Phantom-101 - Untitled

Yandereaffections Golden Masterlist of masterlists

a master list for all the masterlists? is it confusing? hopefully not.

all thats crossed out im no longer taking requests for, but you can enjoy what ive already made for it in the past❤

Amnesia (Otome)

Arcane (Netflix)

Attack On Titan

Black Butler

Castlevania

Death Note

Demon Slayer

Detroit Become Human

Creepy Pasta

Doki Doki Literature Club

Durarara

Fruits Basket

Game of Thrones

Haikyuu!!

Hannibal

Hellsing Ultimate

Hetalia

Joker (2019)

Jujutsu Kaisen

Legend of Zelda: Breath Of The Wild

Marvel (Cinematic Universe)

My Hero Academia

Mystic Messenger 

Nameless, The one thing you must recall

Oran Highschool Host Club

Overwatch

Peter Parker (MCU)

Red Dead Redemption 2

Sherlock

Spider-Man: Into The Spiderverse

Spy x family

Supernatural

The way of the house husband

Toilet bound Hanako-kun

Venom

Voltron

My OC’s!

Javier Adolfo

Agapito Adolfo

Nia Barnes

Aiden Cooper

Jamari Blackwood

Agapimari (Agapito x reader x Jamari)

Multi OC posts

YA’s OC Art

flinging your friends over your shoulder like potato sack. dangling them by the scruff stacking them up in your arms like laundry shoving them into your purse etc etc i love it

---

from this screenshot from 'starcrossed'

⭑ ★ ⭑ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄 ⭑⭑

Summary: Everyone's heard of the yakuza boss and his sweet little girlfriend, but what about the female yakuza and her two beloved pets: the Rabid Panther and the Silent Wolf? Inspired by Scarface by LDR. HCs + blurbs on Toji and Grimmjow as your bodyguards. Note: I have suddenly been revived from my writer's block all thanks to Grimmjow! Reader is also ENTJ/ENFJ coded (I can't decide LMFAO just pick whichever one fits you the best). It's also kind of a love triangle except they don't have feelings for each other so IDK what to call this. I also just wanted to show my newest husband some love for his bday! Pairing: Yakuza!f!reader x Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez & Toji Fushiguro/Zen'in Warnings: Mentions of death, weapons, firearms, basically anything that comes with crime boss related fics 💀 also Kenjaku's death is mentioned cus I hate his ass and needed a victim.

╰┈➤ The Rabid Panther and the Silent Wolf, that was what Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez and Toji Fushiguro were known as, respectively. The two pets to the feared yet beloved beauty, the infamous yakuza boss (L/N), (Y/N). She was one of the Four Great Kings of the Tokyo underworld and the only female of the bunch. Out of all the aforementioned kings, she was perhaps the most benevolent one of the bunch, but that wasn't saying much considering the most vicious and hated king, Ryōmen Sukuna, was all but a tyrant with a kill count that went well into the tens of thousands (at his own hands as well). The only reason she was even considered benevolent was because she didn't kill with her own hands (not unless she was terribly angry with her foe), and because she also smiled the most.

Why would she need to soak her pretty nails in ugly blood when her two pets would do anything for their owner?

As for what gave them their monikers, though...

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez earned the title of the Rabid Panther because of his violent and garish methods of disposing his opponents.

Grimmjow had a tendency to stain his white clothing and sharp claws in a pretty shade of blood red. There was nothing the blue-haired man loved doing more than sinking his claws into the unlucky foes that happened to incur his wrath or his boss's wrath

He had a pair of special rings made for him (commissioned by you, of course) just so he could get a better grip on his opponents.

The whole reason you hired him as a henchman was just because of how devoted to the fight he was. Though he was reckless in his pursuit of destroying the strongest opponent in his vicinity, you couldn't help but feel drawn to the man.

It was on one snowy January day when you happened upon him. You stood there, clad in a snow-white and red kimono when you witnessed him tear apart 3 of your henchmen, right before your very eyes. Despite the fact that he just killed your own men in a very vicious manner, you didn't cower in fear or order them to kill him; you simply reached out and wiped the blood off of his face.

"B-Boss, don't get too close to him!" The pleads of the other men fell upon deaf ears as you gazed at the wild-eyed man. He was snarling, practically foaming at the mouth, and yet you didn't waver.

"You're a rabid one," was what you first said to him.

"I'll tear your fucking throat out, lady!" he snarled at you, trying to back away from your handsy hands.

You didn't say anything, simply smiling and touching the man's face. "Handsome, too... your shade of blue pairs quite well with red."

Despite his numerous growls and threats of killing you, your hand moved to cup his cheek, move underneath his chin, and tilt it up so he was looking right at you.

"How would you like to be my rabid animal?"

Maybe you could use a man like him--a man not willing to get his paws dirty and lick them clean when he finished the job.

He didn't use guns often; he stuck to weapons that could make a man's blood paint the walls. Hell, with the kill count and voracious appetite this man had, he could make the streets of Kabukicho flow red.

