#cod mw2019

[perpetual-fng]

two ways to say fucq u ft. roach

aka day 4 of drawing roach until corporate overlord activision adds him back in

[vasyandii]

Happy 1 year of Drawing this guy 🦅

Thanks Krueger you were honestly always a pain in the ass to draw but made my gender identity more sound you rat bastard mashallah

Here's the very first never seen before art of his face from when I entered this fandom

[nightingale-ghost-writer]

Your Wildest Dreams [Soap x Fem!Reader]

Summary: In a mission gone wrong, you and Soap have to hole up in a safehouse, trying to stay warm during the cold Russian winter

Author’s Note: Not me thirsting after Soap for 5.1K words instead of finishing the companion piece I started for Maybe… also, my first ever shot at writing reader-insert! Anyway, here’s a really plot-lacking, self-serving piece for anyone interested

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or events from Modern Warfare

Warnings: Language, canon-typical violence, extremely suggestive, borderline smutty? No actual explicit smut, but let’s call it NSFW to be safe

Shrike /SHrīk/ noun

a songbird with a strong sharply hooked bill, often impaling its prey of small birds, lizards, and insects on thorns

a 10-foot (3-meter), 400-pound (180-kilogram) U.S. air-to-ground missile designed to destroy missile batteries by homing in on their radar emissions

Icy water enveloped you. Pinpricks instantly broke out under your skin, dancing through your blood and your bones. For a blessed moment, your mind went blank. Then, survival instinct kicked in. You kicked your already numbing legs as hard as you could, launching yourself back toward the night sky. Just as you thought your lungs might burst, you broke the surface, gulping in the crisp mountain air. It burned the back of your throat as you bobbed in the current, trying to get your bearings.

What should have been an hour-long intel collection mission had gone to shit in less than a minute. 

You and Soap had been dispatched to a safehouse of Makarov’s in the Russian countryside to gather intel. You were anxious- excited to be out with Soap, nervous about the actual infiltration. Soap’s signature flirting melted that anxiety quickly. It was one of the reasons you enjoyed missions with him so much… and one of the reasons you got so flustered around him.

Tensions with Russia were high, so rather than sending a full team, the pair of you had been dropped off by helo three clicks from the site. You’d go in, get the intel, get to the safehouse, and wait for evac. Barring any immediate danger, you’d be holed up there overnight, hiking out early the next morning to be picked up. Price was unhappy about sending you in without comms or backup, but Laswell was concerned with radio traffic and her sources had told her it would be empty.

Laswell’s sources had been wrong.

You’d taken a long, cold hike up the frozen mountainside to a deteriorating stone building that might at one time have been a castle, but was now little more than half-crumbled walls and hastily built wooden shacks. There had been no indicators that anything was amiss- no footprints in the snow, no pings on Soap’s heartbeat sensor, no noise. Laswell’s intel had seemed good.

Then you’d opened the door to one of the shacks and been met with a full squad of soldiers. They clearly hadn’t been expecting you, and you had the distinct advantage. Before they could react, you’d grabbed the nearest soldier, using him as a human shield while you put him in a headlock. Soap had sprung past you, shooting two others before ducking behind a desk. An overeager and overconfident soldier had fired several shots at you, nearly grazing your arm, but killing his teammate in the process. Soap had lunged at him, baring him to the ground and stabbing a combat knife deep into his throat.

The three remaining soldiers raised their weapons, shouting to each other. You’d killed one with a well-placed throwing knife as you threw yourself behind a table and watched in horror as another launched himself at Soap. You raised your gun, but there was no clean shot with them grappling as they were. Then, you were blindsided by the last soldier. He leapt at you as you tried to line up a shot on his teammate, knocking your gun to the ground and grabbing one of your wrists.

Instinct took over as you wrestled, and before you knew what was happening, you and your attacker were flying through the nearby window. You both rolled down a steep, snowy hill toward a frothing river, each trying to get the upper hand. Before either of you could, you went straight into the icy river, sinking instantly. Luckily, you recovered first.

After taking a moment to breathe, you dove back underwater, looking around for your attacker. He was close enough to reach out and touch, back to you as he tried to get to the surface for a breath of air. You swam toward him, wrapped an arm around his shoulders to hoist yourself up, and stabbed him. Once in the neck, once in the ribs, and then once in the chest for good measure. His body had gone limp at the first thrust, but you couldn’t be too safe.

As soon as his body floated out of your arms, you realized the bigger issue- the current, and the cold. You were already being dragged downstream, the tide splashing over your head and threatening to pull you back under. You swam for the bank, but your progress was minimal. Your muscles were already starting to freeze up. You looked around frantically, desperate for something to hold onto. Just as your fingers met with a sharp rock, you heard Soap’s voice calling your name.

You looked up to see him scrambling down the hill, sliding on snow and loose bits of shale. Blood dripped from his temple and he seemed to be cradling his arm to his chest. You tried to pull yourself out of the water to meet him on the banks, but your muscles refused to work. The icy water was doing its work and you could feel your body beginning to shut down.

“Soap,” you called weakly. He had almost reached you. “I can’t move.”

He waded waist deep into the water, reaching out for you with the arm that wasn’t held carefully to his side. “‘S alright, hen, I’ve got you. Take my hand.” You shakily, slowly, tried to reach for him, barely managing to brush the tips of your fingers against his, and he managed to lean just a bit further out to wrap his hand around yours. He tugged you toward him, and after a moment, was pulling you into his side. “You’re freezing, Shrike,” he murmured, rubbing your arm for a moment. You were shivering violently, barely able to move.

“I am,” you said, teeth chattering. “Your head.” Soap waved you off as he looked around, gaze settling in the direction of the town where you were supposed to wait for evac.

“The intel-”

Soap cut you off, shaking his head. “Forget the intel. Price said if anything went wrong, we get to the safehouse.” His eyes scanned your body, looking for any injuries, as his hand rubbed over your arms. “Are you okay? Can you make it back to town?” You nodded, your violent shaking making it nearly impossible to tell. You reached for his wrist, pressing on it gently. You were no medic, but it didn’t feel broken to you. 

You held his wrist with one hand as the other reached up to wipe the blood from his temple. “You okay?” you asked. He winced as you wiped at the blood, but nodded. You breathed a sigh of relief when only a shallow cut was visible.

