#wait til ghost tells soap about it

[shotmrmiller]

getting a cute mistletoe navel ring because 'tis the season except ghost saw it so naturally he's shoving you in a broom closet to uphold tradition of kissing under it (just last week he said he strongly disliked yuletide) and before you can tell him to lock the door, he's tossing both your legs over his shoulders and eating pussy like he gets paid to do it then tugs his mask back down as if it isn't sopping wet with your come and leaves you behind sans the underwear you saw him pluck off the ground and stuff into his vest pocket.

(then price catches a glimpse of it too then tells you to stay behind for a sec only to simply hook his fingers into your waistband, murmuring something about not wanting bad luck. maybe enforcing the mistletoe rule that one time with kyle had been a mistake.)

[duskier]

cw breeding (but not in the traditional sense)

Cis Soap and transmasc Ghost where they are rubbing their cocks together and Soap is leaking like crazy over the both of them. The head of his cock dwarfs Ghost's swollen tdick entirely but he can't shut up about how big Ghost is getting. Soap is and always will be a blabbermouth, sex is no exception to this rule.

"You've doubled in size since you started T, haven't you? I can tell." His eyes are glued to the sight of how Ghost is hard, how the angry red tip is poking out more and more. How pretty it looks shining with Soap's precum.

He wishes Ghost's cock could make it's own cum. Thinks about getting on his knees and letting his Lieutenant jerk himself off on his face. Thinks even harder about his Lt forcing him to go back to work with his cum splattered on him. Soap focused back into the present the moment he felt Ghost's hips start to rock up against him. He was getting close, Soap could feel it.

"Think you're gonna be big enough to fuck me with it soon? Can't wait for it, sir." Soap purrs, his hand wrapped around the back of Ghost's neck to keep him focused on Soap.

Ghost rolls his eyes, but there's no missing the hitch in his breath or the way his cock twitches a little. Especially not when you're Soap, the man who prides himself at reading Ghost best.

"You're made for it, Lt. So big and strong... What do you bench now, 300 pounds? Just perfect for breeding someone full. That someone will be me."

Ghost can't even hide it, the way he's grabbing Soap’s hips and taking control. Soap's words are getting to him, judging by how he is bucking his hips harder. Soap is happy to let Ghost set the brutal pace, not even moving his own hips anymore. He's giggling out whiny moans, delighted at Ghost's sudden desperation to cum. He was hitting something in Ghost's mind, and it showed.

"You're gonna love it Lt. Nothing will ever feel better than you bending me over, shoving yourself in my sloppy wet little cunt, sir. Need you, need you to fuck me full 'til it takes."

Ghost is growling, hips pumping faster as his fingers dig bruises into Soap's hips. Soap can see the way his stomach jumps, how his head crashes forward against Soap's shoulder after he cums with an angry grunt. Soap pushes Ghost back only because he can't bear to miss his favorite show- watching Ghost's cock twitching with his orgasm. Watching his boy's beautiful dick twitch and spasm in wave after wave, drives Soap absolutely crazy.

[obsessivelullabies]

Hi, do you think you could write about 141s reaction to their s/o having a spine tattoo? Would they love it? How would they react if it were a surprise? I imagine they go feral once it's healed and they can finally touch and kiss it.

simon ‘ghost’ riley.

the moment you showed ghost, his eyes widened. it almost took him a moment to process. he definitely loves it. he loves tattoos, especially how they look on you.

he’d wait patiently to run his hands along the tattoo. to him, it’d be like a secret only he knew about. in public, his hand would rest on your spine.

kyle ‘gaz’ garrick.

kyle would be amazed the moment you showed him. he could tell you really liked it, so did he. he would definitely talk about it a lot to the rest of the task force.

he’d trace the pattern of your tattoo after it’s healed, gently kissing it up and down.

johnny ‘soap’ mactavish.

johnny is surprised and giddy. he cannot wait til it heals, he wants to put his hands on it, kiss it and feel it. he’s counting down the days.

doggy was already his favorite position, but now, it’s almost a requirement. he thinks the tattoo is perfect on you, making you sooo much sexier.

john price.

john would probably go with you to get the tattoo, it’s so hard to surprise him. he knows everything. his reaction would be adoration, he’d love to kiss it and rub your back, simply wanting to admire the tattoo.

he’d help with the healing, waiting til he can worship your body with your new tattoo.

masterlist! | reblogs and comments appreciated. | this is unedited.

[sant-riley]

Uhhh brain wracking brain wracking-

Imagine S/O surprising Ghost with their strength by picking him up and perhaps spinning him around

They insist that he's as light as a feather. They're visibly struggling while holding him up

Thank you anon for the food, I haven't written anything in AGES I'm sorry if I'm rusty but fuck it we ball, gonna do these as bullet points!

Warnings; nothing I can think of! But as always, lmk!

(Literally me and Simon)

Trying and somewhat achieving in picking up Simon!

The first time you bring it up, asking if you can attempt it, Simon looks at you like you're fucking stupid.

He's a big dude, bigger than most and will almost always be the biggest person in the room, he's built like a fucking mountain.

You throwing him pretty eyes and begging for his permission isn't gonna change the fact that you're smaller than him, you'll hurt yourself, he knows you will, so he says no.

This does nothing to ward you off, only fueling you to want to work out and gain upper arm and body strength to prove him wrong out of spite.

He'll ask Soap where you've been in the last few weeks,, noticing your slight absence when training hours are over, nowhere to be found an hour or so afterwards.

Soap only chuckles and throws a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the gym where the creaks of the workout gear can be heard still.

"They're still workin' wouldn't tell me why though."

Simon makes his way towards the gym, leaning on the doorway as he sees you huff and puff as you do sets of bicep curls.

He can't help but a small smirk run under his mask, you're so committed to this. It's so stupid, but he can't deny it makes him happy.

No one can just pick the man up, takes Price, Gaz and Soap usually to keep up right and that's with his arms thrown around their shoulders.

He still doubts you'll be able to, but he's flattered. You're trying (asshole)

Simon creeps silently to you, waiting til you set down the weights before whispering out a "boo", his shit eating grin when you yelp and whirl around, wide eyes staring oh so prettily up at him.

"What the fuck! Why would you do that?" "It's funny." "It is fucking not." "Mmm, sure is."

He moves to ruffle your hair, ignoring your hand swatting at his own.

"Why are you here afterhours? You're missing chunks of your dinner." He knows why, he just wants to hear you admit it.

"Is it a crime to work out some more? To stay in top shape for our job?" The eyebrow he raises is catastrophic, immediately calling you the fuck out without any words.

"Okay, fine. I've been working out so I can prove to you I can pick you up."

At this point, he figures he can humor you, you've been trying so hard.

"Y'know what? Why the hell not, cmon, try and lift me."

"Are you fucking with me or-" "hurry up before I change my mind." "Aye Aye sir."

He stands in front of you, arms loosely at his side, head tilted to the right as he watches you get into form.

The key to lift with your legs, the strength in them far outweighing anything else, wrapping your arms across his stomach (a feeling of electricity jumps up his spine at your touch, he hopes you don't notice.)

You take a deep breath, nuzzling your head into his chest and try your fucking damndest to lift this behemoth of a man up and to your and Simon's surprise, you DO manage to lift him up, at least an inch of the ground before your legs buckle and you shakily place him down.

A whoop leaves your mouth, jumping up and down as you giggle about lifting Ghost, "I did it! You weren't that heavy at all!" Simon can literally see the sweat on your brow, but he just rumbles out a laugh and moves to plant a masked kiss on your temple, congratulating you on your win over him.

You run out into the base, no doubt going to tell the others about your feat.

He sighs a gross lovesick sigh, and moves to grab your gym bag from the bench and follow after you.

[ohbo-ohno]

hey hey heyyy saw this and thought of youuu

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT83xLH3c/

(completely sfw don't worry) but like, Imagine for one reason or another you desperately need to get married (maybe to qualify for your medieval grandpa's will) but no one wants you for whatever reason so you promptly go down to the gallows where this murderous ex Soldier was to be executed and you are just "he'll do" not aware that he comes as a package deal with his partner who didn't get caught 👀

are you. are you joking. oh my god

thinking about a woman who's got a terrible home life. i feel like either her parents want to marry her off to some guy who's like 80 or they treat her like a workhorse and are super abusive

and to her, quite literally Anything is better than the life she's stuck in. and for a woman in this time period the only real way to escape is to get married. and since no one will marry her (she's poor and everyone knows how her family is).... well there's really only one choice

she definitely proposes to soap, not ghost. the man getting dragged to the gallows is perfectly at ease - shoulders rolled back, easy smile on his lips, you would never think he's being led to his death. there's something in his over all demeanor that makes it almost easy to jump from the crowd and shout a proposal

he's excited, almost ferally so. he grabs your wrist and holds tight, doesn't let you get even a full armlength away from him. that's when you start to think maybe this was a mistake, but it's far too late now. he's also weirdly insistent about the two of you going to a very specific room in a very specific hotel (or whatever they used to be called)

you get a bit more scared every second that goes by, but you're well aware what a man expects on his wedding night - you grew up on a farm, you know how animals mate. it's scary, of course, but you know you'll have to bear it

except when you get to the room, he doesn't try and take you. you know he wants to - there's a tent in his pants that makes your face flame - and he keeps you flush against him. he sits at the table? you're in his lap. you try to go to the bathroom? he stays so close to you that you decide it's not worth the potential humiliation.

he talks your ear off the whole time - tells you how pretty you are, goes into frankly excessive detail about what he likes about every single part of you, tells you how he wants to "stuff you full", says things like "'m not so bad, kitty, know ye must be scared but i'll take care of ye, don't worry" and "just wait til he gets here, then we can get started" and no matter how much you ask who he is he refuses to tell you

he has his mouth pressed against you throat (switching between licking, biting, and talking about how he can't wait to see what's under your skirts) when the door opens, and you realize that you've truly made a mistake

the new man who walks in has to duck beneath the door frame, he's so massive. had he been the one walking to the gallows, you never, ever would have proposed. he's got to be twice the size of you, his face covered, the rest of him filthy and covered in dirt

(((if i had the energy i'd write dialogue here, but anon i am sleepy)))

soap would be soooooooo happy to present you to ghost, is literally drooling and beaming as he grabs you by the hips and hooks his chin over your shoulder, big hands stroking across your stomach and skirts as he says isn't she so pretty?

anyways. you're getting railed that night. hope you like being on the run with two criminals who have absolutely no intention of crossing over to the light side!!

(ghost fucks you first, bc soap needs to learn to be patient with his new toy, but he lets you suck his cock while he waits for his turn. when soap fucks you next, you're laying on ghost's stomach and he wipes away your pretty tears as johnny does his best to break your back. the next day johnny laughs when you're walking with a small limp, and ghost makes him apologize with his tongue <3)

[ghcstao3]

Im currently watching brave and it’s given me brain worms hehe

It’s to do with the will o’ the wisp!

