#vaquero snaps

[vaquerobuckaroo]

Made John watch a silent film in Armadillo and it was hilarious.

It showed a doctor (?) selling his medicines and it progressively got weirder

One of the patients experiences bouts of strength after complaining about not having enough energy,

One of them with tapeworm who has trouble finding a lady to court him shits out his tapeworm and is so horny he humps a tree

And another one is a little girl with toothache who is given a medicine so potent it makes her hallucinate that her mother is a giant carnivorous insect and then chops her up in pieces with an axe

And when the doctor was robbed by Mexican outlaws, he drinks his own invisible medicine, loses sensation in his legs, and then sinks into the ground where he is in Hell and welcomed by the Devil

The end literally said "medical science cannot save you" 😭

Wtf were PSAs in 1911 😭😭

[greenlaut]

napping cowboys

[cod-dump]

Soap: Thanks for letting me stay for a bit

Alejandro: Of course! You're our friend and we'll gladly have you

Rudy: I have to know, though, since you were so vague over the phone… Why are you wanting to stay with us?

Soap: Well-

(back on 141 base)

Ghost: HE WAS MINE FIRST YOU FUCKS

Gaz: YOU DON'T DESERVE HIM

Price: NEITHER OF YOU KNOW TO TREAT A MAN-

(back with Los Vaqueros)

Rudy: OH-

Alejandro: I am so, so angry I haven't been able to witness this firsthand

Rudy: *hits Alejandro's shoulder*

Alejandro: AH- I… I mean- I'm sorry about the very interesting drama you're in the middle of

Soap: Yea…

Alejandro, jokingly: Guess you’re our boyfriend until further notice

Rudy: *snaps his neck looking at Alejandro*

Alejandro: … I-

Soap: I guess I am

Rudy & Alejandro: *shook*

[lethalchiralium]

Happiness Masterlist

A collection of Simon “Ghost” Riley and his daughter, Winnie, and his wife, you.

SERIES PLAYLIST | Simon’s Playlist | Your Playlist

AO3 Link!

Raindrops

It’s the first night home with his little one, and he’s trying to remember every moment.

Angel

“Can you please explain to my Captain why I am an hour late?”

Little

Ghost has somewhere to be.

Tattooed Heart

The 141 meets the mysterious Lieutenant's daughter.

You Belong With Me

It’s your 21st birthday, yet you sit in a nice restaurant in a beautiful dress and tears in your eyes - until someone comes to your rescue, like a knight on a white horse.

Dear Winter

Simon had to find a toy for Winnie, but discovers what finally pushes him over the edge to confess his love for you.

Diamond Ring

“Wear it on your hand, tell the whole world that I’m your only man.” Simon dodged death so closely that it finally snapped him from his stupor - he needed you to be in his life for the rest of time.

Wife content below!

Tonight, Tonight, Tonight

It was a long deployment, Ghost wanted nothing more than to come home and be Simon again.

A Little More

It’s Simon’s first late night and morning with his new daughter, Mellie. And you and him have an important conversation.

A Little More [2]

A simple day of mundane domesticity, life isn’t always jammed packed full of events + Simon still has a lifetime of making it up to you.

That Happy Feeling

“say hello, winnie.” “say hello, mellie.” + a text conversation with the 141 + los vaqueros!

Dramatic

Simon’s been sick for three days and has refused any medication, claiming the cold medicine you brought from your home in America is poison and he’d rather die. You are convinced that the British medicine does nothing. Only one will win.

Lover

Christmas Eve is over. With enough paper cuts to last a lifetime, you just want Simon to know how much you love him with a song.

Twice A Question, Once An Answer

Two times you asked your husband a question, and the one time he had the answer you needed.

Imagine It

It was just a nice afternoon, your husband’s brothers in arms trying to name your imaginary baby for you.

Almost

Just a doctor’s appointment to find out baby three’s gender.

Will Never Be Enough

"Simon, I need you." The Lieutenant dropped the papers he was holding, they flew across the office floor. "I'm on my way." OR, Simon comes home to find you in a puddle of blood.

Bigger Than The Whole Sky

It’s hard to get over something like this, it’s hard to feel like this. Loss is difficult. OR, your husband tries his best to comfort you, but he’s finding this new challenge difficult.

Ducks

It’s hot in England, so it’s time to pull out the plastic kiddie pool and dip toes in the frighteningly cold water. Winnie finds a new friend.

More Than I Could Ask For

Losing a baby is difficult, Simon knows that. But as he takes care of you, all he wishes for is for you to not feel the pain anymore.

All I Ask

Simon tells you why he feels ashamed, plus Mellie decides to be a comforting little baby.

A Late Night Last Minute Request

Laswell catches Simon at the supermarket, to which he brings bad news home. There's only one thing he wants - a late night last minute request.

Four

It’s cuddle time for your girls.

White Carnations

Simon spends time with Winnie before he goes, he reminisces on the time he’s had with her.

The Love You Want (NOT POSTED)

It’s late at night, it’s his last night home before he leaves and he needs you like he needs oxygen.

Fearless

With Simon's new deployment comes a surprise guest, Kate Laswell, and some very unwanted company knocks at the door.

Window to the Abbey

Winnie and Mellie are cautious of the two new operators in their house, Simon’s calling, and Mellie’s sick. To say you’re handling it with grace would be an understatement.

Dial Tone

It’s the afternoon, rain thundered against your home so you couldn’t hear the footsteps that backed you into a corner.

Drag Me Under

One moment, you’re home - the next? You’re somewhere you don’t recognize with people you don’t recognize either, holding one of your most precious valuables.

High Water

Price has to make a tough decision.

The Death of Peace of Mind

This time, you need to not pretend. Don't be scared. You know to protect everything you have, since no one is coming to save you.

Waiting Room

The ICU is the quietest area of the hospital, but Simon's as silent as a tomb.

I Will Think Of You As I Surely Drown

Healing is a journey and you're finding your footing on what seems to be a frozen lake, while Simon deals with what it means to break promises.

Burial Plot

…

Indigo

…

Lie To Me

…

Still I Say Goodnight

…

Epilogue

…

The Drabbles:

Burps

Little Letters

Christmas Closet

Melody

Mummy

Don’t Jump

Mum and Baby

Dinner Plans

Just Five Minutes With You | Interrupted

Bye Bye Beard

Be Home Soon

Halloween

Sleep Patterns

Chef Riley

Santa’s Helpers

The What Ifs:

Home or Hospital | Porcelain | Piece of You In The Morning

Drifting

Careful What You Wish For | 22 Years

If Simon was with you when you went into the OR.

The promise that John Price keeps. | The Locket

Comfortable (18+)

[diejager]

Hey! I'm new here but what I've seen of your blog so far I've consumed appreciatively.

Could I please get an Alejandro Vargas x f!reader anything nsfw with a breeding schmink?? I know that man wants a soccer team.

Perhaps he'd seen the reader take care of a kid/s in his family and she's really good with them, she's always wanted her own so when something clicks with Alejandro, man is on a mission that doesn't take very much convincing on the readers part.

Thank you 🤍

Parenthood

Pairing: Alejandro Vargas x fem!reader

Cw: breeding kink, pregnancy, soft sex, creampie, service dom!Alejandro, p in v, fingering, cunnilingus, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.4k (A/N): I’m gonna be honest with you, I don’t really like it and it feels a bit rushed and just bad.

His heart nearly stopped when he turned around, the sight making him choke down a breath. He’d forgotten for a second that he was in public, gracing the cleaned streets of Las Almas, the cartel driven away by the joint force of Task Force 141 and Los Vaqueros. Breath stolen away in a whisper of love and admiration, he watched you play with the children, small and precious, sitting on your haunches with the kids surrounding you in a crowd of loud chatting and adorable giggles. His knees felt weak when he caught your eyes, glancing his way with a smile gracing your lips, the warm and motherly gleam in your beautiful eyes and the way you held the small fingers of a child between your soft fingers.

“Oh, mi amor,” he sighed, feeling his cheeks flush brightly, chest filling up with warmth, a comforting and burning heat that pulsed through his body like a plague. 

He remembered that he wore the clothes of a civvy, he was but a man and a husband outside of the uniform, outside of the base, and outside of the battlefield. He moved slowly when you beckoned him towards you, hand leaving the child to wave him over, fingers curling and smile so enticing to kiss. He bowed to your whim, crouching beside you to greet the kids, smiling warmly and coaxing them forward with the promise of a piggyback ride. It made him wonder how energetic and joyous his house would be with children running around the place.

You fell back on the bed, lips swollen and cheeks flushed, your hair was a mess and your clothes ruffled, riding over your abdomen, the edge of your lacy bra peeking under your shirt. Alejandro was quick to undress you, pulling your shirt over your head and your shorts down your legs, he unclipped your bra and pulled your panties to your ankles. He sat up, admiring your nakedness, the smooth curves of your hips and the sheen of sweat coating your skin. He shrugged his clothes off, lips wrapping around your nipples once his shirt was off, teeth nipping at your collar and neck before trailing down your stomach to kiss your slick folds.

He shuddered at the taste of your pussy, tongue lapping at your clit, rolling the tip over your sensitive button. He drank up your moans as he drank up your slick, lips latching to your nub, sucking while his hands moved up your thighs, gripping the apex of it and dipping into you. With two fingers, he slipped them between your lips, teasing you while he still had the self-control to. He had to hold you down, despite your squirming and mewls being addicting, he needed you to stay still for him to make you come before he snapped.

“God, Ale-” you knocked your head back when you felt him push a finger in, pumping in and out, and curling upwards. 

He groaned, eyes rolling back at the wet squelch of his finger - fingers, now that he added another one to stretch you out - and curling them against your spongy wall, in search of your sweet g-spot. His cock rubbed against the tightness of his boxers, being confined to his pants while he serviced you in a way that any husband should with his precious wife if he wanted her happy, rutting against the bed. 

He drove in, panting as if he ran a marathon, out of breath from the excitement and control he exerted on himself. He wanted you to come first, to feel you fall over the edge, to watch your back arch and toes curl before he fucked his child into you, to fill you with his cum and love. He shifted his hand, digits pounding upwards in fast and erratic motions, rigid as he pushed on, listening to your yelp turning into whimpers and mewls mixing together as your toes curled, fingers gripping the bed sheets. 

