annegamesandyarns

[annegamesandyarns]

Gothic Sunshine

The studio is bright and cheery, as sun filtered in through the windows and the trees outside. Warm colors covered the walls underneath the many paintings and canvases that lined them. There were all types of flowers blooming from pots that dotted the place. It felt inviting and safe if you weren't paying attention too closely. The art that could be seen was dark, and to those who shied away from the shadows, it could even be considered gruesome for some of the pieces. It didn't match at all with the artist seen occasionally flitting about.

König sat impatiently as he waited for this person to make time for him. He needed help, and was told to come here with no further instructions. His leg bouncing with the need to move around, and his frustration growing he almost missed the person talking to him. "Sorry about that, I wasn't expecting any visitors. I'm Daisy, the artist of the things you see here." A voice as sweet as honey spoke up and introduced herself.

Daisy wasn't what he was expecting. With warm whiskey-brown eyes, short messy hair that reminded him of dark chocolate, and a smile that looked so innocent, he was convinced someone sent him on a wild goose chase. No, Daisy looked like the warm and friendly type that should be home baking sweets.

"I'm looking for someone, I was told you might be able to help." König got right to the point. He knew in his line of work that appearances could be deceiving, but this didn't feel like that. It didn't feel like she was pretending to be something she wasn't.

"Who are you looking for, exactly? And who told you to come here to find them?" Daisy asked curiously as she cleaned paint off her hands. She sounded surprised as if this wasn't a regular occurrence. Maybe he had the wrong place after all.

He eyed her suspiciously as he debated on what to say. At worst if this wasn't the person who could help him, it would be just an honest mistake. He started thinking of ways he could play it off as he glanced around, "I was told by Horangi that someone here could point me in the direction of Call Sign..." He hesitated for a moment, "... Sunflower." He thought it was a bit cheesy for a nickname. But there were worse out there, and it wasn't his business.

Her eyes lit up, "Oh, yeah that's me! What do you need? Fake ID's, passports, you need someone questioned?" His jaw almost dropped. He certainly wasn't expecting that. He was convinced Horangi was pulling his leg. There was no way this cinnamon roll of a person was the operator Horangi spoke of.

König was told that Sunflower was scary, that she was ruthless and no one should mess with her. If they knew what was good for them. He couldn't see this sunshine type of person as someone who could harm a fly. Even if the nickname was after a flower, but he kept going with it. Because he trusted Horangi, and Horangi trust her.

"I need someone interrogated, and it requires a much more delicate touch than my preferred method." He didn't miss the way she got giddy, König watched her skipping, this woman was skipping, to a back room. *What the hell am I getting myself into?* He silently asked himself.

Daisy... no... Sunflower came back with what looked like a medic bag. "I'm ready to go. You're driving since my car broke down, after it ran out of gas last week." She chirped a bit too cheerily as she flipped a few switches and set an alarm before locking up. Black out curtains dropped over the windows as they left her studio.

When they arrived to the safehouse where the captive was being held, König felt deep concern when Sunflower got started. The way she questioned the man, it had everyone in the room cringing. The way she talked, and moved did not line up with what she was doing. She was most definitely effectively terrifying. What was that meme that Horangi showed him last week? It looks like a cinnamon roll but will kill.

[annegamesandyarns]

Graves' Mistake

"I don't know how many times I have to say it, but I am sorry," I grumped unapologetically at the commander, Graves. "I didn't mean to shoot you in the ass...that close up. At least it was just a paintball. Geez, you're acting like I used a .50 cal on you or something. So dramatic."

My head slammed into the wooden shack wall as the rest of the team filed in. "It's the difference between your willingness to follow orders, and being a liability. How the fuck you passed training, I'll never know. But get your shit together." Graves' notorious Southern charm had vanished with his sense of play and humor.

Admittedly, I am a bit childish at times, but the opportunity was right there, and he pissed me off. Shadow team had been split into two teams for training, the classic red vs blue. Graves had chosen me to be on the blue team. We were out on the paintball field, and I lost track of who was where and what I was doing...caught up in the play aspect of paintball. I rounded a corner and saw someone's butt sticking out of a crawl space and shot it. In my defense, it was a good shot.

"Maybe you shouldn't have had your ass in the air like you were trying to audition as a backup dancer. I couldn't tell who you were, and you certainly didn't have team colors displayed. You could've been giving away the team's plans for all I know." I taunted him. It was over the line, but my head was hurting after being thrown against the wall, and if I was going to hurt, I was going to earn it. At least, this time.

Everyone stood around and watched as Graves reigned in his temper. "You are dry humping my last nerve, and it's as thick as a frog's hair. Get out of my sight." Graves had to take a few deep breaths just to get that out.

I couldn't help the smirk that formed under my mask. "Yes. Sir." I didn't just toe the line of insubordination, I used it like it was a jump rope. I liked seeing him lose just a little bit of control. After leaving the paintball field and the other Shadows behind, I went to my apartment to shower and change. I pulled out my phone from the vent, powered it on and texted, "Ready for pickup." to an unlisted number.

Twenty minutes later, I heard the sound of two motorcycles pull up. I locked up my apartment and handed all of my things that Graves was tracking to the rider of one bike before getting onto the back of the other. We split up and rode around making sure there wasn't a tail, before he took me to the safe house. I was glad to be back with my real team, even if it was brief, as I gave them an update of Graves' plan.

