#cod x southern!reader

[moonriseoverkyoto]

Whistle while you work

Synopsis - sometimes all a little lass needs is to just holler the lyrics of an angry female-empowering country music, but a certain beloved Scot just can’t help but be worried he screwed up

cw: swearing, medical and military workplace inaccuracies, playful language, suggestive content, heavy flirting, slight miscommunication trope(this hurts me more than this hurts you believe me), nicknames, use of Scottish and southern(Georgia/texas) accent that some readers may find corny or displeasurable

Pairing: Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x southern!medic!reader

Author’s note: I know I said I was busy but I heard “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood come on the radio and it’s been an ear worm that sticking to my brain like flies on a horse. But once again I’m here to remind you that I’m taking southern notes from Georgia and Texas because I was raised in one and I visit family quite often in the other. I am completely open to constructive criticism but if you have nothing nice to say then you just scroll past it costs you absolutely nothing to mind your business. Italicized is singing btw.

©️moonriseoverkyoto 2023. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

Soap had begun to have a routine with you. He could often come visit you after shift hours or you would come along on missions and be his first pit stop at base. It was a beautiful little arrangement that the F1F begun to adore. You were the warm fire to warm their cold hearts or the blazing hearth to whip them into shape if they got rowdy. So it was a little jarring to him when he strolled into your clinic and heard an angry drawl.

“Right now, he's probably slow dancin' with a bleach-blonde tramp. And she’s probably gettin’ frisky.”

Your voice had him weak at the knees but there was something off in your pitch. A grit, an anger, a frustration. He suddenly began retracing his steps, trying to find a failure placed upon his behalf.

“Right now, he's probably buyin' her some fruity little drink 'Cause she can't shoot whiskey.”

“Bonnie?” the man called out to you, his reaction was controlled but his heart thumped against his chest trying to break out. When you didn’t respond he decided to stay by the doors out of your vision to figure out what was the issue, studying you.

“Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool stick. Showin' her how to shoot a combo. And he don't know”

Your hips began to sway against the rising tune and even in your scrubs, there was a clear muscle memory when it came to the rhythm of the song. Soap quickly exited and left to go to the common room to find the rest of the F1F playing poker

“There’s loverboy, we were wondering how long it would take for you and-“

“Firstly, she’s my friend Capt’n you know that. Secondly, Somethin’s a mattah with Bonnie.” Soap cut Price off quickly not caring for niceties.

“why because she’s running a little late?” Gaz spoke while checking his turn. It was comical how they knew you by your nicknames from Soap rather than your god given name.

“Aye ‘nd she’s singin’ this song of ‘ers and it’s got me all worried. I mean I know that I’ve been a wee bit busy lately but I’ve made sure to make me rounds and when I came to her place she was swinging hips and I ken to know when somethin’s a mattah with me Bonnie-“ Simon’s head turned to his friend with interest as Gaz cut the rambling man short.

“Calm down mate. We cannot understand you when you go back to the ancestral plane with that tongue of yours” Gaz spoke. Price waved him off to let the Scott breathe.

“She’s up tae high doh.” Soap rushed out, his brows knit together trying to piece together what could’ve happened.

“In English, lad” Price spoke up. However somebody came to his rescue.

“The phrase is meant to be used to describe when somebody is pent up, flustered. It’s a Scottish saying.” Ghost answered with a deep baritone. Everyone was surprised but secretly noted the phrase for whenever they had to go solo with the Mohawk man.

“So go talk to her” Price responded to Soap with a look that said he was ordering, then he offered a small gift of liquid courage

Soap refused the drink and made his way back over to the infirmary. His brain scrambling to find an answer.

“I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive. Carved my name into his leather seats”

Your belted notes rung through the doors and hit his ears. He vowed he would find out the issue and fix it just so he wouldn’t have to hear the pain in your voice. He came around the corner as you stood in front of a table, organizing your different surgery and procedural tools. He spotted the AirPod beneath your trucker hat (since wearing a traditional cowboy hat was too distracting in the work place even during the quiet shifts. )

“I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights. Slashed a hole in all four tires-“

Soap swallowed all his worry as he grabbed an AirPod out and spoke but you beat him to the punch.

“Who in all of god givens creation just ordered a free fuckin’- Oh sweetheart Johnny it’s you.” Your fire calmed just as quick as it kindled.

“hey lassie I was getting worried about you” Soap said. His heart and maybe something else throbbed at your honey tone. One day he’d finally act upon those feelings but today he needed to worry about something else. “What’s got you all worked up?”

“Are you saying I’m throwin’ a hissy fit?”

“Noo jist haud on there Lassie. I jist was-“

“Heavens to Betsy! You do think I’m havin’ a hissy fit, why you oughta know that I was the best little-“

As you two went on back and forth, the distance between your bodies got smaller and smaller. Two wide eyed grins plastered across your face. He cut you off with a smirk

“Oh I’m sure you were the.. how do you say it again? Oh right” Johnny leaned in closer and his voice dropped, “the best little girl this side of the Mississippi. Ain’t that right, hen?”

“I know damn well you did not just call me a hen from a damn barn house-“ you went to speak again but got cut off as your throat hitched, soap’s mouth just by your ear and his tone got unrealistically deeper and more dominant. A careful hand grazing your hip.

“Shut yer pus for a moment, hen. Tell me what’s a matter. What’s got you so up tae high doh.” The male spoke.

You were silent for once. All the cogs in your brain just stopped. Everything was quiet, if you had perfect hearing you could hear Johnny’s poor heart banging to get out of his chest in anxiety from him boldly caressing your waist.

“Aww come on lassie, need me to buy a wrench for that brain of yours”

“I misplaced my sewing needle. Well I did or one of the stupid nurses did but I can’t find it and I won’t find it till the cows come home” you huffed.

“The one from your nana?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?”

“No need for the ‘tude. May I look?”

“Sure. It’s no bigger than a minnow in a fishing pond” you said softly as he gently moved you aside to look at the table below. His trained eye spotting a glint on the ground. He reached over to pick it up and show it to you.

“Bless your heart! Good god Johnny, oh my sweet I could kiss you!” You cried out with the biggest grin. You leaned forward and kissed him softly on his cheek. His stubble gently scratching your soft, plump lips. His cheeks barely flushed as his smirk transformed into a smile and a small chuckle left his throat. He took a moment to memorize the feeling of your lips for later.

If that’s all it took to make his little Bonnie proud. He’d search every haystack for your needle in a heartbeat. You were his everything, he’d wait until the right moment to tell you. Especially when he was pretty sure the rest of the team was right around the corner listening to them. He’ll confront them later, for now he wants to stay in this moment with you. Watching his sweet hen, praising him. Grinning as she danced around with the needle he found, and even maybe hid.

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Slang translations

Noo jist haud on - Now just hold on there

Heavens to Betsy - southern expression of surprise

Hen- a woman (Scottish term of endearment)

Bonnie - a beautiful woman, Scottish term of endearment typically paired with Bonnie lass

Lass/Lassie- beautiful woman, term of endearment

Shut yer pus - Scottish way of saying hush up, not literally referring to genitalia

Does a bear shit in the woods - kinda like a sarcastic response of “duh.” Whenever you’re asked a question. Hard concept to explain but I hope it’s not just me who got this from their southern mama

no bigger than a minnow in a fishing pond - comparison of size

Author’s note: AAAAAAAA I DID IT. I wrote my first fic. Oh my god. I’m so tired but I hope everyone loves this as much as I did. Please go listen to the song as well. It’s “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood

General Taglist (comment to be added) : @glossythor @banana-beans-police

also thank you for the support for the series: @fruitsa1ad

[frudoo]

Just an itty bitty teeny tiny thought about biker 141 finding themselves the sweetest little pretty thing.... Most people are terrified of them for good reason, Price as the club president, Ghost as his VP, Gaz and Soap are two of their top guys. It's a sight to see them on or off their motorcycles but then there's you. The sweet little thing who runs across the boys somehow and instead of showing an ounce of fear, you give them a brilliant smile and talk sweetly to them. The boys decide then that you'll be their shared old lady.

Idk something about Biker!141 traveling through the states and meeting a pretty lil southern waitress with a heart of gold <3

Warnings: Reader's coworkers + most townfolk are prejudiced assholes. Mentions of food, and getting way too friendly with strangers (this is fiction, stay safe irl please)

The diner falls silent the second everyone hears the roar of the motorcycles’ engines coming to a halt in the front parking lot. The cooks start cussing, the parents start pulling their children closer, the busboys go to hide in the back. But you, a sweet, naive waitress on your first week, are completely unbothered. You greet the four huge, rugged men clad in leather jackets and dirt-covered jeans as they walk through the door, telling them to sit wherever they’d like.

     Your boss, wide-eyed and baffled, grabs the back of your apron and drags you into the kitchen. You brush her off with an exasperated huff, eyebrows furrowed at the middle-aged woman.

     “Steer clear of those men. I’m gonna tell ‘em to beat it,” she tells you matter-of-factly, wrinkled arms crossed over her chest.

     “Don’t be ridiculous,” you roll your eyes, retying your apron and shoving past her, out of the kitchen.

     You’re surprised to see that most of the patrons have left the diner, wads of cash left on their half-empty tables to cover their bills. All of this just because of some men that look a little different than them? It doesn’t sit right with you. You pull out your little notepad as you approach the table they chose, putting on your kindest smile. They all smile back—even the one with the weird mask has crinkles around his eyes, giving him away.

     “I’m so sorry about that wait. What can I start y’all off with to drink?” 

     “Waters all around, sweetheart,” the one with the mutton chops hums, closing his menu. 

     “Alright… and have y'all decided on food?” You begin scribbling on your little tablet of paper, nodding between each of their orders.

     The meatloaf special for mutton chops, extra potatoes, no green beans. A cheeseburger for the one with the mohawk, onion rings instead of fries. Fried catfish for the last two, with fries (because they have taste, according to the pretty one with the scar on his cheek).

     “I’ll have that right out for y’all,” you smile, giving them all a little wink before returning to the kitchen and putting their ticket on the line. 

     The cooks all give you glares, and your boss even gives you the cold shoulder, but you pay it no mind as you fill up four glasses with water and arrange them on a tray. As you balance the platter on your fingertips and make your way back to your table, one of the busboys sticks his foot out and trips you, sending both you and the waters sliding across the floor. You’re absolutely humiliated, pushing yourself up on your sore knees and dusting off your uniform as tears stream down your face.

     The one with the mask hurries over, offering his hand to help you back onto your feet. Your bottom lip trembles as you look up at him, a pitiful little whimper escaping your throat.

     “I-I’m so sorry about that, I’ll go get you new ones right now,” you sniffle, expecting him to chew you out.

     Instead, he cups your round cheeks in his gloved palms and thumbs away your tears, shushing you softly. Despite not even knowing him, you allow yourself to melt into his touch.

     “No apologizin’, lovie,” he grunts, “No’ your fault. Tha’ fucker always givin’ you trouble?” 

     “Hm? Oh, n-no, not usually,” you explain, carefully pulling away to clean up the mess on the floor. “Thank you- um…”

     “Simon,” he introduces himself, giving you a nod before going to sit back down with his mates.

     You mutter his name under your breath to remember it as you drop the broken glass in the garbage, drying off the tray and placing four new fresh glasses of water onto it. This time, the journey to the table is successful, and you hand each man their drink with a polite smile, still slightly embarrassed. They all make it a point to thank you with more enthusiasm than is needed, and the ones you don’t know introduce themselves as John, Kyle, and Johnny. 

     When the bell dings, signaling that their food is ready, you suck in a deep breath and place their dishes onto your tray, praying that this one won’t get dropped. Thankfully, you make it back with fully-intact plates, thanking the heavens that the cooks had sense enough not to burn the guys’ meals. You’re about to turn and allow them to enjoy their food, but John spreads his legs and taps one wide thigh, signaling for you to take a seat. You’re not entirely sure why you do it, but you comply, and he wraps an arm around your waist as he eats and converses with the group. 

     They’re all good company, constantly telling jokes that get you giggling, or pushing flirty little remarks your way. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the attention, but eventually your boss comes over to snatch you off of John’s lap. You can practically see the steam coming out of her ears as she drags you into the kitchen once again, face red and eyes wild with rage.

     “You’re fired,” she grits her teeth, forcefully undoing your apron and pulling it off of your body.

     “Go to hell,” you retort. "You'll fit right in."

     You don’t let her see, but your eyes are blurry with tears as you grab your purse from your locker and shove your way out the front door. You’d forgotten how chilly it was outside and now you’re shivering as you pull out your phone to order an Uber. When you hear the little bell on the door jingle, you flinch, half-expecting it to be your old boss coming out to hit you with a broom. Instead, a warm leather jacket is placed over your shoulders and a strong arm pulls you against a firm body.

