#cod preferences

[witchthewriter]

Y/N: Don’t worry, I have a few knives up my sleeve. Gaz: I think you mean cards. *Y/N, pulling knives out of their sleeves* Y/N: No, I do not.

[bluegiragi]

leather and lace

early access + nsfw on patreon

[oceantornadoo]

gn reader, tw: body and food talk, ghost isn’t super nice to himself but you’re nice enough for the both of you

“where’s the rest of your food?” you nodded to ghost’s plate, laden with one chicken breast and a couple of vegetables from the mess hall. he stopped short in the hallway, trying to control his blush even though he was wearing his usual balaclava. you looked at him curiously. he got lost in the warmth of your eyes that showed genuine concern about his food, scrutinizing his plate.

“‘m on a cut.” he grumbled, gravelly voice at odds with his thoughts. you looked down and fuck, he had gotten it all wrong. he had been too gruff, like a fumbling kid talking to his crush on the playground. you tilted your head back quickly, now armed with a cheeky grin, and he almost let out a breath of relief at the sight. stupid simon, he’d almost messed it up, but you always gave him unending grace. “why? i like you big.” you started walking, nudging his shoulder in a silent goodbye. he was rooted in place, his legs like concrete as he replayed your words. you liked him big.

“thought you were on a cut, l.t.?” soap asked the next day, in line with ghost who was currently loading up on carbs and protein. “little birdie told me they liked me big.” he meant to say it in a whisper, but somehow you heard. at the front of the line, you whipped your head around fast, sending a secret smile just for him. fuck it was worth it, even if he felt too large for the room sometimes. simon would never cut again if he could see that smile. you ducked your head, suddenly shy. you couldn’t believe your l.t. took your words to heart that much. maybe there was something more in all those glances he gave you when he thought you weren’t looking.

[temeyes]

he is legally blind, your honor

[fandomblr1]

Dear Santa,

Please deliver all of these men wrapped in ribbon under the tree. If you really love me then they will also be shirtless. Thank you in advance.

P.S.- Keep the masks ON. No, I will not explain why.

Sincerely,

COD Men Lover

[laswells-ashtray]

Usually, in these situations, he'd get up, throw on a t-shirt and shoes and go outside to smoke by the entrance to their building. But the rain is battering off of the windows with enough force that he half expects them to shatter.

So, instead, he stares at the ceiling and desperately tries not to disturb the hulking bear of a man wrapped around him. After years he's mastered the art of slipping out from the Russian's grip, he has to escape him legs first or Nikolai would clamp around his waist like a vice and drag him back into the cavernous heat underneath him with his face nuzzled into John's chest.

The ability to sleep soundly had been lost on him from a young age, bottles shattering on walls had gradually transitioned to bullets piercing skulls. He'd been naive enough to think he'd be able to stop it this time, years ago he had thought that maybe this time he could prevent it. Today, he knows that brain matter and skull fragments are harder to clean than broken glass and spilt whisky.

He blinks up at the ceiling, sometimes Nikolai's breathing is enough to dim the noise buzzing in his head. The rest of the time he knows that the only effective silencing method is to leave someone else cleaning up his brain matter.

He still has a few good years in him before he gets to that point.

Nikolai's nose is pressed against his neck and his skin is damp from the other man's breathing. There's a large, calloused hand resting over his ribs and a leg entangled with his own. The pilot had a habit of clutching John like he was afraid of what would happen to John when he let go. He had a radiator hidden in the form of a breathtaking Russian in his bed and he was ungrateful enough to think about leaving him for a smoke, that's the type of man John is.

He adores Nikolai. He could spend days sketching every little detail of the other man's body, he could list off the scars and the stories behind him, the stretchmarks and the way he nips at them whenever they're fucking around like horny teenagers and he could damn near list every grey that had made an appearance in Nikolai's mane. And the subsequent negative effect each of those greys had on his knees.

But he wondered who out there was better suited to the other man. Watching people flirt with Nikolai was something he was subjected to whenever they went out for a simple drink together, it was always someone younger, fitter and he'd bet a hell of a lot less scarred. Nikolai had his pick of the litter and he found himself stuck with a captain-shaped pit of despondency and antiquated, contemptible self-pity.

John's only use is getting a job done, there's a reason he's so highly regarded in his field. His fingers were made to wield weapons and his mouth was made for barking orders. Outside of the job he was robotic, there was little purpose for him in everyday life. John was a means to an end on the field. He's barely a person. He's a blacked-out name in a file.

