paropamisus

[paropamisus]

I wasn't planning on continuing this one but if you have any ideas please lmk👀👀

Just remembered how shite Modern Warfare 3 was and how it doesn't count to the cannon so yeah Soap is basically alive. John "Soap" McTavish x GN reader CW: Kinda creepy Soap, stalking, alcohol, mentions of nudity, medical inaccuracies, lmk if I missed anything So what if Soap survived? You were put on as backup for the mission in the tunnel. Good enough to make it into the SAS, never quite making it into the ranks of the 141 though. Orders were simple enough, wait outside the perimeters and if something went wrong be ready to storm in with the rest of the personnel in your squad. But it was the 141, nothing ever went wrong with them. Until it did, when the field radio reported that a group of Konni men were seen approaching the tunnel, everyone was already on the move. Making it inside just in time to see the taskforce work on defusing the bomb as Makarov approached. Everything was a blur after that. You briefly remember how no one noticed Makarov walk right up to the Captain and man with the buzzed mohawk, shot the two of them in their legs, and right before a bullet could've gone through his head, you remember pulling one guy to the ground. There was the sound of a gun going off and when you looked down at the man, his head was bleeding but the bullet hadn't gone in. Just grazed the side of his head. Honestly it was pure luck the man had survived, you had no idea why everyone was praising you when all you had done was be at the right place at the right time. In the midst of it all, your arm had been shot which resulted in medical leave for a few months. ... Johnny had truly wished that bullet had killed him.

At first he was thankful, then he got the news. Honorably discharged. Apparently there was something wrong with him. Aside from feeling a little hazy sometimes he was still perfectly fine. But everyone told him the same thing, even Simon. Apparently the bullet graze did some damage to his brain. It was deemed too risky to send him back out again.

And just like that, with a gnarled scar embedded deep into the left side of his head, he was sent back home to his bachelor flat expected to just reintegrate into civilian life, like that wasn’t the hardest thing he had ever had to do. Civilian life was never cut out for him ever, Johnny had always known that his true home was out there, on the field, constantly surrounded by the threat of violence. He really should've died out there.

Even right now, the blinding led lights of the Tesco was just giving him a migraine as Johnny scoured through the multiple different types of cereal. He could understand why so many retired military officers went insane. That's when he noticed you through the wire separating the two aisles'. You hadn't noticed him of course, too busy deciding which juice to get. Johnny couldn't help but notice how serene you looked, calmly taking all the time in the world to do your grocery shopping. As if you weren't the sole reason, in his mind, he was stuck living this suburban nightmare. You should never have pulled him back away, Johnny truly believed he should’ve died that day as a hero. Even with the cast around your left arm, it was tranquil, relaxed and peaceful. Things Johnny had desperately wanted to experience for himself.

It wasn't fair, how on earth could you stand there, perfectly in tune with everyone else acting like a civilian whilst he was stuck constantly struggling with the simple idea of being outside. Before he knew it, Johnny had followed you to the cashier. Watching the way you seamlessly interacted with the staff with that soft smile on your face. Then he trailed behind you out of the Tesco and towards your car. Staying just out of sight so you'd never notice the man carefully watching you. He just wanted to know what made the two of you so different. What were you doing that he wasn't?

Johnny had only noticed how far this had escalated when he had got in his car and followed you all the way back to your home, quietly saving the address into his gps. It was for research, he told himself. Johnny needed to understand just how you felt. How to eliminate the buzzing sound in his head that never went away, how unsettling he knew he seemed to others with his perfect smile stretching just a tad bit too wide as if he had forgotten what a normal smile looked like and this was just a cheap imitation, the scratching inside his brain as if something had crawled deep inside the bullet hole and taken root like an infection.

Maybe the reason why you seemed much more laid back was because you had the promise of returning. That arm of yours wouldn't stay injured forever. And maybe the only way of understanding Johnny's point of view was to have you stay.

He didn't even realise how far this whole monitoring thing had gone until he found himself outside your home everyday. Watching your window from inside his car with a pair of military grade binoculars noticing everything you did. By the end of the month, he had started to bring his sketchbook. Simple domestic things, cooking in your homely kitchen, folding laundry on the sofa, getting changed in a dark room because no one could see anyway right?.

