#141 reader

The first time you meet ghost hes in full gear and u tell him he looks "cunty as hell". Soap nearly breaks his neck with the way he whipped around to look at you two, silently fearing for ur life bc ghost has that murder look in his eyes.

A week later ur slumped over at the breakfast table, two empty redbulls next to u and still fucking exhausted bc ghost has been killing you in training. Ur in the middle of complaining to gaz about it when ghost passes behind you can gruffs "maybe dont call your lieutenant a cunt if you wanted him to go easy on you."

And ur fuckin baffled bc what? So you turn around like "I never called you a cunt?? What the hell are you on?? Ive only ever been nice to you??". Soap a bit too eagerly quotes ur first words to ghost bc hes *still* thinking abt ur audacity. Suddenly the pieces click into place.

Warnings: Death, Angst?,

Just some ideas, part number IDK at this point.

Delicate lines lead to the earth as you kneel in reverent whispers, and the rest of the world falls silent. Then he is there, the omen of death and the stench of blood. Copper on your tongue. Under his umber eyes, you rise to your feet in a trance.

“You did all you could, Sergeant.”

His voice is cold, but not unknowing.

At your feet, the body crumples, head lolling to the side as acid fills your throat.

“What are we, Ghost?”

Your lieutenant shifts his rifle, his voice a gruff hum.

“We are the souls of the damned.”

His answer catches you off guard, and you turn to him as dust kicks up with the winds of a setting sun. You think of the woman at your feet, a flower seller in the market only hours ago. You reach down as the fading light catches a glimpse of color, and you pull a poppy from her breast pocket.

Its tender petals bruised by the fall, but the brilliant crimson shines.

You turn your head down in remorse, but steps approach you and a hand finds the small of your back in tenderness.

“She will find peace on the other side.”

It’s Simon who spoke, then you realize, and you reach down and set the lone flower on her lifeless chest.

“Perhaps we are harbingers,” You speak then, more to yourself than to him,

“We’ll all find peace in the end.”

It’s only when ghost tries to fit one over his hand that you realize that you’ve made them according to your own wrist, and that of course big army men can’t fit small beaded bracelets like this.

They try to reassure you they’ll find a way to fit the bracelets when you your expression drop, and they end up putting the bracelets on their vest to keep close on them.

They will 100% ask for a new one if they somehow manage to break the old one while out on a mission.

A/N: Please enjoy this written version of one of my many hallucinations. As a reminder, this doesn’t directly follow the canon events of CoD. Also, feel free to leave feedback and share if you are so inclined.

Prolog    Chapter Two

Pairings: Ghost X Reader,  König X Reader

Warnings: Mentions of violence, 

     Some things would never change, from the silence of your steps to your highly perceptive hearing. All of your training had stayed with you even after your leave from 141. Your eyes were always sharp, keeping watch for what could be lurking around the corner. Shoulders always squared and feet poised to strike at anyone who might try to take you out. You were constantly on edge, rarely ever sleeping due to the fear of those seeking your head. The things you had done, the face of those whose lives you had taken, would flash through your mind when you closed your eyes. On the rare occasions you did sleep, you’d wake in a cold sweat, screaming from the night terrors that plagued you. Memories of the capture that lead to your forced leave from the 141. Flickering images of the torture you were put through at the hands of the enemy.

     You had been sloppy in your work only once, but once was good enough for them to take advantage of. They captured you as you lay in a puddle of your own blood. You weren’t fast enough as the bullet started flying, shelter just far enough from you for them to get one good shot off. You were too weak to crawl away as the crimson stained your clothes, seeping from the wound in your abdomen. The taste of blood in the back of your throat kept you from yelling for help. The hands of the enemy dragging you out of sight as the rest of your team made their escape. Too little too late did they notice your absence. By the time they had realized, you were already too far gone. Forced to evacuate and regroup, they made a plan back at the main base.

     Another team had gotten to you first, though you distinctly remember Laswell having been there. The other team took you for medical assistance in the building where they would eventually push you from the 141.

     That was two years ago now and you had built somewhat of a normal life for yourself now. Going under a fake name and being under 24/7 surveillance from those who had employed you before. You still didn’t feel safe. You never felt safe anywhere unless you were surrounded by your team. They had been your family, never had you felt like you belonged somewhere more in your entire life. Gaz and Soap were like brothers to you, Price like a father and Ghost... Well, he was a complicated one. You get along well and all but he was never one to open up. You knew little things about him, but you were sure the others knew those things too. He never opened up to you and for some reason, it bothered you. He hadn’t been cold to you like he was with most, he treated you well enough and would even occasionally joke with you. They were wry and sarcastic, sure, but they were jokes nonetheless. Which meant there was at least something there, right? Some semblance of a friendship?

