#makarov angst

[soapybutt17]

From Russia With Love Masterlist

Won't Go Home Without You [Vladimir Makarov x Price!Female Reader]

Summary: It was all supposed to be a mission. Blend in with his people in the underworld and get the much needed information that could potentially save lives in the process. Yet, here you were, finding yourself falling and bounding yourself to an enemy that was dangerous beyond belief. There was nothing good about getting involved with one Vladimir Makarov, but you were entangled in his web of lies and lust and you did not want to escape him whatever the consequence. Characters: Vladimir Makarov x Price!Female Reader. John Price. Simon "Ghost" Riley. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. John "Soap" MacTavish. Kate Laswell. General Shepard. Nikolai. Warnings: Dubious Consent. Dark Elements. Dead Dove Do Not Eat.. Blood and Gore. Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence. Canon Typical Violence. Smut. Mention of Murder and Manslaughter. Mention of Alcohol and Drug Consumption. Inaccurate military slangs and details. Mention of Human Trafficking. Mention of Physical, Mental and Sexual Abuse. Major Character Death. Heavy Angst.

Part 0: Prologue

Part 1: Eye Spy

Part 2: Lingering Eyes

Part 3: Eye for An Eye

She Will Be Loved [Nikolai x Price!Female Reader]

Summary: Vladimir Makarov was dead. Thanks to you, thanks to your brother and thanks to the rest of the team that was dead set on making sure he was stopped whatever it takes. As the dust has come to settle it left you to linger in the aftermath of your betrayal in the form of your daughter that was a spitting image of the man you've once loved and the man you've helped stopped. Who would have ever thought that another handsome Russian would help you mend the pieces of your heart and your life back together. Characters: Nikolai x Price!Female Reader. John Price. Simon "Ghost" Riley. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. John "Soap" MacTavish. Kate Laswell. General Shepard. Original Female Character (Anastasia "Anya" Price / Anastasia Makarova) Warnings: Blood and Gore. Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence. Canon Typical Violence. Smut. Mention of Murder and Manslaughter. Mention of Alcohol and Drug Consumption. Inaccurate military slangs and details. Mention of Human Trafficking. Mention of Physical, Mental and Sexual Abuse. Mention of Trauma and PTSD. Mention of Mental Issues (especially PPD & Depression).

Part 0: Prologue

Part 1: Dust on the Ground

Part 2: Papa

[gravesdept]

♡　＃　𓂃 Imagine you being vladimir makarovs right hand man — who he tolerates just a bit more than his other lapdogs, maybe he even lets you speak down to him, informs you on plans you have no business being in on, and lets you push his buttons.

everyone wonders whats just so special about the man whose always by makarovs side, he wonders so just as well as you both take hefty puffs off an old cigar that use to be stashed away in the back of his desk, its awfully hot in the room he thinks looking from the window back towards you who, well, is leaning just a couple inches astray from his face.

from this angle he cant see anything but the light at the end of the cigar, the room of his office fairly dark being only illuminated by light from the skyscrapers windows.

it takes a minute before you pass him back the almost dull blunt, it ends up sitting between his fingers for a bit as he trudges through his thoughts, “this situation is risky, boy, you know that righ’?” although he speaks clearly enough you cannot wrap your head around what he is implying

“not sure I understand.”

at that he puts the cig out on the desk resorting to just crossing his arms “this I mean, us, your not so subtle soldier.” he looks you dead in the eyes now, a look that youve seen men be killed for even witnessing.

its silent and almost peaceful in this small pocket of time “mm wasnt tryin’ to be subtle sir,, y’know pinning after you is no easy task.” you’d say jokingly if the man infront of you hadn’t killed many men whose ranks had rivaled yours in status, instead you stay quiet choosing to move all the bit closer to him in thought, hands resulting to rest in your jacket pockets.

“i could kill you, have you lit on fire for even thinkin such thoughts about me — yet you would just keep coming back, even offering to stand by my side like some kind of lacky in love.” he spits with just a hint of venomous tone “it repulses me even thinkin about it; hey, you fuckin’ in love with me solider?”

the scowl thats always reaching on his pretty face returns just once as he stands straight from leaning on the desk, hes still shorter than you and it only adds to his fuel.

“no m’not, hows that? was it satisfying enough for you?” a lie you half think about closing the distance between you two, but the metal that gets pressed up against your skull is enough assurance to halt the bare thought of movement.

his eyes search yours once more and before you know it your back is being pressed firmly against the desk.

maybe its the sensation from being high or just the adrenaline from this damn heat but you feel very obligated to wrap a hand around the hand thats holding up your ender, again its the post blunt high thats making you see things because his hand totally doesn’t falter when you touch it and it for sure doesn’t let you lower the gun either.

yeaaaa who laced the cigar because his facial expression isn’t in a scowl anymore its almost distraught watching you maneuver the gun to sit behind on the desk, his voice stoping you temporarily “not any further soldier, you’re messin w’ my fuckin head right now, and thats not what you want.”

the look you give him is deafening and its filled with something he cant source.

“what.. are you to decide what I want, are y’ afraid that i might break you?” you’re pushin it yet there it is again that same scowl just a bit deeper than before. its like your a fucking ticking bomb thats just wanting to explode “i'm jus’ waitin for your permission sir, to let me have you”

in another universe you might have been killed at the spot and brutally beaten until unrecognizable.

“do what you’ want, but you'd better make it damn good or i'll have to kill you.” he says backing up until his legs hit his office chair the sqeaking reminding the both of you where you just so happen to be at this hour.

but that is the last thing you’d have ever thought to hear from this oh so difficult man.

note ;; chat am I cookin even though this kind of out of charcter? ,, I keep blue balling cause I really cant write full fics but we getting there also requests will be opening soon, my messages are open right now if anyone wants to thirst tho.

[yawnderu]

Daddy's girl - Vladimir Makarov x Reader

The daddy issues are hitting hard today. ^_^

CW: face slapping, death threats, degrading words, hurt/comfort... as comforting a terrorist can be. Reader isn't Makarov's daughter.

''You didn't come to my graduation.'' You stumble into his office without knocking, the liquid courage in your blood giving you the guts you never even knew you had.

''My little princess.'' His tone is full of sarcasm, brown eyes sizing you up as he looks up from the paperwork sprawled on his desk. He tilts his head slightly as you say nothing.

''How kind of you to grace me with your presence. Of course, I wasn't able to attend your graduation... I have important duties as a leader.'' He was making a show out of it, voice dripping pure disdain as he got up from his chair, walking over to you with his hands clasped behind his back. Your silence makes the corners of his mouth tilt up.

''Besides, I've never been much of a family man.'' Despite knowing better, the alcohol is poisoning your brain, taking full control of your tongue.

''Go fuck yourself.'' The words are spoken with pure hatred, years of suppressed words due to only being acknowledged with condescending words finally coming out.

''I'm shocked, my dear.'' There's a smirk on his face at your bold words, clearly amused by your courage. Oh, how his hands are aching to hurt.

''You know better than to speak to me like that. Maybe I should teach you a lesson in respect again.'' He leans down slightly, one hand firmly holding your jaw as he stares down at you with cold, piercing eyes. You hold your ground, arms crossed over your chest while you stare up at him stubbornly. In the past, you'd be begging and trying to run away, yet you stand tall and proud in pure defiance. Just this once.

''I've given you everything you could ever want, and this is the thanks I get for it?'' He's looming over you like a predator ready to pounce on its prey, eyes burning with resentment and anger you have seen many times before.

''You are nothing without me.'' With a swift, jerky motion, the hand grasping your jaw lets go just to reach out and slap you across the face, the sound of his hand connecting with your skin echoing throughout the room. Your eyes close out of reflex, trying your best not to fall down despite how dizzy the hard slap and the alcohol are making you. You take a few seconds to recover, looking up at him with nothing but disdain, mirroring his own expression.

''You've given me everything but your love.'' Makarov's expression hardens even further, disgust mixing in with the anger.

''Love? What do you know about love? You're a naive little girl who has never in her life faced the reality of this world. You think I'm so cruel, so heartless, but I've made more sacrifices than you could ever imagine.'' His Russian accent got more prominent the more annoyed he got, making his words sound even harsher. He grabbed you by the arm, spinning you around and forcing you to face the window that looked out into the city skyline.

''Your mother's love didn't stop her from dying when she gave birth to you. You're lucky I took you under my wing and gave you a life of luxury.'' You scoffed at his comment, staying quiet for now as you held back tears.

''I tolerated your insolence because I thought that with time, you'd respect me... I see now that I failed to raise you properly.'' He pulled out his revolver, pressing the muzzle against your temple. There was barely any emotion in his face, simply cold, calculated indifference.

''That can be fixed easily.'' He presses the gun harder against your head, and all you can do is hold back tears. You bite the inside of your cheek softly, waiting for a ''bang'' that doesn't come yet.

''Go ahead, pap.'' Your stubborn mouth lashes out before you can even think about it, trying your best to give him a smile despite the way your eyes are burning with tears.

