#so like. it makes sense that its ghost files this happened in. just | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prismuffin · 1 year

Text

The MW2 boys reaction to you calling them pretty boy

w/ Price, Gaz, Ghost, Soap, Alejandro, Rudy

warnings?: swearing, mentions of drinking

*gn reader ( can be read as any gender ! )

!-!more under the cut!-!

John Price:

—You calling him pretty boy would definitely catch him off guard.

—Honestly he thinks it's a dare

—Depending on how well he knows you he might let it slide, unless you're in public or around other members of 141, then he'll reprimand you for it.

—Secretly enjoys it but tries not to show any reaction

"Drinking all by yourself pretty boy?"

John's head snapped in your direction, seeing you leaning against the counter. He was currently at the bar having a drink though your presence completely caught him off guard. He eyed you up and down before taking another sip of his drink, already sensing the headache inducing conversation ahead. "Pretty boy?" He questioned, his body jolting in a silent laugh, though it was more out of disbelief than anything. "Never call me that again Sergeant." "Yes sir."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

—Did he hear you right?

—Is honestly super flustered but is very happy with the new nickname, he's still very confused at the suddenness of it though.

—He's super smiley all day afterwards like it's all he can think about. Price had to ask him what was had happened to make him so happy.

Gaz was going through a routine pre-workout stretch in the training room. He had more of a lean build compared to some of his mates and though that doesn't make him any less capable it still made him feel as though he has to keep up sometimes. "Nice arms you got there pretty boy!" He turned his head in your direction, his eyebrows raised as he watched you wink at him before disappearing into the hallway. He beamed, feeling a bit more energized than before. He completed his workout with a confidence boost, nobody could tear Gaz down that day. He knew he was getting questioning looks from Price about his smiley attitude but he didn't care.

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

—He's so confused? Like did you really just say that to him of all people?? The guy wearing the mask all the time???

—Like Price, he thinks it's a dare or a joke you got forced into by Soap or something

—Doesn't know how to take random genuine compliments that have no context so please bare with him

—Might just fully ignore you honestly, especially if its early mornings

Ghost sighed as he walked into the common room. Soap and Gaz were talking about something in the corner of the room while Price seemed to be sat reviewing some files, you standing over his shoulder. You noticed him first, your eyes catching his as he stood in the doorway. You nodded your head at him, "Morning pretty boy." He blinked at you, seeing if you were serious. It wasn't something he had expected to leave your mouth and he didn't know how to react, he was thankful for his mask at times like these. Noticing your greeting, Price had turned and nodded to him as well before the both of you went back to looking at the files. He mumbled a "Fuckin' 'ell" as he walked deeper into the room. He just hoped that nickname wouldn't stick.

John "Soap" MacTavish:

—He easily accepts the new nickname with a smirk

—Two can play that game 'cause he'll definitely flirt back a little to be honest

—You're just adding fuel to his ego ya know

—Like Gaz he's just a big ole happy boy after you call him pretty boy

Soap was with Ghost in the locker room on base. He was chatting with Ghost, though it was more like he was talking while Ghost was listening, only giving input when he felt necessary. You'd walked in when Soap had just taken off his tactical vest, leaving him in nothing but a tight black shirt. A whistle cut through the air, catching the attention of both men. "Looking good pretty boy." Soap's expression morphed from confusion to that of an amused one. A smirk rested on his lips as he crossed his arms. "Not lookin' too bad yourself there la' " He winked before hearing Ghost groan about how you two were being gross.

Alejandro Vargas:

—It catches him off guard much like Price but he quickly gets over his shock

—Like Soap he's more than likely to flirt back with you

—Finds it funny, especially if it comes from nowhere

—Will tease you to hide his own flustered state

You were currently occupying yourself by cleaning off one of your favorite submachine guns. It was then that Alejandro had walked in with Rodolfo. They were both coated in sweat after a morning run which Rudy had immediately left to wash off. You would have joined them both had you not been minorly injured on one of the recent expeditions. You weren't complaining though, you got to rest all day and take in sights like this. A smirk found its way onto your face as your eyes scanned over Alejandro's form. "Welcome back pretty boy." Alejandro shook his head, a smile resting on his face. "Ten cuidado amigo/a, falling for me can be dangerous." (Be careful, friend)

Rodolfo Parra:

—He's flattered to say the least, he definitely wasn't expecting it but he's not mad at all

—Like Gaz and Soap he's very smiley afterwards

—You made his day with such a simple compliment and he secretly hopes the nickname will stick cause it makes his heart flutter.

Rodolfo was currently training some new recruits for Los Vaqueros, yelling semi-threatening words of encouragement as he watched them run the track. The yelling along with the heat had made him a bit lightheaded though he fought against the feeling. He jolted when a hand clapped his back, turning to see your face greeting him with a smile. "You doing alright pretty boy?" If you asked Rudy later he'd definitely blame the blush rising in his cheeks on the heat. "S-Sí, I'm ok." You tilted your head, unhooking your hip flask from your belt. You held it out to him "Cuídate Rudy." (Take care of yourself) He nodded, grabbing the flask from your hand and taking a big sip before handing it back to you. "Gracias." "De nada."

----!----

( first time writing for COD men I hope it turned out ok !! )

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are OPEN but you can still send me messages to see if I'm close to opening them again!

See my DIRECTORY for upcoming fics!

Masterlist

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scrivenger-grimgar · 11 days

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au of an au for mdzs where canon plays out exactly as it was supposed to except

wwx became a calamity after dying and cared for his coven of ghosts in yiling before mxy summoned him for revenge.

he still elopes with lwj after solving the corpse question

supreme ghosts have a similar ability to gods taking deputies, except since they're not sharing immortality they can have a lot more of them

wwx's "deputies" are (in order) jiang cheng, the wen remnants, luo qingyang, nie huaisang, mo xuanyu, jin ling, lan jingyi, ouyang zhizhen, lan sizhui, and lan wangji.

being a calamity's "deputy" means that you are soul bonded to them, with a kind of preternatural sense of the wellbeing of the entire coven.

one of the heavenly officials decides to fuck around with time, and only other heavenly officials were supposed to remember, except extremely strong ghosts and their covens also remember because there are TWO gods married to calamities, and calamities are weirdly cooperative with each other (hc, hx, wwx, & gL discuss trade agreements over tea and artistic process over alcohol).

thus like 75 people are now in the past.

wwx's child body cant stand the power his soul has and just kinda crumbles under the weight. thats mostly fine tho cause he can shapeshift.

of course he immediately comes up with a dastardly plan to inflict as much chaos onto the sects as possible while also protecting his loved ones at the same time. he gets in contact with the wen remnants (bigger and there's more of them) and slowly moves them over to yiling while he builds places for them to live on the mountain, and then offers the people of yiling a very good deal:

"we'll deal with all your ghost problems for free, and in exchange we get discounts on food, and you tell everyone who comes asking that the Yiling Wei sect has been here the entire time."

its almost too easy to set up, too. they forge some trade agreements and other documents to place in the other sects' files, waiting to be found, with ease, bc he knows what the filing for the jiang, lan, wen, and nie looks like, and part of the story is that the jin offended them so badly that they just stopped doing business with them altogether and also tend to actively hate them with few exceptions.

meanwhile, huaisang, qingyang, and wangji will reference the Yiling Wei and act like this is something everyone knows about, and jiang cheng catches on and starts doing the same.

wwx's plan is to drive them all insane by appearing out of nowhere and acting like he's been there the entire time. make them question reality.

wen popo, at a discussion conference: i'll be standing in for my grandson so he can participate in the games

jiang fengmian, initiating polite conversation: your grandson? what happened to your son?

wen popo, internally cackling: fengmian! are you so quick to discard changze like this?! for shame!!

jiang fengmian, who has never met this lady: what

wen popo: you know i trusted him when he said he wanted to stand by his sworn brother's side but if this is how you treat his memory after he was so unwaveringly loyal to you, only ever leaving for Cangse, the love of his life, then i'll have to have you stricken from the legacy registry!

wen popo, with unfaltering confidence: good evening wen-zhongzhu

wen ruohan, who has incurable face blindness: well met Wei-zhongzhu (do i know her???)

nie mingjue is the only one who's taking any of this well and thats solely because his brother has been spoon feeding him Yiling Wei propaganda for 13 years. lan xichen has a crisis because his baby brother eloped with a clan leader he met thrice and they're having a spring wedding.

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rascal-xo · 1 year

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Hi :) first of all, I already made a request for you a month ago. And I was very happy with the outcome of it. So if you are bored sometime in the future, here is another request:

Its Holidays (You can choose which, I believe spring would be cool because it would probably rain) and the whole 141 are by their family members. So since Ghost got none, he stays at the military. Since the reader is new in the crew she doesn't know that he always stays at there.

You came home late from a mission which took longer than expected. You go to bed and can't sleep so you decide to make tea and you are surprised the you meet Simon there. You tell him that you don't have a family too and it gets kind of angsty. From then on you could decide how the story goes on...

Are they just sleeping together on the couch or is it going to continue in a more smutty way? Who knows?

Thanks in advance 🪸

When It Rains, It Pours | Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader |

Chapter Summary: You and Simon happen to be the only two on base during spring break.

Warnings: Language, Fluff, mentions of loss, trauma, a bit of sexual undertones.

Word Count: 1.6K

A/N: I’m so happy you liked the last request I wrote for!! I hope you enjoy this one too :)) Might do a pt.2 so lmk 🫶🏼

PT. 2 HERE

You had just returned from a 2 week long grueling mission, and the rain was pouring down on you as you stepped off of the plane, and onto base.

It was almost night, and the sky was gloomy and dark. You're were still wearing your gear, and the weight of it had been pressing down on your tired muscles, making them ache even more.

Your head was pounding, and you could feel your heartbeat in your ears. You let yourself look up at the sky and let the rain wash over you, feeling the cold drops soaking through the layer of your clothes that weren’t covered by the vest, and let it seep onto your skin.

You were exhausted and sore, but you knew that you had done your duty and completed the mission. Despite the rain and the fatigue, you felt a sense of satisfaction that came from knowing that you had gone through with your orders successfully.

Laswell had a lot of hope on the line with you as the new Marine recruit for the 141. Herself and Captain Price had picked your file from the dozens of qualified soldiers.

As you stepped inside the familiar lodging’s building, you were met with a silence. You dropped your duffel bag, then remembering you would the only one here.

The team had all been given time off for the spring holidays, to go to their respective homes and find some rest. You on the other hand had taken on more work instead, not having the ‘luxury’ of something to go back to.

It was better that way. You would be far more comfortable here where you had a sense of security on base, even if you were alone.

You made your way to your room, shedding off your gear and leaving it in a neat pile by the door. You could feel your muscles relaxing just from the act of removing the weight from your body.

You decided to take a warm shower to ease your sore muscles, hoping it would also help to clear your head. You turned the faucet on and stepped into the warm stream, feeling the hot water wash away the grime and dirt from your skin.

Taking your time in the shower, not wanting to rush the experience, you washed your hair, feeling the suds massage your scalp and the warm water rinse it away. You ran your hands over your body, feeling every inch of your skin, enjoying the sensation of finally being clean.

After what felt like an eternity, you reluctantly turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. You walked over to your small closet and grabbed a random Marine labeled t-shirt that you had around from your BMT trainee days. You slipped it on and felt the familiar comfort of the cotton against your skin.

Despite the warm shower, you found yourself unable to sleep. You tossed and turned in your bed, trying to find a comfortable position, but nothing seemed to work. You couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in your chest, and the sound of heavy rain hitting the roof only added to your restlessness.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally gave up and sat up in bed, letting out a frustrated sigh. You rubbed your eyes, feeling the exhaustion weighing heavy on your body, but your mind refused to let you rest.

You decided to get up and make yourself some tea, hoping the warm drink would help soothe your nerves somehow. As you made your way to the kitchen area, you were lost in your thoughts, trying to gather your uneasiness.

You didn't notice another person hunched over, sitting on the couch until you were only a few feet away. Startled, you let out a gasp, and Simon looked up at you, his knives in his hands.

"You scare easily, Sergeant." He spoke, teasing yet absolutely serious in his tone.

"Sorry, I didn't think anyone else was here." You answered softly, before going to find any sort of tea you could make. Unbeknownst to you, Simon watched you going about your business, trying not to let yourself make eye contact with him.

As you busied yourself with making tea, Simon remained silent, observing you with a keen eye. He had been on a mission as well, but he had managed to complete it earlier and had returned to base before you, staying true to his callsign.

After a few moments, he stood up and walked over to you, his knives left on the coffee table where he had been cleaning them off. "Why aren't you home, Sergeant." His voice was deep, but his eyes held a glint of curiosity.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you wanted to open up to someone, but something in his demeanor made you feel like you could trust him. "There's no home to be at." you admitted, taking a sip of the hot tea a little too quickly before it had cooled, making you bite back a hiss. "What about you?"

Simon took a moment to consider your question, his expression unreadable. "I stick around here, Sergeant." he finally replied, not going any further into detail. "Can't sleep?" You leaned back against the edge of the counter, a couple of feet in front of the Lt.

His demeanor was a bit more relaxed than you were accustomed to seeing him. His heavy camo and skull mask were replaced with sweats and a plain black balaclava, only revealing his deep brown eyes. For the first time you could clearly see his tattoos, with his sleeves pushed up to his forearms.

"Can't catch much of it these days." You spoke, letting the hot mug rest in your hands. You could feel his piercing gaze on you, while you tried not to meet his eyes.

Simon remained silent for a moment, taking in your words. "Doesn't get much better if you're always this tense, I'm afraid." He might not have been joking, but you found humor in his blatant honesty.

"I'm not the tense one." You claimed back, a small tired smile playing at your lips. It was strange yet comforting to have someone else here, especially that someone you had never really spoken to before. outside of a professional setting.

