#cybernya writes

[cyber-nya]

little princess

while in alabasta, houdini wakes up as a child without any memories of her adult life. crocodile now has a little princess to take care of. a/n: yeah this is just crack. one of many kid fics. likely ooc for crocodile but i think he just has such a soft spot for houdini in this au that it's fine.

Crocodile frowned. Houdini was supposed to meet him for coffee this morning - yet it was twenty minutes past their scheduled time and she still hadn’t shown up. It wasn’t like her, not when she was so excited to try this new coffee shop he’d funded. He checked his watch one last time before heading towards her bedroom. Perhaps she’d just overslept? If anything, she probably got into another book from the library, and stayed up all night reading..

When Crocodile approached the door, he froze. He heard something - someone - sniffling inside. It didn’t sound like Houdini - gods above he knows what that sounds like. It sounds younger, afraid. Had she found someone in the morning and taken them in? Crocodile knocked with his hook, gently tapping the door, before the sobbing picked up.

A chill settled at the back of his neck as he shoved the door open.

In Houdini’s bed sat a small child wrapped in a blanket, eyes wide and sobbing.

“Houdini?” he called out, wondering if she’d simply stepped to the bathroom. He looked around for her, stepping towards the en-suite. Lights are off…

“H-How do you know m-my n-name?” the small child hiccuped, peering from the blanket. The cigar fell from Crocodile’s mouth as he tentatively stepped forward. She sniffled, her whole body trembling. It’s then that he noticed the color of her hair, the shape of her face; the freckles that dot the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. “W-Who are you?”

“Oh, Princess..” He murmured, leaving the forgotten cigar to smolder on the tile floor. Something inside his heart stirred; she looked so afraid, so alone this small. It felt… wrong.

“You - hic - know me? W-Where am I?” Houdini whimpered, shying away from Crocodile as he neared the edge of the bed. “P-Please don’ ‘urt me.” More tears spilled down her face as he reached out to her with his good hand. She backed away, trying to press herself into the pillows behind her.

He paused when he saw her flinch. Princess wasn’t just her nickname - he knew it was her actual title. A title she discarded when she ran away from a wedding she didn’t want, from a family who was selling her off for nothing more than land and power.

Given the way the small version of Houdini was reacting, her life was far worse before she clawed her way to Alabasta. Now was not the time to be proud of how strong the woman he … cared for… was.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly, unsure what would earn her trust in this state. Crocodile assumed he was dealing with a Houdini who could be no more than six years old, based on how she looked.

“I told Papa I would be good…” she said softly, shaking her head. Her small hands grip the blanket tightly and Crocodile snarls. It causes the small girl to whimper, and he immediately regrets his lapse in restraint. He’s not soft, but to see such a small child instinctively react like this? (This certainly explained a lot of Houdini’s current behaviors… and it also reminds him a little of Miss All-Sunday’s past.)

“Your Papa isn’t here,” Crocodile said sharply, running his hand through his hair. He knelt at the side of the bed, keeping his distance as Houdini exhaled sharply. “It’s just you an’ me, Princess.”

She sniffled, wiping her still-falling tears from her face. “I’m scared.”

Crocodile took a deep breath. He’d work out the logistics of this later, when he could light up a fresh cigar and think. But for now, he had to prioritize Houdini. “Don’t be,” he muttered, beckoning her closer. “I’ll take care of you.”

Houdini stared, hesitant to move closer. The man at the edge of the bed was massive, and while he was a complete stranger… he wasn’t. Something told her it was okay. She kept the blanket tight in her grip as she shuffled forward on the bed, swallowed whole by the nightgown she woke up in.

“That’s my girl,” Crocodile whispered, offering his hand out to her. He watched as she stared - and he stared in turn, too. She was small, so small as she tentatively grabbed his fingers. Probably barely came up to his thigh if they were both standing. His heart did something funny in his chest and he ignored it; later, later.

“Are - hic - are you sure Papa —“ Houdini stammered, trying to hold back more tears. “Papa isn’t here? I promise I’ll be good, p-please mister…” His size was overwhelming as she got closer, nervously eyeing his hook.

He bit back a snarl at her fear, making a mental note to perhaps threaten her father himself. “Princess, you are far away from your Papa. Far. Away,” he all but spat, trying to maintain his tone. “I promise.”

Another sniffle, followed by a hiccup as Houdini nodded wordlessly. The man’s hand was warm. Safe, even.

“Let’s go get you a new dress. This one is too big for you,” Crocodile said, gently scooping her into his arms, resting in the crook of his elbow. He idly wondered if she could perch on his shoulder in this form, so small against him.

“Can I take a bubble bath…?” Houdini asked so quietly Crocodile almost missed it. She wiped her tears, fingers now tracing the ridges on the gold hook. It felt like an odd request, but then — “If Papa’s far away, can I? He says they’re messy and un.. Uh, un-princess-like. A waste of things, like money.”

The commentary caught Crocodile off guard - he simply nodded. How poorly had she been treated at home as a child? He understood transactional needs and the value of resources, especially out in Alabasta, but…

“Please?”

“I’ll get one of the maids to help you.” He didn’t dare look down at how wide Houdini’s eyes were, or the toothy smile that bloomed.

His cold heart couldn't take it.

[the-corpse-regards-you]

For the fanfic asks (if you still do them xD): 20, 26 and 41

20. Any ships which you surprised yourself by liking?tana/futa and enno/tana/futa... how did this happen lmao. why am i so deeply into this. 26. How do you come up with your fanfic titles?i have noo idea tbh. it took me weeks to come up with ‘learning us’ lmao. most are just one word and wips are song lyrics atm41. List and link to 5 fanfics you are currently reading:Waiting for a miracle is one 👀 KinoNari A Little Bit of Magic (Hogwarts AU) and Somewhere Only We Know (magic au with elf!enno) EnnoTana by @thepessimistsblogand sorry this is cheating as i’m behind on all other fics i’m following, but i’ve gotten some sneak peaks at some fantastic fics/outlines by cybernya, ziba, trashquing, and noyabeans that i'm super excited about, those are most of what i’ve been reading atm. i def recommend anyone check them out if they want fic rec, and they each write diff style stuffthank you so much for the questions!! ♥♥♥> Fanfiction Ask

[cyber-nya]

mmmm band au beginnings... ace guitarist inspo is phantom ghoul/randy moore tbh

The Spades were an up-and-coming alternative band under the Whitebeard label. Marco was tasked with mentoring the frontman and lead guitarist, Portgas D. Ace, as they embarked on their first tour. Ace was a bit of a wild child - though child wasn’t quite the right word. He was in his mid-twenties, rambunctious, and skilled to an impressive level. The Whitebeard label had picked him up after the label owner, Edward Newgate, found him performing at a dive bar a year ago.

“You can play much bigger shows than this,” Newgate had laughed, beer in hand. The crowd was no more than twenty people, mostly locals. Ace laughed, running a hand through his hair. “You think so?” “You’ve got it in ya, kid.”

The Spades were tasked with opening for The Heart Pirates, a leading alternative band on the charts. It was a modest tour, mostly mid-sized venues. It was a trial for the Spades, to see if they could last being so new to the touring lifestyle.

