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joe-leviari · 2 months

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Simon Ghost Riley is annoyed.

" So you ended up working together, you ended up helping one another, you ended up not liking each other. " || Ghost listens in to you having sex ||

for adults only; NSFW; sexual themes; stalker!Ghost; smut; other COD characters briefly mentioned; backstory for main character; afab!reader x konig; no use of y/n; English is not my first language, feel free to privately message me to correct any mistakes.

Much to Ghost’s annoyance, they need you.

You being the highly-trained-deadly-skilled-gun-for-hire of a now nearly collapsed criminal enterprise, and the only one left alive with the intel that they need.

But that’s alright, because, as it turns out, you need them.

Them being the task force 141, the very same that has been sistematically dismantling the above mentioned criminal empire and hunting down the above mentioned highly-trained-deadly-skilled-gun-for-hire. Little-fucking-nuisance, according to Simon.

So you ended up working together, you ended up helping one another, you ended up not liking each other.

Much to Ghost’s annoyance, judging by the way Gaz has been telling you stories from his childhood, the way Price has been calling you silly nicknames through the crackling comms, and the way Soap has taken the habit to fully lean into you every time you show him something stupid on your phone, the only one who doesn’t really like you is Ghost himself.

Not liking you is fine; that’s something he can deal with for the simple fact that he does not really have to deal with it. Disliking you is a mere subjective perception that he acknowledges in passing, almost distractingly, when he lays his eyes on you. The real problem is that he does not fucking trust you. Now that’s something he has to deal with; that’s HIS duty, that’s HIS team.

Sure, you are constantly monitored, they are not stupid: you have lived most of your life like a criminal, surrounded by criminals. You have the resources, the knowledge, and fairly good reasons to fuck them over. That’s why you are never left alone and never trusted to carry any weapons unless strictly necessary. Your location is always traced, your heartbeat is polygraph-tested every time you have to be questioned. The thing is, you were very well made aware of all this when you signed on the dotted line the day that Laswell came to see you in the prison’s infirmary.

A few days later, there you were, with a bruised face and an even more bruised ego, getting yourself nice and comfy in the room down the hall.

So it was for the sake of HIS team that Simon had to break into the room down the hall to carefully bug it. With a bit of patience, he will find something compromising that will force Laswell - who seemed to take a shine on you for whatever bloody reason - to send you back to prison. Or anywhere else, really, as long as you were out of sight. And with that, out of mind.

Much to Ghost's annoyance, you moan differently than he expected. Simon assumed, definitely assumed, and NEVER fantasized that you would moan like a fucking pornstar.

No, this… This is something entirely different. And now that it thinks about it, it is more like you. You have a wicked sweetness about you, the kind that makes men want to either break you or protect you.

You have the cheekiness that gets you in trouble—the same one that gets you out of it. Ghost adjusts the ear buds in his ears and draws his eyebrows together.

The man on you (behind you? Under you? Most definitely inside you) is babbling, grunting, and moaning, visceral and guttural. And you... You sound breathy and airy and wet and light. In a delicate voice, you are giving him directions, but you have to repeat yourself a few times before he snaps out of his daze and complies. And when he finally does, oh, you are all praise.

How the fuck did he menage to get into your pants? And why, on God’s green earth, would you let him?

Ghost has witnessed you flirt before: sometimes you were just doing your job, other times you were having fun dancing with recruits in bars, flashing them a little smile with a pretty blush on your face. You were quick to throw them a bait and even quicker to retrieve it. “Don’t push your luck, soldier” you would say with an easy grin. Cheeky little thing.

Simon would scoff at your antics and at the men and women who would fall for your little act. That’s why he is so surprised now, because with you, everything seems to be either an act or a transaction. I’ll give you what you need if you offer me something better first.

That’s what he thought you were doing with Konig when he caught you complimenting his skills and commenting on his strength. Just being smart, just trying to have one more ally.

But the way you were panting, mewling, and pleading told him a different story. You could not be trusted. And now HIS team is in danger because you couldn’t keep your legs shut. Are your legs actually wide open? Are they on his shoulders? No, Ghost is not thinking about your legs. Instead, he is thinking that he wouldn’t need you to give him pointers on how to adjust the rhythm or how to angle himself to hit your sweet spot. With one hand on your mouth, he’d know exactly what to do to you. You wouldn’t need to say please and thank you; you wouldn’t need to be so polite.

Simon is startled when you let out a sudden giggle, immediately followed by a whimper. You are confusing, half crying and half elated, half begging to stop and half begging to continue. It’s intimate—you sound so defenseless, so vulnerable. You are definitely not to be trusted.

Much to Ghost’s annoyance, a little escapade with a fellow soldier is not enough to get you to fuck off somewhere else—somewhere far, far away from him. If that were to be enough, the base would be empty by now. He just has to be a little more patient and wait until he hears you say something compromising to the mercenary (or any other bastard that you’ll let into your bed, for that matter, a slut like you). Eventually you'll let something slip that will put the safety of the team at risk and thwart your credibility in the process.

Ghost is just going to have to endure more of this bullshit, and THAT is what annoys him the most. Not the fact that while listening to you, he is reminded of that one time when you dislocated your shoulder. He lets his focus drift to your moaning, desperately trying to conjure the memory of the way you turned your big, watery eyes on him, looking like a wounded animal. He can see it now; he can hear it now—the barely audible plea that escaped your lips, “Please, please don’t hurt me," as he was grabbing your arm and trying to fix you. It is only a pang in the pit of his stomach that snaps him out of it; he should not find the idea of you getting hurt so damn erotic.

You little fucking nuisance.

#konig #konig cod #call of duty smut #drabbles #angst #smut #mdni #spilled thoughts #my wrtitng #simon ghost riley #fanfic #Simon's feelings series #my writing #konig x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #joe leviari

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fallenneziah · 6 months

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Figured I would make a navigation post for this blog so I, and you, can get around easy.

Hey, I'm Fallen, welcome to... Chaos. I've been getting more into CoD again, but I also still occasionally write for Transformers. This won't exactly be in order but I tried.

Requests are open! I write for readers of any gender in any scenarios. Guys, gals and nonbinary pals, come hither!

Come bug me with absolutely anything, I write for most characters from the Modern Warfare trilogies. Most Transformers characters (except humans).

If you're a minor please don't interact with me in any way as it does make me a bit uncomfortable to see you skulking around. Blank blogs that follow me will be blocked. (No name, no photos, no age etc)

Come request anything from me, while I main smut, I do write pretty much anything, and I mean anything. As long as some bodily fluids aren't included... We can work something out.

COD:

How they are in bed pt1

Alpha!Ghost x Omega!Reader pt 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Christmas specials. König, Ghost, Soap, Price,

AO3 fics:

GhostSoap powerplay

Simon 'Ghost' Riley:

Trans Simon Riley, 1, 2, 3

Man whore Riley test out.

Johnny likes to share. (Johnny/Simon x reader)

Zombie Ghost breeding.

Serial Killer/stalker blurb.

Friends with benefits

Ghost x Virgin Reader

Virgin Ghost x Reader

Sharing is caring - (Ghost/Price x Reader) (Sharing Price's wife)

Zombie Ghost x Reader

Ghost x Barracks bunny reader - (Ghost is determined to make you cum)

Warm welcome - (Ghost comes home to an unsuspecting Reader)

Keep still - (Can't stay still, stuck in a closet with Ghost)

Desperate Ghost drabble

Captain John Price:

Price's voice lines drabble

Philip Graves:

Graves x short reader

Konig:

Conquering Goliath - (your first time)

Transformers:

Dating them hccns

Getting each other's attention - (Ships)

Optimus Prime:

Optimus with a small reader-size kink

Flicker pt1

Flicker pt2

Good boy - (Ratchet x Optimus)

Soundwave:

Soundwave x a vehicon

#will be frequently updated #pinned post #pinned intro

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lingering-42-long · 11 months

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141 + extra When everyone is sick

I am sick. And because I am sick, I thought about doing some thing dealing with some of the COD characters with not just you, or them, or your children sick, but Everybody sick. Let’s be honest one person just doesn’t get sick and then the other people are fine in the household most people if one person gets sick, the whole household runs with that same disgusting germ. If you are a squeamish 2, the usual illness that includes potential, throw up, fevers, coughs, mucus, and whatever else comes out of the crusty eyes of everybody who is sick, then this story might not be for you. Enjoy~

Also, if you want to leave a question, or ask for a theme for a head cannon, or a short story, please feel free to use the ask box! It’s always open!

COD x Female Character

Warnings: sicknes and other related things, fluff

Captain John Prince

• It started when the girls came back home from school.

• At first they just had sneezes which you didn’t think much about but then the next day their sneezes have turned into coughs and sore throats.

• There was no fever, so you still sent them to school with a packet of Halls for each of them and some kid friendly medicine.

• It was around 2 o’clock and you were almost ready to pick them up from school. When you receive a phone call from the teacher letting you know that your two children have a fever.

• A day later you had caught whatever bug they had caught

• And now your young toddler, son is also down with whatever.

• John is much more susceptible to colds and can handle them. He was doing his best to make sure that everybody was taken care of.

• It honestly broke his heart, saying that his whole family was practically crumpling underneath this little illness.

• He made sure to stay on top of the medication and would do his best to help you with the kids when they weren’t feeling good.

• To make sure that he didn’t get sick, he decided to sleep in the guest bedroom.

• Makes the best chicken noodle soup this side of England!

• Reads to his children while keeping a safe distance from them.

• If you’re burning up and not feeling well, immediately gets a bath going for you.

• He wants to be close to you and the children again and he misses hugging them and you.

• One of the only people that does not get sick.

Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

• You two had eaten some thing that did not settle well in either of your stomachs.

• While, Simon was capable of looking like he wasn’t in pain, you were a different story.

• You were throwing up almost every hour and your stomach hurts so bad.

• Did I forget to mention you’re pregnant with his first child?

• Simon does everything he can for both of you.

• He make sure that you both take the medication on time and he’s very precise with keeping you guys on track of drinking water and taking charcoal pills to eliminate any toxin in your body.

• He’s asking you if you are OK.

• Even though this wasn’t his fault, he still feels like it is.

• You remind him that there is nothing, he could’ve done since neither of you knew that the food was tainted with something.

• He rubs your belly at night, trying to ease the pain that you are feeling, and that your child are experiencing.

• At night, you hear him throwing up. You see him crouched on the side of the toilet, puking out whatever liquids were in his stomach.

• By the time he’s done, he all butt collapses on to the floor, exhausted.

• You help him up and he get him to brush his teeth then you to go back to bed with one trash can mirror each of your bedside.

Sergeant Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish

• Johnny and you had come down with some thing.

• It was a cold, rainy day in Scotland while he and you were hiking.

• You hadn’t expect it to rain so soon.

• It has been a beautiful day out on the highlands when suddenly you got drenched.

• You were now wet and cold and you had at least half a kilometer away from your car.

• Johnny made sure to get you warmed up with a nice hot shower and to make you guys both some soup.

• You could tell by his face he wasn’t feeling good either.

• Another good news was that you made sure to have the freezer stocked with soup bases, and stock as well as soups for cold days and emergencies.

• You to sit on the couch, cuddled together in your blankets, trying to stay warm and drink your soup.

• You take some Advil before heading off to bed.

• The next morning you feel worse than you did.

• You could hear Johnny moaning as he was puking up his contents from dinner.

• His puking caused you to have a chain reaction and you started to feel the bile rising up.

• Next thing you know you’re racing towards the bathroom to throw up as well.

• But it’s too late for you as you suddenly release most of your contacts on the bedroom floor, staining your carpet in the process.

• Johnny sees this and does what he can to finish up with his issue before coming over to help you at least make it into the bathroom before a second wave hits you.

