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penguinbuttcheeks · 2 days

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Power - König x reader

summary: you’re a combat medic tending to könig’s wounds. könig can see the strength beneath the timid surface of your personality and decides to take the lead in helping you embrace it.

pairing: könig x medic!reader

cw: smut (MDNI!!), dominant könig, soft könig, afab anatomy (reader), fingering

word count: 2,378

as an afab person, i’ll probably be writing most smut (unless drabbles) with afab anatomy.

i don’t have the experience, nor knowledge to write mlm fics with amab anatomy and don’t want to contribute to harmful stereotypes due to my lack of knowledge- so any smut will be non specified on anatomy or female.

ALSO !! never written smut before this is SO out of my comfort zone lord help me

Gentle strokes and tender fingertips graze along the scarred flesh of König’s arm, steady in their movement, precise and confident.

It’s unusual that the giant before you was in your office to begin with, rarely allowing the medics to tend to his wounds. It was something that König usually cared for himself, preferring to rely on his own skill rather than the help of those around him.

It was just his luck that the wound requiring stitches was so awkwardly placed - the back of his bicep - too out of reach for his own hands to tend to.

You stood at his side, finishing the last remaining stitches while he sat silently in his chair, barely flinching each time the needle pierced through his flesh.

König's breath catches in his throat at your tender ministrations, the gentle caress of your fingers sending a shiver down his spine. He found himself captivated, his piercing gaze fixed on your face as you tended to his wound with such care.

"You have a... gentle touch," he murmured, the tender words sounding unfamiliar on his lips. Clearing his throat, he shifted slightly in the chair, his eyes darting away as if suddenly self-conscious. "Not what I expected from a field medic." Comes his now gruff voice.

You chuckle quietly, shoulders shaking ever so slightly.

“My hands were never made to bore blood. I’m much better with a stethoscope than I am a gun, though I admire the skill you possess on the field.” You explain softly, voice hushed as you focus on the task at hand.

“It’s something that I’ll never become quite as good at compared to my medical skills” you continue, voice still low in concentration as you finally tie the finishing knot to his stitching, turning to grab some medical gauze to begin wrapping it up.

König's brow furrows slightly under his sniper hood as he listened to your words, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his features.

"Ja, well..." he rumbled, his gaze falling to your hands as you began wrapping the gauze around his arm. "Different skills are needed for different tasks."

His eyes lingered on you for a moment, something almost akin to admiration in his expression. "But yours are just as valuable, medic." The gruff edges of his voice seemed to soften ever so slightly.

You pause momentarily, looking up at him before offering him a kind smile.

“Thank you” you thank appreciatively. “A lot of the time we get overshadowed. We may not have as intense a job as the soldiers, but we’re just as important. We tend to get forgotten in this line of work” you tell him truthfully. “It’s nice to hear that from time to time” you grin, stepping back to let König rise from his seat.

“You’re free to go now- I’m all done” you inform him, handing him a small capsule of medication.

“Take these if you start to feel any pain from your wound” are your final instructions before he silently leaves, nothing but a curt nod of appreciation sent your way.

The next time you see König is on your way to the KorTac mess hall a few days later.

You catch sight of the man as you see him walking in the other direction.

“Colonel König!” You call out to grab his attention, jogging to catch up with him. “How’s the arm?” you ask kindly, peering over at the bandaged area.

König paused mid-stride, his broad shoulders tensing ever so slightly at the sound of your voice. For a moment, he considered simply continuing on, but something in your tone gave him pause.

Turning to face you, he regarded you with a guarded expression, his piercing blue eyes sweeping over your form.

"It's healing," he rumbled, his voice low and gruff. Glancing down at the bandaged limb, his brow furrowed ever so slightly. "The stitches are holding." There was a hint of begrudging...appreciation in his tone.

You nod, a smile on your face at the news.

“I’m glad. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to check over it sometime to replace the bandaging and ensure that it’s healing well” you inform him, asking for permission to do so.

König felt an unfamiliar twinge in his chest at the warmth in your tone, your concern for his wellbeing catching him off guard. He cleared his throat, gaze shifting away momentarily.

"Ja, that would be...acceptable," he mumbled, the words sounding almost reluctant.

The hesitance in his voice makes you feel slightly uncertain in yourself, as if you’re overstepping a boundary that you shouldn’t be with the colonel.

You nod, giving him a tight smile.

“I’ll stop by sometime this evening when you’re not busy” you tell him, sending him a small nod.

König's eyes narrowed slightly at your reaction, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face.

