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codfanficedits · 8 months

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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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dovabunny · 4 months

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My mafia au Fic ~ Debt ~ is now complete!

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52835890/chapters/133643044

Art in poster used with permission from the iconic and angelic @wombywoo in her post 'Black Tie'🌻❤️

#john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod mwii #ghostsoap #soapghost #my writing #mafia au #debt #fan fiction

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skinnyazn · 11 months

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Lick Your Wounds

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader (Jaguar) Chapters: 1/? Notes: Thank you to @solidly-indulgent for inspiring the fic with their request of Jag getting injured and Ghost being sad feral, also inspired by how freaking hot and humid it’s been in FL lately, I literally just churned this out at work today oops, maybe one or two more chapters, eventual smut but not yet, sorry not sorry if there are grammatical errors; I can't fucking read,

Part Two | Part Three | AO3 | MASTERLIST

“Ghost, what’s your status?”

Sweat rolled down your temple, trickling the length of your neck before settling in the crook of your collar bone. The humidity was thick, suffocating. Like you could cut it with a knife and it would still cling to you. The jungle was alive with noise.

“‘Bout 20 meters out. There’s a good perch for you comin’ up on your right.”

“Copy.”

You continued to stalk through the foliage, thankful for the screaming cicadas that masked the sound of your movements through the dense growth of flora.

“Visual on the compound.” Soap’s voice came through your comms evenly.

“Count?”

“Three around the perimeter, two on the roof. Jag should be able to take them no problem.”

“Copy,” you spoke again.

You saw the perch Ghost was talking about. It was a wall of sorts, with vines reclaiming it. Some old vestige of humanity, forgotten to time. Huffing, you scaled the old stone. Laying supine, you slung your sniper rifle in front of you and peered through the scope. You could see the first target one on the roof, but the second was obscured by the dense jungle. The cicadas screamed on.

“No clear visual on the right target,” you spoke into the comms. “How do we want to do this?” You watched a mosquito buzz by and land on your arm. You slapped it, leaving a bloody splotch on your skin.

“Jag, take your shot on my mark. I’ll ‘andle the other one.” Below you, Simon waded further ahead; his camo blended into the underbrush.

“Copy. What about the perimeter?”

“Soap, you take right, I’ll take center. Jag do you have visuals on the left?”

“Affirm.”

“Alright then. Work you magic.”

You smiled. “Always do.”

Soap scoffed on the other side of the comms. “We know. Hear Ghost blabberin’ about it all the fecking time.”

“That’ll do, Sergeant.” Ghost barked.

It wasn’t necessarily true. Most of the time his blabbering was muffled into your skin, the wetness of your mouth or the delicious heat of you. They usually came out as low groans. Sharp hisses. You hadn’t really kept what was going on between you two a secret since your rejoining of the task force. But you also didn’t air it out in the open. And when you fucked, you tried to be quiet. Easier said than done when Simon was pressed to his hilt inside of you, kissing your neck and gripping your thighs like it was his latest mission. Maybe you two weren’t being as quiet as you thought.

“Right.” Simon’s basso voice brought your focus back. “On my count.”

The two men on the roof dropped quickly. The three on the ground followed. A smooth takedown. You slung the weight of your rifle behind you and scaled down the wall, landing with a soft thud. Some sweat splashed off you.

“Fucking drenched here.” You mumbled to yourself. Soap’s chuckle could be heard on the comms.

“On me, at the entrance.”

A few minutes later the three of you were crouched low next to the perimeter wall.

“Nice of you to finally join us, bonnie.”

You smiled at Soap. Ghost rolled his eyes.

“Jag, get up to the perimeter and guide us through. Soap, on me. The cunts will be well-armed inside the compound. Let’s keep things quiet and clean.” Soap and you nodded. “Right, let’s get up there.”

Soap shot a grapple to the perimeter wall.

“Ladies first,” he gestured, with his signature buoyant grin.

You clipped your pulley to the rope and ascended. The brief rush of air was a blessed respite from the heat. Hoisting yourself over the wall’s edge, you crouched down. Insects were already starting to buzz around the lifeless man on the floor. You tried not to get any of his blood on your boots as you stepped over him.

Ghost and Soap followed quietly behind. You pressed your body against the hot concrete.

“Christ alive, look at all that,” Johnny whispered next to you.

It was decent sized compound, hidden away in the Lacandon jungle. Stacks of crates littered the grounds, while armed men wandered about. Their radios blasted urbano music. In total, you counted 15 men out in the open, but who knows how many more were inside. Of course the target building was at the far side of the compound. It wouldn’t be a cakewalk, but it was doable. And, the blasting music paired with cacophony of tropical birds and insects made for perfect cover. Soap’s hand clapped your shoulder.

You nodded at him and Simon. “Good luck, boys.”

“Don’t need luck. We’ve got you, Jaguar,” Soap winked and then started to descend the rope on the interior.

Simon’s eyes lingered on you for a second too long. You held the gaze. Then he turned and followed Soap.

After silently taking down the first two men, Ghost and Soap moved quietly ahead.