     “Jus’ me, dove,” Kyle grins, rubbing your arm with his hand in an attempt to warm you up quicker. “The lads’re takin’ care o’the bill. Be out any second.”

     You nod and rest your head on his shoulder, protesting only half-heartedly when he takes your phone from your hands and cancels your Uber. 

     After a few moments, the other three men pile out of the diner, adjusting their gloves and wiping sweat off their brow. John sniffs and smiles at you warmly, pointing towards where their bikes are parked. Kyle helps you put his jacket on properly as he walks you over, and all four of them line up next to their respective rides. You shyly sway in place as they look at you expectantly.

     “Well, hen? Take yer pick.”

[j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus]

OMFG AGHHHH

GRAVES X READER MY BELOVEDDDDDDD

Graves is either the most dominant, rough man EVER in bed, or he's a fucking sub boy.

He either has you riding him on his lap, pulling your hair, kissing you so hard that you would be worried that you'd bruise except you're so brainless from his destruction of your cunt that you can't do anything but warble out thank yous and pleases and "harder sir~!"s, or he's laid down on the bed and you're on top of him and he can't think of anything because it feels so good and he's just staring at your tits like a twelve year old boy seeing porn for the first time.

Like the SECOND you're on top of him he's either guiding your hips and pulling your hair, or he's calling you mommy/daddy and there is NO in-between.

Like ESPECIALLY if he's had a bad day, you're sitting on his lap and you're spitting in his mouth and gently praising him for taking it like a good boy and that's the ONLY thing making his evening good.

Literally if you're one of his Shadows he'll spar with you and it'll end up with the side of your face firmly on the ground, he has your hands behind your back, and he's telling you "C'mon, darlin'... You know you lost now," with SUCH a thick accent.

Ahdusnd foaming at the mouth I love my southern men

[marksbear]

Could I ask for 141 with a southern male reader? I’d like to know what the boys would think of a heavy southern drawl (cowboys are all the rage now a days lol)

Wish I could write more, but I don't have much time rn. But I wrote as much as I could and on my blog theres more fics about y'know cowboy/southern reader

141 BOYS X SOUTHERN MALE READER

Price is probably the least bothered by your accent. But he is interested by it. It's not everyday that he hears a southern accent like yours.

He secretly likes the silly nicknames you give him.

Anytime the team has a free day or something you'll take him to see you ride at a rodeo.

He probably knows how to ride a horse so you and him would spend time together riding around valleys and mountains and hike and camp. Like some brokeback mountain type shit.

As you two grow closer one day you'll just plop down your cowboy hat on his head and just walk away like nothing happened. Like your hat would just be a symbol of y'alls friendship when you give it to him.

He's not a messy person, but when it comes to arguing and he hears your accent thickens as you argue with the person, he'll watch from afar only stepping in when it becomes heated.

You teaching him how to use a lasso and how to make a lasso.

He likes to playfully correct your grammar when you say things. "Ain't isn't a word L/n."

He likes to help out on your ranch/farm from time to time.

Likes to call you outlaw.

"It's hotter than a witches cooch ain't it soap?" *Soap stares at you like your were some fucking weirdo.* Your guys first ever conversation.

From that day forward y'all became the most annoying duo inside the whole military.

Steals your cowboy hat and boots all the time.

"Yer got a ol' lady at home or what?" Soap asks in a teasing tone.

Him laughing his ass off if you ever get thrown off a bull/horse.

If you have a ranch and you invite him over he would not help at all with chasing/ hurdling cattle. But he does help you groom the horses and milk the cows.

Him not trying to giggle while you scold him, because your accent is thicker and louder every time you do it.

Likes to poke fun at your accent even though he cannot be talking like at all.

Watching you in awe as you lasso an enemy and tie them up as if they were just some light sheep.

If you like to chew on wheat straw he'll side eye you a couple times as you just mind your business.

At your ranch he'll make a little competition to see who can lift more hay barrels.

Likes to watch you argue because you have a small temper and can be angered easily. So he just likes to see a good southern brawl from you.

He was finally at peace once that he heard a familiar accent from where he was from.

The boy was thrilled to hear an american accent let alone a southern one. He was over the moon.

He probably grew up with people with a southern accent so once he heard yours he knew he had to get you on his side.

He knows how southern people get with their temper and feelings so he tries his hardest for you to not hate him like the others do.

Slowly you two begin to bond.

And once you two become friends y'all begin to hang out. He knows alot about farm animals and etc so he would help out at your farm/ranch. He loves taking care of the crops and all that.

The others on the team call you crazy for trusting him, but with your small temper you shouted at them with your accent coming in full force.

You calling him "City boy." while he calls you "Cowboy."

Him picking up your accent and words.

Since your accent begins to rub off on him he'll start calling you"darling." or "sugar."

Slowly tries to make you betray the team with him. He wouldn't force you, but he'll just go on and on as to why you should side with him.

THE END

[prettygrltatum]

Food For Thought!

T141 x Southern!reader

+ Simon "Ghost" Riley x Southern!reader

Tags: fem!reader! plantonic with the rest of the crew but you and Simon have a little something something yk?, canon typcial crusing, fluff, the boys just being silly, american and british bickering

a/n: so remember that little brain fart I had? so this is what happens when your bored with nothing to do <<33 I know that this won't do many southerns justice, we're all different from different cities to towns but I just wanted to share this with yall :)) also please tell me where yall from! I really want to know! Enjoy!

"What the hell is this (reader).." Price mumbled under his breath. He cranked his neck back as he looked at you with disgust. You rolled your eyes as you set the plate of fried chicken, string beans, and a nice, thick, creamy and chewy mac-n-cheese. "Okay, I'll go get the sweet tea. Do not and I mean do not touch anything!" You warned, leaving the dineing room to the kitchen. Soap came in as Ghost followed. "Aye. The hell is that?" Soap asked, sniffing the air to the unfamillar smell.

Price hunched his shoulder, and turned to the kitchen as you digged into the fridge trying to find the homemade sweet tea you made this morning. "I don't know, she made this mess. It looks greasy." He huffed. "I heard that! You haven't taste it yet!" You came back with a huge jug of sweet tea, the men looking at you with bewilderment. Gaz, running late had came into the dining room, his cheeky smile fading once the scent of southern food hit his nose.

"What's that?" He looked over to the abunces of food. He smiled as he turned to you and helped you with the jug of tea. "Thank you Gaz, anyways. I know you brits-"

"I'm not British." Soap shouted with offense. You all looked at him and then turning the attention back to you. "Anyways! This here? This here is the shit. Your taste buds will never feel the same after you eat these homemade classics of the south!" You squeaked. The men looked over at thefoood, the grease and butter glowing in the light. The men sruvnhed their noses as they groaned in disgusted.

Your feelings where slightly hurt, but as a proud (southern state) native, you must bring them the food from the home of the free. Eitehr way, any food you cook could explode their brains. "Think we should try it L.T?" Soap asked looking up at him. Simon had a bit of a soft spot for you. He loved your american accent, the way you had some much pride and respectful for yourself. He thought it was attractive. Might I say sexy? He was head over heels fpr you and wanted you to like him as much as possible. And if that means to eat your seemingly gross and fatty american food, then so be it.

"Wouldn't hurt to try." He simply said. "Really? Don't wanna be fat like them americans!" Soap joked. You reached over and punched his shoulder as he laughed. "Oh please! Half the people in this country needs a nice oral cleansing..”

Soap rolled his eyes and ignored your jab at him and moved on. “I think we should try it. Don’t seem so bad.” Ghost mumbled as he sat down next to you, his arm resting on your chair. “Really?” Gaz sighed.

“Yeah. Don’t seem so bad. Just Mac-n-Cheese.” He huffed at Gaz with a slight scorn to his tone. “Whateva you say I guess..” Soap sighed as he sat himself down at the food. “I want to try the tea first.” Simon said as he pointed to the tea jug. “Sure!” You stood up and pour each and everyone of you a cup of homemade natural born tea.

“Alright! Drink up!” You cheered. Price, oddity sniffed it and pushed the drink away. “No.” Ghost lifted his mask up, and took a sip before hacking and lammend the glass on the table. “AUGH! AUHN! WHAT THE FUCK?!” He screamed as you laughed at his intolerance to the sweetness of the tea.

Gaz just smacked his lips and pushed the cup away from him as well. “Too sweet, urgh!” He groaned as he smacked his lips and slapped his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Meanwhile Soap was still taking sip after sip of his drink, almost gone at this point. “Seems like you liked it Soap!” You giggled.

“I just like sweet stuff alright?” He chuffed as he sucked the life out of the cup. “I win!” Soap scoffed as he snatched Price’s cup of tea from him. Price didn’t seem to mind anyways. “You’re not gonna try Cap’?” He shook his head no, “I need to watch my blood sugar nowadays.” You chuckled at his words. Such an old man thing to say. Or someone who has diabetes. Either way it’s kinda funny. Not really.

“Okay try the Mac-n-Cheese now!!”

(Should I add onto this?)

[cherie-doll]

hiii!!! can you please make a fic about keegan having a nightmare and accidentally waking up the reader who is sleeping next to him? I adore your work so much!!!!

experimented with this one a little bit, also im counting this as prompt day uhh 8? except i skipped idk how many days

The road Keegan walked was long and seemingly endless; nothing but gravel ahead and the surrounding forest on both sides. When he glanced up, far ahead, he could see a valley. The air was muggy; suffocating. His throat was dry and thirsting for water, and he trembled as he continued walking. He tried counting how many yards he had left ahead, but he couldn't make out a number. He heard a trickle of water and turned, looking for a stream. And surely, he found it; he neared the riverbed and sank to his knees in gratitude and relief. He lowered his head, placing a hand on either side, fingernails digging into the earth, the soil soft and miry. He lapped and drank from the streamlet like a dog, feeling the cool water running over his face. Then the smell... Oh, the smell! It was strong and pungent. The river reeked of blood. It was seeping into his skin, staining and tainting. It was revolting and repulsive. He felt sick yet, he couldn't pull his head out of the water.

Keegan opened his eyes to the darkness of the bedroom, the cool air coming from the AC, and yet, he still felt the tightness in his chest, the desperation of gasping for air. The hands that had been buried deep within the soil now clutched the bedsheets.

In the stillness of the night, you had been woken up to find Keegan like this. It was one of many firsts you've seen his eyes wide with horror. Keegan's eyes couldn't focus, he swear he could feel bad things under his skin until he felt a warm touch. A warming touch that jarred him like the spark of electricity in contrast to the cold, cutting-like water from the stream. You called out to him, repeating his name over and over like a prayer you've said too many times in church. Your fingernails pried on the skin of his wrists, feeling the pulsating sensation of blood running through his veins. He swore it was his father's blood he had been drinking, how he could still taste the brininess of it on his tongue.

You pressed your lips to his, letting him taste you. Pushing his tongue into your mouth, hoping to wash away the blood, he tasted the cheap beer you'd been drinking earlier that night. He closed his eyes whilst you opened yours, sliding your finger under his cheek and caressing his skin. Parting from your lips, his body slumped, relaxed and rested his head on your shoulder. He got rid of the taste, and now he smelled your scent hoping to get rid of the rotting stench of a decomposing corpse.

He counted his blessings and reflected on his curse. You cleansed him, purified him, sucked the sin right out of his body.

[lxvvie]

now i propose you and philip raising your kids to be multilingual. as a girl who is taking mandarin as my secondary language ik the man would just have the look of huhhhh 🤨 when his daughter asks for white rabbit (yummy candy that i love).

definitely tries to teach them funny phrases, but the pronunciation is off

We stan a multilingual household over here!

Because the drawl is too strong, you and the kiddo poke fun at him whenever the little one tries to teach Phil a new word or phrase and he sounds country as hell saying it back lol.

