#call of duty modern warfare i

[teddy-bear-baby]

Their Deadly Flower - Thirteen

(A/n: Guess who's back... Me! Apologies for the hiatus. The holidays were hectic and some unfortunate events followed that kept me from updating. Hopefully, the wait was worth it and you Lovelies enjoy this chapter. I may post fourteen today as well, but it needs heavy editing before I can.)

Pairings: Ghost X GN!Reader, König X GN!Reader

Warnings: Heavy violence and torture

Prolog - One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven - Eight - Nine - Ten - Eleven - Twelve - Here - Fourteen

     “Answer me!” You demand loudly, the edge of the blade biting into the skin of Ezekiel’s left ring finger. Blood pools on the arm of the chair as you keep his hand still, the viscous red liquid seeping from the open wound where his pinky used to be. “Where were they taken?” You grit your teeth and watch him shake wildly from pain and fear. That sadistic glee flooding your system becomes stronger with every terror filled glance he casts your way.

     “Fuck!” Ezekiel’s eyes are wide as he stares down at his marred hand. “Alright, alright!” He takes a deep inhale as you pull the knife back ever so slightly. “A warehouse.” His voice quivers as he looks up into your eyes, his mismatched orbs filled with an unspoken plea for mercy.     “Too vague.” You growl and place the switchblade back against his ring finger, pressing down just enough to cause blood to seep from under the blade. “Specifics, Ezekiel.” You bark at him, your brows furrowing while you send a scathing glare at him. 

     You’ve been playing this game for far too long and you were quickly losing your grip on what little mental stability you had left. Ezekiel had been running you in circles for the last hour and half with short cryptic answers that never gave way to the information you truly needed. He was smart not to give up the information so easily, you’d give him that much. That bit of respect didn’t get him anywhere when it came to your anger however.

     “Who took them?” Your gaze is set harsh as you stare at Ezekiel’s bound form, arms crossed over your chest as you wait for his answer.

     “Took who?” He questions incredulously. His nonchalant attitude about the whole situation only adds fuel to the angry fire burning in your chest.

     A growl bubbles in your throat and your hand strikes out before you can catch it. Your hand stings slightly as it comes to rest at your side balled in a fist. “Don't play games with me, Ezekiel. You know exactly who I’m talking about.” 

     Ezekiel grits his teeth as red blooms on his cheek, the shape of your hand rapidly becoming visible. “I don’t know.”

     “Bullshit.” You bite out the response as you step forward and grip his face. You dig the tip of König’s knife into his neck teetering on the edge of ending his miserable life right now, answers be damned.

     “Fuck you.” He barks defiantly and spits in your face.

     You deliver a quick slash to his uninjured cheek before wiping the saliva from your face and grabbing him by the roots of his hair. “Who?” Though it’s a question it sounds more like an order, one of menacing intent should he choose to continue to be difficult.

     He grimaces in pain and pushes his body against the back of the chair in a feeble attempt to get away from you. “Alice’s men.” 

     Slight satisfaction blooms in your chest, momentarily taking over the fear and anger. Fear quickly resets itself, your chest growing heavy once more as you realize you’d been right. If Alice’s men had taken them, then there was some ulterior motive. She’d likely be asking for her release in return for König and Ghost. “Good,” You speak slowly, your tone still holding that menacing threat. “Why?” 

     He stays silent, glaring daggers at you.

     Scorching anger flares within you as his defiance comes to the surface once more. You give his hair a rough yank, forcing his head to snap backward. “Fingers or toes?” There’s a sharpness to your words that seems to motivate him to speak.

     “Something about a person called Iris.” His response is followed by a pause and a look of understanding as he puts the pieces together.

     You’d gone through the same song and dance with every question until you proved you were more than willing to see out your threats. Ezekiel had given you who, how, when and why before you had to take his pinky finger off for refusing to tell you where. You’d done it slowly, drawing out his pain so he could feel even a fraction of the suffering you’d been, and still are, going through. Slowly teetering and sawing the knife through the flesh and bone of his finger all while he screamed his throat raw. Pleas meant for whatever god he believed in ringing off the basement wall as you took far too much pleasure in making him suffer.

     If his answer were to be believed, Ghost and König had been taken by a small group of Alice’s men. They’d been waiting in the shadows for a moment of vulnerability so they could take the two men with little struggle and no witnesses. Ezekiel had also shared that the man you’d thought was a trusted contact, was actually one of their people tasked with sending you all to this house. This, of course, means the house is no longer a safe place for you and your team, but that wasn’t something you needed to worry about at that moment.

     According to Ezekiel, Alice had her own reasons for wanting Ghost and König. You’d found it odd that she hadn’t just sent her men for you if you’re what she’s really after. Of course, he could only spare a few details, as her plans were all pretty secret. She’d only let slip what needed to be known for the job to get done properly. You assume that Ezekiel being caught and tortured definitely wasn’t part of her plan.

     A heavy sigh falls from your lips as you scowl, Ezekiel’s silence threatening to push you past your breaking point. “Spit it out. Where the hell is this warehouse?” You apply more pressure to the knife, reveling in the way his tear-stained face contorts in pain as the blade digs further into his flesh. It was oddly satisfying to watch someone else experience pain the way you had been for the past 56 hours. 

     “West,” He gasps out as he wriggles against his restraints, a desperate but pitiful attempt at getting away from the pain you were causing him. “Directly west of the town Alice was taken from.” He takes another harsh breath as his eyes flick between his bloodied hand and your face, a look of anguish in his eyes. “About two miles inland from the coast.” 

     Relief floods your entire body as you’ve finally gotten a location to start your search. “Thank you, Ezekiel.” You pull the knife from the open wound on his ring finger with a small but genuine smile. “It’s been a pleasure speaking with you.”

     A flicker of hope flashes in his eyes as he looks up at you. “Are… Are you going to let me go now?” 