“Come for me, mi amor,” he mumbled against your clit, his voice rumbling down to your core. “C’mon.”

He felt you jerk, your thighs closing around his head and your walls clamping down on his fingers, pulsing wildly with every loud mewls and moans. He helped you ride out your climax, pumping slowly while you panted, keeping his fingers relaxed until you calmed down. He pressed his lips to your navel, right over your womb, moving up with his little pecks, cheeky and loving. He could spend his days worshipping you with his lips, his hands and his cock, but you pulled him towards your lips, mouth moving feverishly against his, chasing the taste of your cunt on his tongue. He groaned, tongue meeting yours in a dance, rolling over yours and slipping between your teeth. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the salty tang slipping onto your tongue. His eyes closed in the moments, lost in the softness and enrapture of your being, mind zoned into your hands wandering over his neck, short nails caressing down his chest, over the curves of his sculpted abdomen and to the waistband of his briefs. 

You pulled them down, slipping your fingers under the waistband and pushing them down his strong thighs and muscled ass, his hard and angry cock bobbing and slapping his happy trail. He kicked them off, as impatient as he was to undress you, throwing his boxers somewhere behind him. He grasped your hips, ready to lay you down on your back and kiss you away, but you pushed him back, forcing him to sit on his ass as you straddled him. He let out a soft moan, your wet and warm cunt grinding down on his leaky cock, his bulbous head nudging the hood of your clit. 

“Please, corazón.”

Hands planted on his shoulders and him supporting your weight by your hips, you sank, feeling his cock stretch you open. You shared a groan, Alejandro’s cock filling you inch by inch, swallowed by your pulsing walls. You moved slowly, hips bucking as you rode him, steadily taking him deeper with every roll, rocking down until he bottomed out, sitting flush on his lap, thighs wet and body sweaty. He kissed you reverently, holding you to his chest as you shifted, legs pushing you up and down, skin slapping together in echoing squelch, wet and filthy as the words he whispered in your ear. 

He voiced his wishes of wanting to become a father, of wanting to breed your fertile womb, of wanting to see your stomach swell with life. He’d drink the milk from your swollen tits, the sweet and warm dribble of milk that would leak from your overfilled breasts. He’d hold and caress your round stomach, watching it grow with the passing months and caring for your every whim. He promised you he’d make you a mother, to care for you during your pregnancy and to watch over your little bébé, holding them in his arms, kissing them with the gentle press of his lips, and letting them grab his finger. 

Alejandro promised you the world as he bucked upwards, fucking himself into you with a delirious mind and stuttering pace. You rocked down, thighs burning with exhaustion and cramping, working to ride up and down on his throbbing cock, the crossing veins rubbing against your back wall. Your cunt pulling him in, the knot in your core tightening with a strong pulse, coaxing him closer to his end. Alejandro looked as strained as you were, breathing heavily, chest puffing up with broken groans and skin gleaming with sweat. He chased his release, lips catching yours with an open-mouthed kiss, tongue swirling around yours, sharing warm breaths. 

“Alejandro-” you swore, “I love you- I- fuck… Te amo. Te amo, Ale.”

You felt his cock jump, a sudden and strong thrust, slamming his head to your cervix had you reeling, coil in your navel snapping. Moans rolled down your tongue, body shuddering strongly as your legs buckled under you, knees falling and depending on him to ride out your high. His name and I love yours slipped from you, egging Alejandro on with every confession, especially the ones in Spanish. It doesn’t take long for him to come, your release being the catalyst for his. Cum spurted from his slit, painting your walls with his potent load and filling your womb, hips stuttering until he stilled, sitting motionless on his lap.

You both gasped, breath laboured as you leaned into him, forehead touching one another. Your eyes searched his warm, brown ones, the swirl of love in them had you swooning for the man you married. You felt full and warm, loved and taken cared of, in Alejandro’s arms with your mouth locked, sharing a moment withouting needing to voice out your emotions. 

“Do you think it’ll take?” You mumbled, pressing your head under his chin.

He hummed, his throat rumbling from the low sound.

“We’ll try again if it doesn’t.”

Tag list: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973

[rpreaperperson]

MOM

Reader is a combat medic, a BIG sweeth tooth and a mother to 141 boys (dont forget can cook too) a waifu material

In case with Los Vaqueros

Masterlist

After they accomplish their mission the 141 task force will be holding a small feast with Los Vaqueros to strengthen their ties of brotherhood

All brotherhood aside...their true intention is....to taste again the meal you made, and now Alejandro and Rudy join the party

Two days before the party, reading your recipe book inside your office, knowing the boys will have a big appetite

'maybe I'll make taco for the snack...or maybe naco with guacamole..?....guhh..but what if they don't like it? I'll be making another country's cuisines, I don't want to offend them or something like that..'

Then you pick up your phone beside you texting Alejandro what they want for the meal, but then you shake your head putting back your phone beside you unfolding your laptop searching for the recipe you're going to make

"I promise them it would be a surprise after all, if I ask him he would know what Im making"

"Making what?" suddenly Kyle barged into your office with his innocent eyes, immediately snapped your laptop shut and gave him a wary smile

"Kyle!~ ohh..hoo...what are doing here hun?"

"Do I have a reason to hanging around with our beautiful Doc?"

"Well since my sweets stock has been decreasing these last few days, Im getting more suspicious with you boys hanging around my office" You shot Gaz a look when he opened your cabinet, and beamed when he saw his favorite candy

"Thanks for calling me beautiful though"

with a mouth full of candy he faced you and gave you a thumbs-up

"Say Doc ...what is the menu for the party?"

"Well...Im just going to research about it..Alejandro, Rudy and some of the Vaqueros will come..I want to try some of the Mexican cuisine...." Gaz furrowing his eyebrow sensing a hesitation in your tone and doubt

"But?" he walks to your desk

"..well our taste buds are different from them and..well..." pursing your lips

"Doc.. Im sure whatever you're making they'll like it.."

"You..sure?"

"Positive..side's who doesn't like your cooking? Ghost always asks for more...."

"hmp...yeah...5 plates,after that he asked for a snack...no wonder he's huge I still remember that one time when the canteen almost lost its ingredients for one month" you huff at him, but because of him it eases all of your worries and you've decided that you're going to make both taco and naco for the snack, now for the main dish and drink...

'Oh well let's just make barbecue and fruit punch, good thing the boys aren't picky....and got a big appetite oh..maybe some cake or pastries would be nice~..'

Notice the beam in your eyes Gaz smiled gladly to ease all your worries

.

.

2 days after, as promised the Vaqueros came to 141 base Captain Price welcomed them followed by Gaz beside him

"Good to see you again Colonel Vargas" Price said firmly shaking Alejandro's hand

"Captain Price, you too comrade!"

"Come Soap and Ghost are waiting for you inside, let just hope they did not gobble up the food..." Price escorted them to the canteen

"I've heard Doc the one who making it?"

"Aye...along she my best medic she is the best cook here, I sure you'll love it Colonel" Price proudly boasts about you

"Can't wait to taste it then...I've heard a lot from Soap"

"heh bloke always bragging about her ..a lot" Price huffs a smirk planted against his face, as they arrive at the canteen

They could smell the barbeque....and hear the arguing of Soap with Ghost

"THE F**** Johnny! you almost burnt it!" barked Ghost furiously fanning the smoke out of his masked face

"Well WHY don't YOU try it?!" challenged Soap as he tried to undo his mistake...but alas what was already done...is done

"Both of you! please just sit down!" you intervene them before getting heated, placing your hand against Soap's chest you quickly flip all the meat and the other vegetables, ordering both of them to sit down with your 'mom stare'

Like a disobedient child they sat, but not before kicking each other legs

Price facepalming as Alejandro just chuckles along with Rudy

"Hermano! We've come!" announced Alenjadro

"Alenjandro!, good to see you again brother!" beamed Soap as he rushed to Alejandro giving him a brotherly hug

As they reunited you huffed and took care of the barbeque, really you just took a minute to take some of the sauce in the kitchen and you asked for Ghost and Soap to take care of the barbecue

"Damn...this one is burnt...oh well..I guess this one is on my plate" mutter you the ever sacrifice placed the burnt one on your plate can't let any these boys of yours eat any burnt food on their off day

"Good to see you again Doc.." greeted Alejandro, as Rudy politely nodded at you

"Ah! yes Alejandro, Rudy! sorry I little late for the prepare, damnit Soap.." you mumbled cursing for your own stupidity to leave the cooking to the boys

"You want any help Hermana?" asks the sweet Rudy, you smile kindly at him

"No need Rudy, you're the guest here-"

"I insist Doc..." he insisted with a soft look in his eyes that made you melted

"Alright then...um..ah could you pour the soda inside the fruit punch there"

"Sure thing..all of it?" you nodded and he obediently poured all of the transparent soda inside the fruit punch, Alejandro stared at you in the slideness focusing on the barbecues pleased to see you again

"Okay..Boys!! the food ready!"

Then Soap immediately rushed to your side and raised his palm, reminding him to eat the vegetables you gave him his plate as you give all of them their portions you take your plate

Rudy  noticed that your portion was full of burnt BBQ, and he huffed at the ever the sacrificed you, when he offered you his good portion you refused him as you chuckled softy at him and said ‘Nah it's alright you enjoy your own I will make it again sides it brings more flavor to it’ tenderly gazing at the boys reminding you of your troublesome siblings

Damn he really want to take you away to his house and make you his wife

With so much laugh and joy they all eat, not forget the snacks and some pastries you make all of their exhaustment and the gore memory of the battle gone when they eat your cooking

"Ahh..s****...mine gone.."

"Damn Soap.. that's your third plate" grumble Ghost

"Betta’ me then you LT" Soap squinting his eyes at Ghosts who munching away his food like a hamster his cheeks storing the barbecue on his cheeks

“need more barbeque Gaz?” ask you noticing his empty plate, shaking his head Gaz takes one of the tacos on the big plate

“no need love, I’ll take the taco”

“ask me if you need more barbeque okay? I’ll make it again” smiled softly Gaz nodded, and then Price walked to you placing his rough hand on your shoulder

“Just take it easy Doc, I’ll take care of the boys  just enjoy the feast yeah?”