“Just a sprain,” he said. He pulled his wrist carefully from your grip and unzipped his jacket, pulling it off.

“W-what are you-”

“You need it more than me,” he said. He walked around behind you, tucking you into the jacket before zipping you up in it.

“You’ll freeze,” you protested. Soap only shook his head, offering a lopsided smile.

“I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

You were afraid your legs would refuse to move, but were so grateful when they didn’t. The warmth that bloomed in your chest at Soap’s sacrifice warmed you more than the jacket itself, although it did keep out the worst of the biting wind. You both trudged through the snow toward the village, teeth chattering and bone-cold. You walked in relative quiet, broken only by Soap’s soft inquiries.

“How’re you holding up, hen?”

“I can’t feel my toes, Soap.” “Hang in there, Shrike. We’re almost to the safehouse.”

As the town came into view, your vision began to swim. You’d been given the safehouse address. Now you just had to find it so you could lie down and bundle up until Price could send someone to get you.

You breathed a sigh of relief as Soap found the house, prying off one of the address numbers to reveal a key. He opened the door, revealing a tiny studio. It took less than a minute to clear- the only room with a door was the bathroom. While Soap dug out the radio system hidden under the sink, you turned the heater on full blast and looked for blankets. You found a pile in a cupboard, dropped them onto the foot of the bed, and headed toward the kitchen in search of a kettle to heat some water.

You only vaguely heard Soap talking to Price through the fog in your mind, something about getting some rest and pickup in the morning. Then, very suddenly, you found yourself looking up at the ceiling, wondering when you’d stopped shivering.

“Shrike? Shite!” You only realized you’d fallen when Soap pulled you upright. “Shrike?” He raised one hand to your neck, feeling for your pulse. He cursed under his breath, muttering in an unintelligibly thick Scottish accent as he hauled you up against his chest. You were vaguely aware of being carried into the small bathroom and deposited on the countertop there. You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting to stay awake. You were suddenly so sleepy.

You opened your eyes when you heard a squelching sound, freezing as you watched Soap strip off his clothes. You’d seen him without a shirt, but only in passing in the halls on base. Never this close, and never with no one around to check your gaze. Nevertheless, you’d memorized his scars the last time you saw his bare chest. He had some new ones since then. You stared at his rippling muscles as he unbuttoned his pants, peeling the wet material off his toned legs, leaving him standing in front of you in nothing but his dog tags and boxers. You tried not to stare at the outline you could see in the fabric as he took one step toward you to stand between your legs. Then his hands were on his jacket, the one you were wearing, pulling the zipper down and your arms out of it.

“Stay with me, Shrike,” he murmured. His hands shook as he unbuckled your tac vest and pulled it off. You raised your arms as he pulled up your hoodie, then your shirt, leaving you i n just a sports bra. You let your own hands rest on his chest as you lowered them.

You giggled, tracing patterns across his pecs and down his ribs. His muscles jumped under your fingertips. “What are you doing, Johnny?”

His cheeks reddened as he glanced up, dutifully keeping his eyes on the task at hand as he hastily pulled off your boots and pants.

“I’m trying to get you warm,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“Checking you out,” you said boldly, arching an eyebrow at him and smiling. You weren’t sure where the confidence had come from, but you’d had a crush on him since day one and you’d be damned if you didn’t make the most of this opportunity. He had just reached up to grip your hips and he faltered for a moment before pulling you down off the counter. He turned you around, walking you toward the bed with his hands on your waist until pulling back the covers. Soap sat, pulling you down between his legs and back against his chest. He pulled up the extra blankets, wrapping them around both of your shoulders. You giggled again, wiggling back against him as his arms wound around you. You couldn’t tell whether he shuddered or whether it was just his shivering. You’d started to shiver again, yourself.

“Stay with me,” he repeated. His body trembled around you, proof that he probably should have kept his jacket after all. His hands rubbed your shoulders, occasionally tracing the straps of your sports bra, and he curled his legs up, bringing yours with them. His knees held yours together and he shifted one arm down to circle your waist, keeping your back pressed to his chest and your hips connected. One hand brushed your hip and he tilted his head so that his chin rested in the crook of your shoulder. His hold on you was tight, but reassuring. You savored the way you fit perfectly in his embrace.

Your bare skin felt numb, even under the pile of blankets.

Everywhere Soap’s skin touched felt scalded. 

“You’re so hot,” you murmured. 

You felt as much as heard when Soap chuckled low in his chest. “I’m actually freezing.” His voice shook when he spoke.

You leaned your head back on his shoulder, turning so that your cheek touched his. “You know that’s not what I meant,” you whispered.

“I know,” he smiled, eyes fixed on some point across the room. “I’m just trying to save you from saying things you don’t mean, so you don’t regret them later.”

When you cocked your head at him, shifting in his arms to better face him, his smile dropped. “C’mon, Shrike, don’t make this any harder than it already is.” Hope flared in your chest like a bonfire. Your mind ran through all the possibilities of that statement, and every one of them suggested attraction to your lovesick mind. You stared blankly at him and he tipped his head back against the headboard, heaving a sigh. “I’m sure Gaz would be none too pleased if I made a move on you when you were only flirting because of hypothermia.”

“Gaz..?” You didn’t understand what Gaz had to do with Soap making a move on you, and you were too confused to focus on either the fact that he said that he might, or that he had just admitted he knew you were flirting with him. Your heart beat wildly in your chest. You barely dared to breathe. 

Soap’s face flamed as he looked away. He had stopped shivering so badly, but his voice still shook a bit when he spoke. “You and Gaz. I know you’re… well, something. I’d never-”

You hadn’t imagined it. Your snort cut him off. “Gaz and I are friends, that’s it.” Now it was Soap’s turn to stare blankly. You fought to speak normally, not with the giddy optimism you felt. “Remember the day Price introduced me to you all? Gaz was the first one to shake my hand, and then he showed me around base? I knew right off the bat that Ghost didn’t trust me and I thought you wouldn’t either, since you two were clearly so close.”

That brought a smile out of Soap. As much as Ghost tried to play it off, the two had definitely become good friends over their time working together. Soap loved to flaunt his position as the resident boogeyman’s right hand, to anyone who would listen. But mostly to the boogeyman himself.

