#mw2 gaz | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

diejager · 9 months

Note

BEGGING I WAS LEFT ON A CLIFFHANGER FOT THE MONSTER AU 141 😭😭😭😭😭

pretty pretty please 🙏🙏

Only Human pt.2

Pairing: Monster Task Force 141 + König & Horangi x reader

Cw: canon-typical violence, hate, xenophobia, mention of racism, blood and violence, injury, fighting, protective 141, trauma?, anxiety, tell me if I missed any. wc: 6.3k

Only Human Masterlist

You still wonder, to this day, why you were needed on the Task Force. It worked like a well-oiled machine when put to the task, nearly unstoppable in the face of enemies. Although you were prideful to call it your home, you felt lacking compared to them, all much stronger, fiercer, and nimbler than you in every aspect, separated by miles of distance. One thing, however, that you could wield with an iron fist was your human nature and people’s fear of newly implemented hybrids. The public expression from governments about welcoming them into their ranks and their society without staying hidden under the pretence of being sick or behind a veil of secrecy.

You, after seeing how many Joint Task Forces and other Teams treated the 141, decided to deal with the introductions, the medium, the pacifier, between every team. Humans tended to react differently to another human than to a hybrid, they were nicer, less brutal and honest (a kind that held little spite). Laswell seemed more agreeable to your idea when you first came up to her with it, having seen the hate sent to hybrids she worked with. She encouraged you to be the first to interact or stand beside Price when he greeted human soldiers. Price, unlike Laswell, was reluctant at first. His instinct of protection and possession of his hoard made him less open to such ideas, especially if it brought you some, if any, backlash from other humans (humans are cruel, they shun what they don’t understand, they fear it and push to control it, if not, they destroy it. The need to control every aspect of their life made humans ruthlessly unremorseful and unsympathetic to other causes.).

As a tight-knit TF, some decisions are taken in votes, by hearing what the others thought of the idea or plan and his one was harsh. Ghost was hard-pressed on keeping you between them, the little, fleshy human of their Task Force (the youngest) and to let them deal with xenophobic glares while keeping you protected. Alejandro was similarly worried, but he knew the outcome of letting you speak first or accompany Price. He was torn. The others, Soap, Gaz and Rudy, seemed onboard, with the kind of why the fuck not? kind of look on their faces. Soap especially, he’d be able to stick close to you without having to hover over you like a protective guard dog.

Seeing the votes in your favour, he let it pass, and no sooner had they needed to meet a second team - human soldiers - for the next deployment. You stood beside Price when he strutted down the walkway, shoulders broad and back straight, an image of a strong and fearless leader with his draconic tail flailing lowly. He, as intended, greeted them first, rank and name before he presented you, his little human helper with humans. They’d taken better to speaking to you, being spoken by one of their own rather than a hybrid. He saluted you more amicably and more sincerely:

“Pleasure meeting you, Hunter.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Captain.”

Although it wasn't without its setbacks, the operation went well, you had been able to come out mostly unscathed, leaving a few enemies on the brink of death for Ghost to savour. He was most thankful, a part of his body dissolving into the finest mist as they washed over the living bodies sprawled on the ground. You watched on, mesmerised by the uncanny way Ghost’s body absorbed the bodies of others, flooding the area with his shadow while you stayed unbothered, in the same condition as he first started. His darkness reached your neck, covering you in a soft cover of warmth as he ground the bodies to ash and dust. His skin was cold, but his powers were darkly hot, burning with the embers of hell, of a dead soul coming back for revenge and evilness.

Beyond the fact that your idea worked, you liked feeling useful to them, having a semblance of usefulness in a team of extremely competent beings. You felt with first greetings from then on, smiling and saluting to the leading figures of the groups you’d work alongside. It lessened the weight on Price to appease and pacify the new additions, he’d be able to fare better with the operators now that they had a different welcome, a different kind of greeting. It played into the minds of wary men that a human was the one to greet them, that one of theirs was leading the hybrids for them. You played the perfect example of a soldier for any xenophobic bastard.

Ghost, while still feared, received fewer glares than he usually would, occasional ones from daring or bold soldiers holding a lower rank than him, but he appreciated your attempts at making them more comfortable. He’s used to the negative reactions, had been since his childhood, but you seemed to make him feel like he deserved better, like he shouldn’t be glared, spat and scoffed at.

Soap, Rudy and Alejandro looked like human men in peak condition, if only for Soap and Alejandro’s glowing eyes and heightened strength and agility. Rudy was somewhat human, he looked and acted like one, down to the DNA, but with the title of cadejos vessel came powers. Perhaps not as strongly affecting as the rest of the hybrids, but he had subtle changes in his molecular making.

Gaz had stares coming left and right, daggers sent his way for having wings and talons he couldn’t will them to disappear, to recess under his skin and wear the appearance of a human man. He felt the heaviest blow by both not being able to cover his gifts and the colour of his skin. Although you wanted to proclaim that your new age came with more open-minded people, you knew that it simply couldn’t fix hundreds of years of standards in a few decades. People would still judge others by the tone and colour of your skin, they’d still hate the different and the strange; just like they hated hybrids. So you kept to his side most often after your introductions, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close, letting him embrace you with a protective wing and a grateful smile.

You mostly worked hand in hand with human-filled teams and spear-headed human-led operations. So you were shocked, frozen to your core, when you saw a tiger haetae hybrid beside a tall, veiled operator walking down the cargo ramp. The hybrid, a tiger variant from the black-striped, orange tail that flickered slowly in a warning to any approaching beings. Dark glasses and a mask covered his face, his jacket and vest riding to the edge of his jaw, covering any skin from showing, though his lower back was left uncovered for the comfort of his swaying tail. He was neither short nor tall, he was tall enough to be slightly over the average height, but his teammate dwarfed him.

Perhaps his enormous height was an aspect of his monster half, or maybe he had the perfect genes to hold such a frame. He too, like his haetae operator, hid his face under a veil with maroon tears painted under his eyes. Like Ghost, he was covered head to toe in equipment and clothes, a jacket, a vest, gloves and black paint around his eyes. Whoever this was had both height and mass, burly arms and broad shoulders eclipsed by a slim waist and equally, disastrously thick thighs. On their left arm were flags, one from South Korea and the other from Austria.

They were the only ones to walk out, the only ones to approach you. Then your TF only had two new faces to work with rather than a whole team. You were tempted to say it would be easier, you waited until they stopped for Price - Price only - to greet them since they wouldn’t need a human to negate any aggressiveness between human and hybrid - or so you thought. They moved in synchrony, Price stepping forward to cover you with his body, his back facing you as he crossed his arms. Ghost and Alejandro had moved next to the captain, covering your sides. Alejandro had crossed his arm in a similarly menacing way, and Ghost stood still, body rigid but ready to strike at a moment’s notice; both were glaring ahead. Soap and Rudy took their places behind the colonel and the lieutenant, arms glued on their sides, weapons within reach with menacing stares towards the Korean and the Austrian. Gaz’s wings grazed you, soft feathers wrapping themselves around you and pulling you into his chest, acting as a protective cocoon for you.

“What-?”

They moved so quickly and efficiently that they seemed to suddenly appear in place, back straight and protective. Protective of you. Hybrids, from what you’d heard from couples and families, were possessive of their own, caring and extremely wary of other hybrids they hadn’t formed a bond with. Your TF was your pack, they were all tethered to each other through the familial bond they formed over the years. Then you came in, small and weak with your human self into a den of lions, thrown to be subjugated to their loving mercy and sinfully strong personalities.

The team of six hybrids encased you, barring the KorTac specialists from seeing you. Monsters and hybrids could sense one another - from what you heard - and they reacted instinctively. You saw their bodies tense as the two approached your team, muscles strained under the compacting anxiety and possessiveness. You could neither see over their shoulders nor feel what was happening, they stopped farther from you than you’d expected and you couldn’t see their feet.

The only sign you had was your captain’s gravelly voice welcoming them, his tail swaying like a cat’s tail, a slow, cautious motion. It - knowingly or unknowingly, seeing as Price acted on a mix of instincts and worry - wrapped around your ankle, clinging tightly to your boot-clad leg while a rumble rattled his chest. Steam rolled from his lips, billowing over the top of his hat in a show of power and warning. You hoped they wouldn’t take this negatively. They worked hard to curb the harmful rumours of 141 being beasts in human skin, acting like blood-thirsty and ravaging monsters that cared for nothing but themselves.

Although you couldn’t see them, the Austrian could, his towering height assured that he could see over almost any human, monster and hybrid alike. He was curious about the way they protected one of theirs as if you were weak. He cocked his head, green eyes gleaming red as he stared silently at the small mop of hair between them. What made you so important? What made you such a protected soldier? He couldn’t sense you like he could the others, their scent and magic masking yours in a violent torrent.

Unlike him, his friend couldn’t be bothered with the show of protection, he’d enrolled for the money and wouldn’t be deterred by much. He was a tiger haetae, honourable to a certain extent and proud. He might be shorter than the hybrids around him, but he was as vicious and talented as the next. He, however, was slightly curious, but he wasn’t paid enough to inquire or worry about the doings of 141’s pack.

It went as well as anyone would expect for the 141 with the added help of two military, hybrid operators from an elite PMC. As the combat medic of the TF, you followed them from behind and moved to the middle when you entered the building. You’d usually be at the back, being a medic, but you were a combat medic, having seen and participated in complete ops dealing with infiltrations and hostage rescue. You were an integral part of every mission. Now that they had a medic on hand, the wounds the men suffered could be treated in place rather than wait for the long ride home with the possibility of letting infection take root in the gash and watching it fester during hours in the carrier.

They had a habit of getting shot and slashed, a tad bit reckless in their ways but still effective. The stress of risking infection or the impossibility of reaching a medic after a mission was lessened, Price would still be able to live a few more centuries before his hair turned grey with nerves and his face wrinkled with frowns. You were a treasure beyond the fact that you were extremely helpful and insightful on your own. Your hands were steady and your demeanour calm and collected (albeit fidgety when put under too much pressure and fiery when someone looked at them differently.), you were a beauty, someone they needed to nurse and protect.

“I warned you about standing so close to the explosion!” They watched you berate Soap, cheeks puffed and lips pulled in an adorable pout. You went on a list of things he could’ve done better and safer than the decision he made, hands pulling the bandage around his arm, your bag set beside you.

“How was I supposed ta know?” The werewolf grumbled, giving you his best version of his “puppy dog eyes'' while he slouched back, trying to sit as comfortably as possible on the hard seats of the aircraft carrier.

“You’re a demolition expert, you’re supposed to know, Soap.” You hissed, tightening the wrap and smoothing it over so that it would hold. Your hand dipped into your bag, pulling out a few alcohol wipes for his face. With a jerky motion of your hands, you broke the seal and started patting his bleeding cuts from shrapnel and grazes from bullets. He winces with every dab, fidgeting in his seat while you disinfected his wounds, wiping away the dirt and blood before deeming it clean enough to move to the next one. “You also have a habit of setting things on fire.”

