#Ain the Ghost

[jessamine-rose]

*lovingly tackles Aine*

Read my Yandere! Pierro longfics first ♪( ´▽｀)

Last week, my beloved mutual @ainescribe surprised me with Savior! Darling fan art and AHAI9232@2-!/! CRYING SCREAMING I WANT TO LOOK AT THIS ART AND WORSHIP YOUR VERSION OF SAVIOR THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BLESSING ME WITH YOUR ART—

*clears throat* Anyway, now that I finally have the time to properly sit down and comment on the fan art, I’ll do just that. Feedback will be in the tags and it will be unhinged. Once again, thank you so much to Aine for drawing this <3

[dgalerab]

paranormal content creators coming up with various euphemisms for the english names of native american myths that are supposed to be attracted by talking about them is so funny. as if these myths have code words in english that will summon them.

[theinkerrrrrrrr]

Trying to sleep but SOMEONE is having loud gay sex in the room next to me.

[starfoam]

//I do find it funny how men with the name "Kisaragi" have plot significance in two completely unrelated verses

[boysgenuis]

imsg          ›          van

aine: do you hear that? aine: there it goes again! aine: van, i think there's something outside my cabin aine: what if it's...

[wistariaevelinabooks]

Hello there, you don't know me, but I self published my debut novel last September and now I am working on my second novel. This first novel is titled, Living With the Invisible Ones - The Story of Aine and Roisin. It's about a family moving into their new home and discovering that there are others there too. They will learn to live with the ghosts. But the extraterrestrials were not something they could prepare for. This is a story about what happened to the M'Nele family when they moved to a small town.

I have signed copies to sell. I just have to decide on where to list them for sale. If you have a suggestion I'd like to hear it.

Have a great weekend!

[evilgwrl]

TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: Eight

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: Riding, unprotected sex, titty sucking, groping, Ghost being a stalker + his perspective

Taglist: @beebeechaos @h3art3at3rr @johannxseb @cndy-l0v3 @nylluns @pomegranategum @tapioca-marzipan

Masterlist

Glass panes fogged over, the abyss surrounding you long forgotten through the rusted panes, your reflection like static as your hips ground down against a plush belly, curls of pubic hair wisping up as they tickled against your pelvis.

Sweat dripped from your pores, leaking down the backs of your thighs, trapping themselves amongst the aperture of your knees. The Scotsman was everywhere, tummy practically bulging with his member as you whined out every time you bounced onto him, cock kissing your bruised cervix as a grunt left his lips.

Soap’s eyes were curled up towards your breasts, occasionally glancing over your fucked-out face as you cooed sweetly into the air. Veined hands ruggedly found your tits, squeezing the flesh in his palms as he lapped in every movement caused by the collision of your pussy sinking down on him.

“F’cken milking me bonnie, keep going jus like that,” He spat into the open air, his pupils blown with lust as he watched you. Your lips tucked in between your teeth, metallic spilling into your mouth as you bit back a squeal, head rolling back desperately as your thrusts grew sloppier.

“Dinnae tell me ye’ getting tired, lass.”

You barked out a, “Shut up,” hand slapping against his chest as you raised your hips once more, the squelch of your wetness filling the blank walls, bouncing from timber to window as you whined, thighs burning. Soap cocked out a laugh, now gripping at your hips, groping the fat as he thrust his hips up, meeting your slowed movements.

His length was fathomlessly stroking your walls, eyes cavernous as he watched your face contort up, squeals singing from your throat as he began to take over, cock ramming inside you with an insatiable vigour as your hands fell beside his head, tits hanging low against his face as he fucked up into you.

Scorched skin found his mouth as he licked against your breast, the saltiness of your sweat spurring him on as he grazed against a nipple, tongue wrapping around it as his hands gripped your waist. As Soap continued, you wailed out an expletive, practically choking on the dust that littered the room.

“That’s it, love, fuck – so fucking tight, ain’ ya? Jesus-“

His mouth was filthy, only pulling away from your chest to spit out praise as your walls milked him. Your neck was littered with sweat, hairs clawing against the skin as you held yourself in place, taking every thrust he gave you. Heavy hands slapped at your ass, keeping it apart as he set his bruising pace, balls crudely grazing against the flesh.

“Fuck – Johnny, too deep – I can’t.”

“Ye can f’cken take it,” he grunted, his pace somehow growing faster as you screamed out obnoxiously, pleasure wracking through you. Your body was on fire, veins gushing with pure arousal as your cunt squelched around him, every hair on your body raised as your skin prickled under his touch.