[ghouldtime]

COD Camp AU Part Two

Follow up to this post

Just assorted characters who I have ideas for in it. And before anyone comes at me like "oh but but Graves tried killing them" or "König is apart of KorTac and they're enemies with SpecGru" I'm aware. This is an AU for a reason :D That doesn't happen here, I'm pretending like they're all not trying to kill one another and haven't because I can

Kate Laswell (Camp Advisor)

She's one of the few who doesn't go by her callsign. Instead she goes by Larkspur, her wife's favorite flower. She figured it was a little less creepy sounding to kids over "Watcher"

Kate can usually be found near Price or simply checking around camp herself. She's usually the one responsible for safety inspections and reporting anything that needs to be fixed officially

While she's not fond of it, she usually is the one handling all the paperwork and "official" boring things. It's not the most exciting job but someone needs to do it

That being said, she can make quick work of it. She's handled more complicated things in her life than the headache that is dealing with legal documents

She'd rather be out and actually active than stuck behind a desk all day. Which is why she does try to get around to all parts of camp. She's jumping in where she can and is quick to lend a hand where ever she is needed

All the campers love her. What's not to love? Sure she's a little bit intimidating at first but she's simply so used to having to put on a stern face to convey how serious she is and to please listen to her (dealing with stubborn operators and military personnel alike will do that to you) that by now, it's a habit. But she's understanding, empathetic, and proactive - she's trying to fix problems and prevent things from going south before they can

Since she's often popping in on activities, lending a hand, helping where she can - many campers easily recognize her and are usually quite excited to see her. Especially when it comes to things like team events (Listen to her, she WILL give you pointers to beat the other team) or crafts. Kate has a variety of skills up her sleeves and she's got a knack for showing them off

Usually though, she's far more involved with the counselors than the campers. She's the one making sure that everyone is working as well as they can together and things are being done properly. If not, they're being reassigned. She's checking in to help maintain the natural flow - and making sure there's no extreme drama or any other things going on

Adjusting to camp life and living in closer quarters isn't something that many can easily adapt to and she knows it. Plus, sometimes campers can be a handful and a half and it can be exhausting mentally and physically. It's important for her to make sure the counselors are okay because EVERYONE needs someone looking out for them. They might be looking out for the kids but she's looking out for them and has their backs

Especially when it comes to interpersonal counselor relationships. That stuff is no joke. Resentment and drama can easily build and divides can form and the last thing she wants to have to deal with is that headache - plus, she does care about everyone's well being. Everyone can't be well if there's quarrels happening, especially behind the scenes.

If anything happens, she's the woman you can rely on and SHOULD. Go to her first. She'll always be the one to lend a listening ear and will do her best to solve it or at least put something towards it

Or just go to her if you want someone to easily hang out with and chat to. Especially if you'd like a moment of peace and quiet. The world can be loud and chaotic out there but her office is usually much less of a shit show. You'll get bonus points if you're bringing her extra cookies from the cafeteria (even more if you remember some for her wife)

She's the voice of reason, sensibility, and a whole lot of calm compared to all of the craziness going on. And she's super cool, how does anyone not like her. She's got SO many cool stories, she's great, I love Laswell <3

Bonus: Her wife is the camp photographer. She IS getting all those cute pictures and it IS going to be an album and it IS glorious

Nikolai (Camp Supplier)

Technically he's not apart of the staff that you'll find constantly at camp, but that doesn't make him any less important. In fact, he's the main reason WHY they can keep running and functioning as they do

He's Price's absolute go-to and is the one who is bringing things in. Whether that be dealing with the food shipments, the general equipment and maintenance things they need stocked, or really anything they need brought in - he's the guy

Usually he's in around very early mornings or very late at night, it's a rarity for him to turn up when it's normal waking hours, which is very much on purpose

Partially because unloading/loading is easier when not dealing with campers - partially because just sometimes Price has things that prooooobably wouldn't be Laswell approved and shouldn't exactly be around at camp. And partially because Price loves shooting the shit with his old buddy, having a smoke and a light drink before he has to bid Nikolai farewell as he gets back on the road

Also because if Nikolai is left to interact with any of the campers, he IS pulling the cool/fun uncle move and giving them things that he deems as child appropriate (like a knife) and teaching them how to use it

"It's good they learn now! When I was their age I could already name all the types of blades and knew how to work them too. Will come in handy one day, no?"

Not Laswell approved in the slightest. And as much as Price agrees, and as much as the campers think Nikolai is awesome (he is), Price really does NOT want to deal with being chewed out by Laswell.... again. Rightfully so but he's begrudgingly accepted that his and Nikolai's ideas of what kids these days should know aren't exactly the same as theirs

Nikolai is still very much one of the coolest guys to meet at the camp, though. While he's been politely told by Laswell to maybe back off from the campers and giving them "Fun ideas", she never said anything about the counselors

Unsurprisingly, Nikolai is incredibly popular with the counselors. You'll have to compete to get picked to help unload trucks and unpack on the days when he's coming in because EVERYONE wants to see him

He's got a great sense of humor that strays a bit more on the almost-dirty side and will instantly treat you like he's known you for your whole life. He's already got a hand clapped on your back and is asking about how school or... whatever it is you're doing is going

He'll happily give you advice and what you should do - or more correctly what he would do if he were in your shoes, but you know, that's just him. He'll likely end up talking about some story of his childhood which honestly is starting to seem like its own movie franchise with the amount of things that have happened

Overall, for the short time he's around, he's always a welcome face and you're probably going to be one of the people going "WOOO NIKOLAI!" whenever you see that semi truck. He's got a fanclub at this point

König (Maintenance)

A guy as big as him is perfect for maintenance. He already knew how to work with his hands from childhood where he grew up on a farm - his parents taught him. It's an important skill to be able to fix things, so he learned how to do it well

He can very easily pick up whatever needs to be moved or reach the tallest of places. Carrying planks of wood and fixing that one leaky pipe in the ceiling is easy as can be for him. He only really needs assistance if it's an area too small for him to fit

Which isn't very often. Usually it's things like "Billy tried doing a cartwheel but ended up face first in the wall. Anyways can you come fix it-"

It's easy enough for him. The campers usually have to vacate the area anyways when he's doing work due to potential hazards anyhow, so he works all on his own, as happy as can be

He's working on his own and is usually all alone 9/10 times. He's not very social and would rather keep to himself. Plus, kids have little filter. He'd rather take his space from them because usually if he's around them, the things THEY end up saying make him self conscious more. Even if he knows he shouldn't be, kids can be brutal

If you want to get in contact with him, usually walkie talkie is the best way. Cell service is as good as gone around most of the camp. Its that or try to look for him in areas where people wouldn't be

He's on top of things and keeps the camp in working order, luckily. Being as organized as he is and on-top of repairs means he can often be left with a fair bit of free time

Which he happily uses to go on hikes or to spend some time out in mother nature, enjoying the outdoors without pressure from anyone or anything

He's very much his normally quite socially awkward self which is why he'd prefer to stay away from others, but you can occasionally catch him mid-job. Please, don't bother him while he's working - unless he specifically volunteers you as tribute to help him (it happens when he needs someone to hold things)

Don't tell him what to do while he's doing it, though. He knows how to do his job and knows it well, which is ALSO why he doesn't like usually working with others. His own self-assurance can be misinterpreted as arrogance but he knows he's good at what he does, thank you very much

You're really not going to find him around others, except maybe the counselors and the older groups of campers who know how to actually treat others with respect. That's on rare occasions and usually it's only when he's practically made to be social

Still, you can absolutely get in his good graces and try to befriend him. Offer to help him out, get to talking to him about himself, and maybe politely steer any campers away who stare at him because he's a moose of a man - and maybe bribe him with snacks, you'll eventually get closer

He'll still not be the most chatty but you'll find he has a sense of humor (as dry and as terrible as it might be at times.. and maybe a bit snarky), and just maybe you'll find yourself hanging out with him at the art pavilion late at night, working on your own projects

He loves to carve, it keeps his hand and his mind occupied. And for being such a big guy, he's quite dexterous and has a lot of skill manipulating a knife. Maybe a worrying bit, but look! He's made you a carving of your favorite animal, maybe don't focus on the knife but rather the work that he's done (and is proud of)

Keep that as a token and you'll surely have good luck for the rest of the year. Maybe even better with him if you make him one in return

Bonus: He's unofficially banned from campfire stories. Not that he particularly wants to be there to tell him, he just might if some kids seem distressed or are begging. It's just like how his mom did for him when he was little, so surely he can do it! Except they're uh... they're the German kind. The ones that usually end with someone dying, tortured, suffering - the ones supposed to teach lessons and morals. He loved them so surely they must too - wait why are the kids crying? Oh god, he made it worse. (Banned for a reason, he's just confused and a bit baffled, he thought it was a happy one :( why are they sad?)

Phillip Graves (Equestrian Director/Barn Manager)

Sorry not sorry, I'm never UNseeing him as anything less than the utter cowboy energy he puts out. Granted, he's not from the rural countryside or a poor family. He's from an affluent family who happened to have a home in the countryside, there's a difference

He just goes by Graves because being called "Shadow" ended up with too many "oh, like the hedgehog?" 's for his liking

You're on one of three teams when it comes to him. You either love him, hate him, or love to hate him. There's absolutely no in between. He's an incredibly polarizing person with how strong his personality is

Most of the counselors simply do not like him because he's absolutely a snake in the grass and will do what he can for his benefit. It's himself and his interests first, others second. Usually that just means any and everything to do with the barn, he sees it as his priority

He's really only kept around because of how damn popular he is with the campers and parents alike - and the fact he really has money and brings a fair bit in for the camp. A lot of other staff don't like him, but you can't deny his charm or that he's actually good at what he does. He butts heads with many because he's.... himself, but he's easy enough to avoid on a general basis

Phillip is many things but lazy? Hell no. He's opportunistic. If there's an easier way to do something, he'll do it. But he'll still be working his ass off for it. He's someone where if he sees something he wants, he's going to take it. He keeps things running and his ambition keeps them two steps ahead

He's got wit, he's got charm, he's got a smile that can disarm - seriously, the man can lay it on thick like molasses and it works. He's ended up with so many campers having the innocent crush on him BECAUSE of how suave he is. Doesn't matter if you hate him, can't deny the initial strong vibe he has - even if he is a bit of a douchebag later down the line, especially if you're against him

He really doesn't care for all too many of the counselors outside of those who work directly with him. If you're working under him as apart of the barn staff, congratulations, you're apart of his crew - he's looking out for you (at least on a surface level), and he'll happily sink his teeth into anyone who comes after you with a smile on his face

His group can certainly be a bit cliquey, as in you're not sitting with them or eating with them UNLESS you're apart of the crew. But to be fair, they're usually eating breakfast significantly earlier than everyone else and eating dinner later due to the horses - and that's also a biiiit of an excuse for it

He runs a tight ship and keeps everything moving. There's no room for error or for skipping past the times on carefully laid out schedule when you have as many animals there as he does. He's got a game plan and has everything down to a T, it's fast paced, but it's how everything keeps functioning like a well oiled machine

Graves isn't lazy, no, he puts in his work. He leads best by example and knows no one will respect him if he can't show that he's WORTH that. Plus, it helps build comradery if he keeps himself involved. Not to mention, he's a firm believer in "if you want something done right, do it yourself"

Usually there's other instructors and counselors who help teach campers and manage that, he's usually doing more so day to day important barn duties and working with the advanced equestrians. He knows his stuff, but he's very "my way or the highway". He's not a lenient instructor but he'll get results. And if you know what you're doing, great, he won't be over your shoulder at every given second and will even compliment you if you do well

He's a douchebag, he's full of himself, and he's got quite the attitude and arrogance but that's not all he is. Just work hard and be in his good graces, or avoid him at all costs, and you'll live. The Phillip hating team is quite strong so you have allies if you do the latter option

At least he's usually rather nice to his own counselors and is looking out for them. You can absolutely get closer to him if you work under him and work hard. He notices talent when he sees it, as well as hard work. He's not above appreciating it or at least rewarding his team and making them feel valued enough to keep supporting him instead of flaking to others

You can hate him all you want but you cannot deny how much he loves his horse. She's a dapple gray quarter horse named Carolina and she's probably his biggest weakness. She gets the fanciest and best of EVERYTHING, he keeps her pristine and proper. He's got a whole stash of purple shampoos and hoof and hair oils alike for her. Even their tack is blinged out, her halter has actual gems set in them. Yes, it's overkill, but so is all he does

[fanficsforheartandsoul]

Can we talk about Ghost x Southern!Reader? Like just Ghost, British lad being like: "This is my significant other" and it's just this cowboy/cowgirl being like "howdy y'all" and when they fight it's suddenly like 1773 with the Reader throwing Ghost's tea into the sink😂

I just have this vision in my head of Ghost at Chicago airport being like "I won't fly back to Britain with you lads, my partner (yeehaw) is coming to get me" and the biggest pickup truck with these bull horns in front (no idea what's it called) shows up and a person wearing a literal cowboy hat steps out n kisses this man. And Soap thinks it's a joke but then Ghost's S/O pulls out pics of Simon on a fucking horse, looking incredible uncomfy even though he's wearing his mask - with the S/O's hat on top of his mask for shits n' giggles.

[roachesbf]

Naga!Graves

Thinking of Naga!Graves who's a cocky piece of shit. He'll wrap himself around you in front of 141 + the vaqueros just to piss them off. He'll even squeeze you a bit just to hear you whine. He'll grab your face and squeeze your cheeks, teasing about how you must like this since you're not even trying to fight back. He'll drag his fangs along your shoulders but will never actually bite you with them. These things are only used to hurt people and he'd never want you in a position like that with him.

