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shirefantasies · 7 months ago

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This is something no one requested, but that I wrote for sheer comfort at a rush of bad memories. Warnings are fairly obvious, but this post will contain implications of abuse, though no graphic/explicit depictions.

The Hobbit Characters Finding Out You Were in an Abusive Relationship

Balin

His gaze drops from yours, but you are not offended by the pensive expression that crosses his face- what you said would take anyone time, let alone someone as thoughtful as Balin. Several heartbeats pass before he speaks. "My heart breaks for you," he begins, "that is a fate no one deserves. I can hardly begin to imagine... But what I do know is you have every right to do things at your own pace. Don't push yourself for me, love." Eyes shining, you nod. "And if I ever raise my voice at you, it'll only be for good reason, say, in a battle or because my old ears don't work so good." Giggling, you accept his proffered hand. "I admit, I can't picture you raising your voice like that at anyone." "It's happened," he jokes back, "those nephews of Thorin's have earned it a few times. But not you. I'm not here to control you, I'm here to love you, and you tell me if I'm making good on that." "It's a deal," you reply, smiling softly as Balin squeezes your hand.

Dwalin

“I know you may not understand or that my fears may seem weak-” “Weak?” Dwalin cuts you off. “Ya know who’s weak? That coward for picking on someone who loved ‘em. You are strong as hell for telling them yer done.” One final question rose to your lips. “So you don’t think differently of me?” At that, the tattooed dwarf shakes his head, placing a hand upon your shoulder and breathing your name softly even in his rough voice. “By my bear, you’re about the sweetest soul I’ve ever met and this only serves to confirm it. I’d have pummeled the sod at first insult.” “I probably should have,” you remarked, arms crossing over your midsection. “Not so fast,” Dwalin’s hand clapped over your chest, taking yours, “that’s what you have me for!” The hearty, devilishly proud laugh he burst into was enough to have you joining the mirth, your head falling gently against his.

Thorin

His eyes darken, jaw setting in a way that sends shivers of intimidation down your spine even in spite of your knowledge that it is not for you. You know it because of the way Thorin pulls you into his arms, because he breaths his condolences into your ear as he does so, warm air ticking the shell of it. "And your fire still burns," he remarks, wonder coloring his voice and shining in his blue eyes. "In a way," you reply, gaze still a bit downcast, "I use it as fuel. Never again will I be somebody's plaything." "Never indeed," Thorin agrees with a small nod, "and you may not need it, but while I remain at your side you have my sword and my word that no harm will come to you so long as I draw breath…”

Oin

His eyes go moist in a moment and he holds up his ear trumpet, clearly hoping beyond hope he heard you wrong. Hands clasping his, you shake your head. “So I’m sorry if I ever seem afraid to-” “You are sorry?” Oin asks incredulously, his tone still managing to be quiet, subdued to the volume you normally know him for. “You don’t have a damn thing to apologize for. That is not your fault in the slightest. Do you have any scars? Any bruises? I’m only asking because I want to take away your pain.” Likely it was in the past, long enough ago for those worries to fade. Scars to score only your heart. “Aye, if I can…I want to heal that, too. Treat you like the jewel you are.”

Gloin

His wide-eyed expression is almost comical despite it all, bringing a hushed, nervous chuckle past your lips. Gloin continues staring at you like you're a new creation for a moment longer, dragging the silence out until you feel you might burst. Finally, he stutters out a reply. "You- you endured all that?" "Yes, though I cannot help wondering if I could have prevented it. You see, I-" "Oh, no," Gloin cuts off your spiral, clutching your gesticulating hands and shaking his head firmly at you, "don't you dare let that coward off one bit. No one asks for anything that bastard did. They always say pressure makes a diamond, but you, my dear, were a gem far before and only shine brighter with each passing moment. Diamonds are gifts of this earth, though, not just some trinket for rich arms. If it was you or all the wealth in the Lonely Mountain, I'd choose you every time. Remember that. Please." "How could I forget words like those?" You grin at him, heart still hammering. "I will do my best to carry them in my heart."

Bifur

Soon as your confession leaves your lips, Bifur backs up from you, dismaying you with his own pain in your eyes. “Scared?” He signs, and your heart breaks anew. Quickly you step forward, bridging the gap again, and reach up to tuck some of his wild hair behind his ear. Shaking your head, you reply, “No, dear Bifur, I am not afraid. If anything, I apologize if I ever seem that way. If my nightmares frighten you and I either hold you closer or push you away. If I startle a little too easily. If I am quick to say no.” He finally tilts his head back up to look you in the eyes, moving it to the side to rest his cheek against your palm. “I, too, have nightmares. Bad things happen when I sleep,” he signs to you, “I get hurt. You get hurt. I need space sometimes, too. I may tell you no, too.” “But when you love someone,” you finish, a tearful smile rising to your face, “You want to see them fulfilled.” At that, the dwarf nods vigorously. “I love you. I never want to scare you. To hurt you.”

Bofur

“A star as bright as you?” Shaking his head, Bofur removes his hat, clutching it in both hands. “Guess that’s beside the point. Someone like that only thinks o’ themselves. But hey, you know that wasn’t your fault, right?” You just nod. “And the fact that you still give your heart to everyone… you’re nothin’ short of amazing.” Tearing up, you burst into a smile, exhaling your relief and falling into Bofur’s open arms. “Was gonna do it anyway,” he mumbles into your neck, “but I want you to know that I’ll treat you like royalty. Much as I can give. I really will.” “I believe you, Bofur, I believe you.”

Bombur

Never have you seen his face fall like you do in that moment. All but instinctually, he opens his arms. “May I?” Nodding, you fall against his chest, the beat of his heart calming your racing thoughts. “I don’t know what to say other than that you don’t deserve that,” Bombur tells you, a hand gently cradling the back of your head, “you deserve the finest man who tosses roses at your feet ‘n’ sings your praises day after day. Someone with half an eye who can see how lovely you are. You deserve all the pretty things in this world.” “And I have that. I have all I could ever want right here,” you reply, a tear slipping from the corner of your eye, “you give me all the love I deserve.”

Dori

"What gives them the right? Nothing. It's not right, any of it! Why is it always the prettiest flowers that get plucked?" Even in his righteous anger, Dori pays you a sweet compliment, a small testament to his value of you. Cupping his cheek, you interrupt his rant, shifting him to meet your eyes and feeling tears prick at you when you see how wet his eyes are. "I don't want you to live with that pain," he adds, voice breaking slightly. Heart dropping, then soaring again at the love in his eyes, you reach up on the other side, and his hand comes up to cover yours. "These roots are strong," you assure him, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his, "with care they grow anew." "I will take care of you," Dori whispers your name, blue eyes fluttering shut, "Always. I swear it."

Nori

“Where is the rat? I’ll kill ‘em, gut ‘em like the pig they are!” Nori’s rage rose an odd flush of endearment through you; murderous as his words may have been, your heart was lightened for his care, the sheer vindication that what you went through was not deserved. But then again, the way that person hurt you was something you would never wish upon any living soul and you knew that. Sheepishly, you shook your head, stepping forward to take one of the dwarf’s wildly gesticulating hands. “The way you love me has avenged enough,” you cut into his harsh words, “no one has fought for me before you, Nori. Thank you.”

Ori

“Somebody really did all that to you?” He doesn’t mean to sound stupid, but the revelation is nothing but dumbfounding. “Yes,” you nod, breath catching in a half-sob, “I didn’t even feel like a person by the end of it.” Your arm is crossed over your chest, but Ori removes it, gently, intently, to hold your hand in his. “You are, though. You’re…you’re more than anything I could have ever imagined. And I like imagining things quite a lot,” he smiles softly, almost sheepishly, “in fact, you know what one of the things I imagine is?” You cringe, see his eyes widen that he accidentally hit a sore spot and feel the way his hand involuntarily tightens. He continues, though. “How I can show all that to you.” Head falling atop his, you succumb to a grin- he is leagues different from that person without even lifting a finger. “You do that just by being you, Ori.”

Fili

You hardly expect his first words to be thanking you, but indeed as both of his hands grip yours, he smiles sadly and does just that. "Thank you for trusting me with that. Fighting the fear. I don't take it lightly. But if you think this does anything but make me love you more," his smile shifts, returns to something more like the amusement you more often saw, "I'm afraid you are solely mistaken. The fact that you trust me, feel safe around me...why, I'll work to keep earning that until the day I die." Grinning, you fall into Fili's arms, feeling utterly secure in the warmth of his embrace. "And that alone means the world," you whisper, "I love you." "And I you. Forever."

Kili

"No," Kili shakes his head, "no, you cannot be serious!" "So you think I lie?" You shoot back, tone sharply defensive in your hurt. Kili's dark eyes widen, glossing over with tears; he shakes his head again, this time slower, but much more vehement, "Not at all. I simply can't believe it. Why anybody would want to hurt someone like you. I admit I can't fathom it." "It's because I didn't matter in that person's mind," you reply, your own eyes tearing and your voice going soft, "I was not a consideration." "Well, let me consider you," Kili replies quickly, straightening and reaching out a hand, "I'll not do anything you want me to do. And if I ever raise my voice at you, feel free to slap me." "Kili," you half-chuckle, half-sob, "how would that make me any better than-" "It was a joke, but see? Now I have you smiling again. That's all I want. For you to be happy. I love you, truly, I do."

Bilbo

“Any chance we would…run into this person?” So casually, almost awkwardly phrased, and yet you deduced exactly what Bilbo meant with his question. “Are you…” Your expression widened back to a tentative smile. “…hoping to have a fight with them?” Plenty of people had been on your side, nearly everyone agreeing that what you endured crossed every line, but hearing it from a partner was an even stronger spike of the vindication you never tired of. Plus Bilbo’s scrappy side was all but the cutest thing in the world. “Well,” the hobbit straightened his coat, “I simply think they need to be put in their place. Why, of all the… how could anyone take a look at someone like you and see anything but the greatest treasure they’ve ever known, it’s insulting, maddening, uncouth beyond all-” He stopped when he heard you giggle, felt your arms snake around him. “Oh Bilbo…my greatest treasure. I’ll always feel safe when you’re here.”

Thranduil

Rarely do you see the woodland king’s eyes harden, go so cold like shards of pale blue eyes, as you do when he hears your admission. “This person saw fit to treat you like property?” Thranduil’s voice is dangerously low, his gaze drifting distantly from yours. “I felt that way, yes,” you quietly agree, nodding. The king’s expression sends a shudder of intimidation down your spine. He must notice, the way he offers you his hand- tentative, eyes softening in question. Telling you wordlessly that acceptance is your choice. A small nod and you take it, his fingers closing over yours as he lifts the back of your hand to his lips. “Never again,” he breaks the silence, voice low but all ice drained from it, “while I wish your time here to never end, our gates are open to you. My halls are as your own. If that…that fiend even thinks to cross the Woodland Realm’s borders? Some gates shall be closed forever.” A part of you wishes to cringe at Thranduil’s harsh words, but as he winds you into his chest you simply feel the heat of tears prick your eyes as you whisper your thanks, an answer coming in the form of the elven king’s lips upon your head.

Bard

He stepped back, eyes widening at your revelation. Every aspect of him softened. “How? How could anybody…” Eyes distant, you shook your head. “At the time, I felt like it was because I wasn’t good enough. Now I see how sick it was. How I was…just an object,” your voice faded into a near-sob, prompting Bard to catch you about the waist, lower you into a chair. He moved to put a hand on either arm of it, thought better of making you feel trapped. Instead he simply let you keep hold of his hand, tilting your chin with the other to meet your eyes. “By every power I hold dear I hope you never feel too afraid to tell me no. To tell me if I’ve hurt you. And by that same light we’ll spend every day filling your heart. Never should you apologize for your scars- those are signs of your strength.”

Beorn

He never does this. You've never known the Skin-Changer to be one for spontaneous affection and yet he's pulling you into his arms the moment you finish, your head falling against his chest or wherever it falls upon his massive height. Several breaths pass like this before either of you speak again. “There is cruelty in this world I will never understand. No excuses exist for it. None. But I will do everything in my power to keep you safe from it.” True to his word, the Skin-Changer is there for you after every nightmare. Never once does he raise his voice or his hand to you. He may not always understand you, but well does he know the feeling of chains, physical or metaphorical, and he would die before casting his own. In moments surpassing his understanding of you, he takes to the woods, offering space over harsh words and freedom of travel over control. True love, after all, always returns.

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tbcanary · 4 months ago

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my god. I completely forgot that he JUST wrote dinah as a taylor swift knockoff. we can’t let him take creative control over her for a goddamn second. come on man.

Black Canary miniseries by Tom King confirmed. Excited? Thoughts?

i am struggling with this so much tbh because it’s like. t*m k*ng wrote one of my favorite runs of all time with supergirl: woman of tomorrow, but those feelings are not consistent across his career. i find the current ww run to be. um. weird, at minimum, and bad at best, and that’s with a character i don’t have nearly as many feelings about. (no disrespect to diana, obviously, i just deeply love dinah.)

esp considering the series is going to involve dinah and lady shiva, i would say i am less “excited” and more “tom if you fuck this up i will hunt you down.” for all that i love lady shiva and the ways she and dinah CAN play off one another, the fact is oftentimes dinah is used to make asian women look inferior or to extend the problematic tropes they’re already forced into in comics constantly. i fear a “dinah and lady shiva battle it out to see who is the best fighter” premise is just… full of problems, for me, and they’d have to tell one hell of a story to win me back.

(lest we forget, we already know someone who beat lady shiva in hand to hand combat and proved herself to be a superior fighter. her name is cassandra cain, and she has also trained dinah in the past. i find her exclusion in the summaries i’ve been able to find to be pretty telling as to how carefully and thoughtfully this all will be approached, which is to say, not very.)

#do i think the dinah popstar narrative is hysterical funny perfect etc. yes.#but largely in the way of ‘I’ve been making this joke for a year and a half and now it’s in a comic’ way #not in a ‘this makes sense’ way #it doesn’t make sense for her and I struggle to see how someone with such a limited understanding of her performative aspects #Will be able to craft a narrative that does her justice #but like who knows. tom has done a good story one (1) time before it certainly can happen.#ugh. ughhhhhh. i want it to be good but i have so little hope.

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thewulf · 10 months ago

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Not Just Pals || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Hello darling! I have a request for you if you don't mind... It's a hangman x fem! Reader pen pals to friends to lovers kind of thing. Like maybe when he was in the academy someone put his name in this program to write to college students but joke on them because he got paired with reader and they hit it off almost instantly... Read Rest Here

A/N: Whew! This one was for whatever reason really tough to write! I changed it up a little bit but I hope you guys still enjoy it. :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.9k +

T/W : Self-doubt

October 9th, 2014

Hi There Y/N,

I’m not sure how you’re really supposed to start one of these things? How are you supposed to go about talking to somebody you’ve literally never met before? Although the Navy/Army pen pal thing could be interesting. I’ll be honest, my buddy signed me up and I didn’t think I’d actually write anything down but then I got the email with your name on it, Cadet Y/N Y/L/N. Consider myself intrigued.

What’s it like up in New York? Is it cold? Do you get a lot of snow? It gets awfully cold down here in Maryland, so I have to imagine how cold it gets up there. I’m from Texas so I’m still adjusting to this weather… four years later. It’s not easy. I think it’s the hardest part of living in the northeast. I’d rather run a marathon with a thirty-pound pack on than sit outside in the snow for more than twenty minutes. I hope to get stationed somewhere warm when this is all set and done.

Your ‘about me’ says you’re going into the Air Defense Artillery after West Point… which is the exact opposite of what I’m doing. Consider myself doubly intrigued Cadet. What do you do? Fire missiles and rockets at jets? That can’t possibly be as much fun as firing them when you’re in the air. It’s cool just not nearly as cool as what I do, know what I mean? Maybe a close second though.

Have you even been in a jet before? I bet you’d like it. I obviously don’t know you, but I haven’t met many people who didn’t like it. There’s something so freeing about flying 1,000 miles per hour in a tiny silver tube. You should try it sometime. If this whole thing works out maybe I’ll even take you up one day, who knows?

I guess that was my attempt at 20 questions. Hopefully you didn’t find it too annoying. Hope to hear back from you soon!

Jake Seresin

November 23rd ,2014

Hello Future Lieutenant Jake Seresin,

I’m thrilled you actually decided to write. I’m glad my name was all you needed to pick up that pen. I have to admit you made me giggle a few times. You seem effortlessly funny Mr. Seresin. Even for a soon-to-be Pilot.

I find it comical you’re asking me about the weather of all things, Midshipmen. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do on an awkward first date? But to answer your question, yes it’s cold as all get out up here. But I’m from Indiana so I’m used to it. Doesn’t mean I didn’t wish West Point wasn’t in Georgia or something. Why’d they have to put all the Military schools in the north?