Although you mumbled it so quietly, the others heard you clearly, laughter rumbling out of the others while they watched Soap being scolded by the youngest. You never feared reprimanding them for an idiotic act that would result in having you tending to them, it was something they appreciated, the familiarity and comfort you had with them. They weren’t monsters, hybrids or anything with you, they were your family.

Seeing you so at ease with them had König and Horangi curious, most would cower or segregate themselves from other hybrids. You especially, seeing as you were the only human with them, they thought it’d be normal to see you shrink onto yourself and ignore the world around you while you waited to return home. Yet here you were, berating a werewolf for cuts and bruises that would heal in the following days, his metabolism prevented infection and permanent scarring unless it was too deep or deadly. They’d simply add to his rugged handsomeness.

König wondered if you’d show him the same amount of compassion and ease when you tended to his wounds - if he ended up having any at all. Would your hands be soft like his mother’s when cradling his arm? Would you whisper soft nothings to him while you cleaned his gashes with antiseptics? Would you also scold him for being reckless? He doubted that. Granted, he was extremely reckless and lost himself to the adrenaline pumping through his system when he entered the field, but he always came out unscathed. As a percht hybrid, his extreme enhancements made him practically numb to pain and sensations, with the small exceptions of a few primarily driven emotions or natural reactions to certain stimuli.

Perhaps, if your efforts were thwarted by his immense height, you’d hold and tend to him as softly as you did with the others, running your fingers through his hair and cradling him against your chest. He thirsted for something mundane, something so human-like that he would be reminded that he wasn’t completely a monster. He missed the softness in people’s gazes or the carefree way they spoke to and with him. He missed being reminded that he - too - was a living being with their rights. You could be the start of a regular life - as regular as a mercenary could have.

Even Horangi, who had vehemently stated to König that he could care less about the small, weak human in the operation, gave you the merit of being strong-willed and confident enough to stand beside them. He, the ever prideful and strong hybrid he was, deemed you competent for a human. Your usefulness started with your quick reactions and impeccable skills in your field and stopped when you couldn’t save someone, which had yet to happen. He was intrigued by the workings of your TF, how they managed to score a single human and an amicable one at that, strong and fierce, yet gentle and compassionate. If he’d grown up with someone like you, would he have turned out the way he did?

He simply watched from his corner beside König, through tinted glasses his eyes followed your movement, memorising everything you did for your brothers. They felt like imposters in your small, seven-men group, seemingly standing awkwardly in their little corner. 141 had shown a bit of aggression towards them in warning words and deadly glares when they assumed you didn’t see them, hissing out threats to ensure your safety among them. Not only were they confused by the dynamic, but they weren’t told anything besides “Back off” and growls.

After patting Gaz’s knee, giving him an oscar winning smile with gleaming eyes that were received with enthusiasm, you packed your things in your bag and moved to the next patient. You skipped Price, Ghost and Rudy, crouching in front of Alejandro. Rummaging through your bag and handing him a clean wipe for his dust-covered face, the soot clinging to his cheeks. He expected you to sit by your locked rifle after checking them, but you continued walking. You were heading towards them.

He knew König left the ground unscathed, clean of anything but dirt and blood, which meant he was the one you were heading towards. Hand on your pouch and a steady step backed up by a determined expression, you stopped before him. He tilted his head, a silent question. You blinked dumbly, holding out your hand to him, your small fingers backing him to give you something.

“Can I see your hand?”

His hand? He hadn’t thought much of it as he rested it on yours, palm upwards and gloveless. He saw it then, the small cut that bled red, small enough to be neglectable, but long enough to still be bleeding. He hadn’t felt anything from it before or after boarding the aircraft, he must’ve still been riding the adrenaline rush from the fight. He wondered how you knew he hurt himself.

Your fingers curled around his palm, holding it firmly as you lightly dabbed the inflamed skin with a sterilised tissue, being careful of the flared sides of his torn flesh. Under the blood and dirt, his skin was pale and swollen, the area having demanded his body to react to the potential bacteria that would worm its way into his system. You threw the bloody tissue aside and got an antiseptic wipe, being careful to not irritate his wound. Your care was gentle and patient. To a being like him, a hybrid and KorTac op, gentle and patient were foreign words to him. None were gentle to hybrids and none were patient with mercenaries.

Even as you wrapped the gauze and bandage around his hand, you gave him all your attention, sweetly cradling his hand between yours and nursing his gash with utmost care. It felt alien, the soothingly soft care of a medic. Other medics would’ve stared at him with disgust or hate if he walked near the infirmary, or they were rough and uncaring towards his needs.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, the sudden realisation of his silence in the face of a benevolent angel and the rush of embarrassment that flushed his neck hotly. He stared dumbly at his hand when you left, placed on his thigh with the white bandage staring right at him. The warmth of your hand had sunk into his skin, the feather-light tenderness of your fingers painted in his memory and your smile and determined expression stuck to him.

Even as he let his mind wander and body thirst for another taste of your gentleness, he could feel the burning stares of the other men. König with his curious and envious gaze, wanting to feel the snippet you offered Horangi, wanting your hands and stare at his giant figure. The 141 with their protective and warning glare, resenting him for taking a few minutes of your attention from them. You’d moved on your own, making your decision to help him with his small wounds as you did with them, he hadn’t forced you or compelled you to treat him.

Perhaps there was more than money and experience that was worth in this joint operation.

When the success of their first mission reached the prying ears of the General, he’d given them a few more joint ops - paid by the United States pockets, of course. Horangi and König were given temporary rooms in the barracks, in the same corner as the other hybrids and you, but far enough to show that they were excluded from them. Fortunately, they wouldn’t share the room, tigers were protective of one’s territory, and a percht hybrid - as rare as it may be - was documented to be hyper-possessive of their things, especially so for someone like König.

Horangi didn’t ignore you anymore, wanting to start a conversation when he passed you or staring at you from the other side of the room until you waved at him, letting him know he could approach you. He worked relentlessly to close the gap he had made between you, wanting to attach himself to the one good thing he had. Yet he had to be cautious, any indication of him being a threat to you would make your team act out in unison, pushing him back and covering you like they did the second he descended the ramp.

Ghost would hover over you, his body moving the darkness around him to seem more menacing. Ghost always glared at him when you turned your back to the Brit, his brown eyes swirling with the promise of death and devastation. Ghost wasn’t a physical hybrid, as Horangi had learned, but he had no qualms about keeping a hand on your hip or over your shoulder, acting as an imposing being that showcased his claim on you so publicly. It filled the Korean with envy and anger, he wanted to touch you as easily as the wraith did, he wanted a claim on you like the Lieutenant did, and he wanted to hold you close.

If not Ghost, it’d be Rudy or Gaz crowding you. If you were in the rec room, Gaz would usually be there with you. His arm thrown over your shoulders, pulling you into his side while his wings curled around you two, dark brown feathers ruffled to look menacing but comfortable to your touch. With the way he sat, slouching and legs spread across the sofa, he took all the available seats on the cheap, brown couch. When Gaz caught sight of him, he’d purposefully moved to take up more space, showing just how much one of the nicest of the 141 ostracised him. Although when someone from his TF, he’d move aside, giving space to the man to join them.

If you were walking around the base, Rudy - or Rudolfo as Horangi was forced to call him - would be by your side. Rudy had an arm wrapped around yours, seemingly like a military couple out on a casual walk, or he had his hand on your back, acting as the protective lover. Rudolfo’s smile was always wide and adoring when Horangi saw him walk you, exchanging words and making you laugh. It stung Horangi in an inexplicable way as if someone was knowingly sentencing him to death without any proof of his accountability. Rudy, the second nicest guy, also made glaring passes his way, pulling you closer to his side, directing you away and staring coldly at Horangi.

It rubbed him wrong, all the silent glares and insults at him to push him farther from you, but he was Horangi the Tiger haetae. He made his calculations, he was as smart and as resourceful as he was patient. Give it a few more missions together and they would loosen enough to let him swoop you off your feet. You were his source of comfort, of love and gentleness, he had to protect it.

Unlike Horangi, König actively sought you out on the base, following the trail of your scent and the soft noises of your voice and heartbeat. He was like a dog on your trail, nose sniffing every bit of air for you and ears strained for any noise you’d make. His senses were stretched thin to find a moment with you. He was as animalistic as a hybrid could get, leaning towards his monster to help him with his ops and trials.

You piqued König’s curiosity, making him wander the halls like a lumbering monster in a dark veil and glaring, red eyes. He saw how you treated big and dangerous monsters like the dragon hybrid you had as a captain, a respectable man, as soft as you treated the rowdy and rough werewolf and gracefully dangerous nagual. König wanted to feel your softness on him, your small hand grasping the tight muscles of his shoulders and back, kneading the tension away with grounding massages and stretches. You were their doctor, you cared enough to join them in the field, so you’d naturally be willing to mass the pain out of his body, no?

He wanted moments alone, where he could speak his mind without fear of being interrupted or pushed away for his imposing stature and aura. He wanted to place a hand on your waist, to feel the plush roundness of your stomach and the firm contour of muscle on your thighs. He wanted his voice to carry easily in the void of silence, where his voice could be heard by you from a small whisper. He wanted your eyes to focus on him, solely, as if he was your world.

He found it rather irritatingly difficult to find such moments. When he followed your scent through the halls and down to the medic's office, he’d find Captain Price crowding the room with his powerful musk of Ashe and fire - of metal and iron. Although Price was much shorter and lesser ranked than König was, he held the power of age and wisdom, an unfathomable strength that lay solely in draconic beings. This eternal power that none could rival apart from Eldritch beings, most cower, whimper and hide from dragons. He wore his power and wisdom on his sleeves, a warning for everyone, him and his KorTac operators included. König might’ve been reckless, but he wasn’t a fool, fighting headfirst with dragon seamed chaos and devastation. So, as any hybrid did, he backed away, an old dragon was dangerous, but a crippled one made it even more perilous.

When König tried to find you in the rec room, you were held in the tight embrace of a possessive wolf. Soap had you straddling his lap, facing him as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck. He purred and kissed your skin, making you squirm and giggle, but then Soap’s eyes gazed upwards and grew cold and unruly at König’s appearance. A proud - dare he say, cruel - smirk curled the corners of his lips. That was when he realised what the sergeant was doing. Soap, in the open, was scenting you, rubbing his musk over your neck, where - if you were another sifting hybrid like him and Alejandro - would’ve been your scent gland. It was a blatant show of possession. He nipped at your throat, drinking in your yelp and hiss, your back arching and moving to push him from biting too much. It filled him with rage.

If you weren’t with either dragon or werewolf, you were with Alejandro, the Hispanic scenting you as much as Soap did, but he did it with more finesse and subtlety. He would draw your hair back, the gland on his wrist grazing your neck and ears, imprinting you with him. Alejandro would hold your hand, fingers neatly intertwined with yours, his face laying on your shoulder as he spooned you in his lap. He purred and whispered sweet promises that had you nodding and smiling like a child on Christmas. He oosed of pheromones, filling the area with his scent and in turn, covering you completely in him. König watched with envy as Alejandro read to you, cradled between his thighs and falling asleep, his, Soap and everyone else’s musk laying a possession over you.