Either soaps been seeing them his whole life guiding him to the task force or after a rough mission, totally lost/injured and with no way to contact anyone they guide his way back to ghost :D

Thanks for everything you write it genuinely makes my day to read all your works!!

ooh i really like this. also- apparently will o' the wisps are actually Not good in folklore so i wrote a little twist to fix that ;)

-

Throughout his life, Soap's nan had always liked to tell him stories about the many malevolent creatures he should hope to never have the misfortune of encountering—kelpies, redcaps, sluaghs; just about everything that existed in his homeland's folklore.

A little cruel in retrospect, Soap thinks, but for a while he'd just understood it as his nan's way of ensuring her grandson was to behave. They were myths, old tales and explanations for the unexplainable, and he can appreciate the determination to share tradition.

But now, as Soap is stranded in thick woods after an operation gone awry, blood sticky on his temple and a bullet stuck in his leg, he's not so sure they were just stories. Not as he's currently staring down an unnatural wisp of light in the darkness, hovering just a few feet away from where he'd collapsed against the thick, gnarled trunk of a tree.

Will o' the wisp, his mind supplies. Omens of death, his nan had told him, like many other creatures and spirits. They appear to the weary and lost like himself, flickers of glowing blue light almost hopeful as they guide one along a seemingly nonsensical path—but instead of leading someone to safety, they lure people to their doom.

The wisp just floats, unmoving, as Soap sits frozen. He tries his radio to no avail, and realizes with a great dread that he only has two options: attempt to find his own way back to his team, to anyone, anywhere, with the great risk of only getting more lost—or follow the wisp in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, it may actually lead him somewhere useful, no matter how bad the destination. Soap could only hope that doom is something he can fend off with a gun.

His decision is made rather easily because... he supposes it doesn't really make a difference, does it?

So he pushes himself away from the tree and toward the light—it vanishes as soon as he steps toward it, but with another step forward, another wisp appears.

Soap limps along, following the wisps. They weave him through trees and take sharp, sudden turns, disappearing and reappearing endlessly as Soap pursues the trail they leave. His head is on a swivel with every sound that isn't the crunch of branches beneath his own boots, with every flash of movement in his periphery.

He feels like he’d been walking forever by the time the forest has grown less dense and the wisps fade away for good—and that's when Soap sees it.

The large, imposing silhouette. The hulking figure cloaked in black. The glimpse of a skull in the sliver of moonlight that had managed to break through the forest's canopy.

Soap swallows a laugh. The will o' the wisps must have led him to Ghost, not realizing doom would have only been certain for Soap had he been the enemy.

Funny.

Ghost spots him and raises his gun, pauses, then after a moment lowers the barrel.

"Johnny?" Ghost grunts. "Where the fuck've you been?"

Soap shrugs a shoulder, wincing as he steps closer. "Lost my way running from the facility. Comms were dead." He flashes a crooked grin. "Worked out though, aye?"

Ghost snorts. "Aye," he echoes. "C'mon, then. Exfil's waiting. Save your explanations 'til then."

Soap gladly follows, relief nearly exalting.

But as they walk shoulder-to-shoulder, Soap can’t help but cast one last glance back at the trees from where he had emerged.

He wonders if the wisps had really made a mistake. He wonders if maybe they hadn't been done leading him, but Ghost had gotten in the way.

Questions he'll likely never find the answers for.

But regardless, now in safe hands—Soap thinks he had better refresh himself on his nan's stories as soon as he gets the chance.

He doesn't know now, whenever they might come in handy.

[axnrxn]

hi there,

i've read your works and they are amazing! can i request the reader being bilingual and how the reactions of the cod members would be when they found out about it? (sorry for my bad english)

thank you in advance and have a good day/evening/night <3

(141, König, Alejandro Vargas, & Rudolfo Parra x GN!bilingual!reader)

TW: bad translations, fluff, some explicit sexual imagery, swearing.

Since you didn’t specify the language, I made executive decisions. A lot of google translate because I suck. Your English is great and probably better than my terrible translations! Much love<3

Simon “Ghost” Riley

“Entendido, Alejandro." (Understood, Alejandro.) acknowledging Alejandro's order.

“Ah! ¿Hablas español? Eso es bueno, sera muy útil aquí.” (Ah! You speak spanish? That's good, it will be very useful here.) Alejandro replied, chuckling and smiling back at you.

Simon turns slightly to look at you while Rudy is driving, trying not to show his surprise.

Once you two exited the vehicle and were out of earshot of the others, he confronted you about the exchange.

“When’d you learn that?”

“Learn what?”

“C’mon. You know what I’m referring to.”

“I’ve always known it. Just never had a reason to speak it before.”

“You n’ him seem to hit it off…”

“You jealous, lieutenant?”

He forced a laugh through his nose.

“Mmm, yeah right. Just don’t get too friendly with him, yeah? You’ve got a job to do, sergeant.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, before quickly realizing his proximity and pulling away.

“Don’t worry, lieutenant. You'll always be my favorite." You joked, earning an eye roll from him.

"Get a move on, sergeant." He replied gruffly, though you could tell from his tensed shoulders that you flustered him with your sarcastic proclamation.

You'd have to tease him later in his quarters about it. You loved making him jealous and flustered, the way his skin would flush with embarrassment. In private, he was much easier to tease. Especially when you would straddle his lap, his jaw in your hand as you kissed his neck. The quiet, needy moans he'd make just for you as you grinded against him.

You shook your head and regained your focus, looking forward to your time alone with your lieutenant.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

“Dos francotiradores en la azotea oeste, Alejandro. Ten cuidado," (Two snipers on the west rooftop, Alejandro. Be careful.) you warned, peering around a wall.

Soap turned to look at you as you awaited orders.

"Since when could you speak spanish, love?" He inquired.

"My whole life?"

"Oi! And you never thought to tell me? An' you waited til now?" You could hear Alejandro chuckle as he listened over the comms.

"Surprise" You answered sarcastically, shrugging.

"Perhaps there's more things your partner didn't tell you, Sergeant MacTavish?" Alejandro teased.

"Aye, I'm gonna learn every last bit of you when this is through." Soap said, gazing at you suggestively.

He let his free hand graze your jaw, gently running his thumb over your cheek, all while looking deep into your eyes. You wanted to be off duty with him, making him moan into your mouth as his fingers curled in your hair. He was always so vocal and expressive, you loved it. As he leaned over to kiss you, shots rang out.

"Ah, shite. Goddammit." Soap whispered.

"Raincheck, Soap." You said, quickly pecking his cheek before leaving your shared cover in favor of hiding behind a truck.

He smiled and gave you a two-finger salute, turning in sync with you to clear the road.

Captain John Price

"'Ze komen om middernacht aan.'" You repeated quietly to yourself, translating what you overheard the smugglers say.

"Their contact is arriving at midnight, 0-6." You said to Price through comms.

"Copy, 2-6," Price responded quickly.

"I'll meet you on the boat as soon as Gaz takes out the patrol." You announced, waiting for Gaz.

"On it, 2-6," Gaz responded.

You finally made your way to the boat, meeting Price at the locked gate. Once the boat was cleared of narcos, he turned to you.

“Care to share with me how you knew when they were coming?” He asked, looking at you expectantly.

"Well, there were a few people speaking Dutch around the docks." You replied, not realizing that you had never told him about learning Dutch before.

"And you didn't care to mention you knew Dutch when we found out we were going to Amsterdam?" He pressed, clearly confused more than frustrated with you.

"Honestly, I'm so exhausted that I forgot I even could. I didn't think about it." You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face.

His eyes filled with a mixture of pity and love as he finally looked over you, noting your slumped posture.

"I'll tell you what, you 'n me can head to a nice spot and get some rest before we head out in the morning. Get you a nice bed to sleep in for the night." He decided, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest, careful not to press you too hard into his bulky vest.

"But if we have a nice bed, there's other things I'd rather be doing," you teased, grabbing his ass and pulling him further into you.

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you fully and resting his head on top of yours.

"We'll have time for that later, love. Don't you worry," he assured you. "You rest up first, then we'll see about that." He stated, finally pulling away to make his way off the boat as you trailed behind him towards your reward.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

"What're they doing here?" Gaz wondered aloud.

"They're a narco smuggling hub" you replied simply, popping out of the water next to him.

"How do you know?" He asked.

"They're talking about an outgoing shipment to Las Almas." You remarked, watching the smugglers walk their patrol routes along the docks slowly. "Who else from Las Almas would be picking something up here?" You pointed out, proving your point.

"Since when do you understand Dutch?"

"Since I went to college for a year abroad."

A whole new side of you was revealed to Gaz in that moment. You never really mentioned anything about your past. What led you here, why you joined the military, what your life was like before. You joined the military unusually late, but no one had ever asked you why. He'd have to finally inquire about it after the mission.

"What else have you been hiding?" He teased, turning you by the shoulder to face him.

"Mmm, I'm actually a Russian spy that knows 5 languages and was assigned to infiltrate 141." You replied sarcastically, rolling your eyes at him.

"Well they picked the best one for the job, with you being that sexy and all. We never stood a chance." He chuckled, pecking your cheek.

Alejandro Vargas

“Me encantaría tener una cita contigo, Alejandro.”(I’d love to go on a date with you, Alejandro.) You finally said, taking advantage of 141’s and Rudy’s absence. You didn’t feel like pretending you didn’t understand him anymore, as funny as some of the things you got to listen in on were.

“Me entendiste todo este tiempo?” (You understood me all this time?) His jaw practically hit the floor.

“Sí, todo este tiempo,” (Yes, all this time.) you laughed. You had heard everything Alejandro said to Rudy about you under the guise that you weren’t listening. You finally decided to reveal yourself when Alejandro mentioned to Rudy how he wanted to take you on a date after the mission was over.

He stood there, frozen, as he tried to recall everything he had ever said about you.

“You were always complimenting me and praising me when you thought I wasn’t listening. I didn’t want to just end that, you know?” You smiled, reassuring him that he hadn’t offended you.

“So you heard my plans and finally decided to tell me, hm?” He asked, regaining his composure.

“Something like that. But I wouldn’t mind pretending I didn’t understand if it means that I'll keep hearing you tell Rudy how amazing I am.”

"Ah, this will be fun. Let's pretend, yes? You can listen to all the things I want to do to you." he teased, smirking at you.

"That'll certainly keep things interesting, Ale." You blushed.

You were thinking about how quickly things had escalated between you two. How long before he actually did the things he said? His lips on your neck, whispering spanish in your ear, his hands on your ass. You wanted to grab him by his vest on the spot and curl your fingers in his hair. You could only imagine it for so long before you had to cast your thoughts away, trying to avoid getting so worked up on the job.

Rudolfo “Rudy” Parra

"This is Los Vaqueros to 141, Hassan is on the move." You stated over comms as you peered through your scope.

Rudy looked at you, confused. You realized that you didn't tell him you understood english before. When it came to talking to native english speakers, you always got too nervous and chickened out because you worried about your accent and grammar.

"Porque no me dijiste, mi amor? (Why didn't you tell me, my love?) He asked, noting how you had refused to say anything in english up until now.

