#Alejandro cod

[josh-post]

[mutant-okuri-inu]

Call Of Duty Modern Warframe II - Howling and Hollow

Chapter 2: El Sin Nombre

Sigma is still seething.

Capturing Hassan, grilling him for information about the missiles, then just... letting him go? It was insanity. And meeting Shepherd for the first time? Something about him had set her instincts on edge. His stare — cold, unwavering — made her skin crawl. She didn't like it. Didn't trust it.

Now, she���s sitting on a crate inside the safehouse, her gear stripped off, methodically sharpening her combat knife. The rhythmic scrape of metal against stone was the only sound in the quiet. She was exhausted, but rest wouldn’t come. Her mind wouldn't shut up — replaying Shepherd’s words again and again in her brain.

Frustrated, she sheathed the knife and stood up, her boots make the creaking sounds on the floorboards as she went outside. The air outside was cooler, clean,

the wind whispered through the trees. Stillness. Peaceful, but not comforting.

Leaning on the porch rail, forearms rests on top of it, she looked out across the dense bush.

Oh Las Almas… The City of Souls. Only been in Mexico a few times when on Spring break while she still went to high school.

She heard footsteps behind her, the wood creaking under heavy boots. She didn’t turn. It could’ve been Graves, or Ghost, maybe Alejandro. But instead, someone stepped up beside her.

"I figured I'd find you here," said the familiar Scottish voice.

Sigma glanced over her shoulder. "You should be resting."

Soap gave a half-shrug, approached beside her, his gears are off. "Could say the same about you."

"I'm not tired." She rubbed the back of her neck. "Too much going on upstairs."

He nodded slowly. "Shepherd really screwed the pooch, letting that bastard go."

Sigma scoffed. "Graves wasted his breath interrogating Hassan. Did nothing. This whole op feels like a bad joke."

"Aye. We stopped one disaster, sure. But it shouldn't have come to this. I’m dissapointed too."

They stood in silence, side by side, watching the wind stir the trees Halia’s arms are crossed as her arms rests on porch trail, same as Soap’s exact posotion. No pressure to talk. Just quiet. Comfortable.

Then Soap broke it. "Sigma, right? I only know your callsign. Mind if I ask your real name?"

She hesitated a moment. "Halia Connors."

"Halia..." he repeated softly, then, without thinking — "Pretty."

She blinked, raising an eyebrow. "Hmm?"

Soap straightened up, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I mean — your name. It’s, uh, pretty."

Her cheeks warmed. She looked away, smiling faintly. "Thanks. Ghost called you Johnny, right? Johnny MacTavish, I presume?"

"Right in one," he said with a nod.

She chuckled. "That startled me. Didn't expect Ghost to use first names. That thing almost scared me to death by his mask.” That comment made almost Soap chuckle under his breath.

But then her smile faded. Her eyes lost focus. A distant look crept in. The wind was still there, but something else rushed in — gunshots, screaming, her mother’s voice panicking, her father's yelling, nightmare—

No. Not now.

She sucked in a breath and shook her head sharply. Soap turned his head, concern flickering in his eyes. "You alright?"

She didn’t meet his gaze. "Just a little... messed up. Old ghosts, memories, you know​?"

"Yeah," he said softly. "Know that feeling. But you’re real quiet, althought you had a lot of nerve back there."

“I’m not broody.” She shakes her head a bit. “We let Hassan go, now we’re crawling back in the shadows.”

Soap’s body lowers a bit, tilting his head while looking at Sigma. “But shadows are where we do our work.”

Her eyes met his. “Are you always that optimistic?”

“Only when I’ve got backup I trust.”

The silence returned, this time heavier — not awkward, but honest. Over the next few minutes, they talked. Not about missions or orders. About where they came from. Who they were before all this. She didn’t mention her parents. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Keeping this as a secret, killed in such a disaster in front of little girl’s eyes. Then the door creaked open behind them. They turned their heads over their shoulders, Alejandro stepped out with serious look on his face.

"Gear up," he said. "We’re moving out."

---

"La case de El Sin Nombre?" Soap asks, looking through the binoculars right at El Sin Nombre expensive mansion. The five of them are positioned on a rooftop, eyes fixed on their target.

"No. One of his Lagartenientes." Alejandro replies, standing beside Soap.

Sigma knew they're going after El Sin Nombre. Alejandro was right, not everyone can't find him, but he's everywhere. This night, cloaked in dark blue, might be their only chance to get close.

"A Cartel Lieutenant." Soap says, handing the binoculars to Graves.