Speaking of Kabukicho--he was one of the only henchmen (you preferred to call him a lieutenant, since the title befit him) to have a small group of his own. He was in charge of handling the areas with the most amount of people in them, since he could be as loud as he wanted without anyone paying him any mind.

Half the time, though, the "army" under him (what he called his Fracción) would just sit back and watch as he pummeled some poor bastard who tried to rip off one of your many businesses.

"I told you, don't fuck with me, and don't fuck with my boss!" Was what he liked to shout before tearing the throat out of his most unlucky victim.

He was made one of your only lieutenants the fastest, since he could so easily dispose of people, and also since he was just the strongest one of the bunch.

To those he was against, he was a vicious panther who didn't know how to stop shedding blood; but to you, he was no more than a cute little cat who purred and meowed in excitement when you pet him.

"Good Grimmjow," was what you cooed whenever he did something right. He came to relish the feeling of your long, perfectly manicured nails carding through his spiky blue hair. He used to detest being babied and doted on in such a manner, but it felt amazing to hear his beloved owner boss praise him for having wiped out an opposing faction's squad that tried to destroy one of your own squads.

The other henchmen of yours tended to look at this display of affection in an odd manner. They had just witnessed him poke the eyes out of someone an hour ago, and now you were petting him like a housecat?

And he was enjoying it?

Don't let this display of affection fool you, though; he would stab the shit out of anyone who talked back to you.

It certainly didn't help anyone who hated you that he was practically obsessed with you, head-over-heels for the woman he affectionately referred to as his master.

You took him off the streets, clothed him, fed him, and brought him to a position higher than he thought was possible for a man like him.

Sure, he was self-assured in his strength, but he was alone, and what good would it do to him if someone were to ambush him?

The longer he stayed by your side, the more devoted he became to you.

He would roll over on his back and purr for you if that's what you so desired.

He owed you his very existence, so god help your foes if he ever heard someone bad-mouthing you.

For instance, do you know that scene in Kill Bill where O-Ren Ishī hopped atop a table and sliced someone's head off in a meeting?

Well, you wouldn't have to do any of that, because with a simple nod of the head, Grimmjow would go over there and viciously slice their throat and make the blood splatter all over everyone else's food.

But the other man, dressed in a dark, form-fitting outfit and standing beside you was just as, if not more, deadly than Grimmjow. Isn't it amazing to have two brutalizers at your beck and call?

Toji Fushiguro earned the title of the Silent Wolf because of his, well, silent methods of execution and warfare. With just a step of the foot and the trigger of a finger, he could put a bullet in anyone's head within a matter of seconds.

His favorite weapon was his M1911A1 modified with an effective silencer that could mask his position anytime, anywhere. He would also do it with a smirk on his face.

Toji Fushiguro joined the ranks of your yakuza faction after he tried to assassinate you on one rainy November night.

He was hired by the ex-leader of one of the 4 great factions, Kenjaku, to assassinate you after a deal gone wrong.

He would've been paid a cool 1.5 billion yen if he managed to kill you and your pet panther successfully--and have a hefty bonus if he could manage it in only 2 shots.

He had his trusty pistol at the ready, and his overinflated ego had him fooled that he was going to become a very rich man.

On his end, he actually was quite close to killing you and claiming that bounty, he'd just underestimated your fighting prowess.

"That's quite the gun you're holding there, Mister," you said when he was about to pull the trigger on your head. His eyes widened a little when he was found out, and in the moment he was caught off guard, Grimmjow quickly whipped around and pinned him up against the wall.

"Shall I tear his throat out for you, boss?" the blue-eyed man asked, his eyes never leaving Toji's pinned self.

Your heels clicked on the floor as you approached him, studying Toji's face for a few seconds, and you spoke to him directly. "I take it you came here to assassinate me?"

The man nodded without saying anything.

"I take it you were also paid to do so," you said, this time not asking him a question.

He, again, nodded.

"I figured as much." You took a second to scan his appearance, noting the worn-out grey pants he wore and the fitted black t-shirt that obviously needed a washing. "Someone like you would need the money... still, I'm surprised you had the balls to come here and try to kill me on your own with one measly gun."

"I have more weapons at my disposal, miss," he snarked, still being strangled by Grimmjow.

"You will speak when prompted to!" the man growled, still keeping his eyes on Toji.

"Please, Grimmy, cut him some slack," you said light-heartedly, putting your hand on his white jacket. "He obviously just needs a warm meal."

"But he tried to take your life-"

"Grimmjow." He took that as a sign to relax his grip around the man's throat a little. "Hand me his gun," you ordered suddenly, to which he happily obliged.

"Here, boss," he gruffed, handing you the pistol with the silencer on it.

You tossed it around in your hands, feeling the weight of the metal. "This is certainly a nice pistol you've got here, Mister, although it is in need of some repairs... maybe it's time you replace it and get a new one."

"I was hoping to do that with the money I'd earn from this mission," he chuckled softly. "I'm not one to save up for nice things."

You emptied the bullets from the magazine and dumped them to the ground, then tossed the gun into a nearby dumpster. "How much did Kenjaku pay you to assassinate me?"

