#Or most often desk sergeants

[tactical-jellyfish]

Watcher 1-1

Warnings!: The 141 will be criminally stupid, fumblers, all of them. Death (canon-typical), Violence (canon-typical), loss of limb (no, I won't tell you who yet >:), but I will cover the symptoms as well as possible) They do get kissy, but no smut (that I'm writing, but it's very much implied).

Laswell's office is a familiar place to you. Be it for reprimand (lighthearted), or the ongoing search for an actual field team, you've never been a stranger to these walls.

She looks flat-faced, as per usual, but you sense a crackle in the air that wasn't there before, so when you step in, you set your bag down quicker. Just by a tad.

"Good, you finally figured out how to tie your shoes."

Her tease doesn't go over your head, but it isn't met with a snarl or a dare to say that one more time, I fucking dare you, it's met with a familiar warmth that encompasses your mind, comforts you after another round of brutal training.

"You're excited. Don't drop the pantyhose just yet, okay? Save that for your wife."

Had you been anyone else, you would have been met with a shouting so loud it shakes the very foundations of the building. But you're not anyone else, so it's instead a smack to the shoulder, and the soft swiping sound of manila folders on her pretty, dark-wood desk.

Despite your own rebellious streak, you don't touch any of the information until she opens the first, revealing maybe the single most Scottish name you've seen in a while.

John MacTavish.

She must read through your confusion, because she smiles in that way she thinks you can't see, a slight twitch upward of her lips, only the corners.

"I found a team."

Everything stops right then. The air flowing in the room slows, your heart skips a beat (maybe more than one), and you feel yourself single in on that information, feel your brain grind to an achingly empty halt.

"What?"

It's stupid, you know you heard her right, but you have to ask. You just have to.

"You've got a team, kid. I found a team, they need new intelligence, intelligence that works on the field, too."

You might have just came in your pants. Laswell pats your shoulder, trying to bring you back to the land of the living, smiling wholeheartedly.

"Kid. Kid."

You finally brought yourself back into your brain to realize your fists are clenched and shaking a little, too excited to physically contain yourself.

"I'm listening, Laswell. I'm up." "Good, because you've gotta learn, too."

The conversation that results is one of the longest you've had, but infinitely worth it. It's your in, a short synopsis of these men you're going to be entrusting with your life, something that even the most dedicated reader couldn't gleam from the clinical, militaristic profiles that Laswell has her paws on (though you know getting those must be an already-impressive feat).

Mentally, you start to assemble a list by age, giving yourself advice to learn and test. For science, maybe, or just to game-ify this new experience. To find how to "win" this, because there just has to be a way, if you play your cards right.

Price is firm, yes, and steady in applying pressure, but he's also very clear when he gives approval.

Ghost is his second in command. Quiet, sarcastic. Not open but expecting no vulnerability. Respectable.

Kyle Garrick. Sergeant. Formerly non-military, recruited just a short while back. Playful, but willing, obedient. If you should shoot to emulate anyone, it's him. At least, until you see this dynamic in play.

John MacTavish. Often referred to as "Soap", sometimes "Johnny". Bomb tech. Passionate and fiery. Useful, but he comes on strong. Only play your cards like that if you already have their favor. Being stubborn either makes you a genius or an idiot, and having people think you're stupid isn't a good first impression.

"You think you can hack it, hun?"

You smile at the endearment (doubtlessly acquired through Laswell's habit of picking up her wife's manner of speech), bite back your nerves, and nod.

"Yeah."

"Good. Meeting's next week, so you should start resting up now. Write your lines, make a script, do whatever you need. Just come off as well as you work, and you'll be fine."

Her voice is the finally thing that makes you stand from the chair, beaming at her like a little kid. You know you look silly, but you feel... excited. Much more than usual, and you can't help how you express it.

Laswell knows that, and it is a mercy she offers, but you shake your head, dig your nails into your palm.

She understands. Your new team might not. It'd be best to keep a handle on things, for now. "Thank you, Kate."

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[shadow4-1]

No Boundaries - Task Force 141 Headcanons/Imagines (SFW)

Warring and fighting and bleeding all over each other is the quickest way to break down boundaries.

Here's a few headcanons on how each of the 141 boys respect/disregard your personal space and why.

Captain Price:

- He's the most respectful, and he really tries to be. It comes with the territory of being your superior, after all.

- Unlike some of the boys, he's very unafraid to touch you. You're nervous? Hand on your lower back. You're under fire? He pushes you back and behind him. You're hurt? He's immediately ripping through whatever article of your clothing he has to.

- Probably the most jarring/boundary pushing thing he'd do to you (if you're not dating), is making you sit on the edge of his desk while he talks to you. If the two of you aren't super close yet, it feels a bit strange. But the more you get to know him you realize he makes you do it so he can take full physical stock of you. Whether or not that's a good thing, you have no clue.

- When he knocks on your door he'll wait outside for as long as he needs to. He'd like for you to respond to him if you're in the middle of something (or someone) but even if you don't, he'll patiently wait. After about five minutes with no response he'll get antsy. After ten minutes he'll actually enter your room without permission. He'll be vocal about it though. "Sorry, love! Don't mean t' barge n' like this but-"

Lieutenant Ghost:

- Depending on his mood he can be pretty courteous or kind of a complete dickhead. He pulls rank whenever he has to, or feels like he should.

- Very afraid to touch you but has no qualms in eye fucking you for any reason under the sun. If he sees anything wrong with your uniform he'll call you out in front of everyone but prefers to do it alone so he has a piss poor excuse to fix it for you. Despite his fear of touch, he's touch starved. Whether or not you get uncomfortable with him touching your kit depends on the moment.

- The most boundary pushing thing he'd do is stalk you. Granted, that's pretty boundary pushing, but he's never obtrusive with it. It's more of a quiet vigilance, making sure you get to your quarters without interference, making sure no one tries to walk in on the showers with you in them, etc. He's looking out for you, but to what extent, you're not sure.

- Because he's so vigilant he wouldn't have much of a reason to knock on your door. But if he had to, he's the kind of guy to knock once, wait a few beats, and then enter if he can. He has no shame in twisting the door handle, making it hard for you to unlock it in the first place. If he needs to talk to you he's not interested in being blocked off for whatever reason.

Sergeant MacTavish:

- This man doesn't give a fuck about propriety. If he wants to touch you, he fucking will, and he doesn't care if he comes across as disrespectful.

- Completely unafraid to touch you. If you're available and he has any reason to touch you he'll take his chance. He's the most touch starved and doesn't care how desperate he comes across, especially when it comes to you.

- The most boundary pushing thing he'd do is always magically showing up where you are/where you need to go. You guess that, much like Ghost, he's probably stalking you in a somewhat innocent way. Sometimes he unnerves you with how often he gets in your way, but for the most part it's a harmless behavior that strokes your ego.

- Depending on how he feels he may or may not knock on your door. If he's in a good mood he'll knock and wait and hum until you open up, then he'll push you aside and enter your room like it's his own. If he's in a bad mood he'll actually just force the door open. He doesn't care about the damage, he doesn't care about you scolding him, he needs you for whatever reason and he can't wait.

Sergeant Garrick:

- He's very respectful and seems to pride himself in that fact.

- Although, his respectfulness seems to stem from a slight nervousness. He's always a tad jumpy when he has to touch you. It might be because he only ever has to touch you in dire circumstances (ie. injuries, sickness, weakness, etc.). If the circumstances aren't exigent he's nervous at first but soon it melts away into a measured confidence. He's not touch starved, per se, but he's certainly a little inexperienced.

- The most boundary pushing thing he'd do is let you sit in his lap. Keep in mind, this would only ever occur after at least a year of constant companionship and trust. It's not a sexual thing either, and none of the rest of the boys even comment on it. It's always out of necessity. No more chairs? In his lap you go. Your legs are tired? Lap time. No more room on the couch for gaming time? Hop on! He's your new, assigned seat.

- He'll always knock on your door. If you answer, he'll smile and try to keep whatever he needs short and sweet. If you don't answer, he'll assume you're not there or sleeping or doing something he doesn't want to intrude on. He'll try again later, but he won't push. Now, if it's very important and he's nervous, he'll call for backup. He knows Soap or Ghost can/will open your door and get to you so he doesn't have to cross that line himself.

[b1rds3ye]

Helloo!! I've seen the LED Mask Reader x 141, and I got an idea that the mask gets wet by anything, water, drinks, whTever you can think off, and it malfunctions, and Readers mask is still worn despite it like just being pure bLaCK, and the squad is just trying to guess what mood reader is in? :DD

PLEASE THIS IS SO FUNNY. The 141 cares about you, they know you inside and out, but they’ve taken the mask for granted when it comes to knowing your emotions. You were the most expressive member of the team but now your mask was broken and due to how specialised the parts for your mask are, it won’t be fixed until another week.

Soap absolutely tries to turn it into a game. He keeps goading Gaz on to make a bet about what your mood is but it becomes quite impressive how they manage to read you by body language alone now, they’ve picked up quirks about you that you didn’t even notice… or so they think. They can get into quite heated debates about who knows you better.

“Their shoulders rose with that breath, they’re pissed.”

“Nah, that happens when L.T. forgets his mask is on 'n' steals a drink, they’re laughing.”

“They’re just breathing you twats,” Ghost sighs as he walks past. The sergeants always huff at his answers but he's right more often than not.

Simon doesn’t join in on the sergeants' antics often, not unless he can benefit from it. If Johnny raises the bet high enough he’ll contribute his own take on your mood. These days though the sergeants dread him joining in, Simon’s experiences both with a mask and being a superior in the military gives him the upper hand at reading you.

The easier way would just be asking how you're feeling but for one, that's not fun. And secondly, a private beat them to the punch.

"You all good, Masky?"

"Yep," you reply curtly as the private takes the sign to move away. The 141 members all stare at you, recording that singular worded response into their mind, rewinding and then repeating the sound again and again. The choppiness of your syllable suggested irritability, evident by Gaz's satisfactory smirk. He stands up tall, ready to approach you and comfort you...

Until one soldier beat him to it, the only one who had the all the more experience than any of them.

"Drink up, Sergeant," Price states as he slides a water bottle across the table to you. You catch it. "Thirsty, aren't you?"

"... how'd you know?" you ask, flabbergasted.

"Captain's intuition," he replies, leaning back on the desk, arms folded. He shoots a look to the rest of the Task Force. He's getting that money.

(Jokes aside, these antics only happen on base. When out on missions, you're all on the same wavelength and often times the 141 know how you feel before even you're aware)

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

[laswells-ashtray]

Okay, here me out on this. Gonna do this anonymously cause social anxiety is scary and I've never left an ask before, first time for everything I suppose. :')

I was randomly just watching the missions for MW3 cause I loved the concepts of some of them, just hated how most of it played out (Like how did Graves survive being blown up? Or how it felt like the story was rushed at points). Then I remembered the mission where Price got trapped in that silo thingy with the poisonous gas stuff that I cannot remember for the life of me what it is called (Think the mission was called Reactor,if you wanted to look it up if I don't explain it that well). Loved that mission cause to me it showed that Price wasn't this almighty powerful captain that doesn't get injured that badly compared to everyone else in 141.

Had a random thought of just the in-between part of when Price passed out to when he woke up on the helo. Was scrolling through the random posts and when I got to the one where Mac had met Price's team and stuff all I could think about was what if Gaz or Soap or anyone who's met Mac just tell Nik or Laswell to call for grandpa. I find it hilarious just the thought of Price's subordinates panicking over the fact that their captain, (and practically father figure sometimes due to how often he mother hens them), had inhaled poisonous gas then passed out and wanted help from someone who's known Price for years. Then cue Mac just showing up on base in Price's office or calling Price really late at night being like "You have 5 seconds to explain what happened and how in the world you got into that situation Mister. I do not care that you're a captain now I still hold seniority over you Price, I will pull that card you little shit." Cause despite the fact that Price was a pain in the ass when he was Mac's sergeant he still cares for the stubborn Brit's wellbeing.

Sorry if I started ranting, I love cod and finding the posts have made me do my happy stims. :) Especially reading the silly ones, always makes me feel better when having a bad day.

Made me get my glasses for this one, in a good way I'm just blind as shit. A little bit. Also never apologise for ranting, this is a safe place for ranting, rambling and threats of bodily harm but only if they're polite about it.

Firstly, I know exactly what mission you're talking about because I can't get past the second juggernaut and had to rage quit because I was giving myself a stress headache.

Secondly. I've missed writing more Mac if only because I have to write so English-ly for everyone else.