• Your whole body is burning up.

• You decide to start a hot bath for both of you.

• You’re shaking for how cold you feel.

• Johnny does his best to keep you both warm.

• He lays a ton of kisses on your for head as he whispers that it’s going to be OK.

• He is very clingy and wants to be holding you and touching you at all times.

• Some thing about sharing body heat to keep you both warm.

• Just an excuse to hold you.

• He also promises to do a better thorough check on the weather the next time.

Sargent Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

• Gaz was the one that got sick first.

• You’re not exactly sure how he got it. He just came home with a cough and a scratchy throat saying it was nothing.

• The next morning, he woke up with a lot of pain in his throat, and it was making it difficult for him to breathe properly.

• Worried you take him to the doctors and you find out that he has strep throat.

• The doctor gives you the medication you need to help treat him and suggest that you stay away from him as best as you can.

• This hurts both of you since you both want to be close to one another especially in the time of need.

• Gaz makes a phone call to price letting him know that he won’t be in at base due to strep throat.

• Captain Price wishes him well and sends him a speedy recovery.

• Gaz hates taking medicine. He’s not a big fan of bitter stuff.

• But he will do anything if you get to play nurse for him.

• Slightly clingy, but not nearly as clingy as soap.

• Whines a little about not feeling well.

• He doesn’t complain much because he knows you’re doing your best and he doesn’t want you to feel like you’re not doing your best.

• He falls asleep faster if you’re in the room sitting in a chair next to him.

Commander Alejandro Vargas

• The commander is very similar to John. He rarely gets sick, but he hates seeing you get sick and more importantly he hates seeing his children get sick.

• His youngest daughter started not feeling very good a couple of days ago.

• His little baby girl was sent to the hospital to make sure everything was OK.

• She had just picked up the bug that had been passing around the area.

• Do you love watching your husband take care of his baby girl.

• He acts as if her life depends upon him solely to take care of her.

• The other two kids are advised to stay away from their youngest siblings room until she’s feeling better.

• They write her all cards, telling her to get well soon.

• Your two eldest children help you make fresh broth, so that their sibling could have some nourishment.

• Alejandro also knows that he is potentially at risk for catching whatever she has. So in order to keep the disease from spreading, he also sleeps in the guestroom.

• He does miss not being with his family.

Sergeant Major Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

• Your son has always been a weak child from the beginning.

• Since the moment of birth, Rudy and you had to go to the doctors office quite more frequently than what most babies had to go into because your son suffers with autoimmune disease.

• When he was first born, you almost lost him, because he was so weak and born as a preemie.

• Thankfully, he has gotten a lot healthier, but it still considered a very small baby even for his size.

• It was one of those days where he was not feeling very good. While a normal cough or sneeze doesn’t harm a person can absolutely destroy your son.

• Rudy and you are in the ICU making sure that your son is in good hands and being watched over.

• Rudy is nervous but he chose not to show it for you.

• He loves his son dearly and wants the best for him he wishes that he could take his sons pain away.

• His son had to get some IV drips into him.

• Both you and your husband will stay in the hospital for sometime.

König

• Nothing beats a good day, playing out in the snow in Austria, however; that day will be very short-lived as the whole family gets whammied with an illness.

• The only one that isn’t sick is your baby boy who is staying with his grandmother for the time being as the rest if you get healed up.

• König is not a very healthy person. He doesn’t necessarily have an auto immune issue, but he does catch colds a lot faster, and he sustains them a lot longer than most people.

• Unfortunately, this means that all the work is put on you.

• He really wants to help with the responsibilities, but he can’t even move out of bed without the world spinning, and he hast to collapse back onto the sheets or risk blacking out.

• His girls fare better and you’re doing OK with just a sore throat and a slight fever and mixed with a headache.

• Since you are all sick, you decide to just all cuddle up together in bed.

• König is passed out fast asleep, and the two little girls are squirming around, trying to get comfortable.

• You’re doing your best that you can and you’ve already gotten the medicine from the doctors for the girls and your husband and yourself.

• One morning you wake up to somebody brushing your hair and you look up to see König with some hot coffee ready for you.

• He was feeling a little bit better this morning and wanted to do something nice for you.

• He feels really bad for not helping you with the girls even if you tell them it’s fine.

Alex Keller

• You’ve got pneumonia.

• Alex is like a Labrador retriever.

• He will get you anything that you need or want.

• He woke up in the middle of the night

• He then heard you crying, which helps him get up faster.

• You are in pain and the rattling in your lungs is the evidence of that pain.

• Alex does everything that the doctor prescribes you.

• You have to wear a nebulizer for a few minutes every handful of hours.

• He brings you clothes in his arms as you two are watching a TV show while your nebulizer is wrapped around your face, making a Low hum as it is pumping you with the steam.

• The way you’re laying on his leg is making him uncomfortable, but he’s not gonna say anything to you.

• Right now he’s focused on making sure that you are OK.

Philip Graves

• Philip has never been one really to get sick.

• He Springs back from a lot of things really quickly. It would literally take a bomb to put him under and even then he would still find away.

• He’s not feeling good but he’s got work that Hass to get done and no amount of stopping him is going to keep them from doing his work.

• That is until you get up into his face and pretty much force him back down on the couch when he tries to leave with a 102°f (39°c)fever.

• He grumbles about some thing for Work stating that he can’t miss on his job.

• So you make him go to a doctor and you find out that he has Covid.

• He gets a doctors note and calls in sick from work.

• Yeah, you’re petty.

• You make sure to get the bedroom set up nicely for him and also make sure to have water by his bedside so he’s not dehydrated.

• He grumbles more about how he can handle himself.

• You threaten to call his mom.

• He shuts up.

• He now begrudgingly has to deal with you, tending to his care

• The worst part is he actually enjoys it, and will find any excuse for you to be near him.

• He will ask five or six other times to bring him more tissues, or to fluff up the pillows or tuck in the sheets a little bit more.

• He tries to kiss you after every task, but of course you dodged them telling him he did not want to get Covid.

• He just gets grouchy again.

• Once he’s better, he plans on taking you out to dinner for all your hard work and making him feel better .

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writeforfandoms · 1 year

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The Hanging Tree

Find my CoD masterlist

You've known Johnny for years, and for a long time you thought all the codes and prep you two went through was just to assuage his paranoia. Until he sends you a code and you have to get out fast.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Warnings: Graphic violence, mild panic attack, minor character death, blood, gunshots, threats of violence, threats of death, spy shit, angst, whump, feral Soap.

Word count: 5.1k

In all the years you'd known Johnny, you had gotten to know how he worked quite well. He was occasionally prone to over exaggerating, and sometimes was dramatic. But he had never been flippant about your safety. Never.

Which was why, when you got a text from him that said simply "hanging tree", you stopped breathing.

And then you bolted for your room.

For all his planning and paranoia, Johnny had never actually used any of your safety codes until now.

You stuffed some clothes and necessities in a bag, grabbing the bundle of cash you kept hidden. For Johnny to have used this sign was… bad. Bad enough that you knew you couldn't use any of your credit cards or anything.

Briefly, you cursed yourself for not taking him up on his offer of packing you a bug-out bag.

But you were still out the door in under twenty minutes, locking up behind you and starting to walk.

You and Johnny had gone over the route before, multiple times. A few times on foot, more often only verbally, until you could recite the way unaided.

You treated your memory now, reciting the directions to keep yourself calm as you left your home behind. For all you knew, you would never see it again.

A deep breath helped to calm you, a bit, and you took the first turn.

It wasn't late, fortunately, so you passed people as you walked. You smiled and nodded to those you knew, but didn't linger. It was best to move quick, but not so fast as to attract attention. You could practically hear Johnny reminding you of that.

You paid for a ticket in cash to your first stop, three towns over. From there, you'd go west a ways, then back north a bit. It was a roundabout route, but necessary.

Just in case anyone was trying to follow you.

The sun had set by the time you got onto the second bus, your breath fogging up the window ever so slightly as you leaned your temple against the cool glass. You almost felt like crying, or asking him if he was sure, or anything.

But his instructions had been very clear.

"If you ever get this signal from me, you leave. Immediately. Don't linger. You remember the route?"

You had rolled your eyes. "Of course I remember, Johnny. Do we need to go over it again?"

He'd laughed quietly, pressing an almost apologetic kiss to your forehead. "Nah, sorry, hen. I know you know. I just–"

"Fuss. You just fuss." But your smile was unmistakably fond as you gazed at him.

"Dinnae fuss," he grumbled. "Anyway. You get that signal, don't contact me. Right? This is important."

"Get out as fast as possible, follow the route, watch my six, don't contact you," you reiterated, almost flippant. Almost. "I know, Johnny. Is there… is there a reason you're doing this now?"

"No," he assured you. "No, just makin' sure, I promise you."

You had smiled then and let him distract you with kisses.

You breathed out hard, blinking back tears. No. You didn't have time for that. Safety first, then crying. Maybe.

The transition to the third bus was a long one - the busses didn't run as frequently this late. So you got to sit in the terminal and wait, backpack on your lap, playing on your phone (on airplane mode) to keep yourself busy.

Fortunately, from the looks you chanced around, you didn't recognize anyone. It didn't look like you'd been followed. That was something of a relief.

Finally, you boarded the last bus. Setting your backpack down on the floor in front of you, you stared down at your phone. The urge to text Johnny, to call him, to ask if he was alright and demand to know what was going on, was… it was hard. Your next inhale was a little shaky and you swallowed hard.

And stuffed your phone back in your pocket.

Johnny had been very clear, and the instructions were for your safety as well as his.

You couldn't contact him. You just had to get to safety and wait.

The last bus stopped, and you got off. It was the middle of the night now. The sky was clear and cold, stars twinkling down at you, the moon bright. You started walking, shivering a little, keeping a close eye on everything around you.

But nobody else got off the bus, and nobody followed you.

From here, it was a long walk to the cabin. Johnny insisted on that, said that a secluded place would be safer. In case he needed to patch himself up without nosey neighbors calling him in, or he needed to lay low.

The end result was that you were walking for a lot longer than you really wanted to. The chill wore off after a while, at least.

Nearly-numb fingers fumbled the cabin key out of your backpack, and you unlocked the door, flipping the lights on. The cabin was cozy, not large but well furnished, and always stocked with non-perishables. The door shut behind you with a soft click, and you locked it.

There was only one bedroom, and you claimed it as yours. Since Johnny had sent you all the way out here, he could take the couch if he got in while you were sleeping. You left your backpack next to the bed, stripped down enough to be comfortable, and collapsed.

The room was bright when you woke, and you groaned. For a moment you thought about pulling the pillow over your head and going back to sleep, but no. You needed to get up.

Groaning again, you dressed in clean clothes from your backpack and padded into the kitchen on bare feet. No sign of Johnny yet. No anybody at all, actually.

Sighing, you went through your options for breakfast, and settled on a protein bar. Not exciting, but it would do. At least he had tea here.

The day passed achingly slowly. Johnny had left plenty of books and board games in the cabin, even a TV and DVD player. But nothing held your attention for long, not with the low-level anxiety as your constant companion. You barely even felt hungry, picking through the available food with a choosiness entirely unlike you.

Not even a hot shower helped to quell the anxiety. Every minute without an update felt like an eternity stuck in purgatory.

The second day dragged just as slowly as the first. You left the TV on all day, playing movies without paying attention to them, just for the background noise. Just to have something outside your own head.

Because the possibilities running non-stop through your mind were terrifying, now.

You forced yourself to eat and keep hydrated. You cleaned. (You'd helped choose the cleaning products, you remembered a playful argument with Johnny over rags of all things, remembered whapping him in the chest with your chosen towel, remembered shrieking laughter as he chased you outside and tackled you down into the grass–)

One book caught your eye. One you'd thought you had lost years ago. Johnny had sworn up and down that he had no idea where it was.

