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codfanficedits · 7 months

Text

The Silent Treatment.

Pairing:

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!Reader.

Wordcount: 3695| Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Arguing, cussing, swearing, mommy issues, communication, mention of a finger in an ass, angst with no comfort.

A/N: No alternative endings for this one, life's a bitch and if I have to suffer so have you <3 also maybe thinking about taking request, idk.

There were three rules in your relationship with Simon.

One – NEVER eat leftovers that aren’t yours.

Two – Bending over is NOT an invitation to poke someone’s ass.

Three – Never go to a mission while still in an argument.

Rule number one was an easy one. You’d gotten fed up with him eating your leftovers. You’d spent the whole day dreaming about the leftover pasta carbonara only to be met with an empty plate when you came home. An innocent look on his face when you scolded him. “I was hungry.” He pouted. “If your name isn’t on it, it isn’t yours!” You scolded him.

Simon would just put a post it with his name on your leftovers. A cocky grin on his face whenever you called him out on it. “Whaddya mean lovie? It clearly says my name.” In the beginning you wanted to wipe that cocky grin of his face, but over time you found yourself cooking a little extra, just so there would always be a portion of leftovers for Simon. In return you would just keep the good leftovers in an old, empty tub of butter. Your little secret and he didn’t need to know.

Rule number two was brought to life when Simon was finally fed up with you trying to poke his ass every goddamn time he bended over.

“It’s off limits!”

“But that’s not fair.” You protest. “My ass is not off limits for you.”

“You like it.”

“You won’t know it if you won’t try it.”

“You are out of your goddamn mind.”

“Just once.” And with those words you take a step closer, holding out your pointer finger.

“I swear to God, one more step and I’ll put you up for sale on Facebook Marketplace.”

A loud exaggerated gasp leaves you while you lower your hand. “You would never!”

“Correct.” A twinkle in his brown eyes. “I would have to pay people to even be interested in picking you up.”

“Simon!”

You’re met with two arms around you and a million soft kisses on your cheek, forehead, neck. “I would never do such a thing.” He mutters into your ear. “I like my money too much.”

It became a little inside joke. Every now and then he would take the most unflattering picture of you, his favourite was the one where you’d fallen asleep on the couch, your mouth open, snoring while a little bit of drool was on the side of your face. Simon would proudly show you the picture.

“This is the one I would put up with that Facebook Market place ad.” He would grin.

“Please do. Maybe some rich prince will pick me up.”

“Yeah if you count someone with a Burger King crown a prince.”

In return, when the two of you were watching tv, you’d point at some of the rich women you’d see on there.

“That would be me when some rich man responds to the ad you made about me.”

“Be sure to send me some allowance every now and then.”

“As if!” You scoff. “I’d be too busy being rich and pretty to think about sending you a tenner every month.”

It would always be met with a low, grumble, mixed in with a laugh. “You’re already pretty, lovie, pretty sure you can miss a tenner too already.”

But he would always, always pull you close to him and press a kiss onto your hair, and you were pretty sure you could hear him mutter the word “mine”.

Rule number three came to life after the first time the two of you had a big argument. While the two of you could communicate perfectly fine most of the time, every now and then it would escalate. He had a temper, you were so fucking stubborn and sometimes it just had to clash.

And this was the first time. The two of you had just moved in together, and with that came a lot of irritations. Both of you were used to living alone. You didn’t have to worry about people nagging you about your dirty sock scattered around the floor. Simon was used to putting his socks directly into the hamper when he took them off. In return, he could make the kitchen explode while cooking and was perfectly fine with leaving it like that for the night, your fingers would itch whenever the kitchen wasn’t spotless after dinner. But this was new for the both of you, and all of the sudden the two of you weren’t just soldiers, but two people, madly in love but both trying to be right on an argument that only needed compromises.

And it felt as if the world was coming to an end at the kitchen table, while the two of you were arguing and crying, eating of the last, sweet bite of your relationship.

Unfortunately a mission doesn’t stop for a little argument, so the argument had to be cut short. You’d be sent away for no longer than two weeks, and leaving tore your heart out, leaving it behind on the shoe rack for him to look at while you were away. You didn’t even know if you would be single or not when you would come back.

Inside your shared house, Simon would be sitting on the floor, gaze fixed on the door through which you left, hoping you’d come back through that door, tell him you love him, and that you would clean up your socks.

But you didn’t.

Instead he received the news that the communication was cut off between your squad and base. An unforeseen enemy ambush that no one had seen coming. And your socks on the floor no longer mattered to Simon, he promised himself he would never, ever complain about the socks scattered on the bathroom floor if that meant you would come home safe. Simon had never been a religious man, but he would find himself praying at your empty side of your bed every night he was home, begging all the Gods above that you would come home to him.

And you did.

He had been waiting for you the moment he got the news you and your squad had been found. Nervously pacing around, while he was Ghost out on the field, for you he was just Simon, and right now Simon needed you more than ever before. You had been gone for nearly a month now, and he could no longer care about your socks, or the way you would kick out your shoes. All he could care about was you, and having you.

You on the other hand, had no idea what you would come home to. Maybe he had left, maybe you would come home to an empty house with a lover long moved on. But that wasn’t the case, you were greeted by a large man, his hands instantly cupping your face, lips all over your cheeks, nose, lips, eyes, forehead as if his lips were trying to imprint your face in his mind.

After that, the two of you decided to never, ever leave on a mission again while still mad and that rule needed a little tweaking.

By the next big argument, months later, the both of you stayed up all night, trying to talk out the argument. The lack of sleep only fuelling the anger on both sides. It made you both irrational and unable to think in solutions. Eventually the both of you fell asleep, Simon sitting at the kitchen table, you had made your way to the couch, holding on to his hoodie out of spite. The next morning the two of you could in fact talk it out, without the crying, without raising your voice, without the cussing.

So eventually rule number three became really simple. Don’t go on a mission while you’re still in an argument. No matter the subject, no matter how angry one of you was. If someone had to leave for a mission, the argument was put on hold, almost always accompanied by some soft words.

“I’m still mad, but I love you, and we’ll find a solution when you’re back”

“You’re still a pain in my ass, but I love you, and we will work this out.”

“When you’re back, we will talk about it, but for now, all you need to know is that I love you.”

A kiss always followed afterwards, usually on a lips, a single time on the forehead.

Today the two of you were about to break rule three. The past few months had been hectic, to say the least. A lot of missions, birthdays, other obligations. Not enough sleep, not enough intimacy, not enough time for each other. It had placed a ticking bomb under your relationship with Simon. An argument waiting to happen. The little things that would usually just make you shake your head and go on with your day, suddenly became a big deal. The way he would leave the kitchen, the way he would drape his shirts over the armrest over the couch. How he would leave his razor in the shower, always next to your shampoo. Speaking of it, you were certain he was using your shampoo, despite you asking him not to. Multiple times and he never fucking listens.

On the other hand, Simon was getting annoyed by you more and more, the way you would leave your socks on the bathroom floor, how you would leave a door open if you had been in that room. And you always left the fucking light on in the bathroom, no matter how often he would tell you to be mindful of it.

So there you were, walking into your kitchen after he had come home after a long, tiring mission. You had just come home from a day full of meetings and preparations for your upcoming mission.

Your whole kitchen a goddamn mess, who the fucks needs two pans, a cutting board, three plates and a fork, a knife AND a spoon for a portion of scrambled eggs anyway? But you try to let it go, you try counting to ten, you try to ignore the eggshells on the stove, the ketchup on the counter, you try to ignore it all.

Then he barges in, a pair of your socks in his hands, while he looks you in the eyes, using his foot to open the bin, tossing your socks in there.

“What the fuck is that for?”

“I’m sick and tired of finding your fucking socks everywhere.”

“Oh so you can throw away my socks, but throwing out eggshells while you’re cooking is too much to fucking ask?”

“I was going to do it after my nap.”

“Sure you were.” An eyeroll from you followed.

“Don’t give me that fucking attitude lovie.”

“Attitude?” You narrow your eyes.

“Attitude. All I want is some fucking peace and quiet and all you’re doing is fucking nagging.”

“I wouldn’t have to nag if you would just clean this fucking kitchen! Other people want to live and cook here too.”

You can see him press his lips together, a sign that the temper in him is rising, but you don’t care, you can feel your own anger building up and it needs to get out.

“Well, other people would like to go to the fucking bathroom without having to cross a fucking path of dirty, filthy fucking socks!”

“They’re just fucking socks, what is your big fucking deal?”

“My big fucking deal is that little miss perfect over here is nagging like a fucking bitch, while I’m following her around cleaning up her fucking socks, closing fucking doors behind her fucking ass. You can’t even turn of the fucking light after you’ve been in a room and you’re whining about the fucking kitchen!” His voice is raising with every word that comes out of his mouth.

But you were raised by a woman couldn’t love herself, so you don’t back down, instead you get in his face, your tone and volume matching his. “Because this kitchen is fucking disgusting Simon! How the fuck could the army recruit someone so fucking filthy?” Bringing in his career was a low blow. “How fucking hard is it to clean the goddamn ketchup if you spill it?”

His hands form two fists, clenched while they hang beside his body.

“Do not.” His voice is a hiss. “Bring my fucking work into this.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Whatever you fucking say Simon.” You turn around as you spit out your words.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“Out of this fucking swinery of a kitchen.”

“We’re not done talking.”

“What else is there to fucking say? You’re a fucking pig and I am the problem apparently.” Another turn to face him again.

“You know, when you act like this, you’re just your mother.”

Oh, your mother. The woman who was your first friend and your first enemy. The woman who had taught you that your worth was what men thought of you, while slut shaming you in the same sentence. The woman who never loved you how you needed her to. The day she called you ugly wasn’t the day you stopped loving her, but the day you stopped loving yourself, and you had told him. You had cried in his arms about your fucked up relationship with your mother, you had cried about what you had wanted her to be, but what she never could be for you.

“If I’m my mother, then you’re your fat-“ He cuts you off.

“Don’t fucking go there.”

“Why not? You can compare me to my fucking mother. My MOTHER out of all people!” It’s your turn to raise your voice at him.

“It’s different.”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite Simon.”

“I’m the hypocrite? I can’t even come home without you nagging on my fucking ass about this fucking kitchen while you leave a trail of your fucking mess throughout the whole fucking house.”

“Oh well, I’m sorry for not wanting fucking eggshells on my stove, or your fucking shirts all over the couch. Or your FUCKING razor next to MY fucking shampoo!”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“Oh don’t fucking act all innocent now, Simon. I’ve told you plenty of times to keep your hands of my fucking shampoo. That shit is fucking expensive.”

“So I don’t deserve nice, expensive things?”

His comment makes your blood boil. “Stop trying to be the fucking victim.”

“The fucking victim? I can’t even use some nice smelling shampoo in my own fucking house without it being used against me.”

“Oh my God! You could’ve bought your own fucking shampoo. But noo, you always have to take my fucking things. Not even my fucking leftovers are safe from you!”

“Are you still upset because I ate some leftovers?”

“Yes!”

“You’re a fucking child.”

“You’re a fucking leech.”

“A leech?” His fists turning white at your comment.

“A fucking leech. Feeding off others like a fucking parasite.”

“It would be a very good idea if you learned how to shut up, lovie.” The last word didn’t even sound as a pet name anymore.

“Oh I’ll fucking shut up.”

“Finally some fucking peace around here.”

You press your lips together, not making another sound. If he wants some fucking peace he can get it. You turn around to leave the kitchen.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Without looking at him you point at the whiteboard, the date of the mission you had to go on today circled with a red marker.

“Be sure to pack some extra socks so you can litter the fucking battlefield.” He shouts at you as you walk off to pack your bag.

Never break rule number three.

You’re angry when you pack your bag, stomping around, making sure he hears how pissed off he has made you. You even want to take your stupid fucking shampoo with you, but you decide against it, it would be too much of a hassle.

You go downstairs again with your packed bag, and the two of you make eye contact. But neither of you says a thing. Neither of you say the words you had promised each other to always say before a mission.

You turn around while his eyes look back at the tv again, and you make sure to slam the door a little too hard while you leave on your mission.

Turns out all Simon needed was a good nap, some food, a shower and some more sleep. When he wakes up from his little nap and the sky outside is already dark, he realises how much he misses you, how he didn’t tell you he loved you when you went away. He lets out a sigh when he gets to the bathroom, your socks still on the floor, and with a small huff he bends over to pick them up, his hand automatically covering his ass, a force of habit to make sure you don’t poke him while he is bending over. A soft sigh leaving his lips when he realises you’re not there.

For the first time since the two of you got together, your side of the bed felt extra cold, extra empty, and he found himself on his knees again, praying to the heavens you would be home quick, so he could tell you he loved you, and so the two of you could have an actual conversation about the things that had been bothering the two of you.

Simon lets out a soft groan when he sees the kitchen, you had been right, it looked like an active warzone in there. Maybe he should learn to clean up the kitchen after cooking. He’s a grown man for fuck sake.

He rolls up his sleeves, puts on some music and it’s time to clean that goddamned kitchen. And while he is cleaning his thoughts wandered to you, how hurt you looked when he compared you to your mother, and a jolt of guilt shoots through him. It had been unfair to compare you to your mother. You were nothing like her, and when you would be back he would make sure to tell you that.

He's sweaty and Simon isn’t sure how it happened, but he got eggshells in his hair, but the kitchen is clean, and he intends to keep it that way. With a light spring in his step he makes his way to the shower. He automatically reaches for your shampoo, he just loves how your hair smells when you’re laying on his chest, or when he is your weighed blanket and his face is buried in the crook of your neck. Washing his hair with your shampoo reminds him of you during the day. Simon unscrews the cap, bringing the bottle to his nose and he closes his eyes, the steam and the scent of your shampoo give him the illusion that you’re with him again, and when he opens his eyes he feels empty when you’re not there.

He promises himself to tell you he loves you when you’re finally back.

When he lays in bed at night, and you’re not there to hold, he feels lonely, for the first time since forever, you had always feel like home, and now his home was gone. Simon keeps reaching out for you, only to be met by the cold feeling of your empty pillow. The scrolls past the pictures he has from you, the ones he had always threatened to put in a Facebook marketplace ad, and they bring a smile to his face. He remembers the first time he gave you the playful threat and how he had to make sure to smother you in kisses in case you were angry at him. But you weren’t, you had always been a saint and today he had let his anger take control.

He promises himself to tell you he loves you when you’re finally back.

But when you finally return and he gets the chance to tell you that he loves you, the words get stuck in his throat. Rule number three had been broken and he wasn’t sure how to continue from there. Eventually he finds the courage to speak to you again.

“I love you.” The words are simple, yet raw. But you’re not done being silent, after all, he wished for some peace and now he was getting it.

And so the minutes pass, the hours pass, the days pass, but your silent treatment doesn’t end, you’re a stubborn one, and he knows it.

But he has to speak to you, it is the least he could do, but it’s hard to speak to you when he knows you won’t say a thing back.

“I should’ve hugged you tighter the last time I saw you. I just miss you, in a quite simple, desperate, human way.” The words are raw again, as if they are ripped from the very core of his human being. Again there is no answer from you, and it rips his heart out. He just wishes the last thing you said to him were words of love, not words out of anger.

And now he is sitting next to you, a blanket around the both of you, while he finds the courage to speak to you. Simon’s gaze shifts from the flowers in front of him, to the stars in the sky.

“The stars will go out before I forget you.” His voice is soft, a whisper, the words are meant just for you.

He sighs when you stay silent, oh what he would give to hear your voice once again.

“You know, this is not how I had imagined life, lovie. I want to stay on the back porch, while the world tilts toward sleep, until what I love misses me, and calls me back to bed.” His voice breaks in the middle of his sentence.

Simon rests his head against your tombstone. “This silent treatment has been going on for long enough, don’t you think, lovie?”