He suddenly walked up closer to you, taking the mug from your hands and placing it on the counter. "Turn around." He asserted. You wondered if his field voice was just his all-the-time voice, but nonetheless you followed his direction.

He wasn't completely what had gotten into him so suddenly, seeing you in the kitchen barefaced and vulnerable to your surroundings. He had taken a keen liking to having you on the team, but even more having you to himself.

His hands found themselves on your upper shoulders, causing you to jerk a little. He immediately felt how tense you were, but being under his touch didn't exactly lighten that sensation.

Simon began to knead your shoulders, you felt the tension melting away. He worked his way to your arms, his strong hands working out the knots and kinks in your muscles. You couldn't help but let out a contented sigh as you leaned back against him, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into yours. It felt wrong, letting your Lieutenant touch you like that, but it felt too good to stop.

"You don't have to, Lt-"

"Simon." His voice was low this time, soft, but he didn't stop. You suddenly felt self conscious, realizing you had failed to put on any pants under your t shirt that was coming down your upper thighs.

Your heart started racing a bit as you tried to subtly pull your shirt down, hoping to cover more of your legs. Simon must have noticed your movement, but he didn't comment on it. Instead, he continued massaging your arms, his touch firm yet gentle.

His touch was surprisingly gentle for someone so strong, and you found yourself relaxing into it despite your initial reservations. As the tension in your body continued to melt away, you couldn't help but feel grateful for Simon's unexpected gesture.

After a few minutes, his hands gradually slowed down and eventually came to a stop. You turned around to face him, feeling a little bit awkward but also strangely comforted by his presence. You weren't sure what had just happened, but you knew it was something you couldn't ignore.

Your tea had gone cold, being the last thing you could think about in the moment. You stood there for a moment, just looking at each other. The air between you heavy with unspoken words, and for a moment it felt like he was seeing right through you.

You finally broke the silence, "Si-" Which was suddenly cut off by his mouth coming down onto yours.

Your mind went blank for a moment as you felt Simon's lips pressing against yours. The sensation was both familiar and foreign at the same time. You had never imagined that anything like this could happen between the two of you, but now that it was happening, it felt almost inevitable.

You tentatively kissed him back, your arms wrapping around his neck as he deepened the kiss. It was like a floodgate had been opened, all the pent-up desire and attraction suddenly spilling out between you.

As you pulled away, gasping for air, you both looked at each other with a mix of surprise and intensity. This was new territory for both of you, and you weren't quite sure what to do next.

Who knew something so wrong could feel so right.

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bau-drabbles · 1 year

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hi!! if you’re taking requests, i was wondering if you could write something where the reader and aaron both like each other but they just think the others being friendly. like hotch gets all soft spoken and does little things for the reader that he wouldn’t do for the others yk

and one night the team is over at rossis and the reader gets drunk and starts shamelessly flirting with aaron saying things like “you really put the hot in hotchner 😋😉” (stuff they’d never say sober) and the team is just watching him blushing and stuttering while he’s taking in a wave of compliments

there’s something about turning big and scary SSA hotchner into a flustered mess that i love

thank you 🫶🫶

a/n: wait i love this so much :") i kinda wanted to do this a lil different, hope you enjoy! 🤍 it's kinda long lmao ☠ and i'm so sorry for taking forever

3 times hotch secretly pines for you + 1 time the team pushes you together

sight

it had been a long gruelling day. every one of your team were more than excited to rest up for the weekend, glad to not have work for a two days. all but you, of course.

you were practically having a mental breakdown, unable to move away from the mountain of paperwork on your desk. you don't know how it managed to become so huge but it did mean you were no longer going home tonight and the plans of diving under the blankets were long forgotten.

"hey y/n, do you have the-" aaron's hand came to knock but it stops in its track, he looks at you in shock. your head was against your hands, looking at the piles and piles of files you had to go through. he could see your inner turmoil, how your face was scrunched up in a frown. and then he walked forwards, determined to make your night a little better. he had never done it for any of his team members, he didn't entirely understand why he was going to do it now. but seeing you in any distress was enough to make him want to get you out of it as best as he could.

you let out a sigh, looking back up to see your boss by the door. your heart sinks as you look back down on your desk, trying to find what it was he was after.

"oh my god, sorry. i completely lost track of time, i'll have tonight's case on your desk-" you begin spiralling and he comes closer, his voice gentle. he grabs a good chunk of the paperwork, way more than half and you watch with pure astonishment. why was he doing this??

"that's okay" he whispers back, a ghost of a smile upon his lips. he holds your files in his arms like it was the most normal thing and then he turns back. but you stop him, standing up in confusion

"what are you doing?" your breath is caught in your throat, coming back to the front to meet him

"i'm helping you" his voice is so sweet, you wonder why he doesn't use that tone a lot more often. your hands around around his wrist and it feels warm, paired with your perfume. it smells so comforting, homely even. how close you were and it wasn't enough. he needed more of you.

but he doesn't manage to say anything, your name was being called. and you give an apologetic smile, reluctantly disappearing down the hallways. your hands drops back to your side and he already misses it, your sweet smell lingers in the air and he inhales. letting it caress his senses for a few seconds. what if you were his, what could have been, what he desperately wishes

and then the moment ends, he comes crashing back to reality and he too begrudgingly walks away.

hearing

"did you know?" rossi comes in hotch's office who shares the same pensive look mirrored on the others face.

"yeah, i do...." hotch sighs, feeling the stress beginning to pile heavy on his shoulders. it had seemed he couldn't get a break in, no matter what happened. they had just barely come home and strauss had called in another case, it was bad. they all were but each case had it's own emotional baggage that came along with it. this specific one was slightly more harder on the unit chief. he was about to say something, to ask rossi to put yet another coffee on for the long night ahead of them

and then his head lifts, ears perked at the sound. it was your laugh resounding through the bullpen, calling to him like a siren. a warm feeling floated all around him, if he had told you that you'd surely scoff. he wasn't used to this feeling, he wasn't used to this level of intimacy. how your giggles punctured holes in his resolve, your smile dissolving his perfectly crafted barriers. how above all, your laughter blew through him and he felt himself catching his breath. you managed to capture him, overriding his senses altogether

but the scariest part of it all, was that he didn't mind. it was beautiful. fall of warmth, sincerity and life.

he didn't realise his lips had parted into a gentle smile until he glanced at rossi and immediately relaxed his face. he observed hotch's facial expressions wordlessly which somehow angered the other a little.

"uhm.... excuse me. got to get to my office" embarrassed the team leader stands up, hoping his feelings doesn't betray him on his face.

"this is your office" rossi smirks, leaning back on the chairs.

"oh right... get out"

taste

cooking at rossi's was fun, you were both laughing and surprisingly he was very laid back. simply enjoying your company and the food.

"they're done" you hear the oven ping and you grab the mitts, opening the door.

"i have to say l/n, i'm impressed. i didn't think you could do it" the other tilts his wine glass at you, peering at your perfectly made brownies. but before you can answer, there's a knock on his door and he smiles quickly untying his apron.

"the rest of them are here, are you coming?" rossi takes off his apron and set down the tray

"yeah i'll meet you in a second. i'm just going to put these on the plates" you respond and rossi nods, going to take his rightful duties as the host. the music plays and you listen along, completely lost in the moment.

"thought i'd see you here" hotch interrupts your thoughts and you jolt slightly, wide eyes at the door.

he looked so hot standing there-

"sir! sorry i-" "y/n, we're not at work. please, there's no need for formalities" he walks forwards, a warm smile gracing his lips. you chuckle a little, setting down the tray and removing the mitts

"is this what you've made?" hotch asks, a little chuckle in his voice as he peers down

"me and rossi made them. but yeah" you smile, looking at him. his t-shirt fit him so nicely, his defined muscles straining against the fabric. he looked so good, so in his element. so different from the polished ssa hotchner everyone was so used to seeing.

"it smells really good" hotch looks back at you, his dimples deepening at your shock. you expect him to joke but he's genuine, nothing but sincerity pooling behind his honeyed eyes.

"would you like to try some?" you ask, picking a little piece on the spoon. he hums in response and you place it gently to his mouth, glancing back up to his eyes. you're lost in them, soaking up in his warmth. he smells like heaven, so soft and gentle standing beside you.

the attraction practically rolls off of him in waves and you want nothing more than to bask in his glow. you don't know who's moving first, but your lips are a hair away. all you had to do was lean in, you dreamt of this moment so many times. finally excited it was happening.

god he's so near but miles apart

"how is everyone doing??" garcia comes in excitedly and you both jump apart, looking at each other before looking at her. her eyes narrow behind her colourful glasses and you make up some excuse, not really wanting to delve in what was going on. you couldn't make sense of it yourself.

"n-nothing, do you want some wine?" you quickly guide her back to the main room so she doesn't ask anymore pressing questions. she immediately gushes at how good it smells and you're relieved, looking back to hotch who gives you a gentle smile. he tips his glass towards you and you chuckle, shaking your head. but your heart feels weirdly empty, like you had missed on something so magical.

maybe one day

touch

rossi had gathered everyone around his mansion, determined to play a little cupid tonight. unbeknownst to you or aaron of course. you all sit around the blazing fire, comfortably with your glasses in your hands.

with your inhibitions lowered, talking to hotch felt like talking to a dearly beloved friend. once the words poured out from your lips, you couldn't stop them. and everyone cheered you on, any entertainment was enough for them. it had started off with small glances, tiny touches before you were full blown flirting with him

and the team observed how he simply stuttered through his thank yous, just smiling while his cheeks reddened. it was such a stark contrast to how he would've usually acted with anyone else. with you, he rather actually enjoyed it. he liked your attention and you loved his.

so they all nodded a secret head shake, looking back to you both again. completely and blissfully unaware of what they were planning

"truth or dare?" garcia pipes up, her eyes devilish as they land on you.

"what?" you're confused on what's happening, on the sudden shift of atmosphere. like they were profiling your every move, eyeing your every word.

"yeah, truth or dare pretty girl" morgan raises an eyebrow paired with his knowing smirk, taking a swig of his drink.

"uh.... truth" you eye them both, not wanting to entertain whatever activity they had planned

"okay, say something you love about the person on your right" garcia giggles while you completely look baffled. and then it hits you, hotch is next to you, on your right.

"oh-" you begin but hotch cuts you off, giving the team a slight glare and a shake of his head.

"you don't have to say anything y/n, they're-"

"i love your dimples. they're so cute and they suit you so well" without missing a beat, you comment and he simply watches you, his eyes a little wide. his mouth was parted for a response but no words came out. you couldn't possibly be flirting with him, he was ridiculous for even thinking it. you were being just nice, like how you were with rossi and spencer. he wasn't any different, he was just a friend. he had to force himself to know that.

"this is the part where you thank her" rossi nudges his shoulder and aaron coughs a little, composing himself right away.

"r-right, right. i... um.... like your smile too" he manages to say, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck praying the ground would swallow him whole. he was so completely out of the game it was painful.

"thank you" you don't hesitate, giving him a beautiful smile

and the game continues as does your alcohol intake. you didn't even mean to take so much and you usually handle it well. but maybe drinking wasn't the wisest decision you made.

"and don't forget the beard!" emily laughs and you nod eagerly, pointing towards your boss once more

"i'll never understand why jack never liked it. you looked so good with it. definitely putting the hot in hotchner with that one" you hear the team making the sounds

they look at hotch who glances at you, his heart thumping with an emotion he hasn't felt in years. he noticed something different in the last couple years, a genuine smile.

oh..... oh

"i think we should get some air" hotch takes you, choosing to ignore morgan whooping and penelope's winking at you.

he touches you, so gentle and tender. it feels like too much and not either at the same time.

"s-sorry i think i'm kinda drunk" you stammer, as you both walk out on the patio. the air calms you, washing over your skin while you curse yourself internally for what you had done. no doubt tomorrow morning he wouldn't be able to even look at you and you couldn't blame him

"i-" turning around you expect to meet his solemn face but instead you're taken aback when your cheeks meet the warmth of his chest. his steady heartbeat echoing in your ears while his hands come to wrap themselves around your waist.

"hotch?" you ask gingerly, clinging on to every moment. you feel dread creep in the cracks of your heart, hoping he wouldn't push you away after everything that was said tonight

"i like you" you feel a crushing weight in your heart, was that all he thought of you? just as a friend? you had proclaimed your love for him so loudly only for him to think of you as just a measly friend.

"i..... like you too" you deflate a little, stepping a little back. the embrassment had managed to sober you a little and you want to reach for your phone to call a lift home and pretend this night had never happened. cry into your pillow, knowing you could never have him as badly as you desired to.

"no, i mean i like you more than a friend" he chuckles gently, holding your hands. you pause, looking up at him, not daring to anything until he confirms them. and he does, you could faintly feel his hands rubbing the softest of circles on your palm.

"i love you y/n l/n" and there it was. the sentence you had hoped and prayed for you, dreaming of how he would say it. nothing could compare to now, right here. you wonder if he even said it, but if it was a dream it was one you had no desire of waking up from.

the lines were smudged like the red lipstick of a lover. it was like the pair of you were attached together with a rope. everytime he pushed you away, the elastic tension brought you closer than before. and when you pushed him right back, it snapped you back together again

"kiss me" the words spill out of you like ink on a canvas, with a mind clearer than it has been for time now.

"i'd never refuse a lady's wishes"

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader fluff

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vyglitchcraft · 1 year

Note

What about 141's reaction to the fact that the Reader suddenly finds himself alive after some of the missions?

It is very desirable to know the reaction of Roach my god I love him so much

Something romantic of course hehe

Of course! I hope i get this right, they assume the reader is dead after a mission and yeah, if i get this wrong feel free to request again

TF141 x masc!reader

Still Alive

Content: angst, romance, masculine pronouns for the reader.

