a cartel would’ve done damage to the credibility of his men, along with his own ego. “Colonel, there’s a car coming in. Unmarked.” His radio crackled with the information. “Aye, watch it. Keep looking. Does it look like the enemy?” Alejandro replied, getting a negative in response.  As if there wasn’t a risk of fire being brought out, the car stopped in the middle of a paused stand off. Out of the vehicle stepped one person, dressed in a way that stood out completely. “What in the hell is this?” Alejandro hissed as he watched the civilian look around. They were wearing a mask of porcelain, decorated elegantly with gold paint, almost like a statue of crying Virgin Mary. He locked eyes with them, and they…motioned for him to pause. “What do we do?” The soldier beside Alejandro asked. “Sir, I think I know who this is.” His radio called. He watched as the stranger turned to confused members of the enemy, raising their hand to the sky. Three fingers, two, and then one. The cartel’s side of the street blew up and the stranger ran for cover. “Mierda! What the fuck is happening?!” A soldier exclaimed. Alejandro’s radio triggered again with enthusiastic laughter. “Resistance sir, the one I’ve been telling you about!” The colonel took a breath. “The one run by civilians? How’d they set this up?” He asked roughly, aiming his gun to take a shot. “They’re smart, sir. That one you saw? That’s their leader. A talk with them would be a good idea, they’re a powerful ally, a stronger bond could prove useful.” Alejandro looked across the field in awe as the stranger took out a few more cartel soldiers. They then looked at him, giving him a nod and a salute. For the first time that day, Alejandro smiled. “A strong ally indeed.”

(I make them speak mostly English so I avoid making mistakes in Spanish, I'm sorry-) It had been a month since that day, and three weeks since Alejandro & Rudy had properly met the mysterious masked individual. They'd proven themselves rather charming, even if a bit suspicious. Alejandro had been rather excited to meet the individual who'd managed to secretly gather well-trained civilians to aid them against the cartel, pulling stunts like they did before. Though their real name was a heavily guarded secret, much like their face, they did have a name of sorts to associate with them. Los Lares, in reference to Roman mythological deities that provided protection. Their leader, the masked individual, known only as Padres, though occasional nicknames popped up from individuals they were close with. Alejandro had done his best to assess whether they were trust worthy or not, they did the same to him. And after two successful mini missions, Padres agreed to show Alejandro, Rudy, and some of his men what they'd been hiding. "Well would you look at this..." Alejandro said quietly as they drove through a small village. Guarded heavily with armed civilians was a tiny town commandeered by Los Lares, rather than the cartel. Kept safe from the carnage in the rest of Las Almas. The car rolled through slowly, allowing them to gaze at buildings without bullet holes, covered in colorful decorations. Children ran around playfully, adults standing around and talking, some small market carts on the edge of the street that gave out fresh food and household items. Music playing over speakers. Not a single skull balaclava in sight. Rudy pulled over and parked by a building at the end of the long street. The shell of a church it seemed. Outside of it was Padres, running around with children on their tail. When they noticed the men that had pulled up, they declared for the children to play on their own for a bit. Alejandro couldn't stop his smile as he continued looking around, eyes falling back on them. "This is what you meant by Sanctuary." He said. "Si, I made it myself. No violence occurs here, no fear. How it should be." They explained. "Rodolfo. My second in command, Emil, wanted to discuss things with you, if you wouldn't mind." Padres said, motioning to the man behind them. Rudy looked at Alejandro, who nodded. Rudy walked off after that and left them alone. "I see why you were so secretive now." Alejandro stated, watching them nod. "It usually takes a lot longer to be allowed access here. But I knew you'd be trust worthy." They explained as they leaned against the jeep he'd arrived in. He crossed his arms and leaned on the car as well. "And when did you decide this?" He asked. Padres chuckled and blinked at him past the holes of their mask. He wondered how eye contact alone could make him feel so warm, tingly. "I met your gaze during that gun fight and I could tell. You have the light of angels, querido." They purred. Alejandro chuckled quietly and shook his head fondly. "¿Coqueteando? ¿De verdad?" He asked in a hushed voice, leaned in slightly. They raised both hands in mock surrender. "I see a lot in your eyes, Colonel. Many, many things. Tu disfrute es uno." They teased. Alejandro ran his tongue over his teeth. "Si? I see things in your eyes too." He replied. Padres tilted their head and silently urged him to elaborate. Alejandro let out a breath and smiled. "Peligro. Mucho." He exhaled, senses lit aflame when he saw the distinct signs of a smile hidden behind the mask.

