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yandere-kokeshi · 9 months

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— Who hurt you?

— yandere dad-ghost x gn teenager reader

Summary || You come home bloodied and bruised from school. While getting patched up by your dad, you reveal things

A/N || This is one of my favorite fics atm. Idk why but seeing soft dad ghost?? Yeah. That's how to do, my heart is. Anyway, enjoy 😉

Warnings || details of being hurt/bullied, blood, hints that ghost kills, and comfort.

Copper and sharpie. That’s all you can smell. The stench has embossed itself on your clothes, your flesh, and inside your nostrils. It was embarrassing really, coming home after being chased by bullies.

They slapped you to the ground. Laughed in your face as the girls kept you from getting up, sitting directly on your chest. They pulled out permanent markers and drew foul things on your face, arms, and legs.

Knead your stomach and kicked you. All you wanted was to hang out with them.

Silence settles between the bathroom, hearing your dad — Simon Riley, Ghost or a big Kodiak bear you like to call him, go through his bedroom, the sounds of his drawers opening and closing as he huffs loudly.

You heard the cruel rumors of your reputation. It was a gnawing sort of feeling of betrayal. One that ate away at your very soul and left nothing but pain in its wake. The action alone may not be the worst thing in the entire world. But what made betrayal ache was that in the past, in its place, was trust.

The rumors of you spread like a disease; whispers in the school of ‘slut’ and ‘freak’. Everyone looked at you like something else. Even teachers scoffed at you. You thought you could handle it, until today. It’s expected for your favorite shirt to be stained — again.

You didn’t want to hear your dads voice. Him being incredibly disappointed in you.

You leaned your head on the back of the toilet, chewing the inside of your cheek as you waited for him to come in. It was long, just like the torture you’d endured hours before.

“What happened?”

You stayed quiet, continuing to look up at the white ceiling before turning your head to the side, looking at him in the doorway with half-lidded eyes. He’s leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed against his chest; almost like he’s disappointed. But his voice says otherwise.

“Kiddo, what happened?” he re-asks, his boots creaking with the shift in weight distribution, floorboards straining as he walks across the space toward you.

You stayed quiet, making him stare at you before sighing.

He opened the bottom of the sink, grabbed the med kit and seized the necessary items before turning on the faucet, grabbing another dark rag due to the one you’re holding already used; stained with markers, blood, and some snot.

Your dad clicked his tongue, “What the hell happened?”

“M’ don’t wanna talk about it,”

“You worried me,” your dad voiced, using your name. You considered his words carefully, staring at your lap, legs, and arms littered with all kinds of marks.

“You also worry too much,” you pointed out, watching him kneel before you.

He steals your words from your mouth when his huge hand settles around the bloodied rag in your palm. He doesn’t speak; at first, silence hangs between you, once again as throws it away; grabbing the cloth into the sink. Then, he soaks it until it’s dripping, droplets pinging off the surface, and wrings it out. His dorsal muscles ripple beneath the backs of his palm, veins a ballpoint color and standing out against his pale skin.

“You didn’t answer your phone,” he directs, carefully holding the damp fabric and slowly reaching for your face. “I thought something happened. Which did.”

You stayed quiet for a second. “… I didn’t mean to scare you,” you whisper.

You can see his brown eyes narrow, his mind occupied by something. Clearly, he’s angry. And who wouldn’t? Finding your kid barely able to stand up, laying against the wall for help covered in bruises and blood, was a frightening sight. Especially with his type of job, anything is possible.

The pressure of the cloth against your face is so delicate, almost like he’s appearing afraid to hurt you — gently brushing away the flecks of blood in your hairline as well as the drawings. He shakes his head gently, considering your words. “Not your fault, kiddo.”

He then grabbed your arm, rotating your wrist as he examined the bruises and forming – you watched his face fill with fury.

“Who did this to you?” he seethed, voice deep and low, a tone you’d heard not so much before.

You shook your head, clearly not in the mood to talk about it. But it didn’t satisfy him, he called your name, demanding you to look at him. Tears were already falling before more words curled out of his mouth.