You turned again, snuggling closer into his hold. His arms tightened around you, almost imperceptibly. “Anyway, yeah- Gaz was my first friend. But he’s just my friend. Nothing more than that. You and Ghost are Batman and Robin, Gaz and I are Mario and Luigi.” Soap barked a laugh, and you grinned.

When his cold nose nudged behind your ear, you couldn’t even pretend your shudder was from the cold. You gathered the last of your courage, waning with the arctic chill in your bones, but bolstered by his near-confession. “So tell me, Sergeant.” You’d lowered your voice, turning up all the charm you possessed. “What am I making ‘harder than it needs to be’?” Soap froze, and panic washed over you like water as cold as the river you’d come out of. He hadn’t been confessing anything. It had been nothing more than his usual firefight flirting, harmless and silly and just a little cocky and oh-so-hot and why would you ever think he could actually be interested in you and-

Soap flipped you, one arm around your waist as he lay between your legs, propped up by the elbow next to your shoulder. Before your mind could catch up with what was happening, he leaned down, lips a hairs’ breadth from yours, and hesitated. It was the longest and shortest second of your life. You could feel his warm breath on your parted lips as his eyes scanned your face, looking for any sign of hesitation. You half expected him to lean back up, all mischievous smile and twinkling eyes, and tease you. He knew. He knew how you felt and he was going to mock you for it. Then he leaned down, eyes fluttering shut. His lips brushed yours softly, barely touching, and your mind went blessedly quiet. Your body responded of its own accord; your knees came up, framing his waist and squeezing lightly; one hand went to his bicep, lightly grasping there; the other slid to the back of his neck.

You pulled him closer.

The kiss turned feral in a heartbeat.

The arm around your waist tightened, pulling you half up off the bed, as he let more of his body weight rest against you. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, begging for entrance. You happily gave it. Your tongues slid together, fighting for dominance as you each tried to deepen the kiss even more. You raised a leg, wrapping it around his waist, and he groaned your name into your mouth. When you pulled on his mohawk, his head fell to your neck as he sucked softly on your collarbone.

“Johnny,” you breathed. He swore, lifting his head to kiss you again. He pulled his arm out from under you, running a warm hand across your bare skin from your hip to the back of your knee where it wrapped around him, before wrenching you up against him. You gasped at what you felt. If you’d had any doubt before, there was none now- Johnny was packing. You could feel the heat of him through both your underwear and his boxers. Time seemed to slow as he rocked gently against you, pressing his forehead to yours as your hands cradled the back of his head. He was panting, pressing light kisses against your face. He dropped his head to your shoulder, tucking his face into your neck. He seemed to be steeling himself, trying desperately not to move.

“Not kissing you,” he whispered. It took you a moment to think through the haze of lust and realize he was answering your earlier question. “What am I making harder than it needs to be?” “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Some of your earlier boldness had returned, shored up by his clear physical response. “Only that?” you whispered back.

The groan of your name on his lips was the single most beautiful thing you’d ever heard.

“What?” you teased. “That’s all you want?”

He tugged at the back of your knee again, pressing you against himself. You both stifled moans. “You know damn well that’s not all I want. I want you. All of you.” He turned his head, ghosting his lips against your cheek. “I’ve wanted all of you from the moment you asked me why a ghost would need soap.”

You started, turning his head with your hands so you could look into his eyes. “That’s the first thing I ever said to you.” He nodded, gaze unflinching. His eyes smoldered, but there was a softness in them you’d only seen a handful of times over the years. When your brother joined the military, following in your footsteps. When your best friend’s husband cheated on her. When your mother died. Any time you’d cried in his arms.

“T-that was the day we first met,” you stuttered out. Again, he nodded solemnly. He turned his head in your hands, kissing your palm. 

“I knew right away,” he whispered. Soap had laughed, a fully belly laugh, and clapped you on the back. Ghost had rolled his eyes, and you’d hoped his reservations about you would fade. Not only so you could get closer to the devilishly handsome, charming Sargeant who followed his every step. When you didn’t say anything, he released your leg, mumbling apologies and sitting back on his heels. The loss of his body weight and heat, along with the blankets, made you shiver all over again. Johnny didn’t see it- he was running his hands over his face, head hanging. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… I had no right, please forgive me-”

You reached out a hand, grasping his wrist to stop him from retreating any further. “Forgive you for what?” you asked softly. His face was pained as he struggled to hold your stare.

“For taking advantage,” he began. But you shook your head, reaching out your other hand to touch his cheek. You didn’t think he even realized that he leaned into your touch.

“You didn’t take advantage of anything.” You scooted forward on your knees, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. You leaned up, kissing along his jaw, before licking a stripe of skin just behind his ear. He trembled under your touch as you ran a hand down his arm and pressed yourself against him. “I want you, too. So you should take me.”

“Steamin’-,” Soap groaned your name. “You can’t just say that to me,” he whined, breathless. His fists were clenched, eyes squeezed shut as your fingertips skimmed his skin.

“And why’s that?” you teased. You were sure that nothing could ever match the rush you were getting from his reactions to you.

“Because,” he ground out. He’d lost the fight to keep his hands off and they now rested on your hips, intermittently squeezing the flesh and hovering. His pupils were blown, nearly eclipsing his irises. You’d never seen hunger like that in your life and it set you on fire. “If I start with you, I won’t be able to stop.” His voice was lower, hoarse. Desperate.

You scooted forward until your knees touched his, pressing as much of your body against his as you could. His entire body quivered in his struggle not to devour you whole. You dragged your lips up the column of his throat, pausing when they brushed the shell of his ear. “Then I suggest, Sergeant, that you don’t stop.”

Johnny didn’t need to be told twice.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You woke up to a soft thudding sound in your ear. You were so comfortable that you didn’t want to move, but then you remembered you were on the field. Your head snapped up, looking around the tiny room. The thudding had stopped, and when you looked down, you realized why. 

You’d been sleeping with your head on Johnny’s chest, his heartbeat in your ear. His arms were still wrapped tightly around you, face turned toward yours. He looked younger asleep. No worry lines creased his handsome face, and his brows were relaxed instead of their usual serious, lowered state. His lips were just slightly parted, breath softly fanning across your shoulder.