What was it like growing up in Texas? Did you ever see snow? One of my favorite memories from this place is watching my roommate (who’s from Florida) see and play in snow for the first time. She froze her ass off but had the day of her life. She also hates snow now. So, it looks like you warm people have that in common.

To sum it up I guess you can say we fire rockets and missiles. My professors always say, ‘If it sounds like rocket science, it is’. Basically, we need to protect the ground troops from the flying bastards aka you. Although we do love our American flying bastards. So, I guess that doesn’t knock you down too many pegs in my book. Do you think they matched us up because our jobs are the antithesis of the other? If so, somebody had a hilarious sense of humor.

I’ve never been in a jet, and I have no plans to either. I don’t think I’d enjoy it if we’re being honest. You’re talking to the girl who gets sea-sick on cruises and had to take a motion pill if we’re going to an amusement park. My lil brain can’t handle the motion. A character flaw as they say. I also have a sense that you wouldn’t go to easy on me, being Army and all. I’ll stick to my calculations and rockets.

Don’t tell anybody I wrote this, but I do think what you guys do is so badass. I work with a bunch of jealous Cadets who couldn’t make it into the Army Aviation division, they’re just bitter. When I was little my dad used to take me to the Blue Angels shows in Chicago whenever they made their way across the States. Kind of the reason why I wanted to be in the military in the first place. But only my dad knows that. And well, I guess you now too. So, keep my secret safe Mr. Seresin.

I know the weather is less than desirable, but I do hope you’re finding things you love in Annapolis! There are some of the best crab cakes I’ve ever had there.

Thanks for the smiles after a long week!

Your New Friend,

Y/N Y/L/N

February 16th, 2015

Future Second Lieutenant Y/N Y/L/N,

That has a right to it doesn’t it? Your name sounds good with a Second Lieutenant in front of it. Sorry it’s been so long since I wrote. Getting busy with graduation coming up and practical’s and all. It’s a lame excuse I know, but it’s all I got. I hope you know how big I smiled reading your letter to me. I read it about fifty times before I could write a decent response to you. You have a way with words that I haven’t read in a long, long time.

Was your father in the military? None of my family was. I also loved the Blue Angels when they came down to Houston for the air shows. I’d always beg and plead and finally my mom or sister would give in and take me. They’re also the reason I’m here. So, I guess we should thank them that we got to meet. Neither you nor I would be in these academies without them. Your secret is locked away in the drawer and safe in my head too. It’s super safe with me.

I’ll be honest, the food here is so damn good. I sure do miss my Texas barbeque, but the spread is better up over here. Plus, the snacks? I didn’t know there was different brands sold across the states and you guys have better girl scout cookies! That’s just not fair. I could’ve gone my whole life knowing that there were two versions of girl scout cookies and I got the worse version. I’ve enjoyed the move far more than I’ve regretted it. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. It doesn’t guarantee I’ll be a pilot, but it means I’m one step closer to getting there.

What all schooling do you have to do after you graduate this spring? Are you up for deployment soon? I’ve got a lot left to go. If I get picked after I’ve got a few years of flight school ahead of me. Then I’ll really be off. Wish me luck I make it!

With Love,

Jake

March 13th, 2015

Mr. Seresin,

I was getting worried! I thought it was something I had wrote. I’m glad it’s your negligence and not mine for the lack of communication. I forgive you though. It’s been stressful up here in New York as well. I luckily don’t have any practical’s I need to worry about. Just a few nuclear engineering classes are standing in between me and graduation.

I just have a year of Officer School (if I get selected that is) after this is all set and done come June. We have to apply this April so I’m getting a little anxious about the whole thing. I don’t really have a backup plan that I’d actually like to do so I really, really hope I get selected. Enough about me though, let’s talk about you. You’re going to get picked! Don’t let any bad thoughts get in between you and your goal. I think you’ll make a fine pilot Jake. You seem to have your wits about you which is the first step a lot of people miss.

My dad was in the Navy, like you. Don’t gloat though, it’ll ruin the finely crafted image I have of you. He was a deck hand or something like that. I wish I could ask him some more about it, but he passed when I was just thirteen. I just remember he loved being in the Navy. He loved everything about it. He made it seem like anything was possible with a passion.

I’m glad you’re enjoying the food and the girl scout cookies. It took me by surprise when I got Peanut Butter Patties instead of Tagalongs when I was down south for a winter. I’m so glad I grew up where the real GSC are sold.

I hope this letter brought you as much joy as yours brought me.

With the Same Love,

Y/N

(P.S. – Here’s my number if you’d like to text instead of write. No pressure!)

It had only been a week since you sent the last letter. Sure, you hadn’t really known the guy all too well but there was something so exciting about sending written mail. You felt like a little kid on Christmas waiting for a response from him. Who knew throwing your name in something so silly for your class would bring you so much joy.

You sat down on your desk setting your computer out front of you to study. Jake was right. It was an awfully busy time of the year. Applying for your future. Studying for you exams. When you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket you truly didn’t think much of it. It was only hours later when you finally closed the laptop shut that you went to check it that your face scrunched in confusion. You didn’t recognize the area code. It was then that it clicked that it could be him.

No pressure at all text! Hi there (it’s Jake).

You grinned reading it over and over again. That was quick! Maybe you made an impression? You sure hoped so. You hardly even knew what the guy looked like. You might’ve gone digging a little when you got his name. He was cute. Handsome even. But he seemed like that type. That arrogant pilot type. But even in just the two letters you received from him you got the hint that he wasn’t that type of guy at all.

I didn’t think you’d actually text me. It’s good to hear from you.

The messages between the two of you were infrequent at best as the semester ended. But he never failed to put a smile on your face. When you needed a pick me up you went through and read the messages that popped up.

On your graduation day you sent him a picture of you and a few friends in a cap and gown with the text: Beat you! You’re also looking at your newest Officer Candidate too!

You didn’t have to wait long for a reply. Your face only grew with glee seeing his response: Congrats Second Lieutenant. And future Captain. Knew you’d do it. You look beautiful as always.

Typing a quick reply, you hid your smile away just knowing your friends would make a stupid comment about the mystery man that always had you so smiley: You’re making me blush all the way up here in New York. I better get a picture next weekend when you do the same, future Lieutenant.

He came through on your request. When you got the text you could only smile. You spotted him in the picture immediately, your eyes drawn to him. He was so damned handsome. How lucky were you to get paired with a guy like that? Your smile grew further when you read the message: Lieutenant (and future pilot) Jake Seresin reporting for picture duty.

The messages occurred naturally between through the years as you were deployed, and he was in school. Some months you texted more and some you didn’t hear from him at all. It never bothered you. The silly little thing called life happened for both of you.

Still, the two of you often made time for phone calls when the time was right. The first time you talked on the phone you thought you were going to quite literally throw up you were so nervous. But in typical Jake Seresin fashion he made you feel cool as a cucumber. You talked and talked and talked into the morning. It felt so normal. Like you were catching up with an old friend. Jake Seresin. Who was this man that was making it hard to date? He was quite literally everything you wanted and needed in a partner. The universe had a funny way of working sometimes.

It had been six long years since you received that first letter from him. He was off on a mission now. A dangerous one he couldn’t tell you much about. But he wanted you at his arrival back home in San Diego and you promised him you’d be there. Assured him. That’s how you ended up in here pacing in the hotel room contemplating whether you should really go or not. It felt too intimate, like you were intruding. But he did say none of his family would be there, they had other things going on as the mission was a bit of a surprise to everybody. The pilots were all instructed to keep it as quiet as possible.

Your hands were shaking as you parked your car in the overcrowded lot. Gripping the steering wheel, you took a long breath in. You could do this. You had to do this. For him, for you. You stepped out of the car and made you way to the dock. The aircraft carrier was already docked by the time you got to the meeting site. You stood back and waited. Watched and waited. It felt like an eternity then finally the men and women started pouring out in their Navy Whites. You’d always thought they looked the sharpest of the bunch, but you’d never tell Jake that. He’d make fun of your Army uniforms or something like that.

It felt like both an eternity and seconds later that you spotted him amongst the crowd of sailors exiting the ship searching high and low for you. You promised you’d be there. And here you were. He either felt your eyes on him or had an uncanny sense of timing as his eyes locked with your own. His smile had melted you right there on the spot. You felt helpless as you willed your brain to move but it wouldn’t. You only began to panic a little as he moved with ease through the crowd making his way right to you.

He stood in front of you. Jake Seresin stood in front of you, much taller than you thought, “I knew I recognized you. First Lieutenant Y/L/N.” His eyebrows raised as you gaped at him with wide eyes as if he wasn’t really there. Closing your mouth, you knew you needed to pull it together but that sounded much easier said than done. Jake freaking Seresin, your pen pal was really standing in front of you in real life. He was more of enigma in your mind at this point. Somebody you could have deep life conversations with so easily but never having actually met the man it was hard for you to grasp he was really real. And standing in front of you.

“Jake.” You smiled hoping it sounded somewhat normal. He was so much more handsome than the photos he sent through the years. How was that possible? Wasn’t it supposed to go the other way? You continued once your head finally could form coherent sentences, “Well it’s actually Captain now. Got promoted a couple weeks ago.”

He turned his head to the side just slightly, “You didn’t tell me that.” Almost looking offended you hadn’t told him.

“Never felt like the right time to divulge. With this mission and all. Had to keep you locked in.” You looked up to him now studying his face as you gained more courage talking to him. He was something your dreams couldn’t make up.

He nodded not daring to take his eyes off you. He too thought you were even prettier than he could have envisioned. You’d sent pictures and he’d followed your social media, but nothing could’ve prepared him. Especially in your civilian clothes, he was a sucker already. Deep down Jake knew you were the reason he was so non-committal before. He was looking for somebody just like you and couldn’t find her. Yet here you stood in front of him. You were so funny and witty and smart, and yet he couldn’t put it all into words. You are the whole package and so much more.

“You still could’ve told me. We talked enough before I left.” He grinned seeing that the tension was already easing from your shoulders.

You shook your head, “Wasn’t about me Seresin. I just wanted you to stay focused and safe. And thank goodness you did.” You admitted a little more than you wanted, but he just made you feel so gushy. Like you were a sweeter version of yourself you could hardly recognize. And the words just kept flowing out when he gave you that look with those green eyes.

“Oh yeah?” He challenged you a bit sensing that you were starting to feel a bit more comfortable with him already, “Didn’t think you’d be so relieved darlin’.”

Ignoring the sweet term of endearment you shook your head, “And waste six years of my life on nothing? Jake that’s so inefficient. Of course, I want you safe.” The words came fast, and they were snarkier than you intended. But you truly couldn’t help it. He had you relaxed within the first five minutes of talking to him. You felt like you could just be you.

He threw his head back in laughter. That same weight had lifted right off his shoulders when you snapped back at him like he was waiting on it, “There she is. My favorite mouthy girl.”

He said it so nonchalantly you thought your heart was going to combust on the spot. Your cheeks surely gave way to your reaction to his words. His favorite mouthy girl? Christ. He was trying to send you into a coma or something! Your brain quite literally short circuited as it failed to form any coherent sentence. He only chuckled in response seeing your cheeks heat up in a blazing blush.

“It’s so nice to actually see you in person. You know I’ve always told you this, but it rings even truer even now. You’re quite a stunner, Captain.” His eyes met yours before you looked away quickly feeling as though you were going to faint at those words. You weren’t sure how this interaction was going to go initially. But you really didn’t think he’d come right out and say that he found you stunning. The occasional letter and texts in between had grown flirtier the longer you had known him, but it never crossed your mind he’d be so outright with it.

You turned away out of sheer bashfulness. Never had a man been so bold with you before. It was foreign. Not uncomfortable, no. Nothing could be with him. He made it easier than seemed possible.

“You flatter me Jake.” You grinned up at him hoping your makeup would hide the darkening of your cheeks, “I should say the same for you. Handsome as ever.”

“Now you’re making me blush, Cap.” Sure as hell the faintest pink dusted his cheek, but he seemed much stronger than you. He kept the eye contact going.

You shook your head trying to bite back the big smile you had on your face, but it showed through anyway. How was he doing this? Making you feel so giddy just by looking at him. You knew this man but for the first time it actually felt like you might actually love him. You’d had the deepest conversations with him. When you needed a laugh you texted him. When you craved advice you called him. He was the guy you turned to. And it dawned on you that he never failed to answer you. He wanted to take your calls and answer your texts. He looked forward to it. He too had fallen for a woman he’d never met before.

You needed the change the subject and fast or more words would be tumbling out, “How was the mission? Everyone make it out okay?” You asked having no idea what you were getting yourself into. Jake hadn’t told you much about what they were doing, couldn’t tell you much. But now that it was over he couldn’t wait to tell you every nitty gritty little detail.

“I’ll tell you if you let me buy you a drink?” He gave you a smirk that sent nerves racing throughout your body. Jesus. This man was something else.

Giving him a curious once over you nodded, “Shouldn’t I be the one buying you a drink sailor? You coming home and all?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll never let you buy me a drink darlin’.”

Gosh, Jake was actually going to be the death of you. He was so good making his words come off so easily. You felt terribly high strung next to him, “And why not?”

“Because I’m trying to woo you sweetheart. When I get you to go on a date with me I have to impress you. Inevitably that’ll work and you’ll become my girlfriend. And I can’t have my girlfriend paying for my drinks, no. And it’ll only get worse when I get the pleasure of marrying you. If my wife thinks she’ll pay for a thing she had another thing coming.” He gleamed at you as if he didn’t just say all of that.

You gulped before a stupid smile grew on your face. Of course, you knew he was forward but again, he just took you on an entirely new adventure with that statement, “That’s quite a bold statement Jake.”

He shrugged, “I thought I should make my intentions perfectly clear. I think you’re one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. And you’re perfectly you. Sharp as tack. Funnier than ever. You’re you. And I really like you.”

You let out a breath not sure if you really believed all of that, “So not just pals, huh?” It was all you could think of quickly but that did it for him. Sealed the deal. He knew he was going to marry you right then and there. You’d complete him in every way he needed you and vice versa.

He shook his head taking his arm in yours, “Not just pals.” Leaning into his gentle embrace you led him to your car where he would not let you drive. He insisted that it was a gentleman’s job even if he was only running off four hours of sleep. You’d appeased the man who was on his very best behavior. Not that you minded. Nope, not at all. You were thrilled that Jake was exactly who he seemed to be. Your Jake. Not just pals indeed.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy

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needforspeed161 · 14 days ago

Text

Hey Admiral

My friend and I were talking about a scenario like this and I decided to write a little something for it. Since Cyclone looks up to Ice so much this would be hilarious to see play out 😂

CYCLONE DOESNT REALIZE ICE AND MAV ARE MARRIED.

Cyclone had it up to HERE with Maverick, constantly correcting him and becoming quite irritable with his “teaching methods” as he called them.

Why on earth a man as revered as the legendary Iceman would request a man as reckless and untamed as Maverick to teach the top pilots in the world at TOP GUN OF ALL PLACES! For what he is sure would be one of the most dangerous, high enemy contact level mission any of these pilots would ever experience in their lives was beyond him.

“Admiral” Ice spoke, taking a seat across from him, Beau stood at attention as the COMPACFLT seated himself before him.

“Evening sir” he spoke, militant as ever.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure” Ice waved a waitress over, grabbing a glass of his classic vodka on the rocks as Cyclone opted for a brandy.

“About Maverick…”

The warm chuckle that spread throughout the blonde, now graying, Admirals chest stopped the three star in his tracks.

“My apologies sir, I wasn’t intending to be comical”

“No Beau it’s not that” Ice took a gentle sip from his drink, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “It’s just that if I had a dollar for everytime one of these dinners or meetings began with ‘so about Maverick’ I could have retired 10 years ago and have two Mercedes in my driveway”

Beau looked at his hands momentarily, unsure of what to say. Soon Tom continued.

“Anyways, I digress, what did he do this time”

Ices softer stare met his colleagues as he took another drink, before looking down at the menu on the soft white table cloth.

“His training methods for the Dagger squadron are….interesting to say the least, unorthodox is the better term.”

“Oh? Do tell”

“For instance, they were supposed to be practicing formations for the bombing run yesterday and I found them playing on the beach like children”

“Hm” Ice grunted softly, paying attention as the waitress came by again, interrupting them.

“Good evening sir” she spoke with a small smile at Tom. “Your usual sir?” Tom nodded

“Thank you Katherine, Beau? Care to order?”