Only two weeks into the tour, however, Marco had to hire a social media manager. The Spades had gone viral overnight thanks to Ace’s performance, and they needed to get their online presence under control.

“Ace, you just had to —“ Marco groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Had to what? Perform? On stage?” Ace smirks. He’d done several things these first few stops.

[cyber-nya]

learn to do it

a canon-divergent au in which the roger pirates hire a tutor for shanks and buggy.

[cyber-nya]

pictured from learn to do it; orchid while reading on the oro jackson. yes, that's rayleigh's jacket.

made with "my baby" picrew learn to do it. a simple self-insert fic featuring gol d. roger and silvers rayleigh hiring a tutor for young buggy and shanks. currently writing in short bursts when i have the brain for it.

[cyber-nya]

Mountain/Orchid featuring a blurb (unrelated to the ship aesthetic) from a ficlet I have stashed away.

Luana belongs to @antifa-luffy

“I know how I can get the Cardinal to the Library —“ Mountain offers, not even letting Orchid finish their sentence. The smile on their face widens and he feels his chest burst. “There’s some records in there about plants kept in the gardens, I could probably pitch the concept of returning to previous practices and ask him to meet me there to review the documents. And if you get Luana to the alcove, and excuse yourself briefly a few minutes before —“

“They’ll run into each other in confusion! It’ll be a meet-cute!” Orchid clasps their hands together and beams.

Mountain blinks at Orchid’s interruption before nodding. Meet-cute. Was that what their first interaction was? Watching the new educator flail after Swiss knocked a stack of textbooks over? Mountain had leaped at the chance to help, long arms catching at least a few of the books. He still remembers the little sound they made in thanks, tail flicking anxiously as he looks around. Orchid’s hair looks brighter than usual, even in the dim lighting of the classroom.

“And then…?” He finds himself leaning forward, only slightly, to close the gap between Orchid.

“And then we watch from the shadows! You can tell the Cardinal to meet in one of the study alcoves. There’s one that Luana and I use when we hang out sometimes - the one with the red velvet lounger - and the upper stacks are right above them! We can watch everything unfold there!” Orchid explains, adjusting their glasses.

“When?” The question comes out softer than Mountain expected, but he can’t tear his eyes from Orchid. His foot scuffs the floor as he sits on the desk.

“Tomorrow? Luana has a shift tomorrow morning, and I might’ve combed through the Ministry TEAMS schedule to find out if the Cardinal was free…”

“Okay.”

“You’ll help me?” Dimples press into Orchid’s cheeks as Mountain nods in agreement. “Yay! Go talk to the Cardinal about tomorrow and then I’ll see you in the library at like… eleven?”

“See you then,” Mountain nods, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. There was something about seeing Orchid so excited that made his heart flutter. Lucifer below, he was fucked. Mountain hops off the desk - not really a hop, but simply steps off due to his height - and shoves his hands back into his pockets. His palms felt sweaty at the thought of simply hiding in the shadows with Orchid - not about lying to the Cardinal to make their plan work - and wondered what would happen if…

[cyber-nya]

if anyone cares i've been writing mostly oc kinktober stuff

series collection here but as of 10/16 we've got

pegging - oc x oc - sunshine x kieran

titfucking - one piece - crocodile x houdini

kink negotiation re:quintosis use/hypnosis/mind control - the band ghost - aether x orchid + mountain x orchid

spanking - the band ghost - secondo x orchid

not sure if anyone actually wants to read it since it's pretty self-indulgent for the most part, but i'll at least link it.

bonus comfort piece - grounding - the band ghost - phantom x orchid

[cyber-nya]

'Cuz You're Mine | NSFW | Hellhound!Soap x Reader

Soap is in a mood.

He doesn't like when other people touch you - you should be his, and only his. So when you collide with another operator in the hallway the stench on your skin makes him snap.

141 But They're All Monsters AU - welcome to knotting and scent marking with Soap!

A/N: Oh bABY HERE WE GO! first smut entry for me in the 141 monster au sandbox!!!! For some reason I got really fixated on Soap knotting and... well. It's a reader insert fic. Enjoy. Recommended listening: You're Mine by Phantogram.

Read over on AO3 or click on down below:

It’s easy to recognize when Soap is in a mood.

His fangs make an appearance. He snarls more.

And more importantly, he’s always close to you. Almost too close.

You accidentally bump into someone in the hallway and Soap, three steps behind you, snarls, almost lunging.

You’ve got someone else’s scent on you. While the operator you bumped into apologized, it wasn’t going to be enough. He needed you to be his and only his. 

No one else could touch you. 

“Soap it’s —“ you start, protesting whatever fight is about to happen. But when it doesn’t, when Soap doesn’t start spitting Scottish left and right and instead runs his tongue over a fang, you shiver. Your voice shakes, barely able to eke out the remainder of your thought. “It’s fine.”

His nostrils flare - the operator’s scent is mixed with yours, fresh and strong from your full-body collision. You’d walked straight into him by accident, not even seeing him round the corner. He’d touched your shoulders, your wrists, steadying you, asking if you were okay. 

In Soap’s opinion, this operator’s hands lingered too long on your bare wrists. You had a tendency to wear your sleeves rolled up and now — 

Soap then picks up other scents; he’s had to accept that there would be lingering aspects of Price, Ghost, and Gaz on you. You were part of the team, after all. 

You, in a den of monsters.

Soap sets his jaw. 

He grabs your wrist and takes lead, pushing towards the other end of the building where their on-base lodgings were. He couldn’t just take you in a supply closet as much as he’d like to fix your scent in that very second. 

You blink, but go with it. Working with monsters means the unexpected, and not just in sudden appearance changes either. But then something hits you about the way Soap has his hand around your wrist and your heart stutters, thinking about the way he licked at his fangs.

“In.” The single word is sharp and heavy - neither of you has said anything since the collision. 

You oblige, walking into the room - his room - with your heart working its way up your throat. You’d been here before, but not like this - not when he has his fangs bared and a dangerous look in his eyes. Soap is massive when you think about it: not quite the mass of Ghost or the Captain, but still large. Defined biceps flex as he circles you, a hand running through his mohawk. Part of you wonders if he ever just spontaneously has his hound-form ears when suddenly:

“I need t’make you mine,” he bites out, a snarl in his throat. He can still smell it, smell someone that isn’t you or him, or the team. It doesn’t belong here, maybe he should have done something before bringing you into his space -- maybe a supply closet or someone’s office would have been better so the stench --

You stagger slightly. Deep down, it made sense: the way he glued himself to you when he got into a mood, the way he all but tackled Gaz one day after a comment, and now this? After you’d bumped into someone full-force? He could have simply - your brain pauses, wondering what it would even be for a hellhound… and then you realize the silence in the air.

He’s waiting for a response.

Consent.

Soap is biting back every primal urge in his body to just tackle you to the floor and make every inch of you smell like him. His eyes shimmer - that reddish, dark, ember color you’ve seen before moments of pure violence - and the hand not occupied with his mohawk is clenched at his side. He needs an answer before something inside him snaps, before the piece of his humanity that cares deeply for you is overrun.