Everyone in the alley looked at you suddenly, a little shocked by how weird your actions were. "How did you know?-"

You cut Grimmjow off and said: "he's the only one who would possibly want me dead, and he's also the only one who'd have others do it for him."

"1.5 billion yen, ma'am," Toji spoke up, unperturbed by the glares everyone was giving him and the vitriol he was facing for trying to assassinate you.

"I see," you hummed, tapping your foot in thought. "Given the fact that you and I have never crossed paths before, I'm willing to bet you were here simply for the money and not because you had some sort of vendetta against me."

"You'd be correct, ma'am-"

"Stop calling me ma'am, I don't wanna feel old."

"Apologies."

You smiled a bit and crossed your arms over your chest. "Anyway, what if I paid you 2 billion yen to kill Kenjaku? You can even bring Grimmy here to help you."

It was his turn, again, to be shocked. "But, Boss, he just tried to kill you!-"

"I'll do it, no questions asked. As long as I can get a new gun, of course."

"Good," you smiled wider, showing off your pearly canines. "Release him and take him with us." Grimmjow did as he was told, releasing his neck but still holding him by the shirt collar. "Now, we're going to treat him for a nice, warm bowl of ramen. Understood, boys and girls?"

Everyone was in agreement, albeit shakily, and they went with you to the nearest ramen shop with your new toy in tow.

"By the way, what was your name? I don't think I caught it back there."

"The name's Toji," he said gruffly. "Toji Fushiguro."

Grimmjow, ever the vigilant henchman, turned to you and asked: "are you really sure you want to go through with this?"

"Has my judgment ever betrayed me?" you retorted, making him go silent again. "He was stealthy enough to sneak behind me and almost kill me, which I should punish you for, by the way. Anyway, I know potential when I see it, and I saw a great deal in him. Almost as much as I saw in you."

As for what role Toji served, he was the wordless yet deadly assassin who could get a headshot just as fast as Grimmjow could tear someone's jugular out (he has a thing for throats, if you couldn't tell).

He and his trusty silencer pistol can do just about anything, and his custom-made sniper rifle made up for what his pistol lacked.

Toji was the silent enforcer, the voice of "reason" if you can consider his methods of killing before talking reasonable.

Truth be told, Toji would've been content in any role, so long as he didn't have to interact with idiots too much and got paid handsomely in return for his work.

Toji ran the stealthy missions, the ones that required the utmost quiet and precision, as well as the ones that had to be done ASAP.

He started calling his little army the "wolf-pack" after hearing the title he was given behind his back.

He actually never saw himself falling in love with his boss, either. He didn't obsess over you like Grimmjow did, nor did he idolize you like the other henchmen; he found himself drawn to your charismatic nature & the eloquence with which you spoke.

For a crime-boss who had such a high body count, you certainly didn't have the air of one. You almost seemed like a friendly woman, but that was because you didn't have to worry yourself with killing those who wronged you.

It was only when someone really pissed you off that he saw you take matters into your own hands.

Honestly? It was kinda hot seeing you execute someone yourself.

"The boss wants her money, so why hasn't your bald ass coughed it up already?" Grimmjow asked angrily, doing the talking for all of you.

"I-I swear, it was here a few days ago, but I was robbed!"

"Did you forget about the security cameras she had installed? What do you take her for--a dumbass who can't run a business correctly?!" the blue-haired man kicked the man in question with the toe of his leather boot, sending him flying & cracking a rib in the process.

"Just... just another week, and I'll have your money-"

"Toji, hand me your gun." The cold chill in your voice made everyone look your way, including Toji, himself.

"As you wish, boss." The silent man simply unbuckled his holster and gave you the pistol with that nonchalant smirk on his face. He'd never seen you hold a gun yourself; it was always him holding the cold metal weight in his hands.

The silence in the room was disturbed by the sound of your stiletto boots clicking on the floor, accompanied by the sound of you handing your fur coat to the closest girl. "Do you know why I'm such a successful boss, Mr. Tanaka?"

Mr. Tanaka merely whimpered where he laid, feeling the cold barrel of the handgun press against his forehead. "N-No, I-"

"It's because I'm such an incredible businesswoman," you replied coolly, pressing the barrel against his forehead harder. "All of my businesses have flourished under the watchful eyes of the people I've so deliberately put in charge. They oversee everything and make sure I turn a profit out of practically the air we breathe in. Do you want to know what happens when they fail to live up to my expectations? Do you want to know what happens to people who fuck with me?"

Before he could even answer, you easily ripped the silencer of the gun off, tossed it aside, and put a bullet in the poor man's cranium.

"This."

Once he was dead for sure, you stood up and tossed the gun back to Toji. "Don't fuck with my money ever again," was what you said, taking your coat back from the girl who stood there in fear & shock. "And that goes for all of you bastards. I could have all of you killed right now in the blink of an eye, and nobody would ever notice that you're gone. All of you are replaceable."