He'll sneakily slither up to you with that sultry southern voice of his and ask what a find like you is doing around here with these guys. He'll wrap the end of his tail on your ankle, especially during meetings where you're sitting down. He has his soft moments with you but its a plus if he's able to get a reaction out of the others with it. Call it the confident american in him, but bless his heart that they don't hunt him for sport lol afterwards

[spidahwebz]

YESSSS! Southern!reader has me in a chokehold and i dont wanna be let go!

this isn’t really a request or anythin’, just a thought. 141 havin to deal with a southern team member who only gets progressively more accented the more they get mad.

100% projecting here

pretty unaccented, American, whatever —> ✨ anger ✨ —> Memphis called they want their “oo-ol” back (translation: oil).

i have no idea if they’d be annoyed, charmed, or just confused.

✦141 + Los Vaqueros With A Southern!Teammate✦

(My first C.o.D request and it's for pEOPLE LIKE MEEEE, southern traassh! This my shit. Fair warning, I've never played one of these games cause I don't have a console, so if they're ooc, please tell me how I can improve writing them!)

✦Random headcanons, Southern slang, GN!Reader, Race neutral as well but American, implied to be Oklahoma/Texas style southern, aggressive cursing because I have the mouth of a sailor, a bit of Google Translated Spanish(forgive me), Rudy doesn't have a color cause I ran out I'm so sorry precious boy✦

✧Simon Riley✧

He's not real fond of Americans, admittedly. He's got a little voice in the back of his head that automatically associates Americans with betrayal, but he'll keep quiet.

He cringes at your accent at first. He's not fond of Americans, even less so of most American accents. It's a very thick drawl and after being in the team for a while, he'll tease you about it, telling you to "Speak English" like he does with Soap.

He shuts up when you bring up his Manchester accent being illegible sometimes. It's all in good fun though!

After proving you're trustworthy, he'll basically call you his "special American", to show you're an exception. He will never stop poking fun at you though, just as you do to him. Particularly when you say something intensely American.

"Look at her ass, out here pitchin' a bitch fit with a tail on it." "...What in the hell is that even supposed to mean?"

He'll give you one thing, you treat beef well, which he appreciates. Given he used to be a butcher's apprentice. Americans from the southern states know how to make a hamburger and we know how to cook a steak, that's like...the one thing we can brag about.

If you're like me and you dunk on your own country, he thinks those moments are really funny. Especially when you sound so American.

He probably enjoys you being angry the most. He loves it so much, he thinks it's extremely entertaining. Especially if you're a more small, non-intimidating person on the surface.

"Fuck off! Out here makin' a damn mess of the place, runnin' around like a chicken with its head cut off, wrecking my shit! I outta whoop yer ass!" "Should we step in?" "No no, let it go on a little longer..."

Probably tries to make your call sign something heavily American stereotypical, in a funny way. (ie. Bald Eagle, Stars(JILL!), Shotgun, etc.)

A bit hypocritical but if you have a farm with cows on it, he doesn't really wanna see them. His first thought his how to butcher them from years of training, and if they're not butcher cows, he feels kinda bad for thinking it.

Congrats! You're the only American Simon likes, aside from maybe Alex but I don't know for sure.

✧Johnny MacTavish✧

Laughs when you first speak. He apologizes but like, he laughs at you, I'm sorry.

Definitely asks if you have a cowboy hat, and he will lose his fucking mind if you do. The more cowboy shit you own the more he's entertained, especially if you wear them around base/on field.

He understands you super well but no one understands how or why. Johnny explains that it's just because he's good with accents. He'll hear weird euphemisms and, though it may take a second, 9 times out of 10 he'll get it.

"Fucker's so cheap I bet he pinches quarters til they scream." "What?! What does that mean!?" "Means he's a penny pincher! He's cheap. C'mon, that one was obvious, keep up, yeah?"

If you're a woman/female leaning, he'll call you cowgirl. If you're male/male leaning, you get the nickname cowboy. Non-binary/Genderfluid/Etc.? He calls you partner, and he'll always say it with a shitty imitation of your accent.

Asks you a buncha questions about American-Southern stereotypes to see if they're true. If they are, he gets really giggly about it.

If they ever have a mission in America, he'll insist you lead them everywhere. He likes seeing how you interact with people, especially if you're in a big city where some nutsos are. This man would have a blast watching you in a Waffle House. It's the only time he likes seeing you yell in public, thinks it's hilarious.

If you have any farm experience he's gotta see it. He needs to. I don't care if the farm is your great grandpa's and you haven't been there in a decade, you better take him to see the cows and tractors right now, immediately. Especially if there are chickens. He loves chickens.

He makes fun of your accent but he thinks it's really hot sometimes and he's very annoyed at himself for it. Particularly when you speak softly, trying to console/comfort him, slipping in a typical southern pet name.

"You alright there, sugar? Took quite a hit there. You need anythin', sweetheart?" "...I uh, uhm, ahem. N-no, no I'm alright." "Are ya sure, sweetpea? Your face is goin' redder than a tomato."" NO, I'M GOOD."

Manages to get the entire team to call you a southern callsign, whether you like it or not. He'll force it to stick. Most are animal-based too. (Cowboy/Cowgirl, Chick/Rooster, Bull/Heffer, Big Tex, etc.)

Your accent grows on him significantly. While he thinks you're very sexy when you're angry, he's really affected when you're soft and sweet. (bonus note; if you're faux sweet when you're mad? The whole "Oh...bless your heart" type thing? He's prolly gonna pop a boner, not gonna lie.)

✧John Price✧

He's not American but there are a lot of American things he likes, admittedly. Specifically, old western stuff, horses, ranches, etc. That whole aesthetic is something he's always enjoyed. He won't say it, but he has a particular fondness for your accent when he first hears it.

Doesn't understand you when your accent gets super thick but he thinks it's entertaining nevertheless. Unlike Ghost or Soap, he doesn't comment on it, because he doesn't think he has room to talk. Maybe he'd do it once and then you'd throw it back at him and he'd realize that...yeah he has no room to talk.

He's a calm individual but he will yell when necessary. But, what he finds admirable is when you jump in and yell for him. Like you can read his mind and he can save his throat, watching the people who were pissing him off jump back at thick southern curses being yelled at them.

"I outta jerk a damn knot in your fuckin' tail, ya fuckin' dumbass! Didn't ya momma ever teach you respect?! You ain't ever gonna talk to my damn captain like that again or I'll skin yer fuckin' hide!" "Ahem, thank you, sergeant, that's enough."

Buys you a cowboy hat if you don't already have one, for sure. Whether you take it as a genuine gift or you take it as a light jab at your roots, he'll get a lil' dopey smile if you decide to wear it. Gaz definitely makes fun of you two. Soap points out that Gaz also wears a hat religiously and he & Ghost start callin' you the hat trio.

Man melts at southern-drawl-spoken pet names. He truly does. Much like Soap, there's something about it that makes the tension leaves his body, though he's not really sure why.

"You alright there, Cap? You're lookin' bout ready to drop..." "I'm alright soldier, just need to finish this." "Captain, it'll be there in the mornin'. How bout a nap instead, huh? You can't go workin' yourself to the bone, hun. It ain't healthy."" ...oh alright, just for a bit though." "Sure, sugarcube, just long enough to have some tea."

He'll probably pick up on a few pet names and call you them. Whether you wanna take it as platonic or not, it's really just a sweet gesture that he wants to return. Pet names are kinda just...a staple of southern slang. It's part of the accent that he really enjoys, therefore he wants to return it.

If he ends up helping you with a call sign, it's going to be a really sweet & nice one. Or perhaps something that's from an old western he's seen. Probably based on something you've said before. (Sugarcube, Lasso, Hun/Hunny.) Bonus points if you get a super sweet name that doesn't match your stature, he thinks it's funny if it throws people off.

Piggybacking off the last one, I think it'd be real funny if your call name was "Sugarcube" and you're like...a 6'0"+ buff dude with a deep voice. That shit would be funny. Anyway!

If you own/live on a ranch or farm in your off time, he'll feel honored if you invite him to see it. Don't worry, he won't laze around and just appreciate the cute animals. (Looking at you Soap) He's got a little bit of experience with cows & horses, so he'll do his best to help you move the hay and such. Don't let him drive a tractor though, it's one of the few things he just can't do.

John doesn't play favorites, he's fair and precise to his entire team. But...off the field? ...you might get a little favoritism, he's got a weakness for bein' sweettalked through southern drawl. Don't let that go to your head though!

✧Kyle Garrick✧

Kyle doesn't care too much, he thinks every country has shitty stuff and cool stuff. He's a pretty big believer in silver linings. While America is far from his favorite country, and he knows the common trope of uh...less than tolerant people from the south, that doesn't affect how he sees you at all.

He does snicker at your accent sometimes, but only when you say something really aggressively southern. Especially making up random southern phrases that he doesn't understand at all. He finds it endearing.

"We just gotta haul ass and go tear shit up, run through like a buncha Tasmanian devils, right?" "...I understood...some of those words. Uh, sure, right." "We need to move our asses and fuck shit up." "Ah, okay. Could've just said that, but alright."

Thinks you're kinda scary when you're mad. He'll be the type to try and calm you down, but he understands if it's someone who deserves it. Not that he doesn't find your drawl fun to listen too, especially if someone was being an ass, but he doesn't like seeing you upset.

If the person you're yelling at was being a real big ass, he'll let you yell for a little, but step in. However, if you're doing condescending rage? Oh, go for it, do it all you want. He thinks it's hilarious.

Finds it particularly sweet if you're angry on the teams/his behalf. He can fight his own battles but he thinks it's a big sign of trust, friendship, etc. that you feel the need to defend him.

"Bless your heart, your brain ain't firing off on all cylinders is it, hun? Tsk, that's a shame..." "Excuse me?!" "You're excused, sweetpea. You're not gonna talk to my team that way, but you can turn your happy ass around and walk away. I ain't gonna have you disrespectin' the people who've been fightin' the good fight. Have a lovely day!" "How can you sound so sweet and yet so angry at the same time?" "Southern livin', sugar. Southern livin'."

Gaz is a bit of a foodie type, he likes trying cooking from any area he can go to. Southern cooking would...it'd be a new weakness for sure. A lot of it is unhealthy, yes, but he doesn't give a shit. It tastes good. Sometimes he thinks American food is an absolute sin and a disgrace, and he'll state it as such. Usually, it's stuff you agree on. Like bacon-covered donuts or fried butter. That shit's egregious. But things like southern-style chicken or rib-eye on a grill? You're gonna make him swoon with them roasted vegetables. Cooking for him is a surefire way to make you an unapologetic favorite in his book.

He won't say anything at the little jokes that people jab at you for your accent, but he will tell someone off if they say something that's clearly not funny and upsets you. Like trying to imply you're stupid because you come from Texas. (Speaking from personal experience) He thinks it's such a dumb thing to give someone shit over and he won't hesitate to say they're an idiot for trying to use it against you.

Hates sweet tea, I'm sorry. It's just tea but he can't stand it. He'll drink the unsweetened tea you make, but he'll make a dramatic face if he mixes them up. Something that you always laugh at.

He's great at driving basically any vehicle. Helicopters to mini coopers. He's never controlled a tractor before, but if you sit him in one and tell him the levers, it'll take him like...three minutes to get it down perfectly. Definitely gets a smug ass grin if you show you're amazed.

If he helps get you your call sign, he won't necessarily make it based on where you're from, it'll probably be based on a nickname, skill, or crucial event in your career. (Crash; you were thrown through a window, Hotshot; skill for sniping, etc.) But if he were to have one based on your southern ways? Sweet Tea, both for the fact you make it and the pet name you sometimes call him. (sweet pea)

✧Alejandro Vargas✧

Like Ghost, he's not super fond of Americans. His experience with most Americans are annoying tourists and Graves, leaves a pretty bad impression. He comes across unintentionally snappy when he first meets you, but Rudy will point it out, and he'll correct himself.

You aren't the annoying people he's dealt with and he knows it's not fair to say you are. Definitely talks shit on America though, and he'll honestly give you respect if you do the same. Since he's used to the kind of Americans that think being American give them a right to treat others like shit. He hates entitlement.

If you speak Spanish, he's gonna try really hard to not laugh at how your accent affects some words, but it's really hard. He means it in kind and if you're still learning when you meet him, he's proud when he hears you doing well in comprehension and sentences. Still, sounds just a lil silly.

He loves when your accent gets thick from rage, but he his favorite thing is if you speak Spanish in a rage, with your accent on top of it. It's a combination that fills his brain with serotonin.

"Eres un maldito idiota. ¡Tan útil como las tetas de un toro!" "Wha- Haha! What does that mean?!" "Did they say some super weird analogy?" "Si! They did!" "Yeaaah, they do that a lot."

He's notorious for having a naturally flirty personality, it's just how he's always been. Hence why not much phases him, but he does get a quite wide & genuine grin if you flirt back, making your accent extra intense. Especially with the pet names, another man who likes sweet words.