Character: Gary Roach Sanderson, Kyle Gaz Garrick, Johnny Soap Mactavish, John Price, Simon Ghost Riley, Alex Keller

Roach

Oh poor boy...he swears to himself he saw your body dead on the ground. He left you there thinking it was too late to save you.

The days after the mission, everyone noticed how different Roach has become. That chill and cheerful kid now has become cold. There was even a resemblance to Ghost.

Sure he was a mute but he was explosive in temper.

He was never really friends with anyone, more like coworkers but after you died, everyone started to avoid him.

One day Sandman reported that he saw you, that you were actually alive. 141 quickly located you and rescued you, although unfortunately Roach wasn't there, he was still in the base.

You knocked on Roach's bedroom door. He heard your voice and immediately slamned the door open (he probably took it off its hinges)

Like a puppy, he threw himself at you.

He was stimming, clicking and biting his tongue. You two sat on the floor, Roach hugging you as tight as possible. He doesn't want to lose you again

"Miss me?"

"Yeah...just don't do that again..."

He cried on your shoulder and you couldn't help but cry as well.

It was good to be alive

Gaz

The mission was simple, just grab some files and get outta there but it ended up to be more complicated then you two expect.

A shot on the neck and radio cutting off was enough to convince everyone that you died.

What ended up happening was you being held captive for a while.

Without you, Gaz was a wreck.

The photo that you both took together at the amusement park, he couldn't stop looking at it. Heck all of your pictures, he simply starred blankly at them.

His attention was caught by his own mind. Replaying memories of you over and over again.

Almost catatonic.

And then you suddenly kicked the door into the base after you somehow escaped.

Gaz just stood there, too shocked to comprehend what even happened. His first instinct was to yell.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"

"I DON'T KNOW DON'T BLAME ME!"

He let out a big sigh and pulled you in for a hug, his hand on the back of your head and yours on his back.

You offered to take him on a date for compensation. He of course, agrees but he was adamant on paying for everything.

Soap

What happened to you was quite different than with the others.

An undercover mission that somehow ended with your kidnapping.

You weren't necessarily dead...but MIA and that does not help at all.

Soap grew obsessed with finding you. Every other work that he has are immediately ignored.

Although Ghost understands, he's a bit pissed about work stacking up because of him. After a few weeks with no sign of you, your status was changed to KIA

And then you popped up again

He tackled you to the ground and almost choked you in his hug.

He kissed you right in the middle of the room in front of everyone.

Letting this moment to linger, he told you everything that he did without you, how he felt, and how much he missed you

Should he blame you? Well you were kidnapped so no but he was still mad at you, it doesn't make sense and he knows it.

At the end of the day, you're back and that's all that matters

Price

He saw you die right in front of his own eyes.

Price was supposed to be watching over you through the coms but that was a horrible idea.

Shot in the chest multiple times, even your body cam picked it up.

Soon after that, connection went faulty, radio was busted, your phone was broken in half.

He yelled your name into the coms but it didn't reach you.

John grew obsessed with the video. He replayed it over and over and over again, catching every detail to see who your killer was.

His smoking problem got worse too, half a pack was gone in a day.

He questions himself, why couldn't he just move on? He's been in the military for almost 20 years, he has seen so many people die, why is this so difficult.

He drowned himself in work and caffeine, sleeping would cause nightmares, losing you again and again now in different but still horrible ways.

His aggression increased and even though he says he's fine, everyone can tell.

Now imagine his shock when he was sent to that same place again and saw you. Your chest bandaged up, apparently already killed your captor.

"Sargent? Is that you? I thought you were dead"

"I'm so so sorry captain, i really am but there-"

He cuts you off by placing a hand on your cheek, yup this is real and not caused by his sleep deprivation.

"Let's get out of here, you missed so many things"

Ghost

He was familiar with death, especially of loved ones.

You weren't special but it still hurts him.

Sure to everyone else, he seemed to be unaffected but after years and years of constant abuse and lost, he honestly just gotten used to hiding his emotions.

He kept saying to everyone to "move on, we can mourn later, we have a job to do" as if he isn't blaming himself for not saving you.

More silent, but not in the intimidating way but in a more sorrowful way. It felt uncomfortable being close to him.

He should've quit, imagine the shit he would avoid if you two just had a normal domestic life. He would go home and see you standing there waiting for him with a smile. He should've been more brave and just say it, ask if you love him back. He should've just proposed then and there.

Sandman suddenly reported back to him that you were somehow alive. The shock was very visible in his eyes.

You came running back to him, almost hugging him but you stopped yourself that is until Ghost did it instead. He almost broke down in tears.

He confessed to you with a simple "i love you" no one can hear it but you certainly did and you loved him back.

"I should punish you for causing this much trouble"

Alex

The way he copes is very similar to his father Price.

Excessive smoking, anger issues, and what people realise, he was in denial of your death.

He knows you're alive, he just knows it. If he can cheated death, he knows you can too.

Farah followed along in the search but after it happened over and over again, she started to get tired.

Not just because they found nothing of you but also she really wanted to hug Alex and make him realise that you're not with them anymore.

And when he finally come to terms with the fact, he was already spiraling down. Even Farah has thought about avoiding him from all of the excessive yelling.

He wants to disappear, just like you.

If he sees you again, he'll kill you for breaking him

And he did. You were found alive, not well, but alive.

He didn't kill you, he slapped you before grabbing your hand. This was all real. And then euphoria and relief sets in.

"I thought you were dead, we searched for you for months"

"Well doesn't that sound familiar, i didn't just pull this out of my ass"

"Guess i can't say shit...but you're stil in a lot of trouble"

You two laughed, it didn't matter that you were both in the middle of a battlefield. The world became a blur as he focused just on you.

Farah was happy, of course she way, you two were her best friends.

What turned from a lovers embrace now is three mates seeing eachother after a year

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silverheartlugia2000 · 1 year

Text

DCXDP prompt

Ok, so there's plenty of Danny laying low or freaking out about the no meta rule, but I have this CRAVING of someone for once just explaining it to him? Like whoever bird or birds he's talking to just leans in and whispers "Wanna know a secret? That's mostly just a mind control precaution. I mean would you want to see Supes jacked up on fear gas? If the league do come over he prefers to be called first so he's close if something happens."

Danny- "Oh... yeah that makes sense actually, that shit isn't fun to be under.."

"Wait is THAT why you have that string of robberies on your record?!"

"That and the time my whole town got possessed in order to make me look bad and get arrested.."

The bird then drags Danny into the cave to open Bruce's file on him, and they both sit down and fill in the gaps on the shadier spots of his record. Heck Danny eventually gives Bats a few thermoses and other less harmful but still disabling device blueprints to add to the contingency file cause even if Dan is in therapy and on probation he knows his shit luck will probably make it needed sooner rather than later and he knows how fast it will go bad.

It comes in very handy at the next gala when Vlad attempts to have a duplicate overshadow Bruce who refuses to take his business propositions. Vlad gets nosey before Danny pulls up his king rights and makes vlad take an Oath (the magic binding kind) to not mess with Bruce or his family or reveal any of their super identities to anyone at all. Constantine is there beforehand to read over the contract and outthink any loopholes before vlad can take advantage of them.

Danny gives them samples of ecto-dejecto for medical emergencies, the Bat's keep them refreshed and in stock especally after they meet Ellie and hear about her stability problems. With help from Frostbite and Danny's ok they start working on a more reliable formula just for Ellie's sake.

Yes Jason is calmer around the halfas and he is slowly stabilizing enough form a proper core from it, (not an instant fix this time!) whether hes becoming a true halfa, more towards a remnant, or both they arent sure. But one night when the phantoms arent around Jason is having a bad time, reacting from something he was hit with during a fight. Tim just grabs one of the ecto-pens on a whim and it just flushes out the toxin so fast Jay passes out. When he wakes up his core has had a good growth spurt, its still not complete yet but he's beginning to get some minor abilities, the Phantom sibs start coaching him before it gets strong enough for Jason to turn completely intangible and if Jay starts complaining? Clockwork whisks them ALL up to the tower for a home movie night of Danny's greatest fails. Grampa has a collection, good and bad XD. Yes Danny is cringing in shame while eating Clockwork's ecto cookies but Jason is slowly starting to understand the importance of getting the basics right cause he does NOT want to accidentally sink completely under the ground without being able to get back out no thank you!!

What core type would he get anyway? Shadow's like Johnny because of the stealth perks? Earth to prevent being buried again? Would he have literature as a secondary obsession cause obviously he's gonna follow Danny into the family/protection category but since Danny also has a space obsession why not?

He puts Jazz's name in the list of superhero safe therapists, the fact she's already making waves at Arkam is only boosting her reputation. Especially once they read her paper on ghost obsessions and how sometimes they are comparable to hyper-fixations in autistics in the way they both satisfy and promote healthy growth for a ghosts physical and mental state but also how being deprived of them or forced to go against them can be severely harmful to their literal health.

And that was one thing the birds kept tripping on to understand whenever they needed to bench one of the halfas but they would end up just hovering around NEEDING to be helpful no mater how much they are told to go back to bed. They also get a whole new understanding on what happened to Dan cause yeah his whole timeline is based on loosing his family and retaliating out of grief.

So from then on the halfas are allowed to help with little tasks as long as they do not strain their recovery at all. Whenever Danny gets sickly and depressed they take him up to the watch tower, Ellie gets lessons in different languages so she can interact more when they let her join them on international trips, Jason gets set loose in a newly discovered bookstore when the manor's or Bab's library isn't enough, and Dan.. they're still figuring him out but he seems to enjoy wrecking little play city set ups and games where you play as the monster like Godzilla or Rampage along with general ghost sibling rough housing. (Lilo and Stitch is his favorite movie but you'd be hard pressed to get him to admit it,)

As for ships, definitely anger management. Jason becomes an unofficial fourth Phantom sib. Platonic everlasting trio cause Danny loves his friends and they will pet him like a cat for hours while his tail coils around them possessively like a giant snake and still make memes of it when he's grumpy. Brain dead is fun also, especially if Danny or the others are capable of Little Baby Man form and Tim has to fight Damian for cuddle rights! Bats has his usual girls but hey superman isn't that bad to hang around either.

#dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #silverlugia's free prompts #danny phantom #batman #jason peter todd #danielle phantom #dan phantom #halfa jason #tag me if you use this #little baby man danny?

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justanotheroutlastfanblog · 10 months

Text

The Outlast College AU: the cast

Eddie Gluskin:

Eddie Gluskin (also known as "Ed" or "the groom" in a mocking way) is a failed pre-med student who switched over to fashion design and merchandising and is known for his "retro" style of dress along with his misogynistic behavior. He is a social outcast due to how he acts so despite his good looks and "charming" personality, he seldom ever gets dates or even respect from his other peers (functionally making him an incel). He is "friends" with Frank (although this is mostly just because Frank also happens to live with him) and that is really about it. And despite his bizarre standards for women and beliefs surrounding sexuality: he is dating Val who is the polar opposite of all of what he holds dear.

Frank Manera:

Frank Manera is Eddie's weed-smoking, whisky-drinking, grunge music-loving culinary school dropout roommate. Unlike Eddie, he is a social outcast by choice and actively chooses not to socially engage with other people or things. Frank is probably the most easy-going person you might meet partly due to the fact he is high all the time but also due to his "I really do not give a shit" attitude he has about practically everything. If it is not about his pickup truck, guns, food, weed, or the bands he likes he could care less. Frank is also occasionally seen at Crust-punk bars and other hole-in-the-wall places around MMU despite not being a student.

Val:

Val is a former member of the hyper-religious cult Temple Gate who once held the role of being the "mother" of all of the bastard children of its leader, Knoth, along with the orphans. She was unable to biologically produce children (functionally be a broodmare) so she took on the role of raising them instead. Val escaped the cult when she was 17 and attempted to bring others with her but was unable to. After her escape, she began to hyper-indulge in sex, drugs, body mods, and all of the other things she was never allowed to even talk about while living on the commune. She never got an education and instead opted to continue partying while also taking a job at a Spencers near MMU. She is dating Eddie Gluskin for reasons not fully understood. And despite her new life of freedom and indulgence, she is still on the run from the cult who does periodically attempt to drag her back. She still misses some members of the cult, specifically the children she cared for and wanted to take with her, but also deeply fears being dragged back too much to do anything.

Miles Upshur:

Miles is a journalism student at MMU who also works at the Spencers with Val. He is yet another stoner similar to the likes of Frank only with a significantly more conspiratorial slant. He is best friends with Waylon Park and frequently pulls him into his strange schemes and ventures (like when he goes ghost hunting in abandoned asylums or attempts to prove aliens exist). And much to his friend's horror: he overall lacks a sense of self-preservation and self-control which frequently results in him getting into a lot of dangerous situations.

Waylon Park:

Waylon Park is a computer science major at MMU and the unwitting best friend/accomplice of Miles. He is a lot more timid than his best friend and spends most of his time locked in his apartment streaming video games or working on various coding projects and actively avoids danger/confrontation. He is dating Lisa, a literature major, and is in a pretty steady relationship with her. Due to his more ambiguous appearance, he was mistaken for a woman and thus pursued by Eddie but that was quickly shut down when the truth was revealed and a restraining order was filed.

Rick Trager:

Rick Trager is an extremely shifty business professor teaching at MMU who may or may not be addicted to cocaine. The only reason he has not been fired is due to his tenure at the university.

Jermey Blaire:

Trager's equally as shifty/douchy TA who practically models himself after Patrick bateman.

Chris Walker:

Chris Walker is a former combat veteran going back to school after his time in the service. His exact major is unclear as it has changed several times. But due to his emence size and overall strength he is also a coveted member of the MMU football team. Chris does not have a particularly close relationship with anybody and only happens to know Miles because he had a class with him once (and in turn grew to dislike him as he came off extremely annoying).

