#charcoal soap for men

[matural2021]

Antibacterial Soaps for Men: Unveiling the Benefits

In the fast-paced world we live in, maintaining personal hygiene is crucial, especially for men who often face the challenges of dirt, sweat, and oil buildup. While regular soaps have their merits, finding the best soap for men in India can provide an extra layer of cleanliness and protection. Antibacterial soaps specifically formulated for men offer numerous benefits. In this blog, we will explore the benefits of antibacterial soaps for men and shed light on one popular ingredient, aloe vera, often found in men's face wash products.

The Benefits of Antibacterial Soaps for Men

Using antibacterial soaps tailored for men can offer numerous advantages. Let's delve into some of the key benefits:

Enhanced Germ Protection

Antibacterial soaps are formulated to target and eliminate harmful bacteria that regular soaps may not effectively eradicate. They contain active ingredients that have been proven to combat various bacteria strains, providing a higher level of germ protection.

Men often have a more active lifestyle, engaging in activities that expose them to dirt, grime, and sweat. Antibacterial soaps help remove these impurities while effectively killing bacteria, reducing the risk of infections and other skin-related issues.

2. Odor Control

Sweat, combined with bacteria, can lead to unpleasant body odor. Antibacterial soaps with deodorizing properties help neutralize odors caused by bacterial activity, leaving men feeling fresh and confident throughout the day.

Men who engage in physical activities or have demanding jobs will find antibacterial soaps particularly beneficial in controlling body odor, as they effectively eliminate odor-causing bacteria.

3. Acne Prevention and Control

Men, especially those with oily or acne-prone skin, can greatly benefit from antibacterial soaps. These soaps effectively remove excess oil, dirt, and bacteria that contribute to the development of acne.

Some antibacterial soaps contain ingredients like salicylic acid, known for its acne-fighting properties. These soaps can help unclog pores and prevent breakouts, resulting in clearer, healthier-looking skin.

4. Aloe Vera: Nature's Soothing Agent

Aloe vera, a plant renowned for its soothing properties, is a common ingredient in men's face wash products, including antibacterial soaps. Aloe vera-infused soaps provide additional advantages for men's skin.

Aloe vera has natural moisturizing properties, helping to hydrate the skin without leaving it greasy. This is particularly beneficial for men with dry or sensitive skin, as it helps maintain proper moisture balance.

The plant's anti-inflammatory properties make aloe vera an excellent choice for men who experience skin irritation or redness after shaving. It can help soothe and calm the skin, reducing post-shave discomfort.

5. Skin Hydration and Nourishment

Antibacterial soaps with added moisturizers and nourishing ingredients can replenish the skin's moisture barrier, preventing excessive dryness. This is especially important for men who frequently wash their faces or have naturally dry skin.

Men often neglect skincare routines, but using antibacterial soaps with hydrating properties can serve as a simple yet effective way to keep the skin healthy and nourished.

Conclusion

Incorporating antibacterial soaps into your daily hygiene routine can provide numerous benefits for men. From enhanced germ protection and odor control to acne prevention and the soothing properties of aloe vera, these specialized soaps cater to the unique needs of men's skin. Whether you lead an active lifestyle or simply desire to maintain cleanliness and hygiene, antibacterial soaps can be a valuable addition to your grooming arsenal. Consider trying an aloe vera-infused face wash for men and experience the advantages firsthand. Remember, healthy skin starts with proper hygiene!

[360feel]

Indulge in the calming and refreshing scent of the 360Feel Lavender Patchouli Soap. This 5 oz Castile Handmade Soap bar is meticulously crafted to provide a luxurious bathing experience.

[iite-cool]

losing my mind thinking about being curled up in bed between simon and johnny, moaning straight into soap's ears as simon presses his long fingers up against the spot in your cunt that makes you squeal. he leans in to nibble at your earlobe and pour honey in your ear, "like my fingers in you, sweetheart? yeah? can feel you leaking around me, fuck. go on lovie, tell johnny how good I'm making you feel." you do as he says - of course you do - and curl your fingers in johnny's hair to pull him closer, holding onto him for dear life as he starts licking at your pert nipples, 'feels s'good, johnny ah- mmh feels so good!' and he can only take so much of your whimpering until he starts canting his own hips against yours, rubbing his painfully hard cock against the side of your hip.

simon grabs you firmly by the back of your neck to direct your attention back to him and he groans gutterally at the fucked-out look on your face. fuck he loves watching you go stupid bc of him. he presses his lips to yours in a wet kiss even though you're in no headspace to kiss back and just moan straight into his mouth all cross eyed. he sucks your tongue and lets his teeth scrape against it a little. simon speeds up the pump of his fingers in you when he feels your walls start to clench around him desperately, "you gonna cum for me, pet? yeah, you're gonna give it to me? 'course you are, such a good girl f'me, ain't ya?" you start to babble mindlessly, 'please simon, please si let me cum please- i'm so close, i'm gonna- i'm gonna cum- i'm gonna cummmm-!' your mouth parts in a silent scream and your nails dig so hard into simon's arm, he knows he'll be able to see it for days as you reach your climax, twitching and writhing.

both your boys come close to hold you through your peak and be there when you come back down to earth, and the whole time johnny's still humping his leaking dick against you, desperate for release. when you do come down and your eyes focus again, you have a dumb smile plastered across your face, all content and sated. "y'alright, pet?" you nod at simon and give him a sweet kiss and this is when he drops his hand back down to your cunt to collect some of your spilt wetness. you whine a little, still insanely sensitive, but shut up immediately when you see simon's fingers dripping with your nectar heading toward johnny, "open up, lad." you nearly keel over at the look on soap's face - his pupils are blown wide, charcoal swallowing ocean blue, with the most desperate look you've ever seen on him and he's flushed pink from the neck up. he wastes not a second laving his tongue around simon's fingers, moaning and drooling around them in his mouth. johnny's eyes roll back into his head and his hips jerk once twice three times until he stills and fills his boxers with his cum. you press kisses to his neck while he comes down with simon's fingers scratching the shaved sides of his head. you take some time to revel in the warmth of the bubble created with your loves before you roll on top of simon to return the favour, signalling to johnny to do the same.

masterlist

please comment i have so many thoughts about these men that need to be talked about

[silaslich]

If it hurts to breathe, open a window

Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Summary - following the first mission with Soap in mw2. You meet Ghost for the first time, he’s different to the stories you’ve been told.

Wc - 10k

Cw - heavy on plot, injury/blood/death, directly follows mw2 canon, canon typical violence, plane crash

Dark clouds crowded the sky overhead, swirling in a mass of stoney graphite and charcoal grey. The butter-kissed horizon of daylight had faded into a mass of deep violet and midnight blue, melting against the sky to make way for the cover of night.

There was so much noise around for your ears to process; the trucks engine roaring as it’s tyres rolled smoothly and quickly over the damp tarmac, the loud excited voices of the men sitting next to and across from you as they chatted away- having to shout into one another’s ear over the sound of the Boeing CH-47’s rotor system booming to life as she prepared to depart onto the runway.

You kept your eyes down, staring idly at the dark steel floor, mind processing and dissecting the information you’d been given not even an hour ago.

General Ghorbrani was dead. Killed in a missile strike in Al Mazrah several months ago after being discovered working with the Russians- whom of which were supplying Iran with armour and hardware. Part of Tf-141 along with Shadow Company had been the ones to neutralise the threat and the entire arms deal.

Same shit different day, only, it wasn’t as simple as that this time. Ghorbrani had a second in command, Hassan Zyani, Quds Force Major. He’d taken up the mantle for Iran. Now it was him supplying terrorists; money, weapons, intel. You name it. The man was dangerous and he wanted retaliation for the Ghorbrani strike, he wanted revenge, that in itself was dangerous enough. Laswell was convinced he was planning something, and whatever it was, it was going to be big. She had managed to track him and found that he was on the ground in Al Mazrah, and that’s just where you were headed.

You were knocked out of your dissociative state when someone lightly punched your arm. “Y’alright?” The Scotsman was his usual optimistic self, a stupid grin slanting across his face as he looked at you.

You nodded, realising the vehicle had stopped and was beginning to empty around the two of you. Soap stood up from the bench and jumped down from the tailgate, nodding his head to the side, signalling for you to follow him. You did, adjusting your gun at your side as you landed squarely on two feet.

John ‘Soap’ Mactavish had been a thorn in your side for the majority of your military service. Despite being deployed hundreds of times in numerous countries all across the globe you still ended up bumping into that big Scottish bastard far too often. He looked out for you, although you never asked him to, he’d taken a shining to you. And you to him. Like the brother you never had, and never wanted. He always knew how to lighten even the darkest of situations; whether it was his shit jokes or stupid questions, he never failed to pull you out of your own head.

You had joined the British Army at your earliest opportunity when you left college at eighteen. With nothing keeping you tied to home anymore- you left. Without a single pence in your pocket or a dream in your head. Better to die fighting in a war than die fighting an overdose in a back alley like some do. Stuck in a town that never wakes. Dingy corner shops and abandoned parks that are rusted to death. Those same people that have been there for years and never leave. They’re too content there, you think, perfectly happy in their mediocrity. You had wanted more. You didn’t want to fade into that kind of life. Scraping together change from a shitty job to get by, meeting and settling with someone for the sake of it only to have a child entirely accidentally- stuck forever. You needed more.

After serving for a little over a decade you were drawn for the SRR, moving up rank and earning your title as Sergeant only a year later- then finally you were transferred to the SAS. Who you’d now served with for the last two years. It was worlds apart from your early army days, you hadn’t needed to go through the selection process because you were handpicked and transferred, but the stories you’d heard over dinner in the canteen and through whispers in the barracks spoke for themselves in volumes.

Soap held his rifle with two hands, keeping it close to his chest as he moved to step forward. The two of you were strapped to the gills in full gear; night vision goggles sitting atop your helmet, throwing knives strapped to your sides and your full equipment vest covering your chest. A patch of the British flag in grey, black and white strapped to your vest proudly.

You stood fast- following Soap’s back with your eyes as you watched him approach another soldier. The soldier was tall. Much taller than Soap was, and that was saying something considering the Scotsman was at least a head taller than you, the line of your shoulder just reaching the mid of his bicep. His height hadn’t been the first thing you noticed about this soldier- no, it was his mask. The crude face covering was fashioned from a black balaclava and skull mask; sewn together with thick stitches connecting them to one another and painted with thick-dull lines of off-white down through the eyes and over the teeth. You cocked your head and squinted your eyes, you were stood too far away to hear what they were saying, and with Soap’s back towards you and this soldier’s face covered nothing gave their topic of conversation away.

Simon Riley. Otherwise known as Ghost both in and out of the field, not many earned the right to call him by his real name.

You’d never met him, only now setting eyes on him for the first time; but Soap had told you all about him. Not just Soap, but near enough every soldier in any platoon you’d served with had a story to tell of the Ghost. Wether it was something they’d either seen or heard, he had a reputation. Not only was he an expert marksman; he was highly intelligent and was a master with his knife skills, but he was most notorious for his stealth and torture expertise. He was an anomaly. Not only was he greatly feared but he was simultaneously looked up to and admired, soldiers wanted to be like him. Be him.

Johnny gave the man a punch to the shoulder, identical to the one he’d just given you, from the stupid grin on his face when he turned back to face you, it was clear Soap was happy to see Ghost. The man in the mask stood for a second and you watched, he didn’t follow after Soap right away, you saw briefly that his mouth was moving beneath his mask, he was talking to someone over comms. Slowly turning to walk the other way as he did.

MacTavish approached you “let’s get ourselves a win, yeah?” he tapped your shoulder twice as he passed by you, making his way toward the helo just twenty feet behind you, now full of marines.

“Let’s” you answered him swiftly, still watching from the corner of your eye as Ghost continued to retreat further away from the transport, you turned you shoulder to follow after Soap when he was no longer in your view.

~

It wasn’t long before everyone was onboard and you were air born, flying inbound towards the border of Al Mazrah. The craft rocked and jerked with the turbulence, it was cramped and warm and far too loud. Flashing white lights assaulted your vision like beacons from time to time, breaking through the streams of deep crimson red that painted the entire inside of the holding compartment. The flight was relatively short in comparison to other missions you’d been on. Still, there was something stagnant lingering in the air, a hunger palpating the breath of these men.