“Okay.” You barely manage to get the word out, biting at your bottom lip. You feel shy under his gaze, knowing, knowing how much strength this moment requires. Your hand plays with the hem of your henley and you nod. “Yes.”

The tension disappears from Soap’s body immediately and you smile. His shoulders drop, hand finally free from twisting and pulling at his own hair. He looks at you, wide-eyed, and licks at his fangs just like he did earlier in the hallway. It makes you shiver, and you stumble toward the bed. 

Before you could take any more steps backward, his hands are on you, holding your shoulders, moving to your forearms, your hands, pulling them from where you had been playing with your shirt. He brings them to his face, inhaling the scent of you, focusing on you instead of the other smells that lingered, before nuzzling his cheeks into your soft skin. Your hands cupped his cheeks, rough with two days of stubble as you looked up at him, larger, calloused hands enveloping yours. The dark embers in his eyes are now light and warm, just like how he felt in your hands. 

 Soap nuzzles your hands before kissing at one palm, then the other; all he could smell on your fingertips now was his own scent, strong and heavy. His chest rumbles when he recognizes your scent masked by the musk and flames as if you’d been lit on fire.

You feel a little lightheaded as Soap kisses at your palms and your fingertips, his tongue darting out to suck and lap at the digits. A noise escapes your throat as he works his way towards your wrist and you squirm as his hand holds your wrist out for him.

“Mine,” he growls, mouthing at the spot where the stranger had held you, stabilized you. Goosebumps prickled as you shivered, wavering on your feet. This was far more than you expected, far more intimate and overwhelming as stubble and fangs bite at your skin. “Mine.”

Your knees buckle slightly, losing your balance, and Soap presses your body to him as he steadies you. He manages to guide you to the bed, your original destination, and you feel his cock straining against you. 

It’s thick and prominent in his jeans but you don’t see that until he lays you back against the mattress almost panting. He’s on his knees, admiring you, kissing at your wrists, and it’s there, bulging in his pants.

You swallow thickly, your throat going dry. Soap chuckles as he finishes masking that sour stench on your bare skin from earlier, letting go of your wrists and caging you in with his arms. He’s leaning over you, nose-to-nose. You feel warm, but not as warm as he burns.

“Enjoyin’ this?” he whispers, moving to rub his cheek and nose against your face, taking in the scent of you. It quickly becomes you and him, and his chest rumbles again. 

You feel the vibration of his chest against yours as he lays on top of you, mouthing at your neck before working to the other side. It’s hard not to squirm and whine softly as his tongue drags across your skin. 

“Aye, I think you are,” Soap hums, hungry for more. His hips roll between your thighs and you feel his cock hard against your core. “All mine.”

His hands are warm as he slides them up under your shirt, up against your smooth belly. Soap mouths at your neck, biting softly - he wants to consume you whole. He pushes the fabric of your shirt up, up and over your tits before he has to shift and pry it off you. You’re shifted - hand at your back propping you up for a moment as he peels the henley off of you. It messes with your hair and Soap nudges his nose against yours for a moment while he finds the clasp of your bra. That’s gone, too, and the cool air of the room hits your skin - much colder than you thought it’d be. You’d think, if you could, about how hot Soap runs but instead you’re too busy being dizzy as his hands cupped your breasts, pushing you back down into the mattress.

You shiver and whine and Soap smirks as he licks down your neck to your nipples. Teeth and fangs drag against your skin and you feel like you’re on fire - the kind of fire you’ve caught wafting off Soap. The kind of fire he causes that sets everything to burn.

Words fail you as he focuses on your tits - one supported in his warm grasp while he sucks at it, the other gently rolling the other’s nipple between pinched fingers. Your hand reaches, finally willing your body to do something, and finds the back of Soap’s head. Nails scratch into the shaved-down side of his mohawk and it drags a groan - a growl - from him. 

He switches to the other breast and makes that same noise when you scratch at his head once more. With a soft pop, he pulls back from you and takes a long, deep breath as he settles on his haunches. His eyes shimmer between various shades - his natural blue, that dangerous burning ember color, and gold - as he brushes a hand over your belly. 

“Mine.”

He’s picturing something you can’t see as you prop yourself up on your elbows - but that doesn’t matter as he drags you close by the waistband of your jeans, spreading your thighs against his kneecaps. Soap dips to kiss at your belly button before peeling away again, stripping out of his clothes. 

He’s eager, fangs bared as he tosses everything to the floor - shirt, shoes awkwardly toed off. His belt is tossed to the side and falls off the bed with a clink. Shirtless and nearly panting, he licks at his lips as he grabs your legs. Soap pulls your legs up to toss your shoes across the room - one of them hits the door - and then pulls at the button of your jeans. It pops, landing on the ground as he pulls a little too hard in an attempt to get you out of your pants. 

You open your mouth to say something and then suddenly, everything is cold again; you’re left in your panties with the air gone from your lungs. That was smooth. Even with breaking the button off. 

Your chest heaves and there’s something electric in the air: Soap is looking at you as if you were a meal. 

He can smell your arousal distinctly, mixed with his own scent that he’s marked you with. 

Well, marked almost all of you with.

Soap’s fangs are bared as his hips thrust - you’re frozen, back against the mattress as his hands brush the back of your legs. The pads of his fingers almost burn for a moment as he takes a breath, eyes fluttering closed.

He wants to remember this moment as he presses your knees to your chest, staring right at the damp spot on your panties. The little pieces of lace and the white, dainty fabric pull a snarl from his chest once he gets a good look at you - damp and quivering. He’s bent over your core, shifting himself to lay down and nearly fuck the mattress with the way you smell and feel under him. The only moment of clarity he has is that he cannot shred those panties off you - as much as he’d like to burn them right off, to peel them apart with his fangs, he can’t.

He wants to see them on you again. 

So he very, very carefully inhales and lets one hand slide down your thigh to peel the wet fabric off. Fingers hook under the waistband and lift, the other hand pressing you back to raise your hips. It slides between your thighs as he lifts it just enough to get his head under.

You cannot breathe, not like this, not while Soap is staring down your cunt and  --

He licks into you, both hands gripping your thighs once more. Everything is so warm - his hands, his tongue - and the room almost spins at the sensation of his tongue pressing into your folds. You bite your fist, moaning while your hand finds his head, fingers gripping a fistful of mohawk. 

“Mine,” he whispers into your pussy, pressing your thighs back and apart to open you up further. 

You taste as you smell: heavenly. Now you’re mixed with him - not completely, but it makes his chest rumble as he laps at you.

Soap’s tongue licks upwards to find your clit and you nearly scream at the sensation. It’s strong, a slightly different texture than you expected, and feels so goddamn good. You’re on the edge already, whimpering as he looks up at you from his place.

His. 

His.

Any longer like this and Soap could feel you were going to lose it, going to cum all over his face and  -- 

He didn’t want that. Not when he wanted to make you his right now. He wanted to cum together with you, as much as bringing you to release first would have made him very happy. Soap pulls away, licking at his lips as he sits up. He yanks his remaining clothing off in one go, standard-issue boxers and jeans kicked to the floor. 

You whine, so very close to the edge, and prop yourself up.