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dreamgothgirl · 1 year

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For the First Time: König X F! Reader

Inspired by the Mac Demarco song of the same name

Idk I just hear him when I think of this goofy ah ball of anxiousness

A/N: Hellloooo~ so sorry about the delay for the second part of tensions, I’ve just enrolled in college, got a year older, AND have a brain malformation now so LMAO sorry but shit happens. I’ve also been trying to not let it have lazy, subpar writing so it’s also a matter of quality. I hope this can somewhat suffice for the time being. Sorry this is lazy I just wanted to write :(

WARNINGS: mostly sfw but implied NSFW, suggestive themes

18+

Reader does not have a specific race but is POC friendly as always :)

———————————————————————

He felt like he was in a dream. He had to have been dead on the field to be experiencing this, right, he thought. König never saw a woman as gorgeous and godly as you. A deity; an otherworldly being. You had to be. Everytime he saw you, it felt like the first time.

When you gave him that knee-weakening plea in your eyes as you suckled his thumb and whispered a quiet but lustful, “Please, mein herz.~”

Fuck, he was glad he’d taken the time to teach you his native tongue. It rolled off yours so perfect and melodically like the Gregorian chants of Notredame. Ethereal while it left a haunting but pleasurable tremble run through him to make him feel reborn again.

If he had to choose, König’s favorite parts of you would be your hands, lips, and skin. He didn’t believe you; he even laughed when you told him you were insecure about your skin the first time until you began telling him all the struggles that came with its color and culture.

Everything you assumed you had every right to hate because of it it, König adored. He loved learning about everything you and your people were and accomplished just as much as you liked learning about his own heritage. Even the bad parts he woefully lamented about when that bridge was crossed.

Your hands that caressed his insecurities, scars, and lines on his body before holding his face and playing with his hair drove him wild. There weren’t very many times where he wouldn’t put you in a trance from the longing lust in his seductive eyes when that happened. One of you ended up on your knees every time.

Tonight, those emotions ran fiercer. Your touches were accompanied by the coolness of your new dainty diamond engagement ring while the fiery desire from his fingertips burned and stung your skin like a jolt of pleasurable electricity. It all played like a lucid dream. Unreal, heavenly, and almost like every motion was mirrored like an ethereal fantasia dream sequence.

The synchronization of your sounds was a sensual cacophony of what König would call true love. You; safety and freedom. He whispered against your neck while he peppered delicate, passionate kisses, “I’ve wanted you for so long, meine leibe. I was so scared you’d never feel the same. I’m glad…so glad.”

Your back arched into his body as you exposed your neck more with a hot, breathy moan, “König…you’re all I want. You’re all I’ve wanted..all I’ll ever want.”

His large hand took your own, locking your fingers together as he rutted his hips into the hot space between your legs, slow but assertive, “I’m all yours. I belong to you know, mein leibe. I’ll take good care of you, blume. I’ll never let another man take you away from me.”

The deep growl in his possessiveness made your stomach flip and your thighs squeeze his hips, followed by a whimpering moan, “F-…fuck. I wouldn’t let that happen, daddy. Never.”

His eyes darkened and you let a much louder moan escape your throat in surprise as he gave one strong thrust, “Say that again,” he commanded.

You whined and he slapped your naked thigh, “Quickly. Don’t tease me, darling. Say it.”

“Im…I’m yours…daddy.”

He shuddered and you held back a moan at the jingling of his belt and zipper, “That’s right. Das ist mein mädchen. Now,” he whispered against your stomach, pulling your panties down your already trembling legs, “Lass uns anfangen.”

#fan fiction #comfort #mw2 2022 #konig smut #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig cod #cod mw22 #gaming #video games #soft #good vibes #engaged #ghost is babygirl #ghost brain rot #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader

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soggyriceee · 10 months

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Okay hear me out. König always thought he was a dom yeah, so when his darling asks to explore her oral fixation on his d!ck, he though keeping his promise (of not forcing it down her throat) would be hard.

Only, first few kitten licks and soft suckles on his tip and he starts whimpering, totally subby for her. And she just wants to explore :((( so she keeps just the tip in her mouth (reverse Just The Tip), giving it the attention it deserves.

König never knew he could come like that from just that.

- Beer anon 🍻

just the tip | Konig

summary: look above :p

| ok so ive been kinda obsessed with like.. pervy Konig and other cod characters as well so im just exploring that type of writing for a bit to see if you guys like it and me so, lmk if we want more perky Konig in the future :ppp

" come here maus.. tell me whats wrong." Konig said, leaning back in his chair, patting his lap. he watched as your straddle him, a smile on his lips. he pulls your pink skirt down, gripping your thighs after. "talk to me, whats wrong." he says softly, his other hand on your hip. you hear the game in the background, his friends through his headset yelling obscene words.

Konig had always seen you as his precious little girl. most would say he took advantage of your innocence, you say he was simply teaching you more about your body. your parents were extremely religious, the topic of sex never even coming up. not even in school. they put you in a religious school, blocking any chance of you learning about male or female pleasure. of course, you'd get curious in the night, your hand slipping down between your legs to touch whatever was throbbing between your legs. but you had no idea what you were doing, and nothing seemed to feel good. not until you met Konig of course.

you guys have never fully had sex, not fully at least. at night he would slip between your legs, pulling your night gown up. " just the tip" he'd whisper, pulling his dick through his underwear hole. you'd always been curious about his dick. like what was coming out of his tip when he'd pull it out his pants, or even when he'd pull out of you? why was it warm? why was it white? there were so many questions you had but were too scared to ask.

and he'd always finish on your cunt, never inside. he'd give maybe four thrusts before he'd pull out, gasping above you and jerking off until the white warm liquid would spurt onto your cunt. and he'd always tell you how pretty your pussy is, how one day hes gonna fuck you. but not now. not yet. but you always wondered what it was like to have him fully inside you. his tip alone was thick, and it was uncomfortable the first time he slid it in. the way your walls stretched out around him.

and every time you'd tell him about the throbbing between your legs, he'd happily set you on his leg, bounce you up and down until your body twitched on top of him, and you let out those pretty, high pitched moans while you gripped onto his shirt tightly. " schönes mädchen - pretty girl~" he would coo into your ear, rubbing your lower back as you came down from your orgasm.

"I uhm.. I am curious about something." you said softly, your fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. he'd then lean forward in the chair, grabbing his headset. " hey guys, ill be right back. my girlfriend needs something real quick." he said, muting his mic and sitting back in the chair. he smiled back at you, tilting his head. " curious about what, maus?" he asked, hands placed back in their original spots. oh how he called you maus. it made the throbbing between your legs form so quickly.

you whimpered, shifting on his lap. you felt the semi bulge of him pressing right onto your cunt, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. " uhm y-your.. your dick.. I wanna try something." you said, never looking at him. he chuckled softly, lifting your head. " is that so?" he whispered, looking you in your eyes. you blushed and nodded, shifting once more. " c-can I put it.. in my mouth." you asked softly, looking away from his gaze.

you could've sworn he let out a whimper, his grip on your chin firming up. he shifted beneath you, smiling. " think you can take it all maus?" he asked, looking down between you both. his dick pressed firmly against your cunt now, the hardness of it applying the perfect pressure onto your clit. you nodded your head, the blush on your cheeks growing stronger. " i.. I can try." you whispered, gripping his shirt stronger.

he looks up, a smile on his face. "on your knees." was all he said, pushing you gently off his lap. his hands worked to pull his dick out of his pants, watching you the whole time. it bounced off his stomach when he pulled it from his underwear, his tip red with the same white substance pooling at the top. you swallowed, looking up at the size of him. it was a bit nerve wracking, and he divinely saw that. " just the tip" he said softly, reaching down to grab the back of your head.

he led you to his hard on, watching you. " open your mouth baby just a- there you go" he said, watching as your mouth opened wide for him. "stick your tongue out libeling." he said, gripping the base of him. he slapped his length on your tongue, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. " just the tip.. come on." he whispered, guiding himself into your mouth.

he gasped when he felt the warmth and wetness of your mouth around his tip, his mouth falling open. his grip on the back of your head tightened, a soft whimper slipping past him when you looked up at him. " s-suck it libeling.. like a l-lollipop." he said, watching you from above. you hummed, your eyes moving down to look at the rest of what wasn't in your mouth. your tongue subconsciously pressed flat on the bottom of his tip, your head bobbing up and down just a bit, enough to give his tip attention alone.

his head fell back against the chair, his eyes squeezing shut. his hips so desperately tried to buck up further into your mouth, but he promised just the tip, as always. "ho-hollow your cheeks.. maus.. please." he whimpered above you, his mouth falling open once more. you did as he asked, hollowing your cheeks. he gasped out again, feeling every side of your warm mouth around his tip. his hands gripped his arms rests, his legs bouncing up and down as he tried to hold back his orgasm.

but you weren't done with him. you were having fun, watching how you pleasured him. it felt good. and it surely made your cunt throb. you felt your slick run between your thighs, a whimper coming from you. but you wanted more.

you pulled him out of your mouth, looking at his dick. he looked back down at you, confused. you leaned back forward, your tongue pressing flat on his tip. another whimper from above you. you assumed that it felt good for him, so you continued. your hand gripped his base, holding his dick still. your other found his thigh, holding onto it while your rested on the tips of your toes. " g-oddam maus.. fuck put it back in your mouth" he whined, watching how you traced your tongue around his tip. and you did just that.

you swallowed his tip back between your lips, looking back up at him. pretty whimpers left his lips, occasional growls as he watched you give his tip small bobs of your head around his tip. " c-cant take anymore.. oh my g-god" he cried out, his super body jerking forward. his hips thrusted up a bit, apologizes flying out his mouth. it was never enough for his whole length to slide into your mouth, but it definetly threw you off guard.

" keep going maus.. g-gonna cum..please~" he whined, watching how your eyes closed around him, both your hands wrapped around his dick now. his head flew back, back arching off the chair as you felt a warm liquid spurt against your tongue. you gasped around him, attempting to pull back but he was quicker. he gripped the back of your head, holding you in place. " s-stay there baby.. fuck please s-stay there." he whimpered, his hips bucking up once again.

it was a salty taste, warm too. you didnt know what to really do with it so, you swallowed it. it went down slimy, a small whimper coming from you. above you, Konig panted heavily, his grip on your head still firm. half of his dick was in your mouth at this point, and you honestly didnt mind. his eyes were closed, mouth ajar as the rest of his cum came out of him. " s..so g-good" he whimpered, opening his eyes slowly.

he looked down at you, seeing how full your mouth looked with just his dick. he smiled and pulled it out, watching the saliva string between your lips and his dick. "sorry." he whispered, smiling down at you. you shook your head and remained on the floor, looking up at him. " can.. can I do it again." you asked softly, hands going to grip him once more. a small whimper escaped from him, his eyes squeezing shut. " s-sure maus just give me a- fuck!" he cried out, feeling your lips back around his tip.

he opened his eyes,, watching you wrap your lips around his tip again. this time, your tongue swirled around the hole at the top of his tip, earning a loud whine from him. his body pressed back against the chair, his hips pulling back from you. " l-libeling please I just.. oh fuck~" he cried out, his head falling back. you didnt really know what came over you, or why you were so obsessed with this. but it was fun to be able to do something you've been thinking of for so long. especially when the outcome is this good.

it didnt taker long for Konig to feel that second orgasm coming up. his legs tensed up, his hands finding your cheek. " oh im cumming, im cumming I-im... fuck right there" he cried, his hips jerking forward into your mouth. he knew what he did but he couldnt help it. the way your mouth wrapped so perfectly around his tip, your tongue tracing small circled around his tip. it was like you'd done this before.

pretty little cries came from him as he felt his load shoot into your mouth again, quiet 'please' coming from him. you pulled away, the mix of saliva and cum stringing between your lips and his dick. your shirt was ruined too, drool completely covering the top half. his eyes were hooded, mouth ajar. his chest rose and fell slowly, his legs shaking beside you. you giggled at the sight, the roles now reversed. " n..no more.. please. cant take it." he mumbled, holding your shoulders back to stop you from wrapping your lips around him again. you giggled and nodded, standing to sit on his lap.

his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. his head rested into your chest, taking in your scent. " so tired.." he whispered, pressing a kiss to your wet chest. " lets take a nap." you said softly, watching how he looked so small beneath you. kinda how you looked after he made you cum. but soft snored erupted from below you and you knew that he had fallen asleep. you giggled and ran your hands through his hair, sighing softly. " goodnight "

you knew it was wrong, but you couldnt help the throbbing between your thighs anymore. so, on his sleeping body you moved your hips back and forth on him, helping yourself to an orgasm as well.

omg I loved this request so fucking much!! and im so sorry it took this long to get out, life has been beating my ass. more requests coming out soon!

#cod #call of duty fan fiction #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #konig #konig smut #konig fanfiction #konig x reader

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injestedsoap · 6 months

Text

Graves Likes Soap

Chapter two on ao3

Injury

Soap woke up slowly, blinking his eyes against the harsh light. He furrowed his brow and tried to push up but was met with an artificial screaming that jerked him up further and only increased the screaming.

“What the bloody–?”

“You’re in the medbay.” Said what Soap would have assumed was his sleep paralysis demon if he didn’t know the pseudo face so well.

“Why?” He asked as Ghost reached over to push him back down, quieting the screaming noise from the machine he was hooked up to.

“You asked Price a stupid question and he demanded we take out your brain and see what was wrong with it.”

“Explains why my head hurts.”

Soap smiled at Ghost who rolled his eyes even if it didn’t look like his heart was in it.

“I must be okay if I’m able to annoy ye.” Soap said, covering the hand that was still on his chest.

Ghost looked at him and very slowly inclined his head, pressing down gently on his bandaged chest. “Jeep flipped when it hit an IED, you got a damn nasty head injury and it bled a hell of a lot, we got you back here three days ago, you’ve been under for the most part.”

Soap blew out a breath, “Christ,” He muttered, he rubbed absently at Ghost’s hand, thinking, bizarrely, that he was glad he’d taken the CD Ghost had made him out before they had left for the mission that had flipped the vehicle. That had Soap cracking a half smile as he turned to look at Ghost “And how long has my loyal guard dog been at my side?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Ghost replied, “You don’t think I’m wasting time staring at you mumbling in your sleep, do ya?”

“Did I say anything interesting?”

Ghost started to speak when the door burst open, his hand quickly slipped out of Soap’s grasp as a nurse came in to check his vitals, behind him was.

“MacTavish, thank god you’re awake.” Graves bent down and clapped him on the shoulder, Soap felt the entire world slosh under him and he swallowed bile.

“Yuh-huh,” He managed, blinking to clear spots from his vision.

“I wanted to be here when you woke up but the staff said only one visitor at a time,” Graves jerked his head at Ghost and made a face that said ‘this guy, am I right?’ “Your Captain Price said it was best for Ghost to be here since he’s the one you report to and he was healing from an injury too.”

“Sure,” Soap would unpack that when his stomach wasn’t trying to shoot out of his mouth.

“How does he look?” Graves asked the nurse.

“Fine more or less,” The man said, he was cute, “His equilibrium is a little off still, his eardrums are still healing and I’m guessing any sharp movement is going to make him feel like he’s going to yartz but over all,” He smiled down at Soap, gently squeezing his shoulder, “Should be good to go in a day or two.”

“Thanks,” Soap smiled up at him before the nurse turned and gave Ghost a withering look.

“Which means you can stop menacing us too.”

The look on Ghost’s face was enough to make Soap laugh and then regret it when his body hurt.

As the nurse left Graves turned back to Soap, “I can’t stay long,” He started and Soap resisted the urge to say ‘good’, “But I know when I’m laid up the only thing I can think about is how much I wish the nurses were a little more,” He smirked, “My taste”

Soap felt his entire body temperature drop in horror as Graves pulled out a brown magazine shaped paper bag and laid it on Soap’s chest.

“Don’t enjoy it too much,” Graves said with a wink as he turned and made his way out of the room.

The door had barely closed before Ghost burst out laughing, hunched over, ugly, choking laughing.

“Off, off, off, off,” Soap yelped as he summoned his minimal strength to grab and fling the bag of porn off his chest, he brushed at the spot where it had been.