Thinks you having a southern call sign is really cute, especially if it's something your team calls you exclusively. He thinks it shows your endearment to your team. However, if your call sign is something you insist is only for friends, he'll get super giddy about being allowed to call you it.

If he were to pick? (Belle; Like southern belle whether you're fem! or not, Rodeo, and he might call you Americano- but like, in the coffee way. Like it's a sweet nickname, not just him saying your nationality)

Southern hospitality is something he is not used to. Again, bad experience with Americans. So if you explain all the various manners and nice gestures that are considered expected in your home state? He's completely confused, wondering why the Americans he's met don't keep that attitude up when they leave home.

Again, really likes it if you use southern pet names. Especially if you're trying to console him after a really tough day/mission. For some reason it really helps, like a cup of warm coffee on a cold morning.

"Aye, don't stress yourself over it, darlin'. Bad things happen that we can't control, you did everything you could and you were great at it. Don't let it eat at'cha, honey-bun." "Gracias, Bella. Lo necesitaba…" "Anytime, big guy. Now, you wanna see me try and fail again to open a de la Rosa without breaking it?" "Aha! How about I show you a trick to do it instead?"

Again, like Ghost, you're his special American. Gaz calls you his emotional-support American once and he thinks it's really funny, he'll call you as such every now and then.

✧Rodolfo Parra✧

Sweet darling man. He has nothing against you being American, nothing. But...he cannot understand anything you're saying. He's doing his best but he really doesn't know. He can feel his brain frying every time you bring up something super southern, trying to understand.

He'll have to lean over to your team to ask for a translation, anyone but Soap & Price will tack on an "I think, I'm not sure" at the end of their explanation. If he hears you use a phrase more than once, he'll add it to a little list of notes with the translation underneath it. Treats it like a whole different language. It's adorable.

Like Alejandro, he thinks it's funny if you speak Spanish with your accent. He'll keep a straight face because he knows you can't help it, but man is it fun to hear.

He's not very fond of a lot of yelling if he can avoid it, Rudy prefers disputes to be handled with calm words if possible. But he understands that sometimes it's necessary. Still, he'd want to try and calm you down if you're yelling. But, if you're just acting sickeningly-sweet, kind words that are clearly dripping with venom? He'll just watch. He thinks that shows you handle yourself very well and it's pretty attractive to him, not gonna lie.

"Awww I'm so sorry you're upset, poor thing. God bless you, sir, you have a lovely day. I hope that stick up your ass doesn't hurt too bad." "¡Soldado! No digas eso…" "Shh, sugar, it's fine. He wants to be rude, I can be rude back. An eye for an eye. Don't worry your pretty lil' head bout it, sweetheart." "Dios, a veces me asombras y me aterrorizas."

He's really hesitant about American food. It smells great sometimes but all he hears about American food is that it's greasy, or too salty, etc. Still, he won't deny any meal you make. He thinks it's rude to deny food unless it's something you're allergic to.

He ends up liking a few things, but he is biased to his home cooking. But if you start making his favorite foods, or somehow combine the styles in an honoring way? Oh, those are his favorites. He's particularly fond of American sweets though!

Please bake for this man, bake for him, I beg. Apple pie is an American staple for a reason and he'll jokingly claim he'll move to America if it means he can have apple pie every day.

"Rudy, that's your fourth piece! Ahaha, if I knew you liked it so much I woulda made ya more." "Ay, please do! ¡Fue enviado desde el cielo!" "Alright then, hun, I'll be sure to make you all the apple pie ya want."

Rudy really likes if you wear stuff like a cowboy hat. He's not really sure why, he just thinks it's really cute. If it's a staple of your whole look(like John's hat), seeing you protective over it, he thinks that's really cute. If you're protective of your cowboy hat but let him hold it/put it on his head to hold it, it's gonna fluster him. Even if your guy's relationship is completely platonic.

If you live near the border of Texas & Mexico, it makes visiting you pretty easy, so he'll have no qualms about going back and forth when off duty. He'll be more comfortable in his home but he won't turn down the offer to see your home, especially if it's a ranch. He's got a soft spot for farm animals. (Particularly goats)

If he has any control of how you choose your call sign, he'll likely pick something the same way Gaz does. But, if you have a thing about what certain people call you - like how only Ghost can call Soap "Johnny" - He feels really warm and fuzzy if he gets a special privilege.

(Translations; "Eres un maldito idiota. ¡Tan útil como las tetas de un toro!" - "You're a fucking idiot - as useful as a bull's tits/about as useful as tits on a bull!" "Gracias, Bella. Lo necesitaba…" - "Thank you, bella/beauty. I needed it." "¡Soldado! No digas eso…" - "Soldier! You can't say that..." "Dios, a veces me asombras y me aterrorizas." - "God, sometimes you amaze and terrify me." "¡Fue enviado desde el cielo!" - "It was sent from heaven!")

[cherie-doll]

𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔬 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔰𝔦𝔫

keegan x reader ─ southern gothic au ─ chapter one: far from any road

│warnings for this chapter: none

│warnings for this fic in general: fic masterpost

│chapter word count: 3.5k

Hidden deep within the crevices of America are those areas of desolate land; the deserts, the ghost towns, the small communities shrouded by mountains. It is there stories like these are born, in the warm and familiar arms of a loving but strange commune. The grand expanse of barren earth and sky, the whispering of trees and grass, the watching of the animals and spirits. An Eden but a kind of hell within.

It is home, but it carries a long, gruesome history of loneliness forever trying to find a place to fit in.

You are never truly welcome in the land you’ve claimed to have been your home.

This feeling does not only roam among the empty land of quiet towns. Do not think that you are safe from it once you start seeing it everywhere. Like a rotten carcass, the smell will reek off of it and seep into your skin. You touch it once and it will follow you everywhere. It will haunt you until the end of your days. Your eyes will become hollow and your face gaunt as you are struck with horrifying visions of your last days. You will come to fear the regret of what you could’ve been, guilt will be ebbed deep into your heart and you will never know peace. Unsettling nightmares that disturb your sleep and a ghost of what you once were; a living, breathing creature with beautiful potential now wasted and dead, forever forgotten.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

Ever since he became part of the local police team, you’ve had a crush on Keegan. You can’t even fathom how it happened, it wasn’t like it was your first time seeing him. You’d seen him around town as a girl, shyly peeking from behind the shelves when you coincidentally happened to be at the general store at the same time. You guess it came from a sense of admiration you’ve always harbored for the older boy. But it wasn’t until he wore the clean, pressed dark blue shirt and pants with the buckle and cap that your heart tumbled. You swore you could feel it jump within you whilst your body froze seeing him for the first time looking serious as he drove down the streets in his car, his eyes hard and face set straight.

“He’s quite a beau.”

“Well, he’s a man now.”

These were all things you’d heard folks repeat time and time again when Keegan was seen assisting the elderly, doing his patrols or helping the community in some way. You don’t know why he did it. There wasn’t any crime, most of the time it was all volunteer work. Honestly, who could care so much about an old rundown town like this one? The houses were deep down a dirt or gravel road while passersby drove past the silent town on the main paved one. They might stop in a town which was conveniently built close to the road. More accessible to the roaming ones than those who settled.

Part of the reason why you were currently sticking your hands in dirt under the harsh sun was because you were sure Keegan had shown up. Today, the community gathered to tidy the church. Most women had taken over cleaning the inside, a clever way to avoid the heat. The elderly women wanted to care for the flowerbeds and no one denied them from doing so. Anyone else who arrived after did not have the freedom of choice, they were assigned to wherever help was needed which included the most laborious tasks. That’s how your knees were now covered with dirt and your clothes smudged.

The sun’s glare burned into your back as you bent over the garden. Your knees ache as stones dig into your skin. Your fingers plunge deep into the moist soil, deeding out deeply rooted weeds. You flinch when you feel a cool, squishy body wrapping around your finger. Pulling back your hand, you shake the earthworm loose, it falls squirming on the ground and writhes through the dirt, hiding away from the sun.

Sighing heavily you raise your head, the tautness in your neck causing a pang of pain to run down your spine. Blinded by the sun, you raise your hand to shield your view from the dust carried by the wind. Not far off, you spot a place to relax under the shade of nearby trees. Standing, you make your way to the rows of peach trees, as you fall back onto the grassy earth your gaze travels up the tree, its branches twining up to the boiling sun.

The trees’ limbs swayed aft and fro in the wind, sending their leaves into a spirographic dance. You close your eyes beneath the peach tree, the branches heavy and full of ripe fruit. A noiseless void begins to grow in your mind, like a little seed that expands its roots into the fertile soil, filling up all empty space until it is overcrowded with a deafening daze. It’s like you’re alone in this world.

Thinking of things that are familiar; you lying here, on the warm soil underneath the peach tree which bears heavy fruit, ready to drop at any moment. You lie on the dirt, beneath you right now is an entire system of its own; earthworms, ants, all sorts of bugs. You used to not like thinking about what was beneath you, but there are far worse things that could squirm out from beneath the ground than just vermin.

An empty deafening sound like tinnitus filled your mind, the chattering of the congregation soon faded until it mixed with the wind and the swaying of the branches. A strong breeze came and shook the trees, dispelling the branches of their leaves that went flying every which way.

The quiet humming is what caught your attention. Opening your eyes, the sun has hidden behind a cloud, the wind blows softly and the fallen leaves scatter over your body. The soft grass caresses your bare thighs, your dress having ridden up, exposing your skin. The footsteps of something, someone was picked up. The first thought that bubbled up within your mind was the steps of a doe. Turning around, your eyes searching through the rows of blooming peaches, and there you meet two pools of sky. Eyes with color that might as well have been heaven’s blessing to earth.

Keegan’s boots made no sound as they stepped over the soft earth. With his gaze downturned and focused on where he was stepping, you took the liberty of eyeing him up and down. The white sleeveless undershirt clung to his skin, damp with sweat, glistening as he came out from the shadow of the peach trees and the sun no longer hid behind the clouds. His belt tightly secured his pants around his waist, where his gun was usually strapped to.

“Must’ve left it behind to come to church.”  You reasoned before seeing his fingers wrapped around the grip of his gun.

A heavy feeling that you were being watched made your eyes snap back to his. His thick, full eyebrows raised quizzically, eyes deep and penetrating.

“Why’d you bring your gun?” You asked, already feeling that skittery feeling creeping and crawling down your back to your stomach.

“Figure I’d catch some game out here.”

“While volunteering?” Cocking your head,  you brought your hand to shade your eyes as the sun rose high in the sky again. And instead of answering, he lowered himself to the ground, his knees sinking into the grass.

“Wa-al,” he started, dragging out his response, separating “Well” into two syllables; a habit in speech learned from the older folk.

“Wal?”

“Everyone else gone home, doll.” And here he leaned in close to your face. You sniffled and caught a whiff of him; pine tree, sweat and dirt, everything a man ought to smell like. It stirred the growing fire of nervousness and giddiness within you. It scorched the walls of your stomach, wanting out.

“I got something real nice to show ya.” He grinned.

“Keegan Russ, why, I do declare! Everytime you say you gon’ show me something ‘real nice’ you always scare the living daylights right outta me with some old, dirty trick of yours.”

“I won’t! Not this time!”

“No, no. Don’t fool me. I can see your face, you fixin’ to make me scream.”

The corner of his lips had remained silent and controllable while his eyes flashed with fleeting, yet perceptible playfulness. Keegan just had a way of getting under your skin, moving in ways that made you want to jump and peel back the layers of your skin to find what he’d done, to split yourself open, find what layers of skin he had penetrated through, what bone he touched the marrow of. The mere sight of him was so tangible it made you ache with impatience in the most inner part of your body, and what you weren’t aware of was that he was the very sword you’d pierce yourself with to bring your tortured soul to light.

Keegan took you to his pickup truck he had brought. He offered you his hand as you hoisted yourself up into the truck bed, pressing against the side of the truck where the mud had hardened. You backed up to sit on the cutout of the arched wheel, watching as he moved tools and freshly cut wood of sugar maple trees.

“What do ya need so much wood for?”

“The minister wants new flooring put in somewhere in the church.” He replied without looking up as he continued rummaging about.

A moment later, he slid a cooler across the floor of the truck bed to you. You open it to find cans of beer. Stumped, you turn to Keegan to see a can already in his hand, open and drinking from it. You watch as his Adam's apple protrudes as he greedily drinks. He finishes, licking his lips for any remaining drops.

He cocks his head, observing like a bird, waiting to see if you’d follow.

Sighing, you take a can from the cooler. The tips of your fingers hold the can gingerly, reminding you of your first time holding a weapon. Your fingernail plays with the tab, pretending you’re having a hard time opening it. Feeling yourself shrink under his gaze you bite your lip, your tooth digging into the soft skin of your lip.

You don’t look up, but you hear his sigh, long and tired. You think he’s beaten and on his last straw until his hand wraps around yours.