The night came back to you in one big wave. Kissing Johnny, straddling him, holding him close between your legs, his mouth on your neck, your mouth on his shoulder, your name on his tongue, being pressed to the wall, the stretch of him, and both of your hands seemingly everywhere at once. You ached everywhere in the most delicious way. Even your throat was sore from moaning his name over and over and over again as he made good on his promise that his mouth was good for more than just talk.

Your cheeks flushed remembering.

As if sensing your racing heart and thoughts, Johnny stirred. His arms tightened around you, pulling you nearly on top of him as his eyes fluttered open. He smiled when his eyes settled on you, slow and lazy.

“I thought I dreamed all of that,” he said softly. His voice was husky with sleep, accent thicker than normal, eyes soft as he stroked your cheek with the back of his hand.

You quickly weighed whether or not you were prepared to deal with the cockiness that would come with your next statement. “Certainly good enough to be a dream,” you whispered. The grin that split Johnny’s face was instant and radiant.

“Oh, aye?” he asked. “Would you say it’s everything you’d dreamed of?”

“I love you,” he’d gasped, holding the back of your head to his shoulder as you fell apart for what must have been the tenth or hundredth time. “I love you,” he’d repeated as he lost control, trembling violently in you and in your arms. “Oh, God, I love you,” he’d whispered as you cried out his name and carried him in a vice grip right over the edge with you. You’d never dared to confront your feelings for him too deeply, refusing to dig beneath the surface of the crush you’d harbored for him. In all your wildest dreams, you’d never begun to imagine him putting to words what you felt- and never in the most intimate moment of your life.

“Better than my dreams,” you mumbled, turning your head away from his and pressing your cheek to his chest. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see a purple bruise you’d sucked into his shoulder. You winced, raising your head to apologize, but before you could even open your mouth, Johnny turned your head and kissed you softly. You kissed him back, and then smirked as a thought crossed your mind. “Dream of me often, then?” you asked.

Johnny’s eyes darkened as he pulled you down for a searing kiss. “Every night,” he whispered. You shuddered. You could already feel his body responding beneath you as you kissed him again, smiling to yourself when he groaned. He reached for the tiny bedside table, muttering about a clock, and found the alarm there.

He turned a wicked grin toward you. “We’ve got time for round two.”

“Round two?” you shrieked. Johnny snickered as he lifted you up, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. Round five was no less impressive than the first four, in no small part due to the added feat of Johnny holding you up against the cold shower wall while the hot water beat down on you both. 

“I can’t believe,” he’d panted “That we could have been doing this all this time.”

“You should scold Gaz for getting in your way,” you’d panted back. Johnny had practically growled at that, picking up his pace.

“I’m about to scold you for saying another man’s name while I’m inside you.”

He came undone the moment you moaned his name in his ear, pulling you off the ledge with him.

By the time you’d actually managed to get clean, your clothes had miraculously dried despite laying crumpled on the tile floor all night. You were thankful as you both stepped out into the flurry of wind and snow to trudge up the hillside toward the evac point. You hiked in companionable silence, only breaking it once you could see the ridge where you’d be picked up.

“How’s your wrist?” you asked. You’d been worried about it all night, but Johnny either hadn’t been in pain or hadn’t been in enough pain to pay it any mind.

“It’ll be fine,” he answered, smiling at you over his shoulder. “How’s your… you?” You both snickered at that.

“It’ll be fine,” you parroted. Your Scottish accent was horrible, but Johnny beamed at it all the same. You were about to pull yourself up by a rock when he grabbed your wrist, nudging you until your back touched a tree. He tilted your chin up with his knuckles, lowering his head slowly to kiss you tenderly. You sighed into the kiss, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, and he held you close by your waist. His lips tugged at yours softly, lightly dragging your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling back to look at you intensely. He seemed to be trying to memorize every inch of your face.

“We can’t tell anyone, can we?” you whispered.

For a long moment, Johnny was silent. When he finally answered, his voice was low. Sorrowful. “I don’t know,” he said.

You nodded, pasting a smile on your face even as your heart throbbed. “That’s okay. We’ll figure something out.”

He smiled back. “Yeah, we will.” Your smile felt a little more genuine after that. You trekked the last bit up the hill, and by the time you reached the top, you could hear the whir of the chopper. You shared one last longing look at each other from a respectable distance before the bird touched down. When the door opened, Ghost’s skull plate greeted you.

“You guys injured?” he shouted. You both shook your heads, clambering in and strapping yourselves into harnesses on opposite sides of the chopper. Ghost slammed the door, strapping himself in again on your side.

He stared at Soap, some look you couldn’t quite read. When you glanced to Johnny, his eyebrow was raised at his partner.

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week,” Ghost rumbled.

Soap looked to you, then back to his friend. He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “We didn’t get much rest- too cold,” he said evenly. If you didn’t know it was a lie, you’d have believed him. But something in the way Ghost held his stare told you that he didn’t. He could read everyone like a book, but especially Johnny. You needn’t have worried, though. Soap started right in on recapping the mission for his friend, chattering away as he always did, and you watched as Ghost’s shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit while he listened. His gaze flicked to you every so often, and you added to the tale where you saw fit. Ghost took your words as truth- he trusted you now, years later, after you’d proven yourself to him and the rest of the team.

You smiled to yourself. It would be good to see the rest of the team, to be back on base, in the comfort of your own bed… and you were sure Soap would find his way there, too.

[d0gmeats]

Old wips

[keysorsomething]

Hii!! Love your works sm sm always so happy to see you upload 😊☺️💞💓 Would you please spare us some cozy domestic Nikto hc’s? I feel like the man needs that sorta stability in his life (even if he might deny it at first) 🙏

Of course !! I'm always happy to yap about my fav boy <3 (adult man who has committed many violations of the Geneva Convention)

Request page !!