"Nice, brother. You're learning." Alejandro speaks in Spanish. "My sources tell me all the VIPs in Las Almas will be there tonight. Some are invited, others are, umm..." 

"Voluntereed? Or other way saying volun-told?" Sigma speaks, resting her hands on her vest, standing beside Graves.

"Yes." Alejandro nods. 

"What's the meet about?" Graves asks, after looking at expensive mansion, looking at Alejandro.

"Us." He answers. "Las Almas is burning, and they want to know who lit the fire."  

“Guess they’re gonna crash a real fucking party…” Sigma mutters under her breath.

"Sin Nombre will be there, yeah?" Ghost tilts his head a bit.

"No guarantees but this is out best shot." Alejandro said, turning to Ghost. Soap, Graves and Sigma inch closer, preparing to formulate a plan.

"Then we take it. I got enough Shadows here to take over the damn country." Graves protests. Sigma blinks, taken aback by his comment.

Sigma blinks, caught off guard. "Graves-"

"I'd prefer I'd you didn't." Alejandro cuts in, clearly not bond by the Grave's words.

"I'm just sayin'..." Graves grins a bit. "One house, shouldn't be a problem."

"We need Sin Nombre alive." Ghost says harshly as Sigma nods by the agreement.

"Well..." Graves gazes to the horizon of the mansion, slightly nodding, tightening his jaw. "Then we need to meet him."

"How?" Soap looking at him with questioning look.

"Give em' what they want... Intel. They wanna know who's here. Let's tell 'em."

"In person-?" Alejandro furrows his eyebrows, looking at him with skeptical look.

"What about sneaking in? Stealth. Fewer eyes." Sigma thinks of an idea by sneaking in by stealth.

"No, hermosa, the guards are everywhere. And in that outfit? You’ll get made in second." Alejandro looks at her. He is right, she almost dressed light camo shirt.

"Alejandro is right, in person. All we need to get one of us inside, find the boss..." Graves presses his fist against his palm. "Roll him up."

Soap's head hangs low, listening to Graves words. Then raises his head a bit to take the chance. "I'll do it."

Sigma's head jolts and her expression turns in shock as he says that. If he does this, they'll kill him and it'll be over for him. “Wait, you want to there and give intel to El Sin Nombre? Soap, that’s suicide.”

"She’s right, you go in there, and they'll kill you, hermano." Alejandro speaks softly with almost worried tone.

"I'll take my chances." Soap’s eyes meet Alejandro’s ones. "We came here to stop the missile, let's stop it. I'll offer the Intel for a meet with Sin Nombre. And if he's there, we pounce."

"Hell yeah- you've got balls, you son of a bitch. You make it in you'll need eyes and ears. I'll go too." Alejandro pressures while his head tilts to Soap, he nods slightly.

"I'll take overwatch. Shadows and Sigma circles the target in a helo." Ghost unfolds the plan. Sigma has no choice, no room to argue, so she agrees.

"Yes, sirrr..." Sigma sighs, almost frustrated by the plan.

Graves nods, hands on his hips. "Roger that." Graves looks at Soap, he takes off something from his carrier place. "They are going to want proof..." He hands Soap the patch, Shadow Company's insignia. "Show 'em this." 

Soap takes it and studies the insignia. He fistbumps Graves and he pats Soap's shoulder. "Call us when you need us. Alright, let's gear up and get after it." Graves spoke outloud as they walk away, beggining their objective. Each step taking them closer to the lion’s den.

---

Capturing El Sin Nombre was nearly an impossible task for Soap, especially after the brutal interrogation he endured, telling the full truth. Luckily, Alejandro encountered with no problem. To his surprise, the elusive Cartel leader turned out to be a woman—Valeria, someone Alejandro knew too well. As Sigma piloted the helicopter, she caught the sharp intensity in his gaze. He was furious—angry, seething even…

The container is lit only by the only one lightbulb overhead center. Both Colonel and Commander drags Valeria to the metal chair to sit down.

"Have a seat." Graves urges Valeria to sit down as she does so. 

"Alright, how do you two know each other?" He asks, fingers are gesturing between Valeria and Alejandro. 

"Know is a strong word." Alejandro states, clearly annoyed. His back is facing away from the woman.

“Strong words are important, our word is a worth, right?” Valeria speaks in Spanish to Alejandro with a question look on her face. He turns with a pissed look.