Blake Langermann:

Blake is a fellow jornalisim major along with Miles and is a catholic school survivee. Blake is only mildly acquainted with the likes of Miles and Waylon and instead focuses a majority of his time on working on projects with his girlfriend Lynn who is also a journalism major. These projects are usually Exposes regarding local controversies or drama going on (along with the periodic serious human rights/civil rights violation). However, he will join Waylon and Miles on their bullshit adventures from time to time.

Father Martin:

He is the weird guy standing outside of MMU with a large sign only instead of telling people they are going to hell, he warns of the end times and weird ghost demons coming but it is unclear if he is for or against them.

Sullivan Knoth:

Is the leader of the Cult Val escaped from and one of the main antagonists in Val's life. He is functionally the same compared to how he is in the game minus the radio tower frequencies: he is just crazy naturally.

Marta:

Is funtionally the "Sister Cindy" of MMU. She, unlike Father Martin, does accuse all of the students of being whores and tells them they will burn in hell if they don't repent (and do so to Knoth's teachings). She is also the closest immediate threat to Val's freedom and safety outside of the cult given she is still actively looking for her (dubbing her "the Heretic").

Ethan:

The only person from the cult Val is still somewhat in contact with. He is too attempting to escape given his fading faith had the fact Knoth sexually assaulted his daughter and is denying his wife the ability to get cancer treatments as "only god can decide if she lives". He tried to leave with Val initially but had to stay behind in order to at least allow Val to escape and to protect his family.

Billy Hope:

Billy is a highschooler who has functionally adopted by the MMU football team and is "enrolled" at the school a year early so he can play football. His mother, Tiffany, more or less signed off on it due to the hefty sum of money she was offered to allow her son to play.

"The Twins":

Really creepy townies everybody avoids and can usually be spotted with Martin

Pauline Glick:

The asshole president of MMU who may or may not be taking bribes and doing a bunch of illegal shit along with Blaire and Trager

"Mother Gooseberry (Phyllis Futterman)":

Is a washed-up former children's TV host who later became an art teacher at MMU. She teaches several of the more "technical" arts classes such as sewing and technical drawing. However, she also teaches dental classes at MMU although not that many. It is unclear when or if she even got a degree in dental medicine. But given she is only teaching more "anatomy" based lessons and is not actually practicing medicine: it is looked over by MMU administration.

Leland Coyle:

The campus cop who is activly on a power trip, all of the time.

"The Pusher":

The guy who sells literally everybody drugs. Weed, coke, you name it, he has it.

#outlast #eddie gluskin #val #val outlast #frank manera #rick trager #jeremy blaire #waylon park #miles upshur #marta #sullivant knoth #chris walker #blake langermann #outlast college au #outlast au #college au outlast #mother gooseberry #leland coyle

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garyroachsanderson · 1 year

Note

Can you please do pls do platonic 141 force gang x child reader that was abandoned by their enemy and thank you so much:D

you are just like me fr (unfathomable parental issues)

abandoned enemy - cod

(requested). cw: trauma, mentions of abuse, .. you know the stuff yeah

2.2k+ words

“It was a simple in and out mission,” the shaven man roared, slamming his fist against the faux wood of his desk. “You stalled your entire force, just waiting to be shot down for that.. THING.” Shepherd spoke steadily, his index finger uncurling in disgust towards the trembling child.

“They’re not a ‘thing’, sir.”

—————————————————————

Julian (l/n).

The echo of the file slamming into the desk was seared into Ghost’s mind, Price’s voice dripping with enough malice that it was enough to make him shake.

(l/n), or ‘Wasp’ as they called him, was the leader of a Rebellion. He was lean, mean, as violent as they came. 240 pounds of pure muscle. 141 had worked with him before, not as an enemy, but as an ally. He had caught a glimpse of the man and Price shaking hands over a business deal, though unsure of the contents of it.

His drones had been bred and molded to separate Price’s head from his throat. Only the strongest of the strong made up his army, and weaklings would die at the rest of the Drones’ hands, or they’d do it themselves. He was evil, in all sense of the word. If the word ‘malice’ was a man, he’d envision him as the (h/c)-haired man who led the hunt.

A screaming alarm cut Ghost from his thoughts, sending him back into the battlefield as Julian’s men dropped. The drones surrounded him, barely able to make out his facial features from the red that now flooded the grey room. As the men in front of him began to flee, pushing open the door and sprinting out into the cold, Ghost noticed a drop of Julian’s facial features, turning back towards the sealed room that 141 had fought to get into. He must have quickly decided the contents weren’t worth it, as he led his soldiers through the door, only to be shot by Soap, on sniper duty.

“(l/n) down.”

“Ghost, you’re going to need to get in that room. Do whatever it takes—the 5 hostages are suspected to be in there.” Price yelled, his voice crackling through the comms. “Roger,” The beast nodded, slamming into the fiery red door, stepping on unnamed bodies as he went. He continued ramming into it, pressing his entire body against it before the door caved in upon itself, creaking open. He scanned the room—the walls were made from stone with snippets of moss leaking onto them. The only light that illuminated the space was the red beam from the blaring lights he had escaped from, and he quickly slipped on his flashlight.

The light drifted until it found its way to the right corner, illuminating 5 huddled figures bound together with rope. He reached for his earpiece, mumbling a ‘hostages found’ and fidgeting with the rope. The Captain been correct—5 hostages, 2 women and 3 men, all nauseatingly emaciated. They looked to be around the ages of 30 to 40. Could they have been a friend group in the wrong place? 5 unassuming citizens, complete strangers, who just happened to be there? He looked over their wounds, checking their exposed skin until his eyes fell upon one of the men, who had tucked himself into the deepest corner, his arms tucked around his knees.

What’s he trying to hide?

“Sir, I’m not here to hurt you.” He stretched out his arm, silently pleading him to grasp it. The man just winced, and buried his head deeper into his knees.

He gripped the man by the shoulder, his patience wearing thin. The man yelped, attempting to crawl himself back into the corner. Ghost gasped, dropping the weapon he wielded and placing a hand in front of the man to prevent him covering the object. His communicator buzzed, Soap’s voice coming in through a muffled whisper.

“You alright, L.t.?”

It took him about 15 seconds to compose himself as Soap’s questions became louder. “Additional hostage—“ he winced. “Injured, can’t be older than 15. Evac requested.” His voice trembled, as the man winced off to the side. “Listen, man, he told me to protect them. I-I’m sorry.”

The ringing in Simon’s ears was deafening as he unconsciously reached for the child, his knees pressed to the ground. He brushed the blood and dirt from their face, taking in their features and dully noting them. He clutched them carefully, hoping not to bruise their already emaciated body.

The shouts of his teammates surrounded him, claws digging through the metal room to meet him. Soap’s face he recognized first from his peripheral vision—a mixture of horror and disgusted iron pressed into his face. Ghost’s eyes never moved from the child’s as he slowly rose to his feet, completely blind to the world around him. Perhaps it was protectiveness, perhaps it was empathy for the situation, perhaps it was how he was treated in his childhood, but the man had quickly decided that he was never going to let you go.

Out of all the things he had expected to happen that day, carrying the child of the enemy gently out of a bullet ridden building was not one he envisioned.

—————————————————————

You had been sitting at a high table, awaiting your mother’s arrival to pick you up, playing Rock, Paper, Scissors with one of the boys that your father called his ‘guys’. Many of the guys you were scared of—their masks and goggles covering their faces plus muscle and height—but the one you were playing with currently was actually quite nice to you. ‘Alan’, you believed his name was. Your game was cut short when a loud plume of smoke and fire flooded the room, accompanied by the hollers of foreign men. The flames licked against the fabric of your shirt, swallowing your arm with it. You shrieked, and he shouted. Your father had gripped your arm, dragging you into a room down a long hallway as everything flashed red, and placed you down in the corner. He barked at a man, one you had never seen before, and he quickly sat in front of you, much to your dismay.

A puff of smoke escaped from your lungs as you coughed, the dread in your body seeping in. It fought hard against your small body, and your head knocked against the side of the wall as your father shouted, but exited the room. Your arm screamed against you, bloody and ragged. The darkness at the edges of your vision began flooding in, and you were out.

You remember a tall skeleton gripping you in his arms, but despite your instincts, there was no fear in your mind as he ran. You slumped down further, the dark churning against the pure white of the sky and snow.

A flash of light hit your eye as it was dragged open, as if the sun itself was staring you down. Your pupil shrank, and you groaned slightly, to which one of the two blurry objects in your path quickly moved. As your vision came into focus, you recognized the one who had saved you—not a skeleton, but a muscular man with a mask, slumped down in the stool next to.. whatever it is you were laying on (A stretcher, you presumed, but with enough blanket draped over you that you couldn’t be sure). You couldn’t see his face, or his nose, and his eyes seemed to be cloaked in black makeup to accompany his mask. A soft snore erupted from the man.

On your left was a thin blonde man with circular thick glasses, who had shut off the flashlight and slipped it back into his pocket. His eyes were a deep brown, within them looked to be nothing but his profession. A cut out day—work, sleep. Work, eat, sleep. You slowly parted your lips, in hopes of speaking, but it was quickly cut short by a searing ache in the flame licked arm. Your teeth began to gnash against each other as the doctor moved forward, quickly unfolding the blanket to examine the bandages that you hadn’t noticed it was wrapped in. He reprimanded you with a slight ‘tsk’ and poured 2 white capsules into his palm, dropping them into the blanket in front of you.

“Painkillers.” he whispered, in a strong German accent you hasn’t been expecting.

Using your good arm to swallow the pills, the man’s gaze moved between you and the armored man.

“Let him sleep. He’s been awake as long as you’ve been here.” He motioned, before briskly walking out of the room, the door slamming a little louder than it probably should have. You heaved yourself farther upwards, head turning towards the beast of a man. How long had you been here? You glanced towards a clock on one of the grizzled grey walls, noting the time as 1:13pm.

You had asked Alan just minutes before the attack for the time at 2:04pm.

Taking a minute to examine your room, you noted 5 oddities:

There was no natural light, not even artificial light. It was dark, but you supposed your eyes had adjusted long ago.

The metal(?) walls were rusting.

It was wide and short, with about 6 stretchers scaling down to the wall on each side of you.

The door looked as if it was used to keep psych ward patients from killing themselves. Absolutely no way to get out, and no key slot either.

There were 2 items on the wall; a clock, and a small ‘hang in there’ poster with a kitten slipping from a branch, which made you giggle a bit.

You were immediately sure that the sheer pain that conjugated in your lungs from the laugh could kill 5 soldiers.

And wake up 1.

You gripped at your chest absentmindedly as you squeezed your eyes shut, popping your teeth from inside your mouth. As soon as you opened them, black pools met yours. The man’s gaze was like a search dog’s, detecting everything in its path until it hunted it’s designated object. You slightly shrunk down in his gaze, to which the man continued staring.

“You understand me?” His voice was gruff, but there was a hint of airy comedy in it, but your mind buzzed. How did they know your father? For all you knew, he was a bold man who asserted himself, and was simply gone for longer than a normal 9-5 job. You often didn’t see him for days, but he’d always told your mother he got caught up in work. Speaking of which, where was she?

“You speak English?” he huffed, a little louder and less comedic this time. You hadn’t answered him.

Your (e/c) gaze turned back to his, responding to him with a rather prominent foreign accent while putting together the English you did know. “Yes.” you croaked, voice box flaming.

His gaze bore into yours for a few seconds more, seemingly surprised by your accent, before the flap of the bottom of his mask moved again.

“And your parents?”

What?

Your vision blurred for a heartbeat, honestly assuming the worst while processing the English in your head.

“What about them?” might’ve been a wrong phrase to answer with. His eyes stay unmoving. He hadn’t blinked once.

“You were a hostage.”

I was?

A man knocked lightly, padding into the room and stopping next to your stretcher. His hair was cut unevenly and distastefully, in a true mohawk fashion. His gaze was soft, much easier than your savior’s eyes. He waited a bit before speaking, exchanging glances with the masked man. “You have parents before they took ya, lass?”

“..my father was in the building. With his guys.” Both of gazes darkened, and the taller man sat up in his seat a bit. “My mother was coming in to pick me up.” The words dripped out of your mouth like honey, unable to stop as you remembered more and more.

They both slipped a gaze at each other, the Scottish man’s eyes wide while the British one’s narrowed.

“What, your last name (l/n)?” The Scot let out a nervous but quiet chuckle. Your lips pressed against each other, unsure if what he said was a joke or not.

“Yes.”

—————————————————————

(Soap’s POV)

As the kid’s answer settled in, Soap quickly grabbed Ghost’s arm, dragging him out of the room. The door slammed behind them, presumably leaving the child in the dark. He wasn’t entirely concerned about that, mostly concerned about the fact that—

—“This is the kid of one of the worst fuckin’ enemies we got, and we don’t know if their dad is still fuckin’ alive. Got any fuckin’ ideas?” He shout-whispered, his breath puffing against the taller’s.

Ghost took heartbeats to respond, though it felt like actual eons, his skin rotting as he took his time to answer.

“Thought you killed him.”

“We didn’t find his body.” Soap hissed under his breath, appalled with Simon’s sudden lack of peripheral vision. Ghost was a calculating beast, constantly studying the weakest points of his enemies before he even saw them in person.

“Simple solution, Sergeant. He comes back, we blow his brains out.” Ghost gripped Soap’s forearm, shoving him out of the way and slamming the handle down. He slowly crept back into the blackout room, before the door shut with a deafening echo.

Who was this man, and what has happened to the ‘stone cold bastard’ he knew?

#call of duty modern warfare #cod #modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon riley #soap mactavish #john mactavish #call of duty

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itspronouncedfeckyou · 6 months

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okay. 583 explanation post [again]

ahem. taps microphone

file-583 [stylized as FILE-583] is a [currently work in progress] webcomic!

it follows the lives of Ethan "Feck" Yaker and Coco and Mono Fields.