Cyclone didn’t think to hard as to why Ice knew this woman, and frequented this place often enough to have established a ‘usual’. Ice was the COMPACFLT, he probably enjoyed some nicer expensive dining from time to time.

“No green eyes tonight?” She asked, and Tom shook his head. “No my dear, all buisness tonight”

She frowned slightly and put her hands on her hips. “Well darn, please tell him I said hello, I’ll go put your order in gentlemen.”

“I definitely will, Thank you my dear” Ice waved as she disappeared, rounding the corner.

Cyclone decided not to comment, first of all he and Ice were close but not so close as to ask questions about his love life. Let alone the fact that it was apparently another gentleman he often frequented this place with. Who was he to judge, since the DADT repeal and Ice becoming one of the most powerful men in the military, no one could say shit even if they had a mouthful.

“Apologies for the interruption, as you were saying?”

Beau cleared his throat. “Yes, sir, he completely ignored my hard deck perameters and is running these pilots through ridiculous exercises, we have less than a week to have them mission ready…”

Their conversation went on for a couple more hours as they ate, and as they both stood to leave Ices hand found Cyclones shoulder.

“I know Captain Mitchell can be a hard pill to swallow sometimes, but he’s a brilliant pilot, best the Navy has to offer, I’ve flown with him for many years, and he’s done many things I may not have understood, but he was always reliable, always had his head in the game and always made sure everyone, including me, made it back home safe. Be patient with him Admiral, give him a shot”

Cyclone huffed out in annoyance slightly, but let his shoulders fall. “Yes sir, I’ll do my best”

“Thanks Beau” Tom spoke, dropping the formalities. “And thank you for the company, but I’m a little past curfew and need to get home” Ice winked, Bidding him goodbye and getting in his car to head home.

—————————————————————————

The next day seemed even worse, Admiral Simpson was being driven up a wall, two seconds away from punching the brunette square in the face. If not for Ices encouragement he probably would have by now.

That evening he returned to the ready room to see, SHOCKER! EVERYONE WAS GONE!

Anger rose in his throat, he knew exactly where he was going.

Throwing his truck in park in perhaps the most aggressive way he could, the man, still clad in his khakis and medals, stormed in through the swinging saloon doors of the Hard deck, seeing all of his pilots and one infuriating Pete Mitchell drinking beers and playing rounds of pool.

Laughing, smiling and joking together, if he weren’t so angry he would have liked to admit that it even looked….fun.

“CAPTAIN MITCHELL!” He shouted. As if on cue the music came to a winding stop and all heads turned to look at him.

Pete not looking worried in the slightest.

“FRONT AND CENTER! NOW!”

Handing off his beer to Bradley with a nod, sharing a quiet word with him that couldn’t be made out clearly. He walked towards the angry, taller brunette. As the rest of the gang tentatively went back to playing pool, quietly, as if walking on eggshells.

“Admiral Simpson, sir” Maverick spoke. Smug grin on his face long gone and replaced with a tight line drawn between his lips.

“What in the hell is this?! We have a mission less

Than TWO WEEKS out that requires absolute focus! And before you try and brush this off as one of your bullshit ‘team building exercises’ just know I’m going to look forward to reporting this directly to admiral Kazansky! And-“

“Reporting what exactly to Admiral Kazansky?” A voice spoke, interrupting his statement, as the taller, angrier man turned to see the familiar face returning with two drinks in his hand.

Immediately straightening his posture and clearing his throat. He took in a very casually dressed Tom Kazansky.

“A-Admiral sir!”

“At ease Admiral, so what did Maverick do this time”

His eyes followed the movements of the slightly taller man, coming up to stand beside Pete, handing him a beer.

As Cyclone began to go into what he saw.

“Is that so Mitchell? Little old you did all that?” Ice threw his arm around Mavericks shoulder. Seeing the smug smile return to his lips.

“I can neither confirm or deny that statement” Maverick chuckled.

“My apologies on behalf of my husband Admiral, it seems he wasn’t aware of todays training layout”

Cyclones jaw may as well have been on the floor, throat tightening at a loss of words.

“H-husband sir?”

“Ah!” Ice almost looked surprised.

“How rude of me Admiral, I’d like to formally introduce you to my husband, Pete Mitchell-Kazansky, though for work purposes everyone still knows him by Mitchell.”

Just at this time Bradley walked up behind them.

“Hey dad, pops” he squeezed both of their shoulders and looked at Admiral Simpson. “Admiral”

“Lieutenant” he scoffed in return. Still attempting to process all of this new information.

“Wait so, at the restaurant, the waitress, green eyes is-“

“The one and only” maverick smirked, leaning up to give his husband a kiss on the cheek.

“Now Admiral, if you don’t mind we’d like to get back to our game, you’re welcome to join us if you’d like.” Ice invited, gesturing his head towards the rest of the squad.

Cyclones mouth open and closed again. Unsure of what to do next.

“Cmon Sir, first rounds on me, loosen up a little” Bradley smiled, eyes bright and hopeful. As Cyclone turned to the rest of the team, smiling at him as well.

“I guess one drink couldn’t hurt….but I’m kicking your ass at a game of pool first Bradshaw”

As the two men walked back towards the pool tables, newly acquired beers in hand and jokes being flung back and fourth. Maverick pulled ice against his side by his waist. Smiling up at him with big green eyes, clinking his beer against the taller man’s glass.

“This is going to be fun” he smiled.

“Couldn’t agree more darling”

#icemav #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #top gun 1986 #top gun maverick #pete mitchell #tom kazansky #hangster #nick goose bradshaw #ron slider kerner #beau cyclone simpson #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw

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my-castles-crumbling · 11 months ago

Text

Whoops. - AU Jegulus oneshot

(This isn't the smut, guys! That's next on my list!)

Regulus is a TA for Professor Monty Potter and Monty keeps trying to set Regulus up with his son. Regulus always refuses, of course. But what happens when, at the end of the term, he goes to the Potter Christmas Party? Just a fun oneshot based off this post! Thanks to @sebbianas for the idea and @heartshiii for the request!

“I think he’s shown up to class a grand total of three times,” Monty murmurs, jerking his chin towards the last of the students exiting the auditorium.

Regulus chuckles and continues picking up the exam papers from the desks. “Still want to go with your ‘progressive-no-attendance-policy’ next semester?" he asks lightly as he brings the pile towards the Professor.

“Eh. If he aces the final, he obviously didn’t need my help, did he?” Monty shrugs, flashing Regulus a grin.

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then maybe he’ll show up a bit more often when he has to retake the class,” Monty finishes, laughing in earnest, now.

Regulus chuckles again and surveys the empty room. “Need anything else before I go?”

“No, Regulus. You’ve been an excellent help. Best TA I’ve ever had, but don’t go telling anyone I have favorites,” Monty says, smirking a bit.

“Thanks, Professor Potter–” Regulus begins, only to be cut off.

“Monty.”

“Monty,” he agrees, still feeling a bit nervous using first names even after all these weeks. He’s been trained in etiquette since birth, after all.

“And since you’re now officially not my TA,” Monty says, smiling, “You’ll come to my house tonight for my holiday party? My son will be there,” he waggles his eyebrows comically at this, and Regulus rolls his eyes.

It’s been an ongoing topic ever since he and Regulus had talked about it earlier that term:

“That’s a nice bracelet,” Monty said absentmindedly as they corrected papers together.

“Ah. Thanks. My brother gave it to me,” Regulus said of the black and rainbow bracelet on his wrist.

But Monty was looking closer at the bracelet, now. “Can I ask-?”

“He gave it to me when I came out,” Regulus supplied, looking at the Professor hesitantly.

Monty seemed unsurprised at the admission, but he also seemed like he wanted to ask something. “Can I ask something that might be seen as unprofessional?”

Regulus felt a bit nervous at this. It had been years since he’d left his extremely unaccepting parents, gone to live with Sirius in a tiny little flat by themselves. They didn’t live together anymore, but those years had been difficult, and it'd taken a lot of work to accept himself. He still had a fear of people, specifically adults, being cruel about his sexuality. But he was also curious. “Yes?”

“My son…my son recently told my wife and I that he’s pansexual. Could you possibly be kind enough to give me some advice? About how to show him that I still feel the same about him?” Monty’s face was so genuine that Regulus almost burst into tears.

But instead, he began to talk. To tell about all the things he wished his parents had done.

Of course, ever since that day, Monty had been casually bringing up his son, and how he and Regulus might get along. But Regulus had always refused, trying to respect the boundaries of the TA-professor relationship. Also, he'd never admit it, but he likes Monty, and worries a bit about losing him as a mentor if things went wrong on a potential date.

But he can't exactly refuse to go to the party tonight. Not after everything Monty has done for him.

“I’ll be there,” he says with a small smile, and bids Monty goodbye.

He feels a bit nervous knocking on the door of the Potters that evening, but also reminds himself that he knows how to deal with a party. He knows how to small-talk and kiss up to people and make a good first impression.

He hates it all, of course. Hates everything that reminds him of the way he was raised. But he can do this.

So, when Mrs. Potter answers the door and pulls him into a hug, he’s quite surprised- he’s never been hugged at any fancy dinner party his family has ever thrown. But he still thanks her kindly for the invitation and hands her the bottle of wine he brought.

“Oh, you’re so sweet!” Mrs. Potter gushes, leading him inside.

It’s- crowded. There are a lot of people, all dressed nicely and drinking from fancy glasses. Some look to be closer to his age, while others are older. And in the middle of one of the rooms is-

“Sirius?” Regulus asks incredulously.

“Reggie!” Sirius cries, bounding forward, dragging a boy with him. “What’re you doing here?”

“Monty invited me…” Regulus murmurs, looking around for the man in question.

“Oh, Monty is around somewhere!” Mrs. Potter assures him, waving her hand carelessly. “Sirius, dear, you know Regulus?”

“Only for my whole life,” Sirius says with a wink. “Reggie’s my brother!”

Mrs. Potter gasps loudly. “This is your brother? Well, Regulus was Monty’s TA this semester!”

“He never tells me anything, ever since he moved on campus,” Sirius complains, leaning against the boy he brought along with a dramatic sigh. Then, he turns to Regulus. “The Potters are James’s parents.”

James. Regulus has heard of him. He and Sirius became friends at the start of University. Sirius has said a lot about him on their weekly phone calls, but they’ve never met.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, then!” Mrs. Potter says, leaving Regulus with Sirius and his friend to answer the door again.

“Thanks, Mrs. Potter,” Regulus murmurs, only to be told, “Effie!” by both Sirius and Mrs. Potter.

“Can’t believe you’re here, Reg! Let’s get you something to drink, eh?” Sirius says excitedly, dragging the tall-but-quiet buy he’s still attached to with him.

“Now would be a good time to run,” Regulus murmurs to the boy.

“We share a flat. I can’t run far,” the man says with a grin as Sirius shrieks about seeing another friend.

Ah. So this is Remus. Well, this will be interesting.

Regulus was imagining a proper party. With suits and ties and a five-course seated meal and six different types of silverware and lots of networking.

Well, it was a party, alright. And people certainly had suits and ties. Or they did, about six drinks ago.

Because this party has drinks. Not just a few, but an everlasting amount. And people are enjoying them.

“Never been to a Potter Christmas Party before?” Remus asks him with a smirk as he stands in a corner and nurses his fourth- fifth?- drink, the room spinning just a tad.

“Didn’t realize I’d need a designated driver,” Regulus murmurs back, though he’s safe, as he took a cab.

“Sirius told me that last year he threw up in the bushes,” Remus admits with an evil grin.

“Charming,” Regulus laughs.

But the conversation seems to stutter to a halt.

Because he sees someone across the room. A boy.

Alright, it’s not just a boy. It’s– it’s the most beautiful human Regulus has ever seen. His dark hair is tousled and he wears the nerdiest circular glasses. His tan skin is almost caramel-colored and his grin is jaw-dropping. He’s dressed in a navy suit and tie, but Regulus can see his muscles rippling just a bit under his clothes.

And then Regulus loses his breath.

The boy is looking at him.

He stares back, unable to tear his eyes away.

And then the boy, very purposely, looks Regulus up and down. Slowly.

And then he grins. And turns away.

And Regulus feels all…fuzzy. But in the most pleasant way. “Shots? I need shots,” Regulus hears himself say in a hoarse voice.

It’s going to be a long night.

The man is everywhere. When Regulus goes with Sirius to get another shot, he’s there in the kitchen chatting with Mrs- Effie. And he looks Regulus up and down again, his expression hungry.

Regulus almost spits out his shot.

When Regulus moves to a dining room, he’s there, too. He just has to squeeze behind Regulus to get to the plate of cookies. And as he does so, his entire chest brushes against Regulus’s back.

“Excuse me,” his low voice whispers right into Regulus’s ear.

Regulus almost drops his plate.

When Regulus moves to a sitting room to continue talking with Remus, he sees the man there, too. He’s speaking with Sirius. Regulus is too far away to hear what they’re saying, but the man keeps looking at him.

And Regulus looks back.

At some point throughout the night, someone puts on Christmas music. It blares through a speaker and some of the guests are tipsily dancing. Sirius is trying to lead Effie in a waltz as they both giggle hysterically and Remus takes pictures from the side.

And the boy is there. Again.

Except now, he’s walking directly toward Regulus.

“Care to dance?” he murmurs, his gaze almost piercing through Regulus, to his very soul.

Luckily, he’s taken dance lessons before. “Alright,” he agrees a bit nervously.

The boy leads him to a quieter spot in the room, away from Sirius’s insanity, and Regulus tries not to react to how it feels to just hold his hand. He’s not in middle school, after all. He shouldn’t feel so giddy. It must be the alcohol.

They begin to do a sort-of waltz that involves mostly just turning in a circle to the soft music in the background. As they do so, the boy’s hand rests on Regulus’s waist, his thumb moving back and forth slowly, making Regulus’s toes tingle a bit.

“You haven’t been here before,” the boy murmurs softly, looking almost desperately into Regulus’s eyes. “I- I’d remember you.”

Regulus can’t resist. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, pretending to be upset.

“I- no, I-”

“I’m joking,” he says with a smirk, and he feels the boy relax a bit.

“You’re…beautiful. That’s why,” the boy says, answering his earlier question.

And beneath the obvious attraction between them, Regulus senses that this boy is being genuine. And he almost melts right there. Nobody’s ever called him beautiful before. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“How am I doing at this dancing thing? My best friend says I’m terrible at it,” the boy asks, clearly trying to ease the tension, grinning wryly.

To be honest, he’s not great. But Regulus is just enjoying the way the boy’s hand is resting at his waist, making his skin there all hot. “You’re doing fine,” he allows, laughing, trying to resist the urge to pull the boy closer, so their bodies touch.

The boy shrugs, laughing, and Regulus is again stunned by his smile. “Well, I guess we all have our weaknesses. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you, really.”

And then they stare at each other, all attempts at conversations gone. And It’s cliché and ridiculous, but it’s like they’re the only people in the room. All Regulus can feel is the boy’s hand on his waist, the other clasped in his own. All he can see is the way the boy is staring at him- almost adoringly.

And then, they’re kissing.

And if Regulus liked the feeling of the boy’s hand on his waist, it’s nothing compared to the feeling of their lips together. It’s heat and perfection and desire but also somehow warm and gentle and caring. Regulus feels the want building in the base of his spine as suddenly, the boy’s hand lets go of his own and comes to the back of his neck to pull gently at his hair.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe Regulus is going crazy, but suddenly, he wants more. Fuck the fact that this is his Professor’s Christmas party.

But at least the boy seems to be on the same page, because as they separate, he grabs Regulus’s hand and drags him along yet another hallway, up some stairs, and into a bedroom.

And before he can really contemplate what they’re doing, he’s slammed up against the wall of the bedroom, the door closes, and the boy’s lips are all over him.

“Is this alright?” the boy murmurs gently, grabbing hesitantly at the hem of Regulus’s shirt, and he only has to nod once before his shirt is ripped off his body, followed quickly by the boy’s own jacket, tie, and shirt.

And God, his hands. They’re everywhere. Cool against Regulus’s hot skin, tracing against his pale chest as lips and teeth move along his neck, and he lets out a moan that is quite embarrassing, but it only seems to spur the boy on more.

He feels like he’s floating, the way the boy worships him, kissing seemingly everywhere at once- his neck and jaw and lips and shoulder.

And then two things happen simultaneously.

The boy’s hands start to move. It’s as if they’ve read Regulus’s mind, because all he can think is Fuck, lower, lower, yes, damnit, touch me lower.

But just as the hands are finally drifting over his waistband, the door opens.

“Jamie, you’re supposed to be sociali- oh!”

And to Regulus’s absolute horror, it’s Monty. Walking in the bedroom. To him and a half-naked boy.

He wants to run. Or hide. Or throw up.