“Go to hell you fucking sunavabitch-- I’m going to kill you!” His angry voice pounce inside the metalatic walls of a container as he stomps to Valeria. Sigma wanted to stop him, but quickly, Soap and Rudy grabs him to stop him, Valeria made no reaction, didn’t inch a muscle by his outburst.

“Alejandro!” Soap holds him by his shoulder as Rudy tries to calm him down. “Calmate, Commander!”

“Yeah?! Yeah?!” Alejandro releases from their grips, exhaling a breath out of his nose as he takes a few steps back. Forcing himself to settle, he turned to face the woman once more, hooking his fingers on his vest straps.

“Go on.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Tell them.”

“I don’t take orders anymore.” Valeria looks at Alejandro, then her tone sneers. “Even the dogs in Las Almas know not to bark at me.” Her head peers over towards Soap as he stood by her far right corner.

“Look at this-” Alejandro chuckles a bit under his breath. “She’s ex-military. We served together.”

Valeria leans against the chair, right arm rests back and casually crosses her legs. “Different squads. Same unit. You were the wild ones, huh... Los Vaquaros.”

Alejandro couldn’t help but grin by her words, the anger is still burning inside his chest, He remained ensnared by the deep-rooted resentment he had accumulated over the years—resentment directed at the woman who had endured solitude for so long.

“My squad was clean cut señores y señoras.” Valeria looks at Graves, he’s standing beside her, arms crossed.

“Until the raid on the son of La Araña.” Alejandro added.“Do you remember?”

“I remember perfectly.” Valeria smoothly responded in Spanish.

“Her team was told to cordon off the city to keep out La Araña’s enforcers to prevent bloodshed.” Alejandro explains the situation, offering sparse details about an adversary—possibly another cartel leader—from long ago.

“That’s exactly what we did.” Valeria concluded, almost smirking by her words.

“Well, you kept out his enforcers because you were his enforcers, huh?” Alejandro said, stepping closer, his voice laced with scorn as he exposed the betrayal that had fractured their past.

“He was escorted to the mountains without incident.” She said coolly, casting a sharp glance at everyone “Also to prevent bloodshed.” Her lips curled in faint amusement, as if subtly ridiculing the events with her own truth.

“He was supposed to go to prison.” Rodolfo joins, choosing to remain silent up until now.

“So you killed him,” Graves placed his hand on Valeria’s shoulder, urging her to sit firmly back against her seat while pacing around behind her. “And you took over.”

“I created a power vacuum, and I filled it.” Her voice rang with satisfaction., eyes locking with Graves as leaned against the wall with folded arms. “Las Almas needs me.” she declared, full of defiant pride.

“Las Almas needs soldiers, not sicarios,” Alejandro said, stepping forward slowly, his presence looming. .“And you...” He leaned down to her face level.

“You disgrace the army.” He announces with true, utter disappointment, glancing over towards his partner over his shoulder. “And your brothers, no?”

Sigma notices that Valeria’s smile has vanished. Her expression now speaks of disappointment—like everything has been spoiled. Her lips press into a thin line. Whatever Alejandro just said, Valeria will surely remember it.

“Why’re you’re doing this?” Graves asks, breaking the silence.

“You tell me...” Valeria turns her head to Graves, again, leaning against the chair, arm rests back, gesturing him. “You’re the contractor, no? What you don’t do your competitors will.”

“You’re a narco, harboring a terrorist.” Ghost spoke up, standing in the corner of the room, Sigma’s hands grips her vest, remaining distant and cold by Ghost’s side.

"Maybe you killed someone — that's still a crime. Sure, you might have taken his place, but you're tearing your country apart."

Valeria smiles a bit by Sigma’s words. “Talk like that could steal the spotlight in a speech, chica.”

Sigma’s arms went to her sides and clenches her fists. “Come again?”

Valeria shrugs, giving a side smirk. "Judging by your appearance, you strike me as intelligent. I do enjoy a bit of deduction."

"And you’ve got ties to the cartel. Don’t act like you’re clueless." Sigma’s tone slightly changes while spoke in Spanish and lowers her head. Her blue piercing eyes are looking at Valeria’s brown orbs from afar.

As though she weren’t the one confined, but the one in command — the judge, poised in her seat, wielding an unseen gavel, as if authority naturally belonged to her.

“A narco, a terrorist, it doesn’t matter. But you’re carrying a burned in your shoulders and blood in your hands.” Sigma continues to speak.

“Terrorism is good for business, it’s insurance.” Valeria added simply.

