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viintxgephrxg · 1 month

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It is so validating and satisfying to see MC not forgive them instantly, if it goes the way I hope it does I’d love to see them never get over it. Realistically, that’s not something you just sweep under the rug, MC will have to live with that pain and betrayal and I enjoy the way it’s written out as such. Really, really, really enjoying the series so far.

Hiii!! I hope you're doing well :))

I just loveee the traitor series. Do you plan on making a part 5 or more?

thank you! here’s part five :)

the other parts can be found in my COD masterlist, which is here

part four here

I’ll proofread later :))

you stormed out of the gym, eyesight blurry from hot tears. you weren’t crying because you were sad— no. you were furious. furious at how simon was so fucking stubborn. at how he thought he was in the right.

droplets of blood marked your footsteps as you made your way back to the infirmary. you weren’t particularly anxious to be yelled at by the doctor, but getting it over with as soon as possible was ideal.

“bonnie, y’alrigh’?”

soap. you hadn’t even seen him, so lost in your thoughts. you blinked away tears and ignored the scot, continuing to make your way down the hall in silence.

the sound of hurried footsteps was unmistakable behind you. soap wasn’t taking silence for an answer, apparently.

“bonnie, please—” he began, the drawl of his voice catapulting your mind to the past. to better days.

days when soap had patched you up after a fight, his fingers nimble as he stitched up a cut in your thigh.

“s’it hurt?” he spoke, voice gravelly because of his hushed tone.

you shook your head. your head was tilted back, eyes staring up at the ceiling but not truly seeing. you were worried sick— you and soap were the only ones who’d made it to the safe house so far. the others should’ve beaten you there, and now they were over an hour late.

“bonnie, ‘m sure they’re alrigh’,” he told you, poking the needle through skin. you barely felt it, too hyped up on fear and adrenaline.

“they should’ve beaten us here, y’know that—” you began, but he tutted, quickly cutting you off.

“cannae think like tha’, bonnie. they’ll be here any second, aye?”

he stops his stitching, his face tilting up and away from your leg. you faintly register the feeling of his eyes on you.

you felt lost— floating in sea of numbness. your mind is mulling over the millions of possibilities— possibilities in which they never return.

you’d never felt this way before, and the five of you had endured far worse.

the only thing that was different this time was the fact that you and simon were together. you’d never explicitly told the rest of the task force, but they knew.

johnny knew why you were so worked up. he understood.

he reaches a hand up, his dirtied fingers lightly tilting your chin down so you’re face to face.

“y’there?” he asks, his hand dropping from your chin. he moves to squeeze one of your hands, pulling you back down to the ground.

you give a small nod, fingers moving to intertwine with his. he smiles— not his usual playful expression, but a true, grateful, relieved smile.

“im here,” you tell him. he releases your hand, pulling away from your skin, giving your hand a light pat before fully retreating.

“‘m almost finished, yeah? then I’ll go lookin’—”

“no need.”

it’s kyle, breathing heavily as he shuffles into the room. price and ghost are right on his heels, the three men making the room feel much smaller than it did a moment ago.

“you two good?” kyle asks, a small frown on his lips as he takes note of your bloodied leg.

you nod, your eyes flitting from gaz, to price, to simon— who is now moving towards you. he crouches down so he’s eye level with you. you meet his gaze, and although he doesn’t say it, you know what he’s thinking.

he’s relieved, and it’s a deeper relief than usual. it’s heavier, more profound, because he’s started to let you in. you’re more than teammates now, and it doesn’t truly hit ghost until this moment.

“im good,” you tell him quietly. he nods, glances down at where johnny is tying off your stitches.

johnny must notice ghost’s stare, because he breaks his focus and looks up at his lieutenant with a cheeky smirk.

“no worries, LT. made sure to do ma best work,” he grins and shoots the other man a wink, to which ghost grunts, unamused.

the heavy weight of a palm on your shoulder breaks you from the memory. you move without thinking, bloodied fist swinging as you whirl around to attack whoever laid a hand on you.

then you remember— soap.

johnny narrowly dodges your assault, his eyes widened as your fist barely clips him.

“steamin’ jesus!” he speaks, throwing his hands up in surrender and taking a step back from you.

“i was jus’ tryin’ to make sure ya were alrigh’! yer bleedin’, bonnie.”

you blink as you slowly escape your stupor. you’d completely lost yourself in the memory, and you didn’t know why.

probably because your brain was trying to comfort itself the only way it knew how— by seeking comfort from the people closest to you.

old habits, right?

old fucking habits.

“don’t touch me,” you seethe, eyes narrowing as you glare at the scot. he frowns, bites his lip, but doesn’t say anything.

like a kicked puppy. you can’t help but feel sympathetic before you wrestle that feeling back down. he wasn’t sympathetic for you— why should you be for him?

you look at him for a moment longer, taking in his appearance. he looks fine, and that angers you just the slightest bit more.

“look, i— i ken we really messed up, and sorry cannae fix tha’, but please, bonnie. a’least let us try—”

“I don’t owe you anything, mactavish.” you told him, gaze cold as you met his eyes. “and you’re right, sorry can’t fix it. nothing can fix it; so, stop trying.” you step forward, raising a hand as you point a finger into his chest.