''Free me from this life of death and war you gave me.'' Makarov frowns, finger tensing on the trigger as he looks down at you. He would never admit it, but the unexpected response caught him off-guard.

''I've been too soft on you.'' He pulls back the hammer, metal clicking loudly.

''Quite the opposite, but whatever.'' There was an icy calm in his gaze as he looked down at the younger girl.

''Do you know what your problem is? You're ungrateful. More stubborn than a mule and twice as bratty. All you've ever done is take, take, take.'' His finger tightens on the trigger, patience wearing thin by the second. He wanted to see the fear in her eyes, to see the tears finally roll down her cheeks, to hear her beg for her life, yet she wasn't giving him the satisfaction.

''That's my problem?'' You ask sarcastically, turning your head slightly to look up at him, gun now held against your forehead as you lean closer to him, challenging him even further. ''I've done nothing but dedicating my time and life to you and the Inner Circle.''

Makarov takes a step back, lowering his gun by his side before almost hesitantly putting it back in its holster. He looks you up and down with pure disdain, blood boiling inside his throbbing veins.

''It's your attitude that irks me, not whatever you think you've done for me and the Inner Circle. You're underserving of the respect that comes with your position, ungrateful for the life I've given you, you're living proof of all my failures. Do you understand, child?'' He lets go of your arm, hand twitching to get the gun back, but he ignores it for now. He sighs heavily, walking over to his desk and pulling a bottle of vodka out of a drawer, gloved hands opening the bottle and taking a long, long swig. He's way too sober to deal with you.

''Why are you even drunk at 9:00AM?'' He asks softly, trying his best not to grow gray hairs at the stress your mere presence causes him.

''I've been up all night. Graduation party with some friends and the after.'' You speak just as softly, looking out the window for a while before finally turning back to him, hands clasped behind your back politely, a fake, calm expression on your face despite the turmoil in your head. He simply nods his head, elbows leaning on the lavish desk while taking another swig of the vodka.

''No chaser?'' You try to bring some humor to the situation, all anger gone as you now simply try to please him, ignoring your own emotional needs like usual. To your surprise, he lets out a soft amused chuckle.

''No chaser.'' He confirms, taking a deep breath before pulling two glasses out, filling them up before holding one your way.

''You better not disappoint me.'' The words lack their usual venom, though he's still clearly not happy with you. He knocks back his glass, filling it again without waiting for you. You hesitantly reach for the glass, holding your breath as you knock it back as well, making a face once the alcohol burns your throat and warms up your stomach.

''Ugh.'' Is all you can say, sitting in a chair in front of his desk as he fills up your glass again.

''Come on, try not to embarrass yourself.'' He's not being hostile for once. He almost sounds teasing as he says that, keeping eye contact while he takes his shot without even grimacing or making a face, clearly handling alcohol much better than you.

''You're trying to get me drunk for fun.'' Yet you still grab the glass and knock it back, making another face of pure disgust at the burn of pure vodka he seems to be drinking so easily.

''It certainly looks like it's working.'' He says with a small teasing tone, gesturing towards your slightly unfocused gaze.

''It is.'' Your voice is slightly slurred, the mix of the alcohol you drank earlier, the hard liquor and the lack of sleep hitting you like a fucking train, making you more tired by the second. You rest your head on the desk, eyes closing as you hear Makarov let out an amused chuckle as he gets up from his chair.

''Come here.'' He speaks with surprising softness, and you can feel him lifting you up with care, bringing your barely conscious body to his much bigger chair as he sits down, holding you close on his lap. One of his hands is on your lower back, safely securing your body, while the other one is running up and down the length of your hair.

''Get some sleep.'' He whispers softly and he doesn't have to repeat himself twice. Before you're fully gone, you can feel his lips plant a small kiss on the top of your head. Just this once, he'll allow himself to be weak.

[shamelesswolftheorist]

When Johnny died it seemed like the world ended. Not just for you but also for the rest of the 141. Especially Simon.

You don't think that you'll ever be able to forget the look in his eyes when Johnny's dead body hit the floor. Never have you seen him so utterly broken before. His heart, mind and soul shattering the moment he tried to feel his best friends pulse and found none.

When you looked between his helpless eyes and Johnny's dead body that day, you wanted to vomit on the floor. The death and the desperation hanging heavy in the air being too much to handle. You could't even look at the faces of Gaz and Price. Knowing that if you did, you wouldn't be able to control yourself anymore. You would break down and never get up again.

Even though all of you were confronted with death, torment, despair and pain every day. Even though none of you were strangers to losing the ones you love most. His death was too much.

John "Soap" MacTavish was the heart of the 141, and now he was gone forever.

In this moment of grief another emotion started to take root in your hearts and minds. A feeling cold and hot at the same time. Burning your veins and freezing your hearts in blocks of ice. It was a feeling of anger. Hatred. Revenge.

And when Price spoke the words "one KIA" into the coms, it was a silent command and a promise to you, and a threat to the world. Makarov will pay. No matter what.

Your war ends with him.

[glittergoblinzz]

When the Fire Devours Everything We Are....I'll Hold You Close

09!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x GN!Reader

CW: Character Death, Angst, light intimate moment mentions, Canon Divergence, bittersweet ending....

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: You, Captain MacTavish and Ghost go to rescue Prisoner 6-2-7 from the gulag so you can draw Makarov out of hiding. Everything goes smoothly until it doesn't....

-------------------------------

"See 'em over there? At 2 'o clock? Take 'em out."

You nod, aiming your silenced sniper towards the two tangos that were patrolling the West side of the gate. With two swift hits of your trigger, the enemy soldiers went down. Ghost moved out from position, behind a snowy bush, as he went to go bury the bodies in snow so they wouldn't be discovered anytime soon.

Then he went over to your position, not too far away just slightly to the South. You get up from the ground, brushing the snow off your uniform and slinging your sniper around your shoulder before taking your assault rifle out.

"Good work, luv. Quick and clean like usual. Proud of ya..."

Ghost pats your shoulder as he gently presses his forehead to yours, his usual gesture of affection towards you, before he pulls away and starts heading for the gate of the gulag. You're quick to follow.

You, Ghost and Captain MacTavish were out in the middle of Russia, at a gulag to retrieve a prisoner only known a "6-2-7", someone who Vladimir Makarov hated more than the Western World itself. Your team, Task Force 141, figured if you could get the person out, it would draw Makarov out from what dirty, rotten hole he was hiding in.

So, General Shepherd gave the okay and sent the whole Task Force in, along with some air support from the American Air Force. The job was simple, not much different from what your team usually does. You've cleared bases, rescued hostages, took down dangerous terrorists....so this mission should be a piece of cake. Or it should've been....

The team made it in without a hitch, taking out the numerous guards and soldiers that were stationed out in the prison's field and towers. Once inside the prison, Ghost stays behind in the control center to help guide you and the rest of the team through the prison to where Prisoner 6-2-7 was being held.

"Good luck in there, lovie. Come back to me safe ya hear?"

Those were the last words Ghost had said to you before you and the rest of the team went down further into the prison. At a few points, you and the boys were pinned down by enemy forces. Though Captain MacTavish and yourself along with Roach, Ogre and Worm made quick work of them all. With Ghost's help from inside the control room, he remotely opened doors and sealed the ones behind you so the enemies couldn't follow.

Your mission ended up taking you to the very depth of the prison, through its sewer systems and whatnot. Eventually Ghost guides you all to a wall, and together with MacTavish, Roach breaches it. Behind the wall was an unsuspecting guard, but before any one of you could take him out, a shadowy figure came up to the guard and wrapped a chain around their neck, pulling them in for a brutal headlock.

The person used the guard as a human shield, coming up to Roach and punching him to the ground. He takes the gun off the guard, breaking their neck before taking aim at Roach. Captain MacTavish comes up behind the man and aims his own gun at him before a look of realization hits him. His thick, Scottish accent slightly quivering as he speaks up.

"Price....?"

The man looks away from Roach briefly, lowering his gun just a little.

"Soap?"

Price's voice was gruff, and he looked extremely rugged from being locked up in the gulag for so long. He looks at Roach once more before putting his gun away and offering the mute soldier his hand to help him up.

Worm looks between the two of them, a confused look on his face.

"Soap? Who the hell is Soap?"

Before Price or Captain MacTavish could respond to that, the whole building shakes violently. You grab onto a nearby table for support as the walls begin to crack and chunks of the ceiling begin crashing down. Your heart skips a beat as you realize Ghost was still up near ground level, closest to the points of impact. Captain MacTavish gives an annoyed grunt before speaking into his comms.

"Shepherd? What the hell's going on? The Americans weren't supposed to bomb this place until we had left!"

"Sorry, MacTavish. The Americans got tired of waiting. There was nothing I could do."

That was bullshit. You knew it and the look on Captain MacTavish's face shown that he knew it too.

"Bloody Yanks. I thought they were supposed to be the good guys."

Upon hearing Ghost speak up, the worries you felt just moments ago faded....but only slightly. He may have been closer to the surface than the rest of you but that doesn't mean he was safe just yet. The prison could come toppling down on top of him as well as the rest of you.

