#ghost used to collect the bullets he was shot with

[cod-dump]

Soap, watching Ghost dig a bullet out of his arm with no reaction: Shit… your pain tolerance is impressive

Ghost: Thanks, it’s the trauma

Ghost: *pulls bullet out of his arm and holds it out to Soap*

Ghost: Want it?

Soap: N-No thanks… I’m good

Ghost: *shrugs before tossing it*

[deadsetobsessions]

What Do You Have There?

A knife!

Danny plunked the butter knife in its pedestal of importance. The nice thing about having a billionaire vigilante for a... foster is the amount of money Danny was allowed to drop on his hobbies. For example, his extensive collection of souvenirs.

They're not just any old regular souvenirs. No, no, no. That would be so boring! No, these souvenirs, he obtained from the various muggings, knife fights, and various other situations he's been in ever since he was dropped ungraciously into Gotham.

The butter knife? Damian. Precocious, stabby Damian who he had startled into the stab instinct. A point of pride, really. Danny knew Damian was good at fighting! It was practically, in ghost terms, a super enthusiastic hello! Yes, the butter knife would be kept in the well lit part of the wall. Alfred had told him to stay home today to recuperate. He didn't need it, since the wound would heal in an hour or two, but he'd take staying at home any day.

A couple of hours later, well into the afternoon and right before what Danny knew to be their patrol hours, Danny had a visitor.

"Danny."

"Oh, hey, Damian! What's up?" Danny turned around to see Damian hovering awkwardly near the door.

"I am here to... check upon your wound. It is imperative that it gets proper treatment."

Ancients, Damian was exactly like those alley kids. He just ate a thesaurus instead of the drawling accent the alley kids picked up. Which meant Damian endeared himself to Danny pretty quickly. Like a little ghostling.

"Oh, I'm good. See? No blood is leaking out of the wound." Danny held up spotless bandages.

Danny watched Damian step into his haunt- his room- with a pleased hum. Damian inspected the bandages and stepped back with a sharp nod of approval. His eyes flicked to the wall that Danny was rearranging (again) and did a double take at the butter knife in the middle.

"Is that the butter knife I stabbed you with?"

"Why, yes, it is!" Danny beamed.

"Why on earth would you display that?"

"Because you stabbed me with it?"

"That makes absolutely no sense, you simpleton! When someone stabs you, stab them back!"

"That would be mean!"

Damian spluttered. Danny tugged the kid closer to the wall, cheering inwardly as Damian didn't shove him away. It might be because he was exaggeratedly wincing as he moved his "injured arm" but Danny has learned to take a win where he could find them, especially with ghosts. Not that Damian was a ghost, but he sure acted like one.

"Do you want to see my collection?"

"Your collection?"

"Yeah!" Without giving him time to answer, Danny barreled ahead. "So this is the knife you stabbed me with. Which, by the way, was an awesome show of strength and accuracy."

Damian grimaced. Danny continued blithely, secretly memorizing Damian's reactions to laugh at later.

"And this is the knife those guys stabbed me with that one time Cass found me. And this one is a bullet someone shot at me down by the docks. I think I interrupted some kind of meeting?"

Damian's jaw had a slight tick to it that would have been a baffled frown on anyone else.

"And when was this?"

"Oh, like a week ago."

"What? When did you go to the docks?!"

"At night. I couldn't sleep."

"And you went to the docks?! How did you even get there?!"

"Walked," Danny lied, like a lying liar. He floated, obviously, but none of them knew that. "Anyways, this is a law book! Someone threw it at my head!"

"Hey, guys! What're you doing?"

Danny and Damian turned around.

"Richard? Brown? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Bruce wanted me to come back for the weekend," Dick said. Danny knew it was code for "something's going down and we need back up." Man, he still couldn't believe they didn't know he knew they were crime fighting vigilantes.

"Same!" Stephanie said. Danny was glad to see that her wounds from "cartwheeling in the manor" were healed.

"I see. Danny was showing me his collection of... objects people have used as weapons against him."

"What?!"

"Yeah!" Danny beamed, completely innocent. "Come on! I'll show you!"

With that, Danny continued to ramble. He just knew that the way Dick's and Stephanie's smiles strained would give him a good laugh for weeks to come. "And this is the glass bottle a drunk tried to shank me with in Crime Alley, and this is a knife the Red Hood himself threw at me."

Dick interrupted, face stiff. "Hood threw a knife at you?!"

"Yeah, but that was because my kids broke into his safe house and I was trying to get them to stop looting the place. And he didn't know I was a kid too, so he aimed a gun at my head. He shot at me too, but I couldn't go back to get the bullet, or else it would have joined my collection." Danny grabbed a box and shook it, metal rattling inside.

Dick smiled sweetly, Stephanie and Damian inching away from it.

"Oh, wow, I see!"

----

In his apartment, Jason shuddered. He grabbed his guns.

"Something's wrong. I just know it," he muttered to himself.

----

Danny smiled innocently as he described the horrific, near death events he got his souvenirs from.

"This is my bullet box! Man, Gotham has a lot of gun fights. I got shot so many times!" Danny complained, shaking the box like a rattling toy.

"Did you know Danny snuck out to go to the bay?" Damian snitched immediately, like a snitch.

"The Bay?! Danny! You know that's where people dump bodies, right?!" Stephanie poked him in the arm.

"Yeah, but like... I wouldn't die. And besides! I missed my friends!"

"You mean the minions you made in Crime Alley?" Steph asked. Danny pouted, eyeing the way Dick's gaze roved over his souvenirs and paling the more he realized how often Danny "got hurt."

Damian bumped a shoulder against Dick's arm. Danny returned to the conversation.

"If anything, I'm their minion." He said, remembering the times the Alley kids sent him on food runs.

"Fear Danny, the overlord of street rats."

Danny snorted. And- "Oh! Yeah, there was like a weird owl looking guy? And then they stabbed me with a finger and I kept it because woah, cool talon looking thing, right? And then they threw a bunch of those tiny knives at me? And then they just kind of vanished? Gotham is so weird."

And now, with all of them pale and stressed out of their minds, Danny swung a devastating blow called guilt trip.

"And that's the batarangs!" Three heads swung over to the line of batarangs. "Those vigilantes kept throwing them at me! One of them even hit me in the arm. Those things are sharp, man."

"Uh. Which ones?" Stephanie asked.

"Hm?" Danny hummed obliviously.

"Do you know which vigilantes?"

"Oh, it was like... the purple one. And the sword one? And like the one with the yellow insignia in the middle. And... all of them, I think? Except for signal. That guy's cool."

Stephanie and Damian had matching veiled looks of guilt. Dick shot them a sharp look. Danny decided to deal the last bit of damage to Dick.

"I'm glad you guys are way less stabby than the general Gotham public though, butter knife incident aside. At least I don't have to worry about you guys getting into danger, right? If you guys got hurt like my family did... I don't know..."

Danny smiled-squinted at them, channeling Cujo at his cutest and saddest: when he doesn't get to eat off of Danny's plate. So, pretty sad and pathetic.

"Uh, yeah." Dick said, guilt splayed all over his face. "Alfred said dinner was almost ready."

"Yes," Damian cleared his throat, looking away. "We shall partake in Pennyworth's hard work."

"Ahaha!" Stephanie laughed, nervously. "Welp, let's go bother Tim!"

Falling into step behind them, Danny grinned.

[briefalpacashark]

~Meeting 141~

The first time you meet the members of task force 141.

Warning: mentions of violence, death, blood.

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It was a typical mission. Neck deep in shit and halfway to hell. The mission was simple. It had two parts. The first part was to collect information off a computer. It was a two team mission, Alpha consisting of Gaz, Soap and Ghost. And Bravo, consisting of Price and Roach. Currently, they were both making their way through an oil rig in the early hours of the morning, with the cover of night. A nice little base for some black market operations. The second part of the mission was harder. Extracting the asset. And asset Price informed them beforehand would be joining their team.

“What ya recon he's gonna be like?” Soap asked as he stood in the main office room, gun raised at the door, ready for anything. The group had many guesses of who the newest member of their team would be. Price wasen't necessarily secretive about them, but he didn't tell them anything about them either. “He's a medic. Probably likes sticking stuff up ass’s,” Ghost, who was positioned by the door, said, making the two guys smirk. “Youll love that then, won't you?” Gaz asked, not taking his eyes off the computer screen in front of him. Soap chuckled at Ghost's dead panned look. “Come on Gaz, you know he's sensitive about that sort of thing,” Soap joked. “I hope you both get shot in the ass,” Ghost grumbled. “Done,” Gaz announced. “Alright, let's move,” Soap said. Getting into formation, they peeled out of the room. “Ghost to Price, we've got the package, on the move out of er,” Ghost spoke into the com's. “Copy that, Asset secured, see you soon,” Price's voice cracked over the radio. They moved through the oil rig quietly, their shadows barely noticeable in the dark as they moved down the outer side of the buildings, the metal racks slick with the rain that had just started. Then it started, a lucky spot, a glint of metal perhaps brought attention to team Alpha. They were set upon by a volley of bullets. They bucked behind the cover of a building, trying to return fire as best they could. Ghost, who had taken point, peeked around the building taking out two men. That was until he felt his leg buckle as pain erupted up his thigh. “FUCK!” he exclaimed as he dropped to one knee.

“WE'RE TAKING HEAVEY FIRE! GHOST GOT HIT!” Gaz yelled into the com's as he helped Ghost to the ground. He took one look at the bullet hole, his face washing itself of colour. It was spurting blood like crazy. “He's hit bad!” Gaz added. His worry for his friend was quickly forgotten when a group of men came around a corner to their left. He raised his gun and started shooting. “Theres too many,” Soap grunted as they tucked themselves behind a few barrels. They were pinned down, unable to return fire and stuck like sitting ducks. They couldn't use explosives, one wrong flame could set the whole place up like a tinderbox. The enemy team slowly moved forward, laying the cover on heavy as they approached the barrels. The soft rapid patter of feet on metal drew the lad's eyes high. And there you were. Your small five foot three frame throwing itself of a higher level soaring across the sky. Knife and gun in hand. Your hair long and braided, whipped in the wind behind you. The assaulting team barely registered your presence before you landed upon the lead. Your knife burying itself beep into his neck, His body toppled over with the hit. You used the momentum to roll up to your next opponent, you dragged the knife across the back of his knee, pulling him into a kneel. Rising up you shot him in the head before propping his body up as a shied as you delivered three more accurate shots. The small assault team now all lay dead at your feet. Fueled with the adrenalin, and the absurdity of the stunt you had just pulled, you slowly tuned around to the three guys peeking over the barrels with shocked looks.

“Friendly,” you raised both your hands. You chest heaved, your eyes scanning over them to see if they would believe you. “Macgyver, the fuck was that!” You snapped around to Price, who stood at the edge of the level you had jumped from. Seeing if from that angle you could see that you drastically underestimate the height of it. “Improvisation?” you shrugged, you didn't really know yourself. You had never done anything that crazy before. yet you had seen your team mates in danger. And you acted. “Fucking hell. Patch Ghost up and let's get the hell out of here! We'll provide cover!” he ordered. You nodded, tucking your gun and knife into the back of your pants. You rushed up to the barrel, vaulting over it and landing in a crouch over the legs of who you assumed was Ghost. What stared back at you was a skull mask, revealing only the dark pools of his eyes. He certainly was a sight. One you didn't know whether to be scared of or impressed by. “Ghost?” You asked. In your adrenaline fueled state, you didn't notice how close you were to him. He could feel your hot breath fanning his face. He could smell the lavender soap you had used that morning. He gave a curt nod, but you had already moved your eyes down his body, looking from the issue. Finding it the gapping whole you quickly knew what it was. The bullet had hit an artery. Your hands ran down the Ghost's vest, searching for the familiar tourniquet. Soap shared a look with Gaz as you practically fondled their friend. Finding the tourniquet, you undid it, slipping it up his thigh. It was a high shot, so your hands were placed dangerously close to his groin as you quickly worked your magic. Ghost didn't know what to do or say as your small hands touched his so closely with no remorse. After all, you were a medic. You didn't care about that sort of stuff. Still, you could feel a blush dusting the tops of your ears. “He's hit an arty, we need to get him out. I've stopped the bleeding, but I need tools to fix that,” you said absentmindedly peeking around the corner of the building. You quickly ducked your head back as bullets volleyed towards you.