Often he found himself spacing out, looking too long at you sweeping as he let his imagination run. His fingers mindlessly sketching the shape of your body over and over again in his notebook. Johnny couldn't remember the last thing he drew that wasn't you. It was all (mostly) domestic things and quite frequently he forgot why he even started doing this in the first place. To analyse, take notes on what he was doing wrong. He swore up and down to himself that he truly hated you. Johnny really did believe it. But he never could figure out why whenever his brain fogged up and everything got hazy, he could just imagine himself with you. Doing all those homely things with you. Cooking together, watching TV together, all that sappy shit he never imagined himself doing with anyone but himself. Once when he went out with the team for drinks, he spilled everything out to Price. The Captain, in response, could only laugh and shake his head.

By the time a very confused Soap could finally understand what he felt, he was too far gone. He had notebooks filled with drawings of just you, entire pages dedicated to noting down every little thing about your routine. But he only had a month left, your arm was healing up quite nicely. The good thing was that Johnny knew basically everything about you by now, even if your only memory of Soap was dragging him back away from a tkb-023. So when Johnny overheard you making plans with your friend over the phone about going out for drinks, he knew he had to make a move. … When you bump into the stranger, his name was Johnny, you suddenly feel as though you had met this man before. With that charming smile of his and those ocean blue eyes, surely you could recall someone as memorable as him. It didn't seem to matter anyway, the two of you had gotten along so well. He seemed to like all the same exact things as you! However somewhere along the way at the sticky booth top he sat you at, you had gotten to the topic of jobs and everything just spilled. It was definitely the alcohol speaking but you really couldn't hold yourself back from stuttering on and on about how much you hated the military and how brutal some of the things you saw were. Johnny seemed to listen intently, hanging onto every word you said about you wanting nothing more than to remain on medical leave forever and that you were loving civilian life. His smile just got wider and wider as you continued rambling. Johnny had been such a good listener that you didn't complain when he guided you out of the club and into his familiar looking car with his hand secured on your lower back. Nor did you say anything when your intoxicated self tried to mumble out your address to him and he just chuckled to himself. "I know bonnie, don't worry about it"

Definitely not commenting on why he knew where your bedroom was when you opened the door. You were probably just really out of it right? It didn't explain why the next morning you had woken up to the smell of your favourite breakfast cooking in your kitchen with a new email reading: Failed Psych evaluation - Unfit for further deployment.

Sure Johnny had to pull a few strings but recording your whole crash out and sending it to Laswell might've been the smartest thing he's ever done.

[paropamisus]

Alternate au König (Idk yet but i'm thinking 1300s medieval), where reader's family business is doing horribly. Like fully drowning in debt, going bankrupt, about to lose all social standing, when your family's savour arrives. Well he was your family's savour but your childhood rival.

You never knew what was up with the guy, always silently and eerily staring at you, scaring away all of your friends and being a constant irritating presence. Even in school, he always had to prove just how better he was by excelling you in every aspect and then he just had to go off to train to become a knight. Becoming the pride of the entire village. After 10 years when he finally returned, he had even earned a title for himself, Settling in some fancy manor located in the outskirts of the village, seriously who does he think he is?

Annoyingly, König had offered to save the family business in exchange for one thing, your hand in marriage. What you didn't know was how hard König had to work to ensure that your family's business was on the brink of collapse, after all this is a much easier method of finally having you rather than kidnapping. You would've made any courting process incredibly hard and König could not have handled your rejection over and over again. The guy couldn't even help it, social anxiety just made it so hard for him to get your attention, so he had to settle with doing other things. Isn't it great how academically gifted he is? and how much faster than the other kids he was? even from a young age Konig tried to be the perfect man to provide for you.

Unfortunately for him, that translated across as König being a total asshole. But even he recognised that you deserved so much better than this small village, that you were destined for greater things by his side. So he set off to make a name for himself, how else was he going to prove that he was the perfect husband for you?

When König finally returned, knighted with a few lordships under his belt, he was finally ready. Only problem was that you just had to hold onto those childhood grudges, scowling at him whenever he made his way into town, and going out of your way to avoid him. Clearly courting would never work and he had to get creative.

Naturally he could always use and abuse his titles to slightly alter how your family was doing financially. Spreading small rumours here and there, burning a warehouse or two down, and sending further funding to competitors. It wasn't long before his actions bore fruit and he could finally step in to save you, ready to sweep you off your feet and stake his claim.

After all, that new manor of his was oh so cold and empty, won't you help him warm it up Hase?