Fucking liar. Your laugh cracked into a sob, and you pressed a hand to your mouth, suddenly terrified of making too much noise. But the tears didn't stop for a long time.

The third day felt a little… listless. Surely Johnny should have come by now, or sent one of his friends? Surely it wouldn't be so bad to turn your phone back on and check for any messages?

A knock on the door a couple hours before sunset startled you so badly you knocked over your water. You swore softly, gaze darting to the door.

Someone called your name from the other side of the door. Not Johnny. Someone with an English accent, smoother than you would have guessed of one of his teammates.

"Soap sent me," he called through the door. "I'm going to take you to him."

You dropped a towel silently on the spilled water, aching to open the door. But you didn't know any of his teammates, not really, and you couldn't confirm one way or the other. You needed something more.

"Ah, he said he'd get you ice cream?" The man sounded confused now, but still pleasant.

And you relaxed. That was the all clear. You practically bounded to the front door, yanking it open.

"Finally," you breathed, looking him over. Dark, nondescript clothes, dark hair, dark eyes. "Is he here?"

"Close," he answered, a little evasively. "I'm taking you to him."

"Let me just grab my–"

"Leave it."

You jerked a little, startled at his tone. He smiled apologetically.

"You'll be back here soon. Might as well leave it. We need to go now."

You hesitated. Something didn't feel right. But you'd been anxious for days - maybe that was still throwing you off? Or the lack of good sleep? He'd given you the all clear, it should be fine…

"Okay," you agreed softly, grabbing your shoes and shoving them on. The cabin door closed behind you and you started towards the car parked in front. Black sedan, tinted windows. "How far are we going?"

"Oh, not far at all." Something jabbed into your neck and you shrieked, trying to tear away. But he anticipated that, one arm winding tight around you as the needle left your skin. "You'll sleep right through it."

The world started to tip under you, at once too bright and blurring together. Your limbs felt thick and clumsy, uncoordinated.

The last thing you felt was leather under your cheek.

Throbbing in your temples woke you, insistent and annoying. You groaned softly, squeezing your eyes shut before opening them carefully. The sudden flood of light made you close them tight again with a whimper, pain radiating all the way to the base of your skull.

Trying to lift your arm to block the glare didn't work, and you panicked then, a little. You couldn't move either hand, or your legs. When you tried, something rough rubbed against your skin, quickly rubbing you raw. Your breathing sped up in your panic and you carefully opened your eyes, head tilted down to try to minimize the light.

You didn't recognize anything. You were tied to a chair, the rope tight enough to prevent you from moving much, but you could at least still feel all your fingers and toes. Quick looks around showed nothing but a bare wooden room with a spotlight set up directly across from you. The light was so bright it hurt your eyes, and you gave up trying to see anything directly around it.

You had no idea where you were. You were tied up snugly enough that you couldn't escape. And you were alone.

This time, there was nothing you could do to stop the panicked tears. Despite knowing it wouldn't help, you couldn't stop yourself from jerking at the ropes, trying desperately to find some weakness.

The click of a door opening may as well have been as loud as a gunshot. You stopped breathing, stopped moving, stopped everything. Footsteps approached you, smooth and even.

"Ah, you're finally awake. Just in time."

It was the man from the cabin, the one who'd given you the all clear. You sucked in a gasping breath, trying to form words.

"Best not. You're only here as incentive. I only need you alive, not unharmed."

You swallowed hard at that, at how casually he threatened you. Your mouth closed without a word.

"Good. Now, you just sit there and look alive." He chuckled a little at his own joke, stepping past you to fiddle with something just underneath the light. You couldn't see what it was - between the headache still incapacitating you and the man's bulk, you were useless.

You nearly started crying again but swallowed it back with enormous effort. You needed to be quiet. You needed to not give this man a reason to hurt you further. Johnny would figure this out, you had no doubt that he'd find you.

You needed to be alive for him to find.

The man moved behind the light again, and you winced at the brightness.

"Mr. MacTavish." His voice was lower now, drawling, insulting. "You have been making yourself quite a pest these last weeks, haven't you? You know more than you should. But you're not the only one."

Your eyes had finally adjusted enough to the light to see the little red light underneath. He was recording this. He was making a video to send to Johnny. You swallowed again, gripping the chair tight to hide your trembling.

"By now I'm sure you've noticed something is missing. Well, here she is. Still alive, as you can see. At least for now."

The click of the revolver was loud in the otherwise-silent room, and you squeezed your eyes shut. He was going to kill you. He was going to kill you and send the video to Johnny. Johnny would never survive that, he'd never get over it, this would destroy him–

"She is still alive by my grace, Mr. MacTavish." Something cool brushed the skin of your temple, making you flinch hard. But the gun didn't retreat, just shifted down to just under your ear at the hinge of your jaw. "Now, I propose a trade. If you cease your actions immediately, I will let her live. If, however, you continue on your current course…" The gun left your skin but a moment later there was a loud bang. You screamed, ducking your head down, unable to help yourself. Your ears rang with the shot, unbelievably loud in the enclosed space.

"Well, I think you get the picture. Decide quickly, Mr. MacTavish."

The man took a step away from you and you looked straight at the camera, eyes wide, heedless of the tears streaking down your cheeks.

"Johnny, don't–"

The pistol whipped across your temple. For a moment, you didn't feel anything. Then pain blindsided you, warm wetness flowing from your temple freely to mix with your tears. You choked on a gasp.

"Tick tock." The man sounded completely unbothered, steps just as smooth as ever. He must have turned off the video, because you heard rustling sounds, and a moment later he spoke again. "That was quite foolish of you. Let's hope, for your sake, that you remain quiet now. Or my patience may wear out." He walked across the room without turning off the light or unbinding you.

The click-shink of the door closing and locking sounded terribly final to you.

–

Soap felt like he was losing his mind. He'd sent the code to you three and a half days ago. It had taken a while for him to get to his selected agent to exfil you, making sure he knew the protocols you two had in place.

But the soldier had reported back that you were gone. The cabin had clearly been inhabited, your backpack was still in the bedroom.

But you were gone.

Soap knew you, knew you wouldn't take off without your things and without reason. Especially not since he'd been drilling the importance of your safety into you for years.

Something had happened. Someone had gotten to you first. Based on the lack of blood or visible signs of struggle, someone had gotten to you and given you the code.

This had been an inside job. Someone had known all of his contingencies and gotten to you. That narrowed the pool considerably.

But still not enough.

"Soap."

There had to be more he could do. He needed to be searching for you, he needed to make sure you were safe, he needed to–

"Johnny!"

He blinked when Ghost grabbed his shoulders, physically forcing him to stop. Soap took a deep breath, feeling like it was the first he'd taken in hours.

"Calm down. You're no good if you're panicking."

Soap snarled, pulling away from Ghost. "I need ta get ta her! She cannae get hurt, no' fer me."

"We will find her," Ghost said, crossing his arms over his chest, immovable. "And when we do, you need to be sharp."

"Ah am!"

"You've gone full Scot."

Soap swore, and then swore again because Ghost was right. Not that he had a chance to admit it.

His phone pinged. For a moment, neither man moved. Then Soap pulled it out, eyes going wide.

There was a video message from you.

He hit play immediately, going cold as he watched. Your scream sent his heart all the way down to his feet. His hands were shaking.

He knew exactly who had you. Who, but not how or where.

His phone was plucked out of his unresisting hands and Ghost was saying… something. Soap couldn't hear past the roaring in his ears.

You were supposed to be safe. You were supposed to be away from all the shit in his life, safe from the darkness and the filth.

And now this one man held your life in his hands.

"--p. Soap. C'mon." Ghost pushed him a little, and as the rage and panic receded enough for him to feel more or less cognizant, Soap realized he was being herded to Price's office.

"Soap, Ghost." Price looked between the two, eyes narrowed.

"Captain." Ghost held out the phone without another word. Soap didn't watch, couldn't watch from where he stood, feet too heavy to move on his own.

But the sound of your scream… that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"Fuckin' hell." Price leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his mouth. "When was this sent?"

"Just a few minutes ago."

Price nodded, setting the phone down very gently. "I'll see if we can get any location data from the message."

"And the rest of it, sir?" Ghost didn't move, didn't even shift his weight. But the tension in the room was undeniable.

Price breathed out slowly. "He's targeting Soap," he murmured with an apologetic glance at the Scot. "Means he doesn't know the rest of the 141. Everything was addressed just to Soap. For now, we'll back off to recon only."

"Copy that." Ghost did finally glance at Soap. "And her?"

Price was silent for several moments. "We have to assume she's alive."

Something in his chest loosened with his captain's confidence. Price assumed she was alive, so Soap would too. Just because she'd been bloodied didn't mean she was dead.

But it did mean that the arsewipe who thought he could hurt you would pay dearly for every drop of blood he spilled.

It took far longer than Soap was comfortable with for Intel to find you. (Any time was too long, any time spent with that rat bastard was unacceptable, the sound of your scream echoing in his head on repeat, your blood-stained skin etched behind his eyes.)

But they did find you. Price organized the raid. The best and worst thing? He hadn't taken you far. A couple hours from the cabin. Not far at all, in the grand scheme of things.

Price led, with Ghost finding a good sniper spot around the back. Gaz and Soap followed Price in. The goal was to do this as quick and quiet as possible.

The building had once been a home, but had been renovated and added on to before being abandoned. There had been no up to date plans of the interior that Intel could get their hands on.

All they had to go off of was the video. That damned video.

Two sentries outside. Price dispatched one, Gaz the other. Soap hung back, watching through the one uncovered window.

No movement inside that he could see.

The snake cam showed one more guard inside, back to the front door, focus on something further in.

"Gaz." Price kept his voice low, almost too low to hear, but Gaz knew. He nodded, testing the door. It swung open slowly with the faintest of creaks.

"Don't even with me, George," the guard started without turning. "Your break–"

Price slit his throat, silencing him. The body slumped to the ground.

Gaz went first, creeping slowly further into the house. A woman sat in a room further in, typing away on a laptop and speaking quietly into a phone.

"...the Cayman account. Yes I'm sure. I don't pay you for your opinion, just get the money moved. Now." She hung up with a short sigh and then stood. "Ray? I need the car, Mr. Hammond will be late to his next appointment."

Gaz moved silently behind the woman, clamping one hand over her mouth and his other arm firm around her middle. Soap pounced after her, quickly restraining her arms. Gaz dragged her outside at Price's nod.

Price and Soap continued on, moving silently through the building. The rest of the building was clear.

Except for one last door, in the middle of the house. Soap pressed himself to the wall on one side, Price on the other, both listening hard.

"You see, I'll be leaving momentarily." Hammond spoke calmly, as if this was nothing more than a meeting. "I can leave you here to the tender mercy of two of my men, or I can shoot you now."

Your muffled whimper sent Soap's blood boiling, rage tightening his muscles.

"Don't look at me like that, it won't help you." Hammond was quiet for a few moments longer. "Well. I suppose I'll let you live for now." Footsteps approached the door, and it pulled open into the room.

Soap lunged, tackling Hammond around the middle into the room. The first punch hit Hammond right in the eye. Soap didn’t even feel the impact against his knuckles. He didn't realize he was cursing, either. He just punched Hammond, again and again.

Until a hand caught his, hauling him back. Soap turned, lips curled back in a snarl.

"Easy, Soap," Price barked. "That's an order." He shoved the sergeant more or less gently in your direction.

Price must have cut you loose, because your hands were over your mouth, wrists rubbed raw and oozing. Blood still stained your skin from the injury Hammond had given you.

You were also the most beautiful thing in the world.