Laswell’s brief had been short and sweet, a run down on enemy positions and the split teams objectives. Three words kept ringing through your skull. Capture or kill.

When it boiled down to it. Hassan was needed alive, but the reality was there was every chance that it might be forced out of someone’s hands. It was still a mission success if he was killed, but the priority was getting him alive.

By chance, Ghost had been seated directly across from you the entire duration of the transport over. With his gun held to his chest he stared forward, right through you, and you did the same. He didn’t scare you, he had no need to. However, his energy did throw you slightly. He had a calm eeriness about him, and his demeanour was even and smooth, but you had a feeling that would all change as soon as he set his boots down onto enemy ground in a few short minutes.

The helo stuttered in the air, dropping lower and cutting through the air as you neared closer to the ground. Silently, Ghost stood.

His gruff voice tore through the white noise of the whirring rotors of the craft, this was the first time you’d heard him speak.

“Bravo team offloads here. Alpha team stays onboard with the Sergeant to land downrange” the heavy footfalls of his boots echoed across the floor as he proceeded down the craft, your rank and name ringing in your ears as he continued addressing his soldiers. “Both teams meet in the middle. Remember, we want Hassan alive” he stopped at the ramp, turning back to speak again “but this is capture or kill.”

As the craft came to thudding land and the ramp began to descend with a mechanical whir, the men selected for Bravo team began to stand, migrating towards Ghost as he stood and waited. Soap stood from his seat next to you with a grunt, adjusting his gun to free up his right hand; wordlessly he held out his fist. You didn’t need prompting, you reached up and bumped your fist against his, nodding at him as his mouth quirked up, just slightly. As you looked towards the ramp your eyes were met with cold dark irises staring right back at you, neither of you made a move to break the eye contact. Ghost was momentarily blocked from your view by Soap’s back, you heard the clack of Ghost flipping his night vision goggles down “keep up, Soap” he barked as he turned to descend the ramp.

You found yourself watching them both as they left, their stances shifting low as they drew their guns and headed towards the broken sandstone structures that had been destroyed long before your teams had gotten here. The ramp shut quickly and you were airborne again, the loud deafening sound of the rotars whirring over your head kicking back into gear again. You shook your head and took a deep inhale of breath, shifting to a stance that meant you wouldn’t stumble from the turbulence.

“You heard the lieutenant team Alpha” your voice was clear and loud, carrying through the torrent of noise. “Let’s get this done” you added as you turned, glancing out of one of the circular windows to peer out into the navy star-speckled night sky.

The sky was one of the only things that stayed consistent in your life. When things got rough or began to drown you, all you had to do was look up. No matter rain or shine; light or dark or sunset or night sky. It always gave you a calming sense of reality, something to escape away from the unfair world you lived in. Away from the blood and the bullets.

As you casted your eyes over toward a cluster of hills nestled against the horizon, a fast approaching stream of fire and smoke stole your eye. Before you could raise the alarm, the pilot’s voice sparked your comms device to life “All stations- Razor-1 is bracketed. We’re getting lit!” His panic was evident and your heart jumped in your throat, you needed to get these men out alive.

“Alpha team hold fast! Prepare for impact” your voice was hoarse as you shouted over the pilot’s voice as he continued shouting through the comms, you urged your men to copy your actions as you held onto the supports above your head, bracing for impact. You felt the entire craft lurch and you were thrown forward, hitting your head against the metal frame of the wall as you collided with it.

“Razor 1 going down! We’re going down!” The pilot bellowed and it rang through your already ringing ears, your vision blurred and the swirl of red lights had you dazed. You tried to stand again, the missile had hit and the whole contents of the craft were flung upwards, including you and your men. You urged them to hang on, to protect themselves from injury as best they could-this was bad and you knew it. You gave them hope as your brain ran into overdrive, wondering how to come out of this.

The impact was like nothing you’d ever experienced- there weren’t any training drills that could simulate a cargo helo crashing from a missile strike at full plummeting speed. Yourself and everyone else on board were flung like rag dolls, colliding with each other, colliding with the walls and ceiling. You caught yourself on a loose seatbelt as you were sent flying forward, palms stinging as the material tore through the skin of your palms. You managed to steady yourself and were forced to watch as one soldier attempted to break his fall with his hands, his arms snapping like twigs from the g-force of the crash and the weight of his own body. You let go of the belt and landed on your back, your ribs connecting with a weapons carrier on the way down as another jolt sent you hurling at Godspeed. You heard the crunch of your bones and winced at the sting running up your side like an electric shock.

The whole ordeal was quick; as the smoke rose and the broken-frayed wiring sparked to illuminate the chaos around you, you could see clearly the full extent of destruction and devastation from the crash.

You coughed as you felt blood begin to fill your mouth and you could feel something warm oozing down the right side of your face. Before you could fully process the scene around you, your comms crackled and a voice found your ears. “Alpha, what’s your status?!” Ghost’s voice was on the brink of showing a slight slither of emotion. You felt like you were choking, the blood and the smoke, it was all too much. You blinked through the darkness and tried to gather your bearings. Rising gingerly to your knees, you were quick to have to clutch at your side, trying to subdue the pain.

Blood stained the walls and floors, bodies were slumped around you and all you could hear was the sounds of coughing and shifting that were almost muted against the sound of the fire now ripping through the crash site. “Alpha, how copy?” Ghost was there again in your head, voice rattling through your ear piece.

You cleared your throat “Ghost” you choked on the blood in your mouth “Alpha is immobile multiple critical!” You slumped down, your body ceasing from the pain as it tore through your nerves. Your senses were lit ablaze when bullets began to rain through the fire and debris, catching the metal and rattling like hailstones. You pressed yourself low to the ground with a pained grunt, pressing your thumb down on your comms again. “Shit! We’re taking effective fire!” You shouted, crawling on your hands and knees toward the wounded, planning to find a gun and cover them from the bullets.

“Sergeant, we’re moving to building 1, hold tight!” As quick as his voice was there again, it was gone.

Your eyes searched the wreckage for anything to help combat the active fire you were taking, that’s when you noticed a gun beneath one of the wounded and you crawled closer towards him. Trying to be as gentle as you could, you rolled him onto his side but he still howled in pain- despite the guilt you knew you had to press on. You nudged the gun from beneath his legs and laid him flat again, not wanting to do him anymore damage if it were his neck or spine that was injured. You grabbed the gun and moved towards better cover, the wreck wasn’t secure and it wouldn’t be long before the enemy moved closer and you’d be compromised. You didn’t open fire yet, there was no point with just one gun, you kept your eyes about you but moved to tend to more wounded.

It was clear that amongst the casualties there were mortally wounded soldiers on your hands, some already dead or close to it. You tried to make them comfortable, trying hard not to think too hard into it. You would want the same if you were in their position. You tried to drown out the noise of the shells raining through the wreckage. Spouting nonsense about nothing, humming a tune as you tied a strip of ripped cloth around someones half amputated leg. You’d seen chaos before, even before you joined the army, but you hadn’t seen this caliber of bloodied carnage in a long time- not since you’d first been deployed.

Back when the fresh faces of young soldiers are first shipped out, not knowing what lays ahead, unknowing that the friends they made in their months of training could soon be lying face down in the mud. You didn’t like thinking back to that time, but right now, you’d give anything to be back there.

You didn’t keep track of time, you thought it best not to. The fire was burning its way around you, it felt like it was under your skin, sweating from the inside out. Bullet shells didn’t cease fire upon your position, they grew erratic and laboured, like the enemy were unsure if anyone was even still alive in the wreckage. You jumped when you heard a voice in your ear again.

“Soap- we’re moving to the crash site to help the wounded. Rest o’ you hold here and cover us” it was Ghost again. The boys were close, not long and you’d have help. It might have only been seconds before you heard footsteps closing in, you could never be safe, you pointed your gun towards the noise and held your finger on the trigger. Always ready. You focused your eyes, squeezing the trigger.

“Blue blue!” A voice shouted, you dropped the aim of your gun, relief rinsing through your bloodstream as you saw Ghost and Soap enter the wreckage.

“It’s good to see you two” you sighed “we’ve got five KIA and one wounded, it’s just me and my gun” you said, eyes daring to peer outside toward the tree line, checking for more movement. Ghost stiffened.

“They’re here, get your fuckin’ gun on that tree line” he ordered, moving himself into position as Soap followed.

You raised yourself up, holding onto some webbing draping across the craft for some leverage, you’d taken more damage than you’d initially realised. It would have to wait. Coming up to stand to your full height, you shuffled yourself into a better position. You took a low firing line, flipping the night vision goggles atop your helmet into position so you could better see. It wasn’t clear, smoke still rising, but it was clear enough.

“Got movement” Soap stated roughly.

“If you have a shot, take it” Ghost’s tone was menacing, his demeanour had done a complete 180 onto its head, like you’d predicted. You were the first to shoot.

“Engage!” you shouted, spotting more shooters spilling from behind a wall. Bullets sliced through the air, the sound ringing in your ears from all angles. You hit multiples, as did the boys, the enemy gave it their best go too. Your eyes caught sight of something, you shouted as you realised what it was. “RPG!” You ducked your head, watching the men in the wreckage around you do the same, very briefly. What was left of the helo rocked and jerked from the force of the blow, more metal flying away and shredding.

“Fuck” Soap growled, losing his bearings. Ghost let out a frustrated noise.

“Get your guns up” you all continued to fire, watching more enemy soldiers dropped to the ground.

This continued, more and more soldiers spilling from the tree line and opening fire. You were low on ammo, you threw a grenade out the window in front of you and it rolled towards a cluster of wooden supply boxes, at least three men were killed when the blast went off. Ghost was opening fire like hell, Soap too, the Scotsman quickly running out and setting mines between reloading stints to fend off the targets that managed to get close enough.

“Dig in, lads. We’re not done yet” the lieutenant was still firing as he spoke, not letting his guard down once. You kept your eyes forward, squinting them when you noticed an abnormal layering of smoke begin to rise from the tree line.

“We got smoke, boys, in the tree line” you grit your teeth, knowing what this meant.

“No visual” Soap said, flatly.

You retorted “I can’t see shit”.

There was a second of silence, “incoming!” Ghost shouted.

More fire hit you, a bullet whizzed so close past your face you wouldn’t have been surprised if it left a mark. Too close. You’d not realised, but Ghost was practically at your side, covering more men coming from the tree line closer to where you were shooting.

“Take cover!” he barked, cold eyes glaring forward as he shot more rounds into the smoke. More explosions rang out, coming closer each time, rumbling the very earth from the force of it.

“They’re launching grenades!” Soap shouted.

Your gun ran out of ammo and you’d lost your hand gun in the crash, your eyes darted around, then you saw the one strapped to the lieutenant’s thigh. You ripped it quickly from the holster, adjusting your position on your knees to get a better shot. You fired through the explosions and into the darkness, hearing more thuds as more targets hit the dirt. Ghost didn’t seem to react to you taking his gun, maybe he was too focussed on the incoming fire. You didn’t catch what he said, speaking through comms to whoever was there. Your brain felt like mush and your ears were still ringing, not to mention the bleeding from your head hadn’t stopped.

“Air support is on its way” he said.

Some of the smoke started to clear. Less and less soldiers were pushing through to the wreckage, this was nearly over.

“Let’s move up. We clear this position and push forward, if Hassan is still here he’s up ahead” Ghost gave the order, Soap clearly didn’t agree but there was no time for discussion. You whistled for their attention.

“Armoured vehicles closing in, there’s four of ‘em” you stated, watching them roll into the darkness through your goggles.

The men adjusted their stances, “let ‘em get close” Ghost ordered, clearly thinking about conserving energy and ammo. You nodded.

Just as they came close enough, the three of you let bullets free, the enemy returning it back with the same fever. To your relief the skys growled over head, barely noticeable through the shrouds of smoke, turrets of bullets rained down by the hundreds, air support cleared the way for you to move up the hill.

A soldier from bravo team radioed through from where he was covering your position, “all clear lieutenant, no movement ahead” he stated.