König’s a determined person when he put his mind to it, willing his beaten and bloodied self back to camp, or his sleep-deprived and insomniac-ridden mind to concentrate on the enemy. He was a battering ram, he pushed forward forcefully, however hard he had to, all to reach the end goal. This time, it wouldn’t be the head of his target, or the capture of an asset, this time, it would be you.

They both wondered, with how close your TF was, what was the dynamic. Was it a pack that shared the same lover? Was it a pack that had formed such a close connection to a human that you were deemed an integral part of the pack? Or were you the child they watched over and protected?

The next few missions 141 and the two from KorTac went on were as successful as the first, the cooperation of two ruthless mercenaries and a hybrid, specialist group made these tasks easy, near child’s play for them. Along with the aspect of having a medic on hand, it let them run wild, play along the edge and act more recklessly than they normally would. Having Horangi and König for so long, made them become a standard in the base, seeing them walk among the shorter and weaker humans. That also meant they had seen their fair share of xenophobic soldiers with balls bigger than a dragon’s and an ego the size of an Eldritch creature.

Every hybrid and monster was used to their hateful glares and sneering venom-dripping words. Ignoring them had become easier after the first year of enrolment. Horangi and König were, however, not used to someone defending them with their most honest heart of gold with earth-shattering words.

The first time they’d seen you defend your team was right after a mission, haunches, lumbering bodies descending the carrier’s ramp with their bags slung over their shoulders and addled with fatigue after a week of deployment. Young, power-hungry sergeants who’d let their ranks get to their heads had slid before them, head held high and shoulders held wide. Every single one of them knew that the moment the sergeant’s mouth opened, nothing good would come out of it. Perhaps degrading insults or back-handed sneers.

When the first sentence slipped from the man’s tongue, you pushed your way between them, barrelling into the man who’d insulted them. A deep frown was etched into your lips, brows creased so darkly into you that it cast a dark shroud of anger over your face. If König hadn’t known that you were a human, he would’ve thought that you were a being of darkness.

“You dim-witted bastards-!” Was the first word you let out, your usually soft-spoken self with gentle hands spewed acid at them, threatening to burn their skin.

Dim-witted, indeed. Old, conservative assholes who thought they were better than the rest with their pro-human propaganda and xenophobic acts against hybrids. Horangi had expected you to continue your scolding, wringing the sergeant dry with your words, not your hands. You used your hands, fingers curled inward, thumb over the curves of your bones and decked the man. It shocked them both, you were smaller, shorter, human and seemed weaker than the men, yet here you were, sending him toppling on the floor, his friend gaping and pouncing on you. Only to be met with your foot to his crotch.

“You bet your ass you won’t get any medical attention after this,” you hissed.

Although your words sounded improbable since you weren’t the only medic on base, you had built a connection through the system, every medic knew you and heeded your words. If one didn’t want a man healed, you and the rest wouldn’t help him. If you wanted a man to suffer, the rest would watch on with you. Medics were themselves, a tight-knit couple that helped one another. So your words were more than a threat, it was a promise.

“Until I see your sorry asses on your deathbed or grovelling, none of us will lift a finger for you. Bleed and beg all you want, but you aren’t getting help.”

You acted with an iron hand, sending the rest to the ground, moaning and groaning, cradling whatever part of their body you’d hit. They wondered why Ghost hadn’t moved, and neither did Gaz or Rudy, the most protective ones. When König glanced down at Ghost, he saw pride in his eyes, dark curled on sadistic pleasure swirling in his brown eyes. When Horangi gazed at Gaz and Rudy, he saw simple amusement, their mouths threatening to curl in a smirk.

All of them had known you’d act this way, erratic and violent rather than calmly scold them and stomp over their ego. You were strong-headed and blunt to them, making them bow to you, like lesser men to a lady, a queen, a goddess.

Horangi had experienced his own protection from you. After the men had loosened enough to trust him and König, he could walk beside you and hold a simple banter, albeit awkward at the start. You were much more violent this time, reaching for the downed man while hissing and screeching after you sent him to the floor with well-aimed kicks. You were like a gremlin, small and lively. He understood your anger, they’d called him racist things, calling out his Asian roots and hybrid characteristics.

Horangi had to hold you from going off on him following your promise of neglecting his medical needs. It worked, though. The first group had searched to plead, to apologise and beg for medical attention. You’d sent them away with a small note lifting the ban for medical help. You were as ruthless with people as they were to enemies.

Any other encounters with hot-headed men and women that glanced at them weirdly were met with a varying amount of anger and disgust from you. Horangi understood why 141 held you so carefully, so tightly in their hold. Why they worshipped you like a priest would do with his goddess. It was a sense of camaraderie that had evolved into love, affection dripping from their pores.

König received a bit more attention for his size, the threatening nature of his ouster coupled with his brute figure, made him a subject of fear and rejection. That hadn’t stopped you from wanting to approach him, had it? Going as far as calling him cute when he stuttered while broaching the subject of him liking certain things. For a burly man with the height of a giant, he was nice to sit next to, his quiet but anxious stature when he wasn’t deployed made it easy to talk to. He might sometimes let his instincts drive him, but they were all well-meaning, wanting nothing but goodness for you.

His turn came in quick succession, he was shunned and ridiculed left and right. It never helped that he would shy from others, preferring his little corner that made the room look stranger and claustrophobic (not that he let them walk all over him, he growled and glared, standing tall with the promise of lashing out or eating them. Even when humans feared König, they still attempted to rile his anger.). But with you, he wasn’t by his lonesome, he had someone to rattle on about the things he liked to do, or the things he wanted to do. His shoulders were relaxed and mind calm, free to speak his mind about the goriest and the sweetest dreams he had, his speech unperturbed by his anxiety.

Unlike the others, König stood before you as an impenetrable wall of muscle and fat when you raised your hand at an insignificant pig. Why would he let someone so disgusting touch you (even though it was to hit and kick the man, he would do it for you instead)? He guarded you as if they were insulting you rather than him - though it was the reverse - and glared down at anyone with dreadfully scary eyes. Like the devil that had risen, he sent them running with their tails tucked between their legs. Although he was the one that had gotten rid of them, he was always so proud of you, holding you close to him and gushing about your brave and inspiring actions.

He saw how the men in 141 looked at you, he wanted to be a part of it, to be able to freely nuzzle your face and hold you like Soap would, to cradle you in his arms and carry you around the base. König wanted a piece of your heart, to be able to show the world he held it in his hands, caring for it between his big, calloused fingers and soft affection. He might be dangerous, he might be deadly, he might be reckless, but if you let him, you would be his world like you were to the others (Horangi would agree, they spoke about it on their own.).

2K notes · View notes

mockerycrow · 1 month

Text

ON MY MIND (Roommate!Gaz x GN!Reader)

roommate!gaz masterlist

summary; you wear kyle’s hoodie and he’s forced to confront some suppressed emotions.

[WARNINGS; gaz is a smoker & is emotionally weary, fluff!]

“Kyle!”

His head tilts a bit from the call of his name, muffled and frustrated. His eyes focused on the glass plate in his hand, his other hand scrubbing the thing with an overly-used sponge. “Yeah?” He calls back, only turning his head by his left shoulder a tad bit so you can hear him better as he’s assuming you’re not near the kitchen.

Kyle hears you shuffling around, your shoes scuffing against the floorboards. You don’t respond for a second, but Kyle knows you’re focused on.. Whatever you were doing. He puts the soapy plate in the other side of the sink in the next tub, reaching for the next dish. However, his sleeve slips down his arm a bit, getting wet and soapy. “Ah..” He cringes out loud, his lips pulling uncomfortably as he uses two fingers to tug the now wet sleeve back into place.

Kyle hears your footsteps approach from the next room, causing him to tilt his body so he can keep his wet hands over the sink whilst also looking at you. You enter the room with a frustrated look upon your face, your eyebrows furrowed and your lip curled ever so slightly curled. Kyle chuckles, unable to help himself at how pathetic you look at the moment and he knows it’s not over anything important. “What’s wrong?” He murmurs, already amused.

You’re holding up one of Kyle’s hoodies, one the ones that has his last name sprawled across the back. He blinks for a moment before you begin to speak. “I gotta run to the corner store real quick and all of my hoodies are still damp in the dryer,” You exclaim, putting the hoodie down a bit so you can look at him. “Do you mind if I wear your hoodie to walk down there?”

Kyle’s lips purse for a moment, a weird sensation manifesting in his chest cavity as he thinks about wearing his hoodie. “Go ahead, don’t need you getting sick, yeah?” Kyle utters as he turns back to the sink, pinching the front of his shirt and pulling it from his chest as if it’ll ease the sensation. “Sick! Thanks, Kyle. You want anything?” You ask, quickly pulling the hoodie on, adjusting the sleeves.

Kyle’s back is to you as he grabs another dish, mindlessly cleaning it. “‘Course, sweetness. Grab me some crisps, won’t you?” He says, putting the.. clean(?) dish into the other side of the sink on top of the soapy plate. “Yep, I got it. Bye, Ky!”

The door shuts.

Kyle blinks, staring at the soapy water with the tightness in his chest remaining, even after your exit. He sighs slowly, pushing his thumbs into the corners of his eyes—then he shouts, because now soap is in his eyes. “Shitshit—” He hisses, quickly turning on the faucet to wash his eyes out.

Kyle never asked for his hoodie back—a part of him expected for it to appear folded on his bed, washed and taken care of and the other part wished he never saw it again except for you wearing it. You always seemed to lose your hoodies after that, or you went through your collection much faster than you previously had. Neither of you pointed it out, especially Kyle. He was quite alright with a couple of his hoodies disappearing conveniently right at the times you were planning on leaving for a store, or just an outing in general.

Something sickly sweet twists in Kyle’s gut when he sees you wearing his hoodie. It’s something clawing at his insides, gnawing at his bones—energy that makes him want to bash his head into the wall and he isn’t completely understanding why. The second he sees you wearing one of his hoodies, especially the ones with his name on it.. It’s like a little feral squirrel in his body goes wild.

Kyle turns in his bed, groaning softly as he rubs his hand over his face, trying to focus on the coolness of his sheets as he rolls over. He thinks about Soap and Price, thinking about the night where you embarrassed him in front of his mates. Kyle stares into the darkness of his room as he thinks about how proud you seemed to be after making them laugh—how you seemed to beam at him after sharing a reassuring look.

“Bloody hell.” Kyle mumbles, his words muffled as he turns his face against the warm of his pillow, his breathing harsh for a moment. A pleasant warmth trickles into his chest as he thinks about his missing hoodies. How he isn’t able to help the giddy smile on his face when he sees you walk through the door, coming home wearing something with his name on it. His. His. His.

Kyle lifts himself from his bed, grunting as his feet hit the cold floor. He patters across the floor, quietly exiting his bedroom. Kyle’s heart thumps harshly against his chest. He shakes his head and gently slaps his cheeks as he walks down the hall towards the living room and kitchen, trying to rid himself of these thoughts—of thinking of you like that. He pauses for a moment when he hears the television on, playing at a low volume. Kyle slows his footsteps as he makes his way past the hall, coming into the living room.