"Darlin'." Soap lurched forward, dropping to his knees in front of you, hands hovering an inch away from your face. Shame washed through him, hot and bitter. You were here because of him, you'd been hurt because of him. How could you ever forgive him, ever want to see him again?

Except you hiccuped a tiny sob and your hands covered his, pressing them to your cheeks. You leaned into his touch, heavy and desperate as you started crying again. "Johnny," you whimpered, hands convulsing around his.

That was all the convincing he needed. Soap pulled you in slow and careful until you could hide against his shoulder, one hand carefully shielding your wounded temple, the other rubbing across your back.

"Yer alrigh', darlin'," he crooned. "I got ye. My sweet bonnie, my darlin' lass, I got ye."

–

You had no idea how long you sat and cried against Johnny's shoulder. Long enough that you ran out of tears. Long enough that your breathing evened out.

But you still flinched when someone else cleared their throat nearby.

"Jus' my Captain," Johnny murmured to you, his hand never ceasing its soothing rubbing along your back.

"We need to go." The Captain's voice was low and rough. You risked a careful peek over Johnny's shoulder and the Captain gave you a tiny smile, standing guard at the door.

"Can ye walk?"

You blinked a few times and then nodded carefully. "Slowly," you agreed.

"Alrigh'." Johnny stood and helped you to your feet, holding you steady. Hammond was gone, something that you noted absently and were eternally grateful for.

"Gaz and Ghost are in one car," the Captain told you both (mostly Johnny). "We'll take the other."

"Rog." Johnny kept one arm around you, helping to support you out. You tried not to look at the blood splatters on the floor and ground.

Rather to your surprise, the Captain opened the door to the backseat for you, and Johnny helped you in before quickly scooting in next to you.

"We'll head back to base," the Captain said as he started the car. Ahead of you, you could see the other car leading the way. "We'll need to take your statement." It wasn't until his eyes met yours in the rear view mirror that you realized he was speaking to you.

"Okay," you agreed quietly, though the thought of having to relive the last few days sent your pulse racing.

The drive was silent. Johnny refused to let go of you entirely, holding your hand and rubbing your knee, both relatively uninjured areas.

You shuddered to think how you'd feel tomorrow.

You had no idea how long the ride was. Long enough that you were nodding off against Johnny's shoulder, only to wake going over a bump.

"Easy," Johnny murmured in your ear. "We're almost there. Then we'll get you patched up."

You nodded, squeezing his hand. You just wanted to go home and sleep for a week and forget any of this had ever happened.

The transition from the car to medical was… a lot. There were a lot of people and a lot of talking over your head. But Johnny refused to let go of you the entire time, staying glued to your side.

But you still could never remember how exactly you got to medical, sitting on a cot while someone cleaned blood off your face, Johnny sitting pressed up against your side.

"We should do this now, before you forget anything." Price lowered himself into a chair in front of you, out of the way of the nurse cleaning you up. You realized with a little start that your wrists had already been bandaged, and when you tried to lift a hand to check your forehead Johnny caught you.

"Best not, darlin'," he murmured, low and concerned. "It's taken care of."

You pulled in a deep breath, holding it for a moment before you nodded. Your hand fell limp unto your lap. "Okay."

Price nodded, setting down something on his knee and motioning for you to proceed.

You started slowly, stumbling a little. How you got the text and packed up a backpack. How you followed protocol, doing everything exactly as Johnny had planned.

How you got to the cabin and waited. And waited some more.

"He knew my name." You felt a little bit floaty by now. The nurse had gone, too, leaving you with the two men. "He called my name through the door."

Johnny looked worried, squeezing your hand gently. "Did he know the all clear?"

"He did. Not at first, he said… said you'd sent him to pick me up. But when I refused to open the door, he gave the all clear." You blinked slowly and licked your lips.

The men exchanged another significant look. You just reached trembling fingers for the cup of water.

Price rescued you, handing it over and holding it until you had a firm grip. "Then what?"

You sipped the water and shrugged. "Well, I opened the door. He knew the all clear. He told me to leave my things, because we needed to go." You paused, tipping your head a little. "I think he drugged me. It gets fuzzy, but I think I remember something hurting my neck, and maybe being set down in the car?"

"Okay," Price murmured. "We're almost done. When did you wake up?"

Your hands started shaking. "A few minutes before that video."

"You don't need to tell us about that," Johnny was quick to assure you, shooting Price a look as if to keep him from objecting. "What happened in between waking up and the video?"

"Not a lot. He didn't say much, just said…" You swallowed hard, hand clutching tight to Johnny's. "Said he needed me alive, but not necessarily unharmed, so I should behave."

Johnny rubbed your knee soothingly. "That should be enough, aye, Captain?"

"Just one more question." Price leaned forward a little. "After the video ended… what did he say?"

You looked away, swallowing roughly. You didn't think you could physically cry anymore, but you wanted to. "That what I did was foolish, and I should remain quiet or he'd kill me." Your next inhale was shaky. "He wasn't planning to let me leave alive no matter what Johnny did, was he?"

"No. He wasn't." Price turned off the recorder and patted your knee. "Get some rest. You too, Soap." And then he was gone, striding away.

You leaned more heavily into Johnny, exhaustion pulling at your eyelids. "Are we done?" You couldn't raise your voice above a murmur.

"Yeah, we're done. You did so well, darlin'. So well." Johnny pressed feather-light kisses to your temple and cheek. "Drink the rest of that water, aye? You're dehydrated."

You drank, and then laid back in the cot when Johnny helped. His hand leaving yours caused you to struggle into sitting again, a pained noise leaving you.

"Easy, darlin', easy," Johnny assured you. "Just moving this cot so I can get some sleep too." He dragged the cot right next to yours and then laid down, once again holding your hand. There was open pain in his gaze as he looked you over again. "I am so sorry."

"Don't. Don't apologize for him. It's not your fault." You held tight to his hand, frowning and ignoring the pull of the butterfly bandages at your temple.

"But–"

"No. They chose to do awful things, not you. Don't take the blame for them." You dared to scoot a little closer to him. "Please, Johnny. Don't let this destroy either of us."

His eyes widened and a moment later he was curled around you, trembling minutely. His breathing was fast and shaky, unsteady. But you held firm through it all, lifting one hand to rub at the soft, prickly short hairs on the side of his head until he calmed.

"You're a bloody marvel," he finally whispered, breath warm against your collarbone. "And you need to sleep."

"Stay?" You pressed your hand to the back of his head, gently holding him.

"As long as you'll have me," he vowed, quiet and sincere. "Maybe even a bit after that."

"You'll be waiting a long time," you murmured. Your eyes were closed and you couldn't pry them back open. Thoughts were hard to keep track of.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, darlin'."

You meant to reply, you really did. But between thinking of a response and trying to actually say it… you fell asleep.

But you wouldn't have it any other way.

#john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x you #mind the warnings

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whateveriwant · 1 year

Text

Heads or Tails

Summary: Ghost has undergone a lot of changes recently, many of which you find concerning. So you concoct a plan to try to bring the old Ghost back, the first and most crucial step: getting rid of that new mask.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Word Count: ~4.0k

Warnings: language, slight physical aggression, some uncool boundary crossing, my attempt to sound Bri'ish

A/N: Hello! So this is a new endeavor for me! I've never written for Ghost or CoD/MW before, but I've recently become obsessed with interested in the characters, and so wanted to give it a go. I was rushing a little to get this out, but I really hope you enjoy! :)

"Bet it's a fetish or somethin'."

Your neck nearly snaps as you swivel to the left, your eyes bugging at the Scot's words.

"Probably humiliation kink… Maybe breath play," Soap ponders aloud, eyes trained across the room pensively.

"Nah, mate. I reckon it's a bad trim, or some bad ink," Gaz adds from your right, making you pivot in your seat. "What'd you think? Tribal or teardrops?" He gestures to his own face, attention also drawn straight ahead.

As the two go back and forth positing ideas, your own eyes are finally steered to the figure in question. This conversation, like seemingly all the ones as of late, is centered around one topic and one topic only.

That damn mask.

While Ghost's signature masks are nothing new to the members of the 141, this one in particular has had you all scratching your heads for weeks. Much like his other balaclavas, this one is dark with a contrasting white skull, only this mask has one minor addition that none of the others have ever included: A big, bouncy puffball right on the top of his head.

When you first saw it, you honestly thought it was a joke; you were on a mission in the tundra, after all. But as you started to laugh, the sharp, deathly glare the Lieutenant gave you had you immediately snapping your mouth shut, averting your eyes out of respect.

Where he got that mask, you hadn't a clue, but you figured it would be just a one time thing anyway. However, that assumption turned out to be entirely wrong as Ghost continued to wear it again and again, no matter the mission conditions. Not only that, but he's also been exclusively wearing it around the base too; that is, whenever you do see him around the base.

It's been weeks now and you haven't spotted him without that ridiculous mask once. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he wears it 24/7. But that can't actually be the case unless he likes waterboarding himself with every shower, which if he does, then good for him, you guess.

Though you have a lot of questions you'd like to ask the Lieutenant, the one eating at you the most is why. Why the switch up? Why the obsession with this specific mask? Why all these little changes you've noticed about him over the past several weeks?

Because that's the thing. Beyond the pom pom, there's something about Ghost that's been… different. Better, even, in some regards, but there's also been a massive decline in others.

Out in the field, he's shown significant improvement. His aim has been sharper, his knife skills cleaner, hell, even his walk has been more sure-footed. While Lieutenant Riley has always been the cream of the military crop, for the last several weeks, he's been on another level.

Off the field, however, is a different story entirely. Instead of the man you thought you knew, it's like you hardly recognize Ghost anymore. He's been much more curt, closed off, and dare you say, a downright cunt to you all, and that doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of all the other discrepancies you've noticed with his character.

Like why has he been avoiding the team much more than he ever used to, or why does he immediately shut down any attempts at getting close with him? He's never been an incredibly open or approachable man per se, but it's like he's gone full blown antisocial recluse now.

The sudden switch in his behavior just didn't make sense to you, so you tried casually bringing it up to Price one day, hoping maybe he had an explanation that would help piece things together. In response, however, your Captain simply shrugged his shoulders, dubbing the mask Ghost's "good luck charm" that must've just gone to his head.

While you didn't necessarily have a better answer yourself, Price's conclusion wasn't good enough for you to accept as the truth. Maybe a lucky rabbit's foot or good luck coin or whatever could explain away Ghost's overnight tactical improvements, but it didn't answer the why of everything else.

Why has Ghost changed so much?

As you reflect, the sound of Gaz and Soap's continued discussion slowly brings you back to the present, making you blink out of your stupor.

"...been acting all off. Like he's… paranoid or something," you hear Gaz say regarding Ghost. "Like, the other day for instance, when we got dropped off back at base, I swear, as soon as his boots hit the ground, he was booking it like he was about to get shot."

Well, that's certainly a relief. Not that Ghost is acting strange, but that at least you're not the only one to notice.

"I thought maybe he was just sensitive to the floodlights – those things were ruddy blinding that night – but when I tried to catch up and ask him, you'd think I was chasing him from how fast he ran," Gaz adds.

Though that's a bit unexpected on Ghost's part, you suppose it's not all that uncharacteristic anymore. He's been increasingly aloof nowadays, and while you're not totally sold on Gaz's paranoia claims, you definitely see the cause for concern.

"Y'know, I think you're on to somethin'," Soap agrees with Gaz's conclusions. "Just the other night, 'round two in the mornin', I caught him rummagin' around the kitchens like he was afraid to get caught."

"Hold on," Gaz interjects, craning his head to face the other Sergeant. "What were you doing in the kitchens at two a.m.?"

