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xasthurz · 1 year

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hii!! I’m so sorry I left for so long, I’ve been dealing with some personal issues but now I’m sick so since I have some free time, I’ve decided to start writing again!

Mainly based towards an F! Reader but also slightly based towards to M! Readers.

Ghost/König Cuddling Head-cannons!

( not proof-read )

Ghost.

This man will be so protective of you while cuddling, he always prefers to be the big spoon so he can properly protect you.

His favorite cuddling position is when your head is laying on his bicep with your face nuzzled into his neck and your leg stretching across his waist, his free hand will be on the leg holding you close and the other hand will be holding you close.

If you move to try and get up without telling him what your doing first he’ll wrap his arms around you to prevent you from moving.

When he’s the big spoon his fingers will always be intertwined with your hair, pressing his nose against your head, taking in scent of your shampoo.

He definitely acts like he hates watching Disney movies with you but secretly enjoys cuddling and watching them, which is why he always gives in when you say you want to watch a Disney movie.

Slight NSFW ahead!!

He probably enjoys cock-warning with you, he loves having his cock nuzzled deep inside you as he lays his head on your collarbone while on top of you.

Will always leave marks on your neck and collarbones while cuddling, enjoys seeing them on you as you walk around.

While his cock is nestled inside you he might do small thrusts to hear your small whimpers.

Most of the time you’ll wake up with his hand on one of your breasts or neck, as you move, he’ll squeeze gently.

Will whisper sweet praises into your ear while he’s positioned on top of you and loves moving his hands up and down your sides occasionally giving your waist a small squeeze. Rolling up your shirt to place small kisses on your stomach and your breasts.

König.

König is always so gentle with you, holding you like your a porcelain doll. Since he’s so tall his entire body encloses on yours, making you feel all warm and comfortable.

Always will have his legs intertwined with yours with his arms wrapped around your waist, your face nuzzled up into his neck. Your hands grazing over his toned and scarred body, placing gentle kissed to his bare neck and shoulders.

I feel like he talks in his sleep, like not much but slight mumbles. The only coherent one you could ever hear was “Ich liebe dich Y/N..” which had your heart melting, he would tug you closer after saying it too. You feel like if you ever confronted him about it he would become a blushing mess.

Enjoys rubbing small circles into your hips and loves to give you massages to help you fall asleep in his arms faster.

König definitely moves a lot in his sleep, sometimes making you wake up and when he realizes he woke you up he’ll apologize profusely. “I’m so sorry, meine liebe.”

Slight NSFW ahead!!

Loves keeping his hands between your thighs, every time his fingers accidentally make contact with your clothed clit you whimper slightly.

Also a big fan of cock-warming, he enjoys having your walls wrapped around his cock keeping him warm.

When he lays on top of you, he’ll rest his head on your stomach with his legs dangling slightly off the bed. Will Kiss your inner and outer thighs lazily as he falls asleep.

You enjoy playing with his hair and you can tell he enjoys it also as he lets out soft groans from how good your hands feel rubbing against his scalp.

Loves the smell of you, it may sound weird but when cuddling you he enjoys taking in the scent of your perfume, it relaxes him instantly making him fall asleep.

I Hope you enjoyed this, I worked really hard on this and I’ve been trying to get back into posting so the next post might be a prompt list!

#smut #könig x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost mw #ghost mw2 #König #headcanon #mw2 headcanons #könig imagine #könig modern warfare #könig cod

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salstray · 1 year

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An Arrangement ((Ghost x Reader))

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Warnings: 18+ Content, NSFW, Smut, p in v, AFAB reader, established situationship, very little plot, also my first time writing x reader smut so let me know if its ass k thanks

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Summary: Ghost and Reader are co workers, of sorts. You work under Laswell, helping with intel and information while the boys are in the field. During the months you work with Ghost, you and him figure out an... arrangment that helps you both relax a little in the midst of all the chaos of war. When the job comes to an end, you give Ghost a letter and a choice. End it here or extend the stress relief beyond work. You get your answer when he shows up at your door in the middle of the night.

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Note: As I said before, first time writing x reader smut.... or really any smut at all! Usually I get to blushy and ashamed when I get to this point in a work, but this one wormed its way out into the pages anyway! Tell me if it sucks, K? Rad. Thank you!

