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brekitten · 1 month

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The Therapist

There's a new therapist at school.

Normally this wouldn't really bother Peter at all, since he's never gone to see a shrink in his life and doesn't ever plan on it, but there's something... off about this woman.

She seems unassuming enough at first glance. Red hair, green eyes, bright red lipstick. But there is something in her eyes, something that Peter can only describe as a predator looking at its next prey, when she looks around the school at all of the teenagers milling about. Heck, even the way she walks makes her seem as if she is a predator stalking her prey.

It could always be some kind of power move, Peter reasons. He's met people like that before, who try to intimidate everyone around them into thinking that they are superior, that they are the apex predator and anyone who dares to cross them would pay for it dearly.

But his Spidey Sense went crazy around her.

He tries to brush it off as paranoia. He'd pulled an all-nighter last night in the lab with Tony because neither of them had been able to sleep, and he hadn't been sleeping well even before that. (Funny, how it had all started the night after he first bumped into the new therapist in the halls.) So his Spidey Sense is probably out of wack because he's tired. Simple as that.

But it seems like everyone in the school is depressed. Even Ned, who can't even muster up the energy and enthusiasm to talk about Legos or Star Wars or even the weather. It worries Peter.

Because it all started when that therapist came to the school.

He can't ignore it forever, he knows that. There is only so long his Spidey Sense can tell him that she is danger danger danger before he finally listens. He has to do something to help everyone.

So he researches.

And he falls into the rabbit hole of ghosts and ectoplasm and secret government organizations and the little, unassuming town of Amity Park, Illinois.

He doesn't sleep that night.

When he comes to school the next morning, Dr. Penelope Spectra looks him dead in the eyes, and smiles.

#dpxmarvel #peter parker #penelope spectra #peter's boutta get a crash course in ghosts and ghost fighting #he is definitely not prepared #idk why spectra is in new york #specifically midtown tech #but she is #peter starts digging into amity park #he just wanted to find out who spectra is #and he did find out that she's a dangerous “ecto-entity”#he does not know what that is until he does more research #he's very shocked to learn that ghosts are apparently real #meanwhile tucker and the rest of team phantom is freaking out #someone just hacked past the media blackout or whatever around amity park #(you can thank friday (or karen if you prefer) for that)#they're surprised to see that it's coming all the way from new york #and even more surprised to see that the hacker went for spectra's files first #almost as if the hacker was specifically looking for them >:3 #maybe danny goes to investigate and finds peter #btw peter can sense ghosts with his spidey sense even if they're invisible. especially if they're invisible #they team up to take spectra down #danny helps peter make some ecto-weapons and a specter deflector or something #then they catch spectra (and bernard because he's probably there too and i'm kinda just now realizing that)#peter gives danny his phone number as thanks and tells him to call him if he ever needs anything #peter doesn't know who phantom is btw. he just knows that his new friend is a ghost that luckily knows how to use technology like phones #maybe there's even a bad reveal a little further down the line and danny calls peter in a panic because sam and tucker have done everything #they can and he needs to get as far away from amity as possible #peter is very surprised to find that his ghost friend is only half ghost and is then very ticked that danny's parents tried to capture #and vivisect him

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oshaskell · 9 months

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'A' Is For... by virginiainbloom - Chapter 7

He steps closer, but as he does the Captain sees his big, ridiculously brown eyes flicker with a sudden distraction, and then Anthony smiles. “You've got glitter…” he says very softly, touching the pad of his finger first to his own face and then, so lightly it's barely there at all, to the same spot on the Captain's face, just to the side of his nose. Goosebumps rise up all over the Captain's skin, even though he's anything but cold.

Initial sketch under the cut.

#bbc ghosts #capvers #bbc ghosts captain #bbc ghosts the captain #lieutenant havers #anthony havers #I don't know how to tag them... oTL #comics #art entry #Initial sketch plus warmups i should say!#I really love this fic and have like 3 unfinished pieces inspired by bits of it and finally i finished one! yippee!!!!#It's because i sketched everything by hand beforehand. this is literally why. whenever i start a digital sketch it stays a sketch. im curse #Anyway if you like capvers go read this fic :)#now for blog archival purposes:#pink #purple #bbc ghosts fanart

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scattered-winter · 2 years

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there's something sooooooo heartbreaking about quests as a narrative piece. you set out on this journey to rescue someone or defeat a great evil and along the way you face hardship and horror and you grieve and fight and love and lose and then when it's all over you come home. everything is the same as when you left, but you're so irrevocably different that you no longer fit in the one place you used to be truly at peace. you're tired from your journey but you find no rest or recovery, only ghosts. and you almost wish for another quest, another dangerous mission, because at least then you know your purpose.