The television is gently illuminating the room and he hears you before he sees you. You’re sleeping on the couch, your favorite blanket sprawled across your lap, your back and head supported by the stupid throw pillows Kyle insisted that you two needed for the couch. Your head is tilted down in a position that looks slightly uncomfortable, your lips parted—wearing his hoodie.

Kyle stares for a minute, his eyes softening as he leans forward, his fingers gentle as he takes your head in his hands and slowly but surely, adjusts the positioning of your head. Kyle watches the way your eyebrows furrow for a moment, your lips pressing back together closed. His lips twitch into a soft smile as he watches you shift in your sleep, your face leaning more into his palm.

Kyle’s heart stops for just a second before he brushes the pad of his thumb against your cheekbone, your skin hot under his touch. So warm and full of life.

His chest tightens again and Kyle carefully pulls his hand away from you, his feet quick as he grabs his cigarettes and lighter from the counter near the backdoor, escaping out the back to forget about what his feelings truly mean.

🏷️; @kivino @mlmxreader @soapybutt17 @microwavedcheetos @frazie99 @narcolepticduck @ch3rrykoolaid @kimdiedlater @glossysoap @thisuserloveshalloween @ornateorchid @missborntodiex @indefenseofkara @lieutenantlashfaz @queen-leviathan @specter319 @theunplannedvariable @spacelia @1117sblog @snoowply @dumb-fawkin-bitch @abigatorchomp @s8nsbride @talooolalolla @sstormyskyess @spicyspicyliving @nyushkawritesstuff

this is from my overall taglist which you can find here. if you would like there to be a roommate!gaz taglist, comment below! mistakenly tagged/wrongly tagged? let me know, no hard feelings.

696 notes · View notes

roosterr · 6 months

Text

only you

note: him. that is all.

pairing: kyle 'gaz' garrick x gn!reader

wc: 1.8k

summary: you and soap get to talking about your love life. gaz gets jealous.

warnings: little bit of miscommunication, jealousy, you and gaz make out, the mildest of spice

ao3

sleepless nights were not a rarity for you. it comes with the territory in this line of work, unfortunately, something you and your fellow sergeants have in common. it also wasn't out of place for the three of you to find each other in the rec room well into the early hours of the morning, which is exactly where you'd ended up tonight.

perhaps it was the result of the insomnia that had kept you up far later than your mind could handle, but you'd foolishly divulged that you hadn't been on an actual date in a depressingly long time – soap seemed to find that far more amusing than you would've liked, and quickly took it upon himself to demonstrate his unique ability to make you wish you'd kept your mouth shut.

"c'mon, you cannae be serious," soap wears a shit-eating grin as he leans forward in the armchair, leaning his elbows on his knees as you roll your eyes. gaz stays quiet beside you, which you're silently grateful for, but you do feel his eyes on the side of your head.

"i just don't have the time for it," you sigh, resting your elbow on the arm of the sofa and dropping your hand into your palm.

it's true, your job didn't allow room for much of a social life, what with being sent all over the world for months at a time– really, it was a miracle you did anything except work.

that wasn't the main reason, he was sitting on your other side, but you'd be damned before you revealed that to soap, of all people.

"well, if you can't get any, then there's nae hope for the rest of us." soap chuckles, reaching over and playfully nudging your arm.

you let out a groan, shoving his hand away and dragging your own down your face. "shut up, soap, that's not how it is…"

he laughs again at your reaction, still showing no signs of relenting. "maybe i'll have to take you out, then."

"on what? a pipe-bomb masterclass?" you scoff, the grin on your lips betraying your attempt at looking unimpressed. both of them laugh at that, soap raising his hands in a gesture that says 'so what?'.

"dinnae try'n tell me that wouldn't be an excitin' date." he reasons, tilting his head and quirking his brow at you. you narrow your eyes, humming in faux-consideration and playfully tapping a finger on your chin.

"for a pyromaniac, maybe…" gaz grumbles from beside you. the sofa moves under you as he shifts his weight around, and if you weren't so tired you would've noticed the way his voice trailed off in such an uncharacteristic manner.

"maybe," you laugh, shaking your head at the very idea of it, and the fact that soap definitely would if he could convince someone to go along with it. "that's if i don't wind up dead by the end of it."

"i wouldn't let anythin' happen to ya, bonnie, cross my heart." he grins, making an x over his chest with one finger.

"but you'd still make a homemade bomb right in front of me?" you lift an eyebrow at his teasing expression.

"my two favourite things; a good explosive and a good view,"

"oh god, shut the fuck up." you groan, reaching to swat the back of his head as you stand up. "that's enough for tonight, i need sleep."

"think i'll call it a night too." gaz mumbles half-heartedly from his spot beside you, quickly standing and making his way to the door without another word. you frown, confused by his sudden coldness, waving to soap and calling a quiet 'goodnight' before you step out into the hallway after him.

"night, bonnie, i'll pick you up at eight!" soap calls, loud enough for you to hear in the corridor, earning a soft chuckle and another shake of your head as you catch up to gaz.

he doesn’t even spare you a glance as you trail behind him, marching ahead with a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before. his abrupt switch in attitude concerned you; he was fine not even five minutes ago, what could’ve happened to change that?

"you okay, gaz?" you ask with a hesitance that feels strange directed at him, someone you’re usually so confident around. for a moment there's no response, but he does slow down slightly, taking a right into a corner of the building with the lights shut off. you follow still, growing more concerned with every second that passes.

you’re about to ask again, but a few paces into the shadows gaz turns sharply on his heel, catching you off guard with how suddenly he stops walking and causing you to bump into his chest.

"gaz…?" you utter, your quiet voice a ripple in the stillness of the empty corridor. he meets your eye as you look quizzically back at him, a conflicted expression taking over his features.

you open your mouth to say something more, but before you can get the words out he's laying a hand on your shoulder and gently pushing you against the wall. the hand on you shifts to rest in the crook of your neck and shoulder, while he leans the other on the wall with his hand next to your head.

your breath catches in your throat, and your previous exhaustion is completely forgotten. the way he's looking at you, staring straight through you with that deep brown gaze and right into your soul, it's like a spell has fallen over you.

kyle leans even closer, caging you in with his broad shoulders and blocking out the world around him, so he's the only thing you can focus on– as if you could possibly think about anything else when he's touching you so tenderly.

"don't go out with him…" he utters, his eyes flickering back and forth as they search yours. the pause between you hangs heavy in the air. when your questioning expression doesn't change, he takes his bottom lip between his teeth and drops his gaze, letting his eyes fall shut as he continues. "don't fuckin' go out with him, please…"

"wh…" you stutter, trailing off as you wonder inwardly what the hell he's talking about; and then it hits you.

there's another pause, and you swallow thickly at the realisation that he was talking about your earlier conversation with soap; that he was reacting like this because he thought you would actually take johnny seriously. "kyle… he was joking."

"i'm not." he mutters in response, shifting closer again by resting his forearm against the wall instead of his hand. he's looking at you again, with heavy eyes that keep you entranced by him. you can't help the uneven breath that escapes you under his intense gaze and the way his thumb begins to stroke your jaw. "let me take you out, i'll give you anything you want if you'll have me, love."

it's hard to concentrate on anything other than the sparks his touch creates as he caresses your skin. you're sure he can feel the way your pulse is racing under his fingertips. there's no one but him in this moment, the minimal distance between you still somehow feeling too great as you subconsciously lean your face closer to his.

the silence and your heartbeat are so loud in your ears, you almost don’t hear his next words.

"can i kiss you?" he asks, little more than a whisper, tilting his head so his lips ghost over yours. you breath another shuddering sigh, letting your eyes flutter closed as you nod almost imperceptibly.

"please."

time seems to slow as the word hangs in the air, the warmth radiating from him seeps into your skin as he closes the final distance and presses his lips against yours.

the hand on your neck travels up to your face, cradling your cheek with a touch so soft, almost disbelieving, like he expected you to disappear at any moment.

"i'm yours, love," he mumbles against you, never straying too far from your lips as he caresses your cheek, "i'm all yours…"

you loop your arms around his neck, knocking his hat loose in the process, but neither of you pay it any mind as it lands on the floor at your feet – too lost in yourselves to care. in the brief moment you part for air, a breathy whisper of his name escapes you, and as if a switch has flipped, his mouth is back against yours with a fervour that you struggle to keep up with.

he's running his hand up and down the length of your waist, your hip, hiking your leg up and around his side, dragging his touch over your thigh, like he can't get enough of you. it's intoxicating, the way you pant into each other, flush against one another yet still itching to get closer.

your lungs burn as he pulls away again, just enough to whisper, his voice low and needy, "god– the things you do to me, sweetheart,"

his touch is reverent as he takes you in; your touch, your skin, your taste, the sounds he pulls from you as he kneads the flesh of your waist under your shirt. it sends your head spinning, the blood rushing in your ears stopping you from thinking about anything other than the feel of his lips on yours.

you trail one of your hands down his body, over his chest and down to the hem of his shirt, where you slip your fingers under to rest against his toned stomach. his skin is hot under your hand, drawing another groan of your name from him, and he slowly moves his hands up your own abdomen, leaving a trail of goosebumps in the wake of his fingers–

"awh, c'mon!"

the sound of soap's voice startles you into knocking your head against the wall behind you, both yours and kyle's hands darting back from their less than appropriate positions.

you look over to the scott, a sheepish grin on your face at his disapproving face. kyle buries his face into your shoulder, a groan of both embarrassment and annoyance escaping his chest. you resist the urge to laugh, instead running your hands up and down his back in an attempt to comfort him.

"fucks sake, soap…" kyle grumbles, wrapping his arms back around your waist. he doesn't look up at your friend, opting to keep his undoubtedly embarrassed expression hidden by your neck.

"think i'll have to cancel that date after all." you cant keep the amusement off your face when you speak, earning a dramatic eye roll from soap.

"too right, ye animals…" he mutters, shaking his head in exasperation as he disappears around the corner again. neither of you move as you listen to his footsteps retreating down the corridor, staying frozen in place until it's quiet once more.

only once you're sure johnny's gone does the laugh you've been stifling bubble up from your chest, escaping into the otherwise quiet night as kyle finally lifts his head to meet your gaze.

he eyes the bashful smile pulling at your lips and lets out a laugh of his own, pressing his forehead back to yours and letting his eyes fall closed again.

killing soap could wait until tomorrow; right now, it was just you and him, and that's how you want to keep it.

#gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #mw2 gaz #roosterr writes

1K notes · View notes

altbite · 1 year

Text

Incorrect Quotes *mw2 x reader*

Alejandro: Rudy and I are having a baby.

Y/n: That's gre-

Alejandro, slamming adoption papers on the table: It's you, sign here.

Price, driving y/n and Soap: So how was your day?

Y/n: We almost got surprise adopted!

Price: What?