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The letter is so professional, so clinical, it almost makes him laugh.

Your slanted handwriting against perfectly lined paper, calling this whole thing an 'arrangement' between the two of you. Like it was a trade deal or a transaction and not like he'd been fucking you stupid every time he got you alone. It was all for secrecy, he understood that, but it was still funny.

At the bottom of it all, the clipped and emotionless words and flowing business speak, was your address and your phone number.

In case you'd be interested in a continuation, it said. Ending in your name. Just the first one. The only hint anyone would have that this was anything other than work, should any unwanted eyes find their way onto this page. They wouldn't, Ghost was far too careful to let that happen, but still. The only slip you’d made.

It takes a surprising amount of courage to end up at your door. More, he feels, then it takes to stare down the barrel of a gun.

The apartment building is smaller than what he would have expected from someone with your salary, but he wasn't one to judge. His own flat was barely more than a shoebox. Just enough space to keep the walls from closing in when he stared at them too hard and enough to hold what few possessions he had to his name.

He's not sure if you'll be awake when he finally knocks. One glance at his phone tells him that much. Ghost had decided not to text you before he showed up, either. Somehow that felt more intimate than anything else. A trapdoor in his walls that he wasn't willing to address just yet. Or open.

When you appear through the doorway, he nearly collapses on the spot.

Your in a fucking skirt.

Maybe it shouldn’t have been such a shock but in all the months you'd worked together you'd always dressed practically, more or less. The leggings you favored would probably be considered less, but it was always trousers of some sort. Dress pants, a button down shirt, hair pulled back. Ready at a moment's notice, as you needed to be to survive in this life. A perfect mirror of Laswell. The person you worked under and the reason you two had met in the first place.

But here? Now? In your own home with the only danger being bad TV and loud neighbors you looked so much different.

You favored black in your style, something that drew Ghost in, something Johnny would relentlessly tease him about, and it showed even outside of work. The skirt was that color. Solid black, flowing gently around your thighs, topped with a simple forest green tank top with thin straps and no bra. Your hair was loose and your glasses were nowhere to be seen, leaving your eyes wide and shining.

The way you gasped snapped his gaze from your body, your thighs and your hips, up to your face.

"Simon?" You ask softly, like you weren't sure it was really him. Like you expected anyone else to show up in the dead of night with a skull print balaclava covering their face.

"Evenin', love."

You curl in on yourself. Bashful. Shy. Looking up at him through fluttering lashes, hands tucked up by your breasts. The way you always looked when he approached you with sinful intentions.

Heat pooled low in Ghost’s stomach as he leaned forward, his hands tucked away in his pockets, his eyes dark and heavy.

"Gonna invite me in?" He breathes, knowing damn well what his voice does to you when he speaks like that. The reaction in you was instant. The rapid blinks, the shaking breath. The little nod as you took a few steps back, opening the door wider to let his massive form through the frame. He steps inside slowly. Letting his eyes roam the walls and furniture. Cataloging every little knickknack and art piece and surface he'll be able to bend you over once he finally puts his hands on you.

Your voice draws his gaze back to you.

"I… I didn't think you'd show up," you say, trying to sound casual. Trying to sound like this was planned and not simply offered a few weeks ago with no reply given.

He doesn't give you one now, either. Instead he takes a step closer to you. Closing the distance in one swift motion, causing you to press your spine into the half wall that separates the kitchen from the living room. You're blinking again, trying to gather your thoughts as his hands settle on your waist, palms warm and fingers strong. Ghost’s digits press into your flesh as he hums and leans back, clearly enraptured by the outfit you chose for your quiet night in.

"Look good in this," he mutters. His right hand shifts, sliding lower over your thigh, just enough to slip under the skirt and start a slow, teasing trail back up to your leg.

"Y-you think?" You ask, biting your bottom lip when his hooded eyes meet yours.

"Yeah." His fingers slip up and behind you, pulling you forward, chest flush against his with his hand now cupping your ass. "I do. Think you should wear it more often."

He feels the shiver that rolls up your spine as he speaks. Smirks when your hands reach up to grab at his jacket. Pulls the hand still on your waist away just long enough to push back his hood and tug up the end of his mask. He settles it on your shoulder instead of your hip, however, and slides it up along your neck and into your hair, taking a fistfull and using it to tug your head back.