“Oh c-come on,” Ghost said between fits of laughter, “Come on you don’t want to jerk off to Graves’ favorite porn?”

Soap made a noise that wouldn’t have been out of place coming out of a bird’s beak.

“God damn,” Ghost said catching his breath, “God damn, well I don’t even know if I should give you my thing now.”

Too startled to make a joke and feeling something warm in his chest Soap just sat up a little straighter and said “You brought me something.”

“It’s nothing,” Ghost said even as his eyes smiled and he reached into a little mini fridge next to the bed pulling out a six pack and holding it up for Soap to inspect.

“You brought me Jello?” He asked, feeling his heart swell as Ghost ripped the cardboard and pulled out a little cup to hand across to him.

“You said your favorite thing about the hospital was that they gave you Jello,” He said with a shrug, “you said that you wished more people would give you Jello when you were sick.”

“It’s creepy as shit to hear a huge walking skeleton say the word ‘Jello’.” Soap teased as he peeled back the foil on top and went to crush and slurp the Jello.

“Don’t fucking slurp it, sorority girl,” Ghost handed him a metal spoon with a plastic handle decorated with little pumpkins. “They’re good for dumb babies who need three days to heal up after hitting their head.” Ghost said in reply to the question in Soap’s smile.

“Alright,” Soap whispered, dipping the spoon into the Jello, “I promise not to tell anyone you went on a special shopping trip for your favorite soldier if you do me a favor.”

“I didn’t do that and I won’t do you a favor.”

Soap smiled at him around the spoon.

“What?”

“Burn the fucking porno mags.”

#soap #ghost #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #cod fan fic #call of duty fan fiction #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley

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urjeni · 9 months

Text

╰﹒Maybe it's time for some rest..

・୨ ✦ Pairings : König x reader

・୨ ✦ Plot : Fluff (somewhat?)

・୨ ✦ Warnings : None

˚⊹・┈┈・┈┈・┈┈・┈┈・┈┈・

It was around 9:55 pm and you had a boost of energy. you didn't know where it came from but you were just jumping around, running all over the place as you just felt so energized. König sat and watched as you danced and sang knowing in a few minutes you'd be pass out in bed.

König found your little energy boosts adorable, especially when you'd change moods and do the most weirdest stuff like scream out of nowhere or crawl over him and in the end you'd always find your asleep in bed with his arms wrapped around you. "Meine Liebe. Maybe it's time for some rest." (trns : My love)

You looked at him for a minute and before you knew it you ran towards him, he stared at you in confusion as you ran towards him and stopped right in front of him. "But I'm not tired! I can sing forever!" you yelled out as you jumped on the couch and jumped back off, könig let out a small chuckle as he saw how energized you were but he was getting tired himself.

It didn't take long for you to begin feeling sleepy as you slowed down and shut your mouth completely, könig was in the other room setting up your bed as you sat on the couch curled up. You tried to stay awake but you couldn't and eventually gave in, falling asleep right on the couch. König walked into the living room noticing you knocked out, he knew it was going to happen eventually.

König picked you up and walked into your bedroom, placing you down on the comfy bed as he began taking your clothes off. As könig began getting himself ready for bed he couldn't help but notice your little snores or how you shifted in your sleep like you were having a wild dream. He sat on the other side of the bed exhausted, he laid down next to you pulling you closer to his chest and hugging you like you were some teddy bear.

"Good night, meine Liebe." ✦

#konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig imagine #konig x you #konig cod #konig fluff #fluff #comfort #fanfiction #fanfic #third fan fiction #adorable #bedtime #call of duty #cod mw2

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bravo4iscool · 5 months

Text

return (simon “ghost” riley x fem!reader)

fluff, colleagues to lovers (?), singlemom!reader, soft!simon, dad!simon (?), happy (open) end, protective!simon

„You taught him how to do that?“ you asked, your voice on an edge. You didn‘t know if his name really was Simon but everything pointed in that direction. „Did you teach my son how to break noses?“ your voice rose but Ghost stayed calm. „I asked you something! Did you teach him that?“ You were trembling, almost unable to control your anger.

Ghost looked at you and tilted his head. „Yes, I did teach him that. I‘m surprised you didn‘t.“ That only fuelled your anger even more.

or, you’re a retired military operator and ghost decides to spend his leave with you

word count: 6,2k

(masterlist | return pt.2 snippet)

You’ve been done with the military. After years of service and being haunted by death you decided to cut the string and leave. Price wasn’t happy but he knew there was no way he’d be able to convince you to stay, so he let you.

The minute you retired you disappeared from the screen, finding yourself a little farm in Denmark to stay. You were happy there and you saw yourself living there till the end.

You settled down with your son - the result of an unserious one night stand - and slowly started to fade away from the surface.

It’s a sunny summer day and you’re on your way to feed your chickens. It was still early in the morning but you were enjoying it. The mornings were the only time of the day you actually got to relax.

Your son, Louis, was a handful sometimes and you barely got any time alone since you were single parenting. You sure would’ve been able to find the father of your son but you didn’t want to. That one night stand was a pathetic attempt of yours to escape reality. You had nothing left for Louis’ father. You were fine on your own.

You were humming to yourself as you fed the chickens and collected their eggs, moving onto your two cows Martha and Marie. You got them a few years later than the chickens but by now you were used to them. They provided for you and your son and gave a reason less to leave your farm. The less you left, the better.

So, while you were busy milking the cows you noticed something was different. You couldn’t name it yet but your years with the military, especially Task Force 141, taught you to listen to your instincts.

Someone was here.

You let your eyes carefully roam, your hand ready to reach for the pitchfork but then you pause a minute to think. Whoever was watching you had enough opportunities to jump you already and they didn’t. That could only mean one thing. They weren’t here to hurt you. But before you could shrink the choice of people who could be here you decided to go on. You wanted to let them watch you for a bit longer and maybe make a mistake.

So, you stand up, gently petting Martha and grabbing the bucket of warm milk. You would make some butter out of it today.

You put the bucket onto a wood panel, which served kind of as a counter. Then you heard a silent shuffle. It was almost enough to tell you who was standing as good as directly behind you.

“What do you want, Ghost?” You turned around, crossing your arms to look at your former Lieutenant. He was - to your surprise - not wearing any tactical gear but civilian clothing. That confused you.

Why would he creep up onto you wearing anything but his gear? That wasn’t really Ghost-like. But even if he somewhat looked like a normal human being he still had his mask on.

You sighed. “If you’re here to recruit me for some kind of fucked up mission you can leave already. I won’t come. I’ve got better stuff to do.” You faced your bucket of milk again, grabbing a couple of empty bottles to fill the milk into.

You expected Ghost to leave as quietly as he appeared but he stayed. “I’m on leave,” he said and you stopped dead in your tracks.

“You’re what?” You looked at him over your shoulder, barely able to hide the shock and confusement on your face and in your voice.

He shifted, stepping closer to you. “I said I’m on leave.”

You snorted. “And you decided to spend it with barging into my life and waiting for me in my barn at fucking 5 am?”

He looked at you, his eyes almost as sharp as a knife. “You’re the only one I know who isn’t actively in the military.”

You blinked at him. “I’ll give you that,” you then sighed, still confused. “But I wouldn’t say we were the best of friends, were we?”

You always thought Ghost didn’t like you. He barely spoke to you - only if it was necessary - and, well… he wasn’t particularly easy on you anyway. He wasn’t on anybody but it seemed like he pushed you way more than the others. You constantly needed to prove yourself worthy and all that shit. It didn’t really make you like him either.

“I know,” he simply said while looking around. “Can I stay here?” His eyes met yours again. A cold shiver ran down your spine.

You thought for a moment. Normally you wouldn’t have let him stay but you needed a 2nd hand for some repairs on the farm and Louis was way too small to help you. So, technically speaking, Ghost could and probably would be of great use…

So, you answered, “Only if you help around the farm. I have some stuff to repair here and I need a helping hand. Louis isn’t ready to help yet but you’ll do.”

Something flashed in his eyes before he straightened his back and rolled his shoulders. “Okay. Whatever you need.”

You grinned. “Great. Follow me!” You left the barn, the bucket of milk long forgotten. “I only have two bedrooms, one for myself and one for Louis, so you need to sleep on the couch,” you explained with a shrug. You both knew a couch was like luxury on the open field.

“That’ll do,” Ghost grunted, speeding up his steps. For your size you walked incredibly fast. “Who’s Louis?” he then dared to ask, accompanied with him clearing his throat.

“Louis?” you laughed. “He’s my son. Turned 7 a couple weeks ago. He’s still asleep. I hope.” You glanced at Ghost and you didn’t know if you were hallucinating but he seemed to relax at your words.

“Mom… Why is there a scary man standing in our kitchen?” you heard Louis' strained voice. Your head shot up from where you were ducked down, searching for your shoe.

“Louis, darling.” You rushed to his side and saw Ghost staring at your son, completely shocked. “This is Ghost. He’s a…colleague of mine. You don’t need to be scared of him.” You ruffled your son’s hair, gently hugging him from the side. Meanwhile you gave Ghost an urgent look to say something. At least a hello would be nice.

He can’t just stand in your kitchen like a 6’4’’ giant with the build of a fridge, expecting a 7 year old to not be scared of him.

He quickly got your hint and cleared his throat. “Hi Louis,” he said, his eyes looking almost insecure. “I’m Ghost.” He paused again. “Nice to meet you…”

“Why are you so tall?” Louis immediately asked, angling his head to look up at Ghost’s, the fright from moments ago completely forgotten.

“I…don’t know,” Ghost answered, looking down on himself. He was indeed quite tall. Not as tall as König though.

Louis was about to talk again but then you linked yourself in. “I’m sure he just ate really well as a child.” Ghost looked at you when you finished your sentence. Why did you answer for him? He was capable of talking on his own.

You on the other hand thought he didn’t want to answer. You knew he didn’t like to talk about himself and Louis - sadly on this occasion - was very interested in other people’s lives…

Louis turned his head to look at you, then at Ghost. “Do I get as tall as him when I eat all my vegetables?” His eyes were big and you needed to suppress a laugh. He barely even knew Ghost and he already wanted to be like him in a way…

“Of course darling.” You ducked down to whisper in his ear, “Maybe you’ll get even taller.” Louis started to grin and ran off to eat his breakfast. You watched after him with a gentle smile.

When you found out you were pregnant you didn’t know what to do at first but now… Now you enjoyed every single moment with your little boy even if he was a handful sometimes. You just loved him too much to be truly angry at him…

“I can talk for myself, y’know,” Ghost muttered, staring at you. You were shocked for a moment. You just did what you thought was right. Ghost didn’t like to talk about himself.

“I’m sorry. I just…you never liked talking about yourself and-“ you wiped a couple strands of hair out of your face. “-and I know Louis likes to question the shit outta other people. I just tried to help you out.” You looked at Ghost with your arms crossed in front of your chest.

He just grunted and turned away. “Where’s your tea?”

“2nd cupboard from the left,” you sighed. You knew he was difficult at times. Why exactly did you agree to him spending his leave here? You didn’t even know how long he was on leave.

You looked at Ghost. Nothing more. You just looked at him sleeping. He’s been with you for, what, two weeks now and you already asked yourself, if he maybe was on permanent leave?

Back, when you were still with the 141 Price never gave you more than 5 days off. He always said: Terrorists don’t sleep, so why was Ghost still here?

You silently sighed before you retreated into your bedroom. It was weird that he already slept because he was the night in person but maybe you managed to tire him out enough…

You knew you didn’t. He was used to way more stress… He surely just acted like he slept so you would go to sleep. This man was a true mystery to you.

You tossed and turned in your bed, your thoughts dodging any attempt to fall asleep. You thought you were going crazy. Not a single technique you learned in your military days helped you, so you let out a deep sigh and stood up.

You put on some clothes and quietly tapped out of your room. You saw Ghost still laying on the couch, relief washing over you. You didn’t need him to know you weren’t able to sleep, even if he probably felt the same.

You quickly grabbed your jacket and left. Once you were outside your feet found the way on their own while your eyes started to get used to the night. It wasn’t as dark as some nights but you still could barely make out the small way that led you over the dunes.

You pulled your jacket around you, the breeze being colder than you thought. Out of habit you scanned your surroundings, making sure there was nothing suspicious.

After a short walk you reached your destination. A small wooden observation deck on top of one of the dunes. You rarely saw people coming here so this quickly turned into your place to go when you needed to be on your own.

You leant against the railing, your eyes focused on the beach and the restless sea in front of you. You felt how you immediately calmed down. You really needed this moment for yourself.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. Oh how you loved your life right now. You couldn’t wish for anything better.

You were alone with yourself and your thought for maybe half an hour before you felt a familiar presence behind you.

“I’m starting to believe you like to sneak up onto me,” you said without your eyes leaving the sea. You knew it would only be a matter of time until Ghost found you. He was a light sleeper, if he slept at all. He was a night person, just like you.

He just huffed, carefully walking towards you. He stood beside you, glancing down at you. “Why’d you leave?” he wanted to know, his eyes following your line of view. He found himself staring at the waves crashing at the shore.

“I just needed to think for a moment,” you replied, straightening your body with a sign. Ghost showed no reaction to your answer. Typical of him. Always asking, never answering.

After a couple moments of silence you decided to speak up. “Why are you really here Ghost? And don’t start with this “you’re the only non-military person i know”-bullshit! I know that you never were fond of me, so why are you here now? Matter of fact, why are you still here? We both know Price doesn’t give more than, what, four or five days of leave?” You turned to directly look at him. He was already facing you, the look in his eyes as piercing as always.

“What if I don’t want to answer that question?” he asked, slightly tilting his head. You huffed. That fucker.

“I don’t care that you don’t want to answer!” your voice grew louder. “All those years you pushed me around like some sort of…toy and now you show up in my fucking barn at freaking 5am and ask to stay with me during your leave.” You almost threw your hands in the air but warned yourself to try and keep calm. “Do you even hear how fucking…absurd that sounds?”

You tried to read the look in Ghost’s eyes but it was nearly impossible. The mask made it even harder. You took a deep breath, before continuing.

“I know nothing about you Ghost, other than maybe your last name and call sign and I worked years by your side. I’m putting an insane amount of trust into you right now, do you know that? I’m risking not only my live but most importantly my son’s by having you here so I think the least you can do is answer my question: why the fuck you are here?”

“Why…are you risking your life by having me here?” he asked, trying so hard to hide the confusion in his voice. You nearly started to scream. Was he actually stupid or did he just act like it?

“Why do you think I chose Denmark out of all the places in Europe?” You stared at him. “I’ll tell you why! It’s cause no one gives a single flying fuck about Denmark! There’re a shit ton of people after me but most importantly after you.” You pressed your index finger against his chest, unaware of how close you suddenly were to him. You heavily breathed, your thoughts clouded. “And if they find out you’re here not only you will be in danger but me and my son too. I swore to myself to leave anything military related behind the second Louis came into my life, so yes, at a certain point you’re risking my and his life.”

When you were finished you stepped back, clearly shocked about your rant. Fuck, that was embarrassing, you thought. He maybe wasn’t your superior anymore but you still had an immense respect for him. Under normal circumstances.

You wanted to start talking again to apologize but he cut you off. “I understand.” He did? “I’m causing you trouble. I’ll leave as soon as possible.” He turned to walk away and you groaned.

“Ghost! Wait!” He didn’t stop. “For fuck sake,” you cursed as you went to run after him. Insufferable man! “I didn’t ask for you to leave!” you nearly shouted and he came to a hold.

“Well, what is it then?” he snapped while turning around, throwing his hands in the air. He shouldn’t have followed you here in the first place, now he was knee deep into some shit.

“I just want to know why you’re here. I want to know what to expect of this whole thing here,” you answered. You're suddenly dangerously calm. “I wouldn’t have allowed you to stay if I wouldn’t be able to take the risk. I just want to know what you want here. What you really want here.”