But it all gets decidedly more confusing when Monty, who previously just looked dumbfounded, bursts out laughing.

He and the boy look at each other and back again, and Regulus is a bit relieved to see he looks confused, too.

“What-?”

But Monty finally catches his breath and says, “Well…I’m glad you two have, erm, met! James, this is Regulus, the TA I told you about! And Regulus, this is my son, James!”

Well. Whoops.

“Remember last year?” James murmurs into Regulus’s ear as they set out what feels like hundreds of bottles of wine for the annual Potter Christmas Party.

“Vividly,” Regulus says, but he hides a smile.

“Suppose we should do that again this year, but finish what we start- ow!” James shrieks, trying to turn away from Regulus’s light punch.

Regulus just rolls his eyes at his boyfriend. “Shut up, Potter.”

Leave comments and kudos here <3

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meemoop · 5 months ago

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I love the way you portray the characters. I enjoy this so much and now all I can think about is giving Draco in my fanfic a sassy, supportive cat. Nietzsche is the secret Star in this. xD

Your work inspires me so much. :3 What do you think is Dracos favourite food? Do you think about little facts like this for your characters?

Thank you so much 🥹🥹 you’re so kind! As for Draco’s favorite food, maybe it’d be something sweet and fancy like a crème brûlèe (or maybe because I’m craving one right now). As for little fun facts, I do! I even incorporated some in the comics! Draco is left handed—he’s always drawn writing with his left hand! Lucius wears reading glasses! Usually when he’s reading something, he is wearing glasses. Narcissa’s wedding ring (when it’s drawn) is always an emerald. So yeah, there’s fun facts riddled all over the comics 😭🫡

And I literally can’t find reading glasses Lucius rn. I know I’ve done it before…. but yes, anyway, these are the little facts I’ve put in when I remember to 🫡💕💗

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starhvney · 5 months ago

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heyyy can you do drabbles of the guys with you baby please? like just some nice domestic stuff :) maybe with garroth, laurance, gene, and dante please. thank youuuuub

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mys dante, garroth, gene, & laurance

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: it’s the little simple moments with them that end up sticking the longest

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: why is every mys man sassy? idk, it really is the sassy man apocalypse, anyways so much fluff, & slice of life

𝐂𝐖: none unless you're easily susceptible to baby fever

𝐀/𝐍: um, perfect prompt for father’s day i guess? yes i made all of them girl dads except for dante because i can what are you gonna do about it??? also i realized i either included sleep or food in each of the drabbles for babies cause like what else do you do with them?? like i love babies but i’m the baby of my family so like i’ve never even changed a diaper before lmaoo i just hold them sometimes if there’s one around i guess. ok i'll stop yapping sry

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄

at first you weren’t paying much attention, the goofy laughter of dante and your baby pretty common occurrence in your home. you mainly were focusing on some paperwork in front of you on the counter, something you had really been needing to get to for the past week and just hadn’t gotten a chance yet.

your hand is rubbing your eyebrow as you lean over, trying to process the words you're reading. nothing is really coming through, however, especially when another round of laughter comes from the two.

you could never be mad at the distraction, especially when the sound was the joy of both of the people you cherished and loved the most. you couldn’t help but investigate, though, especially since dante was just supposed to be feeding your son.

how funny could that be, for them to be laughing more than any eating was getting done?

just as you turn into the dining room, your met with the sight of yogurt and a blueberry meeting the floor with a comical plap.

very slowly, your eyes drift back up to the two boys in front of you, accusatorily squinting at the one that was supposed to be more responsible than the other.

dante sucks in some air through his teeth, looking guiltily at you before back to your baby in the chair. said baby’s mouth and hands are covered in yogurt, the boy blankly staring back at you.

a moment of silence passes, both of them staring at you like a deer in headlights before dante leans over to the boy, whispering out of the corner of his mouth.

“we’ve been caught.”

“are you two…having a food fight?” you question, hands on your hips.

“no!” dante defends, lifting another scoop of yogurt up to the boy. “he just refuses to actually eat, and then i laughed when he got it everywhere… and now he keeps smacking the spoon away to try and make me laugh again.”

you sigh, watching as your baby grips the spoon, smearing the yogurt in his hands and smearing it over his mouth. dante’s head falls forward, landing onto the edge of the high chair’s table as he quietly laughs at the spectacle.

“what is he doing? it’s so dumb, i don’t know why it’s so funny. look at his little face.” he laughs, lifting his head and pointing at the baby who sends the both of you a proud look.

“don’t—” your voice wobbles as you hold back the urge to laugh yourself. “—don’t encourage it, dante.”

“i’m not trying to!” he insists, lifting the spoon back up to your son’s face.

“dude, just eat the food!” dante giggles, the spoon of baby food shaking in front of the boy’s face as his whole body trembles with his laughter.

this time, it gets a little out of hand, his chubby hand smacking the spoon completely out of dante’s wobbly hands and splattering it onto the floor.

“alright, no more.” you say sternly, causing the two to look at you with pouty eyes. “i’m gonna clean him up and he can have a gogo squeez.”

you pace forward, scooping your son up from his seat and groaning when he smears his yogurt hands onto your clean shirt. dante stands up, grinning sheepishly and leaning forward to give you a peck on the lips.

“sorry.”

you smile sweetly, giggling when you raise your little one up to dante’s face, allowing him to also give a big ‘ol kiss onto dante’s face, therefore smearing yogurt all over his cheek.

“it’s fine! you’re going to clean it up, after all.”

his eyes widen, looking around at the mess before hitting his lower lip out, hands lacing together in a pleading motion. “no help?”

you raise an eyebrow. “dante.”

“yeah, that’s fair.” he immediately concedes, clearly not all that serious about making you help in the first place. he points in accusatory finger at your son, lips pouting as he bends down to meet his eye level.

“dang you for being so cute and funny like your dad, now you got me in trouble and you get to be pampered like you’re not the culprit.” he complains, and your son merely laughs at the stupid face he was making.

“you two are going to be a handful, no matter the age.” you sigh.

“but you’ll love us!” dante winks, leaning forward to kiss your cheek and very purposefully nuzzling his face against yours, smearing more yogurt all over your face, too.

“ugh, dante!”

“i love you~!”

𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇

there’s a certain fullness in your chest, something you can’t express in words at this moment. it’s such a simple, mundane day. yet, you’re lulled into an indescribable sense of comfort and love as the sound of your husband making your daughter’s laughter bounce off the walls fills the otherwise quiet house, all at the expense of him acting like a fool.

a few times your eyes had diverted from the steaming pot on the stove in front of you leaning over to glance into the living room to see what they were up to. the first time he had been playing peek-a-boo, the next it was him crawling around on all fours while she babbled what was probably meant to be “yeehaw!”, and the next after that he had been tossing her up into the air and dipping her back down like an airplane.

you had to focus your attention on draining the pasta and taking the heat off the meat you were cooking, finishing the final sauces and seasonings when you realized you hadn’t heard garroth’s deep voice nor your baby’s elated giggles for a good while.

wiping your hands off on your apron you step into the doorway, peering into the now silent room. any slight concern you felt disappears, instead replaced by awe as you gaze at the endearing sight in front of you.

garroth is lazed back on the couch, somehow completely passed out despite being wide awake just ten minutes ago. his mouth is open, soft snores leaving his mouth. his hand rests firmly on your daughter’s back, keeping her in place as she rests on his broad chest.

before the moment is wasted you dash back into the kitchen to grab your phone, shuffling back as light as you can on your feet to not disturb the peaceful moment. your girl is tuckered out, cheek squished against her dad’s chest, drool dripping down onto his shirt, arms and legs sprawled out onto the rest of his torso.

you click a few pictures of the scene, crouching down for a second to admire the tranquil and frankly adorable memory you’re sure to keep even when your baby isn’t a baby any longer.

you lightly reach out to garroth’s shoulder, squeezing and gently shaking it to wake him up. it doesn’t take more than that—which was very surprising based on how hard he usually slept—for him to crack open his sleepy eyes. you can’t help the tiny giggles that leave your mouth at how he looked, the poor man’s eyes glazed and cheeks pink. a baby with lots of energy will do that to you.

“hey, my love. dinner’s ready.” you whisper, leaning forward to press a kiss onto his cheek.

he squeezes his eyes shut with a sleepy groan, going to stretch before freezing, his hand still protectively on your daughter’s back despite his lack of awareness. you reach to pick her up before he lightly pushes your hand away with a jut of his lower lip.

“no, she’s cuddling me right now.”

you lean forward, head resting on the couch as you snicker at him. “yeah, and drooling all over you too, goofy.”

“at least it’s cute baby drool. when you drool on me though…”

a smack to his shoulder shuts him up. “i do not drool!”

“sure,” he retorts, his chuckles shaking the girls head and waking her from her light nap.

she reaches up to rub her little round eyes, lips spreading into an excited smile when she sees both her mommy and daddy are right there with her.

“time to eat! are you hungry?” you whisper, reaching forward to wiggle a finger against her stomach, making her giggle and squirm.

garroth chuckles again, lifting the girl up as he suddenly stands up. “ah! the tickle monster is gonna get you! don’t worry, my princess, i’ll save you!”

the girl squeals in laughter, still a bit sleepy as she leans on his shoulder as he rushes to the kitchen. you follow after with an amused eye roll, unfastening your apron and throwing it onto the counter as garroth plops the girl right down into her high chair.

as you pull down the plates garroth takes them from behind you, arms encasing you as he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“i got it. thank you for dinner, sweetheart.”

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄

this moment is perfect. sitting on one side of a blanket, your husband on the other side keeping your daughter steady on her chubby legs as you call for her to walk towards you. you felt so warm, from the setting sun shining on your skin and warming the blood in your veins, to the the swirl of love in your chest as you watch gene lift your daughter’s feet and march them forward.

he looks so soft like this, skin glowing and eyes shining with a certain warmth you would’ve never believed could be seen on him a few years ago. soft coos and high-pitched chants comically leave his mouth, cheering the little girl as she takes a step towards you.

“come on, baby girl. you can do it.” he says, proud smile on his face as she takes another step. “there you go!”

a moment later her legs wobble and give out on her. though it would’ve been a short fall onto a soft and padded ground, gene’s hands still shoot forward, lifting the girl up with a small, “woah-!” leaving his lips.

while this maneuver had worked several times before, it would seem your baby was quite fed up with this practice, frustrated whines beginning to leave her lips and feet kicking out in the air.

“it’s getting kind of late, huh…” you note, watching the sky begin to slowly dim and a few fireflies light up above your heads.

“yeah,” he says, cradling the little one to his chest similarly to how he did when she was even smaller than she was now. “and she did so good, right sweetheart?”

she seemed quite set on throwing a fit just mere seconds ago, but melts into her father’s arms with a giggle when he wiggles his fingers against her sides.

you feel yourself melting too at the sight, scooting forward and saving your daughter from the clutches of gene’s wrath with a clean scoop into your arms.

“aw, c’mon—” he starts, before his eyes drift to a firefly that landed right on his knee.

your baby’s attention immediately drifts to the soft flash of light from the bug, the cutest little gasp leaving her lips as she leans towards it in your arms.

he imitates her tiny gasp with his own, eyes reflecting the yellow-green glow from the bug as he carefully cups his hand around it, lifting it up towards her face and cracking them open for her to peer into.

“wow!” she softly gasps again, tiny hand wrapping around one of gene’s fingers to steady herself as she sleepily wobbles.

gene opens his hand, letting the firefly go off into the air. she sleepily blinks up into the dimming sky, lower lip beginning to wobble and eyebrows furrowing in irritation.

“oh, someone’s getting sleepy.” he coos, taking the girl from your arms as you start to gather the blanket up.

he holds her like a newborn, rocking her and ghosting light kisses against her forehead. she immediately flutters her eyes shut, one hand grasping onto his shirt and the other curling by her face like a little princess, just as gene had spoiled her to be.

“she’s getting so big. soon enough she’ll be too big for you to carry her like that all the time.” you say, pressing a kiss on her forehead as you two begin the short trek back into your neighborhood.

“not true,” he defends, voice quiet as he stares down at the features of her face. “i can carry you, so i can carry her until she doesn’t let me anymore.”

you don’t say anything to this, noticing the sentimental gleam in the deep color of his irises.

“someone’s feeling soft.” you lightly tease, brushing your shoulder against his. “whatcha thinkin’ about?”

he doesn’t respond for a second, eyes slowly blinking before he finally looks at you, the amount of love in his eyes not diminishing in the slightest.

“thank you.” he says, voice quiet and tender.

“…for what?” you softly return.

“if you told me in high school, no, even after that, that i was married to you and had a baby and was living a happy life… i would’ve laughed in your face.” he takes a deep breath, leaning over to kiss your forehead and doing the same to the girl in his arms. “i never knew this is what i wanted until i met you. thank you.”

𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

once again, like clockwork, the shrill cries of your baby girl interrupt the peaceful quiet of the night. once again, your tired eyes peel open, muscles flinching for you to get up and comfort your child despite the exhaustion that settles deep into your bones.

before you can even prop yourself onto one arm, your husband’s hand settles firmly on your hip, keeping you from leaving the warm comfort of your shared bed.

“no, stay in bed. i’ll deal with her this time.” he leans in to whisper in your ear, voice raspy from a lack of sleep and the late hour.

“you got her last time, though.”

“and you take care of her all the time when i’m working.” his hand moves down to your hip where he squeezes, pressing a kiss onto the side of your face. “go back to sleep.”

any further protests die from your throat when you feel the bed dip as he leaves, quietly closing the door behind him to go to the nursery across the hall. as soon as the door shuts so do your eyelids, as you feel yourself involuntarily drift back to a half asleep state.

it’s not until you wake back up quite a few moments later, hand reaching to laurance’s side of the bed only to find it empty and cold. you groan, turning to double check before catching the faint sound of the water running in the bathroom.

with a sigh, you leave the bed, holding back the shiver as the chill of the cool bedroom bites at your skin. cracking open the bathroom door, you find the lights off, room lit just by a candle and the nightlight by the sink. steam fills the whole room from the hot shower that ran, and you see laurance in the center of the room, gently rocking your little girl back to sleep.

he looks up to you, usually bright eyes heavy lidded from lack of sleep and shoulders slumped. his hair is a little dampened and flat from the moisture in the air, skin glowing as the heat stuck to his skin. despite this, he can’t help the soft smile that stays curved on his lips as he looks from your daughter to you as you approach him.

“she’s just now falling back asleep.” he whispers, voice barely audible over the water hitting the shower floor. “

you nod, standing in front of him to gaze at the girl in his arms. her eyes fluttered as if she were still trying to stubbornly fight off sleep. her little lips pouted as a bit of bubbled drool left her lips, perfectly content and comfortable in her daddy’s arms.

you quietly hum a small tune, one of your fingers lightly ghosting along the slope of her nose. it has the same curve as laurance’s, just as the similar shape and color of her eyes to the man that held her.

you couldn’t help the surge of affection that overwhelmed you, reaching forward to plant your lips on his and place a few more along his face and neck. he leans forward as you pull back, quietly groaning before looking down at the small girl that was keeping him from making any hasty decisions.

“if your mommy isn’t careful we’re gonna end up with another one of you.” he sweetly coos, gently rocking her.

“…i just kissed you.” you quietly giggle, looking down to see the girl had officially drifted into dreamland.

laurance merely smiles in return with a raised eyebrow, following after you back into the nursery. his focus diverts as he ever so gently sets your daughter back down to rest, releasing a sigh of relief as she doesn��t make a hint of protest, merely settling down into the crib.

you find yourself drifting to his side before he can turn back around, arms wrapping around his waist as you gaze down at the little girl in the blankets.

“she’s exhausting, but beautiful.” you quietly sigh, finger reaching down to brush against the soft skin of her cheek.

“just like her mom.”

it takes a moment for the tired and content fogginess in your brain to clear, realizing what he just said.

“…excuse me?”

silent laughter shakes the both of you as he hugs you closer, dipping you down into his arms and pressing a kiss against your cheek.

“i’m just joking, of course.” he giggles, peppering kisses along your jaw.

“a terrible joke. awful joke.” you say, though you couldn’t help the laughter that threatened to bubble from your lips, voice trembling with amusement.

“i’m a dad now, i’m allowed to make bad jokes.”

“oh whatever, you nerd.”