“Ok, can't go that way, Come on,” You swiveled yourself to Ghost's left side, taking his arm and hooking it over your shoulders. You huffed as you heaved him to his feet, They were momentarily surprised at the strength your little body possessed. Gaz quickly took his other arm and you lead them quickly to the rendezvous point. Where you practically threw ghost into the boat. The poor lad grunted as he hit the bottom of the boat taking Gaz with him. “Sorry,” you apologized jumping over them to the controls of the boat. “Were at the rendezvoused, where are you?” Soap asked into the com's. “Look up,” Piece said. You all did just in time to see their bodies plunge into the water beside you. You waited till they were pulled into the boat before you slammed the throttle down. The sun slowly started to rise, casting a golden hue over you. “Both assets secured?” Soap asked. Price nodded, wringing his hat out, Gaz doing the same as he lifted up the hard drive. “So,” Soap trailed off. "She's a woman," he stated. "Great deduction skills," Ghost commented. “That is Sargent Y/L/N. Australian special forces. Best medic out there. Can do anything a doctor can do,” Price stated. “Oh Cap, you're making me blush,” you said, looking back at them with the brightest smile you could muster. A smile that seemed to be awfully contagious. “Men meet the newest member of 141,” Pierce smiled back at you. “Glad to be on board,” you nodded before your eyes fell back to Ghost. “Can someone take over?” You asked. Roach happily obliged. Walking over to Ghost you pulled your knife and started cutting away at his pants. “At least buy me dinner first, love,” You chuckled slightly, placing your hand on his bear thigh gazing deeply into the bullet hole. Your hand slipped around the back. “No exit wound. Looks like I'm gonna have to dig it out when we get back,” you muttered. Ghost wasn't listening, he was fixated on the feeling of your hand running across his bear skin. Aside from the burning pain of being shot, it felt pleasant. “I think I might have a bullet hole too,” Soap interjected, raising his hand. "I'll put one in you," Price warned.

And that was how you first meet the 141. Literally dropping into their lives.

================================================

--COD Master List Here--

================================================

[teddy-bear-baby]

Can't get the thought out of my head of crow hybrid!y/n joining hybrid!TF141 and just stealing random things from them. Not out of malice or ill intent but just because that's what they do.

At first, it's just random things they leave lying around the base or safehouses but it escalates the closer y/n becomes with each member. One of Ghost's extra masks that he'd never notice went missing or a cigar that Price never even lit. Random pocket knives or a pen that one of them carried around for a while. Just little things that 141 doesn't notice but y/n's crow brain sees as important because of the memories tied to them.

Eventually, 141 would notice the missing items and start questioning their memory. Price wondering why he's suddenly miscounting his remaining cigars because he definitely shouldn't have to buy more until tomorrow. Ghost who's positive he shouldn't have to do the washing until tomorrow but... where the hell is that clean mask? Soap who can't for the life of him find that pocket knife he swore he left right there on that table a couple days ago. Gaz, who needs to fill out this paper for Price but the pen he keeps in his pocket seems to have fallen out somewhere.

It's not until y/n gets sick and needs caring for that they finally realize that y/n has been collecting little things and placing them around their room. Shiny objects and rocks litter every flat surface, some hang around the room. Amongst the shiny objects and rocks are the items that have been making 141 question whether their minds are slipping. Each of these items holds a significant memory for y/n even if the others don't understand.

Soap's knife that was used to cut the sleeve from his shirt as a makeshift bandage the first time y/n was injured under 141's watch. The pen Gaz had been using the day he finally expressed that he saw y/n as just as important to the team as all the others. Price's cigar that he had set down so he could help comfort y/n when they couldn't quite get a handle on their emotions after a stressful mission. The mask with the graze mark on the cheek that Ghost had been wearing when he threw all caution to the wind and tossed his own body over y/n's as they were shot at by a sniper.

TF141 was baffled by the sight at first, a bit perturbed even. But eventually, they come to realize the meaning of it all and start leaving random things around the base just for y/n. Collecting shiny rocks and bullet casings from their missions and 'forgetting' them around the base. On rare occasions, they'll just walk up and hand y/n random things just to see the bright smile as their onyx-colored wings ruffle with excitement.

[sprout-fics]

Sprout-Fic's Call of Duty Masterlist

Snowblind (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F! Reader 'Fix')

Summary:

He's robbed the breath from your lungs, fissures extending ever outwards. They carve down into your bones, seep into the cracks of you where the gale of self doubt howls forsaken into the bitter wind. Yet there's warmth in his touch, one that melts away at the crystal heart of you suspended delicately like glass. It twinkles and glints in the darkness, shining outwards into the shadows of you both.

It's him. It's always been him.

Masterlist

Little Mouse (König x F! Reader 'Maus')

Summary: During a routine covert op, you and Gaz are attacked by an unknown assailant, one who takes your unconscious form and carries you away into the night.

"Hello, little Maus."

Masterlist (Here)

Consequences (Brat! Tamer Simon "Ghost" Riley x F! Reader) 18+

Summary:

It doesn’t take much to get a rise out of him, but he doesn’t let it show. The mask keeps his face hidden except for his eyes- calculating, cold. You’re the only one who can see the subtle indicators of his annoyance. His finger tapping on his weapon, the shift in his stance as he widens his legs to look bigger, the low, subtle warning bite in his voice that speaks of consequences.

18+ Series, Minors DNI

Masterlist (Here)

Completed

Rotes Madchen (Werewolf Konig x F!Reader)

Completed

Summary:

You thought the woods were safe.

You hear the rumors, of the strange creature lurking in the forest, the thing with dripping red claws and snarling fangs. Mammoth, dangerous, primordial. He could swallow you whole.

Yet the thing you find is not a monster but a man, injured and weak, surrendering to your soothing hands offered in aid. Yet things in the woods are not always as they seem, and soon you begin to uncover the differences between monsters, men, and the creatures that lurk in the waning light of the full moon.

(Masterlist)

Tag, You're It (TF141 x F!Reader) 18+

Summary:

The room goes still, the five of you lounging around the rec room table on base, where a collection of bottles and snacks litters the surface. The quiet solitude of evening hangs subtle between you all, and if you breathe in you can smell the lingering trace of shampoo, all of you scrubbed fresh and clean following your arrival back after a successful mission. Here, gathered together in mutual company, it’s you who lets the words fall out of your mouth to the surprise of the men around you.

“I want you all to chase me down and take turns on me.”

18+ Series, Minors DNI

Masterlist

Call of Duty Omegaverse AU (Poly TF141 x Omega F! Reader) (18+)

Summary:

You've concealed your presence as an omega for your entire military career, careening up the ranks, collecting accolades, and having the privilege to assist the notorious 141 Taskforce. Yet on a mission gone wrong, you find yourself in circumstances entirely out of your control, and the events that follow hurtle you into the path of a pack that finds out they will do anything to make you theirs.

(Masterlist)

Engravings (Makarov x F! Reader)

Darkfic tw

Summary:

Marionette, your callsign. A name he bestowed upon you, the one who holds the strings. You’re his blade, his weapon, the arrow in his bow. You fly in the direction of his enemies, cut them down with lethal precision, feel their heartbeats stutter and still in your hands. You’re used to the scent of blood by now, arrive back to him awash in red and let him kiss it from your lips, the taste of your murder on his tongue.

You know what the others say about you. You see them as they watch you walk with him, two steps back, by his right shoulder. A designated position. If someday he were to be betrayed, shot through his spine, you know the bullet would enter you first.

You know too that you’ve accepted this.

-----

You never had reason to doubt Makarov until you find yourself cornered by a mysterious man who stares at you with wide eyes and whispers a devastating revelation

"What did he do to you?"

(Masterlist)

Oh Muse, Tell me of the Things Done by Golden Aphrodite

(Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F! Reader)

Summary:

A sacrifice, they tell you. One to spare the fate of your city from the god of death's vengeful wrath. They lay you upon the sacrificial altar, where you weep and await your demise. Only to awaken in the palace of a God. (An Eros and Psyche inspired AU)

(Part 1)

Requests:

Sunshine (Simon Ghost Riley x Reader)

Jealous (Ghost x Reader x König)

Jealous (Part 2) (Ghost x Reader x König)

Drunk (Simon Ghost Riley x Reader)

Sick (Simon Ghost Riley x Reader)

Affliction. Affection. (Konig x GN Reader)

That One Motorcycle Bit (Simon Ghost Riley x F! Reader) (18+)

Oneshots:

Sunroom (John Price x F! Reader) (18+)

Afterburn (141/Los Vaqueros x F! Reader) (18+)

Speak Now (Gaz x Reader)

I'll Be Better in the Morning (Soap x Reader)

Goodnight Darling (John Price x GN Reader)

Unravel (Ghost x Reader)

Breaking and Entering (John Price x Wife! Reader) (2)

Adjustment (Dom! Price x GN! Reader) (18+)

Spitfire (Philip Graves x F!Reader) (18+)

Coyote Kiss (Phillip Graves x F!Reader)

Old Guard AU (TF141 & Reader)

Today. Yesterday. Tomorrow. Again. (Soap x Reader)

Danger Close (Captain John Soap MacTavish x F! Reader) (18+)

Mind the Drop (Dom Price x F! Sub Reader)

In the Softness (Nikolai x F! Reader) (18+)

Silver Fox (Nikolai x F! Reader) (18+)

Headcanons

NSFW Soap Headcanons (18+)

Valeria Garza Headcanons (18+)

Ghost and Gaz Headcanons

Poly 141 Headcanons (18+)

Soap Hugs

TF141 and Using a Safeword (18+)

TF141 and Dogs

TF141 + Los Vaqueros and Pegging (18+)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Trauma, and Kink (18+) SA TW

Hitman 141 AU

Sex with Simon

Captain MacTavish and Captain Price's wife (18+)

Neighbors Alpha Ghost (18+)

[simp4konig]

"Can I sit here?" König X Gender-neutral Reader

Word count: 3060

*Part one?

*Slow burn?

*Strangers to Friends (to Lovers?)

Not decidedany of those yet 😶

Edited on 23/8/2023 for some grammar tweaks.

*!!Fanfic inspired by @theeggrollslord's drawing on Twitter!! I really wanted to use their art as the cover for this fanfic, but due to me not having an Twitter (or X 🤮) account, and not knowing whether the original artist consents to people reposting their art, I held back. 😿 If anyone knows whether they are able to give me permission or are cool with it, please let me know!! ☺️

*Author has played MW1 + 2... but not the newest reimagines. 😭 all I remember from the campaign is that Shepherd shot Ghost in the face,but in NO way did he look as fine as he does now ☠️☠️

*Author does NOT speak German... but can use Google Translate !!😊

As is customary with all foreigners, English is not my first language!. Pls do not bully me if my grammar  is bad i will cry 😢

König sat by himself in the cafeteria.

Three sausages, a spoonful of beans, and two eggs alongside a 500ml water bottle were all that consisted of his daily breakfast. Hash browns would be served raw, and the bagels were solid enough to break teeth when bitten into. He didn't even want to consider the sandwiches, as their stale, stinking cheese and slick ham made him gag. A pity that they didn't serve Bratwurst or order authentic — hell, even half-decent — eggs, as the meat in his sausages tasted out of date and the yolks were a dull yellow. The beans weren't even Heinz.

Looking at the cheap slop on his tray made him lose his appetite. At least the water was drinkable, but its taste was peculiar at best.

König sighed.

Every day "eating" the same breakfast, sitting in the same spot, at the same time.

To say that he enjoyed the routine of the barracks would be an overstatement, as he felt oppressed by the monotony: rigorous and thorough briefings pre-missions; intense training three times a day; shooting drills and target practice right after the sun barely opened its eye or into late hours of the evening when it was hard to see. Yet he couldn't complain, and forced himself to appreciate the predictable structure of the barracks.

After all, routine meant safety.

Knowing the details of the misson and the intel required guaranteed a flawless operation. Knowing how exactly to eliminate an opponent in any given situation meant that it made the job even easier. Knowing when to dive for cover to avoid a rain of bullets and the rumbling thunder of machine guns in an active shootout equalled survival.

And knowing that you intimidated everyone on base at least made social interactions easier. All of these extended his life expectancy, yet by how much was anyone's guess.

Being a 6'10 wall of a pure muscle made him the perfect human bulldozer, and paired with his animalistic instincts taking over while on the battlefield, he struck fear in even his own teammates.

Most of the time, König didn't even need to use a gun, as he could snap an enemy's neck faster than they could blink; and, even if they could do that, they wouldn't be able to react fast enough as he manhandled their body like a rag doll and snapped their spine in half over his knee. Quick and easy kills. Other times, frantic stabs in the abdomen, chest or neck finished with a harsh cut of the throat sufficed when sneaking, and allowed him to release any pent of frustration he felt that he wouldn't have been able to relieve through strangulation alone.

Yet, all of the time, seeing König's brutality first-hand made his teammates lose their balance and struggle to collect themselves during the mission, fearing that he would turn to indiscriminately killing anyone that had the misfortune of entering his field of vision. Compared to König's animalistic instincts taking over in an active firefight and causing bloodshed, his allies putting down enemies with a bullet to the head seemed merciful, and even kind.

Unlike friendships, killing people was easy. Keeping good relations with people was difficult enough for König to begin with — with his first hurdle being his social anxiety, and the hurdle of others being getting used to his frightening exterior — and it grew more and more into a challenge as he moved up the ranks, until his position as Colonel made him feared, not respected. People avoided his eyes, and kept conversations to a minimum, bowing their heads in fear, not respect.

After witnessing him maul enemies like a feral animal, König walking down the barracks had people scuttling away like rats in opposite directions, a horde of people dissipating in an instant. Crowded rooms with rowdy laughter suddenly were brought to silence once he made the mistake of entering, with people speaking in hushed whispers or not even speaking at all, opting to escape before their colonel addressed them.

Truth of the matter was, König never wanted to be a colonel. He'd had rather been the one receiving orders than the one making them, as his social anxiety in front of innumerable pairs of expectant eyes put pressure on him in the moment and made it near impossible to let a single word out.