Your breathless gasp makes him rumble low in his chest. Something between a growl, a hum, and a grunt. Ghost leans forward, his tongue slipping through his lips and marking a wet trail up your pulse.

The little whine you let out makes him shudder and he sucks in a hissing breath through his teeth as his mouth reaches your jaw.

He'd never tell you, never admit it, but he missed this. Missed you. Your reactions, your sounds, the taste and feel of your skin. He'd been in this apartment for less than five minutes and already felt like he was gonna split apart at the seams if he didn't have his cock buried in you in the next two.

The next breath he takes is punctuated by a groan and he uses the hand on your ass to lift you off your feet. He lets the other take hold of your thigh to keep you steady as you make a noise of surprise and wrap your legs around his hips.

"Bed. Where?" Is all he says, his lips parted and panting against your cheek as he speaks.

Moments later your back is hitting the mattress. Ghost is already reaching under the skirt by the time you push yourself up onto your elbows, yanking away your panties and tossing them somewhere into the room. He crawls over you, hands sliding up the backs of your thighs, lifting them into the air so your skirt flops up against your stomach, revealing your newly naked sex to him.

He groans again, low and slow, head tilting as his right hand slips away from your leg and down towards the slick heat that had been torturing you for hours.

"So wet already?" He teases. Ghost chuckles when his touch makes you jerk, his fingers just barely grazing your clit and making you whimper.

"I…," your gaze slips away from him, your flushed cheeks only getting hotter as you confess, "I've been… thinking about you… all day." A startled cry leaves you when he plunges two fingers in without warning. There was no resistance at all. Just a loud, wet noise as he slowly drags them back out and presses in again.

"Aww… thinkin' bout me? How sweet," he purrs, leaning in close to watch your face twist with pleasure. "To think that's all it takes to get you so worked up." Your eyes, which had twisted shut at the pleasurable stretch of his fingers, peel open just a bit to look at him. Plead with him. Beg him silently for more.

Luckily he's always been able to read you like a book. That's what led to this arraignment in the first place.

"Want more, love?" You whimper, nodding weakly. "Want my cock?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes what, sweetheart?"

"Yes, sir."

You didn't take orders from him. He wasn't your superior in the field and, in all honesty, he was totally fine with that. There was no way he'd be able to keep focus with that sweet voice calling out to him. All it would take was one little 'sir' over the comms and he'd be done for. That's why he made you use it here. Where only he could hear it.

Both of his hands leave your body and you'd have protested if you didn't push yourself up farther to watch him work at his belt. In one fluid motion it joins your panties across the room and you sink your teeth into your lip to hide the moan that draws out of you. The sight of his dick, fully hard and already leaking, pulls another free. One you don't hide from him.

Ghost crawls over you again, tucking his thumbs into the straps of your tank top and pulling them down your shoulders. He tugs just far enough for your breasts to be freed. Another shiver rolls through you when he licks his lips.

"Simon," you whimper, reaching up to dig your fingers into his biceps. "Please." His newly shining mouth twitches into a smirk and he tilts his head for a moment, brows raising with the motion.

"Since you asked so nicely."

You'd hate how cocky he acted if he wasn't so fucking attractive and if his actual cock wasn't pushing into you.

Your eyes flutter shut again as you gasp, your back arching off the mattress as the solid heat of him fills you. Ghost takes the opportunity to slide his arms under you and pull you close, his face hidden in your shoulder, his breathing short and shallow as you stretch around him. It takes a few careful thrusts to get him all the way inside. Slow drags a few inches back, then a steady roll of his hips until his pelvis is pressed against yours.

"Ffffffuck, sweetheart… fuckin' hell-"

He only gives you a few short seconds before he's thrusting. Filling the room with the harsh slap of his skin on yours, the wet squish of your slick, and the echoing moans you can no longer contain.

"Si-Simon! Fu-ahhh! Fuck!"

He's not quiet either, to your surprise. In the past, you'd both been at risk of being caught. On base, hidden between paper thin walls, surrounded by other soldiers. Ghost's self control was honestly impressive, but he had to silence you in anyway he could. Either with his mouth on yours, his fingers down your throat, or just his palm slapped over your lips.

Yet here, in your own home, he's just as bad as you. Moaning freely, cursing and whining along with you, groaning deeply as he sucks at the soft skin of your throat. His teeth sink into your flesh and you clench around him, making him pull away with a gasp.

