#and ghost is just really fuckin depressed

[thewallsaretalking-again]

*GETS RESSURECTED*

I HAVE RETURNED AND THEREFORE YOU MUST SUFFER MY CREATIONS

Followers, scrollers, and sexy tumblr bots, I introduce to you two of my Original Characters: Ghost and Nile. Cybertronian rouges and scavengers, they’re part of a rough, tumble, and chaotic crew. Everyone’s taumatized and actual compliments are about as rare as energon on a dead planet. Exhibit A:

#my few week break turned into a few month break #so I’m now back and plan on making it everyone’s problem #for the record Nile has deathly bad parinoia and he may have actually lost his mind #and ghost is just really fuckin depressed #what a couple #if your interested I can do more on this little crew #just say the word #transformers #original characters #tfp #or at least in that range #tfrid 2015 #maybe #listen I have no fuckin idea #they’re in their own world at this point #WATT

[abra-ka-dammit]

every year i get to add another year to "longest ive ever been single since i first started dating" and idk man. this isnt a record im TRYING to keep beating but

like

literally how do you meet people as an adult i do not understand

all i go to is work and theres not exactly prospects there in a staff of 4 men i wouldnt be attracted to even if they were single, and one woman who is straight and married and also my boss's daughter

#stupid shit #man. #its not like im depressed over it or anything like im clearly surviving fine while single #but you do start to REALLY miss someone hugging you and kissing you and saying they love you and wanting to hang out and go places w u #i get enough socializing through my internet friends to stay sane but they cant offer me THIS kind of love yknow... #i tried sneaking my number to this cute verizon girl by giving her a tiny notepad i'd doodled on the front of #on the top of which's first page had my name and number and a smiley face #in retrospect she probably just assumed i had written down someone to call back or smth #(or was straight or taken or just uninterested but you know) #and im fuckin sick of dating apps thats such bullshit #when ur not getting ghosted or stood up youre getting pulled in by some desperate person who would have grabbed anyone #so you can waste 6 months of your time w someone who doesnt even actually like you

[ivestas]

Hello. I saw your post and would you be up for doing a bit on a reader who cares little about themselves but cares deeply for the team?

love deterrence

Summary: You care about the 141 more than yourself to a worrisome degree. 

Tags: platonic!141 x soldier!fem!reader, mentally ill reader (implied), headcanon format, reader implied to be young, unedited

Word count: 1.3k

Notes: ANON... THE MOMENT I SAW THIS I DROPPED EVERYTHING. the requests I get r always top tier, BUT THIS IS S +. also my bad for this being price/soap/ghost-centric, theyre the characters im most confident in writing---and, also also, SEND REQUESTS. you guys are so slay w reqs its actually insane

You were a soldier—a good one at that. 

Thorough in your assignments, fearless on the field, and reliable. Truly, it’s something any enlister would seek out. 

That was Price’s initial thoughts—everyone else’s, really. You liked to get shit done and you were determined to always, always see through a mission’s completion. 

It was a trait that, at first, wasn’t noticeable, but it intensified the longer you stayed with the 141. 

Many things increased the longer you were with them: you went from formal to friendly, quiet to outspoken, frigid to warm... you grew comfortable. They each took notice in their own way—with Soap being the one to constantly reciprocate and encourage in his own way; despite his loud character, he was subtle in pushing you out of your bubble.

Even Ghost encouraged you... in his own way. 

“You look like you wanna say something, spit it out, kid.” 

It was hard not to warm up to them, and vice versa; the team was as tightly knit as they come, and you could confidently say that you’d trust your life in their hands...

...but, you’d much rather they worry about you last.

And that was when Ghost was the first to notice your recklessness on the field when it came to them; the moment you heard one of them was in danger, you’d be quick to finish the area in such a careless manner and rush to them—and many, many times he’d berate you about it. 

“Kid, when I tell you to stay put, you stay put.”

“But—“

“No fuckin’ ‘buts’, you shut up and listen, understand?!” 

“...yes sir.” 

But you always disobeyed. At one point, Ghost demanded Price to put you on temporary leave because of how worrisome it was getting—you’d listen to every single order and follow through in quick succession, but the moment it came to your safety, you just..?

And that’s when it clicked to Ghost: you didn’t care. It was their lives over yours, and something about that just pissed him off. 