Alejandro slightly adjusts his position and gruff out. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Can you get your fucking head out of your ass for a second?! For fuck’s sake, Alejandro!” Valeria immediately bursts out at him across the short distance. Graves holds her shoulder to remain seated, she shrugs off the hand.

“As long as there is war on terror, there will be no real war on drugs.” Valeria leans forward, eyes narrowed. The tension around the room grew thicker by the minute. Her glare is flaring towards Alejandro as he stares at her, keeping his mouth shut.

Sigma knew Las Almas was a place drowned in dread… The people didn’t just fear it—they lived in paralyzing terror. Life in the City of Souls was a waking nightmare. Death came without warning, in suffocating silence. Even the children, wide-eyed and voiceless, were kept in the dark—cut off from the horrors unfolding beyond their crumbling walls.

“To find your so-called terrorist, and your missiles, you need me.” Valeria turned her head to Graves before looking back at Alejandro. “To prevent bloodshed.” Her lips pursed, concluded the mockery of her tone.

“No, I’m not doing this…” Alejandro walks to wards his rifle and grabs it, turning his back towards everyone.

“Doesn’t change anything.” Soap spoke up with his arms crossed.

“It changes everything! FUCK!” Alejandro shouts at the Sergeant, then uttering profanities as he turns back to the door. Sigma watches him enregating, standing firmly in silence.

“Don’t make a deal with her.” He annouces, glancing at everyone in the room. “It won’t end well.”

Alejandro opens the door and leaves, slamming the door. Soap steps up with a glare at Valeria. “Looks like it’s your turn to tell the truth.”

Graves inches closer to Valeria, leaning forwards her ear, breaking though personal space.

“I want the missiles, I want the target and I want Hassan.” Graves firmly states, counting with his finger one to another. “And you’ve got ten seconds or I’m going to show a difference between military and me.” He points to himself as he said the last word.

“I don’t know the targets, I’m a courier. I move things.” She calmly proceeds the answer. Her head tilts slightly to Grave’s direction. “I can tell you where to find the missiles. When you return, I’ll tell you where Hassan is. In exchange you will let me go. And you will leave Las Almas. Now leave.” She spat the last part aggressively in Spanish.

Soap turns to Sigma at the sound of her demand, his eyes locking onto hers. Her expression is a mix of confusion and alarm. She knows things are spiraling out of control. If Valeria is lying, the consequences will be brutal—and they'll come from Alejandro.

“Deal.” Graves rises his stance and walks ahead of her. “Until then, you’re staying right here.”

As everyone leaves, Sigma can’t help but to look at Valeria. She didn’t smile or frown, her expression remains stoic. She scoffs.

“Good chat...” Sigma mutters when she is about to leave, Valeria intertwines.

“Have a good hunting. I just know when the devil’s the only one worth trusting.”

Sigma’s back is facing her, she slightly looks over her shoulder. “I don’t trust everyone that quickly. besides I don’t need a global heat.”

Sigma steps out of the container and gently closes the door behind her. She trails after the others outside, the sunlight warming her skin as she raises a hand to shield her eyes. Slowly, she lowers it, adjusting to the brightness after the darkness she came out. Her second mission begins. Her legs feel heavy, but she moves toward the group, who are waiting for her.

---

I abandoned this fic for a year in the dust 💀GOD I MISSED DRAWING SOAP AND SIGMA-- I had to redraw her expression over and over cuz I didn't like it but woow look at that I'm proud of the rendering-

If you see a bold written like this - That means they're talking in Spanish. Hope you had a good reading! <3

Taglist: @welldonekhushi @deeptrashwitch @starcrossedspirit @raresvtm (I remember from my last post you guys want to be tagged when I release new chapters so here it is)

Reblogs are appreciated!

[fukaziroh101]

What the actual fuck is wrong with some of you FREAKS? Like why are we writing so much poly stuff??? I need to have my bigly men or women tied up in my bed for MEEE. I am too greedy for this poly SLOP. Please recommend me some juicy cod fics. PUH LEASE

[gloomwitchwrites]

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSjHFAReU/

This TikTok lit a fire in me ,like just imagine it happening with the 141 and possibly Alejandro 🥲their reactions after they open the lunchbox

141 + Alejandro? Yes, please. Also, I absolutely adore this. I keep imagining reader angrily packing their lunchbox and muttering under their breath but still thinking "goddamn it I love this man" and "this'll show him." Like, we might be upset with them because of the argument but we aren't sacrificing their nutrition over it.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): established relationship, married life, swearing, arguments, brief suggestive themes, light angst, fluff

Word Count: 2k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

John is alone in his office.