"No lo use antes de ahora." (I didn't use it before now) "Tambien, mi ingles no es perfecto." (Also, my english isn't perfect.) You replied, intentionally neglecting to mention how nervous you were about being judged.

"Es bueno, estoy orgulloso de ti." (It's good, I am proud of you.) He assured you, smiling at you as you turned away from your rifle's scope.

"Gracias, Rudy. Pero, seguiremos hablando espanol cuando estemos solo, si?" (Thank you, Rudy. But we will still speak spanish when it is us alone, yes?) You inquired, hoping he wouldn't push it.

"A huevo, mi amor." (Of course, my love.) He agreed, you were pretty sure he figured out your reasoning. You leaned back into Rudy, letting his arms engulf you as you sighed. He put you at ease so quickly, almost making you forget that you were chasing down a terrorist assisted by narcos through Las Almas. But you couldn't bask in his calming presence forever, so you settle back into your previous position at your rifle.

He place his hand on your back gently, rubbing between your shoulders to keep you relaxed. You loved moments like this. No matter the situation, Rudy always did small gestures to remind you that he was right there beside you.

König

"Konig, gehst du mit mir auf ein Date?" (Konig, will you go on a date with me?" You asked, hopping atop a crate while facing him.

"What?" He asked, unable to process that you had just spoken German.

"Did I not say it correctly?" You asked, worried that your German was not up to par with your native English.

"No, no. Your German is great..." He replied slowly, gathering his thoughts.

"Is that a no?" You teased, knowing exactly what Konig was realizing.

"Shiebe, sorry, yes of course I would like that... Wait." He cut himself off, finally putting the pieces together.

"Wie lange hast du mich verstanden?" (How long have you understood me?) he inquired, panic starting to fill his voice.

"Ungefahr ein Jahr?"(About a year?) You admitted, guessing the time frame that you've known him.

"And you did not say anything?!" He panicked, thinking about everything he's every muttered about you and your body. He'd only known you for a year, meaning you've understood everything he's ever uttered.

"Well, I was gonna tell you right away, but then I heard you mutter about how pretty I was when I looked up at you... and I don't know, I guess I wanted to hear you say that more." You divulged, seeing Konig's eyes widen.

"I have said many things I shouldn't have, mein Gott..." He whispered to himself, mentally replaying everything he has ever said about you in your presence.

"If it makes you feel any better, I really like you, too, Konig." You professed, pulling his vest towards you.

A/N: I'm finally finishing my drafts, sorry for the delay! Much love. Ghost x reader x konig coming as soon as I clear my drafts!

[prowlingz]

❧ Numb ❧

♡ COD sex ♡ 18+ hc nsfw/dubcon | mainly AFAB ♀

characters: Ghost, Alejandro, Soap, Gaz, Price

✮ GHOST ✮

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* who loves leaving marks on your body to show everyone who owns you

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* who fights tooth and nail to get into the same missions with you, just to make sure you aren’t cheating on him

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* who eats you out until you’re about to cum, then pulls away

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* who loves to kiss you right after eating his cum out of your pussy

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* who loves watching you squirm under his touch

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* who doesn’t care if you tell him no, and only listens to the safe word

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* who pounds into you without warning when you’re sleeping (who can blame him, you look irresistible)

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* who loves to finger fuck you with his gloved hands until you leave a mess all over them

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* who loves praising and degrading you, “so fucking pathetic. such a pathetic whore for me, huh? mmm.. good little slut taking it all” as he pushes himself so far into you, you see stars

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* who loves tying you up and leaving a vibrator on your clit, coming back a few hours later to find you swollen and wet

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* who loves to answer the phone in the middle of sex, putting a finger up to his mouth for you to be quiet while he slams so far into your bundle of nerves

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* who, when jealous, will drag you into the closest restroom and leave his seed dripping out of you

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* who praises you after sex, “you did so good for me, so fucking good. do you need anything?”

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Alejandro

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* who begs for you to ride his face, literally the only time he will be caught begging

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* who is an ass guy, but wouldn’t mind keeping a Polaroid photo of your exposed tits in his breast pocket

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* who loves fucking you on your stomach

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* who, while you’re on your stomach, will play with your slit, whistling at the lewd noises it creates

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* who loves when you buck your hips onto him, “needy, huh? ha, can’t wait for me to fuck you, right?”

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* who loves to pull out of you and cum all over your back and ass, even when you’re on bc

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* who uses a slur of Spanish words when fucking into you, “mi putita, huh? coño.. good fucking girl..” as he thrusts into you

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* who wouldn’t mind sharing you with Rudy

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* who loves doing anal

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* who will shower with you, fucking you til you can’t walk, then leaving you on the soapy, tile floor as he leaves

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* who loves spitting on you, leaving you a mess of his cum, sweat and spit

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* who spits on you, “so fucking pathetic, eh?” wiping his spit all over your face

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Soap

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* who is totally different in the bedroom than he is outside of it to you

-

* who is usually sweet and cuddly after sex and before sex, but during is literally so rough you sometimes bleed

-

* who knows he’s big and uses it accordingly

-

* who loves feeling you go limp onto him when he keeps fucking you past orgasm

-

* who loves to pull your hair and slap your ass, leaving red hand marks and sometimes bruises

-

* who kisses your bruises and cuts afterwards

-

* who will start kissing you against a wall, then making his way down to your pleading pussy

-

* who loves watching you beg him to let you cum

-

* “beg for it, slut. beg for me to let you cum” as you whine while his cock slides in and out of you with no remorse

-

* who loves public/risky sex. will just pull over and grab you to ride his cock on the side of the road

-

* who loves the crescent marks you leave from your nails digging into his shoulders

-

* who loves recording on his phone of you riding him

-

* who loves to spread his seed all over your thighs and slit after he cums

-

* “fuck.. I love watching you walk around like you’re not filled with my seed. so fucking hot”

-

Gaz

-

* who begs for you to sit on his face

-

* who loves filling you up with his seed and whining at every thrust

-

* “I’m so fucking close.. please.. fuck.. I’m gonna cum..”

-

* who grips your hips so hard as he cums into you, shaking at each following thrust

-

* who loves when you moan his rank, “fuck, call me that again.. please”

-

* who loves watching you masturbate, “you look so pretty” as you, out of breath rub, your clit and he pushes your hair back

-

* who will press into you whenever he finds himself hard thinking about you

-

* “oops, sorry, tight squeeze”, pressing himself onto you when there is plenty of room

-

* who whimpers, bucking his hips into his fist as he cums thinking of you, “so.. fucking pretty.. mm.. fuck”

-

* who finds it literally so hot when you swallow his cum in front of him and smile up at him while you do

-

* who steals your panties from your drawer, or pockets them when undressing you for sex

-

* who cums into them, leaving them for you to find on the floor, sticky and hot

-

Last, but not least..

Price

-

* who loves the risk of fucking you, knowing he could get into serious trouble

-

* who pulls you from the hallway to fuck you over his desk

-

* who can never admit he’s the needy one for you, it’s always YOU’RE the one who wants him so badly

-

* “fuck, you want me so badly, huh baby? so fucking wet for me.. such a needy little thing”

-

* who loves to cover your mouth and fuck into you while on the phone making calls you definitely don’t have the authorization to hear

-

* who masturbates to you at his desk, constantly keeping photos of you in a secret drawer. some sensual, but mostly just candid photos he’s taken of you without you noticing

-

* who finds it so hot bending you over his desk and watching you squirm, trying to sit up

-

* “don’t act like you don’t want it baby, it feels so good, remember?”

-

* who gets tipsy and fucks you so sloppily

-

* who can’t stand watching you flirt with other men, even if it’s not flirting. he will pull you into his office, restroom or whatever secluded place is nearby and will fuck you til you leak his seed

-

* “go talk to them now, bet they’ll love watching your Captain’s seed drip from you”

-

* who allows you to break dress code by keeping your hair down, he loves to pull you away and hold your hair as he face fucks you

-

* breeding kink.

-

* age kink ;)

-

* who could never share you. you’re only his.

-

* who loves fucking you, but loves it more if you’re a virgin

-

* “fuck, you feel so tight. love filling my virgin little slut up”

[nothingkillsyoulikeyourmind105]

“I’m With You Till The End”

Master List

TW- Angsty, Maybe a happy ending, brief smut.

“Don’t let me go Simon”

(Y/N) struggled to hold onto her ice axe. Feeling herself slip.

“Fuck, Soap!!! Soap Where Are You!!!!”

Ghost struggled to hold onto (y/n). The wind and the snow didn’t help with the situation.

“Baby look at me I’m not gonna let you go!!”

“Soap!!!”

Simon tried to pull her back up into his arms but the snow was too soft and the harsh winds didn’t help him either. The sounds of gunfire and bullets flying by scattered the mountain side. The enemy were getting too close. He had to try to pull her up before they are overwhelmed.

Simon was angry at himself that he couldn’t hold onto her and try to defend his team. He had to make a choice.

“L.t I’m taking heavy fire we’re trapped right now!!!”

“Bloody Hell Fuck!!”

“Baby listen to me hold on they are coming I can’t protect us like this. I will be right back I promise.”

“Simon!!?”

“Don’t leave me Simon!?”

She waited for him. But nothing the air went silent. She tried to pull herself up but the sounds of the wind blew against her. She pulled herself up but the snow on the edge broke off.

“Si-?”

She was falling off. She closed her eyes accepting her fate.

Ghost POV

“Where, what the hell happened?”

Simon sits up on his head rubbing his head. Looking around he notices flowers and cards laying around him. And the looks of someone stuff laying in a chair.

Soap walks into the room.

“L.t you’re awake?”

Soap runs over to him. Standing beside his bed. He calls Captain Price letting him know Ghost is awake.

“Where’s (y/n)?

Soap stops himself from telling him.

“Price will talk with you first?”

“Soap where is she?!”

Venom laced with his words. He didn’t want to admit to the reality of being without (y/n).

“Tell me where is she?!”

Simon slammed his fist into the wall. His knuckles started to redden and some parts started to bleed.

“SERGEANT MCTAVISH TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!!?!!”

Soap stepped back and held his hands up. Price finally walked in to talk with Simon about the mission.

“Simon please sit down please?”

Price held his hands up trying to defuse the situation.

Simon sat down and looked at his Captain.

“Where is she?”

She fell. By the time we got to her the ledge she was hanging off of gave away. She fell down the cliff. You were shot 4 times. You managed to save us in the process.

“But I didn’t save her and I promised her I would come back. It’s my fault she’s gone. What am I gonna do without her.”

“Baby, forgive me?”

Simon sits down on his bed. Thinking about the decisions he made up til now. She would still be alive with me if I stayed with her. She would still be here.

Price tries to talk with him but Simon ignores him.

Weeks have gone by and he still goes on missions. He continues his life as normal. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Simon is dead and he shouldn’t have been with anyone. The people that Simon held close and dear to him always ended up pushing up daisies. Not him. He was a curse that is supposed to be dead. That’s where Ghost came in to protect him from that. All emotions are dead and he’s dead to everyone.

