Modern Warfare 2 - Blog Posts

hey everypony ghostroach 👋

Ok, you all know the book “The Outsiders” right? Right. And I’ve been having an angst scene in my head with Ghost and Soap with this one quote. “Johnny was the only thing Dally loved. And now Johnny was gone.”. Now what if Soap dies or something and Ghost goes fucking 𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 and absolutely loses it. He just loses himself and nothing is helping. I welcome you all to this amazing writing prompt!

“give us a smile, l.t?”

“gotta earn it, Johnny.”

loss of mein liebe | könig x f!reader angst (lowercase intended)

TW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, severe angst, torture, blood, weapons, mentions of sexual assault (does NOT actually occur), NOT CANON AT ALL, NOT EDITED VERY MUCH, written at 3 am so probably incoherant at some points :p

2,000 ish words

it had been two weeks since she had been taken. kidnapped by the russians after a failed mission. neither kortac nor the 141 (who ironically were working together on this mission) had any idea where she could've been. that was until they had received a small parcel (addressed to konig). inside were her bloodied dog tags. konig immediately threw the items across the room and began researching where the package came from until finally, he was zeroed in on the location. somewhere in liski, russia. immediately, he called an order to drop everything to go save his little liebe.

a few days later, he now found himself alone in the basement of the warehouse, while the 141 scouted the rest of the building. konig walked around the dark, dingy spaces, looking for anywhere his little prinzessin could be. the building was suspiciously empty, the 141 reported, but konig was too focused on finding her to notice how strange it was. after stumbling upon a multitude of empty rooms, he finally came to the last room at the end of the basement hallway. peering inside the small window, he spied his liebe.

bloodied. beaten. unconscious.

he kicked the door open, forgetting all protocol. his liebe was more important. not that it was important anyway. other than konig and his princess, the room was empty.

her wrists are bound by rope and tied to the ceiling, caked in blood as they were too tight. a fresh scar dragged from her eyebrow to her cheek, caked with blood. her feet were an inch off the ground as she dangled from her wrists. her clothes were torn and bloody and her hair matted and dirty. she was hardly breathing. a dirty, bloody cloth was stuffed in her mouth, gagging her, perhaps to muffle her screams while she was tortured. a small, broken camera was attached to the corner of the ceiling.

“nicht schlafen, meine prinzessin…” könig murmured softly in german, softly patting her cheek. he felt his whole body tense up as he came near her--but then, he relaxed. noticing her ragged breathing, he cut off the rope with his combat knife.

placing her onto her feet, he held her steady and gently wiped her scars with his gloved hand. “please. open your eyes…” he whispered.

she stirred gently, opening her eyes and seeing konig. but she didn't see konig. she saw another man - coming to torture her. perhaps kill her. from behind the gag in her mouth, she began screaming and crying, the salty tears stinging the scar on her cheek. she kicked at konig, trying to save herself from more pain.

“schatz! it’s me!” könig cried, pulling her into a comforting embrace. “it’s me! i’m here to save you!” könig loosened her gag and gently pulled it from her mouth as her screams continued. “it’s your könig, your darling, your love… I’ve come to save you--” but her screams continued.

“i’m getting you out of here,” he assured, carefully picking her up and cradling her in his arms. “we have to go, my love. we have to go now.” but she still was in hysterics. flailing, screaming, kicking, crying. so hard that an old stab wound on her stomach began bleeding again. so much that her wrists began to drip blood onto the cold concrete floor.

“stop,” he said calmly in german, attempting to silence her by hushing her into his chest. “sweetheart, calm down. i’m here to save you, and you know it. i know it. but i can’t get you out of here unless you keep quiet.” he took his white handkerchief and carefully covered the wound on her stomach, trying to slow the bleeding. “you have to be quiet for me, my beloved, okay? i know you’re scared, i know i’m the last person you’d ever expect to see right now.”

she tries to talk from behind the gag in her mouth but all that can be heard are muffled cries.

“shh,” he repeated in german, shushing her into his chest once more. “my love, you know i’m the only person who could rescue you. you trust me, don’t you? trust that i’ll keep us both safe and that no harm will come to you while i’m here.” könig gently traced her face with his gloved hand. he carefully removed the gag from her mouth. “i need you to be quiet,” he said one last time.

"please… please don't hurt me." she whimpered.

“shh…” he gently shushed her again, using a finger to silence her. “i haven’t come to hurt you--you know that. i would never hurt you, not on purpose. i just need you to stay quiet while i get us out of here, okay, liebeling?” könig glanced to the door of the dingy, dark, dirty cell, and began planning their exit.

"who… who are you. please i want to go home. please i dont know anything" she begged, still not in her right mind.

“ich bin könig,” he said softly in german, placing a protective arm around her as he spoke softly to reassure her of his presence. “i know you’re confused, my love. i know you’re scared, and that you want to go home. and I’m going to take you home to your safe, warm bed, i promise. i just need you to help me out and stay quiet, okay?”

könig gently caressed her cheek, running his hand through her hair before kissing the top of her forehead.

her eyebrows furrowed. no torturer would kiss her forehead. finally, she looks into his eyes.

"k-konig?" she asked, tears streaming down her face as she remembered her beloved. "how did you find me? you have to go! they'll kill you! please! leave me!"

“no,” he whispered firmly, “i’m not leaving you here. you know i’d never leave you here. ich liebe dich. i love you too much to let anything bad happen to you. and you know that.” he stroked her dirty hair. “we’re leaving together,” he continued, “just please stay quiet. i promise you— you’ll be okay.”

and suddenly, an alarm rings out. they know he's here. they knew konig would try to save her.

it was a trap all along. konig's eyes fill with fear. his little liebe begins to cry again.

“scheiße,” könig swore under his breath, hearing the alarm ring out and the clanging of men’s feet as boots rushed towards the door.

he quickly pulled her into a protective embrace, holding her close to him, trying to think of a way out. there was only one exit in the room and only one way out of the dingy basement hallway. in an attempt to quiet her sobs, he put a gentle hand around her mouth.

“just stay silent, princess,” he murmured in her ear while the soldiers rummaged around. “it’s fine… we’ll be fine.” he promised as the sound of kicked-in doors began to grow ever closer.

even with his hand silencing her, another sob rings out.

“Nnein, nein, meine liebe… du tust mir so leid,” he whispered in german. he sighed and hugged her tighter, burying his face into her shoulder. “alles wird gut sein, nur halt ruhig.” he urged, trying to calm her.

könig held her close to him, trying to reassure her that it would be okay, even if it was a lie.

"well, well, well." a voice rang out. they had been found. the leader of the russian military walked in, a smirk on his face. "we knew you'd come for your little liebe konig." he explained as eight men raised their guns towards konig and the love of his life, who was still bleeding and crying in his arms. her tears doubled after realizing they had been caught. they were gonna die. she knew it.

“tch.” könig narrowed his eyes at the smug bastard standing in his way, clutching the love of his life tightly. he wasn’t about to die here, not when so close to his princess. not when she needed him. and he damn well wasn't going to let her die. that was never an option.

“i don’t care how many men you have, you’re going to have to pry my princess from my cold, dead hands,” he sneered, standing tall and pulling the knife from his belt. Two can play that game.

"hm. so be it! MEN! bring me the girl!" he called. four huge men with even bigger guns rushed forward, ripping the girl from konigs arms, pointing their guns at him to make sure he didnt move. konig raised his arms in defeat. one man escorted her back to the russian leader.

"well. it seems you have lost again, konig. it's a shame i have to kill your little princess in front of you. she is quite delicious" the russian man says, sniffing her neck creepily. she lets out another cry. "shut up!" the russian yells and slaps her across the face, splitting her lip and causing her to fall to the floor. he drags her up and holds a knife to her throat. "any last words, konig?"

"nein! nicht meine prinzessin! take me instead!" he snarled, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. he had to get the girl out of this alive. even if he had to die in her place. the russian man simply laughed.

"oh too late, my boy. i might even keep this one for myself. she's so young and easy to break" he licked her neck, causing her to flinch. "i think i want to make this slow and painful. for both of you," he says cockily.

"nein! ich tue alles was du willst! schatz, lass mich die nehmen, bitte!" könig begged in german, looking around at the four men holding guns to him with a pleading expression. he wouldn't die for nothing, not without trying to save her. he had to try.

"maybe i'll make you watch as i take her. and then i'll make you watch as each of my men take her. only when i'm finished, will i make you watch as i slit her pretty throat and watch her bleed out like the swine she is." he spits.

“du verdammte arschgeige!” König swore in a growl, anger flashing across his face. he wouldn’t be powerless against a man who would harm an innocent girl. with his free hand, he threw his knife at the leader, aiming for the throat. the man simply sidesteps and the knife hits the concrete wall instead, clattering to the floor.

the leader laughs at konig's futile attempt. "well, have it your way. men! restrain him! he's going to watch as the life drains from her eyes." the eight men tie konig up, the same way he had found his princess. hands in the air, feet barely touching the ground. no matter how much konig tried, he could not escape.

"bitte, ich bitte dich! ich will sie nicht sterben sehen! ich liebe sie!" in his panic, könig forgot all of his english lessons and reverted back to his mother language in a desperate and emotional tone. He wouldn't let his girl die! könig struggled as the eight men tied him up, gritting his teeth and letting out frustrated growling noises as he tried to escape.

the russian leader only laughs. konig's princess lets a tear drip down her face.

"konig." she calls. he looks at her, his cerulean eyes full of tears. "it's okay konig. it'll be okay." she says with a knife against her throat. she smiles sadly. "i love you. i loev you so much. never forget that." she said trembling.

könig roared, desperately straining against the ropes that tied him up. tears streaked down his face as he watched helplessly.

“don’t talk like that!” könig cried, his voice cracking. "im going to get ou out of here!"

“ws ist nicht zu spät, schatz, ich liebe dich!” he pleaded, shaking violently and pulling desperately at the ropes. “don’t say it’s okay… ich liebe dich noch mehr!”

"say goodbye to your little liebe, konig!" the russian yells. his eight soldiers all release a booming laugh at konig's desperation.

“du verdammter arschgeige!”

könig threw his head back and thrashed wildly against his bonds, his voice growing hoarse and desperate as he yelled at the leader in a fit of rage.

“ich werde dich ficken, und deine verdammte arschgeige!” he roared, spitting as he shouted at the leader.

the russian man only laughs as he presses the blade into her throat harder and drags it swiftly across, cutting into the girl's jugular. he laughs as she holds her throat and blood spills out. he laughs as she drops to the floor, gurgling on her blood. he laughs as the life begins to drain out of her eyes. through all the blood, she looks to konig and lets out a gurgling "i love you." before she stills.

“nein! nein, meine liebe!” König pleaded desperately. "bleib bitte bei mir! ohne dich kann ich das nicht schaffen!"

but it's too late. konig's libeling is gone. the russian men laugh and walk out of the cell, locking it behind them. leaving konig alone with her lifeless body.

a dark, ominous feeling flooded the air and enveloped the room like a fog as if it were the embodiment of the very hopelessness that hung heavy in the air.

könig fell silent, tears freely flowing from his eyes as he looked down at his princess.

his mind went blank as he stood, bound and helpless, next to the body of his love. her dark brown eyes were still open and her blood ran from her mouth, filling the crevice the scar in her cheek had left.

finally, the ropes gave under konig's constant thrashing. immediately, he ran over to his little liebe.

könig held the body of his princess close to him, weeping silently as he cradled her lifeless body in his arms. the loss of his love felt like a stab to the heart, piercing his chest with such an unbearable pain that he thought he was never going to feel anything again. könig's sobbing continued, drowning in grief and sorrow that was as deep as the very oceans.

suddenly, ghost and the rest of the 141 kicked the door down, guns raised only to be met with the scene in front of them. they were too late.

ghost stood in the doorway, his heart dropping at the sight in front of him. "könig." he said, stunned and hurt. könig looked over at ghost with pained, tear-filled eyes, his arms wrapped tightly around the body of his princess, who lay lifeless in his arms.

"she's gone…." konig said, a tear dripping off his chin and landing on her cheek.

ghost walked over quietly , kneeled down next to konig and reached his hand towards her face. konig, thinking he was going to hurt her, pulls out a gun and holds it to ghost's face. "mate…" ghost says sadly. ghost reaches over to the girls face and closes her gentle brown eyes. "look. now she's sleeping." he said softly. the rest of the 141 boys were quiet, faces downcast, unspeaking.

tears filled könig’s eyes as they watched ghost close the girl’s eyes.

“she looks so peaceful…” könig whispered. He continued to hold the body close to him, a part of him not wanting to let go.

“thank you….” he muttered, lowering the gun.

"mates.. we have to go," soap said to ghost and konig. "we don't want to be here when they come back to find konig."

a dark silence filled the air, the only sounds being the soft crying and sobbing of könig.

könig looked up at ghost, his face contorted with anguish and pain as he sniffled, wiping away tear trails with the sleeve of his shirt.

a nod was the only reply könig could give, and he allowed ghost and soap to lead him to the exit.

konig looked back, hoping that maybe the world was playing some cruel joke on him. hoping that his little liebe would put on her perfect smile and jump up saying "just kidding." pull another one of her silly jokes that konig rarely found funny. but she never did. and she never would.

with the weight of a mountain on his shoulders and pit the size of an ocean in his chest, könig followed ghost and soap as they walked out the door and into the night.

the weight of the world felt like it was pushing down on him, threatening to tear him apart. but the weight of the ring box in his pocket seemed infinitely heavier.

könig's world had been shattered by the loss of his princess, and a piece of him died with her. a piece he would never get back.

i am

so sorry?

for my bad writing

for the scenario :)

SHOULD I DROP AN ANGST FIC ABT KONIG AND READER????? LIKE A CRY UR LITTLE HEART OUT FIC?? HEHEHE

Anxious?

Hiii Crab so happy to see you write outside of our rants/idea chats and my fellow delulu cod enjoyer! Would love to request Platonic!141 + Reader (sorry if this is long and somewhat confusing lol). You can do headcanons, drabble or whatever you comfy for. An idea that popped in my head kinda semi personal: Civ or 141! Reader though has parents and family is the reader is quite something else. Reader despite having somewhat normal upbringing still feel empty; they shouldn't be feeling this numb and empty deep inside of them. The reader craves the love that they give but couldn't or lack of receiving it back, though they don’t expect it or selfishly want it. Just someone who understands them even in their deepest darkest secret or flaw then boom cue the task force 141 unexpected yet welcoming to their life and maybe the one that the Reader can lean and let them be vulnerable on (finally).  