Nobody in this room had ever seen you lose your cool like that and fire the gun yourself, not when you had an expert marksman like Toji and a ferocious wildcat like Grimmjow.

Toji honestly couldn't lie; it was hot as fuck seeing you put a bullet in a man's skull yourself.

"That was an expensive silencer, boss," he said as you all left the room.

"I'll get you a new one."

Yeah, he was in love with a Yakuza... however it happened, he didn't know; but he embraced it. He wasn't one to shy away from his true nature, after all.

It helped that you bestowed the equal amount of care to both of your pets. Neither the wolf nor the panther got more than the other, and they were both treated to the same luxuries as the other.

New coats and wardrobes made of the finest and most durable fabrics, the best weapons money could buy, and the nicest rooms overlooking the garden in your little compound located just outside of the city.

Toji and Grimmjow both had their own apartments in case they needed to stay in the center of town for a mission, but they much preferred to stay by your side; Grimmjow wanted to be as close to you as possible, and Toji just liked the feel of the compound. It was serene, calm, relaxing for a Yakuza's mansion.

They even had their own embroidered kimonos that they wore when they were with you! (how cute).

Honestly, the only issues they had... were with each other.

Always competing for your affections, rivaling to see who could earn the most smiles and praises from their beloved boss.

It was like a love triangle straight out of some romance manga, only instead of a school it was a crime boss's compound that had blood on its walls, and instead of bento boxes there were sharp objects.

"Don't be stupid, she obviously likes the way I stab my opponents!"

"Your methods are too damn messy--you stained one of her fur coats with blood, for fuck's sake It took two weeks to clean the damn thing; she obviously likes my silent-but-deadly approach."

"Where the hell's the fun in that?!"

"Boys, boys, if you don't calm yourselves, I'm going to have to put you in your kennels," your calming voice interjected when you walked in on the two men squabbling. It was honestly so endearing to see a couple of grown criminals fighting over something as silly as whatever they were fighting over, but if they went too far they'd probably break a valuable, so you chose to quell their argument.

"We're so sorry, boss! Right, Fushiguro?!" Grimmjow asked, jabbing the man with his elbow.

"Of course we are. Would you stop elbowing me, Jaegerjaquez?!"

Instead of reprimanding them further, you put your hands on their heads and ruffled their hair. "Grimmjow, your methods provide me with entertainment; and Toji, your methods bring me peace of mind. Now, would you both please bring me some peace of mind and stop squabbling? You're going to break one of my vases."

"Anything you say, boss!" Grimmjow exclaimed, all but swishing his tail about.

They continued to fight after you left, but thankfully they didn't break any valuables.

As demonstrated above, you tried your very best to quell their rivalry, but you also found it entertaining at the same time. To think that people who crushed skulls and tore men open could rival each other for your affections made you laugh, and you welcomed the rivalry (so long as they didn't break anything).

The two men also tended to butt heads over their decision-making processes.

Honestly, you didn't even know why you ever trusted them with your duties when you were out, especially when every "proxy" meeting turned into squabbles every single time.

"What I'm saying is that we need to go in, guns blazing and all!" Grimmjow shouted at Toji. "We need to instill fear in their hearts, make them cower where they stand!"

Your faction was trying to deal with a rogue group of bandits that kept attacking your warehouses that were stationed throughout the Tokyo Metropolitan Area, but how to deal with them was a matter that nobody could solve except for you, not even Grimmjow & Toji with their greatest attempts.

"That'll get us busted, you knucklehead!" Toji retorted. "We need to go the stealthy approach and make sure they're caught off guard."

The two men were now literally butting their foreheads together. "You're always so boring, Fushiguro, will you ever learn to relax and have fun?!"

"I can have fun without blowing the damn mission!"

It was like one of those moments in anime where there was electricity crackling between them, and none of the other top henchmen were willing to butt in on this argument.

"If only the boss was here..." they all groaned in unison.

At the end of the day, though, these two men would do anything to make sure your life and your faction ran smoothly.

They'd do stuff as menial as your dry cleaning if you so asked them to.

Though you tried not to choose favorites among your rankings, it was quite clear that the two were tied for first place. They were the only ones allowed to enter your living quarters, that was how close they were to you.

They were also the only ones allowed to see you naked...

And be naked around you, and touch you, and make love to you until the sun rose over the walls of your estate.

Of course, they always turned it into a competition of who could make you cum the fastest and the most, but it was all in good fun!

God help anyone who dared to speak poorly of their boss around the two of them, for they'd be ripped to shreds twice as fast.

Enjoy your two loving bodyguards!

"But I obviously love her more-"

"Would you shut up, Jaegerjaquez?!"

FINALLY CURED THIS FUCKING WRITER'S BLOCK 😭 also how come every time I get a new fav they shoot up in the ranks?! I liked Yami for two weeks and now he's #1 & Grimmjow's #3 after only a week?!?! | © ʙʀᴜɴᴇᴛᴛᴇ-ʙɪᴛᴄʜ77 on tumblr - get your own shit bitches | ca. 8/1/2024

This made me cackle

Every single odd number has an “e” in it.