A few weeks later.

It had been fun playing cat and mouse as he tried to figure out what was going on. He thought someone was breaking into his office to steal the information, since things got moved around on the regular. But that had quickly been squashed. Along with the fake trackers, and listening devices, compromised tech, false tails, it was all a dead end for him. Including the fake meet ups. I loved toying with him, but all good things must come to an end.

I was, once again, on his team. This time, however, was the real thing. We crept down the hallway, heading towards a secured room. His paranoia had reached an all-time high, and he moved up the timeline to get information on the 141. Information he couldn't get from a dossier. Oh, it was so tempting to just get him now while he was unaware. But I wanted to see his face, so I bit my cheek to keep the words at bay as we breached the room.

"You go first." Graves commanded, suspicion laced his words as if he knew something.

*Of course...* I thought as I looked at him as if I didn't know what he was thinking. Nodding, I stepped into the darkened room. When nothing happened after I went through the motions of sweeping the room, Graves stepped in.

Immediately, nearly a dozen or so red dots lit up on him. Some on his forehead, some on his chest. One cheeky dot landed below the belt. Soap stepped forward, a star shaped scar could be seen on the left side of his head and his eye with a milky film over it. "We already got Makarov. Now...it's your turn. Mate."

[annegamesandyarns]

✨Random Price Freckle Headcanon✨

I feel like Price doesn’t have a lot of freckles on his arms or face, but would have an ABSURD amount of freckles on his back. Like all down his spine and across his shoulders, even if he spends all year shielded from the sun he still manages to be covered in them…

Like just let me spend all day straddling your back and counting them sir.

[annegamesandyarns]

Nikto's Emotional Support Rookie

Anyone who has ever trained with, or has interacted with Nikto in any capacity, knows that he is a formidable power house in his own right. Everyone knows what it meant to be in Victor Zakhae's tender care, and they could appreciate the skill it took for Nikto to come out the other side. Albeit, he wasn't who he used to be, and it showed in the scars he kept hidden from everyone and the sudden mood swings and shift in how he interacts with people.

It's common knowledge that militaries and militant groups don't prioritize mental health, unless it's to break a person down or to brainwash them, or to use a person to their advantage. No, mental health is something that's shoved to the side and often ignored. Even in higher valued assets and operatives that have official diagnoses, and DID was no exception.

When you joined KorTac, you never imagined that this would become your job. You weren't even equipped to handle someone like Nikto. One minute you're just a lowly recruit, the next you are assigned to the massive Russian as his assistant. At least that was what the two of you were told. But you knew what you really were, his emotional support rookie. All because you were able to talk him out of the bathroom when he locked himself in there, you talked him down once when he got violent when someone triggered him, and then there was that one time he fell asleep watching TV with you in the common room. It had to be a coincidence...right?

[annegamesandyarns]

The bickering between the two never seemed to end and now here they were standing in your med bay bloodied and bruised threatening to start the fight again. “I’ll fuckin put a bullet right through that stupid mask” “watch your tone Sargent we both know you’d miss”. Soap was about to wind up his fist. “Are those fucking bubbles?”

“You two done now? Or do you need your own wand” you stood holding tiny dinosaur themed bubble tubes, bubbles actively floating around you. A pink one open in your hand. Raising your eyebrows waiting for a response from the two giants.

“Gimme the Rex” soap snatched a blue T-Rex bottle from you.

“That means triceratops for you Lieutenant. Now sit and blow so I can patch you two up”

That’s how they learned you were a school nurse before coming to their base.

(Both sat on the table kicking their feet trying to see who could blow the biggest bubble while actively getting stitches)

[annegamesandyarns]

Imagine Ghost accidentally conditioning the 141...

Ghost is busy. Always. Too much paperwork, too many reports, too many logistics to handle before training. It’s 1400 before he realizes he’s skipped lunch. Again.

Not a big deal. Not the first time. Won’t be the last.

But he is hungry.

His eyes land on the bright pink bag of Valentine’s Day mini Snickers that’s been sitting, untouched, on his desk for a week. They were part of a bulk shipment to the base; some gift or something.

Not exactly lunch. But it’ll do.

He grabs the bag and heads for the training field. He’s two minutes late, not that it matters much because Soap and Gaz already have the unit ready.

"Where’s Price?" he asks, tearing open the bag as he walks up.

"Got pulled away. You’ve got this one, Sir," Gaz replies, raising a brow as Ghost lifts his mask just enough to pop a Snickers into his mouth.

Ghost doesn’t react, just grunts.

Today’s drill is a simple infiltration exercise. Hell, it's something Ghost or Price hardly have to be here for. Their presence would be more of a formality. Gaz leads the attackers. Soap leads the defenders. The teams get ten minutes to plan, to prep.

And then Ghost sounds the time up, and the groups move.

Ghost watches, leaning against a crate, chewing another Snickers, barely paying attention to one of the new guys—until the kid steps right into a trap. Ghost sees it before he does.

Blue powder erupts into his face.

Soap’s defenders descend, but the kid doesn’t go down easily. Blind, but still fighting back, holding his own until his team pulls him out.

Soap's team wins. Barely.

When it’s over, the teams regroup. Ghost is still eating Snickers.

He turns to the recruit, still dusted blue.

"What 'appened?"

"Didn’t see the wire." The kid shifts uncomfortably.