Ghost replied straight away with a simple “rog”.

Ghost turned, not specifically toward you but toward the entirety of the wreckage, darkened eyes scanning the carnage. His thumb pressed into the button of his comms device, “air support, task a bird for casualty evac” it crackled as he waited for a response.

“Roger that lieutenant” they quickly responded.

Soap and Ghost led the way out of the wreckage and you quickly followed after them. “Alpha you’re with us” Ghost shouted, a number of soldiers joined you as they answered back a “yes sir” in unison.

Your lungs felt like they were on fire and your ribcage felt weak, hollow-boned like that of a bird. The pain was piercing you, like needles pressing deep down into the fibres of your muscles. But you kept on, legs carrying you along with the others, pure adrenaline being your only saving grace at this point. You hissed in pain as your damaged knee almost gave way beneath you, the lieutenant noticed.

“They used us for fucking bait, didn’t they?” you growled, trying your best not to look like you were struggling. Ghost cocked his head toward you.

“They’re well supplied and fighting smart, thanks to Hassan” he put it simply. Soap chimed in.

“Aye. Looks like you were right, Lt.” he said.

Your eyes took in the scene in front of you, fire and explosions lighting the way. “You think Hassan’s still here?” You asked, eyes and borrowed hand gun still aiming forward.

“Heli crash gave ‘em an opening. Let’s see if they took it” Ghost was a realist. Good to know.

All of you continued to run. Breaths heaving and bodies aching. Adrenaline fuelled your blood, you moved up quickly, arriving at the last building. You went to take positions when fire rained toward you, a soldier only inches to your left dropped, caught in the line of a sniper.

“Man down!” you shouted, unable to look at the man as you took his rifle. You dropped low as everyone around you did the same, focusing fire on the roof top of the building.

“AQ has got night vision” Soap stated the obvious, taking out two snipers simultaneously. You grunted in response, focusing your eye through the scope and taking out another shooter up ahead.

“Clear” Ghost shouted. “Move up. Let’s find Hassan, dead or alive” his tone shifted, dangerous now.

You made it to the house. Clearing the first floor, dropping anyone that moved. “We need positive ID on Hassan, check the bodies” you barked out to the soldiers behind you, sticking with Soap and Ghost as they continued to move on.

It was all negative. No positive ID from any of the bodies, he wasn’t upstairs either. The three of you continued, a door flung open, before they could even move to fire their weapon, Ghost shot a round into their stomach and another into their skull. Dropping them effortlessly like it was nothing.

The house was wrecked. A twisted mess of broken brick and fractured stone, electrical wire looming low overhead firing sparks in all directions. You stuck close to Soap as he followed Ghost, noticing that there was a voice playing through something- you all moved toward it, heading up more stairs. Ghost broke the door with a kick, no positive on Hassan, just his propaganda playing on loop through a laptop.

“Hassan’s everywhere” Ghost growled and

“Everywhere but here” Johnny scoffed.

You split off, heading off alone through more of the upstairs, the boys didn’t noticed you’d gone. They’d clearly continued on thinking you were right there behind them. You pointed your gun around the door frame of an upstairs corridor, your body following as you perceived it to be clear. Last minute, bullets flew through a compromised section of the dry wall, heading straight towards you. By some luck, you’d managed to dodge them, leering forward behind a protruding structure in the wall and retaliating with your own fire. You cleared the corridor and entered the room that the target had been guarding. Hassan had been in there.

Ghost and Soap must have been alerted by the gun fire, they came in hot, practically sprinting to your location. They stopped short in the doorway, your back was towards them, their eyes searched the room. You turned towards them, a uniform jacket scrunched tightly in your fist.

“Hassan’s uniform” you seethed. Mactavish gave out a grunt.

“So he was here” he flailed an arm in frustration. Ghost remained in the doorway, his eyes low.

“Lost him when we secured the crash site” he said simply, lowly.

The weight of Ghost’s words hit you in the chest like a bullet, but you knew they shouldn’t have, deep down you knew he was right. Soap was standing between you and Ghost, his eyes darting between the two of you.

“Are you sayin’ we shouldn’t have helped?” Soap squared his shoulders. Ghost just shrugged.

“Choices have consequences”. It was just that simple.

“All bravo, we’ve got movement out here” the voice hit through your ear piece, breaking the tension in the room.

“On the way” Ghost confirmed.

The three of you continued on. Moving back the way you’d come and heading out towards the rest of the team, they’d seen movement in a warehouse up ahead. All of Bravo and what was left of Alpha moved in, lighting up fire when they reached the rolling doors. More soldiers dropped. Shot dead. You all kept pushing through, eyes through scopes and fingers on triggers. You broke off, tucking and rolling behind a metal container, opening more fire as you pushed the enemy back with forcible ammunition. Ghost was on your tail, following after you and overtaking, pushing on through. Soap was up next and came to cover you, locking his palms together to make it easier for you to hoist yourself up on top of the container. There was another container there to keep you shielded, it gave you a vantage point over the targets that had tried to retreat to higher ground. You dropped them easily.

For what felt like the first time in hours, everything stopped. All of the noise. Everything.

“Are we clear?” Soap shouted up to you, you let out a laboured breath. You stuck your thumb up.

“Clear” you said. Your knees burned as you jumped down from the container, you didn’t give yourself a chance to ease yourself down.

“Search it, let’s see what they’re hiding” Ghost’s voice echoed through the now dying silence, the warehouse carrying the gravely baritone of his voice. You closed in on Johnny, following him as he approached one of the container doors that was ajar. From first look, it was controls. Panels and buttons and screens.

“What the fuck is this?” Soap queried. You looked closer.

“It’s all in English” you said, eyes still scanning frantically. Living up to his name, Ghost was suddenly there, behind you, so close you could feel his warmth at your back. You watched as Soap flipped one of the switches, the entire warehouse shook, the container vibrating and whirring.

All three of you stepped back quickly, eyes trained up watching it all unfold.

“Fucking hell” you breathed.

“Steamin’ Jesus” Soap’s jaw was on the floor.

“Ballistic missiles”. Ghost’s gaze hardened.

You frowned “it’s a mobile launcher”.

Another soldier chimed in behind you. “These will go 1,000 miles”.

“At least” Ghost added.

You stepped forward and moved around to the left of the container to get a better look, Soap wasn’t far behind.

“How the hell did Iran get their hands on this?” Soap growled in the back of his throat.

The men watched as you ascended the weapon carriers that were piled up next to the container, making quick work of the climb, a new shot of rage fuelled adrenaline kicking through your veins.

Ghost spoke up “7-6, get us through to Laswell” his eyes were still scanning the discovery in front of him.

“Roger, stand by” the soldier spoke quickly “Bravo 7-6 Charlie to Watcher-1, how copy?” You all waited for a response.

Laswell’s voice quickly chimed in “this is Watcher-1, send traffic” she spoke clearly.

“Laswell, this is Ghost. We got something” the concern was laced in his voice.

“You found Hassan?” She asked quickly.

Your eyes landed on something truly jolting. “Ghost, Soap, take a look at this” you urged, turning your neck to meet their eyes, their expression no doubt mirrored yours. Laswell’s frantic voice broke the silence again.

“Ghost, do you have Hassan?” She asked again.

You watched as Ghost pressed down the button to his comm, leaning down to speak loud and clear. “Negative. We found a weapons cache. Hassan’s got missiles, they’re American” a silence enveloped the warehouse.

“0-7 this is Gold Eagle Actual, repeat your last” General Shepherd’s voice was frantic.

“I’ll say again, Hassan has American missiles” Ghost repeated.

It’s almost as if the air was sucked from the warehouse like a vacuum. You would have heard a pin drop it was that quiet. The way you slumped down into a seated position wasn’t graceful or quiet, but you weren’t about to stand for any longer then you needed to. Soap snapped his neck toward you, his eyes searching yours, you nodded toward him with a half-arsed thumbs up. You saw in the way that his expression fell that you weren’t in a good way, the bleached lights of the warehouse would have left no injury of yours unseen to the eye. You’d lost a lot of blood but you’d make more, right now there were more important things to worry about.

~

Rain pattered gently across your cheeks, it’s cold chill seeping right down to your bones- forcing you to shiver. You hummed, arms crossed over your chest as you sat on the damp brick stone wall with your chin tilted skyward, more droplets cascading down your face like gentle streams over your skin.

This was probably the only thing you missed about England. The shit weather. Soaking wet springtimes and late hazy summers, rugged cold autumns and early winters smothered with snow. You struggled to remember much about them; you didn’t have fond childhood memories of building snow men and drinking hot chocolate, nor were you able to think back to a summer where you’d stay at the park all day playing football, coming home to a freezer-burnt ice cream that your mum had dug out for you.

There was none of that. None of the warm fondness or swell of nostalgic familiarity in your chest. You pushed everything away. There was nothing that you saw worthy to keep in your head; no core memories of birthdays or holidays, no movie nights in or sleepovers with friends. Your entire childhood had been stolen from you, thrown away- just like you had been.

Your memories of British summertimes were filled with laughter; water fights on the barrack fields after quitting time. Bike rides at sunrise instead of hitting the gym, even wild swims at the coast on rarer occasions.

The wet springtimes; running drills through knee high mud, purposefully hitting the ground with heavy footfalls to splash one another. Wringing out your rain soaked shirts in the locker rooms and whipping each other till your skin welted- crying with laugher till you were on the floor.

Autumn, perhaps your favourite. Walking across base - watching as the leaves fell in a blanket of umber and tawny, crunched under your boots, the smell of damp earth in the air, so fresh and free as it stole the very breath from your lungs.

Harsh winters were common, on the contrary to summer, wild swims in below freezing temperatures as part of vital training, your teeth chattering so hard you were sure they’d break. Warm hot chocolate spiced with a drop of whiskey in the evening; settled around a table, talking about everything and nothing in the communal rooms while shuffling a deck of cards- thinking about the idea of found family, realising it’s not as far out of reach as you’d thought.

Those were your memories of home, of England, your memories of the place you were born.

The military had been the making of you- there was nothing before that, you were made for this. You told yourself that on repeat, the army had saved you, put a roof over your head. There was no shadow of doubt that your life would have been very different if you hadn’t taken this route, and you were convinced that you would have been six feet under by now.

The rain was only passing. The frigid breeze carrying it ever so gently, kissing your skin. You wished a storm would come your way, wash you out and provide a much needed clarity- a reset. You did always love thunderstorms, watching the lightning split the sky, cracking and illuminating as it broke apart.

You were sitting outside. The backend of the barracks were more sheltered, further hidden from higher ups that would scald you for being outdoors so late.

After the last twenty-four hours you’d had, you should have completely crashed. Been dead to the world as soon as your head hit your pillow. But you didn’t - couldn’t. Unable to sleep, unable to settle, thoughts racing and mind following. There was so much going through your head, and that wasn’t common for you, this should have been just like any other day; any other job.

Something was different, and you knew it was far from over yet.

Soap had been by your side the entirety of the transport back to the barracks, his eyes wide and searching as he asked you question after question, barely letting you close your eyes for even a second for fear you’d slip into a coma from the blood-loss.

You wanted to bang your head against the metal of the craft as you sat there listening to him drone on. Either that or you would rip Johnny’s voice box out of his throat with your bare hands. Ghost’s fists clenched where they sat resting on his thighs.

“Leave it, Mactavish” he’d barked, clicking his tongue as he did, clearly it wasn’t just your nerves Soap was grating on.

You wanted to laugh as you watched the Scotsman shrink back in his seat, like a dog with its tail between its legs, not liking getting told off. Yet, your smile washed away, swallowed by the tension in the craft. The entire mission hadn’t gone to plan, coming up short, following dead lead after dead lead. With fatalities and injuries on top of that, it didn’t serve to keep the morale of the team up.

The three of you didn’t speak much. You could see the tiredness eating it’s way at Soap, feeling as his body grew heavier and heavier beside you in his seat. Ghost was sitting across from you, like he had done on the transport over seas chasing the dead lead, you couldn’t see him all that clearly, the night flight back to base didn’t provide much light to go by, only giving you a rough shadowed outline of where and how he was sitting.