Heads or Tails

Summary: Ghost has undergone a lot of changes recently, many of which you find concerning. So you concoct a plan to try to bring the old Ghost back, the first and most crucial step: getting rid of that new mask.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Word Count: ~4.0k

Warnings: language, slight physical aggression, some uncool boundary crossing, my attempt to sound Bri'ish

A/N: Hello! So this is a new endeavor for me! I've never written for Ghost or CoD/MW before, but I've recently become obsessed with interested in the characters, and so wanted to give it a go. I was rushing a little to get this out, but I really hope you enjoy! :)

"Bet it's a fetish or somethin'."

Your neck nearly snaps as you swivel to the left, your eyes bugging at the Scot's words.

"Probably humiliation kink… Maybe breath play," Soap ponders aloud, eyes trained across the room pensively.

"Nah, mate. I reckon it's a bad trim, or some bad ink," Gaz adds from your right, making you pivot in your seat. "What'd you think? Tribal or teardrops?" He gestures to his own face, attention also drawn straight ahead.

As the two go back and forth positing ideas, your own eyes are finally steered to the figure in question. This conversation, like seemingly all the ones as of late, is centered around one topic and one topic only.

That damn mask.

While Ghost's signature masks are nothing new to the members of the 141, this one in particular has had you all scratching your heads for weeks. Much like his other balaclavas, this one is dark with a contrasting white skull, only this mask has one minor addition that none of the others have ever included: A big, bouncy puffball right on the top of his head.

When you first saw it, you honestly thought it was a joke; you were on a mission in the tundra, after all. But as you started to laugh, the sharp, deathly glare the Lieutenant gave you had you immediately snapping your mouth shut, averting your eyes out of respect.

Where he got that mask, you hadn't a clue, but you figured it would be just a one time thing anyway. However, that assumption turned out to be entirely wrong as Ghost continued to wear it again and again, no matter the mission conditions. Not only that, but he's also been exclusively wearing it around the base too; that is, whenever you do see him around the base. 

It's been weeks now and you haven't spotted him without that ridiculous mask once. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he wears it 24/7. But that can't actually be the case unless he likes waterboarding himself with every shower, which if he does, then good for him, you guess.

Though you have a lot of questions you'd like to ask the Lieutenant, the one eating at you the most is why. Why the switch up? Why the obsession with this specific mask? Why all these little changes you've noticed about him over the past several weeks?

Because that's the thing. Beyond the pom pom, there's something about Ghost that's been… different. Better, even, in some regards, but there's also been a massive decline in others. 

Out in the field, he's shown significant improvement. His aim has been sharper, his knife skills cleaner, hell, even his walk has been more sure-footed. While Lieutenant Riley has always been the cream of the military crop, for the last several weeks, he's been on another level.

Off the field, however, is a different story entirely. Instead of the man you thought you knew, it's like you hardly recognize Ghost anymore. He's been much more curt, closed off, and dare you say, a downright cunt to you all, and that doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of all the other discrepancies you've noticed with his character. 

Like why has he been avoiding the team much more than he ever used to, or why does he immediately shut down any attempts at getting close with him? He's never been an incredibly open or approachable man per se, but it's like he's gone full blown antisocial recluse now.

The sudden switch in his behavior just didn't make sense to you, so you tried casually bringing it up to Price one day, hoping maybe he had an explanation that would help piece things together. In response, however, your Captain simply shrugged his shoulders, dubbing the mask Ghost's "good luck charm" that must've just gone to his head. 

While you didn't necessarily have a better answer yourself, Price's conclusion wasn't good enough for you to accept as the truth. Maybe a lucky rabbit's foot or good luck coin or whatever could explain away Ghost's overnight tactical improvements, but it didn't answer the why of everything else. 

Why has Ghost changed so much?

As you reflect, the sound of Gaz and Soap's continued discussion slowly brings you back to the present, making you blink out of your stupor.

"...been acting all off. Like he's… paranoid or something," you hear Gaz say regarding Ghost. "Like, the other day for instance, when we got dropped off back at base, I swear, as soon as his boots hit the ground, he was booking it like he was about to get shot." 

Well, that's certainly a relief. Not that Ghost is acting strange, but that at least you're not the only one to notice.

"I thought maybe he was just sensitive to the floodlights – those things were ruddy blinding that night – but when I tried to catch up and ask him, you'd think I was chasing him from how fast he ran," Gaz adds.

Though that's a bit unexpected on Ghost's part, you suppose it's not all that uncharacteristic anymore. He's been increasingly aloof nowadays, and while you're not totally sold on Gaz's paranoia claims, you definitely see the cause for concern.

"Y'know, I think you're on to somethin'," Soap agrees with Gaz's conclusions. "Just the other night, 'round two in the mornin', I caught him rummagin' around the kitchens like he was afraid to get caught."

"Hold on," Gaz interjects, craning his head to face the other Sergeant. "What were you doing in the kitchens at two a.m.?"

