#W.&L.T.

[booksinantwerp]

W.&L.T., SS1992 Photograph taken by Ronald Stoops & make-up by Inge Grognard follow on Instagram for more

[libingan]

IM BACKKKKKKKK

i was rewatching b99 and theres this one scene w captain holt that gave me the inspiration to write LMAO

something about reader being able to read simon like an open book is just so amusing to me

the base is buzzing with its usual sounds—radios crackling, distant chatter, boots hitting the floor in rhythmic patterns. you’re used to it all by now, the routines and rhythms, the way everyone moves around each other like parts of a well-oiled machine. today, though, there's an odd tension in the air, a stiffness lingering on the faces of the others.

you spot johnny and gaz huddled together, throwing glances at ghost, who stands near the far wall, still as a statue. he’s in full gear, mask in place, eyes dark and unreadable beneath the skull pattern. his shoulders are squared, his stance firm, his gaze fixed somewhere distant. there’s a quiet intensity to him that feels like it could crack concrete if he willed it. with his arms crossed over his chest, the black fabric of his sleeves stretching over his muscles, he looks every bit the silent, unapproachable specter he’s known to be.

johnny tilts his head in ghost’s direction, muttering something to gaz, who nods back, looking genuinely concerned. you drift closer, catching pieces of their conversation as johnny’s low, accented voice reaches you. “tell me that doesn’t look like a man on the edge,” he says, eyeing ghost. “i don’t remember the last time i saw him lookin’ this grim.”

“maybe he got some bad news,” gaz adds, brows furrowed. “you think he’s about to lose it?”

you glance over at ghost again, taking in the hard line of his jaw beneath the mask, the set of his shoulders, the way he seems to radiate an intensity that could send most people scurrying. but to you? nothing feels particularly unusual. you’ve seen ghost like this enough times to know when he’s actually having a rough day—and this isn’t it. so you shrug, looking back at johnny and gaz with a small smirk.

“bad day?” you say, trying not to laugh. “he’s in a good mood.”

the two of them whip their heads to stare at you, disbelief clear on their faces. “a good mood?” johnny echoes, brows shooting up. “that—ye’re tellin’ me that right there’s him happy?”

“yep.” you give a simple nod. “trust me. i can tell.”

johnny and gaz share a bewildered look, glancing back at ghost with renewed confusion. “so… that’s his version of cheery?” gaz says, more to himself than anyone else.

before they can keep speculating, ghost’s gaze shifts over, locking onto the three of you. there’s no warmth in it, but there’s a strange steadiness, a weight, that makes it clear he’s noticed your conversation. he starts toward you, his steps slow, measured, each one landing with the faintest thud on the concrete floor. when he reaches you, he stops just a few feet away, gaze flicking to johnny.

johnny clears his throat, glancing nervously at gaz before finally blurting out, “l.t., we were just wonderin’... somethin’ wrong today?”

ghost’s eyes narrow slightly, and his head tilts just a fraction. “wrong?” he repeats, sounding almost amused. “no. i’m havin’ a good day, actually. got an extra hour of sleep this morning.”

you can feel the stunned silence coming off johnny and gaz, both of them frozen as they process the idea that ghost—a man they’re used to seeing as an impenetrable wall of silence and scowls—has just announced he’s in a good mood. you can’t help the grin that creeps onto your face as you turn to them.

“told you so,” you say, crossing your arms.

johnny looks from you to ghost, and back again, a mix of disbelief and exasperation coloring his expression. “bloody hell,” he mutters, shaking his head. “how… how d’ye know that?”

you just shrug, catching ghost’s gaze for a brief second. there’s no clear expression there, but you swear there’s the slightest glint in his eyes, a hint of something only you seem to recognize. you don’t need words or explanations—you just know.

[heavenbarnes]

dunno if you’ve written this yet but could you write older bf! simon being edged or idk dominated the thought of it makes my brain go brrr🥴

ps. if you’re not comfortable w that ignore this:)

(i love your work btw 🫶🏼🫶🏼)

i haven’t written this yet because it’d dangerous for my overall health I NEED HIM SO BAD 🫶🏼

something had to be said about your older bf!simon and the natural dominance that seemed to follow him. you reckoned it was his line of work, having to be L.T- always having to be in the right place at the right time.

something he made look easy.

it wasn’t always easy, not really and not that he’d admit (to anyone other than you)

when it was just you and he, when there was no threat around the corner, when he could allow his mind to be quiet. that’s when things became really easy.

“being so good for me, si”

your voice was silken, spun sugar, supernovas- your voice was all consuming and taking over every inch of him until he thought he might become the exploding star of it all.

firm back against your chest, pressing you further into the arm of the couch. one of your arms slung over his chest, gently stroking the firm tone of his stomach.

other arm snaking around his waist, spit slick fist tight around his cock as you slowly tugged him off. simon’s face buried in the crook of your neck to muffle whimpers.

seven- he could count seven times he was on the precipice of cumming for you. seven times he nearly spewed hot streams of cum across your fist, coating your fingers.

he hadn’t cum once.

“sweet’art, i need it”

you cooed for him, lips pressing against the crown of his head as you felt his stomach twitching and tensing under your palm.

simon only burrowed back further into your touch, coiling himself up in the shape of your body. the hand that wasn’t tugging his cock was petting the soft hairs trailing towards it.

“i know, but you don’t really want this to end- do you?”

his chest cracked open with a groan, deep and guttural as he bucked his hips up into your hand. his cock, wet and messy, slipping straight through your hold as he practically fucked himself on you.

this was the simon riley you knew and needed.

only you saw this side of him, wrapped up in you and entirely pathetic. whimpers and pouted lips as your finger tips played with the head of his cock.

this was how you knew he was made for you, rough around the edges and unmovable by nature- but for you? leaking viscose pre-cum down your wrist like a natural spring.

“nah, sweet’art- keep touchin’ please”

dead before he’d let anyone else know you could render him fucked out like this, little secret just for you both. you’d probably kill anyone that saw him look this good, anyway.

veins in his neck bulging against the skin, cheeks red hot as his lips pursed with another wanton moan. body stretching out rigid like a snake sizing up its meal.

“that’s it, si- nice and easy”

[writerseclipse1]

this was inspired by a tiktok about simon liking the mark your lipstick makes on his face and my barenbliss full bloom matte liptint thank you. will post my cod masterlist in a few days

c/w: none

simon wouldn’t call himself a very affectionate man. no, no, that was not who he was.

but as he watched you hook the earrings he got you for your first anniversary while standing in front of the vanity he made you for your second, he started to consider the contrary.

walking up to you, he almost regretted disturbing your focused demeanor but as he wrapped his arms around your middle, rested his head onto your shoulder and inhaled your scent, he dropped his worries when he saw the smile that tugged at your beautiful face as you swiped your lipstick across your soft lips.

“still want to go out, love?” you teased, locking eyes with him through the mirror, the lights bouncing off of his blue irises. at your words, his grip on your waist tightened and if not for his big, burly build, you wouldn’t have pegged this man to be the feared and intimidating lieutenant of the 141.

a grunt was your only response so you continued with your lipstick, carefully swiping at any rogue marks. when you were done, simon pulled away from you, looking down at your smiling face. despite towering over your form, he was only ever simon to you. however, his opponents on the field don’t have the same luxury. 

he knew the routine. as you finish your makeup, you always pull him down for kisses, fresh lipstick be damned. it started as an cheeky joke when he saw you kissing the back of your hand to test its transfer, he deceived you into kissing him right after you had put your lipstick across his cheek.

needless to say, he liked the soft tint your lips left on his skin.

so imagine his surprise when you pulled back from his cheek and checked himself in the mirror, the mark nowhere to be seen. he looked down at you who was doing the same, checking your lips and swiping your finger across them. no mark.

“wha’ the ‘ell is this, dove?“ he asked, turning his face to see if his other cheek had a mark but alas, none.

“do you like it?” his eyes landed on the smile on your face as you surveyed your makeup. “it’s really nice. it’s matte and it’s transfer-proof!”

in the corner of your eye, you saw him roll his eyes and wrap his arms around your middle again but this time, his lips trailed down your neck. “there’s no such thing as transfer-proof. it’s jus’ one’a those bullshit marketing strategies to get ‘ya to buy ‘em.”

now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “yes, there is. it’s right here!”

a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “oh yeah? wanna bet, luv?” 

when he slid into the booth where his team sat, simon raised his eyebrow as soap laughed at him.

“somethin’ funny, johnny?”

the mentioned only snickered and nodded toward him. “you got a little somethin’ on ‘ya forehead there, l.t.”

simon didn’t reply, only smirking when he saw the blush spreading across your cheeks.

maybe he was affectionate. only for you though

[empresskylo]

'*•.¸♡ — simon 'ghost' riley' x fem!reader

you wanna kiss me so bad — part 2 (wc 1.4k)

part 1 [this can still be read w/o reading pt 1]

You had taken Ghost’s jests in stride. He clearly wanted to one-up you; wanting to show you and Soap he could be just as comical. 

At least he wasn’t angry when you teased him. But still, you hadn’t expected him to respond the way he had. 

You were used to playful teasing, like you would with a sibling. And normally, you could handle crude remarks, always making those with Soap. But when it came to Ghost, something about the way he said them bothered you more than it should have.

You had refrained from talking to Ghost, saving anything you had to say for a later date. Ghost found your response… odd. You went from slowly opening up, joking with the team lightheartedly, to closed off and seemingly lacking any ounce of humor. 

You pulled your jacket tighter as you made it outside, spotting Soap and Ghost up ahead, loading the truck for the upcoming mission.