Ghost turns to the unit. "Who set it?"

One of the defenders raises a hand. Ghost considers him for a moment before reaching into the bag.

He tosses a mini-Snickers at the soldier.

The guy catches it. Looks at it. Looks at Ghost. Eats it.

Ghost turns back to the newbie. "Held your own. Tha' matters. Surprises happen. Don’t let ‘em get you again."

And that’s it. Training’s dismissed. Ghost pockets the rest of the Snickers and moves on.

...

The next day, Price is still gone. Ghost doesn’t skip lunch this time, but he still brings the Snickers bag.

They run the same drill.

Same recruit. Same route. But this time, he checks everything. Quick. Efficient. Finds the wire. Disarms it.

No blue powder today.

Gaz’s team wins.

Ghost eyes the recruit and flicks a Snickers at him. The kid catches it mid-air.

...

By the end of the week, Price is still gone. Ghost keeps the pink bag of Snickers on him during training. Like it's just another part of his kit.

One or two mini snickers get handed out every session. And nobody really notices at first. But the team starts moving differently.

They work harder. Smarter. More ruthless. More efficient. No one wants to be the guy who doesn’t get a Snickers.

Even the veterans sharpen their tactics. Gaz and Soap notice. But no one says a damn thing. If Ghost is going to give them snickers, then shut the gel up and let him give them snickers.

...

They're sent on a mission. High stakes.

They don't lose a single man. Not a single injury.

At the end of it, back on their transport home, Ghost pulls the pink danm bag from some unassuming pocket and hands out the snickers.

The men take them without question. They earned it.

But Ghost is running low. The bag nearly empty.

...

At the next training, Ghost doesn't hand out a single snickers. Not on purpose, but the bag is empty, so there's nothing left to do.

But the others notice. Gaz squints. Soap looks like a confused dog. Head tilt and all. The newbies glance at each other, shifting.

...

Two days later, Ghost swings his door open at 0600 sharp—and pauses.

Sitting just outside his door, neat as you please, is a bag of mini Snickers. Not the Valentine’s ones anymore. Just regular.

Ghost blinks. Hums. Pleasantly surprised, he picks up the bag, inspecting it briefly before stuffing it into his tac vest like it’s just another piece of gear.

He doesn’t think much of it. It’s a good snack.

At training, he does as he always does. Watches. Observes. Evaluates.

And then, without thinking, he tosses a Snickers at a recruit who clears a building faster than expected.

He snaps to attention as he catches it, eyes shining. Ghost does not question it.

The pattern continues.

And when he starts running low, Ghost finds a fresh bag of Snickers waiting for him.

Somebody—somewhere—has decided that the Snickers will not run out.

...

At training, at drills, in the field, there is a silent expectation. A new, unspoken rule. Do something exceptional? Get a Snickers.

The machine of the 141—the deadliest operators in the world—now snaps to attention at the crinkle of plastic.

They move with a ruthless kind of precision, bodies coiled, eyes sharp—waiting, anticipating.

Even Gaz and Soap are part of it now—though everyone refuses to acknowledge it outright.

But the moment Ghost hands one of his men a Snickers, he takes it.

Silently. Gratefully. Like a goddamn reward.

Ghost does not acknowledge this. Not out loud. But he keeps handing them out.

And they keep earning them.

They'd quite literally kill for a Snickers. (imagine what they'd do for an expensive piece of chocolate)

...

And then Price comes back three weeks later. He walks into the training area and pauses.

Something is off.

The unit is too sharp. Too focused. The newbies stand stock still in their group, as if waiting for something.

Gaz and Soap exchange a look. Soap refuses to meet Price’s eyes.

But he doesn't acknowledge it, until he begins unwrapping a plastic sleeve holding a new pen. The plastic is thick and loud. And half of their fucking head snaps his way. The hungry eyes of three dozen of soldiers latching on him.

Ghost, standing at the edge of the group, tears open a fresh bag of Snickers.

And now the entire fucking unit reacts. Subtle shifts in stance. Focused attention. Expectant silence.

Price squints. Frowns.

Ghost flicks a Snickers at a recruit. He earned it today.

The recruit catches it like it’s a holy offering and eats it immediately.

Price’s frown deepens. Slowly, carefully, he turns to Ghost. “The fuck did I miss?”

[annegamesandyarns]

A Sunny Spring Day Off

I sat on the park bench, feeding the ducks and geese by the pond. For a Saturday, it was quiet, with not many people at the park. It's early spring, and even though the sun was shining, the breeze was fairly cool. The birds were scattered about, either sunbathing or snacking away on the food scattered on the ground. It was days like this that made me want to throw caution to the wind and become one with nature. Even though my wilderness survival skill were basic to non-existent.

Lost in thought, I mindlessly petted a goose, who came to see if I had any more treats. I didn't pay attention to the approaching footsteps, or the person sitting on the bench next to me. "Nice day for a picnic, maybe some fishing. If you're into that kind of thing." Gaz's warm voice cut through the silence. "Or we could go horse back riding, the stables on base offers lessons if you need 'em."

I looked at him for a moment before reluctantly giving the goose what it was searching for. "You want to go fishing?" I asked skeptically. "Do you know how?" I couldn't see it. Gaz didn't strike me as the outdoorsy type beyond being a soldier. Sure, picnics are something he might do. But to see him try and gut a fish, or tack up a horse....he was threatening to leave the SAS after he fell out of the helicopter.

