HAYLOFT ➣ Simon “Ghost” Riley x Original Female Character; angst, hurt, betrayal, eventual smut, gore and violence
short summary: Marzia Moretti, known as Siren, is one of the secret agents of the CIA, meant to deal with missions quietly and gather information. Not only did she work on her biggest mission for seven years, digging for information about the Sicilian Mafia which was running the most secretive human trafficking business, but she also did this to get revenge. Recently, she gets assigned to Task Force 141 in order to finish the mission once and for all.
part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5 || part 6 || part 7 || part 8
you can find this on ao3
I’LL ALWAYS COME HOME - Simon “Ghost” Riley x Younger Sister Riley (platonic); shared trauma, hurt, acceptance of inevitable, Simon watching Twilight
short summary: coming back late, means watching movies with his sister.
SILENT LOVER ➣ tiny blurb
WHY, SIMON? ➣ tiny blurb
JOHN PRICE
HONEYMOON HEADCANONS ➣ John Price x Gender Neutral Reader
HAPPY ENDING ➣ John Price x Wife Reader; hurt, fear of loss, fluff
short summary: he has a nightmare and you’re the only one who can calm him down
REASSURING LOVER ➣ tiny blurb
RADIANT ➣ John Price x Pregnant Wife Reader; fluff, domestic atmosphere, fear of throwing up
short summary: you wake up in the night from the pregnancy sickness and your husband comes to help you
JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH
BLAZE ➣ John “Soap” MacTavish x Gender Neutral Reader, callsign Blaze; angst, hurt, fear of loss, eventual fluff
short summary: you were never the one to listen to his orders, now look where it got you…
TALL READER HEADCANONS ➣ John “Soap” MacTavish x Tall Reader (afab!reader)
short summary: him coming from the mission too late, you think about dismissing him from the Special Forces. After all, you have a higher rank than him and the idea is appealing.
short summary: you playing a game with him leads into a game you don’t think you can handle
FULFILLING LOVER ➣ tiny blurb
MISC
SHORT READER HEADCANONS ➣ Alejandro Vargas, Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, John Price, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Valeria Garza, König x f!reader
LONGING LOVER ➣ König tiny blurb
DOMESTIC HEADCANNONS ➣ Alejandro Vargas, Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, John Price, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Valeria Garza, König, Rodolfo Parra x gn!reader
the fact that I haven't seen anyone talk about Ghost's or König's stretch marks. Not the ones from the muscle building, but from their growth spurt. On their legs - knees and thighs and on their back. Hell, with the size of König, his whole back must be covered in those beautiful stretch marks. Now that gives me a lot of ideas...
hello, if you’re still taking requests may I please request domestic&fluff hc’s of alejandro and price,thank you<3
DOMESTIC COD CHARACTERS X GN!READER HEADCANONS alejandro, ghost, soap, price, valeria, rodolfo, könig, gaz
Thank you so much for the request, anon! I thought that it was such a good idea that most of the characters deserve to have a few paragraphs! I hope you will like it!
warnings: curse words and tooth-rotting fluff.
ALEJANDRO VARGAS
Lazy Sundays are a must. As much as he is a passionate man, who loves to go exploring—sometimes the warmth of the bed and you make him feel so lazy. That man will whine, protest and create chaos if you’ll refuse to stay with him in bed and do nothing. A planned lunch with friends? Cancel it. In need of groceries? You’ll get order something. Just stay in bed with him if you don’t want to be suffocated in his arms.
Loves to prepare food but likes it too spicy. You can handle spice—but that man could easily get on the Hot Ones and not even shed a tear. For him, the seasoning is chilli peppers. The way you have to watch him like a hawk and force him not to put more spice into the stew - your doctor is already concerned about your health after you ate some stew he made—you almost ended up in the ER.
Loves it when you prepare him food. Yes, it’s not enough spicy for him, but he admires the variety of cuisines you can make. He won’t admit it, but the ravioli you make with mushrooms are to die for.
He isn’t much of a sweets-eating guy, but an occasional muffin goes well with a cup of coffee. His favourite are the triple chocolate muffins and once he almost burnt his hands because he tried to take the trays out of oven without the mittens. Your look was enough to scold him without any words being said.
Enjoys cuddling way too much. If you two are spending the evening together and watching a movie, you better know there isn’t any personal space between you two. Just try to scoot away from him. That man will give you the most hurt look you have ever seen, ready to give you the most dramatic monologue in Spanish that you don’t like him. His love language is touch—please be kind enough to kiss his insecurities away.
Has a garden in the backyard. Absolutely loves to grow his own vegetables and loves it when you are helping him. It’s the most domestic thing he does with you and it always makes him feel better. It puts his mind off the horrors he has to deal with in his job and just focuses on nourishing and growing something. A plus side for you—that man works in the garden without his shirt. And maybe that’s the reason why you’re so eager to help him.
Always will make you a warm bath when you are stressed. He isn’t the type of guy to threaten to hurt someone for making you stressed. He will more likely make sure you will feel better—a warm bath, fuzzy socks, a cup of tea and a cupcake. When it’s hard - he’ll listen to you, knowing just when and what to say to make you feel understood and better.
SIMON “GHOST” RILEY
That man is the definition of domestic. No mask around you, not a scent of gunpowder - nothing. When he is off the missions and with you - he is a different man. Not Lieutenant Ghost, but your Simon.
He really values quality time. Doing nothing with you, just being in the same room with you is relaxing. You couldn’t count how many times he has passed out into an hour-long nap just from how relaxed he was in your presence. He’d always wake up from a loud snore he’d produce, catching your giggle.
Not a very good cook, but he knows a few easy recipes that are divine. Somehow he manages to make an omelette so good that no other omelette compares—what the hell is he putting in there? In addition, he makes a hell of a good tea. It’s one of his love languages to just randomly get you a nice cup of tea without any words exchanged. Yet you know that the cup of warm liquid is his way of saying he loves you.
Loves working out with you. Especially after you two turned your garage into a working-out space. He was always very reserved and closed-up while working out because he usually did it among other soldiers, but with you it is fun! The way he puts you on his back when he is doing push-ups. The way he is looking at your ass without the care in the world when you are doing squats, just waiting to get his hands on your bum. When he’s working with you, he never wears a shirt—he loves seeing you getting distracted in your reps because he just flexed his muscles.
Enjoys reading anything. Some bullshit newspaper with dumb articles? He’s on it just so he could grumble like an old man that it was bullshit. Some gossip magazine you were reading? Hear him display annoyance over the Kardashian names. He loves reading Greek Mythology—it’s not complicated for him and he likes the way the hexameter flows in his mind. You could swear you heard him one night crying about Patroclus’ death, but you never mentioned it—
Big about back hugs. You making lunch? Back hug. You doing your skincare routine? His hands are around you and he is secretly waiting to be pampered as well. Only because of you he has a whole ass skincare routine because you were absolutely aghast once you heard that he washed his face a few times with dish soap.
Be sure that he loves cuddling. He’s very touch-starved and he needs reassurance about that. Can absolutely die when you kiss the top of his head or his forehead. Once, you scratched just the right spot on his scalp and you heard him purr—he gave you the look right there and then that if you’ll say a word - you’ll regret it. But you just continued scratching the spot and you confronted him later on—
Remember the way he loves taking naps? He loves napping with you even more! Especially when you are laying on him, already passed out. Once, he accidentally turned over in his sleep and squished you almost to death—it took quite some time for him to wake up and move away from you as you were just about to die. From then on, he’s always been a bit on guard while napping with you, but you always soothed him enough for him to drift off completely.
Not a fan of taking pictures, but you already have quite the collection in your drawer. Once you showed all of them, blabbering how perfect he looks and that was the first time you saw Simon flush. He was so overwhelmed with the compliments that he couldn’t handle them anymore. Grumbles and mumbles followed as he stormed out of the room and you were horribly sad that you didn’t have a camera back there to take a picture of his rosy cheeks.
JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH
Domestic Soap is a rare sight since he is quite the traveller and the chatter. He enjoys taking strolls with you, sightseeing, and travelling, but occasional evenings at home, doing nothing, are refreshing.
He loves to draw. He enjoys nothing more than sketching you when your attention is off to somewhere else - you always get too shy and too giddy when you notice that he is drawing you, so he does it secretly.
Once he gifted you a small sketchbook of sketches full of him and you. You started tearing up and he got seriously terrified—was he that bad at drawing? But once you clung onto his neck and expressed how talented he was, he was the one gulping down the tears. After that, you asked him to teach you how to draw—but then you quickly agreed that he should be the one sticking to it.
He is handy! Anything that needs to be fixed or changed will be done immediately. You don’t have to worry about flickering lights or getting new furniture since he can do it all himself! Yes, he does watch some tutorials on how to do something, but your garage is quickly filled with tons of tools and necessities for the household.
Shower time alone—what is that? You can be sure that once you even think about going to shower, that man will be already ready at the bathroom door. Once you were feeling too shy so you locked the door and he was whining like a lost puppy on the other side of the door. There was nothing more he loved than when you washed his Mohawk—even if he might seem like the 3in1 type of guy, he maintains a whole ass routine for his hair. You, taking care of it, means he trusts you.
Loves to watch reality shows with you. A little bit too invested in Too Hot To Handle, but he keeps on showing his concern when they keep breaking the rules. You always shut him up by asking if he’d manage to keep his hands off you, but he always says it is too different. And he boasts that his favourite couple always wins the money.
A big sucker for family celebrations. Can’t wait for Christmas or birthdays to gather with your or his family. He’s the type of person to make lame jokes around, but everyone loves him. He really is the star of any celebration except when it is another’s birthday. But most of it all, he loves to show you off to his family and friends. Can’t stop talking about you or giving you sweet looks. Couldn’t count on your fingers how many pictures you have where some aunty took a photo of you two—you laughing at his joke and him giving you heart eyes.
JOHN PRICE
Just like Simon, John is the definition of domestic as well. He loves having lazy mornings and lazy evenings as long as you are with him. If you tiptoe into the terrace while he is having his morning cigar and hug him from behind, that man will swoon instantly.
The one to bring you breakfast to your bed. He’s quite good at cooking and always surprises you with either an English Breakfast or something sweeter with a cup of tea of your liking. The presentation on the tray is always on spot—can do fabulous hearts on pancakes with Nutella.
Lets you take care of his beard. Now, listen—you see how well he takes care of his beard? It’s really important for him. You always eagerly help him to shave or to shape the beard, especially in the spots he can’t really see himself. There is just something about the way you sit on the bathroom counter, gently trimming his beard just the way he taught you.
Big on silly board games. Will absolutely crush you at Monopoly and Alias. Don’t even talk about any card games, because he might seem like he is an old man, but he quickly learns the rules and then no one can beat him. Every game night ends with you frowning and getting mad at him and him smugly saying that he will make it up to you.
