#elias x rorke??

[stargazing-sapphire2]

Rorke: When you dip your fries in ketchup, no one bats an eye

Rorke: But when you dip your balls in Big Mac sauce...society

Rorke: SOCIETY-

Elias, in tears, shaking violently: One dinner. I just wanted ONE dinner--

[bloodyquillink-blog]

White at Your Wedding, Ghosts HC’s

Prompt: How the Ghosts would react to someone wearing white at your wedding.

A/N🪶: Hello again. To anyone who may have been keeping up with my fic “Sugar and Lemon”, I’m sorry I haven’t been writing. Between creative juices for the fic running out as well as school, I haven’t been as motivated. However, I do want to continue it. I just need to find the right time. I’m doing summer classes otherwise I probably would be working on it now. It’s just overwhelming at this point. But I still want to give y’all something with the Ghosts since I know a lot of people in that part of the fandom don’t usually get a lot unless it’s with (typically) Keegan. Nothing wrong with that, I just want to include more of them, especially more underrated characters like Ajax and David/Hesh. Thanks for reading this blurb <3

HC Note/TW: May include descriptions/mentions of weapons, violence/violent intentions, shitty people, harassment. Please note: I’m gonna make this AU style where Rorke wasn’t turned and no one was killed because I said so. Reader is gn so their groomsmen/bridesmaids will just be referred to as your “friends on the side”. 

I made a separate one for David because I love him, find that here

Storyline:

He was almost done getting ready. Today was finally that day, that beautiful day that he never thought would happen. Between the world gradually being broken down each time it was nearly put back up, he had expected to be killed in action like everyone else. But perhaps fate was on his side for now. He knew better than to expect everything to run smoothly, though. 

With two different people from two different families, someone was bound to have some opinions. It was just a matter of whether or not they voiced it. Of course, he had made plans just in case. He was getting married to you and there was no way in hell, heaven or on this Earth someone was going to stop that. They could interrupt the wedding all they wanted to, however they pleased. They could set the whole damn thing on fire, but he’d still marry you. 

He tried not to think about how beautiful you’d look, lest he start blushing. It didn’t work but the attempt was worth it, despite the pestering the other Ghosts would no doubt lay upon him. 

The time came and he stood on the slightly elevated stage, groomsmen and best man at his side. Normally, he doesn’t wear white but this is a wedding… his wedding… his and yours wedding. His back was to the hallway you would walk out of, so he kept looking to the faces of his friends and family for any indication. His heart beat was relatively controlled… and then the music began playing… and they smiled… and the officiant gave him the look to turn around. So he did.

And by God, you were ethereal. He couldn’t tell if his heart stopped or was beating so fast he could no longer feel it. His brain was short-circuiting. You had made your way up to the stage, your friends on the side smiling. He just stared, had he been smiling since he saw you? His cheeks were hurting already. You looked up at him, your smile like the sun, he couldn’t care less about going blind if it meant the image of you would be imprinted in his eyes.

Logan Walker

This man would be trying so hard not to panic.

He almost gets whiplash from how fast his head turned to David who, alongside Merrick, would pipe up and tell off the person.

Logan would have been prepared in a rather classy way. 

See… There’s a thing where, if someone wears white at a wedding, especially a dress, the bridesmaids can take wine and pour it on them, effectively ruining the dress.

Logan absolutely has heard of this and got your friends the cheapest wine possible.

Logan looks at your friends and signals to them to get the wine. 

One of them moves around closer to them so their attention is away from the friends with the wine.

David and Merrick tell them that they need to leave.

As they get up to get in their face, wine is poured on them.

They yell and fuss, claiming you and Logan are going to pay for their outfit as they stomp out of the room. 

You, not having expected this, stand there. Your hands are held by Logans and your mouth hangs open.

Your friends smile at you, David and Merrick chuckling to themselves as they all come back to their original positions.

You struggle to form coherent words.

“Did you- when did- where’d the wine come from?! Was that planned?!”

And the wedding continues, the smell of wine and the sound of laughter flowing through the air.

Elias T. “Scarecrow” Walker'

You know this man would be willing to drag out the guilty party himself. 

I fully believe he’d pick them up and carry them outside. 

Otherwise he’d probably set up his other comrades to be guards so people don’t try to get in.

I could imagine it being an old ex or probably a family member he hates. None of the soldiers he knows would dare do that to someone like him, he’s garnered so much respect from them over the years.

Any one of his friends, whether groomsmen or guests, I know they’d all stick up for him as he just watches with a smile.

Thomas A. Merrick

Roasts the ever loving shit out of whoever is wearing white.

“If you’re gonna wear white, at least pick an outfit that fits you right.”

“Did you get that from Walmart? I think I saw that when I went last week.”

“That would look better on Riley, but hey, who am I to judge?”

I know the person would willingly walk out without having to be escorted, due to embarrassment.

Gabriel T. Rorke

I can’t see him having a very public wedding. There is a very short list of people allowed and if there’s someone he doesn’t know, he’s meeting them beforehand.

If someone dared to wear white, well…

As all eyes are on them as they stand, showing off the color that was only meant for the two of you, he takes the opportunity since everyone is distracted.

He slowly reaches and shifts his white suit jacket, lifting just the edge, enough for the offender to see the gun, or other weapon, he has tucked away.

He lets go so he looks normal again, while the person is left with wide eyes, suddenly nervous.

They leave with minimal issue and everything resumes, people are left confused but eventually shrug it off as Rorke having intimidated them with his presence alone.

Keegan P. Russ

Keegan would be the type where, prior to the wedding, he expects everyone to show what they are planning on wearing.

He makes sure the two of you set guidelines so it is absolutely clear that if anyone tries to come in wearing white, they will be thrown out and not allowed back in. 

This man does not leave room for error. 

He takes advantage of having your friends/family’s (bridesmaids/groomsmen) contact info so he can keep an eye on everything.

Would absolutely sweet talk your grandparents or parents into keeping him informed whenever possible, especially if there’s gossip (Keegan loves gossip and you can’t tell me otherwise).

Alex V. “Ajax” Johnson

He wouldn’t bring weapons like Rorke or make snide comments like Merrick.

This is a man of respect, and while he’d be annoyed, he’d be prepared.

As people turned around and gasped and gossiped, he’d remain calm and relaxed despite his comrades wanting to push the person out.

He’d want them to be politely escorted out and you wouldn’t have to do anything.

Naturally, he’s fuming but this is your wedding after all. He maintains his composure.

If the person speaks up, they’ll be escorted out. If not, I can imagine him letting them stay, not wanting to waste time and probably continuing to marry you out of spite and right before the dinner, they suddenly aren’t allowed in.

They’re edited out of any photos they may have forced their way into, everyone basically ignores them. 

I love you, Ajax <3

Kick

This guy is just getting married privately.

Mostly just because regular weddings are so hectic and frankly, he isn’t much of a people person but he still wants to marry you.

[commander-gabriel-rorke]

I don't understand how homophobic call of duty fans exist

now, Rorke doesn't have anything canon, but his sexuality has been dwelled on for years, and most of the times he hasn't been straight.

Vals va said that Val was for the girls

and most of the characters are VERY fanonly seen as mlm, wlw, bi, pan, trans, ect

[howtotwirlaknife22]

Hello!! I read that you're taking requests, and I would like to ask for headcanons: what would the GHOSTS boys think or how would they react to (any) user trying to put pacman ghost stickers on their belongings like guns, gear, and such?

