#ㅤ⁰⁷ ﹐ 𝗣𝗛𝗔𝗦𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗨𝗠 … 𝙰𝚂𝙺 𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙽𝚂𝙴.
⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .
𝗦𝗟𝗘𝗘𝗣 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗢𝗡𝗟𝗬 𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗖𝗘𝗙𝗨𝗟 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗛𝗜𝗠. Even then, sometimes it wasn’t. While Soap’s mere presence was often enough to keep the night terrors at bay, there were some evenings where the anxiety would override all the comfort he felt and betray him. But there were more good days than bad, which is what mattered. It’s what made him feel safe.
❝ I like to watch you sleep sometimes. You look happier in your sleep, y’know, peaceful. I wish I could keep you like that. ❞ @siabann said.
There he laid, white-blond hair dishevelled to shit and lids still heavy, gazing up at the other man with a palm pressed against his face. Fingers carding through Soap’s hair, barely roused from his sleep but smiling.
ㅤ( 𝙶𝙾𝙳, 𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝚂𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶. 𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝙸𝙽 𝙳𝙴𝙴𝙿. 𝙸𝙽 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴. )
“ Fuckin' creep, ” he says, voice raspy from slumber, reverberating in his chest and deepening. “ You can blame yourself for that one, Johnny. ”
His other hand scaled the side of Soap’s face, gripping, pulling him down until their lips met in a kiss. It was soft. It was tender. It was loving. Until it wasn’t. The other man had a magnetic pull that Ghost was powerless against, unable to touch him without wanting to ruin him. He deepens the kiss, tongue pushing past teeth, breath hitching in his throat trying to savour the taste. Ghost wanted to devour him right then and there, stalled only by the fact that he couldn’t. Not yet. Cockblocked by a pointless meeting that could’ve been a fucking email. ( 𝙼𝙰𝚈𝙱𝙴 𝙷𝙴 𝙳𝙸𝙳 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙼 𝙾𝙵 𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝚁𝙾𝙻 𝙻𝙴𝙵𝚃 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝙸𝚃 𝙲𝙰𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝚂𝙾𝙰𝙿. )
With a groan, he withdraws, keeping Soap clasped between his hands and brushing stray curls back into place. “ Should be getting ready about now, ey? ”
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⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . . 𝙵𝙾𝚁: 𝙺𝙸𝙲𝙺.
𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬 𝗦𝗢 𝗢𝗙𝗧𝗘𝗡, 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗦 𝗖𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗗. A weak point in his armour that exposed vulnerable, tender flesh beneath polished metal. Hit after hit, he could take it with no issue, but it was the slow moments. The lulls in his day when there was no task at hand, no imminent danger, where his thoughts took over. Memories flooding his mind, sinister internal monologues overloading his system until it shut down. If there was nothing to keep Ghost occupied, his mind would put in the work for him. Every so often, the impenetrable Simon Riley had nothing left to protect him from himself. 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬. 𝘊𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨.
Crawling, more like lugging himself out of bed, trying to reintegrate into being a person had been … a battle, to say the least. 𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤. You’ve seen more combat than you can even recall, and the hardest thing you’ve had to do today was get out of bed? ( 𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙵𝙴𝙴𝙻 𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙱𝚁𝙰𝙸𝙽 𝙿𝙾𝚆𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝙳𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝙰𝚂 𝙷𝙴 𝙿𝚄𝚃 𝙲𝙻𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚂 𝙾𝙽 𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺. 𝙰 𝚄𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚂 𝙰𝚄𝚃𝙾𝙿𝙸𝙻𝙾𝚃 𝚂𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶. )
“ Your shirt is on backwards. ” @pseudowar said, as gently as he was capable of.
His head was swirling, clouded as he felt like he was floating above the room. Zoned out, to say the fucking least. The thick layer of fog that dampened his senses slowly lifted, the sound of Kick’s voice acting as an anchor … a weak one, but an anchor nonetheless.
“ Hm? ” Ghost grunts, gaze flickering down towards the shirt in question. Seams exposed, inside out, similar to the way his own edges were currently and rapidly fraying. The tag resting just beneath his chin, backwards. 𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬. “ Ah … didn’t notice. ” ( 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙳𝙾𝙽’𝚃 𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙴. )
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ I’ll, uh … fix it later. ”
𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺. 𝘗𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.
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⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .
𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗘𝗟𝗧 𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗘. He looked out of place, too, sitting in the center of a bustling restaurant. Normal people with normal lives. 𝘍𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴. His feet were planted firmly against hardwood floors with eyes darting around and scoping out every entrance and exit. Despite knowing he was the most dangerous person in the room at any given time, he grew agitated at the thought of people unseen walking behind him.