Loves reading to you. Loves reading overall, but doesn’t spend much time doing so. That’s why, whenever you get on the couch into his arms with his book in your hand, he always smiles so widely that his cheeks start to burn. And when you admitted that his voice is the most pleasant thing you have ever heard—you can be sure that he will never deny your request to read for you out loud.
Big on dancing with you. Creating that cosy evening atmosphere when it is dark outside. When a stupid show is on the TV and he already goes to the Home Stereo and puts on some old, slow music, extending his hand to you. Either looking into your face or burying his nose into the crook of your neck while dancing—he just loves holding you close. Loves the way you giggle when he spins you around. Loves the way you wrap your arms around his neck and look him in the eyes.
Has a ridiculous amount of bucket hats. If it was up to him, he’d walk around the house you two share in them. But due to your protests, he only wears them outside. However, when you two are travelling and you put on his bucket hat to hide from the sunlight—that man is gone. Wherever you two are, you better hope your house or a hotel is close because he needs to show how much he loves you when you are wearing his hats.
VALERIA GARZA
It’s hard having Valeria over only for yourself. She is always not home. Always somewhere out there. Doing her business. Keeping you as far away from it as possible.
But some mornings, you would wake to find her all cuddled up to you—normally, Valeria would never admit that she loves cuddling up to you or being held by you. It was as if she always had to be on her guard, always to be superior and not show that she was quite fragile on the inside.
The way she would hum in pure ecstasy when you would pull her closer, gently stroke her hair because she knew well you won’t use the fact that she is without her guard against her.
You were the only person she shared her true smile with. No devilish grin, no mocking smiles—the first time you saw her truly smiling and her nose slightly scrunching - you were absolutely in heaven. You remember the way she absolutely demolished the pancakes you made one breakfast and the syrup was left around her mouth for you to kiss away. That’s when you received a smile from her and you knew it was only for you.
A big fan of your thighs. If you are sitting on the couch, watching TV, you better be sure that Valeria will lay her head on your thighs. You better put your hands to work and stroke her hair—make her time worth it.
Big on forehead kisses—there are countless forehead kisses you didn’t know about since she left in the middle of the night. She’d tuck you in, gently wrap herself away from your arms and kiss your forehead as if it was a butterfly’s touch. She’d admire you for a second—you were so beautiful.
Since she wasn’t home often, sometimes when she would come back - she’d find you waiting for her, drinking tea, doing some work on your laptop. She’d never specify when she is coming back, but it was as if you had a sixth sense for when she will come home. You better be sure that when she sees you late in the night, she will give you a kiss that will sweep you off your feet.
A whole different story is when you are sick. There wasn’t a time when you were sick and she wasn’t home. She was home all the time to take care of you. She’d spend restless nights just to make sure you were breathing and didn’t need something else. Your health was her priority - she couldn’t lose you.
At moments like these, she’d even show off her amazing cooking skills that only a sick state of you is allowed to see. She’d make you her grandmother’s stew which would make you feel better instantly, but you may or may not pretend to be sick just a tad bit longer so she would be beside you.
RODOLFO PARRA
This man does everything with you. He’s really big at doing chores together. Not only does he find that it’s far more efficient this way, but you two always make it far more fun than just swiping the dust—yes, the little dance breaks are a must.
Loves cooking with you. Anything really. Can be the sous-chef or can be the one giving you orders on what to do. It depends on which recipe you are making that day—if it’s yours, he will obey doing everything and if it’s his - he’ll let you do the easiest tasks because he doesn’t want to overwork you.
Definitely the golden retriever type of man so be prepared for his beautiful puppy eyes. He knows his power and he uses it against you. Just try to tell him no and face the way the consequences hit you on their own.
Always lets you have the last piece—I’m talking about anything. Last slice of pizza? It’s yours! Last piece of brownie? He’s already pushing it towards you. Last teabag of your favourite tea? Yours, yours and yours.
Really really big on hugs. Bear hugs precisely. Loves it when he can bury his nose into your neck and slightly squeeze you with his arms. The way your body fits in his always amazes him and he just can’t get enough of your warmth.
Always notices any changes you had. Went to the hairdresser? He will notice the one centimetre gone of your split ends. Changed your routine in makeup? Notices that you haven’t used that kind of eyeshadow before. Has all of the brands you used memorised and knows which product does what. Hell, he sometimes does your skincare or makeup for you.
Oddly good at handcrafting. If you are quite handsy with knitting, crocheting or sewing and you decide to show him how to do it, just know that he will quickly get the hang of it. He will even enjoy it and will never be ashamed to admit it. He thinks it’s amazing that you can create something with your hands and most of your gifts to each other quickly become something you two have made yourself.
KÖNIG
Domestic time with you means so much to him. Social anxiety can drain his energy and domestic time revives him. That doesn’t mean that you two don’t go out to have dinner or to watch a movie in the cinema, he just prefers to be home a bit more.
That man is a sucker for any romantic comedy. He will cry and laugh at any cliches and rewatch all of his favourite movies with you. If the couple is dancing in the rain, best know that he’s already looking at you with those eyes meaning that when it’ll rain - you two will be outside. Watching movies with you is relaxing - he knows you won’t judge the fact that he really isn’t into action or horror movies. His job puts him through enough. So romcom it is!
If you can sing or play any instrument, he’ll always listen to you do it. It’s very calming to him—hearing you practice, playing the chords wrong or hitting the wrong note always makes him smile. It feels refreshing to see you put your mind and soul into something so beautiful. Secretly, he takes some videos of you playing for him because he knows for sure that if you’d know he was filming you - you would stop playing.
Big on giving you massages. That man would do anything to get his hands on you, honestly… He enjoys the way you lean back to him when he gently kneads your shoulder blades. Please return the favor! If you want to put the giant man on his knees, a few gentle strokes down his back and he’s purring for you.
Really likes to colour with you those mandala colouring books. It might have seem silly at first, but you two are seated in the living room, only candlelight on the table as you two are colouring—one page for you and the other one for him. He always whines that he’s not able to choose the right colours, but always ends up with the most beautiful colour combinations making you rage out at him and poke his ribs. That man tends to doubt himself—praise him.
Likes to cocoon you into blankets and carry you around. No matter your protests, he will do whatever he pleases with you. Most of the time you just end up being placed on him during a movie, his lips buried at the top of your head and giving you small kisses.
If you take care of him of his fresh wounds, he will be very thankful for you. He never wants to make you worry, but with his size on the battlefield, he sometimes gets clumsy from the adrenaline overload. He appreciates how soft you are tending to him, placing kisses over scars and new bruises. Of course, after that, he receives a flick on his forehead from making you worry.
Big on asking random questions in the middle of the night. Just as you are about to fall asleep, comfortably wrapped in his arms, he’ll hit you with: “How many stomachs do cows have again?” The question makes you groan: “Four, my love, please sleep.” But that never shuts him up—then he will be concerned about the fact that you know the answer, and then he will google it and see some pictures that will traumatise him.
KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK
Loves to play video games with you. Yes, he is competitive most of the time, but if you are playing somewhere you two are in a team against others—you better know that he’ll protect you even in the game and praise you when you do a perfect headshot.
Despite him being a very outgoing partner, he sometimes needs quiet days. You know exactly when to give him his space and when to approach him with a cup of tea. He really appreciates the way you can read him as an open book.
Once you gifted him a huge set of Lego - Hogwarts edition and you saw his eyes sparkle like two shiny stars. He was seated all night putting it together and when he was finished, he was waking you up at four in the morning, getting you to the living room where the glory of his was standing. You swore you never have seen him smile like that.
Making sweets with him is quite frustrating. Because in 9 of 10 cases you end up with clothes dusted in flour or chocolate running down your nose—he’s playful. He’d do anything to make you squeal or laugh from the bottom of your heart. As an act of revenge, you always eat the last piece of cake you two have made together right in front of his face. Especially when he is already reaching for it.
Big on taking naps at a random time of the day—before going to sleep, he will kick up his legs on the coffee table and snooze out for ten minutes before joining you in bed. Likes it, even more, when you are the one to wake him up, but that ends up with you being on his lap, his lips peppering your body with small kisses while he is gently tickling you.
Hi, I just want to say that I really love all of your works so far <3
Keep going! 🫶🏼
Aaaah! Thank you so much for your kind words! Lately I’ve been having a lot of stress about my writing, but your words really made me feel a lot better! Have a lovely day/evening! xx
aaaaaaaaaa your "what kind of lover would he be?" collection make my heart so warm… Good job ! Can I request one for Alejandro ?
Alejandro would be a fulfilling lover. Your wishes are his commands. If he could, he’d kiss the ground you walk on. He will do anything you please—just ask.
Between his missions, he makes sure he spends his time with you completely. Showering you in kisses and sweet words is just the beginning. He often brings you flowers and little presents. Whatever reminds him of you - he will get it.
Absolutely loves having you in his arms—he always works so hard to keep your protected. His job isn’t easy - it’s messed up and one wrong step could put your life in danger. There is nothing more he fears than losing you, but he is too selfish to let you go.
Because of his lifestyle, he tends to do a lot with you. Not only cuddling in bed, but going out and just sometimes watching movies—anything you like.
When you are expressing your worry about him getting hurt - it’s as if a bullet has struck him again. He knows he is putting you through hell, but he has to keep his hometown and you safe. He has the power to do that, but he keeps on talking about retiring. He wants to have a family with you one day.
For Alejandro, it’s important that you would be there for him. There will be days where he will be struck with a loss and want nothing more than to be in your arms—be there for him. Hold him close, kiss his forehead, rub his back. Tell him how much he means to you and how important his role is in work. He trusts your words. Your opinion is important.
Because at some point, he will retire and he will come home with a nostalgic smile telling you that he is all yours. All yours to have. He may or may not tell that he wants to have four children and he may or may not earn a horrible gasp from you, but it didn’t matter back then.
Alejandro wants to fulfil all of your wishes—he will eventually fulfil your biggest one. Him coming back home.
thank you so much for the support on these small series xx
fandom: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Original Female Character
short summary: Marzia Moretti, known as Siren, is one of the secret agents of the CIA, meant to deal with missions quietly and gather information. Not only did she work on her biggest mission for seven years, digging for information about the Sicilian Mafia which was running the most secretive human trafficking business, but she also did this to get revenge. Recently, she gets assigned to Task Force 141 in order to finish the mission once and for all.
translation of Italian can be found at the end. You can also read this book on ao3
previous chapters: on my masterlist
warnings: human trafficking, rescue mission, blood, gore, deaths
Linda Walker didn’t have anything incriminating apart from her walk in her park which only showed that she was one of the people who squeezed cigarette buds on the pavement instead of throwing them out where they belonged. The woman was taking her freedom seriously and staying undercover as much as she could.