There’s a pile of paperwork on his desk. Files. Photos. Unfinished reports. It’s never-ending, and it’s the least favorite aspect of his job. John would rather be out in the field or back home with you.

But going home feels a bit daunting. The fight the two of you had last night was the worst one, not that there are lots of fights to begin with. With heated words exchanged, the two of you argued until you were both red in the face. You had stormed off, locked yourself away, and then John sat in silence for hours afterwords, staring at the wall.

All of that, and it was his unpacked lunch that broke him. You always pack it with filling food that keeps him going on the days that he’s not in the field and just sitting behind a desk. He loves the notes you leave inside, and how you always prank something in his meal that makes him chuckle.

But right now, all he can do is stare at the container before him, knowing there’s nothing inside it except what he packed himself last night.

“Damn it all,” he mutters, slowly tugging on the zipper, knowing it’s better to just face the measly meal than ignore it.

Yet as he opens up the container and glances inside, John finds something odd. Everything he packed last night is gone. In its place is what he’s always come to expect.

Disbelief spreads as John removes container after container, opening each one in turn. How did you manage it? How did he not sense you getting out or even returning to bed in the night? How did he not hear you in the kitchen?

John leans back in his chair, staring at the spread before him.

Where’s the note?

Grabbing the bag, John checks, and finds nothing. He even opens up each food storage container, trying everything to see if you’ve tampered with it. And still, everything is fine.

Reaching for his phone, John opens his messages, and there—right there—is one from you.

Sorry. Forgot to pack a note. Love you.

John sighs heavily, tapping the phone against his forehead. All this stress, all this worry, and you still care about him.

Thank you, he texts back. I love you, too.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“I’m done talking about this.”

Johnny shakes his head, grabbing your upper arm to pull you back into the conversation. “And I’m not.”

You roll your eyes, but Johnny ignores the attitude. Whenever the two of you argue, it’s mostly frivolous nonsense that ends with the two of you fucking until the both of you are too exhausted to care about whatever you were arguing over in the first place.

This is not that sort of argument. The both of you are far too heated for this to devolve into rough kissing and even rougher sex.

“I know you’re angry,” replies Johnny. “But—”

“Let go, John.”

Johnny cringes on hearing his government name. You never call him John unless you’re looking to draw blood.

He releases your arm and steps away. “Fine. But this isn’t over. I’m not going to let this go. We have to talk about it.”

“And we will,” you sigh. “But I can’t—I can’t think. I need…space. Just…space.”

Johnny watches you walk away and hates every second of it. The feeling only worsens when he glances over and notices his empty lunch pail. You always prep it for him, making sure he’s fed. He likes that you do it. Makes him happy every time he opens it up on his lunch break.

But you’re raging mad, and it’s late.

Johnny is on his own.

With reluctance in every step and movement, Johnny fills the pail with all sorts of junk. It’s all snack food, but he hardly cares. If he has to, he’ll grab something while on break. When he’s done, he heads into the bedroom, pausing in the doorway.

You’re already in bed, covers pulled up over your head.

Johnny frowns but he doesn’t bother you, and when he finally rolls into bed, sleep alludes him for a solid hour before seizing him.

The morning isn’t much better. You’re still submerged under the covers and unresponsive. Johnny dresses for work in silence, grabs his lunch he packed in silence, and leaves the house in silence. He can’t even bring himself to turn on the radio or listen to his favorite music. Part of him is empty.

The day drags at the construction site, and when he finally—finally sits down to eat, he doesn’t want to open up his lunch pail and see the pathic meal he packed for himself.

“Fuck,” he mutters while pulling on the zipper and flipping the lid.

Johnny blinks, staring down at the food before him. Gone is the prepackaged snacks and junk food. There’s a homecooked meal in here along with several snacks, fresh fruit, and veggies. On top of it all is a small handwritten note on heart-shaped pink paper.

I’m mad at you but I won’t let you starve.

He didn’t even hear you get up in the night.

Johnny’s eyes sting, and when he blinks to chase away a few tears, he realizes how stuffy his nose has become.

“Fuck,” he mutters, opening up the container of strawberries.

You’ve cut them into heart shapes.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon has been a grump all day.

Doesn’t matter that he wears a balaclava, and no one can see his face. He hasn’t cracked a single smile once. Any question asked is responded to with a grunt, and if he must speak at all, it’s nothing more than a one-word answer.