Yet, you were sure you could feel Ghost’s mind ticking over. Almost as if you could hear the man thinking, could hear the gears turning over and over in his head as he sat there- stewing away behind that mask of his. He kept his arms folded across his chest, another barrier thrown up in defence, dead eyes glaring towards the ceiling as he rested the crown of his head against the back of his seat. He had his legs kicked out and splayed apart, resting either side of your boots, right foot tapping away in absent thought.

You hadn’t managed to sleep, didn’t even feel groggy at all, and you were always the first to sleep on transport. Usually loved getting rocked to sleep from the turbulence or terrain. There had been a running joke for years that you could sleep anywhere at anytime, your body had improved over the years at getting used to time zones and differences, it barely reached you anymore.

It was unusual. Your body wouldn’t allow you to rest, perhaps the adrenaline hadn’t subsided just yet, maybe after you’d been to medical upon landing and gotten cleaned up you’d feel better.

Negative.

Soap had marched you to the medial building as soon as you’d gotten to base, tugging you by the arm like you were a naughty child. The other soldiers had gone straight to the barracks, heading straight to their bunks to sleep off the last twenty-four hours, they’d earned it. Even Ghost went.

You shooed Johnny away as soon as you were being seen to, urging him that he didn’t have to babysit you and that he should rest up. You reminded him that this wouldn’t be a long respite. He had nodded, a smile quirking at his lips as he held out his fist, you rolled your eyes- but you bumped your fist to his nether the less.

The sweet nurse had tried to express her concerns for the state you were in, but as lovely as she was, you brushed her off. She was short and blonde, the tiredness in her pretty hazel eyes showing you she’d been in the med room since early doors. She’d urged for you to have x-rays taken of your chest, that even if your ribs were just fractured that it could potentially cause other issues if you hadn’t already punctured a lung or lacerated any other organs. You pulled a bullshit excuse out of your arse and handed it to her with the nicest of smiles, hopping down from the examination bed as you buttoned your shirt back up. She’d already cleaned and taped the wound on your head, cleaning some of your other cuts and grazes and smothering them in balm to keep anything nasty out. She sent you on your way after shoving some heavy painkillers down your throat, knowing you weren’t going to take her advice and that you’d deploy again tomorrow, and she was right- you couldn’t sit this one out now.

After leaving the medical building you’d made your way outside, and you hadn’t moved since. It must have been hours now. You stopped counting after two, letting the cold chill of the rain and wind sting your face as you perched there on that wall, content and calm. Perhaps it was the painkillers making your head foggy, calming the thrum of your blood as you stared out into the star studded darkness.

Upon hearing heavy footfalls scuffing across the concrete, you turned your attention to the source of the sound, watching a shadowy figure approaching as they descended the stairs that led back towards the main buildings. You couldn’t see all too clearly, there were no lights to illuminate the area in which you were sitting, to purposely discourage loitering. Whoever it was didn’t speak right away, you tilted your head back towards the sky, closing your eyes with a sigh. They came to a stop next to where you were sitting on the wall, not invading your space directly but barely keeping their distance.

A faint click of a lighter striking caught your attention and your eyes opened to flicker over to your left- it was Ghost.

The cigarette was already between his lips, his left hand cupping it to protect it from the wind and rain as the other hand held the lighter, dying away with a loud click.

You watched as he inhaled deeply, the swell of his chest rising as the end of the cigarette illuminated a deep amber, causing shadows to dance across his face from the glow. The mask caught you. This wasn’t the one he’d been wearing before, this one was a simple black balaclava with his characteristic skull printed onto the lower part of the face- it was already pulled up to the bridge of his nose when you had turned to look at him. There were thick smudges of black-grease paint plastered over his eye sockets, making the colour contrast with the hickory brown of his eyes.

There was something about your lieutenant that you couldn’t quite grasp fully; you’d met plenty of reserved soldiers before, closed off and more secretive about themselves and their lives outside of these walls- but Ghost was different. It’s as if there was nothing outside of these walls for him. The military and the 141 were his entire life, the reason he breathed air and woke up in a morning.

When the others made plans for leave or talked about their families, he didn’t, he’d stay and he’d listen. Never has he ever uttered so much as a word about his private life, maybe he did have one, maybe a wife and a family- but you couldn’t see it.

He was just so- unmoved. He barely showed outward concern for himself or his team, the latter more so but only if it was fatal. He knew that collateral damage was a given, he knew that every mission he deployed on he would come back with less soldiers then he left with. Ghost swallowed that pill everyday, the lives he holds in his hands, the weight of the grief on his shoulders. It was any surprise he was still standing, but you guess he was numb to it now, that’s why he didn’t feel it anymore. He was so used to death and destruction, it was starting to be ineffective at jarring him, at making him feel any kind of way about it.

Ghost pockets the lighter, reaching up and holding the cigarette between his thumb and index finger as he retracts it from his mouth, a deep-dark cloud of smoke falling from his lips as he breathes it out.

Your eyes lingered. Assessing the dressed down version of the infamous soldier as he leaned back against the wall. His boots and trousers were what was left of his uniform, from the waist up he was wearing a charcoal coloured jacket with a high collar that he’d pulled up, covering what you could see of a simple black undershirt peeking out from between the zipper of his jacket.

The darkness didn’t provide your eyes well, only when he took a drag of his cigarette could you see the outlines of the lower half of his face. Even then, you didn’t risk staring, despite your- curiosity he was still your lieutenant.

It’s normal to be curious- you keep telling yourself. He’s your lieutenant; your point of call, your lifeline when you’re out there risking life and limb. Yet, you’ve never seen his face, would never be able to pick him out in a sea of hundreds. He doesn’t owe you anything, you’re new to his charge, under his wing so to speak, but you’re leading this mission with him and Johnny- the least you should be able to ask for is some truths. Everything about him is redacted, save for his name, even then that had been hard enough to get, apparently everything about him was on a need to know basis.

The man took a long-heavy drag of his cigarette. “How’s your head?” He asked flatly, his eyes trained forward as he spoke.

His voice might not have been loud, but you’d been in silence for hours, the gravely tone of his voice hammered straight through to your bones. You watched him out the corner of your eye.

“It’s fine” you said, not really wanting to elaborate in case he tried to catch you out.

Ghost hummed “you sure about that?” He queried, tone a little harder.

When you craned your neck to look at him fully this time you found he was already looking at you, his eyes pointedly focused on the tape holding the left side of your forehead together. You didn’t take your eyes away.

“I’m very sure” you reiterated, hoping he’d drop the subject, you had a feeling he wouldn’t.

“And the punctured lung?” You stiffened. How did he know? He pushed himself up from leaning back against the wall and turned his body so he was parallel to you now, his right hip leaning into the brick as his right elbow kept him propped there. He had let go of his cigarette, his lips keeping it secure as he continued to smoke it, blowing smoke out the corner of his mouth.

You gathered your thoughts in your head, thinking of the best response you could give. The man spoke before you could.

“Your silence tells me a lot, sergeant” he huffed, taking ahold of his cigarette once more as he returned to his prior position, mirroring the way you faced forward. You kissed your lips against your teeth.

“I’m fine” you said again, you saw no point in trying to persuade him, he’d clearly already made up his mind.

Ghost made some kind of noise in the back of his throat and you heard him rooting for something in his pocket. You were surprised when a cigarette was held out towards you. You frowned, casting your eyes over to him to find he was still staring forward, mouth devoid of a cigarette and his free hand stuffed into his pocket, he’d clearly smoked it right down to the filter and ditched it.

How could you think you could lie to him? He’d seen first hand the pain you were in, so much pain you couldn’t see straight, blood staining your face as you fought for a singular breath to enter your lungs.

He was testing you now. If you refused the cigarette then he’d assume it was because you were still in pain with your lungs and chest, if you took it then perhaps he would lay off.

You made up your mind, brushing your fingers over his as you took the smoke from his hold. You placed it between your dry lips, you were still in your full gear and you knew you had a lighter somewhere, before you could start your search- Ghost already had you covered. His hand extended out toward your face with the flame dancing and licking at the breeze, you leaned in close and cupped both of your hands around his as it held the lighter, inhaling deeply as the earthy taste of the tobacco hit the back of your throat.

You’d smoked causally and socially throughout your entire army career, surely smoking through one cigarette without as much as a splutter would be easy enough.

Ghost retracted his hand and pocketed his lighter again, watching you smoke from the corner of his eye. You could feel his eyes on you, so you purposefully didn’t look his way, you gazed off into the pitch black, eyes struggling to focus on anything at all.

He stuffed both of his hand into his pockets, enjoying the quiet, listening only to the steady pattering of soft rain against the brick and concrete and the gentle sound of your steady breaths exhaling the smoke.

You weren’t about to admit that he was right, but he was right. The nicotine dried your lungs and the tickle of tobacco at the roof of your mouth and back of your throat had you gagging to cough, mixed with the subtle metallic taste of your own blood that still lingered on your palate. It wasn’t a delightful mix. You decided to distract yourself.

“Anyway, how come you aren’t asleep, Lt?” You asked, genuinely intrigued. The man quirked a brow, or at least, it looked like he did.

“Could ask the same to you” He was right but you asked first. You tutted.

“I’ve been with medical” you countered, thinking you’d caught him out.

“Three hours ago” he gifted flatly. Fuck. You shrugged him off.

“I lost track of time” you took his silence as his answer.

It was obvious that he hadn’t come out here just to smoke, there was something he needed to say, and you wished he would just spit it out. He shifted his stance, like he was in pain, you almost asked if he was okay, but thought better of it. He was more then capable of looking out for himself, when you were out in the field you’d worry and watch his six, back here- you’d leave him to it.

Ghost sighed “it’s been advised that you don’t ship out tomorrow” his words cut through you, his softened tone did nothing to soften the blow. You stiffened, shoulders squaring off as you took a deep inhale of the cigarette.

“On what grounds?” You asked quickly, tone shifting. He noticed.

“Medical” he spoke while looking at you pointedly, you laughed.

“Wow” you shook your head with a disbelieving smile “you take a little bump to the head these days and that gets you grounded?” Your question was entirely rhetorical, your head was the least severe of your injuries.

Ghost shifted his weight, still looking at you, watching as the emotions played out on your face. “listen to me-“ you cut him off.

“No, it’s bullshit” you stated with a scrunched frown creasing your face, still heaving plumes of smoke as you spoke.

“Oi” the lieutenant barked, making you freeze and look at him. “I’ve dismissed it” he said, his calm front falling back into place. Just another mask to add.

Your eyes blew wide. “You- what?” You asked, confused. He sighed, reaching over to pluck the cigarette from between your fingers, bringing it up to his own lips to take a drag.

“I think it’s best we finish what we started- all of us” he said, puffs of smoke escaping his lips between his words. He handed the cigarette back to you as he continued, watching as you brought it to your own lips to continue smoking it. “You handled the crash well” he said “would have had more fatalities if you hadn’t have helped when you did” it was clear that he believed what he was saying, you didn’t take Ghost as someone who minced his words, he said it how it was.

“Thank you” you said, simply, returning your gaze to the dark sky, rain still falling gently.

It took a few seconds for Ghost’s words to settle. You furrowed your brow in thought, offering the cigarette back to him, which he gladly took. A comfortable blanket of silence fell over you, the next few minutes were simply nothing. A void in conversation that wasn’t forced or awkward, it was just- natural. The two of you passed the cigarette between one another wordlessly, Ghost taking the longest and final drag till it was down to the end of the filter before he flicked it away, stomping it out with the heel of his boot. This signalled that it was time to call it a night, or a morning, you didn’t know what time it was. You pushed yourself down from the wall, groaning and cracking your joints as you stretched out, sitting in the cold for this long wouldn’t have done you any good.

Ghost pushed himself up from where he’d been leaning against the brick, now you were standing here, parallel to one another, you could see just how tall he was in comparison to you. Even the width of his shoulders were almost twice that of yours. You were forced to look up to meet his eyes, those cold-dead eyes of his. He tilted his chin down to see you clearer, that usual frown of his under the mask gone, no where to be seen. His expression was soft, almost content. You broke the silence.

“Thank you Lt” you said, watching the fabric over his brow furrow. “For not grounding me” you added. His eyes softened slightly.