“the four of you need to leave me the fuck alone. frankly, I couldn’t care less about how the four of you feel. about how he feels. you did what you did, believed what you believed, and now you have to live with that.”

johnny’s frown deepens as his eyes glance down at the finger you’ve got digging into his sternum.

“you deserve to feel like shit,” you tell him. “and anything you feel— how sorry you are— just know that I suffered a hundred times more in that chair, locked up in that room. so the next time you wanna watch me from outside the infirmary, or you wanna put your fucking hands on me,” your jaw is clenched, fire licking at your veins as you speak to him.

“remember what you did. remember that nothing can fix it. remember that you’re dead to me— all of you are— and that I never would’ve let that happen to any of you.”

“and I hope it hurts like hell, mactavish. I hope it eats you alive, and that you never find peace because you don’t deserve it.”

you drop your hand, your eyes still on his.

“and I hope you tell the rest of them I said that. especially him.”

you turn then, take a steadying breath, and keep walking.

soap watches you go without another word.

“that was stupid,” the doctor chastises you, her lips pressed into a thin line as she examines your knuckles.

“you blatantly went against my one rule for you. I shouldn’t have even let you out of bed, but you’re too damn stubborn! so I thought I’d give you some grace, but there you go— leaving my iv pole in the hall. bloodying your knuckles. I should let one of the newbies patch you up,” she grumbles, her gloved hands cool against your skin.

over the time you’d spent in the infirmary, you and the doctor had formed an odd bond. it was almost as if you were friends, but she always kept things strictly professional.

but you’d catch her giving you sad glances sometimes. you knew she was upset for you, angry for you, but she would never speak on it. that was okay with you.

it was enough to know that someone was on your side.

“sorry, doc. it’s not like it was planned,” you tell her, and her eyes flick up to meet yours. the look on your face told her everything she needed to know.

she didn’t push the topic. instead, she finished patching you up in silence. wrapping your knuckles in bandages, she gave them one last once-over before sending you on your way.

“kicking me out?” you asked her, raising your eyebrows.

she nodded, her eyes scanning the chart in her hands.

“if you’re okay enough to throw a punch, i think you’re okay enough to return to your quarters. unless you want to stay,” she says, and its unspoken, but you know what she’s implying.

unless you want to stay behind that door, guarded from the 141. unless you don’t want to go back to your quarters and see it as you’d left it before they’d tied you up.

unless it would be too painful to leave.

you shook your head. “im good. thank you, doc. really.”

the doctor gave a small smile and nodded. “of course. you’re due back in a week for a check up, alright? I need to check on those bruises and mending bones.”

you nod and give her a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “wouldn’t miss it.”

she bids you goodbye before turning and disappearing behind a white curtain. you inhale deeply before heading for the door.

when you step into the hallway, it’s quiet. you pass through base with relative ease, quickly slipping past anyone you come across in the halls.

you don’t see any of the 141, and you’re grateful. you couldn’t handle another interaction with them today— and you didn’t know how much longer you could remain civil.

once you reached your door, you pushed into the dusty darkness of the room. it’d been a while since you’d been in here, and although you were glad to finally be free of the smell and sounds of the infirmary, you weren’t particularly happy to be back in this room.

this room, which was down the hall from the rest of the 141.

this room, which held memorabilia of your time with your team.

this room, which you swore still smelled like simon.

you grit your teeth, willing yourself to stop thinking about him. he was fucking everywhere, and you were starting to believe you’d never be free of him and the 141.

your memories. your pain. your scars. no matter how much you healed and moved on from what happened, it would always be there in the back of your mind. it would sneak up on you when you least expected it; it would haunt your dreams at night.

it would leave you waking up screaming for mercy.

it would keep you untrusting for the years to come.

you flicked on the light and scanned the room. it had been upended, clothes strewn across the floor and picture frames shattered.

in the midst of it all, a vase of long dead flowers sits atop your desk.

there’s a little note hanging off the vase. against your better judgement, you reach for it. the paper feels scratchy against your fingers, and the scribbled pencil inside seems the tiniest bit faded.

your eyes scan the note.

‘You were right.

Hope you can understand.’

— sr

you pick up the vase and throw it against the wall. glass shatters. dead flowers fall to the floor.

your knees give out and you crumple to the floor, sitting amidst reminders of once was.

you let yourself cry for the first time in a while.

#call of duty modern warfare #john price #simon riley #john mactavish #kyle garrick

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viintxgephrxg · 3 months

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ANPU!!!!?

YESSSS!!!

#gn!reader #platonic!reader #teen!reader #marvel #moon knight #anpu

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viintxgephrxg · 4 months

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yooo does anybody want me to continue the moon knight series? i mean ik it’s been a whole year and people lose interest so if anybody wants me to actually finish it i will but otherwise… yk

#gn!reader #platonic!reader #teen!reader #anpu #marvel #moon knight

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viintxgephrxg · 6 months

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𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑳 𝑶𝑭 𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑯 [ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

[ɴᴏᴛ ᴍʏ ɢɪꜰ - ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛs ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴏʀ]

[𝐂𝐎𝐃/𝐀𝐍𝐏𝐔!𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑]

➤ 𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠: 𝖦𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗌𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇－ 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗀𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖠𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾

➤ 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: 𝖥𝗈𝗎𝗅 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗐𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗆𝖺𝗃𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁, 𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍, 𝖢𝖮𝖣 𝗅𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗎𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖠𝗇𝗎𝖻𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 <𝟥

➤ 𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥’𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘: 𝖧𝖤𝖫𝖫𝖮! 𝖬𝗒 𝗀𝗈𝖽 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌! 𝖨’𝗆 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒 ‘𝖠𝗇𝗉𝗎’ 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌－ 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖢𝖮𝖣 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝗂𝗑𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗌𝗈 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗆𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽! <3

－

[ᴜɴᴇᴅɪᴛᴇᴅ]

[Y/Name] was no stranger to the deaths that plagued the military. Any branch and any squadron— the career was laced with it. And due to their duties they had to always be there for every one of them. Every single one.