There’s no Simon Riley only Ghost.

As the days went on he cleaned out his room but told everyone to leave (y/n) intact for him. He wanted to be the one to take her room down. And today was the day to do that.

Walking into her the smell of her shampoo and perfume lingered in the air. Laying down on her bed felt like an embrace from her. The bed smelled of her so much. He laid in her bed smelling her pillows and pulling her soft blanket off the bed and holding it close to him. Walking to her dresser pulling them open and seeing her clothes. Pulling out all of her shirts and pants and lastly her lingerie. He started to cry looking at them. She wore most of these when they had their intimate moments. Some of theses he bought for her. At the bottom was a box with a red ribbon on it. She wrote on there.

For our anniversary 🖤

Simon started to cry harder looking at her stuff and how she planned for things in the future. She stopped right there putting everything back. He walked over to her closet. The closet had all his missing black hoodies that Ghost lost over the course of their relationship. He softly chuckled at them. She had been stealing his clothes and wearing them. When he confronted her about this she would deny it completely. He knew she was stealing his clothes.

Simon couldn’t do this. He could face death and men trying to kill him in the worst way possible this was complete torture. His heart has been ripped from his chest. Now he’s picking up the pieces. Starting with her.

He laid down in her bed and falls to sleep holding her sweater.

Throughout the night he doesn’t have a single nightmare.

“Baby it’s me wake up. Si sweetheart wake up. Wake up go outside.”

Simon wakes up the sun is just now rising. He feel well rested but his heart aches. He gets up out of (y/n) to smoke outside. Just as he walks out he sees the base is already busy as is.

He sees Price talking to some guys. They look like a private military contractors. He keeps walking not wanting to be bothered. As he takes his drag he hears someone sneeze. It can’t be.

He stops immediately. Looking around that can’t be.

“Her sneeze?”

This is his mind playing tricks on him again.

The sound of her little yelps is heard again. Where is it coming from.

Simon looks back and sees (y/n hair color) he drops his cigarette running to her like his life depended on it.

“Baby is that you!”

Simon drops his cigarette running to her. She never ran so fast in his life.

“Simon!”

(y/n) turns around hearing his voice. She drops the gear she has in her hands and runs to him crying. Her hair flowing in the wind.

She runs up to him she jumps onto him. He rips his mask off immediately as she lays on him. The pain from falling on the ground doesn’t hurt him. He falls back to the ground with her capturing her lips with his. Her hair covers them. She hungrily smothers him in kisses. Simon does the same with her. Grabbing her waist and pulling her closer to him. Pulling away trying to catch his breath her eyes watering up and tears falling on his face.

“I thought you were dead Si?”

“You didn’t come back and I was scared that I lost you and I fell but at the bottom was a bed of dry grass and lots of soft snow. You promised me you were gonna come back?”

“Baby I failed to protect you. I broke my promise and I didn’t come back to save you.”

“Simon it’s okay I’m here now. I forgive you. If it was wasn’t for the KorTac guys I wouldn’t be here they found me when I was crawling through the snow. I broke my leg from the fall. I would’ve died out there if I didn’t crawl to open ground. I laid in the forest below all I saw were trees and all I thought of was you in that moment.”

“The guy in the snipers hood saved me. He spotted me out in the snow. He carried me to safety.”

“His name is König.”

“But Simon I’m so happy to see you.”

Simon got off the ground he picked up (y/n) and carried her back into the base to his room. While on his way he told Price he’s gonna take leave until further notice.

“Baby I know this isn’t the time”

Setting her down in a chair. He pulls out a little black box.

“I know I’m legally dead but I want to call you mine. I’m never gonna make that mistake of leaving you alone again. I’m with you till the end. I swear baby after this day I will worship you everyday of our lives. You name it and I will do it no hesitation. You mean everything to me and I want to marry you. And don’t worry I will find a way to make this work and happen. You only deserve the best.”

“Yes Simon Riley!”

“A million yes in this life time and in the next Yes!”

“And move your stuff to my room. You woman aren’t gonna live in a room by yourself. And that little white box with the red bow on it were gonna tear that to shreds tonight.”

“Oh Simon did you dig around in my room you naughty naughty ghost!?”

“Keep saying that (y/n)”

“Anything for you my (your nickname for Ghost)”

Meanwhile Outside

“Hey Captain Price, where’s (y/n)? I wanted to say goodbye.”

“She is maybe with Ghost you can maybe stop by his room.”

König walks into the base looking for (y/n) he finds Ghost room. Before he could knock.

“Don’t stop!”

“I don’t want to be able to walk after this Ghost!”

“You know I won’t stop. And I’ll keep that in mind baby. Be a good girl for me a take it all!”

The sounds of skin slapping each other and the elicit moans and the sounds of Ghost growling. The way her moans are muffled through the door.

König face gets so red. He walks away quietly never has been so awkward in his life. That was so traumatic for him. He’s killed many people over his years but this was too much for him. The young lady he rescued he had fallen for her. But now she’s in another room. With her boyfriend. And he heard her sweet moans.

He walked back out to the plane in complete shock. Price sees him again and tries to ask him is he got to say his goodbyes. König gives him a package and her gear to Price and says his goodbyes to him. He can’t string together a complete sentence.

Simon made love to (y/n). He worshipped her in and outside the bedroom. He never wanted her to feel alone or not have her needs met. He wants to be the only one to see her at her most vulnerable moments and to never ever let her feel alone and afraid.

He pledge his life to her and every mission they went on he made sure he was the only one to protect her. Her life is his top priority. Second comes the mission.

a/n credit to the artist for the gif. Name is label beneath the gif.

[leiflitter]

ghost!chorus- Venetia reacts to (your choice of) CH39 intro with Felix crying and Ollie comforting him; CH42 with Felix and Farleigh and Felix and Lucia; or CH44 Felix tells the kids about Lucia’s affair? tysm!!!

OKAY so these sorta got mushed together with a general uh… Ghost!Vee perspective, but it’s fun so let’s go~

Perhaps it was, well, being dead, but with hindsight… It was honestly amazing that it had taken Felix this long to find out. Oh, yeah, he and Lucia had been spiraling slowly towards divorce before they were even married, but it was so obvious… Or maybe it was just that walls didn't mean much to her any more, and Venetia'd wandered into Farleigh's room the first night he'd shown up. Paying her cousin a visit had led to way too much information, thank you very much, and she’d been giving the little shit a wide berth ever since. She hadn’t cottoned on while she was alive, at least, because if she had… But there was no point in being vindictive. She’d tear Farleigh a new one when he shuffled off the mortal coil and showed up here.

For the time being, it was initially far more fun to hang around Felix. It was what she normally did, when she was focused on the living. He'd been crying a lot, when she'd first crossed over. It had only seemed fair to comfort him; mum and dad were preoccupied with spectral dinners and parties and hobnobbing with Cattons Long Past. He was all by himself now, he needed her in the same way he’d needed her after he overdosed- it wasn’t Venetia’s fault that he couldn’t sense her. She’d sat beside him, pretending to stroke his hair and ignoring the way her fingers slipped through him as if he was liquid. Thicker than air but impossible to get a grip on. She’d read, somewhere, that you can’t actually feel wetness, that it was a weird collaborative illusion courtesy of the senses, but she didn’t have a physical body any more, so... What did it matter? Felix was distinctly soggy, and his moping had been starting to verge on boring.

She’d been a hair off of leaving him to it- maybe she’d hold out til after Christmas, maybe not- when things had taken a turn for the interesting. Felix had stopped crying, distracted by his phone, and what do you know? Vee had peered over his shoulder as soon as she noticed the change in him, from morose to giggly, and surprise! Her brother was texting incoherent, mushy messages to Oliver fucking Quick, squirming as he waited for a reply like a tween with a crush. Heart emojis and I love you, practically kicking his feet and twirling his hair. Oliver, returning? There wasn’t any point in wondering how the fuck he’d resurfaced; from her current position, it seemed inevitable. That summer had changed them all, and Oliver had been the catalyst. Of course he’d pop up again when everything had gone to shit. He could probably sense it, like a shark. At least, given her spectral condition, she wasn’t going to be their collateral damage any more; besides, she had to admit it was fun. It was basically a soap opera, after all, Venetia an intangible witness to her idiot brother happily smashing his life to bits. 

She'd even been watching them as they fumbled about. It was highly unimpressive, if she was honest, they kissed like they were trying to lick each other’s ears from the inside, but at least they were having fun. Yet it also showed that Oliver had changed. He wasn’t posturing the way he had with her; he’d had the audacity to grow up. Venetia had been expecting… Well… Ollie. The Oliver who’d sidled down those stairs towards her, as suave as a teenage boy in a borrowed suit could be. He’d tasted her blood, and she’d gotten off mostly on the taboo and how public it was, but it had been stupid to think he could be anything other than Felix’s property. He ought to have FRC written on the sole of his foot, like Woody in Toy Story, it was so blatant. This small, sensible man in the boring clothes was nothing much to look at, but he was still so devoted to her brother that it verged on pathetic. It would have been so pitiable, if Felix hadn’t gone off the deep end and kept on making increasingly poor decisions. 

Horribly, though, she had to admit that they seemed happy. It was fucking annoying, watching Felix fall in love as if he were some beleagured Disney princess rather than an adult man with a wife and children… But his wife wasn’t faithful, and she’d heard the pain in his sobs as he realized that his children may not be fully his. Venetia couldn’t have waited with baited breath- she didn’t need to breathe, after all, although she mimicked it reflexively- but she’d been wound so tight just watching. Waiting for Oliver to reveal his snakey little plan, to tell Felix to leave them, be with him, that the kids didn’t matter… 

Until he didn’t. 

What was his plan? 

Venetia wasn’t sure, but she stayed close, trying to piece it together. Oliver was consistent, she’d give him that, but all of his talk about doing it right for the kids just didn’t seem… Like him. He was a liar, he had to lie, but what was the angle? 

It hurt to consider that there might not be one. 

It had hurt to hear his confession, that he’d responded to her dangling herself like bait because of Felix and her mother’s casual cruelty. Venetia had already known it, of course, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting; so much so that she’d tried her best to appear before the both of them that evening as they tangled up in each other, vengeful and pointing, but had given up when Harriet cockblocked them far more effectively. 

It also hurt to look at them. The youth returning to their faces, despite the deeper creases around eyes and mouth. They hadn’t aged poorly, not at all, but it was bitter to see her brother grow younger. She’d be young forever, but nobody she truly cared about could appreciate it. It was bitter to think that Felix would grow old with someone, be in love and so sickening, and they’d show up here one day having shown her everything she’d never been able to find. They’d found extra reserves of life, hidden within how grossly soppy they were, and it felt like every slice of birthday cake she’d politely refused. 

The real Felix was back after a hiatus, back to devouring life by the fistful, and Venetia had watched him but never been brave enough to follow his example and gorge herself. 