Nikolai is lively, he's charming and he can function in any context because he was crafted out of a humanity that had been bred out of John's family line. Nikolai was modelled after the word benevolence.

And he found himself chained to John.

John who had made a career out of handing death certificates back to families, used nationalism to guide youthful faces into war and used detachment to send them back in a box.

He blinks up at the ceiling. There's no light shining in from the window, it can't be approaching a reasonable wake-up time so he has no choice but to lie there until it does or the rain stops pounding away and he can smoke in peace.

The one time he had a working lighter and he could remember where he had left it and he couldn't bloody smoke, typical.

He had to avoid the little old lady who lived downstairs when he went out for a smoke. She'd corner him and question him about when he was finally going to bring home a nice woman and start a family. Apparently, she was under the impression that Nikolai lived elsewhere in their building and not plastered against John's back whenever he was cooking.

The pensioner would shake her head and insist that when John finally has a wee one of his own, he'll be happy. It felt like some parasite under his skin squirming about under his flesh and eating away at the person inside, the thought of ever having a child of his own.

It was nauseating to imagine a baby somewhere with his features, he wasn't a father and it was the ideal outcome of life. To be a father to anyone was John subjecting them to something terminal. They'd never escape his impact and he was like a cancer who'd play the vital part in shutting every good part of them down.

He'd never subject a child to that, he couldn't. He refused to shadow his father's footprints that led him into a grave, belt in one hand and bottle in the other.

John isn't built to be a father, he's made to pull the trigger of a gun that no one else would ever consider picking up. He couldn't raise a child, instead of counting sheep his children would have to count every body in the trail left behind him.

He works for the greater good, they all do but there are only so many skeletons that you can cram into one closet.

He blinks up at the ceiling and turns to lie on his side only to be met with dark brown eyes staring back at him, far too knowing and far too tired. He had missed Nikolai pulling away from his neck, hadn't been alert enough to feel it. He was slipping.

"How long have you been awake?"

Nikolai pulls John to the centre of the bed, wrapping himself around him and pinning John in place. One hand cradling the back of his head all too carefully, as if he'd fracture under the slightest touch.

People have a tendency that John will splinter under intimacy like he was a glass pane and they're a hydraulic press. They're closer than he'd ever be able to admit verbally.

"You think too much, you should be sleeping." Nikolai murmurs, voice rough with sleep as he rests his head against John's shoulder. The warm feeling of his cheek burning John's bare skin.

He offers back a vague grumble of acknowledgement and pretends he doesn't melt under the hand that caresses his cheek, thumb tracing over a faint trail of freckles.

"Go back to sleep, дорогой."

Tomorrow, John will choose to believe that he followed the order because he's a good soldier.

[tanked-up]

(Recruits arguing)

Recruit #1: I can’t stand people like you

Recruit #2: Then sit down

(Soap overhearing)

—————————————

(A day later)

Soap: I can’t stand people like you

Ghost: Fuckin deal with it, sergeant

Soap: …

Ghost: What?

Soap: Ye’ weren’t supposed to say that

Ghost: The truth?

Soap: Nevermind

———————————

(The next day)

Ghost: Say that you can’t stand me

Soap still irritated: What !?

Ghost: Tell me you don’t-

Soap: I can’t stand you

Ghost all jumpy: Then sit down

Soap: …

Ghost: Get it?

Soap: I definitely do

[myfamilycrestisthedemonofdeath]

I know for a fact that the 141 men CANNOT handle a hot shower, the kind that you like to take. The one that is borderline painful because of how hot it is.... but it feels so nice and soothing, especially if you have aches and pains all over.

These grown men are military; too used to brisk, cool (heck, maybe even cold) showers that last 5 minutes at most. No shower thoughts to dwell on except to get it done quickly to get started on their day.

So I can totally see that when they try to join you enjoying your shower for the first time, they are in for a surprise.

Johnny definitely yelps. He tries to slide in behind you and hold you, but the minute his arms are under the sprayer, he's jumping, almost making the both of you slip. He probably mutters some garbled whines of "how the fuck you are under that spray, bonnie, it's too fucking hot the skin off me arms is burnt tae crisp, christ there might be a demon doon here, this is hell" and then he quickly backtracks and apologizes, "you are not a demon, just a lovely angel who enjoys water hotter than the sun's ass". He'll probably beg to have the water down a little cooler before rejoining you under the spray.