"Mind yer business, that's what," Soap huffs, waving his hand dismissively. "But anyway, even then he was still hidin' beneath that bloody mask. I cannae even remember that last time I saw him without it," he says, almost dejectedly.

You can't remember the last time you did either, though you're not as beat up about it as Soap is. The man seems to have a certain fascination with staring at his Lieutenant's bare face that you can't say you totally relate to. 

As Soap continues thinking to himself of when last he saw Ghost without his mask, he suddenly snorts, smiling as he tells you, "Y'know, I once tried to break in his room and steal that thing while he slept, but the lad has some unpickable locks on his door, I tell ya," he chuckles.

"Oi, you mental or something?" Gaz's voice pitches up. "Trying to steal his mask? You'd be lucky if he didn't string you up by your bollocks just for thinking it."

Soap scoffs, peeking over from the corner of his eye. "Oh, come on. Like you've never?"

"I'd like to keep my boys securely attached, thank you." Gaz shifts his weight at the uneasy thought, grimacing slightly.

That has Soap turning fully in his seat, making to confront Gaz head on. "So you're tellin' me you like the new mask? That you don't want to see the fucker gone?"

Gaz shakes his head, mirroring Soap as he similarly turns to face him. "I didn't say that. I'm just as tired of looking at it as you are."

At that, Soap throws his hands up, letting out an exasperated breath. "So let's do somethin' about it!" he exclaims, calling back to his attempted theft.

"Like what?" Gaz huffs. "You want me to ask nicely? 'Ghost, would you please lose the mask? There's only room for one ugly hat around here, and Price has already filled that niche. So sorry.'"

As the two Sergeants continue to bicker over the top of your head, you keep your eyes on Ghost who's still in the room. Thankfully, he appears to be completely oblivious to the animated discussion happening around you. You don't think he'd enjoy hearing how his teammates want to throw his mask in an on-fire garbage bin.

Gradually, your attention starts to drift away from the conversation at hand until you're right back at your earlier conundrum: trying to figure out Ghost's deal. 

Why has he been acting so different as of late? What could have brought on such a drastic change in his behavior? As you think, Soap and Gaz's words lightly filter through your mind, and suddenly, the answer becomes blatantly obvious. 

What's the common denominator in all of this? What seems to be the root cause of all this discourse? It all comes down to one thing and one thing alone.

That fucking puffball mask of his.

Ever since he got that new mask, there's been a never ending stream of changes with Ghost, most of which you'd argue are for the worse. You know it's silly to cast blame on such a normally inconsequential scrap of fabric, but at this moment, there's nothing else that makes sense in your mind.

Maybe the change is because his brain is being squeezed too tight or maybe he's been having a constant bout of heat stroke these last few weeks. Whatever the reason, you can see how wearing that mask has negatively affected him, and you're eager to see that rectified.

"I've got it!" you pipe up for the first time, interrupting the Sergeants who are still verbally going at it. You look between them both before once more bringing your gaze back to Ghost. "I know what to do," you say confidently.

Though the old Ghost you knew has been M.I.A. recently, you don't think he's truly gone, not permanently anyway. He's just been squirreled away for the time being, trapped in a cage of woven black thread. You just hope that, with a little luck and a lot of planning, soon…