He's a man of habit and schedule

It helped him remember what to do, especially when his memory issues get really bad

You moving in completely changes it

For the first few months, you'd always scare him

You weren't supposed to be here! That wasn't how it was for as long as he could remember

Eventually, he gets used to it, and starts making enough food for the both of you and is no longer flinching whenever you walk into a room

Very militant. He wakes up at 5 am and goes to bed at 9 pm

He gets very upset if his sleep schedule has to be adjusted in any way, like you get home slightly too late

He's a decent cook

He's in no way a "you should open a restaurant" cook, but he can make some meals pretty well

Sometimes cooking gets hard for him because he knows it's something that his mom made for him, but he doesn't remember if he's making it how she did

Gets upset you'll never get the full experience of dating/marrying, like meeting and becoming "one with" his family

Especially if your parents are in the picture

Has a set routine for cleaning the house

You are to sit and do nothing while he is

He considers it interfering and not helping

Gets upset if something is placed an atom away from its usual placement

He can tell

Has no skincare routine

Not even rubbing his face really hard with just water

He just takes the mask off and goes to bed

If you try to clean his face he'll lean away like a baby you're trying to feed something it doesn't like

One time he did this he leaned so far back he fell over

Rodion kept making suggestive comments at him because he was limping

He just bruised his tailbone but

Rodion knew Nikto wasn't lying, he just likes making fun of his teammates

Nikto always forgives your "transgressions" (picking up something off the floor before he was cleaning that room, keeping him up, waking up early and cooking breakfast instead of him) in exchange for a quiet moment in bed, usually including backrubs

[macravishedbymactavish]

Ya'll really be simping for this man

[shini-moomi]

Here's Noemi's ref sheet for CoD MW2019 and MW2 2022 :3

Her MW3 2023 design will be different so I'll do that soon enough

[heyitsokay]

my first "fully" render art 😭(and it kinda suck)

Don't look at hands lol

[rhaenyra]

Soooo my modded playthrough is canon?

[rascal-xo]

Somebody That You Used to Know - Alex (Echo 3-1) Keller x Female Reader

Requested by Anonymous

Summary: It’s been 5 years since you’ve seen Alex, and a dangerous mission in Urzikstan is just the thing to bring you back together…

Warnings: Violence, Language, fluff, Friends to Lovers type beat

Tags: @pukbadger @fiveshelmet @myguiltypleasures21 @madamemelaninn @emmaadlerrichtofen1 @swissy23 @thatchickwiththecamera @glitterypirateduck

A/N: I love writing action fics, its truly an obsession. Alex is so fine i cannot even deal omfg - enjoy :))

You walk into the small briefing room, the door closing behind you with a soft click. The room is dimly lit, the only source of light coming from a large screen displaying a map of the Al Qatala stronghold. The Captain and Gaz are already present, sitting around.

Laswell stands at the head of the small room, her gaze focused. She acknowledges your arrival with a nod before turning her attention back to the map. The atmosphere is tense, an undercurrent of urgency lingering in the air.

"Alright, listen up," Laswell begins, her voice firm yet calm. "Al Qatala and their recent attacks here in Urzikstan have left not only a trail of disaster but also of Russian footprints."

"Bloody hell." Gaz mutters.

"Russians?" You interject. "Can't be missiles again, those would've been on our radar."

Agent Laswell glances at you, a hint of knowing in her eyes. "We believe the Russians are involved in a more covert operation, possibly aiding Al Qatala with weapons, training, or intelligence."

Captain Price leans forward, his voice low and resolute. "The last thing we need is them getting cozy."

Laswell nods, her expression grim. "Exactly. Our mission is two-fold. We need to cripple Al Qatala's stronghold and gather any evidence of Russian involvement. We have an opportunity to disrupt this unholy alliance and dismantle their operations."

You glance at the map on the screen, "Do we have any intel on the main compound layout? Possible weak points?"

Laswell taps a few keys, bringing up a satellite image of the compound. "We've managed to obtain some blueprints of an HQ type facility, but keep in mind they might have made changes to the structure. Expect the unexpected."

Captain Price leans back in his chair, a calculating look on his face.

Gaz raises an eyebrow. "Who's going in?"

A steely resolve glimmers in Laswell's eyes as she answers, "Y/N, you'll be our point of entry. Captain Price and Gaz will join you once you've secured a foothold inside."

You meet the Captain’s gaze, a silent understanding passing between you.

"You'll be meeting with an American Agent before the mission tomorrow morning, he'll be on the mission with you. Good luck."

"American huh?" Gaz says, turning to you. "Think you know him?"

"Doubt it." You exhale, leaning back in your seat.

The next morning dawns with an air of anticipation and determination. You stand in the armory, surrounded by shelves of equipment and gear.

You slip on your tactical vest over your layered shirt, adjusting the straps for a snug fit. The familiar weight settles against your chest.

You fasten the pouches on your belt, carefully arranging your ammunition, grenades, and other essential tools. Each item has its place, a delicate balance of readiness and accessibility.

After you’ve gotten yourself situated, you meet Gaz and the Captain on the tarmac to wait for the plane into Sakhra.

“Mornin boys.” You nod, leaning against a crate waiting to be loaded into the aircraft.

“Well someone’s chipper this morning.” Gaz teases, pulling his flag embroidered hat on.

“Yeah chipper to get this shit over with.“ You chuckle, shaking your head.

Price glances at both of you, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "That's the spirit, lads.” Sarcasm coating his tone.

"Hope i’m not too late." A voice suddenly says from behind you, causing you to turn your head in surprise. Your heart skips a beat as your eyes lock with a familiar gaze.

"Alex?" You utter his name, a mixture of shock and disbelief coloring your voice. It has been five long years since you last saw him, “You’re the other agent?”

“Right on time, Agent.” Price nods, shaking his hand, followed by Gaz.

"Well, you've certainly changed," Alex says, turning to face you. Your gaze lingers on his face, noticing the subtle lines etched near his eyes, evidence of the experiences he has endured over the years.

His once boyish features have given way to a more hardened and mature visage.

Gaz, observing the exchange, interjects. "You two know each other?"

You tear your eyes away from Alex to meet Gaz’s questioning expression. "We served together in the MARSOC years back.” You explain, slinging your riffle over your shoulder.

Captain Price interrupts the silence, breaking the reunion. "We have limited time, and the mission takes precedence. Alex, I trust you're ready to brief us on your findings."

Alex nods, his focus shifting back to the present. "I've gathered substantial intel on Al Qatala's operations over the past year, their chain of command, and possible connections with other organizations.” He continues, “We have a high chance to deal a significant blow to their infrastructure and reveal the extent of their influence."

“I like those chances, mate.” Gaz replies, speaking for the whole team.