"Mind yer business, that's what," Soap huffs, waving his hand dismissively. "But anyway, even then he was still hidin' beneath that bloody mask. I cannae even remember that last time I saw him without it," he says, almost dejectedly.

You can't remember the last time you did either, though you're not as beat up about it as Soap is. The man seems to have a certain fascination with staring at his Lieutenant's bare face that you can't say you totally relate to.

As Soap continues thinking to himself of when last he saw Ghost without his mask, he suddenly snorts, smiling as he tells you, "Y'know, I once tried to break in his room and steal that thing while he slept, but the lad has some unpickable locks on his door, I tell ya," he chuckles.

"Oi, you mental or something?" Gaz's voice pitches up. "Trying to steal his mask? You'd be lucky if he didn't string you up by your bollocks just for thinking it."

Soap scoffs, peeking over from the corner of his eye. "Oh, come on. Like you've never?"

"I'd like to keep my boys securely attached, thank you." Gaz shifts his weight at the uneasy thought, grimacing slightly.

That has Soap turning fully in his seat, making to confront Gaz head on. "So you're tellin' me you like the new mask? That you don't want to see the fucker gone?"

Gaz shakes his head, mirroring Soap as he similarly turns to face him. "I didn't say that. I'm just as tired of looking at it as you are."

At that, Soap throws his hands up, letting out an exasperated breath. "So let's do somethin' about it!" he exclaims, calling back to his attempted theft.

"Like what?" Gaz huffs. "You want me to ask nicely? 'Ghost, would you please lose the mask? There's only room for one ugly hat around here, and Price has already filled that niche. So sorry.'"

As the two Sergeants continue to bicker over the top of your head, you keep your eyes on Ghost who's still in the room. Thankfully, he appears to be completely oblivious to the animated discussion happening around you. You don't think he'd enjoy hearing how his teammates want to throw his mask in an on-fire garbage bin.

Gradually, your attention starts to drift away from the conversation at hand until you're right back at your earlier conundrum: trying to figure out Ghost's deal.

Why has he been acting so different as of late? What could have brought on such a drastic change in his behavior? As you think, Soap and Gaz's words lightly filter through your mind, and suddenly, the answer becomes blatantly obvious.

What's the common denominator in all of this? What seems to be the root cause of all this discourse? It all comes down to one thing and one thing alone.

That fucking puffball mask of his.

Ever since he got that new mask, there's been a never ending stream of changes with Ghost, most of which you'd argue are for the worse. You know it's silly to cast blame on such a normally inconsequential scrap of fabric, but at this moment, there's nothing else that makes sense in your mind.

Maybe the change is because his brain is being squeezed too tight or maybe he's been having a constant bout of heat stroke these last few weeks. Whatever the reason, you can see how wearing that mask has negatively affected him, and you're eager to see that rectified.

"I've got it!" you pipe up for the first time, interrupting the Sergeants who are still verbally going at it. You look between them both before once more bringing your gaze back to Ghost. "I know what to do," you say confidently.

Though the old Ghost you knew has been M.I.A. recently, you don't think he's truly gone, not permanently anyway. He's just been squirreled away for the time being, trapped in a cage of woven black thread. You just hope that, with a little luck and a lot of planning, soon…