Ghost stopped what he was doing and stared at you. You froze, your brows furrowing at his sudden shift. Even Soap paused what he was doing to look up at Lt.

“Yes?” You asked him, a bit confused.

“You’re wearing that?” Ghost asked you exasperated, his eyes looking you up and down. 

You felt your face heat. You were literally wearing the same outfit as half the men on the team. It was a uniform after all. He sounded like Soap with his stupid joke. “I guess I am,” you mumbled. You leaned over and picked up a crate to shove on the truck.

Soap smirked, clearly entertained by the awkwardness between you and Ghost.

You loaded the gear quietly for several moments before Ghost met your rhythm, walking beside you as you both carried duffel bags. 

“Calling me stupid one minute, t’not having my jokes at all,” he mumbled. “Can’t seem to figure you out.”

He thought you might not answer him again. You huffed as you tossed the bag onto the truck then turned to face him. “You ever considered the fact that maybe you’re just not that good at puzzles?”

You couldn’t see, but Ghost smiled under his mask. Soap snickered in the background. Ghost turned and leaned against the truck, all the gear loaded up, and crossed his arms. 

“Guess I just prefer a more hands-on approach.”

Your breath got caught in your throat. You averted his eyes, trying to act like his words weren’t flustering you. Teasing was so much more fun when it was just ludicrous jabs. Whatever this was that Ghost kept pulling, was leaving you speechless, and you hated it. You wonder if you’d respond the same if it was anyone else saying these things to you.

Soap bumped his shoulder against Ghost, finally forcing his eyes away from you. “If y’need the practice L.t., I wouldn’t mind—”

“If you finish that sentence, Johnny, I swear to god.”

Soap laughed and climbed into the back of the humvee. 

You refrained from glaring at Ghost the entire ride, though it took a lot of willpower. You swear you could feel the heat of his gaze along your neck. You were determined to fluster him like he had been doing to you.

And of course, when the team split up, you were somehow stuck with Ghost. It’s like the gods enjoyed torturing you. 

You clutched the sniper closer to your chest, the winter wind sending a chill down your spine. You followed Ghost in silence to the lookout point, your boots crunching the half-melted snow. 

Once on target, you laid prone on your stomach, aiming your rifle into the distance. You checked down the barrel, looking out for any of the men on your team, trying to spot them. Ghost still hadn’t gotten down beside you yet.

“Squattin’ too hard on the joints, Lt.?” You teased, keeping your one eye squared through your scope. 

“If you’re as good a shot as you are at runnin’ your mouth, this is a shoe in,” he muttered, a bit annoyed. You grinned, knowing he couldn’t see, with a bit of satisfaction at getting under his skin. 

Ten minutes had passed and still nothing had happened. You got up onto your knees and looked over at Ghost. He was sitting in the same position, tapping on his tablet to locate the men. You noticed his fingers turning red from the cold, his gloves tucked up under his arm so he could use the screen. 

“Pretty cold out here, Lt.,” you began casually. 

His eyes flickered to you briefly before going right back to what he was doing.

“Should hold my hand. You know… so it doesn’t freeze.”

You heard Ghost laugh through his nose, his eyes still focused downward. 

You turned back to your sniper and saw Ghost shift out of the corner of your eye. You glanced over and you bit your lip to keep from gaping. Ghost had continued what he was doing, but his free hand was nonchalantly outstretched, palm open and turned up for you to take as he concentrated on the GPS tracker.

When you didn’t take his hand he looked up. “What? That all talk, then?” He mocked. 

This whole teasing thing didn’t really work when the participating party wanted all the stupid things you offered.

You decided to play things his way then. You reached out and slid your hand into his. He glared at you, almost like he was overly confident you weren’t going to call his bluff. 

You wanted to show him you were just as committed to the bit as he was. 

“Didn’t take you for the affectionate type, Lieutenant.” You laced your fingers together and gave him a saccharine smile. 

He shook his head, shoving his tool back into his bag before tugging you towards him, his grip firm around your hand. “Affection is a weakness,” he explained. 

“Oh! So is that why you haven’t kissed me yet? Afraid to be weak?”

He knew exactly what you were doing. You were intimidated when he fired remarks back at you, ones that stumped you and left you flustered. You were trying to outdo him; to make him flustered. And Ghost was more than pleased.

He tugged you so close you had to use your hand not tangled in his to catch his chest, stopping you from flying into him. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?”

“So, what if I would?” You threw his words from the other day back at him.

“This is a game you can’t win, sergeant,” he growled out, his eyes locked on yours, unwavering as he stared you down. 

“No? N’ why’s that?” You asked cooly, trying to mask the fact that your heart was racing. “You think I’m lying?” You were… weren’t you?

Ghost’s eyes narrowed, his mind reeling behind his glare. You swallowed and he traced the way your throat bobbed. Before you had the chance to say more, Ghost used his free hand to push his mask up to his nose, baring his chin and lips to you. He grabbed the front of your tactical vest, his fingers looping into the fabric, and pulled you level with him, your eyes turning to moons. 

“What are ya gonna have t’say once I prove ya wrong?” He asked.

You bit your lip, steadying your rapid breaths. “You won’t.” 

Ghost grinned and you were so shocked by seeing his mouth for the first time, watching his lips tip up into a smile, that you didn’t realize he had closed the distance between the two of you until it was too late. 

The kiss wasn’t long, just enough to be more than a peck. You were surprised at how soft his lips were, and how his faint stubble tickled. 

He broke apart, pushing you backwards and dropping both his hands. 

Maybe he had taken things too far. He averted his gaze while you stared up at him dumbly. Ghost smirked, a bit too proud of himself for stumping you. And he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t actually wanted to kiss you. No, he was itching to kiss you far more than what just unfolded.

“At least that got you to finally shut your mouth.” You could hear the playful lilt in his voice and it made your chest beat rapidly. You never expected to share a kiss with your lieutenant. And you never thought you’d catch feelings for him. But here you were.

What had you gotten yourself into?

[b1rds3ye]

hi!!! i LOVE the masked reader content 😭💞 my hyperfixated brain is thanking u deeply

can i request a masked (w LEDs bc i love it sm) reader who's saying "i cant believe you guys didnt notice my new haircut" or something similar, having a :( face on their mask and 141 is so confused like "we cant see your hair" "you have hair? kinda thought u were bald" stuff like that 😭 its a weird idea but im craving stupid platonic fluff like that

ty for the masked reader content love u sm for it

Hehehe as someone who hyperfixates a lot I am flattered I can induce it onto someone else LMAO Just a lil Drabble for this one I couldn’t think up of much 😅

“You pissed ‘em off,” Ghost observes and Soap’s face drops into one of sheer betrayal.

“That was one time 'n' now you a' think it’s me?” Johnny jerks his head to the side in annoyance. “What about when cap’n-”

“I’m sure they can hear you,” Gaz whisper-shouts as he gestures to you. The rest of the task force look over to you sitting on the couch at the far end of the common room. Absentmindedly watching the shared television, your arms are folded with your mask in a perpetual "-_-". You make no indication that you heard them, no, you were fully set on ignoring them all morning.

"Captain what should we do?" Kyle asks.

"This isn't a mission Kyle, we can talk it out," Price sighs.

"Care to do the honours, then?"

Price stills, beady eyes sparing a glance at your unmoving figure. If the rest of the task force didn't know any better, they would think the unwavering captain was scared.

"'m busy," he replies gruffly.

"Busy" being him fishing around in his pocket for a new cigar for an impossibly long amount of time until his subordinates let him off the hook.

"L.T.?" Johnny looks to the next superior officer, to which Simon only responds with a half-hearted grunt. In truth, Simon and John have always been good at figuring out your mood. This is one of the few times they've been left stumped, clear through the silent conversation they shared as they looked at each other.

"Cowards," Johnny mutters to himself before stomping up to you, with a drawn out, sing-song (but horrendously out of tune) "bonnieeeee" announcing his presence to you. You don't even flinch.

Johnny saddles himself beside you, leaning into you. He offers you his sweetest puppy-dogs to try and placate you before he tests the waters.

"So... what's up?"

The rest of the task force was slowly joining Johnny, you could tell as Price's cigar smoke became more pungent. An explosive move by you has these grown men flinching as you pull out a strip of paper and slam it on the coffee table in front of you, mask flitting to an angry face all the while before returning to "-_-".

Simon reaches the paper first. Delicately opening the thin parchment as Kyle and John peer over his shoulder. Johnny looks up at them but stays by your side.

Simon looks at you.

"A hairdresser?"

"Got it done yesterday," you seethe. "And no one bloody noticed. They're not cheap, you know!"

Johnny tries putting a hand on your shoulder but you jerk it away. There's a heavy moment of silence as you keep laser focused on whatever the hell the television is playing. Your hands grip your biceps as you ensure they stay crossed.

Kyle eventually submits. He kneels before you, not daring to take up all the view of the screen, but just enough for him to be sure you were aware of him.

"Love, I'm gonna ask you a question. Please don't take this the wrong way."

"What?" you grumble.

Kyle takes an audible inhale. He receives an encouraging nod from Price and he needs to take a swallow to prepare. Even you have to admit the anticipation is killing you now, you offer him the relief that he indeed has your attention, mask now set with "?" over the eyes.

"... you have hair?"

You groan and swat him away as Johnny bursts out laughing. Leaning forward with your head in your hands you try to make it seem like your shaking shoulders were from devastation and not because you were laughing too.

"No, Kyle, I just thought I'd go to a hair dresser and admire everyone else's hairdos," you retort once you've recollected yourself.

"Thought you were bald," Simon muses.

"Right back at you, Skull Face."