He’s not in the mood. His mind is elsewhere. All he can focus on is the fight the two of you had last night. Fights are rare but they’re always fierce, and you never back down during an argument. For Simon, it’s simultaneously attractive and frustrating.

“Up to trade anything, Lt?” Johnny saddles up to Simon, peering over his shoulder at his lunch pail.

The rest of the team teases him endlessly about the fact that you always pack Simon a lunch. They call it cute—domestic. But they’re also jealous. Johnny is always trying to barter and trade with him, and Simon always refuses.

Until today.

There is absolutely fucking nothing in his lunch pail except a protein bar and a bag of crisps. Simon packed his lunch last night while you went to bed after verbally chewing his head off. This time, Simon is willing to trade the whole thing, but he’s too proud to spend money on picking something up. He’d rather starve.

“Maybe,” answers Simon as he unzips the lid. “What you offering?”

Johnny’s eyebrows rise slightly. Simon never shares. Never.

Simon flips the lid over but doesn’t look.

Johnny leans forward, eyes widening. He whistles lowly. “Damn, Lt. Wifey hooked you up today.”

Frowning, Simon glances down and finds—not the lunch he packed himself—but one you packed for him.

���Changed my mind,” mumbles Simon, closing the lid and pushing the lunch pail away from Johnny’s reach.

“Changed your—” But Simon is already walking away, intending to enjoy his meal in peace. “Oi! Lt!”

Argument aside, you still got up early and put this together while he slept. For the first time today, Simon smiles.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle holds onto the lunch pail like a lifeline.

It’s such a silly hesitation. He already knows what he’ll find inside. He packed the damn thing.

Cup-o-Ramen. Plain crisps. An apple.

I don’t want to talk to you right now, Kyle.

Leave me alone. Give me some fucking space.

Even now the resentment and anger still lingers on Kyle’s tongue. For all the years you’ve been together, arguments have been few and far between. And even when there is a fight, the two of you talk it out until a solution is found. Neither of you like going to bed angry.

But last night was an atomic bomb. An explosion of dissent.

You broke off to the bedroom, slamming the door, and locking it behind you. Kyle ended up sleeping on the couch with nothing but a decorative pillow and a throw blanket that hardly covered his body.

After all the yelling, after all the back-and-forth and then your sudden disappearance, Kyle was left with two realities. One, you were pissed at him, and nothing was resolved. Two, you didn’t pack his lunch.

It’s the one thing Kyle loves most about working, knowing that you’ve put together something healthy and filling. The cute notes aren’t so bad either. But there was zero possibility that you’d pack him anything after that argument, so Kyle set to it, dumping stuff into the lunch pail before falling asleep on the sofa.

And now, here he is, sitting down for lunch and dreading the choices he made last night.

“Better get to it,” he sighs, tugging on the zipper.

When he flips the lid over, he’s momentarily stunned. Gone is the Cup-o-Ramen and plain crisps. The apple is still there, but it’s sliced and in its own container with some chocolate spread on the side of dipping. You’ve replaced it all with sealed containers. Pasta. A salad with homemade dressing.

And on top of it all, a sticky note.

I’m mad but I love you.

Kyle’s trepidation vanishes. He chuckles as he picks the note up and presses it to his lips.

Everything is fine.

Everything will be okay.

Bonus: Alejandro Vargas

When you and Alejandro fight, it’s explosive.

If something doesn’t break from being thrown, it breaks because you and him were fucking like animals on it.

Last night wasn’t a simple disagreement. You threw a shoe at him, and when Alejandro knocked it out of the air and kept going, you threw a pillow, and then attempted to throw the lamp. All in vain. He had yanked the lamp out of your hand, had it back on the end table, and tossed you onto the bed in a matter of seconds.

It was just pure need after that. All carnal lust.

After all the energy and anger vanished, Alejandro was left staring up at the ceiling as you dozed beside him. Nothing was resolved. Nothing was fixed.

And when he woke up late and rushed out the door, he didn’t even think about that fact that you hadn’t packed his lunch. Alejandro grabbed the container, brought it with him out of pure fucking habit.

Not, it stares back at him, and he doesn’t know if he should even open it. Not like you got up in the night and packed it. Alejandro would have woken up if you had crawled out of bed in the middle of the night and returned much later.

No. No.

He won’t find anything in here. Nothing. A shame really. He’s going to have to convince someone to go out and grab something for him, or hope someone brought something to drop off in the break room.

Alejandro swears under his breath and then opens the damned lid.