“This is how you open it,” he started, “It’s like a soda can.” And with his thumb he positioned yours and pushed it forward, opening the can. You brought it to your lips, the aroma already filling your nostrils. With one last glance at Keegan, who only nodded because he seemed to know, you took a swig. It was warm, the taste was off but you drank it anyway because he’d offered it to you. Even if it was the cheap beer with reduced alcohol levels because it was the only kind sold at the general store. People didn’t drink it for the taste, it wasn’t made to taste good.

Keegan hummed a tune as he looked far ahead.

-

The soft afternoon breeze blew across the land, making the cordgrass ripple as it tickled the mare’s stomach. She whinied and threw her head back as she skittered about. Your fingers went over the markings on her caramel coat. Following the markings on her you moved up to her mane where you brushed the pine needles out and entangled your fingers in her mane. You raise your eyes when you hear the screeching of an eagle, following its flying form in the sky as it glides over the field and disappears towards the mountains in the far west.

Spring, summer, fall, winter; it didn’t matter, the mountains in the background and the landscape were timeless. The rest of the world could’ve stopped existing and you wouldn’t care, as long as this quiet corner of the world stayed as comforting as it felt.

“You ready, dreamgirl?”

Your head turns at Keegan’s call to see him walking out from his shed. He stopped beside you near the wooden fence. And his mare, who’s ears had picked up his voice, and nuzzled up to him. She smelled his face, neck and chest, searching for treats.

He chuckled, his voice rumbling deeply within his chest. “Sorry girl, I ain’t got no treats on me this time.”

“When are you gonna let me ride her?” You asked, your hand reaching to scratch her ears.

He hummed, taking his time to pretend and mull over the question. He picked a pine needle from the mare’s mane, twiddling it between his forefinger and thumb.

“Mebbe sometime when I’m not busy…”

You groaned. “When are you not doing something?”

“At night.” A devilish smirk broke out onto his lips.

You scoff, the mare whinnies, and Keegan laughs meanly.

-

The sun set rather quickly, spreading her flames, enveloping God’s creation and then sinking behind the mountains, leaving behind her essence in the swirl of reddish, orange afterglow.

You switched between the stations on the radio in Keegan’s car. He rarely took his pickup truck, on most days you saw him cruisin’ down the street in his black ‘96 Ford Crown Victoria whenever he was on duty.

You waited as another song came on, the tune blending with the cicadas singing.

Keegan had offered to take you home, and your tired and aching body compelled you to accept right away.

“I was a-thinkin’ just now,” Keegan said as he entered the car and was settling in the driver’s seat. Putting your feet down, you perked up to hear him.

“Why don’t you get a car?”

You blinked, your eyebrows knitting together.

“What’re you trying to get at now?”

“Wal, with all the flyin’ about you do, you ought to at least get a buggy.” He said, humoring himself as he turned the key in the ignition.

“You serious?” Was all you said as you rolled your eyes and settled back into the car seat, getting comfortable again.

He drove down the gravel road away from his house, nearing the end of the road that connected to the main one everyone took.

“I’ll even let ya borrow my horse if you buy a buggy from that old-timer Rick.”

Rolling down your window, you breathe in the night air. Now that fall was nearing, summer was starting to quiet and would slowly fade out along with the bugs. The sun was already starting to set earlier, and that warm night air wouldn’t stick to your lungs as you breathed it near the smoke and fire.

The streetlights illuminated the quiet road; the road where a car could drive on in solitude for miles, the soundless tires never get anywhere past the townsign and nowhere near the state line. With the way the streetlights were placed few and far in-between one another, a whole lot could happen before you reach the next light.

The car turned left into what could only be considered a path because it wasn’t pavemented, and it didn’t even have gravel, just dirt.

As the car’s tires roll over the old tracks tractors left behind, you turn to Keegan in the darkness. The outline of his face is barely visible, the image clear in your mind only because you had memorized it; the flash of a perfect smile, the lobelia blue eyes, the coal black hair. The picturesque features of an ideal American.

“I can feel you staring now.” His words come out in a slow manner, too focused squinting at the route ahead of him which he could barely see.

“Have you ever thought about placing street lights near the paths like they do in the cities?” You ask, not acknowledging his previous statement.

He sighs, as if about to go into a long ordeal.

“A few of us have suggested it, but the chief always declines. He doesn't want to waste money puttin’ in lights. You can see just fine, you don't need lights on these roads, it'll just cause more people to come out at night. We hardly have much crime in the first place so I guess it doesn't matter much.”

“If there’s barely any crime, isn’t your job boring?”

“I’ll be honest, most the time I’m just patrolling ‘round town. Ain’t much to do besides that.”

“‘Course, less crimes means folks around here are safe and doin’ pretty good, and that’s all that matters.” He continues. “Now, other cops who hail from bigger cities might look down on us small town cops and say we ain’t got nothin’ on this. But I say, we just as good as them. In a lifetime of stillness we still get our five minutes of sheer terror.”

“What’s the worst? Someone’s chickens escaping from the coop?’ You scoff.

“Murder, usually connected or stemming from domestic abuse.”

“Murder?”

“They’re not extremely common, but they do happen from time to time. A few bodies were found in the woods a few towns over from us. There were a few in the old mine shaft too.”

Suddenly, you’re interested in taking him seriously.

“You’re not playing me, are you?”

Keegan only shakes his head, you gasp.

“What mine shaft?”

“Oh, I’d have to show you.” His voice carried forward with eagerness.

“It’s this map I found while looking through my grandpa’s old library. And it’s all territory that runs up to Norfolk and even runs down here too.” “What runs?”

“I’m getting there, don’t rush me now.”

He licked his lips before continuing. “Simply put it covers the whole state, with all the creeks, mountains and towns marked. The map is practically falling apart as I held it in my hands but you’re able to make out where miners marked all the mineshafts. Nice, ain’t it?”

“I’d say it is! It’s not everyday that you find somethin’ like that.”

“I was hankerin’ to clear a day and explore all those old mineshafts. The map is from the late 1800’s so there’s no telling how true it still is.”

“And how does this all string back to those murders?”

“Nothing slips by you, does it?”

“Not yet.”

“Back in the day, it was easy for a criminal to hide a body somewhere like a mineshaft because accidents weren't unusual. Nowadays, it wouldn’t be a smart move for a criminal to do anything since the police station has improved. But…”

“But?”

“It may be nothing but an old fool’s talk, as my grandpa would say, but it seems strange.”

“In what way?”

“Nothing happens here, but the energy seems different for some reason. For bodies from the late 19th century to turn up soon as those recent ones were seen too ain’t normal. It could only mean they haven’t been discovered before. But no calls, no reports have come in even after those mines have been cleared out and most shut ‘n sealed. All the stations in the state are connected, if something happens over yonder you bet it’d be heard of here.”

“You’re worried about an old case and a murderer on the loose?”

“We talkin’ more than just a murderer, we’re lookin’ at a whole state being fine with whatever’s goin’ on. And nobodies been workin’ those mineshafts for years now, dolly. No one to reclaim. Police ain’t worried.”

“But not in this town?”

The car creeps slowly up the end of the path, stopping a little distance short of your house. You can’t see it now, but deep inside, Keegan can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for telling you this. It wasn’t something to worry the chief about and it shouldn’t be something to get the townsfolk riled up about either.

“It shouldn’t matter. We got a good lot of folks in this town, you can’t say you distrust any of ‘em. As long as yer sticking to yer roots, trouble shouldn’t come your way.”

Dryness coats your throat, and with nothing else to say you thank him and exit his car. He doesn’t drive away as soon as you’re out, nor when you’re making your way up the porch steps and not even once you’ve entered your house and the porch light’s out. He contemplates a good while out there, turning over a seedling of a thought in the soil of his mind. Could simply be his curiosity minced with irrational fear that started to plague his mind, but sooner than later did this expand its roots.

Back inside your room, you discarded your dirty dress on the cold bathroom floor. The cool night air underneath the house was already seeping through the wooden floor though it was nearing the end of September. But October along with fall was creeping up with cold nights.

After washing the dirt and sweat off your body, you picked your dress off the floor to see a streak of mud on it. Not soil from the gardening you’ve been doing.

You remember the hardened mud on Keegan’s truck.

[cherryredstars]

HELLO DADDIES!!HELLO DADDIES!!

if u can, can u plspls do like Graves (and Soap maybe) on how would they treat u before they start crushing??

thx very much cherry 😘😘🍒🍒 have a good day!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Pairings: Phillip Graves x gn!reader, John "Soap" MacTavish x gn!reader

Warnings: None

A/N: I miss my COD babies!!!

Unedited

Phillip Graves

This man is totally indifferent to anyone and everyone outside of his Shadows. Sorry, love, but he probably didn't know you even existed until he started showing an interest in you. Doesn't matter if you've worked in the same base for years or have been on missions together. The second he's finished talking to you and the mission is complete, he's wiping any memory of you to make room for more important things.

He's a busy man, making plans to betray his own people under the command of General Shepard. He doesn't have time to remember any and every unremarkable face that won't be important once he and his men go rogue. Don't take it personally when you have to constantly remind him what your name is and that you have, in fact, worked together before.

Takes a remarkable amount of effort for him to memorize your name once Shepard informs him that you'll be added to their plan of betrayal. He isn't exactly sure what your role will be in the grand scheme of things. As far as he's concerned, you might just be another disposable pawn. Not worth getting to know you if you'll just end up dead anyways. However, he will admit that you would make a pretty scapegoat- for the five seconds he remembers your face, that is.

Once he realizes he likes you, it's like a switch clicks in his brain. One second he is horribly unaware of who you are, the next he is too aware of your existence. Drives him crazy that he could forget a face as sweet as yours. Your name is now permanently etched into his brain. Suddenly, you are far too important to be a throwaway soldier to their cause.

Eyes that once skimmed over you are now locked onto you. Graves finds himself hovering near your seat during secret briefings, his hands subconsciously coming to brush against your shoulders as he gives out orders. Well placed pats and squeezes that leave him craving more. He's the definition of "A fell first, B fell harder".

Definitely takes advantage of the fact that he has the most unique accent out of everyone else. Sure 141 has their different posh British accents and Scottish slang, the Los Vaqueros have their rumbling Spanish words that roll off the tongue, but none of them can replicate his sweet country tang. Drives him crazy how his accent affects you, throwing out random southern sweet talking to watch each country-laced endearment heat your cheeks. Likes fluctuating his voice, easily going from a higher pitch to a lower pitch to watch how the shift in tone has you squirming in front of him.

Don't blame him if he starts throwing hints at you about his dream of owning a small little ranch in the American countryside with a few cattle and farm dogs to tend to. It's only a coincidence that the only thing missing is a sweet thing to take care of all the housework while he works the fields and does all the outdoor labor. Did he mention how good he looks sweaty and shirtless with nothing but a cowboy hat to shield him from the sun and a pair of worn out levi's disappearing into a nice pair of cowhide boots? No, well you can always experience it first-hand if you wanted to.

John "Soap" MacTavish

The biggest flirt you will ever have the pleasure of meeting. Johnny is not scared to work his Scottish charm on you any chance he gets, even if he only sees you as a teammate. He finds it hilarious when he says something that leaves you absolutely baffled or causes you to roll your eyes.

Strong believer in the fact that you would have the hardest time figuring out if he likes you or not because he acts completely the same before and after he discovers he has a thing for you. The only difference is that he’s more of a show-off and way more energetic near you, which is hard to believe is possible, but it is.

He’s super friendly, of course. Super energetic and outgoing, always coming to you and Ghost when he’s in need of a good sparring or a buddy to go to the mess with for supper. The three of you are practically glued to the hip- Ghost a mostly unwilling participant- to the point where most people see you as best friends.

Don’t be surprised when he drops off the grid when he’s on leave, though. For all the nagging and clinginess he has on base, you’d be surprised how radio silent he is once he’s away from base. Don’t go obsessing over your phone waiting for a stray call or text from Johnny, you aren’t getting anything unless it’s a clear emergency or he’s heading back to base for deployment. Calling and texting outside the base is reserved for long time boot camp friends, family, and his Birdie, sorry. Looks like you don’t meet the requirements just yet.

This man is a kicked puppy whenever he isn't near you after he realizes he likes you. Suddenly, Ghost is always way too busy with whatever lieutenants do to spar and step away from his mountains paperwork to go to the mess. Looks like you're the only person who can help him pass the time on base. Don't worry about being too tired to leave your barrack, he didn't realize how tired he was until you said you were! Did he mention that he makes a great body pillow? You should test it out to see if the rumors are true.

Suddenly, his smiles and teasing looks are way more charming than normal. Don't ask why he's giving you constant bedroom eyes as he rests his chin in the palm of his hand, just let the intended effect wash over you. Promise that even though he's not listening to a single word you're saying that you still have his full attention. If you saw his face instantly switch to a look of mourning after one of the others joked about the two of you being best of friends, just know it's your fault because you didn't defend his honor by saying the two of you are way more than friends (despite the fact the two of you aren't even in the ball park of a talking stage).