At long last, finally with the adrenaline and frightened state going away, you let your guard down, letting tears pour down your eyes. It stung, face hurting more than you’d like. But you didn’t care. You needed to cry.

Your hands went up to wipe away the tears, but before you can hit your sore cheeks, he’s capturing you in his arms and pulling you to his chest. He doesn’t say anything, letting your head rest on his shoulder. All you required at this moment was to be held, to know you were loved. And that he wasn’t mad — never at you.

He rubbed your back, kissing the side of your head as you cried out more — sobbing turned into occasional hiccups and gasps, then sniffles and permanent hiccups that he would occasionally let out a chuckle on.

“Ready to talk about it, kid?” He asks cautiously, prodding but patient. You only sigh softly before looking up at him, quickly noticing the snot and tears stained into his gray hoodie.

“It’s just…” you pause, trying to find the right words to say. “Things have been rough, lately. School has been hard. Everything seems to be going wrong. Especially with the other kids.”

His eyes squint as he listens to you speak, the hazel color meeting your own, leaving you choking in your words. He’s your dad. You shouldn’t be afraid of telling him. But what if—?

“—And I know that being a teenager is hard. But, I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to see them.” you trail off, a shuddering breath escaping your lips as you feel your eyes swell up once more.

His thumb catches them before they fall, however, and you smile at him for a moment before continuing.

“I’m scared to go back,” you whisper brokenly.

For a moment, the bathroom is silent, but all at once your dad’s arms are tightly around you in a hug. All-encompassing, it only makes you cry once more. Your head slumps over, forehead pressing into his shoulder – his hand pressing against the back of your neck.

“How long has it been happening?”

You shrug your shoulders, digging yourself deeper into his shoulder. “Long enough, I guess…”

“Kiddo…” he starts, sighing out of defeat. “Shit- I’m sorry for not noticing. Le’s keep you home, mkay’?”

“Okay,” you whisper, but that’s good enough for him. His hands started rubbing your back, before reaching over for the rag on the counter — continuing to clean up the stained marks and your irritated cheeks.

“Do you need me to do anything?” he says, his tone hardened. From the looks of it, he had a plan. But, you knew or not. His face was unreadable at times.

You shook your head, before hissing out at the soaped cloth on your cheek. He gently moved your hair out of the way, just enough to expose the wound near your eye.

“Sorry. Need to make sure it won’t get infected.”

Before you know it, he was done. Already putting the first aid kit back under the sink and throwing the used cloth into the wash. “Tell ya’ what,” he says, making you raise your eyebrows. Though, he pulled his cracked-screen phone from his pocket, the exact one he’s had for years and the one you’ve begged to get a new one.

He offers it to you, already on the phone on. More often or not, he didn’t let you snoop through it. Licensed files detailed in the phone. Plus, the last time you played a prank on him with it, he grounded you — for two weeks.

“W-hat do you want me to… do?” you stammered questioningly, hesitantly grabbing it before looking at the screen. Then back at him.

“Order pizza. Get whatever you want.”

Your eyes widened, a smile widening to which he chuckled at. “There you are,” he says fondly, hand brushing your hair back. “You get whatever, yeah?”

“Okay,” you say, the first true smile forming today.

You got up, eagerly running out of the bathroom and downstairs as Simon yelled a small ‘watch it!’. As he gets up from his knees, he walked into his office – making sure to hear that you’re calling the pickup line before ringing Price.

He immediately answered, asking what he needed. From the way you described their name-calling, the images of you sobbing as he held you, anger filled his veins, knuckles turning white as he clenched his fist with rage.

“I need a favor.”

And weeks later, the news began talking about a murder spree – snapping you out of your thoughts, only to see both of your ex-friends, and those teachers on TV. A pang of guilt set through you. But, beside you, your dad had a huge smile; one that was promising to never let anyone hurt you.