     You shake your head and let out a quiet laugh, amused that he thought it’d be that simple. “Absolutely not.” Knowing it’d be detrimental to leave him awake, you deliver a swift blow to his temple. Watching for a moment as he slumps in the chair and ensuring he’s out cold before darting up the stairs to inform the rest of the team what you’d learned.

~~~~~

     “On me,” Price demands as he crouches low, signaling for the men to halt in their movements.

     “So, what then?” You question in a harsh tone as you do your best to avoid glaring directly at your colonel. “We just leave them there? Let them be tortured to death at the hands of the enemy we’re currently after?” An angry growl bubbles in your throat but you force it down knowing it would only make him want to listen to you less than he already does.

     “For now, Iris,” Your callsign falls harshly from the colonel’s mouth as he pins you with a hard stare, eyes boring through your very being as he continues. “We leave them where they are. I see no use in risking anymore of your team while trying to retrieve Ghost.” His words seem final, another nail in the coffin of the two men you hold so close to you.

     You don’t miss the fact that he says nothing of König and with a quick glance to your left you can tell the other members of KorTac also take notice. A sense of unrest comes off the group as they all begin looking at each other. Another angry growl worms its way into your throat, stinging the back of your tongue with the venomous words that threaten to spew from you. Your eyes quickly find the rest of 141, taking note of the worried looks they give you. Laswell in particular gives you a look that confirms she knows what’s about to happen, but she doesn’t show any disdain for your impending reaction. 

     “And what of König?” You ask, your voice low teetering on the edge of dangerous as you slowly slide your gaze back to your colonel. Your chest constricts with white hot rage as you gauge his response before he can even speak. 

     The colonel’s face twists in confusion for a moment before he gestures to the group of KorTac soldiers. “He is their responsibility, not ours. Once the mission at hand has been completed, we’ll discuss a plan of rescue for Lieutenant Ghost.”

     Red clouds your vision as he once again blows off the safety of König. You fight hard to regain some semblance of control over the anger that’s been building in you for the past five days. Every day it gets harder and harder not to jump into one of the armored vans and go get your men back all on your own. Your fear of failure and death have long since fled your being. The only two things on your mind are the men you’ve lost and how much longer they have until the potential rescue mission turns into a tag retrieval, if that’s not already the reality.

     “With all due respect,” Soap’s voice cuts in before you have a chance to explode at the man in front of you. “You won’t even give us a direct explanation of our current mission, Colonel.” He steps up on your right, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder to show his support. “I think we’re owed that much if we’re expected to disregard the safety of two of our most respected companions.” 

     Your eyes flit back and forth surveying your surroundings as you stay low to the ground. No danger immediately presents itself so you proceed forward into the desolate hall. Old fluorescent lights flicker overhead as you make your way silently from room to room. It’s far too quiet for you to feel any sense of ease as you peer around the corner into the next room. You spare a glance behind you at the four men following your lead, all seeming content under your guidance. 

     “This is bullshit,” You hiss in anger as you slam open the main door of the base and storm out onto the tarmac. “There’s no fucking way he really expects us to pull that off!” Your fist ball up at your sides as you begin pacing back and forth. Your anger had reached a peak you hadn’t thought existed until your colonel gave the rundown of your current mission.

     He explained that 141 and the four remaining KorTac members would be tasked with raiding the headquarters of the terrorist organization that both Donald and Alice were leading. Many questions later it was made clear that the objective was to either bring the place down completely or bring in the third leader for interrogation. 

     “I agree,” Gaz says in a somber tone. “It’s a suicide mission.” 

     You sigh heavily and stop moving. “I’ve got a bad feeling about all of this.” The scene kept replaying in your head, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. The way the colonel blew off your worry about there being a mole in the base. Someone feeding and relaying information for Alice. How else would all of these things happen so seamlessly? Sure, she could’ve planned it all beforehand, but how could she have accounted for you falling for both König and Ghost? How could she have planned for KorTac to be involved with 141 at all? If she had intended to use Ghost as leverage for her release, wouldn’t she have taken him sooner? 

     “All clear, Cap,” Soap states plainly as he exits the large building. “Seems we were too late. There’s barely even evidence to prove that they were here.” His eyes rove over the outside of what used to be the headquarters of the organization, though it looks to have been abandoned months, if not years, ago.

     Gaz grunts as he too examines the exterior of the building. “Alice must’ve had this place cleared when we first got our hands on her.”

     “Wouldn’t doubt it with all the other shit she’s pulled while being held.” Price pats them both on the shoulder as he nods in the direction of exfil. “Let’s go.”

     The realization dawns on you far too late. You’d racked your brain for hours trying to piece together who the mole could be and how they’d gone under the radar for so long. Someone that was either trusted or too mundane to be suspicious, but close enough to 141 that they could readily gain information. It was so obvious, right there in front of your face the whole time and none of you had noticed with everything else that had been going on. 

      You bolt through the halls, legs carrying you in a sprint toward Laswell’s office where you’re positive you’ll find Price. “Price,” You say breathlessly as you slam the office door open. You stare at Price, eyes wide with urgency. “The mole,” You pause and inhale deeply, trying to get your frantic breathing under control. “It’s Rain.”

(Don’t forget to ask about joining the tag-list: @josieguts @strangepuppynightmare @theredviolets @poohkie90 @giulia2372 @fillechatoyante @buckysjuicyplums @running-writing @darkravenqueen98 @bigman101 @birdiiiiiiiiiii)

[whateveriwant]

I know I’ve already gone on and on about what it’s like to have a size difference with Simon Riley, but I’m sorry, I just will never get over how big and strong this man is.

Like I feel like sometimes his size gets lost on us since he’s surrounded by other tall, buff military guys all the time. But y’all, I’m telling you, this man is big. Like 6’4, 250+ pounds, big enough to eclipse the sun big.