When the door opens, John doesn't look up. He assumes it's Nikolai coming to check on him, Ghost popping his head in to call him a twat again or one of the sergeants asking how he's doing. He doesn't expect to see the same, worn soles of some battered old boots that he's been trying to convince Mac to get rid of for over ten years park themselves on his desk.

Nor does he expect to see Mac watching him, arms crossed over his chest, and a look of blatant fury on his face that makes the hair on the back of John's neck stand up.

His chest is still tight and there's a familiar ache in his throat, he's too old to be getting fucking gassed anymore. Whatever cancer he'll be riddled with in ten years is not worth it.

"Well?"

He isn't stupid enough to answer that, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. If Mac didn't look ready to deck him, he'd likely be lecturing John about "uncooked joints on the table".

"Jus no gonnae say a fucking hing tae me? Dae a luk like a store dug?"

He groans and ignores the rattling behind his ribs, running a hand over his face as he prays that maybe, just maybe Mac will go easy on him.

"What have you been told?"

He doesn't bother asking "and by who?" because he doesn't want to be annoyed at any of them, and it was likely Kate.

"Ye inhaled a fuck ton ae somehin ye shouldnae 've and a hud to hear about it fae someday else."

He nods, looking at the older man wearily. "That's about it, didn't think you'd need a play-by-play."

Mac lowers his feet off of the edge of the desk and drags his chair closer to the desk with a grating scraping noise that makes john wince.

"Right, lad. Genuine question, are ye a fuckin tit?"

It appears to be just that, a genuine question if the way Mac is arching a brow at him means anything. The Scot doesn't allow him the opportunity to answer before talking again.

"Ye must be, cuz we both ken launchin heed first intae somethin filt wae somehin that mangles ye is some biblical arsehole-ity, John."

John briefly considers slamming his head on the desk. It'd do no good to explain that it was for the mission, Mac would probably just skelp him over the back of the head for implying that wasn't something the retiree already knew.

"You did worse back in the day."

MacMillan only narrows his eyes at him, clenching his hands into fists on his lap.

"Dae ye take me as a gid fuckin example wae these things, son?"

John shakes his head, staring down at the desk in front of him.

"Swear tae fuck, ye pull a stupid stunt like that again and a'll huv yer fucking knees wae a crowbar. Christ, is yer self-preservation that far oot the fuckin windae?"

That has John looking back up at him through narrowed eyes, everyone kept jumping down his throat about it as if they wouldn't have all done the same for the sake of a mission. It was part of the job.

Mac slams his hand down on the edge of the desk, irritation washing over his face in waves.

"Dinnae fuckin luk at me like that, crabbit wee git. A get tae rip intae ye fir stupid shite like this or did ye forget that? The fuckin heart attacks ye put me through fir years and ye huvnae changed a bit? Ye canne be dain that tae every, ye might act like an ignorant arse but ye've got folk aroon here that actually don't like the thought ae attending yer fuckin funeral, ye daft cunt."

Maybe the older man can see the exhaustion that's settled in John's bones, wearing him away from the inside out. Or maybe this is just how MacMillan felt years ago, it might just be an inherited trait that presents itself alongside the captain title.

"Get tae bed, son. We're talkin aboot this the morra. And tea wae lemon fir yer throat, ye sound like ye've been gargling shrapnel."

[the-californicationist]

The Simple Mistake (Ghoap)

Ghoap fluff, hurt/comfort (please be nice i dont write ghoap)

Johnny wasn’t often the smaller man. In most situations, he was the aggressor, or at least the larger of the pairing. But, he felt himself being lifted as if his body were mostly air. He was being carried like a sack of flour, hoisted over a huge, mountainous shoulder, and tossed into arms that cradled him with ease. The sergeant could feel the way his captor’s muscles bent and twisted, even under all his black gear, and although the gunfire and the flashbangs were deafening, he could hear the hollow, steady swell of the man’s breathing as it filled his wide chest. 

“C’mon, Sergeant. Just a few minutes and you’ll be right as rain. Hold on,” the dark, muffled voice told him. 

The man had been making these threats the whole time, promising him freedom and safety, telling him he’d be alright. Johnny didn’t much care either way, not anymore. Right now, all he wanted to feel was more of the same, more of these shoulders, more of this expansive back whose lats were pulled wide like spread wings. A great bird of prey, or a vulture come to claim its carrion. 

Bullet wounds were always a fucking mess, that was for sure. Luckily, the pain of it was being covered by an immense layer of shock. Johnny could feel the symptoms; chills, loss of sensation, trembling… it was all there. But, he was thankfully lucid, so they may not have hit him in a vital spot. Because of the vest and all of his gear, he hadn’t been sure exactly which bullet had landed the blow, but he felt the punch of the projectiles in his leg and chest, so something was bleeding… that much was clear. 

It wasn’t his symptoms that concerned him; it was the tone of his Lieutenant’s voice as he reassured him over and over and over again, killing Makarov’s men as he made his way out of the warehouse with a series of pistols that he procured from the piles of dead terrorists. Having to stop and murder more Konni operatives made their journey a slow one, and Johnny could tell Ghost was becoming more and more frustrated. 

“Where are these fuckin’ bastards all comin’ from?” The strong English accent was a comfort to the Scot, as much as it was an annoyance. 

He didn’t reply to the question, not even with a snarky jab, and he stayed as still as he could, trying to make it easy on his carrier. 

“You alive, Sergeant?” The concern had increased by an octave.

“Solid,” Johnny managed to respond, but it was getting a little hard to breathe. 

“Almost there, mate. Almost… there,” Ghost rushed into a heavy, lockdown facility and shut the door behind him.

There were three inches of steel between them and their enemies and absolutely no communication service. The silence of the safe room settled around the two men like a dark blanket, shielding them from the outside world. The light was dim, the floor was mostly sand, and there was a marked lack of furniture. 

Johnny felt himself being gingerly laid down on a desk, all of its contents fiercely strewn on the floor of the room, and Ghost began to remove the sergeant’s gear. 

“Jesus, LT,” Johnny panted, “Feels like you didnae even break a wee sweat, sir. I wanna be just like you when I grow up.”

The lieutenant was too focused for his jokes, his voice flat and cold, focused on ripping Johnny’s gear from him piece by piece,

“You’ll be better than me, Johnny.”

Johnny felt like he was being mauled by a bear. His body was jostled around like a ragdoll as Ghost pulled plate after plate from his chest. Eventually, his vest was ripped away, and then Johnny saw the glint of a huge knife. He barely had time to gasp when Ghost sliced up through his shirt and sleeves, yanking it off of his body, revealing his chest, sweaty and hairy, tanned in odd lines where his tank top and tee shirt had been. The sergeant chuckled a bit, nervous, smiling up at his commander,

“Maybe I already am, sir.”

Ghost didn’t reply. He was too focused on the task at hand. His eyes were wild, checking and rechecking Johnny’s body for the source of his blood. Finally, the sergeant was turned, lifted with ease from the desk, so that Ghost could inspect his leg. 

“Trousers have to come off, Sergeant,” the lieutenant explained. 

It was barely a warning. In one swift rip, Ghost shucked Johnny’s pants down to reveal… all of him. 

Johnny wasn’t really one for underwear, but he was kicking himself for that habit today. 

“LT! Christ!”

“You’re hit in the side of this leg. Need an XStat here. Deep breath.”

Johnny didn’t have time to breathe at all. The searing pain from the insertion of the wound-sealing device made his face twist into a wild grimace, and he shivered from the hot flash of agony. 

“Fuuuuckkk…” Johnny moaned, writhing and fully naked on the shitty desk.

Ghost was on the ground, digging in his gear bag, and he produced a foil shock blanket. He unwrapped it, ripping through the packaging, and lay it over his sergeant, tucking it around him. 

Johnny was shuddering, and his voice shook, but he tried to smile,

“Th-thanks, LT… Wish I had a wee bit more warmth, though. Cannae seem to stop shakin’.”

Ghost pulled off his gloves, and then, to his shock, Johnny watched as he removed his mask. He didn’t see Simon’s face often, but when he did, he tried not to stare. It was just a face, after all. There were no odd deformities, but it was as if some version of Zeus had just revealed himself through a swan or a bull; it was meant to be witnessed. 

The lieutenant didn’t meet his eyes, but he scooped him up, his huge arms curled under his back and in the crook of his knees, and brought him down to the ground. Then, he just… held him there. 

Johnny tried to remember the last time he had been held. A wee lass from high school, perhaps? But, she had not cradled him like a bairn. Perhaps it was his ma, when he drug his knee climbing through nettle at his uncle’s farm, burning up like the idiot he was, sniffling about the sting. 

Now, here he was, a grown man, cradled again in the same way. The bulk of Simon was warm against him, but the gear dug into his naked flesh. Ghost could sense his discomfort and moved him aside for a moment, shrugging out of his vest, and replacing Johnny right back into his arms. 

“Are you warm?” Simon asked quietly, a little under his breath.

“Aye, sir, thanks for tha’.”

“Are you in pain?” This question came out like a prayer, and it unsettled the younger man.

“Aye… but, it’s better now, sir.”

“Good. Help’s comin’. Sent Laswell a ping before we got locked in.”

Johnny chuckled, resting his head on Simon’s shoulder,

“She’ll find us in a right state.”

Simon shifted a bit, and there was a long pause before he muttered,

“I’m sorry, Sergeant. When they arrive, we can —”

“Haud yer wheesht,” Johnny interrupted him, pressing his forehead into Simon’s warm, bare neck, “It’s a fine state.”

“Aye.”

“Aye?” Johnny’s blood rushed through his veins, “So, you have taken a shine to me, then.”

“Aye,” Simon said, finally turning to meet Johnny’s eyes as he lay in his arms. He pressed his nose into Johnny’s space, close enough for a kiss but speaking to him instead, 

“I’ve taken a bloody shine. It’s bright enough to keep me awake at night, and it’s blindin’ me now. Everything in me says that I should leave you alone. Your rank, your future… you rely on me. But, I can’t stop staring at the shine of you. So bright. All the time.”

Johnny’s arm crinkled through the foil blanket as he reached a hand up to touch the coarse shadow on Simon’s jaw, drawing those full lips into his, petting his cheek, tasting the cigarette smoke on his tongue. He moved against him, feeling Simon’s enormous strength respond in a generous outpouring of affection, like a statue once frozen now come to life. They sank into each other, melding together, melted like hot wax, fusing, tumbling until there was only the shine of love between them.

[hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform]

Kinktober 2024 Day Seventeen

Boot Riding

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/Capitan John Price

“Mind telling me where you’ve been?” Price questioned before Gaz had even finished closing the door behind him.

Gaz glanced at the clock. It was a minute, maybe two, past seven. He was barely late. At least, not late enough to warrant the hard glare Price was giving him from behind his desk.

“Just making my report to Ghost.” Gaz shut the door and walked up to the front of the desk, grinning down at the captain. “Got a problem with that?”

“Yes.” Price leant back and stared up at his sergeant. “I don’t recall telling you to give any kind of report to Ghost. Let alone, telling you that this report could make you late to meet with me.”

“I’m sorry.” Gaz leaned over the desk, one hand planted on the wooden surface, the other reaching out for Price’s face, until he moved his chair back, out of Gaz’s reach.

“You want to apologise to me, sergeant?”

“It’s two minutes, it’s hardly a big deal.” Gaz stood up, folding his arms.

“It’s two minutes you spent with Ghost—”

“And not you? I though we talked about you being jealous, John?”

“I’m not jealous.” John spat the word out. “Strip, now.”

Gaz rolled his eyes, but complied, leaving his clothes where they fell in a crumpled mess on the floor when he tried to go around to get to where Price was sitting.

John held up a hand to stop him. “Really, sergeant? Clean that mess up.”

Gaz stopped, frowning as he met the captain’s hard stare again. He debated it, then decided that now probably wasn’t the time to make whatever Price had in store for him worse, so he stopped and picked up his clothes, carefully folding each item before setting the pile neatly on the front edge of the desk, crouching out of Price’s sight, out of his stare, as he tucked his boots up against the front of the desk below it.

Price grunted in approval when he stood back up, and beckoned Gaz to come close, pointing to the ground in front of him as he swung his chair to the side. “Kneel.”

Gaz did so, sitting on his heels as he pressed his legs together in front of Price’s boots, his hardening dick resting on his thigh, half concealed by arms stretching down so his hands could rest on his knees. Price reached out and cupped his chin, tilting Gaz’s head from side to side as he studied his face. Gaz kept quiet, but shivered as he felt his dick continue to get hard against his thigh, thanks to Price’s silent stares.