The bulge in his jeans was not lying: Soap is large. He looks down at you as he palms himself, precum leaking out of his angry and red head. You watch, mouth open as he strokes - and that’s when you see it.

A thicker area towards the base of his cock.

A knot, waiting.

Given the whole hellhound business you’re not surprised, not entirely - okay, maybe the wind was knocked from your lungs and you can’t seem to close your mouth. It’s overwhelming as you blink, darting up from Soap’s face to his cock and then back again. 

He’s panting, chest heaving as his thumb spreads the precum over his shaft; the scent of you and him mixed with both of your arousals is clouding his mind. He wants nothing more than to fill you - 

“Mine.” This time, it’s a deep snarl with bared fangs as he leans down to press the head of his cock into your dripping cunt. He dips his head, chin to his chest as he pushes in slowly - the ache is mind-blowing as he enters you. You’re warm around him, and even then he’s hot, so hot it makes you squirm. 

 Your head hits the mattress, crying out as Soap thrusts in and out of you, slowly.

He’s trying to be careful, his breaths sharp as he tries to focus. The length of his cock is soon almost entirely inside you, the room nothing but the sound of Soap’s panting and your whining as he stretches you. His hands grip the back of your thighs for a moment and then he’s caging you in with his arms, cheek pressed to your cheek. 

“Fuuuuckin’ hell,” he murmurs before he begins to thrust harder, snapping his hips into yours. 

Your hands find his shoulder and the back of his head, nails scratching down what little expanse of his back you can reach. It coaxes a growl out of him, gets him to kiss and suck at your neck as he turns from your cheek.

It’s not that hard to work you back to an orgasm, not with the way he fills you. If there was space between you, you’d be able to see the bulge of his cock as he slides in and out, filling you to the brim with his size.

Soap huffs, pants into your skin as he frantically thrusts into you, causing you to choke on another moan. He snarls as he bites at your neck now, lapping at the bruising from his fangs and almost nearly drawing blood. You clench around him and he hisses, and that’s when you see stars.

The knot shoved into your pussy is expanding, trapping you and Soap together.

He’s as close to the edge as you are.

Words fail you as the sensation becomes overwhelming, your gasps-high pitched as your nails drag sharp lines down his back, as your other hand grabs a fistful of hair.

“Gonna cum,” Soap snarls, nostrils flaring as he rubs his face against yours, “gonna make you mine.”

You whine out a pathetic please as he fucks you, head spinning as you barely hold on. The knot feels so fucking good while each thrust feels like he’s trying to force it deeper into you. Everything is tight, so tight --

You keen and practically black out as Soap shoots white-hot cum into you. The sensation causes you to cum again, and again and again as he presses his sweaty forehead to yours. Bits of his mohawk stick up as your eyes flutter open and your breath hitches. He’s finally stopped filling you with cum - and it’s not slipping out from behind the knot. 

It doesn’t really register with you as you’re hardly capable of thought.

 

Soap struggles to stay still, struggles to not thrust into your cum-filled cunt plugged up by his knot. The sensation feels incredible for both parties - he just wants to buck into you more and any chance of separating gets extended by a solid thirty minutes. He finally settles for adjusting off his knees, pressing a kiss to your forehead to shift the both of you onto your sides. It’s an awkward attempt to cuddle, but it works;  Soap holds you close as you finally come to.

“Bloody hell,” Soap whispers, licking at his lips as his nostrils flare.

The room smells like sex - sex, and him, and you. It clears his mind, his entire body relaxed as you curl into him. The hand that isn’t wrapped around your shoulders gently strokes your cheek as you try to decide if you’re going to stay awake, or if you’re going to sleep.

It’s going to be a while at this rate.

After nearly an hour, Soap’s knot had softened enough to let you separate.

You both whimper at the sensation as he pulls out, your pussy no longer stretched to the brim, no more bulge where his cock and cum sat inside you. It leaked out, still steaming hot, onto the blanket and thighs. 

You groan as you roll onto your stomach, Soap no longer attached to you. He’s up, getting a cloth and water and getting ready to tend to you. 

(He realizes, in hindsight, that was a lot to take at once. Quite literally. He grabs the ibuprofen, too.)

He chuckles, deep and warm as he finds you in your new position. The room is a mess, clothes everywhere and it smells like you and him in a way that will probably never leave the room. It gives Soap a sense of pride as he looks at you.

“Mine,” he whispers to himself under his breath before kneeling on the bed to clean you up.

[cyber-nya]

A ghost. An illusion.

They are always, always real.

Oops! Ghost x Houdini. Thinking about how Ghost found her in the bathroom, broken and sobbing and asked her to come back, come back to me. She’s sharp at first, before he holds her close - teasing, biting comments - until she’s crying against him in the shower searching for reality. He will always, always keep an eye on her now. Even if she doesn’t notice.

[cyber-nya]

PLEASE YOUR VAMPIRE!PRICE SNIPPET IS GIVING ME THOUGHTS ALONG WITH THAT ART YOU LINKED???? GOOD LORD

-that könig anon

heheheh.

— - —

Sure, the way he hauled Houdini between buildings was nothing like the hunt he enjoyed… but Price almost favors the whimper falling from her lips over any other noise a victim has made.

Fae blood was slightly sweeter, slightly stronger than human blood. It took less to replenish Price; but that didn’t mean he stopped early.

“Next time, give me your neck,” he grunts, finally pulling his lips from her wrist.

Houdini giggles, dizzy. “I thought - I thought this wasn’t the way it worked.”

Price stares down with deep red eyes as he stands to full hight.

Houdini had been mostly herself for this mission, so he stands a full foot taller than her. It tickles something in the back of her brain as he licks the blood from his lips. Her eyes are wide - nearly all pupil - as she stares up at him.

His heart does that funny little thing it did early when she whimpered as fangs pierced flesh. He growls, wanting to say something — but gunfire echoes nearby.

Houdini jumps, a little wobbly on her feet.

“Let’s go,” Price hisses, taking her unmarked wrist and pulling her back towards the team.

[cyber-nya]

141 but they're all monsters au and whew houdini just. offering an arm out. they're stranded in a scorched town and it's been days since he last fed.

"please, john."

"you know that's not how it works."

houdini's eyes flicker colors for a moment - fae bullshit ghost had commented one evening - before she settles on a brown.

the brown eyes she'd met her captain with upon first assignment, before either of them knew --

it causes him to acquiesce.

he hauls her into a crevice between two smoldering buildings, tongue licking at his lips.

it would be a lie if either one of them said they didn't enjoy the moment his fangs sunk into her flesh.

[cyber-nya]

83% | Sunshine/Ghost

Sunshine is tasked to work on a major project - a terabyte of interrogations - by Laswell. In the process, Sunshine turns to bad habits and loses all sense of time. 141 comes back from a mission on Christmas Eve and knows something is wrong.

A/N: I originally wanted to write something cute for the holiday but here we are. Whoops. Slapping this into the Compromised timeline.