#hi sorry i just rewatched the lord of the rings trilogy and im in A State #its just. the concept of leaving your home with your 3 friends to go on a quest for something you don't understand.#you're all plucky and full of life and hope.#and then you're beaten down and nearly killed and you don't know if anyone's still alive or if you're the last of your friends left.#and you suffer. oh do you suffer.#and when the battle's over and it's time to come home you don't recognize the person you were when you left.#you're too traumatized and haunted by everything you've seen; everything you've suffered; everything you've done to survive #and you're a ghost in your own home because nobody from your hometown can understand.#and it's so painful and you're so so tired that when you have a chance to move on to leave your friends behind #for the sake of getting some goddamn peace ...#well what else can you do but take it?#im just oughoughoughoughough #this applies to both frodo and bilbo i think #the dichotomy of the scene where bilbo is Leaving the shire (running and shouting for joy because he's going on an ADVENTURE!)#and when he returns (beaten down and grieving and lost. a stranger in his own home.)#literally makes me gnawwww #im feeling some kinda WAY #winter speaks #tropes #on knights #<- rich inner world

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 10 months

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Whenever I think about your lights out au. I sometimes feel like somewhere, deep in the building. There is Mrs. Beagle and the Joyful sibling just trapped. They are stuck in a storage room without a key. They have been screaming to be let out for months. No one can hear them, the rest are too far away. (Man I love having silly thoughts) (this is also if they even have puppets lol)

oh actually this is an opportunity about a Theory / Speculative Thing ive been thinking about for months - ive applied it to the au but until proven otherwise im highly suspecting this to be true for The Source

im of the "the joyfuls / ms. beagle / the pillar family / any supplemental characters did not have physical puppets, and only existed in the storybooks, records, animated segments, and other non-physical media" crowd. it makes sense to me for several reasons.

but at least for Lights Out, im making it au-canon that theyre... yeah, not real. they're false memories. just like how none of the neighbors had an actual childhood, they don't have actual family. there is only the nine.

#and honesty! its the more painful option #like imagine you wake up and not only is everything you believe False but your dear sweet mama doesnt even exist #and others. i just wanted to pointedly dig at barnaby #since we all know he's a mama's boy and that plays a role in how he acts in this au #so the only screams in the darkness are ghosts! sorry!#rambles from the bog #wh lights out au #barnaby: everything has fallen apart but at least i have my mama #wally: ...about that #and thats when shit hits the fan relationship-wise <3

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my-chemical-rot · 5 months

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Florida!!! by Florence + the Machine and Taylor Swift, Daytona Sand by Orville Peck, Spanish Moss by Against Me!, White Crosses by Against Me! //Pictures: map, surfers, post card, fountain of youth; plus my own photography // The Truman Show (1998) // Sunny Side Up by Jennifer L. Holm and Matthew Holm // Wikipedia

#don’t actually know what to tag this post but um. please reblog it <3 #actually I made this mostly for myself anyways but I did spend a bit of time on it #web weaving #parallels #idk I was thinking about heartbreak and aging and youth and ghosts and haunting and nature and beauty. florida!!#I think it’s ironic in a really intriguing way how the state now has a reputation for being where old folks come to retire #whereas the Spanish colonizers arrived in florida looking for the Fountain of Youth #in your quest to cheat death you brought violence and destruction but in the end you can’t conquer your way out of the inevitable #you can’t conquer age and you can’t conquer time and you can’t conquer death and you can’t conquer the ghosts that haunt the peninsula #aging is nature death is nature and that will always overpower you in florida #from hurricanes to alligators to Spanish moss to the brilliant shades of green all around #accept nature + accept death + accept aging + accept heartbreak. in florida.#I only have this many thoughts/feelings about it bc I grew up here #& when you grow up in florida your whole life it’s very easy to fall in love with the Spanish moss and alligators and oranges #and the way everything is in shades of Green much prettier than you’ve seen anywhere else #photography can’t do it Justice the landscape here can really take your breath away #Bandit.txt

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tunastime · 2 years

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On Life Series Season 4

for those of you who voted for jimmy and tango: this is for you.

also known as: I have very complex thoughts about rancher reunion for season 4 and monolith is a group of known enablers.