Soap: We almost got kidnapped.

Price: Oh, okay.

Price: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

Ghost: Y/n... Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor?

Y/n: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned.

Ghost:

Ghost: I wrote sanitize, Y/n.

Y/n: *Stubs their toe* FUCK!

Rudy: Mind your language!

Y/n: What else am I supposed to say, “Woe is I”???

Rudy:

Y/n: You have to accept that swear words are necessary sometimes.

Y/n: Am I going too far?

Gaz: No, no, no. You went too far about seven hours ago. Now you're going to prison.

Soap: Truth or dare?

Y/n: Dare

Soap: I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room

Y/n: Hey Graves

Graves, blushing: Yeah?

Y/n: Could you move? I’m trying to get to Alejandro

Y/n: On a scale from “damn Daniel” to “fre sha vaca do”, how are you feeling?

Gaz: In between “it’s an avocado, thanks” and “how did you defeat Captain America”, but as a solid answer I would say “I don’t need a degree to be a clothing hanger”. How about you, Ghost?

Ghost: Probably “road work ahead”.

Price: I speak many languages, and this is none of them.

Price: Listen, I can explain...

Ghost: You’re making $500,000 and you’re only gonna pay me $30,000?

Soap: You’re getting 30 grand? I’m getting $1,000!

Y/N: You guys are getting paid?

Price: Just be yourself.

Y/n: 'Be myself'? Price, I have one day to win Alejandro over. How long did it take before you guys started liking me?

Gaz: Couple weeks

Soap: Six months.

Ghost: Jury’s still out.

Y/n: See, Price?

Y/n: 'Be myself'. What kind of garbage advice is that?

Soap: Alejandro... How do I begin to explain Alejandro?

Rudy: Alejandro is flawless.

Ghost: I hear their hair's insured for $10,000.

Gaz: I hear they do car commercials... in Japan.

Y/n: One time they punched me in the face... it was awesome.

#incorrect quotes #cod #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #alejandro vargas #mw2 rudy #mw2 alejandro #mw2 price #mw2 konig #mw2 ghost #mw2 soap #mw2 graves #mw2 gaz #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #incorrect call of duty quotes

6K notes · View notes

ilovelosermen69 · 8 months

Text

Girls when they see a man in uniform

2K notes · View notes

mrshesh · 9 months

Note

Hello :D I saw that you write for Modern Warfare 2, so I'd like to request how the boys would react if you ask if they'd still love you if you were a worm! Hehehehe :p

"a...worm?" - modern warfare 2 x reader

overview: mw2 men reacting to you asking if they'd still love you if you were a worm

pairing: mw2 men x gender neutral reader, romantic

genre: fluff

a/n: hi anon! thanks for the request, it's really funny. i had a blast writing this. keep them coming!

x simon "ghost" riley

He would turn his head super slowly in your direction after you ask, and you can practically see the look on his face, even with his mask on 😭

He hits you with one of his side eyes, processing the question as he blinks judgementally at you.

“Fuckin' hell." He immediately sighs.

“Well? Would you?"

"Sure."

He would indeed love you, and yes, he would feed you and take care of you.

Realistically, Simon would keep you in his pocket at all times. He would also try to teach you self-defense! (Would it go horrible? Absolutely. But it’s the thought that counts.)

x john "soap" mactavish

“A worm?” He sits back in his seat, looking down at his shoes as he digs into his brain as if this is the most important question of his life. “Yeah, I think I would."

Before you know it, you’re discussing your worm life with Johnny in full detail, with him explaining how he’d build a small house for you in his backyard.

Immediately bursts out laughing at the thought of you as a worm crawling around with a gun on the battlefield.

“As long as you don’t cheat on me with some other worm lad, I’d still love ya, bonnie.”

x kyle "gaz" garrick

He, like Simon, hits you with one of his side eyes.

He actually thinks about it for a hot minute, though, going through the pros and cons of this hypothetical situation.

“Yeah, pretty much.” He concludes, shrugging as his thoughts return to the mental list of the upsides and downsides of you turning into a worm.

“The biggest pro is that I can protect you easily. The biggest con is that you’re a worm.”

He gets so into this scenario, discussing the matter with you as if it’s forthcoming.

“What about you then? Would you love me if I was a worm?” He returns the question, his mind still wandering. Would you have shelter? How would he feed you? Would he accidentally stomp on you? “Yeah, I would. We can be worms together!” “Word.”

x john price

“Where do you come up with this stuff?”

He rubs his eyes almost urgently, a light groan coming from him as he breathes heavily. He’s trying to act all tough and unbothered, but in reality, he’s melting inside. He thinks your thought process and comfortability with him is adorable.

“I’d have to be extra careful with you, wouldn’t I?”

He runs the scenario in his head, playing it back and skipping forward like a movie. He’s very conflicted. It’s hard to love a worm, but it’s not just any worm - it is you!

“Sure.” He shrugs while his eyes lock in with yours. His face is to die for. He looks so done.

Realistically, he’d keep you in an aquarium full of dirt. It would be in his office so he can keep an eye on you to assure you aren’t doing something absurd, as worms do.

x alejandro vargas

Oh, he’s living for this.

You can’t help but snicker a little when he starts laughing at your question. He’s even smacking his thigh with his hand! It can’t be that funny… it’s a simple question!

He wipes his teary eyes when he can feel his hearty laughter calm down.

“Mi amor, you’re too funny. Yes, I would.”

He’d keep you in his pocket, regularly feeding and petting you. He’d also talk to you constantly, knowing you can’t do anything about it - the thought of it makes him giggle.

“You’re not planning on turning into one, right?”

x phillip graves

“...What?”

He’s so confused. Why are you asking him this?

He rolls his eyes at your expression. Your deviance drives him insane, but it also makes his heart flutter.

He tries avoiding the question, but you keep poking and prodding - it’s safe to say he’s not getting away without an answer.

“You’re driving me crazy, sweetie.” He sighs, shaking his head in exhaustion. You can see the corners of his lips curl up when you cackle at his response.

“It would be difficult, but I’d try. Only because it’s you.”

He would have a hard time originally, but he’d grow to love your worm self. It’s still you, after all.

x könig

“Hm… I suppose I would.”

His eyes narrow when he thinks of you as a worm. He’d fancy it if you don’t turn into a worm, but he’d still absolutely adore you.

“You really would?” “Yes. But wouldn’t that be kind of difficult?” His voice is as soft as ever, which tells you he’s genuine. He doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, and he doesn’t want to lie to you - which is ironic since he’d take the best care of you out of all these men!

He would always keep you on his shoulder and talk to you constantly. You would always be full and entertained, and he would be inclined to pet you regularly.

He would be afraid to hurt you on accident. He’s a big guy! So he would be cautious with you.

You would also be in his hands a lot! He would love holding you.

“But I’d prefer it if you stay like this, schatz.”

x horangi

His head snaps in your direction instantly. His eyebrows furrow unhesitatingly, but he’s soon giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Jagiya… you are crazy.”

He, like Kyle, starts thinking about this as if it’s inevitably cropping up.

“I would. Just don’t slither all over my face.” “I said worm, not a snake, Jin.”

He’d keep you on his helmet/his head most of the time. He would remember to feed you every time he eats, and like Simon, he would try to teach you self-defense. He’s already protective of you, but if you were a worm? He’d be your bodyguard.

“What do worms even eat?” “I don’t know. You’re gonna have to figure that out.” “Wait- don’t tell me you’re turning into one?”

2K notes · View notes

yupstep · 3 months

Text

Hello 😌 I come offering you Gaz. He also seems like such a sweetheart. Can we please shower him in love? Thanks.

It’s fun when you get to play him in the campaign story, one of the levels he had to give guidance to some office chick through the security cameras and I got her shot like 45 times….. oops.

#artwork #call of duty #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #digital art #fanart #gaz cod #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #modern warfare #mw2 gaz #cod mw3

1K notes · View notes

meowpupp · 4 months

Text

i don’t think people realise how confident gaz is. he has such BDE. and he’s such a smartass???? but so respectful??? honesty, all the cod men are great and i get the appeal, but if we’re being real, Gaz would be the best one suited for a relationship. he’d ADORE his partner, send them stupid texts of cats n shit, be your parents best friend. he’d be the one who gets invited to christmas before you do, the one your mum asks about when you call her.

gaz is genuinely so underrated. i wish i could write for him more, but i genuinely have no ideas. the others, i can imagine all sorts of gross freaky shit because i feel like they have it in them.

but gaz? nah. he’s the type to be doing face masks with your little sister, or teaching your little brother football. he’s the type to kiss your forehead and say “yes maam” whenever you tell him to do anything, bring your mum flowers when you visit your parents.

HE IS BOYFRIEND. HES THE DEFINITION

#playing the mw2 campaign and getting brain rot #i have over 300hrs in this game #top 1% of players #I LOVE HIM #kyle gaz garrick #gaz mw2 #gaz mwii #mw2 gaz #kyle gaz smut #estelle talks #mw2

612 notes · View notes

a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 10 months

Text

Soap and Gaz started calling Price dad as a joke.

Whenever someone would do something they would pretend like they’re tattling and go “Dad! Soap hit me!” or “Dad! Gaz took the last of the soda!”

Price just lets it happen because he doesn’t have the energy to tell them to stop. If it helps them be at ease to joke about it then he doesn’t care. He rarely plays along, just rolls his eyes as the two laugh at their dumb joke and says, “You boys are weird.”

But then Price notices that even when they don’t specifically call him “Dad” they end up still treating him much like how they would their actual father.

“Cap, how do you fix this?”

“Price, there’s someone I like and I need your advice.”

“I fucked up.” “That’s okay, son. Long as you learn and know how to fix it.”

“Can I sit with you?” “Sure, fancy a smoke?”

It’s only when Ghost of all people starts to ask him questions and for help that he realizes that despite the jokes, they all rely on him more than just as a Captain.

Based off this dumb tik tok

#found family 141 #simon ghost riley #mw2 ghost #captain john price #mw2 price #john soap mactavish #mw2 soap #kyle gaz garrick #mw2 gaz

938 notes · View notes

yawnderu · 5 months

Note

You opened your requests, right? Werewolf gaz x red panda hybrid reader? :D ( I was a little shy to request )

Hi love!! I wasn't sure if you wanted NSFW or SFW so I wrote a little fluff drabble<3

Gaz might as well have considered himself a married man the moment he set eyes on you. His eyes twinkled in amusement as he looked down at the much smaller figure in front of him, your arms raised high in the air in an attempt to appear larger and scare him away— him, the absolute behemoth of a werewolf who easily dwarfed your figure in every single way.

''I'm not scared.'' You say quickly and he has to try his best to not burst out laughing at the way your legs are shaking in fear, eyes tightly shut when his fur-covered hand reaches out to your face. He doesn't hurt you, no. Quite the opposite. He cups your cheeks gently and uses his thumbs to wipe away the residues of berries all over your face, embarrassment quickly settling in when you realize what he's doing.