He expects nothing, and yet, it’s not empty. For a second, everything freezes, and then Alejandro isn’t sure if he should laugh or cry. Inside is easily enough food for two. You’ve packed it to the brim, and as he explores, he even finds your homemade tortillas.

“Is this an apology?” he asks out loud, as if you’ll pop into appearance and answer.

There isn’t any note, and there isn’t a single message from you on his phone. Either you’re waving a white flag, or you’re still angry, but not angry enough to allow him to go hungry.

[arrozcontomate]

Continuation of the profiles! We got four more buddies to complete the gang!

Mom Laswell, gay uncles Alerudy and the crazy jail aunt Valeria!

Here's everyone togheter (also I fixed Price Up becouse he was looking lowkey weird...)

Who's Next in line???

...bye 😳

[yooo-lets-go]

Roach in Las Almas what will he do

[nyutasomething]

someone in the chat asked the guys to flex, and samuel did it with his cat

everyone: 🤣

cat: 💪😳

[milomossy]

Jan 2023

[call-of-duty-incorrect-quotes]

Alejandro, after having a small argument with Rudy: Remind me why I married you?

Rudy, confused: We’re not married, Ale.

Alejandro: …

Alejandro: Me lleva… I knew I was forgetting something.

[cutieshena]

I think it‘s very suitable, so I drew it💀

[mactavishenjoyer]

Soap:"God, I hate Brits."

Alejandro:"aren't you British?"

Soap:

Soap:"I like you Alejandro. So I'm going to count to 10 and after that I am going to tear you apart limb by limb in front of your husband."

Alejandro:"i-"

Rudy:"Al, run."

[lanialania00]

like two drops of water

[cherie-doll]

Hey there! Hope you're having a good day! If you don't mind, could I please request non-native english speakers (alejandro, rudy, makarov, konig, and any other ones you want) reactions to their s/o surprising them by reciting their wedding vows in their native language? Alejandro's s/o saying her vows in spanish, makarov's s/o saying them in russian, etc. Thanks so much!

this is a really good idea! thx for suggesting it <3

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Saying Your Vows In Their Native Language

𑣲 Alejandro, Rudy, Makarov, König, Horangi, Nikto

𑣿 Alejandro would have dropped to his knees and asked you to marry him if you weren't already getting married. He had heard you speak a few words in Spanish here and there but never full on confidently speaking it from your heart. He wanted to embrace you, but knew you'd lose your concentration and he really wanted to hear everything you had to say. So he tried his best to hold back, and just smile as he gazed at you lovingly. The man couldn't find what to do with himself, he was already head over heels, anymore and he might have been considered a madman. The things love made him do, such fiery passion within him that with the smallest of your actions could make him act as if unbridled. After you finished, he glanced at the audience, looking at them as if wanting them to see the type of person he was marrying. He wanted to show you off to the world, and he truly felt like he triumphed that day as he placed the ring on your finger.

𑣿 Rudy got lost in your eyes, hearing you speak Spanish. It made it all so much more meaningful that you had gone as far as to not only learn his language but to recite the words from memory. Halfway through, he just couldn't help but to reach out and cup your cheek, and you had use all your inner strength to not choke up and start crying uncontrollably from how much you loved this man. The onlookers in the crowd were moved as well, most using tissues to dab their eyes. It was a beautiful moment and luckily enough, it was caught on camera too. This moment made Rudy wonder what he had done to deserve you, surely you'd break the man with your gestures of affections, and this was only the beginning. He couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life with you, vowing to make you feel the same.

𑣿 Makarov is not usually a sentimental man, he rarely lets emotion take the greater charge of decision within his mind, especially in front of others. It was only in the utmost secrecy that he had met and loved you, and it was that way he had learned to keep things to a minimal. He didn't require effort from you, because he was always seeking to do more for you. He never imagined something that seemed insignificant to others, but knowing how much effort you had put in, would move him so much. In his heart, he had resigned to feel as little as possible, yet, you had somehow found and tugged at the still tender heartstrings. He felt it blossoming in his chest, the flower that you had so gingerly tended to, cared for with your amour and time. It was hard for him to keep his composure, but so ardently did he feel a flame burn in his chest. Who could have known he'd feel this one day?