"Ffuuu… fuck… like that, do you?" He leans forward again, lower than before, leaving a harsh red mark over your collarbone.

One of his arms wiggles free from under you and his fingers appear at your clit, making you nearly sob at the sudden friction. Before you know it your panting and moaning, nearly falling to pieces as heat coils in your abdomen, threatening to toss you over the cliff and straight into oblivion.

You grunt, gasp, curl your legs up around Ghost's waist, then throw your head back with a hoarse cry, eyes shut tight as you cum.

Ghost only stops for a handful of seconds. Long enough to lean himself back on his knees with a grunt, his hands taking hold of your hips. Then, before you've even come back down to earth, he's fucking you again. Deep, hard strokes that have your already muddy thoughts washing away in bliss.

Your orgasm drags on and on as he chases his own high, leaving you a weak, whimpering mess as he manhandles you back into his thrusts. Not much later, he's curling over you again, his eyes clenched shut and lips parted. He rolls his his again, two, three more times. Then his shoulders shake and he moans lowly, his face suddenly slack with relief. You finally fall limp a few trembling seconds later. Utterly boneless beneath him.

The pair of you stay there for a while.

Ghost lets himself lean into you, laying mostly on his side, still buried to the hilt in the mess you both made. One of his arms found its way under you again, holding you close to his chest as he breathes slowly and evenly. If you didn't know better, you'd think he was asleep. But you did know better and you grunted softly as you tried to shift your legs.

"Alright, love?" He calls softly, his head raising just enough to look at you through the darkness. He hadn't turned the light on when he'd carried you in here. It would have wasted time.

"Y-yeah… feel like jelly…" you say, still sounding and feeling breathless. You swallow, throat dry, and twist in his grasp, making him groan quietly as his soft cock finally slips free of you.

He twists as well, moving you until you're curling against his chest, sweaty and sticky and satisfied.

"Gonna be able to make it to round two?" He asks teasingly.

You groan. "There's gonna be more?" It's playful. You know perfectly well how much it takes to satiate him. Ghost chuckles and you can't fight back the grin that bunches your cheeks in response.

"I just got here, sweetheart. Maybe if you hadn't worn a skirt…"

"Maybe if you'd given me a warning I could have changed." You wouldn't have, both of you know that. "My number was on that page too, Riley. Use it next time."

You couldn't see the way his jaw clenched when you said that. The way his eyes shifted through the shadows, wondering… thinking… considering the consequences.

Luckily, your hand trailing down his chest, over his jacket, pushes thoughts ever present fears away.

"You should take this off."

"You just wanna see my tits." He speaks before he thinks and it makes you laugh. A full, bright laugh that he's never heard from you before. Not that there's much place for laughter when he's got a gun in his hands and you've got lives on the line.

It makes him smile. Just a little. Not where you can see. The sultry smirks and teasing grins were easy, this kind of smile was different. Softer. It's gone as you tilt your head back to beam at him, not a single worry behind your eyes.

"Well, you saw mine. It's only fair."

#Simon Ghost Riley #Ghost MW2 #Ghost MW #Ghost x Reader #Simon Ghost Riley x Reader #Modern Warfare 2 #Call of Duty #CoD #Cod MW 2 #god tags are exhausting aren't they-#Smut #Ghost x Fem!Reader #okay throwing it into the void and running K BYE

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sstormyskyess · 28 days

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uhh thinking about robot!ghost

Your profession was a rare one in the British SAS. There was a stark lack of automaton soldiers, due to the stigmatization that surrounded the group, and a majority of the ones that made their way into the ranks knew how to manage their own circuits. But for the ones that didn’t, that’s where you come in.

As an advanced automaton mechanic, you’re highly proficient in the field of robotics. Your level of skill is appreciated by the few that require your expertise, as few and far between as they may be, which is exactly the reason you’re here in a quiet little cafe waiting for your newest assignment to arrive. You were able to do some personal research about them, having been allowed some of their documents to look over.

When Station Chief Kate Laswell had gotten in contact with you, you knew that it must be serious business. You’d met her a few years prior to now and your previous CO had sung your praises up and down, but you could’ve never expected that she would even remember you, let alone call you up and request your services.