(1545 words)

It’s the end of the world. Or, at least, it feels like it.

The grass is green and the sky is orange and red and Jimmy Solidarity is alone. He’s standing, half-stilted, leaning hard against the weight of the sword in his hands. It’s stone, just like the building. The rough cobbles form a tower. A defense. It’s all he’s got, here, in another death game. He’s got that, and another chance to die for nothing.

He tries to breathe normally, like he’s taught himself to keep level headed. It’s not doing much, considering that Jimmy feels something odd and aching boiling over in his chest. He feels like an unwatched pot, tipping over his lid, and his arms shake with it. It’s a feeling that pools in his wrists and the back of his knees, sharp and prickly. He can taste something vile in the back of his mouth. Words, laughter, bile. He isn’t sure.

It’s darkening. His building is on fire.

“Jimmy!”

It’s a voice he’s memorized. Gravel on the low notes. Whispers in the middle. Footsteps in the dirt. He thinks there might be blood under his nails, but he thinks it might also be soil, because nothing smells like blood and nothing about him stings. The voice that cuts through the dusk is too familiar, too safe. He staggers.

Jimmy’s house isn’t on fire, he is. He feels it coiling in his chest, licking at the inside of his lungs, hot, too hot, or maybe not hot enough. If he breathes out he fears it might be smoke. His hands are shaking. He swallows. He can’t make his lungs inflate.

Part of him thinks he deserves this, to know he’s mocked from the start, because he can remember the words about his house, about the rumors around him, he can remember the anger boiling up to an overflow. His house is burning. He made it out of stone this time. That wouldn’t burn, he thought. But his hands are hot. There were words he said, isn’t there? Things that punched out of him as soon as he saw a familiar face that had to crane to meet his eye again. What was it that he said, when he ran into Scar first? Joel? When they told him good luck both times? Was it something cruel to match the curling in his chest? Was it the brief glee on Joel’s face, knowing he got under his skin, that made him snap back? Who else was there?

There are other words being said to him.

What happened back there? I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Someone said you nearly punched Joel? And Scar? Jimmy—

Feet on the grass. He’s not there though, on that hillside with Joel, not anymore. He’s staring wide-eyed into bright red eyes, arms stretched out, a perspective that forces him to look at only him, at Tango in front of him.

It’s Tango, terrified. It’s Tango, and Jimmy can swear he can feel Tango’s heart thudding away helplessly in his own chest. It’s Tango, and for a moment he feels like his hands are burning and that the noise is deafening around him.

Except there is no noise. He fights to get forward, lands himself into Tango’s shoulder, hears the audible thud and oof as he does, as Tango digs his heels into the earth and refuses to be pushed aside. Tango pushes him back, trying to hold him steady.

“Jimmy—that wasn’t—this isn’t you,” Tango says, and his voice borders on confusion, on despair. Jimmy makes a noise somewhere half in his chest in response. “Snap out of it.”

“He’s just—he—he’s—” Jimmy struggles for a moment, squirming against the arm that holds his elbow. He didn’t see Joel like Tango did, scared and alone. He was the sneer over a wall Joel built. He was feeling himself picked up by the scruff, unable to fight back. He was watching a town crumble and it wasn’t even his fault. He was bleeding out on a bridge and someone was laughing. It’s gloating, it’s—someone is laughing and it isn’t Tango and it isn’t him.

Jimmy struggles. Why is Tango stopping him? Isn’t this what he should be doing? Standing up for himself? Jimmy deflates. Wouldn’t Tango be proud of him? Isn’t this what he wants? Every nerve in his body feels like it’s lit up, hair standing on end. Something watches (it isn’t Tango, and it isn’t him.)

“This isn’t you,” Tango manages.

Jimmy feels himself pushed back, but the hands are firm on his shoulders as his arms start to ache. His shoulder feels aflame where Tango holds it, warmth spreading from one point of contact through his muscles. He’s looking at Tango now, just for a fraction of a second before looking away, not able to hold his eye. His vision isn’t clear. It goes fuzzy around the edges, unfocused like he might be drifting off into space. He’s seeing bright red eyes under the brim of a hat. He’s seeing blue flames across the way. There’s someone in the pocket of his side and he is safe.

He takes what feels like the first breath of air in a long minute and his mouth doesn’t taste like smoke. He feels a hand peel from his shoulder, something that slides up to his face. It cradles his jaw in one warm palm, then two, fingers curling around the shell of his ears. He blinks, even has his vision blurs completely. The back of his throat burns. He feels like his nose is pinched shut. He swallows, and it takes everything in him to focus on the warmth of the hands over his cheeks.