—

Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

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bunnysrph · 1 year

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NEIL ELLICE — john 'soap' mactavish

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ghouljams · 3 months

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Hello Ghoul! I'm absolutely in love with your regency Au! 🥺 What do you think of -

After a night of dancing together, Price visiting the reader and their family, maybe disguising it as having a little accident a cut or something (previously mentioned that readers father is a doctor) and seeing that reader is really hardworking, with helping and/or taking care of their father.

Awwww just like in the 1870's au Price can be a little reckless when he knows it means he'll see his darling.

You hear your father laughing from his clinic and push a roll of bandages away from the edge of the shelf you're inventorying. It's nice to hear him having fun with a patient. So many people come in with horrible afflictions, you know it takes a toll on him. Your father's kindness is what made you want to go into medicine in the first place, he's leaving the world a better place, you'd like to do that too.

You wipe your hands on your apron and jot down your counts, making note of what you need to restock. There are a few tonics that you're running low on, one or two poultices that could use a refresh, and you're nearly out of the candied ginger your father is so fond of passing out to children complaining of stomach aches. You'll stop by the market later and see what you can find. You hear your name as you pass by the exam room and pause.

After a moment's thought you raise your hand to knock and are met by your father tugging the door open. He looks surprised to see you, but it only lasts a moment before he's smiling.

"Ducky!" He greets, "You have a patient." You blink at him. You don't get patients, as far as the people who come in are concerned you're a glorified nurse and not a physician's apprentice. Still, hearing him say that makes you giddy, joy bubbling in your chest like champagne. Your father squeezes your shoulders, a look in his eyes that you recognize immediately as pride. You do your best to look professional as you step out of the way and take his place in the exam room.

Price gives you a friendly wave as your father closes the door behind you. His smile is tight, pained, but warm. He's holding his arm close to his chest, and you focus on that instead of the way he asks, "Ducky?"

"A nickname," You tell him, moving closer to inspect his arm. Your fingers hover over him, and you glance at his face. "May I?"

"You're the doctor," He smiles, something in the way he says it makes emotion swell in your chest. You're the doctor, try to keep the smile off your face. He barely flinches when you prod at his wrist, feel over the length of his forearm, checking for breaks and sprains, then up to the elbow. He flexes when you touch his bicep and hisses out a curse, you smile to yourself.

"Try to stay still," You remind him, feeling past it for his shoulder. The pained groan he hums out is indication enough but you still give a quiet apology and test his range of motion. It doesn't take a doctor to tell he's dislocated his shoulder not when it sticks at that angle. You let him cradle his arm close again and go to find a sling for him. "How'd this happen?" You ask over your shoulder.

"Military exercise," He responds quickly, too quickly, "How'd you get the nickname?"

"Used to call my dad 'duck' because that's what everyone else called him." You hum, pulling a length of cotton cloth from one of the shelves against the wall, "They were calling him 'doc' but my mum says I was a little too excited when he started calling me that too, so the nickname stuck."

"Cute."

You shake your head and turn back to him, "Me or the story?"

"You," He doesn't flinch at that either. You think a man like John Price doesn't flinch for much, doesn't hesitate either.

"I'm going to be a lot less cute when I set that shoulder," You move closer and, as if on instinct, Price reaches for you. His good arm grabs for your hip, and you deposit the sling into his grasp. His fingers tighten around the cloth immediately, more easily swayed than you'd expected. You suppose the threat of oncoming pain would make anyone docile. "Lie back on the table," You direct him. He's already sat on the edge of it, so it's an easy move.

You help him lay his arm out straight, holding onto his wrist as you stand beside him. The last thing you want to do is further injure this man, but you can't do anything for the pain you're about to cause him. The only thing you can do is try to make it fast. Holding his wrist tight with both hands, you move his arm up and down, circling the joint slowly. You work his arm from rest to shoulder height, doing your best not to grit your teeth in sympathy at the next part; rotating his arm up over his head until the joint pops back into place. You've heard men shout when your father does this, the crack of bone slotting into position always signals the sharpest pain. Price only growls, low and displeased in the back of his throat, his eyes closed to the pain as a crack rings through the room.