“Well then, let’s get this show on the road shall we?” The captain heads into the aircraft, followed by the rest of you.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N.” Alex says, nudging you slightly as you smile back, taking your seat.

When you arrive landside to the outskirts of the compound, you all split up to your respective positions. You and Alex take the entry while Price and Gaz take the perimeter.

“I’ll cover you.” Alex says, as you both stay hidden a good distance from the front gates. Two guards take watch, Al Qatala security forces.

“Moving in.” You say, aiming your crosshairs on the first guard.

With practiced precision, you squeeze the trigger, the suppressed shot echoing softly through the air. The guard drops, a lifeless silhouette on the ground.

Without missing a beat, Alex shifts his focus to the second guard, his weapon trained on the target. You provide cover, scanning the surroundings for any sign of reinforcement. As Alex takes the shot, the second guard crumples to the ground, leaving the area silent once more.

You and Alex approach the now vacant gate, keeping low to avoid detection. “Let’s move.” You motion towards the gates, quickly picking the locks and moving into the compound.

Inside the compound, the darkness acts as your ally, concealing your movements and intentions. “I know Laswell said to expect the unexpected but I didn’t expect this place to be empty.” You remark, switching to your sidearm.

"Wouldn't get too comfortable," Alex replies, his voice low and cautious as he clears the stairs. You follow suit, ascending silently, your senses heightened.

The absence of guards and personnel within the compound raises an unsettling feeling within you. Something doesn't add up. “Delta 4 to Bravo 6, how copy?” You speak over the comms.

“Loud and clear.” Price radios back.

“Stay on standby at the perimeter, compounds vacant” You explain.

“Copy that. Staying low.” He responds back.

You both move with precision, keeping your backs to the walls, scanning each room as you make your way through the labyrinthine corridors.

The eerie silence amplifies the tension in the air, intensifying the need for caution.

As you round another corner, you catch a glimpse of a dimly lit room at the end of the hallway. The faint glow seeping through the cracked door raises your suspicion. Motioning for Alex to stay back, you inch closer, your senses on high alert.

Peering through the narrow opening, you see a group of monitors displaying security feeds from various parts of a large machine.

"They got eyes on something," you whisper, your voice laced with both concern and determination.

Alex's expression hardens as he joins you, his eyes focused on the screens. You both nod a quick agreement and let him kick open the door.

Alex's boot crashes against the door, sending it flying open with a resounding bang. But before you can fully register the impact, a sharp, searing pain erupts through your upper arm. "Fuck!" you exclaim, stumbling backward, clutching your arm.

Alex's eyes widen with alarm as he rushes to your side, concern etched across his face. “Shit, they have this place rigged.” He drops his gun, making you sit on a metal crate.

“I’m fine, Alex. We have to keep moving.” You argue, but it’s no use.

“You’re gonna bleed out. Let me handle it.” He replies, as he rips a part of his sleeve and wraps a makeshift bandage around your arm, applying pressure to stem the bleeding

You watch Alex's face intently as he focuses on your arm, his brows furrowed with a mix of concentration and concern. His movements are deliberate and steady, a testament to his training and experience in the field.

His hands work quickly, efficiently securing the fabric around your wounded arm. The pressure he applies causes a sharp pang of pain, but you grit your teeth, determined not to let it distract you. The burning sensation begins to subside, replaced by a numbing throb.

"Alex, we can't afford to stay here," you protest once more, your voice laced with urgency. The mission hangs in the balance, and every moment counts.

He meets your gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of determination and worry. "The one back up they had already did it’s job, we can afford to spare 5 minutes.” He sternly answers, making you chuckle a bit at his concern.

“Was beginning to think you died after all these years.” You say after a few beats of silence, trying to distract yourself from the agonizing burn of pressure.

“I meant to write you know.” He explains, putting his hands up in defense. “But you know how it is, assignment after assignment.”

You nod, playing with the blood spotted hem of your right sleeve.

You nudge him playfully as he takes a seat next to you on the crate, your voice lightening. "Well, look at you, all grown up and saving the world. I guess it suits you."

A wistful smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you engage in this unexpected moment of familiarity amidst the chaos. The pain in your arm momentarily fades into the background as the weight of unspoken words hangs between you.

Alex's lips curl into a half-smile, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes. “I went CIA and you stuck to what you know. Wish I was that smart.” He admits, turning his head to meet your gaze.

“Still winded up here. It was bound to happen Keller. You sigh, wincing at the sudden movement jolting through your arm.

The atmosphere between you and Alex shifts, an unspoken tension hanging in the air as your gazes meet. In a moment of vulnerability and longing, he leans in, closing the distance between you, his lips pressing against yours.

For a few precious seconds, the world fades away, and you are lost in the intensity of the moment. The touch is gentle yet filled with a deep-rooted longing that has lingered beneath the surface for years.

But just as quickly as the connection ignites, you both pull away, breathless and wide-eyed. The realization of the situation dawns upon you, a mix of surprise. “Sorry um-“

“Yeah we should get back to the...” You finish his sentence, regaining both of your composures.

With a shared understanding, you push aside the overwhelming emotions and focus on the task at hand.

A/N: If i keep writing this i’ll be writing forever loll. Let me know if y’all want a part 2. Im a sucker for action fics y’all already know 😭

[daddy-cake]

On @that-lovely-star-girl’s soul I hate Rodion

Here’s what the creature actually looks like without everything on it

[perpetual-fng]

felt the need for some Gaz in my life

[bladezyart]

been awhile BUT HEYYY HAVE A LITTLE SILLY DRAWING OF FARAH N ALEX I DREW BEFORE BEDD :D

(I love these two so much, their just so...AHHAJEHEKWDJWHDHE)

[nightingale-ghost-writer]

Modern Warfare Reboots

~One Shots~

Your Wildest Dreams [Soap x Fem! Reader]

(5.1K) In a mission gone wrong, you and Soap have to hole up in a safehouse, trying to stay warm during the cold Russian winter

Convallaria Majalis [Alex Keller x Fem! Reader] ❣️

(19.2K) Trusting people is hard, especially when they’ve let you down so horribly before. But you trust Kate, and Kate trusts Alex. And trusting Alex? Well that might just change your entire life.