Alejandro enjoyed when he had time to visit the sanctuary Padres had created. There was so much joy around and peace filled the air, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like his shoulders could relax. That he could be at ease. In his visits, he often saw families, children running around with big grins, hearing the innocent laughter always brought Alejandro joy and a sense of longing. He'd always been the familial type with a large soft spot for kids. It showed in his actions, like currently, as he let two boys hang off of his arms like some playground equipment. They giggled and squealed in jovial fun as he hoisted them higher, though he set them down gently when their mother's face grew a bit apprehensive. It was when a little girl, leading a group of children, asked to play hide & seek that things really got to be fun. Alejandro found himself hiding under a table in one of the homes, another child at his side. He held his finger to his lips as they giggled away behind their hands. Both of them seized up when evenly spaced footsteps made themselves present, too heavy for a child. Alejandro had a quick flash of memories that made his body tense up, watching the table cloth be lifted. But it wasn't an enemy, nor a child, but instead a porcelain mask with a smiling individual underneath. "Room for one more?" They asked in a whisper. Alejandro blinked before he snickered and nodded. Both he and the child carefully scooted back to allow Padres more room. "Isn't our hiding spot good, Padres?" The child asked excitedly. "Si, Rosa, it is. I almost couldn't find you both." They replied in a tone akin to a praising mother, something that made Alejandro's chest ache. "What gave us away?" He asked them, smiling wider when they glanced his way. "Your boots, colonel. Your laces were untied, they poked out from underneath." They answered, prompting Alejandro to look. Sure enough, his left boot lace was untied. He sighed and shook his head at the rookie mistake, still grinning however. A beat of silence passed before a rush of tiny footsteps came in, prompting the three to be extra quiet. "Got'cha!!" The little girl declared as she lifted the table cloth. Rosa screamed and laughed, quickly getting up to run away. Both Alejandro and Padres stayed, watching Rosa make a swift get away from her friend running after her. Leaving them both alone under the table. "You are good with kids." The self-appointed commander said fondly. Alejandro melted at the sentiment alone, it always felt like one of the highest level compliments when someone said it. Even more so coming from them. "Gracias, Padres." He said, only for them to shake their head. "Y/N. My name is Y/N, when we are alone, you may call me that." They said softly, leaving Alejandro surprised. The shock wore off quickly and a pleasant tenderness filled the air, showing in their shared gaze. "Losing the mystery, aye?" He asked. "No, merely trusting you with my secrets. I trust I made a good decision?" They replied. Alejandro nodded. "Now I just have to get that mask off of you." He teased. They gave a quiet laugh. "I can't wait..."

It was always nice to celebrate after a successful mission, especially one as high stakes as this. With a large threat neutralized, it seemed like a big party was the right answer. There was a large hand of help from Los Lares, and the citizens who called the refuge home saw it only right to allow Alejandro's men into their sanctuary, to indulge in their victory with loud music and home cooked meals. Alcohol as well, of course. Alejandro stood on a roof and watched the streets below, lit up with colorful lights and bustling with music. He felt his shoulders relax as he watched his soldiers mingle, laughing loudly, raising toasts to their lost brothers & sisters. He took a swig of beer as his gaze shifted to the sky, full of twinkling stars. He went to take another drink, only to find the bottle empty. He debated going back down to grab another one, only to feel a hand rest on his lower back. He flinched and looked over, met with a familiar mask and a kind gaze. "Need another, colonel?" Y/N asked softly, holding up an open beer. Alejandro chuckled and took it, setting the empty one on the roof's edge. "Gracias. How'd you know?" He asked. He turned his body to watch them, even spaced steps taking them to a couple of supply crates. They took a seat and shrugged, he could feel their calm smile in their aura. "Lucky guess. You weren't down there, spotted you up here and I figured you'd like some company. Was I right?" They asked with a head tilt. He walked closer with an exhale. "Yes and no." He answered. They silently encouraged him to elaborate, tilting their head to look up at him as he came to stand in front of them. "Oh?" Alejandro chuckled and set the beer down beside them. "I was looking forward to your company." He admitted. Even in the low light of the moon, he could see their pupils expand. "Such a charmer, Mr.Vargas." They teased in a hushed tone. He rose his hands with a quiet laugh. "Interesting choice in company, however. An individual with no face for you to name." They said. Alejandro's face softened. There was a short beat of silence that seemed to last forever, finally a peaceful moment without the worry of being killed, allowing him to admire them properly, despite the mask. He then remembered their promise, the words spoken to him to keep his morale high when things were looking bleak. So, though he was careful, he rose his hands to their face, cautiously grazing the edge of the mask with his fingers. "Is that right?" He whispered. They didn't move back or scold him, merely kept his eyes locked with theirs in a look that sent shivers down his spine, even as he edge the mask up. It was pulled away and in an instant, they were exposed fully. Alejandro let out a breath and forgot to inhale afterward. Their smile caused his lungs to constrict in tight thorns. "Well? ¿Algo que decir, coronel?" They asked, and though their tone was cool, he could see the flinch of fear. The anxiety of rejection. He took his free hand to brush over their cheekbone, feeling warm skin instead of cold glass. "Peligrosa… peligrosamente hermosa." He whispered back. They snorted. "How cheesy..." They teased again, tilting their head up to meet him halfway.

✧Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra✧

Rodolfo’s eyes cracked open, he let out a short wheeze. He wasn’t all there, but he was keenly aware of a large commotion outside. He could faintly recall his mission and how he ended up with the throbbing in the back of his head. An RPG hit the building he was in just right and it knocked him out cold. Astigmatism disrupted his vision and his limbs felt heavy. He winced when a light came from the side, the sun, beaming through as the broken door was shoved off. He blinked, and there was someone he’d never seen before. They weren’t really dressed for battle, wearing a decorated porcelain mask with a rifle strapped to their back. Rudy’s hand twitched for his gun before they hushed him, placing their hand on his arm. “Tranquilo ahí, cariño. I’m on your side.” They said gently before turning their head to shout some orders at an unseen person. They turned back to him and cautiously turned his head, clicking their tongue sympathetically as he whined. “Took quite a hit, huh? Don’t worry, we have help on the way and your friends and mine have almost cleared out the enemy.” They took out a flashlight, shining it in his eyes When his pupils responded normally, they put the flashlight away and called out some more orders. Rodolfo decided to try and sit up but he barely moved before nearly falling back on the floor. They caught him by the back of his neck. “Easy, pretty boy. Don’t make yourself worse.” They said, gently guiding him to sit up with their support. Rudy blinked and groaned. He got a better look at them now, pushing past his dry mouth to try and speak. “You…you are the ally Alejandro mentioned…” he grunted. Their eyes scrunched, indicating a smile. “That’s right, dear. And I’ll get you out of here. You can trust me on that.” They promised.