Your legs were weak, shaking mercilessly as the Sergeant held you in place, orgasm bracing you as your stomach tightened, incoherent babble ludicrously scorching through the air as you gripped onto his shoulder blades, a cocky smile across Soap’s face as he fucked you through an orgasm, pussy milking his member before he stuttered out a deep thrust, holding your thighs as he flipped you over.

You whined at the overstimulation against your g-spot, tears breaking the surface as your legs continued convulsing before he pulled out, hot spurts of ivory ceasing against your plush tummy, pants wracking through the both of you as you collapsed.

Your lashes fluttered around subtle light as you felt Soap moving against you, dampness hitting your stomach before prickly cotton engulfed you.

Arrogant gold hues crept up through the slumber of the night, tenacious stars clawing at the midnight of the sky, the early settlers of birds cawing out to the living dead in a mocking manner before settling in the depth of the trees, out of reach to groping, rotting hands.  

Silk weaved between the trees, dew settling between the earth and the branches they clung from before soaking into the dirt, the stench of the morning stalling across the forest. Heavy footsteps thudded against the floor, the indents between large boots stunk of mud and broken sticks as leaden hands grabbed at spider webs, tearing them apart between sudden movements.

A hoarse grumble left the man’s throat as he trenched through the woodlands, the soft bristle of the wind whistling against the thick, black cotton of his mask, eyes salty with sleep. It wasn’t unusual for Ghost to never sleep past sunrise, his body achingly creaky from the distant memories of military life, fists slamming against punching bags whilst others were only just settling down to sleep.

A rugged scar ran across his lip, the faded colour a shimmering pearl under the morning light as he pulled the balaclava down. Even alone, during the apocalypse, the eeriness of vulnerability sank into his stomach as he took in a deep breath before pulling it up again.

Thick fingers gripped around carbon steel, the head of the sniper inches away from the forest floor as the Lieutenant crept through, almost unhidden by the woodland creatures, the occasional squirrel popping its head out before flustering away into its burrow once more.

Thick thighs held their ground, buried in the bushes, the occasional snag of a thorn rustling throughout before the silenced sound of a gun went off, a gentle flurry of birds scattering around before quietude muzzled the wood surrounding him.

He worked best alone and used to never rely on anyone, no matter the stage of his life. The task force became a second home, a cold place that was only warmed by the familiar faces he worked with. His body ached with every movement, the remnants of past wounds only seeming to heighten when he began to forget about them. It was an alarm that gunned through his head, working at the speed of light through his spinal cord to remind him that he would never escape his work.

No matter where, no matter how, it would always stay with him. Sometimes Simon wished for death, the peacefulness of nothing welcoming him like a hot bath, skinning the flesh from his bones in a chamber of perdition.

Blood stained his padded hands, soft speckles of the afterlife draining from the deer’s eyes step by step as he trekked back to the farmhouse. There was a soft patter of rain that littered across the sky, the crops thriving amongst muddy soil, fertilising amongst burrowing grubs and worms.

Your eyes met the door, staring down at his damp figure, the gruelling emphasis of nature splattered among the subtle tears in his clothes and weaves of silken strings displaced on the dark clothing. You peered down at the carcass in his hand, offering him a polite small.

“Thank you,” you murmured, the morning air still shivering across the walls as you adjusted to not making as much noise. After all, you didn’t live alone anymore.

Ghost was unsure of you. He watched you a lot, umber shades shelling over with an unknown feeling. He took in the way your spine creaked through the skin of your back when you bent over or the way your lids would crease over as you laughed. He noticed the way you looked down when you didn’t want to answer a certain question and he could hear from the crack in your voice when you reached your peak, sweaty body writing under anyone, anyone but him, as you clenched around them.

Maybe it was jealousy. Jealous that you found this place, you got to make a life for yourself and earn potential freedom, a rarity that he was unsure he would ever have. Jealous of the fact that he watched you first, eyes glazing over you weeks ago in a town hours away, muscles soaked in salty residue, thighs burnt out from the relentless biking.

Jealous that he didn’t get to sink his teeth into you the night he walked in on you, pussy pathetically gushing around nothing as you attempted to shelter your moans, his cock aching with a demand for release as he stalked back into his room, rutting into Johnny’s mouth.

The deer fell on the kitchen counter, your bodies in close perimeter as he gaped at you. His voice was rugged, holding a girthy tone of citrus to it with every syllable he pronounced.