~Promises - a MWII Mini Series~

You needn’t read one to read the other, but they happen in the same universe! Both set during/after the events of MWII 2022.

Maybe [Soap x Fem! OC]

(11.8K) Soap finds a kindred spirit during a trying time

Possibly [Ghost x Fem! OC]

(10.7K) Ghost wouldn’t know love if it shot him in the face… or comfort, for that matter. A certain pretty medic could change that.

~Headcanons~

141 Headcanons - The Five Love Languages

[shinmiyovvi]

「Call of Duty Modern Warfare Original Character Info」

GENERAL INFORMATION

NAME: Noemi Rayne G. Trinidad

CODE NAME: “Soro” (Fox in Filipino)

AGE: 31

GENDER: Female

SEXUALITY: Heterosexual

D.O.B.: [REDACTED]

P.O.B.: Davao City, Philippines

NATIONALITY: Filipino

ALIA(SES): 

Bravo 0-9, Ghost 0-5

Noemi, Emi, Rayne, Ren (By her family, relatives, and friends)

Ma’am, Captain (By Gaz)

Capt, Capt. Soro (By Soap)

Sea girl, Nomi, Show off (By Ghost)

Soro, Love, Ray (By Price)

Zorro, hermana (By Alejandro)

Kapitan Trinidad (By Rudy)

OCCUPATION: Military personnel from the AFP Light Reaction Regiment, an associate member of Task Force 141.

RANK: 2nd Lieutenant (2012-2015), Captain (2015-present)

LANGUAGES SPOKEN: Cebuano and Filipino as her mother tongue, English as her third language as she is a polyglot but limited.

AFFILIATIONS: Armed Forces of the Philippines, Philippine Scout Rangers, Light Reaction Regiment, Task Force 141, Coalition, Armistice, JTF - Ghost Team, SpecGru

APPEARANCE

HEIGHT: 5’9” (175 cm)

WEIGHT: 141 lbs (64 kg)

EYE COLOR: Dark brown

HAIR COLOR: Black

HAIR STYLE: Shoulder-length (2019), Overgrown Boy Cut (2022)

BODY TYPE: Hourglass

BUILD: Lean and muscular

BLOOD TYPE: A+

DISTINGUISHABLE FEATURES: Has a scar on her right cheek and the lower left part of her neck. She also has scars on both of her arms, which she mostly wears long sleeves.

FACE CLAIM: Jane de Leon (Images below)

FAMILY

SIBLINGS: 1

STATUS: Youngest daughter of the Gerardo-Trinidad Family

FATHER: Ramon O. Trinidad

AGE: 60

HEIGHT: 5'6" (167 cm)

OCCUPATION: Retired AFP Soldier as he works as a carpenter for their shop.

MOTHER: Paulina G. Trinidad

AGE: 57

HEIGHT: 5'4" (162 cm)

OCCUPATION: Housewife

BROTHER: Leonardo Eric G. Trinidad

AGE: 34

HEIGHT: 5'11" (180 cm)

OCCUPATION: Architect

SKILLS AND ABILITIES

FIGHTING STYLE: Any but most likely uses Muay Thai and Arnis (If she found a pair of sticks)

WEAPON OF CHOICE: Any as she uses a throwing knife to take down enemies silently.

ABILITIES: Can be a translator and a recon sniper due to her experience back in 2016.

SPECIALTIES: Stealth, Espionage, and Hacking to infiltrate unauthorized areas.

PERSONALITY

POSITIVE:

Intelligent: Noemi is one of the smartest students in the class who mostly competes in quiz bees as she receives a lot of rewards from her competitions and also excels in her class.

Boyish: She spends time with her brother and her male friends and she has different interests and traits, unlike other girls around her subdivision.

Good tactician and thinks logically: After becoming the lieutenant, she uses her wits and observation around her as she will find an advantage for her and her squadmates of when to attack or when to fall back. With her being the mentee of the former captain, she took note of how her lieutenant led them to victory.

A loving friend and daughter: Despite her stern, relaxed, and laid-back personality, she is nothing more than a friend you can always rely on. She is a loving and caring daughter to her family in which she tends to overwork herself just to get the right amount of money to provide her parents for their needs. 

Dutiful with her occupation: Noemi is very dedicated to her job as a soldier in her country even if what she entered is a life-and-death situation. She mostly escapes her near-death experiences during the siege after their deployment in 2017. Noemi has no hesitation in killing her targets, as long as she knows what their wrongdoings are, she won't think twice to kill them in an instant.

Can crack jokes: If she ever feels like lighting up the mood, Noemi won't hesitate to brighten up the spirit of her fellow soldiers with some jokes.

NEGATIVE:

Has trust issues: Noemi tends to have trust issues and is also cautious when choosing the right people to trust.

Weighing some guilt inside her: After losing some of her friends during her career, she couldn't help but distinguish self-guilt from what happened to them.

Getting out of control of her emotions, especially anger: Noemi tends to bottle up her emotions, which she would snap at any time, and manages to go feral.

An expert in manipulation and deception: Noemi is capable of manipulating and deceiving people in order to acquire intel. She may act natural but deep down she was using them for extracting information.

TRIVIA

Noemi is the lead guitarist for the school's band which joins the battle of the bands.

Her favorite activities in school are Intramurals, quiz bees, band performances, and sports fest.

She likes to play video games during her free time during her off duty and sometimes she would draw on her journal to pass the time.

Noemi never shares her music taste with anyone but she listens to Jpop, Kpop, OPM, Pop, Pop Rock, Punk Rock, Rap, and Alternative Rock.

Noemi was known for being the smartest student who tends to sleep during class and answers questions without even trying to be attentive during the discussion sometimes.

BACKGROUND

Noemi is the youngest of the Gerardo-Trinidad family and was born to have an inspiration to be a soldier because of her father's past. Although her parents wanted her to be a nurse, she declined and was eager to pursue her dream of being a soldier and fighting for her country. Noemi is a talented and intelligent child who tends to join quiz bees as she is also an athlete at her alma mater. She is the captain, and outside hitter of her volleyball team, and the small forward of the basketball team. She also joins badminton and sepak takraw competitions, and everyone looks up to her as one of the athletic students in her school. After graduating high school, she passed the PMA exam and strived hard to finish her military training. Noemi joined the AFP and then proceeded to join the Scout Rangers to get the Scout Rangers Qualification Badge in order for her to join the Light Reaction Regiment. Before she joined LRR, she embarked on missions that molded her as a soldier and took down notes about becoming a leader from her captain. She lost her comrades during the Siege of Marawi she looks at them as her brothers-in-arms and a family. In 2019, Noemi became an associate member before the formation of Task Force 141 after Laswell introduced her to Price and Gaz as she continued to work in TF141.