"No, actually, I don't... know how to fish. I figured you could show me, may be?" He gave a sheepish laugh as he blushed a bit. He seemed a bit embarrassed to admit this to me.

I couldn't help but belly laugh. "I'm sorry, I promise, I'm not laughing at you. It's the idea that anyone thinks I know how to fish is funny to me." I pressed a hand to my side as I tried to catch my breath. "No, all those stories of me fishing, yes I did those things. But someone else set up my rod because I refuse to touch a worm or any kind of fish bait." I chuckled heartily.

Gaz looked like he couldn't believe what he just heard. "You, the one who will eat just about anything. The one who has no problem reaching into a dead person to retrieve things. The same person who performs autopsies and necropsies for a living...are grossed out by fish bait?" His face told me that he thought I just grew an extra head and four more eyeballs with what I just told him.

"Yes. I get paid for my morbid curiosities, I don't get paid to touch creepy crawlies like worms or bugs when I get invited onto said fishing trips. I know, I am a conundrum." I gave him a cheeky grin, to which he scoffed playfully and rolled his eyes. "Ok, not fishing... are we limited to just those options? Or, are those options the only things you're willing to do because you think I might drag you off to do something unhinged?" I teased him a little.

"I figured they were safe options." Gaz admitted. "But honestly, I do like horseback riding, and I was hoping you would join me for a ride and picnic." He had a look in his eye that I didn't entirely trust. "That is, of course, if you ain't scared." He shrugged and acted nonchalantly with a sly smile.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You're up to something. Don't bull shit me. That whole act earlier where all of you pretended to be busy. Everyone is in on it, and they sent sweet Gaz to butter me up." I gave him an accusatory but playful look.

"Shut up, enjoy the ride and act surprised. Let's go." Gaz pretended to be offended and exasperated as he pulled me off the bench to follow him to his car. But I could hear the smile in his voice.

When we got to the stables, there was a pair of sweet geldings already tacked up and waiting for us. I ungracefully got on the horse, and took a minute to get situated. Gaz was already mounted up, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Together, we started to ride along the clearly marked trail.

The creaking leather of the saddles, the thudding of the horses hooves on the grass, and the occasional snort from one of the horses filled the silence as we moved along the trail. Noticing we were only following the yellow markers, I looked over at Gaz, "Last one there is a rotten egg." I challenged him before urging my horse to go faster. He didn't get a chance to respond with anything, other than a mumbled curse or two, before we were racing along the path.

When I saw the clearing where everyone was setting up, I slowed the gelding down and looked back at Gaz. "You let me win, didn't you? And don't use the poor horse as an excuse." I gave him a playful glare as everyone else groaned.

"You let the cat out of the bag, didn't you?" Laswell gave a huff as she finished hanging the last of the streamers. The clearing was a popular picnic spot that they chose to set up at. They had a table set up buffet style with food, and large ice chests were strategically placed, so drinks were easily accessible. Streamers were wrapped from tree to tree, with helium balloons grouped all over the place.

"Don't blame him, I figured it out. Plus, the guilt was just written all over his face." I teased them as I dismounted. "But you guys really shouldn't have gone through all of this trouble." I said awkwardly as I rubbed the back of my neck as Price took the horses to put them with the other horses.

"Why wouldn't we? It's your birthday, isn't it?" Gaz asked as he looked at me and then back at Laswell, Price, Ghost, Soap, and Nik. "Isn't it?" Now everyone was looking a bit confused. I rubbed my hands over my face as I tried not to laugh.

"I appreciate the effort, it's not everyday someone is trying to throw me a surprise party...but uh...my birthday isn't until October." I gave them all an appreciative smile. "I was just excited there finally was no rain on my day off."

[annegamesandyarns]

Unexpected Hobbies

König is known to be fearsome, labelled as a human battering ram by his colleagues. Hostages wouldn't even go near him. Whether it's due to his size or the disfiguring scars that he carried, if they saw them at all due to the mask he wore, it was hard to say because no one would specify. But König seems to brush it off every time he's sent in to extract hostages. Just as he seems to be indifferent to the fact the other operatives in KorTac didn't invite him to hang out during off time. To everyone, for all they knew, König's idea of downtime was 'interrogating' prisoners.

I was new at KorTac, not as a mercenary...excuse me...'private security personnel'...pfft, just a fancy name in my opinion. But as a front desk receptionist. With my recent move four months ago, I didn't know very many people. So, I listened to office gossip to get a feel for my coworkers, and quickly noticed a pattern. Almost everyone were friends with each other to some extent, with a few outliers. Though, the one that stood out the most was the one everyone called König.

For the others that preferred to keep to themselves, it made sense. It was just a job to them and nothing more. They clock in, do their work, and clock out without socializing too much with others, and were relatively friendly. But no one interacted with König, unless they absolutely had to.

"Oh, honey. You are barking up the wrong tree. No matter how enticing it might be to climb." Liza chuckled next to me as she sat down. It was early in the morning, and she was bright-eyed and bushy tailed. She caught me staring at him, and not for the first time, either.

I gave her a wry look. "It's not like that," I yawned before taking a drink of my coffee. I glanced at König again before getting back to work.

"Oh? Then tell me, what is it like, hm?" She teased. "You're telling me you don't imagine if...other...things are proportionate to his size? Or what he might be like with all his attention on you?"