And every single one continued to chip away at the strong and resilient mental fortitudes they had built to keep themselves from falling. From breaking.

Young men and women, a lot of them no older than at least 25. All of them had given [Y/Name] looks, regarding them with pain, sometimes anger.. even happiness in a few particularly unpleasant moments. In those cases they’d only wished those young adults had gotten the help they needed before it had been too late.

Older men and women that in a fit of despair and longing to be part of the living realm once more ask the reaper one of two things.

Did I make a difference? Did I matter?

And the Anubis avatar would always respond with reassurances and promises of comfort. Trying their best to make those aching souls of fallen soldiers pass to a better and more peaceful world.

You made a difference where it mattered. Of course you did— you still do. Look at all those who mourn you, look at all the success that follows your courage. Look at the change you fought so hard for.

It was the most they could offer to those souls, the best they could do at comforting someone who’d just passed on. Someone who was looking at their own body like an astral projection— longing to be settled within it once again. And mourning the fact they could not.

Yes, young [Y/Name] had long since built a thick wall surrounding their weakened heart and soul. To protect themself from the profound pain that transcends beyond their reach whenever they’re tasked with freeing a soldier’s soul from it’s mortal bonds.

Far too compassionate to greet the distressed and heartbroken souls with cold indifference and also far too broken themself to mourn for too long if at all.

A vicious cycle.

Regardless, this shouldn’t have been any different.

“Simon! Stay with me Si, goddammit!”

And yet—

“C’mon Ghost! Don’t die on us!”

—this was absolutely different.

Three men— kneeled down to cradle close a corpse. The fourth man of this task force. An exemplary team of elites fallen to their knees, begging for their brother to reawaken. To breathe a wheeze of pain, to cough as blood crawled up his throat— each one indicative of pain and discomfort but at least it would mean he was alive.

[Y/Name] could feel it. The profound hurt of heavy weighted trauma and the ache of deeply buried and suppressed memories and feelings. They felt the masked man’s pain, like titanium on their bones and swords in their heart.

It was a pain that was very muted, quiet and withheld in the very back of his mind. Kept bound and locked tight behind steel bars and barbed wire barriers. Like a monster of some kind— this man was handling his pain like a trained professional would handle a dangerous animal.

Aware of its presence, aware of the dangerous potential it had of overpowering him and devouring him whole. Aware that if he did not keep it locked up tight that it would eat away at him until he was a hollow shell of himself.

[Y/Name] could tell that he relatively already was, having endured so much damage to his psyche.. to his heart and his soul.

And within the confines of a defended part of his heart they found something interesting, there was vulnerability there. Vulnerability that was tainted with sorrow and pain. With fear.

[Y/Name] figured that this man must’ve built this masked persona to protect and shelter that vulnerability. To keep it safe no matter what, refusing to let it burn out just like the rest of his feelings and emotions— useless and unnecessary things that he let wither to nothing.

Was that why it felt different? Of course, they have encountered their fair share of broken men and women who enlist to be active duty. And they’ve met their fair share of soldiers that have been hurting for a very long time but somehow found the strength to keep going. This man was different, so drastically different from any they’ve met before. And as such, they decided on the calmest and softest approach they were capable of.

You have suffered long enough.

[Y/Name] stepped forward, there was an abrupt whooshing sound behind them followed by a dull clink as their Anubis appeared. Only visible to his avatar, and his avatar only visible to the spirits that have passed on. A cloaking technique Anubis had taught them. So they could do their duties without the interference of any mortals that happened to be nearby when they released the souls of the dead.

“Proceed with understanding and the compassionate heart I know you for my little jackal. For this man has suffered more than a soul ever should.”

The avatar didn’t answer, not verbally nor with a tick of their head. Simply nearing the group of men and reaching down to the one on the ground. Cradled close to the chest of the one with a silly mohawk. The man hurting and sorrowful as he held his beloved friend in his arms. Broken and gone.

[Y/Name] swallowed thickly to ignore the stagnant air of despair and grief that punctured through their defenses. Not quite dense enough to destroy their walls but profound enough to give them a little ache in their chests. Reasonably sympathetic— sympathy that was quick to evolve to empathy as they didn’t bother to withhold the pained grimace on their face.

“You are released,” they cited. Dutifully. Monotonously as they gripped the spirit’s hand. Pulling him free from his mortal body with a tug and heave. When they did— the men on the ground surrounding him only became more distressed. Mohawk especially, considering he was the one holding the masked man so close. So tenderly.

He must’ve felt when the man had passed on, there’s no way he hadn’t. And the avatar sympathized once again on his pain, it must not be easy feeling the once living, breathing body in your arms go still. Go cold.

They couldn’t have imagined it was fun experiencing that, and they were understanding of the man’s begging. Of his cries of denial.