So here you are, flipping through the limited pages of your new temporary team. As far as you could tell, none of them were automatons, unless one of them was the extremely rare life-like ones that looked almost scarily similar to humans. The strangest file was the one with no picture at all. The name on the file was ‘Simon Riley,’ and his nickname was ‘Ghost.’ Kind of scary, you think.

Before you have any more time to dwell on it, the bell on the door rings and Laswell walks in. She scans the room for you and smiles once she meets your eyes. She waves as she approaches and you peek behind her to see four men, all of which you recognize from the files aside from one: the one who wore a black balaclava that covered the majority of his face excluding his eyes. Ghost, you assume.

You stand up and meet them halfway, putting on your standard business smile while she introduces you, giving your name and rank. The man you recognize as Captain Price steps forward and shakes your hand firmly with a charming smile accentuated by his mustache and beard. He goes down the line introducing the rest of his squad and once he gets to Ghost, he lets the taller man step forward.

One of his gloved hands pulls back the sleeve on his left arm, presenting the inside of his wrist to you. You’re able to see through the decals on his arm the serial number imprinted on the surface of his wrist. You recognize the number immediately, rendered speechless for only a moment as you realize just how rare his model is. You’ve never met someone like him before and to be face to face with one of the most rare specimens on the planet as you knew it had you starstruck.

You’re quickly able to snap out of it so you don’t make yourself seem like a weirdo to people you just met and pull your hands away from where they were inspecting the engraved number. Ghost stays there, looking you up and down with a scrutinizing stare. “You ever worked with my model before?” His gruff voice takes you by surprise.

“Uh, no, actually. Mostly just standard models,” You explain, fiddling with the small bag of tools attached to your hip. “It’ll be interesting to work with you, lieutenant.”

And interesting it was.

You didn’t need to fix him up often; he was decent at getting out of scuffles unharmed and when he did get hit, his casing was strong enough to ward off most artillery aimed his way. Generally, you were performing simple check-ups after being out on the field, checking for damages and scuffing out minor scrapes.

The first time you had to get intensive with your repairs was a few months into your partnership with TF-141. He’d taken a bullet to the abdomen, just barely missing one of his core processors. He came back to your office barely functioning, the LEDs that constituted his eyes dim and flickering. It was a whole night ordeal fixing him, taking apart metal plates and working with deft fingers to take out malfunctioning parts and put in specially made replacements. By the time he was fully up and running, you’d been awake for seven hours straight with no breaks. You checked him over one last time and had passed out leaning on your workbench before he booted back up.

He wakes you up with a shake to your shoulders and you groan as you sit up, feeling the muscles in your neck and shoulders tensed up. You rub the sleep from your eyes and glance up at him, about to ask him what was wrong, but you’re cut off by the way his eyes peer down at you. You left his face plate on out of respect for his privacy, but now you were face to face with the naked circuits behind the sheet of metal previously covering them up.

But the reason it catches you off guard is the way they’re made up. Instead of the standard flat circuit board look an automaton’s true face had, Ghost’s face is much more… human. It’s almost organic, and if one didn’t know any better, they might assume he was just a human in a robot costume. And yet, his LED eyes still peer at you, a clear sign of his inorganic nature.

“Y’forgot to put my tag back in,” he says plainly, his voice echoing out from where his mouth would be.

Right. His tag. How did you forget that? It’s one of the most important things an automaton needs: something that keeps their identity straight when compared to other automatons. Looks like you made a great impression for your first time working on his body so intimately.

You clear your throat, looking away from his face and sliding your chair over to all your tools. You sift through everything cluttering the space and eventually find his tag, standing up to put it back in place in the junction between his neck and shoulder. All the while, his eyes were locked on you, making you squirm. Why did he always have to stare at you when you were working on him? It was starting to frustrate you, but you couldn’t focus on that when his bare face was threatening to distract you. God, you wanted to inspect him further.

He leaves when you finally get the tag back into its slot, granting you a quick ‘bye,’ before closing the door behind him. Well, if you weren’t already enamored by his one-of-a-kind model, you were certainly enamored by something else, now. Great.

idk where this one came from i just like sci-fi things i guess?

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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starsw1rl · 7 months

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DYING BY THE HAND

Relationship: Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader Summary: Siren, a newly yet skilled recruit, finds her way through Task 141 and learns important lessons, while also teaching some

A/N: lol so i already posted this months back but hopefully ill actually finish it this time!