''Messy eater, yeah?'' He can't stop himself— you're way too adorable to not tease, but he's not being mean. Despite his size, he's quite gentle with you, only letting go of your soft cheeks after he wiped away as much of the berries as he could, a smirk setting on his features as he notices your eyes drift away from him, your pretty, berry-stained lips pulled into a pout.

He doesn't leave you alone after that day, oftentimes letting you nap on his hairy, warm body during the day and helping you gather fruit on the evening, helping you climb on trees by holding your smaller body in his arms, making sure you don't get hurt. He still has to deal with you raising your arms in an attempt to intimidate him whenever he tries to pet your ears or tail, though. He has a long way to go before he's allowed to do it, but he's a patient man. He'll keep trying.

659 notes · View notes

diejager · 8 months

Note

Hi hi I love your monster fics you don't have to write anything about this I'm just a little curious on how you think the boys are react to their human reader getting turned into a monster and then reacting to the painful process and you can choose whichever monster and whichever way I'm just a little curious

Pairing: Monster!Task Force 141 x reader

Ce: mentioned torture, blood drinking, biting, vampire!reader, forceful transformation, canon-typical violence, imprisonment, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.7k

Let’s imagine you were contacted by Laswell before the MW2 campaign, freshly given the rank of corporal and still as dumbfounded that Price had asked for you. You had the time to connect with the other men - monsters - and get to know them, to see farther than the image they portrayed to others: broad, gruff and dangerous beasts of the 141.

Graves caught you and Alejandro, locking you in different isolation cells that were made to hold hybrids. You were bitten pale in the darkness of your isolation, your cries and whimpers of being sucked nearly dry reached the other men who were equally unfortunate. Alejandro seethed, growling and turning in his cell, he swore curses and threats at Graves and his gang of servants. He turned you the same night, weakened and dying, ichor dripping from your wounds. He used your moment of submission, of weakness to feed you his essence, a part of his being in his blood. He cradled you as he drank the last of your life force from your veins, making room for his own to fill the emptiness in you, to remake you into his own. Your body was wracked with jerks, limbs shaking and twitching, and you convulsed in a cry of pain, every fibre of your essence remaking itself into the thing he created: a thrall.

Alejandro, the one who bared witness to your change and suffering in his cell, felt guilty for not being strong enough to escape, it weighed heavily on his mind that he had been the first to get captured and in turn, hadn’t been able to protect you. He’s the first to rush to your cell once he’s freed, if you jump on him in hunger or remained seated against the corner of your cell, restraining yourself from jumping Alejandro, he’d let you drink from him anyway. Partly a token of apology from him, for failing you and himself, and another part because he wanted to be the one to curb your hunger and rage from your transformation. It would be an honour to help you ease into the life of a monster, even though he seethed with wrath and dripped with threats. He’s a shifter, his bones crack and bend every time he shifts, so he understands the pain of changing, he - and Soap, he guessed - could relate and ease the first pains. With his shifting came enhanced strength and agility, easier to withstand your onslaught of attacks when you trained with him. He doesn’t use his claws or teeth on you (unless you’re playing bite with him like you do with Soap, he wouldn’t mind leaving a mark or two on you.), but will take your charpentes nails and practiced blood manipulation that you trained with Ghost. He doesn’t know how dangerous or potent his blood is to vampires and thralls, if his blood enhanced your abilities, made you weaker or sent you in a frenzied state that made you high and dazed, so he let’s you feed on him occasionally.

Rudy - Rudolfo - was the seconds behind Alejandro, he bared witness to you cradled in his colonel’s arms. Shock and confusion were his first reactions, followed by devastation and guilt. Devastated that you’d been forced into the life of a monster, the world-shattering change happening under stress, anxiety, pain and betrayal. Guilt that he hadn’t been there when you were taken, vanishing in the dark before all of this happened, he couldn’t have done anything to stop Graves from turning you. Although he wasn’t one for violence - unnecessary violence that would cause the death of a person in the most painful and violent ways - he felt anger pulse under his skin, threatening to burst from his bulging (in anger like in animes cuz it’s funny to imagine that) veins. Rudy would be there to help you through the transition, being the one who’s closest to being a human, he could pave the way to control yourself. He would let you fed from him, his mostly human constitution would be nourishing and safe for you than the rest of the men on the Task Force. He might dangle this opportunity over their heads, brag about how he’s the lucky one in all of them when you aren’t looking. If he could - and if you’re comfortable enough - he’d take every feeding in public, smiling smugly in the frowning faces of the rest while you fed.

Ghost, all he could see was red the moment you were taken from him. He had to watch you convulse and cry, the little human from his Task Force - under his protection in las Alma’s - tumbling over the edge and flinch every time he tried to touch you. He knew the possibility that Graves would turn you - he’d made it apparent in his jokes when you first joined them - but that didn’t help the waning fear and anger that churned in his soul. He couldn’t do much to soothe you when you whimpered painfully, all he could do was to hold you as you clung to him, whining at how much your body burned and hurt, as if every fibre of your being was being ripped apart and put back in the wrong places. He knew the danger of having Graves’ thrall in his team, but he couldn’t let you waste on your own. Once he made sure Graves was dead (he’s as destructive as he is suicidal, Ghost would’ve bathed Graves under enhanced UV lights that would burn the vampire but he wouldn’t let Graves die. Stuck in a constant loop of burning and healing, having his blood rendered useless and weak to him. If only Soap hadn’t blown him up in a tank, Ghost would’ve had so much fun torturing Graves for the things he did to you.), he would help you control your powers, master them and use it against others; never again would he let you be captured. Wraiths were deadly creatures, hybrids even more so, so he wouldn’t let you drink from him, not until Laswell had some tests ran on his blood’s constitution for your safety.

Soap, in all his life, never felt more angry with himself and Graves. At himself for not reaching you in time, and at Graves for his transgressions. He sympathized with your transformation, the pain and anguish he felt from you. He held you tightly in a comforting embrace on the ride back to Alejandro’s safehouse, whispering sweet words to your trembling figure. The moment he had his hands on Graves, he made sure he died burning in his tank, sending it sky-high in a grandiose explosion. Every thrall would feel the death of their master, including you. So when you cried about feeling empty, he held you, telling you: “Dinnae worry ‘bout it, m’eudail.” while caressing you. Soap’s a cuddler, he’d cuddle you while you slept on his bed for comfort, letting you bite a him if he bites back. He’s mouthy too, he’d make the best of every situation he or people he cared got into. Now werewolf blood, some find it revolting - mostly pig-headed pure blood vampires like Graves and the like - and others drink it as often as human blood, but you feed from him when he bares his neck to you, smile cocky and posture relaxed. He also likes to show the others - both Rudy and him - their marks, two small puncture wounds on their neck and shoulders. Soap loves close-combat training and will fight you, let you run free with your vampiric strength that would break and kill humans. He’d laugh and chuckle when you try to chase after him and tackle him, it’d be like two kids playing rough.

Gaz felt guilty about not being in Las Almas to help you, only seeing you after you were rescued and trying to adjust to your new skills, and like the rest, he’s angry, feeling the agony oozing from your every pores. He regretted not following you that night to Mexico and now, leaving you locked in a cell where Graves’ influence wouldn’t reach you while they went to retake Alejandro’s base. Although he hated not being the one to end Graves, he was grateful that Soap went wild with explosive, truly the demolition expert of the Task Force. Everything he knew was from the four men’s retelling of the events prior and after your rescue, there was little he could help but work through comforting you with his calming and gentle tongue. He’d make use of his wings to wrap you in a soft and warm cocoon when his talons were too much of a risk to place on you. He knew you liked his fuzzy wings, so why not use them for your comfort. He could fight you, but his constitution meant that he had hallow, but sturdy bones, a thrall’s strength would hurt but not break them like Price, Alejandro or Soap. Gaz’s a bit sensitive, he knew that but still wanted you to be able to depend on him when you were hungry, he might whine here and there, but he liked the thought of having a bit of him inside you.

Price took it the hardest, it was his Task Force, his responsibility to take care of his pack - his dragon’s hoard - and you were the most vulnerable one and the baby of the team, so you held more weight in his heart. He was disappointed in himself for not seeing the trickery from Shepherd, the red flag of finding America ballistic missiles on the mission and not connecting it to the General or the USA. He blamed himself for your change and your temporary imprisonment while they went to kill the one who did it to you, who brought you so much suffering. Anger filed his quest and protectiveness made it successful, taking down your torturer so that you could live influence-free of Graves. Price, like a father-figure, protected and cared for his family and he failed. He could trust Gaz, Soap and Rudy to comfort you, to ground you to earth. He could trust Ghost and Alejandro to teach you, to help you protect yourself. And he, all he could bring himself to do without feeling shame, was to urge you to rest. Little acts that would give you more time to rest and less duties, he had experience and restraint, he would help where the others lacked. He’d refrain from letting you drink draconic blood, the power and potency of it would overcharge you for a time. Perhaps he’d let you take from him before an especially difficult and dangerous mission, but outside that, he’s known for his self-restraint.

1K notes · View notes

mariariley · 8 months

Note

can i please request a thing where reader is unknowingly getting made fun of for her accent and shyness by people she thought were work friends? like she doesn't know and the guys end up hearing it and how they'd tell and comfort her after it clearly hurt her and she acts kinda off while trying to hide it from them please i am asking for me bc i'm having a bad time rn, thank you so much!!

Even English itself has bunch of accents depending on territory. If English isn't your first language, an accent is nothing to be ashamed of :) As long as people can understand you, it's fine. Fun fact: I sound American but some rough European consonants can escape at times, especially when I get angry lmao. So don't be insecure pookie, it's usual and most people find it cute or attractive :)

141 x reader

masterlist || have a request/ask? Here are the rules <3

"Are ya kiddin' me, lass?" Soap started with his Scottish accent, "That's why you've been feeling down? Because of those assholes that have nothing better to do than make fun of people?"

"Sweethear', if you ever feel insecure about your accent, just remember Johnny." Simon added.

"Oi! I'm actually trying to help here, LT."

"You are. She hears you speak and realizes hers isn't so bad." Simon continued with his cheeky sarcasm.

"Alright, let's- just- look. Y/N." Gaz jumped in, "Countries such as UK and US are very diverse, including the language. We're used to accents."

"Just take a look at us, luv" Price added, "None of us sound the same and we all come from the same island ey." a raspy chuckle scratched his throat.

"Hermosa, Rudy's and my most noticeable feature is our accent! So is every Mexican's. It's unique, it's feisty and we proudly wear it." Alejandro said enthusiastically.

"And you should too." Rudy encouraged you.

"Accents have their own charm." Simon decided to knock it off with the sarcasm, pinching your cheek. He loves accents, he finds them adorable and even sexy sometimes, starting with his own.

"Now let's find those bastards and teach 'em a lesson ey?" Soap said as he stood up.

"Easy, sergeant." Price interrupted him. "You'll get your chance."