You're gentle bending his arm back down over his chest, let him stay laying where he is while you take the cotton cloth from him and fashion him a sling. You tie it behind his neck, watching the rise and fall of his chest, admiring the curve of his mouth while his eyes are still closed. He grabs your wrist with his uninjured hand when you try to pull away, quick enough you don't have time to react. You look from his hand to his eyes, held in place by his gaze more than his grip.

"What happened to your arm Captain?" You ask again, though your voice feels softer, and you wet your lips when he doesn't immediately answer. His eyes leave yours only to follow the path of your tongue. His thumb rubs against the back of your hand, skin against skin. You don't wear gloves when you're working.

"You're beautiful," He answers so truthfully you feel heat pop across your cheeks like suddenly standing too close to a fire. He doesn't seem delirious, quite the opposite, his eyes are clear and his demeanor hasn't changed. He doesn't 'remember himself' or make any apologies for the remark when he answers you, again, "I wanted a reason to see you."

"You couldn't have waited for the next party?" You feel softer still, coaxed by the gentle swipe of his thumb, the insistent rub of his skin against yours. Improper, and lovely. He smiles, properly, in the way the makes his eyes crease.

"It wouldn't have been proper for you to set my arm at a party."

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stardaiyamondo · 12 days

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𓉸ྀི ⠀ cod core ▗▬̸̎͞/̄͆̅ ̎ ̎̿͞͞͞͞͞͞͞͞ι̚━─

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saintlopezlov3r · 1 year

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Simon Riley💀

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2

“Choices have consequences…”

#simon riley #icons #game #cod #call of duty #mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #ghost #edit #imagine #quotes #cod mw2 #2022 #3

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blingblong55 · 9 months

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HOLY SHIT

INTERACTION WITH FERAL GRIM AND GENERAL SHEPARD WHEN?!

But seriously!! Think of the potiental!!!

Gen Shepard goes down to see who this "Grim" is and why Graves and his shadows are so fucking terrified, only to find none of the 141 or KorTac on base. So, he looks where anyone would look after not seeing a member of either teams in the halls, the kitchen/breakroom. What does he find? A dark room with two glowing eyes staring at him from the darkest corner. Old white man is spookyed, but turns on the light. He finds grim, legs on the ceiling and hands on the wall staring at him, and when I say General Shepard shits enough bricks to build a goddamn mansion when grim start growling you bet I fucking mean it!

He tries (and fails) to not look scared because he's a military General in the greatest nation God dammit!

Gen Shepard yells at grim to "get the fuck down and stop acting like a damn freak!" To which they do, like a damn demon from any of the conjuring movies mind you, and lunges at General Shepard once on the ground.

Cue chase scene of grim barking and making feral noises while running after General Shepard on all fours, this was of course recorded as he was screaming like a little bitch

Now if anyone reports grim to him, he just let's them be and waits for the flashbacks he got by simply heading their name to stop.

Lesson? Don't fuck with grim if the 141 or KorTac don't like you

Also grim has taken 3 bullets directly to the chest and only got more enraged, when asked how they felt, they responded with "my chest feels wonky, like my lungs are 2 water balloons and my heart is beating to some pop song. Otherwise fine!"

A/N: I read wonky as wanky 😭😭

I totally agree with this though Grim would literally haunt the dreams of General Shephard, like the shit he saw as a soldier is not as bad as that chase.

"Sir, Grim bit another soldier-"

"I don't want to hear it," he responded, Was he tired of the bullshit? yes, he always was but it's better to leave you and bite another soldier than to bite him. I mean he is old after all so let's just let him enjoy his last years on Earth. (Not really he deserves hell tbh)

He still has horrible nightmares about you, it's like those black and white films that are like 'scary' but he actually gets mini heart attacks at times.

You are now the reason his kids want to take him to a therapist and put him on meds.