“You gonna show me how to be a man around here or you just gonna fuck m’ with your eyes?”

[fic-heaven]

Ghost x witty reader

Good luck's kiss

.

Running through the hall heaving like a dog earned you a few confused looks from the passerbys, but the fact that your lieutenant was in the armory about to leave for a month to a mission you were not quite informed of, made you skip breakfast to at the very least, say goodbye. Because obviously that's what friends do... Not crazy fucks with a big-ass crush.

"Hey! Hey!!" You call out to Ghost who by the looks of it, is not happy at all while rearranging his bag near the exit from where you just busted in.

"Don't got time to humour ya, sarge. We are deploying in a few minutes." The tall Brit growls rushing to collect his things, the heavy bag he previously had on the floor was now being launched to his shoulder as Simon got ready to leave the room.

"Weren't ya leaving in like... Half a week?" You breathlessly said getting on his way.

"Yeah well, change of plans. That's our job, sweetheart."

You crossed your arms with a patient look and that seemed to tick him off.

"You weren't planning to simply leave without saying goodbye, right? That's not something my favorite lieutenant would do."

He busied himself checking his gear for the last time on the crusty, broken mirror near next to you that someone had forgotten to throw away as an excuse to spend a few minutes listening to you.

"What would ya have me do? I ain' got no time to fuck around kissing everyone g'bye."

"Do you need a good luck's kiss, LT?"

That shocked Ghost, but he was obviously not going to openly show it, he knew if he was too obvious he wouldn't hear the end of it with all your teasing, so he stood there staring blankly at your reflection next to him in utter silence and you, always so straight forward, weren't one to shy away from this even if it was only a joke.

You moved the paralyzed lieutenant by the shoulders to face you so you could lean in, to your surprise he crouched a bit to your level when he picked up on what you were about to do, your hand went to his jaw tilting his head a bit to the side with his permission, then you planted your lips to the cold surface of his masked cheek. Ghost's eyes remained open, never blinking in a seemingly bored expression while you smiled in amusement at your lieutenant until you spotted the clock hanging from the wall behind him and realization hit you.

"Y'gotta go, what are ya waiting for? A second kiss?"

That seemed to pull him out of his hidden stupor, he blinked twice, leaned back and stretched his neck. "Thanks for the offer. That wasn't awkward at all..."

"Why! I bet you are blushing under there~"

"On your dreams, I only indulge in your stupidity-"

"Oh, for bonding I bet."

"Not really, it's only for my sole amusement."

"My goodness, Riley. You are cold..."

Ghost was about to leave the armory with his hand ready to open the door until he heard this, he turned to you, took a few rushed steps closer his right hand shooting to grab your nape and pressed the teeth of his mask to your forehead simulating a kiss. It was your turn to look openly dumbfounded. Ghost took a peek your way, said his quick goodbyes and left.

He'll never acknowledge the loud dreamy sigh that scaped his mouth when his lungs deflated once he got to the humvee.

Simon could die on this mission and feel a type of peace only belonging to a man who has seen and done everything on his list. Although next time, if everything goes right and he gets back to you, he hopes you'll give him another kiss but this time with no mask.

[simonrileysfavteacup]

Math

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x wife!reader

Word count: 500

Warnings: dad!simon, mom!reader, tommy being a dork, emilia chokes on an orange, tommy dont know math, swearing?

Summary: Math is hard.

“Okay, bubby, tell me what 2 + 7 is?” Simon asks, sitting down at the dining table after a long day of training at base. You asked him to help Tommy with his math homework while you made dinner.

“Umm…” Tommy taps his chin. 

“It’s not that hard, bub,” Simon taps the table impatiently. 

“Six!” Tommy squeals, confidently.

“How can somethin’ you add be less than what you were addin’?” Simon scoffs. 

“I don’t know daddy, you need to tell me with the candies,” Tommy points to a drawing of candies on his paper, coloured in with two red ones and seven green ones. 

“Tommy look, you had two candies and then I give you seven mo’, how many do you have now?” Simon taps the candies on the page. 

“None! Because I’d eat them all!” Tommy giggles. 

“Before you eat them.” 

“Umm…six?”

“You alrea’y guessed tha’. ‘T was wrong. Guess again.”

“Seven…?”

“With two mo’.”

Tommy counts on his fingers. “Five…?”

“How do you get two mo’ from seven as five?” 

“I don’t know…daddy, you’re confusing me.”