Take your time on doing this Looking for to your other writing genuinely -Cee, your fellow Soap delulu

GN!Reader & 141 (Mostly Price)

Warnings: Slight angst Ships: None. A/N: This absolutely ran away from me and I do not at all regret it, hope you enjoy, Cee!!! Words: 3549

Almost your entire life had been a cycle of self doubt that also started to churn and twist into self-hatred. You blamed yourself for the feelings. Afterall, you had a relatively normal upbringing. Two parents who were both present in your life, both of whom worked so that you all had food on the table and a roof over your head. A luxury that very few had.

The least you could do for them is follow the path that they wanted to put you on, no matter how much you didn’t want to do it. Because you loved them. 

So you excelled in your education, studying hard to try and impress your parents– to make them love you just as much as you loved them for everything that they did for you for your entire life. They wanted you to do all three sciences despite the additional workload it would add to your already stretched thin time? Then you would do them, take any extra classes after school in order to keep up with the work and not lag behind any of your peers. 

There was no such thing as a social life, either, not when you had homework and projects due. Friends were few and far between. Generally, most people left when they realised how hyper focused you were on your grades instead of social interaction. 

Did a classmate get a higher grade than you on a test? Well obviously you didn’t study hard enough, you just needed to dedicate more time to school even though school was all you had.

Did you get the highest marks in the class? Good, that was what was expected of you. Why didn’t you get full marks? You were better than that. You would do better because you loved your family. They showed it in their own way, of course, by encouraging you to study harder and get better grades. That was their love language, and yours was doing as they asked without a second thought. Because, at the end of the day, you were lucky to have an upbringing like you had. You would ignore the hollow void clawing at your chest because you had no right to feel that way– not when you had a roof over your head and parents that loved you(?).

It was when you came top of the class with full marks in a recent test, you came home with a beaming smile on your face and proudly showed the test to your parents. They took the papers from your hands, flipping through your work with critical eyes, before handing the papers back to you. 

‘Well done, we’re so proud of you.’ That was all you wanted them to say to you. That was all you needed to hear. To know that they loved you. 

‘Your penmanship is terrible.’ Was what you got instead. When you tried to point at the big 100% in green pen, you were waved away. ‘How are you expected to get a job when you write like a child? I’m surprised the teacher could even read your answers’. 

After several years of balancing a work and educational life and paving a way for a line of work that you didn’t want for parents you should have been grateful to have, you decided that enough was enough. 

No matter how hard you worked, no matter how high your marks were, they would never be proud of you. They would never return the love that you had for them until you nearly killed yourself trying. 

Spending your entire childhood, teenagehood and all of your current adulthood trying to please your parents predictably would damage one’s psyche. You had no friends, family who had never been devoted to you as you were to them, and high grades serving as the foundations to a prison-like future.

You dropped out of University. The only option forward that you saw was joining the army in the vain hope that the empty feeling inside of you would dissipate when you actually did something that you believed was more worthwhile than any University course. 

So you threw yourself into the military, working harder than all of the other recruits and training at every chance you could.

Your skills and determination became widely recognised amongst your peers. It took several years, but you eventually caught the eye of none other than Captain John Price. 

Impressed by your willpower that not many soldiers possessed, he offered you a place on the 141. 

Naturally, you agreed. You believed that being part of such a well renowned and respected team would finally beat back the lingering self doubt and emptiness that had curled itself around your heart.

It didn’t. If anything, it made it worse.

You were invited to join the 141, sure, but they had already established their own relationships between each other, had already bonded into a close knit group, and you were simply an outsider. Yes, you had been hand picked by Price himself, but that didn’t mean you were part of the team. They had their own inside jokes that they told to one another, leaving you feeling left out on most days.

And you felt… lacking around them. Ghost was stronger, Gaz was faster, Soap was smarter (he was a demolitions expert for crying out loud!), and Price was almost all of those rolled into one. They all complimented each other as a team. Meanwhile you felt like a spare tyre, a master of nothing and barely a jack of any trade. 

Despite how you felt about it all, they all called you ‘kid’. Regardless of age gaps between yourself and the rest of them, the nickname stuck mostly because you were the newbie. It came as a surprise that it wasn’t spat with vitriol as your peers before had, but it was in fact said with… an affection you couldn’t quite place.

You couldn’t ignore the hole in your chest that had been chipped at over the years, forming a gaping maw that no reassurances could really mend. 

Doubt lingered in the back of your mind, chipping away at your sanity as you prepared for the worst. How long would it take before they realised you weren’t good enough? 

You were so deep in your doubts that you didn’t realise that you had been distancing yourself even more than before until you overheard a conversation in Price’s office a few months down the line.

“-- they don’t belong on the team.” Gaz said as you passed Price’s office and your heart dropped. It was only the tailend of what he had been saying but you had gotten the gist. You wanted to stay, to listen to the conversation more and listen to what your team had to say about you, but you didn’t. What you were going to hear were likely things you had already told yourself right from the start. You keep walking on, ignoring the sting of tears burning in the corners of your eyes. The blood rushing in your ears prevented you from heating the rest of the conversation. 

“-- not only are they acting like they don’t belong on the team, but they’re acting like they’re not good enough.” Gaz continued, sighing in frustration.

“Maybe they need more time.” Ghost rumbled in reply, “Let them come out of their shell a little bit. Best not rush these things.” He was talking from experience, after all.

“Aye… maybe I can invite them out for drinks or sommat? I wouldn’t want them getting transferred before we got to know them a little more.” Soap had been the one that had tried the hardest to get close to you but had also tried to give you space so as to not suffocate you with his personality. 

“They won’t be getting transferred.” Price said with conviction, tapping his desk, “I chose them to be part of this team and this is where they’re going to stay. Let me have a word with them first.”

“Aye, sir.”

— — — — — —

You found yourself in the smoker’s shelter outside the main building. It was late enough that most of the soldiers had gone to bed or off to do their own things elsewhere so you doubted that you would be bothered for a little while. Just enough time for you to get your thoughts together. Your tears had dried in your eyes a few minutes ago, making them sting in the cold air. You didn’t need to look in your reflection to know that you probably looked like a wreck– entirely unbecoming of a soldier of your apparent status. 

You didn’t want to get transferred. Despite your distance with the 141, you didn’t hate them. Far from, actually, you held a great deal of respect for each and every one of them. It was just that you felt like you didn’t have your place amongst them. Not good enough to be associated with them. 

“Bit late to be out here in the cold, chuck.” A voice startled you out of your thoughts– one that you would recognise anywhere from the low rasp of a smoker's lungs. 

“Captain.” You croaked, wincing at the patheticness in your voice. There was a scuff of boots as Price came closer, leaning into your line of vision with a furrowed brow which only furrowed more as he took in your dishevelled appearance.

“Something on your mind?” He asked kindly, perching on the arm of the bench to give you some personal space. He left his question open, allowing you any chance to steer the conversation how you wanted to. There was no judgement for catching you at your lowest, no disgust at your red rimmed eyes— just polite understanding and a non verbal offer of pleasant company. 

“Why did you pick me, Captain?”

The question made him tilt his head, a frown beginning to tug on his features. You were worried you had insulted him.

“What brought this on, huh? Someone say something to you? Need me to have a word with them?” He straightened his back, scowling. Whilst you felt like you didn’t have a place in the 141, you could never deny the shield of protectiveness that Price held over his team. You remember in the back of your mind the day that some General who thought he was hot shit had the audacity to undermine Soap as nothing more than a ‘yappy dog’ when offered the Scot’s demolitions expertise. Price had appeared almost out of thin air and almost ripped the General a new one and things would have escalated into a fist fight had Laswell not intervened. It wasn’t as though Price didn’t think his own soldiers were capable of defending themselves, but he couldn’t care less about punishments aimed his own way over that of his Sergeants and Lieutenant. It was just a surprise that the protective streak extended over you, too, despite your distance to your teammates.

“I’ll sound stupid.” You mumbled, looking down at the ground as if expecting him to chastise you like a child. He didn’t.

“I’ve had my fair share of stupid over the years. Try me.”

“... and ungrateful.”

“I once had a guy punch me in the face two seconds after I took a bullet that would have killed him.” Price countered with a cut off chuckle once he remembered what was probably a mission long finished and cleared his throat. “C’mon, tell Captain what’s on your mind.”

And he sounded so sincere when he said it. Sounded like he genuinely wanted to hear what was going on in your head– that he was willing to waste what was already his important and limited time on someone like you. 

“Sir—”

“John.” Price corrected gently, crows feet more noticeable at the corners of his eyes scrunched up when he smiled, “We’re off duty, you don’t need to be so formal.”

“... John.” You echoed, finding that you really didn’t like saying that. It felt like calling your teacher by their first name in primary school or a classmate’s parent other than their last name. 

“Now, c’mon, tell me what’s on your mind. Might not be a therapist, but I’m better than bottling it up.” You wondered in the back of your mind how often Price did this. Sat with his soldiers and talked with them, offered them a listening ear to hear their vents and fears. You couldn’t help but feel honoured to be one of the few he willingly offered said time to. Your silence stretched on as you thought of the words to say, how to phrase what you wanted to say without sounding unappreciative of the opportunity that Price had offered you when he requested you join his team. 

“I don’t feel like I belong here.” You blurted once the silence had stretched on for long enough to border on uncomfortable. John’s face fell and you quickly realised how bad that sounded and rushed to correct yourself.

“No, no, wait, let me explain–” the Captain closed his mouth to allow you to continue speaking, but you could tell that it was hard for him. “I just… you could have anyone better than me, you know? I’m not a demolition expert. I’m… I’m not the best Sniper. I’m the slowest on the team, pretty sure I’m the weakest–”

“Nope.” Price interrupted, finally breaking the bubble of your personal space as he took a proper seat next to you on the bench but still respecting the distance enough to keep a few inches between you. “Nope, not lettin’ you say another word.”

“But–” 

“Nope.”

“Cap–”

“No.”

“But you could have anyone better—“

“But they wouldn’t be you.” He deflected easily. Far too easily. He leant back on the bench, crossing one leg over the other as he folded his arms over his chest. His fingers twitched and you could tell he was itching for a cigar but didn’t light one out of respect. 

“Alright, sure, I can ask Laswell to give me one of the best soldiers in the SAS and have them brought here tomorrow. They could be the best of the best, top of their class, better than you and maybe even better than me. But that’s a bit of a stretch.” He winked and earned a weak chuckle from you. “But they won’t be you. I don’t pick just on skill alone, kid, I pick based on how I feel people would fit into the team. I chose you because I knew that you’d be perfect.”

“As for not being a demolitions expert, let  me let you in on a little secret. I’ve no fucking clue about demolitions, either. And you don’t have to be on the team to be the ‘best Sniper’. You’re better than most, and that’s what’s important. As for being the weakest– did you or did you not bodily lift Gaz in a fireman’s carry during training the other week while he was trying to act as an injured civilian? Quite dramatically, might I add. Swooned and everything.”

You remembered that practice mission. Quite fondly, actually. Gaz was a civilian and , after being struck by a foam bullet from Soap, had dramatically screamed in agony and crumpled to the floor. When you had lifted him up and over your shoulders, the bastard continued to wail something along the lines of telling his non-existent spouse that he loved them and that his money be given to his equally non-existent children. Soap got in another shot to the man’s head, knocking off his cap in the process. Distracted as you were trying to haul your teammate out of the danger zone, you couldn’t help but laugh thinking about it now. 

“Last time I checked, Gaz is somewhat heavier than a sack of flour. Don’t tell him I said that, I’ll hurt his feelings.” Price was right, you supposed. You were more than capable of carrying Gaz over your shoulders, maybe even Soap or Price himself if the time called for it. Ghost you weren’t so sure about, though. The man was a walking mountain. 

“What I’m trying to say is that you have to give yourself more credit. You’re more than good enough to be on my team. I chose you for a reason.”

You… did not expect that sort of reassurance from Price. You had hoped for something along those lines, yes, but perhaps with a thrown in criticism or three. You waited for a ‘but’ that never came. The man snorted beside you and when you gave him a quizzical look, he waved off your concern.

“Shit, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think the next thing out of your mouth would be that your parents never hugged you as a kid.”

Your silence made him slowly turn his head towards you. It would have almost been comical if the situation wasn’t. His face crumbled and a wounded sound emerged from his throat.

“Sometimes they did!” You rushed to defend the people that raised you. “And they gave me food and shelter, clothes when I needed them–”

“Fucking hell. No, that’s what they’re supposed to do because they’re your parents. What about telling you that they were proud of you? That they loved you? I saw your records. Top of your class in not just your training but in your education, too. Triple sciences, mathematics, all of it. They had to be proud of you for that? My parents would have killed for me to get even a passing grade in my GCSEs.” You looked down at the ground and it was Price’s turn to have his eyes fixed on you. 

“They were proud of you, weren’t they?” He asked again, leaning forwards so he could catch your eye, his own filled with concern. “Kid?”

“I don’t talk to them much anymore.” 

Price inhaled sharply and he leaned back again, looking around and clenching his jaw as if fighting back his anger. His fingers twitched again. You admired his self control as he was still yet to grab a cigar that you knew he kept on his person. Usually in his breast pocket while his lighter was in his right pocket.

“Listen to me.” The Captain said, a more stern edge to his voice now that he had gathered his thoughts together. “Whatever your family said to you— how they treated you? Forget it. They showed you obligation. Not love. They didn’t want what was ‘best’ for you, they wanted bragging rights. What you’ve achieved– here, in bootcamp, in university and in school, is something to take pride in– no, no, look at me.”

Your gaze had trailed to the side so you avoided looking at your Captain in the eyes. He noticed and clicked his fingers to gain your attention back on him.

“Don’t look away from me because I want you to listen to what I’m gonna say and I want you to look at my face as I say it.” Your eyes met his blue ones, “You should be proud of everything that you’ve achieved in your life. I’m sorry that your family never told you that and I’m sorry that I haven’t said that enough to you since you joined 141.”

You opened your mouth to say something– to argue or disagree but he shook his head.