^these guys. Feck just dropped out of college, Coco works at a family business and makes bouquets for people, and Mono is the mayor of the small town that the story resides in! What a lovely group of friends :3

Coco and Mono have been friends with Feck for quite a while, so seeing him back grows concerning because they're worried that something bad happened while he was away in college, and they worry he's going to slip into his agoraphobic tendencies of his past. So they're sorta keeping a close eye on him, Coco especially.

And Mono sorta starts to notice this and is like "hey you've been spending an awful long time with my wife. suspicious?" nd Feck's like "pshh its not like she's cheating on you. You're just jealous 'cause I'm so awesome."

So Mono's like "oh shit. what if he's right and she's cheating on me with my best friend. fucked up" so he goes home and Coco and Mono get into this fight and he's like "you're totally cheating on me! what the fuck!" and kills her. Womp womp! Anyway, like immediately after he's like "shit oh god wiat no i didnt mean to do that oh my god oh my god what have i done"

Then, like a week later, Feck calls Mono asking if he's heard anything from Coco, 'cause she hasn't been reading Feck's texts. Mono tells him she's missing, doesn't elaborate on anything, then hangs up. Feck sorta just sits in silence as he processes, then gets up and gets ready for work.

Things sorta blur together for Feck as he's overcome with grief and confusion. Why did she go missing? Did she run away? Where did she go? Was it his fault? It didn't make any sense.

While this is happening, Mono is devising a plan to push the blame on someone else. If people found out, he'd lose his position as mayor, nobody would ever trust him again, yada yada. Then Mono has an idea, mostly out of the blue.

He can blame Feck. Tell everyone that Feck did it. He's always been a violent kid; it just makes sense.

So that's what he does. He calls off the search party for Coco, declare her dead, and suspects for her murder are being interrogated.

SOMEHOW, Feck is proven guilty. But they can't send him to.. prison because he's haaunnnteeedddd by Coco. Crazy! But why him? Why must she haunt him and not Mono? Strange.

So they send him to a hospital where we [technically] meet 3 doctors! Moth, Mr/Dr. E, and Sparks <- all very important

Moth mainly focuses in mental health, Mr. E has a degree in basically everything but focuses in medicine and physical checkups, and Sparks is... Electrical.

Anyway, Sparks is Feck's main doctor giving him the good ol' electroshock treatment to get that damn ghost out of his head! Uhm.

"Hey doc this isn't working. and also I'm innocnet" <- Feck to Sparks at every instance aever.

Sparks starts to actually LISTEN to that boy and is like "shit maybe he's right. Hey Moth I think this guy's innocent we should. stop"

Moth agrees, but for some reason won't let Feck out, so Sparks starts sneaking Feck out in secret and actually learns a thing or two about him. He grows more and more keen on the idea that Feck is innocent, and will die trying to prove it.

Word gets around that Sparks is sneaking Feck out, so, in an effort to put the both of them back in their place, Mono just. pulls up. and is like "hey :) Why dontcha... show me the usual procedure for Feck? Y'know his treatment n all :)"

Sparks freaks out, and overlooks a very important detail [mouth guard], which causes Feck to bite his tongue off and the treatment has to be called off. Mono shrugs it off, but is also panicking internally. He leaves. Feck is taken to Mr. E. And Sparks is alone, feeling like shit.

Feck's trust in Sparks has diminished to nearly nothing after that, and he can barely be in the same room as him before he tries to get violent. So Moth has to step in.

Mind you, Moth has been avoiding Feck like the plague, so him stepping in is... very awkward, to say the least. Anyway, they get to talking [to the best of Feck's abilities], and they seem to mesh well together! What good chemistry these two have!

Anyhow, very big angst scene between Feck and Coco that causes Feck to realize that he can't die yet, and he must keep living for Coco. So he devises a plan to escape the hopital . somehow does nd then the series ends! yaaayyy

JUST FUCKING KIDDING

SPARKS IS OUT HERE FOR SOME REASON!!!!!

And he's like "hey what the fuck. hey. HEY. GET BACK HERE" and then they beat the shit out of each other with their bare hands on a cliff. Very dramatic, rainy. whadever. im getting really tired ive been writing this post for like an hour.

Anyway, so like Feck and Sparks beat the shit out of each other and Sparks is getting the upper hand [considering that he's nearly a foot taller and also Electrical] and has Feck on the edge of the cliff. Then Feck smiles and tells Sparks that if he's going down, then Sparks is coming down with him. Feck pulls Sparks off the cliff and they both crash into the lake below them.

the end!!!!! hope you enjoyed my. ramblings

im so tired.

#ipfy dot txt #long post #583 explanation post #hhuhghg........#i'll probably.... revise it......... nd fix stuff.#but this is the most up to date.. plan. for volume 1 #YES .ther are multiplevolumes #huhuhghhggg.#..throws up #i'll reblog tshi in themorning

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pinkacademic · 8 months

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Studying Literature

I'm starting things off with what I actually know about!

Ok, Lit girlies, let’s get it started! How in the name of Jane Austen do you actually study literature? The answer isn’t just “lol read?” but actually find your passion for it, and find connections between you and the person one, two, five hundred years ago who is feeling and struggling and trying their best alongside this same text.

This is going to be a series of three parts- Finding the Connections, Themes and Context, and Actusl Studying- starting today with connecting to literature written 100+ years before you were born because personally, that’s where I think the passion for classics is found.

How it applies to Real Life in Modern Day

If you’re struggling to connect to characters from classic literature, you need to reframe how you think about them. Consider- Clueless is just Emma, right? Therefore Emma Woodhouse (handsome, clever, and rich) is just a pretty rich girl who likes playing matchmaker and is perhaps a little bit spoiled. Similarly, 10 Things I Hate About You is the Taming of the Shrew and even features plenty of references to Shakespeare in the naming of people and places.

Let’s look at a couple of other examples of how we can find connections.

Dracula: Of course, Dracula Daily has been bringing Dracula to the forefront again, and has been bringing about modernisations in the form of calling Jonathan Harker a poor little meow meow. But why? Because he’s just so meow, that’s why Because people are finding aspects of his character relatable and amusing. He’s essentially a recent graduate being given an insane opportunity for travel, and a great degree of responisbility- how exciting! And he’s learning about other cultures and trying new food! And experiencing the horrors! How novel!

Wuthering Heights: Catherine Earnshaw- a hopeless romantic in many senses of the word: she wants the romance of true love, and she wants the romance of the wilderness surrounding the Heights. She feels trapped in the world of what everyone else wants her to be after realising that what she thought she wanted wasn’t what she wanted. Heathcliff- a man wronged in his childhood who lets his emotions become all-consuming. Would you be the same in his circumstances? Can you be sure you wouldn’t be?

The Picture of Dorian Gray: I’ll admit that I didn’t enjoy this one. I loved the premise, but I just struggled. But still, I understand Dorian being swayed and tempted as if by the devil, I understand unrequited love, I understand obsession. And, weirdly enough, I have been part of two forbidden romances… like two nickels isn’t a lot, but it is weird that it happened twice.

Let’s have a look at some Shakespeare, then, while we’re at it

The Merchant of Venice: (Did I choose this because its my fave and I’m biased? Yes!) Forbidden love! Romance! A sympathetic villain! What’s not to love? The courtroom scene is right out of Legally Blonde- featuring girlboss lawyers in disguise to boot! And Shylock’s badass monologue calls morality into question. Here’s my fave line “If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?”

Hamlet: Yes, by god, it is LONG! Listen, 15-minute Hamlet by Tom Stoppard will help you for this one. And so will the Lion King. Make it easier for yourselves, loves! BUT Hamlet is one for the Buzzfeed Unsolved/Watcher’s Ghost Files and Mystery Files girlies! There’s a ghost right from the start! There’s a whole slew of murders, and there’s a man losing grip of reality. Hamlet himself is a student who has lost his father and is questioning the morality of revenge. He’s such an old character that he’s been interpreted and reinterpreted a hundred thousand times, and if you go through the Royal Shakespeare Company among others, you can surely find one you can relate to.

My point here is that, though some of the characters in classics might seem distant, you can find timeless themes in these stories, and if you just push the boundaries of how you think about the characters, there is going to be something you find relatable.

Go forth and have fun with classics, while I work on the installment on Themes… no, we are not shying away from problematic literature here! Also, feel free to pop me an ask, a comment, or a dm, if you have anything you want to see!

#pink academia #pink #academia #pink academic #pink academia masterpost project #studyblr #studying #studying literature #classic literature #shakespeare

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carefulfears · 8 months

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can you pleeeease please pls pls talk about piper maru/apocrypha theeee apex of the early myth arc obviously i just rewatched it and also you rewatched it a few months ago but i rly would like to hear you get super into it. talk about watever you please but i wld love 2 hear stuff about specific scenes/line or plot implications or performances or technical stuff you liked or what have you. i love you xoxo mikey

okay coming back to this because we just watched these together lol but the thing about piper maru/apocrypha is that like...they speak so much for themselves. and they have a lot to say, about the core themes of the series. it's not just the apex of the myth-arc, it's a subtle love letter of everything that the show believes in.

firstly, i've said this before, but that opening sequence of first scully and skinner, then scully and mulder, is so much of what it all boils down to. and, almost in contrast to the rest of the arc, it's relatively loving and hopeful. just not in the sense that everyone wants things to be.

the government is not going to pursue melissa's murder investigation. the FBI does not care. those in power do not care. they have the tools and technology to piece together any crime, but, as scully says:

"in a case of a woman, my sister, who was gunned down in cold blood in a well-lit apartment building by a shooter who left the weapon at the crime scene, we can't even put together enough to keep anybody interested."

scully is always bubbling with this benevolent indignant rage, just under the surface, and it's so moving when it breaks. it's her sister. and no one is even interested.

it matters that skinner tells her that he's fighting it, he's going to appeal. he's going to go over all of the evidence personally, make sure nothing was overlooked. i love the way he tells her that he got the memo last night and debated calling her at home, you can tell that he's been sitting with it all night.

when she goes downstairs, and mulder is buzzing about some ship wreckage that he's already researched coordinates and weather and radiation spots before anyone else got there that morning, the way she smiles is the end of any confusion as to why she stays. it's been 23 years since the last time anyone cared about his dead sister, and he's down there digging. ("i'm just...constantly amazed by you.")

it's nice that someone stays interested. it's nice to spend your life with someone who cares, when no one else does.

later, in san francisco, i always cry when scully drives onto the military base where she grew up, and sees the kids playing. and it flashes to the kids as her and melissa. once again, this episode is a love letter to everything this show believes.

and when she speaks to her old neighbor, it's spelled out in my favorite quote of the franchise: "we bury our dead alive, don't we?"

i always think of @scullysflannel's post on this thematic arc:

But then I also think about “we bury our dead alive” and “nothing disappears without a trace” and how The X-Files is always in conversation with its ghosts...It matters that the show is saying both everything ends and nothing’s ever really over. You can’t stop moving forward, but there’s also a duty to remember, both out of love (“I want to remember how it was”) and to prevent the same things from happening to anyone else. The future won’t be any better unless people honor the ones who came before. Progress on The X-Files is this constant push and pull between hope and tragedy; you can’t have one without the other.

the x-files is always in conversation with its ghosts, and everything buried still speaks.

when the first installment of this two-parter ends, skinner is shot for his unwillingness to abandon melissa's case. and krycek's soul is overridden with visible darkness, before mulder's eyes.

(i also want to talk about krycek lying, in the airport, and telling mulder that he didn't kill his father. but i think that may be a larger post on krycek/mulder and trust.)

(it literally can't be stressed enough that krycek briefly becomes an alien in this episode and mulder doesn't notice. mikey like that one time you were like "if i were possessed by a demon and a guy who i know personally sat next to me on a twenty hour flight and didn't notice at all i would be so mad")

moving on to apocrypha...well...the x-files is about love, you guys. i love scully running into the hospital and holding skinner's hand. most of this episode is a whirlwind of allies, of understandings. and a testament to how much it matters, to have allies. to have someone you can call. to have three friends who will pull off an elaborate ice-rink locker heist. to have someone who will come hold your hand, chase down an ambulance to watch over you.

back at the FBI, pendrell breaks down the data they've collected on skinner's shooter. partial prints and saliva and secretors and hemofactors and chromosome-stains and hair fibers. i love the run-down that they give, it really drives home the point that scully was making in the beginning. they have all of this equipment and all of these resources and all of this science. but what does it matter when no one cares enough to follow through?

ultimately, it's scully that pieces together the evidence, and realizes that the man who shot skinner is the same man who killed melissa. (at the same time, the syndicate is starting to grow impatient with CSM, as the man suspected in the shooting is: "one of yours, isn't he?")

but in the end, there's nothing. they're pulled out of the silos without finding any evidence. they lose krycek, after learning of his involvement. the man who killed melissa is dead in his cell. "nothing vanishes without a trace," but everything can be controlled.

when mulder goes to melissa's grave to tell scully that cardinale is dead, it's one of my favorite details of the series that he's holding flowers. it just makes me tear up that he stopped to bring missy flowers. even though he was just going by to tell scully news. (it was only a year ago that it was missy sitting having coffee with him, or banging on his apartment door. that it was missy who didn't give up on him, when scully was gone. these sisters linger. there's a kind of reverent respect.)

"You know I thought... when we found him, this man that killed Melissa, that...that when we brought him to justice, I would feel some kind of closure. But the truth is no court...no punishment is ever enough."

four years before the show concludes "there is no closure," scully quietly betrays, there is no closure. nothing would ever be enough. her sister is gone. there are no answers, there is no justice, that would make it better. (and what a statement to make)

and the episode ends on scully repeating back: "maybe we bury the dead alive."

as we cut to krycek, locked in the missile silo, banging on the door, crying, screaming for help.

it is on this note that the x-files leaves its most thematically relevant arc. there is no closure. we bury our dead alive. and no one is ever coming to save you.

