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mlmxreader · 1 year

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Pups | Alex Keller x m!reader

@satan-incarnate-666 asked: can i. add a new SF bf to ur ensemble.

jtf2 bf x alex keller, gettin all playfully bitey while price looks on in mild resignation with a bit of dad-vibes tinted horror pls

summary: you and Alex have a very particular way of saying hello when you've been apart for a while, it's a good thing most people are used to it.

tws: swearing, biting, playful violence

Alex always looked forward to the visits from Joint Task Force 2, as it always meant that he could see his boyfriend for a little longer than usual and didn't have to make up an excuse to do so either; the second he saw the patches, half of the earth with half of the Canadian maple leaf, a blade between the two, he knew it was good news. He knew it was even better news when he heard your call sign: Wolverine. The second he saw them coming in, he would wait front and centre, bouncing on his heels as excitement bubbled in his stomach, and today was no different.

He greeted the others warmly, welcoming them and pointing them in the right direction, but when he saw you, he grinned; he wasn't expecting it, you to grab him by the front of his shirt, slamming him on the ground as you straddled his waist, leaning over with your arms either side of his head as you kissed him so softly. Eagerly, Alex kissed back, his arms around you as he tried to keep you as close as humanly possible, nipping at your bottom lip when you pulled away, grinning down at him; you couldn't speak, daring to kiss him again and again until you were both breathless. He wrapped his legs around your waist, and laughed softly.

"Did you miss me?"

"Not really," you joked, shaking your head before you dared to kiss him again. "Did you miss me?"

"Never," Alex chuckled, pulling you down for another kiss. He couldn't help but to laugh when you stood up, one arm under his ass to keep him steady as he wrapped his arms around you that little bit tighter, burying his face against the side of your neck. "You gonna carry me to the base?"

"Yep," you nodded, easily walking with him wrapped around you.

In the distance, Alejandro looked at Gaz, who shrugged and explained that this kind of thing was actually more than normal; when the task force came to visit, you always ended up carrying Alex after some sort of violent greeting. It wasn't anything to bat an eye at, just something to eventually get used to. When you passed him, Ghost didn't even give you a second look, greeting you quickly before he carried on with what he was doing, Soap not far behind and asking why Ghost couldn't carry him the way you carried Alex; already, though, he was starting to nip and bite at your neck, making you laugh as his moustache tickled your skin.

"I'm gonna drop you," you warned.

"You like it," he chuckled, biting down a little harder.

You shook your head as you bit back a harsher laugh. "Stop. I'm gonna drop your stupid ass in a second."

Reluctantly, Alex stopped, huffing and settling just for kissing your neck until you eventually put him down; Price's office wasn't far, and although he knew that you would need to talk to the Captain, he couldn't stop himself, He pushed his leg up between yours, grabbing the back of your shirt and your head and using his weight to spin you both to the ground, grabbing your leg before he pushed you onto your stomach and laid himself on top of you, his breath soft against the back of your neck; you laughed, shaking your head as you pushed yourself up, and in a quick move, flipped onto your back before letting him rest his weight on you.

Alex unbuttoned your shirt a little, just enough to expose your skin as he smiled. "Can I start?"

"I guess so," you shrugged. "C'mon."

He didn't need to be ordered twice, eagerly nipping at your skin until you wrapped your legs around him and got him beneath you, biting at his neck until he decided to push you over so that he could keep biting you; neither of you could see, too busy fighting like teething puppies, but Price was looking out of his office window and down at you both. He sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Bist du gut?" König asked.

Price nodded. "The wolves are back."

König tilted his head to the side, and stole a quick look around the office, eyes wide with fear. "There's wolves?"

Laughing softly, Price gestured for König to stand beside him, and when he did, Price pointed to you and Alex. "That's (y/n), he's from joint task force two."

König nodded. "Okay… und?"

"And that's Alex," Price explained, "he's (y/n)'s boyfriend, but every time they're together… it's like teething puppies."

"I don't get it," König admitted.

"They bite," Price clarified. "They bite, they scratch, they're rough and tumble… good soldiers, but… together? Puppies."

König nodded slowly. "Should I eingreifen?"

"Nein, mein Freund," Price chuckled. "Leave them to it."

König slowly nodded again, returning to his seat, not wanting to watch for too long.