But they didn’t dwell for long— they had a job to do.

“Who are you? Where am I?”

They still had their hand clasped in the masked man’s and he gripped them harder when he had gained enough sense to start asking things. He had a million questions and even more conclusions— of that, [Y/Name] was sure. And they would be happy to answer them all, but it was always best to ease them into the truth of what had occurred—

“Is— is that me?”

—or not.

[Y/Name] winced, they used the grip on his hand to squeeze gently. It drew his attention back to them and there was an obvious stitch in his brow, furrowed i’m confused frustration as he regarded them. They softly exhaled through their nose.

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

He regarded you for a dull moment, his expression neutral and withheld— strong in his defiance to give anything away. Why it mattered, you did not know.

But then his look changed, like the flick of a switch his eyes were suddenly filled with mournful regret and reluctance. Refusal to accept what he was seeing, what has occurred.

“No, no I can’t— I can’t die.. they need me.”

[Y/Name] felt a twist in their stomach, an itch in their chest that they couldn’t quite scratch. They realized but a second later that they felt sorry for the poor guy, the way he looked broken and beat down. They had to admit they admired his loyalty— defiant in the face of a reaper in hopes of finding his way back to his body. To be reunited with the family he was leaving behind.

“You needn’t worry about them,” [Y/Name] soothed, still holding his gloved hand in their own they squeezed it reassuringly and he found his attention back to them once more. “They’ll be alright.”

“But.. Makarov—”

“They will handle it.”

[Y/Name] watched as he swallowed thickly, a subtle twitch in his brow to display his discomfort without saying it outright. They could tell by the way his eyes fell, the look held within those rich brown irises that he was fighting himself.

Simon wasn’t even sure why he was so reluctant to follow his reaper to the afterlife, he’d known he would die on the battlefield since the very beginning. It was not a new concept to him and it was not something he was afraid of. But still, he felt.. hesitant to leave his team behind. Was it that ever-going loyalty and sacrificial nature he had gained as a Lieutenant? Or did these men really mean that much to him? He hoped it was the former— too afraid of his feelings to admit that in reality it was most likely the latter.

The thing is; he hadn’t really expected to be met with a reaper in the first place. He spent his long, and quite frankly rather miserable existence, hoping death was what he had craved his whole life. Peace. Peace and rest.

If he had a reaper did that mean they were to guide him to that? Lead him to the very thing he had yearned so achingly for since that miserable Christmas so many years ago?

He shouldn’t be reluctant to go, he shouldn’t feel remorse for being selfish for once in his entire life. This is something he wanted.. this is what he was owed.

“Okay… I’m— I’m ready.”

[Y/Name] smiled softly at him and nodded minutely. Then, with the grip they had on his gloved hand, turned and walked away from the scene.

Simon didn’t have any choice but to follow, swallowing thickly once again to push down the ache that had crawled up his throat. He followed the reaper by hand as they walked but he kept his eyes on his teammates— on his corpse as they guided him away from his death.

He felt a sudden ache at the way Soap— Johnny was holding him so close. So lovingly. And as he got further and further away, as their silhouettes slowly became more and more distorted and faded he had only a few words to utter passed his lips. “Forgive me.”

Simon, in some small part of his heart, felt like he was doing the wrong thing. He was in the wrong for choosing to pursue the peace he craved over selflessly giving it up in order to live on. He’d still be unhappy sure, but his team would still have him. He’d be there to watch their backs, offer a shoulder.. be their brother.

He came to the realization that even if he did choose to be selfless— the reaper wouldn’t have granted him a second chance at life anyway.

“Was I to die no matter what? You couldn’t have offered me my life?”

The teenager he was addressing looked at him with a tight expression on their face, unbeknownst to him, this is something a lot of people asked them. People who were not done with their lives, people who begged them for a second chance— to see things beyond their reach, to experience the incredible wonders the world had to offer them. [Y/Name] had no shame in admitting they felt bad about denying them every time.

As the avatar to Anubis they would only release and guide the souls of those who’ve passed. They only encountered those truly dead.. not those who have close calls.

“Yes you were, I could not offer you more time as you do not have any.”

At the confused furrow of his brows they explained further.

“Everyone that is born has a certain stretch of time attached to them, it is essentially a clock on their life. I’m able to see these numbers in accordance with my duties but they aren’t visible to anybody else.”

“And mine—” He trailed off expectantly.

“Reached zero.” They filled.

Simon went silent after that, understanding of his situation and accepting of the fact nothing could’ve been done to change the outcome. He was dead.

In his silence he took the time to gather his surroundings, everything was pure white. Starkly contrasting to his and his reaper’s dark gear. For a brief moment he thought he was in heaven.. but he quickly shot that idea down. There was no way a man like him could ever get into heaven, not with the war crimes tagged to his person and not with all the morally wrong things he’s done in his career.

The atmosphere of the environment still bewildered him, and it confused him enough to want to ask his reaper about it. The reaper whom still hadn’t let go of his hand, of course he wasn’t naive and childish enough to assume it was because they thought he needed the comfort. It was probably the only way they could move his soul to the Afterlife. If he lost physical contact with them he had the inkling of an idea that he’d be trapped here in this blindly white landscape. Isolated and alone.