“He’s at least had the decency to not leave any marks.” Price grunted, pushing Gaz’s head back as he let it go, his eyes flicking down to Gaz’s half hard cock instead. “Did he send you off with that?”

Gaz shook his head. “All your work. Sir.”

“What? Just telling you what to do?” Price chuckled low in his throat, leaning down towards him. “Anyone can give instructions, Gaz.”

“I don’t follow instructions from just anyone.”

“Right, just me, and Ghost.”

“You’d be surprised.” Gaz murmured, his breath bating in his throat for the grand reveal.

“How so?”

“Most of the time, I’m telling him what to do.”

“Sure, you are.” John chuckled, in a way that told Kyle he didn’t believe him. He indicated for Kyle to split his legs open as he pushed his right leg forward, nudging his black, leather boot between Kyle’s knees. “You’re going to grind on my boot, and tell me the truth, you understand, the truth about what Ghost does to you.”

“Yes, sir.” Kyle widened his legs, shuffling close until his dick was rubbing up against the leather boot. He wrapped his arms around John’s shin, shifting his hips up as he tilted his head to one side, resting it on the top of John’s knee as he looked up at him. “What do you want to know?”

“Have you let him jerk you off?”

“Yes.” Gaz started rolling his hips, rubbing his dick against John’s boot. He bit his lip at the initial discomfort, dragging his skin against the tough surface, until it faded and left him searching for more texture with each roll of his hips as he struggled to find the right angle.

“How often does he do it?”

“Uh, quite often.” Gaz tightened his grip on Price’s trousers, pinching the cloth between his fingers, dragging it out from where it was tucked into his tightly laced boot. “He’s willing to do it for us- me, whenever, rather than me jerking off.”

“Is that so?” Price eyes lit up at the ‘us’ Gaz let slip, before picking up a cigar from the ash tray and relighting it. “How does he do it? Left or right hand?”

“Right.”

“Fast? Slow? Tight? Or squeezing?”

“He goes fast. Doesn’t do too much, just grips and goes until you, uh, finish.”

“Does he make you clean his hand?”

“Usually wants to wipe it on your shirt.” Gaz grunted as his dick rubbed against Price’s laces, his hips bucking up as he remembered the harsh speed of Ghost’s hand jobs.

“Isn’t he generous?”

“Uh huh.” Gaz tried to shift his dick away from the laces, back to the patch of untextured leather he’d found before. He didn’t want to cum before Price said to.

“Does he ever get you to return the favour?”

“Sometimes. He wants, prefers, to get sucked off, though.”

Price grunted. “Good trade, with how well you suck dick, Garrick.”

“Thank you, sir.” Gaz preened as Price stroked his cheek, blowing smoke out of his mouth.

“Does he ever suck your dick?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“At his own pace. You just sit there and let him work.” He swallowed, clenching Price’s shin tight and slowing his hips, not missing the tinge of desperation that came into his voice as he continued speaking. “He doesn’t let you… No touching. Doesn’t let you touch him.”

“His rules, I suppose. Do you think he’s as good as you?”

“No, he’s nowhere near as good as me.” Gaz answered without thinking. When he’d processed what he’d said, he felt his face run hot, and his eyes widened. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“I won’t.” Price lifted Gaz’s head up, cupping his cheeks in both hands, holding his cigar between his teeth as he tugged Gaz’s face up, grumbling around it as he continued his interrogation. “Does he let you cum down his throat?”

“Insists on it.” Gaz jerked his hips to a stop, precum dribbling down the leather as his breath choked in his throat. Fuck, he was close to coming.

“S’alright. Take your time.” Price’s thumb stroked his cheek. “Tell me how he fucks you.”

“Right.” Gaz tried to gather his thoughts away from how good it felt to have Ghost filling his ass as the memories flooded into his mind. “Likes to have you prepped, finger yourself open. One time… he had me and Soap prep each other.”

“Did he now?” Price murmured, brushing a tear off of Gaz’s cheek, his eyes sparking again at the mention of Soap.

“Yeah. He likes to be able to just sink into a hole and fuck. Hard, fast. Manhandles you. Won’t wait for you to come before he does.”

“Does he now?” Price’s brow furrowed. If Kyle was in a clearer state, he might have thought it was a look of disapproval.

“Makes up for it, though. Excellent aftercare. Cuddles you close, slowly jerks you off. Always makes you a bacon sandwich.”

“Ah, that explains where all our bacon goes.” Price gently ran his thumb along Gaz’s lip. “And what about when he lets you fuck him?”

Gaz’s dick twitched, as he remembered how Ghost had ended up underneath him that one night. “He begs.”

“He…”

“Begs. Does it really well… almost too well. And he cums loads. Makes a difference to see it all over him rather than in… in you.”

“Go on.” Price’s voice seemed faint to him now. Like he was far away. Not that it mattered, Gaz was going to ramble on whether the captain told him to or not.

“He’s loud. Whiney. Goes all pink, all over. Tight and squeezes like a vice.” Gaz swallowed, rubbing his dick up against the laces again.

“Does he?”

“Yeah.” Gaz squeezed his eyes shut.

“Go on. Come.”

“Fuck…” Gaz came, spreading his come over Price’s boot as he thought about fucking it deep into Ghost’s ass, all while Price cupped his face, murmuring gently above him.

Eventually, Price drew his leg back and lifted Gaz into his lap, guiding him up as Gaz’s legs shook underneath him, wrapping him securely in his arms before he spoke again.

“Thank you for telling me that.”

Gaz leant into his chest. “You’re welcome. Am… am I forgiven for being late?”

“Of course. Just see that it doesn’t become a habit.”

Gaz looped his arms around his neck. “Course it won’t.”

“Good. If there’s a next time, I’ll be having words with both you, and Ghost.”

“Words? Or watching?” Gaz nuzzled into Price’s neck.

He chuckled. “It’s like you read my mind.”

[love-minor-poltergeist]

A/N: I saw the positive reception that my Barbi hcs and I wanted to say, from the bottom of my heart, thank you kindly!! I always find myself feeling apprehensive on deviating from the fandoms I usually write for, so the fact that you all seemed to liked my Barbi content means a lot! (〃＾▽＾〃)

In the spirit of things, I decided to try my hand at baking a batch of hcs for our lovely, awful Police Sergeant Coyle! I will admit that his character was a little bit more difficult to write for since there's a lot uncomfortable themes and ideals related to his character. However! I welcome the challenge and hope that these turned out okay. Lemme know what y'all think!!

!Content Warning!: There's a passing mention of CSA/Childhood Sexual Abuse since the comics implied that it happened, and while it's only mentioned very briefly, it's better to play it safe

General Leland Coyle Headcanons:

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

Ever since his father served in the military briefly in WWII, which subsequently left the older man an invalid– having lost a foot and permanently unable to walk normally– Leland was left to carry out most of the physical labor around him and his family’s cattle farm. Pa would still insist on bossin’ him around, though, and Leland usually had to be the one to help him walk the fields while dealing with the cattle. Of course, once he joined the local police force, most of those duties fell upon his ma. 

Granted, in his ever charming views, he always thought Ma did a crap job of the physical work, so he’d usually take over anyway. All the while he and Ma argued back and forth on the fields.

An average day, if he wasn’t off dealing with police duties, he’d watch the cattle and make sure they’ve eaten and prod any escapees back into the fields. He was none too gentle, either, and he’s earned his fair share of bruises and narrowly avoided a few nasty kicks. Leland’s even got a particularly nasty scar on his lower abdomen from getting gored by a rowdy heifer. It luckily wasn’t deep enough to get him sent to the hospital, but boy did his parents ridicule him for being dumb enough to let it happen in the first place. 

Cannot cook for the life of him. Pa drilled it into his head that cooking was a woman's job, so he never really bothered to learn. All of the housework was handled by his wives, and god forbid if they wanted a break from it… During the brief stints between each marriage, Leland’s survived off diner food, cigarettes, coffee, and the occasional frozen tv dinner. 

On the other hand, however, he’s completely fine with a man cooking if it’s to handle a grill. Hell, Pa was the one to teach him how to prepare meat after they’ve sent their cattle off to the slaughterhouse, and goddamn can he cook a mean steak. Now that he thinks about it, Leland sometimes wished he paid more attention on how to make fried chicken when his Ma tried to show him… 

The Coyle family were devout Christians and attended Sunday mass each week. Of course, Leland doesn’t practice the religion much as he grew older, but much of the values taught to him remained; most of them perverted to fit his ideals. 

Thanks to his chronic smoking habit, Leland’s appetite is close to nonexistent. He does it so much that the other officers of the Blackwell Police Department often joked about how Sergeant Coyle’s office may as well have been an oven with how much smoke emanated from his office. However, given how he’s the one to handle most of the paperwork until the asscrack of dawn, and with only a cigarette and numerous cups of coffee littering his desk to keep him going, no one really complained. 

Usually shaves his head during the summer time. Sure, he’s a vain man, but it’s become a habit after his time in the military. Not to mention that it usually helped him keep cool during the days where he toiled in the fields with the sun beating down on he and Ma. The habit followed him into the Sinyala facility, where staff usually had to shear him down since, though he’s a Prime Asset and thus has special privileges, he’s still not to be trusted with anything sharp. 

Has extensive firearm training. Pa first showed him how to handle a rifle whenever the farm had to deal with coyotes and stray dogs that harassed the livestock. On the offtime there wasn’t anything to shoot, young Leland was usually spotted by the fence posts in the outer perimeter of the farm, practicing his aim with a few cans and empty bottles. Which eventually graduated to shooting at any unlucky birds or cats that wandered too close to the property. He was also put in charge of putting down any sickly cattle, too, after Pa was left crippled.

His aim only got better thanks to his time in Okinawa. He’s got more experience in rifles and pistols, but he has a natural knack for machinery, and he’s a quick learner. Not to mention that he follows gun safety to a fuckin’ T…. Which only made him even more offended when he learned that some deformed, baby-talkin’ runt got a gun before he did in Sinyala. 

Usually has a sore back after trials. Sure, he can handle lugging around that pontiac car battery on his back for hours if he needed to, but goddamn is that thing heavy. First thing he does after a trial is stretch until he hears his back pop. 

Suffers from really nasty night terrors. Going back to his comic and how it briefly touched on how Leland’s exhibited signs of CSA, it’s highly possible that much of the abuse occurred behind closed doors and at night, where everyone else was asleep. He’s avoided sleep like the plague since then. Both as a means of trying to protect himself and not have to deal with constantly reliving the incident. He’s never talked to anyone about it, and refuses to do so. 

He’s also coped with it via hypersexualising himself and inflicting pain on others. It gives him a sense of control and a rush of power that was stripped away from him. Silently vowed to never let himself be that vulnerable again.

╚═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╝

[yuyuwritesss]

Repulsion

EmotionallyDysregulatedFem!reader x Simon Riley

Summary : Reader panics after being confronted by ghost.

A/N: Slight angst, fluff, reader is unexperienced and has a bit of a panic attack. Ghost comforts then teases her. This is my first work I hope you have a nice time reading it :') (Please let me know your thoughts).

————————————————————————

You were everywhere he looked.

Whenever he felt watched on base, more often than not it could be traced to your big judging eyes staring from a distance, barely holding his gaze before they are swiftly averted.

It wasn't anything out of the ordinary for him at first what with the sheer size of him, the mask and the reputation that preceeded him everywhere he went, but as time went by he found himself perplexed as to why your behavior persisted.

You two had never spoken for there was no need to, with him being a lieutenant and part of the scariest and most sought-after task force on base, and you being merely a recruit, still wet behind the ears and as far away as you can get from dealing with his crew.

He simply couldn't understand why you were so adamant on watching him when you thought he wasn't looking. Or maybe you didn't care that he knew you were. Didn't know what to make out of what lies behind your eyes the one second he gets to look into them before you take them off of him and set them in the complete opposite direction. You were a tough nut to crack and boy was he looking forward to hearing that sound while looking into your big doe eyes long enough to crack you.

You were shocked to say the least when you heard that he sent for you. On your way to his office you refused to think it was going to be about your little staring problem. Surely the big bad lieutenant had more things to worry about than a silly recruit who couldn't take her eyes of off him. But of course you were wrong. When did things ever go the way you expected them to.

"What's your problem?"

You heard as soon as you closed the door behind you after knocking and entering. It was your first time hearing his gruff voice and it sent shivers down your spine.