"Easy, Ghost. We can complain about it later. First we need to get out of here."

MacTavish said as he started to lead the team out. You all went down a corridor before another shockwave hit, causing the corridor to collapse at the end and forcing you all to go back and find a different route.

After a few close calls and a couple encounters with what was left of the guards, you and the team eventually make it back to the prison yard where Nikolai was waiting for his helicopter. Roach, Price, Captain MacTavish and yourself load up into the helicopter while the others go and do a round to make sure there were no other guards around.

"Wait, where's Ghost? Paps, go back in and check for him."

You nod at Captain MacTavish's orders and hop out of the helicopter. The thought of finding your teammate and boyfriend dead in the gulag gnawed at the back of your head but you manage to suppress it as you make your way back into the prison.

In the middle of the hall towards the control room, you see a couple of guards kneeling down beside something. You quickly realize it was Ghost. You yell out, getting their attention. Before they could realize what was happening, you had already put multiple bullets in them.

Sprinting over, you kneel down beside Ghost and immediately check for a pulse. A sigh of relief escapes your lips when you feel his pulse still steady and strong beneath your fingers. Though, worry quickly moves in when you see that his balaclava had a good sized blood stain at the top of his head. Carefully, you remove his sunglasses and then the balaclava from him, revealing the familiar face you had fallen in love with years ago. His dark hair slightly frizzled due to the balaclava coming off and his hazel eyes shut.

Your eyes immediately take notice of the trail of blood flowing down the side of his face. It seems like Ghost has gotten hit in the head with some of the fallen debris earlier while you and the rest of the  team were making your escapes.

Other than that, you don't see any other injuries on him which was a relief....though, his vest was taken off and his jacket slightly open. You don't pay much attention to this as you're more focused on getting him help. Carefully getting him up, you drag him along back outside of the prison. On the way, you could hear a slight groan coming from Ghost.

"Aaagh....what happened?"

Ghost looks over to you, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"Who the bloody hell are you? Why are you dragging me?"

Your heart sinks as you hear these words. Your boyfriend of five years didn't know who you were. Not once did you expect for this to happen. Finding him dead? Yeah...but not finding him with amnesia. You let Ghost go when he pulls away from you, a look of distrust in his eyes.

"Simon, listen...I know you're confused right now and might not know who I am, but please trust me. I'm trying to get you out of here so I can get you some medical treatment. You've been injured...."

You slowly reach out and gently touch the tender wound on the side of Ghost's head, causing him to wince slightly. The look of distrust doesn't leave his eyes.

"How can I know ya ain't just lying to me?"

Sighing, you reach into your pocket and take out a photo you always carry. It's from your first anniversary together. Simon had surprised you with a pet rat, one that looked exactly like the one you had used to own when you were a little kid. He knew you adored animals, especially rats, and that the one you had as a child meant a lot to you before it "ran away" (that was what your parents told you).

The photo showed Simon holding you from behind, his head resting on your shoulder as you held the rat, Copia, in your hands. All three of you looked happy and content in that moment.

Ghost takes the picture from you and looks at it for a moment before shaking his head.

"I'm sorry. I don't remember this....but I can't deny that that ain't me there. So, I guess perhaps you are telling tha truth? Fine. Get me out of here, I suppose."

Nodding, you guide Ghost back out of the prison and towards the helicopter where the others were waiting.

"Bloody hell, lass/lad. What the hell 'appened to him?"

You shake your head and look at Captain MacTavish with a sorrowful expression.

"He got hit in the head with some debris when the Americans hit the prison with those missiles. He....can't remember anything."

Captain MacTavish eyes go wide for a brief second in surprise before a sympathetic look replaces it.

"I see. We'll get him help. Don't you worry. He'll be the Ghost you once knew again...."

You get into the helicopter and Ghost follows after you, sitting right by you and near the open door. Soon enough, you all are up in the air and flying across the ocean to head back to base once more.

You sit in silence for a good while, anxiety starting to build up in you as you think about what will happen now. Will Ghost get his memories back? What if he doesn't? What if he doesn't and starts a new life without you? The thoughts quickly eat away at you and you could feel your stomach begin to churn more and more.

Yet, you're suddenly pulled out of those thoughts when you feel a slight nudge. You look over towards Ghost, who was looking at you with a worried expression.

"You alright there?"

You nod before looking away again. Ghost is silent for a moment before speaking to you again.

"I may not remember you, but that doesn't I don't want to try in remembering you. I want to remember everything....and even if I can't remember, I'd like to get to know you again. Would...that be alright?"

You look back at Ghost, a little more hopeful now. You nod, a small smile on your face.

"Yeah....that would-"

You're stopped when a faint beep could be heard. It was faint and barely audible over the sound of the helicopter, but you could still just barely hear it. You wait, and another beep. Then another. They were in succession, every second.

"Do....you hear that?"

Ghost nods. You both look around before you realize the beeping was coming from Ghost himself. You look over him and take note of his jacket.

"Ghost....pull your jacket zipper down."

When he goes to pull his zipper down, it becomes evident that its stuck. You reach over and give it a tug, but it wouldn't budge. The beeps continue and you start to get worried. The others have noticed the two of you now and Captain Price speaks up.

"Oi, no getting frisky on a mission you two."

You roll your eyes and give the zipper another tug. Still stuck. You frown and decide to just put your finger through the collar of his jacket, pulling it away from his neck so you can peer down into the jacket. All color drains from your face once you see the flashing red light that goes off with every beep.

"Bomb....he's got a damn bomb strapped to him!"

Everyone in the helicopter was now on edge. Captain MacTavish gets up and goes over.

"What the bloody hell do you mean he has a bomb on him?"

You move away slightly to give Captain MacTavish room to peep down Ghost's jacket as well. Sure enough, the Scottish Captain sees the red flashing of the bomb with each tick.

"Christ...get that fookin' jacket off of him!"

"You think we haven't tried?! It's stuck!"

You give the jacket zipper another tug. And another....then the zipper breaks. Panic washes over not just you but Ghost as well. His eyes were wide and looking at you, silently pleading for you to help him.

Just barely visible, you could see the faint outline of the timer.

14....13....12...

"Fuck, 10 seconds....!"

Panicking, you try and lift the jacket off of him but it's no use. It was too form fitting, not allowing it to be pulled off overhead.

You look at the rest of the team before looking at Ghost.

"I'm sorry....I love you, Si...."

Taking a deep breath, you grab Ghost and press your forehead to his in the same gentle manner he always did with you....before throwing him out of the helicopter door. The look on his face, the pained expression of knowing he was going to die, it broke your heart. Much more than it would have if you had just found him dead back at the prison.

Not more than three seconds after you tossed him, the bomb goes off. You see the flames engulf his body, and the shockwave of the explosion shakes the helicopter violently. It's tough, and the helicopter almost goes down into the ocean below, but Nikolai just barely manages to steady it out and it's a smooth ride once again.

All the others in the helicopter are giving you sympathetic looks. Captain MacTavish sits next to you and gently places his hand on your shoulder.

"I...I'm sorry, lass/lad. I'm sure he understood that there wasn't any other choice. You did what was right. There wasn't any saving him..."

You don't say or do anything in response. All you could do was just sit there and stare at the spot where Ghost had just been sitting with you.

.

.

.

.

.

The weeks flew by. Everything was a blur. You acted more like a robot than a person; always keeping to yourself, doing exactly what you were told without question. The funny, snarky soldier the team once knew was gone. You had blamed yourself for what happened to Ghost, despite Captain MacTavish and Price telling you it wasn't your fault. If you had just checked that damn jacket when you first noticed it slightly opened after those guards had kneeled down beside him, you keep telling yourself....They weren't making sure he was dead....they were planting a damn bomb on him as a last ditch effort to take the rest of the Task Force out.

Captain MacTavish and Price wanted you off the team, to put you on mandatory leave so you could go get help; go to therapy. General Shepherd, however, wouldn't allow it. Instead, he assigned you and Roach to go to Makarov's safehouse in the Caucasus mountains of the Georgian-Russian border to try and hunt that bastard down.

So off the two of you went along with other members of the Task Force. Price and MacTavish were elsewhere, off at some other location Makarov was known to hide away at.

You, Roach and the team easily take Makarov's men down before heading into the safehouse. You don't find Vladimir Makarov anywhere but you do find his computer. Upon informing Shepherd, Roach takes out the DSM to download the Intel on the terrorist's computer. More of Makarov's men arrive so you and the other team members get to protecting Roach and the DSM. After about thirty grueling minutes of gunfight, the DSM finishes downloading the information and Roach grabs it.

The two of you then head towards the rendezvous point where General Shepherd had told you to meet at, while the others kept Makarov's men at bay. Eventually you two make it, just in time to see Shepherd's helicopter land and him stepping out from the back of it.

"Did you two secure the DSM?"

"Yes, sir we did."

You say as Roach hands the DSM off to Shepherd. The General takes a drag from his lit cigar before grabbing the DSM module.

"Good. That's one loose end tied up...."

Before either of you can react, General Shepherd pulls his .44 magnum out and shoots Roach in the chest, killing the mute soldier instantly.