Still, he felt grounded as he held their hand. And he had no qualms against the action, their touch was comforting and warm against his palm. And he felt at ease as they guided him along.

The question in the back of his mind remained though, and he willed it passed his lips with an air of muted confusion.

“Where are we?”

“Hm, some like to refer to it as ‘Purgatory’— the path between worlds. The bridge to destinations.”

“Is that what it is?”

“Essentially.”

Their walk continued on in silence once again, and the young teenager had the mind to only speak when spoken to first. Allowing the masked man to quell in his acceptance and smiled when they could feel the muted excitement he held beneath the surface.

They hoped he would enjoy wherever it was they were bringing him to, see, [Y/Name] didn’t usually get to see the souls’ chosen afterlife. Choosing to step back after releasing them and allowing them the freedom they deserved to build their perfect paradise where they could find their eternal happiness.

But again.. this man was different. He was so deeply broken that the Anubis avatar felt somewhat obligated to guide him to his restful peace themself. So they did.

Seconds later he spoke up once more, and [Y/Name] could feel the twitch in his chest, tightly wound and moving uncomfortably beneath his skin.

“I’m— …afraid.” He admitted in a bout of courageous honesty. Effectively breaking the silence between them with his words. They recalled Anubis’ words to them, and approached him as gently as they could.

“Do not be afraid, there’s no more to fear in death than in the changing of the seasons.”

Simon huffed at that, he didn’t want to think there was anything to be feared in the afterlife. But now that he was face-to-face with his reaper he wasn’t so sure. The Angel of Death had come for him, and he did not know where they were taking him.

He hoped —in a moment of vulnerability— that it was somewhere nice… somewhere quiet. Where he could finally rest and be at peace away from a world of trial and tribulation. Away from a world that had spat on him at every turn, cruel and inhumane was the life he suffered through. Now, he only hoped for peace. That’s all he could ask for.

The change was slow, sluggish as it claimed the white landscape surrounding him. Colors began to appear, slowly ever so slowly as they walked the world around him changed before his very eyes. And suddenly they weren’t in Purgatory anymore— but standing before a cabin surrounded by forest. It was in this environment when the reaper finally released his hand in favor of crossing their arms over their chest.

“This is the Afterlife?” Simon queried, he wasn’t entirely sure of his surroundings. They were oddly.. homely. Comfortable.

The darkness the night sky overcasted the landscape with was cozy and peaceful. Stars shining bright above, stamped into the night sky as dazzling speckles across a spanning space of deep blue and golden clusters of constellations.

The surrounding forest was alive with the background chirping of crickets. Melodically coupled well with the sounds of nocturnal animals croaking and howling, filling the night air with crackled bursts of life. An owl call twists Simon’s head to the woods he and his reaper stood before, the raptor calls again and a sense of serenity abruptly erupts within. Bright and delightfully warm, alight in his chest and settling in his stomach.

But the warmest and most homely piece of this concocted paradise was the small cottage in front of him. Two-stories tall and wide enough to be a home but not too wide it’s size is overwhelmingly obnoxious. There was a wrap-around porch complete with a swinging bench swaying in the soft breeze. The light coming from within was pale and bathed the outside plants and shrubbery at the base of the wooden cottage in a gorgeous, golden glow. Somebody was home— there was smoke coming from the chimney. White fog curling as it flowed out through the gap at the top.

Simon felt a twinge of jealousy disturb that warmth he’d previously felt, and he turned to the reaper at his side slightly peeved they’d bring him here. Show him something he could not ever have before finally delivering him to whatever hell was awaiting him… the hell he knew that he deserved.

“Why did you bring me here?”

[Y/Name] elected to ignore the slight snarl in his tone, choosing instead to focus more on the way his voice lilted with misery and confusion. The soft notes of despondency in his voice as he addressed them. The crestfallen gleam in his eye that glinted at them. “This is the Afterlife.”

Simon’s brow twitched, the previous twitch of jealous frustration now more bubbled into confusion as he regarded them with a furrowed brow.

“What?”

“The Afterlife is however you imagine it to be, I do things this way so wayward souls —lost and hurt— can finally be at peace. Finally find the happiness that evaded them so long in their time being alive.” They explained, all with a soft and understanding look on their face. Compassionate and careful as they looked at him.

“This is my—”

“This is yours.”

Simon was quick to face the small cottage once more, his heart was racing as it beat thunderous in his ears. A childish excitement he hadn’t felt since he was a little boy warming his chest once again. It was when he saw shadows and silhouettes moving through the house that he felt the warmth burst inside. Electrifying him as it buzzed beneath his skin.

He didn’t understand the fundamentals of this being dead thing— surely he shouldn’t be able to feel such things as a wandering soul right?

“It is normal to feel such things.”

And there goes his reaper again, reading him so drastically easy and careful that he could’ve sworn they were inside his head. Maybe they were.. again, he was new to this whole ‘being dead’ thing.

“You may not understand it, and it may not make much sense to you if at all. But your soul is the truest and purest part of you, it’s where your feelings are born and where your vulnerability is kept sheltered and safe. Of course you’d feel your feelings, wether it be excitement or pain.”

For a kid, they’re awfully mature. And that was something he acknowledged silently. He didn’t know when he had turned to face them during their tangent but he found himself staring at the side of their face. He blinked when they turned to look at him, holding strong eye contact and regarding him gently once again.