"I'm sure it looks good, sergeant," Price encourages as he takes the receipt from Simon, inspecting the details.

"At least someone appreciates my efforts unlike the rest of you."

"How about we appreciate it more then, bonnie?" Johnny leans in mischievously. "Take that mask off. Show us how good it looks."

"Actually, I- uh... I got my hair treated. Need to keep this mask on, let it set, you know?"

Kyle tilts his head.

"That's not how it works-?"

"I've been waiting for this bit!" You exclaim as you point at the television screen. Kyle shakes his head with a smile before joining you on the couch, opposite to Johnny. Simon and John also situate themselves around the room, far enough for personal distance but close enough to still take part in conversations, and it's now a typical off-day for the 141. They may not be able to see your face - nor your improved hair - for now, but perhaps one day they'll be graced with the sight. For now, these antics around base will suffice.

Call of Duty Navigation Masked Reader Masterlist

[bc17-writes]

The Hand That Feeds - Chapter 1

Uhhh my fic got 10K+ hits on AO3 so I thought I'd post the first chapter here while I'm working on chapter 9 and some drabble like things okay cool thanks (no use of y/n)

(I also haven't used tumblr since college so if anyone has any hints, tips, tricks let me know)

Summary: You're Simon's pregnant new neighbor.

chapter specific c/w: none

Ghost is a creature of habit - most every moment of his life is structured into routines. Missions broken down to the minute, with backup plans upon backup plans. Days on base divided into blocks - trainings, briefings, meal times. Mornings and evenings in his apartment scheduled by the minute. Ghost thrives when he knows what to expect.

What he does not expect is opening the door of his Manchester apartment at zero two hundred hours to leave for his morning run, and seeing you stumble on the uneven carpet in the hallway before him. You’re half his size, dressed not dissimilarly to himself in an oversized black hoodie and joggers. The cardboard box you hold nearly flies out of your hands before he reacts, grabbing the scruff of your hoodie with one hand and steadying the box with the other.

“Christ,” he says, putting you back to rights. His voice is deep and rough with disuse. “Y’alright?”

“Yeah, sorry, thank you” you reply. “Not sure what happened.”

“Carpet’s fucked. ‘Sall uneven.” He watches you set the box down before the door of the recently vacated apartment next to his.

You pull out a lanyard from your pocket, loaded with too many keys and trinkets to keep track of, looking through them for the right one.

“It’s silver. With a square head.”

You find it almost immediately and thank him, again, opening the door and nudging the box in with your foot. You don’t lock it back.

Ghost narrows his eyes at that.

“Looks like we’re neighbors!” You give him your name and hold out a hand with a smile.

To him, it is blinding as the sun. You are resplendent, even with red, sleepy eyes and road-trip hair. You are stunning, in shapeless clothes with a few crumbs on your hoodie.

You smile at him despite his black mask and hood pulled so far over his head he knows his eyes are hidden in shadows.

He takes your hand in one of his gloved ones, and you shake it firmly, unflinchingly, the smile never leaving your face. You don’t divert your eyes, like the anonymous people he passes on his runs, or at the pub. You don’t shy away like the cashier at the little shop where he buys his tea. You don’t cower or flinch, like mothers moving their children from his view when he picks up meat at the butcher’s.

“I’m Simon.”

+

“Who pissed in your tea this morning, Ghost?” Captain Price asks, leaning back on the cool wall next to Ghost. “Really running the recruits through the ringer today.”

“L.T. didn’t get his tea this morning.” Soap interjects slyly from Ghost’s other side, before he can respond.

“Watch it, Johnny,” Ghost growls.

“Rolled up late, right before PT. Didn’t even have time for a ‘cuppa’”

“Soap!” Ghost snaps, not turning from the recruits.

“Late?” Price asks, incredulously.

“Wasn’t late. Got here when I was ‘sposed to.”

“Just later than every single other day.”

Ghost clenches his jaw, crossed arms tightening minutely across his chest. Soap obviously has a death wish.

Price hums in consideration and Ghost can feel the Captain’s eyes boring into him.

-

Simon had ended up helping you move the rest of your things from your ancient van, loading them onto a small flatbed cart so you didn’t have to bring them up the elevator one by one. He didn’t let you lift a finger. He brought them into your apartment, with your permission, and deposited them into their corresponding rooms, each mirrored from his own, just on the other side of the wall.

You’d filled the silence easily, despite the early hour and your obviously sleep-deprived state, not requiring him to speak much, and hardly asking him questions.

You’d puttered about, unboxing a few of your things, and told him a little about your job as a translator as he set up your tiny desk and computer.

You’d interjected multiple times about how he didn’t have to, how he’d helped enough, how he probably had somewhere to be considering he looked like he was on the way out already. Each time he’d say he’d be on his way if you wanted and each time you shook your head.

You’d offered him coffee and compensation, both of which he refused, counter-offering with his number and the offer to call him if you needed help with anything else. You nodded in agreement, texting him immediately with your name and apartment number.

You never asked about the mask.

He’d had enough time afterwards for a smoke and a brief shower, but not much else, abandoning his usual morning run and tea before leaving for the base.

+

Ghost clenches his jaw under his mask, refusing to give Price his attention.

“Come see me after lunch, Ghost.” Price says before walking away, not even waiting for a response.

“Don’t fucking try that again Soap,” Ghost growls under his breath.

Johnny just laughs.

+

Simon makes his way to Price’s office after lunch, closing the door behind him and leaning back on it.

“Take a seat, Simon,” Price says calmly, motioning to the plush leather chair in front of his desk.

“‘m alright, sir.”

Price sighs, shuffling the folders on his desk to the side and folding his hands atop it. “About what Soap said… Son, I don’t want you to think you need to be here any more than you have to. It’s good to have a life at home. Hobbies or- whatever you want. I trust you with my life. Have your tea at home. As long as you are where you’re supposed to be and when, I want you to enjoy your life outside of all this.”

Ghost hardly holds back a scoff at the idea - at having a home that isn’t just walls and a too soft mattress where he lays, unsleeping, glaring at the ceiling, keeping the night terrors at bay. “That all, sir?”

“That’s all. Dismissed.”

+

When Simon finally gets back to his apartment that night, he finds a six-pack of beer in front of his door, with a thank you note in your handwriting.

[cloverexe777]

😏 !captain!price and !LT!ghost when they find a pair of their s/o panties tangled up in one of their shirt

Captain John price: he’s caught off Gerard but more embarrassed when he finds out what Material your wear when running around field

He would most likely find them when getting dressed in the laker room…with his men and soaps would be the one to notice

“ oooooooo captain are you stealing panties” soaps would say“ shut your mouth Sargent” price would shot back

“ is that lace panties ” ghosted says passing price in to exit the locker room “ Shut it L.T”

Yeah your not getting that pair back anytime soon

(bonus)

you find them in one of his drawers one day “c-captain didn’t you have theses the whole time” “ yes yes I did”

Simon “ghost” riley :

dear god was this mans only thought when he finds them and in front of soap and gaz nonetheless

“GHOST! WhAt THE FuCk!” Gaz nearly screams in horror meanwhile soaps laughing his ass off hysterically “ARE THOSES-“ “shut it Johnny” Simon grumbles

you know it all goes to shit when price walks in and sees the woman’s underwear in ghosts hands “nope” price says walking back out the door

(bonus)

“Why do you have a pair of my underwear” you ask pulling the fabric from underneath his pillow “ and why are they under your pill..o..w (😨)”

(My friend keeps requesting hc’s for these two and I’m not mad about it)

[carbondioxda]

A cigarette

Simon ,,Ghost” Riley/reader

a/n: might contain a little swearing, i think i’m projecting my grief, english isn’t my first language sorry for any mistakes!

c/w: angst ig, hurt no comfort, no beta we die like men aaand reader is a girl, no use of y/n

He sat on the couch, in complete silence. The apartment was so empty, it was overwhelming. Just like the amount of guilt he felt.

Why did he scream at her right before she went out? It was the only time she seemed scared before a mission. The only time she desperately didn’t want to go.

,,Pull yourself together, for fuck’s sake, you’ve been panicking so much it’s making me wanna blow my head off.”

That were the last words Ghost said to her. The last he ever will.

,,No, wait, I’m so sorry, Si-”

She stuttered, while another soldier pulled her slightly by her arm.

,,I love you Si!”

She managed to shout, but he wouldn’t have time to respond anyway. Now that he thought about it, Simon had never seen a look like that on her face - like she was certain she’d die. The girl he loved so much wanted to say a proper goodbye, or stay if that was even possible somehow.

He couldn’t even cry. Everything felt so normal here, like she’d come home any second and yet, his ears were ringing ever since Price called.

The ashtray was dirty with whatever was left of her cigarettes. The milk wasn’t finished. He bought her new shampoo a few days ago. A charger wrapped in tape was still plugged to a wall.

He was deadly afraid to touch anything. It was like he’d cause her to dissapear completely, even though she was already gone. His conversation with Captain echoed in his mind from time to time.

,,I’m so sorry for you loss, L.T.”

,,…Was it at least quick?”

He spat the question out. He had to know she didn’t suffer. Price didn’t want to answer for a moment, then he heard a deep sigh.

,,…I’m sorry”

The response made his heart drop. He wished it just stopped, the same moment hers had. She died a long, painful death, alone somewhere on a mission. He might’ve as well been the one that killed her, because that’s how he felt anyway.

It was unimaginable. He really would never touch her skin again? Hear her voice? Touch her hair?

He looked at the stupid kitchen counter. She’d always sit up on it on the weekends and make his coffee right when she heard him wake up, so that whenever he came out of his room, his coffee was ready. How the fuck would he be able to make himself coffee ever again without her to drink it with?