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

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fatratinatophat · 2 months ago

Text

Scraps, a particularly lonely toon made of pom poms and paper, desperately wishes for a friend who shares her interests. Yes, she has friends, and she’s very grateful for them, but few of them enjoy the same things she does, and everyone else seems to either have a best friend to talk to or they seem fine being alone, unlike her. Desperately craving for someone who would never leave her side, she comes up with an imaginary friend/brother, “Goob”. A craft, like her, made of fabric and stuffing who loves hugs, whose favorite color is blue, and who loves hanging out with his sister more than anything. She gets so attached to him in fact that she becomes desperate to make him real, even if he isn’t technically alive. After a particularly rough day, she decides to cave in and create a life sized replica of the fluffy craft using her fabric hoarde, stuffing, and a pair of googly eyes. Little does she know, something wonderful is about to happen.

This- AU? Mini comic? Idk what to even call this (Someone tell me if this would be considered an AU I’ve never done this before-) Will be a multi page mini comic revolving around my headcanon that Scraps made Goob because she wanted someone who shared her interests. It takes place before the events of the game so there’s nothing about like Twisteds or anything. I don’t exactly know how many pages this will be. It’s VERY self indulgent so uh yeah. It starts off a bit sad but it has a happy ending.

Also small warning, I’ve never worked on a comic more than 1 page and especially a more serious one so it may be absolutely garbage idk. Also thank my best friend for this existing he wanted me to make it after I mentioned it, also he’s kind of my co-editor since he helped me with the dialogue and such.

“Hey Crumb you forgot Scrap’s paint and bracelets and stuff” that’s intentional dw chat

Masterpost | Page 1

I am a normal, sane individual who is not obsessed with a Roblox game. I am a normal, sane individual who is not obsessed with a Roblox game. I am a normal, sane individual who is not obsessed with a Roblox game. I am a normal, sane individual who is not obsessed with a Roblox game. I am a normal, sane individual who is not obsessed with a Roblox game. I am a normal, sane individual who is not obsessed with a Roblox game. I am a normal, sane individual who is not obsessed with a Roblox game. I am a normal, sane individual who is not obsessed with a Roblox game. I am a normal, sane individual who is not obsessed with a Roblox game. I am a normal, sane individual who is not obsessed with a Roblox game. I am a normal, sane individual who is not obsessed with a Roblox game. I am a normal, sane individual who is not obsessed with a Roblox game. I am a normal, sane individual who is not obsessed with a Roblox game. I am a normal, sane individual who is not obsessed with a Roblox game. I am a normal, sane individual who is not obsessed with a Roblox game. I am a normal, sane individual who is not obsessed with a Roblox ga-

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teineplaysveilguard · 8 days ago

Text

I first bought Dragon Age: Origins about two days after release, and I was instantly hooked. I played it six times back-to-back, just to experience every origin story. After that, I kept replaying to see every possible decision and its impact. Honestly I am not sure how many times I finished origins as it was over several platforms and accounts… but it is a LOT.

DA2 came out while I was in hospital (severe manic episode and psychosis) but as soon as I got home, I dove into it. I’ve written before on my main about how much I related to Anders, partially because of the timing, but honestly, I adore everything about DA2.

I have since finished DA2 NINETEEN TIMES! Honestly I love Kirkwall so much… I love everything about the tragedy that was Hawkes live. The tragedy of Hawke’s life, the way no amount of effort or care could fix the deeply ingrained, systemic issues—it’s gut-wrenching and perfect.

Fifthteen years later there are aspects of that game I still onbsess over, the enigma of Kirkwall for example… I had so many theories, none of which are likely to ever be addressed now…

Yes, the game had issues. All games do. Some of the writing was shallow in places; occasionally a companion says or does something that feels a little out of character. Anders and Fenris were treated like narrative mouthpieces at points. Aveline’s character development is a little questionable, and, of course, the copy-paste environments were rough. But for me, the positives—the depth of the narrative, the snippets of lore and background, the things I loved—overshadowed the negatives.

Do you know how shitty it is to know that all my left in the fade Hawkes just don't matter? Which ye I guess in some ways is fitting for the guy who accomplished nothing, who couldn’t even actually kill Meredith or Corypheus, for their final sacrifice to mean nothing… but still…

Then there was Inquisition. Once again I gain it on the day of release, I may have even pre-ordered it I can't rememeber… Anyway, I’ll admit I wasn’t sold on it at first. It felt too much like a “hero narrative”—which is hard to explain, but I couldn’t connect with it initially. The companions didn’t grab me right away either. But over time, I warmed to it, and now I’ve played it six (almost seven) times, obsessively picking up every bit of lore.

same with the books… the comics… that game in the keep that I forget the name of… I've even played the table top game and DMed it

And now we have veilguard...

I was so excited to go to Tevinter in game. Tevinter has fascinated by for so long.

And I… I cannot even put into words just how disappointed I am in veilguard…

I don’t want to be “that guy” who just tears it apart—plenty of people have already done the analysis, pointed out the retcons, and broken down how much lore feels ignored.

But I need to vent somewhere, and none of my IRL friends care.

In essence, the game feels sanitised...

But here is the crux of my issue, or at least the disturbing part:

I have zero desire to replay veilguard…

#dragon age veilguard #veilguard #dragon age #teine plays veilguard #veilguard spoilers #veilguard critical #I guess

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cailinsblog · 1 month ago

Note

If you are willing to can you do a Ethan Edwards x Y/N Hughes story. The plot line (which you can totally change) can be that it is the first time Y/N Hughes brought a boy home and none of her family was expecting it to be Ethen. And also if you are comfortable you can also add in How Ellen and Jim approve of Ethen for their daughter. Thank You

Omg I love this thank you for the request please keep sending requests thank you💕

The Right Choice: A Hughes Family Welcome for Ethan Edwards

Ethan Edward’s x reader hughes

It was a cold Saturday morning, and Y/N was buzzing with nerves as she drove with Ethan toward her family’s lake house. She’d been dating Ethan for a few months now, but between his commitments with the University of Michigan and her own busy schedule, she hadn’t had the chance to introduce him to her family yet. This was the first time she’d ever brought a boyfriend home, and there was a certain pressure that came with dating someone who was, first and foremost, her older brothers’ teammate.

As they pulled into the long, winding driveway, Ethan took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re quiet,” he murmured, glancing at her with a reassuring smile.

She sighed, her mind racing. “It’s just… they’re protective, you know? Especially Quinn and Jack. I’ve never done this before, and I just don’t know how they’ll react.” Her hands felt clammy, and she could feel her heart racing, but Ethan’s calm presence helped her breathe just a little easier.

The front door flew open as soon as they parked, and Jack, her ever-energetic middle brother, jogged down the steps. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening in disbelief as he took in the sight of Ethan stepping out of the car and walking around to Y/N’s side.

“Ethan?” Jack asked, eyebrows shooting up. “Wait, you’re Y/N’s boyfriend?” He looked almost comically stunned as his eyes flicked between the two of them.

Ethan’s calm smile didn’t waver. “Hey, Jack. Surprise?”

“You’re… Ethan Edwards?” Jack echoed, shaking his head as if to clear it. Y/N laughed, grabbing Ethan’s hand and giving it a little squeeze. “Yeah, he is,” she confirmed, a blush creeping up her cheeks. She was about to add something when Quinn appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable. He approached them slowly, eyes fixed on Ethan with a mix of curiosity and protectiveness.

After a beat, Quinn broke into a grin. “Alright, Ethan. Guess I don’t have to worry about you on the ice anymore—you’ll be too busy looking out for my sister.” He offered a hand, which Ethan shook firmly. “But really, man,” Quinn added with a warm smile, “it’s good to have you here.”

They all walked up the stairs to find Ellen and Jim waiting inside. Y/N’s mom looked surprised, eyebrows raised as her eyes swept over Ethan. “Ethan Edwards?” she asked, looking at her daughter with a hint of amusement.

“Yes, Mom,” Y/N replied, almost shyly. She didn’t quite know what to expect, but her mother’s approving smile put her at ease.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Ethan. Heard a lot about you,” Ellen said, pulling him into a warm hug. Jim came up next, his smile as genuine as ever. “He’s got my seal of approval,” he said with a nod and a firm handshake. “Not just anyone can keep up with these Hughes boys. But I’ll be watching you,” he teased with a wink, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh.

The weekend went by like a blur. The family quickly warmed up to Ethan, charmed by his humility, genuine kindness, and the way he clearly adored Y/N. There was something about the way he looked at her, the way he instinctively reached for her hand or brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, that left no doubt he was completely smitten.

On their last night at the lake house, they all gathered around a fire pit, with the stars twinkling above them. Ethan had his arm around Y/N, keeping her close as she nestled against him, soaking in the warmth of the fire and the comfort of his embrace. Jack, who had been skeptical at first, finally relaxed and admitted he was glad Ethan was the one Y/N had brought home.

“So, does this mean you’ll play nicer with him on the ice?” Y/N teased Jack with a grin.

Jack scoffed, “He’ll still have to earn every goal against me. But I’ll go easy on him—sometimes.”

The night wound down, and as Y/N and Ethan found themselves alone on the back deck, overlooking the lake, she felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Not only did her family accept Ethan, but they genuinely liked him. And it was clear he felt the same. He gazed down at her, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “You really do have an incredible family,” he murmured.

“They’re your family too, now,” she whispered back, and he leaned in, brushing his lips gently against hers.

In that quiet moment, with her family inside and the lake stretching out beneath a blanket of stars, Y/N knew she had made the right choice. Ethan was the perfect fit—not just for her, but for the whole Hughes family.

Please request and reblog

#hockey #nhl #fanfic #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards #Ethan Edward’s x you #michigan hockey #michigan #michigan x reader #hughes brothers

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deoidesign · 11 months ago

Note

if i may ask, is it difficult at all to re-edit/organize the comic pages from the webtoon format to fit the graphic novel format?

on another note, I'm so happy that your kickstarter was funded!!! I love time and time again, im so excited to see this all happen <3

I'll just turn this ask into something of a guide for the process! Because yes, it is difficult, but there are also many ways I have been preparing from the beginning for this very situation to make things easier for me!

I've worked in both print and scroll in the past, and have done this transition once before for a short story, so I already had familiarity both with my goals for print, and struggles with the transition!

How I prepared from the beginning for this transition:

1: My panels are 2500 pixels wide, so they can span my page (which is 8.3x5.8 inches) at 350 DPI (which is print quality)

2: My layers are organized: Text, FX, Foreground, Characters, Background

3: I draw one very large (twice as big as any panel would be, minimum) background for my major locations, as well as drawing furniture assets in isolation. This not only saves me time when making my actual episodes, but it also offers me INCREDIBLE flexibility when making this transition to print.

These 3 things let me pull the character art to the page by itself, scale it up or down to fit my panel, and then fill in the background behind the character.

So, I read the scroll version, decide how many and which panels I want on the page for the pacing (I also keep page spreads and page turns in mind while I am doing this), and then I pull those panels over from the scroll version to the page.

Then, I make the panel borders/page layout that I want, fit the character art into it, paste in the backgrounds, do any art editing that I need, add FX, and then re-do the text!

Sometimes I do need to draw parts that are missing (shoulders or elbows getting cut off is an extremely common one) and sometimes I need to adjust facial expressions, cut panels, or rearrange panels to make things read more clearly. Since it's my comic already, I know how to do these things while maintaining the original intent, but if I were working with someone else's comic I would need to work closely with them to know what can and can't be cut.

(original panel vs an expanded version)

Another common issue is that VERY tall panels will inevitably lose a lot of information when they’re turned to pages. Identify the purpose of the panel (pacing, showing a lot of detail, etc) and then replicate that with your page layout.

examples (in order) are: scene transition, being overwhelmed, suspense, and establishing shot. All of these were a single panel in the scroll version!

Another issue when converting pages is that panel order is a lot less straightforward than when starting from print format. Conversational back and forth that's fine in scroll often messes up the flow of reading in a page (characters facing out, not looking at eachother from panel to panel, etc) and so some creative solutions are necessary to keeping the reading order.

For the first page I had to delete and rearrange some panels, and in the second the dialogue bubbles guide us to read this page in a circle. (dialogue guides through a lot of my pages lol)

And the last really common issue that pops up is that height differences can be really difficult. Usually in print this is solved with clever angles, but I’ve already drawn everything. So, I’ll either resort to vertical shaped panels, panel pop-outs, or editing a character up or down to fit into the panel.

(examples in order)

So, yes, it is difficult! But I have a lot of experience with both formats, and having prepared for this from the beginning I've been able to make the transition a LOT more smoothly than I otherwise could have.

I hope this helps!

And, thank you about the kickstarter! I'm extremely excited I'll be able to print these, the proofs I've received so far look just absolutely stunning and I'm so so so excited to get to send them to people!!!

Obligatory self promo, if you want to see the kickstarter page and get these four books for yourself, then you can check it out here ^^ It's been funded, so at this point we're just reaching stretch goals and placing orders!

#asks #anon #art tips #comic tips #web comics #comic books #comic advice #also this is just my own experience obviously everyone works differently and I cant promise this will work for you too #but doing things this way I've been able to finish about an episode (15 pages or so) every day #so it's been extremely swift (though also of course a ton of work)#thank you past me for making this so easy!!!#it'd easily take 5x as long without the prep I did!!!

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neo-my-geo · 1 year ago

Text

Hey gang, it’s your old pal Neo here. If you know me, it’s probably from one of the several very stupid TF2 comics I’ve posted to Tumblr.

However! I am also an English major (unfortunately). One who has read millions of words worth of fanfiction in their life. I have been part of the Sherlock, BNHA, Disco Elysium, and, of course, TF2 fandoms; I’ve been around the block.

The further I’ve progressed into my English education, the more I’ve noticed which mistakes are the most common in fanfiction. Many of them are easily fixable; writers just need to be pointed in the right direction.

“Neo! Does this mean you think people shouldn’t be allowed to post their works online without a background in formal English education?”

Of course not! I can explain why if you’d care to venture below the cut with me!

Yes, I will explain how to use commas.

It’s important to note that this is NOT a post about formal writing. You aren’t writing an essay. Please, for the love of god, do not write fiction like you’re writing an essay.

There are no stakes to writing fanfic. No one is going to get hurt if an author doesn’t know what a dangling participle is. One of my favourite things about fanfiction is that it’s one of the only art forms left that’s done exclusively for fun! You should write what you enjoy, and share what you make with like-minded people.

What I want to do is provide assistance as best I can to writers who want to improve their fundamentals without having to take the same university courses I did. Nobody is going to be getting a formal education to write fanfiction unless they’re ridiculously dedicated, and I’m not expecting that of anyone.

The point I need to stress is that knowing these grammar fundamentals can instantly improve the flow of your writing. Punctuation is a ridiculously important tool for writers, ESPECIALLY in fiction. Commas, semicolons, and full stops (including periods, exclamation points, and question marks) steer the pacing in the reader’s mind; did you notice how your brain stopped for a second after that semicolon? I can show you how to do that.

You may be wondering why I’m going through so much effort to teach all of this to strangers on the internet. The answer is that I enjoy sharing this knowledge with others and helping them grow. By seeing this, my goal is to help you become more proficient at self-editing. Showing this to people who actually want to learn will, hopefully, benefit the community as a whole, and I think that’s very worth it.

Also, while this post is obviously themed around TF2, the points I’m making can be applied to any fiction. Grammar is for everyone, and the church of the semicolon always has room for more initiates.

Also also, as an edit, I should clarify that this is meant to cover the more objective facets of self-editing, which is why I'm mostly covering punctuation. Maybe I'll do another post about using adjectives someday.

With that out of the way, let’s get going!

I’ve teamed up with several English teachers (real ones! One of which may or may not be my mom!) and an editor to gather a list of the most common problems we see in amateur fiction. This post is going to be split into three broad sections: apostrophes, commas/semicolons, and other common problems.

The apostrophe

This section is short, but it holds weight. Other than commas, apostrophes are the most typoed grammatical tool in any fanfiction I’ve edited. This is because, much like the rest of English, the rules surrounding them can be annoying and inconsistent.

Apostrophes have two main uses: possessives and conjunctions.

A possessive is a word that denotes the ownership of one thing over another. The vast majority of the time, this is done using an apostrophe and an S.

There is, however, one glaring exception to this rule, and it’s the bane of my existence.

When denoting possession of an object over something else while using the pronoun ‘it,’ you do NOT add an apostrophe before the S.

A conjunction, on the other hand, is when a writer uses an apostrophe to combine two words. The following are examples of common conjunctions:

What’s (what is)

They’re (they are)

It’s (it is)

Conjunctions are not often used in formal writing. Thankfully, we aren’t dealing in formal writing. Go crazy.

Time for a lightning round of the most commonly mistaken for each other possessives and conjunctions!

Your is possessive. You’re is a conjunction of ‘you’ and ‘are.’ When you can’t decide which one to use, imagine replacing it with ‘you are’ and seeing if it makes sense. If it doesn’t, use your.