“ Umm, sooo … ” @peacedomain starts, scooting closer to Ghost; finger pointing at a couple two tables away. “ They were talking about it and now I'm curious. How does a person make a baby? ”
The groan that leaves his lips is quiet but not unheard, head dipping as he meets her gaze. He supposed it should’ve been comforting to know that he was not the only one in this room with a broken family dynamic; she was sheltered and … innocent. 𝘕𝘢𝘪𝘷𝘦. The product of a lack of parental guidance and isolation, nobody to show her the ways of the world in which they lived. The exact opposite of his own upbringing, in which he was thrust into harsh realities and had learned of all the cruelty humanity had to offer at such a young age. On his own and terrified, but steeled by his experiences. It should’ve been comforting to know neither of them had ever really had parents. Never the chance to bloom as a child. 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦. Instead, he found himself wondering how the hell he ended up having to be the person to give Elsie the fucking 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘴 talk.
“ Uhhh … well, when a man and woman have sex, if the man ejaculates inside of her, sometimes ... you end up with a baby. Grows inside the womb for nine months, then she gives birth. Pretty fucking basic biology there, mate. ” Ghost turns in his seat, thick arms folded across his chest as he peered at her inquisitively. “ ⸺ Your parents really never taught you about that shit? 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵 ... Got my work cut out for me. ”
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⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .
𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗢𝗔𝗗 𝗔𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗 𝗙𝗘𝗟𝗧 𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗜𝗧𝗘. Hours of walking with no end in sight through thick foliage, surrounded by trees that scraped the star studded night sky. No stranger to navigating the dark through the uneven hellish terrains, survival and escape heavy at the forefront of his mind to the extent that he had forgotten his travel companion might not have been built to handle this. ( 𝚂𝙷𝙸𝚃. 𝙽𝙾 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝙴𝚂. 𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃. )
‟ I don't think I can walk anymore ... ” It's a shy complaint, or rather an observation, from the barefoot angel, @peacedomain.
“ Mm. ” Ghost hums and pauses, a split second decision rising, and then he’s bent at the knees, crouching downwards and beckoning the young girl to climb upon his back. To give her feet a rest, because he could shoulder the weight for the both of them with ease and still move silently throughout the forest, onward and upward, no sweat broken. Unspoken promises to protect and take care, until she was truly and fully safe.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ We’ll find a place to set up camp soon. ”
ㅤㅤ
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⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .
𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗠𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗦 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧. Crammed together with limbs tangled like tree roots in a military issued mattress, he could feel Soap’s warm breath creeping against his neck as he spoke sweet nothings.
‟ Whatever happens, I want to be with you. ” @siabann whispers.
Ghost’s lips are exposed, balaclava bunched up just beneath the nose, and he almost smiles. 𝘈𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵. His heart wrenches itself tight, constricted in his chest as it almost threatens to beat out of rhythm, and he can only hope that Soap doesn’t feel the palpitations whilst resting on his sternum. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶. The words feel almost foreign as they echo in his ears, rattling around his skull, response poised on the tip of his tongue.
‟ Good thing you can’t get rid’a me, Johnny. ” He thinks, there’s nothing in this world that could make us part, not even death … 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳. You are mine. ( 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘 )
All these things he wants to say, and yet … there is so little that falls out. Dread fills his chest, a silent trepidation as the intensity of his emotions renders him mute. Maybe one day I’ll tell you, he thinks. One day.
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⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . . FOR: ROACH.
'That’s a gruesome thought.' @pseudowar signed his words carefully - if only because he's not sure if he can get away with the sloppy shit yet. Roach's sign is naturally abysmal, usually shorthanded to shit, making him a difficult read. But with the Lieutenant, he actually tries. Sign incredibly proper despite the tilt to his mouth that suggests his amusement. 'You got any more morbid jokes or should we move on to the puns?'
“ HEY, WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ME AND CANCER? ” There’s a pause, deadpan gaze falling upon the other man as the mental drumroll paved way for a bad punchline.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ My dad didn’t beat cancer. ”
One last one, just for the hell of it, more truth to the quip than he was willing to admit. There was a cacophony of bad jokes lodged into the back of his mind, a rolodex of the worst puns, stored for a rainy day. Ghost thought it boosted morale. Everyone else would happily disagree. ( YOU MADE THEM ANYWAY. )
“ If we move on to puns, we’ll be here all night, mate. ” He said, a hint of a smile brandished against thinned lips. The two were sealed away in the privacy of his seldom used office, balaclava tucked away carefully inside a desk drawer for a later time. He felt … exposed, though there was a distinct lack of judgement. The air around him didn’t feel as suffocating as he thought it might. “ You want a drink? ”
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⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .
@siabann : ( QUIET ) FOR OUR MUSES TO GET INTIMATE WHILE AVOIDING GETTING CAUGHT.
𝗞𝗘𝗘𝗣 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗙𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗠𝗢𝗨𝗧𝗛 𝗦𝗛𝗨𝗧. That’s what you had said, hand clamped down tightly over his mouth amongst the desperate, cloth - covered grinding. Cock straining through his pants paired with laboured breaths almost too heavy to conceal under the cloak of darkness, the two of them cramped together in a tight space. Soap was wound tight like a clock, clamouring up against Ghost and begging for just any amount of touch. Silently pleading to be fucked like the greedy little bitch he was. Too needy to wait until later. A lull moment on a mission where they had a few seconds to spare. “ Shhhh ⸺ ”
He wanted to kiss the life out of him. To lap at the sweat and the salt tainting his skin, and suck the air from his lungs until he was nothing more than a feeble, stilled corpse for the taking. Nimble fingers reached for the other man’s belt, undoing it with a calculated precision and shoving the coarse nylon webbing into Soap’s mouth for good measure. Gagging him with it so that nobody had the pleasure of hearing the foul, sordid sounds meant for Ghost’s ears only. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘺.
With a violent and hungry tug, the lieutenant yanks Soap’s pants down around his thighs. Shamelessly exposing him, and soaking up every second of it. Ghost undoes his own zipper … just enough to free his cock before closing his fist around the both of their lengths to stroke them together in sweet, simultaneous movements. 𝘚𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. The layers of filth and grime - coated lust, luring them together in violently inappropriate situations where satisfaction was never sure to come. To be caught at any moment was half of the thrill, half of what made it that much hotter. To watch the pained look in Soap’s eyes, traces of an ache that could only ever be satiated by Ghost. A need to be filled and destroyed.
“ C’mere … ” he mumbles, as softly as he could, hands gripping the flesh on the backs of his thighs, kneading the tender and abused skin as he pulls him into his lap. The tip of his length is pressed against the crevice in his ass, followed with a languid rocking of his hips, back and forth, to foster the budding friction. To get him to open up without making a sound. His hand acted as a guide as he pulled Soap apart, sliding the head of his cock up against the other man’s hole. He could feel the fervent warmth and the coiling tension that Johnny emanated only for him. 𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘬, he tells him, wordlessly. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦.
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⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .
𝗦𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗔𝗜𝗗 𝗛𝗘 𝗠𝗔𝗗𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗙𝗘𝗘𝗟 𝗦𝗔𝗙𝗘𝗥. That he kept the nightmares and the ghouls trapped beneath the bed away. The startling scarecrow that fended off a sort of dread that only paired well with heavy, tired lids finally falling shut. Whether or not they fell asleep in the same space, she somehow always winded up curled and tucked away in his arms. She had always looked too peaceful for him to even consider disturbing her.
“ You don't have to sleep in your mask, you know, ” @peacedomain says quietly as they're both getting ready for bed. “ I'll close my eyes — and I promise I won't look. ” A pinky finger is extended towards Ghost. She means it.
The suggestion brings him to a halt, head lowered as he stares at the stack of blankets he’d been unravelling, breath caught in the fabric of the mask. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘬. His only safeguard, the one thing that separated him from the horrors of his own anxiety. What had started as a fear tactic had turned into a shield. Something to push the deep rooted dysmorphia onto the back burner. Churning it into a problem he no longer felt the need to confront because he had something to hide behind.
“ … That’s gonna be a negative, princess. Sorry. ” Ghost emitted a sigh, and though he didn't like to disappoint her, he had to protect himself 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, first and foremost. The man just had to hope she wouldn’t press the matter any further as he continued to flatten the covers down. “ Sleepin’ with me tonight, yeah? ”
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⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .
“ Tonight is all about you. ” @siabann said.
𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 … there’s a raw, unfiltered determination emanating from the other man, causing Ghost’s breath to grow thick with equal parts uncertainty and desire. He’s never felt so centered and exposed, never been one to put himself on display to allow his own pleasure to be the focal point of someone’s attention. His brain was combative, straining against the idea of being touched ( 𝙰𝙶𝙰𝙸𝙽 ) … of losing control and handing himself over to someone else.