A wave went over him, weakening his muscles. He finally broke when he noticed a strand of her hair one of the pillows. There were traces of her everywhere, like she purposefuly wanted to haunt him out of spite. Remind him of his horrible words.

The callendar marked 14th September. It was already the 16th, but the world stopped on the 14th. How dare did the world go on, when his froze. How did everybody just live without her? She’d miss out on so much. He wouldn’t be even able to tell her all about it. It wasn’t supposed to happen, not to her, his girl, the only one that he ever loved.

Her death wasn’t something he could just…move on from. He’ll stay there, in that very apartament, still drinking coffee, with her sitting on the counter. Charging their phones with a broken charger.

[booksinantwerp]

The W&LT show for their SS1996 collection. Where Walter Van Beirendonck created a show with cyber punks raving on the catwalk. Located in the Lido, one of the most iconic cabarets in Paris. follow on Instagram for more

[rpreaperperson]

6: Grumpy Claw

For more : Masterlist

Warning: Mean Ghost...dont he always

Cheeks puffed, eyebrows furrowing, mouth upside down, eyes glaring at certain someone

And that someone ... is the one who push her down the river when they tried to escape from the mercenaries to the river

Her fluffy tail tapping, each time its tapping the person who makes her anger flinch 

“Kitty...c’mon you know he didn’t mean it, he just doesn't want you to get hurt..” Soap coax her to forgive whatever the culprit had done to her

 “psst, what's wrong with her?” Grave whisper at Soap

“uhh well...”.

.

They’re moving on the white building that kept Hassan....well supposed to anyway, all they got a cartel members and no signs of Hassan

But Claw can still smell Hassan around the room as she sniff around the room.

“They must’ve moved him” her ears twitching at the rough voice

“When?”Soap ask

“not long Master, not to mention theres his flag, must I say your intel’s perfect Master Ale” her finger tracing the flag as she glance at Alejandro, nodded in gratidute Alejandro smiled at her

But then a sound of rumbling alert her,and the tense of her body making Ghost alert too

He glancing out the window

“What is it?”

“The army”

“We got reinforments”

“Negative” Claw snapped her head at Alejandro

“They’re enemies?! But..why?! I thought the army –“ Claw shriek ears flatting against her head in fear

“Calm down gatita, These are troops are paid by the cartel. They’re helping the cartel protect Hassan” hearing this making her ease a little bit

“Mutiple vehicles...troop transports. Light armor”

“Hold fire, let them get close” Claw mounting her gun rushing into Soap side, her belly full of adrenaline glancing at each of her Masters

‘So...this is war..although I already feeled one..but why is this one feels different?’

“Weapons free!!”

“Nya?!” She immediately duck when a bullet came through her, annoyed Claw throwing her grenade

“Eat this! KABOOM!”

“Good girl!” Alejandro praise, Clam beamed at the praise

Then the enemy threw a tear gas, yellow gas spread the room hands covering noses and mouths as they started coughing

Especially Claw who was deeply sensitive with her nose, ear flatting she wobbled as Soap grab her back collar, without word he held her close and jumped out the window along with the others 

“Ya okay Lass?” 

“Y-yes Master..” she smile assure him, Soap as usual rubbing her soft hair 

Alejandro who saw Soap’s affection to Claw became a little bit envy of Soap

“Down the hill! We'll lose them in the mountains! Fan out and stay close” following the Colonel order they retreat down to the hill

.

Claw slit eyes scanning around the mountain as she pointed her gun, ear’s twitching wildly 

“Save your ammo Cl-- “her eyes caught something and she lauches her bullet pass one of the soldier head Rodriguez, she shot a sniper who had been aimed them from the ledge

“YEAH! Did you see it? Ma-” Ghost stare stabbed through her skull, a silent scold treatment 

Her ear flopped into her head

“Good shot Claw!” then she beamed at the praises from Alejandro

.

“Ahh so I’ve heard she’s really a good shooter” Grave glance at Claw who still glaring at the person

“And I so proud of her...Anyway” 

.

“You’ve lead us to dead end mate!” nowhere else to go but to jump to the river

“W-we jump from here?” Claw squeked holding her gun close

“Don’t lose your weapon!” Alejandro jumped followed with Rodriguez

“Jump Claw!”

“I-I think -- “

“Bloody Hell .Just.GO!!” Ghost shoved her back, Soap widen his eyes as Claw falling into the river

“NYAAAAAA!!! I HATE YOUUUU MAS--”

Splashh!

.

“Ghost pushed her into the river and she mad at him?”

“more or less, but can’t say he doesn’t deserve it”

“Why?”

“eh..He’s been kinda mean to her today” rubbing under her neck Soap able to making Claw purring in delight

“Master..” the hybrid tugging his shirt

“mm?”

“Am I a bad girl?” eyes went teary as she looked upon his

“Nahhh why you think of that?? LT just havin another grouchy mood, ain’t that right  L.T?!”

“if she could be more obedient then maybe, I will not be this grouchy” Ghost snap at Soap

“W-woah woah hold it there Ghost..calm down” Soap putting his hand up, Grave raising his eyebrow surprised to saw the calm lieutenant be this snappy

“M-master...why did you so meann, I’ll do everything you told me...”

“No!, no you dont..” He pointed his finger at her 

Body trembling irrated , her eyes became teary

“FINE! I HATE YOU MASTER!! I WILL ASK MISS LASWEL TO BE MOVED ANOTHER TEAM!!”

Soap and Ghost stood there in shock 

“.....join me instead?” ask Graves patting her shoulder

“Can I?!

“Yep, ‘sides most of the boys is a cat person sooo..yeah they would be delighted” he smirk as Graves rubbing between her ears

“NO! join me instead Claw! I will give you many snacks as many as you wants!” suddenly Alejandro pop up out of nowhere with Rudy beside him deadpan 

“SNACKS?!” Graves ‘tsk’ing 

“Claw...please you dont have to..” Soaps plead became muted on Claw ears

Her attention completely focused on Alejandro

 then he glared at Ghost 

“....Shit” for the first time Ghost got scolded by Soap

Taglist:  @lilpothoscuttings  @kaoyamamegami

[yourwildsimp]

blood stains and butterflies

includes: Soap, Ghost warnings: PTSD, panic attack, vomiting, gore length: 4,000 some words summary: Ghost isn't all too happy that Christmas showed up months early. A/N: uh... Boo. I'm alive! Anyways, new obsession time. Also, ik tumblr goes crazy with bots but where did they all swarm me from?? Enjoy though, and please give me feedback.

Ghost stumbles, nearly slipping in the pummeling rain. His gloved hand hardly catches traction on the slick side of their stupid fucking safe house that's spat up 30 miles past bum fuck nowhere.

The sky is as dark as the field that surrounds him, clouds hiding the moon away like it's something shameful.

I'm shameful, Ghost's brain spits as he gasps as quietly as he can. He can feel his throat closing up tight- too tight- tighter than anything he can handle.

Oh sure, because waterboarding and gasoline is nothing compared to stupid, god awful-

"Creepin' Jesus, L.t.-"

Ghost hardly has the wherewithal to yank his mask just over the bridge of his crooked, fucked up nose before he's spilling what little bit of lunch he ate before they were sent on this lousy mission.

"Ghost, what's goin' oan? Ye alright?"

Shut up. Shut the hell up. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

He's dry heaving so much that something is stinging somewhere deep behind his eyes.

A hand, steady yet uncertain, touches his shoulder and Ghost feels flames licking at his skin, even through the ever persistent rain storm.

"Don't fucking touch me," he seethes, baring his teeth like a rabid animal, feet clumsily scrambling further away, leaving his arms to weakly try to compensate. The last thing he needs is to bust his ass on his own throw up.

Soap jerks his hand away like he is the one being burned. The rain is so loud, but not even shelling could drown out the sound of Soap's breath catching in his throat.

"I'm fine," Ghost rasps, sounding impossibly fragile even to his own ringing ears. "Go back inside before you get yourself sick, Soap."

"Sick like ye?"

Ghost is gagging on bile before he can spit fire back. Instead, he spits up the last of his pathetic lunch.

"I said I'm fine. They're just-" Christ, he's shaking so hard he might slip again- "fucking Christmas lights. Nothing's wrong with me."

If Ghost would stop being a little bitch for a second, he'd see the way Soap's eyebrows furrow in genuine confusion with a single blink.

"This is aboot th' holiday decor?" Soap asks desperately. Ghost can hear a puddle splash as Soap inches closer.

Ghost would rather be buried alive again than admit that he is having a breakdown over some lights speckled with blood. Hell, he'd rather gulp down gasoline than speak anything ever again.

Ghost screws his eyes shut in hopes of- of what? Hiding? He's such a shameless coward.

"L.t. please. What's goin' oan? I don't understand- what's wrong with th' lights?"

The door was kicked open, windows smashed in, and they were dead long before he jerked his car in park.

He wanted- needed- them to be alive so badly, so desperately, he skimmed over the fact that more of Joseph's brains were on the wall than in his skull for fuck's sake-

He's retching again, but tears are making his vision too blurry to see what he's hurling onto the muddied clump of grass beneath his feet. Rain, actually. The rain is making his vision blurry.

"Come back inside 'fore ye hurt yerself more. Please, Ghost." There is a noticeable hesitation and Ghost hopes Soap will just go back inside and leave him in shambles.

Soap doesn't go anywhere, but Ghost crumbles anyway from what he says.

"Ye're scarin' me…"

"You're scaring me! Tommy, stop it! Please- please stop!"