Some unusual activity has been noticed from a private warehouse district in the district of Toscana. Some businessmen owned it for shipping huge cargo out with ships – deliveries. Intel managed to find out that a few transactions from that business ended up with Linda Walker years ago before she was in prison. It also has been confirmed, that the place was swarming with people during the night—night security as they called them, but they believed that the night security won’t be holding assault rifles with bulletproof vests.
The warehouse district was big enough for the Task Force to split up in order to cover it all. The buildings were surrounded by huge containers, meant for shipment. The place was swarming with criminals, probably Torros, only to show that they were hiding something incriminating.
The plan was that Price and Soap will cover the left wing of the warehouse building complex. Siren and Ghost will take care of the right wing. Gaz will find a high place to keep them informed about incoming danger and protect their backs. The mission was meant to be quiet and quick. There weren’t a lot of guards to take care of, so the need for them to use assault rifles was unnecessary. The best play out there was silenced pistols and knives.
Siren has almost forgotten what it was like to wear a proper military vest. It was tough at first to wear it, the weight of little pouches full of med kits, ammo and other necessities attached to her. It reminded her of the seriousness of the situation. This wasn’t a satin red dress meant to charm and even if she felt odd with this extra weight and a silenced pistol in her hands, she liked the change of a mission.
The warehouse complex was near the sea—the area around it was fairly abandoned. A lot of ‘keep-out’ signs in the distance of five kilometres from this place. There were three main buildings: all made from metal, industrial type – once were fabrics, but now were used for storage. The shipment containers were outside, a few transporting vehicles were parked around. There was a large fence around all that complex, that’s why Ghost had some metal cutters strapped to his back, already cutting their way through to the right ring.
They chose a spot to hide where one of those containers was placed in front of the fence. Ghost looked down at his Sergeant, watching as she took her hunting knife out of the case strapped to her thigh. Doing the same, he peaked through the corner, noticing two guys making their rounds and he motioned for her to go around the container to take care of one of them.
Nodding, she silently moved towards the man, waiting for the moment when he passed her container. The headache-causing lamp from above was making her wince—this place really looked eerie at the night. But she ended up at the end of the container, grabbing the man from behind by his mouth, muffling his mouth and plunging the knife through below his chin upwards, hearing a disgusting squelch of his meat, the man instantly growing limp. She dropped him on the ground without hesitation, noticing the tall frame near her do exactly the same.
Ghost looked at her and she gave him a nod, motioning for him to lead the way. It surprised him how calm Siren has been this whole day. Even at the base, preparing to leave, she was focused on making sure her vest was secured on her body and that she had everything she needed. He didn’t know why he was always so impressed with her ability to be determined about something. He already has noticed the way she works. She knows when to draw a line between work and fun.
Getting closer to the entrance of the right-wing, he heard a set of footsteps again, motioning her to go around another container to take another guy out. Himself, he walked out of the shadows, grasping the man towards himself as he covered his mouth with his gloved hand and pushed the knife through his temples. Soon enough, she joined him in the shadows as well, her vest slightly bloody, but she didn’t seem to care about it.
Near the entrance, there were another two guards standing there. Both of them seemed determined—they weren’t bored. They didn’t even look tired.
Moving back, he noticed how she grabbed a little pebble from the ground, throwing it to the right of the entrance, getting a reaction out of the guys. She moved around the container from the other side, seeing the man closer to her notice her presence and raise his rifle, but she extended her hand with the pistol and shot a clean silent bullet into his eye socket—ugh. His friend noticed his comrade falling and as he was about to turn on his radio, she appeared in his view and offered him two bullets: one in the stomach and the other to his forehead.
Ghost simply stood there, annoyed with her not waiting for his order to proceed. But she took care of that nicely. “Show off,” he mumbled.
The woman overheard that and she fought back her smile, dramatically bowing, extending her hands towards the door for him to keep on going.
The metal door wasn’t unlocked and they both stepped into a large area of the same containers and shelves. Ghost quickly pushed the button on his comms, speaking into it: “Captain, this is Ghost. We’re inside.”
“Copy that. We’re in the left wing.” Price announced.
The inside was eerie—the translucent lights were slightly flickering and the electricity was buzzing loudly. It was a huge space full of the same containers. Nothing looked suspicious, but it was too soon to judge that.
Moving away from the door, he motioned for her to go to the other side to take care of the rest guards. Siren complied and moved to the right, hearing some distant footsteps. She pressed her back to the wall, hiding herself behind a small column, hearing the footsteps coming in closer.
“Io le comprerei,” the man spoke, startling her for a second, making her realise that he wasn’t talking with her.
“Non hai tutti quei soldi,” a distant voice coming through a static noise was overheard.
The man chuckled, his footsteps getting closer: “Potrei rubarne uno. Ce ne sono molti altri.”
The two men were speaking about people. Stealing them. Selling them. As a joke. It was at that moment that she realised that they have hit the jackpot—this warehouse was on the right track. This place was somehow related to human trafficking, but they needed to find out how.
Siren didn’t wait for the other guy to answer and she spun, seeing a tall guy in front of her widen his eyes, but she plunged his knife into his chest, hearing him croak out in surprise. His eyes were wide, mouth open to choke something out, but nothing came out of it. She retrieved her knife and kicked his knee, making him fall in front of her, and leaving him to die.
The thud of his body on the concrete made a few whimpers appear in the space. “Ghost, you copy?” She spoke into her comms.
“This place is empty,” he replied.
“The guard was speaking about buying someone. We’re on the right track.”
Siren didn’t receive another answer from him as his figure was visible in the distance, coming towards her.
“What did they say?” His rough voice always made her feel uneasy, noticing that the comms soften it slightly.
“One of them wants to buy someone, and talks about stealing since he doesn’t have that kind of money.”
Another distant whimper was heard. Knitting her eyebrows together, she went to the closest container, knocking on the metal. Pressing her ear to the coldness of it, she heard a muffled whimper coming from the inside, making her heart drop to the ground.
Turning to Ghost, she choked out: “People.”
Siren moved to the front of it, putting a bullet through the lock of it and ripping it off the loop. Loudly, the door opened, hitting her with a stench. It was rust and body liquids—piss, sweat and a hint of iron – blood. The light from the room revealed about twenty women turning their heads to her—mouths tied, hands tied and horribly terrified.
Putting the gun in her holder, she immediately raised her hands in a surrendering manner, looking at the shaken figures of these women—they were of different ages, and most of them were young, too young, just like the list they have decoded.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Siren silently announced in Italian, knowing they will be listening to her. “I’ll get you out of here immediately.”
Ghost walked behind her, looking at the open cargo. A frown tugged on his lips. His job wasn’t easy and he lived with haunting images every night. Even if killing people wasn’t bringing him down, the rescuing missions always made him feel sick to the stomach. So much fear was lingering in the air, the muffled whimpers by the duct tape and he knew well his whole appearance wasn’t making them feel better. So for the first time, he was glad Siren was there.
He watched how she said something in Italian, her tone was soothing. She worked on the binds of the first girl. A girl. She was not older than eight years old, her summer dress was ripped in some places and dirty. Her arms were visibly bruised and when Siren removed the duct tape from her mouth, she started to cry without a sound.
She clung onto Siren immediately, silencing her sobs in her overstuffed vest. Lieutenant felt uneasy watching this, but he stepped inside, taking the binds off an older woman, hearing them all whimper louder.
Siren said something in Italian again and he knew she was speaking about him. Hopefully, she wasn’t turning them against him. After her words, the women seemed to calm down just a little bit. Ghost gave a small pocket knife to the older woman, not knowing how to say that she should help the others, but she understood everything without telling her anything and got to work.
“There are more in the other containers. Let’s go,” Siren urged in English, both of them leaving the container.
Moving in different directions, the Lieutenant contacted Price, telling them that they should check all of the containers because there were victims inside. After that, they worked quickly and silently.
There were about ten people and more in the containers—twelve containers in total. Most of them were women, from ages four to forty. Ghost tried to ignore the lump in his throat and not look them in the eye as he was trying to help them. However, he knew that whatever he saw today, will haunt him in the night as well.
He overheard Siren opening the last container and she gasped, not saying anything. The man peeked his head through the container, watching her figure looking at the container, frozen. He quickly made his way to her, looking from behind her, noticing a pile of dead bodies just tossed on top of another. It smelled like rotten meat and excrement—fuck… Quickly, he grabbed the door of the container and closed it, making her turn around to face him.
Her eyes were wide and teary—she was slightly away from him, not thinking straight at his moment. His gloved hands squeezed her shoulders tighter, making her pupils widen for a second before she looked at his eyes through the mask.
“You with me?” His voice was rough and breathy—he was trying not to react to the dead bodies behind them.
“Yeah—yeah,” she shook her head as if she was trying to snap out of it. Then she nodded, breathing in: “We checked all of the containers. Let’s get them to Gaz.”
Clearly, she wasn’t okay, but he was in no position to soothe her. Now, all that mattered was to get these people to safety. It was their job. They will battle their emotions in the night.
As Siren went to gather them up, he pressed on his comms: “Gaz, get to the place of agreement. Over.”
“Moving to the spot, Lieutenant,” Gaz’s voice reached him through the headset as they all agreed beforehand that if they would be able to find some of the kidnapped people, Gaz would show up at the entry of the whole warehouse complex, calling for some backup to transport the people into safety.
There were about one hundred people out of the containers. Some of the women were too weak to walk, but the others made sure to hold them in place. Ghost came closer to Siren, who was explaining everything to them in Italian, gesturing a few times to him. The same girl, who clung onto Siren before, quickly made her way to him, her bruised little fists grasping the end of his jacket. He looked down, his breath hitching, making him curse silently as this was reminding him of his past. Ghost could never understand how others were that evil to hurt children.
That’s why he didn’t move her away from him—he could never. Even if he was surprised that she wasn’t scared of his skull mask, he had to realise that she has been through so much worse. And just like that, he scooped her in his arms as soon as Siren gave him the sign that they can go to the entry of the warehouse complex.
There were a few relieved sounds coming from the people as soon as they were outside. As they went to Gaz, Price and Soap were there as well, with about fifty people as well.
Siren took the initiative to explain to the poor people what was going on. The shaking figures of the people seemed to relax just a little bit, giving Ghost an opportunity to place the little girl beside him, making her grasp the end of his jacket as well. It made him realise that perhaps she was alone in here—Jesus, her parents must be going crazy. The girl was clinging onto him as if he was her saviour and he just wanted to hold her close and promise her that no one will hurt her again.
A promise he once couldn’t keep.
In the distance, he noticed Siren talking with one of the women. The poor woman was grasping Siren’s shoulders desperately, a quick conversation going between the two. Only then he noticed that Siren was slightly shaking—the view of the last container was following her. She looked tired. All of them were.