Their is possessive. There indicates a location. They’re is a conjunction of ‘they’ and ‘are.’

The comma and the semicolon

You knew it was coming. I knew it was coming. It’s time to talk about commas.

Commas and semicolons are far and away the biggest grammatical hole in the toolset of fanfiction writers everywhere. They’re often treated like the rules surrounding them are complicated and difficult to understand, but the exact opposite is true!

The big issue I’ve heard time and time again is that the rules of commas are often explained through metaphor instead of example; this means that writers everywhere have slightly different ideas of how you’re supposed to use them. The fact of the matter is that, yes, there are correct and incorrect ways to use commas. Knowing when they’re appropriate and when they aren’t is easily the fastest way to bring your writing from looking amateurish to sounding professional and experienced.

In order to know how to use a comma, you must first understand the difference between a dependent and an independent clause.

An independent clause is a section of writing that functions perfectly well as its own sentence. It MUST have both a subject and an action/verb.

A sentence without an independent clause is known as a fragment, and they’re the bane of English teachers with highlighters everywhere.

A dependent clause is a section of writing that does not have both a subject and an action; it does not function as its own sentence.

Now, let’s say you want to combine the two. When joining a dependent clause to an independent clause, the order in which they are placed is crucial to whether you use a comma or not.

When joining a dependent to an independent with the independent clause first, you do not need to use a comma.

When joining a dependent to an independent with the dependent clause first, you MUST use a comma.

Keep in mind that, if one strives for total grammatical perfection, all narrative sentences MUST have an independent clause. This, however, does not apply to dialogue. Human beings do not think about whether what they’re saying is a dependent clause, and neither would the vast majority of fictional characters. Don’t be afraid to break the rules of grammar as long as it’s contained within quotation marks.

Alright, that’s the easy part. Time to learn about joining two independent clauses. It’s semicolon time, baby!

If you join two independent clauses without properly using a comma or a semicolon, it is a run-on sentence. You do not want these in your writing. They’re awkward to read and mess up the flow.

When joining two independent clauses, you can use EITHER a comma or a semicolon. You just need to follow these rules:

If you’re joining two independent clauses with a comma, you MUST use a joining word (and, but, so, etc.) AFTER the comma.

If you’re joining two independent clauses with a semicolon, you do NOT need to use a joining word.

Did you know that a sentence with a comma counts as its own independent clause? This means that you can make a sentence that includes a mix of both without it being a run-on! Just make sure that, no matter what, the semicolon is between two independent clauses.

Still, try not to write more than two clauses in a sentence too often. Sentences with a lot of punctuation are very attention-grabbing, but shouldn’t be overused. Full stops aren’t your enemy and variety is the spice of life.

It’s also important to remember that you should avoid using more than one comma in a clause (with the exception of the rule below). That part loops back to the 'avoiding run-ons' bit.

It’s really that easy!

Commas are also used in informal writing to inject a separate thought or descriptor mid-sentence without breaking the flow by adding a period. This is often used when describing the perspective of a character experiencing something in a story, but not (usually) when using omniscient perspectives.

The final issue I frequently see with commas in fanfiction is in regards to dialogue. Sometimes you end it with them, and sometimes you don’t. What gives?

Well, my friend, the answer is, thankfully, much simpler than the previous section.

When following dialogue with a dialogue tag, use a comma instead of a full stop. If you’re continuing the previous sentence after the tag, use a comma after it as well.

Note that a dialogue tag is a short phrase that identifies the speaker. It isn’t a complete sentence on its own.

When following dialogue with an action that does not serve as a dialogue tag, use a full stop instead of a comma.

Other common problems

This section is dedicated to putting specific grammatical errors into words, along with how to solve them.

Not sticking to the chosen point of view

Always choose your point of view before you start. Is it in the first, second, or third person? Is it omniscient or limited? Does the point of view switch during the story?

First person perspective is told as if the POV character is directly describing their experience to the reader. The character uses I and we to describe their own actions.

Second person perspective is told as if the reader is a character in the story and their actions are being described to them. This is the rarest, and the most difficult to write.

Third person perspective is the most common and the simplest to write. The events of the story are a separate entity from the reader altogether and the narrator uses they/he/she/it pronouns for characters.

Omniscient perspective means the narrator of the story knows all, including the thoughts and feelings of each character.

Limited perspective means the narrator of the story only knows what the POV character knows.

Past and present tense

When you decide between writing a story in past or present tense, it is crucial that you do not switch between them unless it is narratively intentional. Reading a past tense story that mistakenly switches to the present tense is like being pulled out of the room someone is telling a story in and suddenly taking part in it yourself. It’s disorienting and gives the reader unwanted pause.

Overly-long paragraphs

A common adage spread by English teachers is that most paragraphs should be at least eight sentences long. This is great advice for beginner essays. You’re writing fiction.

If you have a new thought, start a new paragraph! A concise and well-read single-sentence paragraph is infinitely better than one that drags a thought for too long. Aim to have a blend of paragraph lengths when you write, alternating between the descriptive and the punctual.

Dangling participles

A dangling participle is when a word is used to describe a noun that isn’t actually present in the sentence. Much like how a sentence without an action isn’t grammatically correct, neither is a sentence without a subject.

Malapropisms

A malapropism is when an author mistakenly uses one word or phrase instead of another similar-sounding one. I’m not about to list every single malapropism ever made, but these are the ones I notice most often:

To comprehend is to understand something, to apprehend is to arrest someone, and to be apprehensive is to be anxious or fearful of something bad happening.

Could care less means you do care. Couldn’t care less means you don’t.

A lot means a large amount of something. Alot isn’t a word and you shouldn’t use it.

The only real solution to using malapropisms is to make sure you fully understand any words you use in your writing. Never guess, and make sure you always google it. Having beta readers also helps.

If you made it this far, congratulations! You now know the most common errors in amateur fiction and how to solve them! Thank you for listening to me complain for two thousand words.

The most important thing to remember is that it’s okay to make mistakes. First drafts are always gonna be a little bad. The real key to success is knowing what your end goal is, and how you plan on achieving it. Here’s hoping this was a helpful tool for that!

Shoutout to @salmonandsoup for helping me think of the list of issues to address! You're a real one. Also shoutout to my mom, who doesn't have Tumblr. Also the third person. You know who you are.

#grammarposting #tf2 #grammar #educational shitpost #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #writing advice #fanfiction writing advice #team fortress 2 #tf2 fanfiction #bro your participle is dangling

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sacrednova · 2 months ago

Text

The Unofficial Task Force | Task Force 141

Short storys, funny moments ft Fem!Reader. NOT SMUT, just funny things. COMPLETE, all in one post! Summary: Chaotic and hilarious comic series, featuring Soap, Gaz, Ghost, Price, and you getting into all sorts of ridiculous situations.

The Case of the Missing Puzzle Piece

There was a strange sense of satisfaction in the air as you, Soap, and Gaz sat on the floor of the common room, staring intently at the nearly completed puzzle. Nearly being the keyword. After two hours of squinting at pieces and arguing over which one fit where, you were finally down to the last piece.

Except for one tiny problem.

"The last piece is missing," Soap groaned, slumping back and running a hand through his mohawk in pure frustration.

"You sure you didn’t eat it?" Gaz asked, staring daggers at Soap.

"I don’t eat puzzle pieces!" Soap shot back, offended.

"Sounds like something a puzzle-eater would say," you muttered, scanning the floor around you, convinced that if you stared long enough, it would magically appear.

Gaz shook his head, already looking annoyed. "I’m telling you, Johnny, it was here a minute ago. You were messing with it. It’s your fault."

Soap shot Gaz an incredulous look, eyes wide. "What? My fault? How's it my fault? You were the one hogging all the edge pieces like a bloody hoarder! Maybe ye lost it!"

"I was keeping them organized!" Gaz said defensively, and looked at you. "I bet you lost it. You’ve been sitting there, acting like you know what you're doing, but I see through it. You’ve had a distracted look the whole time."

You blinked at him. "Oh, come on, why am I getting blamed here? I’ve been doing most of the work while you two argue about who’s better at puzzles."

"Yeah, because I am better!" Soap argued.

"You are not!" Gaz shot back.

"Okay, okay!" You raised your hands in surrender, deciding to be the voice of reason for once. "Let’s think this through. One of us must’ve dropped it. Or… maybe…" You trailed off, narrowing your eyes. "Ghost has been awfully quiet."

The room went still. You, Soap, and Gaz turned simultaneously, glancing at Ghost, who was sitting in the corner of the room with his arms crossed. He hadn’t said a word the entire time, just watched you three idiots fight over a puzzle.

Ghost remained motionless under your collective scrutiny, almost like a statue. You squinted harder. Wait… Was that… a small smile under that mask? No. No way. Not Ghost. He was always stoic, unreadable. But you had a hunch.

"Ghost…" you called out slowly, standing up. "Where’s the last piece?"

Nothing. Just silence.

You took a cautious step toward him, eyes narrowing. "You've been awfully quiet. Too quiet."

Soap’s face lit up with realization. "Oi! Ghost! Ye’ve had it the whole time, haven’t ye, ya cheeky bastard!"

Gaz’s jaw dropped. "No way. No way. Ghost wouldn’t do that."

You all stared at Ghost as if you’d just uncovered the greatest betrayal in military history.

Ghost, without moving an inch, reached into his pocket, and sure enough—there it was. The missing puzzle piece.

Soap gasped, dramatically clutching his chest. "I knew it! Betrayed by me own lieutenant!"

Ghost’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he slowly, agonizingly slowly, turned the puzzle piece between his gloved fingers, watching all of you like a cat playing with its prey.

You folded your arms and shook your head. "You’ve had it this whole time? Seriously?"

Ghost finally spoke, his deep, gravelly voice dripping with dry humor. "Maybe. Just wanted to see how long it’d take before you all lost your minds."

Gaz rubbed his temples in disbelief. "Well, mission accomplished. You should’ve been a bloody interrogator with tactics like that."

Ghost finally got up, towering over all of you, and with a smooth motion, placed the final piece into the puzzle.

"Done," he said, stepping back to admire the completed picture. His tone was casual, but you could tell from the slight tilt of his head that he was satisfied. Like he’d just completed a covert mission.

Soap looked between the puzzle and Ghost, then threw his hands in the air. "I swear, Ghost, yer a madman."

"Technically," you piped in, grinning, "he’s a puzzle mastermind."

Ghost just shrugged, turning to leave the room without another word, but you caught the faintest chuckle before he vanished through the door.

Soap shook his head, disbelief still all over his face. "I cannae believe it. Ghost, the ultimate puzzle villain."

Gaz chuckled, patting you on the shoulder. "Next time, remind me not to play games with him. Man’s got a twisted sense of humor."

You laughed, finally feeling the tension melt away. "We definitely all need therapy after this."

As Ghost's footsteps faded, Soap muttered, “Aye, but ye’ve gotta admit… the bloke knows how to keep things interesting.”

Surviving the Heat: Unsolved Mysteries

It was one of those summer days where the heat was so oppressive that even breathing felt like a chore. You and Soap were sprawled out on the ground in the shade, limbs splayed like overcooked noodles, trying to survive the sweltering temperature. Neither of you had the energy to move or even speak properly. You were like two deflated balloons, resigned to the heat-induced delirium.

"I feel like a puddle," you groaned, staring blankly at the sky, the sun glaring down at you like it had a personal vendetta.

Soap made an unintelligible noise of agreement beside you, his face smooshed against the grass. "I swear, I’m melting. If ye find a soapy puddle later, it’s just me."

You let out a weak laugh, the sound coming out more like a wheeze. "I don’t think I’ve ever been this hot. Even the shade isn’t helping. We’re done for."

Soap turned his head slightly toward you, eyes half-closed. "Y’think Price sweats under his facial hair?"

The question hung in the air for a moment, and you blinked, your heat-fried brain trying to process it.

"Like… does he have a mini sauna going on under there?" Soap added, clearly trying to keep his mind occupied with nonsense.

You snorted, the ridiculous mental image giving you some energy. "Oh, for sure. A whole rainforest ecosystem. He probably has birds nesting in there too."

Soap chuckled weakly, but the sound was pitiful in the heat. "Oi, speaking of mysteries, d’you reckon Ghost ever takes off his mask when it’s this hot?"

You turned your head, squinting in the sunlight. "No way. That thing’s like fused to his soul or something. Man probably wears it to bed."

"Imagine if he has a whole collection of ‘em," Soap mused, now fully invested in this line of nonsense. "A mask for every occasion—casual, formal, tropical weather…"

Before you could reply, you heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Gaz appeared, striding towards you like he was on a mission, looking far too smug for a man under this level of heat.

"Oi, guys," Gaz called out, his voice full of confidence, "I’ve got the answers you’re looking for."

You both turned your heads slowly, intrigued by his dramatic entrance. Soap’s face perked up slightly, though it was still squished into the ground. "Gaz, mate, ye better be bringing good news. Is there a fan? An air conditioner? Cold drinks?"

Gaz grinned like he was about to drop the knowledge of the century. "I know if Price sweats under his beard, and I know if Ghost takes off his mask in the heat."

You and Soap exchanged wide-eyed glances, tension rising. This was it. Finally, the mystery would be solved. Gaz, with his epic entrance and air of importance, was about to reveal everything.

The world seemed to still as you both leaned in, awaiting his revelation.

Just then, Ghost walked right past you, mask still firmly on, looking as composed as ever despite the scorching heat. His black combat gear somehow not turning him into a human furnace.

Behind him, Price followed, his glorious facial hair in full display, looking perfectly fresh, as if the heat hadn’t even touched him. His beard didn’t even seem slightly damp. He looked like he’d just stepped out of an air-conditioned room.

There was a long, painful silence.

You and Soap watched them walk by, your mouths hanging open in disbelief. How? HOW?!

Gaz, who had been so confident moments ago, now stood there awkwardly, realizing his “grand reveal” had been completely derailed by the actual evidence right in front of you.

"…I swear I had answers," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Soap finally broke the silence, lifting his head from the ground with a groan. "Aye, but apparently we’ll never understand the dark magic that keeps those two cool."

You nodded, still stunned by the injustice of it all. "Forget needing therapy. I need a damn scientist to explain this. Ghost in a mask and Price with all that hair… and they’re not even sweating?!"

Gaz sighed, sitting down beside you two, his dramatic entrance having completely fizzled out. "They must be made of something else. Ice, probably."

Soap laughed, rolling onto his back, his limbs flopping out in defeat. "Makes sense. Ghost is colder than a grave, after all."

You sighed, slumping back onto the ground. "I’m done. Let’s just lay here and accept our fate as mortals who suffer under the sun."

And so, the three of you lay there, utterly defeated by the heat and the unsolvable mystery of how Price and Ghost managed to stay cool while the rest of you felt like you were melting into the ground. Whatever their secret was, it wasn’t meant for mere mortals like you.

The Reckoning

You and Gaz were lounging in the common area, enjoying a rare moment of peace when the sharp call echoed through the base.

"SOAP!" Price’s voice boomed from the other end of the hallway.

You both immediately sat up, eyes wide. Uh-oh. That tone meant one thing: trouble. Real trouble. The kind of trouble you only get into when you’ve seriously annoyed the captain.

Soap appeared a second later, standing stiff as a board like a kid about to get grounded. "Aye, Cap?" he called back, his voice full of false bravado as he tried to act casual.

"Office. Now."

Without another word, Soap trudged down the hallway, shoulders slumped. He looked back at you and Gaz just once, his eyes wide with fear. It was like watching someone walk the plank.

You and Gaz exchanged a glance, both silently communicating the same thing: What did he do this time?

As Soap disappeared into Price’s office, you and Gaz sat there in silence, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

"That’s the same look I gave when my dad found out I crashed the car," Gaz muttered, staring after Soap with wide eyes. "He’s in deep."

"Yeah, like… real deep," you agreed, leaning forward with a grin. "You think he broke something important? Maybe messed up during the last mission?"

Gaz shook his head, already deep in thought. "Nah, if it was mission-related, Price would’ve called all of us in. This is something personal. Something… stupid."

You nodded sagely. "Something Soap would do."

"Exactly."

You both sat there in silence for a moment, wracking your brains. What could Soap have possibly done to make Price drag him into a one-on-one? You knew Soap loved to push the captain’s buttons, but this felt different.

"Maybe he ate Price’s secret stash of cigars," Gaz suggested, his eyes lighting up. "You know how protective he is over those things."

You laughed, though it sounded more nervous than amused. "If he did, he’s a dead man. Maybe he swapped out the cigars for a prank? Put in some of those joke exploding ones?"

Gaz’s eyes widened. "If he did that, we’ll be attending his funeral tomorrow."