𑣿 König faltered, thinking he had misheard your words. You weren't speaking German, were you? He hardly believed it, and couldn't get over it that he didn't really listen to the meaning of your words. If asked, he couldn't remember exactly what you had said, he could only tell of the emotions he'd felt in that moment, some that he couldn't even identify. His heart raced and he simply looked at you in awe, with soft hints of adoration in his eyes. He would hold this memory dearly, just as much as he wanted to hold you. You looked angelic in your wedding attire, like a blessing he cradled in his hands, one he vowed to never forget to care for. Oh and when you smiled at him after concluding, he could have melted from seeing your eyes flicker up at him. He loved how you talked to him, looked at him, touched him, kissed him and he'd spend an eternity wanting to make you feel the same way about him and even then never feel like it was enough.

𑣿 Horangi had certainly not expected it. You never gave an indication of you studying Korean, you had been interested in the language but the grammar had quickly discouraged you from advancing and he assumed you had left it at that. Unbeknownst to him, you had even hired a teacher to help you get through the difficult parts of writing your vows. You wanted to show how much he meant to you, you worked on it day and night and didn't stop until you were satisfied with how it sounded. You knew exactly what to say that would touch his heart and mean the most to him. Horangi couldn't have imagined a more perfect moment than this one. Those words permanently marked in his mind for the rest of his life, forever hearing you speak in his tongue. He wished to be alone with you, none of the others there deserved to be there to hear words that were only meant for him.

𑣿 Nikto had no problem with the fact that you didn't speak Russian, he understood English well and was able to communicate just fine. He had caught you studying Russian a few times, trying your best to pronounce the words to form sentences, and he had only smirked, amused at your attempts. When you explained that it was because you wanted to be able to communicate better, to be able to tell him in his mother tongue how much you loved him, he only laughed it off. He thought it was silly, he understood your feelings and intentions just fine in English. But he was unprepared to hear how fluently the words rolled off your tongue at the altar. Nikto had underestimated how impactful it would feel to hear you talk to him in a language he knew so well. Just hearing you speak in Russian was already hitting him in his soft spot, not imagine when he got over his initial shock and actually tried hard to listen to what you were trying to say.

[sillycillsillycill]

Sargeant Major Rodolfo Parra commanding orders to the vaqueros with a ferm and strong tone of voice. Every order being sharp and precise, leaving no room for arguments. Professional. Brash. Strict.

Colonel Alejandro Vargas having to lock himself in his office to relieve himself because the way Rudy sounds when barking orders is almost similar to when he gets pinned down in their bedroom, or a closet, or anywhere. The same low, authoritative voice that leaves him weak in the knees and has his pants a bit too tight for his liking

[gloomwitchwrites]

How would you feel about adding Nik, Alejandro or Rudy to the existing "Would you love me if I was a worm?" prompt 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

I'm not picking about which one, I just think they would also have great answers 🤣

How about instead of one, you can have all three?? hehe. For those curious, you can read the original would you love me if I was a worm prompt here.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

w/ f!reader (Nikolai) & w/ gn!reader (Rudy + Alejandro)

Content & Warnings (MDNI): brief suggestive themes (Nikolai), established relationship

Word Count: 300

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Alejandro Vargas

You plop down onto Alejandro on the living room sofa, acting as a blanket. He greets you with a grunt, reading something on his phone screen.

“Would you love me if I were a worm?” you ask, resting your chin on his chest.

Alejandro glances at you with a singular arched eyebrow. “This again?”

“Just answer the question.”

He glances back at his phone, not speaking. You snatch it from him, tucking it into the cushion.

“Cariño,” he murmurs, and you know you’re in trouble.

With a quick twist, Alejandro wraps you up in his arm, pinning you beneath him.

Nikolai

“Would you love me if I was a worm?”

You have your hands flat on Nik’s chest, the hair there peeking out from between your splayed fingers. Nikolai’s nostrils flare as his abdomen expands with a shuddering inhalation. There is sweat on his skin, starting to dry and become sticky. The look on his face can only be boiled down to perplexity.

“A worm?” he asks.

You nod, a bit sheepish.

Nikolai’s gaze drops to where your bodies meet, his cock completely buried inside you, your arousal and his cum glossy around the base.

“Think we’re past that, little rabbit.”

Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

You pop up from nowhere, appearing next to Rudy as if you blinked into existence. Rudy curses in Spanish, nearly spilling his coffee in the process.

“You startled me, mi amor.”

With a deep sigh he sets his coffee mug down on the kitchen counter, draping his arm across your shoulders to pull you in close.

As you encircle his waist with your arms, you ask a question. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

His exhalation comes with an air of “this again?”

Rudy’s answer is simple. He lifts his hand, showing off his wedding ring.

[callsignmarz]

Texting the COD Men

POV : They’re jealous

MDNI | 18+ | NSFW