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deadunderorbit · 9 months

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Nobody can resist Johnny

[ref]

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gatopidao · 11 months

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ︶⏝︶ ୨ ghost & konig + cod! ✷ layouts ୧ ︶⏝︶

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀☆★

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jesterlav · 1 year

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Alejandro Vargas & Johnny MacTavish in Modern Warfare 2 (2022)

They are maybe my favourites in this campaign… just maybe.

#alejandro vargas #johnny mactavish #cod soap #johnny soap mactavish #modern warfare screenshots #modern warfare 2 #cod:mw #cod mw22 #call of duty icons #soap icons #alejandro vargas icons #mw2 icons #activision #modern warfare 2 2022 #call of duty modern warfare #ghost modern warfare #cod ghost

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stillinracooncity · 6 months

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this couple lives rent free in my mind ✨

— ‘ can you show me your face? ’ — ‘ negative... ’ — ‘ are you ugly, lieutenant? ’ — ‘ quite the opposite, ma'am ’

credits to @ave661 on my knees for your work!

➣ 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

➤ like, reblog or credits if u save

#simon ghost riley #jill valentine #simon ghost riley x reader #crackship #call of duty mw2 #resident evil 3 remake #my edits #cod mwii #a huevo!#multifandomedit #im so happy doing this!#icons #random icons

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licorishh · 6 days

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i love og soap too much. my stomach hurts. i don't feel good.

#artists on tumblr #call of duty #modern warfare #cod modern warfare #john soap mactavish #09 modern warfare #i am a soap and ghost girlie first and a human second. wahoo.#no thoughts only kevin mckidd's performance in cliffhanger uggghhh. “took the scenic route eh?" shut your MOUTH you beautiful man #“break's over roach. let's go.” what if i suffered cardiac arrest and died right now #you have the GALL to save me while i'm slipping off the iceberg. you have the GALL to grab my hand and throw me to the top so i won't fall #how dare you actually?? do you know what that did to me at age thirteen?? i bout flipped my lid and my dad looked at me like i was crazy #i need me a rugged scotsman and i need one now. i am no longer asking #sorry for exposing myself like this but you would understand if you played the dadgum game #lea shut up about fictional people challenge go #i hope i did him justice :(#i know he doesn't have the face paint for more than like two missions in mw2 but it's so iconic i can't leave it out #the oil rig + gulag getup remains one of his best i don't make the rules #that and the sierra leone one with the sleeves rolled up. real ones know #next time he will be awarded a shirt ^^)b need more anatomy practice for now though

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yandere-kokeshi · 9 months

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Hi,I really love everything your write and wondering if you could do 141+Alejandro & Konig got heartbroken as Reader said no to their proposal of marriage then few years later they all realise that the Reader just want to protected them because the enemy was threaten them to kill 141+Alejandro & Konig?

Take your time and don't forget to drink water.

— Yandere TF-141 and König reacting to their darling refusing to marry due to being threatened

Warnings: yandere behavior, talks about death and torture, hints of sex, and kidnapping.

A/N: Aw, thank you <3. Also, I decided to change up your question a bit; I don’t think they’d wait a few years, so I changed it to: ‘When they find out after they’d kidnap the reader’. Hope that makes sense. Enjoy :)!

Captain “Price” John:

He’s confident; something a Captain should be. When buying the ring, he makes sure it’s all customized and liked to your taste – something he admires a lot. It’s a beautiful, classy Koa wood ring; stainless steel with gold specks.

When the time is right, and he’s on his knee, Price would be taken aback at first from your rejection. He’s quick to asking why, but with you dodging any of the questions and watching your nervous body language, he’s soon putting away the ring and distracting you with your favorite take-out.

Reaching his breaking point and taking you away from the public eye, leading him to finding the reason you denied the marriage, Price is… angry. His hands tighten into white fists, his threatening tone asking ideas and clues on if you know it is.

When words slur out of your mouth, he’s telling you to stay clear upstairs. A kiss on your forehead as a promise to be back before 8. Before you know it, you’re awakened by the front door opening and slamming, his recognizable boots storming into the bedroom as he huffs and pants.