Kyle asks first to join you while you are already showering, and you can see his hesitance as he steps behind you, his eyes warily looking at the too steamed up mirror and wincing as the water splashes off you and onto him. "Jesus, this feels like a bloody geyser, worse than the goddamn desert heat", he grumbles, but after a while, maybe with your encouragement, he starts to not dislike it. "This why you always are hot, yeah?", he probably teases you with his grin, and while he takes a while longer before he fully joins you under the spray, he's enjoying how the surrounding heat is soothing him and how it's making you so soft and pliable.

"Bears cannot handle hot environment", is what you say when Price joins you. "I'm no bloody bear", he will say, but you definitely see him wincing while getting close to you from behind. This stubborn man is covered head to toe in hair, and while the situation for him is definitely uncomfortable, he will tough it out so long as he gets to be in control of how you clean your body. This hairy man has a fine body underneath all the curls drenched in hot water, and I'd be damned if you don't end up having a delightful time as he cleans the both of you.

Poor Simon will join, and I firmly believe you will have to either kick him out or really lower the temperature of the shower. He won't say much when he slides in, but when you finally glance back, this hulking wall of man is definitely lobster red and grumpy. For a stoic person, his body sure does a lot of the talking for him, especially when it is laid bare in front of you, and all you can read off him is that he will stay with you for your entire shower.

Lemme rephrase my point, they cannot handle a hot shower unless YOU are in it.

[lemonwrap]

Thinking about how if you use 09 Ghost’s backstory with 22 Ghost, Ghost likely hasn’t trusted anyone since Roba. He retreated into himself and became a husk, because it was clear that trusting anybody in pretty much any capacity was just asking to get fucked over.

The only thing he seemed to have left was his job. He didn’t let a single soul close to him, barely tolerating even Price and Gaz, and spent too much time contemplating pulling the trigger.

And then Soap waltzes into his life.

Soap is energetic, flirty, and seems to think he’s the funniest person in the whole damn world—the only good thing about him is that he’s excellent at his job. Ghost kind of hates him. He keeps all communication short and professional, and avoids Soap outside of missions whenever possible.

But Soap was instantly drawn to his new lieutenant, and despite the man’s rebuffs and typically cold demeanor, Soap has never been one to give up easily. He makes an effort to get to know the elusive Ghost. It happens slowly—very slowly—but Ghost begins to warm up to Soap. He tolerates the sergeant’s jokes better (and even occasionally likes them), speaks more than a few words to him at a time, and Soap’s bright personality no longer makes him want to push the man out of a window. Usually. Ghost starts to look forward to spending time with Soap, and they work together better than ever before. Even Price notices the change.

And then Las Almas happens. Ghost hears Soap’s voice over the comms, and realizes with a startling clarity that he’s relieved that Soap is alive, and not for tactical reasons—he’s relieved Soap is alive because he likes him.

Ghost could’ve left Soap behind, but he didn’t. He coached Soap with jokes, advice, and encouragement as he made his way through the city. He waited in that church with bated breath until Soap arrived, bleeding and exhausted but managing a smile.

After that, they’re practically joined at the hip. Ghost gains something he hasn’t had in a long, long time: someone to trust.

[cementcornfield]

Do you play Call of Duty?

Noooo I don't play Call of Duty 😡

[springtyme]

Dying on the hill of Simon Riley being a “I wanna be yours” over a “you got to be mine” kind of man

[witchthewriter]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐔𝐩 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐂𝐎𝐃 𝐌𝐚𝐧

⤷ gender neutral and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆

・The only time you are ever awake before John, is the morning after he's come back from deployment.

・You let him sleep for as long as possible, as much as you want to wake him and be his complete centre of attention, you don't.

・He looks too peaceful

・And younger; the worry lines are erased from his face, the stress completely dissolved

・You want to kiss him, nibble his ear, nuzzle his neck. Which you do eventually do, however, you wait for him to rouse himself from sleep

・When he looks at the clock, his eyes go wide

"Why didn't you wake me love?"

"Because you needed the sleep!"

"Well, know that I'd rather be sleep-deprived and with you, then asleep. So next time, please wake me."

𝑺𝒊𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝑹𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒚

・Much like his Captain, Simon is always awake before you. Even the morning of his deployment. He doesn't even sleep when he gets back home.