“Aren’t you supposed t’ learn this shit in school?”

“Daddy! That’s a bad word!” 

You poke your head into the dining room. “Who said a bad word?” 

“Daddy did!” Tommy snakes.

“Snitch,” Simon hisses. “He ain’ learnin’ nothin’.”

“Because you’re teaching him the wrong way,” you turn off the stove and grab a few fruits off the kitchen counter. You sit down across from Tommy. “Okay, bubby, I’m gonna give you two fruits.”

You hand him two oranges. He smiles. 

“Now, I’m gonna give you three more,” you slide over the rest of the fruits. “Count how many you have.” 

Tommy presses a finger to each, saying out a number for each too. “Five!”

“You got it bub!” You high five him, giving him a candy. “See? When you get the right answers, you get a treat!” 

You smirk at Simon. You look back at Tommy. 

“Remember what I said about counting when you’re adding. Always count. Now go back to your candies.”

He presses a finger to each of the candies on the page. “Daddy, there’s nine.”

“Yeah, tha’s right, bub,” he smiles at him, finally becoming calm again. He remembers getting yelled at as a kid for not understanding math. Tommy will never go through that. Not with him and not with you.

Emilia, Tommy’s younger sister by a year, waddles over to the dining table to see what her brother and father are up to. She places herself in Simon’s lap and takes an orange off the table, shoving it into her mouth with the peel on. 

“Daddy, now I only have…four fruits!” Tommy taps his chin. “Right?”

“Yeah bubby, Emma stole one. You’re getting really good at math,” Simon smiles. 

He’s a lot better at this parenting thing than he thought.

Atleast he thought he did until he let Emilia run around with a full orange in her mouth.

[haunted-headset]

Ok hear me out… scare actor reader and Wilbur who just wanted to go to a haunted house and then boom he’s like “oh no. The serial killer is pretty” you can use ur imagination for the rest this is just the caffeine talking to me with fanfic ideas :)

🔪 Is That Too Scary for You? 🔪

Summary: Headcanons about how Wilbur would act if he saw you, the reader, being pretty & a fake serial killer in a haunted house

A/N: HOLY SHIT. I LOVE THIS IDEA! Again, very sorry that it's only headcanons (idk if I'm even using the right term anymore lol), I'm extremely burnt out & tired rn. also tysm for the asks! it's been keeping me busy af & i love it! Also, the title was based off of the song I Think I'm Okay =)

pairing: CC!Wilbur x afab!actor!reader

pronouns used for reader: She/her/hers

tags: @vibestillaxxx @joviepog @ax-y10 @themonsterunderurmom @wilburstan @smolsleepykitten @funnyreally2009 @crows-death @thewheelersgaygaragelights @dykepunz @aresriiots @0miamor0 @cathers-world @defonotval @chipch0p @mazzistar16 @unmellowyellowfellow @justalittlebitofchaos @thosecolorfulsheets @vopix @taylors-version-from-the-vault @aine-lasagna @merianakross @veeislost @urfav-sapphic-siren (pls let me know if you do/don't want to be tagged!)

warnings/cw: scary stuff, reader is a scare actor (you're basically a fake serial killer), fake blood, the people with Wilbur & Tommy on the vlog getting jumpscared, reader pretending to k!ll Wilbur, Wilbur having a dream about the reader

genre: fluff/horror

Wilbur would probably be accompanied by the Sorry Boys for a Tom Simons vlog

Wilbur probably wouldn't want to go in the first place because he;d get scared easily

So when they do get inside the haunted house, they learn that everyone who's in the haunted house now becomes part of a challenge. They now have to escape the haunted house without being killed by any of the creatures/ghosts or you, the serial killer. It's basically just an escape room

When he first hears your menacing voice behind him, he stops walking. Not out of fear, but out of awe.

↑↑ You laughed creepily. "It seems I have some visitors here today..." Wilbur stopped in his tracks & Tommy turned the camera towards Wilbur. He was staring at you in awe. "Wilbur, stop being a simp & run!" Tommy laughed, pulling Wilbur away from you. "...Tommy, the serial killer's hot."

He basically tried to find any way to bring the group closer to you. He thought you were really pretty.