John never told what he did, and he didn’t have to. Not with the way his beard was stained with blood, his tactical gear and guns stained with… gore.

Days later, the news began talking about a gorey show; images of those enemies, and classified information on how they were killed due to the inhumane ways of torture. A pang of relief and a slight hint of fear. He was inhumane. But he did it for you, it shows his love and obsession.

—

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

Marriage is big for Ghost. A big commitment. But, something he wants and needs with you. Marriage binds people together, and he would make you officially his. The ring is simple, but gorgeous enough. It’s hand-made, made in thick black gold with Moissanite Celtic jewels; engravings of vines.

The moment he passes the box while eating after a particular romantic act, Simon is holding your hands as he whispers the works – he’s hopeful and nervous; ready to slide the hand-made ring he worked months on onto your promising finger.

But the moment you reject him, he will become quiet. He would just stare at you confused, not wanting to believe that he heard that right. But once the situation settles in, it will get uncomfortable and awkward. Simon will simply nod, before sliding it back into his pocket and finish eating – doing the dishes and heading off for the night, not looking or speaking at you.

Though, the minute he makes you permanently his, figuring out why you denied the engagement ring, Ghost becomes a brutal person.

His eyes are darker. Nothing is in them. He’s demanding, using his Lieutenant voice to ensure you stay here and do as he says while he leaves. A kiss on the lips and your forehead was comforting, but seeing the rifle slung on his back wasn’t.

It had been days since he was gone. And ensuring you were okay, he frequently called you — his nicknames and lovely nicknames were a comfort. Though, the next day he returns, his mask sliding off the minute he sees you; his lips crashing on yours as he greedily picks you up.

Nothing of that day is talked about, but he promises you it’s fine, he took care of it, and you’re safe. Nothing can or will hurt you as long as he breathes against your lips.

—

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish:

Soap always dreamed of marriage, especially when you came into the picture. Days and months, if not years, going into the thought of the ring. He makes sure the ring is the most extravagant; silver and rose gold, an oval cut mixed with mossy green and pearly white. It has a crown, mixed with smaller jewelry all around the gemstone.

When he got on his knee and saw your nervous look, a shy shake of the head, his heart stopped. Johnny is in absolute denial, not even wanting to think that you just don’t like him. He blamed it on everything else. You probably didn’t feel well that day, maybe he did something wrong, someone else confused you now in your life. Due to his delusions, he didn’t fight against his darker thoughts, believing that it was all just for you and making you help to realize your feelings.

He didn’t get it. Why didn’t you want him? Though, he’s persistent. Leading him to kidnap you in the name of ‘talking things out’. Which, also, leads to him finding out the truth.

At first, he stared at you: a small ‘what?’ whispering out before his blue eyes going deeper in the waves, abruptly asking when it happened; bringing you into a bear hug as he promises he’ll take care of it and you.

The next day, Johnny is acting too excited and calmly — making you the biggest plate of breakfast, ensuring he doesn’t want any as he’s going to run some important errands for the team.

You don’t think of it, but something nitpicks your skin. You go on the day, doing chores and finally ending the night into a foamy, bubbly hot bath; alongside with your headphones and garlic bread. Though, you didn’t see Johnny coming in, wiping his face with a white towel, which is smeared with blood.

He jumps in, surprising you with a sexy gift, he says it’s deserved. And you directly ignore the stained blood; a naive thought coming in. Johnny promises over his life, that he’ll protect you — regardless of what happens, he loves you.

—

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

Marriage was something he didn’t know he could have – sure, he’s thought of it. But the preparation was longing, the tiredness of needing to see your reaction to the perfect bought ring made him smile cheekily. He wanted this to be perfect, just like you.

The ring he’d picked out was simple, but something you’d admire. It’s a thick, multiplied silver ring accompanied by a raw sapphire diamond, smaller stones beside the middle one. He made sure it’s a bit tight, only enough, so you can never take it off.