Thank you and take as long as you want to write for this, it was a thought I had but have yet to draw or write it<33

Omg I love this idea! I also love this idea because I like to think a few of them (Keegan, Kick and Ajax specifically) were born in the 1980’s when Pac-Man first came out so they grew up with this kind of thing and would totally vibe with it.

CW: none! Fluff :)

Ghosts find Pac-Man merch on their gear:

Keegan:

So starting off, I def think this man was born in the mid to late 80’s so Pac-Man stuff would be nostalgic for him from when he was a kid.

Keegan notices one of the power pellet ghosts (dark blue ghosts) on his rifle and while he is confused at how it got there at first, he can’t help but crack a smile.

He knew it was you who stuck that on there, and he couldn’t bring himself to peel it off.

The ghost ends up staying there for about 5 months before he ended up losing his rifle in a firefight with an enemy team.

He was slightly bummed after that, he actually liked the little quirk it gave his rifle.

but once you gave him another? He couldn’t be happier about it. He made sure to take extra care of his new rifle this time.

Ajax:

I imagine him to be born in the early 80’s, so he was growing up with it once it came out.

During a ruck through a desert you had been stationed in, you, Ajax and your platoon had settled down for a quick rest.

Ajax felt a slap to the back of his helmet and turned around to see you beaming mischievously.

He raised an eyebrow and took his helmet off, turning the back of it towards him only to see the little red ghost “Blinky” on the back of his helmet.

He thought it was a cool addition to his helmet, and from that point forward he had given you the nickname “Stickers”.

He had the sticker on his helmet before he was kidnapped by the federation, and sometimes you still wonder whatever happened to it.

Kick:

This man…this man was born in the late 80’s and video games were his SHIT when he was a kid.

He notices something bright and shiny on his laptop one day and he narrows his eyes before he moves in to investigate.

The little blue ghost “Inky” was placed perfectly on the laptop’s cover.

He immediately got so excited, he finally had a good excuse to nerd out and explain how he used to play the games when he was a kid, how he played the original in arcades and eventually on his game boy.

The smile on his face when he noticed the little blue ghost was priceless, and he’d curse himself forever if something ever happened to his laptop specifically because of the sticker.

Hesh:

Hesh was born in the late 90’s, but he was still able to appreciate the old arcade games at the mall or at an old fashioned pizza joint from time to time.

He had left his gear out one day when he went to go and grab something to eat from the mess hall, only to come back to find the little orange ghost patch stuck onto his vest.

“Clyde” he mumbled happily, remembering the name of the little orange ghost. He held his vest up in front of him, grinning at it.

He knew exactly who did it, but he went to go and find you afterwards so he could ask if you had another that he could stick onto Riley’s doggie vest.

Logan:

He was born in 2001, two years after his brother, so he was also on the tail end of the hype for Nintendo games as they were starting to transition to DS territory.

(Running out of ghosts in the pac man series, saving the best for last so let’s just imagine there’s a yellow ghost for this HC).

Logan strikes me as someone who likes the color yellow (yellow by Coldplay anyone?).

He notices a little yellow ghost sticker on his tablet, and he was a little confused at first when he saw it. He knew the character looked familiar, however he still went to ask his older brother about it.

Hesh had informed him that it was a Pac-Man ghost, and had nudged him with his elbow as he gestured to you who happened to be nearby talking to another soldier.

“Guess who bestowed you with your awesome prize?” Hesh teased Logan. “Sunny.” Logan gently punched his brother’s shoulder at the name he gave him in reference to the ghost on his tablet.

Logan couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the little ghost though.

He looked on at you and cracked a small smirk. How did you know his favorite color was yellow?

Merrick:

Merrick is one of the older men on the team, I imagine him to be born around the mid to late 70’s, so he saw the craze start and end.

But he was never that into video games, so he never really got into the whole Pac-Man craze.

He noticed a little pink ghost painted onto one side of his headphones.

He was livid, not for the fact that someone had painted on his personal property, but mainly for the fact that he received the pink one.

“If you’re gonna steal my shit and paint over it, the least you could have done was given me the blue one. Not this girly one.” He grumbled to you.

“Sir, Pinky is a boy..”

Merrick gave you an intense side eye and had you on kitchen duty for a week.

Eventually, the pink ghost grew on him, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself every time he saw it.

“Y’know, you’re actually kind of cute when you’re vandalizing other people’s stuff.”

Elias Walker:

Elias is another older gentlemen on the team, so he was right up there with Merrick as far as seeing the craze start and end.

Since he was one of the OG ghosts, he gets another power pellet ghost.

He noticed a little blue ghost pin along with his other chest candy on his uniform, and he raised an eyebrow at this.

He wondered if this was one of his two sons doing, until he noticed that they both had a variation of one as well.

He ignored it for a bit until he caught Merrick complaining about his own one day.

You had been caught red handed.

However, Elias was secretly a master at Pac-Man back in his prime and couldn’t lie if he said he didn’t love the little pop culture reference.

He let it slide, and he kept the pin on a little tray in his room, feeling nostalgic of his youthful days anytime he sees it.

Bonus: Rorke

Rorke gets a Pac-Man pin, specifically for the reason that he hunts the ghosts and takes them all down.

Inbox is open, message me with any requests!

~💌

[lovefromlaura]

Get every Hesh Walker fan here and you could make a groupchat

[writingwarden]

Hiiiiiii!! Logan's been taking over my brain alot lately.

I was thinking what if reader is the one to save him from Rorke?

[A/N]- YEP. Took this one and R A N across the field with it. Enjoy!

Logan Walker x Reader

Cracks in the Glass

TW- being stabbed, torture, physically fighting to blow off steam, blood, minor and Major character death (not Reader or Walker brothers), Canon typical violence, revenge, verbal fighting, let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count- 6.5k

Callsign-COBRA

Sand and blood cake onto any uncovered skin it can reach. A series of explosions rouses you from your sleep, pain blooming from your lower abdomen. From the ground where you lay flat on your stomach, gear digging uncomfortably into your skin, you raise your head enough to see through blurred eyes three figures. Two sitting against a rock and one walking towards where they sat.

Where were you?

Oh fuck right, Rorke. Checkmate. Hesh and Logan!

Slowly and painfully you force your limbs to move, crawling to the figures who were sitting down. A coughing fit wrecks through your body, blood splattering the sand beneath you. What the fuck? Dragging your body up onto its knees, arms barely holding the weight. A slow glance down reveals a deep stab wound, the knife still embedded in your body, right above the hip bone. Muscle and skin shredded from the serrated blade Rorke had plunged into you in the struggle that had occurred after he shot Hesh and tried to go after Logan.

Blood congealed with the sand, hardening into a crude sludge around the blade, at least you wouldn’t bleed out as fast. Another yell rings out from in front of you.

“Cobra!” Hesh’s voice reaches your ears. Looking up, Hesh was trying to sit up further against the rock, the gunshot wound preventing him from running to you or Logan. The third figure was getting closer. The closer they got, the more pronounced their limp was. Was that… fuck!

Pointing past Hesh to where Logan lay sprawled on the sand, “Hesh look!” you call out. Hesh looks over just in time to see Rorke knock the knife out of Logan’s hand, his boot pinning the other man’s arm into the sand. Hesh makes a frantic scurry to get Rorke off of Logan, but Rorke kicks him away.