Divider owners already tagged in my previous posts, I don’t want to spam them 🖤

431 notes · View notes

roosterr · 8 months

Text

bad idea

note: my contribution to gazfest 2023! check out @glitterypirateduck for the prompt list and more info!

paring: kyle 'gaz' garrick x gn!reader

wc: 1.5k

no use of y/n

genre: oneshot promts: 14. 'you're in trouble now' & 19. 'stay still'

summary: you do something dumb to get you and kyle out of a bad situation. he patches you up.

warnings: canon-typical violence, blood and injury, light whump, fluff, established relationship

ao3

of course, you’d expected resistance as you pushed into the building, but the crowd of enemy soldiers you ran into was a lot more firepower than you’d predicted

everything happened so fast; price, ghost, and soap dived one way, and you and gaz dived the other in the same moment the enemies opened fire, effectively separating the five of you and planting the seed of dread in your stomach.

before you knew it, you’d been cornered in a room, the only way out being the door you’d come in through, which was now crowded with people who very much wanted you dead. there wasn’t much in the way of cover in the room, but there was a large, sturdy table that you and kyle had flipped onto its side so you could hide behind it. a few hostiles had ventured closer to try and finish you off, but those foolish few quickly met their death.

you were well and truly pinned.

price had radioed that they’d make their way towards the two of you as soon as possible, once they’d taken out their own pursuers. the only thing you could do until then was try to survive and kill as many hostiles as you could in the process.

you aim down your sights, bones aching more and more with every second, but when you pull the trigger, all that meets your ears is an empty click. the noise sends an ice cold wave through your veins like an omen of death.

you're out of ammo.

shit.

"i’m out!" you call to gaz, and in response he shoots you a fleeting wide eyed glance.

"just hold tight," he calls back, furrowing his brow as he fires shot after shot, "reinforcements are on the way, we just have to stay alive ‘till then."

he tries to sound confident, but you can tell he's just as panicked as you are. your eyes dart around the space, desperately pulling at threads to find a way out of this impossible situation, to make it out alive – to make sure kyle makes it out alive.

it's then that you spot it.

a grenade, on the vest of an enemy solider you'd shot earlier.

his body wasn’t far, but it was beyond the cover of the table, meaning to grab it you'd have to run into open fire; but if you got it, it was a guaranteed way out of here.

you glance back at kyle, still returning fire with his own limited supply of ammo. he hadn't noticed the explosive, still focused on the group guarding the door, but he couldn’t defend your position forever. you'd be risking your life if you went for it, but you'd both be killed if you didn't.

it was a terrible idea, but you were doing it anyway.

with a sudden burst of renewed energy in your exhausted muscles, you launch yourself towards the body from your crouched position, wasting no time in pulling the grenade from his vest – except it wasn’t as easy to grab as you’d first assumed, there was a strap holding it in place that the tremor in your hands made unclasping difficult.

in the back of your mind you hear kyle scream your name, but he’s drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears.

your heart is in your throat as your fingers miss the strap once, twice, and finally get it free on the third try.

you snatch the grenade and prepare to bolt back to cover, but before you can move a blinding pain shoots through your leg, knocking you off balance causing you to tumble backwards.

you’re hit, you realise that much, but through the panic you can’t focus on anything else. you desperately try to shuffle backwards, towards your cover, but without the use of one leg you just can’t seem to move fast enough.

another bullet whizzes by your face, just catching the skin of your cheekbone and leaving you with a noticeable slice. you can’t dwell on how close a call that one was, however, because before you can react you’re being yanked backwards by the strap on the back of your vest.

you hear gaz’s voice calling to you again, his words passing through one ear and straight out the other.

mustering all your remaining strength, you rip the pin from the grenade, push yourself up on your uninjured leg, and pitch the grenade through the doorway with surprising accuracy considering how much your head was swimming.

no sooner than the grenade leaves your fingertips, gaz has an arm around your waist and uses it to haul you to the ground with him. he doesn’t get the chance to scold you before the explosion, both of you squeezing your eyes shut at the flash of light and the boom that makes your ears ring.

when you pry open your eyes, kyle is hovering above you with his hands supporting him on either side of your head, glaring at you with a fury you've never witnessed from him before.

if you weren't so distracted by the agony radiating from the bullet hole in your thigh, you might have had the mind to be flustered by the position. but thankfully – for your dignity, at least – you don’t have the mental capacity to be embarrassed.

"you're in trouble now," he growled down at you, sharply pushing himself off you and leaving you heaving air into your lungs on the floor. you watch him peer over the table, gun poised as he waits a second or two for any movement, but he doesn’t fire.

if the eerie silence is any indication, it sounds like your slapdash plan actually worked.

"what the fuck were you thinking?" kyle yells, ripping the small medical pack from his vest and dropping to his knees next to you as he rifles through it.

"i was– ugh–" you grunt as you agitate your leg sitting up, "thinking, i’m gonna save both of our lives!" you hiss, leaning your back against the table.

"and let yourself get killed in the process?" he pulls out a roll of bandages, piling the material onto your wound and leaning on it with all his weight. a pained groan escapes your throat before you can stop it, but kyle doesn't relent. "you really think that's a good plan?"

"i would if it meant you would live!" you cry, gripping his wrist and clenching your jaw so tight you were worried you might break a tooth.

"just–" you jerk with a yelp when he shifts his weight on your leg, "stay still!" he sounds almost pleading, stunning you into freezing where you sit.

kyle sighs deeply, sitting back on his heels and dragging a hand down his face. when he drops his hand again, your heart clenches at the sight of his glossy eyes and conflicted expression.

"kyle…" you reach a weak hand out to him, resting it on his upper arm, and he snaps back to reality. with a slight shake of his head, he grabs a fresh handful of bandages, putting his weight back on your wound as quickly as he could.

"you're lucky it went clean through." he mutters, sounding significantly more choked up than he had before. "never pull that kinda shit again, you hear me?"

you smile, the pain twisting your expression slightly, and move your hand up to cup his cheek. "not plannin’ on it, garrick."

the bleeding has slowed significantly by now, allowing kyle to lift one of his hands to cover the one holding his face. your thumb strokes the rise of his cheekbone, exhaling as the tension melts from your shoulders. even with the ringing in your ears, the lack of gunshots was almost peaceful.

"oi!" kyle jostles your shoulder, your eyes snapping back open where you hadn't realised they'd fallen shut. "you're not allowed to die on me, love, i'll kick your arse if you do."

"i'll keep that in mind." you breathe an airy chuckle, giving his cheek a gentle pat and dropping your hand into your lap.

there's a pause in the conversation, as kyle grabs more bandages and concentrates on your leg – which had more or less stopped bleeding thanks to his efforts, but despite this, you could still clearly see the panic in his eyes.

"hey," you call out to him, his gaze snapping up to you with a concerned frown. you grin, and gesture for him to come closer, pointing to the small cut on your face. "you missed a spot."

kyle rolls his eyes. "you're an idiot." he chuckles, wiping as much of your blood from his hands as possible before swinging one of his legs over both of yours. he's careful not to touch your injured leg when he leans closer, cleaning the dried blood on your cheek and covering the cut with a large bandaid.

once he's sure you're not bleeding from anywhere else, he takes your face gently in both hands and presses a featherlight kiss to your cheek, right over where the cut was.

"there," he utters, moving to kiss your forehead, then your nose, and finally pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. "all better."

you bring your own hand to rest on his back, smiling against his lips as you press your forehead to his. "yeah, all better."

#gazfest #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #mw2 gaz #roosterr writes

789 notes · View notes

altbite · 1 year

Photo

MW2 + Reader as Images

Listen I was bored and made these masterpieces. I also know they can apply to multiple characters but enjoy it anyway

6K notes · View notes

keys-hellscape-1020 · 1 year

Text

You get captured

You get captured by the enemy, you don’t know where you are, or who you’ve even been captured by. Your boys better hurry up and come get you because time is ticking fast.

Platonic!141st x medic!reader

Warning: Angst, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, heavy mentions of physical assault, being tied up against ones will, kidnapping, gore, mentions of death and dying, cussing, medical inaccuracies, military inaccuracies.

This was not how you were expecting this mission to go, to put it lightly.

Your head pounded, the pain raidiating through your skull, making you feel as though you were a rung bell. You peeled your eyes open, glancing around. You were in a dark, damp cell made of stone. The only light was from an old, flickering lamp that gently swung on a chain in the middle of the room. The door on the other side of the room from you was a large heavy looking thing. The only signs it was a door at all were the hinges on the side, and the small, barred window near the top of it. There was no handle facing into the room.

You struggled to piece together the memories of how you got here. You vaguely recalled rushing along an alley way, trying to meet up with your team mates, when you felt a hard *smack* to the back of your skull.

Ah that’s right. You’ve been captured. Those fuckers.

As your memories started to return you could feel your panic at the situation start to rise before you willed yourself to focus. Don’t give them the pleasure of a reaction, there will be time for that later. Focus.

Observing your surroundings you noticed that you were sat on a cold metal chair which your arms and ankles were tightly tied to with a rope. You pulled on your restraints, trying to see if there was any way you could gain an advantage in your situation, but the restraints were tight, and you could feel rope burn developing already.

Suddenly you heard a loud THUD outside of the door, and there was the small sound of metal hitting metal over and over again. Then the door was pushed open, the stone on the bottom of the door dragged across the stone floor with a horrible screech, forcing you to attempt to conceal a wince.

Out from behind the door came a shriveled looking man. If you had to guess he was about 5’6. He had pasty, greasy skin and looked under weight, although it was hard to tell due to the fact he wore a black suit a size to big for him. He wore no shirt under it, revealing his flabby chest. His facial features looked sunken in, yet somehow at the same time engorged from all the excess skin that hung at the edges of his face. He was clean shaven, with a large bald spot bordered by thin wire-like white hair that was coated in grease. He was closely followed by two large men on either side of him. If you had to guess they were the size of Ghost, if not bigger, but it was hard to get a good read between the fact that they were covered in tactical gear and the poor lighting in the room.

The slimy man slunk forward, approaching you with a sneer that pulled up the flaps of skin on his jaw unnaturally, his two body guards followed closely behind him, starting straight ahead, unbothered about the fact that the light hanging from the ceiling brushed the top of their heads.

“How are you feeling?” The greasy man crackled, putting his face far to close to yours, his breath stunk of rotten fish, and his teeth were yellow and more stumps then anything else.

You did not give him the pleasure of a response, only staring straight back into his shark like eyes. It would take much more than bad breath to make you break.

“I really am so sorry about this.” he began, placing a hand on your shoulder and walking around you. You swore that you could feel his hand leave a trail of slime as it passed along your shoulders and the back of your neck.

He stopped in front of you once more. “I just have a few questions. I’m sure you understand how this… business goes?” He asked.

“Who are you?” You asked, willing your back to remain straight and constantly reminding yourself to maintain eye contact. Don’t give him the pleasure of a reaction.

His sneer, which has been consistent up until now, faded at that. Instead it was replaced with a stomach curling smile.

“Oh? Oh oh oh, come on now!” He cackled, his eyes almost seeming to bulge from his skull. “That’s not important!”

“What is important,” his voice dropped into a sudden whisper, the smile dropping from his face in an instant, “is where those documents your friends found are. So, care to share?”