A few warnings:

Tags as seen on AO3: Bad Decisions, Overworking, Dehydration. Exhaustion, Dissociation, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Breakdown, Soft Simon "Ghost" Riley, Implied/Referenced Torture. Implied/Referenced Vomiting, Implied/Referenced Eating Disorder/Disordered Eating, Christmas Eve, Out of Character Kate Laswell

I am not kind to Kate Laswell here. Gross mischaracterization/out-of-character actions for the plot. Sorry! Someone had to be the bad guy here!

No explicit descriptions of violence, torture, or vomit, but it is all heavily implied. The stuff that Sunshine watched is not something she should have done alone or with the work habits she has.

I am not a medical professional. I tried to make the IV/aftermath of like, three weeks of overworking herself as realistic as I could but it's probably wrong.

Please take care of yourselves!

Read over on AO3 or down below!

Sunshine was tired. Tired and feeling rather broken; the holidays were meant to bring warmth and light to all but instead, she spent the three weeks prior to Christmas huddled in front of her computer station watching interrogation recordings. Lots of them.

Everyone seemed to forget that not ever file or recording was simply recon footage, bodycam videos, or drone aerials. 

She didn’t.

But she made it look like she forgot, made it look like she had an easy job with 141. All smiles and her namesake. Bright, sunny. Warm. Nothing crackling under the surface, nothing broken or wrong with her.

Days blurred together and the bile in her throat lingered as she processed video after video. After months of manageable content, it was fitting that the end of the year brought something more disturbing. The last time she’d dealt with interrogations, it’d only been one video - not a whole hard drive recovered featuring missing operators.

Laswell grounded Sunshine to work on this daunting task. 

“You’re the only one with eyes I can trust right now.” Laswell had said behind closed doors, pressing the hard drive into her hands.

Sunshine quickly fell into old habits from her early years - skipping meals, staying in her tiny office, too much caffeine - in an effort to plug through the terabyte of files. The team flits in and out of the base, not around long enough to notice their beloved Sun slip into darkness. They’d heard of hushed secrets Laswell was concerned about, so they didn’t bat an eye. Peace could never rest when there was evil afoot. Sunshine was just as much of a player as the entirety of 141 was.

Back to Mexico, Spain, and even Egypt they went, carrying out their own duty.

But suddenly it’s Christmas Eve and everyone’s back. Soap claps Gaz on the back as Price immediately lights a cigar. Ghost is looking, looking --

They know something is wrong when Sunshine isn’t at the hangar to greet them. Two years of missions with her on their team and this was the first time she missed a welcome.

Sunshine didn’t even realize it was the holiday as she typed a report up. The date registered vaguely at the bottom of her screen but it didn’t matter, not when peace took priority.

Real peace. Not Christmas peace.

Her fists clenched and unclenched as she stretched between bouts of typing, fingers cold to the touch. A half-eaten cup of instant ramen sits next to her monitor, cold after being left untouched for hours. When was the last time she’d slipped down to the cafeteria to eat? The days blur as she thinks about it for a moment before returning to her task at hand.

Maybe she’d be free of the nightmares by the time the new year rolls around. Maybe she’ll be able to actually get some sleep and be done with the hard drive Laswell pressed into her hands with hushed words. Sunshine could feel that she was close - a lot of the files were duplicates, but that still didn’t make things easy.

Her throat tightens as she details the incident in the latest video, hands shaking as she types. Some of the interrogations were light; some of them were the reason a second trash bin had to be snuck in.

If she never left her office, then no one would see --

The room is briefly flooded with light from the hallway before a shadow fills the room. Sunshine snaps around in a panic, wide-eyed. She should’ve grabbed something, anything --

Ghost swallows the lump in his throat as he pulls her into his arms and kneels before her chair. 

“No one’s seen you for days,” he murmurs as he cups the back of her head.

A confused noise escapes Sunshine. “What are you talking about? Why are you back already? Is everything okay?”

He pulls back, eyes narrowing as he finally gives Sunshine and her office a once over. He’s ignoring the cup of ramen and the scent of sanitizer in favor of the bags under her eyes and the way she trembles in his arms. Her shirt is threadbare and he notices she’s in sweats, wrapped in a blanket; her monitor shows a progress bar of 83% and that’s when he sees the paused video screen. “Fucking hell is that the --” Ghost begins to grit out, cupping her cheek with one hand as he forces Sunshine to look at him. “What are you working on --”

“It’s fine! I’m - I’m fine,” she lies, eyes watering.

When was the last time she spoke to another person? Her mind blanks for a moment as Ghost curses, footsteps echoing in the hallway from the open door. Oh, that’s right, she idly thinks, when 141 left for Egypt. When was that?

“Captain, we need t’speak with Laswell now,” Ghost barks, turning away from Sunshine for a moment. His eye twitches and his accent is always heavier when he’s angry. Price appears in the doorway and Ghost gives him a look before clearing his throat and turning back toward the woman in front of him. “Sunbeam, love, it’s Christmas Eve. We’ve been gone for a week an’ a half.” He’s back to being gentle, his other hand brushing the wild wisps of hair from her face. His thumb catches a loose tear as it breaches containment, wiping it away. 

Sunshine blinks, almost dumbly, as the dissociation fades away for a moment. “It’s… Christmas Eve?”

“Yes, Sunbeam,” Ghost whispers. “Christmas Eve. Wouldn’t miss the holiday with you. Made sure to get back on time, isn’t that right boss?”

Price pulls his gaze from the screen - he’s noticed, now, too - and clears his throat. “Sure is.”

“Oh.” Sunshine makes a small sound like the puzzle pieces are sliding into place.  Reality comes quickly. Sunshine takes a sharp breath as her method of dealing with her work crumbles. “I -- I -”

Ghost hushes her, thumb brushing her cheek. “Shh, hey, it’s okay, love. It’s okay. Can I pick you up?”

Sunshine nods. In her head, she starts counting; five things she can see, then four things she can feel. One, a skull balaclava. Two, light eyelashes muddied by eyeblack. Three, the shadow of Price --

He carefully stands up, pulling Sunshine into his arms. She feels lighter than the last time he picked her up, right before their last send-off, and she’s trembling. Ghost keeps the blanket wrapped around her, taking a deep breath to center himself.

Price backs out of the room as they headed toward the medical wing; she needed an IV for fluids before anything else. 

(And a fuck-ton of counseling if they understand what she’s been working on.)

Captain Price is the one who lays into Laswell first, who claims she had no clue that Sunshine had been working like this. She admits fault at tasking Sunshine to work alone on the files, but nothing else. Price leaves her office with his bucket hat clenched tightly in his fist.

Ghost stays by Sunshine’s side - Laswell could come to them. 

“Hold my hand, Sunbeam, they’re just gonna insert an IV -” he whispers, taking one hand in his while the nurse takes her other. It was a fight to even stay within arms’ reach of her, but one look at the attending doctor and he could stay. Ghost was not a man to be taken lightly in the moment. Especially not now.

“I’ve -  hic - I’ve ruined Christmas, haven’t I?” Sunshine cries, wincing at the insertion of the needle. “I didn’t realize, I - hic - I didn’t even buy presents…”

The nurse tapes the tubing and slips out wordlessly.