“No. It’s my turn to speak now. I’m proud of you. I am so proud of you. Everything you’ve done and everything that you’re yet to do, I will always be proud of you. You’re an exemplary soldier and I knew the moment I saw you that you would be a perfect addition to the 141 and you have proved me right time and time again. You belong on this team just as much as the rest of the boys. Do you understand?”

So many words– proud, proud, proud. That’s all you had wanted to hear for so many years from someone whose opinion mattered to you. You wanted to be seen and Price, this godsend of a man, had seen you and more.

“Kid, do you understand me?”

You nodded once and then realised that Price wouldn’t have been able to tell through your shaking. Tears blurred in the corners of your eyes and you nodded again, not trusting your voice in case it shattered. 

“What do you need from me?” Price’s voice was oh so soft, like he was talking to a frightened fawn. He could see how much his words had affected you and it clearly broke his own heart.

“A hug.” Your bottom lip wobbled and his face softened as he opened his arms, twitching his fingers to urge you closer.

“I can do that.” 

You leaned into him and he quickly wrapped his arms around you, drawing you in close. You could smell the lingering scent of his last cigar. The smell of his office and cleaning oil. You felt his chin on the top of your head and felt how his chest rumbled as he spoke.

“You’re part of the 141 whether you like it or not, alright? Me and the boys want you here for as long as you want to be.”

At that moment, for the first time in your life. You felt wanted. You felt appreciated and you felt seen.

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AleRudy Getting Together Headcanons

Warnings: None Ships: Alejandro/Rudy A/N: Aro-spec Rudy? Aro-spec Rudy. Words: 1875

They've known each other for 20 years, and have been together for 15 of them, married for 10. The reason they didn’t get together sooner was because Alejandro was dating Valeria at the time but their relationship soured. 

Rudy fell first, and he fell hard enough to bruise, but Alejandro fell harder. 

Out of the both of them, Alejandro is the most emotional and Rodolfo… less so. He’s a little more emotionally detached. 

It goes to say that Rudy absolutely positively adores Alejandro and loves him with his entire heart, but he’s just… not the best at vocalising it. Verbal and physical affection was never really a big thing when he was growing up, so he got used to doing other things to show he cared like acts of service or gift giving. 

Rudy also grew up in a large family. Being the eldest sibling/cousin, there were a lot of times that he had to step in to stop arguments. He learnt how to keep a level head to try and avoid any worsening conflict. This ends up becoming a problem a little more into their relationship.

‘I love you’ is also something that Rudy struggles to say. Yes, he loves Alejandro, but to him they’re just words. Saying them himself holds no power or meaning. Not as much as the little things to show your love that you care about them– subtle things, like restocking Alejandro’s hair gel when he notices it running out. Making him his morning coffee just before his alarm goes off so he’s able to drink it while it’s still hot and before he even has to roll out of bed.  

Expanding on Rudy being a little emotionally detached, as one can imagine, this caused a lot of arguments when they first started dating. It wasn’t an issue for when they were just friends because Rudy was already such a loyal friend to Alejandro there was no question with his feelings towards his then best friend.

Being in a relationship was a new territory for the both of them. Alejandro because Rudy was the first person he actually felt a deep connection to whilst any previous relationships were closer to flings than anything more. For Rudy, Alejandro was one of the first few romantic relationships he had ever had– if not the first.

So as time went on, Alejandro began to notice what he believed was Rudy’s… lack of attachment.

Again, Alejandro is a passionate and emotional man. He loves his friends, his soldiers and his family fiercely, but he sometimes expects others to show the same intensity.

So when Rudy didn’t seem all that enthusiastic in the first few months of their relationship, Alejandro began to believe the worst. 

They had arguments here and there, as most couples do, but Alejandro reached breaking point around 3 months into dating. And thus their first proper argument as a couple happened. And it was bad. 

Alejandro was furious beyond words, using his anger to hide the hurt he felt at what he incorrectly assumed was Rudy rejecting him for months. He would constantly say those special three words and only receive a smile in response or an awkward grimace and a swift change in subject.

He accused Rudy of not caring about him, given how little emotion he would show when they were together. He even brought up that Rudy only seemed the most romantic/emotional during sex. How he cradled Alejandro and whispered sweet nothings in the man’s ear as he took him apart and built him back up, made him whimper and keen in the dead of night. 

This, of course, crushed Rudy.

The argument would then get worse when Rudy, without meaning it, would seem to undermine Alejandro and tone down any concerns he had when in reality he was just trying to calm him down the only way he knew how. Sometimes, Rudy would curse himself for having such a level head and occasional aloof demeanour as it never failed to make him seem all the more distant and closed off to those closest to him.

It’s during that argument that something finally gives in. As always, Alejandro is yelling, gesturing angrily and so violently that it almost makes Rodolfo flinch. Almost. 

“If you don’t love me, just say it! I am sick of playing these games–”

Rudy’s attempts at calming his lover down only just seemed to add fuel to the fire. In the end, he sat resolutely in silence as he waited for Alejandro’s rage to simmer down. That was until something he didn’t expect slipped from his Colonel’s mouth.

“This is like Valeria all fucking over again!”

Rodolfo could handle being yelled at. He could handle hiding every flinch that wanted to escape whenever Alejandro got violent and began to throw the nearest objects to him into the wall (but never at Rodolfo– Lord knows Alejandro would never forgive himself if he laid a hand on the man he loved). He could handle the harsh glares and the cold shoulders that followed a few days after every argument. He could deal with those. He would persevere because he loved Alejandro. He just never said it. 

But to be compared to that bitch was what hurt the most. Valeria– who had buried her perfectly manicured talons into Alejandro’s heart all those years ago and then ripped it to pieces when she yanked her claws out just to watch him bleed. Rodolfo knew that Alejandro didn’t mean what he was saying. He was too lost in his own rage to really think about what he was saying. Alejandro continued raving– mostly to himself now that Rudy had bowed his head to stare at the floor, shame and guilt eating away at his insides. 

The argument came to a barrelling stop at the first sniffle that cut through the room. It was quiet but deafening to Alejandro’s ears and enough to make him stop his rambling and look at his boyfriend with panic in his eyes. He had wanted Rudy to hurt, yes, selfishly wanted him to feel the hurt he had made Alejandro feel these past few months— but he didn’t want this. Didn’t want to be the cause of the fat blobs of tears dripping onto the floor as the other man stared at it. His anger was still present, but it took a backseat as he rushed to try and comfort Rudy, his heart breaking when the other man held out a hand to stop him, shaking his head and denying Alejandro the right to soothe the hurt that he had caused.

“Rudy, mi amor, I am so sorry–” 

“No.” Rudy whispered through his tears, stubbornly keeping his gaze on the floor just so Alewjandro could not see how deep his words had cut him. “You are right, I am just like–”

The speed and strength that suddenly seized him in the form of Alejandro’s hands clutching his upper arms startled him. He looked up with wide and wet eyes to see Alejandro almost exactly the same. His love looked so heartbroken. 

“No, Rodolfo– Rudy, it was callous of me to compare you to that woman. Perdóname mi corazón, I may have been angry but that is no excuse to say that to you.”

“But–” Rudy’s mouth snaps shut when Alejandro shakes him, his earlier fury returning for only a split second before melting away into the most hurt he had ever seen on his Colonel.

“Escúchame– listen. Listen to me, Rudy. No matter what happens between us, you will never, ever be like she was. You are the most thoughtful, selfless, brave, beautiful man I have ever known..” Rudy opened his mouth to argue, but stopped when Ale shook him again. “I mean it, Rudy. I mean it.”

Alejandro, for all his training and status, panicked when his reassurances only seem to make the other cry harder. His fingers only tightened around Rudy’s shoulders, pulling him close and pressing his lips against the other man’s hairline. 

“I love you.” Rudy whispered through his tears. Alejandro hated the way his heart skipped a beat  “I love you. So much. So much that breathing is unimportant when I am around you because you always take my breath away. The sun rising is nothing in comparison to your smile. You are the man I would live and die for– the man I would start wars for if you only asked.”

Alejandro had been taken aback by his lover’s words. To hear him speak about him with such awe, such reverence that it would make God himself jealous. Rudy was a lowly disciple, willing to worship the very ground that Alejandro stood on like a man pleading for salvation. How… How had Alejandro missed the adoration Rudy had for him? And now he had gone and made the man cry like he had been rejected from the gates of Heaven. 

“I'm sorry.” Rodolfo continued, “I am sorry that I have not said it enough. I am sorry that I do not love you the way you want me to– the way that you deserve to be loved.”

“Oh, mi amor…” Alejandro had whispered back, all remaining semblance of anger draining from his body once understanding clicked into place. “Perdóname…”

The Colonel reached out, taking Rudy’s hand into his own, and placing kisses so soft onto the other man’s knuckles that it felt like he was merely brushing his lips over flesh. 

“My love, my life, my heart… If I have your love, no matter what kind, then that is more than enough for me.”

To say the argument made their relationship stronger would be an understatement. They communicated more, voiced any worries or their needs, cleared the air before anything could fester.  They flourished together and only grew more madly in love with each other as time passed.

Not to mention that Alejandro became more acutely aware of the tiny things that Rudy did for him to show his love– and began to do the same. Topping up the spice rack that Rudy heartily used at mealtimes before they could fully run out, cleaning his favourite pistol before he had to do it because Ale knows just how much his lover hated doing it at the end of a long mission. 

Months later, Alejandro can’t rightfully remember who had told him about the idea in the first place, but he was quick to bring it up to Rodolfo the second he had the chance. He explained how a couple shows that they love each other by tapping three times anywhere on their partner’s body. Rodolfo, touched, says that it sounds like a wonderful thing to do. 

It’s when Alejandro and Rodolfo are lying in bed together, limbs tangled together as they exchange sleepy kisses that Alejandro feels it. Three taps. Three taps. Three Taps. Three taps with a break between each sequence. I love you. I love you. I love you. It’s beautiful and almost overwhelming enough to bring tears to his eyes. 

From there, Alejandro never again doubted Rudy’s love for him, especially when he felt three taps on his wrist as Rodolfo slid a gold band over his ring finger half a decade later. I love you, the taps whispered.

“I love you.” Alejandro said, beaming with adoration.

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Graves + Shadows Headcanons Part 3 [Part 1] [Part 2] Words: 766

Praise for DAYS. Did Shadow 5-8 get a good shot on the target? Punch in the shoulder at the end of the mission and a bright grin “That’s what I’m talkin’ about, 5-8!”, 

“Atta’girl, 6-12, I couldn’t’ve done that better myself.”

“Keep it up, 10-4!” Reaches over and brings them into a side hug and ruffles their hair like a proud dad. 

Coming back to Graves having a lot of respect for his soldiers, remember that scene in SWCW where it's like

"We're clones, sir, we're meant to be expendable..." "Not to me."

Yeah that's Graves.

He has kept every set of dog tags that belonged to Shadows that died during missions. They’re kept locked away in a box, safely tucked away.

A lot of Shadows were previously mercenaries, even criminals, but they are good at what they do which is why they get hired in the first place. Not to mention that Graves sees hiring them as a way to give them a second chance at life. 

Shepherd has learnt that the way to make Graves do what he wants is by threatening his Shadows. He could very easily dissolve the entire company in a day and expose Graves for technically harbouring wanted criminals.  

Yes, Shepherd called him a ‘dog with a bone’, but he’s more like a Dragon with a hoard. His hoard being his soldiers.

Some rando who was visiting the base once snapped at a Shadow, calling them a ‘stupid fucking mercenary’. That was his mistake when Graves had to be restrained by 3 of his own men. 

“What the fuck did you just say to them? You’d best walk outta my base before I make you leave in a goddamn body bag!”

As shown above, he goes absolutely feral if someone ever insults any of his soldiers.

“Be quiet, sergeant, your betters are talking.” Said some hoity Commander who hasn’t stepped foot in a battlefield in over a decade. Suddenly, it feels like all the air in the room has been sucked out like a vacuum. All eyes go to Graves as he glares long and hard at the man. 

“Apologise. Now.” “What–” “I said: apologise, ‘fore I show you my own version of ‘southern hospitality’.”

Compulsory language lessons. Every Shadow has to know at least 2 languages, English and another language of their choosing. Missions sometimes rely heavily on communication, so fluency in different languages is important.

Graves knows several languages himself, but his pronunciation is downright awful. Sometimes he makes his accent worse because it’s funny watching the horror in people’s eyes when he speaks. 

One of his Shadows has a tendency of crawling around in the vents in the base and because he’s not really harming anyone, Graves lets him do as he pleases. Because of the habit, however, and the fact he’s somehow able to go around almost silently through the metal vents, he’s earned an affectionate nickname amongst the Shadows; Roach. 

Graves doesn’t get along with family. Don’t get him wrong, he has some semblance of respect for his Momma cause she taught him good manners and other things like how to cut hair and how to cook a hearty meal for 12 people, but she was a narcissistic bitch when it came down to it and he took a lot of pleasure cutting her out of his life the second he was able to. 

He never met his father, and doesn’t much care for him, either. 

Paid leave/Holidays? Check. Paternity/Maternity leave? Check. Bed ed and board? Check. Medical and dental plan? You know it. Any possible benefit that can come with a job, being a Shadow has. 

No matter what they’re doing, if Graves does a run up to them, they will always catch their Commander. 

Is the first or last port of call when a fight/argument breaks out. It depends on how out of hand it's gotten in the space of about 15 minutes. Usually people don’t want to interrupt whatever the Commander’s doing and invoke his wrath.

“They started it!” “Well I’m endin’ it!”

Has the type of authority that if he were to suddenly yell at a recruit “Drop it. Now!” Everyone in earshot would absolutely drop whatever they were holding even if the comment wasn’t directed at them. 

There’s a Shadow that’s the largest of the entire company– but he is the biggest scaredy cat and coward anyone has ever met, which makes people wonder why he’s even in Shadow Company. The reality is that, despite being a coward, he’s damn intimidating. Perfect for him to shadow hover behind Graves during mission briefs and so forth.

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Graves + Shadows Headcanons Part 2 [Part 1] [Part 3] Words: 794

Once, when Graves got ill, he ended up fainting in the middle of a meeting because he had been pushing himself too hard. He woke up several hours later, completely unaware of the sheer pandemonium that broke loose just after he lost consciousness. The on base medics had to kick several shadows out on multiple occasions and also nearly quit when they saw almost half the base waiting outside the room for an update on their commander. While he was forced into bedrest, at least one Shadow was stationed in his room at one given time to keep an eye out on him and make sure he had everything that he needed. Even after he got better, there was still a Shadow or two lingering outside his office-- just in case.