Yet she’d watched. Waited. Hovered in the background, watching Oliver Quick hold her brother and comfort him- her job- and saw the looks they exchanged and heard the quiet conversations. Sat in the window seat while Felix and Oliver made muffled, animal sounds on the sofa bed. Mostly Venetia wondered if she ought to just… Go to where the others were. Slide away from the physical world into the endless summer of Saltburn After, join all of those accumulated souls in the whirl of parties and petty squabbling.

But she just wanted to be sure. Be there. Be part of it. She lurked around with Farleigh as he muttered and coughed in the cold, waiting for Felix to notice him. A shame that he didn’t notice her; she’d done her best to berate him, tried to lob a shoe at his head, but it was hard to keep up the energy when your audience didn’t react and your missiles didn’t connect… Then Felix was, as ever, about as capable of holding a grudge as a goldfish was at algebra. She’d tried to hold her nieces and nephew as Felix delivered the news of Lu’s bad behavior as deftly as a boot to the crotch, but it had been an exercise in frustration. She couldn’t stand passing through people; it was too much of a reminder of what she was, but she let her fingers ghost through Ru’s curls and tried to feel love at him. 

She’d seen the look on Oliver’s face when Lu confronted him. Blank, devoid of emotion, and oddly enough… That had helped her turn a mental corner. Set it into place.

Oliver was telling the truth. He didn’t lie these days, but honesty could be just as caustic. 

She sat, heavily, on the blue bed, watching them. Her brother was between Oliver’s legs, but that was hardly impressive. He sounded like a posh bulldog, panting away, and they hadn’t even gotten their boxers off yet. Idiots. They couldn’t even fuck tastefully, and she was trying to be maudlin. 

“Oh, fuck off.” 

Felix had shoved his stupid foot through her stomach, and that was- frankly- more than enough for Venetia. She’d come back tomorrow. 

“Just you wait, Felix Catton. Once you get here, it’s over for you.”   

[forestshadow-wolf]

Ghost is a hopeless romantic. Soap will match whatever energy ghost puts out.

Ghost listens to music constantly, and he shares his spotify with soap.

The song "fool" by frankie cosmos, is always at the top of each playlist because that's how he feels about soap.

The second song to every playlist, added by soap, is "wasteland, baby!" By hozier. This is him telling ghost that he feels the same.

Sometimes when late at night they'll go outside and dance for hours, fo music. Sometimes in the rain, or when the moon is full, or in the snow.

Other times they wait 'til everyone is asleep and sway to soft music in the common room.

[killerpancakeburger]

I'm the powder, you’re the fuse

SUMMARY: Soap finds out that his girlfriend is a skilled mercenary. And that he likes it... a lot.

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader

TAGS: Established relationship, Badass!Reader, Smitten!Soap.

WARNINGS: Canon violence, misogynistic comments/insults, mention of: blood, death, kidnapping/hostage taking, torture, weapons, suggestive content (Soap is Horny), military inaccuracies, swearing.

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

A/N: yes I am still writing the civilian fic with Ghost and Soap... but then I had this idea and thought I could finish it ""quickly"". Written on mobile so if there are mistakes feel free to tell me!!

Soap let out a yawn big enough to dislocate his jaw, staring at his captain with mild resentment.

“This couldn’t hae waited til after breakfast, sir?”

“‘Fraid It could not, John. Actually in just a few minutes you'll be barking at me to know why we haven't gotten a move on already.”

Johnny looked back at his superior with perplexity, before glancing over at his teammates around the table, hoping for a scrap of information. Ghost remained imperturbable while Gaz shrugged.

“We received this video thirty minutes ago. Addressed to a certain Sergeant MacTavish.”

His captain turned on the projector and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall behind him. It was his teammates’ turn to glance at him questioningly, and to him to shrug with ignorance.

The Scottish soldier rubbed his face in an attempt to get rid of his lasting drowsiness as the video projected on the white screen facing them was starting.

A group of armed men in balaclavas were occupying a room. The one in the front spouted the classic ransom demand in exchange for a hostage. Nothing worth being summoned at the crack of dawn for.

Then the spokesman moved aside, revealing their detainee, bound to a chair and gagged, shooting daggers at her captors, and Soap almost knocked over the table with how brutally he stood up. Carried away by white-hot fury, he slammed his hands on the table.

“Fuckin’ - what the fuck is this!? When did this happen? Where are those fucking bastards? I -”

Rage had roughened his usually smooth voice, granting it a gravelly pitch, turning his shout into a growl.

“Control yourself, Sergeant”, interrupted Price, “It's not over yet.”

On the screen, the same man as before grabbed your hair, ignoring your murderous glare, forcing you to look at the camera, and coaxed you with disdain before taking off your gag:

“Come on doll, gonna have to beg real pretty for your man to get him to rescue you.”

The second your mouth was freed, you snarled at him, baring your teeth like you were about to bite.

“I'm gonna rip your throat out with my bare hands, you f-”

“Fuck, someone muzzle that rabid bitch”, swore your agressor, your belligerence clearly having thrown a wrench in his plans.

Soap could not help the flare of pride soaring in his chest at the view of your defiance and your grit.

After receiving their orders, the team left the room to prepare themselves for the assault. 

“A friend of yours?” asked Gaz, while Ghost questioned “Ya know her?”

“That's mah girl”, admitted the Scotsman, a bit sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, looking away. The cat was out of the bag. For your own sake, you had been a well-kept secret, but it was blatant that it didn’t protect you.

“Been together for a year. Never meant to drag her into this, though.”

“She sounds like a bloody riot, mate.” teased Garrick.

“She doesn't seem fazed to be taken hostage. Mainly pissed.” pointed out Ghost, wary.

“She's fearless.” admitted Soap with an enamored little smile. “Doesn't mean we don’t have to get her out of this though.”

His expression shifted from fondness to cold determination.

“‘F course.”

“We've got your back.”

“Gaz? You copy?” called Ghost over coms.

The afornamed was tasked with overwatch. His response arrived, marked by hesitation.

“...  I don't think she needs our help, guys.”

“The fuck s’that supposed to mean?” grumbled the Lieutenant.

“It'd be better if you'd see for yourselves. Third window on the right, second floor.”

Ghost took out a pair of binoculars and pointed them at the given position.

“Fooking hell…”

The expletive was mumbled with a mix of surprise and… awe?

“What? What! Lemme see L.T.!” pleaded Soap.

Ghost quickly passed him the tool, eager to make him shut up. The sergeant hastened to shove them against his face. His gaze took in the sight in front of him and he let out an appreciative whistle.

“Steamin’ jesus…”

He drank in the view that was your bloody display of fierce skill and deadly efficiency. You staggered between the enemies with fluidity, making them seem like clumsy amateurs. Slicing a throat there, shooting a head here, he watched with fascination as you used a dead attacker as a human shield.

“I think I'm hard.”

“TMI,  Soap.” 

Gaz coupled his comment with a gagging noise.

“Can ye blame me! Mah lass is oot there bein’ a bonafide badass ‘n’ that's the hottest shit a've ever seen.”

“M not blaming you for being a horny bastard, I'm blaming you for not keeping it to yourself.”

“If you two are done bickering, we could go pick her up.” groaned Ghost.

Letting Garrick past, he grabbed Soap by the shoulder as he was walking by him.

“You knew?”

“Knew what?”

“That you were going out with a killer.”

“Nae, but it turned out to be a good thing, didn’t it? Cannae imagine how badly this would have ended with a civilian. The wounds, the trauma…”

Ghost let out one of his grunts that Johnny knew meant “I disagree but it's not worth debating you about it.”

Positioning themselves near that final entrance, Soap nodded in response to Ghost's hand signal, waiting for him to break the door down. They were still on their gard in case some of the assailants survived.

In the ensuing silence, your voice reached his ears through the wall he was propped against.

“Come on doll”, you taunted, imitating your captor's scornful tone from earlier, sickly sweet then venomous. “Tell me who you work for and I won't gouge out your remaining eye.”

Johnny gulped. Eavesdropping on this definitely did not help with the… situation in his pants.

The racket produced by Ghost dealing with the door had the merit to make him focus once again. 

His body moving automatically, his training taking over, Soap charged into the room, pointing his rifle at the only person left standing there. Like a reflection of himself, you were aiming your own firearm at him. Your eyebrows were frowned in concentration, your eyes glinting with cold determination. Then recognition dawned on your face, and you heaved a sigh of relief, lowering your weapon.

“It's you! You scared the shit out of me.”

Relief flooded through him at the sight of you, bruised, battered, and blood-spattered, but alive. He tossed his gun aside as you put down yours, ready to embrace you, but Ghost's voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Back off, Soap.”

An order. Johnny stared at him in shock.

“What the hell, L.T.?”, he hissed in his direction.

You docilely raised your hands in the air as the masked man lined up the end of his gun's barrel with your head.

“Worst rescue party ever”, you mumbled to yourself.

“Sorry, Johnny”, grumbled Skullface, not sounding sorry in the slightest, never taking his eyes off you. “But do your usual conquests take down a dozen armed men on their own?”

Illustrating his words, he gestured with his rifle to the ground littered with corpses. The man you had started to interrogate - the only one left alive - whined in pain.

“So what's your deal? Ya a mole? Shagging Johnny for intel?”

“Ghost!” Soap gasped, offended for himself as much as for you. “M not some clueless newbie!”

You made a face at the question. You understood where he was coming from, hell you’d do the same if the roles were reversed, but that didn’t mean you enjoyed sharing details of your sordid past, especially with a stranger. The less people knew about it, the better.

“I used to be a mercenary for a family who did organized crime. Been clean for years though.”

“Oh yeah? They let you leave just like that?”

“The boss’ daughter had a soft spot for me.”

The lieutenant stared at you for a few more seconds, as if judging the veracity of your statements through sight alone, before lowering his weapon.

A resounding “Bonnie!” rang out. Next thing you knew, your boyfriend's muscular arms closed around you, causing you to yelp, pain running through you at the overeager contact. Soap cursed and apologized profusely.

“Bloody hell, a'm sorry, didnae mean tae hurt ye. Are ye alright? Show me where it hurts. If those bastards leid a hand on ye, I swear-”

There was something both flattering and arousing with how the more Soap lost his cool, the more pronounced his accent became, and the rougher his voice sounded. You placed a finger across his mouth to put an end to his verbal onslaught, an endeared smile on your own.

“At ease, soldier. I'm OK, just some bruised ribs and a busted eyebrow.” you summarized while pointing to the trickle of dried blood on the side of your face.

He leaned his forehead against yours, a gesture that felt terribly intimate, an adoring grin adorning his lips.

“Cannae believe ye wiped out those sorry fuckers all on yer own. Fuck, that's hot.” he confessed in a subdued tone.

You threw your head back in laughter, only to wince when your sore ribs manifested themselves.

“Never heard that one before. Could get used to it, though.”

You laced your fingers behind his neck, nonchalantly leaning against him, not fighting back an impish smile. Soap's hands grabbed your hips in response. Your roguish expression must have gotten the better of his restraint, because one breath later, he was hungrily pressing his mouth against yours. You replied in kind, swiftly deciding you did not care for his colleagues’ presence, and he moaned in appreciation.