You turned around slowly hoping he couldn't see the slight stagger in your turn from both apprehension and incredulity.

He was sat on the edge of his desk with his hands curled on each side, his bulging thighs on display, his long muscled arms hidden by his uniform meeting the junctions of his equally hidden neck only by his mask instead, his slightly tilted head sitting on top and his brown eyes watching you, awaiting your response.

"Pardon?" you ask after it registered that he had asked you a question and didn't invite you to his office to ogle him as shamelessly as you do when you think he's not looking only to be met with the very same eyes that are closely watching you at the moment.

"Im askin' you precisely about what you were doin' just now" he says, straightening his posture as he gets off the desk and starts walking towards you.

He continues walking until he is as close as your sergeant gets when he's yelling at you to do your bed faster.

The truth was you were mesmerized by him. You couldn't help it that your eyes flew to him as soon as he was entered your line of sight. Not when he was physical attraction personified in your subconscious's opinion. His bulky form, muscles straining against fabric, the anonymous and mysterious air about him created by his mask and lack of information about his identity, all of this working together to make him out to be the perfect forbidden fruit and did you want to taste its sweet juice.

But you could never even dream about going there so you contented with the longing looks and the brief contact with his brown orbs whenever he caught you looking. It didn't help that you were helpless with men, they were akin to aliens that you denied contact, not for a lack of trying on their part, but simply for being what they are, and a man is a most dangerous thing, they've certainly proved that time and time again.

You couldn't help your attraction for the very few that met your criteria though, and it wasn't merely physical, it included allusions to the kind of people they were in a way you couldn't explain, and you unfortunately were so far from being experienced that you didn't know how to get what you wanted without everything else, never knowing the right thing to say or even getting as far as talking to them, your hitching breath and increasingly warm face at the moment a clear testimony of that. You were easily intimidated by them but just as easily prone to falling in love with them. And you couldn't stop the fantasies, the sweaty detailed daydreams of a warm body sticking to yours, his weight nearly crushing your organs and silencing your roaring thoughts. Bringing you up enough to finally feel the way normal people do for a few hours. You were surprised with how rampant your imagination could run for someone who has never known for themselves what a realationship of this nature entails, resorting to dreaming up fairytails that couldn't solve your problems and hoping to strike gold without ever picking up an axe.

Maybe he, the man standing so close to you right now you were envelopped in his deep nutty with a hint of cherry scent, could read the jumbeled mess of repulsion and disfigured attraction in your eyes, and it made him weary. He couldn't possibly understand why a stranger who didn't know him beyond the things that were said about him could harbor these feelings, your body giving you away, pointing towards a slight anxiety as you didn't know what to do with that attraction, you almost wish you didn't feel it at all but God did it give you something to look forward to everyday, even if it always went the exact same way with you not fathoming that it could even go any further than a stare.

What if he could easily read your mind, knew everything there was to know about about the kind of person you were, he probably thinks you're pathetic for feeling the way you do, and letting it grow so big. Sure enough it wouldn't be anything you hadn't thought about your self before, you blamed yourself enough as it is for your wandering mind and overflowing emotion, wished you were in control, but any semblance of it was torn asunder by your opinion of yourself and the way you felt which continued to bring it down.

More often than not you felt out of place on base, a place where feelings of every nature and especially romantic, if you could call yours that, were left at the door. You hated how disgusted you would become with yourself but the disgust felt justified when everyone seemed to have it together but you, sure it didn't get in the way of training, but why must you suffer for something that could never bear fruit.

"...'Ey, you alright?"

Now that he was so close to you, you just didn't know what to do, eyes locked on where his mouth is supposed to be under the mask, face betraying your unease and attraction, the latter a mirror of the former to the untrained eye, you didn't notice how your breath had picked up and your chest had started heaving. Suddenly you felt two giant hands on your shoulders, nearly fully envelopping them, they were shaking you gently, and looking up you came panicked eye to slightly worried eye with the lieutenant, you had forgotten where you were for a moment as you fell down the rabbit hole of self loathing, your head swimming in a pond of confusion and panic. You wanted to self destruct right then and there but his hands on you kept you grounded.

"Come on, let's sit you down." he said, moving you to one of the chairs by his desk and kneeling in front you, his hands which were on your shoulder, slowly started moving up and down your arms, and with them your breathing started calming down, your eyes fixed on your lap.

"Are you better now, love?" He asks, after your breathing went back to normal and you seemed to have calmed down, his hands halted their movement at your elbows and rested there, with a gentle hold on the upper part of your forearms.

"Yes, I'm sorry about that, and im sorry for staring at you all the time, i know itsrudebutican'thelpitbutIpro-" You said hurriedly in one breath, your eyes still fixed on your lap, but a gentle touch on your chin shut you up and nudged your head up, your eyes coming in contact with his once again, his beautiful brown eyes looking at you with such gentleness you didn't know what to do with yourself. So you settled for looking into them, and trying to memorize every pattern in them. His brown didnt seem as dark with slightly lighter radial streaks going around his pupils, and a few darker freckles decorating his iris. You were so engrossed in studying his eyes that you almost missed what he said next.

"Take it easy, will you? First tell me what made you panic." he said, taking his fingers off your chin and setting hid hand on the chair's arm right by yours, all while keeping his other hand on your elbow and your legs between his squatting knees.

"It's nothing really," you said while shaking your head and forcing yourself to look into his eyes, "Sometimes i get nervous while talking to new people, I'm really sorry you had to see that."

"Stop apologizing," he said his eyes firmer now but still so gentle, keeping you at ease with his proximity and the whole situation you found yourself in. "There has to be more to that.".

"I assure you there isn't" you say, with an earnest look in your eyes "i just never really talk to men." you say before you stop yourself and end up face-palming with heat rising up your hidden face.

Suddenly you hear a low chuckle "i usually dont talk to women either" you give him an embarrassed glare thinking he's mocking you "none on the task force" he adds and you see an outline of a smile under his mask which you stare at for a while before he says again "I probably would have approached it better if i did"

"approached what? "

"Your staring problem".

You quickly stand up in surprise your face getting more red than ever then you realize that your crotch is in his face so you sit down just as fast which makes him chuckle, you then lean towards him and say in a panic "I swear I dont do it on purpose, have you seen yourself?"

He sets his elbows on his thighs and says with a smile "what about me?"

Your face gets even more red which you thought wasn't possible anymore, your voice quivering slightly "i think i should head back, they'll probably think i deserted at this rate" he holds your gaze for what seems like eternity before he stands up and back, leaving you just enough space to move past him and go for the door before he reaches out and grabs your wrist gently,

"I'm not mad at it, i just wanted to understand, and now i think i do." His smirk apparent through his mask.

Your eyes widen and you move for the door but right as you hold the knob you look over your shoulder and say, your thoughts racing "you couldn't possibly get it."

A mix between surprise and amusement paints his mask-clad face and right as you close the door you hear

"We'll see about that."

[wantonlywindswept]

10/10 fox day: forgotten fox bit

to celebrate fox day you get more of the next section of the forgotten fox au, which contains...zero fox actually present x_X

i am trying okay

---

Bucket, for the crimes of having an excellent sabacc face and a hip that seized up when moving any faster than a light jog, was often stuck manning the Guard HQ front desk.

They didn't get too many natborns coming through these days, at least, now that the CSF were forced to do their own jobs and had taken over guarding the prison. The Guard was back to being a protective, high-level military force instead of doing all the domestic policing and drudgework they'd been relegated to. They were still beholden to the Senate, but things had gotten better since Palpatine died and Organa took office, even if some of the Dome's denizens still saw them as little better than droids.

So Bucket didn't have to deal with that at least--he could, he got his name from being able to fit his demeanor to whatever the situation needed it, swapping faces like you could swap a helmet--but he did still have to deal with the regular comers and goers. Thankfully, that was mostly clones, plus the new addition of the pack of Jedi healers that descended on medbay once a week.

Interesting bunch, the Jedi. A lot more personable than Bucket had thought they would be. Surprisingly calm up until you admitted to using a soldering torch to close an acute laceration. 

(It wasn't even a recent injury--it happened so long ago that it was already healed. But now Master Nema gave Bucket the stink eye whenever she saw him, like she was trying to determine how medically stupid he'd been in her absence.)

"--figure what they were going on about?"

Bucket snapped to attention as the exterior doors slid open, a placid expression settling across his features. He turned toward the voice--only to relax when he caught sight of the visitors.

"Just something about another shift in the Force," Marshal Commander Cody said, offering Captain Rex a shrug. "It's not as bad as when Palpatine died; nobody passed out this time, at least."

"Small mercies," Commander Gree observed, bringing up the rear behind them. He had four takeout containers cradled in one arm, and by the smell they were from the offensively good noodle cart that parked near the base of the Rotunda. Bucket took a deep, envious breath and decided he was definitely going there for latemeal.

This particular group of GAR troopers--along with Commanders Bly and Wolffe--were a familiar enough sight at Guard HQ. They didn't visit often, almost eternally deployed to the front lines, but whenever their leaves lined up they usually made an appearance. Bucket had never seen all five together at once, but maybe that would change now that the war was over and battalions were being called back to Coruscant.

"Commanders, Captain," he greeted, standing up behind the counter to salute. His second for the day, Kelari, hastily copied the action. 

Cody waved the formality away with the sign for 'at ease', nodding at the two of them in turn.

"Sergeant Bucket," he greeted. "And I don't think I know..?"

"Private Kelari, sir!" Kelari chirped. She was still painfully shiny, wide-eyed and awestruck as she stared up at the Marshal Commander, and Bucket allowed the gaping with fond indulgence. 

She was one of their most recent acquisitions, part of a squadron that arrived after the death of the Chancellor. The group didn't have any direct experience with the war or the suffering that came with it, and the entire Guard were doing their damndest to make sure they never would.

"Private Kelari," Cody acknowledged, one side of his mouth ticking up. "Good to meet you."

Kelari beamed; Bucket shooed her away so he could get back in front of the security screens. 

"The Jedi up to shenanigans again?" he asked as he pulled up the admittance forms. 

Rex sighed, heavily, and Cody shot him an amused look.

"Let's just say," Gree said, "That it will be nice to avoid more half-coherent explanations on how the Force works in the future."

Bucket snorted, starting to fill out the usual info. The Guard never got a Jedi--and with the reveal of Palpatine being a Sith, they now knew why--but he had to admit he was glad they never needed to deal with the often-inexplicable Jedi tendency to rely so much on some invisible cosmic power.

"Captain CT-7567," he recited idly as his fingers flicked across the keys, "Commander CC-2224, and Commander CC-1004, here to see Commander--"

Bucket blinked at the 'reason for visit' box. 

This batch of clones had been visiting the entire war, either by themselves or together, whenever their rare leave allowed. They came often enough that if Bucket wasn't the one that would suffer the datawork hassle later, he would have just waved them on through. 

He was familiar enough with them to know that Cody's infamous scar came from a sparring accident, that Gree had three half-finished xenobiology research papers that he hoped to someday publish, and that Rex had been forcibly adopted by the CC clones without being allowed any input in the matter. He knew that Wolffe had three implanted teeth from multiple attempts at biting trainers through their armor as a cadet, and that Bly sometimes mixed up his letters and numbers and had almost been decommissioned as a result.

And Bucket had no idea what to put in the box.

He slowly lifted his gaze from the half-finished form to meet Cody's eyes. 

Missing memories weren't that uncommon, in the Guard, but as Bucket watched confusion steal across Cody's face--as that confusion shifted into rising unease and panicked alarm--he didn't think it was just a Guard problem, anymore.

[callofdudes]

Not the one that requested, but I think for the ace reader request’s wording, they meant the reader views the guys romantically but doesn’t confess as they are ace(not aroace) in fear of future rejection

Ooooh, oh that makes sense. Oops.... Well I might just write it all over again 🫣😬 that's my bad folks. That's my bad. So I'll just rewrite the prompt here and figure it out?? Same thing with the right prompt this time. I think I've got it this time.

It's literally almost the same writing of course I changed things, I just wasn't feeling trying to get creative all over again I'm sorry-

Telling them you love them... (Again)

Summary: Ace!Reader struggling to confess to the boys out of fear of not being sexually attracted to them.

Ghost 💀

You knew Ghost wasn't keen on love. He wasn't really keen on anything. So attempting to tell him you loved and appreciated him without being given a glare and a smack in the face was hard.

You usually kept to buying him gifts on the occasion, aiming to finish the paperwork he gave you early. But it all never felt like real appreciation.