#i love you more xoxo kae #asks #piper maru #apocrypha

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saturdaynightghostclub · 9 months

Text

Highway Hypnosis

Chapter 5: Heimlich

I think there’s a reason people tend to gravitate toward Edgar Allan Poe when they’re about thirteen years old. They feel seen by him, and their feeling is correct; he was a grown man with the emotional maturity of a middle schooler. The entitlement, the shallowly wounded sense of self, the absolute certainty that one day the world would pay for its slights against his pride; sure, he gets you. The man spent his entire life wishing he was somewhere he wasn’t. It’s a sentiment that gets less relatable with every choice you make–every time you exert control over something in your life, you get further and further from Poe’s ideology. Damn, though. It’s awfully tempting to backslide.

I’m technically working, though I’m really just leaning against the counter at the cafe, flipping through an anthology of Poe’s short fiction and poetry that I found between the refrigerator and the kitchen sink. I haven’t read anything of his since I was nineteen and forced to read The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket for a class I had no interest in. The novel itself made as good a case as any against Poe, flipping arbitrarily between long, drawn-out descriptions of boat mechanics and comparatively more exciting, though often wildly racist, battle sequences. The titular character was clearly a stand-in for Poe himself: a blatant masochist who hurls himself bodily into the jaws of danger for the chance to live out his fantasy of American masculinity. If the plot was even ten percent less contrived, I think Poe might have had a massive hit on his hands; as it stands though, Pym has become a veritable punching bag for bored and hypercritical undergrads. Not even the men of Evergreen, rugged and adventure-starved as they are, can be bothered to pick up a copy.

I can’t be quite as harsh on Poe’s short stories. The one I’m reading now, William Wilson, is actually scaring the shit out of me–I can never say so out loud, just in case Poe’s ghost is somewhere lurking in search of validation, but there’s just something about the whispering doppelganger that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It reminds me of the summers I spent here, when Len and I used to have “Fright Nights” once a week; he’d draw the curtains and douse the lamps, lighting candles and lanterns so that the shadows of his various oddities were cast high on the walls, and he’d let me pick an episode of the X-Files to watch from his VHS box set. Of all the episodes I saw (discounting the one about the family of inbreeders who kept their mother under the bed–that one he wouldn’t let me watch until I was in college with my own Netflix account), there was one that simultaneously thrilled and terrified me in almost exactly the same way as William Wilson. The agents are in Florida for some kind of conference and get waylaid tracking down an invisible forest creature that’s evolved past humanity–tall and thin, running at unbelievable speeds on the balls of its feet, blending in with the foliage. It’s uncanny and exciting, like looking in a mirror and seeing something not quite human looking back at you. Like William Wilson.

It occurs to me briefly, as I sift absently through the pages, that I have become the type of person one might read about in these stories, or watch on a Fright Night. Isolated, alone, hapless. The perfect victim, in a lot of ways. It’s getting harder to feel sorry for myself, though, and harder still when I compare my life to Edgar Allan Poe’s. Things just happened to him, or at least that’s what he thought. I’m making choices; I’m choosing to work, and when I’m not working I’m choosing to go out and explore, or decorate my home, or sit on my front porch just because. I am making the active decision to enjoy myself, a thought that would have done us out of a lot of classic horror if it had ever crossed Poe’s mind. I am trying, so goddamned hard.

“You in there?” is the familiar question that breaks me from my reverie, and I lower the book to look up into the face of Jasper Stevens, partially obscured by his tousled hair as he tilts his head down to meet my eyes. I’m somewhere in there, thanks for asking.

“What can I get you?” I ask, straightening with a smile as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“Something cold,” he replies, “dealer’s choice.”

“Arnold Palmer, coming up,” I say, accepting his payment before he chooses a seat at the bar. He watches me work with the same quiet, contemplative gaze he uses on me when I visit the general store. There’s not much actual work to be done; ice, lemonade, and tea. I fold my arms on the bar and lean forward after setting the drink down, and he mirrors my posture. “So,” I say, “what’s new?”

He cocks his head to the side. “You, still.”

“I guess that’s true,” I say. It’s been two days since the last time I saw Jasper, when he crushed my soul back into my body.

Jasper takes a thoughtful sip of his drink before speaking again. “Would I be correct in assuming,” he says, “that your shift ends in approximately three minutes?”

I check my watch. He’s right, of course. “You would,” I reply, “Janie should be back any minute now.”

“Good. Come to the river with me?”

“Yeah, okay,” I say, for the first time knowing that I’m saying yes to a whole person, knowing that I’m a whole person myself.

Jasper smiles–really, I mean it–and says: “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually been in here before.”

#highway hypnosis #sometimes tumblr keeps my indents and sometimes she doesn’t #writers on tumblr #every time i talk in the tags i think of that old post that’s like ‘in the tags sis’ do you know the one I mean #anyway this chapter brought to you by my ex and his favorite coffee shop hope you’re thriving man #Spotify

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randomfoggytiger · 9 months

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X-Files Collector's Edition: The Field Where I Fix-It Fic-ed

Ahhhh, The Field Where I Died-- quite an impressive idea, not quite an impressive execution. These fics, however, make me glad that it exists in its own, weird little corner.

Dedicated to the one anon that wanted a TFWID fic list~! :DDDD

Loose chronological order below~!

**Note**: Will ghost edit this post later. ;)))

eponine119’s I Do Not Want To Believe

""I was powerless to do anything but watch as he rose in the field next to me, his chest covered only by his thin blue shirt. No bulletproof vest to save his life. And I knew he was going to die.

Worse, I realized, he wanted to die. To be with her. So that history would repeat itself. What could I do? "Mulder!" I shouted at him as I had so very many times before. It was no use.

Cringing inside I watched. Waiting.

No shots rang out. He disappeared into the building.

No shots rang out. I ran after him.""

Post TFWID Scully realizes that CSM is the contradictory lynch pin to Melissa Ephesian’s story. Mulder, meanwhile, believes their own bond broke the chain that linked he and his “soulmate" in tragedy.

@alienbaby-babymama/ABBM515’s Soulmates

""You okay, partner?” Scully reaches out to squeeze his bicep. She’d seen the same forlorn look on his face during his hypnosis session.

“Although this didn’t end how any one of us wanted it to, it was nice to know.”

“Know what?”

“That I’m not alone,” Mulder turns to look at her, “and neither are you. Never one without the other. Kismet.”

“Even if I don’t believe in that line of thinking, I’d have to agree.""

Post TFWID Mulder is glad that he and Scully loved each other every lifetime; and is willing to wait for the “right” moment in this one.

Nicole van Dam's Forgive and Forget

""Perhaps it wasn't the initial meeting that caused him to question her position as a new partner. Just the mere apprehensiveness that lived in him since he was a small boy. It only took a day, one day of her trying to convince him she wasn't sent to watch him; to gauge his work.

She was sent because it was just the way it was supposed to be.

How did he know to trust her to tell her his life; his problems; his fears? How did she?""

TFWID Scully is resigned to Mulder and Melissa's connection... but ponders more deeply on her own.

@wendelah/wendelah1/avesuvianface’s (Gossamer, LJ)

With Regret

""The deep connection I feel to Mulder isn't because we knew one another in a past lifetime. Even if we had, what possible difference could it make?""

Post TFWID Scully has regrets.

LuvMulder’s Tonight I Watch You Dream

""You sleep fitfully beside me as I write, your brow furrowed in the solitary pain I have witnessed so many times since I first walked through your office door. On this night, at this moment, high above the earth, I feel you dream; yet, for the first time since I've known you, I doubt it is Sam you see. Unconscious oblivion, the softness of night and shadow are but words, failed promises that bring you no peace as we head back to our lives, far removed from the grassy fields of Apison, Tennessee.

I'm glad to be going home. We deserve a week of bad coffee and boredom--alone--in the clutter of our basement sanctuary.

I need. I sense....questions.

My friend--are we forever changed?

I am so afraid.""

Post TFWID Scully feels like she’s failed Mulder, unable to take the same leaps of faith that he asks of her.

@happenstanced's (Ao3) For Eternity

""Scully, look at me.”

I lifted only my eyes, looking up from under my lashes. Tears must’ve formed and were threatening to fall because his expression softened more than I thought was possible.

Uncharacteristically, I blurted out the one thought that had consumed me.

“Did you mean it?""

Post TFWID Scully is avoiding Mulder’s eyes… and he calls her on it.

Anne Haynes’s (Gossamer) Greater Meed

""She had known he would come to her to talk more about what had happened to him in Tennessee. She hadn't been sure when it would happen, but she'd known it WOULD happen. It was as inevitable as predestination.

He put the sack on her kitchen table and shrugged off his coat, folding it over the back of a chair. "It wasn't about past lives, was it?" he asked with no preamble.""

Post TFWID Mulder has a nagging thought that something is off… and realizes that CSM was already alive during WWII. He expounds about his "stuck" psyche with Scully over ice cream; and she assures him that, of course, his life does means something.

Thalia D'Muse's Day to Give Thanks

""Mulder placed the cassette in his pocket, his mind completely enraptured by the tiny book in his hand. It resembled other small pamphlet-style books one might see at the check-out counter, exclaiming 'Lose 5 Inches In 10 Days' or 'Your Astrological Forecast'.

But the title of this one threw him. The cover was a faded blue with a white seagull, its wings spread across the entire page. Dark blue letters across the top told Mulder the title: 'The Writings of Richard Bach'.""

Post TFWID Mulder turns down Thanksgiving with Scully to brood over his loss and confusion. One of Scully's books enlightens his outlook, giving him hope.

Stephanie Lutz’s The Wheel

""He tilted his head back and looked up into the night sky. There was no moon, no stars. Heavy storm clouds had closed in as the sun was setting, blocking any chance of romantic night lights. Appropriate, he thought. Was she out there, somewhere, waiting for him now? As if in mocking answer to his question a smattering of raindrops struck his face.""

Post TFWID Scully lets Mulder have space to process before forcing comfort and understanding on him. He wants to believe; but she reasons they’ll always find each other, no matter what.

Meredith’s (Alt.) The Favor

""There are parts of that experience I can't let myself forget. My mind was influenced by outside elements, but in my regression I did see some truths. It's just taken me time to sort them out for myself."

She couldn't bear to ask which ones.

"She played a role," he continued in her silence, "and so did you. I just had to figure out where the truth ended and the deception began.""

Post TFWID Mulder and Scully assist Langly on a family member case involving a psychic. He’s already processed his feelings about the episode; and the two discuss how they get each other.

story_monger’s Searching Souls - Chapter 1

""No, stop, what are you doing?” Scully snatches at the bills, but Mulder slides them out of her reach, and before Scully can react the bartender has swung past to scoop up the pile.

“You can owe me a pizza or something,” Mulder promises her. He touches at her back. “C’mon, it’s getting late.”

Scully putters her lips and slides off the stool.

Post TFWID Mulder picks up and drives Scully home, rebutting her personal projection ideas and shocking her into believing his theory (even if only for one night.)

Christina M. Simmons‘s Near Death Experiences 01 & 02

""Eyes stared up at her from the yellowed tint of an ancient photo. Eyes that could have been green, or grey, or blue. A young man in a Confederate uniform, stern-faced... barely thirty, if that. It was the eyes that captured her, though. The expression in them.

Skeptical.

As though he didn't quite believe the camera would work. As though he wouldn't be satisfied until he saw the finished print.""

Post TFWID Scully decides that eternity is not long enough to debate her and Mulder’s ideas, seeking proof in Sullivan Biddle's journal for Mulder’s sake (and her own.) When there is only evidence to the contrary, she is reassured by his easy acceptance of her unbelief.

stellar_dust’s (Ao3) Instinct, With Better Light

""... You weren't in love with her, in this life."

"No .. no, I wasn't. If we'd met under different circumstances, ... maybe I could have been. But you're right, I wasn't."

"She wasn't in love with you, either."

"No. But she wanted to believe.""

Post TFWID Scully suggests that maybe Mulder and Melissa Ephesian were trapped in a terrible cycle because they weren’t “meant” to be.

@saintbellamys/starsonfire's First Dates and Soulmates

""A comfortable silence and then, "Do you ever think about it?"

Scully glanced at him with curiosity, her nose almost brushing his neck. "Think about what?"

"Our lives. If they could've been different. You told me once that it seems like there could only be one choice and the rest were wrong. There are signs and everything leads up to all these moments.""

Mulder takes Scully on their first date. While stargazing, he explains how wrong he his first soulmates theory was.

@sunsoakd/agenderleadingplayer’s I Wouldn't Change A Day

""And you know you're supposed to want to say yes. You know that part by heart know, know that she would want you to say yes –

Wouldn't she?

– but instead you think about it for a minute, a minute and a half, two. And the answer is no, because if you answered yes then who would she have? And you don't, you think, want to make it seem like you saved her from anything; you didn't, you didn't, she saved herself, you just helped when the tears came down too hard, but...

The answer is still...

"No." It's said with an exhale, an air of finality to it. No, I will not die for you, no I will never, because us, together, that's our whole deal, isn't it? Together. That's the deal, that always was.""

Scully asks (boyfriend) Mulder if he’d die for her. No; but Mulder knows she already has for him.

RocketMan/Darkstryder’s Mine 01, Mine 02, Mine 03

""In one brief flickering instant I could see the pain all behind her eyes. If I hadn't been looking directly at those sharp blues I wouldn't have even seen it. But I did. Fear and pain and hurt. She hurt for me. No.......she is hurting because she thinks I couldn't be her soul mate.

Even Scully wants a soul mate.

"You're mine," I whisper....""

AU-- Post TFWID Scully feels cut off from Mulder, sad and lovesick. When he realizes, he quickly corrects her misconception… then almost bungles it further. (But that doesn’t stop them from living their lives out together, finally gaining the afterlife in the next.)