Siren walked closer to them, announcing: “I’m going back in. One of them claims she had a little sister and they took her away. I will scoop the building once again.”
“No, let me,” Soap disagreed. “We don’t speak Italian if somethin’ happens.”
“Backup is coming—they’ll handle it,” she pointed out since the backup will be mostly Giovanni’s crew. “I’ll be quick. In and out.”
Siren looked at Ghost, then down at the little girl, offering her a small smile.
“Alright. Go find her,” Ghost agreed and watched the way her figure faded away in the sea of containers.
Siren tried not to think. Tried to stay professional. At least for now. She couldn’t break down at this moment. She got back into the right wing, not checking the containers again, but moving to the metal stairs that were at the end of the room. She quickly moved up, revealing a small watching area to the containers below.
There wasn’t seem to be anything in there, but she moved to the end of it, seeing a door at the end of the corridor and she opened it. It was an office—well, papers were on the floor and everything was messy. It wasn’t used for working, but it was empty.
Then thought that the sister of the woman could be in the container alongside the dead bodies made her take a deep breath and close her eyes. Placing her hands on her thighs, she leaned a little bit forwards and tried to control her breathing.
She had to stay strong. For now.
Shaking her head, she sniffed, blinking faster so that she wouldn’t cry and she turned around to leave before she noticed a closet. It was a shot in the dark, but she moved to it, opening the two doors and she breathed in deeply, her voice getting stuck in her throat.
There was their trap.
There was the little girl. Looking at her with wide, teary eyes, shaking like a little leaf. Her back was pressed against the wooden wall of the closet behind her, hands tied together in front of her, mouth taped shut as the little figure of her was wrapped in a time bomb.
Turning on her comms, she pressed the button and opened her mouth to speak, but then she slightly moved to the side, watching the little screen on the side of the bomb, the numbers flashing how much time she had left: 00.01.30
“I found the girl. She’s strapped to a bomb. I’ll get her out.”
The four men furrowed their eyebrows immediately as they heard her voice through the comms, coming through a little whine of a small girl. Her words were slightly muffled, the static noise overtaking most of it, making the Captain move further away from the crowd of people.
“Siren, repeat that. Did you find the girl?”
Price shared a concerned look with Ghost and now they all understood what was happening—there was the trap.
A distant Italian was heard coming through the static—she was talking with the little girl before some words reached them: “I repeat – there’s a bomb on the girl. A bomb.”
Fuck.
“Siren, can you get it off the girl?”
More incoherent noises reached them all before the static ended—they lost her. Captain’s eyes widen and he choked out a breath: “I’m getting in there. Gaz, call the detonator team. We need them ASAP.”
“I’m coming with you,” Soap nodded, but before any of them could move any further.
A thud.
The ground started to shake slightly as the metal down the hill started to shake, a burst of flames visible on the right wing. The saved people gasped loudly, moving slightly down, covering their ears as the glasses in the warehouse buildings shattered from the sudden explosion.
“No,” Price whispered, moving closer, shaking his head. “No—no! NO!” He shouted, grasping his comms, and pressing the damn button: “Siren, please tell me you are there!”
The radio was quiet.
Ghost was looking into the flames coming from the warehouse building, covering the girl’s eyes, pressing her closer to his leg. His mouth turned dry—yet he couldn’t take away his eyes off the flames even if he wanted to run there and find her alive.
That’s why he preferred working alone. That’s why he couldn’t listen to the desperate try of the Captain to contact Siren. That’s why he started to tremble slightly since they all knew that this was going to be a trap and they still let her walk back in there. Everything was going too smoothly that they forgot that this had to be planned as well.
That’s why when a small child was running towards them, with smoked cheeks and loud cries that alerted the whole district, it made their hearts drop to the ground. The little girl was there. But another figure didn’t appear from the bright flames.
Siren did her job.
Translations:
"Io le comprerei” - I'll buy her in Italian
“Non hai tutti quei soldi” - You don't have that much money in Italian
“Potrei rubarne uno. Ce ne sono molti altri" - I could steal one. There are many others in Italian
you said that ghost would be a silent lover and price would be a reassuring lover now what are your thoughts on könig? what kind of lover would he be?
Ghost is a silent lover. Price is a reassuring lover.
König is the longing lover. Not because he has social anxiety or that he has a hard time to be among people. He needs reassurance both from you and from himself.
He longs for you. It’s as if you are the most beautiful art piece he has ever seen in his life and he cannot stop himself from visiting the museum over and over again until all of the guides and security guards know who he is.
The domestic feeling you provide him makes him long for you. The way the house smells like breakfast in the morning and the way the scent of herbal tea overtakes it in the evenings. And your poppyseed cake—oh…
Being in the military sometimes takes the strength out of him—seeing death, being among other people he may not tolerate well - it’s tough. All of those remarks about his height, the way he looks, the way he couldn’t be a sniper—he just wants to come back home to you.
A little glued thing he was next to you. Where you are - he is. Not to mention the way he enjoys the fact that he can always heat you up and that’s why he follows you around. That’s why he sometimes turns the heater off just so he could have a reason to hug you.
You have never seen him in his sniper mask—he only wore it to protect his identity at needed times, not to put distance between you two. He loved the way you looked at him, the way you traced your fingers on his crooked nose, the way you stroked his hair—he knew you longed for him too.
It didn’t matter if you two were apart for two hours or two months—he ached for you. He didn’t know that it was possible, but he couldn’t breathe normally without you. It was as if everything was worse without you—too many people, too loud, too much, too much, too much…
With you, he was him again. Not a soldier, not König, just him—your beloved.
fandom: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Original Female Character
short summary: Marzia Moretti, known as Siren, is one of the secret agents of the CIA, meant to deal with missions quietly and gather information. Not only did she work on her biggest mission for seven years, digging for information about the Sicilian Mafia which was running the most secretive human trafficking business, but she also did this to get revenge. Recently, she gets assigned to Task Force 141 in order to finish the mission once and for all.
translation of Italian can be found at the end. You can also read this book on ao3
previous chapters: on my masterlist
warnings: mentions of death, curse words
The harsh wind didn’t feel like summer on her skin. The sunlight dropping on her exposed shoulders was rough—everything seemed to prick her skin. The air was slightly moist, getting stuck in the back of her throat. The steps were as if sinking into the grass, leaving footsteps—she knew it was way worse with her pounding head, but she had to do it.
The stone in front of her was polished. The sun was glistering on the greyish stone, fading the engraved letters on it. Standing there silently, she forced herself to breathe, but the tears started to fall.
When he died, she didn’t come to the funeral. She tried to tell herself that it was no use since the casket beneath her feet was empty—his body burned in the explosion. Perhaps, she wasn’t ready to tell goodbye back then, she wasn’t ready to let go of him. Hell, she couldn’t let go of him ever since she took that mission upon her shoulders.
Shaped by revenge she was. Tired from it she was. She wanted him back.
Extending her hand, she touched the cold stone that made her lips quiver. She wanted to tell him so many things, but nothing came into her head right now. An apology would be the best start since she didn’t show up here for seven years. But she stood there silent.
Her mind would often wonder if everything would be different if he hasn’t died. Would they have had children? Would they have gotten a small house near the sea? He always looked at her with the widest smile when she told him she wanted to live near the sea and he would protest because the seagulls would drive them insane.
She always replied that it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter since he was with her.
“Hey,” she managed to mumble in Italian, squatting down, and sitting on the grass in front of the stone. “I know I haven’t been here. I couldn’t.” She tried not to choke on her words, ignoring the sting in her throat as she tried not to sob. “I made it—I’m trying to make the world a little bit better. I don’t think I’m succeeding. Or—I don’t think I’m doing anything. But I try… That’s what you told me, right? Don’t be afraid to try…”
Wiping the tears away from her cheeks, she read his name again and she pushed her knees to her chest, pushing her face on them, hiding from the view of his name. Her fingers touched the grass, slightly grabbing it, ripping it. “It should’ve been me that day,” she whispered. “You always knew how to live. You knew how to—make the best out of it.”
Pressing her palms to the ground, she reminded herself that he wasn’t there. He wasn’t there.
“I didn’t say I love you enough,” her voice broke at the end and she straightened her back, looking at the stone again. Taking her dog tags off her, she opened the chain, taking the ring off them. Holding it in her right palm, she was looking at it. “I didn’t cherish you enough.”
The pain in her chest was opening just as if he died yesterday. The memory of him, of them, was crashing into her skull, choking her lungs from ever breathing again. “I want to love again. But my job is to die tomorrow. No happy ending, right?”
Shaking her head, she tried to suppress the fact that she was sobbing—but why was she hiding? From who was she hiding? It was just her and him. Just like before. But from the moment she will stand up and leave, it’ll be just her.
Standing up, she placed the golden ring on the stone, gently giving it the last stroke, and offering it a soft smile. “We’re unfortunate, but I’ll meet you again.”
Putting the dog tags back on her neck, she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply before looking at the horizon.
Just go. She needed to go.
─────── ·𖥸· ───────
Linda Walker was a codename for one of the criminals in Interpol. Mostly worked with terrorist organisations – orchestrated the bombings in the USA and Europe. A few years have sat in a prison, but with a lot of money, and good behaviour involved, she managed to bribe people around her and get out. After that, she hasn’t committed any recent crimes that would incriminate her name, meaning she was working quietly and unrecognisably.
Laswell has confirmed that Intel was keeping an eye on her and haven’t noticed any suspicious activity. Well, of course not, a criminal like her wouldn’t be meeting sketchy people in the middle of the streets. She had the money and others did the dirty work for her when she could calmly take strolls in the park.
Linda Walker was last noticed in London, but Task Force 141 was instructed to stay in Italy because most of the victims' names were Italian. It was worth mentioning, that Laswell was happy with the work of Siren and Ghost, even saying that she didn’t expect them to co-work on this. Laswell really thought that Siren will be at his throat already—but that’s perhaps for later.
For the moment, Intel and the other Special Agents will handle Linda Walker and get them the next lead. While Task Force 141 just has to be ready to proceed with the upcoming mission immediately. There was no time to waste.
Siren missed England. Or any other country that wasn’t Italy. Even if yesterday’s visit to the graveyard took a huge weight off her shoulders, it still felt like she was suffocating. At least, she finally got a normal amount of sleep, hoping that the next morning will be better. But wasn’t it foolish for her to think so when she knows that tomorrow could be her last day?
However that Linda woman was related to this task, some action will rise from it. A trap or not, they will be smart enough to handle it without any casualties.
Pushing her fingers to her palm into fists, she checked if the bandages around her hands weren’t too tight. Looking at the punching bag in front of her, she adjusted her posture: one leg a bit forwards, bent, posture slightly crooked, holding the strength in the core.