     “Desert?” A female voice snaps you from your thoughts as your brain registers the fake name you’d been given. Alice was calling for you, your eyes snapping to meet her brown ones, the worry on her face evident. “Hey, are you ok?” 

     Batting away the concern in her voice, you allow your eyes to readjust to your surroundings. “Yeah, yeah. I was just… lost in thought, that’s all.” Shaking your head you begin picking at your food, not really hungry anymore. You knew that this brunch thing wouldn’t go well, you spent most of your time busying your mind with work and chores. You even went as far as to fill any unoccupied time with volunteer work and excessively retraining your movements, just in case. None of it was necessary, however. Your ex-employers were paying for everything for you. They’d literally handed you the keys and address of a one-bedroom flat and a box of food would arrive at your door every Friday at 2 p.m. But none of that kept your mind from slipping back to the day you lost everything. You hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye. They took you to a separate outpost, then shipped you out here.

     “You seem a little more than just lost in thought, Hun.” She gives you a look as if to say ‘I know you better than you think’ before returning her attention to her food. “If you need to talk you know I’m here. You’re like, my best friend and I’d hope that you’d feel safe sharing your thoughts and feelings with me.” She smiles mischievously leaning slightly over the table. “No matter how fucked up they might be. Believe me when I say I have seen some shit.” She pushes her pin-straight blond hair over her shoulder as she bites into a carrot she’d picked out of her salad. 

     You nod silently as you stab the salad in front of you with the cheap plastic fork it came with. “I, um…” Your nerves are on fire after everything that just ran through your mind. “I’ve been thinking back on all the fucked up things I’ve done in my life, you know?” Taking the forkful of salad into your mouth, you look up at her to gauge her expression. She seems passive enough as she nods slowly, encouraging you to continue. And so you do, trying to keep the words that spill from your lips as cryptic as possible. Swallowing the bite of salad, you plaster a fake smile on your face. “You know, like, when you do something so completely avoidable and get into a lot of trouble over it or hurt yourself in the process.” Your smile falters as your mind again drifts back to that day.

     A small laugh escapes her plump lips. “Yeah, no, I get it.” She shakes her head looking you dead in the eyes, brows creased with amusement dancing in her eyes. “Is that really what you spend all that time thinking about?” Her cocks slightly to the side.

     An odd feeling rolls through your gut as you stare at her for a moment, trying to keep your features as neutral and light as possible. Something about her felt familiar, almost dangerous. Your mind races trying to figure out why she seemed familiar. Of course you knew her, you’d befriended each other a few months after you’d been moved here, but something about the look she just gave you sent your mind into a spiral. You remember that face, from a long time ago, way before you’d messed up. Then, as if you’d unlocked a hidden door somewhere deep in your mind, it all comes flooding back. All the negotiating you’d done with the enemy’s intelligence unit, it was her. She was always the one that would show up to speak with you, always completely unarmed and far too casual for the serious discussions that took place. You remember the odd, creepy vibes she gave off whenever she’d crack an inappropriate joke about whichever team member had been partnered with you that day.

     You’re sure at this point in thought that your mask had slipped, letting her in on the feelings flooding through your body. Fear and confusion, among many other feelings, flood you. As you regain composure you notice her once amused face has turned serious. “I’d be careful what your next move is soldier, wouldn’t want to make any more stupid mistakes, would we?” The smile returns to her face, sickeningly sweet and overall creepy as the tone in her voice turns sardonic.

     Inhaling deeply, you push your nerves down, blowing the anxiety out of your body with the exhale. “No, no more stupid mistakes.” With a light shake of your head, you stand slowly, clasping your hands in one another. You can only hope this action has the effect you're looking for. The last thing you’d want is an innocent getting hurt in the crossfire of a war they weren’t part of. Your eyes shift from her face to the rest of her body, searching for any signs of hostility. None immediately present themselves outright, perfect. Now you could easily lead her away from the civilians who were just trying to enjoy their remaining days on this spinning ball of hell. “Shall we?” Your voice comes out more confident than you were anticipating. Gesturing to the exit of the small café with your hands still clasped., you take a cautious step towards it, eyes never leaving her form.