Once finding a romantic spot, breaking down to one knee with a flustered smile; the famous words of romantic promises being spilled out. But the moment you rejected him, it was all very awkward. Gaz, is heartbroken, but is overplaying his heartbreak; ensuring you that it’s fine whilst keeping a fake smile on.

Ensuring he’s okay, the outside seems fine but the inside? He’s calmly planning a plan – bringing you home gagged and locked in his home, forever.

His reaction to finding out why you rejected him, his face, is contorted into anger. An ugly feeling and look. Seconds later, his shoes were on and so was his mask. Just like any lover, he would do anything for you.

He gladly cleans himself up before coming home, his gentle smile and reassuring hug engulfing you. The next few days, he’s hovering and overbearing – his kisses and hugs too tight and rarely off of you.

From now on, he makes sure to keep intact with you – your freedom stripped away even further. He didn’t want you to see the TV talking about the cruel murder case that involved with all types of issues.

—

Alejandro “Colonel” Vargas:

He’s the most optimistic about marriage — he loves you. Has dreamed of it ever since he met you. The scenario’s coming in like ocean waves are peaceful to him; the big and special photos of you and him dancing at the ceremony, dancing at the picked song for the wedding makes his heart full.

He makes sure to take a long amount of time picking out the ring, something special. He decides to pick a glamorous, cubic-zirconia Heart. Made out of silver-copper, the gem is iridescent opal and shaped like a heart. Much like Gaz, he made sure the band had thorns — a promise of never taking it off.

Alejandro takes the planning seriously. He makes sure to pick a beautiful area, taking you out to an expensive dinner beforehand, before getting on his knee; his gentle smile and lovely eyes so wide. But, when you said no, his smile and excitement died down.

His face says it all: intense and scary. He’s mad, and immediately confronting you with a heartbroken look; Alejandro is asking why, why did you deny me? Don’t you love me? Did I do something?

This ends up with him remotely kidnapping you. But, when you wake up, he promises to take care of you — which ends up with him finding out the reason you rejected him in the first place.

Ultimately, his reaction is anger. His eyes widen, and his eyebrows furrowed; he asks you clues, giving him ideas on who it is. And when you did, he’s leaving — grabbing his boots, gear, and a promise of being back as soon as he can; a mission needs to be finished.

Alejandro comes back a few days later, arms filled with expensive gifts. His smile is welcoming, his eyes filled with love, and a bunch of kisses delivered with specialty. His whispers in your ear is a clear sign of perfection, nobody will hurt you.

—

König:

He’s excited. König’s been dreaming of this day, his mind replaying fake scenarios of him holding you after marriage. Your naked and sweaty bodies pressing against one another is the brink of his life.

Getting to the ring was hard. Not only did he want it simple and cute, but overbearing and telling you that he loves you. He picked on a silver ring, the band coppered and the gem a garnet. Beautiful designs imprinted in it.

He picked somewhere quiet, a date secluded for you and him; an area full of beautiful flowers and security, and a land of where he can take off his mask. Furthermore, he’s devastated when you shake your head. König doesn’t understand why you would reject him, and his mind begins stumbling with what he probably could have done better, leading him to have a good few days of snapping and rude behavior.

The kidnapping of you was easy. But finding out why you denied was hard — he was fumming. A pissed-off soldier. Even though he’s boiled, he takes care of you first, ensuring you are safe and loved on, and no he won’t leave. Not tonight. But tomorrow he will. He’ll take care of everything, just like he had in the past.

König makes sure you know he loves you and he isn’t mad. But he is to the enemy. He asks help, from a few friends and the team. He leaves with an excuse, and leaves stained kisses all over your neck; a promise of him coming back.

He called you often, reminding you that he loves you, and he will be home as soon as he can. Work is hard and okay. But, this problem will be fixed as soon as possible.

The minute he comes home, his attitude is more open; he’s clingy, unbearable, and always following you around. He’s never letting you out of his sight, König is your personalized guard dog — a constant reminder of who he is.

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My Masterlist :)

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