“Walk us through, Jag,” Simon’s voice came over hushed and gravelly. Try as you might, it always sent heat between your legs when he rasped through the comms.

“One on your left, just around the crate. Use your knife.” Simon took him down with ease. “Got another two crates ahead.” You maneuvered the two through the complex from you perch, watching them exact their deadly dance. “Hold,” you spoke when the two came closer to the target building. A group of four men were lingering outside, chatting and smoking. “Coming up on four. Might be best to cause a distraction.”

“Can’t we just frag these guys,” Soap muttered to himself.

“How many left in the compound, Jag?” Simon asked.

“Two in the North East corner, and one at your eight o’clock. And the four ahead.”

You heard Simon let out a long sigh.

“Don’t know how many are inside though,” you reminded him.

“Thas what I’m worried about.”

“Your call, L.T.,” Johnny huffed. “They’re gonna hear some booms when I demo the door anyway.”

You could almost hear Simon thinking. You wiped the sweat that was beading at your brow with the back of your gloved hand. Finally he said, “Jag, take the other three. Soap’s got these four. Be prepared for a fight after.”

Your heartbeat sped up. You hated unknowns but that was part of your job. So all you could say in return was “Copy.”

Each kickback from your M82 was a tangible reminder of the death you so expertly dealt. The three men went down with ease, painting the sun-scorched earth in red. And when Soap’s grenade went off, you sucked in a deep breath and honed your focus as you picked off the swarm of men that rushed outside. Time had a funny way of moving while adrenaline coursed through your veins. It was simultaneously slow and fast. Like each bullet left your gun in slow-motion while you moved from target to target. Schrödinger’s Time.

There were a lot more people than you thought, but the steady breathing over the comms was reassuring that Soap and Ghost were handling themselves. Through your scope, you watched men’s heads swivel as they tried to spot you. But each tac from your rifle met them all the same.

“Take out that fucking RPG, Jag!” Simon shouted over the comms. It was jarring, Simon’s yelling amidst the gunfire and insects.

You pulled away from your scope to spot the target, but the compound was big. When you finally saw him, you lined up the shot and pulled the trigger. You’d hit your mark—watched him crumple. But his aim was already on you, and as his body fell a flash of orange emitted. You began to move but felt the explosion of the perimeter wall below you. And then everything was crumbling in an eruption of dust. You thought you heard Simon screaming into the comms, but all you could think about as you fell was: who the fuck carries a rocket launcher?

#my fic #cod fic #Simon ghost Riley x you #Simon ghost Riley x female reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley x jaguar #ghost x jaguar #ghost x you #ghost x reader #mw2 #ghost mw2 #Simon ghost riley #fan fiction #fanfiction

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urjeni · 10 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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whatawonderfulexistence--blog · 1 year

Text

Hey everyone! I decided I should probably start a master list of all the fan fiction that I've published so it's a little easier to find them. This Masterlist includes my fics for Powerwolf, Sleep Token, Modern Warfare, Ghost and My Hero Academia at the moment. As always requests are always open, or feel free to send me a message just to talk. Enjoy!

Powerwolf Fan Fiction Masterlist

Not So Scary (Matthew Greywolf x GN! Reader FLUFF)

To The Moon and Back (Matthew Greywolf x Fem! Reader) FLUFF DRABBLE

A Weekend Away (Falk Maria Schlegel x Fem! Reader) FLUFF/SMUT

Intensity (Charles Greywolf x Fem! Reader SMUT)

Hopelessly In Love (Falk Maria Schlegel x Fem! Reader FLUFF) - (SMUT)

Little Devils (Falk Maria Schlegel x Fem! Reader) - FLUFF

Atone (Falk Maria Schlegel x Fem! Reader x Roel Van Helden) - SMUT

Pancakes For Dinner (Charles Greywolf x Fem! Reader) FLUFF

Ongoing Series...

Dances In The Moonlight (Falk x GN! Reader) - Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12

Band Of Sisters, Band of Thieves (Medieval Powerwolf x Fem!Princess!Reader) - Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

To Have and To Hold (Falk Maria Schlegel x Fem! Reader) - Part 1 - 2 - 3

Sleep Token Fan Fiction Masterlist

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8

Modern Warfare Fan Fiction Masterlist

The Mouse and The Bear - König x GN! Reader FLUFF

🎃•Kinktober•🎃

Day 1 : Size Kink (Roel x Fem! Reader SMUT)

Day 2 : Body Worship (Terzo x GN! Reader SMUT)

Day 3: Primal Play (Falk x Fem! Reader SMUT)

Day 4: Bondage (Mountain x Fem! Reader SMUT)

Day 5: Edging (Falk x Fem! Reader SMUT)

Day 6: Massage (Dew x Fem! Reader SMUT)

Day 7: Threesome (Falk x Fem! Reader x Phantom SMUT

Day 8: Aphrodisiacs (Primo x Fem! Reader SMUT)

Day 9: Lingerie (Charles x Fem! Reader SMUT)

Day 10: Sensory Deprivation (III x Fem! Reader SMUT)