(Maybe it was because he understood the feeling, and he hated knowing that you felt it too. You were young, you shouldn’t feel that way—not now, not ever.)

Price would catch on later around the same time Soap did—although the two certainly weren’t dumb, it’s just the mere fact that they didn’t understand the way Ghost did—they’ve had their mental pitfalls, but not the abject depression that pushes one to feel so little about themselves. 

They’d find out much later—you’ve become sneakier in protecting them, something that Ghost still catches from time to time but can’t butt in since you were so damn clever with it—and it was when an enemy tossed a bomb in your and Soap’s direction that your nature dawned on him. 

You were quick to toss the bomb back, and not only did you do that, but you shielded him from the blast by throwing yourself onto him despite the fact you were smaller than he. 

Luckily, the blast didn’t harm you, only leaving you with a few scrapes and ringing ears. 

But, the moment he got back up on his feet, you were fretting.

“You okay, Soap? You’re not hurt, are you—?!” 

“Lass, worry about yourself, I’m fine!” 

“Are you sure?” 

It was like talking to a brick wall: terribly frustrating.

Price, having been a few feet away and had shielded from the blast, saw the spectacle and almost laughed. 

It was ridiculous to him—you threw yourself, but you’re worrying about the muscle-bound soldier? 

He didn’t like soldiers who tried to play hero—especially soldiers who were hardly grown. Especially soldiers who seemed to lack care for themselves.

So, Price would start sneaking in sentiments of care: complimenting you outside the field, (”You made that, sergeant? Great job, it looks wonderful.”) trying to hear you communicate your own interests, things about you. 

Soap already does that, and Ghost soon follows too, though slowly. He wasn’t good at praising—his compliments were always so awkward, no better than his fucked up jokes that he cracked at the worst times. 

Price always made sure to give you the best cots, Ghost would give you a portion of his food because...

“I’m watching my weight.”

“What?” 

“You heard me, sergeant. I’m watching my weight.” 

“...you’re literally a soldier—“

“Just eat the food kid, don’t make me repeat myself.” 

Soap was the only direct one—the other two didn’t want to make it uncomfortable for you, but Soap was, well... Soap. 

“Look, kid, lass, you need to start lookin’ out for yerself.” 

“I am already, don’t worry—“

“You stood in front of Price when you thought there was an enemy sniper.” 

“He’s the captain! I gotta protect him!” 

“You could’ve just told him—listen, I don’t like using threats, that’s the L.T’s thing, not mine, but if you continue to treat your arse like a meatshield, I’m gonna make sure you’re put on leave again, okay?” 

It becomes a struggle after that: you felt overwhelming guilt for feeling guilt, for being ‘selfish’, or feeling guilty for taking risky actions in order to protect them because you know they’ll feel bad. 

It’s a perpetual struggle that you didn’t know what to do about, and it’s at the worst time you broke down. 

You and Ghost were cleaning up the mess hall since Soap won a bet against him, and when you picked up an extra plate more than Ghost, you began overthinking.

Was this gonna piss off Ghost? Were you going to make him feel bad? Were you doing this for yourself or for him? Why did you do that—should you give him the plate? What should you do? What’s the right thing?

As much as the guys tried to ease your mind, I think they did the opposite: and, at that moment, you couldn’t stop the tears.

That made you even guiltier, especially when Ghost noticed. 

But, all he said was “talk.” His voice was uncharacteristically soft, and with that allowance, you spoke. 

It was incoherent: a babbling mess of “sorrys” and admissions of guilt for shit he didn’t even know one could feel guilty for—you shook, moments would jump where you would collect yourself for a few seconds before bursting once more. 

Taking the dishes from your hands, he set them back on the table and engulfed you in an awkward but strong hug. He didn’t trust himself to say anything right, but he hoped—prayed—that you knew the sentiments. 

And you did—you reciprocated immediately, burying your face into his bulletproof vest; heaving, shaking, breaking. 

He was then at a crossroads: you were unstable. Guilt like that—this faux selflessness that was really something more tragic—it only leads to one thing, a thing he couldn’t bring himself to name. 

So, the same night when he was sure you were asleep, he went straight to Price. 

“Sir.” 

“Yes, Ghost?” 

“The kid—she can’t stay. She needs to see a professional.” 