More explosions shake the ground. You can see Rorke’s mouth moving, see him getting in Logan’s face. Another surge of adrenaline courses through your veins. With the last of your energy, you pull the knife from your stomach. Arms shaking and vision blurring once again, you throw the knife, Logan's name escaping your mouth. There was just enough force in the throw to graze Rorke’s arm, he stops talking and whips his head around to stare directly into your eyes. You swear there was amusement written across his features as he stands and begins shuffling towards you.

“Well would you look at that! The snake still has fangs!” He stands over you, “You may be as promising one day as Logan.” The sing-song tone when he says Logan's name makes your blood run cold. You wish you had a gun or anything to wound the monster in front of you. But you wouldn’t get the chance, a heavy kick to your stomach has you falling back down, screams ripping from your throat. Laughter from above you as your vision clouds with black spots. You knew you were going to pass out.

Words were being spoken to you but they were hard to make out over the pounding in your head. “...ever again, Cobra.” Another kick and your consciousness fades away, the sounds of Hesh screaming for his brother the last thing you hear.

– — —-

You were met with a screaming match as you entered the war room.

It has been a week since Logan was taken and you and Hesh had been rescued from the beach. This was the first time out of the medical wing since then. They had been forced to lock both of you in a private hospital room with guards posted outside of the door. You had fought the nurses as they tried to help you, your mind having not been in the right state. All you knew was that your Logan had been taken by the very man that was supposed to have died on that train. They had been forced to sedate you before they could help fix the various injuries you had acquired in your adrenaline fueled revenge.

The nurse told you the extent of your injuries after you had calmed down. The grand total was two broken ribs, the stab wound, and a concussion. She had said how lucky you were to have only gotten those injuries multiple times, but you sure as hell didn’t feel lucky.

Coming back into the land of the living you had been surprised to see Hesh in the same room. What was even more of a surprise was that you had both been handcuffed to your beds! Soon you learned they had to do almost the same thing to contain him. Except this time Merrick had to tackle him back onto the stretcher, while you only required being held down.

Man, had Merrick and Keegan ripped you both a new one. For your reckless actions to your fighting the nurses. Every conversation since had everyone either walking on eggshells or ready to tear each other apart.

He had tried to leave right after that but had been stopped by the two soldiers that had been tasked with being your “guards”. All they did was stand in front of the door and occasionally helped the nurses.

Hesh was the more defiant of you two. He wouldn’t settle, the only thought on his mind was once again Rorke and rescuing his brother. Finding Rorke, Killing Rorke, Burning Rorke’s body after dumping an entire magazine into the body, never letting Logan out of either of your sights. He was restless. They eventually had to cuff him again to the bed to stop him from aggravating his gunshot wound further, you were behaving enough that they didn’t feel you needed to join him in his “imprisonment”.

“It’s bullshit, Cobra.” He kept saying. Loathing the fact they weren’t letting either of you out, “We should be out there looking for him!” or “We’ll get him back.” Words spit with venom and promise. The terms bull-headed and impulsive were thrown back at him several times.

Your own anger had been barely contained. You shoved it into a glass box, not hiding it or burying it, but putting it on display. Crystal clear glass revealing the hatred inside of it like an art museum would display a delicate artefact. You knew that one of you had to appear level headed or they would never let you out to search for him. They would deem you both unstable and unfit for any further duty. And you couldn’t have that; Not yet. After you had rescued Logan and ensured his safety, they could all go to hell for any matter. But only after you healed and Logan was safe with you and Hesh.

And reality was that neither of you were in any shape to fight. While medical technology had improved drastically, there was only so much they could do for a stab wound and gunshot. And Merrick had told you they were doing their best to find him with the extremely limited information they had. The federation had been scattered in the wind after the last attack. Information had become even less reliable than before.

Hesh had picked the locks on his handcuffs if the bent paper clip and missing man were anything to go off of when you woke up from your nap.

Which was what brought you limping to the doorway of the war room.

“We need to be out there and looking for him!” Hesh was standing, a crutch supporting him, in front of Merrick, who looked ready to explode.

Merrick clenched his fist where it sat against the table full of maps and files. The radio in the middle of the table, quiet but full of chatter. Location markers and notes had been scribbled all over. Keegan sat at the table, typing furiously at the tablet in his hands. They both looked like you felt.

Looking around the rest of the room you saw that Kick was nowhere to be found. But that was not uncommon, he really liked his solitude. He was probably on the other side of the base.

Looking back over at Keegan, you found him staring at you. Shooting a questioning look at him, hoping to get some answer out of him. His response is an exasperated look and a shrug of the shoulders. Well, that’s always a good sign, You thought frustratedly.

The arguing continued as you walked further into the room, finally standing opposite of the two who remained going back and forth and had yet to notice you. Keegan clears his throat pointedly and they look over, meeting your gaze. Taking advantage of the moment you began, “Care to explain?” You already knew what Hesh was trying to accomplish and you knew exactly what Merrick was trying to reason. You know that both sides had their points, guess it's time to be the mediator. But you knew Hesh was always stubborn, usually to the point that it always ended with a punch being thrown. Which it might. From where you stand, that is what it looks like.

Hesh has a pleading look in his eye as he turns to you, “Cobra you gotta help, we need to be out there! Looking for him!”

Looking from him to Merrick, you motion for him to say his part, “What do you got?”

Merrick sighs loudly; clearly annoyed, “We have a possible lead on one of the Federation colonels who might know where Rorke is hiding. But we don’t know for sure and we can’t just rush in half-cocked!” He shoots a glaring look at Hesh. “We need more time.”

Hesh throws his free hand up, “We don’t have more time to waste!” He opens his mouth to say more when Merrick holds in hand up in a way that told you there would be no room for arguing anymore.

“We have people on the ground, searching,” he says slowly but firmly, like he is trying to drive to point in with a hammer (and you two are the nails), “You two are in no condition to be back in the field.” Hesh moves like he is about to interrupt but Merrick fixes him with a stare. You can see a decision being made behind his eyes. “With your injuries, if we do find him before you are healed you could pose a hindrance to the operation and very well get Logan killed and let Rorke get away. Again.”

Silence overtakes the room. A deathly silence, one only used when mourning the dead or for prayer before the final strike. The radio had faded into nothing behind the previously reigned in rage that was suffocating you. Cracks were forming in the glass, that feral and primal anger rearing its ugly head, bashing it into the material holding it captive.

You know he’s right, this is the rational and secure way to do things. But if you were any more of a suicidal person, you’d be bashing his skull into the edge of the table. Small tremors shake your body where you stand and your fists clench. He was right and you were still acting irrationally. So why did you itch to bury one of your knives into his throat?

In the corner of your eye you see Keegan moving slowly, the tablet on the table and his hand ready to grab the gun from his hip. You needed to defuse this before Hesh gets you both thrown into jail, if the way his shoulders were tensing and his fist was clenching were anything to go off of.

“Hesh… Merrick’s right.” The look Hesh shot in your direction, you could have sworn you had just personally stabbed him. Ignoring the look of betrayal you take a shaky breath in, “We need to be fully functional for any of this to go right. Rorke will get his, but do you think Logan would want us to be killed trying to find him because we wouldn’t listen to orders?” A low blow to bring up Logan in that way again, but hey, when they go low, you grab a shovel and dig a hole in hell.