Loud music blasts through the surround system of the club. Blood flows through the veins of the people, alcohol gets poured into glass after glass, and the music pumps off the walls and hits the crowd’s ears.

The whole bar was filled with a mixture of lonely people trying to drown in their sorrows, alcoholics who meet the devil himself as the glass touches their lips, or just people looking for the fix of a fun night.

It was almost sad that the only way these people felt any serotonin was through drugs or sex. At a secluded table, there was a couple conversing quietly on personal business.

People around them were either lost in their intoxicant drink, or either leaving lucky. A gruff man, who sat across from a woman, was a much larger build and had fluffy mutton chops.

He had a very charismatic look and a specific glimmer in his eyes as smiled at the blonde woman. She had a much smaller frame in contrast to the man.

She gave him a warm smile, but it was soon replaced with her original stoic face. His large veiny hands held a large manila envelope, making it look tiny as he placed it onto the table to hand to the blonde.

“Laswell, this is Siren” the gruff man started. “She is one of our ally’s current main spies and also is known for being the best sniper” The woman nodded and then he proceeded to talk, “I wish for her to soon be a new addition to the 141 Task team and believe she has more than potential…” He tries to persuade the woman.

She brings her hand up to her head and sighs. “Siren? Is there another name or is that the only name she goes by, Cap.?” He shakes his head and says “that's her only name recorded. She is known for not being able to be identified by a profile and her high level of secrecy.”

She laughed “Price, you know she’s a new recruit. How much experience does she have?” She opens the envelope and quickly scans the report.

“Siren is from Russia. She was somehow trained from the age of 12 and refuses to talk about her experience with her trainer. She never spoke about family or any personal ties besides the military. Apparently, she has taken out several head leaders and has a long list of killings of soviet military leaders while in Russia. She had to run as a refugee for a couple of months till she found us. I understand the lack of physical proof of her performances, but Laswell…she would do well with us. Siren has proved herself to me and I hope she can to both you and Shepherd as well. She’d be a beneficial addition to the team.” Captain says to the blonde.

Kate sits back in her chair and continues to read Siren’s resume. A sigh falls from her lips and Price awaits her answer.

Strobe lights dance across the bar while people try to find their own sense of euphoria in the mixture of sweat, alcohol, spit, and other mixtures that many would wish to not think about.

The thick humid air that had already filled the dance floor was now filling the rest of the large room. Many wished to seize their own moment in the club yet still would go home feeling as if they fell short. But the night is still young and is still attainable.

While that was going on, in some forest, Siren was sitting up in a tree watching a group of three soldiers walk cautiously through the trees and try to make out anything through the branches.

She took out her prized possession, Poseidon. Poseidon was her sniper and she had always been attached to it since she took it.

It originally was Ivon Petrov, who was Russia’s main spy, but when she took it, Petrov’s dead body hadn’t said much against it.

Plus the rifle with dark green wrap and a matching silencer with a carved design on the end was such a perfect beaut in her opinion, she couldn’t had passed the opportunity up nor allow anyone else feel worthy of her.

Siren watched them through her scope and silently peered toward the soldiers. Two of them were next to each other while there was another following a little behind them.

It was evident that the lone soldier was struggling to keep up and as they walked, they almost seemed to be injured. The soldier had an irregular step and was much farther from the group.

Locking her scope to the center of the soldier’s head, she took them out with no hesitation. As she watched the body disappear from the tall plants on the ground, her eyes focused on the two other soldiers left to take down.

The two kept walking slowly until one told the other, “I need to piss.” They both stopped and the other soldier turned their back while groaning.

As the soldier started to pull down their zipper, it was the perfect time to take out both of them and that was exactly what Siren did. She took out the one with their back turned first and then hit the one pissing.

She climbed around some trees and went higher. Heights have never been an issue to her as she always prefered to sleep in the trees in between missions.

Living off the grid is the only way she can survive without the Russians finding her or at least that's what she says. It's really just to ease her mind about them finding her.

Plus, she never really minded it. She always was in the trees when possible and always wondered how good of a sniper she would’ve been if it was any different.

The only thing she enjoys much more than being high up was nature. Russia was absolutely beautiful to her, but the people ruined it. Well, person.