With a man that big, it honestly doesn’t even matter what size you are because he’s always going to be bigger and stronger than you anyway. You can be tall, short, stocky, thin, whatever, and this man is still fully capable (and willing? 👀) of snapping you in half like a twig.

Are you worried about potential home invaders? Well, you shouldn’t be. One quick flick of his wrist and he’s breaking the neck of anyone who tries to threaten you. Did you accidentally lock yourself out of the house? Well, don’t bother calling a locksmith. There’s no lock left to pick after he’s just caved the door in with his foot. Do you have a really stubborn jar you’re struggling to open? Well, hand it over, love. He can crack that sucker open in half a second flat.

But Lord, don’t even get me started when it comes to all the ways Simon uses that strength of his in the bedroom.

Like when he tells you to sit on his face so he can eat you out. Don’t even try it with that nervous, hovering, “I’m too heavy, Si,” bullshit. You better sit your ass down right when and where he tells you to or he’ll hold you down by the hips until he’s had his fill.

Or when, after a night of heavy flirting and teasing, he’s got that look in his eye as he corners you against your entryway wall. Don’t be surprised when one moment your feet are firmly planted on the ground, and the next you’re lifted into the air, your legs slung over his arms as he drills into you like you’re his own little fuck puppet.

Or when he’s got you spread out on his bed, got your knees up by your ears, got the backs of your thighs burning in a way that’s matched only by how your walls have to stretch to take his thick cock. Don’t think he’s being mean or malicious when he sees your eyes well with tears but does nothing to change the way he’s fucking down into you. It’s not that Simon doesn’t care whenever you cry and quiver and plead with him to go easier on you, it’s that he knows the truth. He knows that, deep down, you love when he handles you like he isn’t afraid to break you.

[manicrouge]

'I'm too old to do anythin' like that now,' Simon says, shaking his head.

'But daddy,' whines the little girl standing in front of him, her small hands tugging at his black t-shirt, 'mummy was telling me all about how you a- and my uncles used to save the world and I wanna learn cause I wanna be just like you!'

He lifts his head, spying you standing in the doorway with a bright grin on your face. 'What you tellin' her that for?'

'Because she wants to know how to beat the boys in the street when they're having water fights,' you say, 'thought your military experience would come in handy.'

'They're always laughin' at me,' she pouts, 'and sayin' I can't fight cause I'm a girl.'

There's a switch that is flipped at her confession and when he looks to her and then raises his head to look at you, you swear you're looking at the Lieutenant instead of your husband.

'Is that so?' he asks, to which your daughter nods her head quickly. He holds his hand out to her and she takes it happily. 'We'll teach them to mess with a Riley, ey sweet pea?'

[yooo-lets-go]

Can you maka a content of Roachs gallery lol

Love your style <3

It’s mostly blackmail material

[theorist-fox]

Some more insecure Simon Riley talk, because he's precious.

18+

Word count: 1.4k

CW: nothing, just smut. Simon finds you in lingerie and has a stroke. I love him your honor.

Masterlist 🦊

𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

Simon, who is not sure what to do with himself the first time you welcome him home in nothing but lingerie.

He’s so unbelievably tired, dropping his clothes on the floor of the bedroom without even lifting his head. Mumbling apologies to you—how he’ll clean tomorrow, how he just wants to go to bed and sleep fourteen hours straight, right now. Bonus points if you hold him through the night, too.

Yet you’re not replying, but he’s seen your silhouette in the darkness; he knows you’re awake because you whispered a soft “Welcome back” when he walked in the room. His heart pounds in his chest, his palms get clammy—he thinks he’s overstepping lines by not giving you the attention he thinks you deserve.

So, as he unzips his pants, he lifts his eyes to look at you, and fuck—

You’re lying on your side, propped on your elbow, chin tucked in your palm. Perfect tits covered in sheer fabric, burgundy and black, your nipples peeking through. The soft line of your waist is bare—he follows it with his eyes until they land on your hips. Ornated lace curves around your hipbone and thins into see-through, dark fabric over your mound. Two strips of silk clasp your knickers to a pair of thin stockings that cinch the fat of your thighs, and the sight makes his mouth water.

“Welcome back,” you say once again, this time with soft amusement.

He looks like a proper idiot. Hand still on his crotch, practically feeling how his cock comes to a stand at the mere sight of you.

He gulps. Feels a little lightheaded. “F’ me?”

You smile, chuckling softly but not derisively. Simon follows your hand as you guide it over your belly, up to the valley of your breast, as if you’re there, showing the goods he can pick and taste.

“For you.”

Simon is stunned into silence again.

Fuck is he supposed to do, uh? He’d be content just looking at you lying there and looking like you came out of a magazine, instead of touching you and potentially ruining what you did just for—for him?

He must not have noticed how his whole body (aside from his cock) has gone into standby—entered sniper mode. He's quiet, breaths reduced and silent, eyes attentive and narrowed.

It's a handful of seconds that leave you uncomfortable, as your plastic pose softens, your smile faltering at the corners.

“You don’t like it?” You ask, trying to sound steady, but he picks up the nervousness in your tone right away.

He won’t let you have it, obviously. He snaps out of it and takes you in for what you are: a fucking present, on his bed, wrapped in strings and bows and lace like gift wrap.

“Shoulda guessed it was too much, maybe. Should’ve gone for somethin’ soft—"

Simon is on you in seconds. Grabs your face in his hands and smashes his lips to yours something fierce, nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. No hesitation. Simple, tangible desire. Scorching lust. Want. Need—fuck, he’s never kissed you like this.

Your eyes lose their surprise, and they slowly surrender to him—hands wandering down to help him out of his pants and briefs. And then you wrap your arms around his neck, grazing his scalp with your nails until he shivers.

Simon thought there was nothing comparable to the softness of your skin against the harder patches of scars freckling his abdomen. But he’s proved wrong when he feels the rough texture of your lace scratch his chest and his hips—it has him leaking embarrassingly quick.

He’s all lips and tongue as he races down your chest, sloppy kisses leaving a burning trail between your tits, down your belly, settling on your cunt covered by thin mesh.