Punching the bag, it swung from her strength, making her work for it. The ache on her knuckles was a bit unfamiliar—it was a long time since she has trained for fighting. But she hasn’t forgotten it. In her head, Price’s voice always circled in her brain: “Make sure to breathe. Control the punch. Be careful with the movement—your shoulders are fragile. Don’t straighten your back. Focus.”
“Wanna practice with me?” A Scottish accent made her stop in her tracks, grabbing the punching bag to stop it from swinging. Looking from over her shoulder she was met with the Sergeant, who was wearing a tank top, his muscles glistening in sweat, a towel over his shoulder.
Noticing that she was looking, the man smirked: “Like what ya see, love?”
“Why do you think I joined the Army in the first place?” Siren replied, a cheeky smile on her face. “I get to watch men shirtless.”
“Are you asking me to take off m'shirt?” Soap slightly lifted his eyebrows.
Rolling her shoulders back, she moved past him, walking into a little space with mattresses meant for fighting. “Maybe,” she shrugged and motioned for him to come to her.
The man dropped the towel beside the mattresses, fixing his bandages on his hands as well, a smug grin on his face. “Come on, love. If you win - I’ll take it off.”
“And if you win? Let me guess, I take mine off?”
Soap stepped on the mattresses, visibly looking at her up and down. “I get to take it off you.”
What a cheeky guy he was—Siren breathed out a burst of small laughter, moving her body into a position ready to strike—arms in front of her, bend through the elbows, fists tight. “Is it the right time to tell you I’m not into younger men?”
“I do love a challenge,” he grinned, before making the first punch.
The two of them moved in a calculated manner. They both were trained soldiers. However, he exceeded with his strength and build, but she was quicker. Both of them missed the first few punches—they were just testing the waters. Noticing that Soap hit the throat first and Siren preferred the stomach.
Siren threw the punch at him, which he caught in his palm, quickly twisting her hand to the other side, making her spin a bit, him locking the hand behind her. She huffed in pain, feeling the electric bolt move towards her elbow, but she gathered herself quickly, pushing her left foot backwards, hitting his knee with force—right on the nerve. The grip on her hand eased and she launched forwards, spinning around, grasping his right arm and twisting it behind him, kicking her foot to the back of his knee, making him kneel on one leg.
Grasping the locked hand of his, she pushed him back into her chest, leaning slightly down: “It’s not a challenge if I already won.”
Siren heard him chuckle, the back muscles tightening around her. He quickly moved back his free hand, grabbing her ankle and tugging it towards him, making her lose balance and launch forwards. The act made him free his hands and he pushed them to her waist, making her turn over him and drop on the mattresses.
The sting in her back was as if a bolt of lightning, making her huff out, but she didn’t give him a chance to pin her to the ground, she extended her leg, hooking it around his calf, pushing it towards her. Losing his balance as well, he dropped towards her, but she rolled to the side. As soon as the man dropped, she hopped on his thighs, squeezing her thighs around them, grasping his hands with one of her hands as the other moved to his throat as if she was holding a knife.
“I’m impressed,” he admitted and she gave him a victorious smile, releasing her grip from him, helping him get up.
“I’ll keep the terms of our conditions in my mind, Soap,” she breathed out, her chest rising heavily – muscles slightly burning.
Soap slightly nudged her arm with his fist before hopping off the mattresses, taking his towel and moving further to keep with his workout routine. Just as she was about to sit down, she noticed the large frame in her peripheral vision, standing on the right, leaning against the wall.
“Wanna try it with me?” His voice trailed shivers down her body as he moved closer and she forced herself to inhale. Moving to the side, she grabbed a bottle of water, taking a few sips from it before she averted her stare from him.
Lord—he was wearing a simple dark cargo shirt. His arms were uncovered and that made her brain freeze for a few seconds. His left forearm was draining in ink—a variety of tattoos clashed together, the biggest of them – a skull visible from afar. His biceps were toned, squeezed in that poor thermal shirt. Veins were prominent on his forearms—slightly twitching. Unconsciously, she licked her lips.
“I would fight you if I didn’t find you attractive,” she admitted, speaking cold truth with that laced cheekiness.
The man only moved closer, stepping on the mattress, and wrapping his hands with the bandage. His moves were calculated, giving her a better view to look at his muscles. She wasn’t an idiot – she knew she stood no chance against him—he was double the size of her and he could easily pick her up with one hand and it would be over.
“Is that an excuse coming from you?” His voice was gravel as if the pointy pebbles you’d step on over a hot summer day.
“It’s a confession,” she breathed out, putting the water bottle down and stepping on the mattress again.
Seeing him just a meter away from her, she gulped—he was hilariously muscular and tall. She did mention that it was good to have him on her side, but training with him didn’t cross her mind once. But she stood in her position – she won’t give him the satisfaction of her acknowledging that he was stronger than her without a fight.
Ghost looked at her figure, she was glistering with sweat over her toned body. Her cheeks were slightly flustered—small patches of red all around her face, but she was smirking with her plump lips, freshly bitten and red. He knew she had no chance over him, but she surprisingly well handled Soap in their little practising session. He’s admiring her courage.
The man slightly motioned with his hands to come at him and she chuckled, because she lunged forwards, throwing her punch at him, which he caught without a second thought in his eyes. She knew she won’t succeed, but her tactic involved her getting her ass beaten a few times.
“That’s embarrassing,” he mumbled through the mask, making her raise her head to look into his alluring eyes.
“I’m warming up,” she stated and pushed her hand away, standing too close to him.
Taking a step back, she motioned for him to strike her: “Your turn.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he mumbled.
Raising her eyebrow, she put her hands behind her for a second: “Don’t tell me all that bullshit about not hitting a girl.” A little mocking smile was on her face, knowing that she was stirring inside of him something she will regret later, but she couldn’t help herself.
Leaning forward, she watched the way he shifted and he was to strike. She expected him to hit her throat, it was one of the worst places to hit your opponent and of course, he would use it. She ducked down, her fist extending into a half-circle aiming for his stomach as he leaned back before she touched him. After that, they both shared a little look, a small smile lingering on her lips—adrenaline was already in their veins.
Lieutenant took her smile as a sign, quickly moving behind her, locking her neck with his right arm as with the other arm he pushed her hands together, hearing a little whine leaving her lips. Siren extended her leg backwards, hitting his knee with her heel, making his grip around her ease up, ducking forwards and turning around to face him.
Ghost felt the sting in his knee, making him breathe out louder, crooking his head slightly to the side. A non-existent smirk appeared on his lips—not bad. Siren tried to punch him again, but he grabbed her hand and locked it behind her, feeling her chest rising quicker. She stomped on his foot with force, trying to inflict pain through the hard boot, retrieving her locked hand back as she leaned back and grabbed his thigh with both of her hands, pushing him onto the ground. A stretched whine was overheard leaving her lips as she didn’t calculate that he was that much heavier than she expected.
His body hit the mattresses with a grunt that left his lips as she placed her knee on her chest, her hands outstretched to hold his hands to the ground. Others would feel as if it was an embarrassment to lose to her like that, but he was impressed that she had far more strength inside of her than it looked. “Still warming up?” He inquired, trying to get her out of focus.
Their eyes met, wide and slightly flustered as her face had a little bit more colour than before. A victorious smile sat on her lips that made his heart thud loudly before he pushed his knee up, hitting her side. He pushed his legs up to hit her with force again and as soon as she gasped from pain, he grabbed her waist, pushing her onto the ground and rolling on her. His hand wrapped around her throat as with the other he gripped her wrists above her head.
She tasted the metallic flavour on her tongue as her lip was bleeding from the impact of the floor. Their eyes met once again and she felt slightly dizzy, he looked quite ravishing on top, making her realise that she enjoyed getting manhandled by him quite a lot.
“I kinda like this position, don’t you?” Her voice was breathy, and his grip on her neck was firm enough to slightly close her airways.
Instead of answering, his eyes slightly narrowed, darkening in the motion and she winked at him, pushing her knees between his thighs—lord, his thighs and spreading her legs roughly, stretching his inner thigh muscles painfully. By pushing her abdomen slightly up, his hand on her throat slightly moved and she was able to push her head to the side and within the force of her body roll on the side, getting a grip of her own hands.
As she rolled her body to the side, she slid her legs from underneath him and as she was about to stand up, he stretched his leg to kick her off the balance, but she caught his leg with both of her hands, pushing it towards her as he fell on his back, releasing a grunt. Within a swift movement, she sat on his lap, mimicking the movements that he did just a second ago.
“Don’t you like women on top?” Her lip was bruised, a little bit of blood falling down her chin, making him gulp heavily.
Now her hand was on his throat, however, her hand was not capable enough to grip his both waists and he took the advantage of that, smacking the hand that was on her neck up.
Ghost sat up, hooking his hand around her neck as with his other, he turned her around, creating friction between both of their abdomens, pushing her hands to her waist as his legs locked hers. He won.
“No,” his voice was slightly shaky, but the hot breath was reaching her shoulder through his mask. “I like them on top when they do what I say. Much for improvement there, Siren.” He noticed the goose bumps moving on her skin, inhaling the hint of sweat on her soft skin and her body wash. Jesus, she smelled so fucking good.
“Duly noted, Lieutenant” she replied, feeling his grip ease up and he stood up, extending his hand to her. Taking it, she raised from the ground, feeling her back ache. Feeling the sting in her busted lip, she gently swiped her thumb through her lip, looking at the blood of hers.
Ghost inhaled deeply as she slowly twirled her tongue around her thumb, licking the blood away as she softly smiled, keeping eye contact—Jesus fucking Christ… His body warmed up, his pulse quickened and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“You should’ve thought about using speed instead of strength. You'll become sore quicker if you'll try to push the opponent onto the floor. There is some space to learn.” His chest was raising as he was speaking, his brain stuffed with the image of her licking the blood of her thumb. Fuck…
Raising her eyebrows, she moved her hand through her short hair, “Saying there will be another time?” Moving past him, she slightly hit his shoulder, turning her head to face him: “If you want me on top of you - all you gotta do is ask, sir. I know how to behave.”
Within those words she left the room, leaving him to look behind her. Fucking hell, she’ll be a problem.
May I please request something where any of the guye from COD:MWII (anyone you prefer) has a small/ normal sized (height related) girlfriend! reader?
COD CHARACTERS X SHORT F!READER HEADCANONS alejandro, ghost, soap, price, gaz, valeria, könig
Hey, Leia! Thank you so much for the request! It's such a great idea that I thought I will write short headcanons for all of the CoD characters! I hope you will enjoy it!
warnings: mentions of NSFW and curse words.
ALEJANDRO VARGAS
Alejandro isn't a very teasing type. His primary mission is always to make sure you are cherished and loved, but sometimes—just sometimes he can't help it and notice how small you are compared to him. You were fully capable of taking care of yourself and he knew that well, but seeing you struggle to pick something from the top shelf made him feel strong. The way he reached over from behind you and gave you the jar you were so seeking to have. He didn't say a word because he knew you would punch him in his gut if he'd comment on your height.