Regardless, it also helped her learn astronomy as a random interest. The astronomy helped her immensely with directions of where she was at, where she was going to, and where she was coming from.

When she looks back on her younger years, all she can really ever recall was her training. She can never really recall certain memories before or anything in between the lessons she was given.

As much resentment she had built up over the years towards her apprentice, she still had an almost sickening appreciation for the lessons she learned, but still wondered how things could have played or been different.

She knew it was better to not dwell on the past and sit in her own self-pity, but if she didn't, who would? Siren always allowed herself to mourn, but in a more proper, scheduled manner yet, she still could not heal from what cannot be recalled.

She finally sets up camp for the night and notices the full moon above. She said a tiny prayer to the sky, a habit she picked up in her teen years. It wasn’t like she actually believed in a certain god, but she did believe in a higher being blessing her in weird ways.

Someone up there blessed her with trees and nature all around her. Her main struggle with a god was why would they even create such madness in humans. Whoever was there screwed the start of her life over, but she still believed that the start of her life was an inevitable lesson of how fucked humans are and how they will remain till their own demise.

War is a disgusting sight to see, but the before and after were always her favourite. Maybe God is just some sick masochist who got off to the destruction of their own creation. Or maybe there was no God. It didn't matter to her.

No matter her belief system, she saw prayer as a nice way to talk to ‘someone’ before bed.

The whooshing of the helicopter was not helping the current condition of 141. They had just gotten picked up from a mission that got ambushed. They were stationed in Las Almas and were looking for an Iranian terrorist, Hassan Zyani.

Apparently, there was more than expected and somehow Soap came out with two bullet wounds and Gaz had a stab wound. Luckily the rest made it without major injuries, but were still suffering from massive headaches, blown eardrums, or smaller faults.

Besides the loud helicopter propellers, the team sat in silence. The air was filled with a huge tension of mixed emotions.

There was a lot of anger, fear, sadness, and pure madness running through the whole team's heads as they were trying to calm themselves the whole ride back. The adrenaline also was not helping with their strong emotions, so they knew to stay silent. When they finally landed, both Johnny and Gaz were taken out of the helicopter and then rolled to the medical branch of the base.

Ghost knew Johnny was going to be fine, but there was still this worry and a little bit of anger with himself. Their ‘bromance’ was definitely noticeable, especially when listening to them talk on the radio; the constant banter, telling shitty ‘war jokes’, or even better yet, the constant playful flirting.

The two loved to tease each other till brotherly fights that the rest of the team sometimes has to break up. Ghost sees the whole squad equally as brothers, but Johnny was definitely and obviously even more than a brother to him. Their type of friendship goes unmentioned, yet still known by everyone and anyone.

Ghost got called to speak with Price and have a chat with Shephard. He groaned to himself as he was already pissed with himself for the fuck ups on the mission and really did not want to hear a lecture about it.

The two men gathered around an RV while the helicopter slowed down. Price was close to the screen while Ghost was sitting in the back, resting his hands in the arms of his vest.

An older man filled the screen and was waiting for the two men. Shepherd had news, which the captain was already aware of.

“Lieutenant” Price greeted. “Ghost,” Shepherd said sharply, ignoring Price. “Whatever the hell happened in Las Almas tonight does not matter anymore and we must move on. We will be able to get you guys back out there in the next couple of weeks, don’t fuck up again.” Shepherd lectured in anger.

“Speaking of which, there is soon to be a new recruit joining you. Price was the one who is extremely adamant about an addition to the team and I ask you to go and train her for the next couple of weeks while we wait for recovery from today’s mission,” he finished.

Ghost’s balaclava covered any reaction if he had any, whether it was confusion, anger, or defeat. It was always hard to identify any emotions on Ghost’s face due to the covering.

The only way of knowing how he felt was through his eyes and voice, but even then no one was able to. The general’s harsh and dismissive attitude on today’s mission annoyed Ghost, but he understood the mistakes that were made that day.

“Copy General. When should we expect her arrival?” Ghost’s raspy voice finally joins the conversation. The elder answers sternly, “She will be here by 0530. You must give her a warm welcome and introduce her to everyone.” Ghost ‘copies’ his orders and the elder dismisses himself.

Captain Price seemed almost thrilled that Shepherd cleared the new recruit and was soon to be training. Price also had a little gut feeling that the new recruit was going to also be teaching the team some lessons.

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