A moment passes, Hesh now looks like he wants to hit you instead. Let him feel angry at me. You think to yourself, you two could deal with this later. Hell, maybe even brawl to settle it out like old times. The air remains tense but Keegan sits back down, just as carefully as he had stood.

You stare ahead at Merrick as Hesh shoulders forcefully past you and out of the room. You take the shove with grace, not bothering to look back or follow him. You knew exactly where he would be going anyways. Let him have time to cool down before you approach him again.

You stand there staring ahead as Merrick sits down in the chair next to him. He rubs both hands over his face before addressing you, “Need something, Cobra?”

You hesitate before speaking, trying to find the right questions. “What do we have so far?” is what you settle on. Keegan slides the tablet over to you. The screen shows a list of names and locations. Federation higher ups and high value targets that should be in disarray now. You place the tablet on the table and begin to look over the maps. A talent of yours that made you a great interrogator was your empathy. “If I was a homicidal, revenge led Ghost killer, where would I brainwash the youngest kid of my ex brother-in-arms?” You wonder out loud, missing the weird glance the two men shared. “Somewhere remote,” you think about the habits and patterns Rorke showed, “Somewhere sedimental. I’d want it to bring back memories of betrayal.”

– — —-

The knife split the man's throat open like a hot knife through butter. He had finally given you Rorke's exact location and a pure feral feeling was coursing through your blood. Finally after two months of your Logan being gone, did you have a location.

After being cleared for light work (aka being back in the killing field) after the fight, you had set your heart and soul on gathering information and taking out several high ranking Federation soldiers. Each had crack eventually under your carefully sharpened knives. Interrogation had been a skill that had come naturally to you. It was an art, one that you had perfected quickly.

It was the skill that had landed you a spot on Ghost Team. Elias had chosen you along with the brothers. He cited your skills and bond you had from a childhood growing up with the brothers as his reason for bringing you along. He claimed you kept them levelled and that the damn near telepathic bond you had with Logan made you valuable on Ops. Which was true; your parents had been close friends of Elias, which made you best friends with the Walker boys by default.

Hesh was the most outgoing of the trio. Always talking to new people and preferring to hang out at the more crowded skate parks. He’d drag you and Logan everywhere and who were you two to deny him? He was a guardian to you until you had physically outgrown him by becoming a full two inches taller than him. Something he still had yet to “forgive” you for.

But it was Logan that you had really clicked with. The boy was of very few words; a selective mute. But that did not hinder your ability to communicate, a mix of sign language and your own secret nonverbal language. Which mainly consisted of micro expressions and body language. You two could hold an entire conversation with just your eyes. It had always confused the hell out of the rest of your squads.

And so what if you had come to have feelings for the youngest Walker? It feels as natural as an ocean wave crashing onto a sandy beach. You had planned on never telling him, or hell, maybe you would have in due time. But now that he had been taken before you could confess, you were damned sure that the moment he was safe and healing was the moment you’d tell him. You would get to tell him, damn it all, even if you had to drag his ass back into the land of the living with your bare hands.

A hand on your shoulder pulled you back into the present. “Cobra, we need to get going.” Hesh said quietly. Suddenly aware that you had been staring holes into the dead body you shrug his hand off your shoulder and turn on your heel. You two still haven’t talked, instead opting to push yourselves further into training, into becoming stronger. He threw himself and sometimes Riley into working out. Often you would find him running the track in the middle of the night. Some nights you’d join him. Others you’d slink off into the range. Forcing yourself to become better with both gun and knife. The conversation had yet to be had and it was eroding at the years of being a perfect pair- trio. There were three of you and you’d be dead before you’d let that change.

Shaking those thoughts from your head, you look up to see the rest of the team waiting for you by the doors of the old house you had dragged the Federation soldier into.

Looking to where Merrick stood, his stance told you he expected you to say something. “So I was right. You know for such a violent brainwashed bastard he sure is sedimental.”

You had been right in your guess. He would hold Logan at the old jungle compound where the Federation had broken Rorke and twisted him into their own personal ghost hunter. But that place had been raided and every one of the enemy personnel had either been killed or thrown into prison. As far as anyone knew, it was abandoned. It was too little of a possible reward to venture that far into the jungle. Oh what fools you were to hope otherwise.

A groan and nod were Merrick’s answer. I was really hoping you weren't.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, “I mean, they torched the place after. I can’t imagine much of it still stands. Son of a bitch.”

“Yeah…” You let the implications of everything you had just learned sink in. Eyes meet with Hesh’s, no words are spoken but an agreement is made. That barely closed glass box of rage continues to crack. Just got to hold it together, just a little while longer. One foot in front of the other, Cobra.

– — —

The foliage is thick as you creep closer to your designated position. The sounds of the forest and chatter of Federation soldiers deafened by the leafy canopies above your heads. Keegan leads the way, revenge and relief are now so close at hand. But you have to start the plan before anything else can happen. Two months of searching, you can Not fuck this up, Logan’s life depends on it. Depends on You and Hesh to keep your cool long enough to complete your tasks and locate the pit he would no doubt be in.

Keegan holds his hand up, telling you to halt. Flexing your fingers where they lay on your rifle, ready to fire at a moment's notice. The moment passes before he’s motioning to keep moving.

As you resume your walk, Hesh slides up next to you, footsteps falling in time with your own. “We still in agreement on what happens when we find him?” His voice is low, still as tense as it had been since the beach.

You glance up at Keegan, who you know is listening, before you respond just as quietly. “I get first blows while you secure Logan. Then you get the killing blow while Keegan keeps overwatch. I haven't forgotten, David.” The words come out harsher than they were meant to but again, that's how most of the words from your mouth had sounded recently.

Hesh doesn't respond, usually his first name gets a rise out of him. A true testament to how he's feeling right now. Silence takes over again as your group keeps marching on.

The next few minutes are a blur as Ghost team and Marines descend on the compound. Body after body falls as you push in. Sinking into your mind further and further as bullets zip past you. One even grazing your ear but it only serves to piss you off more. That glass box has burst open, red rage flowing out, drowning anything in its path.

You'd imagine Hesh is feeling the same, watching him sink a knife into a federation soldier as your group rounds a corner.

Finally you come to it, the courtyard with a single hole dug in the earth. Logan was in it. Your shoulder aches from the recoil of your rifle, fingers numb. But it doesn't matter.

Your team makes quick work of the enemies that attempt to stop you. Clearing the surrounding areas, your Marines holding position in each entrance. Looking up to the exposed second floor you see Keegan’s team.

Your radio crackles as Keegan’s voice comes through, “Eyes on Logan, proceed with caution. Rorke's got a gun to his head.”

Your eyes lock with Hesh's. Then you're moving, rushing forward to the hole, fingers on the trigger. Skidding to a stop above it, the sight inside damn near breaks you right there.

Logan on his back, caked in blood, dirt, and who knows what else as Rorke stands with his foot planted on his chest, pistol pointing at Logan's head. The sick motherfucker has a smile on his face, his eyes trained on you and Hesh.

A low growl comes from the man next to you. “It's over Rorke! No escape from here, you son of a bitch.” Hesh calls down. Part of you thinks he's about to abandon the entire plan for dumping all of his ammunition into Rorke. But he doesn't.

“You know,” the monster below you begins to drawl, like this was a normal conversation, “I didn't expect you to make it; the snake, sure. But you,” He points a finger at Hesh, “I expected you to die just like your da-”

A shot rings out, then another as Rorke's hands cease to be connected to his body; Keegan and his partner’s bullets hitting their marks. That was the cue for you two to get on with it.