"As you wish, medic," he rumbled, his tone layered with a subtlety that belied his true nature.

Turning on his heel, he strode away, his steps purposeful and his bearing commanding, but as he walked there was a slight tension in his shoulders - one that had not been there before.

That evening, as promised, you made your way to König's quarters. The door swung open at your approach, revealing the imposing figure of the Austrian colonel. He stood there silently, his piercing gaze sweeping over you, sizing you up.

You’re startled slightly when König opens the door, neck craning as you lift your head to meet his gaze, his imposing figure towering over your much shorter one.

"Come in," he said gruffly, stepping aside to allow you entrance.

You step inside timidly while König closes the door behind him.

Unlike the other soldiers who were assigned to shared bunks, König was given a private room, his sleeping quarters merged with his office. A private luxury given to those of high status within KorTac.

König's leering gaze swept over you as you stepped into his private quarters, his eyes narrowing slightly. There was an intensity to his stare that was almost unnerving, as if he were silently assessing you.

"Sit," he commanded, gesturing towards a sturdy chair positioned near his desk. His tone left no room for argument.

Moving to comply, you couldn't help but notice the subtle interplay of muscle beneath the tight confines of his uniform. There was an undeniable power and grace to his movements that was both intimidating and oddly captivating.

"Well, Medic," he rumbled, his voice low and tinged with an undercurrent of something you couldn't quite place. "Let's see if your handiwork has held up."

As you settled into the chair, König moved to stand before you, his towering frame casting a shadow over your form. Wordlessly, he began to unwrap the bandage on his arm, exposing the angry red sutures that you had so carefully tended to the previous day.

König's eyes narrowed slightly as he scrutinized the wound, his weathered fingers gently probing the area. A low hum rumbled in his throat as he examined your handiwork.

"Hmm, not bad," he acknowledged almost begrudgingly, his gaze flickering to meet yours. There was a faint gleam of what might have been approval in his steel-blue eyes.

He swiftly sits down across from you. Leaning back in his chair, he regarded you in silence for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

He watches as you retrieve your small medical pack, gathering the materials you needed to redress the wound and sanitise it thoroughly.

"Tell me, Medic," he murmured, his voice low and rough-edged. "What else other than medicine have you learned in your time with Kortac?"

You stand, walking over to him to inspect the wound yourself, once again finding yourself in the same position a few days before in your medical room.

“I’ve seen you in training. I’ve learnt not to get on your bad side” you muse light heartedly, earning a quirked brow of amusement from König - not that you would have been able to see underneath the fabric of his mask.

“Ah, so you’ve learned that much at least” he rumbles, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. He continues to study you as you clean and dress his wound, silent gaze penetrating and unwavering. “And what else have you learned?” he presses, his tone low and almost…. Curious. “About yourself perhaps?”

His fingers drum against the arm oh his chair, the motion betraying a hint of restlessness. “Working with KorTac is no easy feat. It takes a… Certain kind of person to thrive here”

You nod in agreement, fingers gently brushing over his skin as you finish cleaning the wound, reaching for the fresh gauze to wrap it again.

“It is.” You quietly agree, eyes never leaving your hands as you continue your ministrations. “I realise now that my role as a medic is much better suited to me than that of a soldier. I found it challenging to be the one causing the destruction rather than healing it.” You confess honestly.

König’s eyes narrow as he listens to your confession, an unreadable glint flashing in his eyes.

“Is that so?” He murmurs, voice low and contemplative. Leaning forward in his chair, he studies you intently, now finished with his redressing and packing away your materials at his desk. “What is it you find so… Challenging about destruction?”

His finger trace the edge of his bandaging that you had so carefully wrapped around his arm, the touch almost deliberately sensual.

“Perhaps you haven’t found the right motivation.”

You pause, eyes watching carefully as his large finger traces the white gauze.

“I’m not sure I could ever find the motivation to encourage causing harm” you confess slowly, gaze never leaving his subtle movements as he fidgets with the dressing of his wound.

“Is that so?” He responds, a hint of challenge in his tone. Slowly, he rose from his chair, towering over you as he moved to loom over your smaller frame. “Perhaps I could show you” he breathes, face mere inches from yours.

Your eyes widen ever so slightly, stepping back as König raises to his full height.

The intensity of his gaze was overwhelming.

“What it truly means to be strong… To be powerful.” His large hand reaches out to trace the outline of your jaw, mimicking what he had just done with his freshly dressed wound.