Images for the gif above (From left to right):

MW1 (Left), MW2 (Center), MW3 (Right)

[keysorsomething]

The Shape

2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Just a little fluff fic I wrote a couple days ago :) I compulsively check the Nikto tag so maybe I can make someone else who does that happy! And it mighttt have a pt. 2 in the works ! Also sorry if the format is weird I was never a tumblr girl

Cross-posted on Ao3

Nikto was hardly a man. Hardly a person. Hardly alive. He was just a shape. Just a thing. All he did was kill who he was told to. But, you didn’t think that. You didn’t believe that. He was a person to you. And you treated him as one.

You didn’t force anything. You didn’t push, pull, twist. You let him do what he wanted. He wasn't sure why. For as long as he could remember, where the memories of childhood - memories before him - become fuzzy, he was never treated like that. No one asked his opinion. Even if it was for something simple, like what was for dinner.

You were always so gentle with him. It was almost nauseating. With you, it was always “Aw, hey, Nikto! How are you?” or “What's the word for that in Russian?” He didn't understand it. You were not friends. He did not reciprocate your politeness. Maybe that was just normal where you're from. But, his current running theory was that you must have some form of brain damage. Perhaps you were dropped as a baby.

He stood in the doorway of the armory, head slowly leaning to the side as he studied you. His bright blue eyes broke through the dim lighting as if they were backlit by two LED bulbs in his skull.

You sigh. You really weren't in the mood for it at the moment. You've had a really sucky day and were just trying to clean your gun before you put it up for the night. His gaze burning through your skin as he studies you like a zoo animal is not what you need at the moment. But, you know him enough. You’ve learned a few things from your interactions with him. You know asking nicely, or even demanding won't do much for him in this state. He doesn't mean anything by it - at least you're pretty sure it's just harmless curiosity. Still, you just aren't in the headspace for it. So you have to shoo him off. And luckily, you know just how. You place your gun on the table, rising up.

He doesn't back away as you approach, instead turning his head more. Slowly, you reach out. He’ll snap out of it if you move to touch him. He'll jump back, then growl and stalk off. You're sure of it, that's how it is anytime anyone tries to touch him.

So when the tips of your fingers meet his chest plate, you're the one to flinch. His eyes look wider from under the mask, but he doesn't move or even open his mouth to speak. He simply blinks at you, one eye closing and then the other. Like a frog.

Okay, he's staying when you touch him. That is completely out of the ordinary. Maybe you could weird him out enough for him to leave you be..? You raise your eyes to meet his, and something about the way they shine down on you is… unusual. You can't tell if he's staring at you affectionately, or with the look of a girl in a horror movie that stumbled upon a dead body. Or perhaps both.

Still, you swallow down your confusion, any reservations you have, and shame. Slowly, while maintaining as intense eye contact as you can, you drag two fingers down his chest, like petting a stingray at an aquarium. Before you go lower than his peck, you pick your fingers up and place them back at the top - where his chestplate covers his neck.

He blinks again, looming over you, his shoulders are squared. He's clearly tense. He'll back away soon. You repeat the action several times over, becoming more confused and frustrated the more he doesn't back away. Eventually, his hand raises, and he places two of his fingers on the squishy part of your neck, where it meets your chest. Your breath hitches, fear creeping into the back of your mind that he was trying to kill you.

Slowly, and with a lot more pressure than you were doing on him, he drags his fingers down your chest. He was mimicking you. You tense up, watching as he drags his finger down your chest before circling back to start at the top of your neck again. His hand is almost suffocating, even if he’s only putting two fingers on your neck. And you’re sure he could put so much more weight into it. He could snap your neck, pin you to the wall and strangle you. He’d probably cock his head to the side as he did it. Like fucking Micheal Meyers.

You shiver, closing your eyes. But the violence never comes. He’s very gentle with you, as gentle as a man of his… caliber in his profession can be. He does take his other hand to yours, dragging your hand down and circling back up. He was trying to get you to do it again. You crack your eye open, meeting his piercing blue stare, like hot water down the back of your shirt.

Slowly, you start to move your hand again. You stand there for a moment, your fingers starting at the peak of his neck guard and sliding down his chest as he mimics you. You look at his eyes, as he looks at yours. It was a strange, somber moment between the two of you. You watch his shoulders fall, relaxing under your touch and gaze. He's breathing heavily, like someone hyperventilating after being jumped out at. Your own hands are shaking, still unsure if this is a vulnerable moment or a trap. And his hand is going to flatten against your neck. And then it was going to be lights out. You swallow thickly, but you don't move your eyes from his. His pupils keep dilating and constricting, which you're not too sure is healthy. You hope this doesn't kill him.

All at once, he pulls away. His hand from your neck, his neck from your hand. His eyes narrow at you. He holds his hand at his chest as if it were covered in some form of filth. He looks down at it like it betrayed him before his eyes turn back to you. 

“Спасибо,” He growls out before his dark form melts into the shadows of KorTac base after dark. Once more just a shape, he stalks off, leaving you standing in the doorway of the armory, shock running through your body. His footsteps fade into nothing as he leaves you all alone, frozen in shock.

You just touched him. He just touched you. And then he thanked you? You stare off into the dark, now bare walls. They are an uncomforting grey. You look down at your own hand, turning it over in your sight. You... pet Nikto. On the chest. With two fingers. Like a stingray, in the pet pool at the fucking Aquarium of the Pacific. 

…How do you even process the moment you just had? Would you ever have another one? Was that a one-time thing, or would he creep to you at night like this, for the most barebones form of touch like that? You close your fingers, rubbing them against each other, before you turned around, slipping back into the armory to put your gun up. Still in some odd trance, eyes distant and foggy as you focus on the various thoughts floating through your head. You don't know if you can call it a fantasy.

 

But, that doesn't mean the thoughts are unpleasant.