“Shh, no -  no love. You didn’t ruin anything.” He could only imagine what she’s seen. Hours upon hours of footage they’d recovered off a hard drive in an abandoned post. Coercing operators to break under the worst conditions and threats. 

Sunshine whimpers softly, awkwardly adjusting herself on the uncomfortable bed. Ghost lets go of her hand only for a moment to fix the blanket she’d been wrapped up in, spreading it on top of the thin sheet. 

“We’ll do something once you’ve rested up an’ feel better,” Ghost continues, voice soft. “You’ve been nothin’ but brave and strong. The best of us. Take a nap. I’ll be right here.”

She nods, feeling rather pathetic. But exhaustion has seeped into her bones and she relaxes as the IV works its magic. 

Ghost pulls up a chair next to the bed and takes watch, waiting for Laswell to come crawling out of her office to apologize. Sunshine looks at peace as she sleeps, though the dark circles under her eyes concern him.

Just how long had she been working on this project?

“Three weeks?!” he hisses, stepping away from the bed.

Laswell stares at Ghost, not entirely willing to back down. “She’s the best we’ve got for this work, and you and Price and I all know that.”

“So when she went missing -”

“I knew where she was. Holed up, working through the terabyte of  --”

“She is one person, Laswell. One.” Ghost holds up a single finger as he inhales sharply. Careless. His voice is thick and strong as he steals a glance at Sunshine from over his shoulder. “One person should not have to shoulder all of that data. You and I both know how gruesome some of those interrogations got. Reassign the remaining files.”

“Lieutenant Ri--”

“Reassign. The. Rest.” He cut her off, almost snarling.

“Alright, alright.” Laswell acquiesced, putting her hands up. She turns on her heels quickly, exiting the room. “--Merry Christmas.”

Sunshine took more than a nap - she slept most of the day, with Ghost at her bedside. A nurse had come eventually, terrified of the 6’4” figure sitting next to the bed (forgive her, she’s new) before she worked up the courage to remove the spent IV and rattle off some suggested food for when she woke up over the next few days. He’d gotten permission to keep her under observation for the next week, and even scheduled an intake session with one of the shrinks on base for her. 

The look he’d seen in her eyes when he found her in her office reminded him of his own.

When she finally wakes several hours later, Sunshine nearly cries on the spot. Ghost soothes her, pulling her into an embrace. 

“I --” she starts, crying into his vest. He’s still in his vest!

“Shhhh, you don’t have t’explain anythin’, Sunbeam. I’ve got you,” Ghost whispers, one hand around her waist and the other petting the back of her head. “You deserve a break.”

Her mind darts to 83% completion, her body tensing under his grasp. But then he moves a hand, pulling up his mask to kiss her temple. 

“A real break,” he whispers, “starting with Christmas.”

Sunshine nods as he scoops her up into his arms, the last three weeks having caught up with her. She fits against his chest perfectly, blanket wrapped around her as they headed towards the living quarters.

There, Gaz, Soap, and Price would be waiting - complete with cups of red and green Jello - to celebrate a very late Christmas Eve.

(And later, once they’ve kicked everyone else out, Ghost would pull Sunshine into his chest, small and strong against him to give her his present. Not another shirt of his to sleep in, but a necklace he���d ordered months ago: a silver chain with two charms - a skull and a sun.)

[cyber-nya]

141 but they're all monsters au:

price is a vampire because wow that art is gorgeous and of course he is. i literally cannot brain anything other than "hot" because listen, okay, i like vampires. always have. they just make the brain go "brrr"

soap, if we lean into "demo expert" is an elemental.... maybe he's also like - hellhound shifter-y to keep that fire useage but also i def sort of see him as a werewolf or shifter of that type? i don't think i'm making much sense here... though if we want to lean into Scottish folklore, Cù-sìth???

ghost is self-explanatory. maybe closer to death than traditional ghost. absolutely terrifying. man has no footsteps.

gaz could be a few things, i'm not as confident as pinning a monster type onto him? i'd originally said fae that has more of a focus on magic use (in contrast to houdini below)? but i'm not sure. i need to do more digging. there's a trivia bit in his wiki page about his skins named as swords so part of me wants to lean like... dragon. for giggles. (update: he's possessed sword/armor. has a dragon form bc why not)

bonus oc info:

houdini is fae, but with more shifter/glamour abilities. very much the roanoke version of herself turned up a bit

sunshine... sunshine is really hard to pin down. in my heart, i want to do an au where she's a mermaid but that's best for au instances and not "we're all monsters here." so....fae? (Update; SUN GODDESS)

honestly if we had to use the Seelie and Unseelie courts.. sunshine is Seelie while houdini is Unseelie.

[cyber-nya]

Overtime | Sunshine/Ghost

Sunshine has been working overtime while on a mission with 141. Ghost checks in on her.

A/N: Based on @whitewolfmystery's prompt "you're falling asleep on me, love." Takes place after the initial events of Compromised (yes, it's now a series!)

Read on down below or over on AO3

It had been a very, very long week.

Sunshine worked overtime, doing everything she could to not only decrypt the package of data they’d found on a slightly-crushed USB drive, but also serve as eyes and ears for the team.

They’d put her in a safe house not far from the hub of activity — quite literally. If she wasn’t working, the gunfire kept her awake.

It’s not that the gunfire was terrifying - no, it was just loud . It was loud and she was tired and it was one of those weeks she couldn’t get any sleep.

Sunshine huffed as she rubbed at her eyes, a knock at the door before it opened.

“ ‘s me, Sunshine,” Ghost murmured, locking it behind him. He’d taken the lead on checking up on their officer (as if he would give anyone else the chance to spend such intimate time together). 

She turned towards him from her spot on the couch, the blue light of her laptop illuminating her face. “Hi.”

Usually Ghost came to check up on her while shots were being exchanged to ensure her safety - a brief visit only to get eyes on her to calm his mind. But tonight was quiet - they’d been able to push a bit harder and knock more Shadows down. He joined Sunshine on the couch, brushing the hair back from her face. She looked exhausted .

“Long day?” He asked, worry flickering in his eyes. He’d seen Sunshine work on fumes before and knows that it’s not good for her - she slips into old habits that prioritize her work instead of herself. “Did you eat?”

“I did,” she nodded, scooting closer to Ghost on the couch. She tucked herself right up against him, his arm resting at her side. Sunshine pointed to the stack of dishes in the sink visible from their seats. 

“Good girl,” Ghost murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. A calm night like this meant more time, more risks could be taken — 

A few minutes pass as the laptop screen flickered in front of them, completing whatever task Sunshine had set it to do.

It didn’t mean much to Ghost - her work was so different from his own, he could barely make heads or tails of how she got from point A to B with data.

(He does, however, enjoy when she clips footage from their cameras and mics - he preens when she shows him his own work. Always listening, always watching.)

Ghost’s radio crackled for a moment - Price was calling for confirmation - and he sighed. 

“All clear Boss.” 

Disappointment settled in his chest as the captain detailed a need for infiltration plans once Sunshine sent over the next pack of data - one loaded with maps that should be done by now.

“Make sure she uploads a copy to our drive. You’ve got the pad on hand.”

“Aye cap —”

The radio clicked off.