[paropamisus]

Guess Ex-Husband Simon it is then. Probably going to be a set of drabbles so inbox is open for any ideas or thoughts 👀

Deciding whether to write about ex-husband Simon or Homewrecker Simon...hmm decisions decisions. Either way I just wanna write about him being a possessive little freak (With Yandere tendencies)

[paropamisus]

Deciding whether to write about ex-husband Simon or Homewrecker Simon...hmm decisions decisions. Either way I just wanna write about him being a possessive little freak (With Yandere tendencies)

[paropamisus]

Thinking about Vampire Konig and the adorable ghost girl who haunts the tower of his manor and seems to actually hate him for intruding on her area. Something something, he ends up bringing her back through a fucked up form of necromancy. Not sure yet if I should make her a demon, reanimated corpse or just a physical spirit but she's all his now. Anyway he ends up locking her away in the same tower he first saw her haunting. Should I extend this idea?

[paropamisus]

"Without geometry, life is pointless."

[paropamisus]

Just remembered how shite Modern Warfare 3 was and how it doesn't count to the cannon so yeah Soap is basically alive. John "Soap" McTavish x GN reader CW: Kinda creepy Soap, stalking, alcohol, mentions of nudity, medical inaccuracies, lmk if I missed anything So what if Soap survived? You were put on as backup for the mission in the tunnel. Good enough to make it into the SAS, never quite making it into the ranks of the 141 though. Orders were simple enough, wait outside the perimeters and if something went wrong be ready to storm in with the rest of the personnel in your squad. But it was the 141, nothing ever went wrong with them. Until it did, when the field radio reported that a group of Konni men were seen approaching the tunnel, everyone was already on the move. Making it inside just in time to see the taskforce work on defusing the bomb as Makarov approached. Everything was a blur after that. You briefly remember how no one noticed Makarov walk right up to the Captain and man with the buzzed mohawk, shot the two of them in their legs, and right before a bullet could've gone through his head, you remember pulling one guy to the ground. There was the sound of a gun going off and when you looked down at the man, his head was bleeding but the bullet hadn't gone in. Just grazed the side of his head. Honestly it was pure luck the man had survived, you had no idea why everyone was praising you when all you had done was be at the right place at the right time. In the midst of it all, your arm had been shot which resulted in medical leave for a few months. ... Johnny had truly wished that bullet had killed him.

At first he was thankful, then he got the news. Honorably discharged. Apparently there was something wrong with him. Aside from feeling a little hazy sometimes he was still perfectly fine. But everyone told him the same thing, even Simon. Apparently the bullet graze did some damage to his brain. It was deemed too risky to send him back out again.

And just like that, with a gnarled scar embedded deep into the left side of his head, he was sent back home to his bachelor flat expected to just reintegrate into civilian life, like that wasn’t the hardest thing he had ever had to do. Civilian life was never cut out for him ever, Johnny had always known that his true home was out there, on the field, constantly surrounded by the threat of violence. He really should've died out there.

Even right now, the blinding led lights of the Tesco was just giving him a migraine as Johnny scoured through the multiple different types of cereal. He could understand why so many retired military officers went insane. That's when he noticed you through the wire separating the two aisles'. You hadn't noticed him of course, too busy deciding which juice to get. Johnny couldn't help but notice how serene you looked, calmly taking all the time in the world to do your grocery shopping. As if you weren't the sole reason, in his mind, he was stuck living this suburban nightmare. You should never have pulled him back away, Johnny truly believed he should’ve died that day as a hero. Even with the cast around your left arm, it was tranquil, relaxed and peaceful. Things Johnny had desperately wanted to experience for himself.

It wasn't fair, how on earth could you stand there, perfectly in tune with everyone else acting like a civilian whilst he was stuck constantly struggling with the simple idea of being outside. Before he knew it, Johnny had followed you to the cashier. Watching the way you seamlessly interacted with the staff with that soft smile on your face. Then he trailed behind you out of the Tesco and towards your car. Staying just out of sight so you'd never notice the man carefully watching you. He just wanted to know what made the two of you so different. What were you doing that he wasn't?

Johnny had only noticed how far this had escalated when he had got in his car and followed you all the way back to your home, quietly saving the address into his gps. It was for research, he told himself. Johnny needed to understand just how you felt. How to eliminate the buzzing sound in his head that never went away, how unsettling he knew he seemed to others with his perfect smile stretching just a tad bit too wide as if he had forgotten what a normal smile looked like and this was just a cheap imitation, the scratching inside his brain as if something had crawled deep inside the bullet hole and taken root like an infection.

Maybe the reason why you seemed much more laid back was because you had the promise of returning. That arm of yours wouldn't stay injured forever. And maybe the only way of understanding Johnny's point of view was to have you stay.

He didn't even realise how far this whole monitoring thing had gone until he found himself outside your home everyday. Watching your window from inside his car with a pair of military grade binoculars noticing everything you did. By the end of the month, he had started to bring his sketchbook. Simple domestic things, cooking in your homely kitchen, folding laundry on the sofa, getting changed in a dark room because no one could see anyway right?.

