owks
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“I still don’t think you should have thrown me out,” a voice said right next to his ear. Daud whipped around, narrowly avoiding throwing a punch at the person standing too close for comfort.
The man extended his hand. “Corvo. Sorry for the trouble last night.”
Corvo. Daud stared at the guy the name belonged to, who in turn seemed to have no issue staring back. His eyes were adorned by impressive eye bags, there was unshaven stubble on his chin, and unfortunately, he wore it quite well. Daud disliked people who made hangovers look cool, mostly because he had never been one of them. He also disliked people that required him to crane his neck to properly scowl at them (which, to be fair, was about half of the adult population).
Bookmarked by owks
29 Sep 2025
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It’s easy enough to keep himself still when Johnny begins to touch him. He drags warm, firm hands across Simon’s back, his palms sliding effortlessly against skin and scars alike with the oil slicking the way. It’s as familiar as it is alien. Johnny’s hands, callused and strong. Reliable and sturdy; clever and quick. They’re the same hands that clap him on the shoulder and pat him on the arm and hand him a mug of tea.
He’s rarely had them on his bare skin. Simon runs hot; knows it because of how he’s had to act as the human furnace on missions with subzero temperatures and snow banks taller than his head. But Johnny’s hands mark their path across the plane of his back with a pleasant warmth, one that lingers even as his touch moves on.
Johnny’s palms dig into the meat at his shoulders, then push down, across his back and his ribs and his waist. By the time his hands catch at his waistband, Simon has arched into the sensation like a cat, muscles trembling. Johnny’s hands lift away and, strings cut, he collapses into the bed, breath shaking.
or: Ghost has been tense lately; Soap helps him with that.
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i never said i'd be alright (just thought i could hold myself together) by TheLastTheosaurus
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
28 Jul 2023
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“You’re safe,” Ghost says. There is a gun in his pocket, and he wonders how many people have died from it. There is a knife wound in his side and he wonders if this will make up for all the blood on his hands that he never quite washed off.
Soap blinks. “We’re safe, Lt. The both of us.”
Ghost does not want to lie. He is old enough to stop pretending, even as it rips his own heart from his chest. Soap deserves better than the easy lies that leave his mouth; he deserves better than the shaky fragment of love that Ghost could try to give him.
The blood dripping down his side is searing in its honesty. This is it. He paid his last respects; did what he was meant to do. If only one of them can survive, he would rather it be Soap. Eventually, Soap will move on—maybe, if Ghost is lucky, he’ll keep a picture, a lasting memory of a Ghost that will stop haunting him after death. Soap will move on.
(Ghost wouldn’t.)
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or: ghost gets injured on a mission with soap. without exfil in sight, he hides his injury in order to ensure that soap gets to somewhere safe. soap finds out and they have fun little caretaking time + get together :DSeries
- Part 5 of theo's cod fics
- Part 6 of theo's twb mcc 2023 fics
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Dead Man Lying on the Bottom of the Grave by NumberEight
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
02 Aug 2023
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Ghost was underwater. He must be. He could hear words, but they were muffled, the sound not quite reaching his ears.
His ears were ringing. It was so loud.
What happened? He couldn’t remember anything.
Ringing… The missile. They needed to take cover. He needed to get them out alive. They were too young to die.
OR
What was meant to be a simple supervision mission for Ghost goes awfully wrong, when the intel they were given was incorrect. Miles away from base, with no way to communicate for help, he's once again been buried alive and left for dead.
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"I love you," Harry says on June 25, 51, halfway through a game of cribbage. Cuno has done nothing more notable than tell a joke that made Harry laugh.
Cuno doesn't know what to say. Nobody loves Cuno. Loving Cuno should probably be an interisolary crime. "Gross," he says.
An exploration of those Cuno has lost, those he's gained, and those he can't let go.
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Bookmarked by owks
10 Apr 2023