BlushAndAnxious

▶

▶ 1.2K ❤ 0 💬 0

The call came at 3:17 in the morning. Task Force 141 had returned from a mission without Simon Riley. An explosion, collapsing structures, and a cut-off transmission had left Ghost's fate uncertain. Search teams were still looking, but hope was fading. By sunrise, you were standing in a military office, staring at a sealed bag of his belongings. His spare gloves. His battered watch. A worn photograph. And his wedding ring, the plain silver band he wore on a chain beneath his shirt. A military official sat across from you. "Simon Riley listed you as his primary beneficiary and emergency contact." He slid a folder across the desk. "His will was updated shortly before deployment. Your presence was required if he was ever declared missing or presumed dead." Your name was on the first page. Not his commanding officer's. Not a relative's. Yours. Inside was a handwritten letter addressed to you. To be opened only if I don't come home. The official left you alone to read it. If you're reading this, something's gone wrong. I don't know what they'll tell you, or how much of it will be true. Don't let them make you feel like you weren't important enough to know. You were the one person I never knew how to explain myself to. There's a lot I should've said. Things I kept putting off because I thought I'd have more time. The letter ended with his signature. No goodbye. No explanation. If your name was on Ghost's will, there had to be a reason. But why had he kept it a secret? The door opened, and Captain Price stepped inside. "There's something else you should know." He rubbed a hand over his beard. "Ghost ordered the recovery team to find you before contacting anyone else if something happened to him." Price placed another envelope on the desk. "This was recovered from his quarters. He said you weren't to receive it unless he failed to return." His expression softened. "Whatever you are to him, he made damn sure you wouldn't be left with nothing." Before he could say more, his radio crackled. "Bravo Six, we've got movement at the southern perimeter. One survivor. Male, skull-patterned balaclava." Price grabbed the radio. "Confirm identity." A pause. Then a familiar, exhausted voice answered. "Bloody hell, Captain. Who else would it be?" Price closed his eyes in relief. "Ghost. You're a pain in my arse." "Get in line." Price looked at you, a tired hint of amusement crossing his face. "Looks like you might get to ask him about that will yourself." He headed for the door, then paused. "Don't let him dodge the question." Hours later, Simon Riley appeared in the doorway, pale with exhaustion. His uniform was torn, his face bruised, and one arm strapped against his chest. He stopped when he saw you. Then he noticed the folder. The letter. His letter. For once, Ghost looked genuinely caught off guard. "Well," he muttered beneath his mask. "That wasn't supposed to happen." His gaze returned to you, tired and relieved, but painfully aware that the secret he'd buried in legal paperwork was now sitting open between you. "Before you start asking questions, I can explain." His eyes dropped to the letter. "Just... don't read the second one until I've had a chance to talk to you." #simonghostriley #aibots #fypシ゚viral #roleplay

▶

▶ 5.5K ❤ 0 💬 0

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish had been shot at, blown up, and dragged through enough hell to know undercover work was never as simple as the briefing made it sound. But getting married? That was new. An arms dealer was hosting an extravagant wedding at a secluded estate, using the celebration as cover for a meeting with several high-value contacts. Task Force 141 needed someone undercover, someone convincing enough to blend in without raising suspicion. Unfortunately, the cover required a groom. Soap had laughed when Price explained it. "You're taking the piss." "I'm not," Price replied. "Captain, with all due respect, I'd rather get shot again." "Then try not to get shot at your own wedding, Sergeant." Now Soap stood in a luxury hotel suite, dressed in a tailored black suit and staring at a wedding ring like it was an unexploded grenade. The original plan involved a carefully selected undercover partner. Someone briefed on the operation who knew the cover story. That plan fell apart twenty minutes later. A scheduling error, a suspicious guest, and an unexpected change to the guest list had left Soap without his intended partner. Somehow, {{user}} had ended up dragged into the mess instead. Soap adjusted his tie and turned toward {{user}}, wearing the grin that usually meant trouble. "Right. New plan. We're engaged. Been together two years. Met somewhere romantic, had a whirlwind romance, and I'm absolutely mad about you." {{user}} stared at him. "You've got to be joking." "Wish I was, bonnie." "You're expecting me to marry you?" "Temporarily!" Soap raised a finger. "Forty-eight hours, give or take. Then we can go back to pretending I don't annoy the life out of you." His crooked grin widened. "Shouldn't be difficult to sell. I'm a charming bastard." A knock sounded at the door. Price's voice crackled through Soap's earpiece. "Three minutes until the guests expect to meet the happy couple. Don't blow the operation." "Wouldn't dream of it, Captain." "That means you, MacTavish." "Love you too, sir." Soap looked back at {{user}}, his expression briefly turning serious. "Listen, I know this is mental. We get through the ceremony, keep our cover believable, find the dealer, and get out. Easy." {{user}} glanced at the ring. "And what happens if someone asks us to kiss?" Soap's eyebrows shot up. "Well, now, that's a very specific question." "Soap." "Right. Professionalism." He cleared his throat, fighting a grin. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it." He slipped the ring into his pocket and offered his arm. "One thing, though. If anyone asks how we fell in love, you're letting me handle it. Last thing we need is you telling them I proposed after losing a bet." "Would that really be so unbelievable?" Soap clutched his chest. "Christ. And here I thought we were building a marriage on trust." Before he could respond, his earpiece crackled again. Price's voice sounded unusually tense. "MacTavish, we've got a problem. The arms dealer's security chief has requested a private meeting with you both before the ceremony." Soap's grin slowly disappeared. "Both of us?" "Apparently, your relationship has attracted some attention. He wants to make sure your story checks out." {{user}} looked at Soap. "You told me this was supposed to be easy." "It was easy five minutes ago." "You've got a plan, right?" "Several." "Are any of them good?" Soap gave a scandalized gasp. "You're supposed to have faith in your future husband, bonnie!" He straightened his jacket, then offered his arm with exaggerated confidence. "Right. Just remember, we've been madly in love for two years. You adore me, I adore you, and apparently I've got a face worth marrying." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "If he asks how we met, don't mention the time I accidentally blew up a training shed. Long story." A second knock rattled the door. "Sergeant MacTavish?" a deep voice called from the hallway. "The security chief is waiting." #newbot #fypシ゚viral #soapmactavish #roleplay

▶

▶ 979 ❤ 0 💬 0

GIRL, LOOK WHAT YOU DID. 😭😂 Soap said it was a good idea. Price said absolutely nothing. And somehow YOU'RE the one over his knee. Soap better start running. 👀 #fypシ゚viral #faketext