As you both reached the top of your ridiculous theories, the door to Price’s office finally creaked open. You and Gaz froze, eyes glued to the hallway.

Soap emerged, walking as if he were in the final scene of a tragic war movie, his face blank, his footsteps slow and deliberate. It was like watching a soldier come back from a battle they didn’t win.

He gave you both a nod of acknowledgment as he passed, but he didn’t say a word. Dramatic didn’t even begin to cover it.

You and Gaz looked at each other, mouths hanging open.

"What… what just happened?" Gaz asked, half-laughing, half-worried.

"I dunno, but I think we’re about to find out," you replied, eyes still fixed on Soap’s retreating figure.

The silence was broken by a low, gravelly voice coming from behind you. "He’s taking care of the rookies for a week."

Both you and Gaz jumped, turning to see Ghost standing there in his usual silent way. You didn’t even realize he had been in the room the whole time.

"Wait, what?" Gaz asked, blinking in confusion. "That’s it? He’s just babysitting the rookies for a week?"

"That’s not so bad," you added, looking at Ghost. "Why’s he getting punished for that?"

Ghost stared at you both, his skull mask unreadable as always, but there was a distinct edge to his voice when he finally spoke. "Because he stole my mask."

You and Gaz both gasped, hands flying to your mouths in exaggerated shock. He stole Ghost’s mask?!

Gaz shook his head in disbelief. "No way. He actually did it?"

You leaned closer, wide-eyed. "But wait, how did he even survive that?"

Ghost crossed his arms, voice cold and clipped. "I went to Price."

That… explained everything. It wasn’t that Soap had stolen the mask. It was that he had survived long enough after stealing it for Ghost to take him to Price instead of handling it his way.

You sat back, stunned. "So… Price put him on rookie duty as payback?"

Ghost’s eyes gleamed with dark humor behind the mask. "For revenge."

Gaz let out a low whistle, shaking his head in amazement. "Man, Soap’s lucky to be alive. Rookie duty’s a death sentence in itself, though."

You nodded, still trying to process the sheer audacity of Soap’s actions. "Taking Ghost’s mask is basically asking for a slow, painful death. But… rookie duty for a week? Yeah, that’s worse."

Ghost gave a small shrug, already turning to leave the room. "He won’t survive."

As Ghost walked out, you and Gaz were left sitting there, staring after him in stunned silence.

"Remind me to never piss off Ghost," Gaz muttered, rubbing his temples.

"Agreed," you said, still reeling. "And never steal anything from him. Ever."

You both sat back, glancing towards the hallway where Soap had disappeared. He would be fine. Eventually. But in the meantime, he was about to face the most grueling punishment of all—the rookies.

The Great Pineapple Pizza War

The mission had been long, exhausting, and the entire team was in desperate need of some downtime. So, what did you all agree on? Pizza. It was simple, delicious, and a guaranteed way to lift everyone's spirits. Or so you thought.

The pizzas arrived, the smell wafting through the base like a gift from the heavens. You all gathered around the table, plates and napkins at the ready, mouths watering.

"Finally," Soap said, rubbing his hands together. "I’m starving. Let’s dig in, lads."

But as the first box was opened, Soap’s cheerful expression dropped faster than a grenade on a bad day. His eyes locked onto the toppings like he’d just witnessed a war crime.

"Wait…" He blinked. "Is that—pineapple?!"

You grinned wickedly from across the room, leaning casually against the counter as if you hadn’t just dropped a bomb on the team. "Yup. I ordered all the pizzas with pineapple."

There was a stunned silence, as if you’d just announced you were defecting to the enemy.

Soap froze, staring down at the offending fruit, his voice dropping into horrified disbelief. "No… NO. You… ye didn’t…!"

"I did." You beamed, like you had just declared world peace. "All. Pineapple. Every. Single. Pizza."

Gaz blinked in shock. "Wait, every one?"

You nodded proudly. "Every one."

"Mate…" Gaz groaned, shaking his head in dismay. "That’s just… cruel."

Soap, however, wasn’t having it. He slammed his hands down on the table like a man who’d been pushed too far. "Pineapple does not belong on pizza!"

"Here we go," Gaz muttered, rubbing his temples.

"Ye don’t put sweet on savory!" Soap was in full rant mode now, waving his arms dramatically. "It’s— it’s an abomination!"

You raised an eyebrow, still grinning. "But it’s so good, though. The sweetness, the tang, with the cheese—it’s perfect."

Gaz decided to take the middle ground, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "I mean, I’m not against pineapple on pizza. I just wouldn’t order it… ever."

Soap turned to him, looking betrayed. "Gaz, no! Don’t tell me yer okay with this!"

Gaz shrugged. "I wouldn’t start a war over it, mate."

"It’s a disgrace!" Soap continued, pointing at the pizzas like they’d personally offended him. "An insult to pizza lovers everywhere. It’s like putting jam on a steak!"

You leaned back, enjoying the chaos you’d unleashed. "Come on, Johnny. Live a little. You might like it if you tried it."

"I’d rather eat a live grenade," Soap shot back.

It was at this point that Ghost, who had been silent and still as a shadow up until now, finally stirred. You glanced at him, curious to see his reaction. He’d been standing there, watching the growing chaos unfold with crossed arms, his usual unflappable presence unshaken.

Then, to everyone’s surprise, Ghost did something none of you had ever seen before.

He lifted both his hands and dramatically covered his masked face in utter despair.

You blinked. "Ghost? You okay over there?"

Without looking up, Ghost’s deep, gravelly voice emerged from behind his hands, muffled by both his gloves and the mask. "Women are the devil."

There was a long pause. Soap’s jaw dropped. Gaz stared at Ghost, half in awe, half in disbelief.

You? You just burst out laughing.

Ghost peeked through his fingers for a moment, giving you an almost incredulous look before dramatically shaking his head, as if he’d finally reached the end of his patience with humanity.

"Really, Ghost?" you teased, still giggling. "Over pineapple pizza? That’s what broke you?"

He didn’t answer, just shook his head slowly, like he couldn’t believe what the world had come to. "Pineapple," he muttered, "on pizza. What has the world become?"

Gaz tried to suppress his laughter but failed miserably, snorting as he leaned back in his chair. "I dunno, mate. You might wanna go lie down after this one. Take some time to recover."

Soap, meanwhile, was still in full meltdown mode. "The devil," he echoed, pointing at you. "Ghost is right! Ye’re the devil! Who does that? Who orders all the pizzas with pineapple?"

You shrugged, completely unapologetic. "The devil’s hungry."

Ghost let out a long, exaggerated sigh behind his mask, shaking his head once more. "Unbelievable."

Soap dramatically threw his hands up in the air. "First pineapple, now this—who knows what horrors await us next!"

You gave him a wink. "You’ll survive, Johnny. Maybe even like it by the end."

"No. Never. I’ll die first."

As Soap stormed off to find some "proper" food, Gaz chuckled, patting you on the back. "Well, that’s one way to make dinner more interesting."

Ghost, still standing in the corner with his hands now crossed over his chest, gave you one last shake of his head, but you could tell beneath the mask, he was at least slightly amused.

Or maybe that was just the delusion brought on by too much pineapple pizza.

Either way, you smirked, triumphant.

Field Commentary

Chaos erupted all around you. Bullets whizzed past your head, the air filled with the deafening roar of gunfire and explosions. You were all pinned down, barely holding the line. But, as luck would have it, the extraction point was still a good sprint away, and the enemies were closing in.

"Alright, move out! Now!" Price's voice barked through the comms. "No time for hesitation!"

You took a deep breath and ran for it, legs pumping as fast as they could, dodging debris and weaving through the chaos. The extraction point loomed in the distance, but your legs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. Your lungs burned with every breath, and you cursed yourself for skipping cardio days in favor of pizza nights.

Behind you, Soap and Gaz were… not exactly offering support.

"Ohh! Would you look at that!" Soap shouted over the gunfire, waving his arms as if he were announcing a sports match. "And she’s off! She's breaking through the midfield, dodging left and right—she’s makin’ her way to the goal!"

Gaz chimed in, using the comms as a mic, giving the play-by-play. "She's struggling now, folks. Legs heavy, knees weak! Will she make it to the end zone or collapse under the pressure?"

"I'm trying!" you wheezed, every breath a struggle as you felt the weight of their commentary more than the actual gunfire.

"Looks like she's slowin’ down! Definitely needin’ more cardio," Soap said with mock concern, his voice dripping with fake sympathy. "I always told her, mate, more yoga would fix this."

Gaz scoffed, giving an exaggerated shake of his head, even as he took cover behind some crates. "Yoga? Yoga’s for the flexible. What she needs is more running drills. Sprints. Real workouts."

"SHUT UP!" you screamed between gasps, trying to pick up the pace but failing miserably. Your legs felt like jelly, and the extraction point still seemed like miles away. "I… can’t… breathe!"

Price's voice crackled over the comms, not even slightly amused by the antics. "You lot finish messing around, or I’ll make sure all three of you are cleaning toilets for the next month."

"Sorry, Cap!" Soap grinned, though his eyes were still on you struggling through the field.

"Toilets!" Gaz echoed. "Yeah, wouldn’t wanna see that. Especially after Soap’s tactical chili night."

You were on the verge of passing out, eyes flicking back to the battle behind you, when suddenly you felt a pair of hands grab you from behind. You let out a small yelp, but then realized who it was.

Ghost had scooped you up like you weighed nothing, hoisting you onto his back as if you were a ragdoll. With barely a grunt of effort, he started sprinting towards the extraction point, dodging bullets and explosions like it was a casual jog in the park.

"Why are you so strong?!" you gasped, clutching onto him for dear life as he powered through the battlefield, leaving the others far behind.

Ghost didn’t even slow down, his voice calm and steady. "Because I actually do cardio."

You groaned, your body feeling like it was on fire, but there was something almost comforting about how easily Ghost carried you, barely breaking a sweat. He was an absolute machine. How could he do this so effortlessly?

"I need whatever you eat," you muttered, dazed from both exhaustion and amazement. "And maybe some steroids."

Behind you, Soap and Gaz were watching the whole thing unfold, their eyes wide in disbelief as Ghost carried you like you were nothing more than a backpack.

Soap wiped imaginary tears from his eyes. "Man… I need whatever that man eats too. Look at him go! Like a damn pack mule."

Gaz snorted, shaking his head as they kept running to catch up. "Forget yoga, mate. I think Ghost's got some secret super serum stashed somewhere. Man’s built like a bloody tank."

You groaned again, your head resting against Ghost’s shoulder as he continued his full-on sprint. "Just… shut up… both of you."

Ghost said nothing, just kept running, the extraction point now in sight.

As the evac chopper came into view, Soap, still panting from running, grinned at you. "Don’t worry, lass. Maybe Ghost’ll carry ye everywhere from now on. Or we’ll get ye a wheelbarrow!"

"Toilets," you muttered, half delirious. "I’ll clean toilets for a year if you two just stop talking."

The chopper finally landed, and Ghost gently set you down, still calm and collected. As if carrying someone through a battlefield was just another Tuesday for him.

You collapsed against a crate, gulping down air while Soap and Gaz finally caught up, both of them drenched in sweat, but still laughing.

"Next time," Soap wheezed, leaning against the chopper, "we’re sending ye to yoga. Or a gym. Whichever comes first."

Gaz patted you on the back, offering a grin. "Or you could just ask Ghost to give you piggybacks from now on."

Ghost, still standing tall, gave the briefest of head shakes as he climbed into the chopper. "Never again."

You sighed, your body aching, your pride bruised. But at least you were alive.

The Interrogation: Who Ate Price's Food?!

It was the silence before the storm. You, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost sat in a perfectly straight line in the mess hall, your backs rigid, hands clasped in front of you, as if you were waiting for judgment in a military court.

Across from you stood Captain Price, arms crossed, his signature hat casting a shadow over his face. His eyes moved from one guilty party to the next, narrowing in suspicion. The tension in the room was palpable.

Someone had eaten Price’s food. His personal meal, the one he’d been saving. And now, you were all in deep.

"Alright," Price said slowly, pacing in front of you like an executioner preparing to swing the axe. "Which one of you ate my damn food?"

Silence. No one dared speak. You could hear Gaz breathing next to you, but you weren’t about to crack under pressure. Soap was beside you, stiff as a board, while Ghost sat at the far end of the row, arms crossed, his mask revealing nothing but stone-cold calm.

Price paused, his voice cold. "Nobody’s leaving this room until I get an answer."

Soap was the first to speak, looking around at everyone with a wide-eyed, innocent expression. "Well, it wasn’t me! I wouldn’t touch the Cap’s food, no way. Must’ve been Gaz."

Gaz’s head snapped toward Soap. "Me? I don’t even like whatever it was he had! It’s probably you, you’re always nicking things off people’s plates."

"Mate, I don’t need to steal food!" Soap shot back, pointing an accusatory finger. "I’ve got my own stash. You’re the one who’s always hungry!"

"Oh, please." Gaz rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. "If anyone’s likely to steal something, it’s Soap. Always looking for a little extra grub, aren’t ya?"

The two of them started bickering, and you couldn’t help but glance over at Ghost, who remained silent, his mask hiding any reaction. For a moment, you thought you might get away with it. But then…

Ghost’s gravelly voice cut through the argument. "Soap likes to steal things."

Everyone went silent. Gaz and Soap turned to look at Ghost, eyebrows raised.

"I do not!" Soap protested, throwing his hands up in the air. "What the hell, Ghost?!"

Ghost didn’t flinch. He just repeated, calmly, like it was a fact of life. "Soap likes to steal things."

Soap’s face turned bright red, looking absolutely betrayed. "Ye’re throwin’ me under the bus, mate!"

You held in a laugh, trying to maintain composure as Price’s eyes narrowed again. His gaze swept over the group, waiting for someone to crack.

"Last chance," Price growled, his voice low and dangerous. "If someone doesn’t own up now, you’ll all be doing latrine duty for a month."

You felt the sweat on the back of your neck, the pressure closing in. Soap and Gaz continued blaming each other, both trying to avoid the captain’s wrath. And Ghost? He just sat there like a silent judge, adding nothing but that one damning line.

"Soap likes to steal things."

Price was getting impatient, his eyes moving to you now. You felt them drilling into your soul, waiting for the truth to surface. Your heartbeat quickened, the guilt gnawing at you. You tried to stay strong. You really did. But then…

You broke.

"I DID IT!" The words burst out of your mouth before you could stop them. "I ate your food, okay?! I was hungry, it was just sitting there, and I thought… I thought maybe you wouldn’t notice."

The room went dead silent. Soap, Gaz, and Ghost all turned to you in shock, mouths hanging open. You could feel their disbelief. Even Ghost’s posture shifted slightly, like he hadn’t expected you to actually confess.

Price’s eyes softened a little, though he tried to maintain his stern expression. He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "You did it, huh?"

You nodded, your guilt heavy on your shoulders. "Yeah… I did. I’m sorry, Cap."

Price leaned back, crossing his arms, and for a moment you thought you were done for. But instead, he let out a long, drawn-out sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Can’t stay mad at ya," he muttered, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The boys froze, their jaws dropping in unison. No way.

"Wait, WHAT?" Soap blurted out, throwing his hands in the air. "Yer not mad at her?!"

Gaz’s eyes widened, and he waved a hand dramatically toward you. "But she ate your food! The food you’ve been saving! You’d have us scrubbing toilets for a month if it were one of us!"

"Exactly!" Soap added, his voice climbing in pitch. "Where’s the justice, Cap? Ye’re goin’ easy on her!"

Ghost didn’t say anything, but the way he crossed his arms told you he was equally as annoyed, even if his mask didn’t show it.

Price shrugged, a half-smile still on his face. "What can I say? She owned up. And… well, it’s different with her."

Soap gaped at you, pointing dramatically. "Different?! The devil eats yer food, and ye don’t even bat an eye?!"

Gaz threw his hands up in exasperation. "If that was me, I’d be scrubbing latrines for a year!"

You tried to hide your grin as Soap and Gaz continued their protests, but it was impossible not to enjoy their frustration. Meanwhile, Ghost finally broke his silence one more time, his voice completely deadpan.

"Soap likes to steal things."

The entire table erupted into laughter—well, everyone except Soap, who just stared at Ghost with wide, frustrated eyes. "Seriously, mate!?"

Ghost didn’t respond, just shrugged, as if the matter was settled. You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a mix of relief and amusement at the chaos you’d caused.

Price just shook his head, still smiling. "Alright, alright, settle down. But next time, I won’t be so lenient. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind."

As you stood to leave, Soap muttered under his breath, "This is favoritism. Pure and simple."

Gaz patted him on the back. "You’d be scrubbing toilets right now if it were you."

Soap crossed his arms, fuming. "Aye, but I wouldn’t have eaten his food in the first place!"