After a minute or two, you broke the kiss against your will, remembering an issue that needed to be solved. You smiled, amused by the vision that was Soap chasing your lips blindly, then pouting when you refused him.

“So you guys are gonna take care of the bodies, right…? I can deal with one or two, but this is a bit much.”

The last soldier, the one you didn’t hear from yet, a pretty man with dark skin that Soap would later introduce as Gaz, assured you that they would handle it.

Transferring your attention back to Johnny, you noticed a trace of guilt in those ocean eyes of his, as he was staring at you.

“Something wrong?”

“Ye not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?” you frowned.

“It's mah fault if those bastards took ye.”

“Oh, Johnny…” you sighed wistfully, cupping his face. “I knew what the risks were when I chose to date a soldier. Plus, there will always be a chance that my past catches up to me. I was pretty fucking mad when I got a hood shoved on my head and my arms twisted behind my back before getting hauled away in the middle of the fucking night, but not at you.”

Once they gathered all the intel they needed and dragged away the only survivor, the team and you left the building. Your testimony was required for the mission report, so you accompanied them without protest, longing for the care that would be provided by their medical facility.

As you were walking to their vehicule, hand in hand with Soap, you noted how he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

His cerulean eyes kept greedily roaming all over you, like you were a vision so dream-like it was making him doubt your reality, like you would vanish the second he stopped contemplating you.

“Yer one badass lass, y'know that? ‘M so proud o’ ye. Proud tae be yers.”

A/N: Ghost's "grunts that Johnny knew meant “I disagree but it's not worth debating you about it.” " is based on my grandma 💀

[just-another-siimp]

I was wondering if you could write a fluffy piece about Gaz and his partner having a sweet domestic moment in bed. Thank you

The Gaz homies are in the house today???? Please keep the Gaz requests coming!!! I fucken insert feral screaming here love him. This is more than a sweet domestic moment, but it counts right???

Warnings: No use of Y/N, Reader goes by Chip. Read the Enemy at the Gate series to understand some of the lore about where Gaz and Chip live!! I overdid it again. I'm sorry

Leave was something that every military member craved at one point or another, for you and Kyle leave was something neither of you saw often. When the Captain had announced that the 141st would be going on a two week leave it was a surprise, a pleasant one at that.

There was a buzz of excitement that radiated from Kyle as you both packed the jeep, an excitement that once upon a time you did not share. Except now that excitement was shared with him as you both prepared for the long journey home, it was roughly a 9 hour drive from the base in London to your home in Metz, France.

Normally you and Gaz would divide the driving into 2 hour blocks, arriving home just as the sun set and with enough time to go into town and buy a hot meal. On this occasion however, Kyle had convinced you to stop in Paris for a few nights. It had taken quite a bit of convincing, even Ghost had stepped in telling you about a new exhibit at The Louvre. When you finally caved in Gaz promised that he would organise the rest.

That was how you ended up in one of the fanciest hotels you'd ever stepped foot in, you almost felt out of place with some of the dirt and grime from previous missions still clinging to your skin. While Gaz spoke to the lady at reception you took a moment to send Soap a selfie, trying your hardest to showcase the grandness of the foyer.

S: Looks fancy as dove! I'm staying at Lt's place for a few nights, I'll show him the picture.

C: Try not to murder each other while you're there.

S: No promises, C. Ghost says congratulations!

Before you even had time to think about what Soap had said Gaz was by your side again, gently taking your phone from your hands and replacing it with a keycard. You gave him a questioning look, head tilted to the side as he ushered you forward.

"Come on, love. Our room is ready."

-

You didn't have a chance to interrogate Kyle on the way up to your room, the attendant in the elevator having struck up a conversation with you both as he took you to the top floor. Kyle's hand had slipped into yours as you were guided through the halls, eventually stopping in front of room 141.

Kyle laughed.

To say that the room was lavish would be an understatement, the evening sunset gave the room a gorgeous orange glow as you rushed forward to look out of the window. The busy Paris nightlife bustling below your feet as you turned to look back at Kyle.

"This is amazing!" You took a second look over the living room. It was spacious, decorated with plush white couches, priceless artwork and fresh flowers. "Kyle this is perfect.. thank you."

"Just wait til you see the bedroom." There was a joke hidden somewhere within that statement, one that you would have made if Kyle hadn't practically dragged you into the bedroom. You could've sworn that this was all a dream when your eyes caught sight of the familiar tower just outside the window.

It was hard to contain the squeal that came from you as you ran out onto the small balcony, taking in the magnificence of the Eiffel Tower. This really was the perfect surprise.

"This is- Kyle this is too much." You blurted out, turning to face him with a smile.

"I wanted to surprise you with something nice, dove." He stepped closer to you, body framing yours against the balcony. "Do you remember when you first joined the 141st? That time I got shot-"

"Because you jumped in front of a bullet, to save my life." you interrupted him, chest clenching at the memory. Kyle soothed your worry with a kiss.

"Yes, that time. Do you remember what you said to keep me awake?" Your eyes went wide, suddenly remembering what you'd told him that day. "You said 'one day when I go on leave, I'll book a hotel room that looks out at the Eiffel Tower and eat enough croissants to last a lifetime."

"I really did didn't I?" Your heart felt as though it could burst out of your chest, smile never leaving your face even when you kissed him. That night was spent in the hotel, admiring the view and eating croissants until you both passed out in the comfiest bed imaginable.

-

Kyle had always been an early riser, something you secretly hated about your beloved. It was the way that he could be awake and functioning before 9am, while you were still trying to consume enough caffeine to wake you up. For once both of you slept well past noon.

The both of you took your time to wake up, over time you'd moved from his side to laying on top of him. Enjoying the feeling of his hand in your hair, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and how it rumbled when he laughed at something you said.

It was moments like these that made everything you both fought for worth it, all of the violence you'd both seen made moments like these possible. Even then the selfish part of your brain never wanted it to end.

"Kyle?" His hum in response forced you to look up at him, slowly creeping forward so that you could press a kiss to the corner of his lips. "I wish we could stay like this forever."

"Me as well." He whispered, lips pressing to your forehead silence taking over the room again. Eventually you rolled off of him, settling against his side and taking his hand. Comparing it to yours.

"You have pretty hands, Kyle."

"I think yours would look prettier with a ring on it." he spoke softly, index finger pointing to your ring finger. "Right there."

"Kyle-"

"Chip- I was going to wait for a more romantic moment but I realised.. laying here in this bed with you. It's the perfect time. Because there is nothing more in this world that I want, than moments like this spent with you in bed but with you as my partner." Suddenly he was moving, taking a small velvet box out of the nightstand offering it to you. "Would you do me the honour.. of marrying me."

It took a moment to process what he was saying, tears threatened to fall as you nodded your head. "Yes.. A million times yes." You whispered, face now hidden in his chest as he held you to him. It wasn't clear how long you'd both stayed like that for, eventually you'd pulled away to kiss him. Your phone aggressively vibrating in the background, ruining the sweet moment.

"It's probably Soap-" You mumbled turning the phone off, realisation hitting you like a ton of bricks.

"What is it love?"

"So that's what Ghost meant by 'Congrats'" You laughed looking at Kyle, watching as he glared at your phone.

"I knew one of those bloody idiots would ruin it-"

-

It wasn't until a year later that you and Gaz visited that hotel, as newly weds.

[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

I'll make a separate post for all of my thoughts (because I have a lot), but I'd like to thank all of you. This has been such an amazing experience, being able to tell a story from start to end. This has been a lot of firsts for me, first fic, first serious writing, first time I reach the end of any long form story I made.

Each and every one of you reading, liking, reblogging and commenting made this ride that more enjoyable.

Now, it's time we finish it, with the longest chapter yet.

Its name on AO3 will be "Together."

All that could be heard in the small room were crackling flames. For a while, they just stared at each other.

“Revenants of light, huh…” Johnny whispers, fingers gently caressing Simon’s hand. He scoffs in disbelief, “I can’t believe we actually did it…”

Simon sinks into the flames hugging his skin, “did what?”

“Broke that prophecy. Lived. Fuckin’ created a new Reaper.” Johnny’s eyes shine, his voice full of reverence, “you think this was… a new deal?”

Heat strikes down, deep in his chest. “It would make sense… new Reaper, new powers…” Simon trails off.

“New death.” Johnny grins lopsidedly, “looks like yer stuck with me ‘till the end, LT.”

“Till death do us apart, Johnny?”

His Sergeant laughs brightly, Simon grinning like an idiot under the mask. Johnny takes his other hand in his, donning a more serious expression.

“Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone.” he recites slowly, eyes not moving from his. Simon inhales sharply.

“I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One.” his heart beats like a war drum, strong and heavy. 

“Johnny…” he doesn’t recognize the lines, but the meaning expands beyond cultures.

“I give ye my Spirit,” he lifts a hand to cup Simon’s cheek, “’til our Life shall be Done.”

Simon leans in, resting his forehead on Johnny’s, chuckling in incredulity, “you’re fuckin’ mental, Sergeant.”

The Scot hums, nudging his head, “thought ye knew that already, mo chridhe.”

Fuckin’ hell, his heart won’t stop beating so loudly. Simon knows Johnny was half joking but…

But still his heart strives to etch the words into his rib cage. A vow seared into their very flesh, marked by forces beyond their comprehension.

An oath, so powerful it joins not only their lives, but the lives of otherworldly horrors, being who do not care for such things as human connection.

And yet, it is that very thing that changed the course of destiny, in a way not even Reapers could predict.

Simon leans close, to the man he calls home, a hearth to never be extinguished.

And he feels safe. He feels… complete.

When they finally leave the room, the air outside is considerably colder. The safe house is quiet, in a way it can’t be, for the amount of soldiers it contained before Johnny dragged Ghost away.

He catches the attention of a passing Vaquero, and the man tells him most have left for the base, as it was liberated once Graves died. He also informs them their teammates are waiting outside by the vehicles.

Price and Garrick smile at them knowingly when they reach the armored truck.

“Bloody hell, finally! What took you two so long??” Gaz kicks off the side of the truck to scowl at them.

Ghost squints, face heating up, “none of yours, Sergeant.”

Gaz opens his mouth, but Price pats his back, “we can argue in the damn car. I need a fuckin’ shower.”

The Sergeant instantly forgets his previous grievances, and floats away to the passenger sit, “oh fuck yeah! I’m drooling just thinking about the bunks. You think Rudy would make us tea again if we ask really nicely?”

Soap swings the door open while shaking his head, muttering, “feckin’ Brits and their shite tea…”

Ghost slides besides him and cuffs him over the warhawk, “you better respect Parra’s tea in this car, Sergeant.”

Johnny rolls his eyes, unable to stop the smirk spreading on his lips, “what are ye gonna do? Report me to the king?”

“You little…” Ghost starts wrestling his Sergeant in the back sits, Price sighing deeply and turning the ignition.

When Soap somehow manages to kick the Captain’s headrest, jostling his hat dangerously, Price turns to glare at the two of them.

“You stop that, or I’m leaving you on the side of the road.”