“Show me how to be strong?” You repeat unsurely, wide eyes looking up at him with uncertainty.

König’s lips curl in to a predatory smile, his finger grazing your cheek once more.

“Ja, mein kleine” he purrs, voice low and soothing. “Let me show you the true meaning of strength.” His fingers move from your jaw, thick finger grasping at your chin, tightening ever so slightly.

“Power is not something to be feared liebling,” he hums, eyes scanning over your face to gauge your reaction. “It is something to be embraced… To be wielded”. Leaning in closer, he fixes you with an unwavering stare, gluing you in place where you stand. “I can teach you how to do that” His gaze drops down to your lips momentarily before flickering back up to meet your eyes. “If you’ll let me.”

That’s how you found yourself in your current situation, sat atop König’s waist - straddling him. Your legs rest on either side of his large body, his hungry eyes sweeping over your thighs that tremble, clenching down against his hips, his fingers buried deep inside you.

He curls them with deadly precision, making you cry out as you continue to ride his fingers.

“That’s it, mein süße" he purrs, low and rough. “Take what you need”

His thumb circles your sensitive nub, slow, agonising strokes, his piercing gaze locked on your face - watching intently for your every reaction.

“Show me how you pleasure yourself” he commands, voice thick with dark promise.

You whimper and mewl, hands planted flat against his chest for support, an embarrassed flush creeping up your neck and darkening your already red face.

You gasp and shudder increasing your tempo as you slowly gain confidence, slowly find a rhythm.

His thumb presses harder against your clit, rough, callous padded fingers sending delicious jolts of pleasure through your body.

“Don’t hold back” he commands. “I want to hear every shameless cry.”

You lower your head, eyes clenching shut as you continue to fuck yourself on his fingers, strangled cries breaching your lips as you allow yourself to get lost in the pleasure.

König’s eyes gleam with delight, his hand gripping at your hip tightly to guide your movements.

“Louder.”

You let out a sob, gummy walls clenching around his thick fingers as you near your climax. König’s expression darkens with savage delight as he watches you unravel above him, your desperate cries music to his ears.

His hand on your hip surges upwards, gripping your chin and raising your head to look at him, pupils blown wide and eyes half lidded.

“Look at me, mein süße"

“I want to see the ecstasy on your face as you come undone.”

Like an obedient dog at his command, you lose yourself in the pleasure of his touch and the warmth of his gaze. Your hips buck forward with each desperate thrust, tears of pleasure building behind your eyes and lips parted.

You look so beautiful unravelling above him.

Legs quivering and walls gripping König’s fingers buried deep inside your cunt, your orgasm washes over you. You moan loudly, arms trembling under your weight as you struggle to keep yourself upright, König’s fingers continuing to coax you through your release.

“That’s it, maus.”

“Let it all go.”

You’re panting heavily, body shaking as you open your eyes to meet König again.

There’s an unmissable glint of approval in the colonel’s eyes, drinking in the sight of your dishevelled form atop his lap.

He could get used to this.

Slowly, you lower yourself, laying yourself down- your chest pressed up against his.

He withdraws his fingers carefully, cautious to not overstimulate you further and bringing them up to his lips. A rumbling purr of satisfaction escapes his lips as he tastes you, savouring the flavour.

“You taste divine” he purrs, gaze still hungry and predatory.

“I think I shall have another helping…”

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penguinbuttcheeks · 3 days

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Not a Woman - price x reader

summary: you get called to price’s office after a mission gone wrong in russia. after internalising your emotions for so long, you’re unable to hold back and finally reveal your deepest secret.

pairing: platonic!price x transmasc!reader

cw: mentions/hints towards sa, internalised transphobia (from reader), stereotyped sexism (cuz this is the military and the 141 boys would absolutely have some internalised misogyny ingrained in them)

word count: 3,079

A/N: there’s not really any fics out there targeted towards male readers, specifically trans men- and i wanted to write something (somewhat of a vent) about my own experience as a trans masc person.

this was originally posted on ao3, but i also wanted to post it here since i’ve gotten some good feedback and it boosted my confidence a bit :p

this is my first ever fic, so any feedback or tips would be super appreciated !!

After a particularly hard mission, you were called into Price’s office for a little chat.

The TaskForce's recent mission in Russia hadn't panned out as smoothly as he had hoped.

While the team's intel was thorough, word had gotten out that the 141 were planning to infiltrate a terrorist organisation from an unknown source. The plan had been disclosed before the group had even managed to reach their location.

It was complete and utter chaos. The entire team outnumbered with masses of last minute reinforcements.