You kept your face neutral, projecting what you could only hope was a display of perfect calm, as you leaned forward to look him right in his beady eyes. “Go fuck yourself.”

His skin started to stretch and bulge again as his mouth pulled up in to a smile and he erupted in giggles that sounded almost like radio static. Seriously what is wrong with this guys voice?

“I was hoping you’d say that!” He yelped, the sound reminding you almost of a hyena. How they laugh when they’re hunting. How they derive joy from others pain.

“Have at em’ boys.” And with a final sickening smile in your direction he walked out of the room.

Your time here so far had been absolute hell. After that very first beating they tossed a bag over your head and dragged you to another room. This room was similar to the old one, except it had a flimsy cot in one corner and a bucket in the other. Not to mention it was far more filthy.

You could only assume these people operated on a 24 hour schedule, and if the lack of daylight hasn’t completely fucked up your sense of time yet you’d deduced that you’ve been here about a week.

Everyday was the same. You’d wake up on your flimsy cot, and have nothing to do for hours but contemplate when, if, you’d ever be saved. With each passing day that if was getting bigger and bigger.

A little after your daily crisis two large guards would enter your cell, restrain you with a bag over your head, and drag you to another room. Once there and secured by multiple pieces of rope the bag would be removed and you would be greeted by the horrible image of grease man and two of his goons.

He would ask you multiple questions, you wouldn’t answer, and thus he would leave his goons to beat you. Following that they would bring you back to your current residence.

Shortly after your daily beating two guards would enter your cell. One would point a gun at your head while the other would set down a tray of food, if you could call it that, on the floor. The substance on the tray was simple, to put it nicely. A small cup of water, paired with a small stale bread roll, and maybe half a cup of some kind of strange, greasy vegetable mush. Is this what made the guy who was obviously in charge so greasy? You hoped you wouldn’t stay long enough to find out.

And thus that was your routine today. You sat on your cot after your tray was collected by the guards. You could feel the festering wounds on your ribs, given to you the first day you got here. The pus in them told you they were getting infected. God you hoped your boys found you soon. What the fuck were they doing?

You shifted on your cot, taking inventory of your most recent injuries. You had multiple bruises on your face, and you feared you had a concussion, as when you stood up the world spun and you felt weak. Although that could very well be because you were being given practically no food or water. You also could barely walk, you suspected a broken knee the cause.

Your clothes were absolutely filthy and you are sure you smell like shit. You’ve been left in a tank top and cargo pants. Everything else had been taken when you’d gotten captured. Including your socks and shoes, to prevent you from getting far if you ran you suspect.

And then, unexpectedly, a large guard burst into your cell and stood in front of you, aiming a gun at your head. You leaned back on your cot, calming observing him as two more men hurriedly came into your cell, one of them being the slimy man in charge.

“You are going on a little trip.” He growled, anxiously glancing over his shoulder at the guard behind him.

You kept your vision on the guards gun that was in front of your forehead despite the spark of excitement in your gut. Don’t give them the pleasure of a reaction. “Nice gun.” You quipped, trying to mask your feelings.

The guard evidently did not appreciate your compliment as he yanked you up onto your feet, causing you to wince as your knee screamed at you, and he roughly tugged your arms behind your back and secured them with a zip tie. The other guard quickly approached you and tugged a bag over your head.

There would only be one reason they would move you on such obviously short notice. Someone was raiding their base. It might be your boys coming for you or it might be someone else and they’re taking precautions. Either way you had to treat it like the latter, this could very well be your only opportunity to escape.

You struggled to orient yourself as you were dragged through the complex. You tried your best to note corners and the sounds around you but you were being dragged more than you were walking and you could barely force yourself to stay conscious.

As you turned another corner you heard a loud bang of metal hitting something. A door opening? You were dragged forward and felt sunlight on your skin, you never thought that you would miss that feeling so much.

Just as you were basking in actually being outside you heard the loud screech of a plane overhead, and then the whistle of bombs being dropped. Fuck.

You heard the guards yell something, they pulled and pushed but you couldn’t tell what was happening, and then, all at once, an impact.

You flew back, your travel stopped by violently crashing into something. A wall? You could feel intense heat in front of your still covered face, it was almost painful. You knew that you had to move, now, but your knee was screaming at you from you putting your weight on it and your ribs hurt worse than ever. It would be fine to just take a little nap right? At least you would die in the sunshine.

You were startled out of your nap by someone roughly throwing you over their shoulder, causing you to let out a pained grunt.

“Sorry Stitch but we have got to move!”

Wait a minute you know that voice. Don’t you? You at least recognize that name, there isn’t many people who call you that.

The person was running, you could recognize that at least by how much they were moving, every time their shoulder moved it jostled your ribs causing you to let out a pained groan.

After what felt like a century they slid to stop, shrugging you off their shoulder and placing you against a wall. They yelled something you couldn’t make out and then the bag was off your head and you could see again.

Hovering in front of you with his brows furrowed in concern was Price. He reached behind you to quickly free your arms.

“Stitch! Are you alright?” You heard someone yell over the sound of gunfire. Turning your head you saw Soap next to you. You hadn’t even seen him there.

“Evac is in 1 minute! Hold position!”

Who said that? Price? Where did he go? He wasn’t in front of you anymore. You tried to will yourself to focus, being this out of it in an active war zone guaranteed death.

You attempted to ground yourself by taking stock of your surroundings. You’re on a roof, placed against a wall. Soap is on one side of you, peaking out from behind cover to fire at who you could only guess were your kidnappers. Price was on your other side in a similar situation, but where were Gaz and Ghost? Did they not come or are they just outside your line of sight? You hoped they were okay.

Your vision was swimming. How long had you been awake? It felt like forever. You leaned your head back against the wall. You could just rest for a moment couldn’t you? Your boys would wake you up.

You were stirred awake by your body being jostled side to side, and the loud sound of wind rushing past. You had to will yourself to wake up, were your boys alright? You could never live with yourself if they got hurt retrieving you.

You slowly peeled your eyes open, and your suspicions were immediately confirmed, you were in a heli.

“SITCH.” And with a call of your name someone’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, causing you to yelp in pain as they constricted your ribs.

“Let up Soap!” You heard a raspy voice bark from the other side of the Heli, causing you to lift your head to look at them. You were met with Price, who was looking at you with obvious concern. You never thought you would be so happy to see his horrible, horrible, hat.

Soap pulled back to hold onto your shoulders, being much more gentle now but still keeping a firm grip.

“Scared the shit out of me Stitch.” He admitted, raising his voice to be heard over the Heli. Despite his loud volume the look in his eyes told you that he had nothing but soft intentions.

You rocked forward to tackle him in a hug, which he immediately returned, taking care to be far more gentle this time. Gosh you missed him.

Pulling yourself partly away from him you called out, “Is anyone hurt?” Only hoping your voice was able to carry over the sounds of the heli.

Gaz leaned over from where he was sitting on your other side to put a hand on your shoulder. “We’re all fine Stitch, worry about yourself for once!”

“What he said!” Price called out, giving you a pointed look that clearly said “Rest for once in your life or I’ll make you.” Ghost simply nodded his head, but you could tell he was questioning your sanity at being help captive for a week and the first thing you ask them is if they’re all alright.

“We are landing!” You heard from the front of the heli. Nik? You never thought you would be so happy to hear him.

As the heli cruised down to the base you saw a stretcher and medical personnel waiting, one of your boys must have called in your injuries.

The heli landed and your boys systematically got out until it was just you and Ghost left. You attempted to stand to get out but started falling over as soon as you got your legs underneath you.

Before you could hit the ground Ghost quickly wrapped one arm, with a gentleness you did not know he possessed, around your waist. He brought your other arm around his shoulders and gently and slowly helped you walk. He let you limp along, yet he was still supporting most of your weight, he knew he would at least want to walk out on his own two feet if he had just survived a week of torture. You deserved the same respect.

And so he helped you make your way slowly out of the helicopter, and assisted you in sitting down on the stretcher as the rest of your boys watched. As the medical personnel rolled you away you gave one final wave towards your boys. You couldn’t thank them enough for this.

You were getting increasingly anxious to see your boys.

It had only been about 6 hours since you were brought in, and you are sure that if they had been allowed to they would’ve come in already, but doctors and nurses were still anxiously fluttering around you, although thankfully the scans and blood tests were slowing down to a stop at last.

You were in a hospital bed, the smell of antiseptic was comforting and reminded you of home. It reminded you of long hours in the medical bay tending to your boys stupid injuries, yelling at them for not taking care of themselves, what you would give to go back to them right now.

You were roused out of your daze by a sound coming from the other room, the lobby? It was hard to tell where it was coming from.

The doors flew open, (unsurprisingly, you really needed to teach them how to open doors normally) and Price came stomping in.

“It has been 6 bloody hours! I want to see them damnit!”

“Captain I know your upset but we’re running tests, please step outside.” Said a nurse who quickly came up to try and push him back outside.

“Price!” You croaked, your voice was shot to hell and back due to all the smoke you had inhaled earlier.

He immediately rushed over to your side and gently brought you into a warm hug, you could feel his shoulders shaking slightly, was he crying?

“Kid I am so fucking sorry. This never should’ve happened on my watch.” He said sternly as he pulled back to look you in the eyes. Contrary to what you suspected he wasn’t actually crying, but his face was getting more and more red by the second and he was shaking fiercely.

You pulled him back into a hug, (on a list of things you missed, Price’s hugs definitely make top 10).

“Don’t say that. You did everything you could, it was my own fault that I got captured.” You said, attempting to soothe him.

He pulled back once again, and you had to suppress a whine as his heat and comfort left you. Let me hug you damnit old man!

“No. It is no one’s fault but the bastard who captured you. Roger?” He asked strictly, looking you dead in the eyes.

“Check Captain.” you said, your eyes filling up with tears. You missed him, you missed this, so much.

Your emotional moment was interrupted by someone clearing their throat, causing you to turn your head.

There stood the rest of your boys in all their glory. Their presence was not helping your emotional state as once you caught sight of them the tears started flooding out of your eyes like a waterfall.

Gaz and Soap immediately sprung into action, both of them leaping forward to wrap you in a hug as gently as they could. Price fell back to let them comfort you but kept a hand on your shin the whole time to remind you he was there. Ghost didn’t join in on the hug but he was rubbing gentle circles on your back, his presence was quite but his intentions could never be lost on you.

You had a long, long road of recovery ahead of you, there was absolutely no denying that, but with your boys by your side you have no doubt that you’ll make it.

Just after one more question.

“Hey guys, which one of you ordered those bombs dropped on my head?”

Silence.

“OHHHHH would you look at the time? Ghost don’t cha’ remember we have that uhhh meeting! Yeah a meeting!”

“At midnight Soap?” You asked, completely deadpan.

“Yep! Y’know those people in charge! No sense of time! Come on Ghost!” And with that your local Scotsman ran from the room with his tail between his legs, Ghost following behind with a sigh.

“I’m gonna kill that fucker the moment I can walk again.”

3K notes · View notes