Simon looks up at you, holding your thighs between thick fingers, smushing them against his cheeks. His eyes are hooded, dark, different. He tilts his head and bites into the plump flesh within reach—not enough to hurt, but sure enough to taste. Mercifully passes his tongue over the teeth marks before biting into it again, until the sting has you arching your back off the bed.

And he never breaks eye contact, which leaves you dumbfounded and flustered to the bone—because where is this confidence coming from? You’re wide-eyed and biting your own teeth in anticipation—this is all new and all the more exciting.

His kisses travel from the lines of your stretch marks up to your sex, where he doesn’t even bother moving the gusset of your knickers, and he just dives in.

Tongue flat against your cunt, drenching the sheer fabric with his spit and your moisture. Your moans are so soft compared to the sloppy mess he’s making of you down there, his insecurity blessed by a sort of beginner’s luck. Or maybe he’s just that hungry, and that is enough for your cunt flutter around nothing anyway.

You’re speechless when he finally lifts himself up, slotting his hips between your kiss-bitten thighs. His cock lands heavy on your pelvis, painting your lower belly with speckles of sheer precum. Head swollen and red right above your belly button.

You look at him wide-eyed, on your back, stock-still—anticipating his next move with your heart rate spiking.

He takes you completely by surprise (once again? In one night? Who is this man?), when he moves your knickers to the side, and instead of plunging in, he slides his cock between your folds and snaps the lace back above it. And then he starts rutting in shameless abandon, holding you steady by your thighs, letting the sheer fabric of your panties cover his tip and half of his shaft, as he runs himself back and forth over the surface of your pussy.

“M’gonna ruin it, sorry.” He croaks, as one of his hands comes to clumsily grab your tits through the lace. “So fuckin’ pretty—fuck—bloody hell, you—”

You coax him to go on with breathless moans because he’s never looked more breathtaking than he does now. Tiny drops of sweat drip from his forehead onto your belly, cheeks flushed and long lashes fanning his cheekbones. His lips yield a grunt each time the lace scratches his shaft. Your breath hitches each time the head of his cock catches your clit.

“Gonna buy ya a new one, yeah?” He grunts, looking down at the wet patch his cock is making through the lace. “Gonna buy ya fuckin’ ten.”

He’s never been this vocal, and you don’t dare to mouth a whisper in case he catches himself in the act. Not even when you cum, a short and stinging orgasm that makes your clit burn at the friction, do you dare to moan. You tilt your head back and shut your eyes, neck corded in the strain to keep it in, flushing with warmth in unbearable silence.

You think you hear his voice crack through the cotton in your ears when you come back down from your high. “Fuck—God, fuck. Wha’ a gift, eh? F’ me. All f’me.”

He pulls back a few moments later, taking his cock out of your panties and into a thick hand. A few pumps, and he cums on your lace, painting your belly and your cunt in glistening white.

He’s panting as his hand languidly comes to a halt. Chest flushed and with a thin layer of sweat over it.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, clearly dizzy—as if he needs to apologize for this. “I ruined it. I—just—gonna go grab somethin’ to—to clean y'up, wait 'ere—Jesus Christ.”

He slowly comes to stand, knees popping and legs shaking as he stumbles to the bathroom.

You look down at the spurts of cum covering your stomach and staining the lace of your panties, and then you flop your head back onto the mattress, wide eyes locked to the ceiling.

A chuckle of disbelief escapes you, still in shock from the sudden switch in behavior. And you think, when he comes back with a towel to clean the mess he’s made on your skin, that you might have to take another trip to the shop this weekend—buy yourself a new little piece.

But later, then, he falls asleep with his head on your chest, fingers lazily toying with the lace of your bra (because he’s asked you to keep it on, you know—“Like how 't feels”), and so you move up your shopping a little—already on your phone, running your thumb to skim through pinks and blues, laces and silks.

You might just order a new one right now.

It’s at that moment that he shifts in his sleep, slipping his hand under the band of your lacy bra and curling his fingers around your breast.

You change your mind.

You might just order ten.

[the-palelady]

imagine simon who’s roommate has some SERIOUSSSS road rage (same). especially as someone who’s usually quiet it shocks the shit out of people to drive with me.

you don’t normally drive, but simon’s tired. he just got home from a long mission. however, the man’s gotta eat so you decide to take him out to grab a bite that way neither of you will have to lift a finger.

as always, it’s quiet. between the two of you not much is said, but it’s a comfortable silence.

until you get to a light that’s green, and has been for more than six seconds. that’s all it takes to flip your switch.

“go!!! it’s green for fucks sakes!!!!”

your strength mirrors that of superman with the way your palm slams against the horn.

and simon is lost for fucking words. his eyes snap over to you and he watches the crease in your brows, and the way your face scrunches into a scowl.

it doesn’t stop there though as they finally take off, albeit slowly. which simon notices only pisses you off more.

your fingers are drumming against the steering wheel, foot tapping the gas, and you’re literally riding the ass of the poor bastard in front of you.

“i will take both of us out if you don’t hurry it the fuck up.”

you’re punctuating your words with more taps on the gas. you aren’t screaming like before but your voice is borderline demonic.

finally they make a turn. you all but obliterate the gas pedal as you take off, and let out the breath you had been holding this entire time.

when you turn to peek over at simon, his eyes are glued to you, practically bulging out of his head.

and he has no idea whether he should be scared or horny.

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

something I do a lot without even meaning to is call people babe, honey, sweetheart, etc, but it's usually in a context that's a joke not like just in passing etc. it's the southern or the whore in me, idk. it's not even flirty, I just do it for the silliness. but when someone does something especially nice for me I occasionally go "you're the love of my life" or "we're getting married." no idea why I chose to express myself this way, but usually it gets a blush or a giggle (very rarely do I do this to a man).

however, I would do it to simon riley.

it's some small task that would only take ten minutes max. he brought you a sandwich from the mess or he finished up a bit of paperwork for you. so you forget yourself in glee and it slips out.

"Riley, we're getting married"

he freezes as you chirp out a "thanks babe!" as an afterthought and munch while filling out a health survey.

