I don't think, and this is me coping slightly, I don't think Ghost and Price are going to kill each other. I think something will happen and they do work together. At least, God, I hope that they work together, and we aren't watching either of them kill each other. I can only hope. I also hope that Price doesn't kill Gaz, because his moral compass isn't nearly as busted as Price's. I am literally going to be hyper fixate thinking about this till the game comes out.
BECAUSE LIKE! Laswell is obviously talking to Price... maybe she fed him intel where Ghost would be, and it's "Yo! We need Simon. Don't kill your homeboy!"
John "Soap" MacTavish
It starts with your funeral. Bagpipes. A folded flag. Soap holding your photo so tight it crumples. He swears he won't survive this! But then-three days later you wake up gasping in the coffin, heart screaming, lungs clawing for air. And Soap's already there, eyes wide. He felt it "You came back," he says,voice broken with awe and relief. You don't realize until years later it works both ways-when a bullet tears through him, and he returns, blood-soaked but alive, because you weren't gone yet. It becomes a pattern. Death can knock, but it never gets past the door. Because you're both still tethered. Still burning. Still loving.
Simon "Ghost" Riley
You've watched Ghost die. Fire. Shrapnel. Cold silence. And every time, you feel your soul tug-then snap. You drop too. Sometimes a second later. Sometimes a week. But you always go. Until he comes back. And so do you. He calls you "his curse," but the way he cradles your returning form says otherwise. One of us'll die for good eventually," he mutters once. You both know it's a lie. The universe doesn't allow it. You're two halves of the same flame-flickering, reigniting, refusing to burn out unless both candles snuff together. And they never do. Not as long as one of you still breathes.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
Gaz thinks it's fate. "We're the world's most chaotic defibrillators," he jokes, after you get shot and somehow walk it off the next day. But deep down, it terrifies him. He's seen you die. He's felt the agony of it. But, every time he spirals into grief, something inside him refuses to die with you-and you're dragged back, breathless, blinking. When he's the one who goes first, you feel the same. Crawling back from death's door because he's still out there. Still needing you. "If either of us dies for real," he mutters once, "it'll be because we finally went together." Until then? You both endure.
John Price
It was the cancer that should've taken him. Or maybe that sniper. Or the explosion Honestly, Price has lost count. But you're always there, pulling him back. Gripping his hand at the edge of the abyss and yanking him out. He wakes up to your heartbeat like a metronome. And when it's you who falls- collapsed, cold, lifeless-he doesn't beg. He waits. Because you always come back. Just Like he did. "You stubborn bastard," he whispers, forehead pressed to yours, tears on your cheeks. "Still alive, so I guess you have to be too." It's not immortality. It's worse. It's being incomplete. Until the other follows.
Gary "Roach" Sanderson
Roach dies in stupid ways. Like, so many stupid ways. Bee allergies. Slipping on stairs. Trying to pet wild animals. But every time, his body refuses to stay cold. "Because you're still breathing," he shrugs, like it's obvious. You've died too-dramatic, tragic deaths-and he's laughed when you returned. "You thought you could leave me?" he teases, hugging your sore, undead form. You joke about how inconvenient it is. "Guess we're stuck together." But there's no resentment. Not really. Just a quiet, unshakable knowing. That neither of you is going anywhere. Not while the other's heart still beats. Life and death can fight over you, but love always wins.
Nikolai
Nikolai knew the moment your soul tethered to his. It wasn't dramatic-it was final. He watched your body break beneath the ice once. Watched your pulse fade. But something snapped inside him. A thread. A heartbeat mirrored. He collapsed. And when he woke, so did you. Since then, death is never permanent. When he was ambushed and left for dead in a ravine, you found him days later, breathing again. "I was gone," he says, voice soft. "But you weren't. So I came back." There's no ceremony. Just inevitability. Neither of you belongs to death. You belong to each other.