You liked to be the big spoon, but he wasn't allowing it. He knew well that you were far too prideful to admit that you liked to be cocooned in his loving arms. He was very warm and you were always cold, so you greeted his warmth quickly. You tried not to comment on how nice it was to wake up in his hug, his hands wrapped around you and your nose nuzzled in his chest.
Alejandro loved giving you back hugs. He is big on PDA, not afraid to hug you or kiss you anywhere and in front of anyone. He likes to show you off, so you already know that he will be standing behind you, hands caressing your waists. And you instantly become a puddle for him as soon as he held you like that. But you won't admit that.
His nickname for you was pequeña princesa and even if you mumbled that it was stupid and you weren't that short, your heart fluttered no matter what. Because being called a small princess with his alluring tone? Oh, yes, you didn't have any complaints.
SIMON "GHOST" RILEY
If Alejandro isn't the man to tease you about your height, trust me, Simon is. If you can't reach something from the top shelf, he will grab it and put it even further away from your reach, walking away. He'll do anything to remind you how short you are compared to him. Starting from the shelves and looking straight ahead when you're talking with him, annoying you with: "I don't know who's talking with me. I can't see anyone." He pissed you off and he was enjoying every second of it.
Apart from the constant teasing, he adores every inch of you. That man definitely has a size kink and you being that much smaller than him is doing things to him. If you were honest, the way he easily grabbed you as if you weighed nothing and carried you, was making you feel good. You enjoyed the way he would wrap his hand around you and pull you on his lap. He enjoys having you on top of him, holding you close. He values being close more than anything. He isn't good with words, but he is good with gestures and being close to you.
Loves it when you sleep on him. Completely on him. None of that bullshit that you will half lay on him or straddle him. No. Completely lay on that man. There is nothing better for him than to try to sleep with you on his chest, wrapped in his arms. He wasn't much of a sleeper and on the nights when he couldn't sleep, he would gently rub your back and just enjoy the moment.
Enjoys when you unexpectedly jump on his back. You call it a 'payback because of the whole teasing stuff', but he loves how giggly you get. His worst fear would be dropping you on the floor, but lucky for him and for you, he has quick reflexes and catching you has never been a problem.
Calls you a little bird and you love it. Anything that comes out of his mouth with that accent has you listening to every word he says. And you know well that you have the same power over him as well, if not more.
There is nothing more he enjoys when you try to boss him around with your small frame. The way you furrow your eyebrows when you call out his name, trying to be bossy or show that you are not pleased. The way he folds on his knees in front of you, ready to worship every inch of you. And yes, he definitely enjoys it when you try to take the lead in bed, watching the way you try to desperately pleasure yourself using his body. Such a peculiar little thing you were.
JOHN "SOAP" MACTAVISH
That man is cheeky and will tease you endlessly but in a lot nicer way. Any nickname he has for you includes the word small. My small love, my small darling, my small bird, my small baby. He loves being taller than you and he loves when he has to point his chin down to meet your eyes. He isn't insecure about his height, but you being smaller than him is such a turn-on.
When you grab his chin and push him closer to you and kiss him? That man is gone. Melted for you. Will do anything for you. Anything. He's that boyfriend that's very protective over you. Absolutely hates it when someone calls you small in an insulting way. He is ready to get into a fight and only eases down if you will ask him to.
Loves seeing you in his sweatshirts. Only his sweatshirts. You know well that his clothes are your clothes and you definitely start to wear his clothing more than your own. It's comfy and it always smells like him. When he's far away, his clothes always keep you company enough. And when he comes back home and finds you wearing only his clothes? Steamin' Jesus—that man is gone.
The kind of boyfriend that will definitely let you climb on his shoulders during concerts. He wants you to see everything from above and will not get tired from holding you like that. He would softly rub your thighs and just enjoy being so close to your soft thighs—he really has a thing for them.
If you wear a dress or a skirt that has a slit on the side to show your legs? He's gone. If you were going somewhere that evening, you are not going anywhere anymore. He has to have his way with you or he will go crazy. Once, you actually went to a party without having sex with him and Soap was whimpering like a lost puppy whenever he would see you and eventually you two ended up in the bathroom, your legs wrapped around his waist.
He loves being the little spoon and will admit it. Not only does he loves being held, but he appreciates the fact that you can barely hug his muscular frame. He also enjoys sleeping in a hug, tangling your legs into a mess that got him falling out of the bed in the mornings while trying not to wake you up.
JOHN PRICE
That man will always give you an intense stare that will make you feel even smaller under it. He has the tendency to look at you up and down, intensely, as if he has to cherish every single part of you. You always felt so bare underneath his stare, but you loved it. You loved the way he looked at you.
That man will show you off. In bars, in meetings, in parties—anywhere, he will show up with his hands around your waist, walking around as if you were his most prized possession. And you were. You were everything to him.
Now, John doesn't really mention your height. Yes, you are visibly smaller than him and that does things to him, but he is respectful and it doesn't matter. If you are struggling to get something off the top shelf, he will help you instantly.
John absolutely worships you when you are wearing high heels. He does have a secret kink about you wearing them and you knew about it since he has fucked you in them. He's passionate - he gives you compliments every day. He always notices your new hairstyle, new clothes, and new makeup looks. Everything.
Likes to hug you and nuzzle his head into your neck despite your height difference. He wants to be as close as possible to you. Sometimes, he will place his chin on top of your head and stroke your hair, staying like this for a long time. It just amazes him every time how your short frame fits in his just perfectly.
KYLE "GAZ" GARRICK
Our beloved Gaz will tease the shit out of you. He's smug. Cheeky. Confident. He'll make you feel tiny in his presence. There is something about the way your cheeks slightly tint in a soft pink when he looks at you or when he pulls you closer. He loves the way your pupils dilate when you look at him—God, you were such a sight to see.
That man is the definition of 'you-can-wear-anything-i-can-fight' boyfriend. He loves everything you wear. From sundresses to oversized sweaters. You look beautiful to him in the mornings when your hair is a mess and you are a bit puffy. You look beautiful to him when he sneaks his arms around you and hugs you before sleeping.
That kind of man who doesn't hate going shopping with you. Will wait for hours when you are trying different outfits and give you honest reviews, not just one-word comments. He secretly enjoys your little fashion shows a bit too much.
His favourite nickname for you is 'little one'. "Come on, little one, cat got your tongue?" You're blushing. You're mad. He's smug. He's grinning. Of course, you try to stand on your ground and insult him, but he gently leans down to even out his height with yours and grins even wider. You want to punch him. But he kisses you and you swoon.
VALERIA GARZA
Jesus Christ, that woman will make your life a living hell. She won't keep her mouth shut about how adorable you look beside her. That kind of person to put her arm on top of your head and coo at you, why do you look so sour.
Loves it when you sit on her lap. Always murmurs heated Spanish phrases to you, making you feel a little bit too hot. Can't keep her hands off your body—you were so fucking pretty to her and she loved marking you.
Speaking about marking, she would proudly wear any type of marks you left on her body. Especially she loves it when you are wearing lipgloss or red lipstick and you kiss her neck. She will wear it with pride and show it off to all of the fucking virgin idiots she has to deal with. She has a pretty little lady and they have no one.
The type of girlfriend to look at you from across the room with her hands crossed. The type of girlfriend to undress you with only her stare. The type of girlfriend to leave you a whining mess before she even said a word. She loves having her way over you. She loves it when you beg.
Wasn't much of a clothes-sharing partner, but once she saw you in her clothes, her closet was yours. It felt like everything she owned looked better on you and she admired that.
Apart from that - a big forehead kisser. Yes, she may seem bossy and prideful all the time, but before leaving, she will always kiss your forehead for good luck. Then she would stroke your cheek and call you her good little girl. And you were the best fucking girl for her you could be.
KÖNIG
Next to that man - you were tiny. Now, let's get one thing clear - that man has severe social anxiety, but that doesn't mean he is a shy stuttering mess. Yes, crowded spaces are difficult for him to handle and he tries to avoid them, but he is a soldier. He has no difficulty communicating when needed and getting what he wanted.
And he wanted you.
Loves carrying you from place to place. Loves the way you always grumble in his ear to put you down, but he hears none of that. He has a size kink, just like Ghost does, and he doesn't even try to hide it.
Calls you maus. Even if you didn't know German, you knew damn well what it meant and as much as you wanted for it to annoy you, it didn't. You, on the other hand, did everything in your possibility to draw him through the edge. He carried you everywhere he wanted, that's why you made his life a living hell occasionally.
Accidentally brushing over his thighs, his chest or his neck. Accidentally wearing nothing beneath his shirt. Accidentally while cuddling you pressed your ass against his groan. It was fucking payback and you loved it.
That man couldn't keep his hands off you. You were just so pretty and all his - that man has been bullied in the past, and his self-worth is a bit damaged, but with you, he feels like a knight in shining armour. Especially he likes when a drunk dude at a bar tries to flirt with you and he just appears behind you with his height in all glory.
Loves you and isn't afraid to show you or tell you. It's important to him that you feel comfortable and safe around him and if he ever sees that your lips turned into a frown from insecurity, trust me, that by tomorrow - it will be gone.
I had so much fun writing this, sorry if this is trash xx
Imagines will come later! I am busy with some university work, so the updates might not be frequent! But if you requested - don’t worry! It will be done! xx
Hi there! I hope you don't mind me sending in a second request, I just couldn't help myself. I was wondering I'd you could maybe do some headcanons of Soap with a afab reader s/o who's tall (maybe even a little taller than him)?
JOHN "SOAP" MACTAVISH X TALL!READER HEADCANONS (afab!reader)
thank you so much for another lovely request! As a tall person myself (I'm Soap's height) it was a delight to write these headcanons! I just know Soap would worship tall people completely. I hope you enjoy this!
warnings: curse words, mentions of NSFW, Soap worshipping you
We all know that Soap isn’t insecure about his height. He’s quite tall - 6’0’’, 183 cm
Yes, standing next to Ghost can be intimidating, but from the moment he saw you—he didn’t care you were a few or even more centimetres taller.
That man is confident. He doesn’t have a problem to raise his chin to look into your eyes. He doesn’t have a problem when Ghost points our your height different. He doesn’t have a problem at all.
In fact, he is a little turned on about it.
The first time he met you, that man was absolutely flown away by your beauty and already smash-dead drunk. For that reason, you could excuse the fact that the first words to you were Scottish slurred nonsense that no one could understand.
But you laughed and you couldn’t believe that he was your mentor.
Apart from his flirting drunk side, when he met you for the first time sober, he was exactly the same, only you could understand what he was saying to you.