You didn't want Ghost thinking that you were into him sexually. Yes you could admit he was attractive but it wasn't like that. That's where the struggles of your confessions lay... You were into him, so romantically swooned over him. And yet you wouldn't see him sexually if you were paid a million bucks. Because that just wasn't it.

It was easier just to write him a note, put down all your complicated emotions on paper and hope he would understand. And you dropped it in his office, worried he would freak out and yell at you for everything you said.

You were looking at documents on your computer when Ghost came into your office, completely unannounced.

"Sergeant."

"Oh- lieutenant!"

He holds up the note, placing it gently on your desk. You look down, immediately feeling ashamed of what you wrote. You wanted to cower away, not knowing how he would react. Would he be mad?? He obviously thought you liked him by the way he came in.

"I'm not mad, I'd just like to talk."

You flick your eyes back up, still feeling ashamed of the things you'd written.

"But I don't... Well, y'know."

"It's not like that..." You mutter, suddenly afraid to look up at him. Ghost's stance softens, voice getting a bit calmer.

"I hope it's not." He steps forward.

You frown, looking up at him. "I love you... Just romantically. I just didn't know how to tell you..."

He nods a little, piecing everything together again.

"And don't think its because of you, no no, I just-" Ghost stepped forward, his eyes locking with yours and he nodded. " I think I understand."

You smile, feeling relief fill you. "You gonna say it back??"

He huffs. "Maybe one day."

"I'll take that." You smiled and squeezed his hand.

The man hummed and nodded, squeezing your hand back. "Thank you I guess... You're not too bad yourself."

You chuckle and stand, eagerly embracing him. "I love you, Simon."

He tensed, but patted your back gently. "I know." He smiled softly. Embracing you firmer than before, resting the fabric of his mask against your forehead where you could feel the warm breaths against your skin. You knew this would work out. You weren't scared anymore.

Gaz 🧢

Gaz was quiet and reserved. Not like Ghost, but he was a private person. He preferred most of his time alone and you often wondered how Soap managed to drag him into such a tight knit friendship.

But you'd also grown close to Gaz. He wasn't as good with expressing his feelings in words he thought fit, so he just tried not to.

But you knew him for him. The music he liked, the movies and the bands. You two would spend hours just laughing and talking together in the quietness of the base, the best of friends.

You have wanted to express to Gaz how much you love him for a while now. Because you truly had fallen in love with him. But considering both of you couldn't get a grasp for proper words, you were afraid he would misunderstand.

Especially since you only saw him romantically. Funny little thing, but all you wanted was that soft, gentle affection and to finally be able to wrap your arms around him without fear. And yet you could never say it.

You were waiting by the cargo station, knee bouncing as you waited for the plane to open. Their mission had been met with problems and there was a slim chance they'd all come back alive.

When you saw Gaz you immediately ran to him, pulling him into your arms and hugging him tightly. "Oh thank goodness."

Gaz was a little surprised but hugged you back. You both stood there like that for a bit until you said it, you didn't care. You'd bottled it in in fear for so long, and you'd almost lost him. You almost lost your best friend. "I love you so much."

Gaz didn't question it. Didn't dig into it. He only held you tighter, reassuring you he loved you back, and he wasn't going anywhere. There wasn't any need for clarification, there just was. You pulled away enough to look into his eyes, and the relief filled you both to the brim, you'd sort it out later, go through the details later. For now, you were here and he was alive.

"You should get cleaned up. I'll make you some tea as well."

Gaz smiles. "You're awesome, thank you." He leans forward and presses a soft, almost feather light kiss to your cheek.

"Don't worry, I know." He whispered, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. You didn't have to worry, he knew about your sexuality. And he was perfectly ok with it.

And without a second thought you both parted ways for a time.

Sure, you'd sort the fine details out later, but right now there wasn't a question about where this was headed.

Price 🥃

Price was a warm yet harsh soul. You'd known him for a couple years and he'd been amazing guidance for you. Always a light you could follow. In the darkest of times you could always reach for his hand and be assured you'd find it.

You'd recently found yourself swooning over him. You wanted to be in his embrace, feel those reassuring and firm hugs. His beard against your forehead when he kissed your head while talking softly.

And yet. Because of your ranks the scandelousness of a relationship was a bit tedious in the work forece. Sexual or not. But you didn't have sexual feelings for him. You were swimming in the ocean of love. But that was it.

After a recent mission you'd come back a little scratched up. You thought you were going to die and were in tears when you walked over to Price, feeling his arms wrap around you to comfort you.

He hadn't been there with you that time. But you were relieved to be back. Even when he pulled you into his office to clean your face you were still softly crying.

"It's alright sergeant, I've got you..." Price reassured as he pressed the alcohol pad to your chin.

You sniffled, wiping a tear from your cheek. "Price??"

"Yes sergeant. I'm right here."

You sniffle. "You know I love you right?"

He looks deep into your eyes, taking a moment to process your body language and fully understand. "I love you too sergeant. I'm glad you're ok."

You nodded a little. "You... You know it's not sexual right? I'm sorry if..." You said weakly. The earlier regret of the mission had made you slip your tongue, and now you felt more anxiety.

"I know kid, I know." He patted your shoulder. "Come here, you're still a little shaken up aren'tcha?"

You nod and crawl into his arms, feeling him hug you tightly. "It's alright. I'm here." He runs his hand up to the your nape of your neck, reassuring you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "This alright?"

You nod, clinging to him.

"Alright. We'll sort all these feelings out together in the morning ok? But I understand, and its ok."

"I love you Price." You choked out again. He softly shushed you, keeping you in his arms. "I know Y/n, I know."

Soap 🧼

Johnny was not unfamiliar with your secrets. He knew you very well and had come to learn of your lack of sexual attraction to others. Didn't change how he saw you, you were still his bestie.

He himself was conflicted in if he should tell you that he loves you. He didn't know how you might take it and wanted to remain respectful of you and your boundaries.

You laid on his bed with him, listening and joking as he told you a story about setting off a small bomb near the recruit bathrooms.

He was laughing so hard his face turned red, smiling wide as his hand brushed across yours while trying to find air.

You smiled back, gently taking his hand in yours. You watched his cheeks tint red and it makes your heart flutter. You were so in love with him. But knowing Soap... You were so scared to confess to him. Especially with your lack of sexual attracion and knowing he wanted kids in he future.

You'd bothed talked about your ideal future relatonship, and though you were almot perfect for each other, the differences were staggering to say the least.

But the way he was looking at you. With tha lost look of utter happiness as he talked to you...

"Soap??" You look up at him with a slightly less whimsy gaze, contemplating the heaviness of your next words.

"Soap, I just want you to know... You're my best friend and.." you squeeze his hand. "I love you."

He slowly calmed down and looked at you. "Oh... you do?" He could see the look in your eye and shuffled closer, getting slightly into your bubble without realizing.

You felt comfortable with him. So incredibly comfortable. All those years fretting and worrying what he'd think. All you saw right now was the smile of your best friend and how much you were in love with him...

Soap is a little quiet for a moment. "Not sexual right?"

His frown makes you worry as you rush to explain as best you could all over again. You just really love him and everything about him. Just not sexually.

It makes a smile spread across his face. He takes your hand and places it against his chest. "You are the most amazing person in the whole world y/n. I don't know what I'd ever do without you. I love you too."

"You're sure... but, our futures?"

He leaned in, cupping your chin. "We'll figure it out, promise?''

You smile softly, happy to have said it. He leaned in, warm breath drifting over your lips. "Can I kiss you?" He asked. You nod, and before you know it, his lips are sinking against yours.

König 🐙

You sighed, bouncing your knee in agitation. The thought of your first solo mission... You'd be lying if you said it wasn't daunting. You'd always gone on missions with König or different members from KorTac. But you'd never been assigned your own mission.

You started to question if you'd be good enough and could get home ok. It made you worry, if you'd ever come back.

You were wrapped up in your thoughts, not noticing the large figure who sat down next to you, leaning over to look at your face. "What has you looking like that y/n?"

You looked up at the sound of his voice and sighed. "I'm just nervous about the mission..."

He nodded understandingly and took your hand in his. "You'll be alright. I do not doubt your abilities one bit you know. You'll do it."

You chuckle softly. "You say that now but... What if I get hurt??"

"Then I'll come find you." He squeezes your hand. "But you will be alright."

Your heart clenches hearing him say that. You'd found yourself falling in love with Konig after a bit of time working with him. And now you were contemplating telling him. The only thing keeping you nack was well... You weren't sexually attracted to him. And you didn't want Koing to take it the wrong way.

You squeeze his hand a little tighter.

"König? You know... You've really been a good friend. And you've helped me grow so much since I've been here... I really don't know what I'd do without you here with me."

He tutted softly. "Do not start writing the words for your obituary, y/n."

You sigh, leaning against his shoulder, relishing the last hours you have with him before you'll be sent off. "I... I love you König... You know that? You're everything to me. I know it hasn't been two years but-"

"Shh" he squeezes your hand. "Take some deep breaths." He smiles softly. "I love you too, but do not expect you to be going anywhere soon. Ok?"

You relax, seeing how it wasn't a big deal. "It's not... sexual though, but It doesn't mean I dont love you, I'm very attracted to you, but it's not... Like that."

He hummed again. "We'll talk about all this in detail when you get back. And you will return, alright?''

You nod once more. "Thank you König. Thank you."

He squeezes your hand again gently. For reassurance. To tell you no matter what he was there. No matter what.

Alejandro & Rudy.

Alejandro sighed loudly, flopping down on the couch next to you and Rodolfo.

"Well well, welcome back Mr. Vargas." You chuckle, putting down your phone to see his tired expression. "How did it go?" Rodolfo asked lazily, eyes still trained on his book, curled up on the couch, his thigh against yours.

"I'm so glad to be off my feet." Alejandro sighed, grabbing the tv remote and turned it on, flipping through the shows before finding something to play.

He gets back up again and wanders into the kitchen, grabbing three ice cold drinks, tossing the other two to you guys who eagerly catch them and crack them open.

Alejandro huffs when he sits back down, taking a swig and finally relaxing. "Glad to be back with my two favorite people."

You and the boys were close enough and comfortable enough that you were ok with their physical touch, so you were used to Alejandro wrapping a respectful arm around your shoulder and you'd usually end up snuggled up, giving Rodolfo the room to join when he wanted.

Today was no different as you snuggled up to his side and felt his warmth. "Geez, maybe you need a bath. And you smell fuckin' awful." You snort.

Rodolfo chuckles and nods. "I can smell you from here Ale."

The man only rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Ya both better appreciate my presence. It's a gift."

"We do appreicate you Ale."

Considering how romantically fallen down the stairs you were for these two you were surprised you hadn't confessed yet. Always relishing the times you got loving physical contact with them. But knowing Ale as the flirt you always hesitate confessing your romantic attraction. Especially as it wasn't backed by sexual attraction.

You snuggled closer. "You work really hard for us Alejandro. You deserve all the rest today." You smile and hug his waist. You really did appreciate him. The fear and the worry of what he might think, of how he'd feel if you ever expressed it... But you went for it. You wanted him to know how much you appreciated him. You really did.

"You know... I love you, Ale. Like I said, you're amazing and you support us so much. Working your butt off like this just so we get a few hours off."

But they both were aware of your sexual preferences. That being none, so hearing this from you, they knew it was nothing but soft affection you had in your heart for them...

Alejandro smiled softly, his arm wrapping a little tighter around you. "Is that so??" He chuckled. "Not even you could resist falling in love with this eh?"

You roll your eyes playfully as he pulls you closer by the shoulder and kisses the top of your head. "I love you too y/n."

You stick out your foot, bumping your feet against Rodolfo's. "You too mister!" He looks up and smiles. "You are good y/n, it's a blessing to have you with us."

"Then come here you, get in on the cuddles."

Rodolfo huffs and puts down his book, but curls up with you two as you all watch the show. He leans in and nuzzles his nose against your neck, kissing your jaw briefly. Soft affection. Nothing better than spending time with your two favorite people.