Tommy sneered behind the cracked skull mask, and Simon felt his lower bunk dip with his brother's weight. The pillow under his head was snatched from him.

"Don't ever beg anyone for anything, Simon. Hasn't dad taught you that?" The sneer bled into a sickening grin. "Here, let's practice."

His pillow was shoved over his face before he could even choke out the word 'no'.

Ghost loses his footing and falls to his knees, hands weakly grasping for any leverage on the side of the safe house. There isn't any. His left knee digs into the mud as he stumbles.

Soap, the persistent, heaven-sent bastard, is by his side before Ghost slips any further.

"I don't-" Soap hovers by Ghost like a lost dog, buzzing with confusion and concern. "A'll take it doon, Lt. A'll get rid of it all."

Ghost vaguely hears Soap's footsteps trailing off, the pummeling of the rain and the rushing in his ears nearly drowning it out. But then Soap stops and the footsteps rush back his way. Ghost shudders in the rain, in his thoughts, fingers weakly dragging against the dirt as he presses his back against the side of the shelter. Soap is so quiet that Ghost can almost pretend he isn't there.

But, fuck, he is. Standing right there, thinking God knows what, and Ghost's mask is still above his scarred, vomit-laced mouth-

Ghost drags his soaked sleeve over his mouth and chin so rough he feels a strap jerk against a scar. He grits his teeth and bares it and yanks his mask back over the rest of his face.

"Give me yer knives."

Ghost startles- fucking jumps out of his skin. He thought Soap was gone. Scratch that- he hoped Soap was gone.

Ghost slaps together the meanest glare he can muster. He's pathetic like this; a mess in the mud, his own vomit washing away in the rain next to him, being waterboarded by his mask.

Soap doesn't even flinch. Hell, he reaches his hand out, expectant.

"Ye might…" Soap takes a breath, his fingers curling into his palm just a little. "I don't want to come back oot 'ere to find that ye did something stupid to yerself."

"You think-" Ghost has to take a short breath, his voice shredded and raw and so god damn fragile. "You think that I'm-"

"I don't know what t' think," Soap rushes, sounding as desperate as Ghost hates to feel. "Just promise me ye won't."

Ghost screws his eyes shut, wondering if a promise like this only counts for the moment, or if he has to keep it for the rest of his miserable life.

"Am beggin' ye, Ghost."

"Did you beg them, Tommy? Did you?" Simon heard himself say as he stared at his brother's limp body dangling in a bloody mess of Christmas lights from the rafters. Fitting it was, that he suffocated. "Or did not have the chance to?"

"Simon-"

"Don't you- Don't fucking call me that," Ghost rasps.

Soap opens his mouth, desperate as a drowned man gasping for air, but Ghost beats him to it.

"I won't, fuck. I'm not bloody insane." Although he sure as hell felt that way.

Soap's jaw tightens, teeth clenching against each other as he draws his hand back. He is still hesitant to leave Ghost alone; alone with his thoughts and feelings. And knives.

"I won't," Ghost breathes quietly, Adam's apple bobbing as he gathers what little pieces of him were left. "I wouldn't, Soap."

Soap nods, gaze lingering as he turns his body away towards the shelter. "A'll kill ye, if ye do."

Ghost chuckles, heartless and hurt and so pitifully wrapped in his head. What a perfect way to go, that would be. That's the only way he can see himself dying, being taken out by Soap. Ghost wonders how he would do it.

Soap hasn't moved.

"I promise, Johnny."

That seems to do the trick because seconds later, Soap is taking off through the rain and heading inside the house.

Ghost is, blessedly, devastatingly, alone. But he's left with his thoughts. And they begin to wander before he beats them down.

The whole fucking shelter is done up with Christmas decorations, and it makes him wonder how many layers of dust are on every light and ornament. It makes him wonder what happened to the people who strung them up.

He doesn't wonder, however, how the blood splatters got there.

It's not even near the holiday season, either, which really pisses him off because it's just his luck. He thought he'd be safe from his holiday horrors, months away from Christmas. Of course the world slams a curveball right in his face and spits on him while he's down.

He doesn't notice that his hands are gripping at the top of his mask. They would be tugging on his hair, but he's a spineless, faceless coward. No wonder everyone thought Tom was the better brother. They were fucking right to, weren't they?

Christ, they're all he can see. Tom, hanging from the rafters by the Christmas tree lights, his throat a mangled mess. Beth, a crumpled mop of blinding white ribs and heavy dark blood, her Santa hat mostly red and somewhere underneath what was left of her. His mom, stabbed in the neck, blood soaking into her newest ugly sweater she was so proud of. Joseph's head and reindeer antlers headband was blown off with a bullet, his blood and brains and matter covering the various paint splotches on the wall where Tom and Beth couldn't decide on a new color.

Joseph's toy airplane kicked to the side, forgotten white wings stained with pieces of the boy.

He wanted to be a pilot when he grew up, Joseph did. He used to make Simon hold him above his head so he could stick his little arms out real far like they were wings on a plane. Simon would carry him all around the house; pretended to be the panicked control tower, telling pilot Joseph that he couldn't use the runway- the hallway- because there were fallen trees- a broom and a mop- blocking his path. Pilot Joseph was always a quick thinker, and he would land his plane further down the way, on an empty back road- the couch. And Simon would toss his beaming nephew on the ratty old brown couch and listen to his giggles as he shouted, "Again, Uncle Simon! Again!"

God, the pure joy on the kids face whenever Simon bought him that little toy plane for Christmas one year was burning at the back of his brain. Fucks sake, all Simon could afford at the time was a little figurine. It wasn't remote controlled, no doors could open- hell, the propeller couldn't even spin. But Joseph loved it more than anything in the world.

The sound of glass shattering behind the shelter has Ghost choking on his breath.

Simon would've killed to have been deaf when he took Tom down from the rafters. Glass shattered, body thumped, glass shattered, glass shattered, glass-

Bile scorches the back of his throat as his memory supplies the imagine of blood splattered Christmas ornaments. He tumbles forwards onto his hands and knees, frantically tugging his mask above his lips again. One hand claws at the dirt, the other, supported by his elbow in the mud, holding the bottom part of his mask out of the way as he retches and dry heaves until he swears he could be spitting up blood.

Ghost curls in on himself and falls to his side, a deflated, crumpled heap of shame.

It's all his fault. It is. If he had gotten there sooner, if he had seen it all coming, if he had never gotten compromised, if he had never joined the fucking military- none of it would have happend. It's his fault, all his fault.

"My fault," he heaves, blurry eyes boring into where the dark, starless sky seamlessly bleeds into the black, rocky mud. He's drowning in the stifling nothingness.

Tom could be coming home from work, kissing Beth hello, playing 'pilot' with Joseph. But he's not. He's a rotted corpse six-feet under the dirt. That's how Simon should be. It's his fault that it didn't turn out that way. His fault, all his fault.

"I'm sorry," he breaks, shaking his head, bringing his muddy glove to his face, pressing the heel of his palm into his forehead. The other half hides, burying into the ground, like he could dig his own grave like this.

Joseph would've been in high school by now, driving and going to meet friends. But he's not. He's stuck in a wooden box next to his parents. That's how Simon should be. It's his fault-

"Please-"

"Ghost?"

Ghost's eye snap open, body tense and frozen. He vaguely notices that he's hyperventilating. Christ alive, he's breathing so fast but he can't get any air. He can't breathe, no matter how hard he tries. He might as well be buried alive again-

"…-ost, look at me. I need ye to look at me Lt."

Ghost's blood shot eyes snap in Soap's direction- when was he sat up against the shack's wall?- and his breath hitches somewhere deep in his throat before he feels his heart pitter faster. It's trying to break out of his ribcage, slamming into his cracking bones, threatening to bleed openly into Soap's hands. Soap has such nice hands. He'd hate to soil them.

"Where are we reit now?' Soap asks, carefully crouching in front of him, both hands resting open palm facing up on his knees.

Ghost feels his eyebrows furrow at that one. Has Soap forgotten? Your location seems like an awfully important thing to know.

"Ghost, I need ye to tell me where we are," Soap insists, the tendons in his neck pulled so taunt. Ghost worries. He worries that Soap will hurt his neck, straining how he is.

"Manchester?" he murmurs so low that he can feel how his vocal cords vibrate with it. Soap's neck pulls over his Adam's apple as it bobs rough. Ghost wonders what it would take to snap the stretched tendons there. Ghost thinks he'll kill anything that dares to graze them.

"Nae. Nae, Ghost. Look around. Look around ye an' then tell me where we are."

Ghost's eyes carefully draw away from Soap's vulnerable, tense throat, and move to meet his gaze. Soap is scared, he realizes slowly, the thought dawning on him as slow as the sun rises. Ghost furrows his eyebrows, a frown tugs his lips down at the side. Hesitantly, his eyes drift to the trees surrounding him. He can hardly pick up anything distinctive through the rain, but he feels his eyes widen.

"We're at a safe house. But- but then I-"

"That's reit, Ghost. We're on a mission waitin' for exfil. Do ye remember what our mission was?" Soap speaks like a kindergarten teacher. One who wears long, gray skirts and a yellow button-up blouse, has the thinnest heels on her black shoes, and always has her hair done up in a relaxed bun. Ghost vaguely remembers hating his kindergarten classes; he could never focus. Ghost thinks he would hang on every word if Soap was his teacher. "Stay with me, Ghost," Mr. Soap snaps his fingers once or twice, the sound dancing away through the rain.