I sputtered and choked on my coffee at how suggestive she was being. "Clearly, you do all of that and then some." I gave Liza an incredulous look. I knew she said what was on her mind, but clearly she needed to get new filters with a mind like that. "No, I don't wonder...any of that." I cleaned up the mess with napkins I pulled from my drawer, and threw the coffee soaked tissue at her as she laughed. "Just feels like I know him from somewhere, is all. I'd feel pretty stupid if I went up to him and mistook him for someone else."

"Ok, but how many people do you know that are that tall? Hm?" She asked before answering the phone.

I rolled my eyes. I could see her point. But I only told her that to get her off my back. If you wanted rumors started, you take them to Liza, and it will spread like wildfire. I didn't need any rumors starting here about me. And I certainly didn't want anyone thinking I was starting any.

The rest of the morning had been uneventful, and I took an early lunch. I was standing in line at a restaurant to pick up my order when some masked men came in with guns drawn. "Everyone, get down on the ground! Now! Do as we say, and no one gets hurt!" One of them shouted as they pointed their weapons at the customers.

My eyes went wide as my heart began to race. I ducked behind the counter, pulling out my cellphone when a sound had me freezing mid-text. "All cellphones, jewelry and any other valuables will be given to this," a voice called out and paused for a dramatic effect, as if they had to think about their next words. "Lovely volunteer. Starting with yours."

I fumbled with the bag as I put my phone in it, my hands were shaking from nerves and didn't want to cooperate. My stomach twisted with fear. *Just do as they say, you can throw up later.* I repeated this like a mantra. I focused on keeping my breathing even, and getting through this. Pushing out all other sounds, I did as ordered when they dragged me around. "Sir, get down on the ground, don't make us repeat ourselves!" One of the masked robbers shouted. I looked at who they were yelling at. I stumbled over my feet and immediately started to laugh. It wasn't expected, and I certainly didn't mean to. I quickly tried to stifle my laughter when I felt the barrel get shoved into my ribs. But I was relieved to see König sitting there eating his lunch, unbothered by what was going on. His mask was partially over his nose, revealing some of the scar tissue on his face.

When the man threw König's food to the ground, König stood up slowly and towered over everyone. "You have thirty seconds to let my associate go, and leave." His German accent sounded terrifying with his soft, raspy voice. He slowly tilted his head to either side, and I could hear his vertebrae in his neck and upper back pop and realign as he rolled his shoulders at the same time. This was why people avoided him at work. The man was a walking nightmare. I was glad he was on my side.

I barely remember much of anything, it happened so fast. One minute, I am a potential hostage, and the next König is handing me my phone back. "Th-Thank you..." I felt oddly calm, despite my slight stutter. Maybe I was in shock.

"Go back to work, Kleiner Häse. I will take care of this here. Don't forget to stop by the medic when you get there. I will be checking in to see if you did. It's not a request." I almost thought he was talking to someone else. I nodded as Horangi joined me. With what just happened, I didn't even see that he was there, too.

Horangi drove me back to the KorTac building, and guided me to the floor where the medics worked. Once they made sure I wasn't in shock, I went back to work at the front desk. I barely recall getting through the rest of my workday. Liza tried to talk to me, ask me questions, anything to find out what happened. But I wasn't going to tell her. I didn't need her teasing, or her jokes. I didn't need her running off and making a mountain out of nothing.

Over the next few days, I was nervous and a bit jumpy. Never have I ever been in a situation like that. It didn't help that everyone at work noticed. Something falls, I jump. A loud noise is made, I'm looking to see what it is immediately. To those that knew, I clearly wasn't coping well with the incident at the restaurant.

Friday rolled around, and Liza had been giving my pitying looks all day. I guess she found out what happened. Because, for the first time, she was a bit hesitant before asking me, "Uh... me and some of the others are going out for a drink... do you want to go with us?" Her smile was reluctant to follow her words.

I shook my head. "No, thank you. I'd rather not." My own smile was apologetic. But I had no interest in a pity invite. It only made me angry, but she didn't deserve me lashing out at her for trying to be nice. When she left, I could tell she was grateful that I turned her down. Apparently, it hadn't been her idea to invite me.

As I gathered my things and clocked out, I heard König's unmistakable voice, "Come with me." It wasn't a question, or a suggestion, it was closer to a command. I looked at him like I forgot what a thought or a brain cell was for a moment.

"Do I-"

"Nein. You have your things. Good, let's go." He steered me towards his car out in the parking lot, and opened the passenger door. I gave him a baffled look, but got in and buckled up. Even though, this felt akin to a kidnapping.

I was quiet at first as he got behind the wheel and drove off. "I feel like I should be alarmed right now, no offense intended. Where are we going?" I asked after he pulled onto the highway, my question was met with silence. I glanced over at him after a few minutes and I realized, he's uncomfortable. Studying him for a bit, I could see his discomfort grow in the way his hands tensed on the steering wheel. *Oh, my gods... he's shy... he's shy and out of his comfort zone...* the thought hit me like I just drove a sports car at full speed into a brick wall.

I looked back at the road as he drove. I absorbed this information and contemplated what to say next. Or if I should say anything at all. Before I could say anything, though, he pulled up in front of a brick building in the downtown area. The sign on the window said "Coffee and Colors" with a coffee mug of rainbow colors in it next to the fancy painted lettering. I followed his lead and got out of the car, I silently followed him inside once he grabbed a pack out of his trunk.