“Jimmy, look at me. Look at me,” Tango’s voice tugs at him, firm. He lets his eyes drift back to a face that he knows. Tango’s eyes are wide, eyebrows upturned, lips in a fine line. He’s swaying, maybe not on purpose. He’s shivering, maybe not on purpose. The sky was never burning, it was just red. Jimmy feels his weight start to drop. It’s Tango. It’s Tango.

“It’s me, it’s Tango, your rancher,” he watches the wisp of a smile form on Tango’s face, through the wobble in his voice. He inhales sharply. “Remember?”

Cows! a voice calls from the doorway as Jimmy tries to circumnavigate the small herd chewing at the bundle of hay in his hand, on the sleeve of his shirt. This was many months ago. This was the first instance. There comes a day where Jimmy will sit a little too close and Tango will decide to slot himself in the curve of his arm at night and soon enough one bed was enough space and too much all at once. Hands fitting hands. Arms fitting around shoulders. We’ll rebuild, his voice says, to wipe the look of desolation from his rancher’s face as they stand in the broken husk of a house. It was never the home, anyway, was it? It was the people inside.

Something in Jimmy’s chest twists the strings of his heart in a knot. He sees Tango expression wavers as he shuts his eyes, swaying forward. He only manages a breath before it breaks.

Jimmy collapses into his arms and the smell of burnt matches is like coming home.

Tango sags with him, sinking them to the ground. Jimmy presses his face into the side of his neck, and safe, held close, he cries. It’s a horrible sound, one that pulls from him brokenly as he buries himself in Tango’s arms. He chokes on the sob.

“It’s empty,” he says, and the words are haunting and choked into his shoulder. Tango holds to the back of his neck, to the base of his spine, even as Jimmy’s hands tangle uselessly in his sweater. It’s all Jimmy can manage. He repeats it in the inhale that he takes: It’s empty. I’m alone.

Tumble Town is empty, and he knows it’s his fault.

Or maybe it isn't. Because what else could he have done, except convince them to stay? What could’ve been done that hadn’t been already, that he hadn’t already tried? What could he have done that would’ve made any difference, anyway, besides leaving himself?

Jimmy cries. Tango’s hands run up the base of his spine. They pull Jimmy to him, holding him close, holding him tight. Tango’s voice is a barely audible thing, through the gasps for air, between the calculated inhales and exhales Tango tries to have him copy. He repeats it like a mantra, pressed into the side of his head, into his hairline: “You’re not alone, I’m here.”

I’m here now and I won’t leave. Your home won’t be empty and your hearth won’t be cold. Your arms won’t be empty and your chest won’t be cold. I’m here.

Tango holds him in the grass and the dirt. Even when the sky is no longer pink and orange, even when the stars have started to peek out in the blue that blends with the fringes of sunset.

If only by one person, he is loved.

Jimmy breathes.

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tassodelmiele · 5 months

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Noisy little mess

Hi sweetie ⁓

I'm actually surprised someone appreciated my little attempt.

I'm jiggling happily, even though you can't see.

Also, I'm unexpectedly enjoying writing in english, so as long as whatever I'm goddamn studying will let me, I'll keep on with this experiment.

I hope you like it!

Also forgive me again for any mistakes, english has too many consonants that are not pronounced and I mess up every time

DISCLAIMERS: no smut (sowwy) just some recollection of dirty moments, GhostxReader and Soap and Gaz 'cause finally they're throw into this mess, arguing (again), the gnome-nickname thing, blame shifting (again), how-not-to-do-training, ignoring doctor's advices, insubordination and yells ('cause me too i yell like an eagle when i'm angry), mask covering embarrassment

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Second part here:

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And you do. You ask. And you shouldn't have.

«Of fucking course we noticed. It was like ye were constantly overwhelmed by…i don't know what, i've not a degree in women's hormones»

Johnny sips his morning coffee with nonchalance, while Gaz nods, sitting in front of the two of you.

You're almost gonna faint.

«And…and why the hell none have told me-»

«Oh, sure lassie, and how do ye think ye would have taken the news? "Hey dall, you know that ye're almost dripping from your panties?"»

Gaz throws a towel at him, but he agrees with another nod.

«Speak as you eat> he scolds him, then he turns at you: <he's right, though. You've acted weird the whole two last days. Why are you asking?»