He was not a natural born leader: he knew it, everyone knew it; but he kept his position solely due to his ruthlessness in action and his cold efficiency, as there was no one like him that could come close to imitating his behaviour.

Then, to say that he enjoyed the daily routine of life in the barracks was a stretch to say the least. The thrill of killing on missions and the primal adrenaline that took over his veins and clouded his senses could not be more of a contrast to this boredom and overwhelming isolation on base: of every day sitting in the same damned spot; of every day pretending to eat the same damned food; and, of every damned day being avoided by the other operators to be at a peace he was forced to accept, whether he liked it or not. What a miserable life to live.

The beans on his plate looked menacing, and he had the urge to crush each one individually until they'd stop sneering at him so, as being judged by off-brand beans was running his patience thin. Yet, he wouldn't do that, as everyone else would view him as not only a brute but a mentally unstable lunatic who was now using food scraps as an outlet for his temper; so, he resorted to just picking at the rations instead. His head was in his palm, and his gaze went elsewhere, his pale blue eyes drooping.

So engrossed in absentmindly pushing the beans on his tray with his fork and contemplating what went wrong with him that he did not hear the footsteps walking towards him.

You cleared your throat. "E-excuse me, sir, but can I sit here?"

König looked up, and saw a young recruit hovering over him with a small brown paper bag in their hands. Your face was one he hadn't seen before around here, and you weren't in the standard military uniform, so he assumed that you were perhaps a groundsperson of sorts.

Your ignorance of him was probably the only reason you dared approach him, as any other person would have avoided his table at all costs and gotten whiplash from how quickly they'd turn their head the other way. However, he was glad that he didn't intimidate everyone that encountered him, and was internally thanking you for giving him a chance. Some hope.

Feeling uncomfortable under his scrutinising stare, you tugged the collar of your t-shirt and struggle for words.

"S-sorry," you begun, sheepishly looking down at the floor. A rub of the neck and a shuffling of feet. "It's just... all of the other tables are crowded, and I don't know anyone here well. And yours—" You looked at him, shooting him a lopsided grin, "—yours is empty."

"I understand," he stated, before looking back down at the mush on his tray. "Not a problem."

You gulped, feeling like he was dismissing you, and beginning to regret approaching him. "Are you sure, sir? I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable."

Look at you, he thought, so thoughtful over his feelings. When was the last time anyone bothered to ask him how he felt, or treated him like a human being?

"Ja. I am sure."

Still standing, unsure as to how to interpret the tone of his statement, you shot him a shy smile and sat down at a reasonable distance from the man, beginning to unpack the contents of your bag.

König kept stealing glances of you from under his eyebrows, trying to be discreet. Although he actually was uncomfortable — not used to company in the slightest, especially with someone so polite and courteous — he was oddly drawn to you.

He was thankful that you were oblivious to his status around these parts, and he wanted to leave a decent first impression on you before you finally overheard the true rumours about him, and paid attention to how quiet the cafeteria had gotten now that you two were sat together.

The thing was, he didn't know where to begin.

Communication was not his strong suit. He mused over potential ways of starting a conversation, yet not only had he never been faced with a situation like this, the language barrier was ever so present. Perhaps if he could speak to you in German he'd be able to formulate his thoughts better, yet at the moment it felt like all his knowledge of English seemingly evaporated in an instant.

"You prepared well your breakfast," he stated plainly, angling for any kind of small talk. He internally cringed at the order of those words and how wrong that sentence sounded in his voice, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

An awkward smile. "—W-wow. Thank you, sir!"

König felt his chest tighten, but he didn't know why. 

"My first day on base I had the misfortune of being served breakfast," you continued, "so, from then on I decided right then and there "never again". The food—" you laughed weakly, "—sure is something."

"Du hast recht," agreed König. "I mean... You are right. If I had a dog, I never would feed it this— these... scraps."

You could sense König hungrily devouring your food with his eyes. Although he tried to be subtle, he was not good at going unnoticed. Really, stealing glances of this behemonth in front of you, you kind of pitied the man, especially when the next edible meal would be in precisely 5 hours. With his breakfast beaten and bruised into an unrecognisable pulp, it was definitely too late for him to consume.

Mourning your sandwiches, you silently bid them farewell and took a deep breath:

"Well, sir. I would assume that you're hungry."  You took out the contents from your bag and slid them in front of him, smiling meekly. "You can have my breakfast."

He looked down at your two sandwiches and his eyes visibly widened under his hood; four thick slices of sourdough bread, a generous slather of butter, cheese, rocket lettuce, and thinly sliced pieces of meat, topped with tomatoes, and most likely seasoned with spring onion and pepper.

They looked so appetising, and he felt his mouth salivate, yet he shook his head vehemently. "Nein! Ich sollte das nicht tun, nicht, wenn du dich so sehr bemüht hast!"

You tilted your head in confusion. König mentally facepalmed.

"I-I mean... you tried very hard, and it isn't right of me. They are yours."

You waved a dismissive hand. "Honestly, you need them more than me. Have them."

"Einer wird ausreichen," He shook his head again, and picked up one slowly. "One will be enough."

He reached over to take one and you looked at him expectantly, patiently waiting for him to take a bite and give you his thoughts, yet it hit you. He was wearing his mask. He probably wouldn't eat in front of you.

A cough. "S-sorry. I'll look away while you eat it. Tell me what you think about it."

König practically shoved the entire thing in his mouth the moment your back faced him and and started choking. He saw you turning back to assist, but he raised a weak hand to stop you.

Getting over his coughing fit, he could finally appreciate the freshness and the flavour of the sandwich. It tasted of... nostalgia. Like the sandwiches his Mama would make for him after school to reassure him and to take his mind off the day's events. He felt like a young boy again. When he closed his eyes, for a split-second he imagined he was in the kitchen with his mother chatting energetically, taking his plate and ruffling his hair when he had finished and feeding him another, insisting that he "was a growing boy".

"So köstlich..." he said, and was disappointed to see that the sandwich was gone from his hands, already eaten. "Mein gott, that was perfekt. A sandwich of the Gods."

You turned around and you were beaming so brightly that König swore he would need to shield his eyes from the sight.

"Thank you so much! You don't know how happy that makes me."

You looked at him, your smile unwavering. "Do you know what would make me happier?"

He gave you a blank look. "...No?"

"If you ate the other one," you said, and König's eyes widened comically. "Though, please, be careful. Sandwiches can sure be a choking hazard," you dared tease him, and was actually surprised when he let out a quiet chuckle.

After savouring his second sandwich, the two of you were quiet. Although the tension had evaporated, the silence was deafening, and you felt suffocated by the lack of conversation.

"Uhm... Sir. What is your name?" A hesitant start, your hands folded neatly in your lap. "If it isn't too much of a personal question, of course."

He deliberated for a few moments, before responding with a quiet "König."

"König," you repeated, making sure to pronounce it properly. Your eyes widened in realisation, and you smiled broadly. "That's King, in German, right? That's so funny, because I go by King!"

König froze up like a statue.

"Holy fucking shit, what are the chances?" You rambled, not realising how quiet König had become. "Honestly, what are we doing here? Where are our castles, our riches? Our chariots led by silver horses and our toilets made of 24 carat gold?"

König shrugged stiffly. "Blown up by a grenade, I suppose."

You looked at him, dumbfounded, then burst into laughter. Like, fits of giggles, too many of them and too strong for his unbelievably dry response. Maybe that's why you were laughing so hard.

Either way, König couldn't believe it at first.

It was so... beautiful. Almost angelic in a way, despite you holding yourself up with a palm on the table and unable to contain your pig-like snorts. He could get used to hearing you laugh more often.

And, just like that, he dropped his guard. Slowly, all of his stiffness melted, and he became more of his confident self, this trait only ever coming out when he was actively shooting.

The two of you spent the entire length of breakfast chatting, joking, and telling each other things about each other. Although König insisted that his English wasn't good, you assured him that you understood him just fine — if anything, his confused looks and furrowed eyebrows at idioms you used were adorably endearing, each time earning a sympathetic giggle from you.

At some point — and though he would've been ashamed to admit it — he tuned out the babbling that came out of your mouth as he admired your face, noting all of your features: the colour of your eyes and how they'd crinkle in happiness whenever you smiled; the way your hair flowed and framed your face; taking the time to count all of the freckles on your nose and committing the number to memory.

He'd only catch himself staring when you'd suddenly finish talking. "But what do I know, I'm kind of stupid if you ask me. It's a wonder I passed the tests to qualify for this job in the first place."

You locked eyes with him, interested in hearing what he had to say. "What do you think, König? I bet you know the answer!"

To which he'd quickly clear his throat and respond with, "Ich weiß nicht. I don't know. To be... frank, though that is strange for me to say when I am not "Frank"—" 

You struggled to struggle to contain your laughter, and quickly apologized as soon as you stopped shaking, before attempting to explain to this clueless Austrian man why it was used. König didn't feel demeaned by your explanation, though, as he thought that his blunders would be worth it every time if it meant hearing you laugh so sweetly.

To König's dismay, half an hour flew by in minutes, and it was time to part ways as you began your daily duties.

As the two of you stood up, you initially had realised that König was taller than the average man based off how his knees could barely fit under the table.

You sure as fuck did not expect to see this.

He towered over you, casting a shadow down below. You had to strain your neck to make eye contact with him, and a painful cramp was already forming.

"Ha—ha.... you're pretty, uh... big."

That statement had more than one connotation. Gott sei Dank für diese Maske, he thought. Thank God for this mask, otherwise you would have seen the blush from his neck up to his ears after his mind went to a place he hadn't thought it'd go, especially not with a person he had formally met not even an hour ago.

"Oh well, I can finally put those 4-inch combat boots in the bottom of my closet to good use," you laughed, playfully nudging what meant to be his shoulder but your height difference meant that you instead touched his pec. Not that you minded though.

With your arms behind your back, you shyly averted your gaze. "Well... It was nice to meet you, König."

"You too... King."

Furrowing of brows as you tilted your head. "How do you say it in German? "Auf Wiedersehen"?"

"Ja, das ist es."

"Well then, Auf Wiedersehen, big guy. I'll see you around!"

Big guy... In more ways than one...

God. König had to get a grip.

Yet, with the way he was looking at your backside and fantasizing about your next meeting, he already knew that not even Gott could help him.

...

Note: I HATE this fucking fanfiction WITH MY SOUL 🤬🤬. This fucking thing was NEARLY FINISHED and I was in the process of tweaking yet my phone decided to erase half of my progress !!!! 😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡

My phone 📵 and God 🤬 didn't want this fanfiction getting published yet guess what!!! 🖕🖕🖕🖕Fuck you!!!🖕🖕🖕 Ive gotten it out anyways🗣️ fucking shaved a decade off of my life trying to recovervthe opening part of this fic,,

,,,,literally why did I get punished for writing a very mild and unextreme fanfic 😭😭😭😭 like the first half was just in Königs perspective and Ur telling me that i can't do that?????

I mf get fucking crucified like Jesus  on the cross, only this time I sarcificed my sleep and sanity to not be ressurected again,, bitch I would have rather died if I had known tjis would happen ☠️☠️ I could have actually SLEPT?!! 🤬🛌

Never again writing fanfictiosn on my phone, I can't trust this evil technology!!  I'm gonna draft them with PEN and PAPER bitch!!!! Typewriter!!!!!!!! Chalk On Pavement™!!!!!!!!!!!! PERMANENT MARKER ON MY FOREHEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

...

If you read this rant of mine, I hope you have a lovely day/night, beautiful person. <33 (please wash your eyes after reading that,,I needed to release my anger somrjow don't judge me hhhhhhhHHHH—)

[trashy-tries-writing]

I can just imagine Ravine healing himself like he’s in the far cry 2 and everybody just looking at him like “wtf???”

Like broken arm? Nah let me just readjust some bones and we’re good to go!

Sorry for the long wait but it's finally here! 😖 Okay I can see this happening 💀. Price is getting gray hairs because he never knows if Ravine is walking around with an injured bones or not. It's a charade for 141 to find out after the first time they saw him do it 😂. Thank you so much for this idea 🙂 Also to all precious Readers, anyone willing to help me understand the mw2 characters more? Like telling me what your opinion on what their dislikes and likes could be and maybe headcanons you guys have for them? I’m interested to learn/know :DD PS.: I apologize for any mistakes and wrong words I use, It’s been too long since I researched about MW2 and Military stuff 😅

Price has known Ravine for a few years now but the soldier still surprises him in ways that he would never imagine. When he believes he finally grasped the depth of the weapo- Ravine’s abilities, the man swoops in with something unpredictable that has the captain stare at him like he just told him Laswell is firing Price.

Well not after today that is. Now he welcomes situations that could only happen in dreams with open arms so he can spare himself some stress.

The mission was easier than some things they were ordered to do.

The objective was to seize the contents inside the briefcase, it didn’t matter if the briefcase was lost as long as they got their hands on what was inside it. 

Ghost, Ravine, Gaz and Soap approached the enemy base on the mountains on foot as they ambushed them. However the opponent was one step ahead, hiding inside a hidden cave and fled with a jeep down the mountains, making a quick escape as the soldiers shot down the rest of the man.

Soap cursed, hoping to pop a tire with his gun but it was for naught as the bullets were caught by the many trees the vehicle passed through. Gaz let Price know that the objective is making pace down the mountain.