Alejandro Vargas
Alejandro is furious the first time he comes back. "I died," he growls, bleeding wheezing, clinging to the world. I saw it." And then he sees you. Alive. And he understands. You anchor him. And he anchors you. The second time, it's you who dies-collapsed beside a burning truck. He screams until his throat is raw, but you' wake two days later, coughing smoke. "We can't stay dead unless we both go," you whisper. He's angry, afraid, but never leaves your side. "Then we better die together someday," he mutters. "Because I can't take losing you again." For now, you both endure. Unkillable. Untouchable. Unyielding.
Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra
Rudy doesn't understand it at first. He prays for your soul after you fall heartbroken, shattered. But then your hand twitches in the morgue. He thinks it's a miracle. But when he dies, weeks later, and wakes in the same hospital room, he knows it's not divine intervention. It's you. He watches you sleep, waiting for your body to catch up. "We're cursed," he murmurs." Or blessed." He's never sure which. You don 't fear death anymore, but you fear grief. You fear leaving the other behind. So
neither of you go. Not yet. Not until you're both ready to fall, hand-in-hand, into the dark.
Valeria Garza
Valeria returns from death laughing. Of course she can't die. You're still alive. That's the rule. And when it's you who dies, her fury shakes the earth. But you return. You always return. "You belong to me," she hisses, dragging you into her lap, half-dead, half laughing. "Even death knows that." She finds it romantic in the most chaotic way. You're both invincible. Tied by fate. Doomed by love. You get used to the dance-bleeding. rising, crying, kissing. "You'll only bury me once," she says, "and that's when your heart stops too." Until then? You'll both keep crawling out of the grave like stubborn, lovesick gods.
Keegan Russ
Keegan is too practical to believe in soulmates until you. Until he watches you die and breathe again, pulled from the brink because he was still alive. He keeps track The bullet wounds. The drownings. The fever that should've killed him, but didn't. He doesn't talk about it, but you both know Neither of you can die without the other. It becomes something sacred. A quiet promise. If one goes, the other follows. But neither does. Not yet. Keegan trains harder. Protects more. Not to cheat death, but to postpone it. Because he wants one more day. Always one more day-with you.
König
König wakes in a hospital, gasping. He remembers dying painfully,completely. But you were alive. And so, he came back. He doesn't speak about it. Doesn't ask. But when you die in his arms, and your eyes open again hours later, he knows. You are bound. Souls chained by something deeper than time. He starts to live differently- never recklessly, but fearlessly. Because even if he falls, you'll catch him. And vice versa. "We are... unfinished," he whispers once, holding your hand. "Incomplete without the other." It's not immortality.It's love, twisted into something that death simply can't untangle.
Nikto
Nikto is infuriated the first time he wakes from death. "I was done," he growls. wanted to go." But you're still alive, and so he returns. The bond is violent-painful-but real. He tries to break it. To die again. It doesn't work. You're still breathing, and so is he. Over time, his anger dulls. Especially when it's you who dies next, and he feels the loss like a sword through the chest. But you come back, sobbing into his arms. "You're stuck with me," you whisper. He doesn't smile. But he holds you tighter than ever before. "Good," he breathes. "So don't you dare leave me again."
Krueger
Krueger's amused. "Death has rules," he murmurs. "But so does love." He watches your corpse breathe again. Sees you cough. cry, live. And he laughs. "Tied by soul, then? " he asks no one. The next time he dies, it's quick. A clean shot. But he returns with a jolt, waking in a coffin that didn't hold him long. He scratches your name into his blade after every resurrection. One mark per death. Dozens. And counting. "It's getting excessive," he teases. "Stop dying." But he says it with love. Because he knows you'll always return too. Until fate finally takes you both, hand in hand.
Philip Graves
Graves thinks it's sexy. "We're deathproof, sugar," he grins, waking up in an ICU like it's a party. "Guess you need me too much. When you die, he refuses to grieve just grabs a beer and says, "I'll give it 48 hours. Sure enough, you come back, staggering into the kitchen like you never left. "See?" he beams. "Soulmates, baby." He milks it. Plays it off as fun. But there's a fear in his eyes every time he sees you pale, breathless. He's not ready to test what happens if you both die at once. "Let's stay alive," he murmurs once. "Just a little longer."