My jaw dropped. "You take a watercolor class?" I asked him incredulously. We were in the back of an art supply store. I never would have guessed this giant would do something so...perceived as feminine. But that must be why no one knew about this. "I'm sorry...that was rude of me. I didn't know this place existed." I quickly added when I looked up at him as we took our seats.

"It's not quite a class...more of a group of artists who hang out in the quiet." König said thoughtfully. "Sometimes all we do is focus on art, other times it's like a regular coffee house. Speaking of," he quickly stood up and grabbed a couple of coffees for us before pulling out two sets of everything out of his pack. This was the most relaxed I had ever seen him, despite his nervous fidgeting. "I saw you've been struggling since the attempted robbery...." His voice trailed off as he shrugged at his attempt to explain. "Do you know how to do this? I could show you how, if you like." He sounded almost nervous.

"Thank you, I appreciate this. Much better than a pity bar or club invite." I spoke with an encouraging smile. "Honestly, I prefer quiet activities like this." I watched as he set everything up for us, in an attempt to keep busy. "I don't, but I would like to learn." I could see the relief in his posture, even if he thought he could hide it. I took a drink of my coffee as he showed me what he knew of water colors.

[annegamesandyarns]

Cotton Candy Surprise

For the last few days, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick was being a grump. That was putting it mildly. Politely even. He had been snapping at everyone, rude, abrasive and combative. He had been rougher than normal during training, harsher in his reprimands to the rookies. A real prick, in all honestly.

I took it upon myself to get the guy to either finally let loose that pent-up anger, or to let it go. The moment was here, it was now or never. *"Hey, Gaz... I need your help getting something from the utility closet. Fourth floor, east wing of the barracks."* I sent the text and hid around the corner. Minutes later, I heard footsteps approaching. *Perfect!* I thought, that is, until I looked.

Laswell and Gaz were talking quietly, like they were having a serious conversation. Laswell's hand was on the doorknob. It was like watching a horror movie in slow motion. You know the killer is in the other room, you know that the college student would meet their end, and you know that there is nothing you can do to stop it. All you can do is peek through your fingers, or over the edge of the blanket.

The door opened as they both stepped in. The bucket of honey tipped over onto both of them. As they shouted in confusion and moved further in, they set off a chain reaction of events. Sounds of cussing, balloons popping, and things falling filled the hallway. People poked their heads out their rooms at the commotion.

I stood there contemplating on what I should do, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Did you really think you were going to get away with it this time?" Ghost asked, mild amusement could be heard in his voice. Though I know that if I look, I might get a glare. "Especially since the kitchen complained about an alarming amount of honey going missing?"

The two came out of the utility closet covered in honey, multicolored cotton candy, sugar pearls, and rainbow sprinkles. They looked at each other and started laughing at how ridiculous they looked. "And you let me do it, knowing what I was up to." I said thoughtfully as I walked away.

------------end--------------

[annegamesandyarns]

Author's Note: character x reader in the first person pov.

It hadn't always been this way. Cold, empty, lonely and bleak. The weather, bright and sunny, didn't align with the feeling in the house. No...not a house. The mausoleum-like structure stood as a monument to what the family once was. It had been filled with warmth, and life. The sounds of kids could have been heard as the pitter patter of their feet filled the halls. Laughter had echoed throughout each room. But that was then, when family meant something.

I wandered from room to room, remembering and imagining what it had been like. What it could be again. My fingers trailed through the dust and over the stains that time had left on the things that were abandoned here. The curtains were moth-eaten and thread bare, much like the carpets and rugs that lay scattered about. The walls discolored with its papers drooping from the weight of misery, and black mold crawled up them as if it were seeking solace from the sun rays that filtered in from the broken windows. It was like this in every room.

I paused in what had been the living room, where the fireplace sat cold and damp. A critter had tried making a den in it. I looked at the warped clock, as if it could tell me the current time. The ticking had stopped years ago, possibly decades. But I knew that wasn't right. Faded pictures in broken frames laid where they had been left behind. The faces are vague, and barely recogniseable. The man often seen in a uniform of somesort in some of the pictures. A figure stood beside him as if they were in love. The rotten couch sat as it always had, facing a television that no longer lit up with movies or shows.

Everything replayed for me as to how this home became an abandoned crypt.

The neighborhood had been an upscale suburban hellscape. The neighbors were insufferably pretentious with their HOA rules and regulations reigning like a tyrant over everything. Not a blade of grass out of place, everything relatively the same. It was always...sunny. I hated the sun. I hated the neighborhood. I hated the sameness everywhere I looked. But it was a...well, mostly a quiet neighborhood. The kids had a safe place to play, with a park nearby filled with the kids from the area. The school district was good, a bit elite for my taste. However, I was reassured that it was a good opportunity for Spencer, Daisy, Leslie and Cooper. With John and I expecting another bundle of chaos, their daycare services were something I looked forward to.

The house itself was situated on a corner of the block we were on with six bedrooms, three bathrooms, an office, attic, basement, kitchen, and a living room. The front yard was large but tidy with the expected so-called 'curb appeal'. Rose bushes lined the walkway up to the house, as peonies, and other flowers and bushes I never bothered to learn about, took up space around the trees and garden beds that sat against the house and fences. The back yard had been sprawling, or at least it felt like it. The back door opened up to a covered patio that had an outdoor kitchen for entertaining. A fenced in pool sat near the back fence, creating space for entertaining in the middle for lawn games or whatever we wanted.