“Don’t let me regret it” his voice was gruff, maybe even tired.

Your eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dark, but he was so close you could faintly see the outline of his jaw and lips as he spoke. There was only a scant amount of space between you and him. You didn’t fight the urge to reach up your hand and pinch the mask where it was pushed up against his nose- yanking it down in one swift movement. He let you do it. Didn’t even move to stop you. “Better to keep your anonymity Lt” you said, smiling softly as you moved to walk past him and head toward the steps. He turned his shoulders slowly toward you.

“You know my name” he said flatly, barely amused by your attempt to joke with him.

He was right, you did know his name, but that took the fun out of it.

You sighed “Come on, Riley. Time to get some shut eye, before we get in trouble for being out here” you adopted a horrific Manchester accent as you spoke, whatever drugs that nurse had given you, they were pretty fuckin’ wicked. Ghost clearly didn’t agree, but he also didn’t correct you when you used his surname. That was a feat in itself.

“I’m a lieutenant, what the fuck are they gonna say to me?” he grumbled, mostly to himself, but you had heard him.

You laughed softly, something warm swelling in your chest. Your initial perception of him had been cold and disconnected, he presented himself as a man who existed solely for his role within the military. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, you were sure you’d find out. Your exchange with him this evening had showed you that he was observant and truly did value each and every soldier in his platoon. He wasn’t allowing you to be medically grounded because he believed you would be an asset to the continuation of this mission, if that man had any doubt about the severity of your injuries and the chance that you could slow them down- he would have you grounded in a heart beat. He was giving you a chance, and you were determined to show him he was right to trust you and your judgement.

You held onto this feeling as the two of you climbed the stairs, entering the halls of the barracks and parting ways to your respected quarters.

[moondirti]

Idk if you have answered an ask like this already but please feed me some possessive/ jealous Ghost hc or whatever bc that man is 10 times sexier while jealous and possessive.

Pls just imagine jealous sex with this man omg…

he would not know how to handle himself i'm pretty sure. sorry to sabotage your thirst anon, i just love me a repressed man :) anyway, this is for the same mc in cigarettes out the window (reader with the call sign 'scout') but it can be read entirely separate! so, without further ado here's some jealous ghost

He's colossal, a force composed of pure brawn and unfathomable depths. Talk of Ghost illustrates him as a norse warrior to end all, the nightmare fuel of enemies who can't help but pale at a skull face. Wholly a reputation founded on that tactical precision; charcoal eyes, half-lidded to contain the ire that bubbles like magma. It's all physical. You'd just assumed that strength extended to his emotional conviction as well.

But he gets quiet sometimes, eerily so. The type where he embodies his name and dissipates like shadow on you. You don't see him for days.

It definitely depends on the stage of your relationship. Catch him jealous before the six month mark and he'd choose to abandon ship. It's that instinctive fight or flight, the choice to back down and reassess before he loses another one of his men. But you're not the enemy; your hands are soft and supple when they cradle his face, never seeking to add to his scars. You're gentle when you tell him that it's him, always will be; no one can ever compare to the behemoth you'd surrendered your heart to.

It takes a lot of time to get Simon to the point where he allows himself to be possessive. The first time, it goes something like this:

Some bar in France, cleared out for their obligatory drink post-mission. Johnny had held him up, pulling him off to the side to start on a tangent about his makeshift bomb that ended up saving their lives. His eyes stay fixed on you, edging to his peripheral where you're caught up in a rather funny conversation with Gaz.

You muffle your snicker behind a shaking hand. Simons' own squeeze into fists.

While your relationship with the Lieutenant has yet to be defined, the men of the 141 recognise the silent claim that curls over your shoulders. It was written in your sleepy sigh, dewy skin gleaming with contentment, that night they'd woke at a safe house to find you three inches closer to his mattress. It was the first of many, many hints.

Garrick isn't flirting with you, not by a long shot.

But he is making you laugh. Perhaps harder than Simon ever has.

He can't really describe what overcomes him. It's a rib-shattering heartbeat, working overtime to supply his vision with brimming red. A deeply vulnerable pit bottoming out in his gut; that fear, still there, that you're only temporary. He only acts on the former so he won't face the latter.

He leaves Soap with no more than a clap on the back. The sergeant takes it for what it is, a promise to continue later.

"Price wants you on reports."

"Does he?" You shoot him an incredulous expression, shifting back and forth from his blank stare and the captain, who huddles near Laswell over a game of gin rummy.

"Affirmative." The response comes out faster than he'd like it to, clipped with full-bodied aggression.

"Right..." Licking your lip, you take a moment to match your scrutiny to his. Simon thinks he sees it, the glint your pupils take when you finally catch on. It combats the spite that courses through him, pooling down to fill the weight between his legs. Clever girl - you know him, probably better than he knows himself. "And I'm assuming you need to consult me on something regarding that?"

"Yes." It's all the indication you need.

"Well." You look to Garrick. "I'm sorry to cut this short, mate. Remember to tell me about Serbia some other time."

And Simon doesn't miss the odd look the sergeant gives you, lips curled downwards in an acknowledging humour. He doesn’t like that he’s comfortable enough to give that much. 

But you follow him, smaller footsteps matching his as he finds a secluded hallway near the bathroom. It’s a good thing, he – rather, his internal monologue that sounds too much like your voice – echoes.

"Gonna bring up what's wrong, or will I have to force it out of ya. Hm?"

"Didn' appreciate the way he was lookin' at you, pet."

Your breath hitches, clumped lashes fluttering as you take him in anew. If this were anything else, Simon would credit your grin to a cruel sadism. As it stands, though, he lets it guide the flow of his plastered heart. He's on the right track.

"And how was he looking at me, Si?"

The growl that leaves him is untamed, the feral rip release of a hand grenade. A large hand clamps over your jaw, pressing inwards so your lips pucker out at him. The other pushes your torso to the wall, skimming past the hem of your shirt.

It's new. It's thrilling. It's a wildfire turned eternal damnation, fuelled by a fatal sin that forever trumps envy. Lust, bubbling poison to his insecurity - practical headway into something he's good at. Words were never his forte, but he can fuck you like no one else can, thrusting deeper between your velvet walls than thought possible. It's always been enough to spur breathless awe.

Enough, enough.

"Like he could ever amount to me."

[guardkeywolf]

Cod boys seeing their artist male readers art when they get back from a mission and they are just relaxing and they decided to ask him to see his art book since they never saw it and male reader says yes and they look through it and Is shocked how nale reader makes things so realistic.

It's... Beautiful Y/n...

Hello @gamersansblog ! I am SO SO SORRY this took so long!

I hope you enjoy it!

°

°

°

If there was anything that was needed after a tense mission, it was relaxation. When the boys got back from dealing with another terrorist, Laswell gave them so well needed time off and they used every second of it. Not only that, but a good friend of theirs also swing by as well.

Y/n was seen quite frequently at the 141's base, so just about everyone knew him.

Y/n was an artist who liked to sketch around their base sometimes.

The man loved making realistic drawings of them if he had the chance. Usually after 141 returned from their missions the man would be waiting there, doodling in his sketchbook. The others were quite interested to see it the first time they caught on to him being around and Y/n was more than happy to show them.

Inside, there were multiple pictures. Different mediums used, charcoal, pastel, water color, even some good ole' oil paintings. The man was very deserve in his style so he usually had a different instrument when he swung by.

Today, Y/n said he wanted to draw Price, the others a tad bit jealous that their Captain got the lucky honor of being Y/n's model but went with it nonetheless.

While Price finished the last of the paperwork he had, Y/n sat there on his couch sketching away with his graphite pencils he brought today. Though most would find the sound annoying, Price found it comforting as he heard Y/n's pencil rub against the multi-media paper. He could hear the difference between each stroke. Light and Hard.

He couldn't help but chuckle when he also looked up to see the others watching the man from behind as the man drew their Captain.

"Don't you boys have 'ork to do?" He hummed as he went back to doing his own.

"I don't mind them, Captain. After all, they were curious to see just how I manage to make it so realistic," Y/n chuckled to himself.

Price looked up and saw Ghost staring in awe at the paper, eyes widened at the probably nearly finished masterpiece. Gaz and Soap did the same as they watched over Y/n's shoulder, taking in each movement the man made as he worked.

It must have at least an hour that passed or so before the Captain heard Y/n's sketching come to a stop when hearing the "oos' and "aahs" of his men.

"Jesus Y/n, tha's amazing..." Soap said as he gazed at the photo.

"Agreed Johnny..." Ghost complimented as well baffled by the amount of detail that went into the sketch.

"Captain...you gotta' come see this, sir...it's.. it looks just like you," Gaz spoke as he looked upon the breathtaking piece.

"Guys please, your over exaggerating..." Y/n smiled up at them before walking over to the man.

Y/n turned the sketchbook towards the man slowly, smiling as he watched the man's eyes light up.

Price looked up to him, eyes full of curiosity making the artist chuckle again.

"That's...that's bloody beautiful Y/n... think I may frame it in 'ere."

"Thank you..." and he meant it.

"No problem, Captain..."

°

°

°

If you enjoyed reading this please feel free to REBLOG with the TAGS on!

Tags make it easier to navigate yall's Tumblr pages!

Thank you for reading again!

-Guards

[thoughtsandbones]

It's been a long time

FIRST TIME WRITING A FANFIC - Since i was on LiveJournal (years ago)

Simon 'Ghost' RIley x F!MedicDoc

WARNINGS: Mention of death, blood, fluff and angst?

Song inspo: Think - Kaleida (Love John Wick <3 and Atomic Blonde <3)

I grew up with the OG MW2 game, so there are some references to the old one, so kind of a mix of both the OG and the new timeline...

All rights reserved to the rightful owners of Call of Duty Modern Warfare.

(FYI: bold sentences... are like this... are supposed to describe redacted data/info to the plot... ;] .. )

MASTERLIST

Part 1

Back again here. That's what you thought when you actually landed at the base. You're trying to calculate how long it has actually been. The years. The months. The days. The hours. The minutes.

Why? Because time is represented by numbers. And a weird number observer you were. Numbers are always assigned to occasions, incidents, blood pressure, mL of drugs, minutes to save a life, seconds wasted.

You furrow your eyebrows. You don't care about the wrinkles forming. Not anymore. You part your lips, and suck in some air.

The tightness of the black boots yet to be broken in like you were once.. were just painful and added pain of sore feet and legs from getting back into training was just a cherry on the icing.

The pain is just temporary... You think to yourself whilst you close your eyes and inhale for 4 through the nose, hold, and slowly breathe out for four, controlled, of course... and gradually open your eyes.

You should be grateful for this chance.

You take in scene before you. Base. Outside Berkshire... mid August...

The sky above is pale shade of blue with hints of orange as the sun sets in the west. It is surprisingly warm and nice today. Minimal clouds. As you look down you see the trucks on the grey charcoal tarmac, smooth and a few cracks here and there.. Buildings behind, patches of green..? Wow.

You couldn't also ignore the soon to be glaring floods lights surrounding the perimeter of the base. Without these, the views of sky where even more phenomenal. The stars. The realisation that there is a sort of weird chaos also going on out there too. The storm of Jupiter must be a sight to see you wonder..

"Corporal Kaur!" You hear a man shout from the left of you.

You break your gaze and see and old man from where that shout came from. Face still stern. Eyebrows still furrowed.

Captain Price.

You recognise that moustache and boonie hat from a mile away.Next to him where to other men, one bulky and tall, donning a half a skull over his face and wearing all black and the other shorter, still tall. but what was most noticeable was the hawk. Both of them staring at you.

You briefly stare back. Your new COs you assume.

You start to walk over to them, carrying your pack, and duffle over your right shoulder.

Back again. Back here facing death again. That's what you think. Over and over as you stride until you reach your old Captain.

You place your pack and duffle on the ground.

"Captain Price" you say, giving in a salute, heels slamming together. Your back straightening automatically when your right arm swung to the tip of your beret. Palms facing out. Always.

Muscle memory is a wonderful thing.

"At ease Corporal" Price says, giving a slight chuckle. His body turns to the two men beside him.

