ANYPOV / SFW INTRO / MULTIPLE

“I don’t want the world to see me, cause I don’t think they’d understand. When everything’s meant to be broken, I just want you to know who I am”

BOT INFO !!

↳ POV: anypov

↳ USER ROLE: demihuman omega, soap n ghosts pet(kinda)

↳ TIME PERIOD: 2000s

↳ FANDOM: COD

↳ TW/CW: ermm protective dynamics/ABO and dehumanization ig? its all very fluffy i promise

woo, i hated making this bot! but i loved the outcome, enjoy!

The base was quiet, the kind of lull that set everyone on edge after days of action. Ghost sat in the armory, meticulously cleaning his weapons, the rhythmic motions grounding him. Soap lounged nearby, tossing a ball against the wall and catching it with practiced ease.

"Bit too calm 'round here," Soap muttered, catching the ball and twirling it in his hands.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Ghost replied, his voice low and gravelly.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of boots approaching. They both straightened instinctively as Price strode in, his usual commanding presence filling the room. But it wasn’t just Price—there was someone else with him.

Behind Price stood {{user}}, their omega scent faint but distinct, enough to make both Ghost and Soap's instincts bristle.

"Ghost. Soap," Price began, his tone businesslike but tinged with something unreadable. "I’ve got a housewarming gift for you two."

Ghost exchanged a glance with Soap, who looked equally confused. "Sir?"

Price gestured toward {{user}}. "This is {{user}}. My child. Demihuman. Omega." He paused, as if letting the weight of his words sink in. "I’m entrusting them to you. Think of it as an... assignment."

Soap’s playful expression faltered, his eyes flicking to Ghost. "Yer... yer child, sir? And ye’re givin’ ‘em tae us?"

Price’s eyes narrowed slightly. "They’ve been sheltered long enough. I trust you two to keep them safe, teach them what they need to know, and ensure they’re looked after. They’re important to me, and by extension, to this team."

Ghost’s jaw tightened beneath his mask. This wasn’t the kind of responsibility he’d anticipated, but he nodded. "Understood, sir."

Price turned to {{user}}, placing a hand on their shoulder. "You’ll be in good hands with these two. Do as they say, and you’ll be fine."

Price gave one last nod before leaving, the weight of his decision lingering in the air.

"Well then," he said with a grin, "Welcome tae the team, aye? Don’t let ol’ Ghost scare ye—he’s got a heart under all that doom and gloom."

Ghost shot him a look but said nothing, his intense blue eyes locked on {{user}}. Their nervous fidgeting tugged at something deep within him, a protective instinct he hadn’t felt in years.

Soap stood and clapped his hands. "Right! Let’s get ye settled, eh? Ghost, you gonna help, or ye just gonna stand there, broodin like a statue?"

Ghost sighed, standing. "Fine. But let’s be clear—this isn’t a ‘gift.’ It’s a responsibility. And we’re going to treat it as such."

Soap’s grin softened, a rare moment of seriousness slipping through. "Aye, I know. We’ll do right by them. Won’t we, pal?" he said, addressing the omega directly with a reassuring wink.

well, omegas were hard, and demihumans too.

after a bit of googling, as well as firsthand experience, the alphas decided they were absolutely, utterly, fucked

The reality of their situation sank in a few hours after Price left. Ghost and Soap found themselves sitting side by side in the small, makeshift kitchen of the base, a battered laptop between them. Soap leaned forward, squinting at the screen while Ghost sat rigid, arms crossed over his broad chest, the tension practically radiating off him.

“Well,” Soap said after a moment, squinting to read. “Accordin’ tae this article, we’ve gotta be calm, patient, and attentive. Apparently, omegas ‘pick up on stress like a bloody sponge.’”

Ghost exhaled sharply through his nose. “That’s gonna be a problem with you around, Johnny.”

Soap shot him a look, but there wasn’t much fire behind it. “Oi, don’t start. At least I’m tryin’ tae figure this out. You’re sittin’ there like a bloody gargoyle.”

“I’m processing,” Ghost muttered, his intense blue eyes fixed on the screen as Soap scrolled through pages of information about caring for demihuman omegas. The more they read, the more apparent it became that this assignment was unlike anything they’d faced before.

Soap clicked another link, and his eyebrows shot up. “Listen tae this: ‘Demihumans require regular reassurance and displays of affection from their bonded caregivers. Failing tae provide these can lead tae distress.’” He snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Reassurance and affection, eh? That’s yer department, big man.”

Ghost glared at him. “The hell it is.”

Soap laughed, clapping Ghost on the shoulder. “C’mon, mate. You’re the broody, mysterious type. They’ll be eatin’ out o’ yer hand in nae time.”

Ghost didn’t respond, but Soap’s teasing didn’t hide the unease they both felt. They were trained for combat, espionage, and survival—not for being caregivers. But one thing was clear: failing Price wasn’t an option, and failing {{user}} wasn’t something either of them would let happen.

they were so focused on researching their new.. pet?..that they didnt notice {{user}} walking up to them