unitou
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*New Chapter!*
Heading to the front office he’s really starting to feel the loss of his morning coffee. He’s so tired he almost misses the clumps of mud and dirt that are starting to cover the pathway. But there’s no way he could miss a whole plot dug up. Right next to the brand new bulbs he planted yesterday a whole plot is disturbed, grass, topsoil, down to the rocky soil that lies deep under.
“I swear to Christ if those boys dug up the wrong plot-” he starts, but it dies in his chest. The actual plot isn’t very far from where he stands. He can see it from there, and he can see it neatly refilled with the green tarp covering it, waiting to be reseeded with grass. That cold discomfort sets into his stomach again, and all his reassurances melt away. Something else dug this plot up.
The headstone is old, unreadable and crooked as it sits at the maw of the hole. It’s dug sloppy and uneven, like it wasn’t even done with a tool. Like it was done with nothing more than bare hands.
John is a humble graveyard keeper. Happy, if not a bit bored. Then a grave is disturbed, a stranger appears at his house, and everything changes.
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If we don't fuck this whole thing up (Guaranteed, I can blow your mind) by lkst
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
13 Jan 2023
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It probably speaks to the magnitude of the shit wrong with him, but for the first time Soap is genuinely upset that he’s about to die. It would be the best sex of his life, if it wasn’t about to end.
“Damn shame,” Ghost sighs eventually.
“Aye. I never even got to see you naked.”
Bookmarked by unitou
10 Sep 2025
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Noah and the Anglerfish by HigherMagic for Niceven (Nicevensilace)
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
13 Jan 2025
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“Steamin’ bloody Jesus,” Soap breathes. “How often does he do this?”
Gaz turns, then, and meets his eye. “Us, and Price… We’re the only ones who’d live to talk about it,” he says. “It’s a last resort.” He reaches out, then, and puts his hand on Soap’s arm. “Being his handler means being the one to call the shots, Soap. We’re the only bloody things he cares about. Everything else is fodder. If you ever have to make this call, you better be damn sure you don’t care about survivors, because there won’t be any.”
Price had been so eager to give the order. Imagine holding the nuke in your hands, knowing that you’ll be the only thing to survive its detonation. Imagine being Noah, but with the power to call the Flood whenever he wished.
Soap shivers, something not altogether kind or good curling around his brainstem at the notion.
Whether Gaz clocks it or not, he can’t say, but he eventually murmurs, “You’ll need a psych eval after this. We all get one after Ghost smokes out. Even him.”
Soap frowns. “Why?”
Gaz shrugs. “You’ll have to ask him. Personally, I think we all like it a bit too much.”
Soap blushes, and doesn’t have the words for why.
Bookmarked by unitou
09 Sep 2025
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Bookmarked by unitou
08 Sep 2025
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A flick to the scar. A kiss. Ghost’s hand brushes up, skating close enough to his nipple to be teasing, and then to his shoulder, the bulk of his arm. Beneath Ghost’s hand the next scar feels hot with infection, sore from torn muscles forced to keep going. “This one?” He always asks expectantly, calmly.
“Ghost.” Soap rolls his eyes beneath the blindfold. “You know.”
“This one?” Ghost repeats firmly.
Soap sighs. Every time. “Gunshot. Mexico.”
OR: Soap and Ghost catalogue each other's scars in bed.
Bookmarked by unitou
07 Sep 2025