Would definitely 'die' first just to hang out with you

If you pinned him to the wall to 'k!ll' him, he would be so fcking flustered

↑↑ "Nowhere left to run..." you chuckled. You stabbed two of your fake knives into his shirt sleeves to pin him to the wall. "Any last words?" & Wilbur would be crushin' & blushin' so damn hard as he said, "Honestly? Uh you're really pretty & I kinda want your number if it isn't too much to ask-"

He ended up letting you 'k!ll' him so that you could bring him to where the people who were eliminated stayed until the attraction was over & you two just talked for an hour or so

& then you were stabbing him to death in his dreams <3

[dgalerab]

i love ghost hunting shows but also every time i watch some and they're like "idk how to explain that, pretty compelling" i want DESPERATELY to set up a control group

[marrziy]

Eu tava vagando pelo pinterest e me apareceram pins do Ghost e do Chay Suede lado a lado. Meu cérebro do nada associou os dois e eu meio que gostei bastante ain 🫦

imagina?

[kittynannygaming]

[Dead Boy Detectives] What's in a name?

This is my OWN interpretation of the names of Dead Boy Detectives' Characters.

Edwin Payne – Edwin, from Old English Ēad (Wealth, Good Fortune) Wine (Friend) (Rich Friend); Payne, from Ancient Greek Poinḗ (Weregild -Man Price-, Ransom, Compensation)

The price paid by the rich friend

Charles Rowland – Charles, from Proto-Germanic Karilaz (Free Man); Rowland, from German Rhum (Fame) Land (Land) (Fame of the land or Brave of the land)

The brave free man of the land

Crystal Palace Surname-Von Hoverkraft – Crystal, from Ancient Greek Krystallos (Ice) ; Palace, from Etruscan Pales (Goddess of shepherds, flocks and livestock) or Latin Palus (Stake, Enclosure); Surname, from latin super (over, above, beyond) & nōmen (name) (above the name); Von Hoverkraft, Von from Proto-Germanic fanē (from), Hover from Proto-Germanic habjaną (to lift/heave, to hold/seize), Kraft from Proto-Germanic kraftuz (strenght, power) (to lift from strength)

The closed cold one that raised above their name with strength

Niko Sasaki – Niko, from Japanese 虹心 (Rainbow Heart/Mind) or 和心 (Harmony/Peace Heart/Mind) (Gentle Soul); Sasaki, from Japanese 佐々木 (The tree/wood’s help) or ??? (Wren)

The wren with a gentle soul

Monty – Monty, from French Montgomerie (Mont de Gomerie/Gomeric’s Hill); Mont, from Latin Mons (Mount,-ain), from German Gumaric (Man Ruler)

King of the Mountain

The Cat King [Probably a play with Tomcat (A male cat) or (a promiscuous man)] – Thomas, from Syriac Toma (Twin). Twin, from Proto-Indo-European dwóh (two).

Who is two

Esther Finch – Esther, from Old Persian Stāra (Star); Finch, from Proto-Indo-European (s)pingos (Finch)

The Starred Finch

Jenny Green – Jenny, from Hebrew Yochanan (God is merciful) or from Welch Gwenhwyfar (White Ghost/Fay); Green, from Proto-Indo-European gʰreh (to grow, to become green)

The flourishing White Fay

[lialucis]

Got talking with new Discord friend doubt I tag or do it right but have a thing!

Border Collie Soap/Panther Ghost

More of that incessant barking and growling returned by deep throaty growls and yowls and hisses. The chocolate brown eyes reflecting the lantern held in the jaws of the annoying dog shifter. **DEMANDING** the other comes out of that damnable briar bush so he can take care of him. 

"Will ya stop bein' a sour puss and come out here afore I drag you out?!" *The dog shifter barks out, hackles raised in annoyance.

"**Sour puss**? You're as small as that annoying coyote and yo-" The 'cat' shifter would be quickly cut off.

"I don' care if 'm *small* or whatever! Yer bleedin' now get out here! On the count of three!" Soap would bark out again, kneeling down to set the bundle of bandages and antiseptic on the ground. Ear twitching at the sound of rustling. Sky blue eyes meeting scowling chocolate, as he looked up, and up, and... "Oh yer a big bastard ain' ya? Doesn' matter, sit down an' gimme yer arm."

Ghost could only sputter indignantly, he could snap this mutts neck in half with one good bite! And yet, the stupid dog didn't even flinch. A huff and the black tailed would flick in annoyance behind Ghost, some part of his brain itching to comply. If not to stop that damn barking. "'m not some small barn cat." 

"No, jus' an oversized one." Soap would chuckle out, taking the other man's arm and looking it over. Just as he would when he tended to his heard.

[frogchiro]

Ok i might be wrong, forgive me but if you are the one with the sleazy perv landlord König, does that come full circle with the sleazy neighbor Ghost?