Right before leave, Johnny is practically stepping on your heels. He's blabbering about meeting up during leave and going to a nice little pub, have a drink or two in your casuals. What's that, did he forget that the two of you don't live even remotely close to each other? Silly Birdie, didn't you know he's happening to come down for a visit. He's never been to your area before, maybe you can be his tour guide. You're too busy to hangout during leave? Well, have his personal number then! He's always up for a chat when you have the time. Don't keep him waiting for a text or a call, you might just make him die from the loneliness!

[icarustypicalfall]

Hallway

Phillip Graves x Fem!Reader

MASTERPOST

Summary: Based on MW3, where you give the Arrogant Commander a cold shoulder as he teams up with your unit in the purpose of catching the bad guys.

Warnings: Cod usual violence, based on MW2 and MW3, mentions of Graves betrayal.

"Each day you rise with me , know that I'd gladly be the Icarus to your certainty."

Graves had returned.

The enthusiasm was tainted by the memories of his past actions. There was a time when he had almost taken the lives of everyone in the room. The tension was palpable during the call with General Shepard, and it lingered in the base as everyone awaited his arrival.

During his absence, you had been on a side mission. You never truly believed that Graves had died, knowing that he was not the type to go down so easily. If he were to meet his end, it would be in a more dramatic and tragic way, perhaps with a dagger piercing his heart, just as he had pierced yours when he nearly killed your teammates. Despite your disdain for the man, you couldn't help but longe for his presence. He relished in the power he held over you, ordering you around and demanding extra gym sessions to "maintain your strength".

Graves was back, "the American bastard" if you ask Gaz and an "the arsehole" as Soap added. Captain, unable to contain his contempt, had burnt half of his cigars to prevent himself from snapping the man's neck every time he opened his mouth. Ghost, true to his name, shot Graves his usual icy glares, though fortunately they were not lethal, or else Graves would already be rotting in hell.

Graves hadn't changed a bit. He still served that smug demeanor and spoke with a southern drawl that he seemed to inject into every word that fell from his lips. He smirked shamelessly, his eyes fixated on you before he confidently asked, "Missed me, darlin'? I know you did." Your heart tightened at his words, torn between wanting to slap him and kiss him senseless. However, you managed to maintain a neutral expression as he continued, "Where's my welcome back, sugar?"

Gaz, clearly unimpressed, intervened and pushed you away from Graves, dismissing his extended hand for a handshake. "Shove it up your arse," Gaz retorted, unyielding in his dislike and anger for the man.

Graves had been captivated by you ever since he joined TF141. You were a remarkable young woman, fierce and unafraid to speak your mind, earning the respect of your superiors. He couldn't help but feel drawn to you, despite his annoying smugness. His attempts to gain your attention often manifested as mockery and taunting. Deep down, he longed to hold you close and feel your touch. However, when you began to warm up to him, betrayal struck, driving a wedge between you.

He was determined to repair that breach.

"Aren't those weights a bit heavy for you, darlin'?" Graves remarked, his eyes fixed on you as you let the barbell fall to the ground. You hadn't even noticed his presence, so focused were you on your workout. Your chest tightened, reminiscing about the old days when he would taunt and annoy you. Though you had promised yourself to ignore him completely, he had broken your heart once, and you couldn't afford to let him reopen those wounds.

You ignored him, shooting him a cold glare before lifting the barbell once again. Graves smirked, amused by your icy demeanor. It was a challenge for him to see how much he could push you before you broke down and let your guard down. He relished in getting under your skin, even though it pained him not being able to approach you in any other way.

The room was thick with the scent of sweat and the heat of intense concentration. It was deathly silent, save for the sound of your shallow breaths and light paintings.

Graves stood there, unusually quiet, his gaze fixed on you like a predator stalking its prey. He swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke with a mockingly confident tone, his southern drawl becoming more pronounced. "You're hurting your hands, sweetheart. You're meant to look pretty and keep quiet, not fight men three times your size," Graves added.

Your eyes gleamed with a surge of adrenaline. You turned to face him, dropping the heavy barbell and walking towards him with a fiery glare. You snapped, your words laced with a fiery passion, a storm threatening to consume his very existence. "Want to see what these hands can do too?"

Graves smirked, folding his arms and exuding an air of confidence and arrogance. Yet, there was something else in his gaze. He yearned for your attention, scanning your figure from head to toe, as if watching you train or work countless times wasn't enough to memorize every inch of your skin. "Yeah, I'd love to find out," he replied eagerly.

In a swift motion, you tripped him up and landed a light punch, causing him to fall to the ground. The smirk never left his face. You pressed your knee against his ribcage, applying slight pressure as a warning. "I wouldn't hesitate to knock you out if you say something like that again," you warned, your voice filled with determination.

Graves let out a sharp gasp, feeling the weight of your presence pinning him down. His body tensed, his blood racing through his veins. He couldn't help but revel in the fire burning in your eyes. "I suppose I crossed a line, darlin'," he rasped, his voice low.

As you moved away, returning to your workout, Graves took a deep breath. He couldn't help but yearn for you even more, despite the cold shoulder you gave him. His eyes followed the contours of your body as you worked on the pulldown machine. Leaning against the wall, he shamelessly continued to stare, captivated by your every move.

He made no attempt to conceal the desire burning within him as he glanced over at you. Despite the potential risks of breaking a few rules and facing the consequences, he mustered the courage to speak up.

"Wouldn't you appreciate my help, darling? You seem quite confused."

You let out a sigh, raising an eyebrow as you observed the man. His face displayed an assured smirk that hinted at a superiority complex. His lips curled slightly, forming a subtle, knowing smile that added to the smugness radiating from his countenance. Clutching your water bottle, you muttered in frustration.

"Don't you have meetings or reports to attend to instead of wasting my time?"

"It won't take me long to finish those reports and meetings. Care to swing by my office and see for yourself?" Graves added with a teasing wink.

Your attempts to ignore him only fueled the fire burning in his heart and warming his soul. He folded his arms, leaning back against the wall as he watched you gather your belongings. A slight twinge of pain coursed through him, not wanting you to leave.

"Just leaving me here like that, sweetheart? You didn't even say goodbye."

"Why would I?" you scoffed, walking past him.

The scent of your perfume tormented his senses, and he found himself staring at the open door in shock. He followed you, feeling a wave of disappointment wash over him.

Why were you so distant now?

He longed to hold you, to kiss you, to embrace the burning sensation he felt. He called out your name, trying not to let his voice betray the desperation that consumed him.

"Darling, I..." Graves spoke softly, his eyes filled with pain.

You let out a sigh, finally stopping in the middle of the hallway. You didn't turn around, ensuring he wouldn't see the fire in your chest or the pain etched all over your face.

Graves experienced a mixture of emotions. His pride yearned to command you, to force you to face him and express your emotions. But he knew it was a losing battle, considering you had been ignoring him for the past few weeks. No one had ever treated him this way. He commanded, watching your calm figure in front of him.

"Look at me," he whispered, and you could swear you heard a hint of shyness and shame in his words. "Please...?"

You faced him, the venom and pain mixing in your heart, extinguishing any other emotions that remained in your mind.

"Of course, Commander. Why wouldn't I look at the man who once betrayed us?"

Graves gritted his teeth, his emotions in turmoil as anger and guilt battled within him. He was so close yet so far away, feeling himself being pulled towards you.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Graves finally met your eyes, his blue orbs filled with both desire and pain. A bittersweet serenity enveloped you both.

"You want me to acknowledge you as if you hadn't done anything. You've lived a long life, yet you still have no clue about the consequences of your actions."

Graves took a deep breath, his anger resurfacing, accentuated by his southern drawl, making him sound even more threatening.

"That was an order from Shepard. We had to take the base to ensure we could find the terrorists and make sure there were no survivors. As for Alejandro..." Graves hesitated for a moment but decided to be as honest as he could. "We were following orders. I didn't have a choice."

"They trusted you. I thought I could trust you," you whispered, your eyes piercing him with a cold, angry gaze.

Graves fell silent for a moment, feeling the sting of your words pierce his heart like a dagger. He cleared his throat before muttering, his tone tinged with weariness.

"I had to make choices I didn't want to. I couldn't refuse, not when hundreds of lives relied on me. Refusing meant their death. Someone had to die. This is war."

"Next time he asks you to bomb our base, you'll comply, won't you?" you challenged.

Graves's heart sank as you spoke. He hesitated for a few moments, trying to find the words to answer, but he had nothing to defend himself with. He spoke in a tired, exhausted tone, the fire that once burned within him now extinguished.

"No," he paused, his tone quiet and filled with despair. "I would rather end my own life than hurt a single hair of you."

Your head snapped up, confusion evident in your eyes. "What do you mean?"

Graves couldn't bear your cold words any longer. He turned away from you, his shoulders slumped as emotions began to overwhelm him. In his mind, he replayed all the moments he was forced to hurt and kill. His past and the pain he had caused were eating away at his soul. His voice was weak when he spoke, his Southern drawl a mere echoGraves couldn't hide his burning desire as he looked at you. Despite the potential risks and consequences, he mustered the courage to speak up.

"Nothing is more precious to me than you. I requested your captain to send you for gathering intel before my mission. I knew Shepard would use you as a threat, and my soldiers would try to detain you. Dralin, you are my only weakness, and I wish for nothing more than to protect you from harm," Graves said quietly, unsure if he was speaking to himself or to you.

You were completely shocked, taken aback by his words.

Was this his confession? What had you done to cause such a reaction from the usually composed commander?

Your mere presence seemed to have pushed him to the edge. But if it meant that you will embrace him and kiss away his sorrows, he was willing to accept that fate.

Graves continued, guilt evident in the way he cupped his left elbow. "Shepard is... influential. There was no time to ask for help. Besides, it was just me and my team against that army." He turned to look at you with a solemn expression. "It was impossible to fight them and survive..."

You looked down, your hand hesitantly reaching for his calloused palm, gently cupping it in your own. You squeezed his scarred flesh, silently murmuring.

"I believe you..."

Graves' gaze remained fixed on you. The warmth in your voice and your attempts to comfort him stirred something deep within his heart. He stepped closer to you, speaking softly.

"I was afraid of losing everything... I couldn't bear to imagine what would have happened to all of you if I had chosen to side with you instead of Shepard." Graves whispered, his words sounding like a confession.

Standing before you, he felt vulnerable. The touch of your cold hand in his made shivers run down his spine, reminiscent of the feelings of young love. Graves had fallen for many women, but none had ever made him lose his mind and experience the intoxicating bliss that you brought to his life.

"I'm sorry, darlin, my decisions are never perfect... I have blood on my hands... so much blood... I just..." he murmured, his head lowered and his eyes downcast.

Summoning the little courage you had, you brushed away a few strands of hair that had fallen on his face and leaned in to join your lips together. At first, he was still, shocked by the gesture, but soon his warm lips met yours, and the two of you became lost in a passionate embrace. It was enchanting, like two intertwined swans, their souls merging into one.

As you pulled away for a breath, your lips still lingering close to his, his hand cupped the back of your head, gently stroking your locks.

"I forgave you... a long time ago..." you whispered against his lips. A small twitch at the corner of his mouth revealed a genuine smile, not the usual smug grin or fake laugh. It was a smile that only appeared when you complimented his hair or his skills.

He hugged you tightly, holding you close to his chest, seeking solace in the curve of your neck. Finally, he let go of all the painful emotions that had been eating away at his soul, allowing you to embrace him and experiencing a sense of peace that he hadn't felt in a long time.

You kissed until you were breathless, leaning against the wall and savoring the eternal elixir of each other's lips. It was a divine moment, shared in the empty hallway.

Graves cupped your face, a smile spreading across his flushed features, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. Nothing else mattered to him now. Once a sorrowful man, believing he had lost everything, he had come back to life with you in his arms. Your sweet face smiled softly as you continued to kiss him, over and over again.

[annonciggy]

Flu

SFW - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Male reader x John 'Soap' MacTavish

Summary: Your ill, Johnny won’t leave your side, Simon is kinder than usual. 

TW: Swearing, The Flu 

A/N: You are a British man who grew up in the southeast – Aldershot is in the southeast and you're a medic. This is the first fic I’ve written in a long ass while and I have never played Cod :) I was also ill with the flu recently. 

Words/ Length : 1.2K

“He’s a fucking slut.” 

“For the love of God johnny what the fuck are you going on about now?” You almost sobbed, “I should’a stayed in fucking Aldershot.” You sniffed 

“Ghost’s a fucking slut.” He repeated  

“How is he a slut?” You sniffed again. 

“I saw tits.” 