“you sure Cap?”

“Positive” he rubbed your shoulder and pushed you gently back into your seat, both Alejandro and Rudy noticed the tender gaze from Price as he caressed your head this went unnoticed by you

Deep inside both of them felt a pang of jealousy, and then Alejandro approached you with his plate in his hand

“Evening Doc”

“Ah Alejandro!  Sorry, I'm not greeting you properly...” Shaking his head Alejandro chuckles

“don't mind it Doc, I really enjoyed the feast you made though wonder Soap bragging about it” he gave you a charming smile that made you flustered (Oh God I thank you for making such a dashing creature like him)

“i-its not really something to brag about...I just love to cook for the boys thats all..” his thick eyebrow twitching

‘for the boys’...now that REALLY making him jealous of the 141 men

“Ever thinking of transfers to another team Doc?” asks Alejandro suddenly

Out of instinct, the 141 task force eavesdropped the conversation, squinting their eyes at Alejandro while Rudy quietly observed them slurping his fruit punch

“Well...”you trail..staring at your half eaten burnt barbeque (made with love by SOAP) the atmosphere becomes tense of course this goes unnoticed by you, glancing at the boys who immediately act like they didn’t eavesdrop on your conversation

Smiled at the boys you glance at Alejandro

“Nope not at all..” raised his thick eyebrows, a disappointment filled his chest alas he still smiled and faced his body towards you his gaze flickering to 141 who smiled proudly at your remark, then back to you

 “...may..I ask why?”ask him

“I..enjoy the time I spend with them..well..except when we are on the mission that is..heh..and I doubt they’ll allow me to transfer  to another team” After that you drink the fruit punch

“Ah..right..of course...they are deeply in love with you Doc” claims Alejandro, you bashfully chuckle while the others snap their head towards Alejandro with their eyes popping out

“yeah...more like they in love with my cooking heh those rascal..”

The 141 sighed in relief but was somehow frustrated that you didn’t take a hint

The Colonel again raised his eyebrow as he glanced at the 141 who were slightly slumped but still munching away their food, then Alejandro realized

‘she..doesn’t notice it ..does she?’

“Why the question?” ask youwhile taking a bite of your taco, Alejandro smirking wiping a speck of sauce on your cheeks with his thumb as he leans toward your face

“A-Alejandro?” your face flushed red and squeak when his nose touched yours

“If you would change your mind..would you like to become one of us? Besides..I would be at ease to have the woman I am attracted to in my team”

“W-wha?!”

A looming and rage aura came from the 141 body , Rudy just could pray that Alejandro came home safely

Suddenly Alejandro chuckles and leans away from your flushed face, booping your nose as you stare at him dazed and confused

“Kidding hermana, but really if you ever change your mind Vaqueros would always welcome you~”

“A-ah..okay..thank you..for the offer..” nomming the nachos you faced away from Alejandro, when you faced away from him Alejandro glanced at the 141 and shot them a smug smirk, Rudy just stared at him deadpan

‘oh...Ale..I hope you are back home safely..’

Note:

Arghhh..!! Sorry for the delay! Im really busy with my project and all

Coffee please?

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

06 — PULL A TRIGGER, CLIMB A MOUNTAIN

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad.

<- previous part | next part ->

Graves watches you, a sleazy smirk on his face as he sits in the helicopter, blood dripping from his forehead and empty rifle in hand.

With a wink, he chimes in through your channel, “See you when you’re useful again, baby.”

*

Three hours earlier.

*

“Change.”

Looking up, you give the hulking man the most annoyed expression you can muster, cocking your hip and folding your arms over your chest. He, in response, only raises a brow and folds his own arms, a clear mocking of your own stance.

Everyone else is already in the other room, checking over weaponry and making plans. They’re loud enough to be heard here, jovial laughter and quickly-spoken Spanish filtering in. A song plays, too, a nice kind of melody that you find yourself enjoying.

“I usually need a shot or two first,” you snark, making no move to take the folded clothes from the balaclava-clad man. “You buying?”

As he shoves the uniform into your chest, you shoot Ghost a nasty glare.

“We have stuff we need to do without you,” he quips, pushing against your shoulder hard enough to have you taking a step back. “That uniform’s too recognisable.”

“What, the American flag’s too much for you?” You lean in once more, shoving your own hand against his chest. He doesn’t budge. “I deserve to be involved, when I’m giving you intel. This whole exclusion bullshit reminds me of kindergarten.”

“Then change, and stop acting like you belong in one,” Ghost snaps, and with one final look your way, storms out of the main room, slamming the wooden sliding doors shut behind him as he does.

You’re alone, now. 

The room is vast, and at the small table still sits the laptop.

You’d… just. Done that. Threatened the very man who had taught you everything you know, the very man who had practically adopted you after your mother’s death. The very man of whom you’d just sentenced to death by your own hand. Your own lit match.

“Fuck,” you hiss, burying your face in your free hand.

This was the first time you’d had true solitude since. Well. It might’ve only been a day, but everything that’s happened has made it feel like years. Your throat itches from the knife wound, and you can feel your ribs’ bruising when you inhale.

“Fuck,” you curse once more, looking to the sliding doors.

After the call with Shepherd, the four men had been… well, they’d all had a very individualised response.

Soap had brought you in with an arm around your neck, ranting about how ‘badass’ you had been. Gaz had joined in, ruffling up your hair, placing a hand on your shoulder and asking if you were okay.

You’d said yes.

It had been a lie.

Ghost, without a word, had left to check over his magazines. Price had given you a firm nod and a pat on your back before, he too, left to the other room to sort things out.

“Lucky yer on our side, hen,” Soap had joked goodnaturedly. Gaz had rolled his eyes, saying, “You’re just happy your little Sweetheart can take you in a fight.”

Soap had immediately tackled him to the ground, and that was that.

Now, you stood, lone in the vast space of the room. It was still very early morning, the quiet sound of birds outside mixing with the rambunctiousness of the Los Vaqueros on the other side of the doors. Soft light filters in through the boarded up windows, casting over you in an odd haze.

Dropping the uniform onto the table, your brows furrow when you notice not only the 141’s standard uniform, but also a balaclava not unlike Ghost’s own.

The fabric is oddly soft as you run your hand over it, the paint cracking slightly against the nylon. Putting it aside for now, you then look over the uniform. A black long-sleeve compression shirt, baggy beige cargo pants. They’re definitely a bit too big for you, but admittedly, Ghost was right. It’d be too easy to spot you on the field if you were in Graves’ uniform.

Looking around the room, as if to cement the fact that you were alone, you quickly change, swapping out your bloody uniform for the new one.

It’s when you’re about to pull on the shirt that you look down, seeing the bruises lining your stomach. From the fight with Soap, or from one of your confrontations with the Shadows, you aren’t sure. Pressing softly against one, you can’t help a small grunt at the burst of pain.

You pull the compression shirt over your head, the fabric tight against your skin. How he’d had your size for the shirt and not the pants, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Pulling over the new vest, you transfer all of your old items into it, finding this design much nicer. Not as constricting against your breasts, designed more unisex than Graves’ had been.

Grabbing the balaclava, your feet carry you to the sliding doors, and you open them with little struggle. 

You nearly stumble when you find all of the men within pulling on their own masks, stopping in your tracks at the sight. Ghost and Price’s backs are to you, and when you see Ghost pulling on one of the same masks, everything clicks.

He hadn’t wanted you to see his face – had used getting changed as a distraction.

And yet, here were the Los Vaqueros, some of which had never even spoken to Ghost, having the privilege. It shouldn’t make you angry, you shouldn’t care, but you can’t help the onslaught of rejection that floods your system.

When you step forward, into their line of sight, you straighten your spine and take out your gun from its holster, reloading it in precise movements, not looking down at it once. When the magazine clicks into place, you narrow your gaze on Ghost.

“Are we getting this done or having a fashion show?”

*

“That’s cold,” you murmur, eyes squeezed shut as war-torn fingers swipe grease paint around your eyes, careful in their placement. You sway when the vehicle drives over a pothole, but the fingers continue their ministrations without pause.

Price chuckles softly, wiping his thumb underneath your eye. “Used to do this for Ghost every other day,” he says under his breath, collecting more paint from the pot and continuing to spread it across the upper half of your face.

You’re in the back of a van with both Price and Gaz, Alejandro behind the wheel as you head back to his colonised base.

“You look like one of us now,” Gaz chimes, to your right. Watching you both carefully, his own paint already done, he leans back into his seat. “Uniform, mask… we’ve corrupted you, love.”

You roll your eyes beneath your eyelids. “Good luck with that.”

“Don’t test me,” he laughs, at the same time that Price pulls away once more, looking you over, before deciding that more paint will be needed.

“Feel like a kid at a fair,” you muse, earning a soft chuckle from Price. “Do I get glitter too?”

“Maybe if you’re a good girl,” Price jokes softly, and you let out a laugh of your own. Internally, you register your cheeks heating at the comment, a part of you yearning for such praise from the man. If it didn’t mess up your paint or cause the two to give you weird looks, you’d slap yourself.

“Can’t believe you’re Graves’ Colonel,” Gaz admonishes, and you barely restrain a huff of annoyance. He corrects himself. “Were. Man, he did not deserve you in his ranks. You probably would’ve done better as Commander than he ever could.”

You let your lips curve into a somewhat appreciative smile, eyes still shut as Price continues his studious work. “Believe it or not, we all loved him. Behind the scenes, he treated us pretty well. The guys, anyway.”

You can’t see it, but Gaz and Price share a knowing look, both of them raising their brows. Your eyes remain shut throughout their small, silent exchange.

“How so?” Price asks, gruff, and the tone encourages you to tell the truth.

“Well,” you swallow, unsure of how to approach the issue. You never have, never felt a reason to. “Just. Small things. Jokes, and stuff. I’m the only woman in the Company, actually–”

“What?” Gaz blurts out, not seeming able to stop himself. “You’re serious?”