Kinktober Day 13: Car Sex (Falk x Fem! Reader SMUT)

Ghost Fan Fiction Masterlist

Distractions (Terzo x GN! Reader FLUFF)

Fast Food and Confessions (Copia x GN! Reader FLUFF)

Moment of Just Letting Go (Terzo x GN! Reader FLUFF)

I Want (Copia x GN! Reader FLUFF)

Spooky (Swiss x GN! Reader FLUFF)

Halloween One Shots (Ghouls and Papa's x GN! Reader FLUFF)

Drunken Confessions (Terzo x GN! Reader FLUFF Thanksgiving Special)

Separated (Mountain x GN! Reader FLUFF)

Sleepless Nights (Aether x GN! Reader FLUFF)

Dance With Me (Terzo x Reader FLUFF)

Mistletoe Mini One Shots!

Decorating the Tree (Copia x GN! Reader FLUFF)

One Stormy Evening (Secondo x Fem! Reader SMUT)

Ghost Valentine's Day Drabbles

Fresh Paint (Secondo x Fem!Wife!Reader) FLUFF

Strawberries (Terzo x Fem!Reader SMUT)

Slow (Phantom x GN! Reader FLUFF)

Flowers (Phantom x GN! Reader) FLUFF

On going series...

I Believe (Terzo x GN! Reader) - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

Marrying the Papa's - Terzo x GN! Reader FLUFF - Part 1: The Confession

Under The Black Flag - Copia x Fem! Reader Pirate AU

My Hero Academia Fan Fiction Masterlist

(A/N: I only write for characters that are 18+ in this fandom)

My Girl - (Fatgum x Fem! Reader) SMUT

One Piece Fan Fiction Masterlist

(I'm still super super early on in this show, I'm sure how I write these characters is going to change over time, but I can't help myself lol)

I Swear (Sanji x OC!Anastasia FLUFF)

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soggyriceee · 10 months

Note

omgomg this is my first time requesting smth lmao i hope it isn’t too obvious but i was wondering if we could have the safeword fic you did for konig and price, for ghost too? btw ur work is amazing💗💗

strawberry | Simon Riley

summary: what le request says

warning: slight ass play, spanking, orgasm denial then overstimulation, degrading, slight praise, forced breeding, angry sex, rough to gentle Simon

thank you anon for your request and for enjoying my work! I had a lot of fun writing this for you so I hope you enjoy~

“ can you just stop and fucking listen?!” Simon yelled, slamming the door behind you both as you entered the apartment. “ i’m listening Simon i’ve been listening.” you hiss at him, turning angrily to meet his equally angry face. it was a petty argument. and you initiated it. why? you were jealous. and angry. but also, a bit horny?

and of course you put on a tight black dress, your whole back exposed to show the top of your tramp stamp. your shoes were no better, black sting heels. and Simon was everything but happy about that of course. so he did one better. “ why is your shirt basically not buttoned?” you snapped at him, watching as he tied his black leather boots. his shirt was a silk black one, maybe two or three buttons up, exposing the top half of his abs. his pants were a nice pair of plain black dress pants, nothing special.“ problem love?” he asked gently, tilting his head up to look at you. you watched as he blindly tied his shoes, your tongue poking the inside of your cheek.

and the club was no better. immediately girls crowded him at the bar as he got you both refills. and even though he’d push them off, you still decided to get some sort of payback. from a one sided competition.

you made your way to the dance floor, hot pink LED lights and smoke covering the floor. other than that it was dark, occasional flashing white lights illuminating the room. the smell of alcohol filled your nose as your slid past people, humming to the song. you made sure not to move too far from your table, making sure to remain in sight of Simon. and he didn’t take long to find you, his jaw clenching as you looked him in his eyes, a smirk on your lips.

it also didn’t take long for a man to come behind you, slipping his hand around your waist. at first you jumped, the feeling of an unfamiliar and honestly skimpy arm compared to Simons throwing you off guard. but seeing how his face twisted into anger almost immediately motivated you to dance on this guy, get a reaction out of Simon. it was only fair , look how many girls he had crawling on him?

this did not end well for either one of you honestly. Simon did one better by inviting a girl to sit at the table. in YOUR seat. and so you decided to crank it up and dance your way over to a table close to Simon, happily sitting on a man’s lap at the table to chose. he was handsome, tall. black wolf cut hair with a nice tames bearer, brown eyes and plump lips. you were shocked there wasn’t a girl coming full speed at you.

this took Simon to his breaking point, slamming the cup onto the table and walking over. you couldn’t even properly flirt with the man before you were yanked off him, dragged behind Simon with his hand gripping your wrist tightly.

he shoved you in the car quickly, your head hitting against the seat. but he didn’t even care. the second he got in the car, the arguing started. ruthless words coming from both sides, your finger jamming into his arm, his hand slapping it away. you both never really argued like this before, and you had a feeling it was because you were both so fucking horny for each other. he had been gone on a mission, just returned two days ago. but neither of you have had the time to properly have sex. only quickies in the morning since you had work. and you were beyond drained by the time you got home, leaving Simon to fuck up into his hand as you laid on his chest.