he just stares at you, nods, and heads off. you thought that'd be the end of it until he turns up an hour later with a bountonniere and a bouquet. he shoves the later at you.

"heard you say you liked these once" he mumbles as he sits down beside you. you look up confused at him.

"Riley, what are these for?" you say with a little grin. you've never got flowers from anyone before.

"my wife gets what she wants. always." he says, placing a hand on your thigh. "c'mon. not open much longer."

your eyes widen at his words. he tugs you up and out, asking if you have anything you want to wear or should you guys stop somewhere to pick up a dress. he swears he won't look beforehand, he'll just see you at the courthouse in it. he'll pay and he's got a dinner reservation afterward, sorry it's not before! do you want to take his last name?

please, doll, call him simon.

gaz is going to do pictures and price and soap will be witnesses. he's sorry it's rushed bird, but the quicker it's official the quicker he can start his husbandly duties.

[toxooz]

🧠: waiter! more König with his beefy hangs out for no explainable reason

[tassodelmiele]

- Ya know, gorgeous, if you wanted to give me one of your lovely hickey, you could have just asked -

....

I chewed on his tiddies. Sowwy.

And I still don't feel comfortable drawing his stupid cute face. Coddammit.

I also made one version with body hair, but i wasn't quite sure...also, I'm kinda happy with the colors, but proportions are a little less...chubby. I'll make him softer next time.

....

[temeyes]

hair pulling (extra under the cut!)

you brought this to yourself, soap...

[worms-for-brains]

He did.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

His Jupiter. His Rome.

[teddy-bear-baby]

Soldier Reborn

Pairing: Gn!Reader X  König

Warnings: Dickish Ghost, Violence, Verbal bullying/ridicule

A/N: The plot for this has been rolling around my head for three days now and I finally decided to just sit down and let my mind run with it. Enjoy

     You tried, really you did. You tried everything to stay out of trouble, to keep yourself from slipping up and ruining another mission. You’ve been successful so far, every mission you’d been on since your previous failure had gone as planned. Not that you’d been on many. Lieutenant Ghost had insisted you sit out on most of them, claiming you were a liability. 

     “I’m not sure why Price keeps you around.” Ghost’s eyes were set hard, all of his attention  on you. “You’ve gone and fucked it again. I knew I should've left you behind, should’ve told you to sit this one out.” He’s not yelling but his voice is harsh enough for you to feel as though he is.

     You don’t flinch even as his arms fly around wildly. Ghost was an intimidating man, but you’d never feared him. You definitely should have but something in your mind had you absolutely enthralled with the man. “I’m sorry Lieutenant, it was an honest mistake.” You lower your eyes as you replay the scene in your head. 

     You’d been following Ghost through enemy territory, on the verge of capturing your target. You were so busy watching for any sign of hostiles that you’d not been looking where you were going. Your foot met with a rather large crack in the concrete floor, sending you tumbling rather ungracefully to the floor. The loud clatter of your equipment hitting the ground alerted the target to your presence. All of the chaos that ensued caused you both to lose sight of the target.

      Ghost leaned down, practically touching his nose to yours. “Mistakes have no place here.” He’s breathing heavy from the rage coursing through him, each exhale puffing hot air through his mask and into your face. “You’re far too slow and weak. You don’t think through your actions and you get others hurt.” He pulls back straightening his spine as he continues to stare you down.

     You look on incredulously, not really listening to the rest of his rant as you ponder his words. Weak? Slow? No, you were none of those. You’ve always been strong and quick on your feet, that’s what drew Price to you in the first place. Sometimes your mind would slip, you’d get caught up in your own thoughts. Like now, you realize with a sardonic laugh, you’ve been completely ignoring Ghost’s curses and ramblings.

     Ghost’s head cocks to the side as he goes completely silent for a moment. “Did you just fucking laugh Sergeant?” His voice is low and menacing, nearly a growl. “Care to share what’s so fucking funny?”

     Your heart skips a beat as you stare back at your lieutenant. His eyes hold a look of murder and while you didn’t think he’d hurt you, you know he’s more than capable. “I- It wasn’t-” You fumble to find the words to tell him that you weren’t laughing at him. Then you realize you’d have to explain that you weren’t listening and you weren’t prepared for the repercussions of that. “Look, Lieutenant, with all due respect, I don’t believe I’m weak or slow.” You shake your head, attempting to rid yourself of the images of him tearing you to shreds that run through your mind. “I mean, I keep up with you just fine when we spar and during training. I mean,” You feel the regret set into your chest before you’ve even finished your sentence. You beg your mouth to stop before you get yourself in more trouble, but it won’t. “If I’m slow and weak, wouldn’t that mean you are too?”

     Ghost’s already angry eyes appear to catch fire as he stares silently at you. You’re fairly certain he’s taking this time to plan your murder. Figuring out the best way to kill  you and make it look like an accident. 

     After almost two whole minutes of him staring daggers at you he finally speaks. His voice is calm and calculated, eyes set narrow. “There is no place for mistakes in the 141. From now on, you work around the base. You will go on no more missions, big or small. Understood?” 

     Your eyes widen as you process his words. Anger begins to bubble up under your skin. Your body feels like it's on fire. How could he say that? Did he even hold the power to make that decision? Maybe he was right though, you didn’t belong here. Try as you might, you can’t keep your mouth shut. “You know what Ghost? You're right.” You nod as you take a step back bringing your hand up to the patch you wore so proudly for so long. “There is no place for mistakes in 141.” You pull the patch free from your vest, glancing at it as you hold it out in front of you. Hurt bleeds into your voice. “Since you seem to think I’m a mistake, there’s no place here for me.” 

     Ghost’s eyes fall to the small object you hold out to him. Surprise flashes through his orbs as he flicks his eyes back up to yours. There's a silent question behind his gaze as he slowly, almost hesitantly, reaches out to grasp the patch.

     Your arm falls back to your side with a small smack as you relinquish your hold. “There.” You feel the need to cry, but refuse to be seen as fragile in this moment. “Now there aren’t any mistakes in the 141.” You turn swiftly, making your way toward Price’s office. Hurt and anger still coursed through your veins, but you wouldn’t stand here and take the bullying Ghost had put you through. You were ready, without a doubt, to submit your transfer request.