You could feel his stare on you when you were training—he couldn’t get his eyes off your legs. They were long, toned and— steamin’ Jesus— those thighs.
Unethical, you think? Soap knows all of those protocols and laws by heart—or so he thinks. He knew that getting involved with his teammate, especially the one he was supposed to look after, was completely unethical, but not forbidden.
And that day when he met you, he made it his task to flirt with you until you either smack the shit out of him or kiss him. He prefers the latter—
He remembers your first training session. He was showing you a couple of moves, such as how to quickly take the pistol out of the opponent, but then he wanted to have a sparring session.
"Come on, love, show me what you got," he motioned for you to come closer, watching the way your eyes lit up with a bit of worry. He was a Sergeant and you were just a rookie, you knew you were bound to fail, but you didn't want to back down from a fight. Especially not when he was asking so nicely.
You tried to not look at your Sergeant suggestively. You tried to ignore the fact that for training sessions he was wearing a fucking tank top that displayed his gorgeous, glistening from sweat biceps and you licked your lips unconsciously. You hated the fact that he was your superior because it was unfair for him to be this hot.
You accepted the challenge, closing the distance between you two enough to push your body into the stance for fighting: slightly leaning forward, one leg in front, elbow bent and extended, back slumped a bit. He motioned for you to start and so you threw the punch, watching the way he simply moved to the side, avoiding it without any difficulty.
You heard him chuckle. That annoyed you.
"Again," he encouraged.
Letting yourself have a moment to breathe, you faced him again, ready to strike. Instead, you pushed out your leg, hitting his ankle. Launching forward, you grasped his calf, dropping him on the mattress. The man groaned from the impact with the rough material and you didn't waste time, cradling him, locking his legs by sitting on them, grasping his hands.
He slightly moved his hands, watching his possibility to get out of this position, but you grinned: "Nu-uh, stay still. I got you now."
There was something about your voice that enchanted him. He clearly knew about ten ways to get out of this position easily, but the sight of you on top of him was everything he wanted. Maybe he will let you win this time.
"Good boy," you murmured, once you felt his hands relax underneath your grip. You were so worked up by the adrenaline that you didn't see how his pupils dilated and that there was something poking your bum, but Jesus Christ—you were soon to find out.
Maybe he won't let you win this time.
Something broke inside of him as soon as you called him so sweetly. With a harsh and quick move, he tugged his hands down from your grip much to your surprise and he moved up, placing his hands on your thigh, not letting you get away.
Shit...
"M-maybe I crossed the line—“ You started to defend yourself. He was your damn superior for the God's sake and you just praised him.
But your words didn't faze him—not when you looked so pretty on his lap. "Sh," he murmured, his hands moving up, under your shirt, up the curve of your waist, leaving small shivers behind his touch. "You need to tell me now if you want this or not, lass. I won't pressure you into anything you don't want to do."
You could clearly see that he was having a hard time holding back. You wanted him too. So bad. "It's unethical," you tried to reason with yourself at this point.
"It's unethical for them to assign such fuckin' beauty to me," he admitted, making you slightly lower your chin to meet his lustful eyes. "Tell me you don't want this and I'll stop."
You should've told him you don't want this. You should've been reasonable and thought about your job. But instead, you leaned forwards and kissed him.
And he made you see stars.
In fact, you have never in your life felt so good and you knew he ruined you—this was no one-time thing. Not when he was giving you those pleading eyes when you were too busy riding him.
The paperwork was worth the pleasure.
But he made you feel cherished—you sometimes were insecure about your height. About the stretch marks on your thighs and your lower back from the growth spurt.
But he made you feel beautiful.
You quickly understood the whole "Height doesn't matter" thing as soon as you met him. Jesus—he picked you up as if you weighed nothing and he praised you as soon as you wore something more that revealed your legs.
Now, Ghost made it his life mission to remind Johnny that he was smaller than you.
His response was always the same. He'd grab you closer and if he would be sitting, you would end up on his lap where he could get a handful of your thighs. "A few fuckin' inches of more beauty - fine by me, L.t."
He worshipped you.
He was overprotective—you were a rookie and he tried his best to prepare you for the horrors of the battlefields. He was a good mentor: he wasn't making it easy for you just because you two were sharing the same bed, but he motivated you enough to work harder for yourself.
There wasn't such a word as insecure around him.
He'd kiss those insecurities away. Literally.
Loves when you spoon him. He'd never admit that, but he sleeps like a baby when you wrap your hands around him.
Loves to sleep in a hug.
Loves when you hug him from behind.
Secretly loves when you tease him about getting something from the top shelf even if he is capable of doing that himself.
You love when he pulls you onto his lap and gets his hands under your shirt, rubbing small circles on your skin.
You love when he carries you on your back even if you protest that you will break him into pieces, but that man doesn't even breathe heavier when he carries you.
What can I say? Soap is obsessed with worshipping every inch of you.
Thank you for your incredible writing. You are an amazing human being who deserves the whole universe and whatever lies behind its expanses.
~ Leia
Dearest Leia, thank you so much for your kind words! Seriously - my heart is bubbling up with happiness! I seriously didn’t expect to get this much love and it’s just—amazing! You have my heart! 💖 Have a lovely day/night!
He didn’t deserve you—he knew that well since he was the only one repeating that to himself. It’s what he did the best - beat himself up about everything that has happened and can happen.
So used to losing everything good in his life, he couldn’t get his hopes up with you. You were too good. Twisted, but managing to hold your past demons in a cage.
Even if he knew he will lose you, he couldn’t stop himself from loving you. It was a selfish thing of him to do—he was fucking selfish when it came to you. He was so selfish when you held him tight in the night, sharing your body warmth, easing his nightmares.
He was so selfish when he still kissed you as if there was no tomorrow. He sneaked in little small touches here and there because he needed you like air. There was so much negativity, so much violence in his life that you seemed like a haven.
With you, he was Simon, taking off his mask before you could ask. He let you see his scars, even the nasty one on his face—you said you loved it.
You said you love him.
Then why does he still put on his gear and leave you in the morning, knowing damn well you are afraid he will never make it back alive? Why isn’t he selfish enough to allow himself to live?
Because he’s been shaped and moulded by violence. He knew what his end had to be.
I just wanted to thank you for being such an amazing and nice writer💗 Thank you so so so much for your hard work!😊💌
I’m seriously crying! I didn’t expect to get any nice comments! It motivates me to write more and better! Thank you so much for your kind words, love! I hope you will have a lovely day/night! 💖
fandom: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Original Female Character
short summary: Marzia Moretti, known as Siren, is one of the secret agents of the CIA, meant to deal with missions quietly and gather information. Not only did she work on her biggest mission for seven years, digging for information about the Sicilian Mafia which was running the most secretive human trafficking business, but she also did this to get revenge. Recently, she gets assigned to Task Force 141 in order to finish the mission once and for all.
translation of Italian can be found at the end. You can also read this book on ao3
previous chapters: on my masterlist
Another 48 hours have passed. Task Force 141 has forgotten what it’s like to have this much free time. Their missions were always involving action since they worked with clear leads and names. Get a name, and a location and get the job done. They weren’t used to figuring out the names themselves – the CIA did most of the job for them and now they encountered how the CIA works.
Siren was dedicated and wasn’t wasting a single moment. It was admirable – a true soldier’s quality. Soap tried to help her figure it out, but the poor man got so confused that she asked him to leave her alone. Her mood swings were on edge as well. All of them caught her passed out on her desk and they threatened to get her to a bed, but she protested with a lot of Italian curse words and gestures.
She was like a working machine. The scribbled whiteboards were starting to look like something that will decode the list. Not only did she figure out the vowel combinations, but a few consonants. The letters were appearing, filling in the gaps, but she wasn’t over yet.
Ghost opened the door to the little cave where has shut herself for the past three days, watching her figure pass out in the most uncomfortable way. She was slightly sliding off the table, the wheels of her chair moving further from it the more her body was relaxing.
The room was a mess. It smelled like coffee and markers, but the view on the whiteboard was more promising. The papers hung on the wall had some letters written, halfway coded – closer to the truth. He noticed that there were indeed names and locations and another small section that was still unknown—perhaps gender or age.
Walking to the table, he slightly knocked on it and her body jolted up, the wheels of her chair moving back, hitting the wall. She gasped for air, eyes frantic and wide, looking at his tall figure, mouth hanging wide.
She mumbled something incoherent, perhaps in Italian and she rubbed her forehead, extending her left arm. “Shit, slept for two hours,” she grumbled, her voice breathy and tired.
“Need help?” He asked.
“Make me a coffee?” She offered.
Nudging his head to the wall, he corrected himself: “Need help with this?”
Looking at him for a second, he could notice that she was thinking about what to answer. She already told Soap to leave because he was far more interested in why the Italian alphabet sounds like that than actually helping, Price and Gaz were the ones reminding her to eat. Perhaps he could actually help her without driving her into madness.
“Sure,” she cleared her throat, pushing herself to the table with the chair. Grabbing the mug, she frowned seeing that it was empty. Too tired to move somewhere further, she placed it back down and placed her elbow on the table, leaning on it with her cheek.
“Names. Location. The third part?” He asked, crossing his arms, and walking closer to the papers.
“Age. The list will help identify the list of taken ones. Perhaps we’ll be able to create a pattern where these people are getting taken, but…” She managed to stand up and walk closer to him and point at one group of papers on the wall.
“The names depend on the transaction location,” she pointed at the different businesses the money was transferred. “Italian business – Italy. French – France and so on…”
“Then why are the location numbers different?”
“Cities of the abducted.”
The man furrowed his eyebrows. Why would they make a list with invisible ink and hide it in plain sight? “They are making it easy for the CIA.”
Moving her fingers through her short hair, she hummed: “They know the CIA is after them.”
“They wanted for this to be found,” he finally figured it out.
“Yeah, they’re setting a trap.”
Ghost hummed, the muffled sound moving even through the mask. Slightly looking to the side to see her, he noticed only from up close how exhausted she looked. Her skin was dull, with a hint of greyness, small pouches sat underneath her eyes, lips slightly cracked from the obvious dehydration. Her shoulders were slightly slumped forwards, the back of her neck slightly red from her squeezing it in exhaustion.
“Are they targeting you?” His low voice was silent, wanting to hear her answer this question truthfully.
Siren’s lips trembled, he noticed that. “No,” she truthfully replied. “They don’t know who I am.”
Saying those words, she felt her headache a bit more—she didn’t know anymore. She thought they didn’t know her, she had no idea if that was actually true. The man she has captured had no idea who she was or else, she would’ve been long dead.
“Why are you on this mission?” He pried.
“A lot of lives could be saved. That’s my job – to clean up disasters,” she replied and with an exhausted undertone. It sounded like a confession as if she didn’t want to be here. And he could understand that – it wasn’t easy to choose violence instead of a normal, boring life.