and so, this arguing led to a final breaking point. a breaking point that happened to come quicker than expected. “ you aren’t listening. your going on your own fucking narrative like always! you saw me push those girls away.” he yelled, slamming the keys on the dining table, watching as you made your way to your shared room. “ stop fucking walking away from me!” he yelled, walking over to you.

just as you made it in the room, you began to close the door. but he was ten toes behind you, his hand already pressed flat against the door. “ i have no intention in-“ he pushed you further inside, slamming the door closed. “ i don’t care what the fuck you want.” he said, locking the door behind him. you swallowed, watching as he made his way over to you. “ can you back up” you said, holding your hand out onto his chest. but he kept moving, flicking your hand away like it was a moth.

your knees his the bed frame and you fell backwards, a gasp coming from you. Simon stood tall above you, looking down at your now quiet figure. he kicked your legs apart, shifting his body to fit between them. “ see where talking too much gets you love?” he said softly, his hand finding your thigh. you looked down, looking at how his veiny hand gripped your thigh, his thumb rubbing small circles on the inner part. you looked back up to meet his eyes, a smirk spread on his lips.

“ j-just stop being fucking annoying.” yoh muttered, scooting back. but his grip was strong on your thigh. he pulled you back to place, your dress shifting up your body as he did. your white thong peaked out, a chuckle coming from him. “what a slut.” he mumbled. and as much as you wanted to talk back, you didn’t. in fact, you clenched when he called you that derogatory name.

he hummed softly, his hand sliding up your inner thigh. his fingers grazed over your clothed cunt, a smile spreading onto his lips when he felt the wet spot. “you weren’t really angry were you lovie?” he whispered, his index finger pressing gently on your clit. you whimpered at the pressure, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth. “answer me, i asked a question.” he said, removing his finger. “n-no.” you quickly said, maybe a bit too quick. he chuckled, shaking his head. “ so desperate.”

his finger rubbed small circles onto your clit, watching your hips buck into the air. " just needed to be fucked huh?" he whispered, licking his lips. you nodded your head, an embarrassed red blush coming onto your cheeks. he chuckled, shaking his head slowly. his fingers picked up in speed, a whimper leaving your lips. your eyes closed, head pressing onto the mattress. but that pleasure was taken away in a matter of seconds.

your head lifted, looking up to him with pleading eyes. "think you deserve to cum? silly girl" he sighed, giving you a small pout. he hooked his finger into your underwear, pulling them down. he moaned quietly as he watched your slick cover your pussy lips, his tongue wetting his lips again. "thats what I like to see" he whispered, tracing his fingers down your cunt to your hole, collecting the slick.

you gasped softly, watching him from below. one of his rough fingers slid in slowly, sliding out just as slow. your pussy squelched around him, a small whimper escaping your lips. he was quick to add a second finger, his fingers picking up in pace. " look at this pussy.. so fucking tight and wet for me huh?" he cooed, tilting his head slightly. his other hand moved up and under your dress, moving up to your breast. your dress was completely up your body at this point, your body on full display for him.

" look at you, so pathetic and helpless under me huh." he whispered, rolling your nipple through his fingers. you whimpered, your legs bending to lift your hips up. he bent down, pressing a kiss onto your neck, his fingers hitting deeper into you. " w-wanna cum.. please" you whined, gripping onto his shirt. he let out a breathy chuckle, his fingers slowing down as he felt your cunt pulse around his fingers. " stop being a whiney bitch" he growled, sliding his fingers out.

you whimpered at his loss of touch, gripping onto his shirt harder to try and get him to stay. but he flicked your hand away, standing straight. " turn around, ass up." he said, pulling his belt off his body. and you did just that.

your quickly turned around, almost embarrassing how fast you moved. but you couldn't wait, you needed him inside you. you needed him pounding into your cunt, making you cum over his dick. you wanted him to be rough with you. no. you needed him to be rough with you.

his hands suddenly gripped your hips, his fingers stabbing into your side. one hand pressed on the lower of your back, pushing you further onto the bed. it hurt slightly, but you were too blinded by the soon coming pleasure you didn't care. " think you deserve to get fucked? dancing on other men, sitting on their laps. think a whore like you deserves my dick?" he growled, slapping his dick onto your pussy. you moved your ass back, trying to feel him length slide between your folds. " please I'm sorry sir, please I need it" you whined, turning your head to look back at him.

he grunted, his hand that was once on your back sliding back to your waist, his other hand remaining at the case of his dick. " show me. show me how sorry you are." he said, sliding his tip alone into your cunt. you both sighed softly, his jaw clenching. you slid back onto his dick, your mouth falling open as his length stretched you out. "fuck" he groaned, his eyes fluttering close.

you took a moment to collect yourself, feeling him pulse inside you. " come on then, fucking bounce that ass against me" he growled, his hand slapping down onto your ass. your gasped, your bottom lip tugging between your teeth. slowly, you moved off his dick, slamming back against his hips. his hand again slapped against your ass, a painfully good sting. " just like that baby, come on. fuck yourself on me." he groaned, watching your figure move back and forth on him.