The five of you barely made it out alive and Price now had the added stress of trying to locate the mole who had leaked highly confidential information from the TaskForce.

The following weeks succeeding the mission, your attitude had started to become short with some of your teammates and often ended in hostility.

The four men were starting to reach their limit, originally approaching you with care, however their patience soon ran thin. It was a draining mission for everyone after all.

Patience soon turned to agitation as each attempt to reach out to you was shut down. All that they had received in return were your harsh, snarky retorts and violent yells. Your behaviour was a stark contrast to the usually friendly and calm nature everyone at the base knew you for.

The taskforce Captain needed to check up on you - for the sake of his men, and for the sake of their own sanity.

Upon hearing the news that Price had called you to his office, you were immediately on high alert.

You weren't oblivious to your behaviour. Each attempt to open up to your comrades about any internal struggle that was so deeply buried was replaced with hurtful insults.

It hurt, but you knew they were hurting more.

You entered Price's office after knocking swiftly on his door with three simple knocks, his tired voice granting you permission to enter from inside.

Price had tried to approach the conversation professionally, tried to keep a level head, however when you snap at him in a sudden fit of anger - the calm, almost fatherly attitude is immediately gone.

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me!” He growls, standing up from his desk. The palms of his hands pressed firmly in to the wooden table surface as he towered over you.

The anger in his eyes was palpable. Terrifying almost.

The hardened gaze you keep trained on Price falters slightly, a small flash of fear crossing your features before it's quickly buried away, trying to maintain a strong composure in the midst of your Captain's presence.

His expression doesn’t change, keeping his cold stare trained on you. A small part of him respects you for standing your ground but most of him is disappointed. Hurt.

“Do you have something you need to get off your chest, Sergeant? Something bothering you?” His voice is hard now as he glares down at you, his anger bubbling just below the surface as he watches you trying to maintain your facade.

Price is met with nothing but silence as he stares down at the soldier in front of him.

With your head held high and shoulders tightly squared - you simply glare back at him in defiance.

The office is eerily silent, the tense atmosphere could easily be cut with even the dullest of blades left discarded to be sharpened in the training room.

Time seems to still as the two soldiers stare each other down.

If it weren't for the emotional turmoil fogging your rationale you would be horrified by your lack of respect towards Price on any other day.

Despite your futile attempts to maintain your composure, hot, angry tears spring to your eyes, a heavy lump forming at the base of your throat.

It’s not long before they’re spilling over your cheeks. Fat, hot droplets dripping from your chin and leaving rain-like splatters on the tiled floor surrounding your feet.

Price’s expression immediately softens at the sight, the cold mask of his exterior cracking as the pain in his voice rises.

“Damnit…”

In one swift motion, the towering behemoth of a man is rounding his desk to stand in front of you, his concerned gaze never leaving your trembling form.

Despite the angry glare you shoot at him your tears never cease.

“What’s going on?” He asks sternly, his blue eyes filled with a flurry of numerous emotions. “What’s wrong?” He continues to press.

The cold front you try your best to maintain drops immediately, head hanging in defeat and burying deep in to the palms of your hands. You desperately try to wipe away the wetness on your cheeks, turning your body away in complete mortification.

One question was all it took. A simple inquiry on your wellbeing sent your defences crumbling to the ground.

Harrowing sobs and sloppy sniffles echo off the brick walls of the small, cluttered office. You whimper through your cries, teeth biting harshly in to your trembling lip in a desperate attempt to muffle any escaping sounds.

The display of vulnerability is humiliating.

“Hey… It’s okay.” He gently assures you, large palms rubbing against your shoulders in an attempt to calm you. He can sense your embarrassment and tries his best to put you at ease.

Any trace of his anger is immediately wiped from his demeanour, replaced with concern for the soldier stood before him.

“Just breathe for a moment”

He continues to stand beside you, his reassuring strokes along the tense muscles of your back slightly alleviating your distress.

“I want to know what I can do to help you.”

Price’s voice is gentle with a hint of unease.

“You can talk to me” he reminds earnestly. And what he says is true.

His priority as Captain has always been towards the wellbeing of his subordinates.

A deep sense of shame spreads through you at Price’s desperate attempts to try and break past the walls that had been so highly constructed around you.

You knew just how much your actions were hurting him.

You knew just how much your actions were hurting your comrades.

You knew just how much your actions were hurting yourself.

“I know!”

The sob that escapes is gut wrenching.