Ain i might have it wrong and apologies if I do 💀

I've never written for a sleazy landlord König so you might have confused me with someone else nonnie!

Nothing to apologize for ♡

[evilgwrl]

okay ngl, this is an ask I'm sending to multiple people because holy shit why did it pop in my head I need to see this written T^T

reader is part of !141 and is the only one who knows how to ride a motorbike, so she has to go undercover for a biker gang?? idk but just hear me out. Anyway she has no tattoos or piercings so they get her those temporary tattoos that last two weeks and some fake piercings (or real ones in case they fall off) and so none of the 141 know she's having this whole makeover, and when they get the big reveal I just want to know their reactions- I'm sorry I suck at writing, I'm just good at coming up with the ideas lmao. reading back my whole paragraph I realised how much I truly suck at typing, I apologise that you had to deal with this.

Ahhhh!!! I love this. I hope I did your idea justice and you enjoy it anon 🥹 If you want something a lil more racy let me know but I kept it SFW just incase

CW: None

Your body felt exhausted, thighs moulded to the chair as manicured hands rushed around your frame, prodding at your skin with brushes and wet rags, stamping your flesh with intricate designs. The woman’s voice was soft as she took in your expression, an understanding smile adorning her features as she assured you, they were nearly done.

“Voila,” she gasped, moving away from you as you stared at the mirror in front of you. Temporary tattoos snaked around the coil of your arms, muscles stamped with infamous gang signs and your nose and eyebrows dangling with metal jewellery as your fingers prodded at them, your face creased with slight discomfort.

“We’re going to need to get you dressed but you already look the part!”

You winced at the excitement in her voice, a slight simmer of humiliation broiling through you as you took in the look. You looked so… different. “Thank you,” you murmured, turning around to take in the large snake design that was entwined between your spine.

You felt like you were entering a pageant, constant hands smoothing out your skin and hair as you coughed at the lethal amount of hairspray. Grease dribbled down your chin as you choked down some food, disgusted huffs passing through the lady’s mouth as she ushered something about acting the part too.

“You’re all done, sergeant.”

You paced the room anxiously, wire taped to your chest, nestled in between your cleavage as you awaited the remainder of the task force. It was strange, the most they had ever seen you in was a pair of jeans and a simple top beside your military gear, the barracks were no place for fashion. Sweaty hands rubbed at the leather pants; slick stains of residue quickly brushed away nervously as you prodded with the facial piercings in the mirror.

“Hells feckin’ bells, Bonnie,” a swift voice whistled, Soap’s face charmed with a boyish grin, blue eyes sweeping across your exposed skin, “ain’ you a sight for sore eyes?”

“I look ridiculous,” you blurted, folding your arms self-consciously as the Scotsman tsked his tongue, smacking his lips together.

“Ye’ look good… lil too good for the task force, hen. Might need to find ye a new profession after this.”

You rolled his eyes at his playful tone, his lashes flickering as he took in the sight of you. A flirtatious whistle cut through the air as Gaz slapped his hand against the door, mouth wide. “Sergeant Y/N, that you under all those tattoos?” You bit back a bark as he smiled at you, tongue darting out to lick his chapped lips.

“You look good, [callsign]. Them bikers might wanna keep you to themselves.”

“We ain’ gonna let that happen, lass,” Soap jabbered, “Yer’ our girl, ain’ ya?”

Your reply was cut short by a pound against the door as a gruff voice snapped, “Oi, let’s move it. Don’t got all bloody day, Sergeants.”

Ghost’s eyes lingered over you for a moment, blonde lashes flicking up and down your body, pausing on every tattoo almost as if he was memorising them before he turned around, cold physique dusting through the hallway as you all followed. Captain Price was rambling through his headset to Laswell before he paused, dismissing himself as you all waltzed towards him.

A large Yamaha was sleeked against the exit, the tyres slightly worn to feign usage as you whistled lowly. “Got this all for me, Cap?” Your tone was sharp, admiring the ride before you as a tattooed hand wrapped around the leather handles.

“A biker looking like you ain’ gonna ride a shitbox,” he said, his voice holding an underlying meaning as he did a once over, “Y’ get in trouble in there and you call us in immediately, you understand [callsign]?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Take care of those tattoos after this as well, suit ya.”

A warm blush settled on the apple of your cheeks before you reached for the helmet, flattening your hair down as you secured it in place.

“Let’s get us a win.”