You'll be able to set him free again.

~~~~~

You peek impatiently around the corner, seeing Gaz standing at the end of the hall. When he notices you, he shakes his head, turning back to keep watch like directed. 

Annoyed, you check your phone again. Soap said they were on their way five minutes ago. You know it's a maze of passageways between here and there, but still, they should've shown up by now. 

At its core, your plan is simple, but so many pieces have to come together for you to pull it off successfully. One screw up and it all comes toppling down, and you doubt you'll ever get a chance at a redo.

Another 30 seconds pass before you're checking on Gaz again, the man keeping a silent sentinel against the wall. The trap's been set, all you have to do is sit back and wait. But you're not sure how much longer you can handle until you go mad.

Just as you're about to text Soap for confirmation again, Gaz perks up, turning and nodding over at you. Before he can be spotted by anyone else, he slips into the room at his back, quickly closing the door shut.

Finally! It's time. Operation Unmask is a go.

You stoop to pick up one of the items at your feet, counting down from 20 as you hear a pair of heavy boots slowly approach your position. When you finally reach zero, you suck in your breath. It's now or never, baby.

Right before the figure can descend on your hiding spot, you pop out around the corner, colliding directly with the man you'd expected to find. Ghost grunts in surprise at the blunt contact, that damn pom pom on his head bouncing as he stumbles slightly.

"Oh, sorry!" you call out innocently. "Didn't see you there." It's not exactly a lie. You struggle to peer around the tower of boxes in your arms, stacked high enough that you can hardly see a thing ahead.

Ghost grunts again as he takes in the scene you've laid out, thankfully seeming to accept it at face value. "Careful," is all he says, moving to continue in the direction he was headed.

"Oh, uh, actually—?" you stop him before he can escape. "Sorry, but… Do you think you could…?" You shift the boxes deliberately in your hold, hinting at the favor you mean to ask. "If you don't mind. They're really heavy."

This plan all hinges on whether or not Ghost will take the bait. Though he's been less than charitable recently, in the past, he used to be quite helpful to you in particular. That's why you're the one who had to ask for his help. You knew that anyone else, he'd decline immediately.

But you can tell Ghost is hesitant to agree to assist you now, not only because of his recent change in character, but because he was currently preoccupied.

"Price is waitin' for m—" he starts to give the excuse Soap had fabricated to lure him out of his room.

"Please," you cut him short, pretending your situation is dire. "It'll be quick. I just need to get these to my office." That's where you pulled them from initially, filling them with whatever junk you could find to weigh them down. Soap and Gaz weren't thrilled to have to lug them all the way over here, but you had to make them heavy to be convincing, you'd told them.

As if on cue, out of the corner of your eye, you see Soap finally make his appearance at the end of the hall. He turns the corner Ghost had come from earlier, having successfully tailed the Lieutenant all the way from his room undetected. Gaz's timing is also stellar as not a second later, he carefully opens and exits the door Soap passes by.

Luckily, Ghost doesn't seem to notice the two Sergeants quietly lurking behind him – a blessing since, sometimes, you swear he has a pair of eyes in the back of his head. 

He considers you for a moment, staring at the stack in your hands, glancing at the others still by your feet. Though you can sense he's warring with himself, another light 'please' from your lips has him caving with a sigh.

As Ghost bends to grab one of the box towers, that's when Soap really makes his move. The Scot creeps forward until he's within arm's length of Ghost, hand outstretching as he reaches towards the Lieutenant's head. Just before he can close his fingers around the mask – intending to snatch and run, the fastest of you three – Ghost does something that surprises you all.

Without even looking, Ghost suddenly jerks away from Soap's grasp, ducking at an almost unnatural speed and angle. At first, it's like he doesn't even realize what's happened himself, but then he turns and sees Soap standing there, hand caught right in the cookie jar.

"What the fuck d'you think you're doing, MacTavish?" Ghost asks roughly.

Soap blinks dumbly, shocked by Ghost’s quick reaction. "S-Sir," he stutters, his brain trying to catch up with his mouth. "Just… thought… I… saw a piece of lint," he makes up the fib on the spot, then boldly reaches towards the mask again.

Once more, Ghost evades his reach, leaning far back like he's in The Matrix. He growls and slaps Soap's arm down. "You wanna keep that hand, Sergeant?" he rumbles.

In response, all Soap can do is nod his head, baffled into a state of silence. 

"Then fuck off," Ghost warns him not to try again. He then nods towards the pile at your feet. "Or better yet, make yourself useful and pick up a box." 

Still in a trance, Soap immediately complies with the Lieutenant's order. The two grab a respective stack, Ghost directing Soap to walk ahead as he no longer trusts him where he can't see him.

Fuck! This is not at all what you envisioned. This train is rapidly going off the tracks, heading straight over a cliff.

But thankfully, you have a potential backup in place, and Gaz quickly makes his way over as he sees things running amok.

"Ghost?" he captures the attention of the growingly irritated man, who stops and turns at the sound of his voice. "Uh… your shoe's untied," Gaz mumbles once he's under the intimidating gaze of Ghost, and your eyes fall shut at the lame excuse.

Christ, this is all going to shit. There's no way you're going to pull this off.

Somehow, though, Ghost chooses to check Gaz's statement, and he cranes his head down to inspect his boots. "No," is all he says, seeing his laces clearly intact. But before he can stand back up, head still down turned, Gaz takes his opportunity before it can slip away.

Gaz tries to grab for the bloated puffball wobbling in his face, but just like before, Ghost seems to have a sixth sense for it. Again, he bends out of the way, spectacularly agile, and shoots a glare at the Sergeant's gall.

"You out of your fuckin' mind? What's gotten into you lot?" Ghost accuses the three of you, turning to look at you all, becoming increasingly suspicious of what you're doing.

Shit fuck ass balls. You need to act fast. He's starting to catch on. 