~~~~~

     “Alright Vögelchen,” König’s voice was soft and playful as he spoke. “Time to get down.” He crouched low to the floor allowing you to slide off of his back with a small laugh. Training with König was always fun, revitalizing even. Without fail, halfway through your sparring sessions you’d find yourselves playing like children rather than training like soldiers. Last time it was a relentless tickle fight. This time you’d found yourself hoisted on König’s back as he ran circles around the sparring mat.

     You and König had grown close since your forced partnership six months ago. Your relationship was a bit strained at first, his anxiety clashed harshly with how defensive you were from being blamed so much. For the first two weeks you were both highly alert around each other, fearing one of you would blow up at the other over something small. It was awful and you were sure the pairing wouldn’t hold for very long.

     It wasn’t until your first real mission that you finally clicked, like two perfectly sized gears in a well oiled machine. You both moved as one being, swift and silent as you took down everyone in your way. You lurked in the shadow of your large companion, ready to jump out and strike when they least expected it. That's how you got your new callsign, Casper or Cas for short. It started off as a goofy nickname from some of the others after they’d seen you and König in action. You took it in stride and ultimately decided you didn’t want to hold onto the one that brought you so much pain and resentment. So, you traded it out for Casper.

     A sigh falls from your lips as König stands up straight, rolling his shoulders. “I know, I know.” You put on a serious face as he turns to look at you. “Time for real work, yeah?” You do your best to imitate his accent, it's oddly accurate even though you sound abhorrent. A lopsided smile graces your lips as König squints his eyes at you.

     “Very funny, little ghost.” His voice lilts with annoyed amusement, but you know beneath his hood he’s grinning right back at you. “Actually, I was going to suggest a snack break.” 

     “Yeah, I could go for a snack.” 

~~~~~~

     “König, Casper.” A recruit, visibly out of breath, runs into the room. “Come. Urgent. “ Each word is punctuated with a gasping breath as he waves you both over.

     You turn to give König a questioning look only to find him already giving you one. You shrug, jumping down from your seat on the counter. “Slow down, what’s going on?” You walk over and place a hand on his shoulder to help steady him.

     “I’ve been across the whole building looking for you two.” He shakes his head, droplets of sweat flying from his hair. “Let’s walk and talk.” 

     You follow him out into the hall, König hot on your heels. “Why were you looking for us?”

     The recruit peers over his shoulder at you. “Got a distress call, you two and a few others are being dispatched.” 

     König speaks up. “Do we know who the call is from?”

     The recruit huffs as you all stop in front of the door to the command center. “I don’t know, not high enough ranking I guess.” He shrugs, walking away as you and push open the door.

     Your palms grow sweaty, heart still racing as you listen to the recording a third time. “Does anyone copy? This is Lieutenant Ghost, Task Force 141. We’ve lost contact with the mainbase. We’re trapped, surrounded.” Gunfire can be heard in the background of the recording, making your heart sink further into your stomach. “I repeat, this is Lieutenant Ghost, does anyone copy?”

~~~~~

     Your mind races, hope and fear clashing against the inside of your skull like a tornado. Maybe Ghost hadn’t been the friendliest to you, but you still respected him. You didn’t want any harm to come to him or the rest of the team. Sure, you hated how he’d treated you, how he’d made you out to be so terrible at everything, but it was all in an effort to break you from your clumsiness. You couldn’t blame him for being angry when you’d put so many people at risk with your carelessness. 

     You push the thoughts from your head as the helicopter comes to halt just shy of the projected location. The command center towers had pinged Ghost’s location about 100 kliks northwest of where you were stationed. The chopper hovers about a hundred feet above the ground, waiting for you and the others to make your descent.

     You clear your mind of all thoughts aside from the mission at hand, losing yourself and embodying the soldier you’re trained to be. You nod to König as you drop yourself down the rope, sliding carefully to the ground. You turn, raising your rifle in the direction of your objective, ready to provide cover fire for the rest as they drop down behind you. You scan the wooded terrain, searching for any movement or other signs of an oncoming attack. 

     After the other five were settled on the ground König went back over the plan step by step. 

     Sweep the perimeter.

     Clear outside threats.

     Infiltrate.

     Clear the building.

     Proceed with retrieval.

          The first two steps were the easiest as most of the opposition were collected inside trying to get to 141. The few you had encountered were obviously under trained and dispatched easily. Afterward you split into groups of two, each taking an entrance and beginning your sweep of the ground floor. Though you weren’t completely sure at first where they’d been trapped at, it wasn’t hard to track them. The banging and hollering from the basement allowed you and König to find them fairly easily. 

     You follow close behind König as you make your way through the dimly lit halls of the basement, taking out attackers as quietly as possible. As the banging grows louder, König motions for you to move ahead of him. This was something you did often, while König wasn’t loud by any means, you were smaller, harder to spot. You maneuver yourself around him, chest pressing to his front in the narrow walkway. 