Rodolfo carefully scratched around the edge of a bandage on his head, huffing when Alejandro lightly flicked his hand, scolding him for fidgeting with it. "I'm healing fine." He said quietly, glancing at the map on the table in front of them. "Still, shouldn't mess with it." Alejandro replied with a caring pat to his shoulder. They were waiting in a planning/common room in the main base of their new adversaries, a civilian led resistance against the cartel. Rudy recalled the way they carefully held him steady when they'd found him, after he'd been knocked unconscious. Alejandro swore they were trustworthy, and so far, they'd definitely been helpful. Alejandro stood more straight when the door swung open and Padres entered the room, a few of their men behind them. The two of them overheard the leader scolding a civie-soldier for not eating breakfast before they turned to the two friends. They were dressed more casually than the other times they'd met. Looking liked they'd just been dragged out of bed, actually. And although they seemed sleepy, still in slippers even, they still bore their mysterious porcelain mask. "Apologies, my alarm didn't go off." Padres apologized in a gentle tone. Alejandro chuckled and shook his head. "You all there yet, Padres?" He asked, smiling when they waved their hand, approaching the table. "I can still explain my plan to you, si." They replied before yawning, Rudy smiled as they went to cover their mouth for the sake of manners, despite the face covering. Their eyes landed on him and he could see the signs of a smile in their gaze. "Ah, chico lindo, how's your head?" They asked. Rodolfo felt his cheeks warm at the nickname, they hadn't been subtle when he first met them either. "Fine, just sore." He replied. At that moment, the quiet mutterings of a man who'd come in for some coffee hit the room. A soldier named Ramirez. Whispering about Rodolfo's skills, trying to imply he wasn't a true soldier for being wounded "so easily", which made another snicker. Rudy didn't show a reaction to it, Alejandro scowled, but both men jumped when Padres gasped. With skilled precision, they flicked their slipper from their foot and caught it from the air, launching it in the direction of Ramirez. A perfect headshot as the slipper smacked the back of the soldier's skull. Alejandro and Rudy shared a look, recalling their own experiences with the all feared chancla. "Debería darte vergüenza! These men give their life everyday for the sake of our country, they were fighting before you were given your status in my army, show some respect! You will not disrespect this man again, do you understand me?!" They shouted, finger pointed. The man shrank, rubbing the back of his head. "Si, commander." Padres put their hands on their hips. Ramirez approached with their slipper, which Padres snatched from his grip, dropping it on the floor so they could it back on. "Now apologize for your insolence." They demanded, pointing at Rudy. Both Rodolfo and Alejandro watched with wide eyes as a grown man, tall and buff, turned with his head down like an embarrassed child, muttering an apology. Rudy swallowed and let it go, unable to look away from the mysterious individual who'd defended him so valiantly. They'd been so gentle and sweet. Rudy felt his mouth grow dry and his stomach twist as they sent Ramirez away with a wave of their hand. With a breath and a headshake, they turned to face him again, smiling once more. "Now, let's get this done, alright?" They asked. Rudy nodded, not missing the teasing glance Alejandro gave him.

It was sweltering, as expected for a Mexican Summer. The speedy movement and adrenaline of avoiding gunfire only added to the discomfort. There were still cartel members outside, but at a distance. There was quiet for a moment, excluding Rodolfo's breathing being hissed through his teeth. A bullet had skidded past the back of his hand, tearing through his glove and leaving blood running down his arm. He was sat on the floor of an abandoned house, jacket discarded and shirt sleeve rolled past his elbow. "I know it stings, but you'll be alright." His ally, Padres, spoke softly to him past their mask. He nodded and leaned his head back against the wall, watching them dig through a bag for medical supplies. He held his hand up to lessen blood flow, letting it run across the dips in his muscled forearm. "How is it that every time you find me, I'm bleeding?" The man asked with a playful tone, smiling slightly when they snickered. "Well, mi tonto y querido soldado. It's because you're a reckless fool." Their thumb pressed into the area around the wound, making him wince, looking them in the eye. Their gaze was sharper than before, although not malicious. "You are so smart but so, so very stupid sometimes." They shook their head, taking away the pressure from his hand, holding it cautiously now. "You're swift, you're experienced, you're intelligent. But you're hot headed, and sometimes you get too focused on a goal to realize you're stepping on a land mine. It amazes me you're not more battered than you are." Their concern was warranted and their praise was met with warmth in his face. He swallowed and looked back at them again as they examined his wound, slowly rising their gaze to him again. He could see the signs of a gentle smile in their eyes. They hushed him soothingly when his hissed at the sting of disinfectant. His hand twitched involuntarily from the odd feeling on his nerves. "You have a point." He sighed, looking at their surroundings for a moment. He let out a short laugh after a few seconds of silence. "At least you're always near by to fix me up, no? I seem to heal faster when you're caring for my wounds." He muttered, feeling his stomach twist with an exciting bout of nerves. He wasn't much of a flirting type, and he tried to keep it subtle enough in case he'd been misreading. Padres chuckled fondly as they pressed down a bandage around his arm, kindly wiping away the blood. "Not the first to have told me that." They said fondly. With one last look at his hand, the clicked their tongue as they took in the damage. "Your hand will likely be difficult to use for until it's healed. We'll need to speed up that process." Rudy rose an eyebrow, confused. His eyes widened when they lifted their mask slightly, just enough to expose their mouth. It was hard to remember to breathe as a care kiss was placed over the bandage, he swore he could feel the burn of their lips past the layers, seeping into his wound and sending shocks in his blood. "Stay vigilant, chico lindo, I need you in peak condition."