The captain’s voice echoed through one of their intercom radios.

“Ravine, time to fetch.”

They barely tilted their heads towards the mentioned male when they find Ravine darting past them at high speed. Their confusion flip into understanding as they have never seen him run before.

“The rest of you, make your way down and keep a lookout for strays hanging around.”

A few minutes later, they locate the jeep slammed sideways into a tree trunk making it almost fold in two. They quietly roam the area and quickly spot Ravine emerging from the back of the ruined car with a hand holding onto the case.

And that’s where they currently find themselves in when it happened.

“Ooohhh that looks bad, are you okay?” Gaz takes the briefcase from his hands, eyes worriedly staring at Ravine’s slightly bent arm with the bone poking out it.

“Aye.”

Without warning Ravine grabs his broken arm, pushing the bone back inside his flesh. A collective groan of pain and disgust echoed through the mountain from his action. 

Soap lifts a hand and averts his gaze from the scene as Gaz holds the briefcase in front of his face. Ghost scrunches his face from underneath the mask as Price’s voice echoes through, questioning the sudden silence.

The were impressed, sure… but whAT THE FUCK?!?!!?

While they are trying to explain to Ravine that, for a matter of fact, it was NOT okay to push your own bone back into your arm and it shouldn’t have been his first response to the open wound. It was DEFINITELY NOT NORMAL either to use that said broken arm the minute he ‘fixed’ it.

I mean okay, they did find that kind of cool but they were seriously getting worried about him. His blood was running down his forearm, staining his clothes red and he’s standing there like it was a daily occurrence.

Ghost marches towards Ravine and pokes a harsh finger to his helmet with ‘Don’t try this shit again’ glare, making the tall man recoil his head from the push.

“Sit down you muppet and refrain from moving that arm around.”

On the other side inside Price’s office, the captain exhales loudly; it could be heard outside the room. “Of course he did that…” He’s aging so quickly that he’s hoping he won't wake up the next day with a full set of white hair.

He waits by the entrance, seeing the truck in the distance growing bigger each second. He pushes himself from leaving on the wall and sees Gaz, Soap and Ghost instinctively grab onto Ravine who seems to plan a visit to the doctor.

While Ghost’s pushing from the front, one hand locked with Ravin’s while the other pushed against his chest, Gaz and Soap are pulling and tugging the man towards the medical facility.

Price sighs and the soldier’s stop in their tracks when they find him standing beside them watching them try to wrestle Ravine into a checkup. The captain crosses his arms over his chest, his head tilted slightly and a silent conversation is shared between him and the giant of a man.

Ghost can feel Ravine’s hand flinch and shake as he unconsciously tightens his grip on the shorter male’s hand. The lieutenant turns his head back, observing his body becoming tense making him look bulkier than he was.

The trio is shushed away as Price and Ravine go on their merry way.

“Man, he must really hate doctors.”

Ghost’s eyes linger on Ravine’s back, feeling something amiss. He doesn’t push or ask for an answer but questions are filling his head especially due to the sudden heat he could feel from his hand that was locked with his.

They were hiding something huge that was related to the abnormality that was Ravine but there were too many potential answers to piece together, like a puzzle without edges and weirdly shaped pieces.

He was sure Gaz and Soap were thinking the same thing but they didn’t dare risk breaking whatever frail bond they had with Ravine.

Who was Ravine before he became Ravine?

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

If anyone wants to be tagged let me know :D

@livinglifebesticanlol

(Hope it worked, never tagged anyone before 💦) (Also sorry if my writing got bad, I haven't written for so long 😳)

[captain-mj]

*chants ominously* backrooms, backrooms, backrooms, backroom, backroOMS, BACKROOMS, BACKROOMS, BACKROOMS

I’m loving this energy, i got you. Previous part

Ghost heard the thing speaking. He shot it down. Riddled its corpse in fucking holes.

Ghost kept his balaclava on, but he had his plastic hardcover attached to his hip. His gun stayed in front of him every single moment.

He had paid attention. He understood. There were monsters here. Things that didn't make sense. That defied all logic.

But that was fine. Because he knew what they were.

It cooed at him. Mockingly. "Johnny." It repeated at him and he shot more holes into it.

So they were there. Fucking hell.

It laid there, looking like a very convincing version of woman. She had dark hair and pretty blue eyes that looked at Soap’s. 

He smashed his radio the moment Johnny started to talk to him again. If Soap was real, if this was the real Soap, if Soap ever existed in the first place, Ghost hoped to God the universe would be more merciful to him than it had been to Soap.

This place dilated time. Ghost had been wrong. His hair had started to grow at some point. Maybe it was on purpose. It felt like it had been done on purpose. He had to cut it with the knife, making it spike around his face.

Still hadn't slept. Couldn't. There was no sleep here.

But it had to have been months. For once, he was glad he didn't grow too much facial hair.

Ghost felt frantic. 

“Ghost!” Soap called and Ghost fled from him immediately. He didn’t want to get cornered in case it wasn’t Soap. 

Ghost led him to a place where he’d have escape routes before finally pausing. The thing followed. He held the gun up and it stood there. 

“Ghost, are you okay?”

Ghost continued to stare, watching every feature. It twitched.

“Ghost.” It echoed. 

He filled it with bullets too. The blood stained the white tiles black. 

Guessed right. 

It stayed there. It looked like Soap. He hated that it looked like Soap. 

He smashes its head in. The inside of its skull looked like it was full of cobwebs and goo. It splashed all over the tiles. 

He just kept going. Until the body was nothing but a smear. There were no bones. Just an outer shell that fell apart. 

Ghost left it where it was. He faintly heard something farther away and kept moving. His gun never ran out of bullets. It was something he had learned after starting to count them. Supplies felt both extremely limited and infinite. He had found… almond water. 

When he had drank it, it ran out quickly. And he felt thirsty for days afterward. Fucking annoying.

Now he had started to collect it. The bottles all went in the pockets in gears. He continued to make head way around this area. 

It was different. White tiles covered the floor and soft white walls that stretched everywhere. Water ran everywhere. It was pretty water, but he didn’t trust it enough to drink it. He heard them occasionally. But he didn’t trust them at all. Didn’t trust anything. 

-

Soap found his mom on the ground. He knew it wasn’t his mom. Could tell by the fact that his mom had died when he was six and he was in what was basically hell. 

She laid there, dark hair and eyes staring. Black blood pooled around her. 

Soap felt sick. It took him a while to realize that the bullets used looked like the ones he had grabbed. Ghost had handled it. 

They had been a room apart. 

He got on the mic. “Where is everyone?”

Rodolfo answered. “Lost Gaz but Price is still in the yellow area. Floor one I think they called it. I escaped to a room full of water and white tiles.”

“I’m here too.”

“Thank God. Alejandro is… somewhere else. He said it looked like a museum. We’ll have to find him eventually.” Soap heard the worry in his voice. 

“Understood. I think I’m close to Ghost. I… Watch out for voices. There’s something else in here.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Ghost alluded to it but I didn’t get what he meant until now. I’m looking at a body… That can’t be here.”

Rodolfo was quiet for a minute. “Price mentioned seeing someone in the dark. Someone he used to know. Shit. Alright I’ll try to get a hold of them. You’re closer to Ghost, so you keep looking for me. I’m in a safe position.”

Rodolfo was currently perched on a high up place, watching the still water below. He tried to convince himself the shapes in the water was his imagination and not something real. 

Soap nodded. “Understood. I’ll keep my headset on, so if you need me.” He turned off his mic and started following where he thought Ghost would be. 

Sure enough, another body on the ground. This one had something that looked suspiciously like tactical gear. It was mushy though, so he kept walking. Better to not stare into that too long. Better to not think of who that was supposed to be. 

Someone started to hum. It sounded like Ghost. Bare bones it sounded like Ghost. But he really didn’t think Ghost would be humming a child’s song here. 

The sound echoed around the tiled halls. It reminded him of when he went to the pool as a kid. There was one by his house as a part of a rec center. The locker room in it had the same tiles. The water reminded him of it too. 

After watching it dry off his clothes immediately though, he decided it would be best not to drink it. 

Soap listened for anything besides the sound of the water. Ghost never made much noise though so he wasn’t too concerned about that. He just wished the motherfucker would help him out. 

“Simon!” 

“Johnny?” There he was. Soap rounded the corner and there he was. 

“Simon.” Soap relaxed and immediately moved closer. “Everyone is split up but we should be finding them soon.”

“Everyone?” 

“Yes. Price, Alejandro, Rodolfo and Gaz. Unfortunately Gaz is offline but we’ll find him.” Soap looked up at him, not sure what to do. He had his mask on, the white plastic staring back at him. His eyes looked just like normal.

“You were right. About how being alone… Got to me. I think I’ve been here a very long time.” His voice sounded so weak and gravelly. 

“We’ll find a way to get out of here okay?” Soap reassured. 

Ghost looked at him. His eyes. 

Ghost had heterochromia. Brown eyes with a strip of blue through one of them. 

Soap stared at those eyes. They looked exactly how he remembered. 

[thedirtybeanlife]

Fixer Upper

Simon Riley x Reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: readers callsign is olive, cursing, blood, bullet wounds, brief mention of tortured children, mention of bad childhood

somewhat fluffy towards the end <3

Bullets whizzed past my head as I ran through the street. Fire was spreading like crazy and there had to be at least a hundred innocent civilians running for their lives. I crouched behind the bed of a truck, reloading my M16 and catching my breath. I looked down at my thigh, huffing as I saw how badly I was bleeding. One of the soldiers shot me in the thigh before I got the chance to shoot him. The blood had soaked through my pants, the camouflage fabric now a dark red.

Deciding to chance it and push my way through, I collected myself and emerged from behind the bed of the truck, rifle aimed and ready to fire. Immediately bullets started flying in my direction causing me to duck and fire at the four men standing behind the barricades. It took a few minutes and two clips of ammo to gun them down, as well as the suicide bomber who had run out of a nearby building. After leading some stray civilians to the nearest medic, I started finding my way to Ghost and Soap.

"Soap, Olive, sit-rep." Ghost's voice came through the comm in my ear.

"Alive and out of ammo." Soap's accent filled my ears.

"Olive? How copy?"

"On my way to you now Lt. Loosing a lot of blood though. Fucker shot me." I let out, my voice strained as I put pressure on my wound, pain flairing through my body.

"Can you make it?" the usually stoic man's voice sounded concerned.

“Yeah, yeah I can make it. Just- just need a minute or two..” I droned off, the sudden need to pass out flooding my brain.

"Doesn't sound like it. I'm on my way to your location now. Stay put." Soap cut in, his breath labored.

"Soap, with all due respect, I think I can make it without any more casualties." There was no way I was going to let Soap risk his life just because I had a little bullet wound.

"Stay there, Y/N." Ghost's voice cut in, a certain edge behind it that made my stubbornness dissipate.

"Yes, Sir." and with that I leaned back against the brick wall behind me and lowered my gun, lifting my leg from the ground to relieve some of the pain.

Slowly my vision started to get blurry, and I had to start manually breathing to keep my kind occupied until Soap got to me. I decided on sitting on the ground to see if that would help. The second I sat down, three men rounded the corner, large assault rifles in hand.

"That little bitch is around here somewhere." one of them whispered rather loudly.

"We should have some fun with her before we turn her into boss. You never see such young ones out here." another one spoke, his voice much more malicious.

"Like hell, ya’ dirty bastards." Soap's voice was heard, followed by three suppressed gunshots.

Each man fell to the floor, looks of surprise permanently etched on their faces. I let out a sigh of relief as Soap crouched down in front of me, quickly moving to check out my thigh and other wounds.

"Thank you." I gave him a weak smile, keeping my eyes open becoming nearly impossible.

"Don't you dare die on me, Olive. Let's get you out of here, yeah?" he moved to my side and wrapped my arm around his shoulder, pulling us up until we were standing.

I had to put pretty much all of my weight against him in order to stop the blinding white pain I experienced with every step. Thankfully we had already managed to take down most of the enemy, only a few stranglers that Soap picked off with his pistol. That made getting to Ghost at the rendezvous point much easier in my current condition. It took about ten minutes until we made it to the small cabin hidden in the middle of the woods. It looked weirdly intact and taken care of, but I didn't bother paying much mind to it. I needed to stop moving before I passed out.

"Alright, L/N. Just a few more steps, you can do it. l know you can." it sounded like he was trying to reassure himself more than anything, but I nodded along anyway and did my best to stay conscious.

The door slamming open startled me, making me grab my gun and aim it in front of me only to see Ghost standing in the door frame. He ushered us in with haste, eyeing me the entire time. He had soap sit me at the small wooden kitchen table while he left the room. He returned a moment later with a bag of what seemed like medical equipment, which would make sense. He kneeled down in front of me, placing the bag on the chair beside him. He ruffled through it for a moment before pulling out what he needed to stitch up my thigh.

"I'm gonna need you to pull your pants down, L/N."

"At least buy me a drink first, Lt." I joked, my words slurring together.

"Y/N, stop fucking around. Take them off before I cut them off." his voice was stern and his eyes were hard as he glared down at me.

With an eye roll, I lifted my hips and pulled down my cargo pants until the waistband was a few inches below my injury, my spandex the only thing covering me. Seemingly satisfied with my cooperation, Ghost pulled up the leg of my spandex before he started opening a bottle of rubbing alcohol which made me try and back away from him.