Often he found himself spacing out, looking too long at you sweeping as he let his imagination run. His fingers mindlessly sketching the shape of your body over and over again in his notebook. Johnny couldn't remember the last thing he drew that wasn't you. It was all (mostly) domestic things and quite frequently he forgot why he even started doing this in the first place. To analyse, take notes on what he was doing wrong. He swore up and down to himself that he truly hated you. Johnny really did believe it. But he never could figure out why whenever his brain fogged up and everything got hazy, he could just imagine himself with you. Doing all those homely things with you. Cooking together, watching TV together, all that sappy shit he never imagined himself doing with anyone but himself. Once when he went out with the team for drinks, he spilled everything out to Price. The Captain, in response, could only laugh and shake his head.

By the time a very confused Soap could finally understand what he felt, he was too far gone. He had notebooks filled with drawings of just you, entire pages dedicated to noting down every little thing about your routine. But he only had a month left, your arm was healing up quite nicely. The good thing was that Johnny knew basically everything about you by now, even if your only memory of Soap was dragging him back away from a tkb-023. So when Johnny overheard you making plans with your friend over the phone about going out for drinks, he knew he had to make a move. … When you bump into the stranger, his name was Johnny, you suddenly feel as though you had met this man before. With that charming smile of his and those ocean blue eyes, surely you could recall someone as memorable as him. It didn't seem to matter anyway, the two of you had gotten along so well. He seemed to like all the same exact things as you! However somewhere along the way at the sticky booth top he sat you at, you had gotten to the topic of jobs and everything just spilled. It was definitely the alcohol speaking but you really couldn't hold yourself back from stuttering on and on about how much you hated the military and how brutal some of the things you saw were. Johnny seemed to listen intently, hanging onto every word you said about you wanting nothing more than to remain on medical leave forever and that you were loving civilian life. His smile just got wider and wider as you continued rambling. Johnny had been such a good listener that you didn't complain when he guided you out of the club and into his familiar looking car with his hand secured on your lower back. Nor did you say anything when your intoxicated self tried to mumble out your address to him and he just chuckled to himself. "I know bonnie, don't worry about it"

Definitely not commenting on why he knew where your bedroom was when you opened the door. You were probably just really out of it right? It didn't explain why the next morning you had woken up to the smell of your favourite breakfast cooking in your kitchen with a new email reading: Failed Psych evaluation - Unfit for further deployment.

Sure Johnny had to pull a few strings but recording your whole crash out and sending it to Laswell might've been the smartest thing he's ever done.

[paropamisus]

Introduction

Hi I'm Nader this is just a place for me to write down ideas and drabbles here and there. Mostly for myself. English is not my first language (not even my second) and this is my first time writing! I will be trying to write some more darker fics if possible so just in case Minors DNI Current hyper fixation is Call of Duty (World at War is clearly the best campaign) but most of what I'll write will probably be from the Modern Warfare series. I will most probably be writing x fem reader and GN reader stuff.

[paropamisus]

Currently letting the brainworms roam free in my mind as I present the following idea. Hear me out on Forgotten Sea Deity! König and witch! Reader. (This is my first post guys I have no idea what I'm doing. English isn't my first language so sorry in advance if nothing makes sense) Witch!Reader accidentally messing up big time, maybe it was making a deal with the wrong person or witch-finders finally caught up with her. The point is, she's on the run. Now finding herself cooped up in a small sea-side shack that her foremothers left behind as the little witch scoured through ancient texts. Desperate for anything to get her out of there. That's when she comes across some half torn, leather bound book in some ancient language Reader barely understands. But the witch seems to get the message. Something about a sea spirit capable of reversing one's doomed fate for a price. With little left to lose, she resolved to go through with it. A minor sea spirit hardly seemed like a threat, and if it meant escaping her pursuers, the risk was well worth it. Turns out Reader should've really done some revision on the ancient language, but she only realises her translation error once the Spirit reveals itself to her amidst her rushed summoning ritual cast on the shoreline. Only this isn't some spirit at all.

Towering above her, emerging from the depths like something ancient and forgotten, was no mere spirit.

It was a god.

Wearing a tattered cloth over his face and a presence so overwhelming it had the Witch considering running back to the Witchhunters instead. Cue to Forgotten Sea Deity! König looming over Reader, who would've been infuriated at his slumber being disturbed, if it wasn't for the wide-eyed witch nervously clutching one of his lost books to her chest. What little followers he did have were long gone and the solitude was honestly getting to him. A wife would do nicely.