(tw; war and brief mentions of wounds) Rodolfo panted heavily as he vaulted through a broken window, feeling perspiration on his skin from the heat of fire and exercise as he continued to sprint through a broken down building. There was bloodshed, naturally, it came with the job. But there was something in his stomach that twisted as he worried he'd find their body amongst those empty of souls. He'd promised to be more careful, but he'd dropped that worry as soon as their mic cut out. The fight had died down and an evac was only two miles away, but he demanded proof of their demise before he'd step anywhere near it. The man's steps crackled over broken glass and after the constant rain of bullets, the silence felt all the more deafening. His ears rang with a high pitched whine that he tried to ignore, listening for anything amongst the worrying stillness. He felt hope dwindle as seconds tic down, until he heard the sound of moving rubble in a room he'd yet to check. It could've been an enemy, perhaps it wasn't them, but despite the risk he rushed over and pushed the broken door out of his way. His breath left his lungs with weight as he saw their back, struggling to push themselves up. "Oh, gracias a Dios, estás vivo." Rudy said as he rushed over. A cruel sense of deja vu hit him as he gently guided them into sitting up, their hands covering their face. They groaned quietly, leaning against him for support. Rudy took a quick glance around, seeing pieces of their iconic mask broken. "Where are you wounded? Evac isn't far, what do you need?" He asked, only to hear them let out a strained chuckle. Slowly, blood covered hands stopped covering their visage. Air punched out of his chest as he finally got their face, and while blood dripped from a fairly painful seeming gash on their forehead, they smiled. "Tranquilo, cariño. Estoy bien." They said, gaze tired and a bit dazed. Rudy sighed and shook his head. "You've already used that line..." He said back, unable to stop the tiny smile as they snorted. "So I have." They hummed, resting against his armored shoulder. Rodolfo swallowed and chewed on some words stuck in his throat for a moment, up until they tapped him. "Just ask me already, Rodolfo. I'm losing blood and I think you should know how much I like you by now." They said with a hint of smugness. Rudy clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, chuckling when the poked him again. "Don't roll your eyes at me, young man." They scolded playfully, groaning in pain as he carefully helped them up, pulling them close to keep them supported. "A drink after this sounds nice, si?" He asked quietly. They nodded lazily. "With you? Absolutely." Rudy smiled and began slowly guiding them out of the broken building. "It's a date then."

✧König Badubrecht✧

Konig anxiously fiddled with the bracelet he snuck under his sleeves while he waited. He recalled a breathing technique and tried his best to keep his breaths quiet, but full enough to keep him calm. On any other day, he would've been mostly fine, but this was not every other day. No. His commander had told him that he, and two other soldiers, would be meeting up with a rather impressive taskforce run by Captain John Price. As if it wasn't enough that Ghost was on the team, as well as the ties they had to impressive forces in Mexico, all of that on its own was enough to get him antsy to make a good impression. But there was something in particular that caused his nerves to light up with unease. Meeting their sniper. Only known by their callsign 'Hotshot'. When Price had chosen them, word spread fast to allies about the impressive track record they carried. Twice, they had missed a shot twice. That was two compared to, give or take, three-thousand-four shots they had taken. A number that steadily grew with each mission, one kept track of just to prove the otherwise outrageous number. König loved the idea of being a sniper and practiced frequently, even if he was never given the position due to his size. Part of him wanted to ask for an autograph, but he also knew that would likely get him weird looks. "Oi, Großer Kerl. Das Team ist hier." His commander's voice startled him just as much as the words. König swallowed and nodded. He stood up and quickly fussed over his appearance before following. He let the other soldiers he'd be working with walk in front of him. He envied them, their confidence. Slightly baffled they could walk toward such impressive people without feeling the need to overthink how they'd present. It was one thing when König didn't care about their opinion, or when he was walking toward enemies. He'd strut forward with his shoulders rolled back and his chin high, gaze stern and sharp as the blade on his belt. But wanting people to like you, new people no less? He'd had easier times handling battles than that. It didn't get easier when they were in view. He towered over all of them, hiding wasn't much of an option, although his veil helped. König noted all of them individually as his commander spoke with Captain Price. Ghost certainly was intimidating, Gaz & Soap seemed more approachable, not to take away from their capable abilities however. Then his eyes fell on the last member, feeling his chest clench, making his hands do the same at his sides. He wasn't sure what he was expecting when he'd heard of Hotshot's illustrious reputation. Still, he wasn't expecting them to be so...beautiful. They stood confidently with a laid back smile, some left over war paint smudged under their eyes, black gloves over their hands. König had so much to say and it all piled up in the back of his throat. He'd gotten so lost in staring at them that he'd completely missed everyone introducing themselves to each other, hence why he flinched violently when he was addressed directly. Suddenly, someone he viewed so highly was stood in front of him, craning their neck to make eye contact. "You alright there, big man?" They asked with a smile. König let out a string of stammered noises. They rose an eyebrow with a head tilt as the man mentally scolded himself, trying hard to actually say a word, anything! "You're pretty." He said suddenly with a voice crack. Instantly, shame and regret waved over his body. Hotshot blinked a few times in surprise. "I-I-I'm so sorry, I didn't-" "I like you." They pointed with a grin again, much wider than before. König deadpanned, eyes wide and stunned quiet. He watched them extend a hand. "Look forward to workin' with you, Romeo." They teased lightly. König hesitated, but very carefully shook their hand with a nod.