Your eyes widen as you quickly reach for your rifle....but Shepherd nonchalantly turns his magnum to you and shoots you in the chest as well, barely missing your heart by a few inches. You collapse, gasping for breath as blood begins to flood your lungs.

Shepherd's private PMC, Shadow Company, swiftly came up. They began dragging Roach's body over to a hole not far off in the field, then picked you up and tossed you right by Roach. The mercs began to pour gasoline over the two of you, the liquid burning the wound in your chest. Despite the gut wrenching pain, you didn't scream. You couldn't.

You glance up at Shepherd, your body beginning to grow tired and your eye lids feeling heavier due to the lack of oxygen. The General glances down right back at you, an indifferent look on his face.

"Don't worry. It wasn't anything personal, kid...."

He takes one last drag of his cigar before tossing it onto Roach's body. Flames quickly began to spread across the corpse, the smell of burning flesh overwhelming your senses. Though, it slowly begins to fade as you feel yourself begin to slip....you close your eyes and wait.

You lay there, waiting for the flames to reach your body; waiting for the excruciating pain to spread throughout your body. But it never comes. You open your eyes and sit up. No pain shoots through your body. Hell, you could even breathe. Confused, you sit up and look around. You were sitting in a field, a different field than the one that you were killed in.

Killed...

You were dead. And General Shepherd had been the one who killed you.

You balled your hands up into fists, gripping at the grass beneath you. You were dead, that was for sure. There wasn't a bloody gunshot wound on your chest, and Roach's burning corpse was nowhere to be seen. A rush of emotions filled you. Anger, sadness, sorrow, confusion.....

You were pissed at General Shepherd for betraying you and Roach. You were sad that someone you thought you could trust had turned out to be a lying snake. You couldn't understand why he would even do that in the first place. The two of you did everything that he had told you to do, no questions asked. So why did General Shepherd betray you and Roach?

Roach....

Your close and valued teammate. He was your and Ghost's best friend. All three of you would goof around on base, go out for drinks during leave....Roach, of all people, did not deserve to go out like that. You couldn't help but feel absolutely horrible for him.

As you say there in the tall grass, drowning in your thoughts, a figure slowly walked up behind you.

"Lovie, you're not supposed to be here. Not yet...."

Your head perks up, and if your heart could still beat, you knew it would be beating it's way out of your chest. You get up and slowly turn around, your eyes going wide with the sight of Ghost standing there. Another wave of emotions hit you and you're not sure if you could handle it all...

Ghost recognizes the pain in your eyes and takes a few more steps towards you before wrapping his arms around you in a gentle, protective manner.

"Simon, I'm sorry....I'm so sorry....The bomb, the helicopter....I-I didn't have any other choice, I-"

"Shhhh, it's okay. It's alright. You saved the lives of the others. You did what was right; you didn't put our relationship above the mission, above our team. I don't blame you, luv. I'm proud of you."

You wrap your arms around him, returning the soft embrace. You could only nod, knowing that if you said another word then you'd probably break down. You and Ghost stay like that for a moment, relishing in being able to hold each other once more before he pulls away.

All the memories you two created over the years come flooding back. You remember your first kiss; how his lips felt against yours. You remember the first time you two laid in bed together; how good it felt when he rolled his hips into you, stretching you out with his length. The small little moments of the two of you watching TV, or having dinner together.

All of that was gone. It had been for a while now....but now the two of you had each other again, and you were fine with that. Fine with being dead and gone knowing that you'd at least get to have him with you once again.

Ghost reaches for your cheek, cupping it as he gently strokes it with his thumb. His hazel eyes stared into your own, the love and affection in them evident.

"Now. Why don't you tell me what I've missed? We've got all the time in the world...."

___________________________________

Gaaahh this was a long one! I spent all day writing it out. Last night I dreamt that Ghost had gotten hit with a piece of debris during the end part of 'The Gulag' mission from OG MW2, which gave him some amnesia. Then on the helicopter ride, discovered the enemies had found him knocked out and decided to place explosives on him to try and wipe out the rest of TF141 since they knew they wouldn't be able to.

I thought that would have been a good idea for a mini fic, so....here we are.

The last bit with reader dying was something I came up with on a whim.

Also, remember that my requests ARE OPEN so if you want me thoughts on certain characters, my headcanons, or a mini fic request, just shoot me an ask! ☺️ (Also there's a couple references in this fic. Whoever gets 'em gets a cookie 🍪. The title is one of them!)

[brokenpieces-72]

Going Dark

COD Gangster AU

Navigation

Kate had met with her friend, Charlotte at the gathering. Her hope was to exchange what information she could with her while having another ear close by.

When Makarov gave his speech she’d gotten a text from Price.

“141 going Dark.”

Kate didn’t have time to try and help Farah, and there was too much risk in doing so. At least Alex had tried. Her main priority was you and getting you to safety. As soon as Charly noticed the text she left to get the car.

You sat in the backseat furiously texting Kyle and Johnny, praying for a response. You keep trying to refresh the messages, seeing how long it’s been since sending them.

“Ya alright back there love?” Charlotte asks from the front seat. Laswell is staring out the window, lost in thought in between text messages. You look up from your phone, and meet Charlotte’s eyes in the rear view mirror. You nod.

“Y-yeah. Fine.” You say, finally setting your phone screen down. Then you pick it up again and text Graves.

“What happened?! What did you do?!”

He texts back right away.

“Exactly as you told me to. We got em kid.”

You try to ask him what he means but your text won’t go through. He’s blocked your number.

Charlotte pulled into a parking lot and exits the vehicle with Laswell. While Laswell made her way to the old hotel building Charlotte opened the door for you, offering a hand. After everything you welcome the comfort of physical touch. Charlotte escorts you inside and you make your way up a few flights until you reach the honeymoon suite. Laswell knocks on the door.

“Watcher-1.” Laswell says, and the door opens. You go in with them and looks around eyes wide.

Alejandro is pacing, bruises blotting his face and arms. Simon is helping Rudy who is laying on ratty couch, getting makeshift stitches. Kyle and Soap are bandaging themselves, with a nasty wound on Soap’s arm and Kyle’s arm caked in blood. Price closes the door behind you.

“You said Graves would help.” He comments before anyone can say anything else. You go very very quiet. Price is staring you down. His face is blank but one word will change that. You don’t know what to say to him. Graves had fucked them over but surely something else was going on.

“I dont know what happened.” You say quickly.

Price shakes his head and steps further into the room while all you can do is stand there, frozen in place. You shouldn’t have told Graves, you shouldn’t have tried to help. Price doesn’t say anything and yet it feels like he’s saying everything. You just want it out.

“I don’t know what happened!” You repeat turning to look at Price.

“You told Graves. That’s what happened! Graves is not your father, he can’t do what he did!” Price tells you. Laswell tries stepping in and he raises a finger to stop her.

“No. Don’t defend them. They messed up, they take the fall.”

“I was trying to help!” You argue. “That’s all I’ve been doing!”

“You took a risk that was never your decision.”

“I got the cops involved so that something could actually be done, people could be put behind bars!”

“You’re not your father!” Price shouts. The entire room goes silent. You don’t have anything to say to that. The others don’t say anything either. No one defends you. No one argues with Price.

Then you notice red and blue lights. Your eyes widen. How could this get any worse? Graves was about to show you. Price looks at Kate and Charlotte who leave the room. The last thing Price wants is for the two of them to get into shit and lose their positions as high as they are. Alejandro curses in Spanish seeing the place is surrounded. There was no way out, but the cops weren’t looking for Charlotte and Laswell.

“Go with them.” Price orders you.

“I’m staying.” You say. You look at Soap and Gaz who look away to finish up their bandages. You know you’ve screwed up. Time to pay the price. Except you pay for it in a whole new way.

Graves opens the door and sees you. He looks relieved.

“Officer l/n. Well done.” He says approvingly. “You’re all under arrest.”

“Graves what the fuck?!” Soap barks, getting to his feet. You see more cops shuffling in behind Graves. You get between Graves and Soap.

“Soap leave it!” You tell him.

“You have some nerve Graves.” Price says.

Alejandro says something in Spanish again, as an officer approaches each one of your friends. Simon doesn’t put up a fight. He knows there’s risk in fighting back when they’re all injured, and while they had weapons, there didn’t need to be more blood shed.

“You did really good kid. Your dad would be proud.” Graves said patting you on the shoulder, raising his voice a little so everyone in the room can hear.

“What?” You ask.

“Seriously I don’t think even your dad could pull an undercover case like so well. Impressive.” Graves continues.

Soap looks at you with a look of anger and betrayal.

“You little shit.” Johnny says, looking you dead in the eyes. No. There was no way. What the fuck. You don’t know what to say. Before Johnny can do anything, he’s pinned to the closest wall and put in handcuffs. Kyle raises his hands, and Rudolfo is helped up. Alejandro is ignoring the Miranda rights and continuing to tell them off in Spanish. All you can do is stand there with Graves gently nudging you around so everyone can be escorted out. You stare at the ground unable to face anyone. You don’t know how to feel. You’re upset your friends are being arrested, you’re worried about what will happen to them, you’re pissed at Graves for what ever shit he was pulling, and… you were scared. Once everyone is outside, it’s just you and Graves.