They both immediately freeze, “sorry Captain.” Soap mumbles.

The truck is left parked between the others already on base, and the taskforce makes its way to the barracks.

Rudy finds them after a shower, smiling, “hermanos. Feeling better?”

Garrick is still drying his hair with a towel, “feel fuckin’ human, brother.”

Alejandro rounds the corner, laughing, “Rudy got something even better than a shower.”

“What’s that?” Soap asks. Price’s eyes fill with wonder, and Ghost already knows the answer.

Alejandro swings an arm around the Sergeant Major, “how does ‘Parra’s infamous tea’ sound like?”

Gaz cheers, floating up a few inches, while Soap grumbles disappointingly, “sounds like bloody heaven, Rodolfo!” Garrick reaches to pull the Vaquero into a hug, “thank you!!!”

Rudy pats the Sergeant, laughing, “it’s nothing, hermano. A little thanks for all of you, for helping us with Graves.” he looks over at Ghost, the two sharing a nod of mutual understanding.

Soap pouts, “feckin’ tea though…?”

Alejandro smirks confidently, “we also got some… shortbread, you call it?”

Now that puts a spark in Johnny’s eyes, “ye all are saints, Alejandro.”

The Colonel laughs loudly. 

They meet Commander Karim and Keller on their way out, duffle bags slung over their shoulders.

Farah smiles warmly at the Captain, “ah, Price. Glad I could find you before we leave.”

“You’re already going back to Urzikstan?”

The American sighs, “yep. The Vaqueros volunteered to search for any of our people, but currently we need to go back to protecting whoever we still have.”

“Graves may be dead, but this is far from over.” Farah looks over the serene hills surrounding the base, “as much as I want to get Shepherd, I cannot let myself be blinded by revenge.”

Ghost understands the sentiment. Revenge is a fuel, what you put it into could make or break your reality. “When we find him, we’ll make sure you’re there to take it.”

Farah nods, perceptive eyes landing on his, “I appreciate it, Lieutenant.” she turns to the rest, “thank you for everything. God willing, we will meet on better times.”

Price wraps a hand around her shoulder, making Ghost realize just how small the Commander is compared to him, “stay safe, Farah.” he winks at Alex, “make sure she takes breaks from time to time, will you?”

Keller laughs, “you know not even I can do that. Cya around, Cap.”

As the two walk away, Garrick mumbles, “think they’ll be alright without Graves supporting them?”

Price sighs wearily, eyes somber as they track Farah and Alex’s form, “they’ll have to be.”

They say their goodbyes to the Vaqueros, with a hopeful note to work together in the future, and get ready to board a plane to England. After a few hours, where the team took time to fix their undoubtably horrid stench and growling stomachs, and got to sleep (Soap dragged him to a sofa to nap, and Ghost will forever deny it was the best sleep of his life), Laswell called.

Ghost initially prayed they’re not being sent to another mission, in a way he never did. To his credit, the last few months were absurd.

She didn’t contact them for work, instead inviting them to stop by for a drink before they all leave for the UK. The promise of a good drink had them instantly agree.

The flight is spent mostly sleeping, again, as they were all incredibly tired, bone deep fatigue, emotionally and physically.

Garrick made sure to make his annoyingly aching shoulder everyone’s problem, complaining he couldn’t find a good position to rest in, until the Captain showed mercy and let him float around the cabin, leg held fast by Price.

Kate greets them warmly in a little bar hidden within Chicago’s winding alleys. Their drinks have been ordered beforehand, and everyone makes their gratitude known by taking a sip and melting into the bar sits.

Laswell smiles knowingly, letting them relax before starting, “this has been quite a ride for you boys, huh?”

Price sighs, “you can say it again.”

The CIA agent shakes her head morosely, “they got past us.”

“Well, they had a head start.” the Captain lifts his drink, “to cutting heads off snakes.”

Laswell clinks her cup with his. Ghost joins their conversation while they take the toast, “any sign of Shepherd?”

The woman puts the drink back on the counter, “totally off the grid.”

Gaz looks down at his whisky, frowning in conviction, “we’ll find him.”

“No,” Laswell answers, Garrick locking eyes with her, “we’ve got bigger fish.” she glances at Soap, “I did some digging on the Russian experiments.”

“That’s a dirty job if I’ve heard one”, Price mutters under his breath.

“Ultra-nationalists are after the fabled ‘revenant-killer’, John.” Price shakes his head minutely at the words.

“Kate,” he says lowly, “this is over.” almost begging her to let his boys rest.

“No. It’s not.” she ignores his pleas, as do all Reapers above and below. “They’re working with someone new.”

She pulls out a picture and shows it to Price, his expression instantly morphing into shock, and then cold rage.

Ghost tries to ask the Captain what he’s seeing, but he doesn’t need to.

Price points at the photo, “...he’s not new.” and passes it to Gaz.

Garrick’s brows furrow at it, glancing at the Captain questioningly before passing it over to Johnny.

Soap takes one look at the image, his smile lines deepening as his fingers singe the edges of the photo.

He slides it to Ghost, hand lingering, eyes full of uncertainty.

Ghost flips the picture, and his heart hardens.

“Who is he?” Laswell asks Price.

The Captain leans in to almost whisper, “Makarov.”

Laswell tilts her head, and Price continues to talk in their minds, “the Kastovian deserter, Konchar? He didn’t leave the military for no reason.”

Flames crackle threateningly under the bar, Ghost sliding a hand over white fire.

“He worked for Makarov?” Soap growls.

Price nods, “your Reaping took his work years back, but if what Laswell says is true…”

“He’s back.” Ghost finishes.

Johnny’s hand squeezes his, and they make eye contact.

It’s never really over, is it? Some say they’ll rest when they’re dead. Their harsh reality is that they’re not even granted that.

Blue eyes reflecting flames, as well as one floating man with a warm smile, and a reassuring voice in his mind, promise him that while yes, they may never rest, it does not mean they’ll fight alone.

Together, until death, as it brought them to each other, takes them away.

Soap is furious. They leave the bar not soon after, his Sergeant walking away as they say their farewells to Laswell.

On the flight back, he’s all uncontrollable energy, waiting for ignition to blow up. 

Ghost, after 20 minutes of watching Johnny bounce his leg enough to wear a hole through the damn floor, places a hand to stop his movements.

“Talk to me, Johnny.”

Soap’s eyes stay full of rage for only a moment, before softening, “I’m thinking… maybe it wasn’t coincidence that me and Konchar were in Verdansk at the same time.”

Ghost hums for him to continue, drawing nonsense patterns on his thigh.

“What if I was an experiment, Simon?” Johnny looks away, his eyes fogging with memories, “what if Makarov knew Konchar had to kill me to live, and wanted to see if I could. If I was destined to be a revenant killer?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Ghost grounds. Johnny looks unconvinced, so he continues, “whatever you were destined to be… you’re not it anymore. We’re both changed men.”

Johnny stares at him with more emotions than Simon can contain, reverence and trust and… something he can’t name.

“You… how could I tell you how much I adore you?”

Simon’s heart, gut and head, all line in decision for once in his life. 

Actions speak louder than words, he remembers. And so, he rolls up the mask up above his brows, and leans in.

Gently taking hold of Soap’s nape, he directs his head to his face, pressing a touch of lips to his temple.

Simon whispers in his ear, “I already know. I look at you, and I can’t explain what it does to me. What you do to me, love.”

Johnny closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. He looks almost conflicted, but the creases smooth over when Simon brushes lips over them.

“You mean everything.”

Price ordered him to his office the moment Ghost stepped foot on British soil. He glanced at Johnny, who was carrying his and Gaz’s bags. His Sergeant promised with a lopsided grin he’ll find him later, a sort of scheming glint in his eyes.

Ghost reaches the Captain’s office in record time, hoping to finish whatever this is as fast as possible.

Price, however, didn’t get the damn memo, and takes his sweet time settling into his chair. “How are you doing, Simon?”

Ghost surpassed the urge to roll his eyes, “good.” he gets the mental image of begging on his knees for Price to get to the point, and the Captain laughs.

“Alright, alright. I’ll spare you the suffering, Lieutenant.” Price’s smile slowly fades, “what happened with your Reaper, son?”

Right. He and Johnny may have forgotten to mention the new developments in the ‘Eldritch horrors beyond this world’ department.

“Our Reapers merged. They called themselves ‘Reaper of Luminary’.” Ghost huffs, “they told me and Johnny… we’re linked. We’ll live and die together.”

Price nods. He doesn’t seem too surprised, and Ghost wonders how much he already knew from his passing thoughts.

“I don’t know how long we would be able to keep it quiet…” he strokes his moustache, “this gets out, you two will have a target on your backs.”

Ghost straightens, hands behind his back at rest, “we’ll handle it, if it comes to that, sir.”

The Captain sighs, “I admire your confidence, Lieutenant, but I don’t think you understand the scale of the issue. You two are the first revenants in modern history to affect the Reapers the way they affect humans. We believed our connection was a one way street - that humans are simply too weak to change Reapers.” his stare is severe, “you however? You’re powerful enough to not only go against them, but physically mold them. What Makarov is after is nothing compared to the force you hold.”

Ghost closes his eyes. Price is right, of course. But…

He has faith. Hope.

Price’s moustache twitches, “...I understand.” he raises from the chair, walking around to place a hand on Ghost’s shoulder.

“I’m happy for you, son. You and Soap make a good team.” the Captain’s eyes crease with mirth, “I heard your conversation on the plane-”

“Fuckin’ hell Price, that was bloody private!” Ghost scoffs, embarrassment coursing through him.

“I stopped listening after the first ‘love’-”

Ghost drags a hand over his eyes, “just get on with it”

“As I’ve told you, you have my blessing. If you need anything, if anyone gives you trouble, don’t hesitate to come to me, got it?”

Ghost scoffs despite the threat of tears in his eyes. He looks at Price now, and sees much more than a Captain. He sees something he has never had.

“Copy.”

It’s not Johnny that finds him first, but Garrick, floating around the hallway in front of Price’s office.

“Need the Captain, Sergeant?” Ghost inquires.

Gaz stops, “no, I got a message from Soap.”

His interest instantly piques, “go on.”

Garrick rummages through his pocket with his healthy hand and pulls out a note, “he said ‘meet me here’, and that you should ‘clean up’.” the Sergeant wiggles his eyebrows, “sounds like he has a nice surprise for ya, sir.”

Ghost takes the note, examining the location. Looks like a street in the city neighboring the base. “I’m off then. Don’t get into trouble, Garrick. Cheers.”

Gaz frowns, pointing at his injured arm, “not like I bloody can…”

Ghost smiles while walking away, “if anyone could find a way, it would be you Sergeant.”

He chuckles lowly at Gaz’s fussing as he makes his way to the base’s parking lot.

The sun has started to set by the time Ghost reaches the location Soap left for him, the sky painted reds and oranges and yellows that remind him fondly of Johnny’s radiant fire.

He changed into a more casual outfit, covering his face with only a cloth mask and a hoodie. 