“How dose that equate to you calling him a slut? And we’ve seen his pecs many times.” You sighed 

“They’re fucking massive. I wanna-” 

“Johnny, you assaulted his thighs yesterday please stop.” You wailed/ whispered. 

“Fuck no. We’re dating him to you have to keep on listenin’ to me.” He replied 

“Southern eastern English pain.” You coughed back, Johnny hand you a class of water. 

“Tae fuck do you mean by that?” 

“Your accent Johnny, and you – I love you – but good god you’re so loud. Shuuu.” You hushed putting the glass of cold water against your head and enjoying the coolness. 

“But you love it when I talk.” He whined  

“I love it when I’m not ill, love.” You replied a slight chuckle in your voice before patting at the bed beside you. He slipped under the cover next to, his arms wrapping around your waist snuggling into your side. 

“’m sorry” He murmured, whatever he’d been so excited about previously had died away. 

“’ss fine.” You whispered back putting the glass back on the bedside table, a hand snaking its way into Johnny’s mohawk.  

It didn’t take long till he heard you snoring. Johnny’s own hands started to wander tracing the tattoos on your arms saying sweet things in Scottish before, like you, he fell asleep. 

It was 2 in the morning when Simon walked into their shared bedroom, glancing at the two men cuddled together on the king-sized bed. He started to strip when he heard a certain Scott murmur 

“My love, look at ‘em tits.”  

“I was asleep Johnny, I was asleep.” You coughed turning to look at Simon. Pulling his mask of last that left him in his boxer briefs, he sat next to you on the bed before kissing your forehead. 

“Mornin’ love.” He greeted, his hand gently gliding over your jawline while you gave him a weak smile. The sweet and quite moment was ruined by the Scott whining loudly. 

“Morning to you too, Johnny.” Simon said looking at Johnny, who was pulling a puppy dog face, before caving and kissing his forehead. 

“Come to bed.” You whispered with Johnny nodding in agreement. 

“Saucie.” He replied in a low tone. 

“You can sleep on the sofa if you say that again.” You said looking at him unimpressed by the comment. 

“You let Johnny get away with it.” Simon said getting in under the cover next to you. 

“Johnny is Johnny and you Si – are not – you’re also my favourite pretty boy.” You murmured resting you head next to his. 

“’Scuse me!” Johnny almost yelled sitting up in bed and staring at you. 

“I said what I said. ‘Nd go to bed.” You replied, using one of your arms to pull the man closer. He stared a little longer before lying back down and cuddling back into your side. Simon enjoyed the gentle reassurance of your touch while Johnny gazed up at your face, you were visibly sick, and he didn’t like it. 

Johnny liked it when you’d you spar with him after breakfast, help count reps, keeping him company on long runs, the weird or downright hilarious comments you’d make over the comms on a mission. Your mixture of posh English or the Queen’s English as you’d so often correct him on, and downtown Londoner accent was a good 50% of the reason whatever you’d said was funny. But when you were sick the accent and the funny words were dropped and replaced by a tired groaning, one that couldn’t decide whether the water you were drinking was helping or just painfully highlighting the pain in the back of your throat. On the other hand, Simon saw little change aside from his empty office whenever he was doing paperwork and maybe he missed the tea you’d bring for him whenever you’d deemed, he’d gone too long without or when you just sat in his office doing your own paperwork since the others were too loud. 

“I love you both.” You said breaking the silence before you had a coughing fit. Johnny practically jumped up grabbing the glass of water and handing it to you. By habit you sat up carefully drinking the water and resting your head on the wall. 

“You’re both gonna get sick ya know that right.” 

“Who cares, more time with you.” Johnny piped up, taking advantage of the situation and putting his head on your thigh. 

“Why dont’cha lie down, love?” Simon said looking up at you. 

“’S cool.” 

“What the wall?” 

“Mmm.” You hummed back, Simon sat up resting his head on the wall and then hummed in agreement. 

Simon rested a hand on your other thigh before turning his head and kissing your cheek. 

“All loving in the early morning?” You asked, eyes closed and resting your head back on his shoulder. 

“So, it ain’t a dream.” He huffed back while Johnny got more comfortable on your thigh. 

“Mmm Lover boy. We’ll all grow old together and raise copious amounts of dogs while living in the middle of nowhere up north.” You could feel Simon nod as some of his stubble rubbed against you. 

“Just a couple more decades till retirement then.” You smiled, almost deliriously before falling back asleep. 

‘Would ya believe it?! When I tell ‘em their gonna get sick they are shocked when the next day they get sick!! XD’ It was the message you sent in the group chat ‘Big ol’ Naturals’ that Gaz had showed to Price that explained why 2 of his men were missing. He also had the unfortunate pleasure of reading what Roach sent next 

‘Swear you need to exchange bodily fluids for that so- what we’re you three doing?’ followed by your 

‘And that is the reason why I’m the medic and you’re not.’ Also followed by ‘Jesus’ also from you, you lot were actively giving him grey hairs. 

‘Where is Soap he hasn’t made a comment yet.’ 

‘He’s yet to discover it but I am sitting on his phone ;)’ 

“Take your phone back Gaz.” Price said pushing the phone back to Gaz whose eyes widened when he looked at the message Roach had sent before laughing at the rest of the comments. 

‘Also, what I have is the Flu – its spreads though tiny droplets in the air that spread when I sneeze, cough or talk.’ And then ‘Amazing doctor explanations from the medic’ Gaz decided to join in on the conversation 

‘What about Soap’s phone situation?’ 

‘He is slowly but surely getting closer to my ass’ 

‘Lol’ - Roach 

‘You guys had food yet?’ - Gaz 

‘Nope’ - You 

‘Bring us food!!!!’ – Soap 

‘Please’ 

‘Wait you guys knew my phone was under his ass?!’ 

‘And didn’t tell me scandalous!!!!’ 

‘He’s cursing in Scottish’ – You 

‘Sound about right. We’ll bring some food shortly and a barrel of water :)’ – Gaz 

‘Si's going to cry could you also bring a kettle, mug and tea bags, plz’ 

‘You’re telling me Ghost cries?’ – Roach 

‘I think the lack of sleep is getting to him’ - You 

‘It’s actually the lack of tea 🍵’ – Soap 

‘Si’s listing off all the names for the dogs we’re getting in the future so if you could be quick, it would be deeply appreciated from both my recovery and headache.’  

‘On it Medic boss man 😎’ – Gaz 

‘Get well soon. I’ve just seen the amount of paperwork I have to do and it’s not looking pretty.’ – Roach 

[southernbluebellereader]

MASTERLIST

Who I write for: Call of Duty (Preferably MW2 and MW3); Star Trek (everything up to Enterprise + Strange New Worlds); Slashers (Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers); Jack Reacher (Alan Ritchson); SIX (coming soon)

REQUESTS: Closed | INBOX: Open | TAG LIST: Click Here | (*) = WIP

Last Update: November 12, 2024

{JACK REACHER}

| JACK REACHER (Alan Ritchson) |

General Headcanons

General Headcanons Part 2

X Fem! Southern Waitress

Peach Pie and Cream

{CALL OF DUTY}

| IMAGINES/HEADCANONS/REQUESTS |

Imagine Dancing with Alejandro Vargas and Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra

Imagine Dancing with John Price, Ghost, and Soap

Do They Know How to Take a Bra Off? (COD 141 + Alejandro, Rudy, & König)

Routines (Taskforce 141 x Southern Hairdresser Reader (PLATONIC))

Routines Part 2 (Taskforce 141 x Southern Hairdresser Reader (PLATONIC))

Tenderheart Bear (141 x People Pleaser F! Field Medic (PLATONIC))

How would the 141 react to you getting your nails done? (COD MW2) (Task Force 141 - Semi-NSFW)

(18) Request: Imagine Ghost & König with an anal vibrator

Request: 141 x Reader w/ Psoriasis & Vitiligo (SFW & Platonic)

Request: Taskforce 141 x Reader with rumors of being a slut

(18+) Request: Kvinlig Demon (141 x F! Reader w/ Womb Tattoo)

| CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE |

Requests

(18+) NSFW Price x Younger S/O & he is wrapped around your finger ;)

(18+) NSFW Daddy Price x Wife (this a little *spicy*)

Family Day (x Wife Reader; y'all and the 141 go to Disney World as a family)

Personal Nurse (x Nurse F! Reader)

Leg Warmers (x Reader w/ misaligned knee caps)

*Price begging - collar - sub!Price

X Female Escort Reader

[PART 1] Don’t Look At Me Like That (FLUFF/LITTLE ANGST)

[PART 2] Excitement in Patience (18+ MATURE)

[PART 3] Cup of Coffee (Kinda of a prequel)

X Female Wife Reader

Gray Hairs (FLUFF)

X Young Reader with Facial Scars

[PART 1] Bruised Apple (Platonic, Angst, Facial Scars, Mention of Violence)

[PART 2] Apple Slices (DITTO [Mention of Violence & Trauma])

[PART 3] Apple Pie (Platonic, going on slightly romantic, Angst, Fluffity Fluff)

X MILF Single Mom

Forbidden (Fluff, Innuendos, Brief mention of violence)

| LIEUTENANT SIMON “GHOST” RILEY |

Requests

Drake (x AFAB Teammate w/ Tattoo; Simon seeing their tattoo for the first time)

Turquesa (x AFAB Latinx Nurse Reader)

Midnight Dining (x AFAB Civilian Reader (leather jacket Ghost))

Emergency Snack Run (x AFAB Gas Station Clerk)

Personal Mechanic (Mechanic Ghost x AFAB Reader)

X Female Southern Cook

[PART 1] Midnight Snack (FLUFF & PLATONIC)

[PART 2] Tomato, Tom-ah-to (FLUFF & PLATONIC)

[PART 3] Bag of Peas (FLUFF & PLATONIC)

[PART 4] Hash Browns (FLUFF & MOSTLY PLATONIC)

[PART 5] Prickly Pear (FLUFF & DEF NOT PLATONIC ANYMORE)

[PART 6] Peaches and Cream (FLUFF, ANGST, LOVEY DOVEY)

[PART 7] Chicken and Dumplings (VERY ANGST, A LITTLE VIOLENCE)

[PART 8] Hot Links (FLUFFITY FLUFF FLUFF LOVEY DOVEY)

X Female Reader

(18+) Hot For Teacher (Simon's S/O gets a teacher costume for Halloween)

Being Chosen…By A Baby (Single Mom Reader)

| COLONEL ALEJANDRO VARGAS |

X Female Wife Reader

Forehead Kisses (FLUFF)

Alejandro and His Big Ol' Forehead - One, Two, Three, Four

| SERGEANT KEEGAN P. RUSS (COD GHOSTS) |

Fun and Games (x F! reader) (PLATONIC) - His name is said in a funny accent

| SERGEANT KYLE "GAZ" GARRICK |

Requests

A little nosy, aren't we? (x F! Reader gets caught looking at his social media)

(18+) Car Shenanigans (x F! Reader giving head/getting fingered)

Post-Mission Angst (x AFAB Reader)

X Female Signaler/Radiowoman Reader

Guardian Angel (bubbling relationship)

| KÖNIG |

How he likes to show affection by holding you close (xGN Reader)

| COMMANDER PHILLIP GRAVES |

X Pregnant Wife Reader

First Time Husband (first-time pregnancy; little angst, fluff)

| SERGEANT LOGAN WALKER (COD GHOSTS) |

Requests

Headcanons (Both SFW and NSFW)

What would Logan be like as a Father? (fuffity fluff fluff)

Headcanons Part 2 (Both SFW and NSFW)

| SOBIESŁAW "GROMSKO" KOŚCIUSZKO |

General Headcanons (SFW and NSFW)

Supportive Soft Friend (SFW Fluff)

| KATE LASWELL |

x Wife Reader

My Wife (fluffity fluff fluff)

| ALEX KELLER |

x F! New Yorker Medic Reader

Polar Opposites (Golden Retriever Alex, Black Cat Reader; Fluff)

| SERGEANT JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH |

Requests

*Dilf! Johnny x Babysitter

x F! Reader

Calling Him "Stud"

{STAR TREK}

| IMAGINES/HEADCANONS |

Kirk, Spock, & Bones x Southern Reader (SFW)

Do They Know How to Take Bra Off? (Kirk, Bones, Spock, Scotty, Chekov)

| DOCTOR LEONARD “BONES” MCCOY |

X Female Nurse Practitioner

Medical Couple (FLUFF LOVEY DOVEY; TOS/REBOOT MOVIES)

| FIRST COMMANDER SPOCK |

Requests

Pop of Color (x F! Betazoid Quartermaster/Seamstress; STRANGE NEW WORLDS)

{SLASHERS}

| JASON VOORHEES |

X Female Camp Counselor

Instinct (stalking)

{SIX}

| JOE "BEAR" GRAVES |

Requests

Request: Joe Graves X Younger Wife/GF Headcanons