     You continue down the hall towards the ruckus, König five feet behind you, ready to strike anyone who tries to lay a finger on you. Despite the space, you move together, a unit of destruction, a machine of death steaming rolling all who stood between you and your objective. A king of war and his spectral queen against the rest in a morbid dance with the reaper.

      When you reach the corridor the sounds originated from you see two of the men you’d come with locked in the heat of battle. There were at least thirty opposition fighters, all crowded in one area, none of them seeming to have noticed you or the mountain of a man behind you. You think briefly about signaling what you can see to König before remembering he can easily see it over your head. You spare a glance at him before nodding and moving in to join the chaos.

     A knife flies from your hand as another wizzes past your head, both sticking their respective targets as you continue moving forward. You pull another knife from your vest as you move behind one of the unsuspecting men. You strike out, one hand snapping his head backwards as the other swiftly runs the sharp edge of the blade through the flesh of his neck. He falls to the floor gurgling as you relinquish your hold on him. 

     Moving the knife to your off hand you unholster your pistol, firing three rapid shots. One after the other, the opposition falls as blood pools on the floor around your feet. You sigh as the last of them fall and with a clearer view of the hallway you see the 141. They’d wound up barricaded in what looked to be an interrogation room, complete with bullet proof glass and a steel door. 

     Soap and Gaz peer out the window at your group, accessing the scene before them as though they hadn’t watched the whole thing unfold. Price is the first to appear out of the previously barricaded doorway, followed shortly by the other three. 

     König sent your other four teammates to ensure the building was empty, while you both stayed to converse with 141.

     Your heart pounds in your ears as you flit your eyes between the four men you’d just helped save. Now that the immediate danger has been dealt with your mind begins to swim with memories of Ghost ridiculing you. You're sure he doesn’t even know it’s you under the mask but it doesn’t stop you from cowering a step behind König like a child. After being treated so well by König and the others, after being guided rather than scolded, the idea of Ghost’s harsh words strikes fear through your very being.

     “Now that that’s dealt with.” Price smiles grimly as he looks between you and König. 

     König hums awkwardly before speaking. “There are extra seats in the chopper. We can take you back to base and get you in contact with whoever you need.” He glances over his shoulder at you. “Casper, radio back, let them know we’ll be having company.” 

     With a curt nod you take a few steps off to the side, half listening to the conversation while you relay the message back to base. You choke on your saliva when you hear Ghost pipe up.

     “You two fight well, might ask for a transfer.” His low chuckle sends shivers down your spine. “We could use a couple of well trained fighters like you.” 

     You sputter and cough as you take in his words, while they weren’t meant to be, your mind took them as a threat. Your body goes rigid as you feel multiple sets of eyes on you. You don’t risk looking back, not wanting to lock eyes with anyone. You swear for a moment your soul leaves your body as a large hand comes to rest on your lower back.

     “Are you alright Cas?” König’s voice immediately soothes your previous mental afflictions. “Are you feeling ok?”

     You wave him off as you clear your throat. “Yeah, no, I’m ok. Sorry, I choked on his audacity.” You keep your voice low as you wave your hand in the general direction of Ghost. “Caught me off guard, that’s all.”

     König snorts at your comment, patting your back. “Gott, du bist dramatisch. Pull yourself together Little Ghost. The mission’s not over yet.” His hand pats the top of your helmet as he chuckles.

     “Oi!” You swat his hand away as you turn back to the group of men, all of them watch your interaction intently. “I’m not a child.” 

     Gaz’s laugh catches your attention before he speaks. “Next to him you look like one.”

     “That’s one badass child.” Soap slaps Gaz’s arm as he starts laughing with him. He catches the glare you shoot his way but doesn’t stop his giggling. “Sorry, I mean, just look at the two of you.” 

     “Soap.” Ghost’s warning tone puts an end to the cacophony of laughter. “For what it’s worth, you’re very skilled, you work well together.”

     Yours and König’s radios crackle to life at once. “König, Casper, how copy?”

     You give König a nod as he switches his radio off. “Solid copy, Horangi. What’s the situation?” You glance around as you wait for an answer.

     “All clear. Chopper inbound, get to the roof.” 