Ghost blinked at you and you started to give up on getting an answer out of him but then he started to talk. “I wanted to spend time with you.” His voice was slightly shaking, going almost unnoticeable.

You were speechless for a moment. He wanted to spend time with…you? Who the fuck poisoned him? You opened your mouth to reply, trying to think of the right words.

“What?”

“I’m not gonna repeat myself,” he huffed, turning away again. “Do what you want with that information.” His voice was only a mumble but you still were able to hear it. Your head was spinning, not knowing what to think.

„You look scary with that mask.“

„I do?“

„Yea…“

Ghost smirked as Louis stared at him. You currently were in town to buy a couple of things and trusted Ghost enough to stay alone with Louis. He needed to admit, the young boy was funny.

„Why are you wearing it? Mom told me you wear it for work but you’re not working now.“ Louis tilted his head and Ghost sighed. The boy was right. He wasn‘t working right now but the mask comforted him in a maybe fucked up way. He didn’t want to take it off.

„I like how it feels on my face,“ Ghost tried to explain, looking down at Louis. „It makes me feel safe.“

„Oh…“ Louis stopped to think for a minute. „Just like my mom makes me feel safe, right?“ he then asked, staring up into Ghost’s eyes.

The older man nodded. „Yes, just like that.“

“Do you have another mask?”

“Why are you asking?”

“If your mask makes you feel safe whenever you wear it, maybe it would make me feel safe when I’m at school…”

Ghost stopped in his tracks, turning to look at Louis, the concern clearly visible in his eyes. “You don’t feel safe in school?”

“No… They always make fun of me because I only have my mom. They’re talking about their dads all the time and I don’t have one…” A quiet sob left Louis’ lips and Ghost felt an unfamiliar pang in his chest.

“They…they don’t hurt you, do they?” Ghost sat down on the grass, the barn door he wanted to fix long forgotten. He patted the stop beside him, motioning Louis to sit down. He needed to find out what was going on in that boy's school.

Louis hesitatingly sat down, avoiding Ghost’s eyes. He was quiet for a while and Ghost wanted to start talking to assure him everything was alright but then Louis broke the silence.

“They shove me sometimes,” he said, his voice quiet. “It doesn’t hurt or anything but I still don’t like it… They always call me Mommy’s boy and make fun of me because I’m not as good at sports as they are…” A silent tear was making its way down Louis’ cheek and Ghost wanted to reach out to wipe it away but…he was afraid.

“Have you ever thought of…defending yourself?” Ghost wanted to know after a while, glancing down at Louis again. “You shouldn’t just take what they throw at you.”

“I don’t know how. I never- I never even told my mom about it…” Louis averted his gaze further and Ghost knew it was because he was afraid that Ghost may think he was weak.

“Mhh,” Ghost hummed, leaning back on his arms. “Would you like to learn? I could teach you a thing or two. Nothing major of course but it could help you.”

Louis’ head shot up, an unknown sparkle in his eyes. He started to beam. “You would do that?”

“Of course,” Ghost smiled under his mask. „Just some basic self defense,“ he further explain, wondering why you didn‘t teach your son. If he had kids it would‘ve been the first thing he‘d teach them. The world could and would be cruel. He would want to prepare them for it.

„Fuck,“ you cursed as you picked up your phone. „Yes?“ you ask, giving Ghost a quick look. You two were currently in town, grocery shopping, when your phone rang. You didn‘t know who it was. You barely had any friends.

„What?“ you almost whisper in disbelief, the grip you had on the pack of noodles in your hand loosening. Before they could fall to the ground Ghost catches them, raising his eyebrow under his mask. What was going on?

„Of course, I‘ll be there as soon as possible. Yes, thank you for calling.“ You end the call, your hand slowly falling to your side. You only manage to blink for a couple seconds. Then you grab the noodles from Ghost‘s. „Louis school called. He got in a fight, we need to pick him up,“ you explain, throwing the noodles in the cart and pushing it forward.

Ghost only followed you, knowing that he probably was the reason Louis got into that fight. Would be funny to explain that to you…

You quickly pay and rush to the car. Once everything was packed away you started the engine. For two years Louis didn’t make trouble once and now he suddenly got in a fight? What the hell?

Ghost was quiet beside you, only looking at the road ahead.

When you pulled into the parking lot of the school you sighed, pushing a couple of hair strands out of your face. „Into the hell hole we go,“ you mutter while opening the door. Before you could close it, Ghost spoke up.

„I can go with you, if you want. I‘ll look out for Louis,“ he suggested and you stopped to look at him. Was he okay? He hated social interactions normally.

„Uh, sure. You can tag along,“ you reply, clearly surprised. Ghost nodded and opened his door. You wanted to ask about his mask but as you knew him he would keep it on.

You quickly brushed down your clothes before you entered the school, Ghost trailing behind you like a guard dog. It probably looked scary to anybody else but you were very used to it. He used to do it all the time while you still were with the 141.

After a couple minutes you stood in front of the principal's office, gently knocking. The sooner you were done with this, the sooner you‘d be home.

„Come in,“ you heard the voice of the principal. You cringed. He was a weird man, always so suggestive… Weird and disgusting in your eyes. That's why you never acted on it but well… men were men, weren‘t they?

You opened the door, walking in with a forced smile. „Hello Mr. Jorgensen.“ He stood up and gave you an almost nasty looking smile. It faded when he noticed Ghost behind you.

He extended his hand to greet you, then he turned his head to face Ghost. „And you must be Louis' father, am I right?“ He extended his hand again.

You were about to correct Jorgensen but Simon dryly replied for you. „Mr. Riley.“ Jorgensen nodded, visibly swallowing.

„You may have a seat,“ he then gestures towards the chairs in front of his desk. „I‘m well aware you know why I asked you to come here,“ Jorgensen starts, folding his hands on top of his desk. „Louis has been showing…concerning behavior lately and he probably should have contacted you earlier about it.“

„What behavior?“ You ask, slightly tilting your head. Louis always was a brave kid.

You could see that Jorgensen hesitated, his eyes jumping back and forth between you and Ghost. Was he scared to talk? „He broke another boys nose,“ he ripped the plaster off, straight up looking at you.

Before he could continue Ghost spoke up. „He was defending himself.“ Now you look at your old colleague in shock. Jorgensen didn‘t do anything different.

He cleared his throat. „Mind to elaborate on that Mr. Riley?“

Ghost straightened his back, mimicking Jorgensen‘s folded hands. „Kid‘s just defending himself. He‘s been bullied for months now. What did you expect him to do? Drink tea about it?“ His voice was cold and his eyes were piercing. You saw Jorgensen swallowing.

„We‘re still trying to find out what really-“

„Are you saying he‘s lying?“ Ghost questioned, leaning forward on his knees. „Are you saying that you don‘t believe him? A child doesn‘t hit without a good reason and it especially doesn’t break a nose because it feels like it.“

You saw how tense Ghost became and you decided to step in. You gently placed your hand on his shoulder. That caught him off guard.

„Thank you for giving us that information Mr. Jorgensen but I would like to see my son now. I assure you that I- we will have a talk with him as soon as we return home.“

„I…have no doubt in that,“ Jorgensen replied, standing up. „Please, follow me.“ He walked around his desk and out of his office. You and Ghost followed.

You walked down a hallway and then another door opened. In that room sat Louis. As soon as he saw you he jumped up, running into your arms. He started to cry as you held him close.

Jorgensen cleared his throat, turning to look at Ghost. „Well, Mr. Riley, I will leave your little family alone for now. I hope we don‘t see each other again about this matter.“ Then he left, but his words didn‘t. They would haunt Ghost until the early morning hours.

„Why did you do that?“ you immediately asked Louis when he calmed down, your voice gentle. It made no sense screaming at him now. „Did…they really bully you?“

Louis only nodded, sniffing. „Simon taught me how to do that,“ he then whispered, looking at Ghost behind you. You stiffed. Then you slowly turned around and stood up.

„You taught him how to do that?“ you asked, your voice on an edge. You didn‘t know if his name really was Simon but everything pointed in that direction. „Did you teach my son how to break noses?“ your voice rose but Ghost stayed calm. „I asked you something! Did you teach him that“ You were trembling, almost unable to control your anger.

Ghost looked at you and tilted his head. „Yes, I did teach him that. I‘m surprised you didn‘t.“ That only fuelled your anger even more.

„You‘re surprised I didn‘t teach him how to break noses and punch children?!“ You jammed your finger against his chest, forgetting that your son was able to witness all this.

„Yes, I am surprised!“ he replied, his voice also suddenly strained. „Why does someone with your abilities and knowledge doesn‘t teach his child how to defend himself from a bunch of little bastards?!“ Ghost‘s eyes grew dark and he made himself taller than he probably was.

„Because I am not a blood-thirsty monster like you!“ you yell back at him, shocked by your own words. You take a step back, swallowing. You didn‘t mean to say that. You didn‘t- Louis‘ trembling voice interrupts you.

„Mom?“ Your head snaps, looking at him. The look in his eyes is terrified. „Mom please don‘t yell…“ he pleads, his voice quiet.

„I’m- I’m sorry darling…“ your own voice is shaking, as well as your hands. You swallow again. „Come on, let’s get you out of here.“ You grab his hand, leading him past Ghost.

„You wanna walk?“ you snapped at him when he didn‘t follow. You didn‘t want to see his ugly mask but you also didn‘t want to leave him here alone…

You were back home again, it was late and Louis was already sleeping. You were in the kitchen preparing something to eat for you and well, for…Ghost. And as if you think of the devil you felt his presence behind you. You wanted to say something but he was faster.

„I care about him. That‘s why I taught him,“ he says and you turn around. He‘s leaning against the doorframe, looking at you.

You huff, „You care about him? Please, you know him for one month! How do you already care about him so much that you’re willing to teach him how to break fucking noses!“ Your voice was strained as you tried not to yell at him.

„I’ve known you for two weeks before I started to care about you!“ He replies, his voice calm but his eyes piercing. He pushed himself off the doorframe and walked towards you.

„Oh please, you didn‘t exchange one single word with me! You care about nobody!“ Ghost looks at you and for a second you believe you saw hurt in his eyes.

„That’s not true,“ he defends himself, coming to a hold just in front of you. You need to crane your neck to look up at him. His height really annoyed you sometimes.

„I care about people!“

You huff again, „And who are those people?“

„Johnny, Price, Gaz,“ he starts to list your former colleagues. „I care about Louis. I care about…you“ His voice fades and he turns his head away. „Believe it or not but I care about you.“

You swallow, struck by his confession. How do you answer something like that?

„If you care about me, why did you never make any effort to get to know me? I wanted to be friends with you, Ghost… Just like I‘m friends with Soap and the others.“ Your anger seemed to disappear and sadness took its place.

He didn‘t say anything and you sighed. You knew he wasn‘t good with feelings. Still, it annoyed you a little bit. You turn around, checking the noodles in the pot. The water should be boiling by now.

„I wanted to protect you…“ Ghost said after a minute of silence, his voice…unsure. He sounded even a bit insecure.

„From what?“ you ask in return, your gaze fixed on the food in front of you. You were more than capable of looking after yourself. You already had years of military experience before you joined the 141. Why, or better said, from what did he want to protect you?

“From me.” You felt his breath against your neck. Did he take off his mask? What the hell happened? “I wanted to protect you from that blood-thirsty monster I am,” he recalled the words you said when picking up Louis.

You closed your eyes, embarrassed at what you called him. He wasn’t a monster. Not to you at least…

“Look, I-” you start but he interrupts you.

“Don’t take back what you said because it’s true.” you hear his voice directly besides you ear and you can’t help but let out an unsteady breath.

You sigh, not daring to turn around. If you were right and he took his mask off you didn’t want to disturb his privacy. “Ghost-“

“Simon,” he interrupts you once again. “Call me Simon.”

“Okay.” Your gaze drifts down to the pot of noodles, carefully stirring it with a wooden spoon. “Simon… What I said- it’s not true. You’re not a blood-thirsty monster,” you try to clarify, signing once again. “I said it in the heat of the moment and-“

“And it’s true. I am who I am and I was protecting you from that.” He was placing his arms next to the stove, caging you in. You briefly closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to calm down. This was getting kinda…weird. Why was he suddenly talking like that?

“Why would you protect me from yourself?” you want to know, your voice almost cracking. Hell, why were you getting so emotional now?

“Because… Because I love you,” you felt his breath stutter and you wanted to reply but he just kept talking. “I love you and I have the terrible habit of getting the ones that I love killed. That was why I kept my distance. That was why I wanted to protect you from me. I didn’t want you to get hurt, I couldn’t forgive myself if you were hurt. But now, now that you left the 141 and…me I realized that maybe, maybe I should…risk it and that I should make up for all the times I hurt you because I wanted to keep you safe…”

Simon had finished and you needed a couple minutes to sort your thoughts out. He was still standing beside you, his hot breath almost burning your skin. “I…don’t know what to say,” you whisper, too overwhelmed and confused by his confession.

“Then say nothing,” he replied in a, suddenly, very gentle voice, now placing his hands on your hips. You were immediately melting into his touch. How many nights did you dream of that already? Now it was turning into reality…

He carefully turned you around to face him but you kept your gaze low, not daring to look into his eyes. If he really was without his mask-

“Look at me,” he whispers. Then you feel his hand on your chin, carefully lifting it up. You were now looking directly at him.

You were almost starstruck as you saw his face. It was…so much more handsome than you imagined it. He had messy blond hair, a little stubble and—god forbid—scars littered all across his face but you loved it.

Unconsciously your hand reached out to trace his features, slightly flinching when he grabbed it. He caressed your wrist with his thumb, slowly raising it to his mouth to press a little kiss onto it.

“Do you understand now?” he asks you, leaning down to be face to face with you. You only manage to nod, too overwhelmed by this whole situation.

He gave you a little smile, then he starts to tilt his head. “Can I kiss you?” he wants to know after a couple moments of silence and again you can’t manage more than a nod.

He smiled again before pulling you in to capture your lips with his and you feel like heaven. Was this really Simon Riley, Lieutenant Ghost, kissing you? You felt like you took a wrong turn somewhere but…it was good.

After you break the kiss he keeps you close, one of his hands on your hip, the other at the back of your head. “Let me show you that I love you,” he mutters, starting to trail kisses down your neck.

You let out a satisfied sigh, your hands finding the way into his hair. You would let him. You would let him show.

Not in bed though. He didn’t deserve that just yet.

„God, that kid is a handful sometimes,“ Simon groans as he flops down on your bed, belly first. You only laugh at him, putting your book aside.

„You get used to it,“ you smirk, your hand finding its way into his hair. „I‘ve been handling him for 7 years now…“ You laugh at his facial expression, pressing a gentle kiss on his head.

Before you can pull back he grabs your face, locking his lips on yours, a satisfied hum leaving his mouth. You smile into the kiss.

„You‘re gonna be the death of me,“ you chuckle after breaking the kiss.

„Better kill you with my charm, then my gun,“ he mumbles in reply, before pulling you in again. He shifts, so he’s on top of you, supporting his weight with his arms.

Your hands caress the back of his head, then his cheeks and his neck. You sigh into the kiss.

After he breaks the kiss he lays down between your legs, his head on your stomach and his arms around your waist. You softly smile down at him. Never in a million years you would‘ve thought that one day your former Lieutenant would lay in your bed, cuddling with you. It was like a fever dream…

„Everything okay, love?“ he mumbles against your stomach, looking up at you. You smile again.

„Yes, nothing to worry about.“ Your hands find their way into his hair again, gently playing with the dirty blonde strands. You were savoring this moment because it could be any day that he needed to leave again…

You were close to dozing off when he started talking again. „Price reached out to me…“

„And?“ you mumble back at him, well aware of what was to come. You were already preparing yourself for the day he‘d leave. You knew he couldn‘t stay forever.

„Said I need to come back. I’ve been gone for almost two and a half months…“ The words were heavy on Simon‘s tongue as he tightened his hold around you.