[peachfridges]

Heyyyy how are you?? can I request a price x reader? 😭 TYSM

have a good day/night

late that night

summary: you return back from a mission and find yourself going straight to a certain man.

cw: fluff, pre-established relationship, can be read platonically tbh, price is a worrier, mentions of light injuries

pairing: john price x reader

word count: 558

notes: hey anon! i’m doing really well thanks <33 stressed over the mw3 trailer and wtf is gonna happen to soap and price?! i’m so sorry for taking so long to post this but i took a break from writing for a tad too long and now i’m struggling again lololol. ghost request hopefully (fingers crossed fr) will be finished soon but enjoy this short one for the time being!

exhaustion laced every muscle as you dragged your aching body through the base. it was quiet, peaceful almost. there wasn’t many people around, it was late at night and you knew that most would either be asleep or finishing off paperwork for previous missions. that was what you were supposed to be doing right now: paperwork. after spending four days on a ruthless mission that had taken a toll on you more than you cared to admit, you weren’t even given a chance to rest without having to relive the events of the last few days.

you decided it wouldn’t be tonight that you would do it. being a sergeant did in fact have its perks in a job like this. instead, your legs carries you in a familiar direction, one you took more often than you probably should, for one reason or another.

entering the rec room, you saw ghost finishing off his last mission’s report. happy to finally see someone you knew, you got his attention, “hey ghost.”

his eyes met yours and he visibly relaxed, his rough manchester accent filling the atmosphere around the two of you, “hey y/n. long mission?”

you smiled knowingly, aware that your dark circles had only deepened since you had been away. “you could say that.”

he chuckled slightly and signed off his report, “if you’re going to see him, mind taking this with you? i would take it to him myself but i don’t want to interrupt the two of you.” he looked slightly apologetic with his request, but you appreciated his sentiment.

“of course, now go get some rest.” ghost nodded at your words and made his way to his room. you got changed into something more comfortable than your previous gear. you looked over yourself in the mirror, your dark circles were in fact worse, but the faint outline of a black eye was forming around one. you sighed, fingers reaching to your busted lip which had only recently stopped bleeding. bruises and scrapes cluttered your skin in countless different places, but you knew you’d gotten off a lot better than you could’ve done.

you sighed, but still continued on your previous path towards the captain’s office.

you knocked on his door before opening it gently, as price glanced up at you with a soft smile on his face. you instantly felt better at the sight of him, placing ghost’s report on his desk and sitting on the chair facing him. he took a quick glance through the lieutenant’s papers before placing them to the side. his eyes met yours once again and studied your face, concern glistening in his eyes as he noticed the visible injuries.

you picked up on his concern, quickly attempting to put his mind to rest, “i’m fine, john. been through worse and you know i have.”

he stands up and sighs deeply, your eyes following his movements. “i worry about you.”

“i know you do, but i’m fine. i mean it.” you reach over to him and hold his hand, feeling him relax under your touch. his chest was rising and falling more steadily, and his shoulders had fallen into a casual stance. you smiled as you stood up and hugged your captain. “can’t get rid of me that easily.”

price’s deep chuckle filled the room, “oh trust me, i know.”

[venigni]

Lies of P Teacher AU

Mr. P: Instrumental Music

He prefers to express himself through music and conduction rather than words. He is very kind, soft spoken, and handsome, so a lot of people have crushes on him. His grey hair despite his youth is a mystery to the entire student body, who often circulate rumors about it. No one knows what the P stands for, either.

The Corday Sisters: Choir

The Cordays are a sisterly duo who teach choral classes and also manage the school's show choir.

Mr. Carlo: English Literature

He refuses to use his last name because of the association with his father who teaches at the same school. He is very casual with his students and jokes around a lot, but is also a very harsh grader and isn't afraid to be outright mean to misbehaving students, a similarity he shares with his father. However, he's so down-to-earth (and handsome) that most don't hold it against him. He's so different from Mr. P that most forget they're brothers even if they have identical faces.

Romeo: Language Arts & Drama

Romeo teaches theater history and LA to the younger students of the high school while Mr. Carlo handles the older ones. Their classrooms are next to each other and they're constantly hanging out in each other's. Some students suspect there might be something going on between the two of them. Romeo is easygoing and very casual, and asks to be called by his first name to create a more comfortable environment. He has a pride flag on his desk and also runs the drama club after school.

Signor Geppetto: Art

The second oldest but definitely meanest teacher at the school. Art is NOT a slack off elective. He runs class like a drill sergeant and has very high expectations most fail to meet. He's a world-renowned artist from Italy. It's considered a rarity to see him smiling and only a select handful can attest to ever witnessing it. People often transfer out of his class after the first week, and it's common to see students leave his classroom in tears. Some are stuck up and talented enough to get into his inner circle and always shittalk others' work while they eat their lunches in his classroom, or hang out there after school, which Signor Geppetto isn't shy about joining in on. This makes him revered to just a select few.

Mr. Giangio: Agricultural Studies

He's the newest teacher at the school and is considered very odd. He's always misplaced something and dresses overly formal. The students are convinced he has no idea what he's doing and are learning alongside them. The advanced students even seem more knowledgeable than he...Seriously, why is he at this school?

Belle & Atkinson: Physical Education & Health

A husband-and-wife duo that wear matching track suits every day. They're tough, but kind, and take what they do very seriously. Prefer to be called by their first names.

Mr. Alidoro: History

Despite his youthful appearance, this guy knows a ton and has the experience to back it up. He makes history interesting to students by tying in real-life stories about his adventures. Some insist they have to be fake, but he does have a ton of relics on display all over the classroom to prove them. He has a service dog that is with him in class every day. The kids love him!

Mr. Hugo: History - Student Teacher

Mr. Hugo is Mr. Alidoro's student teacher. He's studying to be a history teacher himself and is a big fan of Mr. Alidoro. Seems like an eager puppy himself. It makes for an interesting dynamic in the classroom that entertains students. Some people think he might have a crush on him since he seems so eager to bend over backwards. Mr. Alidoro seems oblivious to it.

Miss Monad: Basic Social Studies & Psychology

Miss Monad is very pretty and very kind. She is loved by all and students never misbehave in her presence. Those who do early on in the semester get so much hate from their peers, they never dare to do so again. She always wears a pretty butterfly brooch somewhere on her outfit. It seems very special to her, and she tells those who ask as much, but no one really knows what it means. She seems to have a very good understanding of her subject and her gentleness commands a certain respect from both kids and her peers.

Mr. Manus seems to have a crush on her and keeps visiting her classroom whenever he can since it's down the hall from his, but when he is around seems to be the only time she is a bit sharp. She's not afraid to tell him to bug off, even if it is in a very polite way.

Mr. Gemini: Robotics & Computer Sciences

Mr. Gemini is great with technology and anything computer-related. He talks a lot and is kind of a stereotypical nerd. He gets very excited when students take interest in his subject and geeks out right alongside them. He's a total chatterbox and spends his lunch hour in Mr. P's classroom listening to the music being played. They seem to be best friends and make a funny duo, since Mr. P barely says a word and Mr. Gemini can't shut up.

Mr. Venigni: Basic Sciences & Physics

A famous inventor who was invited to teach in Krat by Principal Cerasani so that he could spread his breadth of knowledge with the next generation of scientists. He dresses very eccentric, has a funny mustache, and at first, a lot of students have difficulty understanding his heavy Italian accent. Even though some can find his subject hard, he makes sure every student gets the help they need and is actually very thoughtful. He makes sure his students are prepared for Mr. Manus's classes, but something about the way his usual cheerful demeanor changes around him tells kids that they might not actually get along despite teaching in the same department.

Mr. Manus: Chemistry & Advanced Sciences

Mr. Manus is older, but is still considered one of the more handsome teachers at the school. He is very charismatic and is always friendly outside of the classroom, which encourages students to sign up for his advanced classes even if they're not the best at science. He playfully shittalks Mr. Venigni from time to time, which can rub some the wrong way. He doesn't seem to get along with the other teachers in general. He's strict but fair, and overall somehow kind of intimidating despite his outwardly gentle smile. A bit of an enigma.

Mr. Pulcinella - Home Economics

Mr. Venigni's adoptive father, though no one actually knows that. He's the oldest teacher at the school. He's soft-spoken and very kind, but a little boring to some. Others enjoy the calming and very peaceful atmosphere his classroom brings; it's a boon within an otherwise busy school day.

Miss Eugénie: Woodworking & Shop

She's young and very pretty. She teaches shop and because of her wit and general likability, a lot of students end up crafting gifts for her. Her little office is floor-to-ceiling project presents that have been given to her over the few years she's been teaching. Even people uninterested in shop take it just because they hear such good things about her. She isn't afraid to speak her mind, though, and if something is ugly--she'll tell it to your face. That doesn't mean she'll cherish it any less.

Ms. Cerasani & Mr. Polendina: Principal & Her Right-hand Associate Principal

Everyone loves Ms. Cerasani! She is very kind and has created a very loving environment in the school. She is always willing to listen to her staff and is patient with everyone. She actually was a famous pianist in her youth, and sometimes she stops by Mr. P's classroom to play a song for the students, who listen in awe and amazement. Mr. Polendina is a stickler for rules which sometimes makes him the butt of student jokes, just because he's so very uptight.

[sheeple]

I'm not the best at these kinds of things (headcanons) but I just had to put it out into the world before I go crazy. This is mostly inspired by DEATH by Melanie Martinez (link). It's half-baked and has no real end. Do with it what you want Warning(s): death / wonky use of past and present tense Part 2 (ish)

Okay so I've had this idea of a soldier (you) that's a human experiment done by the government 

And through science or something you are immortal and heal really quick

Like a stab wound is nothing, a bullet is maybe an hour or two

Very indestructible

You get bounced around different squads and countries 

And when it's time to move on, you get from their handler the signal that they have to fake their death the next time you go on a mission 

It has been like that for years until the 141

At first, the boys don't trust this random soldier Laswell claims is needed until they actually see the absolute beast that is you (you know how to fight and fight well)

Price likes you because you're a fighter. You know how to follow orders and have great discipline

Ghost is iffy at first, but when you take a bullet and a knife to the shoulder for him he sees that you're not just some rando that's temporarily placed with them. He also feels like he owes you

Gaz and Soap are happy to have your company

I feel like they are the most likely to actually talk to you. They don't trust you immediately (Soap does after what you did for Ghost)

Soap is also happy to no longer be the youngest around

It's honestly a surprise to you that you mesh with the Task Force so well

Because most soldiers see you more as a hindrance than an asset

And you're honestly glad to have not received a message to move on

Days turn to weeks, and weeks turn into months that you're with the 141 

This is the longest that you've been with one team and you feel at home

You train with Ghost and celebrate every time you manage to beat him. The man actually laughs when you flop him onto his back and you jump up and down

You help Gaz with cooking when it's his duty. He's a horrible cook, but with your help, his pasta doesn't taste like dog piss

You keep Price company while he does paperwork. He takes your cup of steaming coffee with a grateful smile before turning back towards the file. You take place on the chair in front of his desk and read

You and Soap are often found outside playing soccer together or on the shooting range. He teaches you about explosives and you improve his reloading speed

Everything is fine and you actually feel like a member of the 141. You even think they forgot about you until you've got called into Price's office for a secured phonecall

Price eyes you as you receive the news to get yourself KIA on the next mission and report to your handler

The captain raises his brows and you lie that it was a message from your family. Something about a cousin getting married. 

You even joke with the guys before the briefing about how your parents felt the need to go above and beyond to bring you the news

The mission is simple; get in, extract the hostage, and get out.

You're quiet on the way towards the location, your mind racing a million miles an hour about how you're supposed to leave this

How you're expected to leave the first people who felt like home to you since... ever

You don't notice that a tear has escaped you until Soap has laid a hand on your shoulder. You quickly wipe it away and give the sergeant a smile, reassuring him you're okay

The mission went smoothly until Ghost radioed in that the hostage had a bomb strapped to their chest

You see your opportunity and make your way over to Ghost. He's concerned when you tell him you can free the hostage from their vest

And you do so, successfully

The hostage is free and Ghost is leading them away

You grab your chance and mess with the vest, making it display ten seconds until detonation

"Ghost... Run..."

He turns around, his eyes wide behind the mask. They flicker between you and the vest in your hands

Seeing that the lieutenant isn't moving, you take your own initiative and start running

Away from Task Force 141

Away from your guys

The vest explodes and it makes the building above you collapse and burn. You manage to crawl out under the rubble and get to the rendezvous point that your handler has given you

A chopper is already waiting for you once you get there

Teary-eyed, you watch the buildings grow smaller and smaller until you're too far away from them

Meanwhile...