He shuts the door instructing his officers to wait downstairs.

“What the fuck.” You say turning and facing him. Graves looks back at you with a stern expression.

“You did it kid good job.” He says.

“I didn’t do shit! You! This was all you!” You shout.

“Listen to m-“

“No! I’m done. I resigned! I left the force because I finally found something worth doing and the one second I trust you, you turn around a pull this shit!”

“I am trying to hel-“

“No! No you didn’t. If anything you’ve done the exact opposite of what I wanted. I’m not a cop, and I’m not my father! You fucked up and now you’ve pinned it on me.” You say and you leave the room slamming the door closed.

Once you get outside you catch sight of Price before the door is closed on him. It’s a look that haunts you, and is unreadable. A couple of officers come over to congratulate you on an excellent con. You shove past them and leave the scene. You don’t want to be there anymore. You just want to go home. Except you can’t go home. Your home just got piled into cars and taken to the police station.

So you return to your old apartment. You sit on the couch after getting yourself a beer. You don’t know what to do now. You’re pissed off and afraid. But you know there isn’t much you can do.

“You’re not your father.” Those words sting all night.

Graves returns to the police station where he sees a pleased Makarov. He gives a smug look to Makarov striding over to stand next to him.

“Officer Graves. Well done.” Makarov says with praise.

“Wish I could take the glory, but not me.” Graves says watching the 141 be taken to the holding cells. Makarov glances at Graves.

“Unfortunately we lost a few good officers thanks to undercover work… but I don’t think I need to tell you that.” Graves says giving Makarov a friendly nudge, before checking his watch.

“I better get going. I haven’t eaten anything all night, need to run a couple errands.”

“Who is responsible for bringing them in?” Makarov asks.

“Heh, believe it or not, the officer who resigned. Kid can do a long con.” Graves says, before leaving the station. Makarov looks toward the holding cells. A bit of time and it would hardly be an issue. This kid would certainly be an issue, but something to worry about later.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @tai-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666

[hereisrachel]

Angsty(?) Makarov Dating Headcanons

Tw : angst to fluff, nothing graphic or nsfw.

After Makarov forced you to respect him, you eventually got used to living and working for him.

He did as well.

He stopped being so abusive because you were more obedient.

He stopped getting so angry at you.

His stone-cold heart was somehow warm for you.

When your relationship became more normal to say at least, he started to fear.

That you'll leave him. It wasn't much of a problem right? He could force you to stay, but this time he didn't like to think about this idea. He doesn't really want to hurt you anymore.

It took him some time to realise that he feared not you leaving, but you losing feelings for him.

He felt weak for that, emotions are only an obstacle. Why would he care about it?

Well, he cares for you, and now it's hard for him to think about future without you.

He still thinks about you as more like his worker and not partner, but he loves you so much.

He is emotional, he gets stressed because he is emotional and he gets angry because he is stressed.

But he doesn't push you away.

He wants to protect you and be with you all the time.

That can do right?

He will never admit of being scared to you.

That he fears looking up at you and seeing a hateful scowl instead of your sweet smile.

That he will wake up without you next to him.

That he will be going back from the mission alone.

He gets back to the home, you are still outside and he is worried.

He doesn't have a phone for safety reasons so he cannot call or text you.

So he does jack shit instead of his work, waiting for you and thinking of the worst scenarios imaginable.

But you come back, your hair a bit messy from the autumn air. You look up at him with kindest smile possible (after he did all of that shit to you, desperate hoe /j), wearing the scarf he gave you (previous hcs!!)

It almost makes him smile as well, but he doesn't move, you come up to hug him, he flinches a bit at your cold body.

He closes you in embrace, your body getting warmer, as you rest your head on his shoulder.

[mactavishenjoyer]

Angsty Ghoap fanfic AU idea cuz I'm bored.

Soap was something else. Ghost had never felt like he could trust someone else so much. Ghost knew he shouldn't but he couldn't help lowering his guard as Soap broke through every wall he had put up. Ghost never imagined himself being sappy or in love. God, he never even imagined telling someone he loved them but here he was planning on proposing. He had picked out what he believed to be the perfect ring. Something simple and none reflective so Soap wouldn't have to take it off for missions. He had hidden the ring in his dresser and waited for the perfect opportunity. While he waited for that opportunity he found himself sleeping better and better. Something about sleeping holding his Johnny made it so much easier. He truly trusted Soap. So Simon never expected to wake up feeling the burning pain of having his Boyfriend stab a knife into his chest. His warm blood quickly pulled around the wound, dripping onto the sheets. Ghost pushed Soap off him before he could bring the knife back down. He hit the ground with a loud thud, cussing in Russian as he looked up from the ground. Ghost had been betrayed before but not like this. Never in a million years did he think he'd be tricked by let alone fall for a Spy. Especially not one working for Makarov.

Or something like that idk. I don't know how to write.

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter One: In the Dead of Night

Vladimir Makarov x Reader

The Long Road Masterlist

Summary: Soon after your fiance's murder you find yourself diving face first into enacting a plan to avenge his death. Regardless of your friend's approval, your wellbeing, livelihood, or future, you find yourself in it for the long-con.

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: Violence, Guns, Death, Major MW3 Spoiler, Main Character Death, Grief, Loss, Angst, Anger, Hatred, Revenge, Dark Themes,

A/N: This is... sooooo self-indulgent and utterly crack, tbh. I'd thought it up a while ago and keep thinking about it. I kept trying to think of a way to make it realistic, but... I just feel like there is no way of doing that, so I'm just gonna write it. However it goes, it goes. Also fyi I am using google translate so I really hope it's coming out okay. I do speak Russian, but only Duolingo tiny bit. divider by @saradika

You were prepared for this, you knew it was bound to happen one day, you just didn't know when that day would be. It only looks like, now, it's finally come. As you sit at the counter, stirring the bowl of oatmeal you'd just made and are trying your best to get to cool down, you can't help but think about the man currently in the other room.

You'd expected an entrance something akin to that of a Mission Impossible movie: a loud boom, doors knocked down, guns blazing, venomous words shouted in a language you've hardly begun to understand despite the tedious month of learning to the best of your abilities. Thunder cracks in the distance, rattling the windowpane in the next room; you don't know when the heavy downpour started, but it hasn't given any sign of yield since his arrival only a half hour ago now. Part of you can't help but think back to the myths and legends your husband... husband--your fiance--you remind yourself, mentally scolding as this isn't the first, and you doubt it's the last time you're going to mentally interchange the two words. Part of you can't help but think back to the myths and legends your fiance used to tell you.

The rain reminds you of the the way the Vikings would personify the Norse Gods to Earthly elements. Sure, you know some of the comics, like Thor, and Loki... but nevertheless, with your upbringing, the heavy pounding of the rain against the tin roof and the approaching thunder only makes your thoughts drift back to him. Johnny.

What would he think? What would he do? If he knew you were here... Maybe it's the spiritual part of you that never quite left, possibly having been ingrained from your grandparents when you were younger, or an aunt, an uncle of some sort, perhaps... but you think he'd do something silly like this. Come back as a thunderstorm, manifesting himself as something so threatening and dangerous, symbolizing his distress, unhappiness, and worry for you with torrents of rain, yet trying to protect you from the beyond even with lightning. Yet, you know that's impossible, and certainly not the case. Your heart begins to ache once more as you think of him, not wanting to get caught up, again, in the overwhelming grief you hadn't fully let yourself fall into. This is for him, you remind yourself once again.

"What are you giving her?" The voice comes from the doorway, and you're not entirely surprised by the venom in his tone, albeit taken aback. While he's not loud due to the (presumably) resting woman in the next room, you know that the lack of volume doesn't mean he wouldn't yell if the situation were anywhere else.

"What do you mean? This?" You quirk an eyebrow as you continue to stir in the little additives you'd put into the oatmeal: honey, sugar, and a pinch of salt. "It's oatmeal?" You explain, the confusion obvious in your tone as you hold the bowl up a bit, angling it for him to better see. As if the man has never seen oatmeal in his life; the thought would elicit a whirlwind of laughter from you any other time, or, more accurately, if it were any other person... but this was him. Makarov.

Vladimir Makarov: Thirty-six years old; born in Moscow Russia. Commander of Konni; the ultranationalistic private 'military contractor' group.

You'd done what research you could, found what information you had access to, some you didn't. Utilized what connections, resources, and favors were owed to you. Maybe some of them did it out of pity, out of guilt, or some other sense of failure on behalf of the SAS. Regardless, you'd set your plans into action, intent on making your promise to your late fiance come true. You will kill the man before you. It won't be today. No. After all, that'd be too soon, you have to earn his trust first. Only then, after he's comfortable, and settled, will you pursue your slow and agonizing torture.