König held his breath before pulling the trigger on his USR rifle. The bullet soared through the air and through the paper of the target, leaving a fresh hole in the figure's skull. He exhaled and smiled to himself under his sniper veil, taking notes on what he had done right, what he could do better. As he went to grab his pen and jot it all done, he flung it in surprise when clapping sounded behind him. He nearly broke his neck whipping his head around, pulse stuttering when he viewed Hotshot leaned on the wall. Or, Y/N, as they'd said to call them. Though König had yet to break the habit of calling them Lieutenant. He blushed heavily as they smiled at him, pushing off the wall. "Nice shot, big guy. Right between the eyes." They complimented, letting out a whistle as they gazed at the target. He swallowed a lump in his throat, hands growing clammy in his gloves. He hadn't known them very long, admittedly, although their reputation preceded them. It had been a little less than a month since he'd first been introduced, in that time, he'd grown to find them charming. Too charming for him to handle. "Remind me again why they won't give you a proper sniper position again?" They asked as he leaned back on his knees. Konig cleared his throat, hoping his voice wouldn't crack. "My size." He mumbled, a bit bitterly. Hotshot clicked their tongue both sympathetically and in annoyance. "Yeah, I'd imagine being that tall has it's drawbacks. Seems to have advantages too though. Still, I think you're a great shot. Little awkward on your form though." They explained. Konig glanced up at them with a small head tilt, silently hoping they'd elaborate. They smiled and crouched beside him, suddenly reminding him just how much bigger he was. "Get back in position, I'll show ya." They smiled. Konig nodded and did as told. He wasn't necessarily an obedient soldier, but he always listened to what they said. He'd been so worried about how they perceived him, stepping out of line brought too much anxiety. He wanted them to like him. He adjusted his hold on the gun, resuming the position he was in before they came in. "See, you're firing well, but is this a position you could hold for an hour?" They asked. "Nien, my back starts to hurt." He admitted. Hotshot nodded and snapped their fingers. "Exactly. Here, I can already tell your problem." He glanced at them before his breath caught in his throat, feeling their hand gently placed on his leg. Positioning it a bit more outwards, bending at the knee. Through thick cargo pants and a set of gloves, their palm felt like fire through fabric, singeing his skin. His hands twitched nervously when they moved up by his shoulders. "Now, instead of holding your head like that, try this instead." Their voice was soft, quiet. König felt his pulse in his extremities when their hand found his jaw underneath his make-shift sniper hood, tilting his head as they wished. "There ya go, big guy. Now, try firing like that." The nickname suddenly felt like fire to his senses, and he had to clench his jaw to bite back an unmanly sound. He did his best to hold the gun steady, aiming once more, ignoring the proximity of his superior. He fired, unable to focus on where the bullet landed. He could still somehow feel the ghost of their hands on his person. He flinched when they clapped twice. "Another headshot! Good job, mate. Keep at it and you'll be better than me soon." They smiled brightly. Konig blinked up at them, nodding carefully. The lieutenant hadn't missed the widening of his pupils. "I'll let you get back to it. Come get me if you want more tips." They patted his shoulder, taking careful note of his near-silent shudder. Perfect.

(TW; War typical violence, blood lusty König) The man heaved, feeling ice in his veins, bright red blood darkening the fabric of his gear. He counted the bodies around him, ten in total, none of them moving. He scanned the area around him as he continue moving, looking for more targets, knowing if he didn't have one in his sights, someone had him in theirs. His fist clenched around the handle of his blade when his radio crackled. Static mixed with a voice, one frantic, one familiar. Past his adrenaline rushed brain he heard the panicked call of his friendly sniper, one who'd recently called him a friend. Long legs broke into a sprint, operating off his most basic instincts, the most animalistic portions of his mind. He made it to their position with, to him, felt like seconds. He didn't process the information around him before his body was moving, quick as light and as brutal as iron spikes. Suddenly, his body count that day went from thirty to thirty four. A loud crack and a heavy thump of a limp body hitting the floor was the last thing her heard before the blood rushing in his ears started to settle. He turned to look over his shoulder, seeing Y/N coughing, grasping at their neck. He went over to them in three large strides, kneeling down in front of them. "Mein Freund, geht es Ihnen gut?" He asked, voice heavy with breath and a bit shaky. They coughed again with a nod. "I'm alright, I'm good. Thank you." He listened to the rasp out their answer. As things grew quiet again, König realized just how intense he'd been. One glance at the bodies behind him showed the true nature many often were unaware of. He was a violent, terrifying force when in war. Typically, he didn't care. He'd grown to stop caring after so much of his life was met with judgment or rejection. But he liked this person, therefore, their approval mattered to him, and now his anxiety began to rise. They'd fear him, avoid him now, surely. "König." Their voice snapped him forward again. "Can you get this mic off? It's hard to breathe with it..." They muttered, motioning to the throat mic tightly secured around their neck. It caught him by surprise. He'd just snapped a neck without hesitation not even five minutes prior, and yet they were asking for his help still. He swallowed and nodded. The winced and tilted their head back, allowing access to their bruised esophagus. König tried not to tremble as his fingers clumsily when to loosen and undo the mic. His hand was dangerous, blood still stained his gloves as he grazed their skin with the fabric. His chest felt ready to burst as he heard them sigh in relief when the pressure let go, easing some of the sting of the irritation. It was red, soon to be a deep purple when the bruises truly formed. It looked painful. König's fingers shook as he absentmindedly trailed the line dented in their skin. "I'm okay." Their voice made him jump again, bringing his eyes back to theirs. They smiled at him, already exhausted from the day of battle. König blinked and nodded slowly. He cleared his throat and pulled his hand away, like he'd been burned, feeling his skin lit aflame. "Let us finish so you can get to evac." He muttered, standing up, allowing them to use his deadly hand to hoist themselves up with him.