Jumping into the pit you plant your feet firmly into Rorke's chest, rolling forward off of him as he hits the ground. Turning around you lunge forward on top of Rorke. Rearing your fist back then bringing it down onto his face. Over and over; blow after blow lands on the man who made your life hell. The monster who killed the man that saved you after ODIN, the monster that took and tortured your Logan.

His attempts to fight back are futile, the full front of your rage holding him there. His face becomes unrecognisable by the time Hesh grabs your shoulder. The signal to switch with him. One last punch and you're standing up, swaying on your feet.

Hesh takes your place as you rush over to Logan. Your hands frantically search over his body, cataloguing the visible injuries. Bruises mottle the skin not covered in blood or dirt. His name and promises to help him fall like prayers from your lips.

Finally you place your hands on either side of his face, willing him to look at you. His eyes are swollen and cloudy, no doubt from whatever they drugged him with. It was strange, the way his face was almost completely untouched. But you don't get much time to dwell on it as sharp movements in your peripheral.

Logan’s blood covered hands shoot quickly to your face. Panic in his suddenly clear eyes, the word “Go!” and “Run.” were being silently screamed at you. His mouth moves but only raspy gibberish comes out. You grab his hands as they hold your head, fingers tangling in your hair forcing you to stay looking at him. “Logan! Logan it’s us! We’ve got you, he’s dead. He’s dead!” You are sure that he couldn’t hear you as hysteria begins to creep in.

But the recognition was undeniable, just for a split second before they're rolling back into his head. His body begins convulsing violently as his hands slip from yours. Screams for a medic, for somebody, rip from your throat. One of the medics lands on their knees next to you but you can't move your limbs. All you can do is stare as the seizure happens.

Then hands are pulling you away from him. You fight against them before another pair is wrapping under your arms and pulling more. Someone is screaming your name but it sounds miles away. The only input reaching your mind is the sight of Logan, being surrounded by medics as you are taken further away from where he lies.

The glass box was gone, only shards and small puddles remain. Your mind clears enough to realise that it’s Hesh whose arms are wrapped around your torso, holding you back. Turning around in his grip you shove your entire being to his in a constrictor like hug.

Blood spatters cover every bit of armour and skin he has, the Ghost paint smeared with red. His eyes are wide, feral as he watches the scene now behind you.

Rorke's battered corpse lying behind, riddled with bullet holes from Hesh dumping his entire mag into him was all you could focus on.

Keegan stands over it, looking at his ex brother in arms, eyes blank. Merrick jumps down next to him and delivers a swift kick to the corpse.

– — —

Life continues as normal on base. The only shifts in the routine now were four Ghosts, taking their turns watching over their youngest in the hospital bed he lays.

In the beginning, it was you and Hesh refusing to leave Logan's bedside. Only leaving in shifts to deal with the bare minimum of your duties and body's needs. Eating and sleeping next to him. The hospital staff had dragged in another chair when it was clear neither of you would be leaving.

It was once again Merrick that forced you both away to deal with yourselves. The other three Ghosts had made a deal that there would always be one of them watching over him if you or Hesh couldn't.

And they stayed true to that promise. A knock drags you out of your thoughts. Keegan stands in the doorway, “Come on, it's my turn.” He enters further into the room, a knowing look in his eyes as he takes in your hand holding onto Logan's.

“You did good, kid. He's here and he's not going anywhere till he's better.” His words were meant to sooth but tears sting your eyes. It seems like since you've gotten back that you just can't stop crying.

Reluctantly you let go of Logan's hand and stand up, but your feet don't move. Not until Keegan places his hand on your arm with a promise to get you if anything happens. Then you're walking out the door and down the hallway.

It’s late, nearing midnight as you approach the smaller gym rooms knowing exactly who’s in there at this hour. Ignoring the Private Session sign on the door you enter quietly. Hesh is on the other side, fists slamming into the sandbag. The only greeting you get is a falter in his punches before he's back at it.

Looking over to the benches you see Riley curled up underneath. The dog huffs a greeting as you walk over and sit down. Hands sliding across his fur.

This has been both of your normal nights since Logan was taken and you just couldn't let it go even though he was home safe. The routine is comforting though your body aches from pushing past your limits.

It started with Hesh showing up at your door during the night, dressed in his gym clothes with Riley at his heels. No words were spoken as you invited him in and changed into your own gym attire. The cold air countering the heated anger as you ran around the city.

Then it was that someone had pissed you off enough that you had dragged your body to the gym, intent to hit and throw things until you felt better. But that plan had been ruined by Hesh, who was already there, doing just that.

That's when the first screaming match had happened. And the screaming led to blows being exchanged. The feeling of beating on each other was cathartic.

So it became the routine, if one couldn't sleep then they were to drag the other (who likely wasn't sleeping) from their rooms then either run or spar. No one has stopped this so far, only looked at you with a knowing (disappointed?) look and move on.

The thudding stops and a loud sigh comes from across the room. Looking up just as he crosses the room and slumps on the bench next to you. Exhaustion visibly pulls at him the same way it does on you.

“Feel up for it.” He motions to the mats in the middle of the room. You take note that his hands are bare and bleeding as you shake your head. Instead opting to slide down on the floor and lay flat looking up at the ceiling. “Yeah that's fair. We can do floor time.”

He slides down onto the ground and lays his head next to yours, body laying the other way. Such as most nights, no words are shared. At least for the first hour.

Then he's speaking, “Did I tell you the time he managed to steal one of the neighbours dogs and no one noticed for hours?” You did this often, recounting stories of Logan. Funny, sad, plain boring; it didn't matter. He loved to tell the more calm ones while you opted to spill the hijinks the pair of you committed.

“I don't think I remember that one.” You did but you liked to humour him. He launches into the story, talking with his hands in the air, you laugh and make comments.

“You should have seen the proud look dad had while Logan apologised. I swear the lady's head was gonna explode, she was so red!” he laughs through the words.

You look up at him, “Yeah, that tracks. You and your dad were always enabling our bullshit.”

He lets out a slow sigh and lets the buzz of the overhead lights and occasional footsteps fill the space. You were content to let them do so but there was eating at your thoughts.

“I love him.” You had told him before in a fit. He had barely understood you the first time you said it, had been borderline hysterical, expecting him to hate you. “I know” he had said. Called you right stupid for not saying it sooner.

His hand appears in the air above your face and you're too tired to care as he brings it down and palms your entire face, like something straight out of Alien. He shakes your head back and forth before he lets go. “I know, you know you're going to have to tell him eventually, right?”

It was your turn to sigh, “I know, dude. I know.”

– — —

It’s one of those nights where you and Hesh are on watch at the same time. It was rare but it does happen. Logan has been in a medically induced coma for a month now. It's Hesh's turn to go get you both dinner, so you get to take up watch over Logan.

(The eldest brother opted to leave Riley with you. The dog takes up his usual post at the door, ever the guardian.)

Grabbing his hand, something that had become a habit. You start recounting the day's events, another thing you both had taken up. Talking to the sleeping man, telling him the base gossip and telling him how the day went, how Riley and the team are, everything you could think of you talked about.

“Then he made them run laps. He's shaping up nicely for that Captain role he's heading for.” You laugh, explaining how Hesh oversaw today's training. “He gets that promotion and we're set to get away with so much shit, Lo.”