Despite the suffocating atmosphere of the community, this was home. At least the closest thing that ever felt like home for the kids. With John's work, we were constantly on the move. He promised this was the last time if he could help it, even though it never really mattered to me. As long as we were together, I would always be home. They were my home.

It was sunny that day, much like today. As it was everyday in this place. Always sunny. It was muggy, and the kids were off with their friends. I was home alone, and just finished talking on the phone to the woman who was carrying the baby we were adopting. She wasn't feeling well due to the heat, and I invited her over to relax in the pool and cool off. I promised to make slushies and smoothies for us to indulge in while we spent the time together. John was on his way to pick her up, so she wouldn't have to drive.

I didn't hear the engine of a car pulling up. I didn't see the men sneaking around the outside of the house. I was blissfully unaware until the sound of gunfire ripped through the silence. Bullets pierced through everything as glass shattered and fell to the ground. I remembered brief white hot pain as I fell to the ground, then numb nothingness. I was surrounded by warmth as I began to shiver. I stared at the ceiling as I wondered how I was going to get the blood stains out of the carpet. Several men and a couple of women stood over me briefly, but they left before the sirens could even be heard.

I don't remember much after that. But isn't that how trauma works? You remember some things, but not everything. Or you remember things not quite how it happened? I was certain though of what had happened prior to the incident. I could still see the stain in the carpet years later. I could hear voices drift in through the front of the house. I couldn't see them, but I could hear John and the kids. I could even hear a baby cooing as John talked to another person. Maybe it was a neighbor complaining about the state of the house.

I found myself in the basement, not wanting to linger for much longer near the front of the house. No one was supposed to be in here afterall. I found myself stuck, half way through a disintegrating box. I hated how that happened sometimes. I peered into it at the fuzzy contents. I was stuck. Half way through a disentegrating box. I looked around as I felt my breathing pick up and sweat began to bead along my skin. This wasn't right. I couldn't be dead. No! I survived. I could have sworn I did....didn't I? How was this possible?

"Mr. Price, I-"

"CAPTAIN, not mister. It's Captain Price. To you." John's stern and gruff voice floated down to me. A faint beeping could be heard. "Look, their heart rate and breathing changed. That has to mean something. They wer fighting the ventilator and is breathing on their own. I am not pulling the plug. My partner is improving!" His anger and frustration was palpable.

I couldn't remove my foot from the box. I couldn't shout, or call out to him in any way. It was like my voice was frozen. I looked up to find something to throw, or break. To somehow get his attention. I was here, in the....I look around as I felt a gentle touch to my face, and I find myself in the living room again. I see the things that once decorated the home. I could've swore I was just in I just walked in here from the kitchen.

"Do not mention anything like that again in front of my kids, or to me. We're not interested!" His voice growled out, barely hiding the fury he was feeling. He sounded much louder, more clear than earlier. Earlier? I shook my head to clear it. Maybe I was spending too much time in this dilapitated house.

I blinked rapidly as my eyes adjusted to the bright lights. I could hear Leslie's voice, "You're awake!" There was a sudden storm of movement all around me. Doctors and nurses calling out at the same time, my kids crying, an infant crying out in distress. John's voice was drowned out and fading into the mayhem as I was poked, prodded, instructed to do this or that. It was so much all at once. Someone trying to tell me to calm down was the last straw as I tried to scream.

"ENOUGH!" John's voice finally cut through the chaos. He looks at me with a warm look in his eyes. "You need to wake up, Sunshine. C'mon lovie, you can do it."

My eyes flew open as I sat up, panting and drenched in sweat. I look around in confusion. The room was dark, and a gentle breeze blew in through the open windows. A large warm and calloused hand rubbed my back soothingly as I came back from my nightmare within a nightmare. I was in my bedroom, with my husband. Everything was as it should be.

[annegamesandyarns]

Author's Note: character x reader, with reader's pov being in the first person.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Sounds of explosions filled my ears while dirt and other debris erupted around me as the IEDs and claymores went off. The whizzing of projectiles could be heard everywhere. Making sure my mask was on securely, I made a dash for the next cover I could reach. I ran and slid to get behind a broken wall. I spotted the next place I could reach, even though it was a bit risky.

"Come out, come out wherever you are. Heh, what's that matter little lamb? Too much for ya?" The voice mocked me over the speaker. "Maybe you should have stayed home, and baked cookies with your mommy. You won't survive out here. You're weak. A nobody. How the hell did you get on the team anyways?"

I bit back my frustration. Now was not the time. *Deep breath, he's just baiting you. Just need to make it to the mark.* I silently reminded myself. I couldn't afford to mess this up. I crawled under the car to maintain cover, quickly checking for any explosives as I went. Foolish? Definitely. But it would've been too late if it had been rigged to begin with. Looking around, double checking that the coast was clear, I got out from under the car and ran inside the building as I checked for traps along the way.

The speaker crackled somewhere nearby, "Oh, look at that. You made it inside. I'm *almost* impressed. Too bad you won't get very far. Then you'll be a disappointment to your team. Your family. Everyone in your life will know you are a failure. You can't do this. You're not good enough." The voice hissed as I gripped my rifle a little tighter while fighting to keep my heart calm and my breathing even.