"This is Lieutenant Ghost" Price said as he gestures towards the masked man.

You put out your right hand for a hand shake. The lieutenant just stares at you, eyes cold and calculating watching you.

You raise your head curtly and trying to suppress the smirk from appearing. I'm watching you too you think to yourself.

"I'm your Sergeant; Soap MacTavish" the hawked man said, in a strong Scottish accent. He brings up his hand for a handshake, grinning hard.

You shake his hand. Soap grinned a bit harder.

"Soap and Ghost." You say turning your head to Price after shaking Soap's hand, you see him in the corner of your eye elbow Ghost and gesture towards you with his hand, you couldn't catch what he was saying as Price started giving you directions and something else he

"The team know you're here as their new medic. The infirmary, somewhat set, thought it was best left to the expert to order whatever you need. You remember where it is?" Price said. "I have to go to the hanger, catch up later" He saids, patting you on the shoulder.

"Thank you sir" You reply.

Yes. The team's medic. Not actually part of the team. Not anymore...

Not able to linger on the past for a second longer, you see Soap move towards your pack and duffle.

You grab your pack just before he does.

"I've got it, don't worry" You say, and this time you remember to smile, with teeth, a soft smile that a younger you adorned each day.

Soap laughs gently, and looks at your face, that smile broke your stern face from before, a kindness washed over your face Soap thought.

After picking up your pack and duffle, swinging them both over and onto your back. You stare back at the two men, and smile again.

"Well, I am going.. to get settled" You say to them "Nice meeting both of you" you said as you turn.

"We'll walk ya to the infirmary" The lieutenant said gruffly. You detect an accent, maybe northern?

"Yeah, that way we can get to know you on the way" Soap chimes in, grinning again

Fuck sake, not this already you think to yourself.

You turn to them, and force a smile, this time no teeth, nostrils flare, you hope they don't notice the force of it. Ghost does. Ghost raises his head, eyes widening slightly.

You did not like that Ghost thinks to himself. He crosses his arms across his chest, slightly puffing it out.

He looks at you whilst you relax your face as you looked at him do his little chest puff, your eyes widen, slight glare to the ground and then back to the familiar stern look, he lets out a light huff. Amused at the expressions coming and going on your face. He could've sworn there was hint of pink spreading across that brown skin.

"Price said you've worked here before" Soap continues, trying to ease the tension that was stirring between the three of you as the three of you walk across the tarmac, amidst the other soldiers and trucks driving past.

You stare again at Soap, trying to ease the furrowed brows, but they seem glued to their position. The back of your mind still processing your surroundings.

"Years ago. In my early twenties" You reply to Soap

"Wait, so how old are you now?" Soap asks

You look at him and smile slightly. People get so bewildered when they find out that you're a lot older than you look. Given that your face has hardly a wrinkle, no grey hairs, smooth and "fair" skin (for an Indian) that your mother loves to praise you about after years of her nagging of using SPF 50 daily, especially during winter.

"32" You reply

"Steamin' Jesus" Soap exclaims "You don't look a day over 25" he added

"Yeah, it's annoying getting ID'd when getting a drink though" You say back. You realise the two men are beside you, Soap on your left, and Ghost on your right. Glaring at you still, watching your movements. You're stuck in the middle. A rock and a hard place.

You feel the tension creep to your shoulders. You roll your right shoulder to ease the tension. It doesn't help. Not with the added weight your pack and duffle. You then take duffle off your back, and see Soap on your left raise him arm, again gesturing for him to help carry your stuff.

You raise your left hand and tell him again its okay. You've carried heavier. You've carried limp bodies for longer. You hold the duffle on your right hand, Ghost moves slightly further to make room. You take note and swing duffle, smooth and controlled.

The three of you head straight to building 2. You notice the building as been redone slightly since you were here last, a fresh slick of paint and new doors.

Soap runs up to the doors, and opens them for you, and gestures you through with his right hand. You nod and give a weak thanks.

"We have to keep you sweet" he says "Right L.t?" Soap says, nudging Ghost.

Ghost grunts disapprovingly.

"Why?" You turn to him, letting out a deep sigh. Laying the duffle and pack down on the ground. Suddenly the jet lag, the sore feet and legs hit you harder and you feel like you could just melt into the floor. But you couldn't do that.

"Well, you are our new medic, and you'll be patching us up after missions, so need to keep you sweet" Soap says in a chirpy manner.

"That's her job Johnny" Ghost said, voice rough

You smirk, reaching in your pack for a folder containing your documents and forms.

"Actually..." You start but then remember that even Price said your job role to your face. Medic.

"Actually?" Soap questions

"Nothing" You said, opening the plastic folder and retrieving your forms, you look up and see Soap with a puzzling look on his face and Ghost just coldly still staring.

The anxiety is kicking in. You feel it creep across your chest and swarming it's way to your arms and legs.

You pull out the forms needed and held them in your hand, in between Soap and Ghost, unsure who would take them

"Filled these out as requested by Captain Price" You say

Ghost reaches and grabs the papers, eyes weaving left to right from top to bottom across the forms. You see Soap try and peak and he notices a lot of thick blacked out information. His brows furrow and a curious sheen glosses over his eyes as he looks back at you.

"Most of this is redacted" Ghost says those cold eyes still on the paper. "Like your file" His eyes flicker to yours, hoping to catch you out.

But you stare back. Redacted like your face you think to yourself.

"Captain Price surely would've let you know why" You say curtly

The two men looked at each other. Ghost turned his head towards you, Soap still eyeing Ghost, and then peaking at the paper a bit closer.

No forename, no information of her previous time here... Was Ghost right? Soap thought

"Was hopin' to get somethin' outa' you" Ghost said brightly

He folded the forms into four and put them in his back pocket. He then bent down slightly and picked up your pack and duffle before you could. His eyes wondered up and down your body and your stare turned into a glare when you realised what he was doing.

You felt like he could see through the clothes that covered you. You tug the sleeve of your jacket, rolling your shoulders forward, trying to become smaller. And this man made you smaller. Not by his sheer size, but the way he just looked at you up and down.

"Need a hand Lt? Soap says, breaking the silence again. Hoping to at least try and carry the new medic's stuff.

"Nah, I got this Johnny" Ghost sighs, readjusting the grip on your pack and duffle and swinging them over his shoulder. "Let's show her the infirmary" He said walking off, leaving behind a bewildered Soap and yourself.

You follow the two men, wanting this to be over so you can lie down and sleep. And take the damn boots off. Your feet becoming numb with every step as you follow your commanding officers..

As the three of you reach the door of the infirmary, Ghost drops your pack and duffle from his shoulder to his side, still not letting go and places his left hand in his pocket and takes out a key and unlocks the door.

He looks down at you and you look up at him, you smile weakly, furrowed brows still and try and peak into the infirmary.

Ghost doesn't break his gaze from you, he moves from the doorway and gestures you to go in.

You go in first, the room a warm golden yellow, the light is turned off. The big windows let the last of the sun's rays into the room.

Golden hour.

It's so beautiful you think to yourself and as you move through the room to the window staring at the sunset.

"Best view on this side o' the buildin'" Ghost says, approaching you as you watch the sunset, he gently places your pack and duffle next you.

"It really is something" You say, smiling brightly at the sunset

Ghost sees the shift in your expression in the window, and looks down beside you, your eyes, they appear softer and warm. Not like the ones he experienced earlier.

"Johnny and I will get your room key" Ghost says turning to Soap who was about to take a photo of the sunset with his phone. "C'mon sergeant" as he walks past him and leans against the doorway.

You turn to look at them, Soap desperately trying to take a photo despite the sighing coming from Ghost as he watches him take endless photos of the "sunset". He saw Soap sneak a picture of you.

"Thank you Lieutenant Ghost and Sergeant Soap" You say, struggling to comprehend these codenames. Ghost you kind of get, given the mask. But Soap? There has to be some kind of gay connotation you think as you remind yourself of the saying 'Don't drop the soap'

The two of them turn to you, Soap smiles and Ghost just staring.

Soap eventually makes his way out past Ghost, and walks out.

"Meet you at the Hole Lt, need to take a piss" Soap whispers as he passes him.

You and Ghost lock eyes as he holds the doorknob and begins to just it close, you make your way over, ensuring that he will actually leave and not linger (like a ghost).

"Thanks again for carrying my stuff" You say, trying the fill the silence and encourage this man to leave.

Ghost's grip tightens on the doorknob, and brings the door closer.

"You are most welcome" He says

You smile again as you edge closer to the door. Leave dammnit

"Ruhari"

The smile on your face disappears, the mouth drops open slightly in an O. Eyes widen in shock.

You see Ghost's eyes wrinkle, a sign he's possibly smiling under that skull mask.

Got ya He thought as the took in the shocked face and closed the door leaving you bewildered on the other side.

[theirishwolfhound]

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick Headcanons

My thoughts on pretty boy Kyle are actually relatively new. The longer I spend reading and writing about him for my own purposes, the more I absolutely fall in love with this man. As a collective whole here on Tumblr, as far as I’ve seen, we’ve collectively decided that Kyle is the heartthrob of the Task Force.  In this I'll cover the basics that will be prevalent in my own fics, if you wish to use any feel free, they're mostly rambles as is :)

“Oh come off it, sweetheart.”

Age: I wholeheartedly believe he’s older than Soap, but younger than Ghost, so between 27- 33. Personally I think he would be 29-30. With a bit of research it is said he enlisted in 2008 when he was 16, so I’m more inclined to believe he’s 30. (not me having to fix my own fucking story because I fucked the math up and got their ages wrong like a stupid moron) Sexaulity: Omnisexual, like he’s definitely some sort of queer and it’s hard to place him. Would he love a pretty lady or man? Absolutely, just as much as he would love a more rugged woman or man. -As for his own gender, I don’t think he would really care what pronouns he’s given so he could just be a cisgendered man who’s comfortable with himself or he’s just gender nonconforming. Height & Weight: Definitely 6’/182 cm and weighs roughly 198 lbs, I see him as a toned athletic man for sure.  Personality: Just like in the game, Gaz has to be sassy. We love sassy men who can match vibes. He’s the guy you want to go clubbing with, not only because he’s fun as hell but because he makes you feel safe at the same time. You give him an attitude he returns it with little effort and it either matches the energy you gave or it surpasses it. -He’s very comfortable with himself. Secure with showing both masculine and feminine traits. Give the man a crop top and a skirt he’ll wear them for you. He’ll let you paint his nails, do his makeup, ect.  Birthday: September 26th, 1992 (I'm using 2022)

Car Or Truck?: It honestly depends. I feel like he could potentially have both given his current vibes. But I would see him with a car, a nice sleek car with leather seats and a bumper sticker that says: “If at first you don’t succeed, call an airstrike.” given to him by Soap. -Specifically thinking of a core model BMW 740i xDrive Sedan, dark charcoal grey in color, glossy coat and dark windows. Cat or Dog?: He has the silliest dog that stays with his parents. I think it is a boxer, or a boxer mix of some sort, that has almost the same personality as Kyle. Boxers are a hyper and goofy breed of dog, and he is very certain that if he knew Soap before he got the dog he would've named it after him. Favorite Food: Vindaloo, specifically lamb Vindaloo. He just seems like the person who would prefer the more savory foods. As well as spicy foods. And if he had to go with something sweet, he’d go for a lemon drizzle cake.  Favorite Drinks: This man drinks fruity cocktails without fear of judgment just as easily as he drinks whiskey, and for non-alcoholic drinks he's a big tea, latte, and ginger ale fan for sure.  Favorite Music: 2000-2010’s music for sure. This man knows Britney Spears’ Toxic like us Americans know the pledge of allegiance.  Song I think Fits their Vibes: Feel The Way I Do- The Jungle Giants Hobbies: Gives off the vibes of a man who taught himself how to play guitar and jewelry making. Makes Soap bracelets and teaches him how to make them as well. More physical activities might be running and swimming. Fears: Oddly enough, not really, falling. It's not a terrible fear, it just gets his heart racing enough that he steers clear of the helicopter doors until they land. 

“Why don’t we go this way? Y’know, away from the edge, yeah?”