your head fell back, trying to get him to pull at your hair. when he noticed your pathetic attempt to get what you wanted, he laughed down at you. " want me to pull your hair?" he asked, his hand gripping the flesh of you ass. you nodded, swallowing your whimpers. " well use your fucking words." he growled, digging his nails deeper into your skin. you cried out, your fingers wrapping around the sheets. " p-please sir pull my h..hair." you cried out, moving your hips faster.

he grinned, patting your ass gently. " good girl " he cooed before digging his fingers into your hair, pulling it back. you gasped, your back arching so far back your lips and his were close. " wasn't so hard was it?" he asked, smirking down at you.

your hips continued to move back against him until you began to lose your momentum, your movements slowing down. " getting tired already?" he asked, his free hand sliding from your ass to your hip. you whimpered, looking into his eyes with pleading ones. " n-need you to fuck me.. please" you whimpered, your hips stopping. he smiled down at you, letting your hair go to instead wrap his hand around the side of your neck.

instead of giving you a verbal response, he slid his hips out of your cunt and thrusting back in forcefully, keeping his eyes on yours the entire time. your mouth fell open, your eyes hooding. " keep your eyes on me, wanna watch your face while I fuck this pussy." he growled, his other arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you more into him. his dick rubbed right against your gummy walls, his tip jamming against your cervix with each thrust.

" f-feels so good sir" you whined, feeling your orgasm building up again in your stomach. he grunted, moving his hips rougher, but remaining the same pace. " I bet it does, look at you. so fucking pretty taking this dick." he whispered, a moan slipping past him after. your eyes crossed as his dick hit against your g spot, your pussy pulsing around him. " c-can I cum sir.. please." you begged, looking up at him. " so fucking desperate you are. go on then, cum for me." he replied, gripping your throat tighter.

you finally let your orgasm take over you, your eyes tearing up from the release, your moth falling ajar. your body quivered in his grip, a small smile on his face. " there you go just like that baby.. coating my dick." he whispered, looking down as he slid out, watching your cum coat over his dick. a ring of white was around his base, earning a moan from him.

his hips picked up in pace again, his thrusts fast and deep now. your pussy was still getting over your orgasm, your body shaking in his grasp still. " f-fuck slow down.. please sir." you cried out, gripping not his arm that remained around your waist. but he continued his abuse on your pussy, his tip slamming against your cervix. " oh but you wanted to cum baby.. im just giving you what you begged for." he cooed, his hand on your throat now sliding up to your mouth, puling your jaw down.

drool was quickly to pool in your mouth, sliding down his fingers and hand. he groaned at that feeling, his hips moving faster. " using other men just to get my attention. just to get fucked. couldn't use your words." he growled, his other hand pushing you onto the bed. his hand that was on your mouth moved to your ass, his other hand moving to your opposite cheek. " even now, cant use your fucking words. so go ahead baby, keep not using your words. gonna use you like my personal fuck toy, and your gonna fucking let me." he growled, his knee rising to the bed, allowing him to his your insides deeper, faster.

your head pressed onto the mattress, your hands on either side of your head. your second orgasm was approaching quickly, your back aching from the position. but your discomfort became even more enhanced when you felt his thumb press against your asshole, a yelp coming from you. " s-simon I c-" "what did I say? didn't wanna use your words so stay fucking silent now." he growled, moving his hips faster.

you cried out when his thumb pressed into your ass, a new and uncomfortable feeling for you. but Simon loved it. " fuck love.. feels so good. love using your pussy like this." he moaned, his thrusts become more sloppy. he was close and you were finally going to be able to breathe. or so you thought.

his thumb remained where it was, inching more into your hole with each thrust he gave you. tears poured from your eyes, your makeup completely painting your bed sheets. but that was the least of Simons worried right now. his free hand came around the back of your head, pushing it into the mattress. " shut up, dont wanna hear any of those pathetic moans of yours." he growled, his body pressing over yours.

you cried into the mattress before finally feeling his cum shoot into you, a strained moan coming from Simon above you. " fuck yes.. fuck" he groaned, his hand gripping the back of your head as his hips gave you small quick thrusts.

and you thought he was done, but you were wrong. completely wrong. once he came over his high, he turned your head to the side, allowing you to breath. you were gasping, tears running down your face. he took his thumb out of your hole, sighing as his hands gripped the flesh of your ass once more. " think im done, don't you." he mumbled before sliding out of your cunt.

your cum and his poured out of you, dripping onto the mattress. " look at that baby.. look at the mess we made.. " he said softly, reaching over to slide a finger from your clit to your hole, collecting the wetness that your cunt gave him. your body jerked forward, a small gasp leaving your plump lips. " lets make a bigger mess. " he whispered before flipping you onto your back.

his hands were quick to grip either of your thighs, pulling them apart in butterfly position. your dress still pooled at your boobs, which he didn't mind in this case. his hands rubbed up and down your inner thighs, looking down at your drenched pussy. " so wet, just for me huh? just for my dick." he asked, moving his hips to place his semi hard dick right on top of your pussy. you were about to speak but he shook his head, saying " no words. remember?" so all you gave him was a slow nod, looking up into his eyes.

