Enemy / Politician
Dangerous and extremely dangerous versions of Mak ππ€ I love this with alk my heart
todays bird
Keni

izzy's playlists!

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Andulka
Sweet Seals For You, Always

JBB: An Artblog!
Stranger Things

shark vs the universe
dirt enthusiast
styofa doing anything

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DEAR READER
will byers stan first human second
AnasAbdin
Three Goblin Art

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NASA

JVL

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@coddingaway
Enemy / Politician
Dangerous and extremely dangerous versions of Mak ππ€ I love this with alk my heart

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I drive
Exactly how I imagine Mak driving π poor Yuri fighting for his life π
[Reboot Simon "Ghost" Riley][Headcanons]
π©Έ How does he react, when his SO's pediod comes earlier?
I think Simon would handle it far better than people expect. Not because he's particularly knowledgeable about periods, but he's practical.
Someone he loves has a problem, so his brain immediately switches into: "Assess. Solve. Support." mode.
I have some f*cked up crossover and AU ideas, and this is one of them.
[Makarov] [OG!Modern Warfare (2007-2011) x The Peripheral AU]
πͺ Modern Warfare (2007-2011) | ποΈ Espionage | π Psychological Tension | π Hive mind | π€ Slow Burn | π€ Found Family | π₯ Competence Kink
The Network
The woman did not look frightened. That was the first thing Vladimir Makarov noticed, not the restraints, not the bruising around her wrists, not the dried blood on the sleeve of her jacket. Not even the fact that she had spent nearly twelve hours being questioned by men who were very good at extracting information.
No. What stood out was that she looked bored, and Imran Zakhaev noticed it too. The older man sat across from her at the steel table, fingers folded neatly together. Patient, observant, dangerous. The sort of man who could spend six hours discussing geopolitics and have someone executed before dinner without changing his tone. And even he seemed mildly irritated by her composure.
[Simon "Ghost" Riley][Headcanons]
I think Simon falls in love with a feeling. Specifically: Safety. Not physical safety. Emotional safety.
π€ What Simon Actually Needs
The biggest misconception about Ghost is that he'd want someone exciting. Someone dangerous, someone who can match his intensity, someone who lives the same life he does. I honestly think the opposite.
Simon spends his entire career surrounded by danger, violence, stress, uncertainty, loss. The last thing he wants when he comes home is more of the same.
He wants peace. Not boredom, not passivity. Peace. Someone whose presence lowers his guard instead of forcing it higher.

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[Headcanons][Simon "Ghost" Riley]
β€οΈ When Does Simon Realize He Wants More?
Not when he falls in love, that happens long before. Painfully, stubbornly, and entirely against his will.
The realization comes later, when he catches himself planning a future that automatically includes you.
Price asks him one day: "What are you doing after deployment?"
And Simon answers without thinking: "We're thinking about going to Scotland for a week."
We. Not I. We. The word leaves his mouth before he can stop it, and suddenly he's staring into his coffee like it personally betrayed him.
Because at some point, without realizing it, he stopped thinking of his future as something he faced alone.
[Headcanons][Simon "Ghost" Riley]
β€οΈ Simon Riley as a Partner
The biggest misconception about Simon is that he'd be cold in a relationship. He's not. He's guarded. There's a difference.
Once you're past the walls, Simon is probably one of the most loyal, dependable partners imaginable.
The hard part is getting there.
[Simon "Ghost" Riley] πΆ Family AU | π€ Angst | π―οΈ Grief | ποΈ Survivor's Guilt | π Emotional Devastation | π Emotional Hurt/No Comfort
What remains
The funeral is cold. Of course it is. The kind of cold that settles deep into your bones and stays there.
The sky is grey. The rain falls in a steady drizzle. The sort of weather that makes the entire world feel muted. Appropriate.
No one in the Task Force has spoken much since the tunnel. Since Makarov. Since the gunshot. Since Soap's blood slipped through their fingers.
John stands rigid. Hands clasped behind his back. Expression carved from stone. Kyle stares at the ground. Simon stares at the empty coffin. There was an urn somewhere with Soap's ashes, but Johnny's mother wanted a formal burial.
Simon kept staring at the coffin, because looking anywhere else would mean accepting that Johnny MacTavish is actually dead. And Simon isn't ready for that. Maybe he never will be.
[JOHN PRICE] π€ Angst | π Lost Love | β³ Right Person, Wrong Time | π Emotional Hurt/No Comfort
The Voicemail
Two years. Two bloody years.
Price never counted time in days. His life moved between deployments, mission reports, coordinates, and extraction windows. And yet he knew.
He knew exactly how long it had been since he'd last seen you. Since he'd last heard your voice. Since you'd sat across from him in that little cafΓ© and asked the one question he'd never properly answered.
"I know your work matters, John. I'm not asking you to quit. I'm asking if there's room for me in your life, too."
[Zakhaev Family] π€ Angst | π¨βπ©βπ§ Family | π Lost Love | π» Ghosts of the Past | π Emotional Hurt/No Comfort
The Grave - Part 3 of The Birthday
The conversation starts over breakfast. A quiet morning. No arguments. No politics. No operations. Just coffee and the rare illusion that the Zakhaev household is capable of behaving like a normal family.
You set your cup down. "I'd like to visit my mother tomorrow." The words are simple. Like you wanted permissiom to go. Harmless. To you, the words meant exactly what they've meant for the last six months. To everyone else, they mean something very different.
Imran is the first to look up. Then Viktor. Across the room, Makarov doesn't react at all. Which usually means he's listening most closely.
"I'll come with you." You blink. The answer arrives so quickly you almost laugh. Of course he would. Twenty-nine years. Twenty-nine years since he'd last seen the woman who left. The woman he'd spent decades searching for. The woman he never found.
Before you can answer, Viktor cuts in. "I'm coming too." You raise an eyebrow.
"Why?"
Viktor stares at you as if you've asked the stupidest question imaginable.
"Because she's my mother too."
Fair enough. The matter is settled. Makarov gets volunteered as the driver. Much to his visible disappointment.
---