"Gather intel on the terrorists' bio-weapons… Destroy the sample. Get out with no one the wiser." Ghost holds his breath for praise, for Soap to tell him he's right. Tell him thats he's not a fuck up, not weak or stupid or not masculine enough. To tell him that maybe, he deserved everything that happened to him

"Yeah, that's right. There ye go, Ghost." Soap's lips twist into a pitiful, beautiful thin-lipped smile. "Thought I lost ye for good there, L.T."

"Never," Ghost rasps before he can shut his big fat mouth.

Soaps lips quirk up more at that, and Ghost has half the mind to get on his knees and ask for repentance. Acceptance, even.

"Are ye alright to come inside?" Soap asks carefully, words treading carefully like Ghost was a minefield.

Sometimes he feels that way, if he were ever honest with himself. He feels like a wired ticking time bomb, bound to explode at the smallest of missteps.

Well, Soap just happens to be a demolition expert, doesn't he?

"Ghost? Did ye hear me?"

Ghost feels himself blink, and when he opens his eyes, he can only look at Soap's lips.

It's unfair, really, how it all slams into him at once, after everything.

He thinks about it. He thinks about it so vividly that he can almost feeling his rough lips against Soap's, feel his clean shaven jaw rub against Soap's stubble.

He takes a shuddering breath when the thought of betrayal and blood and Christmas lights flood his mind.

He doesn't deserve that. He doesn't deserve Soap's lips or stubble or- hell- his being. He isn't good enough.

Besides, it'll only get Soap killed faster. More brutal. They'd make Ghost watch, too. He couldn't shoulder that.

Ghost startles slightly when Soap's gloved hand waves in front of his eyes once or twice.

"Don't get in yer heid. Stay with me, L.T."

Ghost feels his lips tremble. Soap always knows his tells.

" 'm sorry, Johnny," Simon murmurs, blinking against the shine in Soap's eyes.

Soap softens at that, concerned frown morphing into a lopsided grin that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"No need to apologize, Ghost. Ain't yer fault," Soap hums.

Ghost grunts at that, and if it was in acceptance or disagreement, Soap could only hope to flip a coin.

Soap takes off one of his gloves, his pale skin free from the inky, filthy glove. He holds this hand out like an offering, palm up and fingers outstretched, inches away from Ghost's chest.

"Ready to dry off, L.T? I mean, we could keep showerin' out here if ye want to, but…" Soap trails off, eyes following the dark, angry clouds moving in from the west.

Soap has the bluest eyes. Like Scorpion grasses. Those invasive beautiful bastards spread like wildfire in his mother's dingy little garden one year and she could never get rid of them. Hell, she made the whole damn garden full of Scorpion grass.

Ghost leans his head closer- ever so minutely- to get a closer look at Soap's eyes.

Yeah. Soap's exactly like Scorpion grass.

He's certainly invasive. Ghost didn't want him at first, but he kept coming back. Over and over and over again. And, well, Ghost certainly can't stand to get rid of him now. Soap calms his jumpy fucking nerves too, just like the flowers. He smoothes out Ghost's worries like it's as easy as spreading melted butter on toast.

Forget-me-nots.

That's right- they're also called forget-me-nots.

Ghost couldn't forget Soap for anything. He'd know him anywhere, anywhere at all. On earth, in hell, somewhere in the gray in between. Ghost could be blind and deaf, yet still know Soap if the man was near him.

Scorpion grass might just be his favorite flower if he allows himself that much.

"…Ghost? Ye alright?"

Ghost blinks, ripping his gaze away from the vast ocean he almost drowned in. With another, deliberate, blink, he realizes Soap is blushing. Pink dusts over his cheeks, his eyes struggling to hold their place on Ghost.

"Somethin' on my face?" Soap chuckles, the sound high and tense.

Ghost swallows, breath catching in his throat so suddenly his mouth dries up. He tugs his mask all the way down again, and fixes it firmly in place.

None of it matters anyway. Not a single bit of it. Not the way Soap looks at him like he's the most important thing in the room, not the way his face heats up when Soap punches his shoulder before they load out on a mission, and definitely not the way his heart pitter-patters oh-so quickly when Soap smiles at him when he says a stupid, corny joke.

None of that matters because the Scorpion grass in his dead mother's garden flopped over and went to hell when Ghost tried to care for them after she was gone, and so will Soap.

"Get out of yer head, Ghost."

Ghost flinches his head back, the sternness in Soap's tone sending him reeling.

"I'm was not-"

"Ye were. Ye had that 1,000-yard-stare glossed over yer eyes," Soap squints at him.

"I always have that stare, Soap. It's part of the fucking job," Ghost bites back.

"Sure, but when ye're out of it, it looks different."

"It does not-"

"Yes, it bloody does!" Soap sneers, the genuine anger in his face catching Ghost off guard. Ghost watches Soap as he sucks in a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his jaw, before swallowing behind the perfect columns in his neck. "It does. And I am sick and tired of losin' ye to yerself."

Ghost looks at him, really looks at him for any sign of- hell, he doesn't fucking know anymore. Resentment, maybe? Soap has every right to hate him.

Soap sighs, running his ungloved hand through his hair. His shoulders seem so weighted. Ghost wants to hold it all for him; carry everything even if the weight of it all breaks his bones twice over.

"Let's get inside, L.T." Soap reaches out his hand again, stronger this time and no longer shaking. "Before the rain makes ye more sick. We're both soaked to the bone and the fuckin' shack doesn't have any heating. Nothing 'sides a little fireplace. Hope ye don't mind strippin' down to yer tighty-whities near me."

It kills Ghost. It kills him that Soap doesn't speak a word of Ghost's several outbursts and breakdowns that have happened in the span of… of- Christ above, what time is it? How long has he been smothered in his head over Christmas lights?

Ghost takes a weary breath before he fully gets 'lost in his head' again.

The look of relief that breaks across Soap's face when Ghost strongly grasps his hand is enough to make the man's knees weak.

"Can't wait to see your Hello Kitty briefs again, Johnny," Ghost deadpans as Soap pulls them both to their feet. He knows Soap sees the way he sways with the rain, the way he uses the wall for support- Ghost can see it in his eyes. He's thankful, graciously thankful, when Soap doesn't mention it.

"That was one bloody time. Was Gaz's fault anyway," Soap grumbles, still holding Ghost's hand in his as he leads them inside.

As Ghost tentatively steps into the safehouse again, he realizes that Soap is a saint. Even though he's technically a mass murder, his sins are washed away with the simple act of rearranging a small shack.

Everything remotely Christmas themed is out of sight. No ornaments, no tree, no stockings, no snowmen, no Santas, no paper snowflakes- and not one single Christmas light. Ghost feels his face warm up a stupid amount as he tracks his eyes over the firepit.

The blood is gone.

Soap cleaned the fucking blood.

Ghost whips his head around, and in a rare moment- one of many so far tonight- his mouth is open without a sound coming out.

He wants to say something, really he does, but what can he say when Soap is busying himself with acting as if nothing has changed. As if this is the first time they've walked into the dump.

As if he isn't making a vile, almost forgotten feeling crescendo up in the empty void behind Ghost's sternum.

"Let's raid the place, yeah?" Soap says, looking over the layout. "There's the kitchen, living room, and bedroom. Though, that's fucking generous to call it that, eh?"

Soap is right; the living room and kitchen combined couldn't be more than 12 feet across and 10 feet wide. The bedroom is more of a closet with a pile of blankets against the wall. But, still, the kitchen has cabinets and the living room has a fireplace… that hopefully works.

"You search the kitchen, I'll see if the pit is functional," Ghost murmurs, ignoring how the words grate against his raw throat. Away from the rain, the chill of his soaked clothes is settling on his skin. He's ready to get warm and sleep away the pounding in his head.

"Copy that, L.T." Soap beams, sparing one brief glance before turning on his heels to ramble through the cabinets.

"And Johnny?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Johnny gives a lopsided smile that makes his eyes shine. "Of course, Simon."

[grizzersmamma]

Beyond the Loch | Monster CoD AU | Chapter 2.

Summary: “With monsters now being used the world over to wage war, the military is desperate to encourage non-human citizens to join their ranks. A young kelpie, John ‘Soap’ MacTavish, is invited to join the infamous Task Force 141, the first task force in history to be headed up by a monster. Soon after joining, he encounters a black dog, an omen of death known only as Ghost. Determined to prove that not all black dogs are harbingers of disaster and misfortune, he decides to become Ghost’s field partner, becoming close to the spirit while everyone else flees from him terror. Only time can tell if he’ll come to regret it or not.”

Notes: Decided to create my own CoD Monster AU! I’ve seen loads of different AUs, but this will be my own personal take on what creatures the different characters would be. 

Pairing(s): Future Ghost/Soap. Other to be added.

Warnings: Unedited because I’m tired ;w;.

Series Masterlist

Previous: Chapter 1.

Next: Chapter 3.

After a quick meal, some fresh meat for the first time in months, and getting settled into the tiny room he’ll be calling home from now on, Soap decides to return to the lake Captain Price had shown him beforehand. Seeing as it’s the very first day on base, he isn’t required to perform any actual duties – those will begin first thing the next morning – so for now he has a small amount of free time.  

The cold water of the manmade lake is an absolute blessing for Soap’s skin, washing away the uncomfortably dry feeling that has been plaguing him for months. He dips his head under the water, letting out a content sigh through the gills that have formed along his neck. He hasn’t fully shifted yet, happy enough to simply laze about below the surface.  

Large fish dart around him in an excited dance, unused to visitors in their domain. It would be easy to catch one, but Soap isn’t yet hungry enough to expend that much energy on a hunt. Instead, he toys with them, wiggling his fingers to draw them closer before running a hand along their smooth scales when they’re close enough to touch. Some of them dart away the moment he makes contact with them, while others are curious enough to allow his gentle caress.  