he smiled before looking back down to your sexs' moving his dick side to side against your folds. without warning, he pushed himself fully inside you, a quiet whimper leaving him. he wasted little time in sitting inside your pussy, wanting to hear your wetness squelch around him. " listen to that pussy lovie.. fuck your so wet." he growled, his hands gripping your thighs.

your head pressed back into the mattress, his thrusts gradually picking up in speed. it was hard to keep yourself from saying any words, especially when he was fucking you as well as he was. but that pleasure soon turned into pain when he raised on of your legs up, keeping the other one in that butterfly position. his tip was hitting your womb directly, emitting painful cried from you. but he loved it. "aww, is it too much for you baby?" he cooed, his hand coming down to cup your face for what you thought would be genuine care and sadness.

but he slid two fingers inside your mouth, hooking around your bottom teeth to pull your jaw down. " see if I fucking care" his thrusts grew in force as well, your moans no longer soft and quiet ones. each thrust he gave you produced a moan from you, your eyes squeezing shut as you endured the pain.

what didn't make it better, was the bulge that Simon began to notice. and when he saw it, he didn't slow down or change the force of his thrusts at all. " look at that.. can barely handle my cock can you? so fucking s-small beneath me" he moaned, watching the drool from your mouth drip down his wrist. your eyes opened, looking up into his fiery ones. you knew he wasn't stopping any time soon, and it was now your mistake of edging him to go this far with you. you began to regret it quickly.

your pussy again began to pulse around his dick, your whimpers growing in pitch. " close again huh? come on then, cum for me." he said, watching that tiny bulge pop up from your tummy. your back arched up and off the bed, your second orgasm washing over you. your legs shook in his grasp, your eyes producing more tears.

and all he did was smile down at you, watching your body tremble from his dick. he loved it, loved to be the one to give your body such a violent reaction. " thats it baby take this dick, show me how badly you wanted it." he moaned, raising his knee to rest on the bed once again.

this wasn't fun nor pleasurable anymore. your pussy was crying out for help as he rammed his dick inside of you, working towards making you finish again. his dick slid in and out with eat, your pussy and his hips making sinful noises when they connected. your cum, his cum and your own wetness covered your inner thighs and his own pelvis, adding to his own pleasure.

his head had fallen back, his moans growing in pitch and frequency. he was close again but wasn't going to allow himself to cum. " come on lovie, cum for me again. s'what you wanted right? to cum." he groaned, head falling back to look down at you. you still couldn't respond if you wanted to because of his fingers still hooked to your jar, adding to the overall uncomfortable feeling you were going through.

tears of pain began to take over the ones that were once pleasurable, your walls and cervix not able to take more of a beating. your body was tired, you were tired. but you couldn't do anything to fight back. you had tried to push him off, but that only resulted in him slapping you, gripping your face straight afterwards and telling you to "take what I give you." in most cases that would be hot, maybe even make you clench around him. but this time it emitted true fear out of you.

his fingers slipped out of your mouth to go down to your clit, causing a painful cry to leave your lips. you tried to pull your knees together, but the position made that everything but easy. " come on you can take more, it's what you wanted remember?" he cooed, watching as your cunt coated his own body. and yes you did want it at first, but not anymore.

“s-simon i cant.. i c-cant-“ his other hand gripped your cheeks, swelling your mouth shut. “i don’t care lovie. this is what you fucking get” he groaned, his eyes watching as strings of cum connected his dick back to your pussy. you were full on crying beneath him, another orgasm making it’s way through your body.

you shook beneath him, his mouth agape as he watched your pussy pulse around him, your cum seeping out. it didn’t take much for him to cum inside you again from that sight alone, his grip on your cheeks tightening. his fingers released your clit and instead made their way to your nipples.

his hips slowed down, but the force of his thrusts didn’t. your body was shutting down and you physically couldn’t take anymore. with his hand still grasping your cheeks, you began yo say “stra-“ but his hand clasped over your mouth, grunting. “ didnt i fucking say shut up.” he growled, his eyes locking onto yours. he hadn’t processed what you were trying to say, he was beyond pussy drunk at this point, he could pull himself out of you.

your body violently shook beneath him, your eyes red and stinging with tears. you both were covered in sweat, Simons hair sticking to his forehead as he pumped himself inside you. when he had relaxed from his previous orgasm, his hips picked up in pace yet again. his hand still rested onto your mouth, silencing you completely and restricting a decent air flow.

because of how sensitive you were, it took only a few thrust for your next orgasm to well up inside you. and this one you couldn’t take. with the lack of air and pure overstimulation, your clawed at his hand helplessly, trying to get him to listen to you, to see you. but by the time he had decided to let you go, your orgasm washed over you and your body shook violently beneath him.

tears of pain and genuine terror came from your eyes, clawing his hand away from your mouth. you couldn’t feel anything in your body, not even your own arms. your mouth was dry, head was light from the lack of oxygen and your cheeks were sore. “s..strawberry” you cried out trying your hardest to push him away from you.