・Just sits on the back porch, mug of tea in his hands and Riley at his feet.

・But when he's been sick, that's when you get the jump on him (no babe not literally)

・He's grouchy and moody. Sure that he's fine and doesn't need help.

・But the downside of looking after him, is that he doesn't want you to catch whatever he has. So no kissing. No cuddling.

・Well, his rules hold up for an hour, before your puppy dog eyes wear him down.

"Fine. C'mere love."

𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝑴𝒂𝒄𝑻𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒉

・Ooh this man loves sleeping him.

・You cannot get this man up before 8 AM when he's off deployment (which may seem still early to some but for a soldier - it is a HUGE sleep in)

・Mumbles in his sleep too, so you can just lay there and hear a random story from your unconscious boyfriend

"And then his mask was actually ... just his face," he said with enthusiasm. Eyes closed, than back to snoring.

・It freaked you out at first. But now it's absolutely entertaining. Sometimes you take videos of him and send them to Simon, who always loves receiving them.

・In the morning, you like to snuggle close to Johnny. Your nose touching his. Eyelashes fluttering against his naturally dark ones.

・You love staring at him. You could do it for hours...except, he's start to notice.

"Oi, ye know starin' is considered creepy-"

𝑲𝒚𝒍𝒆 𝑮𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒌

・Does love a good sleep in

・Especially with you in his arms, his face in the crook of your neck.

・When you feel a stir behind you, you're sure to grab the arm closest to you and secure it around you

・You hear a laugh behind you, but no resistance

"Thought you were asleep love."

"Hmm, thought you were too. Now scoot closer, you're letting the cold in."

・Luckily he can't see him rolling his eyes. Although, there is a small smirk on his lips

"Whatever you say, my darling."

"Watch your tone, Garrick."

𝑲𝒐̈𝒏𝒊𝒈

・Loves kisses, especially on his shoulders. It makes him giddy inside.

・Sometimes he'll just pretend to be asleep so you can wake him up with kisses

・Other times, he can't stay in bed. He needs to pee.

・And as much as he wants to be quiet, he cannot. Whenever he wakes up, ultimately you wake up as well.

・Your personal heater is gone and you feel the chill near instantly

"Oh, es tut mir leid, Schatz, geh wieder ins Bett" (Oh, I'm sorry honey, go back to bed)

"No, I'll just have a tea and sit on the lounge. Will you join me?"

𝑨𝒍𝒆𝒋𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝑽𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒔

・Surprisingly, he's one to always be awake before you.

・Giving you a kiss before going downstairs to start on breakfast for the two of you.

・It's annoying when you do want to wake up before him, to take on the chores that he usually does.

・You even set an alarm underneath your pillow so that you could wake up before him.

・But you slept through the first alarm and he was the one to turn it off.

・Yet, whenever you do wake up, you immediately throw back the blankets and run downstairs to jump in his arms.

"Mi amor, what are you doing up?"

"I wanted to be close to you! I missed you."

"Aw, Calientas mi corazon querida" (You warm my heart, darling)

𝑲𝒆𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒖𝒔𝒔

・Likes sleeping in but can't unless you're with him

・So you usually just flip over and land on top of him, knowing he was in the process of waking up anyway

"You comfortable there, kid?"

・His voice groggy and deep, a hand snaking it's way around your waist to keep you still

"The most comfortable," you said, scrunching your nose and giving him a peck on the mouth

"You comfortable?" You said sweetly, making sure to keep all your weight directly upon him.

"Incredibly," he said with a slight wheeze. But he didn't move, nor made a thought to. He loved the feeling of you so close.

・Knowing that he made it home again. To you.

[tomialtooth]

I think that making Bell the submissive one in the relationship is kind of lame but if you're going to do it you should have Adler put a muzzle on Bell. More for his protection than for sexy reasons.

[bonefall]

with how little relevance characters often have outside their introduction arc, its genuinely WEIRD how relevant tree constantly is. which is an odd criticism because characters should remain relevant after being established but in warriors it feels like blatant favoritism. i dont even dislike treee and i liked him a lot in tbc but its ODD

Mr. Gas Leak has a very distinct feeling (an odor, if you will) to me. It feels like he became so relevant because people were frustrated that he wasn't doing the Very Special Job they'd invented just for him back in AVoS, so the writing team tried to "respond to criticism" by making him show up all the time.