„When will you leave,“ you gently ask, continuing to play with his hair. You enjoy the feeling of him just laying on top of you. It made you feel safe. You didn‘t want him to leave you again.

„They‘ll pick me up tomorrow,“ he sighs and you don‘t even bother asking how they know where to pick him up. He managed to find you too, didn‘t he?

„Tomorrow?“ you smirk, grabbing his face to pull you up to you. „Better make the best out of tonight then, huh?“ You feel him smile against your lips, propping himself up on his arms above you.

„You damn right sweetheart,“ he whispers against your lips, leaving you a puddle. The power he had over was crazy.

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keenzinemugstudent · 1 month

Text

At Konig's Funeral ⚰️🐙🦑

Price: Anyone got anything thing to say to Colonel Konig?

Y/n: *crying* I'll go, Hi Konig this is your teammate Y/n I just wanted to say I kind of liked you, you always nice and sweet honestly if you here right now I'd probably let you smash right no-.

Konig: *Opens his eyes and rises up*

Everyone: Oh shit! Oh hell no!!!! (Some people fainted or grabs a cross)

Y/n: Eh no what's he's doing!?!

Soap: Uh, uh girl he up now

Ghost: Back from the dead, now it's time to give him head!

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southernbluebellereader · 1 year

Text

MASTERLIST

Who I write for: Call of Duty (Preferably MW2 and MW3); Star Trek (everything up to Enterprise + Strange New Worlds); Slashers (Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers); Jack Reacher (Alan Ritchson); SIX (coming soon)

REQUESTS: Closed | INBOX: Open | TAG LIST: Click Here | (*) = WIP

Last Update: December 29, 2023

{JACK REACHER}

| JACK REACHER (Alan Ritchson) |

General Headcanons

General Headcanons Part 2

X Fem! Southern Waitress

Peach Pie and Cream

{CALL OF DUTY}

| IMAGINES/HEADCANONS/REQUESTS |

Imagine Dancing with Alejandro Vargas and Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra

Imagine Dancing with John Price, Ghost, and Soap

Do They Know How to Take a Bra Off? (COD 141 + Alejandro, Rudy, & König)

Routines (Taskforce 141 x Southern Hairdresser Reader (PLATONIC))

Routines Part 2 (Taskforce 141 x Southern Hairdresser Reader (PLATONIC))

Tenderheart Bear (141 x People Pleaser F! Field Medic (PLATONIC))

How would the 141 react to you getting your nails done? (COD MW2) (Task Force 141 - Semi-NSFW)

(18) Request: Imagine Ghost & König with an anal vibrator

Request: 141 x Reader w/ Psoriasis & Vitiligo (SFW & Platonic)

Request: Taskforce 141 x Reader with rumors of being a slut

(18+) Request: Kvinlig Demon (141 x F! Reader w/ Womb Tattoo)

| CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE |

Requests

(18+) NSFW Price x Younger S/O & he is wrapped around your finger ;)

(18+) NSFW Daddy Price x Wife (this a little *spicy*)

Family Day (x Wife Reader; y'all and the 141 go to Disney World as a family)

Personal Nurse (x Nurse F! Reader)

Leg Warmers (x Reader w/ misaligned knee caps)

*Price begging - collar - sub!Price

X Female Escort Reader

[PART 1] Don’t Look At Me Like That (FLUFF/LITTLE ANGST)

[PART 2] Excitement in Patience (18+ MATURE)

[PART 3] Cup of Coffee (Kinda of a prequel)

X Female Wife Reader

Gray Hairs (FLUFF)

X Young Reader with Facial Scars

[PART 1] Bruised Apple (Platonic, Angst, Facial Scars, Mention of Violence)

[PART 2] Apple Slices (DITTO [Mention of Violence & Trauma])

[PART 3] Apple Pie (Platonic, going on slightly romantic, Angst, Fluffity Fluff)

X MILF Single Mom

Forbidden (Fluff, Innuendos, Brief mention of violence)

| LIEUTENANT SIMON “GHOST” RILEY |

Requests

Drake (x AFAB Teammate w/ Tattoo; Simon seeing their tattoo for the first time)

Turquesa (x AFAB Latinx Nurse Reader)

Midnight Dining (x AFAB Civilian Reader (leather jacket Ghost))

Emergency Snack Run (x AFAB Gas Station Clerk)

Personal Mechanic (Mechanic Ghost x AFAB Reader)

X Female Southern Cook

[PART 1] Midnight Snack (FLUFF & PLATONIC)

[PART 2] Tomato, Tom-ah-to (FLUFF & PLATONIC)

[PART 3] Bag of Peas (FLUFF & PLATONIC)

[PART 4] Hash Browns (FLUFF & MOSTLY PLATONIC)

[PART 5] Prickly Pear (FLUFF & DEF NOT PLATONIC ANYMORE)

[PART 6] Peaches and Cream (FLUFF, ANGST, LOVEY DOVEY)

[PART 7] Chicken and Dumplings (VERY ANGST, A LITTLE VIOLENCE)

[PART 8] Hot Links (FLUFFITY FLUFF FLUFF LOVEY DOVEY)

X Female Reader

(18+) Hot For Teacher (Simon's S/O gets a teacher costume for Halloween)

Being Chosen…By A Baby (Single Mom Reader)

| COLONEL ALEJANDRO VARGAS |

X Female Wife Reader

Forehead Kisses (FLUFF)

Alejandro and His Big Ol' Forehead - One, Two, Three, Four

| SERGEANT KEEGAN P. RUSS (COD GHOSTS) |

Fun and Games (x F! reader) (PLATONIC) - His name is said in a funny accent

| SERGEANT KYLE "GAZ" GARRICK |

Requests

A little nosy, aren't we? (x F! Reader gets caught looking at his social media)

(18+) Car Shenanigans (x F! Reader giving head/getting fingered)

Post-Mission Angst (x AFAB Reader)

X Female Signaler/Radiowoman Reader

Guardian Angel (bubbling relationship)

| KÖNIG |

How he likes to show affection by holding you close (xGN Reader)

| COMMANDER PHILLIP GRAVES |

X Pregnant Wife Reader

First Time Husband (first-time pregnancy; little angst, fluff)

| SERGEANT LOGAN WALKER (COD GHOSTS) |

Requests

Headcanons (Both SFW and NSFW)

What would Logan be like as a Father? (fuffity fluff fluff)

Headcanons Part 2 (Both SFW and NSFW)

| SOBIESŁAW "GROMSKO" KOŚCIUSZKO |

General Headcanons (SFW and NSFW)

Supportive Soft Friend (SFW Fluff)

| KATE LASWELL |

x Wife Reader

My Wife (fluffity fluff fluff)

| ALEX KELLER |

x F! New Yorker Medic Reader

Polar Opposites (Golden Retriever Alex, Black Cat Reader; Fluff)

| SERGEANT JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH |

Requests

*Dilf! Johnny x Babysitter

x F! Reader

Calling Him "Stud"

{STAR TREK}

| IMAGINES/HEADCANONS |

Kirk, Spock, & Bones x Southern Reader (SFW)

Do They Know How to Take Bra Off? (Kirk, Bones, Spock, Scotty, Chekov)

| DOCTOR LEONARD “BONES” MCCOY |

X Female Nurse Practitioner

Medical Couple (FLUFF LOVEY DOVEY; TOS/REBOOT MOVIES)

| FIRST COMMANDER SPOCK |

Requests

Pop of Color (x F! Betazoid Quartermaster/Seamstress; STRANGE NEW WORLDS)

{SLASHERS}

| JASON VOORHEES |

X Female Camp Counselor

Instinct (stalking)

{SIX}

| JOE "BEAR" GRAVES |

Requests

Request: Joe Graves X Younger Wife/GF Headcanons

#master list #fan fiction master list #call of duty #Star Trek #slasher #slashers #Jason voorhees #Jason voorhees x reader #jack reacher #SIX #Joe bear graves #bear #Joe graves

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codfanficedits · 5 months

Text

Final Goodbye - Full version.

Pairing: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick & Reader

Summary: You are Death, guiding the men to the afterlife.

Wordcount: 12,467 | Rating: M (18+ only!)

Warnings: MW3 SPOILERS - Suicide - Selfharm and grieving.

A/N: Different colours to identify dialogue better. Gave John a little backstory.

Being the reaper was a work of art on its own. It was your duty to guide the souls whose time was up to the afterlife, and you had made it your personal mission to make sure that as little as possible souls would cross to the afterlife scared. After all, death doesn’t discriminate between the sinners and the saints.

As a result you had to divide yourself, as an immortal being that was an easy thing to do. Being everywhere at once, yet being nowhere at the same time.

You had the taskforce in your sight for a while now. Four elite soldiers going on missions, you almost had your work cut out for you. But they were good, good enough to keep you lurking in the shadows, for now.

Some of them had come close, close enough to dance the dance of death with you, only to be granted a little more time. John “Soap” MacTavish being one of them. There had been plenty of moments where you had held his hands already, almost revealing your true form before he got pulled away from your grasp.

Life enjoyed playing tricks with you, with death. But it was what humans needed, a little reminder of their mortality so they could enjoy their life again.

And so here you were. You had been following John for a little while now, sensing that his time would be up again. And it was special so to say to follow him around, for every life he took, you would see a version of yourself pop up, taking the life he had claimed to the afterlife, only for that version of yourself to fade again, the very fragments of your soul being scattered around the world in an attempt to make the experience of death a more pleasant one than the experience of being alive. Not that you succeeded all the time. Sometimes you had to guide lives who deserved to live for another fifty years, sometimes the souls were terrified, and sometimes they were waiting for you, as old friends finally meeting up again. It could be a cruel world, but you weren’t there to judge. Humans had free will, and you could not interfere with it.

John’s death happened quick. Too quick for your liking. You preferred it when it took a little time. Not that you liked the suffering of the souls, no, of course not. But it was the best for all whenever a soul was at peace with their death. And John certainly was not.

“What the fuck?” He scolded. “Why the fuck can’t I grab my fucking weapon?”

“What kind of bullshit is this? Cap’n are you seeing thi-“ His sentence cutting short.

Oh you had seen this film before, and you never liked the ending. The look of despair when they see their body lying on the ground.

“No. No! Nonononono.” There it was.

Time seems to be standing still when reality seeps into his brain, his hand reaching out to his limp body on the ground, but he goes straight through it. A look of confusion, pain, anger, sadness when he can see his teammates continue the mission he couldn’t finish. He sees them disarm the bomb, he sees his best friend, Simon, kneel by his body, frantically looking for a pulse.

“I’m here!” John yells, waving his arms in front of Simon’s face, but it is no use, John no longer belongs to the earth, nor does he belong to the afterlife yet. He is in your realm, your limbo and you are the only one who can grand him the freedom of moving on.

“Simon! I am here!” He yells again, but he is meet with the empty eyes of his best friend, and a soft. “No pulse.”

“Hello.”

Your voice snaps him out of it. “Who the fuck are you?”

But it should be clear, the big, dark, black cloak hiding you, hiding your face. “I am Death.”

“I have died?”

“Afraid so.”

“That is a whole lot of bullshit. Can’t you turn it back or something?”

“No.”

You give him the time to process what had happened, what is happening, and what is about to happen.

“So, what now?” He asks, a hand running through his mohawk, his eyes shifting back to his dead body again.

“That depends.” You answer. “Are you ready to move on yet?” Normally you wouldn’t give the souls a choice, no normally you would guide them to the afterlife, maybe have a little small talk, but there was something inside of you telling you this death would stir up some things. So you decided to give him the choice.

“No.” His answer is quick, and you can tell he didn’t think about it.

“Why not?”

“There are so many thing that I still need to do.”

“You know you can’t do them now, right? You are death, you no longer possess your own body, everything you say, or do, is not visible in the human world.” Sometimes you have to be blunt in order to get your point across.

“Oh.”

“So I ask you again. Are you ready to move on?”

“No.”

“Give me a reason.”

John’s gaze shifts to the three men standing over his body, the pain in their eyes is visible and it is undeniable that they had a strong bond, something more than just coworkers. And their pain is shared, as you can see the same pain in his eyes.

“I need to know if they will be okay.”

“You can’t change anything if they won’t be okay.”

“I know, but I know they will be okay, I just need to see it with my own eyes.”

“Very well.” You answer. “You get to decide when you are ready.”

He looks up when he sees other versions of you reap the lives he and his team have taken, his brows furrow and you can tell he wants to ask you questions. Humans have always been curious creatures. “If you have something on your mind, speak up.”

“Who are those?” His fingers point at a version of you who slowly fades away.

“They are me and I am them.”

“That tells me exactly nothing.”

A soft laugh escapes you, even death this man is fearless.

“They are parts of my soul.” You explain. “I prefer to guide every soul to the afterlife personally, but with the volume of souls on this earth, I have to split myself in order to keep up.”

“And I am talking to the main version of Death?”

“That is how you could call it.”

“Does it hurt?”

“What?”

“Splitting yourself?”

“I am no mortal being, pain does not exist in my realm. So to answer your question. It does not hurt.”

His fingers go to the bullet wound in his head, his fingers trailing on the edges, before he pulls them back and looks at the blood on his fingers. “Huh. I got so caught up with this whole being dead thing, that I forgot I got shot.”

A smile forms around your lips. “You’re not the first to which that has happened.”

He is mesmerized, can you blame him? It is not every day that you meet death in person.

“If there is a death, does life exist too?”

“Yes. And Life is quite nice.”

“You’ve met them?”

“Of course, without Life I would not exist, and without me, Life would not be able to continue their creations. We dance a dance of existence together.”

“Hm.” John seems content with your answer. “Hey, can we follow L.T?”

“Simon Riley?”

“Yes.”

“Sure.” The benefit of being an immortal creature was that the law of physics and time did not apply to you, or to Johnny for that matter. “Why him, though?”

“I worry about him the most.” Johnny admitted with a shrug, a flicker of emotions in his eyes before it dies down again. “He had a fucked up life, and we had grown to be good friends, I worry he won’t take my death well.”

Oh sweet summer child, if you only knew. But you cannot interfere with the living and it is no point in telling Johnny what you know, so you keep quiet and grant his request.

“He has become my best friend in the military, you know?” Johnny breaks the silence, as you watch Simon, who at this time, doesn’t seem to feel a thing.

“I know.”

“How do you know?”

“Been watching the taskforce for a while.”

“Why?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“And you give a lot of answers. Now why were you watching us?”

“You’re soldiers. Death follows you around.”

“In the most literal sense.” He laughs at his own joke, and all you do is stare at him, blinking a few times.

“Jezus, even L.T. wasn’t as hard to crack.” He mutters.

“I worry.” John repeats. “I worry that when I died. Simon died too, and Ghost remained.”

In a sense he is not wrong. You can feel it too, the guilt that Simon carries, the hatred towards himself for letting a friend die.

“He is grieving.” You eventually say. “And while grief is a beautiful thing, it expresses itself in the most destructive ways.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

You can see his face shift, he understands Simon won’t cope well, and it doesn’t sit right with him. “I guess there is no way I can interfere with it, right?”

“Correct.”

“Huh.” He stays silent for a brief moment, while he watches the mission debrief going on, without him, but about him. “How does time work here?”

“I am not sure what you mean.”

“Can’t you speed up time or something? Turns out watching people gets kind of boring.”

Humans had always been impatient beings. “I can.” You say. “I can fast forward until we see Simon all by himself.”

His eyes light up, and you’ve hit the mark. “Yes, yes, I need to see how he copes.”

Alas, you grant him his wish, after all, you are death, not some cruel being.

His eyes widen as time around the two of you starts to speed up, the world moving at a faster pace while you are both the centre of it. You see his emotions shift to a sad one, he tries to hide it, but it is hard to conceal the emotions in his eyes, even for a hardened soldier. A soft sigh escapes him when he watches the sunset and you understand it. The sunsets are your favourite thing on earth too.

“It is hard to grasp that I’ll never see another sunset again.” John whispers and you can do nothing but nod. You understand, of course you do. “I just wish I would have appreciate them more while I was alive.”