     A knowing look crosses her gaze as she dabs her lips with a napkin. “Of course bestie.” An almost crazed smile paints itself across her thin lips. “Wouldn’t wanna waste our hours away sitting here all day.” She stands tall and straight, walking with intent. She strides up to you, giving you a cocky look as she links her elbow with yours. Leading you through the exit, she stops a few steps down the sidewalk, appearing to map the best route in her head as she looks up and down the street. 

     Sizing her up mentally you come to the conclusion that in hand-to-hand combat you could easily subdue her. If she possessed a firearm, however, your chances were slimmer. In the current environment, she’d be stupid to try anything. Civilians and shop owners would see everything and most of them knew her face by now. A small hiccup with living so long in such a small town, but an advantage you’d abuse in your current circumstances. On top of that, you’d taken the time in your paranoia-stricken state to map out the whole town repeatedly. At this point, every street, alley, and building was permanently ingrained in your mind. You’d need to make it to the forest on the west side of town. You knew what path you’d take if you got the chance to make a break for it. You stay silent as she continues to inspect the intersecting roads. Now though, you’re not sure whether she’s mapping out her surroundings, or looking for someone. It hit you then that if she had been this close to you the whole time, her team probably wasn’t far from her.

     Your mind begins to analyze the situation again, this time with the assumption that her team was also here, watching you both. Taking a silent deep breath, you clear your mind. There were some obvious spots that they would hide, plain sight for instance. You’d never got a glimpse of her team members’ faces, anonymity was almost a must for field ops during any mission. The town could be chock-full of enemy soldiers waiting around any corner ready to gun you down. Your mind flips through the nearly infinite paths you could take to safety, each one being tossed out for one reason or another. Corners you couldn’t see around, places not dense enough with buildings to duck behind, alleyways that didn’t lead directly into each other, and places too busy with civilian activity. You could do this, it would be risky but you knew you could. 

     Your eyes fix on the side of her head, trying to assess if you had the time to slip away before she located what she was looking for. Her eyes were still flitting back and forth, deciding now was the best chance you’d get, as time only allowed whatever danger there was to get closer. You steel yourself against the thought of being shot at and chased down, your leg muscles twitch as you shift your feet silently into position. Your mind flashes the path one last time, the hardest part would be the 180 you’d have to make to start the long trek out of this place. You glance once behind you to ensure the path is clear. Your body begins to move on its own, your hands unwinding from each other before you swiftly yank your arm from Alice’s. Using the moment of your own movements you spin on your toes taking off in a mad dash for the first alleyway you’d mapped in your head.

     Time seems to slow as you round the corner. Your strides nearly halt as the unmistakable sound of a gunshot rings off of the walls around you. Your sense of self-preservation kicks in and your legs begin to move faster. Rushing footsteps sound off from the street behind you. Wasting no time as you come to the next turn in your mental map, your right-hand jumps away from your body. It grips tightly on the pole of a street sign, using the momentum you’ve gained to whip yourself around the corner, losing little to no speed. With the path still clear in your mind, you focus all of your energy on putting as much distance as possible between you and your assailants. More gunshots ring in the air coming from all directions, confusion growing in your mind. Your chest heaves as you push yourself to keep going, running for what felt like forever as the sounds of all-out chaos resound through the streets. The footsteps behind you hadn’t ceased but had grown a bit quieter, farther away. If you could, you’d find a place to hunker down and hope they’d run right past you, but with no weapons to defend yourself with it wasn’t the best option. 

But none of them make any moves to flirt with u, all too aware of how the others feel and not wanting to risk friendships over something that may not even work out. Or...at least they didnt until gaz and ghost overhear u chatting with some friends in the lounge.

"-No im serious, hes hot as fuck." You seem to be halfway through a very impassioned argument, if ur friends snort is anything to go by. "No! No. Hear me out- youve not seen the way his arms bulge when hes shooting. Or heard his voice over comms."

"I swear, I gotta hold back from offering a warm hole anytime I see him. Or offering a hand in marriage, im not picky." Suddenly their crushes become very important, its obvious ur talking about one of them.

"Remind me which one of them this is?" Ur friend asks, but before you can respond a phone rings. Your voice pauses, and sounds closer to the door as you say "hang on, I gotta take this, see you tomorrow!"