Soap tries to dig you out from under the rubble but gets pulled away by Ghost

He fights the lieutenant as tears stream over his face

Task Force 141 is sombre once they arrive back at the base and give you an unofficial burial 

One of the hardest things Price ever had to do was report your death to Laswell

Months pass before the boys are a semblance of okay. They are no stranger to death and they know they have to move on, but you were something else

There is a you-shaped hole in the team's heart that won't close for a very long time

You are being bounced around again to different teams all over the world

Until KorTac

You've received word that KorTac bought you and that you've got a new handler

That being König

At first, he isn't thrilled about taking care of you. That is until he sees how capable you are

Where König goes, so do you

It's one of those missions that the unthinkable happens

You're scoping a building, clearing a path for König when you spot familiar figures at the end of the hallway

"Shit", you curse, pressing yourself to the wall

König looks at you with raised eyebrows before peeking around the corner

At the end of the hallway stand Soap and Gaz, and you have no way of escaping without hurting them

[benzyonart]

Nash Woods "Roulette"

We got the 4th boy for my payday oc crew.

Nash "Roulette" Woods. He is a hacker and a sniper. He can best be describe as a dorito eating, memester gamer, and a sniper. He works best at long range but he can also operate in close quarters and quick scoping. He also will use his sniper as a bat if the chance presents it self.

When Nash was 18 when he enlisted to the military [army specifically]. He was in for almost 4 years and became the rank of sergeant. He was in charge of a crew of snipers and had seen his fair share of combat. When he was nearing the end of his 4 year enlistment, he had hacked into everything on the base anf he wanted a bigger target. Now the thing about Nash is he does things to see if he can. So he sets his sights on the pentagon. It takes some doing but he manages to break in. However he is quickly found out and they attempted to court marshal him. Instead however he put the whole compound in a black out/lock down. Given he wasn't about to get arrested, he moved on to doing other criminal acts to make money. He mainly worked alone, hitting banks and the like.

His first encounter with the payday gang was when they had stepped into a bank, unmasked, to rob the place. However, he already cleaned the place out and was working on his get away. He had been spotted and was in the process of running from the back to the front. He triggered the banks lock down from his phone, causing alarms to blare. When he got to the lobby is was shoot the guards central, as one does. At one point he took cover behind the desk where the gang was to reload, said "hows your day going? Mine great!" before standing up and smacking a guard across the face. When police started to file in, he went under the sky light where he had broken one of the corners of the window earlier and laid a rope. He shot an opposing corner and moved out of the way as the glass pane and rope fell 4 stories down. He grabbed out a zipline pull and escaped out the roof. The gang told Bain about him, and they attempted to track him down with little success.

Fast forward a bit and 4 payday members [Not Rob, Lud or Harvey] are caught when they are investigating the people who were torturing Robert [Note Harvey's backstory]. While they were about to get firing squaded in a shipping container yard, Nash shows up and guns them down, wearing his own clown mask. He lets them know Bain got in contact with them and sent a rescue squad of him and some friends. Queue Ludwig drifting a pickup towards them with Robert and Harvey in the back. Everyone loads up in the back of the truck, Nash standing and shooting people in front of them while everyone else guns the back and sides, Lud trying to run people over when given the chance and not making aiming easy. After that Nash joins the crew, specifically Rob, Lud, and Harvey's.

Other notes on Nash: Of the group, he is the most versed with pop culture and memes. While he is a sniper, he is also the group's tech and hacker guy, often hacking cameras, security, computers, lights, ect. He also made a handy tech for when they are going loud of ear pieces that filter out loud music currently playing, and then plays said music over speakers to help deafen his enemies. He is a bit of a gamer and would also say "pog" to people unironically [half the time just to piss them off]. He is more laid back than the others on the team. Of the 4 he is the second youngest at 25.

Theme songs below

Non payday theme Honorable mentions

[links-in-time]

Hero's Scars

Trans-Masc Hyrule Warriors Link

@hyruledwarriorr @crazylittlejester

Not sure how long this fic is going to be, or where it's going at the moment. But I had an idea for this fic a while ago and Warriors Link lives rent free in my brain in a variety of ways.

Hope people like this iteration of Warriors Link.

(Conversations and ideas have been vetted by my trans girlfriend)

Warnings: Mature themes, language, future sexual encounters.

Content under cut.

Sara walked along the long corridor which housed the Hylian army barracks. To the left and right were doors leading into the bunks for the various battalions of the army, as well as the officer's quarters. Sara had been sent to retrieve Captain Link for a meeting with Princess Zelda and the generals. Link was usually pretty prompt at attending meetings. However, last night he had returned well after midnight, following a particularly harrowing raid on a monster encampment.

As she reached the door to Link's room Sara stopped and knocked.

"Just a moment!" She heard Link call out.

The door however was unlatched and swung open a little as she knocked. Sara opened it a little more and put one foot inside the room.

"It's just Sara, Sir, I've come to get you for the meeting." She assured him as her eyes swept the room.

It was a modest chamber. A small room with a window and bed at the far end, a desk covered with documents and a trunk containing Link's clothes and personal items.

Link was already up and half dressed. He had put on his trousers and was sitting on the bed in the process of pulling up his boots. He jumped to his feet however when he realised Sara was in the room. She couldn't help but stare at his half naked form. He was slim but very muscular, his torso tapered a little at his waist above his belt. As Sara's eyes wandered upwards towards Link's flushed face, she noticed two crescent shaped scars below his chest. They curved around his pecks like pink shadows. Link's arms folded around his chest instantly when he caught her staring, and he turned his back on the door.

"I said I needed a moment! Get out!" He barked back at Sara, his surprise and embarrassment quickly turning to anger.

"I'm so sorry!" Sara replied, flustered as she tried to close the door. "The door was open, I just... I'll wait for you outside."

Sara quickly slammed the door closed with a little more force than she meant to. She slumped against the wall and let out a long sigh. She squeezed her eyes closed and bashed her fist against her forehead.

Sara and Link had become friends a long time ago. Not long after the start of the war she had been assigned to his squad. Though Link was fairly cagey around most people, Sara had got him to open up on more than one occasion. They bonded over their dislike of their adolescent drill sergeants, and their mutual love of sweet treats. Although they were difficult to come by these days, Link often managed to share his rations of cake and biscuits with Sara. She hoped beyond hope that this incident wouldn't spoil their friendship.

***

It was a few days until Sara got the opportunity to see Link again. They had just finished clearing out a new monster encampment on the Zora border and were taking a well earned rest in a nearby town. The Inn had offered to house the officers while the rest of the troops were camped outside. That didn't stop the soldiers from making use of the Inn's bar however.

Sara had just come off patrol with a few other soldiers, when she stepped into the Inn. A wall of noise, warmth and light hit her like the broadside of a bokoblins mace. The Inn was full to bursting with jolly soldiers and a few of their superiors dotted about, as well as a handful of locals. Some of whom seemed pleased to have the army visit their small village, others were glaring over their tankards.

Pushing her way to the bar, Sara caught the barkeeps attention. Some barrels of cider had been paid for by the General and set behind the bar for the troops. The barkeep poured a pint into a pewter tankard and passed it across the bar to her. She gave him a nod rather than try and thank him, it was too loud for him to hear her anyway.

Turning around to face the room, Sara caught sight of a familiar flash of bright blond hair at the far end of the bar. Leaning forwards she could see Link, drink in hand, two young women and a red headed boy practically hanging off his right arm. Sara studied his face. Link clearly wasn't engaging with them and was doing his best to ignore the trio. His cheery smile failed to reach his bright blue eyes. One of the women, a pretty blonde with large green eyes, leant against the bar talking almost constantly. The other woman who had brown hair was trying to muscle in between her friend and Link to try and get his attention. The red headed boy leant against an elbow on the bar, sipping his drink while occasionally adding a comment to the conversation.

Sara rolled her eyes at them. She'd seen plenty of people in towns all over Hyrule swooning over the Captain. The Hero of Hyrule came with a lot of caviats she had realised. One being a lot of unwanted attention from people seeking the Hero's favor.

Sara enjoyed her cider in relative peace for a while. Some of her squad came over to talk about the battle but she was only half interested in reliving their latest victory.

When she found herself alone at the bar again, her attention wandered back to Link. The two women had gone but the red headed guy was still hanging around him like a bad smell. Sara assumed he was a farm hand or some such, judging by his muddy and patched clothing. But going by his sly expression, he could have fit right in at Hyrule Castle with the other slippery nobles. Sara's eyes flicked to Link's face, but it was difficult to make out his expression beneath his bangs which hung down low over his half bowed head. When the red head trailed a hand down Link's upper arm, he flinched.

"That's it!" Sara announced to no one in particular, slamming her tankard down on the bar with more force than she meant to.

Sara got to he feet and pushed her way towards her Captain. He didn't see her coming but the interloper did. He scoffed at her and raised an eyebrow as she elbowed her way towards them.

"Can we help you with something sweetheart?" The man asked condescendingly, looking down his pointed nose at Sara, who was only half a head shorter than he was.

"Hmm?" she hummed behind a false smile. "No, but you can help yourself avoid a black eye and go home," she stated plainly.

The man blinked at her and Link half turned to look at her, the corner of his mouth curling slightly.

"Excuse me darlin'," he drawled, a little taken aback by her afront.

"No, I will not excuse you. I think my Captain has had enough of your chatter for this evening. And unless you want me to announce to every one of HIS soldiers in this tavern that you're bothering him, I suggest you make like a bokoblin and fuck off!"

Sara emphasised her command by pointing towards the door. The man glanced once at Link, who gave him no sighs of encouragement. A few soldiers near by had stopped their conversations to listen to the commotion. Clearly outnumbered and not really wanting to face Hyrule's finest, the man slunk away from the bar, left the Inn and disappeared into the night.

Sara was about to go back to her drink when she heard Link speak.

"Thanks Sara," he uttered.

Sara gave him a respectful nod.

"You didn't look like you were enjoying his company Sir," she replied.

"Not particularly, I just can't seem to be able to tell people that myself," he sighed.

Sara laid a hand on his back. Link froze beneath her touch and she quickly withdrew it again.

"Sorry, um, do you wanna get some air?" She suggested.

Link glanced around at the bar full of soldiers and villagers. A few peple kept shooting him curious looks or whispering to others while staring at him. He turned back to Sara and gave her a weak half smile.

"Yeah, that might be a good idea."

The two of them slipped out of the Inn and walked a short distance out of town where a bubbling river passed it's boundary. Link stopped walking and settled himself on a rock beneath a willow tree. Sara came to a halt when she realised Link was no longer beside her and walked back to lean against the tree beside him.

"So can I ask what all that was about back there?" She asked, inclining her head back towards the Inn.

Link sighed, he wasn't looking at Sara, his gaze was fixed on the water as it hurried by. He rested his elbows up on his knees and rubbed his hands into his eyes, messing up his fringe a little.

"Urgh, they're fans of the Hero," he said, letting out a long deep breath.

"Fans?"

"Yep, all they want to hang around me, make sketches of me, or... Well, that guy wanted something else from me."

"Oh Hylia, they sound as bad as Cia!" Sara exclaimed, disgusted by the behaviour Link was describing.

"They're not so bad really, I'm their hero and there's a certain image of me that they're used to seeing by now. The stoic, handsome hero who swoops in and saves them all. But, I'm just," he paused, closing his eyes. "You know I'm not that person all the time, don't you."

"Of course I do," Sara replied. She kicked Link's foot with her own boot. "For example I know you insist on having three sugars in your tea because in your own words, 'four is excessive but two just isn't enough sweetness'!"

Sara did a poor imitation of Link's Captain voice, which he reserved for meetings or rousing pre-battle speaches. He chuckled and kicked her in return.

"Hey!"

"What I mean is, yes, I know you're a normal guy. Your troops know you're a normal guy, but I guess the people of Hyrule don't really know that."

"Mmm, that's my problem. I have to be Hero Link all the time around them, or else they get disappointed or disheartened if I don't live up to their expectations."

"And the people who want, something else from you?" Sara asked tentatively.

Link let out a haggard breath and his shoulders slumped.

"Even before I found out I had the Triforce of Courage, I'd never been very comfortable about people flirting with me. I never knew how to feel about it. Even if I liked them in return I couldn't bring myself to do anything about it."

Sara didn't know what to say in return, so she remained quiet. Hoping Link just needed someone to listen to him, not offer dating advice.

"I guess I sound like a stuck up ass hole to you don't I?!"

"What?! No not at all, everything you've said makes total sense to me." Sara assured him.

"But you have questions," he continued. "I can tell."

Sara stayed quiet. Of course she had questions about Link. Ever since she had walked in on him half naked and seen his scars she had had questions. But it wasn't her place to ask them. They weren't that close friends, were they?