“For what it is worth. You’re not the first who only appreciates the beauty of life when it is ripped away from them.”

A pained expression paints his face. “It is really the end, huh?” He mutters softly as you slow down time again. “There will be no second chances after this.”

“We are here.” You say, but you only form your sentence to get him out of his thoughts, of course he recognizes Simon’s quarters. He has been there before.

You guide him through the wall, knowing that what the both of you are about to see isn’t a pretty sight. Simon had taken his famous Ghost mask off, balaclava tossed on his bed, an empty look in his eyes, while he watches the dog tags in his hand. One of them is missing, and a smile curls around your lips when you realise where they are.

John doesn’t notice, instead he is hesitant to reach out to his friend.

“Fuck!” Simons booming voice startles John. “Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!” Simon is blaming himself and all that hatred needs to come out. His fists slam down on the mirror on the wall, the shards digging in to the skin on his hands, but it only fuels Simon’s anger. “It should have been me! Fucking me!”

Times like these make your job hard, while you do not understand humans all the time, you can understand their grief, their longing, their desperate attempts to cope with their loved ones being gone.

His hands clutch around the dog tag, the material reminder he has of his best friend. You know Simon wants to cry, to let out all the build up frustration, but you also know Simon is raised by violence and not by love, so he doesn’t allow himself to. Blood drips slowly from his balled fist as he takes deep breaths to calm himself down. Not that it is doing much, every time Simon catches a glimpse of himself, he is reminded of the loss that happened today.

“Is he going to be okay?” John asks.

“I don’t know.” You answer, but you know, you know what will happen, and you know it won’t be pretty, but John doesn’t need to know, not when you can see the pain on his face, the pain in his eyes. The pain in his very soul to see his friend react like this.

His breath hitches in his throat when he sees Simon looking for something, a hidden bottle of whiskey appearing from between his socks in his dresser.

“Fuck.” John’s voice is soft. “Fuck!” It isn’t as soft anymore when Simon takes the first swig.

“Are you really sure I can’t do something? Anything?”

You shake your head.

“Please, anything. I beg you.” The desperation in his voice is clear as day, he doesn’t even try to hide how he feels about his best friend drinking.

“I.. I.. I can’t see this. Simon CAN’T drink himself to death because of me, because I died, becau-“

“He doesn’t drink himself to death.”

And for John time stops again, the weight of the world falling off his shoulders. “Oh thank God.” He sighs. “I mean, thank you, thank life? What is appropriate to say?”

He doesn’t drink himself to death, it will be far worse.

“Thank God is fine.” You eventually answer.

John looks at Simon again, who keeps on drinking the whiskey as if he needs it to survive. “I’m sorry.” Simon eventually says, and John’s eyes lit up. “I’m sorry, Johnny.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” John rambles. “It wasn’t your fault. We all knew Makarov was an asshole.”

“It should’ve been me.” Simon sighs, not hearing the words his best friend so desperately wants to hear him. “You had so much things you still wanted to do, you still had a life in store.”

“Bollocks, Simon.” John tries to tell him while Simon takes another sip. “Fucking bollocks. You can make something out of your life too! We’ve talked about this.”

The nearly empty bottle gets thrown to the wall when Simon locks eyes with the dog tag again. “Fuck. I really hope that when I wake up tomorrow, you’ll still be alive, and this is all a horrible dream.”

Simon ignores the mess on the ground, he ignores the life outside of his quarters, he ignores the world that keeps on spinning, that keeps going on, while his life stopped the moment that bullet hit John. Instead he half undresses himself, slow, lazy movements, the alcohol making it hard to be precise. And he curls up in a ball, the single dog tag clutched in his hand, close to his heart, an gesture to keep his best friend close to him.

“Oh L.T. that hangover is going to hurt.” John mumbles. “And you promise he won’t drink himself to death, right?”

“I promise.”

“And I really can’t give him a sign that I am still here? Or you know, put a glass of water on his nightstand or something?”

“Afraid not.”

“I wish I could though.” John adds with a sigh, looking over the sleeping form of his friend.

“How is the rest coping?”

“You mean John and Kyle?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like to see?”

His eyes light up again. “Can I?”

“Wouldn’t have said it, if you couldn’t”

“In that case, yes, yes please.”

“Who first?”

He needs to think for a brief moment, does he want to see his Captain first, or his other good friend? He isn’t as worried about them as he was about Simon, yet the decision seems an easy one.

“Kyle.”

“Very well.” You hold out your hand for him to take, taking him to the quarters of his other friend. The young man lies on his bed, above the sheets, just staring at the ceiling, tears burning in his eyes.

John needs to swallow a lump in his throat. “He’ll be fine.” Will he?

“But shit.” John continues. “I wish I had told him I was proud of him more often.”

The both of you stay quiet while Kyle rolls over to his side, facing the wall, eyes still wide open.

“He was a little younger than I was, but we had the same rank, and I’ll be damned if he doesn’t become the best soldier out there. So young, yet so many achievements already.” John runs a hand through his mohawk. “I just.. I just hope he knows how proud I am of him.”

Another smile tugs around your lips, while Kyle rolls over again, it is clear that he can’t seem to get comfortable, the events of today replaying in his mind while he tries to process what happens, while he tries to find a balance between being a tough soldier, and being human.

“I want to become like you Soap, when I grow up.” Kyle mutters, before he finally closes his eyes. And you look over to John, making sure that he heard the words that left his friends lips and in that moment he looks like a proud father, the same words he had once told Simon, were now said by someone he was so proud of.

John wants to reach out, pat his friend on the shoulder and promise him everything will be okay. But he can’t and you can tell it is eating him inside. He takes a deep breath, and then another, and another.

“Okay.” He finally said. “I think I want to see the Captain now.”

“Sure.”

Once more you hold out your hand for him to take, allowing him to see his Captain.

“Oh.”

It Is not a pretty sight. Price’s phone lights up time after time, missed calls from Laswell, from Nicolai, but he doesn’t answer them, paperwork gets ignores while he smokes cigar after cigar. His way to cope with stress.

“Shit.” John curses. “I would’ve thought captain would be the least affected.”

But Price is only human, and humans grief in the worst ways possible. The taskforce had become the family he once dreamed of having, he found solace in the people around him, and losing one was always hard, especially when it was someone who was close to him. Price slams his fist on his desk, startling John.

“Makarov came for me.” The voice coming out of Price is soft, a stark contrast with the loud slamming of his fist only moments ago. “You died because you tried to help me.”

“You would’ve done the same, cap.” John answers. “You would’ve given your life to save any of us.”

Price sighs and shakes his head, his hand reaching out to grab a picture off his desk, a group picture, the four of them together.

“Fucking idiot.” Price mutters. “You should’ve never done that. I should bring you back from the death, only to kick you so hard you’ll die again.” It is almost an endearing way of coping and John can’t help but chuckle.

You give John a nudge, pointing at the dog tags Price is wearing. Instead of two, his chain has three. John’s being added after he identified the body and gave Laswell the details for the report.

John’s gaze softens as he notices. “I’ll never be far away from them.”

“Never.”

“You know what. I think they’ll be alright without me. They will learn to live again.”

You can tell he wants to tell you that he is ready to move on, but you stop him by raising your hand. “Do you want to see your final moment together?”

“Sure.”

Once again you reach out your hand for him to take, and within the blink of an eye you’re in the Scottish highlands, three adults standing by a cliff, an urn in their hands. It is almost peaceful, serene.

“Who dares wins, sleep easy soldier.” Price is the first to talk.

“See you down range, brother. We’ll take it from here.” Kyle is the second to follow.

“Rest in peace, Johnny.” Simon is the last to speak.

You and John watch Simon unscrew the lid of the urn, tilting it, allowing the ashes to dance with the wind.

“I feel… at peace.” John mentions, watching his ashes spread through the air.

He sits down on the edge of the cliff, patting down next to him, signalling you to sit next to him, and so you do.

“I want to ask something.”

“And if I can, I will answer.”

“Why do you look human? Are you human?”

“No, I am not human.”

“Then what are you?”

“I am death. I have always been death and I will always be death. However, if I choose to portray myself other than human, it will make your kind freak out even more.”

John can’t help but laugh at your words. “Truth be told, I think I would’ve freaked out to see something else than human, yes.”

His gaze falls on the beautiful scenery in front of the two of you.

“So, what happens next?”

“When you’re ready I’ll help you cross to the afterlife.” You answer.

“What is the afterlife like?”

“That depends. It is different for everyone.” You reply.

“Is there like a heaven and hell?”

“No. The afterlife is a place where your soul goes to after your body has died. Every soul gets its own realm, and there it stays, together with all the souls it loves.”

“So, does that mean I’ll see the soul of my grandmother?”

“If you loved her, yes.”

“Does that.. does that mean I’ll see Bobby again?”

“Your dog?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course.”

“I’ve missed him.”

“He knows.”

“I’m glad.”

John knows it is time for him to go, but he has to ask the question that burns within him.

“Will I see them again?”

“Eventually. I can tell your bond is strong enough for all of you to be reunited again in the afterlife.”

“I’ll wait for them.”

“And when their time has come I’ll be sure to guide them to you.”

“Thank you, Death.” For the last time John takes your hand in his. “I am ready now.”

Out of all three of them, Kyle had struggled the most with John’s death, or Soap, as the living men preferred to refer to him. Their silly nicknames never made much sense to you, how could John become a Soap, a Kyle become a Gaz, and a Simon become a Ghost?

Kyle had seen Soap – John – as some sort of mentor, someone to look up to, and the fact that that person was gone, was something Kyle couldn’t grasp, something he didn’t want to grasp.

It turned out that Soap also was the glue that held the four of them together, and with him being gone, the group of soldier started to fall apart, slowly, but surely.

And all you could do was wait patiently.

So you did, waiting in the shadow after Kyle took dangerous mission after dangerous mission. Today was no exception, much to the despair of his captain. Not that that would stop Kyle. No, Kyle felt as if he had to prove himself, he wanted to make Soap proud, he wanted to make Simon proud, he wanted to make his captain proud. So much that he forgot his own mortality in the process.

And there he was, laying in the high grass, hiding from the enemy that planted a bullet into his lower abdomen.

Time for you to come into action, you had been lurking into the shadow for a while now, and just when you were ready to step out again, you saw them. Life.

“Not yet, Death.” Life’s bright voice sounds. “This one isn’t done yet.”

You can only watch while Life takes his hand into theirs, making sure Kyle can hold on until help arrives.

Life is everything Death isn’t. Where you, Death, are surrounded by sadness, despair, and darkness, Life is surrounded by joy, happiness, and light. Yet your realms seem to interfere, blend in together, not every soul is happy to be alive, and other souls deserve to live longer than the universe can grand them.

Life and Death dance around the world, leaving a trail of love and grief wherever they go.

“Gaz!” A loud voice booms over the field, his lieutenant comes running over, as fast as his legs can carry him. “Seems like you will win this round, Life.” You muse, as you watch Simon apply pressure to the wound.

“I need a medic, NOW!” Simon yells. “I can’t lose you Gaz.” He adds with a softer voice. “Not you too.”

But Kyle can’t look Simon in his eyes, not yet, right now he isn’t able to cope with the disappointment he will see in his lieutenants eyes. “I’ll be fine.” Kyle mutters with a meek smile, and you can see Life squeeze his hand.

“Of course.” Simon agrees, because Simon doesn’t dare to think about the fact that he might lose someone he cares about again.

“You’ll be okay Gaz, I’ll make sure.” And with those words, Simon spews out what he wanted to tell to Soap.

And Kyle will be okay, Life had made sure that he escaped from your grasp for the final time. Life continued to hold Kyle’s hand until he reached the infirmary, Life didn’t let go off his hand until the first stitch was placed in the wound, letting him live until his time was up.

And you just followed, following Life and Kyle into the infirmary, quietly waiting. Kyle’s time would come, quicker than he would expect it to happen.

Life finally let go off his hand, giving you a quick nod before they disappeared again.

You just watched, seeing fragments of yourself guide the souls of the less fortunate while you had yourself fixated on the young man before you.

You watched over his shoulder when he took out his phone. His hand shaking while he went to call his mother, a shaky breath leaving his lips when his mother picked up the phone and the video call starts.

“Mom.”

“Kyle? My boy, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

“You never call without a reason. What’s on your mind?”

“Just.. I know.. You.. I..” The poor boy started to stutter, not able to express the emotions he wanted to express.

And a mothers love knows no boundaries. “Are you worried about John, Bearie?”

A sour expression crossed his face by the nickname from his childhood, but it is quickly swallowed. “Yeah.” He muttered softly.

You know the look his mother bears, it is the look of a woman who wishes her son wasn’t away from her, a mother who wishes she could crawl through the phone to comfort her son about his fallen teammate.

“What is on your mind, boy?”

“I just wonder ma.” Kyle starts. “I wonder if he was in pain, if he was scared, if he would ever be proud of me.”

No he wasn’t, more pissed off than scared, more than you’ll ever know.

His mother sighs softly. “Those are questions you’ll never find an answer to. But I get it, I had the same questions when your grandpa passed. And I like to think that both of them are proud of us. You have reason to be proud, Kyle. I am sure John is proud of you too.”

The expression on his face softens. “Thank you mom.”

“Anytime Bearie.”

He rolls his eyes, quick enough so that his mother doesn’t catch on.

“Do you want to speak to your sisters too?”

“No, I’m quite tired, just missed you.”

“I miss you too Kyle. Promise me you’ll come home soon yeah?”

“Promised ma, I’ll see you soon okay?”

“I love you, Bearie, stay safe.”

“Love you too mom.”

The moment his call gets disconnected, he presses his lips against his phone, wishing to press the same kiss against his mothers forehead. Kyle had never struggled to be away from his family, but with Soap’s passing, he found himself longing to be with his family more and more. Maybe he would take a little break after his next mission.

But Kyle never got to take that break. Soon after he was cleared from the infirmary he found himself taking dangerous missions again. The promise to his mother being long forgotten whenever he found himself enjoying the rush again, the feeling of being alive, of being worthy, he finally felt as if he mattered.

Not that any of that was important right now. Because right now Kyle was about to meet you. He had found himself caught in enemy crossfire once more, being in the delusion that he is in fact invincible. But he isn’t, no one is really no matter how often they think they are.

Kyle groans, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his short breaths, as his hands clutch the wound on his chest, he knew that time was running out, and even you knew that Life wouldn’t be able to keep him away from you.

“Hello.”

Kyle looks up at your words, his eyes wide with fear. “Are you? Did I? Am I dead?”

“Not yet.”

“Fuck.” His face scrunches in pain.

“I suppose I can’t sweet talk my way out of dying.”

“Afraid not.”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! I promised mom I would come home again.”

“You did.”

“How did you know?”

“That is something for later. Right now I would advice you to call your mother.”

A short flash of gratitude in his eyes before the pain takes over again. With a bloody hand he takes out his phone, dialling his mother’s number. But she doesn’t pick up, she is on the other side of the world, blissfully unaware that her son is about to breathe his last breath.

His lips press together to a thin line when he reaches her voicemail.

“Mommy?” His voice is quivering when he speaks. “It’s me, Bearie. I’m so sorry, but I won’t be coming home again. I.. I.. I.. I was too reckless, thought I had to make you and the whole world proud after Soap died, and now I never get to see you again.” The words spill out of him worried his life will be over before he can say the things he wants her to hear.

“I am so sorry for breaking my promise mom, I love you, I love the girls. Please don’t blame yourself.” His breathing is getting quicker and he starts to get cold, a sign for you that his time is coming to an end. You hold out your hand to him, a subtle notice that he has to hurry up.

“Mom. Mom I can’t say this enough, I should’ve said it more to you, but I love you. I really love you, thank you for being my mother.”

One raspy breath, another raspy breath.

“Oh and mom? It doesn’t hurt, I promise. It doesn’t hurt and I am not scared.”

Lair.

He ends the call, the pain is visible in his face, in his eyes. In everything. His hand is shaking when he reaches for your held out hand, and the moment you touch him, it is over. The pain disappears, his face relaxes.