"God it is so pretty here!" Y/N declared as they looked around at König's hometown. Graz, Austria. König smiled behind his black medical mask as he watched them look around in awe, feeling pride bubble in his chest as they walked to his home. Since he'd joined the military, he'd gone home alone. It was lonely, yes, though he always made sure to visit his grandmother when he'd come back from missions. His apartment always felt too quiet, too empty. He liked his alone time but often times he found the solitude suffocating. Everyone he knew on his team didn't really have this problem, either being fine on their own, with friends to visit, or family to return to. That was until the hotshot sniper admitted a very similar situation to himself. He saw how their face fell when they mentioned it, and despite his fear of rejection, he took a leap and offered a plane ticket. It surprised and delighted him when they jumped at the opportunity. He was proud that they enjoyed his country so far, even if he was nervous about their opinion of his home. Not that he could avoid it, however, given they were already at his door. König unlocked the door and stepped in, immediately removing his shoes. They mimicked his movements and carefully set their boots off to the side. He took a second to note how small theirs were in comparison to his. They took a gander around his home. It wasn't much, a simply decorated place with some mild dust built up from how long he was gone. When they giggled quietly, his stomach twisted, wondering what it could mean. "Uhm, welcome to mein home. Do...do you like it?" He asked nervously. "You decorate like a grandma." They answered, turning with a big grin on their face. An old quilt was folded on the couch and on the wall their were crocheted works of art in wooden frames. "It's so cozy, it's really cute." Their compliment made him relax. He motioned for them to sit, which they did gladly. He was quick to make them tea, some for himself to calm his nerves. There was a silence that settled over them when he finally came to sit beside them, comfortable for them, anxious for him. They spared a glance at him staring at his tea cup, reaching out a hand to rest on his shoulder. "Aren't you gonna take off your mask? So you can drink it?" Y/N asked. König blinked, his breath catching in his throat. "...Nein." He muttered, setting the cup on the table in front of them. Y/N frowned. "Why? It's just me..." They said in a hushed tone. "You," He swallowed. "You will not like my face." He said softly, squeezing his hands together. They sighed and put their own cup down, standing up. König's eyes followed them and his face went red as they bent, placing their hands on his knees, looking him intently in the eye. "That is bullshit, big guy. I like you way more than you think I do. And I promise your face is not gonna change that." They said intensely. König blinked at them before he looked at his lap again. He inhaled deeply through his nose before he bit down on his tongue. Like ripping off a bandaid, he wanted to get the pain of their rejection off as fast as possible, so he tore off the mask, keeping his eyes scrunched shut. Some beats of silence left his heart palpitating. Then he felt warm palms carefully cradle his cheeks, forcing a gasp out of him. König blinked and looked at them, up, for once. Y/N's gaze trailed over his features, fingers lightly trailing over faint freckles to a scar across the bold bridge of his nose, down to the his oldest scar that ran from his right sinus to his chapped lips. A smile grew over their face as they took in his visage. "I knew it. You're one pretty man, Romeo." They purred quietly. The man's eyes widened before his breathing stopped, eyes fluttering as they pressed a gentle kiss to his nose. "Du bringst mich noch ins Grab…" He shivered. They chuckled and pecked his forehead. "Don't even think about it mister, you're staying alive for as long as I need for you to love yourself as much as I love you."