Farah Karim
Farah thinks she's losing her mind the first time you return. It's not logical, Not scientific. But the evidence is undeniable. You were dead. And then you weren't. When she dies next, you're there when she gasps awake. "We don't get to leave," she whispers. "Not while the other still hopes." She holds your hand tightly after that. Sleeps beside you like you're a living promise. Every goodbye is tentative. Every fight ends in tears. Because you both know: the only true ending is one you share. And neither of you is ready for that yet.
Hadir Karim
Hadir dies laughing. A bomb. A poetic end. Until he wakes, burnt, coughing, and furious. "What the hell, habibi? You kept me alive?" And then you die. And he realizes he kept you alive, too. The soul bond is undeniable. He starts calling you "anchor." Never lets you leave his sight. "If I die again, you better not be too far," he jokes, but there's steel beneath the smile. He wants to stay. For you. With you. And until you both fall together-he'll rise every damn time.
Alex Keller
Alex doesn't question it. When you return after a deadly accident, he just pulls you in and murmurs, "I knew you weren't done." When he dies weeks later, he wakes up laughing. "Missed me?" It becomes a joke. A pact. You even try to test it once-stay far apart, see if the magic breaks. It doesn't. Distance doesn't matter. The bond always pulls you back. "We're like those cursed romantic novels," he teases. But you both Love it. Because you are that story. One heart, two bodies. Two lives. And death, forever waiting at the door-but never allowed to take just one.
Kate Laswell
Laswell records the phenomenon like a scientist. Deaths. Resurrections. Intervals. But the data doesn't matter. The cause is irrelevant. What matters is you. You come back. She comes back. Again and again. It's not coincidence. It's design. "We're quantum entangled," she murmurs. "One particle can't collapse without the other." It 's beautiful. It's cruel. She prepares contingency plans, coordinates resurrections, tracks every flatline. But when you fall and rise again, whispering her name-she forgets the research. "You're here," she breathes. "You came back." And that's all that matters.
Vladimir Makarov
Makarov revels in it. "I told you we were eternal," he says, bloodied, mad-eyed when you rise from your grave for the sixth time. "The world can try to kill us. But Love-our love-it devours death. He's obsessed with your bond. Kills recklessly. Dies theatrically. And always returns.So do you. It's a vicious cycle-violent, poetic raw. He dares the world to end him, just to prove that you'll come dragging him back. And you do. Every time. "You're mine," he says, kissing your broken lips. "As long as I breathe, you do." The world burns around you. And you still breathe.
Giving my CoD bastards a bit of grace today after calling them emotionally incompetent (don't worry, they still are a bit).
How the CoD bastards realistically handle stress (and how it seeps into relationship conflict)
We will be focusing a bit here on stress, whether it be from work of personal life, and differentiate why they function at work but not so much at home under the right (wrong) conditions.
To start off, military personnel use compartmentalization hard to cope with all the stress they deal with. It is a high-stakes job, so this is included in basic training, really.
That means that they tend to push aside any feelings they have in order to get the job done. Anxiety? Shoved aside. Irritation? Block those thoughts, turn that energy towards work. You get the idea.
Mission comes first, and mistakes are not the concern as much as what the next step is.
This, including repetition, helps them do their job properly. Their anxiety won't be much of an issue when they've been drilled what to do enough times to just... do it.
However, as you can imagine, this doesn't leak well into interpersonal relationships.
These methods can often cause these bastards to just shut down any thoughts, even when alone. Any negative experiences aren't given enough time to be worked through, unless they've had the training to manage them (and yes, this is a learnable skill).
So what you see is dark humour, bluntness, more physical workouts to manage stress, and often times, alcoholism (this is a huge problem in the military).
Now, let's go character by character.
Disclaimer: They can handle stress typically. These are the cases when, for some reason, they couldn't manage it.
Simon "Ghost" Riley
When Simon is stressed, he steps internally. People of his personality tend to bury their problems until they accumulate.
And once it becomes too loud for him, his internal frame tends to bend.
This might feel rather unfair, if you think of it, because you can easily miss the signs if you don't pay attention, and it can come as a surprise. Alas.
Simon doesn't necessarily snap, he still is controlled by default and training. But he becomes more blunt, more dry, and doesn't socially manage his tone as well.