I tuned him out and crept from room to room, clearing each one out. I disengaged at least four traps while he taunted me. Sweat dripped down my back and adrenaline was racing through my veins. *This is the song that doesn't end. Yes it goes on and on my friend...* I silently sang to myself to keep his words out of my head. If I couldn't keep my head empty, I could at least auto-pilot my thoughts away from what he was trying to do.

Several nerve racking minutes later I reached my target and secured the intel when a buzzer sounded. "Good job Private. You actually got through the simulation for once." Ghost's voice sounded over the loud speaker.

I let out a huff and chuckled, relief flooding me when I suceeded for the first time. "Little lamb? Really LT? You're off your game today, the only thing that's disappointing is the lack of dad jokes you normally have." I said as I looked up when he and Captain Price approached. "What did you do? Take it easy on me or something?"

"It's to build your confidence, and to see how well you pay attention. Not everyone is going to go through an identical training simulation, because no mission or deployment is going to be exactly the same as a previous one." Price reminded me. His voice a bit stern, like a teacher instructing a student.

"We can make you do it again if you like." Ghost threatened. It was hard to tell when he was being serious, and when he was joking around. Judging by the look on Price's face, Ghost was joking around. But I wasn't going to stick around to find out.

"No, thank you. I'm good. Oh look, just in time for lunch." I laughed nervously as I raced off to the chow line. I thanked my lucky stars I got through the morning's training session with a win.

[annegamesandyarns]

Comfort.

Author's Note: This is supposed to be written as a readerxcharacter type of story. Except, instead of the third person 'you', I am putting 'I' to make it feel more personal.

TW: mention of death/dying, blood, and violence. The last one being vague/brief.

------------------

I quietly slipped into his darkened room. The curtains were drawn shut, and the light from his digital alarm clock radio glowed sotfly in the dark. The red numbers that were displayed showed it was only 3:30 am. *The witching hour.* I almost scoffed at the thought, but it felt fitting since I constantly wake up at this time every night without fail. I could barely make out his form on the bed, whether or not he was asleep...I had no idea.

I crept over to the side of his bed, and gingerly laid next to him. Johnny was lying on his back, so I was able to rest my head on his chest. I listened to him breathe. Inhale....exhale....in....out. I could hear the beating of his heart. Ba-bump....ba-bump....ba-bump. It was reassuring that he was still here. Still alive. He was here, and it was all just a bad dream. I sighed, relieved that it had been just that, a nightmare.

My hand rested on his abdomen, feeling the rise and fall of each breath he took. "Wa's the matter?" Johnny asked sleepily, his arm tightened around me as he roused from his rest. "Couldn't sleep? Or another nightmare?"

We got back two days ago from deployment. We had failures and successes, and too many of us were injured. Though it wasn't life threatening, thankfully. When I heard that Soap had been shot, I felt my world stop. He is my beest friend, the one person in the whole world that makes everything ok. I imagined the worst.

"Nightmare...same as always. You, or someone else I care about, is dying and I don't...I can't..." My voice shook with emotion as it trailed off. I bit my lower lip as I willed my tears to go away. *Don't cry...not now...* I thought to myself as I waited for the feeling to pass. The loss of life may be common in our line of work, it didn't mean it made it any easier. I didn't know if I could handle another loss.

Johnny yawned and sighed as he sat up, and pulled me to his side. "It's ok y'know. To cry. There's no shame in it. Ev'ry one expects us to be strong 24/7. But we're no' machines. No one is that closed off. Not Kyle, or Price. Not even Simon." His warm and calloused hand rubbed my arm affectionately as he gently added, "No one here is going to judge you for needing to be human."

It was like a dam burst. I hated crying in front of others, I hated showing what was happening to me on the inside. But I turned my head and sobbed into his shoulder as I gave in. The nightmare had felt so real, I had woken up shaking and in a cold sweat. Not even a shower had helped. Images of him and everyone else laying in a pool of their own blood had rocked me to my very core, again.

"There it is...let it out." Johnny's voice was soothing, even if it was rougher than gravel. "I'm ok, Price is alive, Kyle is kickin' still, and Simon is still breathin' somewhere around here. Kate is at home with her wife, and Nik is...probably with Price." He huffed the last part out with mild amusement, as if the notion of it being some big secret that they were romantically involved was ridiculous. Everyone knew, and no one cared. But we pretended for their sake.

I sat up and pulled away, chuckling and crying at the same time. I took the offered tissue from Johnny and tried to pull myself back together. "Yeah...sounds about right...emphasis on the sound." I sniffled out with a quivering voice. I had to walk past Price's room to get here in the first place. "You're not allowed to become worm food, not anytime soon." I finally said once I had a moment. "Or I'll have to bring you back just to give you a piece of my mind."

Johnny chuckled at my mostly empty threat before yawning. He grabbed his phone and sent a quick text. "It's late, and I want to get some more sleep. C'mon. Tactical sleeping, aye?" He spooned me from behind once we were laid back down, his arm draped around my waist. Glancing at the clock it was now 4:30 am.

Minutes later, his breathing evened out as his door opened and everyone else filed in once they read Johnny's message. They pulled the empty bed over, and soon I found myself finally drifing off to sleep at the bottom of their tactical cuddle pile.

-----------------end------------