"Христос," he curses, "she said you're poisoning her," he speaks slowly, a menacing quality to his tone as he unravels the crossed arms from his chest. Anger is evident in his irises as he stalks toward you with each step, eyebrows in a thick and harsh line. "I ask again-"

"The medication? Is that what you're talking about?" You ask. Feeling your own anger continuing to effervesce in your gut, you turn to face him on the stool, sliding from the counter. While he's still a couple feet away, you have to be more than a handful of feet shorter than him. Of that, you're sure. "Because from what I've deduced so far from being here, she bribed the last caretaker to not give her the medication on the agreement that she'd get more time off!"

He shifts his weight onto his left foot, eyes widening ever so imperceptibly, yet he remains quiet, so you continue. "They gave me her medication, told me to give it to her twice a day, so I'm doing that because she's been prescribed that medication. She clearly needs it, as per her doctor's orders. So unless you think the doctor isn't right, then, that's not my problem! I, however, am not surprised if she's telling you that since she obviously didn't even want me here in the first place."

Rounding the counter, you continue about your--at this point it could be considered daily--routine. Hand grasping your cool blue glass of water, you take a few sips while silently studying him. Despite having infiltrated his life and unknowingly (to him, ethically) disposed of his mother's last caretaker, you haven't officially met your late fiance's murderer till tonight.

KILLER

Slaughterer...! You destroyed him... You took him away from me. You're the reason he's gone. All the thoughts continue to run through your head rampantly, and you can't help but turn to face the wall opposite of him. Pretending to be busy with some of the drying dishes, you try to calm yourself. Acting on impulse and emotion will get you nowhere, you know this.

A heavy sigh permeates the silence that'd fallen between you, and there are the following taps of approaching dress shoes against hardwood floors. Quickly turning to make sure he neither invades your personal space nor dares to touch you, you're met with the visage of Makarov slumped at the counter, head in his hands.

You don't speak, you don't know what to say. Silence fills the space between you. Seeing him like this is weird considering all the stories you'd heard about him. Though you suppose even the most evil of men are still that... human. "How long have you worked as a caretaker?" He suddenly questions.

"A few years," you answer, swallowing the anxiety that starts to bubble up in your throat. "I started as a nurse and thought maybe I'd become a doctor, but it was... too much for me, and... not what I wanted to do. I discovered I liked helping people better as a nurse." It's not all lies, in fact, most of it is true. The only thing that meets your admission is silence, and that fact only raises the tension building within the cottage. Wincing at the rumbling outside, the sound does nothing to help the obvious discomfort you're experiencing finally facing him in person.

"And would you say you're good at your job?" He asks, eyes slightly narrowed in questioning as he slowly raises his head from his hands. The intensity of his dark brown eyes scream hostility and a hurt you can't immediately place your fingers on. Yet despite it all you refuse to waiver underneath his gaze.

"Yes. They wouldn't send me all the way out here otherwise. Not with a case like hers, Sir," you reply.

"Then what-" he tests, pronouncing each word clearly, "would you suggest I do?" He asks. There's a slight breathiness to his voice; with the thin windows, you can't help but feel as though the torrents of northern lake air through the meadow with its water.

Eyebrow raising in response, you're honestly shocked he'd ask such a thing. You're a complete stranger! A whirlwind of emotions go through you; excitement, bewilderment, shock, curiosity... you can't get ahead of yourself. With a sigh out, you shake your head. It may come across like disappointment to him, but really, it's to clear your head and collect yourself.

"Look... it's not something anyone wants to hear, bu-"

"Tell me!" He interrupts, demanding.

"But..." you emphasize, considering you were only putting up polite pretenses for show anyhow. "Really, family members do better when they're living with the family, even with caretakers to help. Whether you can't do it because you're busy or have other priorities, I understand."

"But at the end of the day, family members usually pass more quickly estranged like this on their own in a separate house because they feel lonely and like no one comes to visit. Maybe they have no one, or maybe they feel like they have nothing to live for anymore? She said you only visit her once or twice a year, if that... and while you write letters, that sometimes isn't enough for people, unfortunately. If you really want the truth."

Finished while your spiel, you shift your weight to the other foot as you place the finished oatmeal on the tray you reserve for his Mother. While, yes, you may despise him to the end's of the Earth... his Mother didn't do anything besides give birth to him. You accepted that the night you met her. Afraid to take another sip of your water, you stand in waiting, observant as Makarov seems to silently process everything you've said, his eyes shifting back and forth for a moment.

"I'll be back," he declares before sliding from the stool and rounding the corner into the small living space his Mother used to use more frequently. Shoulders sagging, a breath leaves you that you hadn't realized you'd been holding in. Onto your nightly routine with dinner, you attempt to distract yourself from the continuous torment of thunderstorm outside, meanwhile inside you can hear urgent demands in Russian faintly from the next room. It's clear he's on the phone... but with who? His goons, of course... right? Who else? But to kill you? To background check you? Do you need to prepare to flee?

As you stir the pot of soup you've just put on the stove, you can feel yourself start to sweat and panic. In an attempt to switch gears, you finish her dinner. Oatmeal ready, medication on the tray, you grab the lemonade you two had made the day prior and pour a glass for her before getting a steady grip on the tray and taking it down the hall. With a gentle rap of your foot as best you can against the doorframe, you announce your presence.

"Привет, Как вы себя чувствуете?" You ask, knowing the word for 'hi' and having figured out early on with the help of technology to ask how she's feeling.

"лучше теперь, когда он здесь." She responds with a soft but tired smile. It's a good sign that she's sitting up and alert at this time of night too. You don't understand the first part of what she says as she's talking too fast and you also don't have your phone out to capture what she says into your real time translation app, however you can grasp the last part. 'He's here.'

Placing the tray down on her lap, you shake your head and signal behind you with a frown. A second attempt, pointing to her, you give her a thumbs up and a smiling face for a moment, and then do the opposite. With a thumbs down and a sad face, you try again. "как дела?"

With a wave of her hand, she shakes her head now with a chuckle. "хорошо," she responds, lifting the spoon. "мой Володя!"

Whipping your head around, you find him standing there leaning against the doorframe most likely having been observing the two of you. Hopefully not for long... or maybe not at all since she would've said something. "она так просто с тобой разговаривает?" He says to his Mother, walking up to the bed and into her outstretched arms for the hug she craves.

"она не очень хорошо говорит по-русски," she quietly answers, holding him tightly for a moment, rubbing his back before letting go. With a pat on the bed next to her, she looks between the two of you. "My baby," she struggles to pronounce the word, "Vladimir." A proud smile sits upon her lips for a moment as she gestures to him. He smiles at her, too, and you nod.

"Yes, да. I have met your son just briefly. But it is good to officially meet," you tell her, even if you know she doesn't understand all of it. Shifting your gaze, he meets it with animosity. "Vladimir," you repeat.

"My mother tells me you are," he repeats your name, to which you nod, "it's a pleasure to officially meet you. Now that you're both here, I have news."

"News?" The question pops out of your mouth before you can stop it.