Simon immediately stopped his hips, looking down at your disheveled body. you laid limp below him, body still shaking. a million thoughts began to run in him mind at once, but the loudest one was “what have i done”.

he slid out, a painful cry coming out of you. he didn’t know what to do, he’d never gotten you to this point before. he just watched as your body laid almost lifeless on the bed, cum seeping out of your hole. “i.. i-i’m so..” he couldn’t find the words to even begin to describe how sorry he was. he was like a deer in headlights, unable to move at all.

but he jumped into action the second he saw you begin to move. but when he tried to touch you, your shifted away from him, whimpering the second his hands touched you. he backed away, almost tripping on air.

he watched as your lifelessly crawled further onto the bed, almost like you were pure fleas no bones. the large wet spot where you once were only hurt his chest more, a sign of how far he pushed you. “my love i-“ but your back was to him now, full on sobs escaping you.

your body didn’t stop shaking, not even after you managed to pull a blanket over you. you felt exposed, used. like you were some fleshlight and nothing more. and yes, your and Simon had rough sex, but it was never to this extent. never to the extent you felt unsafe.

as you cried, Simon fought his own tears of anger and disappointment. he had one job, to make sure you felt safe and he completely failed. he didn’t know what to do in this moment, he was still standing. he watched as your body trembled underneath the blanket. he didn’t see his girlfriend anymore. he saw a scared little girl.

he turned to walk towards the bathroom, his eyes blank, face showing no emotion. he didn’t want you to see his emotions, this was about you. and making you feel better. it was about him failure in making you feel safe, he broke a promise he swore he’d never break.

he ran a bath, making sure the water was perfectly warm. he found a few candles in the cabinets from when you bought them a few weeks back, lighting them and placing them around the bathroom. he also managed to find a towel and quickly made his way into the laundry room, throwing it into the dryer so it was warm when you came out.

when he made his way back into the room, he laid his eyes on you first before finding a pair of pants to put on himself. he wanted to hide his body, scared that if you saw it, you’d go into some sort of panic. he also found a nice pair of pajamas for you, tossing them onto the bed.

and finally, he made his way over to you. your body was still shaking, just not as violently as before. your face was hidden under the blanket, soft sniffles coming from underneath. he paused, swallowing the lump in his throat before slowly and gently resting his hand on your covered body. “ my love.. please-“ but shook him off of you, scooting back. his head hung low before he tried again, this time dropping to his knees.

“i want to take care of you.. please. please let me fix this.” he said softly, making sure not to touch you. but he got no response. he rested his head on the bed, sucking in a deep breath and holding it, stopping the tears from escaping. and he stayed like this until he felt your body shift.

he looked up and was met with your eyes alone, your lower face and body still covered. he swallowed, not saying a word. and neither did you. it stayed like this until he reached over slowly for the blanket. “ can i?” he asked softly. when you gave him a small nod, he slowly pulled the blanket off.

his eyes never trailed to your boobs or pussy, his eyes stayed on you the whole time. he was determined to fix this, determined to make you feel safe around him again. “can i lift you?” he asked, standing slowly from his knees. when you gave him another small nod, he lifted you from the bed and immediately made his way over to the bathroom.

he placed you into the tub, watching how you looked around the bathroom at all the candles. “ i..i don’t even know where to begin.” he said softly, looking at you in the tub. “i should’ve listened to you. i’m sorry.” he said, taking your rag and rubbing soap onto it. you watched him silently, giving him only small nods when he asked if it was okay to touch you or move you in any way.

and it remained like this for the remainder of the night. your body was still sore and limp, your head pounding from all the crying. you just laid in bed the rest of the night, Simon staying by your side. he didn’t touch you, didn’t ask you anything. he was still in shock over what had happened. he was cursing himself in his head, angry that he put you through something like this.

his hands were in fists when you reached out slowly, cupping your comparatively small hand on his. he looked down, your eyes closed. “my love?” he asked softly. he didn’t get a verbal response, but he did get a small hum. “do you need anything? food? medicine?” he asked, already prepared to stand and get you whatever it was you needed.

but you shook your head, limply scooting closer to him. he got the idea and stopped you, moving himself closer to you instead. “ are you tired?” he asked, his hand wrapping around your shoulders. you gave him another silent nod, your head finding his chest to nuzzle into.

a soft smile came to his lips before he pulled you closer, watching you fall asleep. and even when you did, he stayed up to making sure you didn’t need anything from him. to make sure you were okay. he didn’t care about sleeping, not when he put you through that.

“i love you” he said softly, rubbing your shoulders as you slept against his chest peacefully. for the first time since this whole thing began, he felt like he was doing right in making you feel good. making you feel safe.

#cod #call of duty fan fiction #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #ghost mw2

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keenzinemugstudent · 2 months

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

Note

Hello bestie 🌼

May I order a mechanic!Ghost pls?

I’d like to have an extra hot sauce pls make it spicy pls 🌝👏

Take how long as much as you like, I’m patient

Don’t forget to take care of yourself bestie 💖💝🌻💛

Personal Mechanic

A/N: Yes, ma'am! I got you! Love this! The car I had in mind that the reader have is a Red 1970 Chevy Impala.