     “Copy that.” You nod at the group around you, making your way to the staircase.

~~~~~

     It was second nature at this point, when your feet hit the tarmac your mask came off. The only difference this time was the extra four sets of eyes on you. You were nothing if not a habitual, yet forgetful, person. You hadn’t even caught what you’d done at first, just acted on instinct. You could have rectified it, you had your back to all of them, ready to head in for a shower and wash yourself of the whole situation. But König, the sweet man that he was, called out for you and without a second thought, like a moth to a flame, you whipped yourself around to look at him.

     “Casper, good work today.” König’s eyes shone bright in the early evening sun, a smile dancing in the corners where they creased.

     You can’t help but smile at how sweet König was. He’d done this after every mission and it never got old. He was always complimenting you and encouraging you to do better. Your heart swells at the sight of the man giving you a goofy thumbs up. Something about him made you feel more confident, less scared of the reactions of your old team. “As did you König.” You find yourself returning the silly gesture, a wide grin forming on your lips.

     Ghost’s confused voice breaks the happy moment. “Slip?” His eyes are wider than usual. Stone cold eyes gone, replaced with something akin to astonishment as he stares at you. 

     Slip. Four letters, one word, one syllable. It had been stuck to you throughout your whole career, from week two of training up until you had gained your new one. The name stemmed from how often you’d fallen during basic training. Your feet never seemed to want to cooperate with you, constantly sending you tumbling to the ground. A problem you’d only recently rectified with the help of König. Being as large as he is, balance doesn’t come easily to him either.

     You breathe deep, lungs filling to the point of bursting before you exhale, blowing all of the tension out with it. With a solemn shake of your head you bring your eyes to meet Ghost’s. “No,” Your voice is calmer than you expected it to be, tranquil. “Not anymore.” You’ve grown too much in the last six months to go back to bickering with these men. “Perhaps it’s time for a reintroduction.” 

     You hold your head high, walking back to them, standing toe-to-toe with Ghost. You glance at König who stares at you in awe. Only five months ago you’d confessed your fear of ridicule, explained to him how you’d been a verbal punching bag for Ghost. You’d cried to him about all of the things Ghost had said to you, spilled your guts about the bullying that had led you to your breaking point. He’d held you while you cried, wiped your tears when you’d finished and made you a cup of tea while he told you how proud he was that you stuck through it all. You’d known him for only a month and he treated you a million times better than people you’d worked with for years.

     It dawns on you then, you love König, more than just as a partner. You’d fallen for the anxiety ridden, gentle giant that you’d been forced to partner with. You only hoped he’d feel the same after helping you be reborn, helping you become the soldier you’d always wanted to be.

     “I am Casper, I am an operative under KorTac.” You glance between all of the men around you, finding them all fully concentrated on you as you continue. “I work in tandem with my partner König to complete every task handed to me to the best of my abilities.” A smile graces your lips as you finish, holding your hand out to Ghost who looks absolutely dumbfounded. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

[whateveriwant]

I have this one very specific headcanon that Simon is naturally left-handed.

From the moment his little infant consciousness kicked in and he realized he could grab things and bring them to his tiny slobbery mouth, Simon was instinctively reaching with his left hand. But as he got older, for some reason or another, he lost his left-handedness. Well, “lost” is the nicer way of putting it; the truth was he rejected it.

Maybe it was because he was being bullied at school or, hell, maybe he was being harassed by his own father because of it. Whatever the reason, when he was still a boy, Simon forced himself to use his right hand until it became second nature to him.

So now fast forward 30-odd years to where Simon is now a grown adult. He’s got a good job, a nice house, a loving partner…

And, wouldn’t you know it, he’s got a kid who’s left-handed.

Well, let me tell you, the moment Simon realized his kid seemed to favor their left hand over their right, he literally started to weep. But he didn’t cry out of sadness or frustration. Though, it wasn’t out of sheer happiness either.

To be honest, Simon wasn’t exactly sure what he was feeling at that moment. Pride? Envy? Catharsis after experiencing a lifetime of people being cruel over the most trivial of reasons?

Either way, you can bet your ass Simon immediately bought his kiddo any and every left-handed-specific gadget that was out there. Left-handed scissors, left-handed notebooks, left-handed can openers.

Why does a toddler need a can opener? Who cares! The point is that Simon knows just how hard it is to be a leftie in a rightie’s world. So if he can do something to make his kid’s life a little easier – to make the world a more forgiving place than the one he grew up in – he will do that with zero hesitation.

[manicrouge]

‘It’s cannae be that difficult,’ Soap scoffed, watching as the masked man fiddled with the pieces of string in his hand.

‘She mentioned in er letter that she’s been buying handmade bracelets from this market back in Manchester,’ Simon said, ‘thought I’d give it a shot myself.’

‘Aye, Lt. but your hands ave only ever brutalised thing… ye no bracelet maker. More of a necklace maker — ye know, like a noose—’

‘Shut it,’ he snarled, looking down at the loosely woven bracelet in his hand, ‘she wanted me to make somethin’ for er, so I am.’

‘Could’ve just asked me to draw er somethin’,’ Soap chuckled, pushing himself up off of the doorframe. ��Or are ye scared am gonna steal ye missus?’

‘Go away,’ huffed the other, focusing back on his bracelet, ‘I swear to fuck all you ever do is give me a fuckin’ headache, go an’ bother Price.’

Soap disappeared down the hall, leaving Simon to figure out the complicated and strenuous task of making a bracelet, ‘Fucks sake,’ he sighed, finally tying the ends together, holding it in the palm of his hand in front of him.

Part of him was convinced it would have been an insult to send that to you; there was hardly any talent to be found in his creation (at least, that’s what he thought) as the plaited yarn was hardly neat. Only, he bit the bullet and added it into the envelope with the letter he had messily scribbled.

And, for the first time ever, he felt anxious… over a stupid fucking bracelet.

—

It took a while for him to hear back, counting on the fact that after making the bracelet he’d been called by Price on another mission. In fact, he’d forgotten about the entire conundrum until he sat on his bed in his room with your envelope in his hand. When he opened it, a black and white beaded bracelet fell onto his lap, as did a loose polaroid you had taken.

A smile met his face when he saw you wearing the pesky bracelet with the brightest smile on your face. Setting the photo down, he opened your letter.

I love the bracelet so much Si! I thought I’d make you one myself too so we could have matching ones. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to though, I just thought it would be a nice gift for you.

Taking the bracelet in his hand, he closed his fist around it as he continued to read through your letter.

—

‘Nice piece of jewellery you got there, Lt.,’ Soap sniggered, bringing his mug of tea to his lips before adding, ‘how much did it set ye back, ey?’

‘Shut up, Johnny.’

—

[yooo-lets-go]

Wish you were here

[go-go-gadget-autism]

”Right. And what’s his name?”

“Simon.”

you stare at your husband for a second, dumbfounded. “and… what’s his last name?”

“Riley.”

“…You named your dog Simon Riley.”

He grinned from ear to ear. “Bloody handsome name, innit?” You sighed, dragging your hand down your face. “You are so stuck up sometimes.”

“You always said you wanted a guard dog.” Right, and now you’ve got two of them. “Is he chipped-?” “Got him all ‘is necessary shots and the like, birdie. Don’t worry your pretty little head.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you can’t help but smile at him. As strange as your husband may be…

You think he’s perfect.