“I know I can talk to you- I know I should have, but I was scared- so embarrassed, so humiliated by what happened-" You're stumbling pathetically over your words as you try in desperate attempt to form the words that you want to say, but your mind is racing far too fast for you to keep up.

You sink to the floor on your hunches, your body curling in on itself- face still buried deeply in your hands.

"I'm so sorry!"

Price can't help but watch the scene unfold in bewilderment. In all the time you have worked together he had never seen such an intense display of emotions from you.

"I'm sorry I was so angry at everyone- so angry at you, my comrades, my family-" Each word is laced in despair at your confession.

It stabs deeply at Price when he realises just how much inner turmoil you have been struggling with.

The tall Captain crouches down on the ground beside you, lowering his level to meet your own.

A strong arm places itself around your small shoulders. It's clear with just how unsure his touch is that the situation is miles out of his comfort zone.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" He asks, his voice low. "I know you're embarrassed, but it's alright. Just take your time. Breathe."

He makes sure to assure you throughout your emotional distress, letting you curl up and continue to cry as you lean in to his words of support.

You slowly lower you shaking hands, peering up at Price who looks down at you with consideration.

Your eyes are red and puffy, cheeks flushed red and blotchy from your mourning.

"It was the mission in Russia" You begin to explain to Price, his gaze never leaving yours and his body turned to you in full attention.

Price's demeanour shifts as the memories of our recent mission flash through his mind. He was there leading charge and he recalls how brutal it was for all of his subordinates.

He nods his head in acknowledgement, listening thoughtfully to your words.

"Go on" He nods, urging you to continue.

You think back to the operation - recalling specifically the moment you had been separated from the group.

Price had chewed you out on the heli for going radio silent on the rest of the team while they furiously defended themselves against the never ending onslaught of enemies that never seemed to cease in their swarming.

No one knew what had happened when you were forced to go rogue, despite multiple attempts to draw the information out of you.

Eventually they had ruled it off, concluding that you were fine and simply agitated from stress - that it was what had resulted in so much tension between you and your comrades.

"I ran in to some trouble" you shakily exhale.

Price immediately recalls the incident, nodding again.

He is fully focused as he listens, silent as he prepares himself for what he's going to hear. Price can sense that this is a difficult topic based off your tone of voice alone.

An uneasy feeling settles in his stomach, realising that what you're going to say next is not going to be easy.

You didn't want him to know about the details of what went down and he gives you the space to open up on your own accord and choose for yourself what you're willing to reveal.

As quickly as your emotions had died down they start to build up again rapidly. The trembling in your body returning as you brace yourself for what you're finally about to reveal to your Captain.

"I tried to get away from them- I tried so hard" your voice quivers, barely above a whisper as your eyes clench shut. "There were so many of them, they wouldn't let go of me- they completely overpowered me."

He feels his heart drop.

Price's rhythmic strokes on your back freeze to a halt, the reality of your words sinking in.

He doesn't let you continue with the details. He doesn't want to force you in to that position of vulnerability.

The expression on his face immediately turns from sympathy to anger, his eyebrows curling down at the thought of what you had endured.

"I should have been able to fight back, or at least run away" You spit out angrily.

Your words snap Price back to reality, his train of thought abruptly coming to a halt at the realisation of your words.

"I'm a trained fucking soldier. It was pathetic" You sneer.

Your hard gaze is trained on the ground in front of you, tears still streaming down your face, leaving trails of silver streaks across your cheeks.

The expression on Price's face hardens as his large hand grips your shoulder tightly. He shakes his head sternly at you, speaking solemnly.

"You were attacked by a group of men. How the hell were you supposed to defend yourself while so heavily outnumbered?" He barks at you authoritatively.

Too many thoughts were swimming through Price's head for him to realise the harshness of his tone. He was horrified that this had happened under his command. Devastated that this had happened to one of his soldiers.

You lift your gaze to meet Price's once again.

"I've seen you do it. I've seen all of you do it" you hiss out in frustration.

So many times you've bared witness to your male comrades almost effortlessly fend themselves against multiple enemies with ease.

Deep down you knew it was a physical advantage. You were smaller, weaker in comparison to the rest of your team.

It made you feel repulsive.

"I'm a man," Price reminds you harshly, making you flinch. He doesn’t realise the impact of those three, simple words.

The anger in him is clear, but not towards you. He is furious that this had happened to you, and even more so that you were blaming yourself for something purely out of your control.

"Even the strongest of men would have struggled in your situation."

Your body is tense, jaw locking in anger as you coldly stare at Price's chest to avoid his gaze.