Familial Relationships: Has a relatively good relationship with his mom and dad, they probably live somewhere closeish to his flat in London. They would have a key to take care of the plants on the inside for sure. Has an older sister and a younger brother. They’re all fairly close and he’ll visit them on his leaves if he has the chance, otherwise they all have a group chat to check in with one another.  Relationships with the team: I definitely think this varies based on what sort of relationship you’re seeking to read/write about. I try to always write polyamory, as a poly-person I like having the representations.  Price: Coming from someone who loves PriceGaz, they are either the best mentor and trainee coupling or the most judgemental couple. They can read each other relatively well and work together rather well. (Though they equally get on each other's nerves.) Soap: Definitely best friends if they’re not dating, they get up to the most interesting shenanigans. They’d go clubbing in matching outfits and are annoyingly catty together.  Ghost: As lovers and friends, they’re totally the ones that would seek quiet comfort from one another. They have secret tea time and share snacks. Totally make fun of Soap's hair if it's in need of a shave.  Love Language: Physical Touch and Gift Receiving/Giving. He'll do a skin care routine with you, massages, and he'll make sure to buy the stuff for it to give to you or you to him if you get him something. He knows what makeup you wear or what size to buy your clothes in to surprise you. 

Civilian or Military Lover: Prefers civilian lovers over other soldiers, but like he’d date other soldiers given they’re the right person.  What would their civilian job be?: I see Kyle being a Paramedic, like he’d be the one I’d ask for if I fell in the shower because he’s not gonna make fun of me and he’s hot. How’s their charisma: Rizz Master, man. I'm convinced he's got a smolder that'll knock the clothes off of anyone lucky. Voice is smooth like honey and sweet to boot, he's an interrogation expert— he's gotta have a way with words. What would your first date be? Hard to say. I think he'd take you out to a coffee/tea house or you'd go get Ramen. But in reality I know it would be put up to a mutual agreement. He’d totally pay the bill and makes sure you never even get to see the slip. What would they call you? “Baby” is definitely one of the top ones, but I think the next contenders are as followed: “Sweetheart” and “Pretty/Handsome”

“Gonna make me feel pretty, baby?”

Size: Gonna have to say he's not the biggest or longest but I agree with the post that said he's the prettiest of the four cocks. A neat 6.5 in, circumcised, hits the right spots and he knows how to use it well.  Kinks: Bondage, Exhibitionism, and Sensation Play Position?: Pretty boy Kyle is a complete switch, though has a more dominant leaning personality. He’ll let you top, but he's gonna boss you around while you do it.  Sharing?? Kyle loves to share. He is inclined to share with his team, after all those are his best friends and his brothers-in-arms, they saved his life many times— just a little peek won’t hurt. Song that fits his vibe in the bedroom:  Swim - CHASE ATLANTIC

[matural2021]

Hello guys! Are you still using regular soap to clean your skin? Did you know that many soaps on the market contain harmful ingredients that can damage men's skin? That's right - some traditional soaps are made with harsh chemicals and additives that can strip the skin of its natural oils, leaving it dry and irritated.

Thankfully, there are better options available to upgrade your skincare routine with Matural's best soap for men's skin. Why choose Matural soaps? Here are the key points to consider:

Matural charcoal soap will detoxify and unclog your pores.

Matural Aloe vera soap is great for sensitive or dry skin.

Matural Coffee soap is rich in antioxidants and helps reduce inflammation.

Matural Sage and coconut soap is great for moisturizing all skin types.

Matural Cedarwood soap is great for oily or acne-prone skin.

[mariamakeslemons]

Spooktober 2024: Day 7 Witch

Warning: Abrupt ending, reader is fem (no mention of genitals, but the Spanish used is for them is feminine)

Could be seen as a canon offshoot of my King Killer story, since all the same rules apply

“I will cry,” you declare to the empty shop, your two wolf familiars looking up at you judgmentally, “I will sob and scream and throw myself into the trash.” The spell you had been working on simply sits there, just off enough to be useless. You huff and bend back over the papers that make up its parts, grumbling to yourself as the charcoal in your hand stains your fingers black again.

“Hola, Señorita Bruja,” the rough voice of Alejandro sounds into your shop, catching your attention enough to look up. He and Rudy enter with two white men behind them, both who look startled at the inside of your shop. You preen a little even as your familiars hurry over to their preferred Vaquero, proud of the careful work you had done to perfect your shop. The structure is made of Abode, like many of the buildings nearby, but the tiles had been carefully carved and painted to create the protection charm that made this and a number of other homes bomb and fireproof. You had worked tirelessly to gain the blessings of all the Gods and spirits that still resided in the area to create foundation of protection and healing within your shop, even creating a portable carving that held that same spell to give to the local hospital.

“Bruja, these are members of Taskforce 141,” Alejandro introduces, scratching at Pollux’s head as the grey wolf pants happily, “Soap and Ghost.”

“Nice to meet you,” you chirp, giving the men a smile as Castor licks at Rudy’s hand, demanding affection. The one with the mohawk offers you an awkward smile as the masked man simply nods.

“An’ you too, witch,” the masked man intones. You nod before turning to your lovers, your smile shrinking worriedly.

“What can I do for you? You don’t come into my shop without reason,” you ask. Ale and Rudy glance at each other before Ale sighs.

“Unfortunately, you’re right,” he admits, “We need something for protection. We’re hunting El Sin Nombre for information and to hopefully shut down the Cartel.” You frown, chewing on your lip thought fully.

“I think I’ve got a few phoenix charms, but they’re older. They won’t hold up to too much,” you admit, “But, they should keep you safe enough to retreat if you need to.”

“Perfecto,” Ale declares, “We’ll need a few of them. How much?” You look at him, one of your loves, before looking over at Rudy, your other love. You blink and you can see these men with bullet holes, staring at you sightlessly and swaying. Blinking again, you click your tongue and turn to find the charms.

“No money,” you declare, “Just return to me.” You find the box full of charms and remove only one, placing it on the table to keep in the shop before walking up to Ale and handing it off to him. He takes it from you, freeing your hands to cup his face and reach over to Rudy’s face as well. You demand, “Both of you. Return to me safely, or Castor and Pollux will find you to make you return.”

“Sí, mi amor,” Rudy agrees as Ale turns his face to press a kiss to your wrist.

“We will return to you,” Ale assures you, “And we’ll take a few days off to simply be.” You look at your loves and nod once

“You better,” you declare with a sniff, before looking at the white men with narrowed eyes and a point of your finger, “And you two, make sure they’re safe or I’ll curse you.”

“Yes’m!” Mohawk yelps as the masked man nods calmly.

“Will do,” the man gruffly assures you. You sniff and wave the two of 141 off, pressing kisses to Rudy and Ale’s cheeks.

“Be careful,” you repeat.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ghost curses as he leans against the wall. Everything’s gone to shit, even with the witch’s charms. Rudy and Soap are dealing with a fucking tank, Price is trapped in a downed heli, and Gaz and Alejandro are getting pinned.

“Shit,” he snarls, peering around the corner and firing at the Shadows that are trying to get to said downed heli, ducking back to avoid return fire. He stops at the sight of a pure white wolf, staring him in the eye before huffing. It takes him a moment, but Ghost recognizes the wolf.

“Y’ Castor? Or Pollux?” he asks. The wolf gives him a completely unimpressed look before throwing its head back and howling. Suddenly, what looks like hundreds of dogs fill the street that was once empty, mostly black and white, but all rushing toward his direction.

“Fuck!” Ghost curses, pinning himself against the wall and closing his eyes like a child, bracing for impact. It never comes, instead the Shadows begin shouting in fear and howling in pain. Ghost opens his eyes and peers back around the corner. The wolf is trotting calmly to the heli as the pack of dogs rip apart the Shadows quite literally.

“I should curse you,” someone says from behind him, actually startling Ghost. Turning, he sees you, wearing a cloak that blends into the night as you stroke the other wolf’s head. You look at him coldly, insisting, “Were I less forgiving, I’d curse you. But,” you pause and soften, “It’s obvious you tried your best. If you hadn’t, the cadejos would have ripped you apart as well.”

“…Thank you f’r bein’ forgivin’,” Ghost can’t help but say. You huff and shake your head, walking onto the battlefield confidently, the wolf that had gone ahead trotting back with a very confused looking Price on their back.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Regrouping is easy with you walking beside him and the cadejos running all through the headquarters, you flicking spells at every Shadow while the pack ripped any apart they found. Price follows Ghost, looking between you and Ghost with obvious questions that won’t be answered until everything is wrapped up.

“Valeria,” you call out as the groups finally regroup.

“Ah, Bruja,” the woman purrs, “So good of you-” She’s cut off by your fist slamming into her face.

“Shut up,” you order, cold and collected as Castor and Pollux growl at her. You turn to Ale and Rudy, fussing over them quietly as the wolves press against the men, whining for affection. Ghost huffs, looking over his shoulder as the cadejos gather.

“Steamin’ Jesus, tha’s a lot o’ dugs,” Soap mumbles to Gaz, the other man nodding as the pack seems to grow bigger and bigger, white and black dogs mingling. Eventually, a tiny white cadejo trots forward and sits in the front as you turn with Ale and Rudy at your side.

“Thank… Protect… We… Love… Strong… Cowboys…” the dog barks out in a child’s voice. Your face softens as Ale kneels down and scratches behind the little cadjeo’s ear.

“Gracias por apoyarnos en este empeño*, ” the Colonel mumbles. The dog wiggles happily before trotting back to the pack and barking once. The cadejos scatter in streaks of lights and darks, leaving the headquarters empty of all but them.

“I thought those were a Mexican or Spanish thing,” Gaz says into the silence that follows, “Why’d they speak in English?”

“¿Cómo?” Ale sputters in confusion, “No, they spoke in Spanish.”

“They didn’t speak at all,” you cut in as Rudy snickers and buries his head into your shoulder, “They’re spirits. How they communicate is different from person to person. If you’re more used to hearing words, they will communicate through the words they remember and it will speak to your soul. Thus, your ears will seem to hear them talk.”

“They explained this, Ale,” Rudy teases with a grin. The Colonel sputters and lunges at the two with outstretched arms, making you shriek and Rudy laugh. Ghost finds himself relaxing, looking over at his team who also are relaxed. What throws him is Valeria, and how she has a look that screams longing. Not regret, but longing.

Ale managed to grab both you and Rudy in his arms, roughly speaking Spanish at both of you with a playful snarl and a shake. You reply softly and Rudy laughs, only for both of you to be silenced under a flurry of kisses from Ale.

“Sorry to break up your reunion,” Price cuts in as politely as he can, “But who’s this?” Ale sets both of you down and glances at Rudy, a smirk curling both men’s faces.

“No, no, don’t you dare,” you immediately start scolding, “I swear to shit, don’t you fuckin-” Both men drop into a pose that Ghost knows is from a picture that one American actor made at his wife. One that screams ‘look at them! This is our amazing person!’

“I hate everything about this situation,” you declare as Castor and Pollux happily sit beside each man.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Thank you for supporting us in this endeavor

[sc52]

I truly believe I have a sensory processing disorder because as I get older more and more shit unnerves me. The one that's bugged me out the most in the last five years is deodorant. There is not a brand of traditional deodorant that I like. At all. It all feels gross and wet and sticky. But even though I don't mind my overall natural smell and other queer men might love it, the general populace does not deserve that

Lo! A beautiful solution. Activated charcoal soap. It fucking works. There is not one smell to me but the coco butter lotion I put on. And I mean ZERO. Not even the smell of the soap. Just clean skin. I may have found my miracle of this stuff works. Will post results later.

I truly believe I have a sensory processing disorder because as I get older more and more shit unnerves me.

Could be or you're just gotten older and know what works and what doesnt. Also you give less fucks internally and externally.

There is not a brand of traditional deodorant that I like.

SAME

It all feels gross and wet and sticky.

Glad you've replaced it to something that works, BUT why did you put up with feeling like that for so long?

A beautiful solution. Activated charcoal soap.

You know what, I believe you, cos I used to use this expensive roll on for years but since covid it just got progressively even more expensive year on year.

So I switched to this bargin charcoal stuff you gotta rub on and it works almost as well or just as well as this expensive shit and its so damn cheap.