But like... that wasn't really the heart of the criticism. It wasn't a clamor to bring back Tree specifically. It was frustration that they would set up worldbuilding elements and then forget about them when they became inconvenient.

SkyClan's return, negotiator role, the border guard between the DF and StarClan, voting to oust a leader. We've gotten at least one (sometimes multiple) additions that threaten to shake up the status quo in every modern arc-- and then they're forgotten about or not used to their full potential.

In honesty though, the more he appears, the more I actively dislike him. I thought he was cool at first, I enjoyed the idea that SkyClan was going to bring some new dynamics to the politics at the lake. But every role he's had since his introduction has been insufferable.

I HATED how he absolutely refused to do his job in Squilf's Hope because of personal bias

I can't stand how the Sisters have been willing to help the Clans after their treatment in that book, and the constant narrative derision they get in spite of that

The fact everyone just forgot Tree existed in ASC until Nightheart said something was astonishingly bad writing. If I forgot about a major worldbuilding element like that I would be genuinely embarassed, not cutely lampshading it

Even the way he ended up "helping" when the narrative remembered him was annoying. Like, "Oh right! Having this role just grinds the action to a screeching halt! Instead of the Battle Cats doing Battles, they argue offscreen about things! Wow, this was a terrible idea to begin with!"

There are waaaay worse characters in WC, and I can't bring myself to hate him the same way I hate some others like Gray Wing. But boy, he has found his way down my list of "least liked WC characters."

[natelia-aldelliz]

Ghost : Ok, why do you baby Gaz so much, you do know he's a grown man, right?

Price : Oh come on, first off I don't baby him, second, jealousy doesn't suit you, third, he's the youngest of us, it's only normal that I watch over him a bit more, he's basically a baby, he just turned 27 last week!

Gaz : Damn, don't remind me, I feel old. But also like, maybe it's because he's the youngest sibling, but I do feel older than Soap most days, to be honest.

Price : Well yeah, you two are very close in age, but Soap's actually gonna turn 29 later this year, right Soap?

Soap :

Price : ... Soap?

Soap : Yep, sorry, yeah, wasn't paying attention, sure, I'm gonna be uh... 28? Wait no, that was last year, 29 right, ahah...

Ghost :

Gaz :

Price :

Soap : *avoids eye contact*

Price : How old are you son?

Soap : 29?

Gaz : Aren't you supposed to be 28...?

Soap : Ahah, yeah, that's what I meant, I'm 28, I'm gonna be 29... right?

Ghost : You're lying aren't you. You look like you're lying. Price, he's lying.

Price : What's your birth year?

Soap :

Price : ....

Soap, visibly counting on his fingers : 1994 !

Ghost, staring at Price with his look(tm) :

Gaz : Wait, you don't know your birth year by heart?

Ghost : No, he just doesn't remember the lie he said.

Soap : Come on, LT, what do you mean, a lie, I'm just your average 29 years old man, born in 1994, what do you want me to say?

Ghost : Johnny, you'd be born in 1993 if you were 29, I mean, if you didn't also lie about your birthday.

Soap :

Price, having had enough of today already : Okay, how old are you really. What's your real birth year.

Soap : ..... 1996 ?

Gaz : I'M NOT THE FUCKING BABY ANYMORE THIS IS THE GREATEST DAY OF MY LIFE !!!

Ghost, concerned : You're 26 ?? But your file said you've been in active duty for 10 years !

Soap : Yep 😁👍

Ghost :

Soap : Funny story, I was actually 15 when i enrolled, cause it was before my birthday, but yeah.

Ghost :

Soap : Don't look at Price like that, he knew all about me ~allegedly~ kidnapping a military officer and still wanted me, he's not gonna push me out because my joints are gonna hurt two years later than he originally thought.

Gaz : Wait, no, back up, you did what to a military officer?

Soap : Oh, I never told you? Yeah, he was really pissing me off, you know how it is-

Price : I'm going back to bed.

[temeyes]

SCURRIES IN THE SECOND I SAW THJS OPEN

okay so. You headcanon ghost wearing glasses yeah? What if he forgets his contacts and has to wear his glasses like. Over/under the balaclava

yeah!! tho Ghost w/ glasses was mostly because of good mut Bressy who started the trend on twt lmao

I COULDN'T RESIST I HAD TO DRAW THIS OUT REAL QUICK, but it'll depend on what mask he has on: balaclava = under, skull plate = over + a shit ton of tape