"Fuck that. Absolutely not. I'll just die." I started panicking, my already ragged breath getting worse.

"L/N, I need you to calm down. It's just a little bit'a alcohol. It only hurts for a few seconds, promise."

"I said no, asshole." I glared down at him as I still tried to get out of the chair and get to the door.

"MacTavish, hold her down."

"Lt. Isn't that a li-"

"Johnny!"

"Yes, Sir!" Soap was quick to stand behind me and hold my shoulders against the back of the chair.

"No! Get off! Soap get the FUCK off of me before I fucking kill you damn it! Let me go!" tears were streaming down my face as I thrashed around and screamed.

"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" Ghost asked, a hint of both humor and sympathy mixed in his voice.

I looked down to see my thigh now mostly cleaned off and Ghost's glove covered hand resting right under the wound, his thumb gently caressing my thigh to calm me down.

"What? Oh." He had already cleaned up my leg, the bottle of torture sitting next to us on the table, a bloody bundle of gauze sitting next to it.

Soap busted out laughing, nearly falling to the ground from my response. It took him a few seconds but once he had calmed down he wiped away a few tears and looked down at me.

"You are quite the character, Olive."

"Shut the fuck up John. I'm very serious about killing you right now." I gave him my best glare which quickly shut him up.

"Am I allowed to stitch you up? Or am I going to have to make Johnny hold you down again?" Ghost teased as he prepped the needle.

"Shut up and just do it, please." i was really starting to feel the drowsiness due to my outburst, and Ghost definitely noticed.

What felt like an eternity later, which was really only twenty minutes passed and Ghost was done. My leg was still incredibly sore and I felt like shit. Soap had gone outside for a smoke after I threatened to castrate him for making bad jokes. Ghost was packing up all of the medical equipment he seemingly pulled out of nowhere. He had taken off his vest and ghost mask halfway into stitching me up. He was in his black t shirt and painted balaclava, his sleeve tattoo on display. I wasn't ashamed to admit he was attractive, even if I had never seen his face. I was always intrigued by the large male, and his behavior towards me today has only intensified that feeling.

"How did you know this place was here? It's so hidden I can't imagine you just managed to find it in the short span of time we've been here."

"It's my home." he said blankly, getting up and leaving the room again. He was gone for a few minutes before silently coming back down and sitting at the other end of the table, going through files that had been sitting there.

"You- you have a house?"

"You don't?" he asked, his eyes meeting mine for the first time since he tended to my wound.

"Of course I have my own place. I just didn't peg you as someone who would have such good interior design skills." I teased, laying my head in the table and lolling it to the side as I looked at him.

"Shut it and go get some rest. Upstairs. First door on the left."

"I'm fine." I mumbled, giving him a small smile.

"Don't care. We need you out there, and you aren't much help tired and injured. Now, go rest up. That's an order."

"Ghost, I'm literally fine. We're all tired. That's sort of in the job description."

He let out a heavy sigh and looked back down at the files. Silence took over for a moment before he stood up and walked over to me. Without warning, he picked me up, careful not to hurt my leg.

"Woah, what are you doing?" he was being uncharacteristically caring today and I didn't understand.

It was honestly a little scary.

"Taking you to bed since you're too stubborn to go yourself." he started walking up the stairs.

His grip was firm, yet gentle, warm hands resting on my thigh and arm. It felt safe. He opened the door to a bedroom, presumably his by the looks of it. For the most part it was pretty empty, only a few rock band posters and a shelf with fake plants on the wall. There was a dresser and a queen size bed, four pillows resting neatly against the headboard. There was a full length mirror on the wall beside the door, a picture of TF141 shoved in between the glass and dark wooden frame. It was the one of Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price, and I. Price stood next to Gaz, his arm wrapped around his shoulder. Soap stood in the middle of them and Ghost, a cup of coffee in hand, no shoes on. Ghost stood next to him, fully clad in his gear, looking to his left. He was about to board a helo for his mission, but we forced him into our picture. Then there was me. I was on Soap’s back, poking Ghost in the cloth covered cheek trying to get him to look at the camera.

That's sweet. He does have a heart.

I was gently placed on the bed after he had pulled back the dark grey duvet. He looked me over one more time as if he was trying to make sure he didn't miss any injuries.

“Rest up, Soldier.” and with that he had turned the light off and started walking out of the doorway.

“Ghost. Wait.” my voice was barely audible, shaky too.

He stopped in the doorway, staring ahead for a moment before turning to look at me, eyes silently meeting mine, hand resting on the wooden door frame.

“Um… thank you. For patching me up, and the bed. I appreciate it, Lt.”

He gave me a small nod, awkwardly shifting his weight on his feet. His fingers had a tight grip on the door frame still, the tips of them turning a pale white from the force. It was like he wanted to say something, his eyes darting between my face and my bandaged thigh. Under his gaze I felt small and vulnerable, and weirdly enough, that didn't scare me. It felt more comforting than anything. Opening my mouth to speak, I was cut off by Ghost mumbling something, the words just barely leaving his lips.

“What was that?” I asked, a small, confused and amused smirk on my face at my lieutenants odd, anxious behavior.

“You could have died out there, Y/N.” he was looking at his feet now, shoulders tensed.

“I’m sorry. Truly, I am. But, watching those men torture those children made my blood boil. I used to be a daycare teacher, when I was a teen, and watching the way those poor children were screaming for their parents to help them as those soldiers carved into their skin was enough to set me over the edge. They're supposed to protect them, not torture them in front of their tied up parents, Ghost. I couldn't just sit there and let that happen.” my voice was cold and defensive as I spoke, staring up at him.

His eyes softened and he took a few slow steps closer to me, his hands moving to rest in the front pockets of his jeans, “You were a daycare teacher? With that mouth on you?” the first question was genuine, the second was used to help ease my anger.

“Yeah, I was. I did it for five years and loved it. It felt nice getting to give kids the affection I never knew as a kid, ya know?” I gave him a small smile.

“Shit parents?” he asked with a knowing tone.

“Very shit. I take it you did too?” I asked, adjusting myself, wincing slightly as I moved my leg.

Ghost’s eyes stayed on my injury as I shifted my body, his hand moving towards mine before immediately retracting,”There were moments I questioned my Father’s parenting, but my Mom was my favorite person in the world.”

“I think that’s the most you've ever opened up to me, Ghosty. We can be trauma buddies.” I giglgled, holding out my pinky to him.

He rolled his eyes, but nonetheless hooked his pinky with mine,”Try and rest, Y/N. Long day tomorrow.” he stood up once again, but this time my hand grabbing his large one stopped him in his tracks.

His shoulders tensed at the sudden feeling, eyes going wide for a few seconds. He turned around and looked down at our hands before looking over at me, head tilted ever so slightly in confusion.

“You can stay in here tonight,” I rushed out quietly, nervous under his gaze as he towered over me, ”If you want to of course! Don’t feel pressured or anything. It’s just that it’s your house and your bed so I figured it'd be fair to also let you sleep in it too, so you don't have to be uncomfortable on the couch all night or so-” I stopped my nervous rambling when I felt him squeeze my hand and he let out a laugh.

A genuine laugh that rarely ever left his lips. It took me by surprise, having never heard the sound be directed at me before. I wasn’t exactly sure why he was laughing but I didn’t care. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. Deep and warm, something that could only be explained as a warm summer night. His hand squeezed mine gently before he stood up and walked to the other side of the bed, sitting and kicking his boots off.

“You're adorable when you’re nervous, Love.” I could tell he was smiling by the tone of his voice.

“Shut up.” I huffed in fake annoyance, turning my head to look at him, his body now sat facing the same way i was, his eyes raking over my face for any sign of discomfort with our proximity.

“You know you owe Johnny $50 now, right?”

“Are you implying what I think you are? Wait! You knew about the bet!” I shot up from leaning against the headboard, ignoring the pain in my leg as I flushed with embarrassment.

About a year ago, Soap and I had made a bet. He said that Ghost was absolutely head over heels while I was in complete denial about it.

“You two are the loudest people I have ever met. And, yes. I am implying what you think I’m implying.” he whispered the last part, avoiding my gaze, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“Simon. Look at me, please?” my voice was gentle as I turned my entire body to face him, letting my leg stretch out to the side.

His shoulders moved as he took in a large breath and slowly turned his head to look into my eyes, anxiety and fear swirling in his brown eyes. If he wasn't such a large man, I would think I was looking into the eyes of a scared little boy. I smiled up at him, carefully scooting closer until I was close enough to lean my head on his shoulder. He stiffened immediately, not relaxing until I reached over and gently placed my hand over his.

“I don't know how to do this. Relationships. Never been in one or wanted one until you. I don't want to hurt you…” his voice trailed off at the end, hand squeezing mine ever so softly.

“So we take it one step at a time. I promise you will never hurt me, Simon. I may not know everything you’ve been through, but I promise you I will help you through anything you need.”

Immediately after I finished my sentence, Simon’s lips were on mine, kissing me with an intense passion I'd never experienced before. His hands cupped my face while mine rested on his chest. No longer able to hold our breath, we pulled away, staring into each others eyes.

“It’s probably too soon to be saying this, but I think I’m in love with you.” I whispered breathlessly.

He placed another kiss to my lips, pulling away to look into my eyes once more, “I’ve been in love with you since day one.” his voice was quiet and gravely.

I smiled at him coyly, curling into his chest and wrapping my arms around his torso as I giggled softly. His arms wrapped around me, carefully pulling me to lay down with him. The rest of the night was spent whispering sweet nothings to each other and placing small kisses along each others jawline.

It couldn't get much better than this.

[cyborg-franky]

Watching Scary Movies With One Piece Characters.

Some more spooky headcanons for the season <3<3 I will take requests for others!

Marco

He doesn’t jump or scare easily.

He’s used to you if you are a jumpy person.

Nothing really gets him.

He’s one of those people who can work out a plot before it’s halfway over.

Will just hmm when it clicks and he’ll nod to himself.

Likes popcorn and coffee as movie-time snacks.

He likes supernatural horror best.

And monster movies.

Doesn’t talk during movies unless you talk.

Ace

Ace isn’t easy to scare but he’s jumpy.

If you jump he’ll jump, even if the thing that made you jump wasn’t what got him.

Comments during the movie, like, a lot.

All manner of junk food for snacks.

Lots of soda, full-on bowls of chips, and salsa.

Likes to cuddle you close.

Pretend you are scared, he loves to feel big and protective.

Sucker for gore and slasher. Also monster.

Izou

You didn’t think anything scared Izou.

You’d be wrong.

He hated gore, he hated scary stuff, he jumped and hissed when things made him jump.

He’d accidentally dig his nails into things, people, anything to ground himself.

He’d mutter under his breath fucking fuuuuck when something made him jump.

Izou would still watch horror movies, for you though.

He’d just jump a mile.

Thatch

Not a massive horror fan but doesn't mind it.

Likes to bake snacks for it.

Maybe a massive nerd who makes themed cookies.

Watching Saw? He’ll make you beartrap-shaped cookies for example.

Makes silly comments throughout the movie.

Just likes dumb jokes.

Seems to enjoy the cliche ‘this call is coming from inside your house’ type of ones.

Law

Sometimes you think he’s low-key getting ideas.

Is that bitch who will tell you That wouldn’t bleed like that.. Or make a huff that something isn’t that realistic. 

He’ll explain to you why that wouldn’t work, why that's wrong and it would take more/less time for someone to die that way.

Hates dumb characters and will bully them the entire time.

Also one of those people who guess the plot halfway through.

Doesn’t like many horror movies.

Ones he does enjoy are really well-written and intense thriller-based one. Gets in your head kinda scary.

Kid

He loves a good horror movie, he loves gore and blood and violent ones. 

He loves the ones where bad people get their karma.

Will cheer when idiots get murdered/killed/die dumb.

Likes slashers, gore, purge style movies.

Likes beer and chips during his movies.

Will cuddle you close because sometimes, just sometimes, the ghost, supernatural ones get under his skin and make him see movements in the shadows.

Bullet counter THAT GUN ONLY HAS 5 AND THEY SHOT 6

Sabo

Ones that take down a government.

Horrors that the worst thing about the movie is other humans.

Think your classic Dawn of the Dead, 28 days later, The Mist.

I apparently think he’d like zombie movies too.

Loves movies where the underdog gets their own back in such brutal glory. The I spit on your grave and last house on the left’s

Loves classic popcorn and Twizzlers and soda.

Doesn’t jump, doesn’t scare, he might pretend to jump just to make you feel less of a baby.

Has an obsession with horror movies banned by the government.

Mihawk

You might not think it but this bitch loves horror.

He will have a projector that he gets out and turns his entire wall into a movie.

Wine is a perfectly good movie snack and you can take your suggestions elsewhere.

He liked classic horrors, like the old black and white ones, the really old vintage ones that had a lot of Vincent Price in them.

Has a huge collection that has you like Oh wow.

Yes, he loves vampire movies.

Nothing bothers him or scares him, if you are bothered by anything it’s because you are a coward.

