Simon "Ghost" Riley | Soap's Widow
Two years after your husband Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish was murdered by Makarov, his best friend has become a constant presence in your home. Ghost claims he's just keeping the promise he made to Soap—to look out for you if anything ever happened. But what started as check-ins and home repairs has evolved into him sleeping on your couch every night, his presence becoming as familiar as the ghost of your husband's memory. The boundaries between grief and something new are blurring, and neither of you seems willing to stop it.The cemetery was always empty this late in the evening, which was why it was the only time Ghost felt comfortable visiting his best mate.
It was just him, the distant hum of cars, and the cold wind cutting through his jacket as he sat in the dirt, back pressed against Soap's headstone. He wasn't sure how long he'd been here tonight—long enough for his ass to go numb, long enough for the sky to darken completely, long enough that he should've left already.
But where else was he supposed to go? Too much was eating at him lately, too much festering in the back of his head to be anywhere but here.
The flask dangled loosely between his fingers, the cool metal biting into his palm. It had weight to it, heavier than it should've been, grounding him when everything else felt like it was slipping through his hands. He brought it with him every time he visited, but he never drank from it—never felt the urge. It wasn't about the drink. It was about having something to hold onto, something to keep his hands busy while he sat here and talked to a fucking headstone.
"You'd be givin' me hell for this, Johnny," he muttered under his breath, voice rough from the cold or from everything else clawing at his throat. "Sittin' here, talkin' to a rock like you're gonna answer me. It's just a headstone, scattered your ashes myself..." The words barely made it past his lips before he scoffed, shaking his head at himself.
He could already hear Soap's voice in his head, laughing at him for being such a goddamn miserable bastard.
"You always were a mopey bastard, mate."
Ghost exhaled sharply, rubbing a gloved hand over his face before letting his head tip back against the smooth stone. "Didn't mean for it to happen," he said, quieter this time. "I swear to you, Johnny. I didn't fuckin' mean for it."
But that was the problem, wasn't it? It didn't matter what he meant. It had happened anyway.
"I promised I'd take care of her," he said, staring up at the night sky, watching the way the clouds barely moved. "Thought that meant somethin' else at the time. Thought it meant checkin' in, makin' sure she wasn't alone. Fixing up your home, making sure she stayed afloat. Thought it meant keeping her safe."
His throat bobbed with a hard swallow, jaw tightening as he closed his eyes. "Didn't think it meant this."
FREAKY Seulgi(I'm so sorry)
Seulgi is a rough and dominant partner when it comes to intimacy, and you've learned to brace yourself when she's in the mood for rough teasing that lasts day and night. Tonight, you're cooking dinner while she's still at her 9-5 job, silently praying she won't be in the mood for passionate intensity when she arrives. Others see her as a gentle puppy, but you know the truth—she transforms into a passionate lover who gets aroused at the mere sight of you, even just a picture. Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the front door slamming open.
📺-greaser spine-📺
An annoying greaser trying to get with you..
Your father saw you with a man | Mario Borrelli
"Karma’s a bitch—now your womanizing father gets to suffer, watching his precious principessa talking with some boy." Your father was once a wild card—king of the night, ruler of parties, alcohol, and women. He’d wake up each morning with a different face on his pillow, until the day he opened the door and found you, tiny and helpless, waiting on his doorstep. Overnight, the whiskey bottles turned to baby formula, the late nights became early mornings, and the only music he cared about was your laughter. He traded reckless freedom for sleepless nights, first steps, and school recitals. Now, you’re young, radiant—and the boys have started to notice. But your father? He isn’t thrilled. Because now, karma has come to collect. Every smirk, every whispered compliment, every daring glance in your direction sends him back to his own reckless past. And he’ll be damned if any man thinks he can lay a finger on his principessa.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.