"I hate being a woman" you mutter. "I hate it. I wish I was stronger, that I was taller. I wish I could walk down the goddamn street by myself without being absolutely terrified of the men around me- I wish I was a fucking man!"

Your voice is desperate, growing louder as you gasp out each word of remorse for your gender.

His grip on your shoulder loosens, retreating back to his side as he takes in the desperation of your voice. He can see the struggle that lies behind your usually confident mask you wear so proudly every day.

It breaks his heart to see how much this affects you.

Price doesn't say anything, only listens as you release your frustrations without judgement. He doesn't want to interrupt you with words of comfort just yet. He can tell that this has been deeply concealed for far too long. His focus is completely on what you have to say, however harsh it may be.

"I never should have been born in this god forsaken body- I never should have been born a woman!" your hands tug at your hair furiously. "I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!"

Finally, after listening to your frantic outburst, Price steps in with a gentle voice. A combination of pity and sadness.

He hates seeing how much this attack has affected you, and is feeling a deep shame at his inability to protect you in your moment of need.

"Shh... you don't mean that" he coos softly, voice cracking slightly as he tries to control his own emotions.

"But I do!" You glare at the Captain that kneels before you. "Ever since I was a kid- I've despised myself for being a woman- for being born in this body" you fiercely seethe. "Why couldn't I have just been born a fucking man?" You slam your fist down in anger.

"No matter what I do. I can't love myself when I'm like this- when I'm a woman!" The word 'woman' spits venomously from your tongue, as if the very word itself felt like poison upon your lips.

Price feels a sting in his heart as your words hit him with such harshness and rage.

He had never imagined being so desperate for something, anything that would strip your confidence so brutally from your own body, that you'd learn to hate yourself so much that you wished you were something else. Price comes to the realisation that this stems much further than your assault.

He looks at the broken soldier in front of him. A soldier so ashamed and severred by a cruel hand that they were forced to live with.

A heavy silence hangs between them, all the while Price's eyes move analytically over your form.

"It's just something that I have to live with - something that I have to come to terms with."

You're nothing but defeated.

"I'll always be a woman, no matter what." you whisper dejectedly, staring blankly at the floor.

His eyes are locked on you and the pain across your face. He's torn between trying to ease your struggle, but not wanting to say anything until you are finished pouring out the pent up anger and hatred that you so desperately needed to.

When the room is silent, Price speaks up again, the words leaving his mouth almost instinctively.

"What if you didn't have to come to terms with being a woman?" Price inquires softly. "What if you accepted the fact that you're...." Price trails off, letting you take the initiative to finish his sentence. He doesn't want to step out of line with something so personal.

"That Im trans.." You quietly finish

He nods his head solemnly, taking a deep breath with you at the revelation.

The room is engulfed in silence once again. The admission alone is something you had buried away so deeply, something you never thought would ever leave the confines of your thoughts. Something that would never reach listening ears. It's almost surreal as you process your confession.

"You know that's not something you have to hide from us, right?" Price asks gently, shifting on his knees so that he was fully seated on the floor with you.

"Gaz, Ghost, Soap... We'll accept you for who you are and whatever you want to be. You don't need to live a lie" Price is tender with his approach.

He watches as you anxiously chew your lip, pulling your knees to your chest tightly.

Your eyes dart around the room, a small feeling of dread slowly creeping up your spine.

"I'll be the laughing stock of the base" you chuckle bitterly, though Price can tell that his suggestion to embrace your true self hasn't been fully shut down.

Like a terrified child, you curl in on yourself further, pressing in to a small, defensive ball.

"Do you really think we would let anyone treat you like that? If they so much as look at you funny, they will personally have to answer to me."

You smile gently at Price, feeling a sudden surge of affection for the man's protectiveness.

Price's shoulders relax slightly at the sight of your smile.

The two of you were a sight to behold, huddled on the floor of his office. It's almost comedic.

Feeling the stiffness in his body, Price slowly rises to his feet, a hand extended towards you to lift you off the floor with him.

You accept gratefully, standing shakily as your body groans in relief.

"Come on soldier," Price calls out to you, heading towards the door to his office.

"We have some arrangements to be made" He smiles at you warmly.

Your stomach flutters at your Captain's immediate acceptance. Just like that, no further discussion was needed

In this moment- you know that this is your chosen family.

This is the home that you deserve, and you were not going to let yourself feel like a stranger in it any longer.

You bite down your smile, nodding at Price as you follow after him and out of his office.

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