[iaminsane-blog]

Little Lady, Big Guns

A new weapons developer catches the eye of many, especially one balaclava wilding man.

they might be a little…intimidating 

a little intimidating was not enough to describe the sheer amount of both confidence and annoyance basically suffocating the room.  The three men all stood, their large frame along with arms crossed over each other. Each frame had a cold gaze and stone face. well not the hot one with the mask on

“Boys, this here is Ms.Mazur, Ms.Mazur Soap, Gaz, and Ghost.”

I gave the three of them a small wave but upon their unchanging faces I quickly shut that down

“Please call me Vera” 

“she will be bringing us back to boot camp and showing off some of her latest innovations which will be used in the field, affective immediately” 

The man standing in the middle, soap I think was his name, gave a small chuckle and itched the back of his neck in boredom.

“This little lady is gonna show us how to handle the big guns?”

The other guy turned to Soap and gave him a smirk, however the masked one gave an eye roll instead.

“You bet your ass I will, and I don’t want to hear no bitching. Follow me”

I didn’t give them a moment to respond and instantly spun on my heels, power walking my way down the hall and out to the main corridor. I probably didn’t look badass in my summer floral dress with a cardigan over top, but damn did i feel badass.

“Each of these guns have finger print recognition so they only work for the owner, that being said it is imperative you do not switch break or god forbid loose this gun” 

I was showing the men my new collection of field defense weaponry, and to say they were excited was an understatement. I had spent most of the presentation part swatting their hands away from the treasure chest like trunk of weapons. But now it was time for the fun part.

“And here are your demo guns today all i ask is please be gentle” 

“Yes ma’am, your guns are in good hands” 

Soap called out as he lined himself up to a shooting booth, not even bothering with the headphones slung around his neck. He took a few test shots and a look of surprise washed over his face. The paper target he had hit had three bullet marks, none very close to the target. Gaz and Ghost started shooting their guns as well with similar results. Perhaps now was time to break the tension. 

“Come on guys I thought y’all were good at this”

The three of them turned around, Gaz and Soap with smirks on their faces, but Ghost however still blankly stared. I’m grateful he turned away before seeing the small blush creep across my face. I wasn’t used to people staring at me so blankly, almost without shame. They all let out a collection of grumbles and huffs then continued to attempt to hit the paper targets, getting closer to the center. I noticed Ghost’s large frame start to shift, fumbling around with the large gun. I approached him and just watched. His balaclava adorned with a skull covered most of his face, only his eyes were left visible. He wore a tight long sleeved black shirt that brought my eyes to his large arms. The thick muscles flexed with every small movement. Though I’d like them wrapped around me better. 

“Hey, Ghost right?”

The large man turned to me, well his head turned to me. The rest of his body stayed in place as if he was afraid to move. He didn’t say a word but instead nodded his head, a small quick, blink and you’ll miss it moment. I pray he didn’t hear the hitch in my breath as I grew slightly uncomfortable with the silence. But as his eyes shifted slightly down to my lips, I knew I was compromised. 

“If you don’t mind, you need to tuck your elbow in to create a smaller base for the gun, it will make it easier to aim.”

I gently moved his angle closer to his side, my fingertips brushing against the soft material of his shirt. His eyes tracked my hand then slowly dragged back to the target. He let out a single shot, right inside the target’s heart. 

“Hey Gun Girl, how about you show us how good your aim is. This is near impossible”

“Yeah there’s no way I can use this in the field”

Both Soap and Gaz caught my attention and I shifted my gaze to the men. Who stood awaiting my next move. It felt like a test, to prove my not so innocence. I’ll show them. I sauntered over to Gaz’s booth, He still towered over me so I had to stretch my body upwards to grasp the gun from his hands. When I did so I felt the weight naturally fall into my hands comfortably. It was if meeting an old friend. I could feel a smile creep onto my face and I stepped to the booth taking only a second to study myself before shooting three solid shots. I lowered the gun and brought the paper poster forward with the button. Three large holes in close proximity to each other stained the paper. Right In the middle of the head, or as I like to call it. The money shot. I heard Soap whisper a small “damn” under his breath as I turned to watch the men’s reaction. Well one man in particular 

“Well, she’s got my respect”

Gaz and Ghost started to laugh, and I let myself let out small giggles. A sudden loud beeping came over the room, a cell phone clipped onto Soaps belt. Soap groaned and held it up. 

“Sorry to leave you love but we got a mission to attend to”

I nodded and began to clean up the presentation and the guns, noting the three men leaving the room, albeit slowly. 

In the hall 

“She was….Wow”

Soap started by stating the only thing on all three guys minds. 

“I never would have expected such a tiny woman to be a badass that can sharp shoot like that.”

Simon glanced to the two men next to him, both seemed in some estate of euphoria, from the woman’s presence alone. 

“She was nice”

It was all he said, but it was enough to cause a rowdy uproar from Soap and Gaz.

“Yeah she was, she had her hands all over you dude, you really need to lock her down before someone else does.”

Gaz’s words made him almost stop in his tracks, there was no way he was the only one who found you attractive. It made a fire burn thorough Simon’s chest to think about anyone else being attracted to you. 

He would not have someone take you from him

[crunchyroaches27]

hybrid!Soap and owner!rescuer!Ghost, bc why not?

one of my first fanfics, I apologize beforehand 😔✊

AU where soap and a couple other randos are half a different species bc of evil scientists!1!! Soap is half tiger.

Soap was a beast. A genetically modified product of the human egg and tiger sperm. He had a long, ochre-and-black girthy whip of a tail. Fuzzy copper ears with black tips served as his ears. Soap’s nails and canines were tapered and keen, just like a tiger’s.

“Why have these attributes if I can never really use them?” Soap thought, and grunted dejectedly. Sure, he got to tear up the enrichment items slid from behind the metal slot on the wall of his enclosure, but the material was not able to be clawed through easily. Soap yearned for the tearing of flesh underneath his sharp nails.

But alas, items such as skin weren’t always easily accessible, so he resorted to other bad habits. Yowling, roaring and meowing out of pure boredom. Of course Soap would communicate in human speech, but he preferred his more natural noises. His vocal chords were more fit for big cat sounds; his human speech always came out gruff and harsh.

Bored and annoyed at the people scrutinizing him through the glass wall, Soap decided to start grooming his muscular forearm with his papillae-filled tongue. No, he did not have fur on that area, but he still seemed to do it subconsciously. Maybe the thick layer of body hair counted as fur? He wished inwardly that he could leave his cell one day.

GHOST POV

“Let’s head in,” Ghost called out to his squad, which obediently trailed behind him gingerly after his signal. They kept their eyes peeled, turning and twisting their bodies to see everything at every angle. But Ghost doubted that they would miss what they were looking for— monstrous, horrid science experiments. Hybrids, they were called. Human DNA mixed with an animals’. They were bred purely for fun, money, or power.

After silently dispatching many security guards and other personnel, hope started to fade from the squad. They could not find the cells of these so called “people.” Frantically they searched until they swore a peeved yowl echoed from a couple doors up.

“Move in!” Ghost hissed urgently to his team as he forced the door open with a powerful strike to the door with his leg. But it seems they were prepared, too, as bullets flew uncomfortably close to them and their bodies.

SOAP’S POV

Out of nowhere, in an instant, the bland silence had been replaced by the symphony of bullets whizzing by. Many were wounded and shot, yet the fight seemed to be in favor of the opponents. Soap felt his hackles rise in what could be apprehension.

Soap glared at the newcomers. He soaked in every detail through the clear wall. All of them had rifles that reeked of gunpowder. The one with the skull mask intrigued Soap the most. “What could he be hiding under ‘ere?” he mrrowed, quietly and thoughtfully. “His sign of dominance?”

Soap’s pensive state seemed to break when he realized bullets were not flying around before him, instead, they were lodged between the flesh of his creators. The blood welling around the soon-to-be dead scientists drove Soap into a frenzy. The scent of iron filled his nostrils, and also the other’s as they collectively started to roar or howl (or make whatever sound they did) as they became crazed with bloodlust.

GHOST’S POV

“Bloody fucking hell!” Ghost gasped as a choir of furious yowls and roars started to erupt. Ghost’s head swam. His squad had nervous glints in their eyes. “What are we gonna do?” inquired one of his men meekly. Ghost inhaled deeply. His mind dug and dug for one of his brilliant ideas.

All these creatures were in a state of dementedness. Their senses were on high alert, because of course, they were half-wild. And they have probably just seen murder and blood for the first time. Their senses.. senses.. Ghost’s eyes lit up; what better way to dull their sensory faculties than to knock them unconscious? “Who has the sleeping gas?” Ghost barked to his team, his eyes flitting around his men.

“Here, sir,” replied a gruff voice. The man held up a canister of the gas, a curious expression painted on his face. “Well, then, knock ‘em out.” Ghost replied back wryly, a knowing smirk sported on his mug.

SOAP’S POV

Soap could hear his hysterical roars lessen into mewls. He felt as if he could not do anything to stop the situation, the spread of drowsiness over his body. Soap felt as if he were just watching himself, in third person, flop onto the solid ground and lose his consciousness to the alabaster-colored gas that permeated into the room. His maw parted to deliver one final, crestfallen roar.

timeskip 8 hours later, Soap was transported by tf141 to a new, more luxurious cell.

Soap stretched his stiff limbs awake, groaning obnoxiously in pleasure the moment his joints popped and cracked. The bloody desires were somewhat gone. He wiped his eyes, still a bit sticky and bleary from sleep, and gasped amusedly to his new environment. Soap chuckled in disbelief, his tail flicking up and down excitedly.

Soap felt like he was in some sort of hybrid paradise. He almost squealed in pure delight when a mouse scurried across his room. Soap quickly dispatched it, and started to instinctively tear the flesh off the rodent’s bones and gulp it down with his pointed teeth. His mouth watered and he purred contentedly; this was his first time catching prey!

GHOST’S POV

Ghost hummed in a pleased amusement when he saw the prideful tiger-man strut confidently around his new enclosure through the cameras, dangling the corpse of the ravished mouse pinched between two fingers, and yowling in such a way it could almost be perceived as gloating. Ghost clicked his tongue sardonically, and called his mates over to watch the humorous display of pride.

Out of all of the nine varying hybrids him and his task force saved, tiger hybrid John “Soap” MacTavish as his files named him, was one the males that appealed to him the most. His unique, yet iconic orange and black stripe pattern seemed to fit him perfectly. Bold; diverse. He was real frisky and easily driven by his predatory tendencies, as his files advised.

timeskip, to tomorrow, 9 am

GHOST’S POV

“It’s crucial you guys get a physical on those hybrids,” Laswell noted, her intonation still being able to sound serious even through the computer speaker. “You don’t know what the they have, or what they don’t,” she continued. Ghost hummed.

“It’s on my schedule, Laswell..” Ghost replied affirmatively, nodding his head as a gesture of acknowledgement. Price hovered over Ghost’s shoulder, gazing at the illuminated with intent. “Sure. In fact, we’ll do it today.”

Ghost’s eyebrows rose upwards. “Today?” he repeated. “Today, right now,” Price affirmed. “Take Gaz and Roach with you,” he finished, stalking away and leaving Ghost no chance to retort. “Bloody hell.” “Well, get to it, Lieutenant.” Laswell chuckled, the beep following her voice indicating she’d disconnected.

WILL POST PT2 IN A LIL!!!

[localcrustrat]

The Stars Lead Me to You

Captain Soap laid on the table bleeding out as Price stood above him.

"SOAP, SOAP NO," slowly his eyes glazed over and the man who expected to see his own life flash before his eyes, saw another; someone that looked like him but… Happier, younger. The world slowed and the man watched.

Soap walked over to… Ghost? But his mask also looked different, Capt Soap wandered over to the other men.

"Let's go get us a win yeah LT?" Ah Ghost was a Lieutenant. The world darkened again and John saw Soap and Ghost looking at a missile.

"I repeat Hassan has American missiles," next he saw the boys growing closer together he saw Soap making his way through Mexico. If John was alive his heart would be racing seeing the other him almost lose consciousness multiple times.

"Johnny," Johnny? "gimme a sitrep"

"Jumped down from the caged dog, in a gated alleyway," Soap checked the alley picking up some things before limping up a staircase and laying down to watch a couple shadows. John followed watching over Soap, the man laughed hearing the mercs talk, their fear of this Ghost reminded him of the rumors and fear that followed his Ghost. John watched Soap sneak around collecting chemicals, bottles, tape and rope, mouse traps, and broken fan blades. He saw Soap stumble upon a Shadow with a knife in his neck.

"Ghost you missin' a knife?" Soap pulled the knife out and inspected it.

"Several," came a slow reply.

"I think I found one."

"One of the dead shadows of my handy work," Soap looked surprised and slightly put out.

"You came through 'ere?"

"On my way to the church," John smiled, hearing Ghost speak. The Ghost he knew didn't speak much. John could see the connection between these two. He continued following Soap half listening to the two flirt and smiling at Ghost's dry humor and dad jokes. Time flew forward to the two rescuing another man Alejandro from a prison and escaping with Price's help.