Graves has a habit of working himself way too hard to be healthy. As a result, the Shadows have self decided shifts where they check up on their Commander– make sure he’s eaten something or drank some water every few hours. He is just,, so bad at looking after himself sometimes. It's a good thing his Shadows are there to help.

Used to insist that the Shadows just call him Phil when they're off duty but they all said it felt wrong, so they generally stick to 'Commander' or 'Graves' but that's as far as they'd go to calling him by name.

Graves is not shy to show his soldiers physical affection, especially if he thinks that they’re touch starved. It’s mostly little things, shoulder or arm or back pats, a quick ruffle of the hair, he makes sure not to overstep any boundaries. If they ask for a little more, like a full hug, he would absolutely give it to them.

Shadow Initiation is that you have to fight against Graves. Only a few Shadows have ever successfully taken him down, but it’s very much a rite of passage if you get your ass handed to you by the Commander.

Despite all his softness, Graves can be an absolutely wicked trainer. He will push his Shadows to their limits during training, but is always mindful to not push them further than what they’re capable of.

Has attended weddings for his Shadows and has been best man(/bride's man??) for a few of them.

He absolutely has several photo albums filled to the brim with pictures of current and old shadows and likes to show it off to the new recruits/baby shadows like a proud dad.

When a Shadow dies on a mission, they are given the best send off money can buy and their families are provided for e.g. if they had kids, college tuition is fully funded etc. Financial support is provided for several years, and secretly sometimes funded from Graves' own pocket.

Took the deaths of Shadows Dipaolo, Vance and Erikson and the other Shadows on that mission pretty hard and blamed himself. So much so, that he began to doubt his ability to lead as their Commander. He couldn't even protect his soldiers, couldn't even send them reinforcements when they needed him the most. He had to listen to them die. And he won't forgive Shepherd for that.

When the Shadows realised how he felt about it, they were all quick to rush and reassure him that their loyalty to him never once wavered.

Absolutely no Shadow likes Shepherd. Not a single one. Shepherd does not visit the base that often because he genuinely thinks that the Shadows are out to get him. They are.

He spends his time on base during the holidays so those who don’t have anyone to go back to aren’t alone. On Christmas day, he makes a killer turkey roast and gets presents for everyone.

Yes, the base does get decorated during the holidays. So far, Halloween is the one that stirs up the most excitement. April Fools has been banned from being celebrated after the entirety of Graves' office got covered in sticky notes. Everything. Not even the pens were spared.

"NEVER BACK DOWN, NEVER WHAT?!” He says this every mission to get morale up, but he also says it when a Shadow is down to try and cheer them up. If they’re upset over something, he’ll nudge them with his shoulder like “Never back down never what?” and keeps saying it with a widening grin on his face until they’re chuckling with him. He stays with them until they feel better. The same has happened where a Shadow has done the same thing to him when he's seemed down or stressed.

He makes it well known to everyone that his office door is always open if anyone ever needs someone to talk to, whether that's to vent, voice any concerns or anything else.

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Graves + Shadows Headcanons [Part 2] [Part 3] Words: 585

Unsurprisingly, he's very protective of his Shadows. Yes, they're mercenaries and soldiers and very much capable of looking after themselves, but he will not tolerate it when clients treats his Shadows as expendable. They are his soldiers.

Graves has absolutely gone out of his way to get to know the Soldiers that work under him. He knows each and every one of them by name, a random fact about them and at least one of their interests.

Would and has killed for his Shadows at one point or another and would do it again. The same goes vice versa.

Movie night at least once a month in the rec room is compulsory.

Team bonding exercises/days out are also compulsory. They all need to get along one way or another if they're going to be relying on each out out in the field.

Has offered himself in exchange for the safe return of one of his soldiers who was captured during a mission.

Actually put an age restriction on becoming a Shadow. Being a mercenary isn’t easy and it’s very different to being a soldier in the army. All shadows are over 21 when hired, but even then most are over the age of 25.

Due to the nature of their roles, being injured enough to lose a limb isn’t as rare as Graves prefers. When this happens, he has always made sure the Shadow affected has access to the best medical care as well as prosthetics should they want it. If they decide to leave/retire from Shadow company after that, they are still given access to the best medical care money can buy funded out of Graves' own pocket.

Is surprisingly good at cutting hair! Some Shadows don't feel comfortable having a stranger cut their hair/see their faces underneath their masks if they wear one often. He learnt how to cut hair pretty well from his momma.

HUGE on his Soldiers going to therapy. Some missions are harder than others and especially stressful, it's important his Shadows have a place to vent.

Has several chefs with different specialities in the kitchen who are all able to create and cook nutritional and delicious meals that all cater to everyone’s eating preferences.

Many of the younger Shadows have called him dad at least once by accident. It’s a running gag at this point and Graves always laughs it off and then goes to his room to cry a lil bit.

Expanding on this, a lot of the Shadows view him as a parental/familial figure and Graves prides himself on that fact. He doesn’t see them as his own kids, considering some of them are older than he is, but he definitely considers all of them part of his family.

Further expanding on that, some of the older Shadows have called him 'son' on several occasions and he has caught himself almost calling them dad more than once.

One of his Shadows named their first born son after him. They brought little Phil to base when he was only a few weeks old and let Graves hold the kid and he 100% ugly cried and refused to give the baby back for a solid 2 hours.

Some of his Shadows have kids back at home. Graves has memorised all their names and birthdays and makes sure to send them a little something on their special days. The younger kids calls him Uncle Philly and he absolutely cried when he heard them go “Hi Uncle Philly!” across call once.

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141 + Nikolai Reactions to Soap Coming Back/Being Alive

Words: 2.8k Warnings: Mentions of depression, alcoholism/self destructive behaviour Ships: Ghost/Soap, (implied) Nik/Price A/N: i swear this was only supposed to be around 600 words but my brain wouldn't stop until i wrote all of this. up next: los vaqueros reaction.

- Price / words: 683

Soap’s death had been sudden. Unexpected. He was so young– the youngest, but he was one of the best. Only a Sergeant, but he could have gone as far as becoming something of a Captain in a few years time if he kept his head screwed on. All that promise and potential, taken away by one single bullet– no. Not the bullet– the man wielding the gun. Price doesn’t remember the last time he had slept more than 4 hours in the night since they spread Soap’s ashes. There was too much to do. There were other lives to save– other lives that were yet to be lost. Mourning for the man would have to come later. Later. Later. Later. There was only so many times that Price could push his needs to the back of his mind before it boiled over. So he took to cigars– cigarettes, if he was in desperate need. Alcohol became a common nightcap for him. Not enough to affect his performance as a Captain, but enough to garner worried looks from Ghost, Gaz, Nikolai and Kate. He couldn’t have them worrying about him– not now, not when they themselves were all reaching breaking points of their own. Ghost had withdrawn on himself to the point he was even worse off than when Price had first met him. He grunted and mumbled his words or avoided conversations entirely. He was still a beast on the battlefield and during missions, almost scarily so. His kills became more brutal, more messy. Dirty, Nikolai had called it once as he watched overhead as Ghost snuck up on a man and stabbed him 27 times. He had counted. 

And Gaz. Who had blamed himself. Price didn’t need to be a therapist to know that. What broke his heart the most was when he was escorting an exhausted Gaz back to his room when the sergeant muttered something under his breath. 

“Wazzat, Garrick?”

“... should’ve been me, sir.” Price didn’t have the words to respond to the statement. It shouldn’t have been Soap. Or Gaz. Or Ghost. It shouldn’t have been any of them. If anything, it should have been Price himself. If Soap hadn’t rushed in head first to save him, then Soap would still be here–

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Price would deny to his dying breath that he choked around his cigar when a familiar face entered his office. He had been run ragged and thin these past few weeks– chasing leads on Makarov and also juggling the emotions that hung in the air since Soap’s untimely demise. Or ‘apparent’ demise, considering said man had just walked into the room as if nothing had happened and Price hadn’t watched his head successfully catch a bullet while trying to save his life. 

“... surprise…?” Soap said awkwardly as he shut the door quietly behind him, scratching the side of his head as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing in the first place. Like still being alive. Price could have snorted at the absurdity of it. Instead, he rose to his feet and ignored the screeching of the chair behind him. He stared at Soap as he rounded his desk, striding towards the not-so-dead-Sergeant.

“Fuck my old boots, I’m going crazy.” he breathed. Jogging the last few steps, he envelops the scot in a hug. One arm wraps around Soap’s back, the other cradling the back of his head. The body beneath the palms of his hands is warm, thrumming with a steady and strong heartbeat. 

“John.” he whispered and arms wrapped around him in return, squeezing some of his jagged pieces back into place. The time to explain how or why would come later. For now, he was comforted by the fact that Soap was still living and breathing. He was still here. He had unknowingly given Price a second chance– one that the dear Captain would not squander.

“Preferred it when ye called me sunshine, sir.”

“Don’t push your fucking luck, Sergeant.” If Price’s grip on the other man tightened, neither said a word.

- Gaz / words: 565

Gaz has been running laps every single day since Soap died. He had been training, pushing himself as hard and as far as he could go. He wasn’t quick enough. He wasn’t quick enough to help when his team needed him most. He wasn’t quick enough to help Soap when he stared at Death in the face and watched as he pulled the trigger. He should have been faster– he convinced himself that he had to be faster. For Ghost. For Price. He wouldn’t fail them like he had failed Soap. He still thinks about the day they lost the scotsman. Remembers the blood pooling around his head like a sickening halo. He uses it as an incentive. As a reminder for what he lost that day– for what he still has left to lose.

Another lap came to an end in the form of him wheezing and almost stumbling to the finish line. He was bent over, hands on his knees as he tried to even out his breathing. He had pushed himself again today and he felt the telltale signs of nausea curl in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t beaten last week’s record yet. He makes a move for one more lap, but a voice stops him. Usually it was Price who stopped him before he pushed himself too far and ended up in medical. The Captain would appear seemingly out of nowhere, cigar in one hand and Gaz’s shoulder in the other.

‘That’s enough for today, Sergeant.’ He would say, and silence any words of complaint or refusal from Gaz before they were even spoken, ‘That’s an order, Kyle.’

“Whoa there, not the best idea to push yerself so hard. You’ll make yerself sick ya daft tit.” 

Either Price had adopted a Scottish accent in some deranged form of honouring their lost Sergeant, or Gaz had begun hallucinating from overexerting himself. It was likely the latter. He didn’t want to think of Price hiding a mohawk underneath his hat. A hand meets his shoulder and his own slaps over the top of it on instinct. Looking up, he squints as his eyes adjust to the sunlight– begin to focus on familiar features in front of him. Grinning familiar features. 

“Oh, you’re a bloody bastard.” He said, still regaining his breath from his laps. He knows that he hasn’t gone crazy– not yet, anyhow. He knows that the hand on his shoulder is real– that the man in front of him isn’t a figment of his imagination. His other hand claps Soap’s shoulder, gripping hard as he struggles to keep himself together. “You’re a bloody bastard, you know that?”

If Soap heard the crack in his voice, he’s kind enough not to mention it.

“I’ve been told. I only came back ‘cause you owed me twenty quid.”

“Last time I checked it was only fifteen.” Gaz raised an eyebrow, tears in his eyes but a smile on his face as they both fell into a similar routine as if Soap had never left. 

“Interest fee.” Soap quipped back, clapping Gaz on the back and bringing him into a tight hug. 

“Welcome back, Soap.” They fell into silence, the embrace lasting a little longer than usual.

“... I’m not giving you your twenty quid, by the way. If anything, you owe me twenty quid for the emotional damage.”

“Awa’ an bile yer heid!”

- Ghost / words: 1215

Ghost had withdrawn in himself after Soap’s death– or, more specifically, after the funeral and spreading of his ashes. He hated it. Hated watching as the breeze carried Soap away, spreading him across the Scottish countryside. It… it had been too final, for him. An end. The end of Johnny. That’s what it had felt like. The end. And he couldn’t fucking take it. 

Price had given Johnny’s dog tags to Ghost a week or so after everything. It was likely an excuse to talk to the Mancunian– to try and coax him out of his room. It had worked, albeit slightly, as it was an effective reminder to Ghost of who he still had left. Cutting Price and Gaz off wasn’t the way to go– and most definitely what Soap wouldn’t have wanted for him. 

It had been around 2 months, 11 days, 13 hours, and 42 minutes since Soap had died. The days had somehow blurred together but dragged in such a way that Ghost was still aware of the time passing in the back of his mind in some tortuous slew. It was a rare day that he had not only left his room, but the base entirely. His therapy sessions had gone from monthly to weekly to even bi-weekly sometimes. Price had forced them on him after the funeral. Ghost only went to get the old man off of his back. The sessions were generally an hour long, maybe a little over if he accidentally overshared. Most of the time he only sat and listened to the psychiatrist talk about different ways to deal with thoughts of depression and other ways to deal with bereavement. It was all a load of shite. Don’t get him wrong, his psychiatrist was a wonderful person– very passionate about their job but Ghost had been so overwhelmed by his grief some days that going to his appointments was just a waste of time, resources and money. Today’s session ended like the rest, a curt and professional goodbye and the arrangement of another session at the same time the following week. Ghost wondered just how many more sessions he could attend before Price stopped forcing him to go. The last time he didn’t, Price had wrangled him into Nikolai’s helicopter and had the Russian personally escort him to and from his appointment. How Soap would have howled with laughter if he had ever bore witness to it.

Price and Gaz were talking. That was the first thing that Ghost noticed when he walked past the common room. Whilst that wasn’t uncommon in the slightest, what was suspicious was that there was a third voice amongst them– one that Ghost was yet to forget. Likely it was his mind playing tricks on him again, filling the void that Soap had left in an attempt to save himself from the pain but still managing to gouge more wounds into his heart. Despite the apprehension, he was already opening the door before his brain could even comprehend it. 

“Hey, Lt.” Soap said, turning around to face Ghost when he entered and smiling like he wasn’t supposed to be dead and his body spread across some cliff in some backend of scotland. From the way Price and Gaz were looking directly at the sergeant, it was clear that he was no figment of anyone’s imagination.

“Ghost? Ghost!” For the second time in the space of around 12.5 seconds, Ghost’s body was already walking before his brain caught up. He was walking back to his quarters, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him. A few seconds later, desperate knocking filled the room. 