✧Alex Keller✧

Alex was a seasoned soldier. He'd constantly perceived through the unthinkable, cut it close with death more times than he could count. Shot, stabbed, kidnapped twice, inhaled complex chemicals, and managed to escape with his life after he detonated a bomb. Missing a leg, but alive. Maybe he was lucky, maybe it was the opposite. Either way, anyone who had the nerve to imply Alex as anything but impressive and strong was a fool, completely. The blond was someone any general would take pride in. So what on earth could take out a man with such an amazing track record? The flu. The answer was the flu. Alex practically never got sick, but when his fellow soldiers began to notice his less than fantastic state, it was hard to deny. Pale, clammy, a headache from hell. He couldn't do drills as well because his joints were sore and the coughing wasn't ideal. He managed to brush off concerns up until he threw up in the communal trashcan in mess hall. Finally, Alex's commander dragged him to the medbay. "Just sit down, Keller. Fucks sake." Julia grumbled as she set him on a bed. "I'm tellin' ya, I just need some NyQuil and I'll be fine-" Alex was cut off by harsh coughing fit that made the woman cringe. "With all due respect, Keller, you sound like you deep throated a cactus. Just let the medic look at'cha. We just got a new one, they're lovely, you'll be in good hands." She promised, making him sighed and rub his face, putting some pressure on his eyes, hoping it'd help the pain behind them. Alex hummed as he heard Julia greet a new voice. He dropped his hands in his lap and blinked, looking over at the new medic, not wanting to be rude. He couldn't tell if the warmth in his face was just the fever anymore though, not when he got a good look at them. They approached and set a clipboard down, standing in front of him, putting on some gloves as they smiled. Julia motioned to him. "This is Alex Keller, Keller, our medic, Plaster." She said. Alex rose an eyebrow and looked at them, watching them laugh. "It's my callsign. Brits call band aids, plasters." They explained. "And they'll fix all your cracks." Julia snorted, making the medic roll their eyes. Plaster grabbed a thermometer and put a cover on it. "Alrighty, Alex, just put this under your tongue. Don't want a soldier with such an impressive resume to be out of commission for too long." Alex blinked slowly as the plastic rested under his tongue. His brain was essentially mush, and the pretty face in front of him wasn't helping. "Heard o' meh?" He slurred tiredly, making them snort. "I have! Not everyday a man willingly blows up a building full of gas, much less live through it. Man of steel, eh?" They asked. Alex motioned to his leg. "Knee down." He replied, smiling when they laughed, taking out the thermometer. "Oh boy, 100.8. You, sir, should've been here much sooner. I'll get you some antibiotics and some NyQuil." Plaster said as they shined a light in his eyes. Alex lazily opened his mouth so they could check the back of his throat, heart thumping harshly as they carefully held his jaw, clicking their tongue sympathetically. "Poor thing, your throat looks pretty bad." He hummed. He gazed up at them as they carefully put a stethoscope to his chest. "Pulse sounds a bit quick." They mumbled. "'s your fault." Alex replied. Julia's jaw dropped open as Plaster tilted their head with a little chuckle. "Oh is it now? Well I'm sorry, sir." They replied. "Mm-mm, not complainin'." Alex shrugged. Plaster shook their head and wrote his prescription down, handing it to him before turning to Julia. "Make sure he stays in bed. And get some rest, casanova." They patted his leg. Alex gave a weak salute as Julia dragged him away, not paying attention to how she poked fun at him. "You're gonna feel so embarrassed when you can think straight." Alex shrugged as he stumbled beside his commander. "I dunno, I think they liked me." He said proudly. Julia rolled her eyes.

Getting a leg blown off was an extremely painful endeavor, obviously. Alex had a whole half of a limb blasted off at the knee, then he had to have it heal, then there were months of getting used to having his limb missing. And even after growing used to having his leg amputated, the pain was far from done. Excluding ghost pains, there was always some painful soreness left after using his leg all day. After some time, there was a level of pain that he considered normal, and therefore powered through. But there were other times where it was agony. It reminded him of the darker fairy tales he’d been told by his great grandmother. Like the Little Mermaid, how every step was agony, rather than the sparkly version Disney gave. He still tried to tough it out, but it really felt like hell. Leading him to limp to the medic’s area, hoping to hide from his bosses for a bit and perhaps ask for something for the pain. He winced as the pain became sharp, sitting on a cot in the quiet medbay. He sighed as he heard footsteps coming his way. He glanced up and saw their medic, the one that cared for him when he had the flu. “Mr.Keller, what brings you her- oh you look bad, what’s going on?” Their joyful tone quickly turned to worry as they approached him. He sighed and motioned to his leg. Quickly, the nodded and wrote something down. “Give me a moment. If it’s alright with you, I’d like you to remove your leg and compression sock.” They said. He did as told. There was both pain and relief when the heavy metal was pulled away. He set it beside him and tried to place pressure on his thigh. Plaster came back with some ICYHOT and a cold wrap. “Can I put my hands on you?” They asked softly. Alex rose an eyebrow, smiling when they rolled their eyes playfully. “Not like that.” They scolded, though they weren't truly upset. Alex chuckled and nodded, rub his his face. They put some gloves on and some of the Icyhot. Their hands were delicate as they carefully applied pressure to the muscle of his amputated limb. He winced and sighed in repeat as it both soothed and ached. All the while, they gentle cooed and comforted him through the pain. By the time the frigid compress was wrapped around his leg, he was exhausted. Alex went to stand, hobble his way back to his room, only for a hand on his chest to stop him. He looked up at them, being met with a gentle smile and a light push. He listened and laid back, though confused. “I think you should rest for a bit.” They explained softly, patting his chest. “And…you’d rather me do it here than my room?” He asked with a teasing grin, watching them laugh under their breath. “Come on, casanova. Give a lonely medic some company, would you?” They asked. Their tone made his chest tighten and his cheeks hurt from smiling. “Sure thing, doc.”