Price sighed. “You don’t think I’m tryin’? Been trying to reach a psychologist—therapist—whomever. Laswell’s said she’s workin’ on it, so we’ll see.”

“But she can’t stay, this type of job, it’s not good for her mind.” 

“That’s up to her. You can’t just kick someone out—it’s ain’t that simple.” 

Ghost opened his mouth, ready to spit back, but Price cut in, stern. “It’s up to her. I’ll make sure she sees a professional at least bi-weekly, but you can’t force a leave on her.” 

Ghost settled with that, though not completely satisfied. 

When you eventually do see a professional, you get a little better—you recognize the patterns, the triggers, the reasons. It’s easier to dissemble the mess that your mind is and just understand. 

Although you’re a little more careful now, more thoughtful about your own body, there’s always a level of protection you place on them that they know is irremovable: it’s care. 

And they reflect that care right back at you, both in and out of the field. 

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

#modern warfare 2 x reader #modern warfare x reader #mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #soap x reader #john mctavish x reader

[riverbutghost]

All Alone (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley xGN!Reader)

Summary: After an unsuccessful mission and you getting scolded by your lieutenant, you’re left all alone by yourself feeling depressed for the first time.

A/N: This is my first post ever on Tumblr lol I’m excited.

Categories: this is Angst / Hurt Comfort and the ending isn’t sad but isn’t happy either.

Warnings: graphic language, wound, blood, getting shot but nothing fatal, slight sexual themes, also the readers nickname is Scout.

You were exhausted.

The mission had gone wrong, making all of you to take a step back. And it was probably your fault.

“I’m going after that guy!” You yelled through your comm. Then Ghost’s voice was heard.

“Don’t do something stupid, Scout.”

But you had already done the stupid something.

You didn’t see it. You didn’t see the guy who was holding a gun to you from behind. It was Soap who saw it and informed you but it was too late.

You turned around quickly while pointing your gun, but the guy shot you in the arm. You gasped loudly at the sudden pain. You could’ve shot the man too, but a stupid little mistake was made. You couldn’t shoot him, you couldn’t move your arm. He ran and called for reinforcements.

And boom, the mission failed because of you.

On other circumstances, you wouldn’t mind being yelled at, but you weren’t feeling yourself. You weren’t Scout who would tell everyone to fuck off.

Even before the mission, you weren’t yourself. You didn’t know what was wrong with you, but you weren’t there. You didn’t mind it, but it costed you a whole mission.

You didn’t see your lieutenant after the incident, only seeing his back where he was sitting in the front of the truck. He didn’t say a word and it was painful. You were scared because that happened before too.

_

You had done something reckless again, almost getting shot at the head.

But you were lucky.

“You’re so fucking reckless, Scout.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I’m not sorry Ghost.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.” He hissed through clenched teeth.

“But I did, and I take the blame. So fuck off-“

In two steps, he was in front of you. He pushed you against the wall. Your breath hitched.

“When will you shut that stupid mouth of yours?”

Your lips parted involuntarily. Ghost’s eyes flicked down to your lips.

You closed your mouth and swallowed everything down. Every little witty remark.

Your eyes went back and forth between his eyes and his mouth.

He looked at your eyes again and his gaze softened.

You licked your lips. He took a breath.

“Don’t tempt me, Scout.” You gulped again. His voice was hoarse, his chest rumbled. Your skin was suddenly burning.

“I’m not trying to, Ghost.”

Your breaths were shallow, unorganized. You wanted to see his face, see his mind. What was he thinking?

You looked deep in his eyes. Suddenly, you found another emotion, sadness. Then there was guilt maybe. He swallowed whatever he was going to say.

You kept quiet. He was quiet too. You were just staring at each other, not feeling any discomfort even though you weren’t in a comfortable position.

“You could’ve fuckin’ died.” His voice came out as a whisper. His gaze dropped for a second. You shivered.

“Ghost, Price is calling for you!”

A sudden call from Gaz was the interruption you didn’t want.

“Comin’” He called to Gaz, still looking at your eyes. He cleared his throat. He took a step back and turned around, leaving you in the kitchen. Breathlessly, you cleared your throat too.

You felt something down on your abdomen, tensing slightly. You thought it was something sexual.