“Ghost, lemme explain!” How dare he? How dare Soap come back like this and treat it like none of the 141 had mourned his loss. 

“Simon… Si, please.” 

The mancunian leant against the closed door, struggling to even out his breathing. Silence fell, only broken by the occasional shaky exhale from Simon’s lips. It stretched on for several minutes, maybe even longer– 

“... Did’ja hear about the cheese factory that exploded in France?” What the fuck was Johnny talking abou– “Da-brie was everywhere.”

Simon almost snorted at the absurdity of the situation and the stupidity of the joke. Looks like the time Johnny had spent being dead gave him time to brush up on his jokes. 

“As I get older, I remember all the people I lost along the way. Maybe me budding career as a tour guide wasn’t the right choice.” Damn him. Damn Johnny for coming back like nothing happened and standing outside Simon’s door telling him goddamn puns. Simon still remained silent, not wanting to give Johnny the satisfaction of making him laugh. 

“Even people who are good for nothing have the capacity to bring a smile to your face, like when you push them down the stairs.” Alright, Ghost would admit that had wormed a soft snort of amusement. Johnny grew silent for a few seconds and it didn’t take too much brain power to imagine the shit eating grin forming on the sergeant’s face, undoubtedly hearing Simon’s mirth. 

“I was digging in our garden and found a chest full of gold coins. I wanted to run straight home to tell my wife about it. Then I remembered why I was digging in our garden…” Awful. Absolutely awful– Simon had taught him well.

“Do you know the phrase ‘One man’s trash is another man’s treasure’? Wonderful saying, horrible way to find out that you were adopted. I can do this all day, Lt.”

That’s what he was afraid of.

Simon sighed to himself as he stood up and opened the door that currently separated the two soldiers. There was a loud curse and a thump as Johnny fell backwards and into the now open doorway. He must have been leaning on the door and didn’t expect the sudden opening. Serves him right. 

“Hi, Simon.” the scot breathed, staring up at Ghost like he had hung the moon. 

“Where did Joe go after getting lost on a minefield?” Simon found himself saying as he stared down at the man who was supposed to be dead. “Everywhere.”

Johnny’s face scrunched up in disdain and he groaned, throwing an arm over his face and still making no move to get up from his place on the floor. 

“Terrible.”

“And yours were any better?” Simon knelt by the fallen sergeant, head tilted to the side as he regarded him, drinking in the visible parts of his face. The shorter man moved to sit up, hands hesitating just before they touched Simon as if afraid of his reaction.

“They got you t’open the door, didn’t they?” Damnit. Simon held out his hand, palm facing up. Johnny took it as it was and placed his own over the top, intertwining their fingers. 

“Gonna take a lot more than jokes to fix this, Johnny.” 

“I know, Lt. Got a lot to make up for but lemme make a start. Permission to kiss you, sir?” The fact he asked where before he would simply act was enough to melt Simon’s heart– just a little bit. 

“Permission granted, Sergeant.” Forgiveness would be a low thing– but feeling Johnny’s warm and soft lips on his own was definitely a step in the right direction.

- Nikolai / words: 332

The first thing Nikolai does when he finds out Soap is alive is punch him. Not hard enough to break anything or bruise too severely, but hard enough that Soap will be reminded of it for a few days afterwards. 

“That is for making everyone think that you were dead.” It’s still fresh in his mind. Watching as Price fell apart at the seams after they spread Soap’s ‘ashes’, as the guilt ate him up from the inside out. As the ‘what if’s plagued his mind, ruined what little sleep he already didn’t get in the night– and stole his happiness, for a time. Nikolai can remember the week where Price smoked so many cigars that the Captain woke up with a tight chest, wheezing like a man starved of oxygen and clutching onto Nikolai’s shoulder as he gasped and spluttered– only to repeat the process the following day. 

‘I can stop when I need to.’ Price had said to Nikolai, brushing off any concern that the russian had voiced about the almost permanent smoke cloud that formed in Price’s office. 

Nikolai was not stupid– soldiers were lost all of the time in war. But not all soldiers left lasting impressions like Soap had to his Captain and teammates. He had touched the hearts of many with his shining personality and enthusiasm, Nikolai himself included. He had been fond of the Scotsman, even a partner in crime once during a prank that involved several bags of glitter and the helicopter fan blades. 

The scowl on his face morphs into something softer as he watched Soap try and massage the pain away with his hands. He brings Soap into a hug, pressing his forehead against Soap’s newly scarred temple.

“And this is for coming back to us. We all missed you, солнышко (Sunshine).” Despite the gentle words, his grip tightens until it is almost bruising. “Don’t do that again or I will kill you myself.” Soap doesn’t doubt that even for a second. 

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personally i think more people should consider freckled ghost

Paperwork

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x WolfHybrid!FemReader

Warning: Cockwarming possible poorly written (I'm sorry if it is)

!!MDNI!!

In the echoing confines of the training room, you and Johnny clashed, a symphony of snarls and grunts. Your agility had kept you nimbly out of his reach, effortlessly dodging Johnny's relentless strikes. He begins taunting you, "Dinna fash yersel, wee lassie. I'm just gettin' warmed up."

But Johnny's playful smirk quickly turns into a serious expression as he lunges at you, his movements as swift as a Highland gale. In a flash, he grabs your collar and yanks you harshly to the floor. Your body collides with the soft matts, and Johnny's weight pins you down. 

"That's not fair!" You whine, struggling to free yourself. Your teeth flash as you attempt to nip at his hand, but he anticipates your move and swiftly grabs your jaw.

With a firm grip, Soap holds onto your jaw, preventing you from biting or snapping back at him. His other hand still clutches tightly onto your collar, keeping you pinned firmly against the hard ground. "Aye, tis nae fair ," he says, chuckling lowly as he looks down at you. "But if ye wantae win, ye gotta learn how tae fight dirty."

His eyes, a stormy shade of blue, bore into yours. There's a glint of mischief in them, mixed with a hint of danger. He leans closer, his breath warm against your face, the scent of sweat and gunpowder surrounding you.

"Ye think ye've got this all figured out, eh?" he teases, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Johnny's hand tightened around your collar, pulling you roughly towards him. Your eyes narrowed, and you unleashed a torrent of curses in your native tongue. You fought against his grip, your muscles tensing and straining. But Johnny remained unyielding, his grip like iron.

Suddenly, an idea sparked in your mind. You let your body go limp, your muscles relaxing. Johnny's grip loosened momentarily, and you seized the opportunity. With a swift twist of your body, you rolled to the side, kicking your feet up to catch him off guard.

He tumbled to the ground, his surprise evident. You didn't waste a second, you scrambled to pin him down. Pinning his hands above his head, and you bared your teeth at him.

Caught off guard by your sudden manoeuvre, Johnny found himself staring up at you. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a smirk despite the situation. His eyes gleamed with a mix of admiration and amusement.

"Aye, ye sneaky wee devil," he muttered, his voice filled with both respect and a touch of exasperation. "I'll give ye that much... ye're quick oan yer feet."

Even though he was pinned beneath you, there was an air of control about him. It was as if he was enjoying this dance of power between you two. His muscles flexed under your hold, his strength palpable even while restrained.

"But dinnae think ye've won yit," he warned, his tone teasing but also carrying a note of challenge.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the thrill of the chase making your blood rush. You leaned forward, your hot breath tickling his neck as you growled softly, the sound vibrating through your chest. Your tail flicked restlessly behind you, a clear sign of your excitement.

"Don't think I won't bite you again," you hissed, your words punctuated by sharp canines. Your claws dug into his wrists, your grip tightening as you attempted to maintain dominance over him.

The corners of Johnny's mouth curled upward, a smug grin spreading across his face. Despite the pressure of your paws on his wrists and the threat of your teeth, he wasn't afraid. Instead, he met your gaze with a challenging glint in his own.

"Oh really? Ye think ye hae me cornered noo, dae ye? " he teased, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. He twisted his wrists, attempting to free them from your grasp. At the same time, he lifted his hips slightly, creating enough space to swipe one of his legs out.

His leg shot out in a swift motion, catching you off guard. You felt his foot connect with your side, a solid hit that sent pain radiating through your body.

Feeling the impact of his kick, you let out a surprised yelp, your grip loosening ever so slightly. "You twat!" You grunted, your voice laced with both anger and amusement.

At your curse, Johnny couldn't help but laugh, the sound deep and hearty. His laughter echoed through the training room, mixing with the clanging of weights and the hum of machinery.

"Ye called me names," he said mockingly, using the momentary distraction to wriggle free from your grasp. In a swift movement, he flipped their positions, pinning you underneath him once more.

"Now where were we?" he mused, leaning in close until his lips hovered mere inches away from your ear. "Ah yes, ye were aboot tae bite me..."

As you felt his body press against yours, you squirmed underneath him, your tail wagging excitedly behind you. A soft whimper escaped your lips, your breath hitching as his warm breath ghosted over your sensitive ear.

"You're such a bully..." You murmured, your voice barely audible. Your claws traced idle patterns on his chest, each stroke light and teasing.

His eyes twinkled with mischief as he looked down at you, his expression softening just a fraction. Despite the roughhousing, there was something undeniably tender about his gaze.

"Aye, well, someone's gotta teach ye some manners," he replied, his voice a low rumble. His hands roamed your sides, tracing the curves of your body before settling on your waist.

"And besides," he added, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper, "Ah kinda lik' husin ye beneath me."

"I don't know why I put up with you..." you grumbled, though your words lacked any real heat. Your tail swished back and forth, brushing against his thigh in a playful manner.

But then, without warning, you bucked your hips upward, trying to dislodge him from his position. The move was unexpected, and it earned you a grunt of surprise from Johnny.

Feeling your hips rise to meet his, Johnny bit back another chuckle. He was used to your antics by now, the playful banter and the occasional wrestling match. And though they started as simple exercises to keep fit, they'd somehow evolved into something more – something that left him yearning for more than just physical contact.

"Dinnae try tae get outta this," he scolded, his voice a playful reprimand. "Ye might enjoy th' view fae doon 'ere..."

With a swift motion, he captured your hands. This time, however, instead of holding onto them tightly, he cradled them gently in his palms, careful not to hurt you in his eagerness.

"Look at ye, a' squirming 'n' cute," he murmured, his voice dripping with lustful intent.

You push against his chest, but he doesn't budge. "I'm not cute!" You huff, sticking your bottom lip out. You wiggle underneath him, trying to escape his grip. "Don't you have some paperwork to finish? Price will have your ass if it's not done."

Johnny chuckled, the rich sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. He shifted his weight, pinning you more firmly beneath him.

"Aye, ah suppose ye'r right," he said, his voice a teasing drawl. "Bit whaur wid be th' fin in that""

He lowered his head, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, sending shivers coursing through your body.

"Ah cuid always ask Price tae wait a bit longer," he suggested, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

"John MacTavish," you scolded, your voice laced with mock exasperation as you used his full name. "If you don't do this paperwork, he'll have both of our asses."

You twisted and squirmed, desperate to escape his playful hold. Finally, with a surge of effort, you wriggled free and scrambled to your feet. Planting your paws firmly on the ground, you put a hand on your hip and raised an eyebrow at Johnny.

"And I'm not about to get done because you can't do your job," you added, your tail flicking back and forth. Knowing you weren't allowed to walk around the base by yourself, you turned on your heels and walked out of the training room knowing Johnny will have to follow you.

Watching you saunter off, Johnny couldn't help but grin. There was something incredibly sexy about your confidence, your determination to outrun him. It only spurred him on further.

"Och, ah will git it dane a'richt ," he assured you, following closely behind. "Juist as soon as a've hud mah fill o' chasing efter ye."

The chase was on, Johnny's long strides eating up the distance between them. But despite his speed, he knew he wouldn't catch up easily. You were quick on your paws, and he found himself enjoying the game.

"But ah think Price Micht juist appreciate th' mae wirk ah pat in ," he added with a wink, reaching out to grab a hold of your tail.

As he reached for your tail, you swivelled around, swatting his hand away with a sharp, "Ah ah ah. No touching." Your finger wagged playfully in front of his face. "You're supposed to be my handler, remember? Keep me in place."

Folding your arms beneath that tantalizing bust, you smirked. You knew Johnny MacTavish all too well. "Let's make a deal, shall we?" You purred.

Caught off guard by your sudden turn, Johnny stumbled slightly, his hand coming up to steady himself against the wall. He watched you with amusement, your playful demeanour only serving to heighten his arousal.

"A deal, huh?" he repeated, stepping closer until he was mere inches away from you. "'n' whit kind o' deal wid that be?"

You leaned in close, your breath hot on his ear. "I'll sit on your cock while you do the paperwork." You pulled away and smirked at him. "Deal?"

At your offer, Johnny's eyebrows shot up in surprise. A grin spread across his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight. The idea of having you sitting on his lap, your tight warmth wrapped around his cock...it was enough to make his heart race.

"Weel, noo," he began, his voice dropping to a low purr. "That does sound lik' a tempting proposition ."

Reaching out, he placed a hand on your hip, giving it a firm squeeze. "A'richt, bonnie. Ye git yerself a deal."

Without waiting for your response, Johnny grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you up onto his shoulders, carrying you towards his office.

As you were carried over his shoulder, you let out a laugh, your body shaking with mirth. The sensation of being manhandled sent a thrill coursing through your veins, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement.

"Careful there, big guy," you teased, patting his back lightly. "Don't want to drop the merchandise."

He chuckled and carried you into his office, placing you gently on his desk. You jumped down and began to remove your trousers and panties. Watching you undress, Johnny felt his pulse quicken. Your figure, bare before him, was a sight to behold. The anticipation made his cock twitch in excitement. As you turned around, you noticed Johnny leaning back in his chair, his trousers already unzipped.

"You better get your work done," you warned playfully, straddling his lap. "Because I won't move until It's finished."

"Easy thare," he murmured, reaching up to run his hands along your thighs. "We wouldn't waant ony accidents noo, wid we?" Feeling you settle onto his lap, Johnny groaned in pleasure. Your heat seeped into him, causing his cock to harden even more.

"Right then," he said, pulling open the drawer of his desk to retrieve the paperwork. "Time tae git tae wirk." With a wicked grin, he slid his cock out from his trousers and positioned it at your entrance.