“Go on Simon,” they nodded their head to the cottage with an encouraging smile. “They’re all waiting for you.”

“Waiting—”

“Just go.”

Simon wasn’t sure. Surely, a reaper —supernatural being tasked with guiding and guarding lost souls— wouldn’t bring him to a place where he would only find more suffering right? He didn’t expect it out of this particular reaper either, regardless of the age they appeared to be they seemed so understanding and kind.

So he pushed down his reluctance and anxiety at approaching the cabin and willed forth the courage and bravery he found in being a soldier instead. Squaring his shoulders and marching down the stone path straight up to the front door.

[Y/Name] watched carefully as he paused at the bottom of the steps and turned back to face them. They gave him a single encouraging nod, and they watched as he took a deep breath before turning to face the front door again. Taking two long strides up the stairs and two more steps to reach the front door.

Again, the avatar watched as he hesitated before he raised his hand and knocked three times on the door.

Simon was so wholly unprepared for the person that answered the door. Seeing her face again, so beautiful and loving as she looked at him in utter shock. A wave of emotion suddenly upturned him, and the tears welling up in her eyes as she reached up to gently cup his face were enough to destroy his dam. Tears of his own aching behind the backs of his eyes as they were drawn forward before streaming down his cheeks in thick rivulets.

“Si?”

“Mom.”

[Y/Name] couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corners of their lips as they watched the reunion unfold. A traumatized and deeply hurt man reverting back to a little boy in the arms of his mother. This is what gave their job purpose and meaning, this was what they had stuck around as Anubis’ avatar for so long for. This.

“Well done, my little jackal.”

And they were gone, back to the real world with their God and back to the duty of helping others find their peace as they had done for Simon.

Simon who turned back to the forest to thank the reaper that brought him here only to rear back when he saw they were no longer there.

“What is it?”

He exhaled quietly at the disappointment he felt at his reaper’s disappearance but didn’t push it past the minor feeling in his chest. A feeling that was overwhelmed by the feeling of joy, happy finally—

“Nothing, Ma.”

“Come inside, everyone will be so happy to see you.”

And Simon followed without fight, no longer reluctant to be here so long as this is the Afterlife that awaited him. Still, mentally he offered his gratitude and hoped somewhere, wherever the reaper was due next.. they could feel it.

Thank you.

You’re welcome Simon.

—

➤ 𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥’𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘: 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖨 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖨’𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝗒－ 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽! 𝖶𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁 ‘𝖠𝗇𝗉𝗎’ 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾! 𝖨𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗅𝗆𝖺𝗈

#gn!reader #platonic!reader #teen!reader #anpu #callofduty #codmw2 #cod x teen reader #cod x platonic reader #simon ghost riley x teen reader

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viintxgephrxg · 1 year

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remember when i came back from an announced hiatus and said i’d do better but then just dipped tf out AGAIN? yeah cause i do… and i’m ashamed ✌🏽😗 this time i’m not going to promise anything.. ‘anpu’ is kind of on pause rn because i’m hyperfixating on so many other things that it’s maybe a touch unhealthy but wgaf— if you’ve got the patience to stick around for ‘anpu’ i’ve got nothing but love for ya!! <3 if you want to be here on this blog for other fandoms i’m going to start cleaning out my drafts that are just absolutely FULL of platonic writing for a few fandoms :) thank y’all for being patient w me as i’ve struggled and regained my footing then struggled once more.. i’m trying :)

#love y’all #kith kith #ilysm mwah

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viintxgephrxg · 1 year

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everyone who wants to be or already is on the taglist for ‘anpu’ please shoot me a message and remind me

i’m so sorry lovelies but it’s been too damn long 😭

#anpu #moon knight

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viintxgephrxg · 1 year

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Will we see part 2 of rodan soon ??

yes i’m in the process of writing it out but i’d wanted to post a chapter of ‘anpu’ (my other series) first before posting another one for cod :)

#gn!reader #platonic!reader #cod mw2 #moon knight #rodan

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viintxgephrxg · 1 year

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— rodan.

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley/younger!reader [gn]

genre: platonic

fandom: call of duty: modern warfare 2

summary: rodan and ghost have been partners for as long as the younger could remember, after a tragic accident that resulted in the loss of their entire team they decided to stick with the masked man permanently…. surprisingly, he wasn’t opposed to that

c/w: blood and death, depictions of violence and gore, war/militant violence, gender neutral terms and pronouns (they/them), gender unspecified

a/n: there’s gonna be several different parts because the campaign is long as all fucking hell 😭 but i want to write out the entire thing w reader insert so.. hope you enjoy this little snippet!

—

the sun was scorching. blistering as it burned, it’s rays hot and stifling across the torrid desert plains of al mazrah, united republic of adal.

and even more stifling and oppressively warm against the back of one [y/name] [l/name]. callsign; rodan. an expert in pyrotechnics and demolitions, a ‘one hell of a shot’ sniper, and a pretty thoroughly trained medic. the callsign was their idea actually, being an avid godzilla fan growing up and having watched the entire series beginning to end at least a dozen times.

their commanding officer at the time of choosing it agreed wholeheartedly. though, his was less based on fantasy movies and more so based on [y/name]’s strange fascination with anything that is fire and demolitions. even stranger was their seemingly vast and deep knowledge of the subjects. “rodan huh? fire demon indeed ain’tcha kid?”