And that night, you had your first wet dream about your lieutenant.

_

Right now, you were sitting on the bed the medic told you to, and waiting for her to start patching your arm up. She had already took the bullet out, which was a really painful experience you might add, and she told you to wait for her to patch you up.

She was washing her hands and talking to you at the same time, not knowing her words were entering one ear and leaving from the other.

Suddenly the door swung open, Ghost came in.

“Get out, Stevens.”

The medic, Stevens, gulped and got out immediately, leaving you alone with him. You were screwed.

No need to be scared, you told yourself. He is my lieutenant, my friend-

“What the fuck was that?”

He snarled, looking at you with disappointment. You swallowed the lump in your throat. Not now, simon. Not after I fucking blowed up a mission by myself.

“Ghost I-“ He cut you off with a growl. You shivered.

“Didn’t know you were that, stupid.”

You licked your lips, trying so hard to come up with something witty. But no, you felt something else coming up.

You didn’t say anything, only looking at the floor. You were hoping for him to leave now, but no. Simon fucking Riley didn’t know when to shut up or speak.

“I can’t fucking believe you. You’re a fuckin’ failure..”

Ouch

You looked up.

He was still wearing his gear. He didn’t even wait to change, because scolding you was more important.

He took a deep breath, averting his eyes from yours.

“Are you done?” You asked with no emotion behind your words. You were exhausted, and your arm was still bleeding. You tightened your hand over it.

“No, I’m not fuckin’ done, Sergeant.”

You gulped when your eyes met. He was waiting, waiting for you to say something, anything that would set him off. He wasn’t looking at you though, you knew it. He was just here to scold you. He wasn’t seeing the bigger picture.

“My arm needs stitching.” He closed his eyes for a second.

“Fuckin’ hell,” He grumbled, the noise would make you feel things in other circumstances.

He looked at you one last time before getting out.

You got up and left the room after waiting for your doctor who didn’t show up.

.

.

.

You were out of the shower, still drying your hair with the towel.

You had stitched your arm by yourself, but it looked terrible as before. At least there was a gauze on your wound. You hoped it wouldn’t open.

You took a deep breath. You were going to bed after a long and hard day. Finally, you thought. You really wanted, no, needed to cry.

You could’ve literally cried after your lieutenants scolding, but you didn’t want to seem even more stupid and childish .

You’re a fucking failure , he’d said.

It was so hard, so hard not to cry and you were proud of yourself in that moment. Because if you cried in front of him, you would’ve showed him a vulnerable side and that was something you didn’t want.

Because you knew he didn’t like you.

You thought about your feelings towards your fucking lieutenant. He was your lieutenant, your superior. It wasn’t ethical, and you knew he wouldn’t look at you like that. It was almost painful to watch him interact with rookies like it’s nothing, but when it came to you he would shut off. He would scold you in a second if you did something wrong.

But you couldn’t forget about the little moment you had together in the kitchen too.

You wanted to take a breath, but you broke down instead.

You let the tears fall freely, not wiping them or anything. You knew you needed this. From the start of the day, you were waiting for that moment. And you finally had it.

And there was a knock on your door.

You sat down on your cold bathroom floor, not even suppressing your whimpers. You put your hands on your face, breaking down bad.

I need this, I need this, I’m worth it, I’m not a failure -

Then your door swung opened. You didn’t get up, you couldn’t. You couldn’t clear your vision. There was a nonstop battle between your eyes and your heart.

“Scout, hey.”

Then you heard him. You cried harder. You knew you were humiliating yourself , but you didn’t care for now.

“Scout, you’re okay-“

You harshly pulled your hands from your face and pushed him hard.

“Fuck you, Ghost. I’m not a-a failure and you know it. I’ll shoe you one day.” You were hiccuping between words and Simon cursed himself.

“Stop crying.”

You stood up, using both of your hands. The movement causing your arm to ache, and you whimpered.

Simon got up, looking stressed and angry at the same time.

“Let me look at your wound.”

“No, just leave me alone.” You answered him while rubbing your hands over your face. You didn’t sound angry for a second and that made him concerned.

“I don’t want you to fuckin’ bleed out and die, sergeant.”

Your face scrunched up, and you felt nauseous.

“Funny, lieutenant. I’m sure you want me to fucking die instead. Don’t need to be nice, we’re all alone.”