You lower yourself onto his lap, letting a little moan slip out as he stretches you deliciously. His hands move to your hips, holding you steady as you got comfy, your body begging for more even as you try to keep still. You lean in, your warm breath tickling his ear as you whisper, "Now be a good boy and get your paperwork done."

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as you rest your head on his shoulder. You can feel his heart pounding in his chest, matching your own as you try to keep yourself under control. You feel him swallow hard, then his hands move from your hips to the papers on his desk, shuffling them into neat piles as he begins to work.

Feeling you settle onto his lap, Johnny bit back a groan. Your warmth enveloped him completely, making his cock throb inside your pussy.

"Workin' solid ," he managed to grunt out, his hands moving smoothly over the paperwork. "Juist lik' ah promised ."

His fingers brushed against your fur as he shuffled the documents, the contact sending sparks of pleasure shooting up his arm. Despite the intense focus required for their task, he could feel his resolve crumbling.

"A'm gaun tae fuck ye sae hard ," he whispered into your ear, his grip tightening on your hips. "'n' ye'r gonnae love every second o' it."

He gave a small thrust upwards, testing how much weight you'd allow him to take. His cock twitched inside you, eager for more.

Your back arches as you gasp, feeling his cock twitch inside you. You bite your lip, trying to hold back the sounds threatening to escape as you fight to stay quiet. You look down at him, your eyes darkening with lust as they lock onto his.

"Only if you finish your paperwork," You purred softly, your tail twitching behind you. The tip of your tail gently teased his nose, tickling it ever so slightly. "Work with me here."

Hearing your soft plea, Johnny couldn't help but chuckle. His free hand moved to stroke your tail, the silky strands sliding between his fingers.

"Aye, bonnie," he murmured, his words thick with desire. "Ye'v git yersel' a deal."

With renewed vigour, he dove back into the paperwork, his other hand keeping a firm grip on your hips. Despite the intense concentration required, he couldn't ignore the way your pussy clenched around his cock or the soft whimpers escaping from your lips.

"Ah hae this sorted in na time," *he assured you, giving another upward thrust. "Ah promise ye tha'."

"Ah, Johnny..." You whispered, your voice muffled as your face was buried deep in the crook of his neck. "Stop moving," you pleaded, your body trembling slightly as you tried your best to stay still.

Hearing your plea, Johnny paused momentarily, taking a moment to appreciate the sweet agony of your pussy clenching around his cock. He could feel every ripple and twitch, each one sending waves of pleasure through his body.

"But," he started, a smirk playing on his lips. "how am ah s'posed tae concentrate wi' ye wrigglin' aboot like that?"

He shifted beneath you, angling his hips so that he could hit deeper spots within your cunt. His grip on your hips tightened, guiding you up and down his length in slow, torturous movements.

"I'm not moving," you murmured, your voice a sultry purr. You pulled your face away from his neck, your eyes narrowing. "And stop gaslighting me." Your words lacked their usual venom. It was foolish to think that merely warming his cock would make him do his paperwork.

Johnny chuckled, feeling a rush of arousal surge through him at your feisty response. He loved it when you fought back, adding an extra layer of spice to their encounters.

"Oh? So ye're nae movin', are ye?" he drawled, his hands tightening on your hips as he began to thrust up into you once again. "Then what's that wee twitch ye just gave me?"

He could feel your pussy fluttering around his cock, clenching and unclenching rhythmically as if it had a mind of its own. His own hips jerked upwards involuntarily, driving himself deeper into your welcoming heat.

"I swear tae God, bonnie," he grunted, his voice strained with pleasure. "Ah'm nae gonnae last lang at this rate."

In a swift and ruthless motion, he swept everything off his desk. Pens and papers flew through the air like a whirlwind, ornaments crashed to the ground, and his work laptop teetered on the edge before plummeting to the floor.

As the last paper settled, Johnny roughly pushed you back onto his desk. Your body collided with the hard surface, sending a jolt of pain through your frame. You let out a whimper as he leaned over you, his eyes glinting with a mix of arousal and dominance.

Seeing the chaos around them, Johnny couldn't help but laugh. His laughter turned into a growl as he felt your body shudder under his touch. "Well now, dinnae say Ah didnae warn ye," *he said, his voice husky and low.* "Ah'm gonnae fuck ye senseless."

Without wasting any more time, he gripped your hips tightly and began to pound into you, each thrust sending a wave of pleasure coursing through his veins. His cock slid easily within your wet folds, filling you completely.

"Gonnae scream my name, ain't ye?" he taunted, his pace increasing.

The roughness of his touch sent shivers down your spine, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. Every single one of his thrusts elicited a loud moan from you, your body quivering underneath him.

"Y-yes!" You cried out, your voice echoing throughout the room. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you held onto him tightly. "I'm going to scream... I'm going to scream your name!"

Feeling your claws digging into his flesh only spurred him on further. Each thrust became harder, faster, more desperate.

"Ah ken ye will, bonnie," he groaned, his cock throbbing inside of you. "Ah kin hear ye pantin', see yer eyes glaze o'er. Ye loue it whin ah tak' ye lik' this, dinnae ye?"

His hands moved lower, gripping your ass firmly as he lifted you slightly towards him. The angle change allowed him to hit even deeper spots within your pussy, making your cries louder and more frantic.

Your body trembled violently beneath him, your pussy clamping down on his cock like a vice. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, threatening to pull you under.

"Yes... Fuck... Johnny..." your words came out in broken gasps, your body arching off the desk. "I..... Fuck I do..." You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you. The sensation of being filled so completely by him made stars dance behind your eyelids.

Hearing his name roll off your lips like a sacred mantra, Johnny felt a surge of possessiveness wash over him. He could tell you were close, your walls tightening around his cock.

"That's it, bonnie," he encouraged, his voice thick with lust. "Let go. Let me hear ye cum."

With renewed vigour, he slammed into you, his balls slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. The sound echoed through the room, mingling with your screams and the soft thud of things hitting the floor.

Your climax hit you like a freight train, ripping through your senses and leaving nothing but pure, raw pleasure in its wake. Your pussy spasmed around his cock.

"Johnny!" you screamed his name, your voice high-pitched and desperate. "Fuck! I'm...."

But the rest of your sentence got lost amidst the tidal wave of orgasm crashing over you. Your body convulsed uncontrollably, your inner walls pulsating around his cock.

The sensation of your pussy squeezing him tight was all it took to send Johnny over the edge. With a deep growl, he buried himself deep inside you as his own release ripped through him.

"Ahh fuck," he roared, his voice booming through the room.

His seed spilled into you, hot and heavy. He kept pounding into you relentlessly until both of your orgasms subsided, leaving them both breathless and spent.

Caught in the throes of passion, you lay sprawled across Johnny's office desk, your form still trembling from the ecstasy. Johnny leaned close, his forehead resting on yours. "Urr ye okay, bonnie?" he asked gently, his hand cupping your cheek to force you to meet his gaze.

Nodding, you struggled to speak, your body still wracked by the aftershocks of your orgasm. Johnny smiled, his rugged features softening. He pulled you into a tender kiss, his rough hands caressing your skin.

You know when you have the same dream about a certain masked man and you have to write it.....yeah that's what's happened here. Might make this a thing I'm not sure yet because I don't write.