You and Alex didn't even know, still biting one another as you rolled around on the pathing, laughing and grinning as you covered one another in very obvious teeth imprints; but then you pulled back, and you smiled as you gently traced the deepest mark on Alex's neck.

"I love you."

"I know," Alex chuckled. "I love you, too."

You nipped at his bottom lip. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," he whimpered when you pulled completely away from him, pulling him up by the collar of his shirt and dusting him off. "How long are you staying?"

"A few days," you shrugged. "We've got some intel to gather, mostly, just your usual shit but… it's gonna take a while to make sure we've got the right shit together."

Alex nodded, nipping at the edge of your ear. "So I've got you all to myself for a while?"

"Yeah," you returned the favour, even daring to gently tug at his ear, making him laugh. "It's you and me, baby… I'm all yours."

"I like the sound of that," he murmured. "All mine."

You scoffed as you dared to laugh, slinging your arm around his waist. "You're such an idiot… I fucking love you."

Up in his office, Price was still watching, a look of mild horror on his face as he realised just how much you and Alex had bitten into one another; he quickly pulled out his phone, and texted Gaz to bring the first aid kit over, but to make sure that there were extra antiseptic wipes and a few extra plasters, as he didn't trust you and Alex to keep your hands - or teeth, for that matter - away from one another.

"Fucking pups," he grumbled, shaking his head. "König?"

"Ja, Kapitän?"

"Do me a favour," Price started, "escort (y/n) and Alex here."

"Wieso den?"

"I don't trust them not to bite each other," he explained, "they've covered themselves in bite marks already."

König nodded. "Okay, Kapitän. I'll get them."

"Thank you."

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

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redpool · 1 year

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OH MY GOD

#chad michael collins #alex call of duty #alex cod #alex echo 3 1 #alex keller #alex modern warfare #alex keller modern warfare #alex keller call of duty

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dashigriffins · 1 year

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Alex cod

Getting some serious Alex + Farah brainrot lmao. Im still a little behind on their lore but that won't stop me. Dm me; Dashi#7326

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daphneyrose417 · 2 years

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Alex, I wish I could see that handsome face of yours, but this will have to do.

#alex modern warfare

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crr0o · 6 months

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Alex has watched videos and practised to braid farah's hair ❤️

#farah karim #alex keller #call of duty #modern warfare #faralex #alex x farah

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smutstationchoochoo · 9 months

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Desperate

COD Men x FemReader

Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.

Word count: ~3.6k

A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.

Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.

The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.

The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.

You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room.

You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…

Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.

No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.

Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?” His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”

Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.

“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.

You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-

But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.

“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.

He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.

“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.

His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.

It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?

You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.

The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.

The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment. It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?

He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.

He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.

His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.

He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up. Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.

“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.

“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.

His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”

Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.

He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”

Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.

“Yes.”

This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.

You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.

“Well, I did say next time.”

This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)

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azucarera-art · 8 months

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old faralex art i posted on twt but forgot to post here

#cod #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #farah karim #alex keller #gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick #faralex #azu art #rkgk #i'm just gonna spam post art i did over the past months #i neglected this accnt for a while #lmao

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perpetual-fng · 2 months

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not a single thought behind those eyes

#farah karim #alex keller #call of duty #cod fanart #cod modern warfare #aviiart

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mlmxreader · 1 year

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Force To Be Reckoned With | Alex Keller x m!reader

@satan-incarnate-666 asked: "Show them no mercy, baby” for alex x m!reader also

summary: Joint Task Force Two are not the ones to try and mess around.

tws: biting, swearing, mentions of fighting

'Meine Tränen' by Rammstein was playing loudly from where Joint Task Force Two were staying while they gathered information that they wouldn't disclose to the Americans next door on the right, but to the left, Alex and Farah were sat with Alejandro and Rodolfo and the members of Task Force One Four One, and while some had complained about the noise, the task force and its allies knew the other task force well enough to not pay it any mind; it meant that the soldiers there were in a good mood, when they played music so loud that others could hear it, it always meant that they were in a good mood, and judging from what was playing, it was easy to see who had been put in charge of the music for the night. None other than Alex's boyfriend.

You cheered loudly as your teammate, Yas, managed to hit the dart slap bang in the middle of the King of England's eye; the portrait on the wall already had plenty of holes in it from previous darts, but that didn't stop you from continuing to throw them at it in hopes to put as many holes as you could in it. Always cheering and clapping when someone got his eye, or his mouth, or better yet, his forehead. It was all just one big game to play while you waited for things to come through; your Captain, one Pat Grantly, had told you all to relax while you waited for the information to come through and to be finalised and confirmed, and you had every intention of doing just that.