Diadem’s Somewhere

""It was special. We had to say goodbye the following morning, and neither of us wanted to leave the other behind. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we walked down the main street of the little town.

We started talking about the Ephesian case. I don't know how we got on to it, but suddenly Mulder was asking me if I believed in past lives and reincarnation.""

AU-- Mulder and Scully finally admit their feelings… and then Mulder is shot. As he dies, Scully insists they will get this right when she finds him again.

@ghostbustermelanieking/skuls‘s a roll of stars and fade to black

""All but the third, but the M.O. is the same for all the cases,” says Skinner. “Trace evidence proves that all three victims were at Forrester’s apartment at one point or another. It's open and shut. He lured these people into his apartment, drugged them, and kept them for hours before allowing them to return home. We have him on kidnapping and use of an illegal drug.”

Mulder turns over restlessly in bed, sheets tangling around him. “Do we know why he did it?” Scully asks, watching Mulder out of the corner of her eye. She is worried about him. First the attack by Samuel Aboah, and now this. They end up in the hospital entirely too much.

“The notes found at his apartment included recaps of the victims’ time at his apartment, based what seems to be some kind of past life experiences specific to each victim....” Skinner clears his throat awkwardly. “We're confirming this theory with the victims now.”

AU-- A rewrite of the episode: Mulder, druggily flashes back to his deathbed in another life-- Sergeant Sullivan Biddle at his bedside-- and uses those recovered memories to probe deeper. Scully and Skinner, meanwhile, try to make sense of and solve the case.

Diana Alexander/Teresa Horne’s Not What It Seems

""It had all happened so fast that it makes my head spin. In fact, the memory is only a blur. Though the thought of giving Mulder up tears my heart to shreds, I could've done it. I could've accepted that Angela was his soulmate eventually, and left them both alone. I could have gone out and gotten a life. He never would have been burdened by my feelings, and I would have gone on, no matter what the cost.

I felt a trickle of blood run down my neck and glanced down. The knife had grazed my neck before Mulder realized what his "beloved" Angela was about to do. He aimed the gun and shot her. It could have been merely a reaction, what he was supposed to do under the circumstances.""

AU-- Mulder’s soulmate puts a knife to Scully’s throat; which leads to a more personal (if implied) revelation for him.

Erin M. Blair/Erin Blair’s Miss Series 04 - Miss You Four

""The truth is within our hearts and our love for each other.

I'm thankful that we're all together as a family. It will make us stronger somehow. When you told me of your epiphany that we were meant to be together, I knew then we were meant to be. I knew we were the true soulmates. Our souls connected through the spaces of time.""

AU-- S9 Mulder has returned with Will in tow; and spends his days, heart very full, watching his soulmate have everything she could ever have wanted out of life.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

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orbdotexe · 6 months

Note

I am late to asking you exile questions. How dare I.

But I was thinking if the guardian ever kept like, a diary or something of a similar vain that others only found after their death. (A lore book if you will)

Do they get to see Wolf’s mental state spiraling once again, only in their own words and writing?

Or do they see Wolf doing their best to ignore it, and making the best out of the situation?

(Which hurts them more.)

Also gladiator by Jenn is such a Wolf song. Go listen. Please I beg.

and I am late to answering it!

I think I've/we've (not sure) messed with the idea before, but didn't land on anything concrete?

I think, at least pre-unexile (sometime after Lightfall, not sure exactly when yet), Wolf wouldn't bother with speaking to do an audio diary/journal. One thing I'm very fond of doing to the Young Wolf is fucking up their voice in some way so yk gotta have the rasp from poor use! For the most part, I don't think they'd be very committed to a journal to begin with - but Ghost might try to get them to at least write down their thoughts, if they can't get it out to him.

I don't think they'd keep track of the entries, though. Write it down, put it out there, leave it to rot like everything else. Maybe it makes them feel better, maybe it leaves them feeling worse, but there is some clarity with clear words.

So, I figure they either leave files unnamed and completely unedited or grammar checked, or just leave mostly incoherent pages in random hideouts. Some might be torn out, or torn up into shreds, pencil marks varying between trying to make sense and then just writing the first half-thought that comes to their mind while trying to put words to how it feels.

Though, any sign of their state is probably found more from how messy they are, rather than what the pages actually say. So, a lorebook would probably be pieced together from incomplete pages and dated by the closest events they could relate to any one "entry" (easier said than done, as 90% of them are about... nonsense, or things that happened awhile ago that they're just catching up on because they take forever to acknowledge anything's wrong)

There'd definitely be pages/entries where Wolf writes about some cool landscape, or something stupid that happened. Maybe they saw a Newlight drive their sparrow dead into a wall while trying to chase a pike, or how they scared the shit out of some fireteam that day. Though, those entries are likely written with a shaky hand.

Any start of a spiral, likely would've been found in half-hearted, very downtrodden or demotivated points. So, while coherent, mostly melancholic or nostalgic. The few completely clear and "determined" ones, are... likely about consequences, either their own or our dearest motivation: The many should not suffer the mistakes of a few.

Which, I think, would be the ones that would make it into a lorebook (also completely overlooking just how ill and betrayed Wolf really was, in favor of showing their "good-hearted-ness and determination to protect the City").

also, that is 100% a Wolf song. Took me a minute to get it, but woh. And not even just Wolf, either - I mean. "I know its kinda funny that everyone is acting like they know you personally" for Crow maybe, or 'They've all been dying for a little drama, their favorite stars getting out of coma" you already know--

#did NOT mean to wax poetic again but i cant help it. im rewatching jacob geller videos again :(#also did not mean to write an essay on you again but yknow what. you sent the ask you know how these things go--#The Forsaken Exile #orb rambles

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a-world-with0ut-dr34ms · 1 year

Text

Hey, Who Really Cares

Ghost x Reader x Soap Very Slight Ghost x Soap

It's been weeks since the lieutenant last saw you. Ghost had thought that night with you before had been merely a fluke. However, seeing you again suddenly has only shown him that your night together may not have been a mere chance encounter after all...

A/N: This is basically Ghost having a crush on the reader, with Soap being all charismatic and whatnot. Hopefully not OOC (っ◞‸◟c)

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Flirting, Innocent, Sweet, slightly goofy, Light-Hearted, Banter, Shadow!Reader, Ghost has a crush

Word Count: 4.7k

Masterlist

Chapter Fourteen - Hey, Who Really Cares

You watch another plane fly overhead, the cry of its engine peeling by amidst an early evening sky. It cuts through cream colored clouds, before submerging into the setting sun, as the world above you grows a fading shade of blue and peach.

The air cools, the birds chirp, cars drive along busy roads, and you sit beneath a tree beside the brick walls of your new barracks, strumming away at your guitar.

The plane eventually vanishes into the horizon, along with its rumbling. A heavy sigh leaves you. It was only a few hours ago when you'd stepped off a plane yourself. Though it wasn't for a flight home, were you so lucky. Your job has only just begun, from the looks of things.

You've got new orders, only this time they come straight from the General himself.

The details regarding your abrupt relocation had been scarce, even before Graves had you stuffed on the next flight back to the states. However vague the details are, the reasons were made clear to you from the jump -- your files had been pulled, and you were finally being placed with the Task Force.

You would be the mole after all.

Shepherd felt it necessary to have you moved, given your recent work in Turkey and Kavala. Of course, it also helps that Graves' gave him a strong recommendation on top of things. You're not sure what that may have been however. You haven't felt particularly noteworthy recently.

Though whatever Graves said, the General saw some truth to it and moved you. Right on time too. You've felt as though you've started to wear out your welcome with Shadow Company as of late. And time away from your Commander would no doubt do you both some good.

The tips of your fingers grew raw from the past hour you spent plucking at your guitar strings. Your knuckles felt tight and your hands had become numb, but the discomfort was manageable. With luck, it would make for a faint enough distraction. It's much more manageable than the emotional pain that tugs at you beneath the surface.

You were cleared for combat before you flew out here. The news wouldn't have surprised you, had it not felt like a lie. Sure you're good to go on paper, but something was wrong with you. You could feel it.

You haven't felt like yourself since that night in Kavala.

Beyond the guilt you felt, you knew something had been off in you for days now. There were things you've found yourself doing, experiences you've noticed and felt, that you've never had to deal with prior.

An impending sense of dread hung heavy in your gut lately. It exhausts you all day, and keeps you wired through the night. In the quiet moments, you have these sudden urges to cry. You have to convince yourself to get out of bed most mornings. You'd go the whole day and forget to put a meal in you if you weren't paying attention.

And you were alone in your feelings.

The others in Shadow Company showed little to no remorse about the events that occurred that night, and that was even before they'd gotten paid for the job. Keeping things impersonal seemed to be the company motto.

Once the cash had rolled out, it was as though that op had never happened. No one brought it up, and no one had a second thought about it. Graves included. They were ready to take their blood money and ready to add more to the pile.

You didn't share the sentiment.

That night felt as surreal as a nightmare, only you've been trapped in some sort of sleep paralysis with it lingering; unable to move or wake yourself, and unable to shed away the emotions that had coursed through you in those brief moments.

All the noises, the chaos, their faces -- Whenever you think back on it, your throat tightens. Your blood runs cold. God forbid you space out when these thoughts came, lest your back in that dark hallway, looking for that scared little kid again.

You start to play another song, watching leaves from the tree gently fall around you. They dot the grass you sit on alongside the barracks. The other soldiers didn't use this back entrance often, giving you a little privacy (not that you needed it). The ones who'd pass by didn't have much to say, though their eyes always followed the music.

Despite the turmoil you face, you smile and nod at the soldiers, sparring a comment when a comment was spared. You'd nod a farewell and you'd let your own music drown their walking away.

And when they're gone, you let the swell of sorrow boil in you quietly. You close your eyes and sing to yourself, letting the lyrics match your strumming, and the melody keep your throat from burning so much.

No, nothing's wrong with me, you tell yourself. Nothing is wrong.

It saddens you to think of this, just as much as it scares you knowing that this might be the new normal for you. That this was out of your control now. If only you'd hadn't noticed the change in you.

You get a groove going with your song now, it pulls the lyrics from you with little effort. You keep your eyes closed as you sing. There's not much around you looking at anyway.

...

Ghost awoke in a tiny bedroom, lit by dim sunlight and old dust, the world around him completely still. His slumber had been a dreamless one; nothing but black and silence, just as he liked it. And for a moment, his room made him feel almost deaf.

It was damn near cathartic.

He lies on his back in bed for a while longer, this nap having been an unplanned one. As the man does so, he takes this time to breathe and be with himself. Attempting to meditate, in some sense of the word.

His therapist keeps recommending he give it a try, or something of that sort at least, if Ghost remembers it right. Their advice went in one ear and out the other sometimes, depending on the kind of day he was having.

Still, Ghost was somewhat receptive if not a bit apprehensive to their words. Some meditation would probably do him some good, despite not having the faintest idea of how to go about it. Lord knows it's been far too long since he's spent some time with his own thoughts.

Missions take top priority in his mind, making it difficult to think or notice much else outside of what needs to be done and bad men who need to be handled. He prefers it this way. Though many have warned him time and time again that all missions have their end eventually. When that comes, what would sate his troubled mind then?

How much longer could he avoid himself?

His dark eyes lingered above, stuck on some singular crack he's found over his head. It's tiny and sad looking on the cold white of the ceiling. Uninspired, much like Ghost is in this moment. He sighs to himself, feeling the minutes tick by monotonously.

Letting his mind run blank in the silence proved easy enough to do. Seeing where that blank space takes him would be his true hurdle. Once he allows himself too, the details paint themselves more clearly in his head.

AQ. Russians. Former Cartel men. Mother. Tommy. Joseph...

The dead were always the first to come to his mind, some recent, others years old. None which stick with Ghost any longer than the last. And none that didn't leave the usual crater in his chest afterwards. How else would he remind himself of the heart thumping in him?

Once he sifts through the surface level rot in his mind, it slowly brings him back to the living memories. He finds himself thinking of his team for a short while after, their expressions and figures all mostly indistinguishable from the next. Apart from a few outliers.

Soap came to mind first in that regard. Johnny.

Ghost wasn't sure what Soap found so interesting about him. It wasn't like the lieutenant was easy to talk to, nor fun to be around, he always thought so at least. Not in comparison to the Sergeant.

Truth be told, Ghost knew surprisingly little of Soap outside of work, beyond the fact that he could talk enough for the both of them. They've been running ops for awhile now though, long enough to where Ghost has grown used to the Sergeant's joyful demeanor. At this point, he couldn't picture him any other way.

Soap's go-getter personality matched well with his skill, the charisma was just an added bonus. That kind of authenticity was rare to find these days. A rarity Ghost has only seen been matched by one other carefree spirit. One that seems to cross his mind even more so, any time he had a second too long to himself.

Looking up at the ceiling, the memories play in his mind like a movie. A starry night with a full moon, cold air and wet rain water. Kind eyes and a sweet smile. Warm arms which gently take him in, as a soft sensation presses to his chest. A few short seconds from a night nearly a month past. You.

That night with you refuses to leave him be, no matter how much he pretends it didn't mean anything to him. It'd be better if that were the case. But he couldn't have a moment to himself without his drifting back to you. Back to your warm embrace.

Suddenly, Ghost wasn't so interested in meditating anymore, fearful to linger in the memory of you for too long and catch himself reminiscing again. He's gone this long without having to deal with emotions like that, there was no chance in hell he'd put himself through it now.

The man quickly throws on a black hoodie and readjust the skull balaclava he'd had on, as he looks upon a half-finished pack of cigarettes sitting on his nightstand, calling to him.

Ghost's penchant for smoking would give him well enough of an excuse to leave his room for a bit. So alas, his small addiction willed him out into the barrack hallways.