"Yes, news. Since you're taking care of my mother, you technically work for me. What you said stuck with me. You're right-" he shifts his speaking from you to his mother. "I've been a bad son to you, Mama. ты собираешься жить со мной." Again, he shifts his focus back to you. "We have to pack. You will both live on my compound from now."

~~~~~~~~

acronyms|translations:

Христос = christ

Привет = hi

Как вы себя чувствуете = how are you feeling

лучше теперь, когда он здесь = better now that he's here.

как дела = how are you

хорошо = good / fine / ok

мой Володя = my voldoya (nickname for vladimir)

она так просто с тобой разговаривает = she speaks to you so simply

она не очень хорошо говорит по-русски = she does not speak very much Russian

да = yes

ты собираешься жить со мной = you're coming to live with me

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

[raffe156]

I love this series honestly I saw a tik tok about Price v Makarov and all I thought was I hope to god this series includes all that!! I can’t wait to see Tank get mixed up with all that angst with Makarov 🥲 again I had to Dm you the link ✨

Hahaha ohhhh anon please be careful what you wish for 👀

✨The Video✨

[soapybutt17]

Won't Go Home Without You 0

Summary: The Aftermath of All that was said and done. Character: Soft Dark! Vladimir Makarox x Price!Female Reader. Word Count: 223 Chapter Warnings: None

Masterlist | Series Masterlist || Request are Open || Join My Taglist

Prologue:

You felt the ghost of his touch. The lingering lips that rested on your naked shoulders, towards your neck, before slotting against your lips. It was peace in the nightmares of your sleep.

But before you could reach over, your eyes opened and you were once again alone. Alone in a bed that was supposed to be your home in the very neighborhood of your childhood home. But it no longer felt like a home to you. It was nothing more than a shell of its former self.

Your hands found their way towards your stomach. The evidence of your betrayal to your team and to your very own brother when you had made the choice of loving the enemy. You were pregnant and no one but your family knew. You had always feared what the world would do to you and to your child should they ever come to find out about the identity of your former lover and the father to your child.

It was death. Nothing more and nothing less.

It was the biggest mistake that you could have ever made. But in your mistake you had created something so beautiful. A child. A child you never thought you could have, nor did you ever believed you would even believe to deserve.

Anastasia.

You wanted to name your baby Anastasia.

[silverspleen]

I think they should kill Price.

Soap has died twice, Ghost has died once, Alex has not-died once, Graves has not-died once, Kyle doesn't deserve that shit, technically died as a white guy in the OG timeline, and was supposed to continue being the protagonist and Farah is the other protagonist who also doesn't deserve that shit. I think it would be, how do you say.... Very Tragic and Poetic and Shocking but Activision will never do this because they are cowards.

Like, c'mon now if you keep relying on narrative beats from the OG timeline to inform the reboot you should at least spice it up by doing something Shocking and Controversial. Soap dying isn't shocking or controversial! You did that already! You love the controversy Activision! You can't save all of them for the war crimes! Kill your darlings!

Kill that old man! Let his subordinates and friends be sad about it!

[hannydaforcena]

Chapter 29: The Enemy of My Enemy

Anya faces Makarov in the Boneyard in Kandahar, accompanied by Price and Soap.

[knowncorrine]

Revealed

Summary: So y/n is Makarov's daughter and the rest of 141 doesn't know. Until he's captured, that's when the truth starts to come out. Warnings: Angst, Minor violence and Minor Curse words.

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This is apart of my upcoming story I’m working on! I hope you guys like!

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The room was silent except for the sound of Makarov's handcuffs jingling as he was dragged by Gaz. Y/n was standing in the corner, her back against the wall, trying to blend into the shadows. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

(Scene Blocked)

Y/n tried to play it cool, but her nerves were getting the best of her. "I don't know what you're talking about," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ghost stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. "Don't lie to us, Y/n," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "We know that you and Makarov have a history. You're not fooling anyone."

(Scene Blocked)

Y/n's eyes flickered back and forth between the members of 141. She knew that she couldn't keep up the charade any longer. They deserved to know the truth, even if it put her in danger. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward and spoke in a quiet voice. "Makarov is my father," she said, her voice cracking.

(Scene Blocked)

Price's expression darkened. "I see," he said, his voice cold.

(Scene Blocked)

Y/n shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. "Nothing," she said. "I swear. I've just been trying to protect myself, and everyone around me."

Makarov, who had been quiet up until this point, suddenly spoke up in Russian. "That's my girl," he said, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "Always so resourceful, so cunning. Just like her old man."

Y/n flinched at the sound of her father's voice. She had tried so hard to forget about him, to put the past behind her.

(Scene Blocked)

"There's my beautiful daughter," Makarov said, his voice dripping with venom. "I always knew you'd come crawling back to me, Y/n. You can't escape your destiny."

(Scene Blocked)

HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THE SHORT STORY!!

[an---anonymous]

Hiii i am new writer so please don't be so harshhh.

It is trailer like thing lol.

A tiring day on a base. Task force 141 was getting ready and more chaotic. It was hard to do it. Everyone was staring at computer screen in horror, sunshine was falling on a screen of computer so it was hard to completely see what was shown, but listening to is was enought. A words, and a painfull one. Russia has officially started world war 3. Makarov was leader of it of course. It felt like makarovs cold eyes stared down everybody from screen. His big smirk while anouncing ww3 was priceless. Ghost felt frozen for the first time. His dark brown eyes widen, he felt like he could not breath, mask stuck uncomfortably on his sweatly face. Soaps hands shaken, he let out a loud gasp and stubled back in horror. Gaz was trembling along with price. Sebastian was watching it all. His eyes only widen.

Why so soon

Said sebastian to himself. Even the whisper he let out was too loud for a room where people were trembling in. And it all went out like it.

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Ghost: please sebastian

Ghost let out a sob as tears streamed down his face

Ghost: please don't do it. Don't leave me

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A loud thunder echod to the sky. Rain has been falling down like sebastians tears. Sebastian looked around with widen eyes. His team. They have fallen. He held vex's lifeless body in his arms and let out bloody, pained scream. Birds fly away at the sound of it.

No vex p-please

Let out sebastian quiet sob as he was caressing vex's lifeless face which was covered in blood

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Presiden has been killed. Who is gonna save is now

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It was night when ghost was walking down the street. He saw him. Sebastian. and froze.

S-seb

Ghost let out quiet whisper. Sebastian has changed. His face looked pale, eyes bloody cold, dull and emotionless, eyebags under them. Sebastian did not even looked ghost and walked past him.

Traitor

Sebastian whispered and walked off

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Ghost sat on a couch, her arm touching his. He felt happy with her but the sting of hurt and guilty still was like a rock on his heart.

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Ghost was sat with her. They were happy for once but somewhere in the forest. In a fog. Lifeless bodies of soldiers that have fall. Dead bodys everywhere. And near a tree was somebody leaning on it. He looked down at his arm, blood leaking of it. His waist hurtingz there was knife stuck in it. He let out a loud roar as he took that knife out of himself.

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G-ghost

He mumbled painly as he closed his eyes as tear fall from it. Bloody tear. Tear of regret and love

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Somewhere far where not even wind blows. Somewhere where nobody hears your cries. Rested body of a dead man with quiet tear on his cheek.

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A loud base, with loud experiment room. Doctor is discussing things with rather tall two eye colour man.

It is impossible to wake him up

Do it or you will face consequences

Was heard cold voice.

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They did it they succed and only now was starting real war

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My soldiers

Said tall man to his army.

We will concure the world today. For our home for our families

The man keep talking.

At the end army bow him down. The leader well known. Army thst no one has ever seen and a pain on the road that was comming withing. Fear consuming everybody, nights were full of it but somewhere in a laboratory body laid within

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He was dead and yet alive. Too lost in pain and numbness. Was it really worth it.

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It happes yea. One calls other traitor and that one becames him

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Moving Chains loud sound echod in a closed room.

He has woken up

Whispered one rather tall doctor. He did woke up, but he was another now. He was only flesh left and mind was dead on a row. His eyes no longer green. Bloody eyes stared at doctor, animalistic gaze. He roared in a agony wished to be free.

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And in the end he died in his arms. And he closed his eyes. He looked down dead one and felt tear comming. Tear fell down on dead ones cheek, it was like a moment when he first died. It was smae foggy forest, it was same cold breeze. Leaning on a tree surounded by corps.

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It was always like it. And he looked at his wife, aith somebody else as pain sting in his heart. Was it really worth it? Or was he cursed? but in all and entire it was for lost

[nrdmssgs]

Hozyain

Masterlist

Angst

Characters: Yasha (a young journalist, an OC for this story), Olga Zhar Samoilova (OC from a Heart and Matters), Makarov (no romantic interactions between anyone).

TWs: Descriptions of acts of violence, descriptions of depressive episodes, this is overall really sad.

AN: I had this work in my backlogs since forever. There is no romance there, no good comforting things. This is a little AU, where my girl Zhar is living her worst life, having lost Nikolai. I can't, and I won't write anything comforting for Makarov, as well as I have no intention to fetishize 'bad russian boy'. But I have something to tell about him and about the circumstances that keep producing such people. Since this work is long - Ill keep translations from Russian right after the phrases (like that)

Thanks: @siilvan for being eternally patient and supportive.

Also this is a songfic

"Tell them, I got all the documents, they have asked for!"

"Ona sobrala vse dokumenty..." (She has all the documents...)

"And make sure, they don't forget, this is the fucking sixth time, they change the rules at the very last moment!"

"...ona rasstroena. Budet zhalovatsya nachalstvu..." (...she is not happy with the situation. She might file a complaint with prison superiors...)

Yashas` angry voice contrasts so much with a lifeless mutter of her guide and translator - it sounds almost comical. But these two women are bound by one goal: to get Yasha to the deepest circle of hell. Or maybe it's just Yasha, who believes in it. Because Olga, her guide, remains calm, seemingly not interested in anything outside her mind, dead inside. Olga knows the ways, knows the right words, but it all breaks against the goddamned Kafkaesque wall.