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MASTERLIST
Because I know myself and I would be (and will be) lost too :>
GUIDE: β€οΈ Romance | π Lost Love | π₯ Mutual Pining | π Soulmates | π± Slow Burn | π€¦ Idiots in Love | β³ Right Person, Wrong Time | π€ Angst | π Emotional Hurt/No Comfort | π©Ή Hurt/Comfort | βοΈ Comfort | πΈ Fluff | π‘ Domestic | π¨βπ©βπ§ Family | π Holidays | π©Έ Betrayal ...and what not
[Makarov&Zakhaev Family] π± Slow Burn | π¨βπ©βπ§ Family | π₯ Mutual Pining (early stages) | π Dark Romance-ish?
The Cell Door | Part 2 of [The Birthday]
The assassin surrendered. That was what bothered Vladimir Makarov the most. Not the twenty-three bodies. Not the security breach. Not even the fact that she had managed to reach the heart of one of the most secure facilities the Ultranationalists possessed.
Those things made sense. People made mistakes. Security failed. Men died. It happened.
What didn't make sense was the moment she lowered the gun. Because she could have fired. Makarov knew it. Everyone in that room knew it. Imran had been dead the second she walked through that door. Yet she hadn't pulled the trigger.
And then, somehow, that became even stranger. Because when the guards finally moved in, she didn't resist. Didn't fight. Didn't run. Didn't even argue. She simply handed over the pistol and allowed herself to be taken away.
As though the mission had ended. As though she had already gotten what she came for. That was the part Makarov couldn't stop thinking about.
[Zakhaev Family] βοΈ Family Conflict | π» Ghosts of the Past | π Alternate Universe | π€ Angst
The Birthday
Twenty-three men died before she reached the conference room. The first guards never saw her. The second group barely had time to raise their weapons. By the time alarms began sounding through the compound, it was already too late.
Cameras went dark. Radios fell silent. Bodies piled up in hallways. And one lone assassin continued moving forward.
Relentless. Purposeful. Untouchable.
Inside the conference room, nobody knew the full extent of the damage yet. Imran Zakhaev sat at the head of the table. Viktor occupied the seat to his right. Several officers, politicians, and commanders filled the remaining chairs. Makarov stood near the far wall, listening more than speaking. Then the gunfire stopped.
The silence that followed felt wrong. Heavy. Unnatural. Everyone noticed. Nobody had time to comment.
[Makarov] π€ Angst | π Lost Love | β³ Right Person, Wrong Time | π» Ghosts of the Past | π Emotional Hurt/No Comfort | πΆ Pregnancy/Children | π§οΈ What Could Have Been
The Child
It happens by accident. Most painful things do. Vladimir isn't looking for memories that day. He isn't dwelling on the past. He isn't thinking about you. At least that's what he tells himself.
The park is crowded. Families everywhere. Children running between benches. Parents calling after them. Normal life. The kind he rarely sees. The kind he was never supposed to have.
Then he notices you. Not immediately. Just a familiar face in the distance. A familiar laugh. A familiar smile. And suddenly the years between now and then don't feel quite so long.
[Makarov] π€ Angst | β³ Right Person, Wrong Time | π₯ Mutual Pining | π Political Marriage | π± Slow Burn
Viktor's Bride
You were ten years old when your future was decided. Not by you, not by your family, not even by Viktor Zakhaev.
The agreement was made by men sitting around a table discussing power, influence, and alliances. You simply happened to be part of the negotiation.
You were the sole heir of the powerful crime family of your nation. Imran Zakhaev's future daughter-in-law.
The arrangement made perfect sense on paper. The fact that Viktor was fifteen years older than you hardly mattered. The marriage would happen later. Years later, once you were old enough. Until then, you would be brought to Moscow and raised among the people you would someday call family.
So that was exactly what happened. You learned Russian. You learned politics. You learned etiquette. You learned diplomacy. You learned how to smile during meetings you hated and how to remain silent when powerful men spoke. Most importantly, you learned how to become the wife everyone expected you to be.
The only problem was Viktor.

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[Makarov] π€ Angst | πΆ Pregnancy/Children | π Emotional Hurt/No Comfort | π Lost Love
[TW child loss mentioned - please don't read it if you're sensitive to this topic]
The Hospital Call
Price heard the call by accident. Years later, he would tell himself that part didn't matter, that none of it mattered. But he remembered every word. Every single one.
The operation had been a success. Or as close to a success as anything involving Vladimir Makarov could ever be. Intelligence had been recovered. Targets eliminated. Months of work were finally paying off.
Price had been reviewing reports when the secure line rang. Not his. Makarov's.
[Makarov] π©Έ Betrayal | π€ Angst | π Lost Love | π Emotional Hurt/No Comfort
The Mole
The report arrived at 3:14 AM. Under normal circumstances, Vladimir Makarov would've ignored it until morning.
This wasn't a normal report. It carried a priority designation that very few people had the authority to use, so he opened it, alone, in his office.
Halfway through a cup of coffee that would eventually grow cold beside him. At first, nothing seemed unusual. Names. Operations. Locations. Communications. The usual.
Then he reached page seven, and stopped reading. The room suddenly felt very quiet, his eyes returned to the same line. Again. And again.
Certain he had misunderstood. Certain there had to be some mistake. There wasn't.
A photograph sat clipped to the page. A familiar photograph. One he had seen hundreds of times. Because it was you.
Beneath it: Embedded Asset. Confirmed.