But then, there was a knock at the door, and as you were closest, you went to answer it; he looked angry, brows furrowed as he folded his arms across his chest and glared at you. He tapped his foot on the ground, shaking his head when you cocked a brow at him.

"The fuck do you want?"

"You're being too loud," he leaned in uncomfortably close to look at your uniform. "Lieutenant."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the American before you as you scratched your jaw. "And? I don't see the guys next door having an issue."

"Well, we do," he grumbled. "We're Navy Seals, in case you forgot, and we actually have a fucking job to do, unlike you fucking lazy-"

You pushed him out of the doorway, called back to your team to tell them that you wouldn't be long, and you started to berate him and to belittle him as harshly as you could; the commotion caused quite a stir, as the lads to the left started to creep over, but the second that he saw you, Alex made his way over, and tugged you aside for a moment.

"What happened?"

"He fucking told us to turn it down," you growled. "And then started to argue. So I bit back."

Alex smiled, gently cradling your head in his hands for a moment as he tilted your head forward so that he could press a kiss to your forehead, humming sweetly. "That's my boy."

"Thanks, baby," you hummed back. "You wanna hold my phone while I kick this cunt's ass?"

Alex held out his hand, and when you slapped your phone into it, he nodded at you, and gestured to the other task force. "Me and Farah will be rooting for you, wasīm."

"Thank you," you murmured, daring to steal a quick kiss for good luck before you turned back to the American. "We gonna do this, you silly cunt?"

The American shrugged, calling over some of his friends as he laughed bitterly. "Three against one - you like those odds?"

"I do, actually," you smiled, noddding. "Alex! Baby, do you like 'em?"

"I do!" He called back, heading over to the others. "Show them no mercy, baby!"

Joint Task Force Two came over to stand with Alex and the others, cheering you on as they watched you take down the Americans one by one; none of them were prouder of you than Alex was, loudly cheering you on, singing your praises until his voice went hoarse, and telling you exactly how to do something. He was so fucking proud, loved seeing you in action knowing that he would be the one to kiss all the scrages and scrapes better; but the fight didn't last long, as the Americans fled with their tails between their legs and you turned back to the task forces, grinning.

"What do you think, baby? I do good?"

"You did amazing," Alex replied with a beaming smile, "you did so good, hayati!"

You went over to him, letting him jump into your arms as he wrapped his legs around you and peppered you in dozens of little kisses, each time his moustache tickling you ever so softly and making you laugh as you held onto him tightly; only daring to put him down so that you could wrap your arm around his waist, keeping him close as you kissed his cheek.

"My lucky charm... ain't you, Echo?"

"Yeah," Alex smiled, blushing as he leaned into your side and made himself comfortable with his arm around you. "Am I your favourite lucky charm, though?"

"Yeah," you chuckled. "Yeah, you're my favourite lucky charm."

"Say," Yas piped up, clearing her throat. "Why don't you lot come join us? We got music, drinks... only thing is that Price'll have to stand outside to smoke."

You looked at Alex, raising your brow. "You wanna come party with the winners?"

Alex grinned as he nodded, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours. "You know I do."

Eagerly, you picked him back up, holding onto his thighs as you carried him back, leading the way as you did so often; you settled him in your chair, the one by the desk that was closest to the door, and you sat in his lap with your back against his chest as you pressed play on the music again, the sound of 'Hexenjagd' by Feuerschwanz blaring through the room. You hummed along quietly as you relaxed against him, letting him gently trace patterns onto your stomach while the others slowly started to file in. You smiled when you noticed that Yas had her arm around Farah.

"You're a force to be reckoned with, Sir," Yas chuckled, nodding at you. "An absolute hurricane."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Ah, just doing my bit, Yas."

"No, she's right," Alex told you, grumbling in your ear before gently biting the edge of it. "You really are a force to be reckoned with... I'd be scared of you, if I saw you on the battlefield."

You couldn't help but to titter softly as you tilted your head to the side, giving him the space to bite at your neck playfully, just enough to make you shiver and laugh. "No, you wouldn't - you'd run straight into my arms and try biting me."

"Yeah, that too," he admitted with a soft laugh. "You did good today, wasīm... I'm proud to call you my boyfriend."

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM.

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