You bury your head in your hands, swallowing breakfast as it is dry sand in your throat.

«…nevermind. I'm just sorry at this point»

«There's no use lassie, we know ye» Soap's arm surrounds you, squeezing away a little bit of the anguish. «And ye'r not the only girl at the base, ya know? It happens»

«Seriously?»

«'F course»

«…my god. So now you know the period calendar of every female being at the base?»

«Kinda»

«…mh»

«Is he bothering you?»

You look at Gaz. He seems concerned and curious, and you don't really want him to be none of that. You don't know what to answer anyway, and reply arrives with ten seconds of delay:

«…he?»

«Ghost»

You shiver instinctively. And you know for sure that Johnny has felt you, but you shake your head like hell, pretending vigorously that you don't even know what Gaz's talking about.

«Why?»

«We've seen him around you a lot. And he could be demanding when someone's not giving his best at training. And…»

«…ye'r clearly not doing it» Soap ends the sentence with a teasing smile.

You answer with a pout, flexing your muscles.

«That's totally untrue. I'm always at my best»

«Raise your levels than, since i think he's ready to squeeze you like a lemon today»

It seems like Gaz 's talking really philosophically this morning. You raise an eyebrow at him, then follow his gaze behind you.

And you gulp, seeing a big, dark figure walking toward the table.

You swallow an oatmeal crumb, risking choking on yourself. Then a firm, strong grip holds your shoulder, making your bones crack like they're made out of crackers.

Ghost's voice hits you like a truck.

«I was wondering what could've made you late for the training». He glares at you from the top. «Breakfast. Of fucking course»

You hear the light laugh of Soap and Gaz, who're apparently taking the Lt.'s threatening as a funny joke. You're not. You're shivering, swallowing hot air, lowering your eyes deeper and deeper in the oatmeal. Your heart skips a beat as he tightens his hold on you.

«You have one minute»

And you swallow a "yes sir" in a breath.

Today is not your day. Not at all.

You've already noticed it, but it is clearer now that you're in the middle of the training field, with everyone's eyes on you, while your Lt. (who's fingered you, like, two days ago) has just chosen you for fight practice.

You're sweating like hell, taking deep breaths. You're already drained, even if everything you've done till now is just tryna not to be touched by his fists; and he's trying to knock you out with way more diligence than you've thought.

You're dodging, your legs tremble at every sudden jerk you make to avoid crushing your nose on his fists, and the tactic seems to be working till he reaches your leg with a kick. You fall on your back, hitting your head on the ground like an idiot, and he's on you in a blink of an eye, squeezing your wrist in one hand and your throat in the other.

You panic.

And the tiniest of the whines break on your lips.

He squeezed harder all of a sudden, gripping your throat with full strength, gazing at you with a strange, really odd sight. Like he's annoyed, angry and aroused at the same time.

He lets you go, and you start to cough, with your throat bruised and your head and lungs hurting. You glare at him, and he does the same.

He spits out a cold: «what?» as if he's throwing an ice cubes bucket at you.

«Is not that fair» you don't fear to answer honestly, even if you're voice is being squeezed out of your lungs «fighting with a girl who's 30 cm smaller than you»

«Oh, my bad. And, out of curiosity…» he lowered his face down to you, pinning you to the ground with just his sight «what are you planning to do if you'll face an enemy my size?»

«Shot at him»

«Good one, gnome. But you're disarmed by now»

«…run, then. Hide, i dunno. There's no point in start a fight that's lost from the beginning»

And he smile. You know he's smiling, part 'cause the others rookies surrounding you are watching in total silence as they're afraid he might choose one of them to break their bones (and he might); and part 'cause he knows he's in control.

He suddenly breath, sharp like a knife: «than, run»

You stare at him.

He's joking…right?

No.

He's not.

And you understand it as he stands up in all of his height, grabbing you by the arm and lifting your weight as if it's nothing. You stumble on your feet, breath still scattered, and again he glares at you, shouting a clearer:

«Run»

Your legs move by themselves.

You find yourself running like hell throughout the training field, clearly feeling his presence behind you, and you know how goddamn fast he is. You skip through other training groups. slipping between obstacles, your eyes fixed in front of you and your lungs about to explode. You keep going for what's like an eternity, and when you think you're doing it…

a firm grip holds you by the arm. Your body is forced to stop so suddenly that your breath is broken under the pressure of an opposite force throwing you on the ground. Your spine is smashed on the field, lungs are shaking and throbbing in your ribcage and, as you turn over on your stomach to try and get up again, he just kicks you in the back, grabbing your arm and pin it behind you so tight, rotating it with a lot of strength.