Granted the old one lasted like 6 months but this stuff is so cheap why would I got back. I should try other activated charcoal stuff...

Will post results later.

👍

idk why you sent me this ask but good for you.

maybe it was to do with musk stuff Ive talked about years ago???

[thetoaddaddy]

☕ Give us the tea, o wise sage!

“I never totally understood the whole ‘manly’ smell stuff. I guess I never had the money when I was young to really care if my packaging was black with burly forest or spice scents. It’s not like it lasts that long on you anyways. I got a feeling that most men who buy these things do so because they feel they have to rather than liking the smell. Buy the citrus dream or the gentle cleansing oat with honey, no one with shit to do really cares and those who do are people you probably don’t talk to on a regular bases anyhow…. I do like hard soaps. Those travel well. I just happen to get the charcoal and rose one. Best of both worlds and the ingredients don’t damage the rivers I usually wash my ass in.”

[yandere-islandvn]

These men were trapped on the island for 6 months, so how does hygiene work, like brushing teeth, showering, washing hair and even washing clothes?

( the research I have done and PLANNED for... Finally asked about (⁠~⁠‾⁠▿⁠‾⁠)⁠~ )

Alright! So, they have access to running water, but they also have access to plants with saponins, which are plants that have that bubbling soapy ability and were used to clean back before soap was a thing.

The game takes place off the coast of California, so I'd say they have access to soap lilies.

(these plants right here)

Anywho, that's how they'd clean their clothes, hair, and bodies!

As for their teeth, they use a cloth, charcoal, and water to keep as clean as they can. (Fun fact: the only one with an actual toothbrush on the island is Icarus.)

[thebigcomed0wn]

help i just happened upon a “women use exfoliating charcoal mango milk scrubs and men use stale 3 in 1” thread im laughing my ass off IM THE BOYFRIEND HORROR STORIES IN THESE SITUATIONS…. sorry about my 1 bottle in my shower and Bar of soap. are you mad atme

[screpa]

Your Steamy Birthday Celebration (Pt. 2)

Summary:

Your boyfriend Bertolt wanted to gift you three perfect days as your birthday gift. He asked Sasha to ask you about your kind of perfect day. Sasha managed to make you treat her and the girls (Mikasa, Krista, Ymir) to a girls' night out at the bath house. The guys - Jean, Reiner, Armin, and Connie – decided to help out but ended up embarrassing Bertolt. So, what did the gentle giant had in store for you?

Chapter summary:

You met Levi and Hange on your way to the headquarter, and you found Levi's kink. Bertolt had an awkward conversation with the guys of the 104th Cadet Corps.

Tags: slightly NSFW, mature, men having dirty talks and thought, boys being boys, funny.

Read here or on AO3, up to you ^^

Here's the 1st chapter if you missed it ^^

Dirty Boys

As you reached the headquarter, you saw Hange and Levi talking in the square. So you wished the girls goodnight and went to see your best friends.

‘Y/N! Where have you been?’ Hange asked to you cheerfully.

Levi just looked at you with his gloomy expression, as always.

‘Ahhhhh,’ You let out a relaxed sigh. ‘I just went to the bath house with the others’.

‘Ohhhh, nice. Should do that soon. Been a while. The place you went to, was it nice?’

‘Oh, yeah! They have separate rooms for each bathing process. So first cold wash, then the warm room, to get you all sweaty with all your pores open. Sweat pushing out all the grimes. Then a cold wash. Then into the first warm bath so all the grime and gunk become soft and easier to scrub off afterwards. Then scrub, scrub, scrub until all the dirt and dead skins are removed, like, really, nothing left! They gave you this beautifully scented soap to wash your body and hair, then another plunge to the warm bath. After drying, I apply this honey-based oil that’s so perfect for the skin’.

You rolled your sleeve and traced your index finger on your arm.

’See how soft, supple and clean my skin is. It’s like the skin of an infant’.

They both went closer to look at your arm.

You said worriedly, ‘Le– Levi. Your nose. Blood is dripping out of your nose!’

He touched his nose and saw that there was indeed blood trickling out of his nose.

‘Ah, uhm, I need to clean it up. In my office,’ he said flatly.

He started to walk away.

You told him, ‘Your office is in the other direction’.

He stopped. Looked at you in confusion.

You pointed to the right direction. ‘That way, Levi. There. Yes’.

He followed your direction.

You and Hange stared at him. He was walking differently. His balance was off.

He turned to the right and Hange screamed to him, ‘The left, Levi! To the left!’

Levi jolted and turned to the left when he was actually walking toward the right direction before that.

‘You’re directing him toward the pond, aren’t you?’ You asked Hange, still amazed at Levi’s reaction.

‘Yeap. A cold plunge would do him good now’.

‘Well, we finally found his kink’.

‘We finally did’.

Tomorrow’s the day. Bertolt had prepared his surprises. He had told you that you would spend this season’s holiday with him. He was grateful to Sasha and the other girls for getting the information he needed. Now, he just needed to deliver!

Bertolt was lying on his bed, with his legs up leaning on the wall. He making a mental checklist of what to do.

’Tomorrow’s the big day, huh?’ Reiner approached him. The others, Jean, Connie, and Armin, came to join him as well.

'Yea. Can hardly wait’.

Reiner said proudly, ‘well, we prepared some things for you too. To make the special day even more special’.

Jean gave him a sketchbook, some pencils and charcoal sticks. ‘Whenever she’s happy, she’d want to save the moment in her drawings. Connie chipped in too’.

‘Wow, thanks, man! Didn’t think of that’.

‘The least we can do for our Squad Leader,’ Connie said.

Armin scooted to the front. He held a book to his chest. He said in great excitement, ‘Reiner told me to find this book for you. It was difficult to find. I do hope that it’d be useful for you’.

Bertolt accepted the book. It was a thin, hardbound book with nothing written on the front and back cover. So, Bertolt opened the book right in the middle.

To his horror, it was a picture book of a man and a woman in various sexual positions.

Jean saw the pictures and tried to pull the book away from Bertolt, his brotherly instinct on high gear. But Connie and Armin pushed him aside to take a closer look.

‘Whoa! People actually do that?’ Connie asked in excitement.

‘Is it even possible to bend like that?’ Armin innocently pointed at one of the pictures.

‘Y-yes,’ Bertolt said in a whisper but no one heard him.

Armin told him, ‘There’s even this one position that is said to be fail proof’

‘Which one?!’ Connie asked.

Armin showed the picture and the two of them studied it.

‘Whoa, Bertolt, you should definitely try it. Even YOU can do this,’ Connie said in wonder.

Jean was curling on the floor, covering his ears, ‘STOP TALKING!’

‘Or, this one, Bertolt! Oh you’d look so cool like this. Muscles all pow, pow, woof!’ Armin added.

Reiner went to take a look. ‘Oh yea, that’s so masculine. I approve that one!’

These idiots really have no idea what they’re talking about, Bertolt thought. He just kept his head down, trying to contain his embarrassment.

Reiner then said with pride, ‘And, this is my gift to you’. He threw a small pouch on Bertolt’s lap.

Bertolt opened the pouch and saw something that looked like raisins.

‘So you chew that as you, uhm, perform the deed. It’ll help you to last longer. You wouldn’t want your inexperience to show,’ Reiner informed him smugly.

That’s it! Bertolt had enough!

He told them in contained annoyance, ‘Thanks for your help, guys, but really, I’m way past the stage where help was needed’.

They just stared at him. Jean looked up to peek at him.

’You? You’ve done it?’ Reiner asked in shock.

Bertolt looked down and nodded.

Connie and Armin jumped on him and shrieked.

'Tell us how it was?!!!’ Connie begged.

Armin showed the picture book to Bertolt, ‘Circle the ones you find most practical yet potent!’

‘AAAAAA…!!!!’ Jean continued to wail on the floor.

Reiner stood rigid in his place, dumbstruck because his timid friend had real action way before he did.

Bertolt firmly but kindly told them, ‘Guys, please, I don’t want to talk about this. This concerns the woman I love and the person all of you greatly respect. Please’.

All of them snapped back to reality.

Jean sighed in relief.

'You’re right,’ Armin sighed.

'Not even a little bit?’ Connie asked.

‘No. This is something that you need to experience yourself,’ Bertolt said, dismissing him.

Connie groaned. ‘Whatever, man. Guess we’d just wish you good luck and en-jooooy tomorrow then’.

He was so relieved when his friends left him alone.

He tried to sleep so tomorrow could finally start.

---

Let's go to chapter 3 where things start to get steamy!

This story is part the "Detours to Your Heart" series, comprises of stories of your friendship and slow burn romance with Levi Ackerman. You build many interesting relationships with other AOT characters, such as ambiguous friendship/ romance with Hange Zoe, a whirlwind romance with Bertolt Hoover, sibling-like relationship with Jean Kirstein, and many more!

My masterlist

Archive of Our Own

Instagram

[augment-techs]

Closet (Location Prompts) - SkullBilly

Sketches of young men and young women in charcoal. Little scribbles of poetry and songs and phrases that both sounded familiar and foreign when spoken aloud. Stretches of beach towels and knitted blankets in something like a nest on the floor that looked incredibly comfortable as Billy carefully eased the sliding door to the side to let in his head and only a little sliver of light.

Stretched out and pressed back into the body pillow Kimberly had gotten him in a fit of empathy she showed often towards the other Rangers, but almost never towards anyone else, Skull's exhausted figure looked a little bit like a painting from the salon in the 1800s. Pale skin, flushed face, hair fluffy but in a flyaway sense; Billy knew the young man wasn't wearing any clothes underneath the silk auburn sheet covering him from toes and up to the little back of the tiny figure perched on his chest. Both the tiny baby and his mother-father barely looked to be breathing, which set a shock through Billy in the paranoia reigning supreme in his psyche since the violent and completely unplanned pregnancy and birth, the seemingly never ending surgeries for Eugene in the aftermath, and the anxiety of what the new parent was supposed to do now that his "mother" had kicked him out of the house. (Billy had offered his bedroom point blank; but Skull refused the bed and instead took up the closet so as to feel better about two things: not feeling like he was in the way, disrupting Billy's life and keeping the impression that being in the dark and out of place would keep the two safe.) But then he looked again, and found tired, but warm, fairy blue eyes blinking up at him, the tiniest smile turning up the corners of his mouth. "Please come in," he whispered, smoothing the palm of his hands along his newborn's fluffy pitch black hair and the inhumanly smooth skin of his back; smiling wider at the little puff of air he gave as he snuggled closer to his parent's skin, curling up tight like a kitten, "And shut the door. I've got a bit of a headache, and I don't want him to wake up asking for his breakfast too early." Billy practically launched himself forward, steady on tiptoes, and utterly silent as he closed the door as requested. Carefully, still so carefully, the blond got down on his knees and hands and eased himself into a better position as Skull lifted his arm to wrap around Billy's shoulders as the other young man set his back against the incredibly comfortable pillow (damn, Kim must have spent a small fortune on the thing; Billy could fairly make out the feeling of goose down and creamy sheep wool) and his cheek and forehead along Skull's neck. He tried not to focus on the smell of sweat and the milk Skull was still getting used to producing, a small tang of iron from the blood that could not help but bloom from the baby's teeth when he suckled. Instead his brain insisted on pointing out that, yes, Skull had followed through with his promise to take a shower when the baby had gone down for his nap while Billy was out at Promethea and helping Miss Sterling. He could smell the sweet honeysuckle and goat's milk triple milled soap Billy had gotten for Skull especially; and as Billy brought a hand up to mirror Skull's along the baby's back, he could also pick up on the plain, natural smell of Skull's hair air drying in the little space. Their fingers weaved around each other, both trying to commit the memory of tiny spine and ribs and arms to memory, and Billy settled more fully against Skull's side as the taller of the two closed his eyes to ease against the headache. "I'm really glad you came here, Eugene," Billy whispered, out of the blue and seemingly out of nowhere, but not at all embarrassed. Skull tilted his head, almost floppy and kissed the side of Billy's face, right where the the shape of his glasses always stalled the creeping of a sunburn until only recently, as Billy had started wearing contacts because the baby kept trying to steal and break them. "I'm really glad you asked."