Ghost sighed as he looked down at Sunshine - she’d fallen asleep curled up against him in their stolen moment. 

“You’re falling asleep on me, love,” he whispered into her ear, a smile pulling at his features. She looked so peaceful, curled into his side like that. His gear couldn’t be that comfortable, though, as he shook her gently. “C’mon Sunbeam. You can rest once I leave.”

Sunshine stirred, whining softly. “Don’t go.”

“I’ve got Boss waiting for me, I’ve got to,” he sighed, helping her sit up. “I’ll make sure we keep it quiet for the next few hours.”

She blinked at Ghost, rubbing at her eyes before staring at the laptop in front of her. “Pad, please.”

Ghost pulled the device from his pack and handed it over, kissing her temple. “I promise we’ll be done here soon. Then you can fall asleep on me all you’d like.”

A smile pulled at Sunshine’s features and she nodded, plugging the pad into the computer. A few clicks later and her work was done, the device back in Ghost’s pack. 

“Get some sleep — in bed, love. Not out here,” he instructed, tipping her chin up so she looked at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sunshine nodded as Ghost pressed their foreheads together, one final moment before the radio crackled once more. He’s quickly gone, locking the door to the safe house as he returns to the team.

The promise of tomorrow lingered as Sunshine closed the laptop, shuffling off to bed as instructed. 

[cyber-nya]

Disguise: Duchess | 1 of ?

Houdini is tasked to play pretend with 141 as her security detail. What’s a duchess to do?

*2nd person POV/reader-insert as my OC, Agent Houdini. Ghost/Houdini with some Price/Houdini sprinkled in.

A/N: I started writing this while on the ride back from NYC at like, two AM (while tipsy) so I reverted back to my 2nd person POV habits. You are Houdini in this story, my beloved Statesman/Roanoke agent-turned-COD character. (Some of my other COD works feature her, but not as a reader-insert.) Anastasia-inspired mission. This is probably an AU but I do not care. I’m making this happen even if it would never work as a real COD mission, and I’m definitely not following the rules of actual modern royalty. I’m just going to make things up as I go as this is fiction and I’m here to have fun. fic aesthetic

read over on AO3 or keep reading below!

Shots had been fired.

Shots had been fired and you had been escorted out — carried out, really — by Gaz and Soap. 

They got you back to safety, away from the gala and the attempted assassination. Price and Ghost stayed behind, hunting for whoever dared to hurt you. 

Locked in your townhouse, the two sergeants triple-checked security and remained within arms’ reach. The wait felt like hours as you curled up under the covers, still in your dress. The shot echoed in your mind, whizzing past you — intended for you. 

Eventually Ghost and Price returned to your apartment, still angry and more bloodstained than before. The tension lingers as they pull Soap and Gaz into a circle, voices barely over a whisper. You feel less present, less real as time slips away. 

After their debrief, Price moved out on the balcony for a smoke while Gaz and Soap slipped off to their own rooms.

Ghost took the opportunity to join you in your bedroom, closing the door behind him. He joined you on the bed, sliding under the covers. His arms snaked around your middle and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head; you were safe.

He made sure of it.

The bloodstains on his sleeves proved it.

Something shakes you - perhaps the realization you’d almost died that very night - and you cried in the arms of your protector.

--------------------------------------------------------

SIX MONTHS AGO

“We’ll be doing something a bit different for the next mission,” Price explained, tossing an open folder onto the center of the table.

“What do you mean, Captain?” Gaz asked, head tilted. You nod in agreement, confused as you lean to get a look at the file.

“We’re going to have a princess on our hands,” the captain continued, gesturing between the folder and you. “Houdini gets the role of a lifetime.”

Everyone turned to you — royalty?!

“You’re joking —“ your heart stutters as you play with the tennis bracelet clasped to your wrist. 

Ghost doesn’t let his smile reach his eyes as he watched you fidget. It’d taken a lot of work to get approved for this mission - especially as it wasn’t their normal wheelhouse to play with royalty - but he and Price pulled some strings. 

Price shook his head no. “You’re going to take the role of long-forgotten Duchess of Newcastle; another team will take lead on the pressing political issues - like the royal arms dealer slinking around. We’re the distraction to unnerve them.”

You nodded, vaguely understanding the situation. You’ll become the front of the operation? But —

“That means we’ll be your security detail,” Price continued, and Soap punched the air excitedly. “Soap, Gaz, Ghost, and myself. We’ll have a townhouse as our base of operations, and there’s some protocol we’ll have to establish, but otherwise you’ll be leading the charge as our duchess.”

You blinked again. Soap - to your right - clapped a hand to your shoulder and grinned. 

“Shame the title couldn’t be from Scotland, but it’ll be nice to see you all dolled up,” he smiled, almost too excited for this mission. “I figure we’ll be gettin’ fancy too?”

Before you could say anything, Price took lead once more. “Yes, Soap. New kits are ready for us once our duchess decides she’s got enough of a closet for herself.” There’s a light-hearted tone to his words, as if he were teasing you only slightly. You blushed, ducking your head. “Now, let’s get going. We need to be at the townhouse by next week to get this whole thing moving.”

You glanced down and realized you’d been playing with the tennis bracelet the entire briefing. Ghost nudged your arm with his elbow as everyone else filtered out of the room. 

“Ready to play princess?” He whispered, smirking under the mask.

“It’s - It’s duchess ,” you corrected, turning to look up at him. 

“Yes, Your Grace.”

[cyber-nya]

Runaway | Sunshine x König

König is on contract from KorTac and in a chance encounter, he meets 141's intelligence officer. Something about her makes him tense up, makes him want to runaway -- How can a woman who barely registers as 5'2" unsettle him?

A/N: This is separate from Compromised and whatever other Sunshine x 141 fics that may end up happening. Sorry if it's out of character. It's likely that this will become a multi-chapter work, but no promises. And yes, Sunshine would absolutely make 141 edits if given the clearance to. She loves spending all that time listening and watching...

special thanks to @itsagrimm for their "how to include German" posts!

read on down below or over at ao3!

The first time König meets her, she’s asleep at her desk.

He’d wandered in by accident, looking for a quiet place —

But it’s occupied. She’s curled up in her desk chair, knees to her chest as the progress bar on her screen moves slowly. The monitor illuminates her face and his breath catches in his throat. König carefully backs out, not wanting to disturb her, whoever she is.

 

The second time he meets her, he learns her name.

“König is on contract from KorTac,” Price explains, gesturing to the giant. “Sunshine here handles data and intel for our team. She doesn’t often join us on the field directly, but she’s here for a reason - like everyone else, she’s good at what she does.”

The comment causes Sunshine to blush slightly, curling into her shoulders for a moment. She makes herself small, so much smaller than anyone else in 141 or KorTac. No wonder she looked impossibly tiny in that chair. 

Then she’s looking up at him from under her lashes - does her neck hurt having to look up so much? - and she waves, smiling. 

König shifts his weight between his feet as his heart hammers in his chest. 

Sonnenschein . Was certainly fitting with the way she smiled.

The third time he meets her, she catches him off guard.

König found himself wandering back towards the intel officer’s workstation after his first contract mission. 