The guys know you saw ghosts face the day it happens, because on the humvee ride you're already gushing about it. Ghost is in the second humvee, so he cant even defend his honor while you hold soap, gaz, and some extras captive with ur story. "Hes pretty and handsome, okay? The kind of guy who you double-take and whisper to your mates about."

Ghost doesnt catch wind about your lowkey obsession with his face until you start calling him handsome in regular conversation. "Pardon me, handsome, gotta get past." Or "hey handsome pass me the salt."

You dont think much of it, because ghost is good looking and ur sure hes heard it plenty of times. Still, whenever you say it ghosts muscles tense up and he frowns. You think hes maybe shy, but soap is more attuned and noticed the anger for what it is. Thing is, soap has no idea why ghost would be pissed about it, so he leaves it alone.

Which means ur pretty damn shocked while out with the guys at a bar, and ghost fucking snaps. Ur in the middle of telling gaz hes isnt actually the resident pretty boy "nah, man! You should see ghosts face, he puts you to shame. Pretty pink lips and long lashes, perfect facial structure-"

Ghost grabs you by the arm and bodily hauls you out the back door. The others send worried glances to eachother, but figure its fine. "I really dont fuckin' appreciate you mocking me, sergeant." Ghost growls the second the door slams closed.

"What?" You ask, brows furrowed "Ghost, I ain't mocking you! It's like- okay to be pretty, yknow that right? Its not a bad thing-"

"Its not that!" Ghost cuts you off before you can start rambling about toxic masculinity. He reaches up, pulls his balaclava off to scrub a hand over his face. "Im not fuckin' pretty! Im not handome. I dont look good"

He motions to his face, as if proof enough. But all you can do is smile up at him, face heating when his intense gaze turns to you. Ghost has a strong face, distinct cheekbones and deepest eyes. Pretty link lips that peel up around scars to reveal set teeth and gums, rivers over his skin where injuries have long healed. You cant help it, you smile and reach up a hand reverently to catch his jaw.

"God. Youre beautiful." You hum, and ghost seems a bit shocked by just how genuine you sound. "Face like this? I'm surprised youre not a model."

(Previous part here, part one here)

"...what."

Its the only thing you can think to say, mind stuttering at the completely wild accusation soap just threw at you.

"What, shocked someone finally called you on it?" Gaz cuts in, stepping slightly in front of soap. You just stare at him, confused. One second youre getting kicked out and the next youre being confronted about something you aren't even aware of.

"Called me on what? What have I done? I genuinely dont know!" You, ironically, feel a bit like ur being cornered by a pack of wolves. Gaz just raises a brow, arms folding over his chest.

"Called on the fact that you hate hybrids."

What?

"What the actual fuck?" You cant even focus on the anxiety at the back of ur mind. Fucking appalled at gazs statement. You look desperately at ghost and price, but they hold no sympathy. "Hate hybrids? What the fuck would make you think that?"

"Dont play dumb. On the heli ride back from those traffickers. Soap was just getting some head pats, as he should, and you were glaring at him the whole time. Then you looked at me as if expecting me to share your disgust."

"...no way." Your voice is quiet, replaying all these days of suffering you've been through. "I wasnt fucking glaring at soap! I was jealous because he was getting head pats and I wasnt! Yknow, because im a wolf hybrid!"

Your little outburst shocks gaz. His eyes are wide, and you can see in real time as realization then regret dawns on him. "...wait. so- so all these times you've been staring at soap since then? Or shoulder checking him in the halls?"

"I was just a bit jealous and trying to playfight. You guys are always indulging his instincts, and I thought itd be a good way to get rid of whatever was making him avoid me." Now its you who crosses your arms.

"You seriously thought I was what- some kind of bigot? Because you assumed i had a problem with soap?" Gaz has the decency to look sheepish, and as u turn ur glare to ghost and price they glance away nervously. "You couldn't even fucking ask me if that was true?"

"I've been suffering for weeks! I thought my fucking pack was rejecting me! Do you know how horrible ive felt? Because of a misunderstanding that you couldn't be bothered to sort out even when I asked?!"

A growl, unbidden, crawls up your throat. You feel elated that this was all a misunderstanding, and at the same time furious. You cant decide whether to stew in ur anger to to be happy ur pack still wants you.

In the end anger wins, and u storm off back to ur room, ignoring when soap calls your name.

It doesnt help. Ur room is just as depressing as its been since the incident. Den torn up and circle paced onto the floor. You ignore it, crawl into the tatters of your bed and lay there. No desire to leave, no desire to sleep.