Kyle stands besides you, looking at his dead body. “I had to lie to her, you know. She would never forgive herself for allowing me to join the army.”

“Do not worry, I am not here to judge you.”

“Then what are you here for?”

“To guide you.”

“To hell?”

“No, to the afterlife.”

“Oh.”

It stays quiet for a little bit.

“How did you know I had promised mom that I would come home?”

“You should’ve been dead the last time you got shot, but Life decided you were allowed some more time.”

“Can I thank Life?”

“No, Life is a shy creature, and prefers to not be seen by the mortals. I am in no position to deny Life their wishes.”

A quick nod, as Kyle seems to understand what you mean.

He looks at his body again, and a sad look appears on his face. “Will my mother at least have my body back home?”

You nod. “Yes, let me speed up time a little, because it does take a while.”

“You can speed up time?”

“Correct, right now you are no longer in the world of the living, but in my realm. My rules apply here.”

He relaxes as time begins to speed up.

“Watch closely.” You urge. “You might not have realised, but the sunset are always beautiful.”

He goes to sit down, next to his body, and he allows himself to enjoy the setting sun, a soft, smooth transition to the night.

“Gaz, this is Ghost, how copy?” That is your cue to slow down time again.

“Gaz, how copy?”

“Can I answer him?”

“No, everything you do here, has no influence on the world of the living.”

“Shit, they must be worried.”

“Kyle, how copy?”

“Fuck. Kyle, stay where you are, I am coming.”

Kyle leans back into the grass. “Did you guide Soap too?”

“I did.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I was there when he got shot. Guided him to the afterlife too.”

“Did he.. Did he mention me?”

“Mention you? He wanted to stay in my realm until he was sure all three of you could cope.”

Kyle smiles. “He always was a good friend. Did he say anything about me?”

“Only that he was proud of you, and that he should’ve told you more often.”

“He did?”

“I have no benefit in lying.”

Kyle runs a hand through his hair, and you can see the tears in his eyes. “Fuck. I really thought he would’ve been so disappointed in me.”

“He wasn’t. By all means he was telling me how proud he was, how much you had achieved already.”

Kyle’s phone rings, and the screen lights up with the name of his mother, the moment the ringing ends, it starts again immediately. And again. And again. Kyle has a sad look on his face. “I hate that I broke my promise to her.” He admits.

“I understand that.”

“God, she will be so heartbroken.”

“Yes. But you did give her some closure by that voicemail. She will cherish it till the end of her dying days. Even though it was a lie, hearing from you that it didn’t hurt, that you weren’t scared. It will help her heal more than you can imagine.”

Kyle wipes away the tears that had rolled down his cheeks. “I am glad. She really is the best you know? Always been supportive of my dreams, even when my father left, she was there for me, always putting me and my sisters first.”

“It sounds like you love her.”

“More than I’ve loved myself.”

You watch Simon approach, his face hidden behind his mask, but the emotion in his eyes is clear. “Fuck, no. Gaz.”

He drops down the body of his friend, searching for a pulse, but the body had gone cold already, and in a moment of emotion, of weakness even, Simon cradles the dead body of his friend. “Not you too man, come on.”

Kyle has to swallow a lump in his throat. “Shit.”

Simon reaches for his radio. “Gaz has been found and identified, Killed in action. I’ll return soon.”

“Will he be okay? I noticed him drinking more after Soap died, and I don’t want him to drink himself to death because of my death.”

“He won’t drink himself to death.”

“Really? Oh god that is a relief.”

He watches, as Simon picks up his body, and carries him away.

“How does the Captain cope?” Kyle asks.

“I can show you?”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

By the gods, that wasn’t a good sight to see, the captain looked at least fifteen years older, the constant smoking now had the company of a bottle of whiskey.

A fourth dog tag on the chain.

“Fuck.” Price muttered. “Fuck, it never gets any fucking easier.”

The fingertips of Price trace the outline of Kyle’s file. “I never should’ve let you go on this mission.”

“I hope he knows I would’ve gone on another dangerous mission if he would’ve declined me this one.” Kyle answers.

“He knows, deep down he knows, but it is easier for you humans to find a way to blame yourself.”

“Will the captain be okay?”

“He will be the last of you four to pass.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Huh, I guess the captain is tougher than he looks.”

“That he is.”

“And Ghost? Will he be okay?”

“He won’t drink himself to death.”

“Final question, will mom be okay?”

“Your mother? She will never be herself again. She will always miss you, mourn you, but your urn gets a little shrine, and she will never toss out your childhood stuffed animals.”

“How long will it take for her to have me home again?”

“Do you want me to show you?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, I don’t think I’ll be able to cope once I see her heartbroken face. Right now all my memories of her are nice ones, and I will break my own heart if I see her grieve.”

“That is fair.”

Kyle looks at his captain again, before he turns to look at you.

“Will I see Soap again?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. Once you’ve moved on to the afterlife, your soul will connect with the souls you’ve loved.”

“Can I go now? Simon will be alright, Captain will be alright, and mom will eventually be alright too. I feel like I can leave them now and not be worried.”

Kyle takes a deep breath. “And I would like to catch up with Soap.”

“Very well.”

You hold out your hand to him. “Let me guide you then.”

Simon Riley. You had been following the man ever since he was born. There had been times where he had been ready to leave this earth, only to be pulled back by Life on the last second.

It would be a lie if it wouldn’t make you question whether or not it would be ethical to keep certain people alive. But that wasn’t up to you to judge after all.

Even after he escaped the horror that was his childhood home, death seemed to follow Simon, his hand never steered clear from the blood that stained him.

But this time? This time it was different.

Simon couldn’t cope with the death of Gaz and Soap, leaving him a broken mess. But Simon was taught that feelings, emotions should be hidden inside, piling up until you couldn’t bear it anymore.

So Simon did what he knew best, copying the coping skill of his father, empty bottles piling up just like the feelings piled up inside of him. Whiskey replacing the companionship that his friends no longer could give them, the burning sensation of the liquid making him feel alive, a feeling he thought he didn’t need anymore, but he felt himself craving it, chasing it.

And of course people around him were worried, John tried to talk to him, John had seen this way too often before. Soldiers not being able to cope with the loss, turning to the poison that roamed this earth, alcohol, drugs and self-destruction in the from of women. And John had tried to stop it, tried to warn him, but Simon was a grown man, capable of making his own choices, no matter how destructive.

You knew you had promises Soap and Gaz that Simon wouldn’t drink himself to death, and with the amount of liquor he was pumping into his system, you almost got the feeling you had been lying.

But Simon would bounce back from the alcohol abuse, with the help of his captain that is.

It had been a day like any other, Simon would try to focus on his work, his mind already on the numbing temptation of the liquor, briefings, conversations, details, they would all go past him like a blur while he tried to deceive the people around him. And usually after a day of work, he would lock himself into his quarters, drinking until he forgot his fallen teammates.

“A word.” John’s voice is loud, a little too loud for Simon’s liking.

“About what?”

“You.”

“What is there about me?”

“Why did you join the army?”’

You watch, slightly amused at the low blow John just spat out.

“Don’t you fu-“

“Answer my fucking question, Simon. Why did you join the fucking army.”

And you can tell Simon is struggling to answer that question, hell he doesn’t want to answer that question, because that would mean he could no longer pretend he wasn’t following his fathers footsteps.

“I joined to escape home.”

“And why did you have to escape home?”

“Because my father was an abusive alcoholic.”

“Then tell me, Simon, why the fuck are you turning into your father?”

“Bullshit John.”

“Bullshit? You think you’re sleek, only bringing away the bottles in the early morning. Do you think we really don’t hear the clinking of the glass while you wander these halls? Do you really think no one can smell it on your breath?”

“You don’t get it.”

You had seen John often enough to recognize the subtle anger in his face, flaring nostrils, a slight raise of his brows, eyes narrowing.

“I don’t get it?”

“You have no idea how much their death affected me.”

“I have no idea because you shut yourself out and rather poison yourself.” John spat back at him.

“You have no idea what I have been through Captain, and I would strongly advice you stray away to this topic.”

“You’re right. I did not have your upbringing, and I do wish you dad had healed before he came your father, but you do not get to tell me about grief.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I am affected too. I was the one who asked Soap to come with me to Makarov, I was the one who approved Gaz going on that mission. And I can’t let you drink yourself to death, Simon. I will not be responsible for your death too.”

Both men are silent, straying into territory they are not used too, at least not with each other. Both men had been told that their emotions were forbidden, that emotions should not be on display for others to see.

But you could see their hurt souls, their broken souls, needing the company of each other. John is the first to give in. Holding his arms open and Simon clings on for dear life.

“God fucking damnit boy, get your shit together, that is an order.”

“I forget then when I’m drunk enough.”

“I know. But forgetting them isn’t the way to go. You shouldn’t forget them, celebrate their life because they no longer can.”

“I will, Captain.”

“Good.” John let go off him, giving him a rough pat on his back. “Do you need anything from me, the military?”

“A little time off.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay all by yourself? I can get a therapist for you if you want.”

“I would like that.”

“Good. Now, get some rest, I’ll pull some strings to get you someone to talk to.”

“Thanks Cap, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Simon.”

Something was off, something was different, and John couldn’t really put his finger on it, but decided to not press any further. He had nagged Simon long enough and it felt as if his point had come across good enough.

Simon on the other hand, felt a calm feeling he hadn’t experienced before. A decision crossing his mind when he gripped his sink, tears streaming down his face when he recognized his father in the mirror. Simon knew he wouldn’t be strong to recover, he had become an alcoholic, just like his father.

“Fuck!” His fist slams the mirror, the second one this year, blood running down his arm while he takes in the freedom the pain gives him. His mind is only giving him one solution, the emotions, his grief, the craving to alcohol, they’re making it impossible to think straight.

Simons scribbles something down on a piece of paper. Before he takes a deep breath and looks around his room. John had been right, Simon thought it had alle been under control, but he was lying to himself, the half full bottles being the proof of that, but not anymore, not any longer.

He takes place in his own bathtub, a piece of glass gripped tightly in his right hand. You know what is about to happen and this is always your least favourite part.

He doesn’t drink himself to death.

Tears blur his vision when the sharp material pierces his skin, dragging down. He doesn’t even register the pain, all he can feel is the peace and quiet his mind gives him. So he does it again, and again, going deeper each time.

His head tilts back and he drops the shard of glass, causing it to shatter on the ground.

It stays silent, the only sound is his blood dripping on the floor of the bathtub. Life is nowhere to be seen, and you know this is his end. In a split second you make a decision.

The universe had been too unkind to Simon already, the least you could do was to make sure he didn’t have to die alone.

“Hello.”

“What the fuck are you? How the fuck did you get in?” His eyes snap open and his head snaps back to face you.

“I am Death.”

“Did I die already?”

“Not yet.”

“Than why the fuck are you here?”

“Because this will kill you, and I did not want you to die alone.”

“Well thanks for your concern but I don’t need your pity.”

“Gaz and Soap did not have to die alone.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“Gaz and Soap did not have to die alone.”

“How the fuck would you know?”

You chuckle softly. “I guided them too.”

His face softens. “How.. What.. What did they say?”

“Soap was pissed off, Gaz was worried he had let his mother down.”

“Sounds like them.”

“It is nearly your time, Simon.”

“Will the pain stop?”

“When you’re dead? Yes, yes the pain will stop.”

“I can’t wait to be pain free.”

“Tell me about your favourite memory?”

“Of what?”

“Anything you please.”

Simon has to think for a little while.

“My brother.” He eventually starts. “Had gotten a part time job, and he needed to give the money to our father, but he had hidden his first pay check. So when our father was passed out on the couch again, we snuck out.” A smile forms on his face.

“We bought a cake, one of those fancy ones with a lot of frosting. We ate it in the skatepark where we used to hangout a lot. I ate so much cake I couldn’t stand it for the longest time afterwards. But for the time that it took for us to eat that cake, we were happy, not a care in the world, just loads of sugar and each other.”

He hadn’t noticed yet, but the shackles of life had fallen off during his story, setting him free of his mortal pain.

“I miss him.”

“Tommy?”

“Yes, more than anything.”

“How’s the pain, Simon?”

“Which pa- Oh fuck.”

You watch as he gets up from the bathtub, looking at his body, he died smiling, his eyes closed, almost looking happy.

“You deserved better.”

“I did.” He agrees.

Simon clears his throat. “So what now? You take me to hell and I’ll burn for eternity?”

“Why would you burn in hell?”

“I am a soldier, I killed people. People who deserved it, and people who might not have deserved it.”

“And that is equal to eternal suffering?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Don’t you think you have suffered enough?”

His face turns pale, the words slowly sinking in while he recalls his whole life.

“So there is no hell for me?” his voice is a soft whisper.

“There is no hell for you.”

“Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck I was so scared for hell, that had been the only thing holding me back from killing myself earlier.”

“So” He looks at his body again. “What would be next?”

“Once you are ready, I’ll take you to the afterlife.”

“How do I know I’ll be ready?”

“You’ll feel it.”

“I don’t feel it yet.”

“Then you can stay with me.”

He nods, liking the answers that you’ve given him. “I have some questions.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Can I ask them?”

“Of course. I’ll answer them if I have the answer.”

“How do you know which soul to reap?”

“I just know.”

“Okay, and now you are here with me, does that mean no one else dies on the world.”

“If that was the case a lot of deaths would’ve been postponed.” You answer. “I can split myself into fragments, therefor I am able to reap multiple souls.”

“How did you, you know, get into this profession?”

“I was created to be Death. It is all I have ever known, and it is all I will ever know.”

“Hm.” His eyes shift to his body again.

“What is the afterlife, and who will be there?”

“Everyone will be there, every soul goes to the afterlife, and you’ll reconnect with the souls that love you.”

Simon has to swallow a lump in his throat, he wants to say something but is interrupted by a knock on the door. “Simon?” John’s ruff voice sounds.

“Can I answer him?”

“Afraid not.”

“Simon!” the knocking returns. “I swear to God.” John mutters, as he opens the door to Simon’s room. “If you have been drinking again.”

John looks around the room, and you and Simon watch him do so. John’s gaze fall on the piece of paper, his face turning pale. “God fucking damnit.” The paper falls on the ground, slowly twirling in the air before it gently settles down.

‘this isn’t your fault.’ Even though you knew what would be on the letter your eyes automatically shift to the words on the white paper.

Johns open the door to Simon’s bathroom, and he just stand in the door opening, taking in the dead body of his teammate. “God damn it, Simon.” He repeats. “You could’ve talked to me you know.”

John moves over to the body, taking in the smile on Simon’s face. “At least you were happy.” John mutters.

His hands reach for Simon’s dog tags, taking one of the chain to add to his own. John’s fingertips rest on Simon’s cheek for a brief moment. “I hope death treats you better than life.”

Simon looks at you. “You do.”

“Thank you.”

“Will the Captain be okay?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I feel bad, for leaving him behind, for doing this.”

“He’ll understand, and when his time will come too, I’ll tell him about you.”

“Thank you.”

Simon looks at his feet. “I don’t know if you can do this, but I want to visit Johnny.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to go to the Scottish Highlands, to the place where we set his ashes free.”

You hold out your hand to him. “I’ll take you there.”

Simon’s eyes light up as he takes your hand into his, and before he can blink twice, you’ve transported the both of you to the exact same place.

“I forgot how beautiful it was here.” Simon says, as he sits down on the exact same spot where Johnny had sat down, and you can’t help but smile, knowing that their souls are happy together in another universe.

You go to sit down next to him. “It is beautiful here.”

The both of you sit in silence, you know Simon wants to ask you something, a question burning within him ever since John had interrupted, but you’re not filling anything in, letting Simon come to you when he is ready.

“You mentioned something about souls and love.” Simon eventually says.

“I did.”

“Who will be waiting for me?”

A faint hint of a smile can be seen on your face.

“More than you’ll expect.”

“Tommy?”

You just nod and Simon let out a shaky breath.