Such friendly little animals. What a shame they also happen to taste so good.  

When he breaches the surface again, Soap can see a lone figure sitting at the edge of the small wooden dock, legs dangling just above the water. It’s a peaceful spot, with only the wind blowing through the reeds and the gentle calls of waterfowl to be heard as dragonflies flutter from lily pad to lily pad. There have been no other people coming to the lake, save for Soap himself, so the area feels almost untouched and creates the perfect place to hide away from the rest of the base.  

Pressing his legs together, Soap feels the familiar sensation of the muscles knitting together until he’s left with a lengthy tail in their place. He doesn’t bother with shifting his upper body, only requiring the tail to gently propel himself across the surface of the water and toward the dock. 

When he reaches the old, wooden structure, he uses his tail to push up off of the bed of the lake and out of the water. With how shallow the water is around the dock, he’s easily able to drag his upper body onto the wood, coming to rest just beside the other monster. He looks up into the white skull mask of Ghost, offering a bright grin.  

“Afternoon, L.T,” he chirps, smile becoming a little toothy as he decides to add, teasingly, “fine day fer a swim, water’s just right.” Soap hopes that the anxious twitch of his tail is the only tell of just how nervous he is to be pinned under Ghost’s calculating stare.  

“I’ll pass,” the man grunts, finally, blessedly, shifting his eyes from Soap and returning them to the book he was reading previously, “not particularly in the mood to be drowned by my own sergeant on only day one.”  

Soap lets out a dramatic gasp, clutching at imaginary pearls in feigned horror, “ye think so lowly of me, sir?” He sniffles, pretending to wipe away a tear in his heartbreak. “Well, ah dinnae ken if ye realise this, but ye cannae drown a ghost,” he says, as if imparting some great wisdom upon the other monster. 

“Perhaps, but you’d get my fur all wet, then I’d stink of bloody pond water,” Ghost grumbles, turning a page.  

It’s a battle to keep from outright snickering at the response, “tha big ol’ scary Ghost, scared o’ a wee bit of pond water.”  

He receives a foul squint for his efforts at humour. “That’ll do, MacTavish,” the monster growls, once more returning to his book.  

Soap snorts, but falls quiet, resting on his elbows as his tail slowly swishes back and forth. Unfortunately, the Scot has never been very good at keeping his mouth shut, and after only a short moment, is piping up again. “So, ye clearly ken a wee bit about kelpies, ye know much else?”  

Ghost hums in thought as he continues to browse the pages before him, “not much,” he says eventually, “you’re supposed to be some sort of horse monster that tends to drown people.”  

The kelpie slowly nods, scratching at the small layer of stubble attempting to grow over his jaw, “suppose tha’ just about sums it up, aye.” He pulls himself a little further out of the water, showing how his hips turn into a long tail rather than a pair of legs. He flexes the powerful appendage, letting droplets of water rolls off of it and back into the lake.  

Soap doesn’t look up from where he’s watching the water, but he can feel Ghost’s eyes slowly roving over his body, unconcerned by the other man’s rather stark nakedness. “Y’know, it’s also a well-known fact tha’ us kelpies only ever take a human form tha’s strikin’ly handsome,” he grins, playfully raising an eyebrow as he glances at the black dog again.  

The lieutenant’s eyes snap back up from where they had been observing Soap, brows immediately furrowing in annoyance, followed by a dramatic eyeroll. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, sergeant,” Ghost grunts.  

“Am tellin’ ye the truth, L.T!” he laughs, “how d’ ye think we get all those bonnie lasses te come into the water with us?” 

With a surprising amount of strength, Ghost lifts one of his legs up from where it’s hanging over the edge and uses it to shove Soap off of the dock and back into the water. “Clearly that trait skipped a generation,” he growls when the kelpie’s head pops back out of the water again before he cracks open his book again, evidently done with the conversation. 

Soap laughs to himself at the lieutenant’s response but knows better than to push much further. No doubt the other man has very little downtime, so he’s not going to force his way into Ghost’s personal time when he was very clearly here to unwind alone. 

Their brief conversation was enough to satiate Soap’s need for interaction anyway, so he’s more than happy to retreat back into deeper waters with a flick of his tail. He spends a good while stretching out muscles that haven’t been used in months, leaping from the water with the occasional dramatic twist, before diving back down again. Even after Ghost eventually leaves, he continues working, revelling in the pleasant way his body burns from exertion.  

By the time he’s dragging himself out of the water the sun has just finished setting and no doubt the mess hall will be serving dinner soon. His legs are a little all over the place when he attempts to use them for the first time since climbing back onto dry land again, but he’s able to stagger over to where he’d previously abandoned his clothes.  

The advantage of a base with a multitude of monsters is that there’s very little concern for nudity, considering the majority of them need to shed their clothes in order to change their form in any way. Any adjustments needed to someone’s fit have to be carried out by the wearer as the military would only supply the basics.  

Thankfully, Soap was fortunate enough that he could wear regular human clothes, so he grabs his shirt, jeans and finally his boots. He doesn’t have a towel to completely dry off, but it isn’t too cold just yet, so Soap elects to throw on his clothes and drip dry.  

After making himself somewhat presentable, Soap makes his way to the mess hall. It’s already bustling with a mixture of humans and monsters. It still feels so surreal to be seeing so many people comfortable with showing off their more inhuman traits around others and it gives him that warm, tingling sensation he always gets whenever he encounters a fellow monster.  

He selects a piece of raw steak, practically drooling over it despite knowing it’s likely been in the freezer for who-knows-how-long. Searching the room briefly, his eyes land on a familiar face and he’s quick to head in their direction, placing his tray down beside the other man before plopping down beside him.  

“Evening, Gaz,” he grins, grabbing his steak and taking a large chomp out of it.  

The other sergeant offers a hum of acknowledgement while he’s sipping from his mug. “Enjoying dinner?” the vampire asks, placing his drink down with a slight cringe.  

Soap visibly shivers at the sensation of raw meat between his teeth and the harsh metallic taste of blood flooding his tastebuds. “Mhm,” he hums, swallowing down the whole chunk of flesh, unbothered with chewing, “how’s breakfast?” 

Gaz grumbles, sliding his drink slightly away from him, “still not used to drinking this stuff instead of eating, it doesn’t exactly taste that great.”  

“Is it human, or...?” He’s always heard that vampires naturally enjoy the taste of human blood – some people tasting better than others – so it’s a little odd for Gaz to find it repulsive.  

Gaz shakes his head, grabbing the mug again and forcing down another mouthful of the crimson liquid, “no, pretty sure it’s pig blood or something.” He swirls the blood around in his mug, watching as it laps dangerously at the edges of the cup, “it’s easier to get a hold of and doesn’t take away from people that actually need it for a medical reason,” he continues.  

“Does animal blood work the same?” Soap is genuinely curious. He’s never really thought too much into how vampires work, but if he’s going to be working alongside Gaz then no doubt, he’ll need more than just a cursory knowledge.  

“To a degree, it gives me the energy I need, but I need to drink it more often than if it was fresh from a human.”  

Soap hums again at that, going back to tearing his own meal to pieces. He’s been a kelpie his entire life, so it’s difficult to wrap his mind around the concept of being new to the life of a monster. He imagines it must be like suddenly changing into a completely different kind of monster, with different needs, instincts and abilities.  

To have to unlearn a lifetime worth of behaviour and begin again almost completely from scratch must be a struggle to say the least. Like a kelpie foal, trying to run on wobbly legs they aren’t yet used to. Occasionally, they’ll lose their balance and fall, but their dam will always be there to help them back up to their feet again. He can’t help wondering if Gaz has anyone to help him.  

He’s younger than Soap, perhaps by a fair amount considering how slow kelpies age, and seeing him in the evening it’s clear the other monster is bright and friendly. His brown eyes are still soft and full of life despite him now technically being undead, the little flicker of scarlet across his irises whenever they shift being the only indication of his true nature.  

“It’s good to properly meet ye, Gaz,” he starts, drawing the man’s attention back to him again from where it had wandered during their brief silence, “I know ye weren’t exactly in the best state when we came to see ye earlier.” 

Gaz snorts at that, shaking his head slightly, “was my fault for falling asleep in the rec room rather than my actual bed. Cap keeps telling me not to just pass out wherever I happen to be when the sun comes up,” he chuckles, scratching at the back of his neck sheepishly. “But it’s good to meet you too, Soap,” he smiles, offering a hand which Soap is quick to take, shaking it firmly, “glad I didn’t scare you off with my grumpiness earlier.” 

Soap merely tsks, “Ah’m sure it’s won’t be the last time a pillow gets thrown at me face, certainly no’ the first time it’s happened,” he smirks, devolving into a fit of childish snickering alongside Gaz.  

“It’s a regular occurrence for you then?” Gaz looks downright gleeful at this development.  

Soap sniffs, tilting his chin up slightly, “ah’m not gonna dignify tha’ with an answer.”  

He’s able to keep a serious face for all of about five seconds, before a snort escapes Gaz and the two of them proceed to burst out laughing. A few odd looks are levelled in their direction from the other people still in the mess hall, but both are too distracted to care. It feels good to have someone to be a little less serious with, not needing to worry about remaining professional like he would if interacting with a superior or subordinate.  

He’s relieved that Gaz appears to be so light-hearted despite what he must have been through, and it’s remarkably easy for them both to fall into conversation, acting like old friends who have known one another for years. It’s only after they’ve been gossiping for several hours that Soap finally drags himself away from his fellow sergeant and in the direction of his bunk.  