To make matters worse, he still won't comment on what has been bothering him, and he might even leave the situation completely to "clear his head."
When he comes back, he is not emotionally calmer per se, but he has sorted his thoughts, and has more control over them.
However, you will still notice deflection and short, blunt words, just this time, he doesn't leave.
The grace I am giving Simon is that he is loyal. Once you become his person, you are his person.
He has an ego, and he's a bit shit at talking things through. You won't get perfection, you'll get ugly. But Simon will always take responsibility for his part, just in his own, clumsy way.
Unfortunately, when he is in this specific state, you would need to phrase things in a way that match his direct tone, that way you focus on the issue and not the emotional side.
He prefers arguments to be short, and once over, to be done.
Simon doesn't like to repeat mistakes, so bringing up something from the past would actually irritate him. He'll listen, but he might say "you should've said that earlier," â firm.
But as you may have guessed, he listens. So tell him once, and he won't repeat it. He holds himself to a high standard.
You just need to be okay with dealing with it from a very... sharp angle.
Keegan P. Russ
Keegan is already a blunt fucker. So his core doesn't change. If anything, even during normal conflict, he tends to directly point out all the things that bother him, right then and there.
The difference is that, when he's in a normal state, he sounds direct. Meanwhile when he's stressed, he's flatter, less emotional, if you will. You can feel the difference before you can arriculate it.
Keegan hates inefficiency the most, and this really comes out during stressful times.
Every move has a purpose. As does every word. So you would actually hear him talk less.
And when he does, it would be sudden. You might even flinch a bit because he doesn't soften the blow.
His patience also drops for anything that isnât immediately relevant.
And what would irritate Keegan even more is if you don't communicate directly what has been bothering you.
Unlike Simon, Keegan would read if you're holding back and call you out on it immediately, "Say what you need to say."
A good grace about Keegan during this stage is that, he can separate work stress from his relationship. So even though he is blunt, you can almost feel that it's not directed at you, and he's just being efficient with his time.
A very good thing about this is that, if you are feeling insecure, and say "Are you mad at me?", Keegan would look at you like that's a stupid statement, and say "No. Not at you."
And if you hover like you need a hug but are unsure, he would bluntly say, "Stop hovering. Come here." And he'd sound almost irritated, but he'd pull you into a hug, almost like it's ridiculous for you to think he doesn't want one.
Keegan separates his words from his actions a lot. He can sound like he's having a horrible day, and he'd still kiss you, hug you, be physically affectionate.
It just comes at the cost of you feeling like he's loving you angrily... like a crocodile.
König
Stressed out König is... quiet. You can feel that something is going on in his head, but to your disadvantage, asking about it returns you a cold "I'm fine."
When König gets stressed, he tends to go in his head first. His body feels tense, his movements are slower, he might sit and get up and pace on repeat, but done slowly.
Almost like he's thinking about what to think.
Some days he closes himself in the bedroom. Some other days, he might ask you to leave him alone. Space is a need at this stage, almost like breathing air.
Where things become complicated is that, König has the capacity to return calmer, and talk things out.
However, if work, or whatever is causing his stress, keeps repeating the next day, he doesn't have enough time to process it in a way that fits his cognitive wiring.
So his mood becomes inconsistent.
One moment he's a bit calmer. The next he's ranting, short bursts of low, flat words.
Some moments, he might stare at you almost like you're a problem, making you think you did something wrong. Just for him to say "Come," and end up holding you to regulate himself (not hug, not cuddle, he's not soft enough to label it that way).
When his stress gets prolonged, however, he can come off rather confusing.
Part of him reaches for you without thinking, then pulls away just as quickly
His anxiety might peek through and even accidentally push you away. He detaches because he doesnât want to be seen struggling.
If you argue, he would actually express what he's feeling, but only to the ability he has at that moment. It sounds a bit vague, almost like he's trying to understand himself.
His voice might even get lower before it raises.
If he has been struggling for long enough, his overwhelm might make him tear up in your arms.
König is disbalanced during stress. He wants his tribe, his people â you, â to be there for him, even if he might never phrase it that way.