You let out a somewhat self-deprecating chuckle. “...Yeah? That’s pretty normal in military jobs, y’know. Didn’t think it was that weird. At least I’m a Colonel.”

“You don’t think that’s… weird?” Price asks, and it’s only then that you realise he’s stopped painting your face. You blink open your eyes. “The only woman in his Company, and she’s his Colonel?”

Chewing on your inner cheek, you shake your head. “I was one of the very first to be hired by him. We… He was my partner. In nearly every sense of the word,” you admit, a small truth. “I mean. I don’t think that I loved him. Just. Never really had anyone else.”

“How old were you when you joined Shadow Co?” Gaz asks, slowly, carefully.

You mull it over, before supplying an easy answer. “Eighteen, or so. He was twenty-seven when he started, and –”

“That’s so fucked,” Gaz curses, burying his face in his hands. “Seriously. He’s a fucking asshole.”

You’re desperate for a change of topic, anything else but this. Not now, not when your wounds are too fresh, not when you’re about to come face to face with him again. With a deep breath, you divert the situation.

“Am I done?” You ask, looking to the window and trying to catch your reflection to no avail.

“...Yeah,” Price breathes, “You’re done.”

Easing back into your spot, you find your leg bouncing once more, the adrenaline of the upcoming mission keeping you antsy and energetic. You haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours, but you somehow find yourself more awake now than you had been hours ago.

Resting his hand on your knee, Gaz gives you a reassuring smile. “You ready?”

Letting out a low, unsure exhale, you find yourself nodding. “Yeah. I think so. I know what I’m going to say to him. I’m. He’ll come around.”

Gripping your mask in your hand, you move to pull it over your head, the fabric snugly fitting around your skin. It’s an odd sort of comfort, a way of protecting yourself from the emotional wreck that this mission will create. For the first time, you think that you can understand the attachment Ghost has to it.

“If we kill ‘im,” Price starts, but when you instantly flick your gaze to him, starts to backtrack, “If. If it comes down to it. You can’t hold it against us.”

You just check over your ammo, your cartridges, before simply replying.

“I’ll kill him myself.”

“We won’t make you do that,” Gaz says, adamant and firm as he leans in closer to you. “You don’t have to kill ‘im. I know most of us are wanting to do the honours, anyway.”

“I know Soap and Alejandro are just about begging to,” you acquiesce, but you find yourself focusing on the gun in your hands to reset your mindscape anyways. “But. It’s different. If he’s really done all of this… I want closure.”

“You’ll get your closure. Bloodshed or not,” Price pats your back, and you give him a small tilt of your lips, before realising that your mask covers the movement.

“You still good to split with Price and meet with the other team from the helo, hermana?” Alejandro calls from the front, turning slightly to look to you. You give him a thumbs up, and even with his mask on, you can tell he’s wearing a toothy smile.

“Your gun all good?” Gaz asks, jerking his head to the weapon. “Ammo in your pockets, cartridge full?”

Pulling your free hand into a gun gesture, you smile. 

“Pew.”

*

It’s with the weight of the world on your shoulders that you watch Price’s helicopter get shot.

“We’re hit! We’re hit!” Price calls through your shared radio channel, his voice frantic enough to have you skidding to a stop. Distantly, you think you can hear Ghost say something, but it’s quickly shadowed by Price’s, “Going down. We’re going down!”

You’re about a hundred feet away from where Rodolfo and Soap stand, the two also seeming to pause behind a warehouse of some sort.

When you see Soap move to push Rodolfo up the wall, you run as fast as your legs will take you to their position, calling out to them, “I’m coming with!”

“Thought you weren’t making it, cariño!” Rodolfo calls out as you fall alongside them, your heartbeat raging in your ears. 

“Can’t get rid of me that easy,” you jest, then pause when you see Ghost to your side. Jerking your head to the wall, you ask, “Need a personal invitation?”

“Price and the pilot need help. You three finish this,” he shakes his head, before turning and leaving for the crash site. Shrugging, you spin back to where Rodolfo’s extending his hand to help you up, which you accept, reaching the top of the wall and swinging your right thigh over it, straddling the brick.

Extending your arm down, you pull Rodolfo up, Soap taking his other hand in a firm grip. When Rodolfo swings around to sit between you both, he curses under his breath. 

“Look!” Soap hisses, and when you do as he says, your own stomach falls down to the dirt floor beneath you.

“That’s not ours,” Rodolfo murmurs, and you can barely find your voice.

“A tank,” you say, mindlessly, watching on as a fucking tank pulls into the training area of the compound. “Graves… he has a fucking tank?”

Neither of the two respond, both instead jumping off of the wall, falling into a crouch as they land. They both extend hands to you, more of a supporting gesture than anything, but you don’t take them as you too land on the other side of the brick, entering the training area.

“Ye ready for this?” Soap asks the two of you, a hint of mania creeping onto his blood-flecked face.

“Hell yeah,” Rodolfo breathes, before looking to you with a friendly smile. Ruffling your hair, a familiar gesture, now, he squeezes the nape of your neck. “If you come out of this alive, hermana, we could use you in the Los Vaqueros.”

You bark a laugh, stunned, almost, before shaking your head. “You should talk to your boss about recruiting people, first.”

Rodolfo shrugs. “Ale likes to make me happy.”

“Interviews can happen later, aye?” Soap chuckles, and the three of you look to the tank once more. “Bigger fish to catch, and allat.”

You go to say something else, when –

“Didn’t realise you boys were into kidnapping women now. That’s a bit sketchy, ain’t it?”

Graves. He’s – he’s got a radio, he’s talking, he’s here, he’s. He’s fucking with you, trying to play mind games, trying to break you all over –

“Can’t wait to bake this bastard,” Soap grunts, and you find your footing once more. Sure, you were ready for battle, but your entire reason for being here was to talk to him. Get him to realise his mistakes, come forward, go back to the man you knew.

Rodolfo and Soap are running somewhere, doing their part, and you –

“Is what they said true?” It’s the most important question you have right now. The answer you yearn for.

A moment passes.

“Where did you go, gorgeous? When’d they get ya? Did they blackmail you in Las Almas?” He diverts, and you tighten your grip on your gun, swallowing your litany of curses.

“Answer my questions, Commander. Is. What they said. True.”

“It doesn’t matter, baby. Remember where your loyalties lie,” Graves takes on a sweeter tone, a more… condescending one, you think. 

“Please,” you find yourself whispering, begging for him to just. Break this nightmare, rebel against it, be Phillip. “Please tell me this isn’t really you.”

“Oveja pequeña,” he coos, and you swear your spine erupts in hives, “I’m still your Phillip. You’re the one who’s changed – look at you, running off with the 141. I’m disappointed.”

You erupt, then, like a dormant volcano, finally gathering the final push to let lava reign free.

“I’m going to fucking kill you! You just killed fathers, tore apart families! I fucking hate you!” You yell into the radios, no tears falling, merely anger and vengeance clouding your vision.

“Don’t forget that you are under my orders. Whether you’re in my bed or not, you’re my Colonel,” he seethes back, and like a shot while you’re already down, you realise that this is a hopeless cause. You weren’t going to save Shepherd. You weren’t going to save Graves.

All you had left to save was yourself.

They’d lied to you, an indefinite amount of times, for how long, you weren’t sure. Your whole relationship – was that a lie, too? Was your entire life?

“I’m your second in command,” you finally admit out loud, hiding behind a crumbling wall as the tank shoots just a few feet away from you. “So when you get taken down, guess who comes out on top?”

“Listen to yourself!” He shouts, his voice cracking in his sudden anger, “Listen–”

“No, you listen!” You find yourself crying out, taking a few shots at the tank, allowing Soap and Rudy to do their part. “Listen to me, Phillip. You’re going to regret this – all of this. When were you going to tell me you were under Shepherd’s orders, huh? How long have you been fucking me over!”

“Whenever you first came around my cock is my guess, baby,” he responds, icy and cold.

His words only seem to further encourage you to breaking point, adding more and more fury to rush down your veins like its very own hit of morphine.

“Guess what, Commander?”

“Don’t bull–”

“That first time, and every time since?”

He doesn’t bother to interrupt you.

“I faked it.”

With that, you switch Channels to one shared with all of you.

You had heard everything you needed to, and along with it, realised something of vital importance. A small inconsistency that changed everything.

“Ghost team,” you say, neutral and unforgiving, “Graves isn’t in the tank.”

“What’re ye talking about?!” Soap calls through, exuding exhaustion, the sound of explosions crackling through behind his vocals. “He has to be–”

“He’s not,” you say, firm, absolute in your decision. “I don’t know where he is – but he’s not in there. Not his style, anyway – prefers to be in the spotlight.”

“What do we do then, hermana?” Rodolfo asks, sounds strained just as Soap had.

Your answer is easy. “You guys focus on the tank – I’m taking Graves down.”

With that, you run for the wall once more, and with nothing but your intuition, you know exactly where you’ll find your ex-Commander.

*

As per usual when it comes to your gut-feelings, you’re correct. 

It’s within the hanger on the compound that you find him getting into a helicopter – a wound on his forehead and tactical glasses on. Somehow, he’s already found himself injured – a small, selfish part of you satisfied with that information.

“Commander!” You yell as you break through the small window of the hangar, using the butt of your gun to do it. It’s as the door to the heli shuts that he notices you – and you switch back on to his radio.

“This is your last chance,” he grits out, his voice thin and furious. “Before this becomes more than a… domestic fight.”

You wince as the blades start turning, taking shelter behind one of the cargo boxes, wary of any bullets being shot your way. “The only domestic thing about us was your inclination for treating me like your little wife.”

“Always did think you’d look pretty barefoot and pregnant,” he muses, and oh, have you never wanted to kill a man more in your life.

“Aww,” you mock, as the blades’ whirring gets louder and shots echo around you finally, “See, I think you’d look pretty bleeding out at my feet.”

“You did look rather good at mine,” he retorts, and your emotions get the better of you as you peek, shooting three Shadows behind the heli with easy headshots. You’re barely there for two seconds before a burning pain echoes through the side of your shoulder, and you duck down once more.