It only took about thirty seconds before that one decision changed the course of the rest of his day. He starts down the empty hall, still trying to familiarize himself with the place, until he hears something behind him...

"L.T.?"

Ghost paused, recognizing that Scottish accent from anywhere. Soap.

He doesn't bother turning to face the man, he's matched the mohawk to the voice by the time he's made his way over and stepped into his line of vision.

Soap's face lights up at the sight of the Lieutenant, a boyish grin coming out of him. "Looks like I caught you right on time."

The Lieutenant lets his eyes lazily fall on the Sergeant. Guessing from the faint scent of sweat and workout attire, Ghost could infer that Soap most likely left from the gym not too long ago.

"So you were looking then?" Ghost asks almost teasingly.

He continues walking down the hallway before Soap has had time to respond. Which didn't matter much, as the Sergeant only followed Ghost along the way now. As he suspected he would. Very rarely did Soap leave him be when around.

Ghost could have told him to go if he wished to. Though he hadn't.

"No," Soap says. "I just happened by. Not to disappoint you, sir."

"Too late for that," Ghost quipped.

Soap chuckles, bashfully looking ahead of himself. He clears his throat. "Where're ya off to then?"

"I'm just havin' a smoke."

"Tsk. Tsk," Soap smacks his lips jokingly. "Those things'll kill you, L.T."

"Somethin' has to."

There's an awkward pause between the two men. For some reason it catches Ghost off guard, and for a second he thinks Soap might have been reading a bit too into his joke.

The Sergeant jokingly cringes to himself though, signaling to Ghost that there were no boundaries crossed. Good. Though it was peculiar of the Lieutenant to care about something like that to begin with. "Very edgy of you," says Soap.

"Look, Johnny," Ghost starts. "I just woke not but fifteen minutes ago. If you're gonna follow me, I need you at five, mate."

"Ah," Soap begins to tease. "Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, then L.T.? Bet it's 'cause you slept with that thing on your face."

"Maybe so." Ghost says unenthusiastically.

This brings a low rumble of a laugh out of Soap, who shakes his head at the lieutenant's comment. Ghost never fully turns his attention back to the Sergeant as he speaks, though his glancing over grows more frequent.

"Is it comfy?" Soap asks.

"Like an extra pillow for my face, Soap."

"Could I try one on, sir?"

"No."

"Afraid I might wear it better than you?"

"I don't share."

Soap laughs again, the base of his voice booming in Ghost's ear. Reminding him that he just woke up.

"You're a funny man, L.T.," Soap laughs.

"Who says I'm being funny?"

"I'd say so, sir."

"Fuckin' hell. A five, Johnny," Ghost rolls his eyes. "This here is a strong seven you're givin' me."

Soap blows raspberries. "A seven?" The man's accent was really starting to come out. "I'm at a solid six right now, at least. You know me better than that, Ghost."

"If it isn't five, it's not what I asked for."

Ghost and Soap round another corner in the barrack hallway, as they now approach the back exit to the building. The man's lips were twitching for a cigarette now, already tasting the nicotine on his tongue.

Some fresh air would do him some good too, even if he had to share it with some rather lively company. Ghost could handle it being only Soap however, being a team for this long now.

"You hear that?"

The sound of Soap's voice cutting in brings Ghost to a halt just near the exit, and just in range for him to hear the distant strumming of a guitar. The music was faint through the doors, though the soft melody picked up rather soothingly.

What caught Ghost's attention most was the sound of a woman's voice singing along to the acoustics. A voice which was soft and angelic, not perfect but with enough personality to it to be its own. It's a voice he could recognize, and one he's only heard recently in his memories.

There was no way, he thought.

"I think someone's playing music out there," Soap comments. Ghost doesn't notice him open the door until the sunlight washes over him; a cold, late summer wind breezing by, as the sounds of blissful music blankets over him.

He and Soap step out of the barracks onto the back concrete, steps of the building, facing an emptier end of the parking lots away from the main road, fenced away. There were a few trees and patches of grass decorating this part of the outer building, though the leaves were proving to be an impending nuisance in the coming autumn.

As the leaves blew in the evening sky, Ghost watches them hover about, until they fell at the patch of grass you sat at, a small ways from the exit. There his eyes found you once again, and a breath forgets to leave him.

For a moment there, he thought he might have been in his room, still dreaming.

You sit beneath a tree, your legs crossed and a guitar laid over your lap, as you look off into the distance with your eyes shut, singing to yourself some song which you knew intimately. In your voice, Ghost hears the struggle in you to keep your tone from breaking down.

The orange glow of the sun feathers your skin warmly, your hair lush in the lighting. Your head sways peaceful to the music, with not a care in the world to who walked by. A rather fitting setting for the Canary. A setting which had Ghost completely stopped.

The last time he saw you, you were drunk and spilling all your guts out to him in your bathroom, damn near literally. And the last time you saw him, he was struggling to function properly from just a simple hug. Now you're here fully, ready to play the game again, and he still hasn't gotten over that damn hug.

Ghost thought that burying the memory would snuff the feelings out. That's what he's used to doing. That's what usually works too.

Yet seeing you again now... Why? What are you doing here?

Ghost runs a few thoughts in his mind, and then it all clicks. The new recruit.

When Ghost and Soap had been given their new orders and sent out here, they’d already been let known that they’d be receiving a new recruit for the remainder of the assignment. He should have known that it wouldn’t actually be someone new.

"Canary?" Soap calls to you from where they stand on the steps. You open your eyes and halt your playing, and the first thing your gaze falls on are the black eyes of Ghost's looking back at you.

And like that, you coax a dying flame in him anew.

He watches your eyes widen, only lightly, before a pleasing smile shows, which only grew as you turned your attention over to the Sergeant. Soap is the first to make his way down the steps towards you. He makes strides like you'd been friends for years.

Ghost lingers by the exit, keeping a distance. Taking everything as it comes by him. He leans against the railing by the steps, watching cars drive by, and listening to you and Soap speak.

"It's good to see you guys again." You stand from where you sit, resting your guitar against the tree behind you. "I was just starting to miss you too."

"The feeling's mutual," Soap says. "What's got you out here?"

"New orders from Shepherd."

"You don't say," Soap smiles. "You the new recruit then?"

"I might just be," you smile.

Your eyes drift from Soap to where Ghost stands, your expression turning playful. You begin to wave and call over to him. From a distance, you were just all glitters and sunshine it seems. "Looks like we're going to be battle buddies again Ghost!"

Ghost stays quiet, watching as you turn your attention back to Soap. The whole time you two talk, Ghost debates with himself on how he wants to feel right now. What should he be feeling?

Why not go over there? Some voice nags at him in his head. You know you want to.

Ghost exhales. He remains by the exit.

A small part of him resented the way he couldn't quite bring himself to walk over to you and Soap and join in; instead of being so standoffish like he always was. It's not every day people wanted to actually talk to him. But staying away was conditioned in the man. And he knows he wouldn't add much to the conversation regardless.

He never knows what to say.

So instead he watches you, reminded of all the little details that have grown hazier since your brief departure. The liveliness of your speech and how you move your hands when you talk was entertaining enough to observe. And your voice. He remembers liking the sound, but hearing it again really had him tuned in all of a sudden.

Its pitch sings to him like a lullaby almost.

Ghost watches you laugh at something Soap says to you, seeing the way he suavely rests an arm against the tree as he talks. Your eyes look Soap up and down, before you say something sly. Commenting on his gym attire from the looks of things. It makes Soap start to flex his large arms jokingly. Striking various poses which make you laugh rather boyishly. You give the man a playful shove and you both laugh.

Ghost wonders if you two even notice how flirtatious your actions come off at times, watching the way you maneuver around each other. Something tells the Lieutenant that Soap wasn't as aware as he seemed, though you never know. And as for your intent... Well, that was a question for the ages.

Whether intentional or not, you seem to play into it rather easily, words leaving your lips like cool poetry, tongue and teeth moving swiftly with your sentences.

Every now and again you look Ghost's way. When you see him already looking, you don't react in the slightest. Merely meeting his gaze before going about yourself as you were. You'd even wave a little every now and then, as though to let him know you saw him too, and that he could join in if he wished. Never forgetting him, even as he wasn't near. A gesture made from kindness.

It really is you, isn't it?

Before long, you've made the decision for yourself to come see him. You pick your guitar up and make your way back over to the exit where he stands, as Soap follows behind.

You stop at the bottom of the steps though, resting against the end of the railing, as some coy smile paints your lips. Your gaze softens, and Ghost can't help but to soften along with it, even as his cold composure never breaks.

Soap speaks again suddenly, moving his way around Ghost and reopening the building door. "I'll come knockin' once I'm done," he says.

Ghost realizes he missed a whole conversation between you two after all.

You wave goodbye and Soap re-enters the barracks. And before Ghost has realized it, he's now outside alone with you. How did that happen?

The air closes in around you both like you're back in that room again. Ghost stands at the top of the stairs, only about four steps down from where you stood at the base still. Now that you were closer, it was harder to avoid how heavy your gaze felt on him suddenly.

"Ghost," you greet him.

"Y/N."

The sound of your name gruffly leaving his masked lips brings a sheepish smile to you. It excites you even. "You remembered."

Ghost relaxes more in his stance, slipping his hands into his pockets now. He hasn't stop thinking of your name since you told it to him, though he wishes that weren't the case. "How've you been?" he asked. "Managing to stay in one piece?"

"Physically," you say rather nonchalantly.

"Not mental?"

Ghost meant for his comment to be casual, however he sees his words pull something out of you. A glint of something dark, something tired, and something worn. Sadness. A look he's held before. It makes him wonder what you've gotten into since the last time you've spoken. In this line of work, he imagines it had been rather unpleasant.

It's a quick flash of grief Ghost felt did not suit you. A look that seems to weigh on you, just barely being held down by your trained smile.

"I could be better," you shrug. "But I'm still here."

"Which is good, yeah?" Ghost says. "That you're still here."

"Is it?" you say sarcastically, though your voice feels drained of its normal passion.

Ghost merely shrugs. "I'd say so."

You look off for a second, and Ghost remembers the little pauses you take to think of your words again. How carefully open you are with him. You do what you know best, and you begin to tease. "Did you miss me, lieutenant?"

Did you miss me? Did he? It's hard to notice when you missed someone until they're in your face again to remind you of the absence.

"I haven't forgotten you."

"I haven't forgotten you either."

You finally manage to break his gaze from you, the man choosing to look somewhere off into the parking lot. Now it was Ghost's turn to think of his next words to you. Your careful nature is seemingly contagious.

"I trust your activities since the last we spoke have been of the sober sort." He decides to keep things surface level again. Ghost was too dazed from a good nap to be going through all of this right now.

"Painfully so, lieutenant," you finally move up the steps, stopping beside him with your guitar in your hands still. "Speaking of 'sober activities', Soap and I were gonna grab a coffee in a few, if you'd like to come."

Ghost raises an eyebrow at your comment, though you can't see it beneath his mask, beyond the rising of his own eyes. So that's what was discussed. Soap asked you out on a bloody date. The cheeky bastard works fast, he'll give him that.

"Am I third-wheelin' then?" he asks.

"Never, Ghost." You begin to strum a little tune on your guitar, as though to add a little jingle to your words like some sort of minstrel. "Soap might be, if he's not careful."

"Don't let 'em hear that," Ghost jokes. "Might break the lad's heart."

You laugh to yourself. It's bubbly and light, and pulls Ghost wide awake from his tired self. "I can't have that," you say. "He's such a sweety."

Soap's a "sweety"? It almost makes Ghost laugh, though in a lot of ways he agreed with you there. It's just not how he'd word it personally. "A real charmer, that one."

"Are you comin' then?" you ask. "I'd love to catch up, especially since we're about to be a team, from the looks of things."

"I wouldn't mind havin' a tea."

"It's a date then," you strum another melody at the end of your sentence, and start to fake a British accent, rather poorly too. "Until we meet again, lieutenant. This humble bard need ready herself for the night."

"She needs more practice with the accent," he jabs. "Bloody atrocious, that was."

Your gaze sullies suddenly, as you take a few steps closer to Ghost. He leans back against the railing of the steps, crossing his arms and looking down at you as you come near. With his sleeves somewhat rolled up, he watches you take an eyeful of his tatted arm, before looking up and down the rest of him.

Your gaze had grown rather forward since the last you've spoken, it seems. Rather tantalizing, lulling the man in tactfully. He'd taken your flirting before as drunken banter. But you're not drunk anymore, are you.

"Perhaps you'll show me a few pointers later then," you say. "You're here to give me tips and be eye candy, as I recall."

Ghost is at a loss for words there for a second.

He'll admit, at times your lines came too fast to him. You were always ready with a quick quip, and it left little time for him to really analyze your words and craft a proper response that wasn't mere gut reaction. Not without giving away that he was indeed trying to read into your words. But if Ghost wasn't careful, he risked speaking a bit too candidly for his own liking.

You wouldn't catch him so easily.

"Don't be greedy now," he says. "I'm for the whole team."

"I can share," you say.

"Is that right?"

"That's right."

Ghost hadn't noticed himself leaning in until he heard another plane fly overhead. By then, you'd been leaning in as well, the two of you only kept apart by the guitar in your arms and the distance in height between your faces. It must have been darker in your room than he remembered, because in the sunlight, where he could really see all of you this close, you were absolutely stunning.

If you weren't careful, you might just make him start to misbehave.

Alas, you seemed to enjoy playing the tease. You play one final melody on your guitar, giggling to yourself and stepping towards the exit. "I'll see you later, lieutenant."

Ghost watches you leave, taking both your music and atmosphere with you. After a few moments pass and he's alone, he finally takes that cigarette out he'd been dying to smoke this whole time. Though as he curls the bottom of his mask up and places it between his lips, his heart still patters rather rapidly in his chest.

Perhaps you'll show me a few pointers later then. Later...

...Chapter Fifteen Here!

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