He was looking at you so confused. You wanted so hard to yell, to scream. But you were tired.

You closed your eyes and leaned on your bathroom door. You

“Listen to me fucking carefully, Scout.” He spoke harshly. You didn’t open your eyes, not ready yet to hear more scolding from him.

He took a deep breath.

“Please, Scout. “

You nodded your head, still wanting him to leave. He took a step towards you. His voice suddenly softened.

“Open those pretty eyes first, yeah?”

Your breath hitched a little and you mentally cursed yourself. You opened your eyes, finally meeting his’.

“I don’t know how to do…this.” He swallowed.

Simon took a careful step toward you again, and you let him. Your crying had already stopped, but you were looking like ghost now.

“To do what? Be nice to people?” You asked him harshly.

“Yeah, I don’t know how to be nice to people who I care about.”

You were startled by the sudden comment. He continued.

“I don’t know how to open up to people who could just die in an instant. Because If anything happens to them, I would be a real Ghost.”

You pressed your lips tighter now. You were shocked to hear those from him. But he still needed to work on his language.

He lifted his hand and put it just above your cheekbone, wiping under your eye. The sudden touch making your insides scream. you

“I don’t know what to do, to say, Scout.”

He leaned towards you, your breaths mixing with each other’s. You wanted to take off his mask now. Instead, you leaned your forehead in his forehead.

He leaned in, hand still stroking your cheek.

“Let’s figure out what to do, hm? Together .”

Your lieutenant closed his eyes and hummed. His other hand sneaked behind you to rest on your hip.

“I’m scared.” He confessed in a whisper. You licked your lips.

“Me too, Ghost.”

“Simon.” He interrupted you. You couldn’t even be happy that he told you his name.

He pulled back, his hands still resting on you.

“But that doesn’t mean you can talk shit to me, Simon.”

He swallowed the lump, nodding his head. It was hard for him, hard for him to suddenly feel an emotion. It was the worst fucking pain when you almost got shot in the head, but he couldn’t do anything other than yell at you, then fucking it up by almost kissing you. He couldn’t sleep after that night, seeing you on top of him was a sight worth dreaming but he couldn’t risk it.

He couldn’t fall in love with you. But he did. He wasn’t ready, for whatever feeling he had for you.

“I don’t think we should,” He called your real name at the end of the sentence. Your eyes suddenly shot open.

“Why? Simon fucking Riley is suddenly scared of some feelings?” You asked him harshly .

“Yes, he is.”

He was staring right at you, and you were starting to feel sleepy.

“You should probably go now.”

You said while looking anywhere but him. He sighed, looked at you one last time before grabbing the door handle to open the door wider for his massive form.

“I,” He sighed. “You’re not a failure, Scout. You’ll never be a failure.”

He got out of your bathroom, leaving you all alone once again.

“I’m not a failure.” You whispered to yourself, knowing fully the actual meaning behind his words.

He cared. He cared for you.

I hate this, this was rushed and also my first so please bear with me lol.

#simon riley angst #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x you #simon riley x you #call of duty #cod mw soap #cod mwf2 #call of duty modern warfare #light angst #new author

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Then & Now (M, cold)

Hiii, hope you like A LOT of hurt followed by 2-3 sentences of comfort lmao. This is Greyson fic - Grey is sick on a day he and Reed are supposed to have a date, and he's sure Reed is going to be angry with him because Trauma(TM). It's told in a flashback sort of format which I really enjoyed because I love writing blurbs of colds at different times in life lol. I hope you guys like it, please let me know what ya think, good, bad, or otherwise :)

CW: Male snz, cold, pneumonia mention, coughing, contagion mention, lots and lots of whump lmao. A little over 4K words under the cut.

Then & Now

Now

“Morning, Chef.”

“Huh-! HhITSZHH-ue!”

Elijah turned towards Greyson, who was doubled over into his hoodie sleeve, and gave him a sympathetic grimace. “Cooks finally pulled you under, hmm?”

“Ugh, like way fuckin’ under,” Greyson muttered, rubbing his eye and sucking in through his nose. “I feel like ass.”

“Sorry, dude,” Elijah said, tossing his counterpart a box of tissues. “Sucks.”