[y/name] swore through and through they weren’t a pyromaniac. though their partner, ghost, had a hard time believing that after a mission in peru. which not only resulted in a new scar across their face.. but also an enemy building being set ablaze and leveled to the ground at their hand. the tick that set him off about their weird love of all things fire and demolitions was their manic laughter as the building collapsed.

the callsign made sense to him now, but when he was first partnered with the kid he was set off by their strange obsession, and sharply polished fighting skills. now though, he knew the kid was —excluding their persona on the battlefield— relatively harmless.

couldn’t say the same for their incredible talent in working every last one of his nerves though—

“uuggghhhh.”

—ghost sighed under his breath, though he wouldn’t ever admit it the annoyed feeling he had was stitched with a deep and profound fondness and love for the whining sniper walking behind him.

“keep walkin’.” he grumbled.

“it’s so fucking hot,” they complained. halting for a moment to tug at the bunched up fabric of their tactical joggers creasing up their crotch.

“it’s just the fuckin’ sun kid,” ghost responded.

“well the sun is shitting all over me,” [y/name] grouched, “everything’s rubbing and pinching! i’m in need of some baby powder or something!”

“what you need is a fuckin’ muzzle.” ghost teased, though his comment was insulting his tone let the younger soldier know he was only playing.

“oh wow that was a good one,” they mocked, “it was still a good one the last seventy fucking times you used it.”

“if i’ve had to say it seventy fuckin’ times maybe it’s time to do a little self reflectin’.”

[y/name] feigned a laugh, then dropped their expression to annoyed as they glared at him from the corner of their eye. not that he could see them side-eyeing him past their black tactical goggles. or see their expression through the black tactical mask on the lower half of their face. “you’re so fucking funny. honestly, i’m in goddamn stitches over here.”

ghost let one corner of his lips pull up into a jibing smirk behind his mask, the banter between him and the pyromaniac succeeding in lightening his mood—

“i’m not havin’ a good time either but i’m not gonna whinge the entire time.”

—only slightly.

“well that’s the difference between you and me, that and i’m very good looking.”

“and humble.”

[y/name] laughed, an actual laugh spilling from their lips at his response to their arrogance. ghost spun around, having turned to face the sniper when they stopped to pull the pinching wedgie out of their ass and the pair remaining where the stood throughout the duration of their conversation. “let’s keep movin’. we’re nearly there.”

the masked man didn’t bother turning over his shoulder to make sure they were following, he knew they’d dutifully fall in step behind him as he stalked through the desert plain. and [y/name] did just that, after tugging the creases in their pants loose again.

the sniper didn’t complain much after that, finding a bit of solace in the cool shadows of the canyon they entered, and the way their tactical goggles blocked out most of the reflective light.

if they were to complain about anything other than the sheering heat and blinding sunshine, it would be the mask over the lower half of their face that was making it a touch harder to breathe. they figured ghost was well past his limits with their grousing though so they kept that little problem to themself.

they continued forward regardless, following their partner as he climbed rocks and vaulted over old and withered dead logs. until finally, they made it to their assigned checkpoint.

it was an overhanging ledge, one that had a crystal clear vantage point of the relatively large militia gathering several miles ahead and on level ground.

and that there was their assignment. an arms deal iranian terrorists were to make with russia, and the iranian’s qud’s force general; ghorbrani was due to be there. their mission was to assassinate him. with commander graves of shepherd’s ‘shadow company’ leveling the rest of the gathered militia with a short range missile.

[y/name] let ghost communicate to laswell, and everyone else on their channel that they were in position. graves responded he was ready to launch the missile when they were. with that the masked man turned to his partner at his side. “go ahead kid.”

[y/name] nodded then got down onto their stomach, inching forward in an army crawl until they could perch their rifle right at the very rim of the cliff they were on. when it was set firmly into the grooves of the sandstone they leaned forward and peered through the scope, swiveling the barrel until the crosshair aligned perfectly with general ghorbrani’s head. “set.”

ghost nodded at their word of confirmation then reached up to click the button on the radio strapped to his shoulder. “rodan is clear. launch the missile.”

“copy, sending now.”

[y/name] counted the seconds down in their head, listening in to graves’ countdown as well just to be sure they aligned the shot perfectly.

when they reached two together rodan clenched their finger and pulled the trigger, they watched through their scope as ghorbrani’s head jerked to the side with a geyser of blood before his body dropped.

the men surrounding him panicked, scrambling about and lifting their guns. and that’s all [y/name] saw before they pulled away from their scope and ducked their head into the crook of their elbow. bringing their opposite arm up to cover their head as the missile made contact.

a loud and piercing explosion erupted in their ears as the missile made contact, they felt the rush of wind from the explosive then the rumble of the earth through their gear and uniform.

when [y/name] lifted their head from the cover they saw the area had been demolished, and the smoke from the missile rolling outwards in a ring from the contact point.

“bloody fuckin’ hell,” they heard ghost mutter quickly followed with; “direct hit. target destroyed.”

[y/name] lifted themself from the ground and dusted off the front of their gear, swiping their hand quickly over their pants to get the dust collected on the fabric off.

the dust didn’t puff up in a cloud as they patted their pants though, the sandy colored dirt sticking to their joggers. they grumbled and let the rifle slide from their hands to hang at their hip before using both hands to try and pat it off. again… no avail.