He’s going to need plenty of sleep if he hopes to be at his best the following morning, but he takes a moment to enjoy the frigid evening on his way there. The stars are a little difficult to see with the intense lights flooding the base and the moon is obscured by the moon, but the weather is pleasant enough, if a tad icy.  

He’s about to open the door to the barracks where his room is housed when something in the distance catches his eyes. He glances off into the darkness, eyes momentarily struggling to pick anything out against the backdrop of trees and long grass. When he finally spots what had drawn his attention, he can feel a shiver run down his spine, unsure if the feeling is from excitement or fear.  

A large canine looks back at him through familiar red eyes, glowing brightly in the night and illuminating the sharp features around them. Similar in shape to an alsatian, with pointed ears swivelling around at even the slightest of sounds and a rough, shaggy coat all over. He stands just taller than a fully grown bull, with broad shoulders and a lengthier body.  

The Ghost stares back at him for what feels like decades, before he turns away disinterested and trots off into the tree line, seemingly vanishing into thin air. Even with Soap’s advanced hearing, he couldn’t hear Ghost’s movements, very much playing into his callsign.  

He can see why people are intimidated by the creature, slinking through the darkness with only a pair of creepy eyes to give away his position. But there’s a small part of him that can’t wait to see that dangerous beast let loose on the battlefield, tearing through their enemies with sharp claws and deadly teeth.  

A second thrill passes through him at the thought alone.  

[slvtforfiction]

SHORT IMAGINE W GHOST

☆ Ghost X Military/tf141!Reader

☆ Established relationship

☆ Readers call sign is thorn

☆ Fluff/suggestive

☆ If you are going to request: please check at the pinned post if requests are open,otherwise I will delete your requests which I have already been doing.

☆ Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers

Masterlist | Pinned Post

☆ Tells you the same dad jokes he tells Johnnie when he’s on a mission with you

☆ “Hey Thorn?”

☆ “Hey L.T.”

☆ “What do you call a short person that goes north for winter?”

☆ “What?”

☆ “An elf,or Thorn.”

☆ “I’m literally not that short,you make a lot of dad jokes for someone that’s not a dad.”

☆ “You and me together for a night and I could be a dad.”

☆ “GHOST-“

☆ Would definitely joke about the fact that you’ve seen him without the mask and that you still have the same excitement to seeing his face.

“Look at you.” He chuckled

“What? You’re handsome don’t expect me not to stare.”

☆ Would definitely pull you away after training to give you a kiss and debrief

“You okay? Did anyone actually hurt you? I’ll sort it.”

“Si it’s okay,it was just training.”

☆ Would definitely shut down when he gets mad,doesn’t want to say the wrong thing and just wants to calm down before doing something he regrets

“Si? Do you want to talk?”

“Thorn,please leave me alone.”

☆ If you were mad at him,he would leave gifts at your door,hug you when he got to be alone with you etc. (even if you aren’t talking to him).

“Thorn come ‘ere.” He says as he wraps you in a hug that you begrudgingly accept.

☆ Would definitely come pick you up/keep an eye on you/become overprotective of you when you are drunk

“Ghost- ghost I’m at this bar and-“

“Where are you.”

☆.

“Hey pretty lady.”

“Move along.” Scary dog privilege to the max.

☆ Definitely fell harder rather than first,he finds it hard to confess his feelings but he does it eventually when you two are alone.

“Thorn,can we talk?”

“Yeah,what’s up L.T?”

“So I’ve had some feelings towards you for a while and I was wondering when we got a break from missions if you would like to go to a restaurant with me?”

“Yes!”

☆ Would definitely take a while to get comfortable around you but would eventually get fully comfortable and settled in the relationship after about a year and a half.

“You don’t have to look away,doll.”

“Sorry,I’ve just never seen your face before.”

☆.

“Do you want to come back to my room?”

“Can we cuddle?”

“Sure.”

☆.

“Do you want to move in with me? There’s no use paying for your apartment if you’re coming round mine whenever we’re on break.”

“Okay!”

☆ Would definitely keep a cute Polaroid of you two cuddling in his tac vest,however he would never bring it on him with missions just in case it compromises your safety.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a Polaroid.”

“Awh,it of us cuddling,haha softy~”

“Keep quiet.”

☆ PET NAMES.

“Darling.” “Doll.” “Sweets.” “Love.” “Princess.” “Babe.” “Sugar.” “Angel.”

“Love.” “Handsome.” “Hubby.” “Babe.” “Si.”

☆ Gets jealous,very easily. Not in a toxic way but in a more protective way.

“Hey babe.”

“Hey handsome.”

“Oh I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“Yeah,she does.”

☆ Will only ever trust you with the guys in tf141 because they’re the only people he trusts.

“Stay with price for a moment,lovie.”

“Okay.”

☆.

“Stay with Johnnie,don’t leave him.”

“Please can I come?”

“I don’t want you hurt,stay here.”

☆ Marriage is in the question about 5 years in,he begins to ask you about it and around your 6 year anniversary he proposes.

“What do you think about marriage?”

“In general or with you?”

“In general.”

“I’ve never saw myself marrying anyone but then I met you and I was a lot more open to the idea.”

“Good to know.”

☆.

“Hey,look over there.”

“There’s nothing-“

“Y/n Y/l/n,I’ve thought about this forever,I wouldn’t want to spend my life with anyone but you,will you marry me?”

“Yes!”

☆ He doesn’t want a big wedding but he would give you the would if he could,so when you want a big wedding?

“Do you want a big wedding?”

“I’ve never really thought of having one,maybe something simple but whatever you want,dear.”

“Okay so,I want-“

☆ Would eventually want kids after leaving the military so that he could look after them and be a bigger part of their lives.

“Do you ever want kids?”

“With you? Yes.”

☆.

“Can you grab their school bag please hun?”

“On it.”

“Daddy,come on we’re going to be late!”

“I’m coming! I’m coming!”

NSFW.

☆ Would definitely carry a Polaroid of you with cum dripping down your thighs and his hand on your neck whenever he’s around base.

“You have a Polaroid?”

“Affirmative.”

“Do you wanna recreate the photo?”

☆ Would make you cum until you can’t take anymore,then would stuff you full of his cock <3

“Too much,no more.”

“Come on baby,you can do one more for me can’t you?”

☆ POWER DOM. Gets off on the fact that he can make you cum better than your fingers can,enjoys the power he has over you.

“What’s wrong baby? Fingers not enough? Such a slut.”

☆ Carries pictures of your body around with him for when he needs to get off and you’re not around.

“Hey ghost I-“

“Fuck!”

☆ However when you are around.. man handles you enough that bruises form on your thighs,hips,wrists,anywhere he can get to.

“Babe!”

“Yeah,what’s wrong-“

“These bruises are your fault.”

“You’re so beautiful,the bruises add to it.”

☆ He knows full well that he’s ruined you for everyone/anything else,does he care? No.

“Your dildo not working anymore? Poor baby.”

“Maybe we get a silicone remake of your-“

☆ Wouldn’t pass up on the offer of a train ride with the tf141 guys,he probably talks to you about it when he’s drunk, (so,rarely).

“Would you ever want a fivesome with the task force guys?”

“That’s random.”

“Would you?”

“If you want to,sure.”

☆ However he would watch with intent while the guys handled you,not that he doesn’t trust them but he doesn’t want anyone to make you uncomfortable.

“Stop. She doesn’t like that.”

☆ Would explore all your/his kinks with you,he is fully game to experiment and explore with you.

“There’s something I want to try but if you don’t want to tell me.”

“I’ll try it with you,lovie. What is it?”

[mylarena]

need a fic that starts directly after the hassan kill cutscene w soapghost. bc im thinkin abt "perfect shot, l.t.." "you called it, sergeant."

i just need content of after that. i need them seeing each other after that. where, once again, ghost had held soaps life in his hands. where one wrong move, one second of hesitation, one twitch of his finger could have ended it. if he had missed the shot, what wouldve happened?

would he have missed hassan and alerted him that he was being shot at?

or would he have missed hassan and hit soap instead?

...

but he didnt miss. thats whats important.

soap is alive, soap is regrouping with the team, soap is injured but hes okay. what more could ghost ask for?

yet still, he needs to see him up close, not through a scope- needs to see the wrinkles around his eyes when he gives that blinding grin.

he needs to hear him, not through a radio- needs to hear him without the shitty signal fucking with his voice.

he needs to know what injuries he has, not through reading a medical report- he needs to see them himself and make sure theyre taken care of properly and make him better.

he needs to hold him, to cup his face in his hands and feel every inch of his skin to make sure he's still warm and alive. that it isnt just a fucking dream.

[herejusttosufferalong]

Someone mentioned LN is /was not into N cause he would have acted on it.

But bringing L.T and his chemistry w Nic into the picture :

LN was cute before, but he looked like the kid, as his role was indeed a almost kid.

LT and JB were playing adults from day 1 and being more manly handsome / styled, more sxy when Bton started. When you look at LT and LN interviews or pics of them in s1-2, LT is much more handsome and have man vibe, as LN has a cute puppy vibe.

I can imagine N and LT were flirting, being both single and older. LN was possibly the cute kid on set they all liked and took care of. He seems jealous of their connection for sure.

S3 he "grew up and glowed up, maybe that is the reason N took notice of him.

Bc I think she started behaving a bit differently.

Unfortunately, his inside did not catch up with his appearance.

I really like her, but this is also N's development story as well. LN might look well, but he is not ripe apple.

I have recently come across some hardcore LT/N ship vids and ngl, I could see it.

But LT apparently has sexual tension with everyone