Alex sighed after taking a large gulp of beer from a pint glass, looking around the bar he'd popped into. Usually, bar outings were for celebration after a mission, this time though, he came alone. He wasn't there to mope or feel bad about himself, he just didn't want the loud commotion of his entire team. He was an extrovert, yes, but sometimes the company he wanted was more quiet, less straining. He looked at the foam residue in his glass, zoning out to whatever music was playing over the speakers. Some new-age country song if he had to guess. "Well, hello stranger." A voice near him made him flinch and raise his head, feeling butterflies erupt at the sight of his favorite medic. He grinned and turned to them a bit. "Plaster, hey, what're you doing here?" He asked. They waved their hand and came to sit beside him in the booth, not really minding the close proximity. "None of that callsign nonsense, Keller. You know my name, you can use it off base." They replied, setting a tequila sunrise on the table. The man hummed, the warmness in his cheeks now not only the alcohol. "Well, Y/N, what brings you here?" He asked. "A drink and the curiosity of American bars. The stories were right, it is filthy here." They commented, making him laugh and nod. "Well, so is all of America really." He hummed. They rose an eyebrow at that, though the held their question as he took another swig of beer, only taking a quick second to glance at the way his Adam's apple moved. "Coming from a man with an American flag on his arm, I hear you give your country quite a lot of shit." The medic rested their chin in their hand, eyeing him curiously as he glanced at his tattoo. "It's burning for a reason. I love my country but...I also don't. I...I love the idea of America, what it was supposed to be. What it is? Not so much." He admitted slowly. Y/N frowned as they watched his face fall. They could take a million guesses on what made him feel that way, he'd probably answer with an 'all of the above'. Instead, they reached over and patted his leg with a kind smile. "Well, there are plenty of places I can think of that would take an American, if you're able to handle the jokes on your accent." They said softly. Alex's throat tightened at the kind hand resting over his jean-clad thigh. It wasn't sexual by any means, but it still made his skin grow goosebumps. "Yeah? Would you be willing to take in this one legged stray?" He asked with a teasing tone. Y/N chuckled, but they nodded as well. "I'm sure I could take care of you real well." They whispered softly, barely audible over the commotion of bar life. Alex swallowed and suddenly the pressure on his leg became a little more dangerous. But the last thing he wanted as to pull away. Instead, he let out a breathy laugh, one a bit shaky. "Don't make a promise you can't keep, doc. I'm always getting into trouble." He replied. They tilted their head, an innocent motion with a layer of mischief. "I'll get you out of it." They replied. He knew they'd both go back to the base that night, that nothing would happen, given the sensibility of not making rash decisions with alcohol present. But, despite not even being buzzed, he already had his plan to play up a hang over, just so he'd have an excuse in the morning. Knowing full well they'd see right through him.

Alex was a hardened soldier. He'd been shot, stabbed, nearly blown up, inhaled toxic chemicals, and he'd had his leg blown off. Withstanding it all and still alive, still breathing and, at least somewhat, functioning. But there were days when the air filling his lungs felt monotonous and the lack of sound felt like death. Usually on nights where he was on leave. The first night was always the same, with him so exhausted he'd pass out and wouldn't have the ability to overthink. The longer he was alone, the worse it got, until his mind started to shot off thoughts he didn't really want to indulge. Counting the times he'd cheated death, the amount of lives he might've saved with better hindsight, whether or not there was another side, would it be as quiet as his home? He had friends, people he knew cared for him, but none of those dynamics felt right for voicing this part of himself. The deeper, more frightening bits. Or, well, he didn't have that before. In a moment of weakness, as he felt the weight of his life and its debatable worth rest too potently on his ribs, he grabbed his phone and hit a contact, a colleague. His work always spilled into his life, he didn't see why it had to stop with them. Guilt ate at him when they answered, hearing their tired tone reminding him of how late it was. But they didn't complain, they didn't scold or scoff. Their voice remained sweet, so worried for him, so caring. It aided all the more in having him cave, having him ask for a lifeline. It was raining cats & dogs and yet they only took twenty minutes to be at his door. He was still in his sleepwear, a pair of basketball shorts and a grey tank-top he'd had for a near decade. His leg was off, using his crutch, albeit begrudgingly. No words were shared as he watched them remove their shoes, water dripping off their coat as they hung it on the rack. This would've been the first time they'd actually be in his home, but he wasn't particularly concerned with their opinion of his awful décor choices. Y/N turned and looked at him with worry in their gaze. Again, silently, they took the hand that wasn't supported on the crutch and carefully pulled him to the couch. "Bad night?" They finally spoke, sitting down beside him. Alex nodded and rubbed his eyes. "Sorry, I dunno why I called-" They cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. He turned to them with exhaustion in his face. Y/N sighed sadly, raising their hand to hold his face gently in their palm. He melted into it immediately. There was something supernaturally soothing of human warmth, something real, something alive. "You trust me, starboy?" They asked quietly, thunder rumbling in the sky as he nodded. He mourned the loss of their hand as they situated a throw pillow on the end of the couch, moving to lay down with their back slightly elevated by the arm of the furniture. He watched them look back at him, then, with open arms, they beckoned him. It was a step too intimate for coworkers, bordering past friends, and he didn't care. He practically tossed his mobility aid away and slid over. Their chest became his pillow as he slotted between them and the back of the couch, feeling them grab the folded blanket he always left out, draping it over him. He let out a shaky sigh when their nails met his scalp. "Easy, casanova. Let me take care of you." They whispered. Alex let out a huff-like laugh. "You got it, doc..."