You shot him a playful grin. "Well, maybe next time you’ll get lucky."

Ghost’s voice cut in one last time as you all walked out of the mess hall. "Or you’ll just steal something."

Soap groaned, but you couldn’t help but laugh. That was a victory for the ages.

Dad Jokes and Drunken Laughter

It was one of those rare off days where everyone had decided to kick back and relax. The mess hall was buzzing with a low hum of conversation, and a few scattered drinks had loosened everyone up. Gaz had taken it upon himself to entertain the troops, determined to get Captain Price to laugh with his latest batch of jokes.

“Alright, everyone, listen up!” Gaz called out, standing on a chair for added effect. “Why did the scarecrow win an award?”

Price looked up from his meal, raising an eyebrow but not quite convinced. “Why, Gaz?”

“Because he was outstanding in his field!” Gaz declared, his voice booming with enthusiasm.

A couple of snickers rippled through the room, but Price merely shook his head, a hint of a smile threatening but ultimately failing to appear.

“Not bad,” Price replied, but his tone was flat.

Gaz sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, tough crowd. Here’s another one. What do you call fake spaghetti?”

Price crossed his arms, bracing himself for whatever punchline was coming next. “I don’t know, what?”

“An impasta!” Gaz said, practically beaming with confidence.

This time, you were sitting a few tables away, blissfully tipsy from a few too many drinks. Your laughter erupted, loud and contagious. “That’s a good one, Gaz! I love it!” you shouted, wiping tears of mirth from your eyes.

“See?” Gaz said, a spark of hope igniting. “At least someone appreciates my humor!”

But Price just rolled his eyes, trying to focus on his meal, while Soap, slumped over at the table, was fast asleep, his head resting on his arms, oblivious to the whole thing.

Gaz wasn’t ready to give up. He continued, “Alright, alright, here’s a classic. Why don’t skeletons fight each other?”

“Why?” Price replied flatly.

“Because they don’t have the guts!” Gaz exclaimed, arms flailing in excitement.

You doubled over with laughter again, clutching your stomach as the alcohol buzzed through you, amplifying the hilarity of the situation. “Oh my God, Gaz! You’re killing me!”

Price still didn’t crack a smile. “Gaz, I swear if you keep this up…”

“Okay, I’m just warming up,” Gaz said, defiant but feeling the pressure. “Here’s another! What do you call cheese that isn’t yours?”

“Seriously?” Price groaned, clearly not in the mood for a cheese pun.

“Nacho cheese!” Gaz said, expecting at least a smirk this time.

You were nearly rolling on the floor now, howling with laughter. “He’s got you there, Cap!”

But Price remained stone-faced, the faintest flicker of irritation crossing his features. Gaz could feel his confidence waning. “This isn’t working…” he muttered under his breath, throwing his hands up in defeat.

Just then, Ghost, who had been leaning against the wall in the corner of the room, stepped forward. His presence commanded attention, and Gaz looked at him in disbelief. “You? You think you can do better?”

Ghost shrugged, his eyes narrowing as he contemplated the challenge. “Let me give it a shot.”

Gaz raised an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. “You think you can make Price laugh?”

Ghost glanced at Price, who was now eyeing him curiously. “Alright, here goes nothing. What did the dad say to the kids when they asked for a joke?”

You and Gaz leaned in closer, eager to hear what he would say. Price, still looking uninterested, merely glanced up, curiosity piqued.

Ghost smirked slightly beneath his mask. “I don’t know, but I can’t tell it to you—because it’s a dad joke!”

The room fell silent for a brief moment, and then it happened. Price let out a loud, hearty laugh that echoed throughout the mess hall, shaking his head in disbelief. “That was terrible!” he exclaimed, wiping a tear from his eye.

Gaz’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what? You’re laughing at that?”

You erupted into another fit of laughter, nearly falling out of your chair. “Ghost! You did it! You made him laugh!”

“See?” Ghost replied coolly, not missing a beat. “Told you comedy isn’t for everyone.”

Gaz couldn’t believe it. “I’m done! This is rigged!”

Meanwhile, Soap stirred from his slumber at the table, bleary-eyed and confused. “What’s happening? Is it a celebration or a funeral?” he mumbled, rubbing his face as he blinked around the room.

“Just your average rainy day comedy hour,” you said, still giggling uncontrollably. “Ghost just made Price laugh, and Gaz is in denial!”

Soap squinted at Gaz, who looked utterly defeated. “Well, mate, maybe you should’ve just told a dad joke too!”

“Thanks for the support, Soap,” Gaz said, rolling his eyes.

Ghost crossed his arms, satisfied with the outcome. “I guess some jokes just land differently.”

“Or maybe you just need to embrace the art of dad humor,” you added, still chuckling.

Gaz slumped back in his chair, sighing dramatically. “I’ll stick to my day job, thank you very much. This isn’t for me.”

“Better luck next time, buddy,” Soap murmured, finally finding a comfortable position to doze back off.

As the laughter faded and the rain continued to patter against the windows, you all relaxed into the camaraderie of the moment, realizing that sometimes the best humor comes from the most unexpected places.

Objective: Take care of Ghost. Mission status: FUBAR.

“Alright, lads, gather ‘round!” Soap announced dramatically, spreading out a hand-drawn map on the table like they were about to take down an enemy stronghold. “We’ve got ourselves a top-priority mission today.”

Gaz leaned over, eyeing the crude drawings on the paper. “Is this a tactical map, or did a toddler go wild with crayons?”

“Shut it, Gaz! This is serious!” Soap huffed, pointing to a sketch of Ghost with a giant thermometer in his mouth. “Ghost is sick. It’s our duty—no, our mission—to take care of him.”

You, leaning against the table with arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. “He’s Ghost, Soap. The man survived worse things than a cold. He’ll be fine.”

Gaz chuckled. “Yeah, but if Price gives him the day off, you know it’s bad.”

Soap nodded solemnly. “Exactly. And now we’ve gotta handle it.”

You glanced over at Ghost’s room, where you’d already heard grumpy muttering and the occasional sound of furniture moving. “I’ll handle this,” you said confidently, turning toward the door.

Soap shook his head, grabbing your arm. “Negative, lass. This is a team effort. We’ve got a plan.” He slapped the map with a serious expression.

“A plan?” you echoed, half-laughing.

“Aye. Gaz already bought all the supplies we need—cold meds, soup, blankets… everything a sick soldier could ask for.”

Gaz held up a grocery bag filled with what looked like half a pharmacy. “Got the essentials. Manflu, we’re ready.”

“And Price gave him the day off, so we’ve got the whole day to focus on taking care of him,” Soap added with a nod, proud of their combined efforts.

You couldn’t help but smile at their enthusiasm, but you already knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Ghost didn’t exactly strike you as the type to accept help. “And where do I come in?”

Soap grinned. “You’re the muscle.”

“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” you muttered, shaking your head as you prepared for battle.

Phase One: Enter the Ghost’s lair.

You approached Ghost’s door, knocking lightly before stepping inside, followed closely by Soap and Gaz, who were already looking far too excited for this. Ghost was slouched in his chair, arms crossed, and wearing a blanket like a cape. His mask was still on, but you could tell from his posture that he was miserable.

"Ghost," Soap began, voice overly sympathetic. "We’ve come to take care of ye, L.T."

Ghost’s eyes narrowed beneath the mask. “I don’t need takin’ care of. Get out.”

"Aw, come on, Ghost!" Soap pouted, dramatically putting a hand on his chest. "Yer breakin’ my heart, rejectin’ us like this."

Gaz held up the grocery bag. “We brought you soup. And meds. And tissues. Just let us help.”

"I don’t want your bloody soup," Ghost growled, his voice raspier than usual.

You took a deep breath, stepping forward. "Look, you’re sick, and we’re here to help. Just take the day off and let us do our job."

Ghost’s eyes met yours, and you could see the stubbornness already building. "I’m fine," he grunted, standing up, still wrapped in the blanket like some sort of grumpy king.

"Sit down!" you ordered, pointing back at the chair. "You’re not going anywhere."

"Make me," Ghost muttered, voice dark, but you weren’t intimidated.

"Don’t tempt me, Simon," you shot back, locking eyes with him.

Soap jumped in, trying to mediate. "Come on, L.T. She’s just trying to—"

Ghost turned to Soap, eyes narrowing. "And you. What’s with the bloody plan? I’m not some helpless recruit. I can handle a cold."

Soap put a hand over his heart, pretending to look wounded. "But ye hurt me, L.T. I just wanted to help ye through this difficult time."

Ghost just stared at him, unmoved. “Go help yourself.”

At this point, Gaz was suppressing a grin, clearly enjoying the chaos. You, however, were about to lose patience. "Ghost, you’re being ridiculous. Just sit down and let us help."

He folded his arms tighter, standing his ground. "I don’t need help."

"Well, too bad," you snapped, stepping forward again. "You’re getting it whether you like it or not."

For a moment, it was a standoff—Ghost versus the three of you, with Soap looking like he was on the verge of tears at the rejection, and Gaz struggling to keep a straight face.

Finally, Ghost sighed, slumping back into his chair like a defeated villain. "Fine. But no fussing over me."

Soap’s face lit up like it was Christmas. "Aye! Mission success!"

Phase Two: The Battle of the Blanket.

Soap tried to drape another blanket over Ghost, who immediately tossed it back at him. "I don’t need another bloody blanket, MacTavish!"

"You do," Soap insisted. "It’s cold in here."

"It’s not," Ghost shot back, clearly annoyed.

You stood by, watching the exchange like it was a comedy show, while Gaz was trying and failing to hide his amusement. “This is gold,” he muttered under his breath.

"Just take the meds," you said, trying to end the stand-off. You held out the cold medicine. "It’ll help with your sore throat."

Ghost glared at the pills like they were poison. "I don’t need that either."

"Yes, you do," you insisted, crossing your arms. "Or I’ll shove them down your throat myself."

For a moment, it looked like Ghost might argue again, but then he sighed, taking the pills with a reluctant grumble. "Bloody hell, this is torture."

Soap’s face was scrunched up in concern. "But ye don’t hate me, right, L.T.? Ye just don’t like the help?"

Ghost didn’t respond, just gave Soap a look that said everything: I don’t like any of you right now.

Phase Three: Victory… Almost.

Eventually, after what felt like hours of cajoling, Ghost finally settled down on his bed with the blanket (which he only accepted after you threatened him again). Soap was sitting beside him, looking emotionally drained. “Ye hurt me with yer rejection, Ghost,” Soap muttered, shaking his head dramatically. “But I forgive ye.”

Gaz leaned against the wall, snickering. "This has been the best day ever."

You were sitting on the other side of Ghost’s bed, arms crossed. "See? Was that so hard?"

Ghost, still grumpy, glared at you all. "I hate every single one of you."

"But we love you, L.T.," Soap replied, patting his shoulder.

Ghost groaned, pulling the blanket over his head, and mumbled something unintelligible.

You stood up, grinning at the sight of him finally giving in. "Mission accomplished, boys. Ghost is officially on bed rest."

"About damn time," Gaz laughed, giving you a mock salute.

As you all filed out of Ghost’s room, leaving him to rest, Soap let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "That was the hardest mission I’ve ever been on. He’s a tough nut to crack."

"Yeah," you said, chuckling. "But we got him in the end."

As the door closed behind you, you heard Ghost mutter one last grumble from beneath his blanket. "Next time, I’ll take my chances with the flu."

The Rookie, The Flirt, and the Great Toilet Punishment

It was an ordinary day on base, just another routine mission debrief finished, and everyone was unwinding in the mess hall. You were sipping your coffee when you noticed something… odd. Across the room, the new rookie—let’s call her Private Henderson—was making eyes at none other than Gaz.

“Oh my God,” you muttered under your breath, leaning closer to Soap, who was munching on a snack beside you. “Soap, do you see what I’m seeing?”

Soap blinked and followed your gaze. His eyes widened as Henderson gave Gaz a smile that could melt concrete. “No bloody way,” Soap whispered, his snack forgotten. “That rookie’s flirting with Gaz?”

You nodded dramatically. “She totally is. I swear, if she twirls her hair or bites her lip, I’m calling it confirmed.”

Soap’s face darkened instantly, like storm clouds rolling over a sunny day. “How… how could this happen? Gaz? Getting flirted with first? It can’t be. It won’t be!”

The snack in his hand crumbled as Soap clenched his fist. You raised an eyebrow at him, trying not to laugh. “Uh, Soap? You okay?”

Soap stood up abruptly, his voice lowering like he was planning some sinister revenge. “This is unacceptable. There’s no way Gaz gets the girl before me. I won’t allow it. Team meeting. Now.”

The Team Meeting of Doom

Ten minutes later, the entire team—Soap, Gaz, Ghost, and you—were assembled in the meeting room like it was some kind of military tribunal. Soap paced back and forth, seething. You and Ghost exchanged glances, trying to stifle your grins, while Gaz looked utterly confused.

“What’s this all about?” Gaz asked, looking between you and Soap.

Soap stopped pacing and pointed an accusing finger at him. “You. You, Sergeant Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, are under suspicion.”

Gaz blinked. “Suspicion of what?”

“Of getting flirted with!” Soap declared, his voice full of betrayal. “And worse… before me!”

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth as you tried to stop, but the whole situation was too ridiculous. Ghost, on the other hand, stayed still as a statue, his arms crossed, but you swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

Gaz leaned back in his chair, smirking now that he realized where this was going. “Wait, hold on. Are you jealous because a rookie might be interested in me?”

“Might?” Soap scoffed, his Scottish accent thicker with outrage. “She’s flirtin’ with ye, mate! Smilin’, giving ye the eyes. It’s treason!”

Gaz leaned forward, all smug. “What can I say? I’ve got the charm.”

Soap looked like he was going to pass out from the injustice. “I—this is outrageous! I’m charming! I’ve got the accent! How does this happen?”

You, still wiping tears from your laughter, leaned over to Soap. “It’s okay, Soap. Maybe she likes the quiet, brooding types.”

Gaz grinned wider. “Or maybe she just knows quality when she sees it.”

Soap was on the verge of losing it when Ghost finally broke his silence, his deep voice cutting through the room. “Women are scary.”

Everyone turned to look at him, and you gasped audibly. “Ghost! How could you say that?”

Ghost shrugged. “They are.”

Soap nodded like Ghost had just confirmed the greatest truth of the universe. “Aye, Ghost is right. Women are scary. Beautiful, but terrifying.”

You gasped again, twice as loud this time. “Soap! What is this slander?”

Soap turned to you, trying to sound all deep and wise. “Women are devils. But… hot ones.”

You gasped again, clutching your chest. “I can’t believe this slander. Hot devils?”

Gaz, now fully enjoying himself, leaned back in his chair. “Women are liars, but… I let them lie to me.”

The gasp that left your lips this time was so exaggerated, it could’ve won an award. “Gaz! How could you?”

Before anyone could add to the chaos, the door to the meeting room swung open. Captain Price stood there, arms crossed, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and annoyance. “What the hell is going on in here?”

Soap, Ghost, and Gaz snapped to attention, but you were still reeling from the drama. You all stood there in silence, staring at Price like kids who’d been caught stealing cookies.

“Well?” Price asked, his voice low and menacing.

Soap, unable to help himself, pointed at Gaz. “He’s bein’ flirted with, Cap! By the rookie!”

Price’s eyes narrowed. “And?”

“I don’t like it,” Soap said flatly.

Price sighed heavily, rubbing his temples like he had an incoming migraine. “So you’ve wasted my time with this? You’ve dragged Ghost, Gaz, and the poor lass into some love triangle nonsense?”

“It’s not a triangle,” you corrected, trying not to laugh again. “It’s just… a weird, jealous spiral.”

Price shook his head. “I’ve had enough of this. I don’t care who’s flirting with who. You lot… will be on toilet duty for the rest of the week.”

There was a collective groan from all the guys, but you just snickered, half-expecting it.

Gaz raised his hand, trying to look innocent. “Even me, Cap?”

Price narrowed his eyes. “Especially you, Sergeant. You’re all in this together.”

Ghost chuckled quietly as you all shuffled out of the meeting room, but Soap looked like his heart had been broken. “I just don’t understand, Gaz. I thought I was the ladies’ man.”

Gaz clapped him on the back with a grin. “Better luck next time, mate.”

You, still giggling, leaned over to Soap. “Hey, don’t worry. You’ll bounce back. Just… maybe don’t call women ‘hot devils’ next time.”

Soap sighed dramatically. “Aye, lass, ye might be right. But… they are.”

You gasped one last time, just for effect, as you all headed to your unfortunate punishment.

MAYBE PART 2, maybe, a big big big big maybe.

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