You'll be able to set him free again.

~~~~~

You peek impatiently around the corner, seeing Gaz standing at the end of the hall. When he notices you, he shakes his head, turning back to keep watch like directed.

Annoyed, you check your phone again. Soap said they were on their way five minutes ago. You know it's a maze of passageways between here and there, but still, they should've shown up by now.

At its core, your plan is simple, but so many pieces have to come together for you to pull it off successfully. One screw up and it all comes toppling down, and you doubt you'll ever get a chance at a redo.

Another 30 seconds pass before you're checking on Gaz again, the man keeping a silent sentinel against the wall. The trap's been set, all you have to do is sit back and wait. But you're not sure how much longer you can handle until you go mad.

Just as you're about to text Soap for confirmation again, Gaz perks up, turning and nodding over at you. Before he can be spotted by anyone else, he slips into the room at his back, quickly closing the door shut.

Finally! It's time. Operation Unmask is a go.

You stoop to pick up one of the items at your feet, counting down from 20 as you hear a pair of heavy boots slowly approach your position. When you finally reach zero, you suck in your breath. It's now or never, baby.

Right before the figure can descend on your hiding spot, you pop out around the corner, colliding directly with the man you'd expected to find. Ghost grunts in surprise at the blunt contact, that damn pom pom on his head bouncing as he stumbles slightly.

"Oh, sorry!" you call out innocently. "Didn't see you there." It's not exactly a lie. You struggle to peer around the tower of boxes in your arms, stacked high enough that you can hardly see a thing ahead.

Ghost grunts again as he takes in the scene you've laid out, thankfully seeming to accept it at face value. "Careful," is all he says, moving to continue in the direction he was headed.

"Oh, uh, actually—?" you stop him before he can escape. "Sorry, but… Do you think you could…?" You shift the boxes deliberately in your hold, hinting at the favor you mean to ask. "If you don't mind. They're really heavy."

This plan all hinges on whether or not Ghost will take the bait. Though he's been less than charitable recently, in the past, he used to be quite helpful to you in particular. That's why you're the one who had to ask for his help. You knew that anyone else, he'd decline immediately.

But you can tell Ghost is hesitant to agree to assist you now, not only because of his recent change in character, but because he was currently preoccupied.

"Price is waitin' for m—" he starts to give the excuse Soap had fabricated to lure him out of his room.

"Please," you cut him short, pretending your situation is dire. "It'll be quick. I just need to get these to my office." That's where you pulled them from initially, filling them with whatever junk you could find to weigh them down. Soap and Gaz weren't thrilled to have to lug them all the way over here, but you had to make them heavy to be convincing, you'd told them.

As if on cue, out of the corner of your eye, you see Soap finally make his appearance at the end of the hall. He turns the corner Ghost had come from earlier, having successfully tailed the Lieutenant all the way from his room undetected. Gaz's timing is also stellar as not a second later, he carefully opens and exits the door Soap passes by.

Luckily, Ghost doesn't seem to notice the two Sergeants quietly lurking behind him – a blessing since, sometimes, you swear he has a pair of eyes in the back of his head.

He considers you for a moment, staring at the stack in your hands, glancing at the others still by your feet. Though you can sense he's warring with himself, another light 'please' from your lips has him caving with a sigh.

As Ghost bends to grab one of the box towers, that's when Soap really makes his move. The Scot creeps forward until he's within arm's length of Ghost, hand outstretching as he reaches towards the Lieutenant's head. Just before he can close his fingers around the mask – intending to snatch and run, the fastest of you three – Ghost does something that surprises you all.

Without even looking, Ghost suddenly jerks away from Soap's grasp, ducking at an almost unnatural speed and angle. At first, it's like he doesn't even realize what's happened himself, but then he turns and sees Soap standing there, hand caught right in the cookie jar.

"What the fuck d'you think you're doing, MacTavish?" Ghost asks roughly.

Soap blinks dumbly, shocked by Ghost’s quick reaction. "S-Sir," he stutters, his brain trying to catch up with his mouth. "Just… thought… I… saw a piece of lint," he makes up the fib on the spot, then boldly reaches towards the mask again.

Once more, Ghost evades his reach, leaning far back like he's in The Matrix. He growls and slaps Soap's arm down. "You wanna keep that hand, Sergeant?" he rumbles.

In response, all Soap can do is nod his head, baffled into a state of silence.

"Then fuck off," Ghost warns him not to try again. He then nods towards the pile at your feet. "Or better yet, make yourself useful and pick up a box."

Still in a trance, Soap immediately complies with the Lieutenant's order. The two grab a respective stack, Ghost directing Soap to walk ahead as he no longer trusts him where he can't see him.

Fuck! This is not at all what you envisioned. This train is rapidly going off the tracks, heading straight over a cliff.

But thankfully, you have a potential backup in place, and Gaz quickly makes his way over as he sees things running amok.

"Ghost?" he captures the attention of the growingly irritated man, who stops and turns at the sound of his voice. "Uh… your shoe's untied," Gaz mumbles once he's under the intimidating gaze of Ghost, and your eyes fall shut at the lame excuse.

Christ, this is all going to shit. There's no way you're going to pull this off.

Somehow, though, Ghost chooses to check Gaz's statement, and he cranes his head down to inspect his boots. "No," is all he says, seeing his laces clearly intact. But before he can stand back up, head still down turned, Gaz takes his opportunity before it can slip away.

Gaz tries to grab for the bloated puffball wobbling in his face, but just like before, Ghost seems to have a sixth sense for it. Again, he bends out of the way, spectacularly agile, and shoots a glare at the Sergeant's gall.

"You out of your fuckin' mind? What's gotten into you lot?" Ghost accuses the three of you, turning to look at you all, becoming increasingly suspicious of what you're doing.

Shit fuck ass balls. You need to act fast. He's starting to catch on.

Panicked, you do the first thing that pops into your head, dropping the boxes to the floor with a thunderous thump. Ghost's head snaps in your direction, eyes wide in confusion, and they only widen more as you purposefully knock the boxes out of his hands too.

"Whoops!" you exclaim and swiftly crouch down, starting to pick up all the bits and bobs that spilled out.

Gaz realizes your intent and quickly follows suit, stooping down to help you clean up the mess. It's a few seconds before Soap catches on as well, and then all three of you are on your hands and knees, crawling around like a pack of vermin.

"The fuck's the matter with you bunch?" Ghost exhales, unable to make sense of the unfolding chaos. Nevertheless, though, he begrudgingly lowers himself down, electing to assist despite his growing skepticism.

As you go about cleaning up the mess you made, you try to covertly catch the eyes of your accomplices. Without words, you ask them which one is going to make a move, who'll grab for the mask next, but both seem a little reluctant at trying their hand again.

Ugh, whatever. You'll just do it yourself then. Really, how hard can it be?

Slyly, you creep around until you have a good vantage on Ghost, his back partially turned to you. You edge closer and closer until you're nearly bumping into him, pretending to still pick up the items scattered around. Then slowly, so incredibly slowly, you raise your hand up, reaching towards the back of Ghost's mask. Just as your fingers graze the fabric, pulling it up a mere centimeter, Ghost jolts, springing to his feet with a start.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he yells.

"What's wrong with you?!" you fire back, your frustrations boiling over. You pop up to mimic his stance, throwing all stealth to the wayside as you figure the jig is up anyway. "We're just trying to help you."

"Help me?" he sneers. "Like hell. You're out to fuckin' get me."

There he goes again with the paranoia Gaz proposed. Though maybe, in this instance, he's not entirely wrong.

"You think we haven't noticed the differences with you? How much you've changed recently?" you continue. "We can see what that thing's doing to you. You'd be better off without it."

Ghost shakes his head in wild perplexity. "The hell are you on about?"

"The mask, L.T.," Soap rises to his feet. "Take it off," he implores.

"Who the fuck d'you think you are giving me orders, Sergeant?"

"It's just a mask, sir, and we've all seen you without one before," Gaz joins the showdown. "What have you got to lose?"

Ghost looks between each of you angrily, pointing an accusatory finger at you all in turn. "You're all way out of line! Get the hell back," he urges as you three start to close in.

"Why d'ya always hide from us now? I thought we were friends, L.T." Soap reaches forward, his hand immediately swatted away.

"Ghost, really, the thing's a bloody eyesore. Just get rid of it." Gaz tries his luck, only to be met with the same result.

Again and again, you all try dislodging the mask, descending on Ghost like a pack of rabid animals. With each swipe and stretch, he expertly dodges your attacks, bending and batting you away like pests.

"Quit fuckin'—!"

"Just let me—!"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud!"

The scene is total, unbridled chaos – voices raised, arms entangled, rubbish littered all over the ground. You three push forward on Ghost until he's backed into the wall, trapped with no way out. He fights and fights, the pom pom jostling around perilously, until finally, bitterly, he's overcome.

Soap gets his fingers hooked under an edge of the mask, and he yanks, pulling it all the way off. For the first time in weeks, Ghost's face is revealed to you all, and you'd be ecstatic if not for one detail that has you freezing.

Is that a…?

No, it can't be. You must be imagining things.

Actually, that looks kind of real. Holy shit, that's definitely real!

Oh my God! Is that a—?

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT?!"

You, Gaz, and Soap all jump back in horror at the sight before you: a plump, little, white rat nestled atop Ghost's head. The rodent seems just as shocked to see you as you are it, and it lets out a small squeak as you lock with its beady eyes, tiny fingers clinging to Ghost's hair.

"Aaaahhh!" Soap unleashes a girlish shriek, dropping the mask as he rears back.

"What the fuck, Ghost? No really, what the fuck?!" Gaz asks dumbfounded, hand coming up to cover his mouth.

Before anyone has a chance to fully process what they're seeing, the rat tugs on Ghost's hair, moving him to scoop up his mask from the floor. He's guided to shove the fabric back on his head, perhaps a little more roughly than intended, because you hear a pathetic squeak ring out as he does.

He points his index finger at you in a threatening manner, the holes over his eyes slightly askew. "Not a word," he grumbles, spinning on his heel. "Not one fuckin' word!"

And just like that, he takes off down the hall, a fat, pink tail sticking out from under the back of his mask. It takes a moment before you even realize your mouth is still wide open, and you close your jaw with an audible thud.

Vaguely, you hear Soap muttering behind you, near tears as he cowers against the wall. "Steamin' Jesus, I think I touched it! Did— Did it bite me? Am I bleedin'? I think I'm bleedin'!" he blubbers hysterically.

"Nah, you're alright, mate! You're alright!" Gaz tries to comfort him, unsuccessful as he’s also rattled.

As the two huddle together in the corner, you're left staring after Ghost's rapidly fleeing figure, trying to pick up the pieces of your newly fractured reality.

That… was…

Honestly, you're not sure what the hell that was.

A rat? That rides on Ghost's head? Controlling his every move and muscle? You guess that explains a few things about his behavior recently, but mostly, it just leaves you with more questions than answers.

Where the hell did he get that thing? How the fuck does it work? Why did he even think to test it out in the first place?

Actually, on second thought, no, you don't want to know. You've seen enough for one day, or really, one lifetime.

At the start of this, you thought you had such a great plan to unveil – one that would simply reveal the "true" Ghost again. You didn't realize that in the process of trying to set him free, you would release a whole other beast, literally. And while at your core you still believe your intentions to help were good, you realize now that, perhaps…

Some things are better off hidden.

__________

A/N: Squeak squeaker squeaky squeak! [Translation: Happy April Fools!]

It figures that my first venture in this fandom is a crack fic. I expected nothing less lmao. But anyway, I'd love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley fanfiction #simon riley fanfic #ghost mw2 #cod mw2

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cod-sins · 9 months

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Can I have Ghost, König and Thomas Hewitt (if you write two fandoms in one) with male reader who is a metal head? Long hair, corpse paint, is fascinated with gore stuff and such.

.ೃ࿐ Format: HCs.

.ೃ࿐ Reader: Male. Heavy Metal!Reader.

.ೃ࿐ Ratings: SFW. Gore/Blood mention.

.ೃ࿐ Word Count: 1.3K

[A/N: FIRST MALE READER REQUEST LET'S GOO! Thank you anon for giving me an excuse to watch TCM again. I also did some similar HCs with König (no mention of gender) you can check those out as well. Also, it was so hard for me to find a picture of a black male with corpse paint *sigh*.]

𝑮𝑯𝑶𝑺𝑻

Wowie y'all make an interesting duo.

Between his skull mask/balaclava and your corpse paint and dark clothing, you two make a very visually appealing couple. Ghost jokes about how it's always Halloween at y'alls house.

He likes your long hair. Military guys aren't allowed to have long hair so seeing you with long hair is somewhat refreshing to him.

There is something that awakens inside of Ghost when he sees you walking around shirtless with your hair down.

Ghost is another COD character who wouldn't be surprised by your music.

His father used to take him to Bone Licker concerts (sounds pretty heavy metal to me) when he was younger but he stopped going after the prostitute incident. With him being in the military it only drove him further away but if you could convince him to go to concerts with you he would.

He would make sure to mark the date so he wouldn't forget or let his work intervene. With even more convincing he would allow to you paint a skull on his face, he wouldn't wear it out though he'd switch back to his balaclava.

If there was a chance he couldn't make it to a concert or just didn't wanna go, he'd make it up to you by buying you VIP tickets.

Gets really defensive when other guys hit on you. Puts himself between you and the guy. “Yeah his style is nice and all now bug off.”

At first, Ghost would try and shield you from whatever injuries he has. If he came home still a little bruised and bloody from his last mission he wouldn't want you to see, probably heading straight to the bathroom to freshen up until you tell him you aren't squeamish and you're fine with it. Then he would come straight to the bedroom while you clean up his bloody bandaged shoulder.

Thought you were an odd fella the first time he laid eyes on you. It was most likely Soap who set you guys up.

He acknowledges your interest in gore, however, he'd prefer if you kept it to yourself. When he's deployed he's constantly surrounded by it--by death and blood. So when he gets home it's the last thing he wants to see.

Since the majority of Ghost's clothing is dark colors he would mix up y'alls clothing and wouldn't notice.

“Hey, Simon?” “Yeah?” “Is that my shirt?“ He peers down realizing it is in fact your shirt.”Ah, yeah sorry love I guess I grabbed the wrong thing.” He begins to take it off until you tell him it's okay and that he actually looks really good in it.

KÖ𝙉𝙄𝙂

The moment König laid eyes on you he was blown away.

He doesn't see people with your style so he thought you were very unique. He asks you why dress that way and why your makeup looks so crazy. He doesn't mean to come off as rude or anything he's just not used to it and he likes to hear you talk about your interests.

König would shyly ask if you could make his face look like yours. He would let you sit on his lap and watch as you meticulously drew on his face with black liner, on top of the white paint. He'd have a dumb smile on his face after you finish.

Just like Ghost, König would also go to concerts with you. If you were on the shorter side he would pick you up and put you on his shoulders so you could get a better view. The dude is like a rock so when people get a little too aggressive with their thrashing he has you stand behind him so you don't get hit.

Likes when you put your hair up and let strands of hair fall down, thinks it's really hot. König would stare non-stop until you called him.

Wouldn't say anything about your gore interest but he would indulge you in ways he killed/kills people. [cough cough König finishers cough]