“Couldn’t even get off,” you pant, relentless to the very end even as your breaths turn into heavy falls of your shoulders, “Was like fucking a Ken doll.”

“You’ve always been a petty bitch,” he snaps, and you smirk.

“I am a bitch, you’re right. And you know what bitches do when someone taunts them? They bite.”

You raise your gun, and for a scary, short second, you realise that blood is flowing in a stream that’s causing the sleeve of your black shirt to grow sticky and damp. Now isn’t the time to care, however, as you take aim at one of the windows of the heli.

Pulling the trigger, the bullet bursts through the window, glass shattering and falling to the ground. It’s as soon as it does, however, that it takes flight, boosting in its acceleration immediately.

Fully peeking, this time, you watch as the helicopter quickly takes off, and even if you had the capacity to shoot at it, it wouldn’t hit the intended target, not with your trembling hands.

Graves watches you, a sleazy smirk on his face as he sits in the helicopter, blood dripping from his forehead and empty rifle in hand.

With a wink, he chimes in through your channel, “See you when you’re useful again, baby.”

You get one final sentence in, before the radio cuts off. Even though you can’t see him from this distance, you’re sure you’re making eye contact as you deal your final blow.

“My callsign isn’t baby. It’s Sweetheart.”

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re @oreo-cream @lalashhyl @someonepleasedateme @letmeapologise @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @inarabee

author's note. to everyone asking about the covid, its prettyyy bad haha. i can hardly leave my bed and need 3 blankets in the peak of summer!

at least that means i have downtime to write before my life gets VERY hectic. thank you all for your support again, the feedback and praise for the last chapter made me feel 10x better and i genuinely appreciate you all SO much. thank you thank you thank you!

[whinesandwhimpers]

cw; noncon, kidnapping, dp in v

you being assigned with ghost and soap to go help los vaqueros and yandere!alerudy want you the moment they lay their eyes on you and even more so after you interact with them for the first time

yandere!alerudy faking your death on the mission and hiding you away, chaining your ankle to the floor and pushing you onto a thin mattress in their secret safe house (the other vaqueros don't know about) so you can't escape, watching you bring your knees up to your chest and cry

yandere!rudy slotting himself behind you, pulling your back against his chest, wiping your tears and telling you how they'll take such good care of you if you just behave like a good girl

yandere!ale's self restraint snapping when you start yelling insults at them, ripping your clothes off and pushing your legs apart, kneeling between them so you can't close them, can't hide yourself from him

yandere!ale wrapping a hand around your throat and with his other hand forcing two fingers into your mouth to get them wet before he's pushing them into your dry pussy, and you're crying out in pain, your nails digging into his other arm

yandere!rudy shushing your cries, bringing one hand up to squeeze one of your tits and play with your nipple, his other hand reaching down to rub your clit, the feelings his actions cause making you unwillingly wet in response easing the friction of ale's fingers against your inner walls

yandere!ale ignoring all your pleading to stop and let you go as he unbuckles his pants and pulls out his big hard cock, watching your eyes widen as he strokes it a few times with a wicked grin on his face

yandere!rudy using the hand that was tweaking your nipples to cover your mouth after your protests get louder

yandere!ale plunging his fat cock in your pussy with one quick motion, making you scream into rudy's hand, his violent thrusts making your lower back rub against rudy's clothed cock

yandere!ale keeping his dick buried inside you as he lifts you up and leans back, bending your legs around so your knees sit beside his hips and you're on top, pathetically lying on his chest and covering your crying face, he's jutting up into you a few times before he stills, waiting

reader about to move when you hear rudy unzipping his pants behind you then feel his cock pressing against your already filled hole, making you startle and wail repeated 'No's and 'You can't's

yandere!rudy who rubs your bare back soothingly before whispering in your ear about how you're gonna take both of their cocks like a good girl with a threat of punishment for misbehaving, before he's pushing his dick in alongside ale's, making you feel impossibly stretched from their big sizes

yandere!alerudy building up the speed of their thrusts as they find a good rhythm, pulling you off ale's chest so he can play with your tits and rudy can reach your clit

yandere!alerudy who makes you involuntarily reach a new high and cum on both of their cocks, screaming out in pleasure

yandere!alerudy both finishing at the same time, dicks pulsing and flooding your abused pussy

reader thinking they're done, at least for now, until ale pushes some of your hair out of your face and, staring at your tired face, says "i think our girl can handle another round, rudy"

[lieutnt]

kinktober - #11

breeding kink & power imbalance w/ ftm!rodolfo parra x top!male reader kinktober masterlist

The other new members of Los Vaqueros don’t know him well enough yet to see that Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra has a favourite, but one look from Alejandro and he can tell who Rudy is paying extra attention to. He could see why - you showed excellent potential; you were patient, calm under fire and out of it, you got along well with the others and were as loyal as a dog, always following his or Rodolfo’s commands with little hesitation or question.

Alejandro thought nothing of it when you and Rudy began to spend more time together, he could see the progress as you began to hone your already established skills, often at the shooting range or in the gym with Rodolfo not far behind, ready to coach you into being a better version of yourself.

As far as you’re aware, he’s ignorant to the unique rewards Rodolfo offers you.

Rodolfo hadn’t intended it to happen - time spent together morphing into something else when he learned what you were like outside of being a soldier, letting his guard down as you earned your place within the Los Vaqueros ranks time and time again. It only had to happen that first time you tumbled into bed together for Rudy to know he was fucked - you had played his body like an instrument, coaxing orgasm after orgasm from his body until he was jelly-legged and covered in your cum, outside and inside, and he’d woken up the next morning albeit sore but refreshed, all built-up stressors knocked from his head. It was only a matter of time before it would happen again.

You hook his knees over your elbows, pushing him into a mating press that has you sinking deeper in his drooling cunt and ignoring the sting of pain as he rakes his nails down your back when your cock hits that spongy spot inside, kissing it with every thrust. Each time you draw out you push back in until your pelvis is flush against his, groaning as his soft walls flutter around your shaft.

“Tan bueno para mí, soldado,” he groans, head rolling back on his shoulders as your cock pulses inside him, hips snapping at a hungry pace.

He can feel the way his muscles slowly tighten, heat spreading under his skin as his orgasm approaches like a tidal wave, ready to swallow him under. He knows just the way to drag you down with him.

The quiet squelching of your thrusts is interrupted as his breath fans against the shell of your ear, “Gonna fill me up soldier?”

Your hips jerk and Rodolfo buries his smirk in your hair as you rhythmically pound into him, stars shooting behind his eyes as you angle yourself to knock against his sweet spot each time, giving him little reprieve as he cums, arousal gushing between your bodies and soaking your abdomen.

You don’t stop, fucking him through his orgasm and when you announce you’re close he’s wiggling his legs out of your hold and tightly wrapping them around your waist, keeping you pressed against him and leaving no choice where you cum. His eyes are rolling into the back of his head as you cum inside, filling him with thick, sticky cum that begins to spill from the seams, a white frothy ring forming where you’re connected.

His arms slither around your shoulders, pulling you to burrow into his neck as he kisses behind your ear, something soft, tender and he thinks that might be the end of it, your tired form slumping against him and panting into his shoulder, but after a few moments of waiting for your heartbeats to slow you draw back and grip his hips.

He grunts as you start moving again, fingers scrambling to hold onto you.

[robiinurheart33]

Okay ACTUAL post about Ghost being obsessed with Soap

Ghost was already apprehensive about showing his face to Los vaqueros and the rest of the 141.

But Price was going on and on about “team trust” and “all in the same boat” or whatever bullshit he was spouting, so he just decided to get it over and done with. It’s not like anyone would take a picture and go “oh my god, see how ugly he actually is?”

So he does it. He takes off the mask in front of everyone for a couple seconds, just as much as the burning of his skin allows him to. The whole time, he was staring at Soap. Soap, who scared him shitless all alone with shadows sporting a fucking GSW and still joking. Soap, who’s explosive and loud and happy. Soap, whose face is just blank when Ghost takes off his mask.

what the fuck?

Not to toot his own horn, but he was kinda expecting a reaction here. He knows his worth, he knows his reputation, how much his head would cost bleeding out in a sack. Sue him if he was expecting more of a reaction. His Glasgow smile isn’t anything to smile over, and he isn’t exactly considered handsome either, by any standards. He’s sweaty, the black face paint no doubt smudged now, his crooked nose broken one too many times, hairline wildly disrupted by the scar running into the crown of his skull. He’s a whole fuckin mess, if Gaz’s reaction is anything to mull over. The hot glare of the white lightbulb is pressing into his skin, and the crawling feeling like a thousand ants all move under his skin, into his eye sockets and it’s all wrong. It’s all not right, and he needs to get away immediately.

“Welcome back, Simon.”

Jesus, he wants to die. The worst part about all this is that Soap still isn’t making a face. Ghost can read him like a book and this is the time that he can’t decipher a single emotion from that face? Sweat runs down his neck and is extremely aware of the rest of the people in the room with him at that moment. He decides it’s enough and with a glance at Price, he pulls the skull back over his face. He needs to get away. Right now. His face feels way too hot, too uncomfortable and awkward and suddenly he’s 15 years old again, limbs too lanky and a height that he’s not accustomed to. He can feel the teenage insecurity bubble beneath the surface, angry and hurt.

Ghost pretty much blanks out after the meeting, slipping out and away from everyone else. His boots thump against the ground, and he can’t tell if it’s too loud or all in his head. He’s overstimulated, he can tell. He just needs to stay away, be alone, breathe. Compartmentalise it and deal with the rest later. Right now, he just needs to calm down.

Why didn’t he react? Why didn’t he react? Why didn’t he react? Do I not mean as much to him as he does to me?