ㅤ( 𝙸𝚃 𝙷𝙰𝙳 𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙴 𝙹𝙾𝙷𝙽𝙽𝚈. 𝙸𝚃 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙾𝙽𝙻𝚈 𝙱𝙴 𝙹𝙾𝙷𝙽𝙽𝚈. )
“ Right … ” Ghost pauses, maintaining an outward composure only betrayed by the apprehension in his gaze and the tension radiating through every muscle like an electric current. Nobody had ever cared this much. Nobody had ever cared for him this much. Unable and unsure of where to place all the love he harboured in the cavernous chest that protected a heart that had been squeezed and strained and broken, over and over again since childhood. Now’s not the time to think about that. This is different. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭. 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ ⸺ Give it your best shot, then, sweetheart. ”
ㅤ
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⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .
𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗟𝗗 𝗚𝗥𝗘𝗪 𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗟𝗟. With eyes like glass, flickering and falling shut as the heat was slowly leached from his body into the blood drenched grass beneath him. Fingers twitching and aching, clammy below the tactical gloves that adorned them, Ghost still reached out to brush up against the other man’s hand. 𝘎𝘦𝘵 𝘶𝘱. 𝘎𝘦𝘵 𝘶𝘱, 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳. His breath is thick and staggered, trapped underneath the mask as it clings to paled lips. Inhale, exhale. Just keep breathing.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ( 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙲𝙰𝙽’𝚃 𝙶𝙾 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂. )
Frayed nerve endings and sheer willpower attempting to claw its way out, tooth and nail, like a rabid dog fighting against its restraints. You cannot be caged into death. His body fights succumbing to the draining, bullet and flame induced stupor, clinging to the last shreds of life while some smaller, weaker part of his mind had to admit that there was an unfamiliar peace layered in amongst the pain. With waves of calm lapping between stinging, searing affliction, there was almost a strange tranquility to be found in letting go. How easy it would be to just … let go, if he were somebody else. Someone with less resolve, less spite that fuelled him to keep going. ( 𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙷𝙰𝙳𝙽’𝚃 𝙵𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳 𝙰 𝙷𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙸𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚃𝚁𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙾 𝙺𝙴𝙴𝙿 𝙷𝙸𝙼 𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴. )
‟You have to get up. Please get up.” @siabann says.
𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗛𝗔𝗩𝗘 𝗧𝗢 𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗨𝗣. It’s the only thing he hears, alarm bells ringing in his head. Or maybe it’s the lingering sound of the gunshots piercing his ear drums. No, you will not die like this. Not here. Not when Johnny is wrapping his arms around your pathetic, crumpled body trying to keep the half - dead corpse from growing cold. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦.
𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. It’s the only coherent thought that crosses his mind as he saps the last of his energy to lift open heavy lids, limbs churning into lead that won’t move. Steeled fingers curl around Soap’s like a vice grip. Blood spattering against the fabric of his mask as he coughs, the motion sends searing, white hot tendrils of pain throughout his abdomen. Blackened blood seeps through his clothing and sticks to burnt skin. 𝘎𝘦𝘵 𝘶𝘱. 𝘎𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘶𝘱.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‟ Fuckin' hell, Johnny ⸺ ”
Would those be your last words? The wretched concept crosses Ghost's mind, as Soap begins to shoulder his weight, acting as his other half. 𝘜𝘱, 𝘶𝘱, 𝘶𝘱.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤHe can’t wear your dog tags just yet.
ㅤ
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⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .
‟ That all you got in you? Pathetic. ” The sweltering heat beat down on sweat soaked backs, a thin shirt clinging to his skin as his shoes dug into the synthetic rubber running track beneath their feet. Lap after lap after lap, a relentless routine that would make any man drop to his knees after long enough. Ghost was far from impressed with all he’d witnessed today; the willingness to just give up.
‟ You go on ahead. I'll catch up in a minute. ” said @fairesky.
‟ No man left behind, Fair ... not even the weak ones like you. ” The taunting that falls off his tongue is tied into the rigorous process of whipping subordinates into shape, with every intent to mold them into impenetrable weapons. Steeled persistence and thick skin. A firm, gloved smack connects with Zack’s shoulder, shoving him forward on the track. ‟ Now, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon! Six more laps, so get fucking moving! ”
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⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .
@pseudowar : It's a bug. It's a man. It's a Roach reaching up to pull Ghost down so he can kiss him through his balaclava.
Thinly veiled lips press against Roach’s with ease, suddenly feeling as though there was far too much of a barrier between them and he couldn’t stand it. Gritting his teeth as soon as they separated, jaw clenched tight as he took a moment to pause. Letting the cogs in his brain whir. Eyes flutter open nearly a second later, blank gaze settling on Roach.
“ No. ” Ghost states simply, lifting the bottom half of his balaclava until the hem reached just below his nose. Shifting his body weight forward, he catches his lips in yet another kiss. One with less of a barricade, a tinge more vulnerable. A hell of a lot better.