Following of this kind of. Be careful of what you read, this contains biphobia/homophobia, men being men in the military. I know we all glamorised the military in the fandom and thatâs okay but I like to take realistic takes because I like to make characters hurt
Fem!reader who is bisexual, who doesnât hide it. You survived the private jokes between the Task Force, because theyâre your brothers. You take it, laugh along and yet, it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.
The pretty girl of the bar and you have been talking, going on a few dates even, getting to know each other. And thatâs when the private jokes in your group becomes something more.
It starts small. A little joke here. A little taunt there. Then, itâs the way the guys are getting rougher and mocking during trainings. You tried to ignore it of course. Thatâs how it worked. Donât make a scene was the advice from a older lesbian captain whom you spoke once or twice with.
Came the day at the shooting range. Youâre practicing your shots, taking deep breath, concentrated. Kyle and Johnny are there, discussing. Sergeant Davies enters with his flock of goons, eyes zeroing onto you.
âHeyâ he says, making you miss your shots. âCan you show us how you fuck girls? Maybe we could learn a thing or two from a gal like you.â
His goons chuckles. In your head, you scream at yourself: ignore, ignore, donât make a scene, donât make a scene.
They continue. Kyle and Johnny donât say anything. They just stay quiet.
âYou sure youâre not broken or something? Maybe you need a real man to pick the right side.â Davies continue and another one jumps in.
âHeard you folks cheated twice more than everyone else. No wonder you went to the military, girlie. Easier to find a man, eh?â
âProve it to us- show us your gal and you making out.â
You donât make a scene. You make your shots, in silence, in bitter anger. Then, they take a step further, suggesting to follow them to the barracks, to be a good bunny.
You whirl around, furious. And Johnny and Kyle intervene as you were about to fight the dozen of guys present. They grab you, pull you someplace else. And youâre mad at them, for not defending you, for not being there.
You yell, you scream your hatred of those men who behave like animals. You tell Kyle and Johnny if they truly cared about you, they should have stepped in, and do something. Yet, they donât even seem to care. Tell you itâs how the system is. That you didnât need to make a scene. To endure.
Mad, you leave the room, wondering if those men who called themselves your brothers truly were.
I like the idea of a realistic example what the TF141's opinions are about homosexuality...
But as far as I'm aware, SAS has some pretty strict code to not cause this type of harassment and they don't tolerate biased friction.
Unless you're in private and they're your closest mates, who already do dark humour like that, it's unlikely to hear anything that scandalous during training.
Especially if you imagine them as their canon ages. The older Sergeants (and Soap is one, i don't remember about Gaz), would hold some form of professionalism.
British humour also relies on self deprecation and subtleness, not direct aggression.
To add: This wouldnt necessarily be impossible to happen outside of training, but it would be very subtle. Almost like they're gaslighting you.
Examples:
âRight. Didnât take you for the sentimental type.â
âCareful, youâll start confusing people.â
âYou do like making things complicated, donât you.â
âSuppose everyone needs a hobby.â
âRelax, love, no oneâs judging. Much.â
But in the case something like that was said during training, someone of equal or higher ranking would immediatly have stopped it. Say something like:
âSergeant, is there a reason youâre interrupting live fire with pub chat?â
âWeâre training, not auditioning for whatever that was.â
I'm going to gas up Bumblebee for a moment, because fuck I love how they analyze things, and make it realistic. Their realistic headcanons are CHEF'S-FUCKING-KISS! God do I love every time they post. And Bumble... I literally run to my phone when the ping goes off you post on tumblr. I appreciate your big wondrous brain.
Won't lie, I also am such a glutton for @bumblebee5514 posts. Literally 10/10, would recommend rereading daily.
Anyway, this is Simon's arm. Someone said that it's super edgy and shows he's troubled. Upon looking closer at it, I realized this is peak fresh out of basics, has a stable paycheck, and time to get a tattoo-style sleeve. Having dated, been around, and with family who are current active service men and women and vets... they get this shit unironically. Now I can't help but wonder if this all started the moment Simon left boot camp when he was younger.
At least it's not some stupid tribal style band around his bicep LOL! I'd cry.
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