“You’ll get a medal for this,” he slightly gestured at the papers.
Chuckling, she shook her head: “Waste of metal, if you’d ask me.”
“Not a fan of them?
“I melted all of them into rings. They turned out quite nicely,” she slightly looked at her fingers, straightening them up and squeezing them into fists. Only then he noticed that her fingers were ornamented with several rings, and small tattoos on her fingers as well.
“Smart woman.”
Siren chose to not comment on the words he just said, much to his pleasure as she changed the topic: “Any news from Laswell?”
“They’re still working with the information you gave them. For specialists at steganography, they suck at their job.”
Breathing out a chuckle, her shoulders slumped forward as she hugged herself with her arms: “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She walked to the table, sorting the papers on it so that it wouldn’t be as clustered. “Deciphering the code is one thing. We’ll have to find out where the trap will lead us.”
“Why would they want us to lead into a trap? They surely don’t expect the whole bloody CIA to get there.” He had a point.
“They want to do damage or maybe they hope getting rid of some would keep the CIA off their back.”
“They already did that. For seven years.” That sounded like an insult with his monotonic tone.
Grabbing the mug, she slightly patted his firm shoulder, feeling his muscles tense underneath her touch: “You’re the best at motivating, Tenente.” She deadpanned, before leaving to make more coffee.
After she came back, both of them started to work. It was quiet between the two, only answering important questions and writing stuff down. He slowly started to realise the way the number combinations were working and by the end of the day, he knew the Italian numbers to ten and the alphabet by heart.
It was odd for him to be cramped in the same room as her without her usual jokes or teasing, seeing her focus. She had the tendency to murmur to herself while speaking, some Italian incoherent words—he thinks he also overheard some Spanish… Her handwriting was almost unreadable because she barely kept her eyes open, so he took over writing everything she told him to.
“Do you think Jesus was actually born in a manger? Because how the fuck did Mary gave birth in there?” She asked that, after good four hours of efficient work.
Ghost took a second to process what she just asked—what? Turned his head to the table, and her head was placed on her elbows on the table as she was facing him.
“What?” His Manchester accent really popped out on this word, already considering the possibility that she was slowly dying from the lack of sleep. The first symptom is blabbering and then hallucinations.
“It just doesn’t make sense, I don’t know,” she mumbled.
The man blinked once. Twice. “Why does it even matter?”
She let out a dramatic groan, closing her eyes for a few seconds before opening them: “You’re right. There are so many inaccuracies in the Bible that it would take too long to figure them all out.”
“Alright, time for you to sleep.” He raised from the floor without any difficulties.
“How long can people survive without sleep?” She raised from the chair, a little bit too quickly, holding the edge of the table so she wouldn’t fall off. “Laswell will kill me if I don’t do this quickly.”
That was a lie—Siren knew Laswell showed more love to her than to any other co-worker. But she never wanted to disappoint her. Especially since Shepherd wanted to get her off this mission completely.
“I give you two hours. Take it or leave it,” he answered.
“I can’t sleep,” her face scrunched as if she was in pain. Moving away from the table, she looked at the pages on the wall. “I can’t sleep. I can’t—“
“Sergeant,” his rough voice snapped, appearing in front of her so she could only look at him. Her eyes were glossy, cheeks sunken, stance wobbly. “Get a few hours of sleep. It’s an order.”
“If I don’t figure this out,” she extended her hand to the whiteboard. “Shepherd will fire me. He will fire me because he doesn’t like me. He wants me off. I gave everything to this mission and he wants me off.” At this point she was rambling, not realising that she was oversharing information with her Lieutenant.
He had no idea that Shepherd wanted her off this mission. It was clear now why she was beating herself up about this mission, but she won’t reach the needed results if she won’t let herself rest. “I’ll wake you up myself in a few hours. Meanwhile, I’ll stay here.”
Blinking a few times, she nodded. “You really aren’t that terrifying sometimes,” she admitted and he was cherishing her honestly without any façade.
“I’ll be terrifying if you won’t listen to my orders.”
Raising her hands slightly in defeated, she gave another look, red spots around her brown irises. “Just a few hours.” She mumbled this to herself and left the room.
─────── ·𖥸· ───────
The distant beeping of her wristwatch sent her body into shock, revealing that she fell asleep in an uncomfortable position. Her legs were twisted, the upper body moving to the right, neck to the left. Groaning, she pushed the button on her watch, slowly letting her body untangle from itself, grasping the ends of the mattress.
Allowing herself to sleep for two hours precisely, she decided to quickly take a shower before coming back to decoding. She felt sticky and just too warm—she needed to cool down. It was already late and the others were sleeping, well, most of them. Captain and Lieutenant didn’t share the same area of sleeping as she did.
Looking at the Soap’s figure on the top bunk bed above her, she slightly chuckled to herself since he was quite the snorer, the blanket pushed between his legs, hugging it. Not letting herself linger for too long, she grabbed her stuff from a little locker and strolled into the bathroom area.
The cold water felt great on her skin—she wasn’t a big fan of cold showers, much more preferred the ones just the right temperature on her skin. However, the coldness seemed to awaken her much more and perhaps, with two hours of sleep, she will manage to challenge her brain into finishing the task.
Not allowing herself the luxury to stay long in the shower, she quickly washed up and changed into some fresh clothes. She stopped to make some coffee before entering the small room, finding Lieutenant there—huh, so he really meant it when he said that he will stay in here.
Turning around, he was met with her figure, noticing that she looked a lot better after two hours of sleep. The wet strands of her hair were reaching her chin, giving her that fresh look and the tank top she was wearing revealed the tattoos on her body he hasn’t seen before.
Apart from the little tattoos on her fingers, he noticed that she had a snake tattoo that came from the middle of her thumb to the middle of her forearm. On the right arm, the inner forearm was a bloodhound—faceless, detailed, gorgeous. Moving up her arm, there was something on her collarbone, moving down that he couldn’t decipher, the material of the shirt was covering it all up.
And to his surprise, through the wet locks of her hair, he managed to notice a small tattoo slightly below her left ear—a serpent as it seemed. It looked as if she was glistering even in this forsaken dimmed room, bringing something out with her presence. Yes, the two hours without her were quiet, but this was already her area and it seemed to bloom with her presence.
“Thanks for allowing me to sleep,” she started, her voice even more exhausted and raspier.
“You needed it,” he raised from the small chair that she has been sitting in, making her release a small, confused breath as to how he fitted on that small chair, but she said nothing. Instead, he walked closer to her, reaching his ungloved hand out to the coffee.
“What are you doing?” She pushed the coffee away from him.
“Need a sip,” he admitted.
“Aren’t you a tea guy?”
“Does it matter if I am?” His eyes bore into hers, the height difference really showing at that moment. Her chin was raised to meet his eyes as he was looking down. With such a big and flashy presence of her, he didn’t even notice properly that she was a whole head smaller than him.
Slightly squinting her eyes, she passed him the mug, moving closer to the whiteboard, giving him the privacy to take a sip of coffee even if she did want to pry. But she was sure that if she’d tried to turn around to even have a glimpse at his chin, that mug of coffee would end up right in her face.
“I see you figured out a few consonants,” she looked at the whiteboard, seeing his handwriting in a few corners, crossing out a few of her theories and replacing them with his own. His handwriting was surprisingly readable. The letters were slightly squeezed together, but the cursive writing from the high-school times was still lingering in it.
“Bloody hell,” she heard him croak, turning around to face him only to see him fully with his mask, but his eyes were squinted in disgust.
“This coffee ain’t for a tea guy,” she gave him the look of ‘I-told-you-so’ and she took the mug back from him.
“This coffee ain’t for anyone. Bloody rat poison,” he mumbled, coming to stand closer to her, the displeasure so audible in his voice, but that only made her smile wider.
Sipping the coffee, she hummed in response. Made it with Moka Pot and didn’t spill it because there was no one to distract her. It was a good cup of strong coffee. “Cry me a river, sir.”
His eyes dropped to her bare shoulders, taking another mental note that there was something inked on her back—the shirt covering that as well. Around her neck was a familiar chain, the dog tags hiding in her cleavage and he took his eyes off of her before he will announce himself as a creep.
He couldn’t blame himself for looking. She was a hilariously gorgeous woman with a temperament that wanted to make him rip his hair out. The smooth, bare skin of hers seemed so soft and his mind couldn’t help, but wander even if he knew he would never do something like that. Not only it was unethical, but he was her superior and the paperwork would be unnecessary.
In addition, he didn’t indulge in pleasure with the people he worked with. That’d resolve into a lot of unnecessary tension and eventual arguments, and broken teamwork. But he wasn’t a delusional idiot to not acknowledge that it made sense why she was called Siren.
“I think it’s possible to start decoding. The rest of the gaps will be easier to fill in if we start not from the names, but from the locations.” Siren announced, pulling his thoughts away from her, to the mission.
“We?”
Giving him a brief look, she slightly squinted her eyes, “Others are asleep. If you want to – you can go to rest. Or you can stay and help me finish this faster.”
“Johnny tried to help you, didn’t he? How do I know you won’t tell me to fuck off as well?”
“Is that what you’re afraid of? Of me, telling fuck off to my superior? Plus, you aren’t asking me to teach you how to sing the Italian alphabet.”
Ghost allowed a tiny chuckle to tug on his lips: “That does sound like Soap.”
“Get to work, Lieutenant,” she slightly hit his shoulder before moving to the table.
They did get to work and the tactic of decoding the location part first was brilliant. It was easier to fill in the gaps in existing places and they soon ended with all of the changing combinations. Clearly, the number combinations didn’t stay the same, with each paper they seem to shift, but just slightly. And by the time the sun started to rise, they had decoded all of the papers. And now, not numbers, but letters were hanging on the wall.
Names. Location. Age. Blood type.
Exhausted, but silently happy with their work, they both looked at the wall, slightly amazed by what they did, but taken aback by the fact that there were five hundred twenty-six names in front of them. They were both sure it wasn’t even half of the victims, but it was a start. The first normal start in seven years.
Siren’s chest was bubbling with some sort of anxiety, the need to do better. To help these people if it was possible. These people can be anywhere already, but knowing their names will help so much for the database to properly identify them and find a pattern between the disappearings.
“Do you see that?” Siren slightly shifted in her stance.
“Hm?”
Walking closer to the fifth page on top, she slightly trailed her finger down to the first letters of the names. LINDA WALKER.
“It’s a name,” she whispered.
Ghost came closer, tilting his head, nodding. “It’s a trap.”
“We need to call Laswell. Send all of this to her team to start searching for connections. This is a trap, but this is all we’ve got.”
Lieutenant felt the adrenaline spike in his veins. It was time to bring out a little bit heavier artillery.