"It's good to see Price again. Even if it's not my Price," John lamented sadly. John saw snippets of Ghost and Soap sharing small looks and hushed conversations, both too afraid to admit anything in the middle of a high stakes mission. But he saw things the two didn't. Like how they gravitate towards each other when they were in the same room, how Ghost would always keep an eye on their surroundings keeping Soap safe. What John didn't notice was the shadow following Ghost like he was following Soap. John followed Soap through the mission getting Alejandro and his men's base back and cheered the man on as he fought a tank and won. Then he saw Soap running for his life again in a building trying to stop a missile from hitting the pentagon. And finally the last moments where all if this was leading with Hassan Picking Soap up and slowly bringing him closer to the open window ready to throw him out until Ghost saved him with a bullet through Hassans head.

"Good shot L.T."

"You called it Sargent." John smiled and turned, seeing a flash of light to his right.

"Captain?" John knew that voice, it struck a cord through his heart.

"Ghost?" his eyes met the other man's and only realized after a minute that his face was uncovered.

"Just Simon now, no use for codenames when you're dead."

"Then call me John, Simon. No use for ranks either."

Simin looked over at the building Ghost was on then down at Soap.

"I'm glad we found each other in different lives, they deserve it," John nodded agreeing.

"You deserve to be happy too Simon," the man shrugged.

"You made me happy Captain, John. I was happy to serve with you," John walked over to the other man and slowly grabbed his hand.

"The stars lead me to you in one life, maybe they'll lead me to you in another hopefully without the interference of a war and a terrorist."

"But where's the fun in that, Sir? We'll need a little excitement in our lives." John smiled.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to truly know you," Simin shook his head.

"Like you said, we fell in love in one lifetime. Why not another?" He turned to the light.

"Lead me on one last mission Captain?" John nodded and gripped the man's hand.

"Always Simon, I'll find you again and when I do I won't let you go."

"I can't wait, Johnny."

John looked back one more time seeing a small wedding between other other Ghost and Soap before looking forward again and leading the other man to an unknown world where they would once again fall in love.

(Cross posted on AO3)

[sxugaryx]

Gun safety (FANFIC)

Funny One shot ♡

The familiar sound of the activation of the stargazer was heard through the hotel, indicating that Pinocchio had arrived back, thankfully Geppetto was downstairs and he made his way to greet his son.

“Son, how was-“ But Geppetto couldn’t finish that sentence as something very out of place had caught his eye, “What do have there?!”

Geppetto’s loud voice caught the attention of everyone, making them inspect what was going on; and they were just as stunned at him when they saw Pinocchio carrying a rifle in his hands.

“A gun” He said it so innocently, clearly having no idea the difference between a normal gun and a rifle or how dangerous they could actually be.

“I told him not to grab it but he didn’t listen to me” Gemini had to defend himself, he is supposed to stop Pinocchio from getting into trouble.

“Why are you carrying it?!” Geppetto was freaking out, he didn’t know if it was loaded.

“Well, it’s a weapon so maybe it can help me fight” Pinocchio was so proud of his thought process, completely ignoring he was holding the rifle backwards.

“Hey friend maybe you be more careful, you don’t know if it has bullets in it” Venigni tried to sound calm but he clearly was nervous, his friend was more capable than most would give him credit for but gun safety is important no matter the person.

“Oh right, I should check if it does!” To everyone’s horror Pinocchio took the rifle and looked directly inside the muzzle.

“DON’T DO THAT!” Everyone collectively shouted, they were all filled with dread, even Sophia who usually has a calm demeanor has lost her cool.

Pinocchio stopped, lowering the gun but still carrying it “Huh? Why not?” He was confused, he just wanted to make sure.

Before there could even be a moment of peace a loud bang was heard, a shot was fired, landing directly into one of the walls of the hotel leaving a deep whole as the ammunition was of high caliber; Spring who was sleeping at the counter quickly ran away from the scene, too scared from the shot fired.

“Pinocchio put that gun down right now!” His father demanded, he was furious and extremely frightened, his son could end up seriously hurting someone. Unfortunately

Pinocchio took the demand very literally as he dropped the gun from his hands, and as it hit the floor another loud bang was heard, this time the bullet ricocheted in a metallic surface, until it hit another wall, precisely the bullet hit the wall nearest to Lady Antonia it was a close call, but everyone felt tense, Polendina despite being a puppet and unable to show much emotion looked as if he was about to faint.

“Um… sorry” It wasn't until now that Pinocchio realized how this wasn’t his greatest idea.

Eugéne was the one to take the weapon, she might be more of an expert in hand-to-hand combat but she knew a few things about guns, she would keep it safe along with her other things, making sure that the safety lock was on.

“What were you thinking?! You could have killed poor Antonia” Geppetto shouted at his son, Antonia’s face was pale as a ghost, Polendina was by her side now, holding her hand and using a hand fan to give her some air.

Before Pinocchio could speak up Gemini decided to say something.

“Don’t even try to defend yourself this time buddy, you really screwed up”

His father was now next to him and started scolding him more, “You are a bad boy, that was unacceptable”

Pinocchio started to cry, he had never been called a bad boy, he was always a good boy.

“You know what? You are grounded” Geppetto needed to teach him some discipline, “You aren’t allowed to go outside until I said so”

Realistically everyone else knew that not allowing Pinocchio to go outside, the only one with fighting skills that could help in this situation, was not the best idea but no one was going to argue with Geppetto about it, first because everyone had a really bad scare and second he is his father so there’s that.

“But, but, but-“ Pinocchio’s crying had gotten more intense.

“And you aren’t allowed to talk to anyone else either, you are going to be upstairs with me until you learn your lesson” Geppetto grabbed Pinocchio by the arm and walked him upstairs, he was still crying and saying how he was sorry and that he would be a good boy.

After a few minutes, the air had been less tense, Spring had even come back and started to ask Eugéne for cuddles, she could only laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Eventually, Antonia calmed down as well, and Polendina took her to the garden to get some fresh air.

After an hour Venigni started to feel bad for poor Pinocchio he was still crying, he wanted to go upstairs to try and convince Geppetto to let him off this hook and that he had learned his lesson, but Pulcinella stopped him, telling him it was best to leave Geppetto to do the parenting, and because secretly he didn’t want Pinocchio to come back down yet, ever since that boy rescued him (which he was very thankful for but still) he could tell that he was a menace, he would step forward into hordes of enemies without a plan, that boy was clearly too reckless.

Reckless but at least his tenacity was at least admirable.

Sophia got over the scare quickly, looks like her “clever one” wasn’t so clever after all, she was getting bored, since no one could see her she had no one to talk to, and with Pinocchio being grounded it was worse, she used her powers to teleport upstairs, she gently waved her hand at Pinocchio.

“Sophia please tell my father I’m a good boy!” He was begging her, Pinocchio had never been in trouble before and it was killing him.

“Pinocchio you aren’t allowed to talk to your imaginary friend either”

“But Sophia is real, Gemini can see her, right Gemini?” Pinocchio knows that he can see her too, he talks to her. Why does everyone think she is just something he imagined?!

Sophia gave a small wink to Gemini and the cricket knew why she had come upstairs “Sorry buddy I’m not allowed to talk with you either”

And with that Sophia lifted her hands making a peace sign and vanished once more into thin air.

“Son be a good boy and take your punishment without excuses” Geppetto took a deep breath, but he felt a little bad for his son, he clearly wanted to have more friends otherwise he wouldn’t have made up someone to be his friend, still, he wonders why he named them Sophia, just like… well it was probably just a coincidence.

Half an hour passed and Geppetto finally gave in, his son still hadn’t stopped crying in fact he was crying so much that he ended up throwing up, and he felt at this point he had learned his lesson, he gave him a small lecture about how guns are dangerous and gave him a list of dangerous things to not pick up. He gave his son a hug, that ended up lasting for a while Pinocchio wouldn’t let go and keep apologizing, Geppetto had no choice but to repeat over and over that he was a good boy but to never make a mistake like that again.

He headed downstairs and apologized to Antonia as well, she played with his hair and told him to simply be more careful, and because Pinocchio wasn’t done asking for affection he went by Venigni’s side and just waved his arms to ask for a hug, and his uncle Venigni did so because he loves that boy, even if he can make some very questionable decisions sometimes.

Pinocchio left again to resume his tasks, and everything was peaceful and quiet, that is until he came back holding something again in his arms.

“Look, I found a new friend for Spring!” Pinocchio was so excited to show off the funny-looking cat he found.

“PINOCCHIO THAT’S A POSSUM!”

[ellabellabugz]

Day 4 of DP/DC Week

Danny wishes he was smart enough to run away from the gunshots.

That would have made this all so much easier. Making it so the boy didn’t go flying into a random warehouse.

“Shit, what's that!” A voice shouted and Danny glanced down, freezing as he spotted the guns all whirl toward him.

“I’m a ghost,” Danny said, wincing at the stupidity of his words. His eyes widened as the gunshots returned. Most of them were aimed at him.

Danny winced as a bullet tore through his shoulder. Forgetting temporarily that he could go intangible and have the bullets fly harmlessly through him. His eyes followed the other guns men who were watching the shadows.

The wash of invisibility shot through Danny as the attention was brought off of him. He should get out of here before it’s too late.

“Nightwing's here!” One of the men yelled before a yelp cut off his words. Danny could see a flash of electricity from where the voice had come.

“Keep an eye out for the ghost.” One of the men ordered his voice low. Danny was only able to hear it due to his enhanced hearing.

He moved slightly forward, keeping a hand pressed to his side. He didn’t have enough hands to hold himself together. He inwardly groaned before summoning his ice, watching as the men bellow him and shivered as he iced his wounds. Danny needed to learn to control the changing temperature soon, especially if it does whenever he used his cryokinesis.

That should stop the bleeding for now. Danny glanced back up to the second floor, wincing as he a saw man tumble over the railings and land on the ground with a thud. ‘He’ll be fine' Danny thought to himself, eyes widening as the vigilante stepped out of the shadows.

Danny will leave later, how can he pass up the opportunity to watch Nightwing in action?

He’s one of the BATS! Danny couldn’t help the rush of excitement that shot through his body, temporarily dulling the aching pain. The ice also helped numb the wound.

Nightwing was taking down men left and right. Danny couldn’t help but stare. Yeah, Danny knew how to fight, but he wasn’t trained. Not like Nightwing, Danny was self-taught and impulsive. That’s how he learned, head-on.

It’s not like he actually had time to learn how to fight. Danny had a little bit of experience with his mom, but she preferred to teach Jazz and Danny was fine with that. He was more interested in learning about the different constellations than how to probably punch someone.

“Woah! Watch out!” Danny yelped diving downwards and appearing in front of the gunman.

On the bright side. Danny managed to block Nightwing from getting shot.

On the downside. Danny now has a third bullet wound to add to his collection. Danny stared down at the hole in his stomach, the sickening green dripping from the wound and onto the floor. The world seemed to fade as his hand pressed against the damage. This wasn’t the most ideal situation. Jazz was going to kill him when she found out.

“Kid!” Danny glanced up, not sure when he sat down, or when Nightwing had taken care of the rest of the men. The unconscious forms around the room clearly show that he had. “Can you hear me?”

Danny nodded, forcing himself to smile as he stood up. He could tell Nightwing wanted to push him back down, to bandage the wound. Danny stepped away before Nightwing could act on those thoughts.

“Don’t worry about it.” Danny waved Nightwing off before the older man could say anything. “I’ve had worse.”

“...Kid you have no idea how little comfort I take in that.” Nightwing’s response shocked Danny. He wasn’t sure what would give the older man comfort.

“Uh. It doesn't hurt, that much?” Danny was racking his brain for something that would supply that he was okay.

Nightwing just blinked.

“Just another Tuesday?”

Nightwing seemed to pale.

“I heal fast.”

Nightwing’s finger twitched as if to grab the boy. The vigilante was standing now, Danny couldn’t help but notice how short he was compared to the man.

“It’s nothing in comparison to being a lab rat.” Shoot why did he say that? He didn’t need the hero to know that Danny spent a lot of time on the dissection table.

“This feels like nothing compared to the vivisection.” Danny wanted to slap himself, why couldn’t he shut up?

The pure horror on Nightwing’s face almost made Danny laugh.

Almost

Next thing Danny knew, he was tossed over the vigilante's shoulder and they were swinging. He yelped, hands tightening around the man’s suit. This was nothing like flying.

This was terrifying.

Flying was fun.

This was not.

“I can’t die!” Danny yelled, trying desperately to get the man to let him go. Opening his mouth, only to let out a yelp as the man dropped downwards. Danny’s grip tightened as his vision darkened.

When he came to Nightwing had just entered an odd cave, Danny squirmed. There was a lot of green on Nightwing’s suit. That would be a pain to wash out. “I’m already dead!” Danny started, watching as Nightwing said nothing, setting the boy down on a cot. “Therefore I can’t die again and the injuries mean nothing.”

“Your logic is rather concerning.” A new voice came causing Danny to flinch, an older gentleman stood there, medical gloves on his hands. Danny jolted, Nightwing’s hand keeping him in place.

“No! Let me go” Danny threw his head back, nailing Nightwing in the nose… what was the man doing so close to Danny’s head. Nightwing startled and Danny rolled off the cot shooting himself into the corner of the room. He could see the trail of blood he left. The green glowing.

Danny’s head shot upwards as a new person entered the room.

And his blood ran cold.

The temperature in the room visibly dropped as Batman appeared. Scanning the room before they landed on the terrified boy in the corner.