Mechanic! Simon Riley x F!Reader

Warnings: Some cursing. Some touching of private parts. Dirty talk

Master List (tag list at the bottom)

Everyone hates car problems, especially you. As much as you appreciate your late uncle giving you his old classic car, it came with its problems. But you didn't mind, you got to see Simon. You got to know him over the years and you seemed to save all your car problems for whenever he came back from deployment.

"You know how hard it is to order tires for a car like this? And if I can find them, I have to import them..." The older mechanic kept blabbering about how much the cost would be and how much work it would be. You sighed and shifted your weight as you listened to the older man, waiting for Simon to swoop in at any moment to save the day.

"Ok, I understand, but you know I always pay! You all are the only ones near here who knows how to work on my car," You tried to explain.

"Yes, but it's a lot of money-"

"Ok, I think that's enough harassment, big man," despite his size, Simon knew how to sneak up on people.

"Simon, you're back!" Ignoring the elder mechanic's protests, you nearly skipped over to Simon and hugged him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He smiled softly as he leaned down and wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close so he could carry you as he hugged you, relishing in your giggles.

"Hello, sweet girl," Simon quickly kissed your forehead and let you down, "This man bothering you?" The two of you giggled as the older mechanic mumbled under his breath and left the two of you alone.

"No, but I do need some new tires, though."

Simon had his ways of finding the right car parts for your car and made sure your car was as good as new. Let's just say he always kept a stash of extra parts and tires for your car. And especially when the two of first met, he always looked forward to seeing you.

You'd left your car with Simon and came back a few hours later when all the other mechanics had left, "How're my babies doing?" You walked into the garage of the car shop, watching as Simon finished up changing the last of your tires. By this time of the day, he'd shed his work jacket, leaving him with a damp tank top.

You heard him chuckle as he stood up and wiped his hands on a rag, walking up to you slowly, "Red's doing pretty good."

"And you?"

Simon took a moment to relish in your appearance before answering, "I'm better now."

"I missed you."

"I missed you too, pretty girl." Simon brushed a few hair strands away from your face and behind your ear, then caressed your cheek. Just him touching your cheek made your knees weak, so you leaned against him. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, seeing your cheeks flush the longer you stared at each other.

"You were gone a long time, Simon."

"I know, I'm sorry..." Simon hated being away from you, he hated making you wait for him. "Can I make it up to you?"

You nodded, then impulsively took his hand and led him to the backseat of your car. He took you for a risk-taker, but in the car? He sheepishly looked around the garage to make sure no one was left, then he opened the back seat door and said, "Get in." You sat inside the back seat of your car and watched as he closed the garage door.

You watched how his steps grew wider so he could get back to you quicker. You'd turned your body towards Simon, your heart beat and breaths grew quicker as he sat in the car and closed the door beside him.

He wanted you. He needed you. He missed you. Simon was practically crawling on top of you, barely closing the car door after him. His breath was hot and heavy as he kissed you, you tugged his shirt to bring him even closer to you between your legs, resting his hips against your, spreading your legs apart. Both of you thanked the heavens that you wore a dress that day. Your mind couldn't catch up to your body begging for Simon.

Quickly and deeply, Simon planted deep and sloppy kisses on your lips, jaw and neck. You whined his name as his hands traveled all over your body and eventually under your dress.

God, how he whispered your name in between haste kisses, his hands quickly pulling your damp under garments off of you. You tugged at his tank top, which he swiftly pulled off of his body and threw it onto the front seat.

Both of your bodies grew warm and flushed, Simon stopped for a moment to allow you to catch your breath. Even when your cheeks were flushes and your breath was heavy, he still couldn't believe you were real. How dare you look at him with such love and admiration? How dare you wait for him every time he was deployed?

How dare you look at him? With all that he's done? How dare you let him touch you? How dare you let him be in your very presence?

"Simon."

Your soft voice brought him back. You placed your hands around the back of his head and brought him down so that his forehead was resting against you, his body practically rested on top of yours, between your legs.

He looked at you, physically feeling his body receive your affection in such a way he hadn't felt in a long time - if at all. You caressed his face and smiled up at him, "I missed you so much, Simon."

"I missed you, too, Y/N."

You chuckled slightly, your smile becoming every so slightly more devious, "Oh yeah? How much did you miss me?"

"Want me to prove it to you?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List

@ateliefloresdaprimavera @galagcica @sweetybuzz25 @wisedinosaurpolice @itsasecrets-things @ronbon @lieutenantlashfaz @piper570 @shuttlelauncher81 @thanksbutno98 @gabriellathegreat @kult6 @loadedberetta @sarahs-secrets2 @whore4dilfs @addy3114 @ollie71526483 @blueoorchid

#cod #call of duty #call of duty mw #call of duty mwii #call of duty mw2 #simon x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #fan fic #fan fiction #simon #riley #lieutenant simon riley #riley x reader #cod request #call of duty request #request

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codfanficedits · 6 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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