He made no movements, the only sound to respond was the steady beat of the vitals monitor. You let loose a breath and place your head down on the bed next to his hand. “Wake up soon, please.” You plead into dead air, “He needs you. I need you.”

Time passes slowly, Hesh taking his sweet time getting that food. Must be Chilli Night in the mess. That always caused the place to be packed. Your mind wanders all over the place, what was it that one sergeant had said? When was Merrick going to send you back into the field, you were already on borrowed time. A thousand things plague your thoughts; it was beginning to give you a migraine.

The hand in yours twitches. You sit up so fast your back twinges. Ignoring that you stare down at your hand, did you imagine that? “Logan?” You murmur, looking up at his sleeping form and you gasp. His eyes were fluttering open. Standing up you lean over him hopefully, “Logan? You with me?”

Your heart starts racing as those same eyes open and land on you. Reaching up to hold his face but you're interrupted by a harsh grip on your arm. “Lo?” You ask shakily, staring at the place he has in his grasp.

“R-run!” The word was urgent, the beeping of the heart monitor became louder, quicker. Fear shines brightly through his eyes as they dart around the room, underlined with confusion.

You grip over his hand, “No no no, Logan you're safe! We're home!” His fingers dig into your skin as he starts shaking. With fear that he is going to start having another seizure you turn your head around to call for help. But you're met with the frozen forms of Hesh and Merrick standing in the doorway.

Quickly you call to him, “Get help!” Your voice was high, panic beginning to creep in. The trays fall out of his hands as he steps back out and starts shouting for help. Merrick starts for the bedside but you wave him off, not wanting to overwhelm the already panicking man.

Directing your attention back to Logan you can almost see the dots beginning to connect as he stares past you, to where Hesh just stood. You should for Hesh, yelling his voice as loud as you can.

The tall man comes running full tilt back to the room, almost skidding past the door. “Logan!” He shouts and you have to stop yourself because it was the same scared scream from the beach. He sprints over to the bed, grabbing Logan's other hand, trying to soothe the man into the present.

Logan's mouth is moving, repeating “Not real” as he flickers his eyes from you to Hesh.

You both start speaking at the same time, trying to tell him it is real, that this is real. Someone else enters the room. But you don't look away from Logan as his grip on your arm begins to loosen. Slowly and suspiciously (?) he starts to lay back into the bed.

It's only when he's retracted his arm away fully and is now sitting reclined in the bed that you breathe a full breath. Nurses flutter around you checking his vitals and tweaking his pain meds. Your eyes never leave his except to look over at Hesh, who sits there determined to not leave unless absolutely necessary.

Eventually the buzz dies down, Merrick having stepped out to make a few calls. Either way, you were glad for the privacy. Neither of you had let go of his hands, afraid that it would be a dream.

His fingers entwined with yours had those emotions stirring violently in your chest.

Hesh had been catching him up to speed on everything, thankfully omitting the violent way the two of you coped. You had just been nodding along and speaking up occasionally to add in if Hesh forgot something.

Logan, he just sat there, taking everything in. He had been quiet since the nurses left, not asking questions or only speaking in clipped words. Your eyes flit down to his throat, a ring of rope burn now healed.

His eyes catch yours, a small smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. Oh, how you missed that smile.

Hesh clears his throat, catching your attention. He waits for you both to look at him before speaking, “I dropped our dinner. I'm going to run to the corner store and grab us something.” He stands from his chair and walks over, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezes. A whisper of “Tell him.” and then Hesh is gone, Riley at his heels.

Turning back to Logan, you place your head against your hands. You needed to tell him, the confession trapped behind your teeth. You look back up at him and let go of his hands reluctantly, doubt tugging at the forefront of your mind. You had just gotten him back, what if you lose him now? There would be no way to cope with that, but he would be alive to hate you and you were fine with that.

“I-” You start, “I love you, Logan.” The words themselves are not strangers to you. They were said so regularly throughout your life, so the look you got from him was no surprise.

He drums his fingers against the hospital bed and hums, “Love you too.”

A stressed sigh leaves your mouth and you find yourself staring into his eyes again. “No Lo, I love you.” The words emphasised, “I'm sorry for not telling you before and I'm sorry if you don't feel the same but I was going to be damned before I let you leave before telling you.” The confession is quick as you look away from him.

An amused huff answers you and then a hand was grabbing your face again. This time is so much more gentle. Nothing like the harsh grip that had come to plague your dreams. Letting him pull you to look at his face. There's fondness in place of the rejection you had feared.

He pulls you closer and you let him. Your face now hovering over his. And then his lips are on yours. And then you're melting against him, careful not to put weight on his injuries.

In that moment there's nothing else in the world. No war, no cold hospital room, just two scar riddled childhood friends who were becoming something more.

[bryhoney]

Recognisance pt.2

previous

TW: Torture, Kidnapping, Drugging

This is shaping up to be looonggg.

Also on AO3

Next

The control room is a hive of activity; Men and women speaking frantically to one another as they crowd around screens. There are people running messages back and forth across the base, each one seemingly vital for the Federation's continued success. 

You find yourself standing alone, staring up at one of the boards in the command centre that is regularly updated with anything even remotely related to the Ghosts. It's dedicated to the most recent images and reports of the task force, some of the notes tacked onto the wall are just simple descriptors. 

It always takes you a second to muster up the courage to look at the board. It's Gabriel's shrine to them, and recently you'd adopted his mission; To understand these men to the best of your ability and hunt them down. You know you should hate them, fear them after what they did to you. But the memories of your time with them were mostly in the dark, their faces were blurry and secondary to the pain they inflicted. 

You'd read every file that Gabriel gave you regarding the ghosts. Most of them were heavily redacted or had large portions missing, individual pages torn away from the document. You had thought that going over these files would jog something in your memory, but as of yet, nothing. As such, you must have read every piece of information on the board in front of you several times over, you've made it a ritual since being allowed back to work. 

You recite the information silently. 

Two of the Ghosts are brothers, the Walkers. There was a third Walker amongst the Ghosts, Elias Walker, but Gabriel had killed him over two years ago. They -

They're ------. 

"----! You're school re----, your brot--- --- -----! -----! Leave h-- -l---" It's a voice you recognise, but from where? An older voice-

You turn to the other images, Merrick and Keegan. 

"Look at ---"

You're kissing someone, holding their head against the crook of your neck. You hear them whisper "mine," before you feel his teeth move against- it's that deep gravelly voice, it's-?

You audibly gasp at the memory and quickly cover your mouth, shaking the thought away. Inappropriate, incomplete. Shut up. 

Looking back towards the board, you take a shaky breath. These men hurt you and took everything from you and yet you hardly even remember them. A part of you worries about what damage it'll do to remember everything they inflicted upon you. 

"Oh ---" is it your name? A callsign? It's fuzzy and sounds-?

Your head is pounding. 

"NO! -----! I'll kill you! LOGAN! LO-"  It's another male voice, do you know who it is? It sounds so far away and yet...

Your feet are bleeding but you stalk forwards anyway.

Your feet are bleeding. 

You know that name, you know that voice. 

"Logan!" you're screaming, you can hear the panic in your voice.  

Your eyes flit upwards, towards the pictures of the Ghosts. 

LOGAN WALKER - M - 2001

Oh God. 