He’s losing it. This is so irritatingly immature, and stupid, and dumb. It’s completely fine that Soap didn’t react. It’s fine. Ghost slips into a random room, which just so happens to be a pretty cozy broom closet and rests his head against one of the shelves. The disinfectant smell is overpowering and honestly making his head swim but being in here is better than out here. He feels like his limbs are locked up, eyes locked up in one spot but his brain isn’t seeing anything. He needs to keep it together. His fingers scratch under the rim of the mask where it hugs his skin tight, too tight. The gloves make it even harder to scratch, fuck. He can’t spare any time for a dumb anxiety attack over revealing his face in front of 30 strangers. If he can’t predict Soap’s reaction, does he even know him at all? Fuck-

The door clicks open slowly. Ghost swerves his head to snap at the poor soldier about to have the fright of their life. Instead, he sees pale blue eyes filled with mirth and worry and all the fight leaves him.

“Help me out?” Johnny’s stupid little smile makes Ghost want to throw himself against the wall. he’s holding a small tin with eye grease inside, the smooth untouched surface evident of how much soap uses it.

Help me.

“Yeah, of course.”

Soap steps into the already small space and closes the door behind him with an audible click. Ghost can’t tell if the air really is that awkward or it’s all in his head, if Soap’s casual smile is anything to follow up upon. Soap holds up the tin as Ghost tugs his gloves off, shoving them inside his pants and grimacing slightly as the gloves feel like his pants are bulging, pressing against his skin.

Ghost doesn’t say anything as he places the tin on a nearby shelf and grips Soap’s chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting it up. He dips two fingers into the tin, facing back towards him as he concentrates. His fingers are buzzing with the promise of contact, head fussing and screaming with the affection and sensation of the oily paste on his bare fingers, no doubt getting under his nails.

His hearts beats in tandem with the low panic and anxiety through his veins, threatening lowly to not mess this up. His finger shakes as he makes the first swipe right below Soap’s eye, half lidded and fixed onto Ghost. He wanted to cry all of a sudden- because why would Soap come to Ghost with this? Why would he be the first one he thought of; the first one to trust enough to bare his face, close his eyes and with blind faith let him touch his skin? He blinks, and blinks again, nose feeling funny. Why would Soap trust him?

Ghost’s finger traces across the bridge of his nose, over his eyelids where he can feel his pupils move. Over his warm skin with the bumps and ridges, over the temples and cheekbones. His heart aches with confusion. Why, why, why? How was he even given the privilege to do this? To touch something as precious as Johnny? He doesnt understand. He might never understand. He might not ever get over this.

Over the other temple, again smoothening on the slope of his nose bridge, over the eyes. His palms are sweaty. Ghost wipes the residue of the paste on his pants, hands coming up to cup Soap’s cheeks to make sure he didn’t miss a spot. (There was no way he could’ve, it’s a relatively simple process.) Squishing his cheeks softly, Johnny opens his eyes. His eyelashes are clumped together by the paint, lips smushed slightly as his eyes turn a bit hazy before focusing on Ghost again. His eyes are even bluer in contrast to the black surrounding his eyes. Softness and patience, heartache and love.

Ghost sucks in a long breath and exhales through his nose. It’s funny, his heart is still beating so fast, but his breathing is calm and collected. Johnny’s pupils flicker and widen for a second, then all of a sudden his hand is now under his eyes, wiping away a stray tear. Ghost flinches back, surprised. His elbow hits the shelf and he hisses, all the progress gone in a second.

“Hey- hey.”

He can’t look.

“Ghost.”

He doesn’t want to.

A shift, and then it’s safe again. It smells like sweat, face paint and pinewood. A hand on the back of his neck, guided to the crook of a neck. It isn’t comfortable at all, bulky gear in the way, Ghost’s arms folded in front of him, his shoulders tense and his mask no doubt digging into Soap’s shoulder. But it- it’s perfect. It’s warm, and every possible part of his body screams that he belongs there. So Ghost unfurls his arms, hangs them limply by his side and steps closer. Johnny’s arms wrap around his neck, trapping him in a sort of awkward, one-sided hug that’s definitely going to make Ghost’s neck have a crick in it. But it’s perfect. It’s safe. He’s safe.

Ghost closes his eyes and lets instinct take over him, hands coming up to grab onto the back of Johnny’s tac vest; the closest he’ll ever get to a hug. Johnny’s warm, the pressure on his eyes comforting and the skin on skin contact full-on relieving. He’s warm, warm, warm. And Ghost is cold. He’s always been cold. Safe. He’s safe.

Johnny’s head shifts, and Ghost’s hands grasp tighter onto his vest like a lifeline. Don’t go. His mind cries. Don’t leave me alone.

“It’s okay.” Johnny coos softly. Ghost can feel his lips on the side of his temple.

“It’s just you and me, yeah?” He murmurs, and the words feel like they’re vibrating, echoing through the side of his head, engraving it into his skull. It’s just you and me.

All of a sudden Ghost really curses the fuckin’ sack he wears that’s preventing from his skin being in touch with Johnny’s.

Ghost hums, turning his head so that the skull mask isn’t digging into Johnny’s shoulder anymore. The polyester where it covers his lips is touching the side of his neck and he can feel it when Johnny’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

It’s a real shame he can’t see Johnny’s expression as he whispers against his neck, “Just you and me.” Although, he can feel the skin beneath his lips heat up rapidly.

Johnny swallows. “Mhm.”

They stay like that for a few moments, Ghost preening from the intimacy of the moment, and Johnny just holding him close. After Ghost deems it to be enough, he clears his throat and stands up tall again, at the same time swiping the ghost team mask stuffed into Soap’s pocket. He pulls it over his head, not before taking a peek to see the blush that had completely taken over Johnny’s face. (He’s selfish in ways like that.) Ghost adjusts the mask to fit snugly over his face, big blue eyes staring right back at him. Ghost’s heartbeat quickens.

“All good, Sargent.” Ghost isn’t completely sure if he’s referring to himself or the other, seeing as if either one of them might be having a heart attack right now, Johnny hasn’t blinked in quite a while. He lifts soap’s chin one last time (selfish, what’d he tell you), and places and well-loved peck right in between his eyes.

“Lookin’ good, Soap.”

Ghost lets the door click behind him, too much of a coward to see Johnny’s reaction to that. He isn’t quite sure what’s gotten into him, but if a rumour spread that the Lieutenant of the 141 walked out of that storage room with a skip in his step, he’d tell everyone that they’re dumbasses for believing in that. He’d be guilty, of course, but no one else has to know that. It’ll just be for Ghost and Johnny to know. Love does funny things to us, after all.

[vaquerobuckaroo]

I love them

[tojisun]

alejandro vargas x fem reader; valeria garza x reader

!! reader is only mentioned

price thought that the interrogation was over but alejandro stepped up again, anger oozing out of his pores as he loomed over valeria. price would have commended their captive for her straight face but he realized that it wasn’t a facade – valeria truly wasn’t scared. she didn’t give any shite for whatever alejandro was bound to say.

“where is she?” alejandro asks, his explosive anger having been reduced to a simmering rage – no longer sputtering but just as scorching. his change in temper almost distracted price from alejandro’s question but as it registers in his head, price’s body locks.

she. an unknown variable where alejandro is yet at another losing end. 

valeria straightened up on her chair, her aloof attitude overtaken by a startling anger that engulfs her in rippling waves. 

“far away,” she spits out. “where she can no longer be hurt by a goddamn cowboy.”

alejandro snaps his teeth, seizing valeria by her shoulder. the action spurs the rest of the 141 to flank both parties but neither valeria nor alejandro pay them any heed, choosing instead to keep snarling at each other.

“you poisoned her mind,” alejandro says. “you put ideas in her head, twisted the person that i am until you were able to make her resent me.”

valeria barks out a laugh, a sound that scratches her throat even though they could all hear the lack of humour behind it. her body shakes as she does so, throwing her head back in faux elation. through it, alejandro’s jaw clenches, his eyes furrowing even more as he watches her.

“oh vaquero,” valeria states as her laughter peters out. “i didn’t even have to do much, not when you actually left us. left her.” 

alejandro snatches his hand from valeria’s shoulder like he’s been burned, his face losing colour. valeria’s lips curl into a smirk, moving to sit back down as though her words had not stung even herself.

“i didn’t leave her.”

no one missed how alejandro had not refuted his claims of leaving valeria.

she hums, unbothered. “you chose war over our wife, vaquero. there is no excuse.”

and there it was, the missing piece. 

price tries not to react but his hands twitch at the revelation, the weight of what is happening settling in. he realizes that this is a territory that he rather not be part of so he turns, meeting rudy’s eyes and with a nod, they begin to escort valeria out. 

alejandro stays at the very back, quiet and lost in his own thoughts.

[fictionalmenxyn]

Have a good day/night!🫶

[starlightvld]

Bait & Switch, pt. 9

<< Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 >>

Based on "I wasn't in that tunnel."

Call of Duty, soapghost // CW: Hurt/Comfort, MWIII spoilers

---

Cool air flows through the dimly lit back of the supply truck, slivers of daylight seeping through the canvas sides as it trundles along toward the RV point. Soap takes a deep breath, thankful for the reprieve from the Mexican heat as he huddles in the darkness between weapon crates.

Laswell insisted on keeping Soap's involvement a secret, but Ghost is... well... Ghost. And he can still read Soap better than anyone: his facial expressions, his nervous ticks, and all the words he leaves unspoken in the wake of his trauma.

In a strange reversal, though, Ghost now speaks enough for both of them — words meant to reassure Soap even without an apparent need for reassurance.

Won't let owt happen to you, Johnny. No matter what.

The words were whispered in Soap's ear not four hours ago as Ghost, Price, Gaz, Rudy, Alejandro, and a host of Vaqueros left for their part of the mission in the wee hours before dawn — all of them once again sporting their anonymizing ghost masks. No one was supposed to know that Soap was heading out on his own mission, but somehow Ghost did.

The knowledge settles deep inside and blooms into hope that he'll succeed and make it out alive. Whatever happens, though, one thing is certain.

Makarov has to die.

The trouble is, they aren't sure they'll know if the person who shows up is actually Makarov — not when he has a serum that could make anyone look like him. And that's where Soap comes in.

The truck downshifts and slows. Three measured thumps vibrate through the wall and into his head as the truck begins to turn, letting him know they've arrived at the lowest switchback on the mountain that edges the sprawling Mexican city where Makarov has agreed to meet them. 