Too much strength,

And you yell like an eagle, feeling the nerve in your elbow cry as it turns on itself.

«Ulnar nerve compression»

Doc is so professional in front of you two, who, on the other hand, seems like a cat and its owner at the vet after a bad fight.

Ghost is clearly embarrassed. He's trying to be professional and stern, but he can't even face your gaze, which is ice-cold. You're sitting next to him, your arm bandaged just as much as it is needed to make sure you don't move it, and you're trying to squeeze a laser beam out of your eyes and make your lieutenant into a strainer.

What in the actual fuck

«Do not move it for a day. It is better for you to make it rest, otherwise you can make other damages. And» doctor gaze at Ghost under his little round glasses «please, be more careful with the training»

It seems like he would like to add something (it's the third time in a month Ghost nearly breaks someone's body part just for training), but the doctor just sighs. He let you two get out of the infirmary, and as soon as you're alone in the corridor Ghost collect his breath to shout a not so convinced:

«…i'm sorry»

But this time you're ready.

«No. No, you're not»

«I am»

«You're just amused»

He stops, looking at you while you walk away in all of your 165 cm of glory and stillness. Then he reaches you again, not daring to touch any part of your body since he's already done enough damage.

«What does that even mean?»

«It means that you enjoy being able to crush whoever you want with bare hands»

«Like 's something the others don't enjoy»

«Not in that way». You raise your bandaged arm, hissing a painful breath. «We were training! Why couldn't we just do it normally?»

«Fight practice is normal, gnome»

«Not like that! My elbow had turned fucking purple!»

«You could've just run faster»

You stop. Your face jerks toward him, glaring at his goddamn mask like you're gonna spit fire from your mouth, and you have to look like a crazy owl since he doesn't seem to be frightened.

«Look» you start, restraining yourself from yelling «I'm not the best soldier, but I've never had problems with any of my superiors, i do my work and i don't act like a pussy. But I'm human. Ok? H-u-m-a-n»

«Seems like you know your limits»

«Of course i do, that's why-»

«You could've just told me to stop»

«Why me?!» you suddenly hiss through your teeth, looking desperately at the man who seems to enjoy your incoming aneurysm. «We…we used to eat the same breakfast, laughing with your team, speaking about cats in the morning…why have you started to play this goddamn game with me?? What has changed in two days?»

«You»

He breathes the answer like it is obvious, and your brain glitch for a second.

«…what?»

«You've changed»

«Are you joking with me? What-how would i…»

Then you start connecting dots. Your gaze meets him again, piercing his mask.

«…is it because of that night? Is it still because of my goddamn moaning?»

And you know he's embarrassed.

You know it, since he doesn't know where to put his hands, and how to look properly at you. He rushes to speak again, choking the sudden loss of words in a stern: «I've already explained: it's your behavior»

«Seriously? You can't go forward? Did it seriously hit you that bad?»

«Don't» and he gives back the piercing-sight «play with me, gnome. Watch your fucking mouth»

«I've literally done nothing»

«You breath»

You raise your eyebrows, charge your voice and blow your cheeks: «oh, i'm so sorry if i function like a human being!»

«Is how you do it, you stupid little-»

«Oh no, don't you dare try to-»

«To what?»

«To put the blame on me!»

«Well i can't do that much 'bout it!»

Voices are lowering a little too much outside the infirmary. You stop your feet, turn again at him and stare at his glare with arms crossed, ready to scold your superior (even if it is the most stupid thing to do)...

but you shut.

He's a few steps away from you, eyes down on the floor and head a little titled. Your jaw dropped a little.

«…are you flustered?»

You can clearly see his brain snapping at light fast. And you know well how better it is for you to shut, pretend nothing happened and go away on your feet (till you've got functioning legs), but you can't do much about how fast your mouth opens, and your voice starts to come dangerously out in a whispered:

«Am i really turning you on?»

....................................................

#fanfiction #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod fanfic #ghost x you #Yes i write something about Simon Riley getting flustered #But there are no evidences we can cover everything in mud #Also i didn't realize till now that Johnny Soap McTavish drinks coffee in the morning #Not like the other english whatever who inject tea in their veins #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #I'm having so much fun writing arguments #Too much dialogues #I'm sorry #No i'm not #Do men really care about menstruations?#part 3

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