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⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .
“Why do they call you Ghost, if it’s all actually skeleton attire?” @facesblind asked.
𝗔𝗡 𝗘𝗫𝗛𝗔𝗨𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗛. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬’𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘬𝘦. He was not in the mood for this, and highly doubted he ever would be. Ghost inhales sharply beneath the cover of his mask, even the gloves slipped over his hands mimicking skeletal anatomy. Dark eyes nearly roll to the back of his head, and he’s over this conversation before it’s even begun. “ Clever. Never heard that one before. ” His delivery is deadpan, derisive and mocking.
“ Nearly died and came back more times than you got fuckin’ fingers, and my job sneaking in and out of places without being seen, so. Ghost. Done asking stupid questions, or is being annoying your whole fuckin' thing? ”
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⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .
@croftborn : LAP ... FOR THE SENDER TO SIT ON THE RECEIVER’S LAP.
There’s a sharp inhale sucked between his teeth as Lara eases into his lap with complete precision, arms draped over his shoulders as though she’s on the hunt and he was her chosen prey. His chest rising and falling with each breath, Simon could already feel something undeniable stirring deep in the pit of his stomach. It’s mission accomplished, despite the fact that he’s barely been touched. All she really had to do was look at him, because he had the distinct inability to ignore his attraction. The mother of his child, drawn to her like she was a magnet. Flame for a moth, flitting around and desperately aching for her light.
His hands form a steady grip on her hips, fingers scaling up the curvature of her waist with a delicate touch. Memorising the shape as he’d done a thousand times before. Darkened gaze locks on to hers, a smile latching itself on to his features. Involuntary, but welcomed nonetheless. “ Can I help you? ”
Bit of a tease, paired with some follow through as his lips make way to her neck like a goddamn vampire. There’s a certain tenderness to the way he takes in the taste of her skin. Before it inevitably becomes a cacophony of black and blue, like flowers blooming beneath the surface. Palms squeeze Lara’s sides before sliding towards the centre of her back to pull her into a deeper embrace, and there’s a need ( 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙰 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃 ) to hold her captive, as close as humanly possible.
“ Sammy’s asleep, so I’d say we’ve got some time, hm? ” Sultry whispers carved into the collarbone, spreading kisses down, down, down … along her chest, with the intention of covering every square inch if permitted. God, he loved this woman.
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⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .
“ No way. The deal’s off. ” @felinoir said.
“ 𝗗𝗢𝗡’𝗧 𝗕𝗘 𝗦𝗨𝗖𝗛 𝗔 𝗙𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗖𝗢𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗗. Laswell is holding up her end of the bargain, you better hold up yours. ”
There was only a certain threshold of respect that Ghost could maintain when it came to Felicia Hardy. She was the best at what she does, there wasn’t a soul occupying the planet that could deny this, even if she was the furthest thing from reliable. Self serving, arrogant at her core, and easily spooked. Ghost could practically see the invisible hairs raising along her spine … a black cat hunched over with fur fluffed up in fear.
“ You either get the information we need, or we cut the whole deal off. You got a hell of a lot of resources at your disposal, there’s no fucking reason you can’t do this. ”
Because he knows for a fact that she’d done worse. Heard whispers in the wind of her contributions to whatever cause Laswell had tucked away under her belt. 𝘈𝘯 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘵, she had called Felicia. But as far as Ghost was concerned, she was more like a broken, useless pawn too frightened to make a move across this landmine of a chessboard.
Hell, Ghost had done worse himself. Seen things that should have terrified him to his core, and it had all rolled off like water off a duck’s back. He never left a stone unturned, never gave up on a task laid before him. If he could instill even half of the willpower he possessed unto her, she might be a little less fucking agitating.
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⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .
“ … I don’t like priests. ” @facesblind says.
“ 𝗢𝗡𝗟𝗬 𝗚𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦𝗧 𝗜𝗦 𝗔 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗗 𝗢𝗡𝗘, ” Ghost speaks with an impressive ease, his version of a joke casually falling from his lips despite the surrounding carnage.
“ ⸺ That’s a good priest. ” He says, gesturing towards the corpse splayed across the floor, collar stained with blood, eyes tilted up towards an elaborate ceiling boasting depictions of the alleged angels in Heaven. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘸? He wonders if in his final moments, the man took the time to pray. To beg someone, something for mercy that Ghost was unwilling to provide.
One extra shot, just to be sure. Square between the eyes, now having been double, triple, quadruple tapped and all Ghost was left with was an empty clip and a sick sense of satisfaction.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ Feel better now? ”
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