The trapdoor in the truck bed is light under Soap's fingers as he opens it and squirms through the narrow hole. His tac vest and the hard case attached to his back both catch on the sides, but he grabs the specially-placed bars along the bottom of the truck and pulls himself through. The hatch snaps closed behind him as he clings to the bars with his hands and feet, the ground still flying by fast enough to give him pause. He waits until the truck is about to straighten and accelerate down the slope to the city before letting go.

The engine roars as the driver accelerates, leaving him skidding along the road in a cloud of dust. As intended, the case takes the brunt of the damage, and using the dust as cover, he leans to the side and slides off the road into the underbrush. His helmet and armored suit take a beating from the thick brush that catches at his clothes and finally brings him to a halt.

He inhales to double check the filters. To his relief, clean air pours into his lungs, even as the dust billows around him. As the cloud dissipates, he clicks through on comms.

"Watcher-1, this is Snake."

"Snake, this is Watcher-1. Send traffic."

"Successful fall. On the move."

"Roger that. Stay out of sight. And good luck. Out."

Soap glances at his watch. Four hours to go.

He takes a deep breath, ignores the shadows flashing in the corners of his eyes, and begins moving toward the city below.

---

Four hours later, Soap is safely ensconced in his hiding place on top of a six-story building near the warehouse they'd chosen for the confrontation. The modified sniper rifle feels familiar in his hands, though it's strange to have the helmet visor between his eye and the scope. He should be shaking with nerves, but the calm that always comes over him in a sniper's nest is a welcome balm to his nerves, even if shadows still stalk the corners of his eyes.

Laswell asked him to be here as an ace up their sleeve, and he agreed. How could he stay behind when Makarov was involved? Still, he would've said no if not for the hours of target practice with Ghost over the past few days. The repetition took the edge off the latent brainwashing, allowing him to hold a gun without insidious thoughts overwhelming him — exposure therapy at its best. Or worst, depending on how he looks at it. But time spent with Ghost is never a waste in his opinion, even if Soap is fighting his inner demons at the time.

Maybe especially when he's fighting those demons.

And so, here he is. Waiting for someone who probably isn't Makarov to show up.

Sweats slides between his shoulder blades as the late-morning air heats up. He's in a shadowed alcove between ductwork and a massive air handler unit, relying on the contrast with the bright day to hide him from enemy eyes. Movement below catches his attention, and despite his calm, a chill runs down his spine a moment before the comm chatter starts.

"Price to Ghost. Sit rep."

"Ghost 'ere. Nearly in position."

Soap frowns. Ghost isn't supposed to be on overwatch. A Vaquero was tasked with that.

"Alright, everyone. Take positions and stay off comms. Price out."

Soap frantically scans the rooftops for any sign of Ghost, but his search is cut off when a row of armored vehicles pull up outside the warehouse. A small team of ghost operators open a loading bay door to bring out someone with Soap's height and build in a replica of his Agent Zero suit. In return, Makarov is supposed to be providing intel on the dirty Generals and the super soldier program, which they are well aware he won't actually provide.

It's all a little too obviously a trap for someone as clever and conniving as Makarov. Their saving grace is his obsessive personality — they're betting he'll show up in person on the off chance he can get Soap back and stick it to Price and the 141 at the same time. He'll have countermeasures in place, which is why Soap is here.

He's the counter to the countermeasures.

Or he's supposed to be.

Except that when the door to the middle SUV opens and a man exits the vehicle, Soap's entire body freezes.

Makarov.

The shaking he thought he'd avoided slams into him full force. He can't even touch the rifle without the scope shaking too badly to see anything. He curses and forces himself to breathe.

In. Out. In. Out.

The shaking stabilizes enough for him to correct for it, though darker figures dance in his peripheral vision. He inhales a shaking breath as Makarov's face fills the scope.

In. Out. In. Out.

He pulls the trigger.

Makarov slaps a hand to his neck and dives for the car. A gunfight breaks out, but the ghost team is ready for it. They take down the enemy soldiers with a speed that leaves Soap breathless, and Makarov is in their custody by the time he begins to shake from the effects of Soap's dart.

The screams reach Soap even from so far away. Even with ear protection.

And in the midst of the chaos, the shadows in his peripheral vision move in an abnormal way, surrounding him. His chest heaves with all the amped-up panic he's barely keeping at bay.

It's all in his head. The shadows might be deeper, more solid in the Mexican sun, but they're still just shadows. They aren't real. None of it is re—

"And here you are at last. I wondered if your Laswell would be stupid enough to bring you after all."

Soap goes perfectly still. The scene below plays out in silence, Price and Gaz securing the man who once looked like Makarov and now looks like he's melting. But it's all visual noise to Soap.

Because he knows that voice.

"No," he whispers through the clawing, choking panic. "Nononono. Not real. Just a hallucination."

But his hallucinations have never talked to him before. And never in that hated voice.

Hands grasp him. Too many hands. On his arms, his back, his head.

They pull him up from his sniper position and pull him away from the edge. He struggles, his breath coming in panicked gasps.

They try to take the rifle from his hands. 

He fights harder. 

Fights for his fucking life. And for Ghost.

As they turn him around, he elbows the person to his right, lifts the rifle, and shoots. The man with Makarov's face and voice grunts and slaps at his arm.

"Some toxin to counter the serum, I suppose?" 

Makarov's soldiers wrest the gun from his grasp and hold him, one on each side and a third behind him who is already attempting to remove his helmet. Soap's body is in overdrive, heart racing and breaths coming in short gasps as he continues to struggle against both the panic and those holding him. Makarov opens his arms wide and stares at Soap with that awful, smug look on his face.

"Fuck you," Soap yells, his voice guttural and harsh. "I won't go back!"

Makarov drops his hands and tilts his head to the side. "What a shame all that work with the previous serum has gone to waste." He clicks his tongue in a chiding way before his smug grin makes a reappearance. "Good thing I've got an upgraded version just for you. One dose and the results are gloriously permanent. Vitya?"

The soldier behind him tugs on Soap's helmet so hard his whole body bends backward.

A gunshot rings out.

A spray of blood coats Soap's helmet.

The hands on either side of him fall away as the soldiers fall to the ground in a heap — a single, clean shot through both their heads. Makarov and the soldier behind Soap scramble for cover, leaving him to fall backward between the dead bodies.

His back hits the ground, punching all the air from his lungs. Disoriented from the fall and on the verge of a full panic attack, Soap rolls to his hands and knees. 

A feminine voice warbles in his ear, but he can't think. Can't understand. 

He only knows he has to get away.

Away. Away. Away—

Everything stops, including his overwhelmed body and mind, when a gruff voice clicks through the comms.

"Go, Johnny! Get out of here! And stay low."

With his heart about to burst in his chest, Soap looks up and sees an achingly familiar specter leap from behind a row of ductwork to catch the fleeing Makarov. Using the worm's momentum against him, Ghost slams Makarov face first into the air handler. Before he can recover, Ghost grabs Makarov's upper arms and hauls him around to deflect the sudden barrage of bullets from the remaining soldier.

Somehow the bullets miss. Soap meets Makarov's gaze, and that smug smile sends chills down Soap's spine even as his blood boils with rage.

It was a distraction. A fucking distraction. Because Soap can see what Ghost can't with Makarov's back to him—

A syringe in hand.

Fire and ice pouring through abused veins.

Endless, searing, mind-killing pain — this time with no way out.

Permanent.

He won't go back. He won't. But he'll die before he lets Makarov take Ghost instead.

A desperate cry wrenches from Soap's lungs as he launches himself from the ground and into the rain of gunfire.

"Johnny, no!"

Soap ignores Ghost's desperate cry. He leaps just as Makarov lifts the needle to jab into Ghost's neck.

And the burn of all those impacts is worth it for the brief flash of terror in Makarov's eyes.

---

<< Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 >>

[daisies-daydreams]

I got a funny short fic idea here. Task 141 + König + Los Vaqueros x fem!reader reacting to their bodies being switched with each other.

A bit of a scenario, both of them went on a mission and happens to get ambushed by a gas fume in a room, after some lingering time time trying to get out of there (they did eventually), they passed out and the other members had to drag both of their bodies to base. The next day they woke up in the medic room but found something is wrong with their own bodies. Could be either sfw or nsfw

Characters: 141 (Ghost, Soap, Gaz), König, Alejandro Vargas, Reader, Original Character (Dr. Laura Winston) Warnings: Some NSFW Elements (“self-examination”), Descriptions of Genitalia, Mentions of Blood, Swearing Word Count: 2k+

A/N: Thank you for your request! I’m sorry if it’s bad-I tried my best but I've never written for a scenario like this before. 😵‍💫

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

It was a shit show.

Price had sent the 141, Alejandro, König, and you to raid a covert facility in Columbia. Things seemed to be going smoothly...until a pair of doors suddenly slammed on all of you just as you were about to escape. Your eyes widened as billowing clouds of gas began to pour into the room from the vents in the ceiling.

“GET DOWN!” Ghost’s voice boomed. All of you laid flat on the floor, military crawling towards a slit of light poking through a pair of doors on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes began to water as your lungs felt stung with each shallow breath you took. Your head grew dizzy as you watched König rise to his feet. He grunted as he slammed himself against the doors repeatedly, Ghost soon joining him.

Everyone coughed and sputtered as the fumes filled the small space. Your vision became blurry as you reached your hand out, your lungs feeling like shrunken plastic bags. The door thumped a few more times before König finally burst through, the humid night air spilling into the tight space.

“This way!” he coughed, waving his arm. You nodded as you slowly slithered forward, only to collapse once you reached the threshold. The last thing you remembered was being picked up by a pair of heavy arms.

+++

Your eyes snapped open as you gasped. A sheen of sweat coated your body as you launched forward in your bed. You winced as you slam your head into a light shining above you.

“Careful!” you heard an unfamiliar voice shout. You blinked a few times, the image of the room coming to you slowly. You recognized this place as the medical facility near the base you all were deployed from. Doctors and nurses bustled around.

"Forget your own height, Colenel?" the doctor quiped.

"Whuh?" you slurred. That wasn’t your rank...