Sunshine had been in their ears, feeding Price and the rest of the team important updates on the recon data. He could listen to her speak for hours, a calmness present in her tone as she worked through changes in schedules and locations. Her work is detailed, precise, and crystal clear - no wonder Price sung his praises of her.

“You’re much quieter than I expected,” Sunshine muses, turning her chair around to face König. She tilts her head (and chair) back - she has to, in order to meet his gaze - and smiles softly.

He shifts back and forth on his feet, uncomfortable. How much does she know? He just walked in from briefing - and yes, she was there but he had been standing awkwardly outside her door before finally walking in and -

“On the field, you’re a chatterbox,” she notes, still smiling. “I almost think more than Soap. And Soap talks a lot .” 

Sunshine giggles at the end, thinking of the time when the sergeant told stories of Ghost and Price over comms while holed up for the night back in Mexico. The sound captivates König, watching as her nose wrinkles. 

“You listen to all of that?” How mortifying . He curses under his breath, thankful for the hood. Maybe she’ll be afraid of him with how he looks, eyes frenzied. König shifts awkwardly, shoulders tight.

“Always.” It feels like a promise, that she’ll always be listening. Her voice is soft and there’s a kindness to her tone.

Something worms its way into König’s chest and his brain lags, unable to process the exchange.

It registers in his head that she’s detail-oriented, that she pays attention to the little things - but for some reason, it never clicked that it would apply to things off-field. But then it does, and he’s looking anywhere but at her - at her screen, at the top of her chair, at the keyboard that is certainly not standard issue.

Sunshine wets her lips, watching him carefully. 

“ Scheiße .” Shit, shit -- for once he was the one running. He curses under his breath and catches her brow wrinkling in confusion.

König bolts out the door without another word. He has to do something, anything but stand there as this small, petite woman worms her way into his chest.

He misses the sigh of frustration as Sunshine turns her chair back around to face her monitor, shoulders dropping. Clearly, what she did was too much, too personal and weird, or so she thinks. She returns to her files, to her folders for each of the members of 141 - with a new one, labeled König . 

(His folder has two subfolders: German and English . Her plan was to ask him what he said in some of the German clips out of purely personal interest, but… well. It did not happen, obviously.)

The fourth time König meets Sunshine --

In reality, it’s been more than four times, but he’s being prickly and avoidant. König bristles like a cat, agitated and annoyed he’s making a fool of himself. He’s seen her everywhere. Mess hall, the hallway, the helipad, even the med bay of all places. Her eyes look a little more sunken in when he finally allows himself to look at her, the circles under her eyes dark and deep.

It’s been weeks since their last interaction in her office, and she looks as defeated as he feels.

König considers approaching her but then Soap is there, and she’s smiling now - of course , she’s smiling. He snarls under the hood and sulks off, unwilling to even try.

Everyone else on base puts distance between themselves and König - at this rate, he was likely to bite someone with the agitation pouring off him in waves. It reminds him of his place, of his role in this contract - dangerous, a weapon.

Truly not something - or someone - for Sunshine.

He takes today’s frustration out on the range, unable to stay still. Not while his mind buzzed with absolute failure. Not while it reminded him of the first time he saw her, asleep in her chair. 

It was unoccupied, so he allowed himself the freedom of removing his hood. No one would find him here, not when --

“König?”

He’s in the middle of reloading a clip when his head snaps toward the sound of his callsign.

“König?”

No, no -

“Verdammt noch mal -- schau nicht--” Damn it! Don’t look, don’t look! He turns away just as fast and shoves the hood back on over his head with one hand, fumbling as the other grips the rifle.

“König?” She calls out to him once more, even softer than the last.

When he finally allows himself to turn back towards her, she’s smiling. 

Sunshine is standing there, patiently, head tilted with a tablet in her arms. “I hope my tendencies didn’t weird you out,” she starts, looking shy. Her, of all people, embarrassed? “I know you’re here on contract, and everyone else is used to - well, used to the listening, the watching - at least now, anyway. Ghost wasn’t happy about it at first, and I - I get it if you are.”

König blinks, confused. She.. wasn’t mad at him? He stares from across the range, unwilling to close the distance.

“I - I wanted to apologize, and I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I just figured you were avoiding me and  --”

“ Nein .” It’s more bark than disagreement. 

Sunshine looks taken aback by the response as her mouth falls open. “No?” She’s taught herself enough German in the past few weeks trying to decipher his comms to know that, at least.

His mind is spinning, like wheels in the mud, and she moves closer. König desperately wants to run once more, chest pounding as he clenches his fist by his side. He can’t, though, not as he stares down at Sunshine. She’s within arms reach now, completely engulfed in his shadow.

This König is so different than the one she sees and hears in footage - so different from the one that banters with Ghost, who taunts those who dare try him, and the one who takes orders from Price with ease. Her heart stutters as she wonders if - if --

He mutters something under his breath, unintelligible with the hood before clearing his throat. “You are good at what you do,” he says sharply as if speaking through clenched teeth, “Price has always been correct.” König checks the rifle’s safety before putting it on the table in front of him. 

He clenches and unclenches both fists as he turns back to Sunshine, catching her wet her lips once more. She does that when she’s thinking, when she’s putting all of the pieces of the puzzle together. The tip of her tongue peeks between her lips briefly each time and it’s so charming, so distracting. 

But this time her cheeks are colored pink and he’s caught her off guard for once, even just briefly. She’s calculated the size difference between them as she cranes her neck upward and her stomach does a little flip.

“You make it very hard for me to think,” König admits, shifting his weight between his feet. Each word is punctuated and he exhales sharply, trying to keep himself from rambling in German. He knows she cannot understand him, knows she’s probably lost when reviewing his comms but it suddenly slips out so easily as he’s reaching for her chin -- “ Du bist schön .”

Her eyes search his, confused as she clutches the tablet to her chest. She can’t translate it, can’t make meaning of the syllables that come from behind the hood.

He drops his hand and clears his throat once more. “I would like if we - if I -”

“Yes…?” Sunshine mumbles, enraptured in his presence.

König makes a noise that gets caught in his throat. Scheiße , he was in trouble if she continued to look at him like that. He opens his mouth to speak once more before the door to the range creaks open.

“Sunshine! There y’are! We were gettin’ worried that König ate you or somethin’--” 

König feels his eye twitch as he straightens up as Sunshine turns to face the intruder. It’s Soap, all laughs as he interrupts what König considers a moment. Just as everything was going so well, it’s ruined in an instant.

“Price was lookin’ for you, actually, he’s got a new data package for you from Laswell to decrypt. Might want to get moving since it’s for tomorrow’s brief,” Soap continues, tilting his head towards the door. 

“Another one? I’ll be right there. Thanks, Soap,” she smiles, but it’s not the smile König saw as she had looked up to him earlier. Sunshine turns back to him for a moment, brushing stray wisps of hair back behind her ear. That’s a new one. “Visit me later, okay?”

He nods, watching as she ran after Soap. Sunshine waves as she slips out the door, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes at the thought of later.  

“ Diesmal werde ich nicht weglaufen ,” König says softly, promising himself that he wouldn’t back down, wouldn’t run away in fear later.