Anyway I hope you enjoy

~~~~~

*Your POV*

You was on the balcony of an abandoned building, out of site from the cartel. The small town filled with life just a few hours ago was now dead, you came to Mexico on holiday not knowing you was stepping into a war between the cartel and god knows who else. Crunching glass brought you from your thoughts and you held your gun up towards the masked man walking through the empty street, you recognised him as Ghost from Task Force 141 "Careful Ghost" you whispered to yourself as he walked through the destroyed city, he kept looking around. Glass under his boots cracked loudly as he walked. He made sure to keep an eye out for any enemies or any sudden movements. He walked slowly, not wanting to make too much noise, although, the glass and debris he did end up stepping on crunched loudly. His grip tightened on the rifle as he walked, he had this horrid gut feeling, as if something was wrong. His finger tightened on the trigger.

As Ghost walked, you saw shadows moving from the corner of your eyes and you knew it was the cartel, you held your gun up and shot the enemy hiding in the shadow, you jumped down and threw a home made smoke bomb. "Come on solider" You grabbed Ghosts arm and dragged him to the abandoned house you've took shelter in. He was taken back by the suddenness of it all but his instincts kicked in and began following you with his weapon at the ready. 

Once safe you went to see if he was okay but he held his gun up to your head "Who are you?" He barked, you held your hands up "Y/N L/N MI6". Ghost seemed to have peaked up at the mention at your name "Y/N, as in Agent /N?", you chuckled "I'm surprised you know who I am". "I have friends in the MI6" he chuckled back before asking "I didn't think you did stuff like this". "That's because I don't, I'm off duty well actually I'm on holiday" you folded your arms "What happened?".

He sighed "We were here relating to a terrorist attack, found some intel about the leader going after a NATO summit" Ghost explained, you noticed that his voice was shaking. "We?" you asked and he nodded "Soap, Gaz and Price. We were ambushed and was taken quickly and quietly, I barley made it out" he stood up and was getting ready to leave "I need to get them". You put your hand on his chest to stop him "Not on your own your not" you looked at your bag "I may have an idea" he stood back allowing you to explain "I manage to gather some C4 charges while looking for food and water. We can use them to create a distraction, that way I can sneak in and rescue your team", "You?" he asked. You nodded your head before throwing a sniper "You're the best sniper in the Task Force aren't you?" he nodded and you smirked "I need you to be my eyes solider"

You followed Ghost to where the Cartel is based but it was a few hours walk so he decided to make small talk "You seem to know your way around a gun considering you work in intelligence", "I had strict training when I was younger, my father was army and wanted to make sure I knew how to look after myself". "I'm guessing army wasn't your thing?" he side eyed you and you bit your life "I guess you could say that" you really didn't want to get into it and he respected that "Where here" he crouched. You pointed to the crumbling tower "That's going to be our way in, doesn't look like any cameras" he handed you a spare earpiece before you quickly ran towards the tower and climbed up. 

Ghost climbed up first and you followed "Shit" he whispered and you went to ask him what's wrong until you saw it with your own eyes. His team on their knees, bounded and being interrogated. You knew you needed to thing of a plan and quickly. "This is risky" he whispered as you scanned the courtyard and saw a gate with trucks outside of it "Give me 5 minutes" you whispered and climbed down the way you came. "Y/N what are you doing?" Ghost voice came through the earpiece in a harsh whisper, "Setting up the C4 charges" you answered. You fixed 2 C4 charges on the gate and some on separate trucks before going back to Ghost.

"How much do you want to trust me right now?" You asked but he said nothing not sure on what you meant, you pointed towards the gate "Wait near the gate and when the time is right go in, get your team and run". "How will I know?" he asked and you smiled "You'll know" then jumped down into the courtyard. You waited in the shadows for a moment "In position" Ghost whispered. You walked into the light and shouted "Oi. Pricks" everyone turned to you as you set the C4 charges off giving Ghost a way in to get his team. 

You locked eyes with Ghost before you ran into the building letting the cartel chase you completely forgetting about the Task Force.

*Ghost's POV*

"Everyone in the truck now" I shouted but waited for Y/N, we locked eyes for a moment before she ran into the building "No" I screamed as Soap dragged me into the truck. "Who the fuck was that" Gaz asked "Someone we need to go back for" I said loading my gun but Price stopped me. "We'll go back for her Ghost but we need a plan and back up" I punched the truck door knowing he was right. "Ghost who was that?" Soap asked "Agent L/N from MI6" everyone was confused "She was on holiday when everything kicked off" I explained.

*Your POV* 

"I'll ask again. Who do you work for?" the man in front of you smacked you but you just looked up at him and smiled, which infuriated him "What are you so happy about". "I'll never talk" you spat blood at him, he smacked you again before holding your chin to make you look at him "Oh you will" he nodded at another man and he shot you in the leg but you didn't scream like he wanted you too "I would rather die then talk" you spat. He raised his hand up at you once more but an explosion from outside stopped him "Sorry gents but I gotta take that" you smirked, he grabbed your arm and dragged you up "She must be important if they've come back for her" he shouted before dragging you outside, using you as a human shield. 

The man held you in front of him with his arm resting on your shoulder to shoot anyone that got in his way, it was all guns blazing when you got out to the courtyard "I'd let me go if I was you" you looked up to the tower and saw Ghost but the man just shoved you forward. "Fine" you smiled before bringing your head back at full force and headbutted him "Shit" he screamed as he let you go so you ran but you didn't get far before he shot at you, luckily the bullet only grazed your hip but it made you fall. "Come one" Someone picked you up and ran to the truck "Captain she's loosing a lot of blood" you looked around before you focused of Ghost applying pressure to one of your wounds "Are you crazy?" he asked you laughed trying not to wince at the pain "Yes". "Stay awake Y/N" Ghost said but everything started becoming disoriented, someone else started tapping your face lightly "Stay with us solider" but you couldn't, you had lost too much blood at this point to stay awake. 

John 'Soap' MacTavish aesthetic

Disclaimer: photos aint mine, only got 'em from pinterest

still salty on soap mactavish's death dont talk to me

Forgetting that neck radios are a thing and just thinking Soap is going into battle a little silly :3c

Some routes to try…

(Very much a believer of wlw Valeria, either bisexual or lesbian. But whatever you’d like more is good)

Spicy

Possessive Valeria.

Y/N being punished by Dom Mommy Valeria for either speaking to a rival cartel member or getting hit on, not understanding they’re being hit on, and being friendly to said person as Valeria watches.

Def brings out the strap.

More then likely enjoys BDSM and seeing y/n being tied up and either spanked or overstimulated.

Probably enjoys bitting.

Loves to leave marks.

Y/N has a bit of a kink to Valeria’s aggressive dirty talk, especially when she speaks Spanish.

Multiple orgasms.

Very comforting during after care, saying she forgives y/n, kisses them lovingly and whispers praises in her native tongue to sooth her lover as they fall asleep.

Fluff and SFW

Valeria having a bad day and needing y/n to comfort her.

She opens up a bit about her stress and apologizes for being rude and dismissive to y/n when work got hectic.

Her being worried that task force 141 will take y/n away from her. Promising to help them escape if and when the time comes.

Y/N standing strong and gently calming Valeria down. Telling her that she will never let them down and how they know she will do everything to protect them.

Valeria being slightly aggressive with her kisses and touches before sighing and laughing when her and y/n both agree their too tired to continue.

Valeria holding y/n close and admitting her love and appreciation for them. Telling them she wants to make this relationship work and no task force or drug lord will change that.

Y/N promising to stand by her side for better or for worse as long as they live. With Valeria laughing at the common wedding vow making y/n blush at the thought of wedding bells.

The two then cuddle in bed together, right after Valeria screams at one of her men to fuck off when they knock on the door.

Angst

Y/N and Valeria have been seeing each other for months now. Y/N believing Valeria to be involved in the pharmaceutical business and Valeria believing y/n to be a common soldier in the Mexican/Whatever army.

The two met at a bar and quickly began seeing each other casually for sex so both can burn off the stress form work. With Valeria taking out her aggression on y/n and y/n letting Valeria take care of them and letting someone take control.

Feelings start to blossom between the two as the meetings go on. Lasting longer with both staying the night and waking together with deeper kisses and soft pillow talk.

It’s during Valeria’s arrest the two meet once again, now seeing the other for who they are, as El Sin Nombre and a Special Forces agent.

During the interrogation, tension rises between the two. The rest of the 141 notice and yell at y/n for fraternizing with the enemy.

Valeria airs out the dirty laundry and brings up to she y/n’s under her and vulnerable as they begged her for release.

Y/N bites back saying it was nothing more then a good time to relieve stress. Angry, Valeria tells them they meant nothing to her and she can always find another just like her, even better.

The rest of the interrogation goes the same as the game. Only this time with Valeria and y/n looking at the other in bitterness and sadness as Valeria is carted off by Alejandro and y/n heads to Chicago with 141.

Something cute

Y/N is signing paperwork and contracts dedicating their life to Valeria in ink, blood and soon, through marriage.

Valeria watches and holds the final document, a marriage certificate, asking y/n if they’re sure. Stating that after they sign this, they belong to Valeria. No heaven, hell, special forces agent or ass hole drug lord will touch her without Valeria putting a bullet in their brains.

Y/N ensures Valeria they want this by not hesitating you take the marriage certificate and signing on the dotted line.

Valeria rewards them with a long sensual kiss before slapping their ass and smirking as she says she’ll see them tomorrow at the aisle.

Y/N stays awake that night, asking the men to triple check the guest list and security protocols to ensure no one will interrupt or interfere the wedding.

Valeria is doing the same before calling y/n and ensuring them the wedding will go smoothly, and ordering them to wear her gift to them under their wedding clothes.

All this happening while 141 intercept Valeria’s office and find the wedding plans and marriage certificate.

The next day comes with y/n and Valeria’s wedding beginning. Everything goes smoothly before Hassan enters, threatening to kill them both for Valeria selling him out to 141 in order to protect y/n.

Valeria and y/n stop him with the help of 141, who infiltrated the wedding as well. Valeria ends up getting to kill Hassan for ruining her wedding and wounding the priest who was officiating.

Both become worried their wedding is ruined before ghost of all people offers to officiate for them because he legally can for some reason to which no one’s knows because it’s just ghost.

Valeria and y/n are married by ghost and celebrate with 141 and their guests before Valeria takes y/n to their home and pushes them into the bed to begin their wedding night.

That’s what I got. Hope this somewhat helps!

Alright everyone,

If I was to write a real Valeria Garza fanfic, anyone has any good ideas about it?

I normally write angst, but I'm willing to try to write anything for this! I'm just terrible at coming up with fic ideas, so I'd appreciate the help. I'd also like to know what you guys would like to read!

Can either comment here, reblog, or ask/submit something to my blog!

Hope y'all have some dope ideas! And are having a good day!

what kind of posts would you guys like to see from me?

filler bi han image #2 !!

ＣＨＥＲＲＹ’Ｓ ＭＡＳＴＥＲＬＩＳＴ

ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ! ɪ’ᴍ ɴᴇᴡ, ꜱᴏ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡɪᴘꜱ. ᴍʏ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ, ꜱᴏ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ꜰʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ! ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍʏ ʀᴜʟᴇꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ.

𝕄𝕆𝔻𝔼ℝℕ 𝕎𝔸ℝ𝔽𝔸ℝ𝔼 𝟚

ꜱɪᴍᴏɴ ‘ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ’ ʀɪʟᴇʏ

ᴊᴏʜɴ ‘ʙʀᴀᴠᴏ ꜱɪx’ ᴘʀɪᴄE

ᴋʏʟᴇ ‘ɢᴀᴢ’ ɢᴀʀʀɪᴄk

ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ‘ꜱᴏᴀᴘ’ ᴍᴀᴄᴛᴀᴠɪꜱʜ

ℂ𝔸𝕃𝕃 𝕆𝔽 𝔻𝕌𝕋𝕐: 𝔾ℍ𝕆𝕊𝕋𝕊

ᴋᴇᴇɢᴀɴ ᴘ. ʀᴜꜱꜱ

ᴅᴀᴠɪᴅ ‘ʜᴇꜱʜ’ ᴡᴀʟᴋᴇʀ

ʟᴏɢᴀɴ ᴡᴀʟᴋᴇʀ

Please show love to this artist, this is perfect

First post 🫶

COD men x K-9 Unit male reader

Part 1 | Part 2》》

A/n: I can speak three languages, only one of which borrow German words, so forgive me for shitty translations. I'm from the RSA, so you know. Not any of the boys hometown.

Reader works with a K-9 unit and his partner is called Mutt who is a mix breed of Alaskan Akita and Doberman(Mutt is also a service dog as reader has paranoia and C-PTSD). Readers call sign is Riot. The 141 boys needed help tracing a terrorist and John called in some favors to bring Riot and Mutt into the field. He helped the Los Vaqueros as well.

After the mission back at base, the reader interacts with the men, and they end up interacting with him.

Reader is referred to as you or Riot.

Mentions of panic attacks, anxiety attacks, C-PTSD, war, and / or war related violence. Unhealthy coping mechanisms, past trauma. Death of a family member. Torture, scars, and flashbacks.

Left: American Akita and Right: Long-haired Doberman

John Price: (740 words)

-He met you first, saw you first. Hell, he verified your file so he knew of your old teammates that turned because of the torture, and he knew of the many years you spent MIA. He also knows what you did to get out. So he keeps you close and keeps an eye on you. He's the one who needs to clear you for this recon mission. It will be his fault if another team mate goes rogue. -It only take him a few minutes to see how much you actually relay on Mutt, it takes him days to see its not reliance, no the two of you act in a cemented trust between you two. From the interactions at home base to the way you both move like a well oiled machine on the field, it doesn't take a genius to see that Mutt is a deadly force with training that makes the hound that much more dangerous. Price comes face to face with that realization when he sees just how far Mutt can throw a soldier four times their size. And Mutt came up to his thighs, mind you. -Time and space are all Price really needed to trust you completely. He knew how you acted with Mutt, and therefore, he knew how you would act around a team you trust. It doesn't take him long to see its not only Mutt who reacts to you. You react just as much based on your K-9. Price nearly shoots you when you call out to Mutt because you didn't whistle for the hound. You howled, and he could hardly tell it apart from the wild dogs he's heard out in the desert. He didn't even understand what the fuck you where doing until he heard something answer you, in the same rumbling call. It took a lot more time to get used to those kinds of noises from you. He could expect them from Mutt but not when it's you who makes them -Both of you were exhausted, been about three long days on your feet with little sleep, that's when he asks you how you make the sounds Mutt does. Hell he even starts trying to learn them just to know how you and you K-9 partner work better. "So I just cup my hands and what now Riot? I Grunt?" "No," you laugh at him, he doesn't feel patronized by it, "you hold your hands around your mouth and just bark, makes it echo like a dog." He sounded more like a mountain lion then canine when he actually gave it a try. You teach him how to pitch it up a bit, and how to drag the call out properly. "And you don't use your hand because?" "Because I'm used to it, and can make the 'echo' without my hands. I still do when I howl. Look." A few nights pass before he uses it to scare a tango shitless out side of the enemy base. He doesn't admit it but he likes 'talking' to the local wild dogs with you. He even enjoys hearing you and Mutt go off at each other because it means your both alive and still here. -Out side of the field and when you two go out to roam the town at the dead of night, he comes to see that the canine noises you and Mutt share gives you peace. The kind he used to find in cigars and smoke. He gets it, he knows that some people just have a vice. When you find him smoking alone behind his own home, he shrugs it off and blames it on the smoke detectors. He doesn't say that he stops to make your K-9 more comfortable in his home. He doesn't stop smoking but he tries to avoid it for your sake. You only corner him around a day or so to thank him. He won't admit to the red flaring up on his ears, but he tells you to drop it. -If he's ever the one who finds you when your having an attack, he will guard you. Get you safe and comfortable then he will become a gruff mother bear and be completely over protective of you. He only calms down when he sees that Mutt already does that, and he learns what can help you, what to look out for. He won't admit it though.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley: (734 words)

-Ghost didn't like you at first. or well he doesn't like anyone actually but he didn't like you. -You had a dog breed that was originally made for bear bating and he hated that he knew that. Even if you didn't get the hound because of that. Well, that and Mutt is constantly muzzled. It took you explaining it was required by law for him to try and ignore it. -But when he watches how fluidly you and Mutt work together, even seeing the raw fucking power that dog has when Mutt tackled an enemy to the ground, he starts to understand why you have to keep Mutt muzzled. Even if he didn't like it. -Simon has an ex-military dog at home so he knows how to act around an active working dog. He's the best to be around if you don't want people petting or trying to do anything really with your K-9 partner. -when at the base afterwards he sees that the dog isn't just a working dog but acts like you service dog. Everything from crowd control to doing small tasks for you on the daily. To siting between your legs when you have your back to anyone when doing a task to protect you. Mutt will even start doing this quiet sort of 'rueff' sound that will make you get out of where ever you are without any fanfare, you will just disappear. -He only finds out why a lot later. He feel kind of stupid for missing it after the fact. -Its the scars that cross your back and over your shoulders, the hitches of thick skin around your jaw. You are a torture survivor. So suddenly he gets it. Mutt is your safety, the dog wears a muzzle because your K-9 partner is also a person protection dog. -After he realized the why you stick to your partner so closely, he would begin to help Mutt protect you. He would stand ahead of you when Mutt would lay down to create space (crowd control). Ghost would watch your back and react with your partner to help you. -He takes his mask off when you two are either alone or when your are forced to show your scares he shows some of his to help you feel more comfortable. -you start to notice it, and at first you would try to stop him but eventually you just start protecting him back. You become more comfortable around him. Simon notices it to. -One day after a few days straight of being on your feet, both you and Simon end up passed out in his private quarters. Ghost wakes first to see Mutt cuddle against you and draped across him, when ever he tried to move the dog, they would just growl and to his utter amusement you growled back. -After that he gets you to 'talk' to Mutt any time he can, even on missions. - Ghost was the one who told you and Mutt to bark at each other to distract the enemy when on a recon mission. "Copy Riot, we need an in" "Need an in, copy. Any ideas for that L.t?" "Yeah, Riot go off and make some noise with Mutt" "Seriously?" "Yip, get going we need that data" You two got in, and yes you did start howling back and forth with Mutt in the echo trick wolves use. The enemy thought they were surrounded by cayotes. -When you eventually cuddle up with Ghost again, and Mutt yips or growls at you and you make the noise back, Simon will growl at you. It becomes a games between you to, even doing it as call outs outside of coms. Soap complains about wild dogs once and now Simon will get Mutt vocal just to fuck with Soap. -he starts calling you dog related nicknames, your name doesn't exist anymore. Call sign? only when necessary. You are now called with doggie names. He'll call out a, "Heh, Good boy" "Come on puppy you can speak" when you go dark on coms, or just when you don't answer him. Yes he will also say things like, "What ever you say Fido" -He makes you swear to never tell a soul that he also barks back at Mutt when you two are off duty. You caught him coping a growl when playing with Mutt once. -He gets Mutt and his las to meet. Now he also makes dog sounds with you on his down time, even without you much to his old girls delight.