"Olga Borisovna, da ona mozhet hot` v OON zhalovat`sya! Poka hozyain eiye ne propustit - ona ne prohodit!" (Olga Borisovna, she might as well complain to the UN! As long as the mater doesn't approve, she is not coming in!) These words are thrown at Olgas still, unmoving face, but Yasha knows, they are meant for her.

She spent six years learning journalism, then four years learning Russian culture and language. Still, her mentor told her, 'You want to tell that story - you better get ready to become a part of it'. Becoming affiliated with any part of the conflict was the very opposite of what a journalist must do. But she was willing to take the risk, to bury her career long before it actually started. So she learned this twisted language, reformed her mind to match these sick rituals, even got a new name - the name, they would understand and respond to. All for the purpose of speaking to the filthiest, sickest human being out there. All for his captors to turn her away for six times already.

"...poka hozyain ne propustit" or "until the master lets her in"

Yasha knew Russian well enough to understand this. In fact, she spoke this language well enough to lead all the negotiations with the prison personnel by herself. But there was a very important part of Russian culture, that kept her away from that goddamned interview, she needed so bad: the Russians were ready to speak only with their kin. It was a miracle, Yasha found Olga, a mysterious guide, speaking many languages, seeming to be a part of any party out there. At the same time, it was a curse, as Olga seemed to be not interested at all in Yashas mission success. No amount of money, no promises of a better, more comfortable life seemed to change that woman's mood: she was ready to provide only a bare minimum of linguistic support and serve as a temporary host.

She tried everything: persuasion, entreaty, intimidation - nothing helped. Her guide kept repeating 'You either find a way to 'hozyain', or abandon this place and go live your happy calm life', all while emptying yet another glass of wine and looking at the prison wall on the far horizon.

Yasha was exhausted after the sixth round of negotiations with the prison administration. Today was the first evening in the last three months, when she was genuinely happy to get absolutely wasted with Olga, after they returned, to her place.

"To the losers party!" She laughs awkwardly, watching, as Olga places a full glass on the windowsill and goes back to take another one for herself.

"Here is to you never falling in that pit, kid..." Her guide gestures with a full glass to a window, from which Yasha sees a prison every day.

They spend some time in a comfortable silence, enjoying the wine, one would never find in this secluded place in other circumstances. But after a few minutes, Yasha speaks.

"Can I be honest with you? I'm sick and tired of this place, of all you, bowing before that 'hozyain', of this endless and pointless paperwork, of this shithole, that remains gray even in April! I spent three months, trying to meet Makarov, haven't made any progress, but I'm already sick of him too! Maybe, you're right, maybe I should just drop it. Maybe there is no story behind this man - only your collective helplessness and stupidity..."

Olga smiles into her glass, not seeming to protest any of those words. Yasha knows, it's high time, she shuts up, but she is too tired to hold back her anger.

"It looks to me, that you are all happy to just sit on your asses and rot here. You, Makarov, other prisoners, the whole prison staff, that goddamned 'hozyain', whoever he is... You are all just rotting alive, and you hate to be interrupted by me." Yasha takes a tiny sip and goes on. "You think, I didn't find it suspicious, you live in this half-dead village by the prison, have no job whatsoever and yet your fridge is always full and someone even provides you with an alcohol so good, you actually won't find it even in the nearest city? Do you really think i'm that stupid? I see you eating from your masters hands, I see you growing comfortably numb, drowning your sorrow in booze!"

She was ready for Olga to slap her face or drag her out in the cold, snowy night. But nothing, not even these accusations seemed to move anything inside this dead soul. A strange grimace breaks her hosts still face, and she whispers 'You are truly fucked, once you get the feeling, you understand this place and its people, kid. I, too, thought as you once. It was a mistake, that costed me everything. So be better than me - trust nothing you hear and see here'.

They don't talk anymore, not until the next morning, when Yasha wakes up with a heavy head, while Olga shakes her shoulder.

She is barely given time to wash her face and have a sip of water - Olga leads Yasha out of the house and on the road to prison barracks.

"Whats going on! Olga, please, slow down! I can't run through all these snowdrifts and gullies!"

Yashas guide remains deaf to her pleas. When they reach the familiar prison checkpoint - Yasha is a breathless mess, her head is killing her and a stink of wet tiled floor, washed with some cheap chlorine makes her stomach twist.

Olga throws a few words in the little window and the gates, Yasha was trying to get through for the past three months, open.

"Trust nothing you hear" - so that included Olgas words as well? She's been wasting Yashas time for months, when she could just... open this fucking door just like that?

She clenches jaw and avoids her guide's gaze, because all Yasha wants for now is to spit right into this lifeless face, yell at her, throw hands. So much time wasted for nothing. They are both get checked at three different gates. Every time the guards search every centimeter of their clothes, touch, slap, run their fingers through all the layers of textile. By the time they are left alone in a small visiting room - Yasha already have no fury left for Olga. She just wants a minute of silence, without anyone shouting around and commanding them. Yasha sinks into dusty sofa cushions and closes her eyes, while Olga stands in the corner of the room above the radiator.

Heavy footsteps echo in the corridors outside the room. In other circumstances she would freak out and scream internally because for the first time in her life, she came on the interview entirely unprepared: no voice recorder, no notes, not even a piece of paper or a pencil. But now all that bothers Yasha is her terrible headache. Maybe its even better this way, she thinks to herself.

When the door opens it feels like all the oxygen is suddenly sucked out of the visiting room. One gaze, one single gaze lingering on her face for a few seconds is enough for her to forget about the hangover, the rage, the resentment. One can not possibly contain this much hate and menace just in their eyes. But then again - this is no ordinary man. Yashas mouth runs dry, she can barely breathe, so when this man proceeds to Olga and grabs her by the collar of her coat, Yasha manages only to half whisper half hiss 'hey!'.

"Ya tebya kogda zval? Skol`ko mesyatzev nazad?" (When did I call you here? How many months ago?) He doesn't pay the slightest piece of attention to Yashas attempt to draw his attention from Olga.

But her guide seems unbothered by this man's hand, dragging her collar back, causing her to suffocate. Olga closes her eyes, leans against the wall and answers 'Otoidi, Makarov, i bez tebya toshno...' (Step away, Makarov, I feel bad enough even without your help). The way these two interact is very unsettling. No rivalry as well as no warmth in their voices - just tiredness and irritation, as if they wish to part their ways, but can't for some reason. Yasha can't understand, if the man is trying to hurt her guide, as he tightens his grip, or he is trying to check on something, as his other hand slips under her collar in one swift motion and squeezes something on Olgas back, making her frown in pain.

"Govoril tebe lechitsya? Ya k doktoram tebya skol`ko raz vyzyval?!" (Did I tell you to get a proper treatment? How many times have I called you to the doctors?!) His voice is low and angry, like a deep rumble of some forest beast.

When he slams Olgas head against the wall, Yasha jumps from the sofa, not being able to witness any second more. She shouts for guards to come and help, and that finally breaks the man's concentration. Two guards really appear in the room almost immediately, but they freeze on the threshold the very next moment, they see, who is holding Olga, while she tries to wipe her bleeding nose with shaking hands.

"And what do you think, they should do?" The man turns to face journalist, and his gaze seems burning right through her. "Chain me up? Set this piece of shit free? Maybe beat me?"

Yasha feels her hands turning cold. She takes a step back, shooting a desperate gaze at the guards, but they still don't move. "Please," she whispers.

An amused smile appears on the mans face. "Watch," he say and turns back to the guards.

"Oruzhie" (Guns) After this command both guards take out their guns, and approach him and holding it out.

"Na stol." (On the table) He waits till both guns are on the table and lets go of Olgas collar. She slides down the wall, gasping for air.

"Etu v lazaret. Nas ne bespokoit`. Stvoly zaberete cherez chas." (Take this one to the med bay. Don't bother us. You will get your guns back in an hour)

Yasha can't believe her eyes: prison guards follow his commands as if he was their superior - not the most dangerous prisoner. They help Olga up and guide her out of the room, leaving her alone with the man, who murdered and tortured hundreds, if not more. And just as if it wasn't enough - they leave their guns to him. For three months Yasha believed, there is this village, where the prison personnel lives, then there is the prison itself and above this all there is this mysterious 'hozyain', the master, who decides, how this place and its people will live today and tomorrow. But now she sees him, she can reach out and touch him and, to her horror, she realizes that the hozyain and the main prisoner is one and the same person.

"So, you are the journalist, that wanted to speak to me that badly. How many months did Olga draw the wool over your eyes, before finally letting you here? Four? Five?" He sits down on a chair at the opposite side of the table and casually checks both guns.

"Three... Wait, where are the guards taking her? What are they going to do?!" By this point, she already can't think about an interview. Maybe Olga was an absolutely unbearable person, maybe she was disgusting in her self-destruction, but Yasha would never wish to leave her in this man's hands.

"Live here for three months already and still couldn't learn a word 'lazaret'? It means 'med bay in prison'. You see, our Olga is a very sick person, a lost soul, if you want. She was left here to keep an eye on me, but instead it is me, who has to feed her, make sure, she takes her medicine, lock her in a hospital when needed..." He pushes both guns to the opposite end of the table and gestures her to sit back, finally.

"What, I'm ruining a beautiful romantic story about the scary Russian beast, that has no compassion whatsoever?"

"No..." Yasha slowly descends back on a sofa, still not daring to look him back in the eyes. "You are only adding to it. It's clear, you despise her for whatever reason. You don't beat up someone, when you wish them to heal."

She takes a pause, weighing her next words. They may cost her not only her career, but her life.

"You... are keeping her. You think, bullet in her skull would be too much of a mercy, so you sit and watch as she slowly drowns herself."

For a minute, that feels to her like an eternity, he is watching her in silence. His eyes are a torture, his very presence is a torture.

"Nu tak kak - ya zver` ili chelovek?" (So who am I - a beast or a human?) He switches to Russian and talks somehow a bit quieter. But Yasha understands this question.

"Ne znaiy." (I don't know)

He leans back with a satisfied grin. This man loves the fear surrounding him like an invisible aura, he thrives in others panic and lostness.

"Nu tak prover`." (Well check it out) And with that words escaping his lips, Yasha got her worst job ever.