Your heart sinks and suddenly you dread the idea of remembering. You hate that one of the Ghosts is now more than a name on the wall. You suppress a sob, steeling yourself momentarily before moving towards Gabriel and the commanding officer. Despite being engrossed in their conversation, Gabriel must sense your discomfort as his hand moves to hover over the small of your back. His eyes never leave the man in front of him. 

Had you hurt Logan Walker? Is that why the Ghosts wanted you? The man's voice was furious, sincere, and threatening.

"Did you get that?" Gabriel asks, disturbing your train of thought. 

You shake your head, "I-" 

"There's been a sighting of them, New Mexico, we'll be flying out towards the border in three days, you're with me," he repeats. His tone is hard and unwavering, you know better than to argue but you can hardly help yourself. 

"With-? I don't have any field training, Sir," you stutter, taken aback at his proposition. Rorke was a man who almost exclusively lured his prey on foot, out in the open. He had told you that you were involved in the intelligence-based side of operations once upon a time. 

Rage. Blinding rage. You had shrugged your water-logged shoes off, stalking quickly towards the broad back in front of you. You held your knife tightly in your hand. You had the singular goal of eviscerating and killing -----. In the last few feet you launched -- ----- and -- -o---- --"

The memory is interrupted as Gabriel laughs, "Oh, don't you worry, we just want 'em to see you". 

It's dark. It's always dark. 

Someone had drugged you, you kept repeating this under your breath, trying to remind yourself that the shadows and noises you can hear moving around in the room aren't real. They're just hallucinations. 

Not real. Don't look at them. 

It becomes harder to ignore the bright eyes that blink at you from across the room sporadically. Figures would move in front of you, at inhuman speed. They weren't real. They weren't real.

You yell into the abyss, "Hey! I can see you! You're not real! You. Are. Not. REAL!" your voice is hoarse. It hurts to scream but you do so anyway.

Your chair spins and suddenly you're face-to-face with a skull.

No. A man wearing one of the Ghost masks. You couldn't make out which one they were. The stains on the mask were moving and shifting.

He grips your face hard between his gloved fingers, his voice sounds warbled and is almost static-y in quality. Colours shift around him as he moves, creeping into the holes of his mask. It's beautiful and terrifying all at once. 

Which one was he? 

His voice is cruel, "I'm real though, ain't I?" A hand creeps over your shoulder, digging into your skin before vanishing in the next second. You flinch at the sensation and the hand holding your jaw tightens. 

"AIN'T I?" He yells against the shell of your ear, a scream erupts from your chest. Your bones are shattering and knitting themselves together all at once. His voice is underwater and it's drowning you. 

The air around you splinters into blinding flashes. You're blinking rapidly, trying to adjust to the onslaught of light.

"Yes. You're real, you're real," you whisper, trying to draw all the air you can into your lungs. Your broken ribs prevent a full inhale. 

He's behind you, you hadn't seen him move. His mouth pressed against the shell of your ear and you sob at the sensation. 

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispers, the vibrations are needles of sound that pierce you, "are you afraid of the Ghosts now?"

You hear his laugh echo around the room, as a knife carves its way through the flesh of your sternum.

You hear someone screaming, it sounds like you. 

You wake up screaming, drenched in sweat. You launch yourself across the room and hit the wall hard, scrambling for purchase. You crumple to the floor, sobbing into the darkness as you rapidly assess the room around you. You're not in the hole. You're not back with the Ghosts. 

You're safe. You are safe. Safe.

Your hands come up to your chest, checking for open wounds but all that remains are the silvery, raised scars. It's the middle of the night, you've likely woken someone up. 

Your door crashes open and you throw yourself backwards once again, sliding across the wall. A cry leaves you and you hate how pathetic you sound. 

"It's okay, I've got you, baby. Daddy's always got you," your heart ached, your dad loved you. 

You wanted your Dad. You wanted to go home. You wanted to remember.

Gabriel stands in front of you for a moment before rushing to your side, assessing you. 

"Ssh. Ssh, I've got you" he whispers, pulling you towards him and you finally break, crying into his arms. Your hands rush to cover your face, legs tucking themselves closer to your body. 

"What did you see?" His voice is soothing, he runs a hand over your head, holding you close to him. 

"It was them - I was back in the room with-" You're sobbing freely, grateful he's here. 

"I know, I know. You're safe now. You're with me" He easily lifts you and places you gently on the bed, tucking you under the covers as he continues to hold you. 

You're uncomfortably warm in his embrace but for once, you're being held tenderly. Whilst your time in the hole isn't always clear, you can always remember the pain. 

That's how you fell asleep that night, in Gabriel's arms. 

You don't dream again for the rest of the evening. 

—

You’re terrified to be in the air, to be flying towards the conflict. Towards the ghosts. 

You’re doing all you can to not physically shake at the thought. You want to lash out and scream at Gabriel and yet you're relying on him to get you through this. How could he do this to you? He knew what this must be costing you, but he trusted you and saw your value. 

Fuck. 

“Sir, 10 minutes out” the pilot states across the comms. 

You might see them in just ten minutes and you hate how vulnerable you feel. You're absently thumbing at the sleeves of your dress, some thin grey thing that went passed your ankles. The rest of the team were in their uniforms, armed to the teeth whilst you sat there idly, entirely dependent upon them to protect you. Gabriel had disarmed you, made you weak. 

He argued that you were there for intel and behind-the-scenes work, so civilian clothes were appropriate. You wished that this was the only reason he'd given you, he'd gone on to explain that you were going to be used to draw them out. Gabriel wanted to entice them to act irrationally, apparently, they were furious you had gotten away from them. He was going to lure them out, and you didn't need weapons for that. 

You weren’t sure why he thought you’d be that important to them, or why they’d go against all their training to take you and Gabe down. But you trusted him, he was the Ghost Hunter, the best of the best. 

He was also your commanding officer. So, what he said was law. 

—

The landing pad was out in the open, in front of the base that overlooked the dry mountainous region it was nestled within. Gabriel wouldn’t tell you anything, not why he thought they might be overlooking the base at that time, why he didn’t want to engage with them face to face. How was he so sure they'd see you as you alighted the helicopter? How could he be so blase about the situation? They might just decide to fire some RPG as soon as you ste-

Shut up. 

You suppress a yelp as the helo touches down, taking Gabriel's hand as you move to step off the aircraft. Your stomach turns as his hands move to your waist to help you down.

Your dress whips around your ankles as the helo thrums back to full power, taking off almost immediately after the last soldier's boot touches down. 

“Dad’ll kill you – he catches you —eaking out – meet some b—-. Let al—- if Hes- ca—-- you —. You’re still the ba—-. Quick! Go– I’ll co—-” A kind voice, muffled still but there was laughing, smiles, comradery. Your teenage years? Your brother? Your father? 

You had a brother?

A family? Why couldn't-

You didn’t like how frequently these memories were coming back, how they were less fragmented and easier to understand. What else would come back-?

Before you could properly dissect the new memory, Gabriel had a hand on your shoulder, urging you to duck slightly as the helo took off. He began leading you to some of the men who’d been waiting for your arrival. They were smartly dressed and flanked by men on both sides. 

“Higher!” It was your voice, happy, laughing, young.

“You’ll fall!” A boy laughed at you, his voice deeper, older. 

“I’ll catch you!” another boy, younger, arms raised. 

The sun is in your eyes. 