He told you about how one time he sniped a man and his brain splattered out on a wall behind him. Or once he snapped a dude's neck so hard you could see the bone about to come out.

König watches closely as your eyes get big and you squirm in your seat as he goes on and on about his war stories.

He glares at anyone who would dare say anything negative about you. That includes his coworkers and supervisors.

König could not tell you the name of the bands you listen to because of the font. He says it looks all scrambled and he couldn't tell which letter is which.

When you told him you thought he was a little intimidating the first time you he giggled and told you, he felt the same way too. People think y'all are like that one scary goth couple in school.

𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑺 𝑯𝑬𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑻

The first time Thomas saw you he instantly fell in love.

He couldn't stop staring at you, he thought you were sent by the devil himself as a gift.

He is so interested in you especially since you guys look the same. You have long hair, he has long hair. You wear intricate corpse paint that covers your face, he delicately sews people's faces together to cover his.

Thomas wouldn't allow Hoyt [derogatory] to make fun of you. He takes a lot of shit from him but he draws the line at his boyfriend being made fun of.

Thomas prefers your hair over his. His isn't really taken care of. It's all greasy and messy so if you took the time to brush and style it, he'd probably cry.

No one is that nice to him besides his mom. So it'd be up to you to spoil him.

I imagine the type of music you listen to isn't common in Texas, especially on rural Texas radio so he would be very interested in it.

He would have you play it while he's dealing with his victims because he finds the screaming to be very annoying and sometimes headache inducing.

Tommy always keeps an out for you to make sure you don't pass out from the heat. He'd literally be standing there, watching you with your paint running down your face with a concerned look on his face as you tell him you're fine.

He would let you watch him disassemble bodies. Since you're interested in that stuff Thomas thinks it's the perfect bonding experience.

Thomas would also put your ass to work, I'm sorry to say. He believes everyone should pull their weight including his partner.

While his method of butchering is sloppy, he would still show you how to properly gut a person and how to get the most meat off the bones.

He's happy that you have an interest in gore and he would most definitely make a mask for you. If you were to wear it around he would be so unbelievably happy.

You're wearing his art AND you like it?? A match made in heaven.

If you were too grossed out by the whole canniblism thing Thomas would try and find you other food. There aren't a lot of animals in the area but he would try and catch deer, rabbits, or coyotes.

Thomas might have you lure in other victims, and you may have to change your look-up to be more “approachable” so he would lend you some of his clothes. They'd be too big but he and his mom know how to tailor.

He would only do this if you felt comfortable with it, he would never want to put you in harm's way.

I think Thomas would do a lot to make sure you're okay. He doesn't get that luxury and he is afraid of you leaving him for someone else.

You would have to reassure him that you wouldn't leave him because he's pretty insecure about himself and being around Hoyt and Monty does not help.

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fools-task-force · 3 months

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random cod hcs #3 - roach

everyone’s favorite little bug boy, the best guy (I have been watching playthroughs and shit and I am officially hyperfixated). here are some hcs for the guy who's probably now my favorite character. also making it clear now that he’s audhd, if you disagree you’re wrong /j. but that will be influencing some of these headcanons

he definitely likes collecting rocks, especially special ones like if they’re super smooth or have some different colors. any special rock goes into his collection. his prized possession is a rock that sparkles in the light

he doesn’t have one set love language, he has two; penguin pebbling and parallel play. you know he really likes someone when he gives them a rock, the prettier/more rare the rock the more he likes the person. parallel play is usually reserved for people he’s closer to

despite what people may first think, he’s really good at masking. he did it his whole life; it’s only now that he’s in the 141 that he feels okay to unmask, after more than a few conversations about how no one would judge him for being himself. now he’s nonverbal or semiverbal almost all the time, but that doesn’t save the task force from a little chaos. he’s comfortable enough to unmask all the time now, knowing one of the others can explain if anyone new questions him

he’s fluent in many different sign languages, and can read, write, and listen/understand many languages as well. he knows how to speak most of these languages too, but not as fluently and he never really needs to. it helps whenever a translator is needed, the team always goes to Roach first

he loves that his callsign is Roach, since in his teen years he had a hyperfixation/borderline special interest on bugs/insects. however his favorite were ants, with moths being a close second because of how pretty they are

yes he loves pokemon, he has a gameboy advanced and a copy of emerald that he plays whenever he struggles with falling asleep. he also has a card collection, but hasn’t added to it in a while

he sleeps like he’s dead. there is no movement when he falls asleep; people have to actually go over and check that he’s breathing, that he has a pulse, anything to make sure he’s just asleep and hasn’t died

he can and will fall asleep anywhere on base. it’s like playing hide and seek only the hiding one fell asleep

despite what some people think, he's extremely organized. but that's because he color codes everything. if he needs to highlight, he's color coding his highlighters - each color is for a certain thing. same with sticky notes. colors are universal - red is for enemies, targets, etc, while blue is for dates, stuff like that

#gary roach sanderson #gary sanderson #cod roach #roach cod #cod headcanons #cod hcs #cod #call of duty modern warfare #listen they just feel right #no im not projecting #not at all

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xoalin4-xota-linda · 4 months

Text

VELIKAN

My little hc of how I imagine Velikan? And a bit of Velikan x reader in here. Maybe a lot but anyway.

Feel free to send hate because you feel I judged his character wrong or whatever you want in the comments because I don’t mind it and will take it into consideration of how I should try and understand the cod character more.

Again, this is made up by me and you don’t have to like it, but do say if you think I got him wrong.

I see Velikan to be more of a relaxed, laid back guy. He just chill like that yk?

He’s the type of dude that would just sit there, arms behind him on the headrest of the couch, watching as you cry your ass out about something.

Maybe after you cry you eyes out about whatever you were crying about, as he wasn’t really listening, he’ll pat you on the back.

He’s also the type of dude that you could say the most horrible, disgusting, straight evil, jail sentencing words to, and he will just sit there like ‘damn’. He just doesn’t care about that type of stuff, to old to care, he got better things to do.

You could be crying your eyes out as you explain to him that your whole family to brutally murdered and mangled, and he would just look at you like: “damn..”

Don’t come to this guy for comfort, the most he’ll do is pat you on the back while you cry into his chest or something.

But then, it mostly depends on how he perceives you, what type of relationship you got with him. Because he could be chill and relaxed with you, maybe play around and shit. Or he could be a straight bully, I mean a BULLY.

Like, let’s take into fact that he is BIG, his name literally means giant (I perceive him to be 6’5 and bulkier then ghost) so it would be wrong if he was not to use his strength and size to his advantage.

I see him as the type of dude that likes to mess around with you, embarrassing you in front of other members of the shadow company by making your gun accuracy shit or making you trip over in the hallways.

Picking you up and hanging you on a wall hook (pretend they can hold you and there happens to be one around) and just leave you hanging there until someone finds you.

Or even dragging you to his quarters and pinning you underneath him on his bed, fucking you roughly until you cry. Making you struggle underneath him while he bullies his thick, veiny cock into you. You could do nothing about it but to sob into the pillows as he holds your head down.

Tho never once have you heard him talk, by the way he fucks you gives you enough information to understand he is reminding you of how weak you are, that he could do whatever he wants with you.

Or back to the more calmer type of him, he would be more relaxed with it, more slow, but still deep and harsh, as he is just so big he can’t help but be rough.

I mean who could blame him when a pretty little woman like you is underneath him?

I also see him to be the type of dude he does thumbs up a lot, or that likes to fist bump people he deems as friends or colleagues.

I could see him being so relaxed on the way to a mission, as if it was a daily chore (which it probably is) just for him to absolutely mangle the enemy team like they are nothing but bugs underneath his feet.

(I fucking love his maniac laugh)

Also see him as the type of dude that when in a car, and it makes a turn he lets his body turn with it to squash the person next to him. While silently chucking with an evil glint in his eyes as he watches the person desperately try and push him off of them.

The type of dude that would grab your face when you talk to much, like palm over your mouth and gripping your jaw tightly. Till you start scratching at his gloved hand to try and get him to let go because you can’t breath.

The type of dude to smack you in the back of the head when you walk in front of him, because why not? Not a hard smack, but enough to make you grasp your head and glare at him while he walks past, his shoulders moving up and down as he laughs silently.

Type of dude that would make the base have to buy extra food because he eats it all like a fat pig. He needs to stay healthy after all, he didn’t get that big on just exercising.

Idk what to think of this, been staying up to late lately.

Again, this might not be how you imagine Velikan, and feel free to say it in the comments or something, I don’t mind what you say. And it’ll help me understand the characters more if you understand them better and all.

Not talking to the people that make then any softer then what I wrote.

And if you liked how I wrote him, feel free to ask for a request of some headcanons if you want, I’m not up to making stories just yet as I ain’t that good. Just say which one of him you’d like,

‘bully Velikan or relaxed Velikan’

Fighting with my auto correct to stop trying to change Velikan to Pelican😔

Also i refuse to make him talk at all, he is completely silent except for a laugh or a chuckle or whatever groaning, huffing shit. No speaking tho, just like his character doesn’t.

#call of duty #call of duty velikan #velikan #velikan cod #velikan x reader #slightly #not much #call of duty hc #mwii velikan #cod velikan #hc #hcs #Velikan needs more love #headcanons #x reader

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pillowsoup · 4 months

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Moon bullets straight to your heart. (Moon Knight x COD au / GHOSTSOAP)

Continuation of a head canon I wrote a week ago, the brainrot is unstoppable, I'm afraid.

TW: gaslighting, angst, mention of poor mental health, use of simon and ghost.

Simon had a hard time balancing his new lives. Being a lieutenant in the Task Force 141 and becoming an Egyptian's god avatar were surprisingly not compatible. When Khonshu wanted something from him, big or small, he had to immediately end whatever he was doing and it started to put his colleagues' lives in jeopardy. Especially Soap.

Ghost was starting to see through the diety, Khonshu had let it slip that's first choice was Johnny, which made the masked soldier's blood boil with anger and protectiveness. Was it all a tactic to make him behave ? Surely Khonshu could see through him, hell even read his mind and see his feelings towards his sergeant. To use such a vulnerability was really in character for such a childish vengeance-fulled god.

So he cornered the bird one day. Well, he happened to be alone in the rec room at an ungodly hour of the night so he started yelling insults to provoke his persecutor.

"Listen you old geezer, You seem to think that you can control me by threatening to hurt Johnny. There's one thing you don't know mate, I've been controlling you for my own benefits for a while."

A gust of wind made Khonshu's presence known to the lieutenant and Ghost turned on his heels to face the subject of his anger.

" You think you control a god, bug."

" You think you have it all under control Khonshu, that you have me tucked under your rotten wing."

The cupboard started to shake along with the vibrations caused by the deep laughter Khonshu allowed his hollow throat to give.

" I advise you to how more respect to a god, Simon Riley."

It was Ghost's turn to laugh, a laugh that could rival the god's. A laugh filled with sarcasm and disgust, one that expressed his current feeling with the precision he had when he handled a sniper rifle.

"What will you do if I misbehave ? Take back your powers ? Fine, go ahead. I'll be the same damn killing machine without your constant nagging in my fucking ears you bastard."

A staring contest ensued, no one daring to speak. Only frowning faces and eyes meeting hollow cavities.

"I have no feelings, romantic or whatever the hell you may think towards John MacTavish. He's just a subordinate, an annoyin' and clingy one. You need to find better leverage if you ever want me to listen like a good robot. I am not your past puppets. "

A gasp, then the sound of a cup exploding on the tiles near the entrance made Simon's head wipe toward the now opened door of the rec room. Soap, Johnny was standing mouth open in shock, his hands still in the shape of the cup he was holding mere seconds ago.

"Johnny-"

"Simon what the fuck is happening here, who the fucking hell are you to?"

Ghost marched quickly towards Soap but the sergeant made two steps back for every one Ghost made.

"Soap, please, I can explain."

"Explain what ? That you fucking fooled me into thinking we were close ? That you missed your psych eval again ? When did you start talking to things that aren't even real Si' ?"

Right, he can't see Khonshu. He just heard him said a bunch of bullshit about how he didn't care about him and how he was annoying. Fucking hell.

"Do not talk- I don't want to hear any of whatever you might say to convince me you're not going bonkers. I'm telling Prince in the morning. You're fucked up mate."

With that, Soap left hurriedly. Simon sighed, hands on his chest. An anxiety attack, fucking perfect.

He would get discharged and Khonshu could have him as his slave. Speaking of, the god was above Simon's now kneeling figure, smiling.

He was getting what he wanted. A broken shell of a man, a perfect little ghost.

#moon knight #call of duty #crossover au #alternate universe #simon ghost riley #khonshu #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghostsoap #soapghost #soap cod #tj writes

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loadedberetta · 1 year

Text

the CoD boys react - !SO Reader being pregnant

rating: M

warning/content: general pregnancy stuff; description of pregnancy pain and birth; fluff; female Reader

[series with random headcanons about specific situations involving the reader and how CoD characters would react to them; mostly the 141, but Alejandro and Rudy, Laswell, Farah, König, and others will make appearances too]

other parts: [tattoo] [knife tricks] [drawing] [coming soon]

find me on ao3 // MASTERLIST

Ghost

"you're not doing [blank] alone."

will fight God if that's what it takes; let it be the groceries or ordering a new couch

found out by sheer intuition; you were bummed that you didn't get to do a little surprise but he assured you that the news made him the happiest man alive and you sincerely believed him;

how exactly? that man knows his shit; you being groggy in the morning? not taking a sip of his beer when watching telly at night? he's got it figured out

doesn't really know how to prep but is too shy to ask you anything so you just find him passed out on the couch every now and then with his laptop glowing at him with "how to build a crib" or "baby sign language" when you can't even tell the baby's gender yet

it took you a week to convince him that you indeed can go to the bathroom alone

tries the more laid-back cravings and doesn't like them; never forgets to ask you about the latest one when you're grocery shopping

is occupied when you go and check for the gender of the baby; you call him from the parking lot with the news; you don't often hear Simon cry but he did that day

calls the baby bug and bezzie, mumbling at your stomach

looks up how to relieve pain with that tummy-lifting technique when your bump grows larger and larger

holds your hand and remains grounded for the entirety of the birth