Panicked, you do the first thing that pops into your head, dropping the boxes to the floor with a thunderous thump. Ghost's head snaps in your direction, eyes wide in confusion, and they only widen more as you purposefully knock the boxes out of his hands too.

"Whoops!" you exclaim and swiftly crouch down, starting to pick up all the bits and bobs that spilled out.

Gaz realizes your intent and quickly follows suit, stooping down to help you clean up the mess. It's a few seconds before Soap catches on as well, and then all three of you are on your hands and knees, crawling around like a pack of vermin.

"The fuck's the matter with you bunch?" Ghost exhales, unable to make sense of the unfolding chaos. Nevertheless, though, he begrudgingly lowers himself down, electing to assist despite his growing skepticism.

As you go about cleaning up the mess you made, you try to covertly catch the eyes of your accomplices. Without words, you ask them which one is going to make a move, who'll grab for the mask next, but both seem a little reluctant at trying their hand again.

Ugh, whatever. You'll just do it yourself then. Really, how hard can it be?

Slyly, you creep around until you have a good vantage on Ghost, his back partially turned to you. You edge closer and closer until you're nearly bumping into him, pretending to still pick up the items scattered around. Then slowly, so incredibly slowly, you raise your hand up, reaching towards the back of Ghost's mask. Just as your fingers graze the fabric, pulling it up a mere centimeter, Ghost jolts, springing to his feet with a start.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he yells.

"What's wrong with you?!" you fire back, your frustrations boiling over. You pop up to mimic his stance, throwing all stealth to the wayside as you figure the jig is up anyway. "We're just trying to help you."

"Help me?" he sneers. "Like hell. You're out to fuckin' get me."

There he goes again with the paranoia Gaz proposed. Though maybe, in this instance, he's not entirely wrong.

"You think we haven't noticed the differences with you? How much you've changed recently?" you continue. "We can see what that thing's doing to you. You'd be better off without it."

Ghost shakes his head in wild perplexity. "The hell are you on about?"

"The mask, L.T.," Soap rises to his feet. "Take it off," he implores.

"Who the fuck d'you think you are giving me orders, Sergeant?"

"It's just a mask, sir, and we've all seen you without one before," Gaz joins the showdown. "What have you got to lose?"

Ghost looks between each of you angrily, pointing an accusatory finger at you all in turn. "You're all way out of line! Get the hell back," he urges as you three start to close in.

"Why d'ya always hide from us now? I thought we were friends, L.T." Soap reaches forward, his hand immediately swatted away.

"Ghost, really, the thing's a bloody eyesore. Just get rid of it." Gaz tries his luck, only to be met with the same result.

Again and again, you all try dislodging the mask, descending on Ghost like a pack of rabid animals. With each swipe and stretch, he expertly dodges your attacks, bending and batting you away like pests.

"Quit fuckin'—!"

"Just let me—!"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud!"

The scene is total, unbridled chaos – voices raised, arms entangled, rubbish littered all over the ground. You three push forward on Ghost until he's backed into the wall, trapped with no way out. He fights and fights, the pom pom jostling around perilously, until finally, bitterly, he's overcome.

Soap gets his fingers hooked under an edge of the mask, and he yanks, pulling it all the way off. For the first time in weeks, Ghost's face is revealed to you all, and you'd be ecstatic if not for one detail that has you freezing.

Is that a…?

No, it can't be. You must be imagining things.

Actually, that looks kind of real. Holy shit, that's definitely real!

Oh my God! Is that a—?

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT?!"

You, Gaz, and Soap all jump back in horror at the sight before you: a plump, little, white rat nestled atop Ghost's head. The rodent seems just as shocked to see you as you are it, and it lets out a small squeak as you lock with its beady eyes, tiny fingers clinging to Ghost's hair.

"Aaaahhh!" Soap unleashes a girlish shriek, dropping the mask as he rears back.

"What the fuck, Ghost? No really, what the fuck?!" Gaz asks dumbfounded, hand coming up to cover his mouth.

Before anyone has a chance to fully process what they're seeing, the rat tugs on Ghost's hair, moving him to scoop up his mask from the floor. He's guided to shove the fabric back on his head, perhaps a little more roughly than intended, because you hear a pathetic squeak ring out as he does.

He points his index finger at you in a threatening manner, the holes over his eyes slightly askew. "Not a word," he grumbles, spinning on his heel. "Not one fuckin' word!" 

And just like that, he takes off down the hall, a fat, pink tail sticking out from under the back of his mask. It takes a moment before you even realize your mouth is still wide open, and you close your jaw with an audible thud. 

Vaguely, you hear Soap muttering behind you, near tears as he cowers against the wall. "Steamin' Jesus, I think I touched it! Did— Did it bite me? Am I bleedin'? I think I'm bleedin'!" he blubbers hysterically.

"Nah, you're alright, mate! You're alright!" Gaz tries to comfort him, unsuccessful as he’s also rattled.

As the two huddle together in the corner, you're left staring after Ghost's rapidly fleeing figure, trying to pick up the pieces of your newly fractured reality. 

That… was… 

Honestly, you're not sure what the hell that was.

A rat? That rides on Ghost's head? Controlling his every move and muscle? You guess that explains a few things about his behavior recently, but mostly, it just leaves you with more questions than answers.

Where the hell did he get that thing? How the fuck does it work? Why did he even think to test it out in the first place?

Actually, on second thought, no, you don't want to know. You've seen enough for one day, or really, one lifetime. 

At the start of this, you thought you had such a great plan to unveil – one that would simply reveal the "true" Ghost again. You didn't realize that in the process of trying to set him free, you would release a whole other beast, literally. And while at your core you still believe your intentions to help were good, you realize now that, perhaps…

Some things are better off hidden.

__________

A/N: Squeak squeaker squeaky squeak! [Translation: Happy April Fools!]

It figures that my first venture in this fandom is a crack fic. I expected nothing less lmao. But anyway, I'd love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

Please please PLEASE

Reblog the writers’ fortune cookie for luck!

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