You shook your head, dispelling the tears that rose to your eyes and you greeted the men alongside Gabriel. His hand had slid from your shoulder to your lower back.  

You smiled and nodded politely, thoughts torn between piecing together the revelation that you had a brother, someone else who called the same man, “Dad” and the uncomfortable feeling of Gabriel's hand on you, as though he was all that anchored you to Earth. 

After what felt like a lifetime, you felt yourself being manoeuvred across the landing pad, towards the very edge of the rooftop. It was a sheer drop, this base carved into the side of a mountain. He pushed you until your toes were over the edge, hovering over nothing. Your arms moved to grip him, "Gabriel?" You didn't plead with him to stop, you trusted him. His hands tighten their hold on you. 

You trusted him. You trusted him? 

“One of us” 

His voice was low as he whispered, “Can you feel them?”

“What?” you whispered, unable to understand his meaning. You felt completely out of your depth and terrified of the drop in front of you. 

“They’re out there, can’t you feel their eyes on you?” His hold tightens even further before he leans forward, over the edge. Your heart plummets and you gasp at the sight, whipping your head skywards, as though you could counterbalance him. You were leaning over a drop of at least 10 floors. It wasn’t his actions that terrified you though. 

He’s talking about the Ghosts. He was saying they were right there, watching you. 

“Sir, please - what if-” your heart rate is frantic. You were out in the open. They were out there. Watching you. 

“You’re good, they ain’t gonna shoot us out here, they’ll want to get closer for that”. His voice reverberating from your collarbone where his chin was resting. It was inappropriate, wrong.

“Only I get to —-” a hand was around your throat, his mouth was- 

He laughs at your breathy inhale, slapping his arm onto your shoulder and roughly turning you back to the compound. His change in demeanour was startling, but you realise that the Gabriel you know at the base and the Gabriel who thrived during the hunt were two very different people. 

He was right though, you could feel their eyes on you.

Next

[gunnrblze]

[maymaylyn]

18+ BE WARNED

——

Rorke is taking his loyal lieutenant for a night out that ends like this….

——

Looking for a quiet Saturday night out. You make the unfortunate mistake of locking eyes with a tanned, worn-out-looking, large man from across the bar. He was sitting back in a booth, legs wide, with a man who looked just as, if not more, in need of a good drink. The man next to him looked younger, but not by much. Taking in their appearance quickly, as the bigger man's eyes felt like sin piercing your skin, the smirk on his face didn't help. You could tell they were military or at least something along those lines with their build. A good-looking pair enjoying whiskey, it looked. Or was it bourbon? The low light and the fire in the stranger's eyes made it hard to focus on anything.

Turning your attention to the beer before you, picking at the label. You deserved this after a week of hell at work. It only took one look to know you were in trouble and fuck, look where it got you.

——

You feel a calculated hand on the back of your neck, squeezing just enough to know through his heat that they are the hands of a killer. Eyes rolling back in your skull, the younger man underneath you grabbed your hair and pulled you in a desperate kiss. It was wet, with all teeth and tongue, and plain as day, that it had been a while for him. There was a deep chuckle behind you from the man with a grip on your neck.

“Easy Elias, just breath.”

Moaning out into ‘Elias’s’ mouth and grinding down on him, you could hear the unmistakable command in his voice. Put between two dominant men wasn't how you thought this night would end, but hell, like it was your place to complain. You felt the other man’s breath on your ear, taking air in as he brushed his lips down your neck. Like a flower, you opened up for him like he was the sun. Feeling both of their hands squeezing where they desire, you smile uncontrollably.

The enjoyment from you didn't go unnoticed as you could feel the stranger behind you. Giving you a gruff laugh as his hands went to the fat on your hips, yanking up to be flush with his. Pulling your too-tight skirt up and pulling your panties to the side, he paid no mind to your yelp of shock at his boldness. Letting out a deep ‘fuck’ under his breath when he saw how wet you were.

“How wet is she, Gabe?”

You lost yourself in the feeling of rough fingers running through your dewy petals. Suddenly, ‘Gabe’ pulled his fingers from you. Opening your eyes and letting out a wine of disappointment, your mouth soon dropped as your heart stopped beating. ‘Gabe’ took his finger covered in your wetness and immediately put them in ‘Elias’s’ mouth. He seemed just as shocked but didn't miss a beat as he began to suck. Moaning and licking around his friend's thick fingers, he bucked his hips into the open air. ‘Gabe’ came back close to your unmoving face. His laugh was haunting.

“What do you think, sweetheart? Think he likes your honey?”

What the fuck did you get yourself into?

[heshwalker-husband]

Old yaoi men, why not? 🤭

This is not my art!!!

Credits to ectotestify on X !!

[brokenpieces-72]

Read Context Before Voting

I have an AU in mind for Call of Duty Ghosts. It involves the team, going about and doing some post-apocalyptic cryptid/myth hunting. I have a draft in the works, but I also have notes that I'm taking as well.

Do you want me to post the notes first (which may contain some spoilers but I’ll try to redact some of it) to give you an idea of my thought process or are you guys willing to wait for the story? The notes would also allow you guys to give your own ideas and suggestions, a bit easier.

I may be willing to release some of my notes for other AUs I've worked on if you guys want that as well.

Might also do the notes in a creative way so stretch my graphic design skills.

@yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving

[ai-luni]

Okay. I gave in way too quickly but I’m in a good space right now to write.

COD Ghost requests are closed for now :(

Headcanons and drabble only

1. Fem and GN Reader - platonic, sfw and nsfw (happy to do multiple characters for one prompt, share the love)

2. Character ships - platonic only (only except Logan and Keegan sfw)

3. General character headcanons

Characters I’ll write for:

Hesh

Logan Walker

Elias Walker

Keegan Russ

Thomas Merrick

Kick

Gabriel Rorke

Ajax

(Those last three, prepare for me to take a lot of creative liberties because there’s not a lot about them known)

[commander-gabriel-rorke]

Pre fed Rorke and Elias

[howtotwirlaknife22]

Ya’llllll I just read Devil’s Breath and lemme tell you 😭😭😭 that was the saddest shit I ever done read, poor Rorke. He really believed his teammates were gonna come looking for him and they brainwashed the shit out of him :(. Kudos to the writers for the brilliant descriptions of torture as well, it made me really feel for Rorke and all the pain and suffering he had to go through while he was in federation hands. This totally changed my entire perspective of ghosts and the storyline 😭. ((Also…the fact that he was the one who suggested Elias getting Riley for Hesh and Logan?!? I’m bawling my eyes out fr) ALSO ALSO the way that Rorke describes one of the soldiers can lead us to believe that the flashback in the game and this current story happened only a few years before ODIN takes place, which I like bc I love when I can get my hands on any piece of cannon lore)) .

[lovefromlaura]

Hahah guys what if someone make a discord server just for cod:ghosts fans

[writingwarden]

CALL OF DUTY: GHOSTS MASTERLIST

[Gender Neutral unless specified.]

KEEGAN P. RUSS

-Bathing Together

-getting hurt protecting him

-

DAVID "HESH" WALKER

-Diary Confessions

-Comfort.

-

ELIAS "SCARECROW" WALKER

-

-

LOGAN WALKER

[Selective Mute in my writings]

-Cracks in the Glass

-Weaver

-

THOMAS A. MERRICK

-

-

GABRIEL T. RORKE

[Platonic Only]

-

-

KICK

-

Writing Warden Masterlist 💚