Nightwing was kneeling away from Danny, close enough to stop the boy from running but far enough to give him the space he clearly needed. “Hey” Nightwing started keeping his palms facing Danny as a sign of peace. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Bullshit!” Danny yelled, cutting off the rest of what Nightwing was going to say. “You kidnapped me! Dragged me to this medical room! Put me on the medical table!”

Nightwing paled with each word. “I just wanted to stitch up your stomach.”

“Yeah, sure!” Danny laughed, eyes flashing dangerously. “Just after you got a good look inside, I know the drill.”

Batman appeared by Nighwing’s side, slowly kneeling down closer to the boy than Nightwing did. Danny pressed himself against the wall, desperate to get out of there. He would already see the black dots forming again.

He didn’t have enough energy to fly away. He could feel his hold on this form slipping already. Danny refused. He refused to transform in front of Batman. Yet it seemed fate had different plans.

Another voice entered the room and Danny's core jolted, seemingly screaming, causing Danny himself to shoot upwards, his head slamming into the ceiling. Hard.

And the familiar white rings shot across his form as darkness again took over.

-_-

The heart monitor beeped ever so slowly as the unconscious boy lay there. It surprised Dick when the bright light filled the corner the boy had shot up into. Leaving the adoption bait there in place of the white hair and green-eyed boy.

The most concerning was how he reacted to the medical room. To the people. It all resulted in the boy knocking himself out. Bruce had insisted and stitched up the boy’s wounds while he was unconscious, making sure to give the boy enough medication to keep him out for a while.

Dick really was concerned at the boy's apparent lack of self-preservation. His way of comforting Dick was to share his other traumas trying to make this one seem less important. Instead, it caused Dick to kidnap the boy.

He sighed rubbing his forehead before turning to leave the room, it was Bruce’s turn to sit with the boy in case he woke up. They didn’t need him to wake up alone and try to run away.

Dick stepped outside of the room, spotting Bruce sitting at the bat computer, pictures of the boy’s other form filling the screens. Dick moved to his side-eyeing the screen.

“His name is Danny Fenton, he apparently got into an accident a little over a year ago and became his alter ego Phantom. He went missing for a few months before appearing again two months ago.” Bruce said turning to look at Dick. “The articles say that he’s a ghost.”

Dick slowly nodded, that would explain how he appeared out of nowhere back at the warehouse. “It’s your turn.” Dick watched as Bruce stood, dawning on his cowl before heading towards the recovery room. Hopefully, the room give Danny less panic when he woke up.

They didn’t need him reopening his stitches. Especially since they were only able to give them to him after the boy knocked himself out. Jason’s arrival had been startling for all of them, especially since it seemed like Jason had been going out of his way to avoid the cave.

Instead, he showed up, causing the boy to knock himself out, and now is refusing to leave the cave until after the boy wakes up. Even then it seemed like Jason kept himself close to the recovery room, not entering it but never straying too far. Dick couldn’t help to be curious about what caused Jason to stay so close to the boy.

Dick found Jason in the hallway, pacing back and forth as if in a debate. “You know you can go see him.” Dick couldn’t help the smirk at the way Jason whirled around, clearly startled.

Jason cleared his throat before nodding. “Of course, I know that.”

“Then why are you loafing about out here when you could go in there.”

Jason took a deep breath. “Just the way he reacted when I showed up.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that.” Dick moved closer, placing a hand on Jason’s shoulder, surprised coursing through him when Jason didn’t attempt to shrug him off.

“There was something about him Dick.” Jason sighed. “The moment I stepped into that room, the pits went silent. It was strange.”

Dick didn’t know how to respond to that and he didn't need to.

A yelp from the room caused both the boys to turn and bolt into the recovery room.

Bruce had a hand on his head as if he had just been hit there. The metal tray Alfred had brought down with food for the boy, Danny, was laying next to Bruce, a small dent within the tray itself.

Danny was standing off of the bed, seemingly dazed as he looked around the room before his eyes landed on Jason.

There was silence as they looked at each other, bright blue eyes lighting Jason’s blue-green.

“Are you okay?” Danny suddenly asked, watching Jason.

Jason stiffened unsure how to answer the question directed at him.

“Cause like, I’m pretty sure you died at some point and came back.” Danny went on. “On your kind of screaming at me.”

Jason blinked. “I’m not.”

“Not you, you. The inside of you.” Danny seemed stressed out as if unsure how to explain it. “Just… can I fix it?”

Jason remained silent and Danny took that as a yes moving forward. “This is going to feel weird,” Danny warned before his hand slammed into Jason’s chest.

Bruce and Dick before yelled at the reaction but Jason didn’t seem to respond. Danny’s eyes narrowed as his other hand slammed into Jason’s chest.

A moment of silence, before Danny cried out in a mix of pain and concentration before throwing his entire body backward, a sickly black green substance stumbled backward with Danny, it writhed in the air as if struggling to get away. Danny cursed before the entire room seemed to freeze over.

Dick shivered as he watched the boy coat ice over the substance, watching as it pressed down forcing the goop into a shape.

Dick blinked as Danny grinned offering the now frozen substance to Jason. It was shaped like a duck.

“There you go.” Danny grinned. “You should be all better now and I’ll be taking my leave.”

“Wait!” All three of them called out but Danny just gave a little salute, before fading from existence.

Jason blinked at where the boy was before looking down at the duck.

He turned before leaving the room.

He needed a nap.

[ahungeringknife]

365: June 17

Oops lost the thread on this one but I still LIKED it. Mostly it started to get away from me and I didn't wanna take the time (like an hour or so) it'd need to fix it. So just a messy sketch

-------

Jaren woke up in a cold sweat. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep but as the moon had started to set he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes open after three days of almost no sleep and making sure no one else died. He knew Buddy would keep his eye out. Or he hoped at least.

He looked around the cold camp and all the blood drained from his face. The sleeping bags still had Vic, Sean, and Zhen in them but each had a bullet through the forehead. Only Vic had looked like he’d started to get out of his bag before being shot. That was when he realized the front of his suit was covered in his own blood and the horror set in. They’d been snuck up on.

His eyes darted around the camp and finally rested on the last sleeping bag. Empty.

Buddy floated around next to him. “He was taken by the look of it,” Buddy said in a whisper. He was used to his Ghost’s quiet voice but even for Buddy it was hushed.

“You didn’t see it?” Jaren’s voice cracked briefly.

“I ran so I could come get you,” Buddy said.

Jaren got to his feet, not caring about the blood on his chest. He reached down and touched his holster, his fingers sliding across the smooth grip of the Last Word. He unbuttoned the strap that held it there. “Where’d he go?” he asked softly, his breath coming out as a chilled cloud. It shouldn’t have been that cold to see his breath yet but he was burning up from the inside out, Solar Light engulfing his entire chest in anger.

Buddy just floated off into the forest and Jaren followed. The trail wasn’t hidden well. Dredgen Yor has no sense of stealth. Never had. Always barreled through life at full speed. Branches were snapped off and lay on the ground, creating more cover for Jaren’s light footsteps, the pine bristles cushioning his steps.

There was no clearing. Just a fallen log, a dead giant. Early morning light glinted off the metal of Dredgen Yor’s helmet as he leaned against the log. He’d been waiting for Jaren. Jaren pulled the Last Word out of its holster, assured by its familiar weight, but didn’t raise the gun. Not yet. He stopped within speaking distance of Dredgen Yor, squeezing the grip but not within easy reach of his hands. They stood looking at each other through their helmets for several long moments.

“Where is he?” Jaren’s voice cut through the early morning.

“Is that what you care about?”

“Where is my son you bastard,” Jaren growled.

Dredgen Yor stood up from the log. “Risen don’t have kids, Ward. You know that-“ he staggered back when Jaren shot him in the shoulder. So fast he hadn’t been expecting it.

“Shut the fuck up. Where is the boy. If you’ve killed him like you did the others I’ll turn you into slag,” Jaren hissed.

Dredgen Yor looked at his shoulder and touched the wound. It hadn’t penetrated the shining armor all the way. But enough to just graze the skin. His glove came away slightly bloodied. Then he looked at Jaren slowly. “You care so much about that thing don’t you?” Jaren shot him again, this time in the chest.

He walked forward firing the Last Word, emptied the cylinder, opened it and reloaded and emptied another one into Dredgen Yor’s chest point blank. The worst part was it didn’t kill him. It just staggered him as blood collected around the holes in his chest plate but it oozed slowly like the surface tension refused itself. The blood was too thick. Corrupted. He was corrupted. Jaren hated him so much. All this bullshit for nothing.

“Where the fuck is Shin?” Jaren demanded again to Dredgen Yor slumped against the log.

Dredgen Yor raised a hand to slow him down half an inch. “He’s not dead,” he said, black blood sparkling out of the gun-made craters in his chest.

Jaren raised the Last Word, the chamber glowing white hot, each shot a Golden Bullet. “He better not be. I am done fucking around with you, Azzir,” he said. It was one thing for Dredgen Yor to do what he’d done. It was another to fuck with his kid specifically. “The cat and mouse game is over if you hurt him.”

Dredgen Yor just looked at him. “Still worried about the shit you found out in the forest, Jaren. Not what’s waiting for you,” he said quietly.

“Fuck you. You knew what you were getting into. You never wanted to leave the City. Too scared of braving the wilds. Rezyl Azzir the greatest gun in the City; scared of the woods. Now look at’cha. You are the monster in the woods, Rez,” Jaren said, angry. It was uncharacteristic of him but he was at his limit. Too many ruined towns. Too much dead friends.

“I guess it’s too much to hope some Hunter cares more about you than what’s out there,” Dredgen Yor said, standing up, healed. No Ghost. He’d sent Vincent away months ago. But still he was healed.

“Where is he?” Jaren asked again, hardened.

Dredgen Yor took a step towards him. Another. Jaren fired and the Golden Bullets ripped through his chest plate, exploding him in chaotic Solar Light. For the moment he faltered and fell to his knees. “I still don’t get why you care more about them than me,” Dredgen Yor said. His lungs couldn’t have survived but he could still breathe. He was a nightmare. Jaren didn’t need the helmet gone to know those big hazel eyes were staring up at him.

“I didn’t,” Jaren said quietly, furiously. “You just refused to acknowledge who I am. I know you, Rez. Did you ever know me? Or did you just want to take me away?” He’d always been welcome to come but Rezyl never wanted to leave the City. He’d grown complacent. Why did he need to go out when it was safe here? But it bored him. Jaren had seen it. Would you rather be bored and safe, never having to steal or kill for your next meal? Or would you rather live on a thrill and know that around each sunrise was something new but you might not see it. The sun might set on you forever. Rezyl always wanted it all. It didn’t work like that. And then he’d done the dumbest thing. Corrupted.

Dredgen Yor looked away. “He’s out that way,” he said around a mouthful of blood.

Jaren hesitated. He didn’t lower his gun but he did start side stepping until he was standing between Dredgen Yor and the direction he claimed Shin was in. “Buddy, go look,” he said in his helmet. He didn’t see his Ghost but he knew he was gone. “What are we doing, Rez?” he asked the once decorated Titan.

Dredgen Yor got to his feet though he was still half ruined by the Golden Bullets, staggered and heavy. He pulled out his gun. The Thorn. It’s been so beautiful once. Now it was a nightmare thing. Dredgen Yor looked at the gun in his hand. “I wanted more power,” he said, “but now I don’t remember why. More power to have it, to be stronger than any other before me, or after. And it did. Killing those Guardians, those people, those Fallen. I was stronger than them and stronger still because of their deaths. I don’t remember why though. I hoped it would make me feel safer. That the world would be safer. But that hope faded away as I realized how fragile it was. The people. Guardians. Us. Hope,” he said softly like he would in the darkest nights.

“You can still have hope, Rez,” Jaren said.

“You came looking for that boy. What do I have to do to get you to care more about me than some thing that will die?” He pulled the hammer back on the Thorn but didn’t raise it. He just kept looking at it. He wasn’t looking at Jaren.

“I don’t know where you got it into your head I cared about you less just because I like Lightless,” Jaren said. “I loved you but you turned into a monster, Rez. One day I came home and you had that gun.”

“Yeah,” Dredgen Yor said, still looking at Thorn, his voice full of melancholy.

“I found him,” Buddy said into his helmet all the sudden. “He’s alive. Tied up in a tree.”

Jaren took a step towards Dredgen Yor. And then another. And another. The big man so surprised he didn’t even try to fight when Jaren took the Thorn out of his hand, engaged the safety and then threw it as hard and far as he could into the forest. Dredgen Yor stared at him through his helmet. “Now that was a mistake,” Dredgen Yor said, voice quiet with creeping violence.

“I still love you,” Jaren said. The words knocked Dredgen Yor back in surprise. “Even if you don’t deserve it. I still hope the man I loved isn’t gone forever. Doesn’t seem like it. You have doubt Dredgen Yor.”

“I needed you dead,” Dredgen Yor said softly. “Then everything that tied me to the Light would be gone. I’d be free. That’s what the whispers said.”

“You’d never be rid of me if I really was dead,” Jaren said. “You’d always doubt.” They stood there for a moment, close, intimate. “You can’t kill me. And you didn’t lie to me. Shin’s safe, alive. What now, Rez? Going to find your gun and shoot me in the back when I leave?”

“That had crossed my mind,” he said in a drawn out way.