John “Soap” Mactavish: (616 words)

-He loves your K-9 partner from the first time Price introduces you to the team, sure he tries to be professional but the second you let Mutt go off to play out of gear he just wants to give the hound so many pets. They are just so big and have that cute angry tilt to their face! Can you blame him. -when out on the field, he loves running with two of you on missions. The adrenaline and rush and just how much faster you two are than him. He loves it. -You end up doing it with him outside of missions after a while. Hiking out in mountains and secluded valleys, it's the first time he hears you howl with Mutt. The coyotes had started, yipping over whatever they killed lower down the ridge. Mutt, who was a few paces head, had paused to howl, without thinking you howl with them. Scares Soap but he just finds it fun. -Soap being so in love with Mutt leads to just being around you a lot. He starts learning what certain movements mean to you and your dog, how a sharp left with your hand was a call to draw back or how the shift of your stance meant to take the lead. It amazed him how well you read each other. -Then he sees how you act outside of the field, how Mutt still acted like a protector, and you kept mimicking the sounds Mutt made. Especially when you were more tired. He found it cute. Hell, he loved playing with Mutt, so when you made the hound more excited, he also got just as if not more excited. -Soap loves head scratches you find out when you two are off duty and hanging out. He's on the floor with Mutt and the hound he's cuddling wines before you reach down to comfort the dog with head scritches. You miss and pet Soap instead, beside being completely flustered, he asked you to do it again.  He just starts asking you to do it more and more before you start petting him the same way you pet over your hound. -Now you start with the dog related nicknames, even over coms. Much to Soaps embarrassment and the teams delight. He nearly buckles the first time you call him a good boy, and he does when you call him a good dog. Blames it on a miss step. -He loves, loves, loves listening to you, and Mutt yap back and forth, loves even more when you go to rough houses with growls and even try pining you down one. He fails, but he doesn't care. -Soap only catches one of your attacks when it's about sun down. You're both at his place standing in the kitchen when your shoulders suddenly hitch, but you continued on as normal. Until Mutt wandered over to you, they stopped dead before making a gruff noise and jumping up onto you. Instead of getting you secluded because, of course, the hound sees Soaps house as a safe space. And Mutt will get you down, force you to sit and lower your head. "Woh, n'er knew em ta jump? Wait shit. ROIT!" He'll be right there next to you, knows what to do because of Ghosts episodes on recons. "What's it, lad? What can I do ta help 'im?" -You don't really talk about it. Sure, you explain what it was and why Mutt did that, but not the why it happened. It takes a while to admit that the scares you hide are the reason for that attack. He gets it he does, and now? Mother fucker will do dumb shit to distract you, or just talk and talk and talk. It helps, he knows it helps.

König: (764 words)

-Being a sniper, he likes the added security, the extra eyes to help watch his back. Sure, he doesn't trust you per say but he tries to be friendly none the less. -He had no idea what Mutt was trained for until he saw the both of you take down someone who made it to his vantage point. He saw how you moved like Mutt was an extension of yourself, that's how you earn his respect. -König didn't know why you had so many commands for Mutt, but most of them were cues or just situational. Most of all, the verbal commands you use are in Russian and Dutch so he can understand some of the tasks you ask Mutt to do . It kind of scares him that Mutt would know which trail was a friend and which person wasn't. He stands by that fear when he watches you set them off on a run away target. -He will only admit to himself that both you and Mutt look way to good covered in the gore from that attack. -You had to explain that that kind of training meant your partner had to be muzzled. You both get to talking that night, swapping stories of close calls, and König shyly showed you the star splattered scar on his jaw. Lifting his hood up just enough to see it before hurriedly drooping it back down. You share a few of the worse days you had as a call in search and riot guard and snippets of the scars covering your throat. -Habits begin forming. König will be a silent wall between you and crowds while Mutt would start alerting to his anxiety attacks as well. You made a joke about borrowing Mutt to him on the days off. He didn't understand the first time Mutt barked at him in a weird gruff tone before jumping up and doing it again. It's when you get him secluded and safe that you explain it to him. "Its called signaling. They can tell you when these things are going to happen or are actively happening. " "So it's to let me know?" "Yeah, for me, it's when I'm going to either for a flash back or when my paranoia forces me into a panic attack." "Flash back?" "Yes, remember that sister I told you about." -It took days for you to actually relay that story to him. How your team abandoned you, how the enemy held your sisters head above your bloody form. You explained how that caused phantom pains or flashbacks and how crippling that can be some days. -He becomes your solace after that. He would be there when you needed it. Keep people away when you couldn't look at anyone. He even began listening to Mutts alerts. He even lets you help him through the easier ones. -König called you one night when you both were off for the next few days. You could tell by the shake on his breath what was happening before he could tell you. That was when you showed him how Mutt does decompression therapy, the hound big enough to help ground him. You stayed that night, even teaching König some of the commands you use to tell Mutt how to help you. He's quick to learn them as some phrases are Dutch that you use so he can catch the meaning of some commands. -You don't call him until a long while later. It's on a mission while you two are hunkered down after a botched extraction. Or well, Mutt calls him. "Riot? Are you, Oh Scheiße! 「Shit」" "wat 「what」, ag. What can I do? Dir helfen 「Help you」, how can I help. Please let me help you. " -He ended up holding how so you couldn't hurt yourself in these attacks. It didn't feel as entrapped as you thought it would. König is so much bigger than you, but it's like he makes a physical barrier between you and the world. He helps your partner make you feel safe. It's hard to explain to anyone why your panic attacks act like that, why your mind needs pain to calm from feeling like you're dying. König will explain how his attacks can feel suffocating, and that's why his jaw and throat are so bruised most days. -Between one mission and the next, you start showing off things you and Mutt can do to him, like Mutt retrieving throne knives or how the hound can trace any sent it knows for miles. -You only bark back at Mutt one night when trapped in a safe house. Neither of you could find each other, and mutt had run off

Alejandro Vargas: (720 words)

-Learning of the terrorist stationed so close to los vaqueros' home base, Alejandro was quick to reach out. The 141 had helped him before, so he was surprised to learn of the newer recruit they called in to help them. Alejandro told Price to just bring you along. They needed the extra help honestly, as much as he refused to trust any of 141 purely on principle. They needed the help. -He met you with Ruddy on the roof of the office building, and he asked the polit to land on. When you dropped from the helicopter with the others. Mutt held to your chest before being deposited on the ground. He's seen how some of the other search and rescue units who have K-9's, but he's never seen anyone who works with their hound like you do. Alejandro is both grateful and terrified to have you fighting with him.  -Seeing you and Mutt outside the field was even more intriguing. How the two of you reacted perfectly to each other, he saw a bit of himself and Rudy in the way you two work like a well-oiled machine. He tried to play nice, be kind and calm, but when shit hit the fan? He drops it. Its only been a week before you use the recall command on Mutt to level the man they needed to interrogate. Both of you were forced to hunker down in a safe house, Alejandro making the bound man walk with little success. He asked for your help not long after the son had dipped down.  "Think he will talk?" "Not willingly if that file you circulated was true." "Any ideas?" "You aren't scared of loud noises, are you?" "Not really, why?" -When you said you could help, this isn't what he was expecting, but it was working. You had taken to standing behind the tied down guy, and whenever Alejandro could sound even remotely frustrated,  you would call out to Mutt before the dog would lunge with a snarl or harsh bark. Scared the man shitless, and he would mumble about 'de-ablo' or 'deamons' on and off. When things got too harsh, or either of you were cornered, he watched in equal parts horror and delight as you let Mutt cull those surrounding you all. Watch as you both kill together just as well as you work together. -It eventually became a joke, the whole you being a dog or sounding like one. Even when the two of you left the safe house. Hell, he started talking to you like he would your dog. Started to tease you with the same command you used on your hound. "Come on, Roit, I know you can beg better than that." "Here, cachorro cachorro cachorro [puppy puppy puppy]!" "Such a good boy, you want a treat?" "There we go, Good perro. Now sit for me." Even saying he kept treats for when you were especially well behaved. If you didn't also start laughing along he wouldn't have kept doing it and actually started keeping 'treats' on hand for you on the late nights you two would just talk on and on about nothing and everything. -Being back at the base and left to your devices, he started asking about everything Mutt could do. He would ask if you could also do the tricks and inquire about the ones you could. "Wait cariño, you can howl?" "Yeah. Wanna hear me?" "Oh more than anything." "hhhm, maybe I'll do it later." "I'm happy to beg you, but I think you would sound better begging me, cariño." "I don't beg Alejandro." "You will. And you'll sound so good doing it." "Try me," -He loved hearing you talk to Mutt. Just waiting up at night to listen to the back and forth of barking and yips that echo across the open land. Whether from far away or not, he loved it. -Alejandro is the worst when either of you get hurt. He is the worst flirt, and he lays the dog related teasing on twice as thick. Not only is Rudy swearing him out in broken Spanish, but you don't help either. Doing anything to help him stay conscious or playing along to distract yourself from the pain. Even Mutt begins to see him as safe.

More COD Boys x K-9 unit reader 》》》》

hey guys! So when I'm not posting on Tumblr, I'm doing this;

I post bots on Character AI, mostly of COD characters ( All games! Just request who you want)

I have a few examples of my bots and I'll provide links if anyone wants them

These are either song based or based off of prompts I find here on Tumblr! I post bots pretty frequently, and I find it a little more easier than writing.

Varai short stories // NSFW

CONTENT WARNINGS // NSFW, Scent kink, Breeding kink, cunnilingus, anal sex and Dacryphilia, implies multiple orgasms at some point, praise and degrading too// Female and male catered :3 // do these count as drabbles??? Ermmm

Female reader // Breeding kink, cunnilingus, and praise (Scroll down for Male reader )

192 words))

Varai, who's fucking you into the bed, a punishing pace set by your hips. Each time he rolls his hips against yours, he pushes against your G-spot, pulling moans from you. His cock is ruthlessly beating on your insides, all the more making you soaking wet. Your thighs quivered around his waist, and he brushes a hand over your stomach. " Would be nice.. if you had a baby, " He trails down and pat the end of your stomach. " ..Growing all in here. Swollen with my children. M'gonna make you full with my cum. " He growls, fingers digging into your hips as he thought for a moment, mind clouded by pleasure. " Fuck, I'm gonna breed you, bitch. It's what your body was made for. " He drawls, hips stuttering slightly as he began moving sloppily, head tilting back. You had no idea how many times you came already but your legs tightened weakly around him, urging him to cum. And he did - painting your walls white with his thick seed, filling your puffy pussy up. " Such a good girl. " He coos, thumbs rubbing your hips. You gave him a slight nod, absolutely fucked out.

(265 words)

Varai, who's positioned between your legs, looking up at you as you pull his long locks of hair, his mouth lapping at the lips of your wet sex. His mouth switches from teasing your folds to sucking gently on your clit, making you praise him. " You're doing s'good.. " You hear only a grunt and feel a puff of air on your clit, which was already swollen and sensitive from before. He shifts in his spot, obviously trying to have the best angle; he wanted to please you, so he tried. " You taste so good. " he panted, eyes lidded as he went back to working on your dripping cunt. He moved his arm to put his hand near your hole, slowly pushing a finger in while still sucking on your enlarged clit. You yank his hair a little from jerking your head back in pleasure, making his head press deeper into your warmth. He groaned softly, the vibrations swarming throughout your lower body as your hips shook. " V.. fuck, Varai, m'gonna fuckin'.. cum.. " You muttered, causing him to push another finger in, sucking a bit harder on your clit. You bucked your hips up with a desperate moan, the tight coil in your stomach snapping as you came all over his fingers and mouth, soaking them both. He slowly removed his fingers, licking what he could off of them and outside of his lips. " That was good, right? " He was always so desperate for your confirmation, as he crawled next to you and stared down, holding your hand. " Yeah, it.. it was good. " You mustered finally

Male reader // Scent kink, dacryphilia & anal, degrading // hey we even got a top reader here so. Yay

(FEM-aligned readers, please don't fetishize my works, I want to make it a space where everyone is comfortable ^_^.)

(211 words)

Varai, who thought his coffee date with you would've ended peacefully, but here you were, being fucked into the wall because you couldn't wait to tease him. Your hole ached, but always swallowed him back in with each thrust. Tea tracks were visible on your face, made all the more present by your now running tears. He wiped them away with a thumb, leaning over your back to coo into your ear. " Keep crying. ou couldn't fucking wait, huh? Fucking whore... " You could only babble and nod, having already came twice from how hard he was thrusting. He was going to town on your ass, fingers gripping it as he was so deep in you his balls slapped against your perineum. " Fucking bitch. " He muttered through grit teeth, before going on. " You learned your lesson, huh? Fucking.. wait until we get home next time. " You nodded, whimpering purely out of bliss. He panted, growling as his hips already began to move slower and deeper, cock driving into your prostate. He leaned over to stroke your cock a few times, before cumming into you himself. A minute later, he pulled out, watching his spill leak from your ass as you tried to shift and pull up your pants to leave with him.

(299 words)

Varai, who's rutting into your hand with your sweater pressed to his nose, your intoxicating scent making him all the more hard as he bites back a whimper. You had caught him stealing your clothes for this; to get off to your smell. He would probably do it again just to spite you, but for now he was learning his lesson. You jerked his cock and your own off, the sounds of him whimpering and muttering apologies pleasuring you further. " Good boy, tell me how sorry you are. " You murmur softly, thumbing his slit gingerly. " M'sorry... I'm so sorry.. " He murmured, voice a gargle as tears threatened to spill from being edged for so long. His cock was spilling precum like a water spout, desperate for release. You would only grant him that after your own, reasonably. Leaning towards his chest, you stroked yourself, a thumb covering his leaking length as you lavished attention over his buds, sucking gently and leaving bite marks around it, your hand movements getting quicker as you set bruises and bite marks over his chest and neck, his free hand gripping your hips tightly. With a groan, you let his cock be free from your hand, your own twitching and spurting white ropes of cum. You put your mouth over his tip, still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm. He gratefully bucked into your mouth, only taking a few sloppy thrusts to cum down your throat, whining from his overpowering orgasm. With a whimper, he leaned on you. (If you struggled or not with holding him up is on you) " I'll never do it again.. " He murmured, clinging onto you as you played with his hair to calm him down from his high. " Good. " You would retort only a few seconds from him.

REQUESTS PLS !!! :33

Hello, I just want to say that you are good at writing, keep up the good work! ;3

AHHHH !!! THANK YOU LIYTLE GOOBER????? I'm glad people like my writing.... guys I promise something will be coming this weekend.

♡ || sunzsets

Varai x gn reader

no warnings, all fluff :3 readers gender isn't mentioned

" I promise I have a good spot. "

Varai whispered to you, one hand on the wheel and other on your thigh. He had been murmuring to himself about taking you somewhere and you were recently dragged out the house to go now. " It better be good, " You grumbled playfully, putting a hand on his as you watched. You were a bit fearful, as he was a somewhat bad driver. Varai pulled into a spot near some grass, again, mumbling to himself. He opened his door, getting out and going towards your door and opening it for you. " Come on, love, we might miss it. " He urged softly, grasping his hand in yours.

You had stumbled along with his quick walking, groaning as he pulled you until he halted. " Sit. " and almost immediately you sat down, the tall grass brushing against your exposed arms. His hand snaked around your waist, pulling your closer until your sides pressed together, his head leaning on yours. " Look up. " He hummed softly, prompting you to tilt your head up, eyes watching the sun dip below the horizon, welcoming the moon into the now shifting skies. You silently stared, only embracing the intimate moment altogether.

" It's beautiful. "

You manage to muster, pupils darting between color overlapping color. " Like you? " Varai was terrible at compliments, but he tried. Even if he had picked them up from social media's standards of affection. " Fuckin' corny.. " You chuckled, earning a silent pout from him. " Not corny to kiss someone, yeah? " was the last thing you heard before lips pressed against yours softly before quickly retreating, Varai's eyes averting yours. You chuckled again, smiling at him. " No, it's cute. " He didn't say anything, but he grabbed your hand and pulled you up after standing himself. " Movie? " He muttered under his breath, looking down at you finally. " Sure. " You turned back towards the car, a new mission on your minds.

Having a comfortable, and fun time together.

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"there's a difference over having power over someone and feeling empowered

and the former scares the shit out of me"

-Queer Recovery Club (Fail Better, Heal Faster)

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its now *checks time* 2:01am ive been listening to MWF audios for approximately 3 1/2 hours. i have one (1) opinion my brain had to mush together, which is, accent are really really hot. i would love to be with someone who has an accent. (this is tmi but especially if they say cᵘⁿᵗ... just. something about it UGH) anyways bye bye luvs u<3

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