Ghost’s lips stretch so much he fears they’ll get stuck like that, when he spots the place. An elegant sign hangs above a restaurant, one that looks small and cozy, with dimmed warm lighting, and plants covering the brick walls.

He parks the car nearby and walks in, a waiter catching his stare and approaching him.

“Are you uh… ‘Ghost’?” he says with hesitation.

Ghost scans the tables, trying to find one warhawk sticking out, “affirm.”

The waiter sighs in relief, “your partner is already here. Follow me.”

The man leads him to a more secluded area, a low wall separating it from the main room. Ghost feels his heart thrum a familiar beat when he finally finds Johnny, sitting alone in a table for two.

“Your orders will arrive soon, please make yourself at home.” the waiter gives him a wobbly smile, and Johnny chuckles at the man practically running away.

“You really do have quite the effect on people, don’t ye Simon?” his Sergeant smiles.

Simon huffs, sitting down in front of him, “what’s all this, then?” he nods to the restaurant.

Johnny leans in, taking his hand, “I promised I’ll treat ye nicely, to a good restaurant, didn’t I?”

“You remembered?” Simon blinks in surprise.

“Of course,” Johnny grins, “I also remember ye said ye will treat me equally.”

“Had a feeling this was too good to be true…” Simon sighs, mask covering his smile.

“Oi!”

Simon pulls the mask off, making Johnny snap his mouth closed, “thank you.” he smirks smugly at his Sergeant’s amazed expression.

“Fuck me, I almost forgot how beautiful ye are.” Johnny mumbles.

Heat spreads over his exposed features, Simon looks away, “guess I’ll have to remind you more often.”

“Oh, please! I won’t ask fer anything else!”

Simon glances back at him, “we both know that’s fucking bullshite, Sergeant.”

Johnny laughs, tugging at his hand, “aye, ye know me too well.”

They quiet down to a comfortable silence, grins fading to soft smiles.

“Whatever comes next…” Simon inhales, grasping Johnny’s hand tighter. “We’ll do it together, love.”

Johnny lets his white flames caress Simon’s scarred hands, casting an otherworldly glow over them, making them shine as if lit from within.

If his heart could, it would be brighter than the sun now.

“Together.”

To be continued.

[eldritcmor]

Jason Todd Their Ass part 2

The little plane landed with a heavy thump on the cracked tarmac. 941,741,132 or Entrance to The KIngsmouth Reserve. Laswell had pulled through for the team, digging into the coordinates as she did. Apparently it used to be a decently sized coastal town. That was until a few years ago. Something happened and the town was quickly taken off the map. Soap Glanced out the window as the plane taxied for a second before pulling to a stop. The place was clearly abandoned to the elements of the sea. A single rusted out hangar and a decent sized tin shed was all that lined the tarmac. The pilot ushered the team off the plane. Something about how staying could ground him permanently. Soap hummed as the plane took off immediately as the last man touched the ground. Looks like they would be their own exit strategy. “Might as well get started. Soap, Ghost you two take the shed. Gaz and I will take the hangar.” Price’s voice cut through the steady drum of rain. “Report anything that can Lead to our target.” With a nod, 141 split towards their assignments. The shed was a rusted out shell that looked halfway to falling over. The windows were broken in and the door was barely hanging on by a single hinge. Soap pressed to the right of the door and Ghost to the left. Soap counted on his fingers. One...Two...Three. Ghost swung and the door crumpled in with a swift kick from the Lieutenant’s boot. Soap followed close behind the man as he rushed into the shed. The place was empty. Quiet. Incredibly dusty. The only foot prints were his and Ghost’s. Soap slowly relaxed his hold on his rifle as Ghost dubbed the room all clear. The place was cluttered with what looked to be scrap parts of planes and was that radio equipment? Soap dragged his finger gently across the face of the radio, rubbing the dust away. It looked old but well cared for. He fiddled with the knobs on the front till the radio clicked on with a harsh hiss of static. Soap raised an eyebrow as he dialed through the channels, at a rapid pace trying to find anything. He swear he could hear something just under the static. It took a minute before he narrowed down the channels on the radio. There! He heard it! A dot of sound, just under the static. It took him a minute to slowly puzzle out the sound. A consistent rhythm of dots and dashes of one solid note of sound. Soaps eye’s widened. Morse code. “L.T. , I got something.” Ghost turned from poking around in what looked to be some old tool boxes. “What is it, sergeant?” “Listen.” Soap twisted one of the knobs on the radio til the one note sound of dots and dashes filled the shed.

“-.. .-. --- .--. -....- .--. --- .. -. - / --... .---- ..--- ..... ...-- -.... .-.-.-” “And, this is what soap?” Soap hummed, “Morse code, sir.” Soap could tell Ghost was giving him some serious side eye underneath his balaclava, waiting on an explanation. Soap gestured to the radio. “This is a short range radio. The only incoming traffic for the island was our plane. So whoever is putting out a Morse code signal is still on the island. It could lead us to our missing sergeant.” Ghost nodded. “Get translating, Johnny.” Soap nodded as Ghost reached for his radio. “Bravo Six, This is Bravo Seven. We found something.” Price’s voice filtered through Soap’s radio. “Copy Bravo Seven. We’ll meet you in two.” Soap hummed under his breath as he puzzled out the meaning behind the dots and dashes of one note sound. Ghost had laughed at him picking Morse code up as something to occupy his mind but look where it got them. He had just finished when Price and Gaz came rolling into the shed. “what do you got for me, boys?” Soap stepped up. “Morse code on a short range radio. Really short range too. Anyway whatever is it, it’s broadcasting to the island.” Price raised an eyebrow, “And this helps us, how?” Soap grabbed the scribbled down translation. “The code translates to Drop Point 712536. They’re coordinates, sir and I bet they are somewhere on this island.” taglist: @fruitymoonbeams-blog @tapioca-marzipan

[ghcstao3]

Soap likes to draw. It’s a simple fact of his life, and just about anyone who knows him knows it too. On or off base, he’s usually never without a notebook and an apparatus of some kind, because it passes the time, and it serves well to document his missions in further detail for both himself and debriefing.

Everyone knows this, and Soap is aware of that. What no one knows, however, is Soap’s favourite subject, because that’s a notebook that’s kept secret and often left only to be used on leave.

The only person who knows is Ghost, whose form fills those pages in some way or shape, because Soap knows damn well no matter the effort he’d never be able to hide such a thing from him, especially not once they’re living together beyond work.

(Of course, it doesn’t help, either, that Soap prefers to study Ghost while he sketches, rather than drawing solely from memory—because how else would he capture the most intricate of details?)

That being said, Soap could trace the fixation back to a single moment in time, where an itch to scratch branched off into a near obsession from only a couple of seconds, and that moment is the first time Soap ever sees Ghost’s face.

It’s unexpected, the way Ghost pulls off his mask in front of the 141 and company. His eyes are almost squirrely, never quite meeting anyone’s gaze, but Soap doesn’t think he’s ever been so in love.

He doesn’t get quite enough time to memorize, however, before another mask is being slipped over mussed blond hair and pale scarred skin, and suddenly Soap is overcome by the desire to draw Ghost.

To draw Simon.

When they finally arrive back on base following the Las Almas operation, Soap doesn’t waste any time pulling out his notebook and drawing Ghost to the best of his memory. When he finishes, he knows he’s gotten some things wrong, but he hasn’t much to work with. He erases and pencils in new lines tens if not hundreds of times trying to get it right, but it simply isn’t possible.

It’s too bad for Soap, because he just isn’t satisfied with his current result, and it’s too bad for Ghost, because Soap is a persistent, stubborn sonuvabitch.

They’re not quite on leave when Soap begins his endeavour, just between missions. He starts by making a purposeful show of drawing the 141, forcing them to sit so he can, supposedly, get everything perfect. It’s under the guise that he sucks at drawing people (a complete and utter lie), and what better way to practice than with those waiting around.

Soap saves Ghost for last, and it’s a damn good thing he does, because what a difficult affair it is convincing him to sit for, what Ghost deems, “a stupid art project”.

“I have better things to do, Johnny,” Ghost tells him. “And you do, too.”

Soap shrugs. “Maybe. But I won’t stop asking ‘til you agree, Lt.”

Ghost would continue to push off the request—a true testament to his resolve, really—but Soap would continue to insist, so finally, eventually, Ghost breaks.

The encounter is more than reluctant, but Soap figures that Ghost has realized it's either now or later that it happens. He still wears his mask, of course, but it’s only the balaclava—so at the very least, Soap could get his eyes just right.

And that’s a better start than none.

They’re tucked away in a quiet corner of the base for Soap’s “stupid art project”. Ghost shifts constantly while Soap scribbles away in his notebook, first unsure where to look, then unsure of where to put his hands. Soap wears a smile the entire time.

“You’re allowed to move, you know,” Soap says after much too long of a time. He keeps himself from laughing. “It’s better if you do, really.”

Ghost glares daggers at Soap. “You didn’t want to tell me that sooner?”

Soap grins at the Lieutenant but makes no further comment. He’d rather have his life spared for the time being.

Once Soap has finished, he doesn’t say anything. He just sets his pencil down and closes his notebook and makes to leave. Ghost watches every movement closely and remains silent himself. Only, he doesn’t move from his spot, and Soap can almost feel that he has a question he’s debating to ask.

It never ends up phrased as a question, but Ghost’s hesitation is so palpable it might as well have been.

“Let me see.”

Soap hadn’t expected Ghost would want to, though a part of him had most definitely hoped otherwise. He doesn’t put up a fight for such a reason, instead wordlessly passing the notebook to Ghost to browse.

It’s Soap’s turn to fidget as Ghost flips through pages. Most take only a few seconds, nothing more than an impassive look, but Soap knows the moment Ghost stumbles upon the page of his face, sans mask. There’s an instant of realization from them both, and the world feels at a standstill.

When Ghost clears his throat, Soap does his best not to flinch. Maybe this endeavour isn’t worthwhile. Maybe it’s nothing more than an invasion of Ghost’s privacy. Of his person.

Finally, Ghost looks up at Soap, his hardened gaze no different from the one he always wears. There’s no emotion in them, and Soap doesn’t know if that makes everything better or worse.

Soap doesn’t notice how tightly Ghost grips the notebook until later, when he spots the accidental smudge of graphite from the Lieutenant’s thumb.

“When did you do this, Johnny?” Ghost asks. His voice is low and steady as usual, but there’s a near unnoticeable strain that sends guilt through Soap’s body. By now he’s certain he’s made an irreparable mistake.

Soap swallows. “When we got back from Las Almas, sir.”

Ghost looks back at the drawing and nods. He does as Soap had and closes the notebook, sliding it back and standing from the bench where Soap had told him to sit. Soap waits nervously, impatiently, for Ghost to say anything, to curse him out, to tell him to get rid of it, but soon it seems like he would do nothing of the sort.

“Not bad,” is all he tells Soap, before walking off to disappear to God knows where. Soap stays glued to the spot for a solid five minutes following, until he finally feels like he can breathe again.

Not bad. Soap supposes it could’ve been a lot worse.