"Hmm, I know what you want to ask. I saw your face the other day when you walked in on me. You looked just like Impa did when the same thing happened with her," Link said pensively. "Though she addressed it at the time. Impa has very little concern for other people's embarrassment."

"Well, I do. Which I why I didn't ask then, and I'm not asking now. Even if you hadn't yelled at me at the time, I could tell it's a personal thing and I'd never push anyone to talk about personal issues if they didn't want to." Sara said firmly, stepping away from the tree so that Link could see the resolve on her face.

He looked up at her then. Appreciation and tears sparkling in his eyes. He smiled sweetly and nodded.

"Thanks Sara. It's difficult to know who I can be myself around these days," he sniffed, wiping his face on the cuff of his sleeve.

"Of course you can trust me, you gave me your last bar of chocolate when our platoon got snowed into that cave! I'd never break a sacred bond like that!" Sara teased, however, behind her jokes she was being sincere.

"You're right!" Link laughed, a perfect release of joy which made Sara smile. "You know I'd almost forgotten about that misadventure."

"Sir, Link, I want you to know you can tell me anything. If it'll help you shoulder the burden of being our hero, you can trust me." Sara insisted, placing her hand over her heart.

Link got to his feet and faced Sara. He smiled and opened his arms, giving her a cautious glance. Sara approached and wrapped her arms around Link's waist while he hugged tightly around her shoulders.

"Thank you Sara," Link uttered close to her ear. "And you can drop the Sir when it's just us. Feels a bit wrong."

"Okay, and you're welcome Link. I'm not entirely sure what I did really," Sara shrugged.

"You listened," Link said, as he drew back slightly, his arms still locked around her body. "That's more than most people do for me."

"Well, if there's more you want to get off your chest, I'm never far away," Sara replied, giving him a smile.

"Maybe not right now. But I'll definitely keep that in mind."

Part 2 >

[softguarnere]

Can I requests a oneshot with Ron Speirs x reader? everyone in easy thinks that big grumpy speirs holds a grudge against the reader bc he often gives her paperwork or smth but in reality he just wants to keep her around him out of protectiveness bc he likes her? But she doesn't know and thinks he doesn't like her either so shes kind of intimidated but also has a massive crush on him? But when he sees the reader with some other easy members he gets jealous and snaps so now he has to tell her that hes in love with her. Don't stress yourself, i just thought it could be interesting, thank youu

From Scratch

Ron Speirs x reader

Summary: No, what bothers you is that ever since he gained control of Easy Company, he’s done nothing but take opportunities away from you. You’re proud to be a lieutenant. But what’s the point of holding the rank if you never do any of the work that comes with it?

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, Anon! I swear I didn't forget about this - or the other prompts in my inbox. School has been keeping me busy this semester, so this took me a long time to write. But it's here now, and I hope you enjoy it! (This is written for the fictional depiction from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) 💕🕊️

Warnings: mentions of war

“Uh oh!” Nixon singsongs when you step into the command post. “Looks like someone is in trouble.” He flashes you a broad grin as you make your way over to his desk and drop a stack of files with a heavy thwack! “What’d you do this time?”

Anger boils in your chest. Not towards Nixon. It’s not his fault. For his sake you try to keep your voice just as light and joking when you shrug and say, “Oh, you know, just the usual sort of thing. Got the scouting mission that I was supposed to lead taken from me and given to one of the sergeants.” You shrug. “No big deal.”

Except it is, and you both know it.

Nixon lets out a low whistle. “Damn. And might I inquire as to who arranged this?”

You roll your eyes. “Do you really need to ask?”

Speirs. It’s always Speirs.

Which seems unfair, somehow. You can still remember the first time you saw him, way back in Camp Toccoa, when he was in a different company, but already gaining a reputation for himself as one of the best runners. One time you passed him as you were going up the mountain and he was going down. He had nodded at you as he passed, and something about the niceness of the gesture made your heart jolt so fiercely that you almost tripped as you started on the switchback.

Then he went on to distinguish himself in other ways – the ever present whispers of rumors and stories that follow him like a cape made out of mystery – and suddenly, after he was put in charge of Easy Company, he didn’t seem so nice anymore. The rumors have never bothered you; Ron is a good leader, and you trust that he’s making whatever choices he needs to in order to keep the company safe.

No, what bothers you is that ever since he gained control of Easy Company, he’s done nothing but take opportunities away from you. You’re proud to be a lieutenant. But what’s the point of holding the rank if you never do any of the work that comes with it? (Well, besides paperwork, that is.)

The most frustrating part of it is that as angry as you are with him, you still feel your heart begin to hammer away in your chest whenever he enters a room – or race into triple time if you think he’s looking at you. How dare your own heart still feel so fondly towards him when your eyes can clearly see the obvious fact laid before you?

The fact being: Ronald Speirs dislikes you. Which kind of makes it feel as if someone is crushing your heart under their shoe, like a cigarette being ground out on the sidewalk, when you think about it.

You push the thought – and the feelings – aside. Or try to, anyway.

“I hate paperwork,” you mutter as you take a seat across from the intelligence officer. “Almost as much as he hates me.”

“I don’t think Speirs hates you.” When you fix him with an incredulous look, Lewis holds up his hands in surrender. “I mean, he might hold some sort of grudge against you, maybe, but hate you? If that were true, I think you’d be dead by now, (Y/N).”

You roll your eyes; it’s a conversation you’ve had before, and one that never fails to fill you with the smallest shred of hope that maybe Nixon is right about Speirs not completely hating you. “Well, now I hold a grudge against him for making me do all this paperwork.”

“You sound like somebody else I know. Ah, and if you speak of the devil, then he shall appear!”

Quick, confident footsteps approach the desk from behind you. Neither you or Nixon can stop the smiles that spread across your faces when Dick appears. Even something as simple as his presence has always been able to lighten the mood, and today is no exception.

He returns the smile as he pulls up a chair from a nearby desk to join you, but not before glancing over both shoulders, searching.

“The devil?” He huffs a laugh. “Weird. You were already here, Nix.”

“Oh ha ha,” Nixon deadpans. He props his feet up on the desk and leans back in his chair.

Dick gently pushes his friend’s feet off the desk, which makes Nixon sit upright. For his part, though, Nixon doesn’t seem to mind it. Or mind that Dick sets more paperwork in front of him. Well, at least someone seems okay with filling out forms. Maybe if you’re extra nice, you can trick him into doing all the work that Speirs assigned to you.

Just as you’re trying to sneak your stack of files in with Nixon’s, Dick raises an eyebrow at you.

“There a reason that you’re stuck inside again, Lieutenant?”

You shrug. “Oh, you know how I just can’t stay away from office work. And how much I love to be bombarded with company gossip by Nix.”

Lewis puts a hand over his heart and gasps. “What?! You mean to tell me that you don’t hang around here because you enjoy my witty banter and winning personality?”

“Actually, I would rather – “

You’re cut off by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind you.

Slowly, you turn to see Speirs standing a few feet away from where the three of you sit. Upon first glance, he looks a bit like a child standing on the fringes of a friend group on the first day of school, nervously waiting to see if he’s going to be invited to join in. But when the shock clears off, it’s impossible to miss the look in his eyes – there’s a darkness lurking beneath the surface that suddenly makes it so easy to see why every rumor thrown his direction sticks to him like he’s covered in paste. It makes your heart drop.

“Good afternoon, Captain,” Dick says, leading the charge bravely, as always.

After a nod and a brief salute, Speirs turns his attention to you. “Lieutenant (Y/L/N), I forgot to give you this.”

Your heart sinks when you realize that he’s holding yet another file full of paperwork. It’s such a setback that your heart can’t even bring itself to run wild when your hands briefly brush his as he hands it to you.

“Oh.” The words feel rough as sandpaper as you force them out. “Thank you.”

When you manage to meet his eye, Speirs has furrowed his eyebrows, which makes him look thoroughly annoyed. Standing so close, it’s easy to see the striking features of his face – like a marble bust of a Greek hero. He’s so handsome, even with the lines between his eyebrows and the frown tugging at his lips. It makes you want to reach up and smooth them away, let him lean into your touch so you can soften his features, molding them like clay into the gentle man that you imagine he might be under his tough exterior and the cold armor of rumors that make every line so harsh and so jagged to everyone else.

But you can’t do that. Instead, you’re separated from him by his armor, just like everyone else. You hate that you’ve caused him to look this way – to look at you this way.

“You know,” Speirs says, his voice quiet and as cold as the look he’s giving you. “it’s a lot safer here than it is on the line.” He glances back at Nixon and Winters before looking you up and down. “Get to work, Lieutenant.”

Then, just as quickly and as silently as he appeared, he’s gone.

It’s so cold, so impersonal. Your stomach turns to a block of ice.

Behind you, Nixon lets out a low whistle. “Well then.”

Get to work. Part of you wants to scoff, brush it off, and go back to your friends. The other part of you is chasing after him, trying to figure out where it all went wrong. Instead, you’re stuck standing there, staring after him, looking forlorn.

No, you decide. You can’t carry on like this.

The file falls unceremoniously onto the desk in front of Nixon as you toss it at him. “Finish this for me, will ya?”

Dick can’t contain the small laugh that escapes him when he sees the surprised look on Nixon’s face. You’re out the door before either of them can offer a proper response.

Outside, you don’t make it far. The door clicks shut behind you, and when you look up, you see him. Ron is a few feet away, coming towards you, closing the distance between you. Unlike a few moments before, he doesn’t look mad. The hard edges of his expression have softened into something like concern.

You stop in front of each other, each waiting for the other to say something.

“Can we talk?” You ask at the same time that Ron blurts out, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

You blink. “You’re what?”

Voices fill the air as a small group of officers approaches the command post. Ron gently takes your elbow and guides you aside so that they can pass, not seeming to notice or care what it does to your poor heart.

He lowers his voice as the group passes. “Can we talk? Privately?”

The Ronald Speirs wants to talk, alone, with you. There’s no question about it – you follow him.

He leads the two of you into one of the remnants of a building that soldiers have been quartering in. The skeletal remains of the structure probably provide no protection for whatever words he wants to exchange, but at least you can be away from prying eyes.

Alone, his dark eyes look you over. The motion isn’t as harsh as it was back in the command post. No, this is . . . gentle. Like he’s studying you.

You find yourself nervous under his gaze. Clearing your throat, you try to find your words. “You wanted to talk?”

Ron looks unsure of himself – something that you never would have imagined was possible. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, the sound filtering through the hollowed out room you stand in like it’s the building’s last raspy breath.

“I was an accountant, back before the war.”

Whatever you thought he was going to tell you, it certainly wasn’t that. You raise an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

He nods. “I’m good with numbers; that’s my strong suit. Words . . . don’t work themselves out as easily. Some people mistake quietness for cruelness.” The dim light casts shadows on his face as he tilts his head. “You’ve heard the rumors, just like everyone else?”

Who hasn’t heard the rumors, the stories? Speirs can’t walk through a room without turning heads and leaving a trail of whispers in his wake.

“Yes,” your voice comes out as a whisper. Are they true? you stop yourself from asking, because with his sudden openness, you’re starting to question everything that you’ve ever known about Ron Speirs – everything you’ve thought you’ve known. Who is this man, really?

“I . . . didn’t mean to snap at you,” Ron admits, his voice as soft as the look that he’s giving you. “And I’m sorry about all the paperwork. I don’t have a grudge against you.”

You cringe. So he did overhear that part.

He wets his lips, not quite meeting your eyes. “I try to keep you off the line so that you’ll be safe. There’s no grudge or dislike or . . . I just wanted to keep you safe because – “ He cuts himself off with a deep breath.

With the quiet all around you, the frantic beating of your heart fills the silence. “You want to keep me safe?”

“Yes. If you’ll let me.”

Being in the same room as him felt impossible a few minutes ago. Now though, some inexplicable force draws the two of you together. You both step forward so that there’s hardly any space left between you. Something in the back of your mind wonders how things have changed so quickly. What else have you been wrong about?

“Who are you, Ronald Speirs?”

So close to him, you can see the smile tugging at the edge of his mouth when he replies, “There’s your answer: Ronald C Speirs. That’s all that I am.”

An accountant. Someone’s son, brother, friend who got drafted into the war. A man. The rumors and myths that shroud him fall away until someone you don’t know stands before you. You want to get to know him.

“Well, Ron, it’s nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N).” You smile at him, and it feels natural when he returns the gesture. “Can we maybe start over?”

Ron lets out a laugh and you could swear it was the sweetest sound in the entire world. “I would like that very much.”