“It has been a while since I’ve seen him, I’ve missed him terribly. Who else?”

“Tommy, Beth, Joseph, your mother. Roach. Gaz, Soap. They will all be there.”

“Will they be mad for what I did?”

“They love you too much to be mad.”

“I’ve known more love death, than I’ve done alive.”

You turn to look at him. “I know, and I am sorry.”

“Is there anything I had done to deserve such a life?”

You want to wince, flinch at his words, but it is a fair question.

“No. Sometimes the universe isn’t fair when it gives somebody a course of life. You were a child, Simon. What happened to you, should’ve never happened, not to you, not to anyone.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re brave.” You add. “You’ve survived something you shouldn’t have had to face in the first place.”

“How do you cope with it?” Simon asks.

“With what?”

“The unfairness?”

You let out a sigh. “It is hard. Sometimes I have to guide innocent souls to the afterlife, souls I would have wished had a long and sweet life. And sometimes I see souls who I felt deserved death a long time ago. Unfortunately I cannot change the course of the universe, nor can I change the free will of humans.”

“Do you feel remorse?”

“No. I am no mortal, nor do I possess mortal feelings. I do however acknowledge the unfairness of certain situations.”

“I see. It is hard for me to imagine.”

“I get that.”

“Hey Death?”

“Yes, Simon?”

“Do you promise that they will be waiting for me in the afterlife?”

“I promise.”

Simon holds out his hand to you. “Then please, let me see them again.”

John Price.

The man had seen more than enough death for a lifetime. Yet it wouldn’t be the last of it. Being a soldier signed him up to a lifetime of death and despair. But unlike the others, John seemed to accept it a whole lot better. Yes he did feel guilty, yes he wished life could’ve turned out different, for him, for his team, for all of them.

But it didn’t, so he had to learn how to cope.

Even though you know his time isn’t there yet, you decide to follow him around, just a little more, just to see how he would cope. That is what you would tell yourself anyway, maybe you had been getting a little attached to this group of men.

You watch John approach the cemetery, four bouquets of flowers in his hands, a picnic basket hanging on his arm while he walks, silence lingering around him, and if he were in company, they would feel the tension surrounding him. But John is alone, except for your company, who would’ve guessed Death would’ve be such good company?

Three out of the four bouquets get placed on the ground, alongside the picnic basket, number four, a bouquet of tulips. Yellow tulips. John places them on the first grave, his hand brushes away the dirt on the gravestone. “Well, for someone whose nickname is Soap, it sure gets dirty quick.” John chuckles at his own joke. John kneels down at the grave, removing some of the weeds that had grown, using his hand to brush the rest of the gravestone clean.

“I’m sorry, Johnny.” He mutters. “Sorry I dragged you along to that mission. I’m sorry you had to catch the bullet meant for me.” John awkwardly pats the gravestone.

“If I had known that would be our last moment together, I would’ve spent the car ride to our destination telling you how proud I am of you.” He speaks, and while John knows that no one will hear his words, it feels good to get them off his chest.

“I would tell you how good you’re doing, how much you’ve grown. How much we all appreciated you. How we all enjoyed your jokes, even though some of us would rather perish than tell you that.”

“You probably already know, but Kyle and Simon joined you.”

“I wish I could have prevented this. Kyle.. He slipped right between my fingers, I never thought he would push and push the way he did, Johhny. I thought I was keeping him safe, keeping him busy, but in reality I was allowing him to die.”

John swallows the lump in his throat. “And Simon. I think I knew what was happening, I thought I knew what was going on, but I was wrong, so, so, so wrong.”

John takes a deep breath, inhaling the cold air into his lungs, before he slowly exhales. “You’ve been one hell of a soldier, Johnny, but more important, you’ve been an amazing person. I’ll see you again on the other side, take care of the boys for me, will ya?”

With a grunt John gets up from his knees, taking a new bouquet of flowers.

A colourful bouquet of freesias is put down in front of the next grave and John lets out a sigh again, staring into the distance. It is hard to read his face, and you can’t figure out what he is thinking.

“I’ve heard a lot of gut wrenching sounds, Kyle.” He finally speaks. “But I’ll never forget the screams of your mother when I had to confirm your death. The wailing will never leave my mind. I can’t erase it, no matter how hard I try.”

The captain uses his hand once more to brush some dirt of the gravestone, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I’m sorry.” He says once more.

“I really wanted to believe life had so much in store for you. I should never had let you take on that mission, Kyle. I should’ve seen the signs, the desperate attempt to prove yourself to me, to Johnny, maybe even to Simon too.”

“But the truth is, boy, you never had to prove yourself in the first place. We all saw your potential, we all saw the amazing leader you could’ve become.” John runs a hand through his short hair. “I really wish we could’ve talked about this more. I really wish you would’ve told me you didn’t feel good enough, Kyle. I could’ve shown you my point of view.”

“But, we can’t undo what happened.” John continues. “I hope you can finally feel enough.”

“Your mother misses you. Your sisters too. Simon missed you. But I’m sure he has told you by now. Or not, we both know how he can be.”

“I.. I miss you too, Kyle. I would’ve loved for you to follow my footsteps.” John sighs again. “Simon couldn’t cope, but you already know that. Take care of him, yeah? I know he probably doesn’t want it, but he missed you and Johnny.”

John gives a final pat on the gravestone. “I’ll come back, I promise.”

He takes the third bouquet, a large bouquet of sunflowers, it is being put down on the newest gravestone. “Fucking hell, Simon.” He grunts. “Out of all people, I never thought you would do it. I thought I had it under control with you.”

“At least you had a smile on your face, and I wonder what went through your mind in your final moment.” A sad smile forms on John’s face. “I hope you’re at peace now.”

“Out of all their deaths, yours haunts me the most, Simon.” He confesses. “Because with yours it felt like I really could have changed the outcome, you know.” John kneels down next to the grave.

“I.. I.. I never got to say this Simon, but I am sorry that I compared you to your father. I was trying to get my point across and I’ve used words that I shouldn’t have used. I knew it was a low blow to mention him, and I’m sorry.” He rests his hand on the gravestone. “I hope my words didn’t push you over the edge, and I know you have made that little note for me, but I can’t help but feel guilty.”

John sighs once more, looking at the sunflowers on the ground. “I.. You didn’t have a home I could send you too, like Kyle, so I’ve spread your ashes on the same spot where we send Johnny home. I hope you’re okay with it.” He adds, with a meek smile.

“You’ve been one of the toughest people I’ve ever known in my life, and I’ve met a lot of tough motherfuckers, Simon. But you? You’ve bounced back from everything.”

“And no matter how guilty I feel, the fact that you had a smile on your face brings me a little bit of peace.”

“I hope that wherever you are, that you found your people again in the afterlife. That there will be enough souls waiting for you, to show you how loved you’ve always been.” John gets up from his knees again. “Don’t try to give the other too much shit, but keep them in check for me, yeah?”

He let his gaze fall on the three graves in front of him, a sad smile on his lips once more. His hand goes to the dog tags around his neck, there are too many to just be from one person. His gaze lingers on the names engraved in the stones.

John MacTavish

Kyle Garrick

Simon Riley

“It has been an honour. An honour to have known you all, an honour to have fought alongside you. The biggest honour has been to call you all my brothers in arms.” His voice is clear, never wavering as he pays his final respect, as he says his final goodbye.

“I promise you three that I’ll keep your graves in check, for as long as I live. I don’t care if they’re empty, they will forever be a reminder that you have all existed. Your legacy will live on.”

“I miss you all, until we meet again.”

After a final salute he picks up the last of the bouquets and the picnic baskets, and he walks further up the cemetery, walking past a grave that reads Herschel Shepherd. John gives the grave a quick nod. “You make me wish hell did exist.” He grumbles, flipping the headstone off. “Should’ve done it earlier.”

He continues to walk until he reaches another grave, putting down the picnic basket and the flowers, before he kneels down again, taking out a brush to gently sweep away any dirt.

Jenny Price

“I’m back again, love.” He sighs, as he tidies up the grave, making sure to pull the weeds, but leave the flowers that have grown intact. “It has been a while since I’ve visited, but I have a good reason, I promise.” He added with a chuckle.

He gets up after the stone is clean again, her name can be read again, and he takes a step back to admire his work. “Got you all cleaned up. Looking pretty as ever.”

He opens the picnic basket, taking out a blanket to lay it on the ground next to the stone. A bouquet of heliotropes, forget-me-nots and carnations. John sits down on the blanket, next to the gravestone.

“Next month..” He sighs, something he has done a lot this evening. “Next month, you’ll be gone for fourteen years now, Jen. And I still miss you as if it is the first day.”

He rests his head against the stone. “I miss the boys.” He whispers, almost as if he is afraid to confess it to her. “Blaming myself for it too. If you see them, take care of ‘m for me, please. Show them the love you’ve shown me.”

He takes out a small bottle of wine, and a cigar, leaving the picnic basket open. “I can only hope that Death guided them, the way you have been guided.”

“It’s been nearly fourteen year, love, and I still wake up in the middle of the night, searching for you, hoping you’ve just been in the bathroom and you’ll come back to lay next to me. I would give everything, Jen, and I mean everything, to just hold you once more, to feel your soft skin against mine again.”

“Being a captain, having my own taskforce, it all means less when I can’t share it with you. It all means so little, knowing that I won’t be able to hold you again, to hear your sweet voice ever again.” John opens up the bottle of wine he had brought, taking out the cork before he takes a swig, not bothering to take a glass. “You know.” He chuckled softly. “If I close my eyes and focus really hard. I can even hear you scold me again for drinking wine straight out of the bottle.”

“I finally had an orange again.” He mutters. “They apparently make special tools to help you peel them. So I can finally eat them again. It has been fourteen years, and I finally had an orange again.” He shakes his head. “I cried. I cried while eating it, the taste reminded me so much of you, the scent of the peel almost intoxicating. I remember how your hands would smell like orange the whole day after you’ve peeled mine. And I miss it, Jen. Fuck, I miss it so much.”

He falls silent, a stark contrast with the floodgates of words that spilled over his lips just seconds ago. His voice cracking when he speaks again. “It has always been you.”

“No other woman comes even close to you. It is weird, but I don’t even want another woman, I don’t feel the need to see someone, feel someone. Hell, I prefer to lay alone in that large bed, because when I fall asleep, you’re waiting for me in my dreams. You’re there, waiting for me to come home again.”

You’ve been watching him, while you sat on the nearby bench. Jenny Price. You remember reaping her soul, her husband had walked in on you, and he was the first mortal to see you, and to live to tell the story. But John kept it hidden, maybe that is why he had grown so strong, so tough, because he knew that death wouldn’t be an ugly thing, but an old friend waiting for you to come home again.

You’ve seen enough, as you get up from the bench. His time isn’t there yet, and you have enough to do anyway. Your gaze lingers on the captain, his head resting on the gravestone, his eyes closed as he brings up the memories he has with his late wife. It has become routine for him at this point, talking to her after a mission, visiting her whenever he could, keeping her grave as clean as he could. But for now you let him be. He deserved to have this little peace of mind before he would get sucked into the chaos of his day to day life.

Life goes on for the both of you, you have been reaping souls, he has been doing missions, neither of you meeting, although you take away the lives he has ended.

But his end is near, creeping up behind him, lurking in the shadows. Maybe he could feel it, maybe it was the universe apologising for taking away his wife, for taking away his teammates, but John finds himself at the cemetery again, talking to his old teammates, making sure that the weeds have been pulled, the flowers are fresh again. He updates them on his life, on the missions.

“We’ve done it.” He sighs, to no grave in particular. “We found Makarov. And I’ve put a bullet between his eyes, Johnny. Made sure he knew it was in your name. You should have seen the look on his face.”

And you remember, taking Makarov’s soul, it was safe to say the Rus was less than pleased, especially that John took his soul.

“Your mom is doing well, Kyle. She is still grieving as much as a mother does, but she is doing well. She finally got you that golden retriever you wanted as a kid. Named it Gaz, in your honour. Your sister graduated from her studies. She made sure to mention you in her speech. You would be so proud, Kyle.”

“And Simon, we have a mental health program dedicated to you, making sure that we can talk more open on base about mental health. So we can prevent that others feel the need to do what you did. You’ll live on.”

He moves on, once more laying out the blanket next to the grave of his late wife, sitting down next to her again. “There we are love.” He said with a grunt, lighting his cigar.

His gaze falls on the sky, looking at the setting sun. “You’re looking beautiful tonight.” He tells her. “I like it when you paint the sky orange. I never realised orange was my favourite colour until I found you in the sky every day.”

Maybe he could feel it, maybe your presence was looming to much on a cemetery. But John closes his eyes, breathing in the cold air into his lungs. He opens his eyes, seeing you in front of him.

“It is good to see you again, old friend.” He says.

“Hello.”

“Oh, you can skip the formalities.” He grunts. “I always thought I would die on the battlefield, not next to Jenny.”

“It has become a full circle, she passed in your arms, you will pass next to her gravestone.”

His eyes flash dark when he is reminded of how his wife had passed. “I never got to thank you for guiding Jenny.”

“It is what I do.”

“I know, but still. She was so scared, and you took that fear away.”

“I am glad that I could do it.”

“So, it is my time then.”

“Mhm, it is your call.” You respond. “But it will happen within the next few minutes.”

“Hm.” He answers with a murmur, as he rests his head against her gravestone again. “Wake me up when it’s done.”

You take place on the bench again, watching his chest rise and fall with every breath, his breathing turning steady as he falls asleep next to her gravestone. Sleeping together one last time.

You’re a patient creature, you have all the time in the world, so you wait, wait until his chest stops, until his heart stops beating. Before you can say a thing his soul leaves his body. John doesn’t talk to you yet, instead, he looks at his body, resting against the gravestone of his late wife.

“What a sight.” He sighs, turning to you.

And you just nod.

John turns to you. “I imagine that I also get to ask some questions before you bring me to the afterlife.”

“Anything you wish.”

John’s soul walks over to the bench you’re sitting on, having a view of the graves of his teammates and his late wife. “Do you think I am a bad person?”

“I am in no position to answer that question. For me and Life there is no such thing as a good person and a bad person. You all just exist with free will, and it is up to you how you use it.”

“If you were human, you would be a politician.” John snickers at his own joke.

You let out a sound that represents a huff. “Is this you calling me a bad person?”

“Only if you would be a British politician.”

“I would rather stay Death.”

He looks at the upcoming moon. “Did you guide my teammates too?”

“All of them.”

If he would be still alive he would be releasing a breath. “Glad you did.”

“They all wanted to know how you would cope.”

“They did?”

“Mhm.”

“Guess they cared more than I thought.”

“Of course they did.”

“Why was Simon smiling?”

“Why would I have something to do with it?”

“Because I know you wouldn’t have want him to die alone.”

“That much is true. I asked him his favourite memory. So he could die thinking about something happy.”

“And Kyle’s mother told me he has tried to call her and left a voicemail, I assume that is your doing too?”

“Correct.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Kyle’s upbringing was different from Simon’s.”

“As Death I do not discriminate, between the sinners and the saints. Life can be difficult and unfair enough. Why would I make their process of dying hard too?”

“That.. I.. I never thought about it that way.”

“I had no reason to grand you and Jenny some more time together, I had no reason to explain the afterlife to her, or to answer her questions about dying. Yet I did. Just like the universe does not need reasons to allow events in someone’s life to happen.”

“I see. Well, I think it is beautiful.”

John looks at his body, limped against the gravestone of his late wife.

“How did I die?”

“Your heart gave out.”

“Guess all those years of cigars, whiskey and stress finally caught up on me.” He chuckled. “I never noticed anything though, I mean I’ve been a little tired lately, but thought that was just the stress.”

You just tilt your head.

“Oh.”

“Heart diseases are something else.” You sigh. “A silent killer.”

“Learned that the hard way.”

His gaze shifts from his body to the gravestone next to him and he holds out his hand.

“As much as I liked seeing you again old friend, I am ready to go home, for the first time in fourteen years.”

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