"How are you feeling, sir?" the man asked. You blinked.

Sir?

You shook your head slightly as you gazed down. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when you saw a wide, expansive chest. Your arms were utterly HUGE-wait-all of you was huge. You nervously glanced down between your legs-

“H-Hi?” you said. You clasped your hands over your mouth. That wasn’t your voice. It was raspy and guttural. You looked down, eyes widening at the sight of your massive, veiny hands.

“Sir? How are you feeling?” the doctor repeated while tilting his head. You tried to steady your breathing, though your accelerated heart rate showed up on the monitor. The doctor frowned before scribbling something down on a clipboard. You fidgeted where you lay, large hands wringing the medical gown that covered you. Your eyes scanned the room, seeing the rest of your team out cold.

"I..." your words failed to come out of your new mouth. It felt like you had pebbles in your cheeks whenever you tried to talk. Your eyes glanced over the man's shoulder.

Your breath hitched when you saw your own body lying in the bed across from you. Every inch of you crawled as you mindlessly slid out of your bed.

“Where are you going?” the doctor asked. You cleared your throat.

“I-er-restroom?” you stammered awkwardly. The doctor looked you up and down before narrowing his eyes.

“Yes. Let me go…please,” your voice rumbled. The doctor seemed to shrink away as you tore the IV from your arm. You grimace at the sight of blood suddenly spurting from your arm. You hissed as you wrapped your hand around it as you hobbled towards the bathroom.

“Hey! You can’t-“ You shot a dirty glance at the source of the voice. The doctor clamped his mouth shut as his face grew pale. You tried to be quick, but you weren’t used to the long, heavy strides. You walked around like a newborn baby deer, nearly tripping over your large pair of feet.

Relief poured over you when you made it to the restroom, locking the door behind you. You rested your hands on the sink before taking a paper towel and putting pressure on your wound. You were very cautious as you gazed up in the mirror. You gasped and touched your face, your arms-everywhere.

Well…almost everywhere.

Your eyes trailed back down as you swallowed thickly. You bit your lip. Was this wrong? This wasn’t your body, after all. You exhaled through your nose as you slowly slid your hand down your gown. Your eyes bulged when you felt a flaccid cock being squeezed in your palm. The sensation sent a jolt through your body. You winced as you flicked your hand away.

“Fuck, he’s massive,” you thought. You glanced up at the mirror again. It’s the first time you’ve seen König without his mask on. He looked rather ruggedly handsome, if you say so yourself. Ginger hair, baby blue eyes and a scarred face with sharp features gazed back at you. You laughed to yourself as you shook your head.

“Man, this is one of the craziest dreams I’ve had in a while!” you thought. You pinched your arm, only to still be staring at the same visage. Your brows furrowed as you pinched yourself harder.

Nothing.

The sound of a commotion outside stirred your attention away from the mirror. You unlocked the door and walked down the hall to hear doctors and nurses trying to calm someone down.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you-I’m not me!” your voice shouted. You had to steady yourself for a second, your hand falling against the wall. It was your voice, but the accent was…different. You slowly stepped back into the bay to find your body scowling as you were being surrounded by medical staff.

“Please, we need you to calm down,” one of the doctors said. You scoffed and started walking towards your original body.

“Nein! You don't understand! This isn’t mein,” your body yelled while gripping your hair. Step. “This isn’t mein,” your smaller hands pointed at your eyes. Step. “And these aren’t MEIN!” your body finished by grabbing and shaking your breasts. You scowled as you broke past the gaggle of medical personnel.

“Get your hands off of me! What the hell is wrong with you?!” you boomed, your new voice nearly shaking the walls. You watched your (E/C) eyes widen as you snagged your wrists, König’s massive palms engulfing yours. Your eyes locked with each other for what felt like an eternity.

“Maus?” your voice whispered. You gasped, hands slipping away from your wrists.

“…König?”

“Call security! Now!” a doctor ordered.

“That won’t be necessary,” a woman’s voice called from the doorway. The whole room halted as the source of the voice stepped into the room. A bespeckled lady in a white lab coat strode towards you, her steely gray eyes scanning you up and down. “You all are relieved,” she stated calmly.

“But, Doctor-”

“I don’t want to repeat myself,” she said. The personnel quickly filed out, leaving you and your team in the hands of this mysterious woman. She straightened her turtleneck before clasping her hands together.

“I apologize for my team. They aren’t entirely used to your…dilemma,” the woman vaguely explained. König shifted in the bed uncomfortably while you fiddled with your new fingers. She held out her gloved hand.

“Dr. Laura Winston,” she introduced herself. You took her hand, your palm swallowing her own. Your hand fell back to her side. Just as you opened your mouth, a sudden grunt rang through the room.

“Hijo de puta,” Ghost’s voice grumbled. All of you snapped your heads over as the lieutenant rubbed the back of his head.

Holy shit.

“Al-Alejandro?” you gulped. Ghost blinked a few times, his dark eyes squinting at you. He huffed out a hearty chuckle, something foreign and somewhat terrifying to you.

“Of course, cariño. Who else would it be?” Ghost laughed. His eyes widened as his lips drew into a tight line.

“Ah, so then Lieutenant Riley must be-”

“FUCKIN’ HELL,” Alejandro’s voice groaned as his body lunged forward in his bed. Ghost blinked, his brows knitting slightly as he pointed a shaking finger at Alejandro.

“¡D-D-Diablo!” the man yelled. Alejandro scowled before his face fell. The men pointed at each other, words failing to leave their lips as they stared at each other with bulging eyes.

“Right, that leaves-” A clamor echoed through the examining room as Soap flung himself out of bed. His vision seemed unfocused as he yawned and scratched his face.

“Christ-I need a drink of water,” he spoke. All of you watched silently as he padded down the line of beds. Your face turned beet red when you saw the outline of his ass peek through his hospital gown. He suddenly froze where he stood before slowly turning around. Doctor Winston seemed unfazed as she tried her best to give him a reassuring grin.

“Oh, good. You’re-”

“WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK IS GOING ON?!” he screamed. His voice stirred Gaz from his sleep, prompting him to look around the room. A wide grin stretched across his face.

“Phew, didn't think we were gonna make it,” he sighed. His smile faltered when his gaze crossed his own body staring back at him. Doctor Winston cleared her throat.

“Now, let’s all just-”

The room erupted into a fit of rancor. Shouting was heard left and right-Gaz gripping Soap by his gown, Alejandro and Ghost still pointing their fingers at each other as they yelled in their respective languages. You and König remained still, awkwardly looking at each other before with pale faces before looking back at the scene before you. Doctor Winston cleared her throat.

“IF YOU PLEASE,” she boomed. Silence quickly filled the room. “Thank you,” she nodded. “Now-as for all of you returning to your original bodies-there appeared to be a compound in the gas that flooded the corridor just as you all were escaping the facility,” she began. Gaz’s eyes instantly glazed over. “Thankfully, we were able to obtain the name and chemical structure of the substance. However…” her voice trailed off.

“C’mon, spit it out,” Alejandro huffed in irritation. She sighed.

“However, it will take a while to properly replicate it,” she finished. You felt your chest tighten.

“So we’re stuck like this for God knows how long?!” König sputtered. Dr. Winston nodded slowly.

“I’m sorry-we’re working as fast as we can,” she stated. Ghost stepped forward.

“Why in the world are you trying to replicate the thing that caused…this?” he asked, motioning to everyone. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“I believe that if we simulate the incident, it could swap your consciousnesses back into the correct bodies,” Dr. Winston said. All of you blinked.

“How does that work exactly?” Soap asked. She frowned.

“Do you want to sit through a day-long lecture?” the doctor asked. Soap's eyes widened before he stepped back. She adjusted her sleeves before looking around to each of you. “Try to hang tight. We’ll be monitoring you in case there are any psychological or physical abnormalities,” Dr. Winston said. You understood why Gaz (Soap?) was starting to nod off.

“If you’ll excuse me-I need to return and check the status of the gas,” she said before seeing herself out. You all exchanged weary glances.

“Are we sure that gas wasn’t a fuckin’ hallucinogen?” Gaz asked dryly. Ghost chuckled, though it was clearly strained. You swallowed a lump in your throat.

“What about you, love?” Soap asked, his voice a little softer than usual as he gazed at your original body. You craned your neck down and stared at the man. König frowned and pointed towards you. Soap gasped as he tilted his neck up. “Er-(Y/N)?” he asked.

“Yeah?” you replied. His jaw dropped.

"I-you-and...you have a dick now?" Soap asked. You grumbled as Ghost and Gaz snickered. König meanwhile was a flustered mess-his face completely red.

"Yes, So-Gaz, I have a penis now," you irritatedly sighed. Soap looked back and forth between you and König's mismatched bodies.

"So...then that means-"

"That's enough," König barked. Soap instantly shut his mouth. Ghost still chuckled as you sat back on your bed. It creaked as you rested on it. You sighed as you rubbed your hands through your short, ginger hair.

“Bonnie?” Gaz piqued. You gripped your locks between your fingers.

“What are we going to do if it doesn’t work?” you choked. The men around you glanced at each other. You gasped as you felt a small pair of arms wrap themselves around your thick torso. König rested his head against your arm.

“Have faith, Maus. I trust Dr. Winston-she seems to know what she's doing,” he soothed. It felt strange hearing comfort coming from your own voice. Your eyelids fluttered closed as you wrapped an arm around his new body.

“Thank you, Kö,” you breathed. He nodded before patting your back. Your head began to suddenly feel dizzy as you braced yourself against the side of your bed.

“Cariño-” you heard Ghost's voice call. You had no time to prepare as your vision went black once again.

+++

The next time you woke, you were being dragged by a pair of large hands. Your glossy eyes gazed up at the tall, muscular figure dragging you out into the open. Their ungloved hands were warm as they pulled you out of a cloud of gas. The lights blinded you as you coughed and wretched, your lungs burning and eyes watering. While you expected to be in the dark facility you raided, you were instead met with the blurry sight of the medical center’s hallway. Your eyes trailed up to meet with König’s uncovered, beaming face.

“Hallo, Maus”.

____

Thank you for reading! ❤️