[y/name] growled angrily as their patting and dusting turned aggressive to try and get rid of the shit all over their pants.

“quit fussin’ with it!” ghost growled grabbing their wrists and tugging them away from their joggers. having been watching them grow more and more irritated with the dust in their pants.

“it’s gonna annoy the hell outta me!”

“try to ignore it!”

“i can’t do that if i already know it’s there!”

“well it obviously ain’t gonna come off! just get movin’ back to extract!” he order firmly and in finality, the sniper grumbled under their breath as they spun around when he released their wrists.

ghost followed behind them as they both trekked back the way they came, walking just about a mile or two before coming upon the heli sat idle on a leveled plateau. the pilot still sat in the front with his arms folded and his head dropped forward on his chest.

[y/name] stifled their laughter at the ‘dad pose’ the pilot took to taking a nap and ghost huffed before he roughly pushed them forward. the sniper having stopped to leer humorously at the sleeping soldier. “get your ass in the damn helicopter.” he growled.

[y/name] didn’t say anything as they clambered into the chopper through the gaping door, settling relatively quick on the seat up against the wall of the chopper. they heard ghost knock on the window with his knuckle, the soldier awakening with a flinch as he turned to the source of the noise to find ghost gesturing they were ready to ship out.

the pilot nodded as he slid on a headset and flicked several switches above his head to get the helicopter going. the headphones over their ears muffled out the loud shriek of whirring blades as the bird started up.

ghost climbed in and took the seat directly across from his partner, after sliding on a headset of his own he found himself staring at them.

[y/name] didn’t pay him any mind, long since having grown used to the way he likes to observe and keenly watch everything around him.

they instead lifted their fingers to the sides of their goggles and pulled them off from over their eyes to rest on their hairline. then reaching back, loosened the tightening buckles of their mask, they held it while they tugged down the black tactical shemagh they usually layered underneath their metallic mask down to bunch up in their neck. then let the black steel mask drop to sit in the space of their neck atop of it.

ghost’s focus was immediately drawn to the scars on their face, the one spanning across the left side of their face particularly. starting thin at their hairline and thickening as it scratched over their eyebrow, eye and ended in the middle of their cheek.

then his eyes graced over the one across the right side of their lips, the small x scar on their right cheek, and then finally the medium sized one just above their right eyebrow. that was the one they obtained in peru, when one of the assailants they were fighting managed to knick them with his knife.

when they leaned their head back, closing their eyes with a sigh, ghost could just barely see the thick and jagged scar spanning across the length of the front of their neck. the scar anyone could tell was from someone slashing their throat. [y/name] still remembers that day. vividly.

and they’ve never ever spoken about it. not even to ghost. the only reason he knew the scar existed in the first place was because one day [y/name] hadn’t been wearing the black tactical shemagh they usually wear in their neck to obscure it.

and even now he barely saw it past the brim of said scarf, bunched up around their neck, the tactical mask resting in the dip of their throat obscuring it alongside.

he stared a moment longer before turning away and watching the desert plains as they sped passed. when they finally touched down in their temporary outpost, they both were quick to climb out and make their way inside.

meeting up with laswell and briefing her on how the mission went on their end. then, the pair were shocked to be told they’ve been granted a few months of leave. their station chief believing they could use the long over due off-duty time.

when they got this news neither [y/name] nor simon were too enthusiastic. they both didn’t have much, or anything at all to go home to.. there wasn’t really any reason for them to be excited to temporality be on a break from their militant careers.

what they did have was each other.. and they find solace in that and as usual ghost spent those months with the younger soldier, and as usual he was able to melt back to simon.

simon who was comfortable in [y/name]’s presence. not ghost; the cold and desensitized soldier who had an indifference to everything surrounding him. he could just be simon, the man behind the mask who felt a love like no other for the kid. the kid who had grown on him.

and he was afraid of those implications. for in his very long and very traumatic life simon had come to realize there was nothing good in this world for him. everything he’s ever had that came close to being something or someone he could love.. was incinerated and destroyed.

and he was certain the young soldier would meet the same fate.. but he couldn’t help it. they reminded him so much of himself that it made him dwell on their presence so much more.

he was a bit shocked that he had taken to them so quickly, but he was more so shocked that the sniper in turn had taken a shine to him too.

he knew very little of [y/name]’s background, only what they had told him when they first met about their trauma and nightmarish past. they, only doing so after he shared a bit about what he went through.

though, as the months and months continued to pass he found himself growing more and more attached to the younger. it was a strange thing�� whenever in their presence he had felt a warmth he hadn’t felt in years.

a warmth he believed with every sliver of his being had been destroyed alongside any semblance of happiness or comfort he had or would have.

but alas… there they were. [y/name].

his [y/name].

and he would do anything to keep them safe… alive.. he had to. because for once in his entire damn life..

… simon would be selfish.

—

a/n: ik it’s short as hell but i’ve a plan for this okay.. and i’m also trying to finish up the last couple chapter of ‘anpu’ so this is what we’ve got 🌝 i’ve also grown to realize i’ve a habit of not only making [reader] crazy strong and badass but also refuse to reveal any of their history ever lmaooo

#gn!reader #platonic!reader #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #price x reader #cod x reader #x reader #reader insert #platonic imagine #platonic relationships

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