becomes a very shallow sleeper; the baby stirs and he's at their feet looking over their tiny little body for any sign of distress

Soap

"it's mine, right?"

will go to the ends of the world to get you a pregnancy pillow, but only in the color he likes too

found out on accident; you didn't mind. he came into the bathroom to brush his teeth one morning and found you slouched by the wall, tears of joy in your eyes

insists on picking clothes super early on and revives any old contact of his to get a special baby carrier or a bottle boiler he heard about once

will not shut up about it

tries every single one of your cravings and actually ends up liking some of them

gender reveal party

laddie or lassie depending on the baby's gender, accompanied by approx. 400,000 kisses to your belly daily

gets you all kinds of tape for your growing belly and applies them himself

almost faints during the birth but can't stay away from you

the first time you wake up the next time after your well-deserved rest, he's talking to a nurse while gently cradling the baby; he's a dream dad, who seems to take on the role immediately

Gaz

"what's this… you have to be fucking kidding me this is the best fucking day of my life, babe. can the baby hear me? shit. shit. uhhhh--"

you planned a little party and hid the test in a box to surprise him; it went perfectly, everyone cried

absolutely showers you with stuff he noticed on a shelf at a store that the baby wouldn't likely use until 12 or even 24 months old

"thought you'd like it" is the new most popular word in the household

you get don't touch a single piece of cleaning equipment or dirty dish in the house for nine months

you could get used to this

tries spicing up your cravings; plating them nicely or adding something new

never shuts up about how he used to babysit and will therefore make a good dad

"I just want a happy healthy baby the gender matters the least" he kisses you on your forehead as you open the envelope containing the papers on the couch

tells the baby about the happy family they'll be born into and sometimes mumbles names at your belly as if testing which one fits them best; he looks up at you for approval each time

goes with you to pregnant yoga classes to see how he can help you practice with you at home when the baby in your tummy grows bigger

cries with you during birth

his hand is always by the side of the crib in the hospital

Price

"wh- you? c'mere, love. really?"

touches touches and more touches, is glued to your side from the day he finds out; you're not allowed to lift anything

is very self-conscious about everything; helps out wherever he can, you have to put him down each time

you get into arguments about this but he always downplays it with a little teasing that always eases the mood and you can't help but adore the stressful old man he is

tries to quit smoking but he only resettles on the balcony/porch/out-the-window technique; even more so when you're in his proximity

keeps notes of all your cravings

becomes a fridge organizer and buys healthy food only

talks to the baby so much calls your stomach the most adorable names ever

asks you not to find out the gender of the baby until birth

expert massage therapist for when your belly becomes too heavy; pressure points you name it he knows how to relieve pain

his one hand is getting shattered in your fist, and his other is smoothing over your hair constantly during birth

a little afraid to hold the baby on his own at first, but gradually warms up to the idea, and bath time becomes his favorite

Alejandro

"mi corazón, we get to be parents?! I love you so much, I--"

his mother knew first and lead him to guess for himself while you were out of earshot in another room; he came in and swooped you up to pepper kisses all over you

your phone bill is through the roof: he calls up every abuela and uncle he can for tips, even sits down with his baby nieces and nephews to ask them what they like for breakfast and stuff

sings to your stomach in his low baritone

gets the baby a little golden necklace; it's a gift in the family

you inherit SO MANY kids' clothes; you feel like you never have to buy a piece of diaper again; nor a blanket

you go through a list of old wives' tales about finding out the gender, but you end up waiting until the birth

will try to home-cook all your cravings: make pickles or banana ice cream from scratch

tries (and succeeds) to remedy your pregnancy pains; herbs, physio, he's got it all

he knows what he's doing or he's just a natural; birth never seemed so quick and easy with him by your side

you catch him the first time humming to the baby in the hospital, while gently rocking the little one

Rudy

"you missed your period. wait, you missed your period?? test, test now, mi alma"

he ushers you in the bathroom and waits outside on the bed, thrumming his fingers against the soft bedding

is the happiest fucking thing when you let him in and he notices a faint crossing line on the test immediately

get ready for nine months of non-ending praise

has a new nickname for the baby every day

plays music to your bump nonstop

loves, I mean LOVES pregnant you; every inch of your body, your plump breasts, your growing tummy, the stretch marks on your skin, name it he's a sucker for it

the two of you go to the doctor together to find out the baby's gender and he's already crying in the parking lot before you go in

looks up non-spicy/pregnancy-safe versions of everyday dishes and makes them for you no questions asked

ends up inheriting your pregnancy pillow after you give birth, and takes it to the base for when he has to sleep without you; seriously, it smells like pregnant you what could be better

he talks you through the birth, his voice is calm and grounding

talks to the baby in a hushed voice whenever he can; smiles at you every time the little one makes a face during

König

"are you sure?"

you sat him down and told him plainly the moment he came home from deployment; he laugh-cries and hugs you for hours on end after

if you thought he was the biggest cuddlebug-snugglebear already, you're deeply mistaken

talks to your stomach in German; gives the baby 2-3 little nicknames you can't quite catch

will not leave you alone; becomes a bigger, more deadly baby

when I tell you he's protective--

pretends to like the taste of your cravings; he truly likes the fact that he can make you happy with a jar of pickles he got from the local farmers' market

little trinkets for the win; binkie-shaped keychain, baby spoon with Biene Maya on it…

waits for you to tell him the baby's gender

more stressed than you during the birth; manages to hide it

settles on one of the nicknames he already tried and calls the baby that; also afraid to hold the little one because according to him the baby would get lost in his arms

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sleepipuppyboy · 2 months

Text

Jst some age and petre HCs of various COD characters ive been hoarding!!!!

Kiddo Roach has a very complicated love-hate relationship with bugs. you’d think he likes them but he's actually terrified of some of them- he likes the more “scary” bugs like spiders and beetles and such but he's terrified of harmless ones like Rollie Polies and (strangely) ants. The smaller the scarier just because of unlikely scenarios. And yes- maybe I am projecting.

Baby Ghost is actually so talkative. Mainly just sounds smashed together with the occasional word or name but he doesn't stop. He didn't feel safe voicing things as a bio kid but he has the room and support systems to talk more now and he absolutely takes the chance, seeing how much he can babble before being shut down (which does NOT happen no matter anyone's mood). When playing with others he does little things like wave around his comfort blanket and start babbling things about it, all of it being illegible except for little things like ‘blue’ or ‘my’.

Lil Gaz is the sweetest little one and oftentimes a little /too/ sweet- going against rules to make others happy. I mean, he only means well. Another kiddo wants to play but they should be napping? He’ll bring a toy or two to their room, Roach can't reach something purposely put out of his reach? Gaz will get it himself or find a way to teach them how to do it self-sufficiently. That's not to say he doesn't occasionally do things he knows he's not supposed to, he likes the occasional testing push of a boundary, but 5 times out of 10 it's to make someone happy.

Maybe this is just me projecting on my favs and rambling before bed but if it is no one has to know because I sure can't tell anyways! ^_^ hope this makes sense.

#sfw little community #sfw littlespace #call of duty #call of duty agere #sfw agere #agere blog #sfw agere blog #sfw age regression #cod agere #agere #age regression #agere post #age re safe space #SleepiPup Speakin

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frogchiro · 6 months

Note

Let me just sneak in here. Just want to say thank you for the compliments, it has truly made my day. But I came in here because I just wanted to make sure I have your full permission to add to the COD Gods AU as I have so many ideas and I will admit that I am a world-building fanatic. Especially as I'm thinking about doing another one of my big character analyses but for Makarov this time as I have way too many ideas for God Makarov that I want to charge him rent. Also, I hope it's okay if I am allowed to add to the Slasher COD AU as I have ideas for König and Soap, as I myself see König as a creature hunting in the woods killer who has cannibalistic tendencies while I see Soap as a killer like Kuchisake-Onna (口裂け女) who is an onryō (怨霊); I say that as an onryō exact vengeance to "redress" the wrongs it received while alive while Kuchisake-Onna kills or hurts people by slitting their face through their mouth from ear to ear which is similar to a Glasgow Smile and I think the first part also fits Johnny as I still believe he is not y'know and Slasher Johnny could be extremely injured after the incident which has forced him to stop working so he takes his anger out on everybody else before he can get to Makarov and get revenge.

Also as repayment for you blessing us with your AUs that I have added on to I will be spoiling you the AUs I've been thinking of for the COD boys that I will be talking about later on my blog: Angel AU, Demon AU, Royal AU, Cryptid AU, Mythical Creature AU, Bug AU, Plague AU, Victorian AU, Magic AU, Fairytale AU, Celestial/Solar AU, Wonderland AU, and many more which I will probably list in one post. These will probably take me weeks to do but I will be posting the summaries soon for people to use (and you can use them as much as you want) as the analyses take me around three to six hours to write depending on how much research is needed. I also want to post some other headcanons I have that are just general and my opinions on MW3 ending and how I would have done it which will also make me take longer. But anyone I shall run away now that I've dropped this on your doorstep and if you ever have any questions I shall answer. Sorry about how long this ask is but my family has a waffling issue and I tend to be one of the worst. Now much platonic love, have some cookies, and keep yourself safe but also well-rested.

Please know yourself out with these!! All my ideas are basically free for adding/interpreting them as someone pleases because I truly believe that's what will keep them going and alive!

You have no idea how happy I am that someone as talented and creative as you wants to do such in-depth workd building on my silly whimsical au😭💕💕

I'm sending you much platonical love too and have a good day/night love♡

#kin speaks #asks #interactions

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gremlingottoosilly · 1 year

Text

Just one shot [Military photographer!Reader x CoD characters] part three

You successfully escaped the hell of the art school — in debt, with nothing but your(shitty) camera, a diploma and disappointed parents who never understood your life choices. Being a part if the military wasn’t your first option, but what else can you do? And at least, people here are fun to work with…

Featured characters: Ghost

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Ah, you're fucked. Utterly and deeply, there is literally nothing you could do about your fate – once you get out of bed, you would have to face the cruel fate of being a person who has to take picture of Ghost. Like, the Ghost.

You doubt that he even wanted to be in the photo album, for fucks sake, even his files don't have photos! And yet, here you are, with nothing but your camera in your hands. Shaky, sticky from sweat, twitching little hands. Feeling like a crushed bug under the boot of some very rude and borderline sadistic kid. You wanted to play it cool, to maybe just wait a little bit so the storm will be finished before you start working. Unfortunately for you, you are literally on a clock and tight schedule. Unfortunately for you, Ghost literally has only one hour of free time. Unfortunately for you, you are going to steal this hour from him. With shaky - relax, for the love of god, he can't legally kill you o this base even if he would try really hard - you are going straight to the massive figure exiting the training area. Soap is looking at you strangely, almost making you step back and readjust everything you knew and loved. Gaz is not here, thankfully, so only one sergeant will be here to witness your inevitable demise. With a quiet sigh, you approached Ghost. And here you thought that being a photographer for the base will save you from the fate of being killed in action. Ghost will fucking kill you and then use your body to taunt all of the other recruits who are dumb enough to approach him next time.

"Sir, I am sorry for disturbing your peace and, quite frankly, I waited long enough for you to finish your training so I will have the opportunity to do my work and this is very important for the base morale and your team, obviously, so, um, what I was saying is..." "What is it, private? You need to speak short, I am not going to wait for ages for you to finish." You are going to die. Good luck, private Victor 6-8, you will never see these numbers be funny. "Sorry, sir. I need to take a photo of you, for the yearbook." "Not gonna happen, private." "But sir, this is important!" "No bloody photos. Ain't got time for this fashion magazine shit." "Sir, please, it's just one fast click! With mask, of course, I am not going to reveal your identity, I understand how important that is and..." "This is final. No." Ah, if you are going to die, at least you can die on your feet, with your weapon - well, your camera - in your hands and no sight of fear in your eyes. Even if you are so fucking terrified right now, that your legs are shakier than adrenaline junkie after a training session with KorTac. You can also just steal his mask and make Soap wear it, no one would ever notice a difference. Or you can be a bit more persuasive and use some of this pretty charm that you most certainly have. You do, right?

"Sir, if you are feeling uncomfortable about the prospect of making a photo, I can...oh, I can give you these sunglasses. What do you think?" He looks at the sunglasses, conveniently sitting on the desk near you. You don't know where they came from and who they belong to, but at this moment, this doesn't matter. You just need to make this photo, then exit to your room and wallow in sadness until the second coming of Christ or any other shit that you have been listening to while picking up a Christian radio station near the base. The devil is already here. And the devil is nodding, putting the sunglasses on. Fucking hell. "One photo. I'm not going to pose, just make it quick." He sounds like a grumpy dad who hates making photos in front of every statue on a vacation he was paying too much for. Or like q edgy teenager who hates his mom for making him pose for a family photo. Well, you are taking what you can and getting in position. Holy shit, this guy could be a model if he would want to. For Hot Topic, at least. You took the photo, now looking at the camera in your hands, trying to see if the lighting in this room was okay and Ghost doesn't look too fucking weird standing here like the Death itself. Although you think that even the Grim Reaper would be easier to convince. "Do you want to take a look, sir?" He is nodding again, leaning closer. He is right behind you now...large hands in skeleton gloves - so fucking edgy, you can't believe this guy - are slowly creeping on your waist, adjusting your position so it would be easier for him to look.

His hands are so big, that they can wrap around your waist with ease. He can squish all of your internal organs and won't even feel a thing, you think. This is terrifying, but then...oh shit, you feel something, growing inside with a rapid speed. You are a lost cause, you know this, right? "Not so hard on the eyes, huh, recruit?" His raspy voice is making something in your skin shiver. Not from fear, unfortunately for your poor soul. You really, really need to listen more closely to this religious radio - maybe, it will help you not act like a blushing mess in front of your superiors. "This is...yes, sir. You are looking quite nice." "Next time, private, tell me about this in advance. Would get a new haircut." Funny. He is looking and sounding like he is going to murder you - and yet, he is joking. Perhaps, you really should watch the dark corners of the base today. Would be pretty sad to die without even finishing the yearbook.

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #cod #cod x you #cod x reader #call of duty #captain price #price x reader #gaz x reader

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