Greyson caught the box and pulled out a few just in time. “HITSZHZH-uhh!” This one, he managed to catch in the handful of tissues. He wiped his nose and shrugged. “Yeah,” he said, tossing the used tissues. “Mbostly because I was supposed to have a date tonight.”

Elijah smirked at his friend, who was pushing past the GM into their shared office. The two of them sat in unison. “Do you guys still call them dates? You’ve been official for, like, six months.”

“It’s our six-month anniversary,” Greyson said, his voice flattened by congestion. “We were going to do EMP.”

“Awww, now I’m depressed,” Elijah said. “Also, why didn’t you tell me earlier you were going to Eleven Madison? I still know people there.”

“So does Reed,” Greyson said, massaging his temple. “That’s why we were goigg. Fuck, mby fuckin’ head is pounding. Do we have any -?”

Elijah placed the ibuprofen in front of the chef before he could ask, along with a bottle of cough syrup and a decongestant. “You know we have it all,” he said, pushing an old cup of water across the desk for Greyson to swallow his arsenal of pills. “And fair enough. Well that fuckin’ sucks, dude, I’m sorry. Hey, at least you can leave early, right? Matt’s closing?”

“Yeah,” Greyson said, unwrapping a cough drop and popping it in his mouth. “I’ll head out once the rush is over. I still have to text Reee – hh...hhNTSHH-ue! HGTSHH-uhh!” Greyson doubled over, sneezed into his arm, and groaned. “I’mb gonna kill the guys when they get in,” he said, mostly to himself.

“Don’t do that,” Elijah said, placing a hand on Greyson’s shoulder on his way out of the office. “Then you’ll have to stay all night.”

Greyson huffed out a laugh and pulled out his phone. He clicked on his conversation with Reed, sighing. He did not want to have this conversation.

Greyson

9:31AM

hey babe. gonna have to cancel tonight, the cooks infected me w their plague :( im rly sorry.

The chef set his phone on the desk, prepared to either be ghosted or gaslit – two of Collin’s favorite pastimes whenever Greyson had had to cancel their plans during their relationship – and was shocked when the phone buzzed with a text almost immediately. He was almost afraid to look at his boyfriend’s response.

Reed

9:32AM

Oh, baby don’t be sorry!! what time are you off? I’ll pick you up and take you home :) we can do a sick day little date night instead!

Greyson stared at the phone, stunned. He couldn’t help it; he read the message again, then out loud said, “What the fuck?”

Then – Ten Years Ago

“Chef?”

The Executive Chef looked up from his paperwork at Greyson and sighed. “What is it, Abbott?”

“I, um – hh! HTSHH-uh! HGXTSH-ue! Snf. Umb, I just wanted to see if it was okay if I… left a little early today?” Greyson asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His chef raised his eyebrows and put his clipboard down. Oh, no, Greyson thought.

“Leave...early? And leave your clean up and prep to whom, exactly? Me?” The Executive Chef huffed out a laugh. “That’s rich, Abbott. Why the fuck would you need to leave early?”

“I…” Greyson started, but his voice gave out on the single syllable. He attempted to clear his throat. “I just… I really feel like shit? I was hoping I could, like… sleep it off, I guess. I mbean, I wouldn’t want to get anyone else sigck.” Greyson felt a cough bubbling to the surface; he tried to quell it, to no avail. The younger man collapsed into a coughing fit that felt like it lasted a lifetime.

The Chef remained unmoved. “My guys,” he said, placing a hand on his chest as Greyson attempted to compose himself, “don’t get sick, Abbott. And if they do, I don’t fucking hear about it. Understand? Because I really don’t give a shit. If you’re here, you’re here. If you decide to leave early,” he shrugged, uncaring, “then you leave for good. And Abbott, if you try to get a job after walking out of my kitchen, I promise you I will make it impossible. I know you’ve only been here a couple months, but here’s what you need to learn: put your head down and do your fucking job, and you can work anywhere in the world after this. Be a whiny piece of shit who tries to walk out on his shift, and you’ll be working at McDonald’s for the rest of you life. Got it?”

Greyson, too shocked to rebut, just bobbed his head up and down.

“Let me hear you say it,” the Chef said. Greyson cleared his throat.

“Yes, Chef,” he said. The Chef nodded.

“Now get the fuck out of my office.”

Now

“Elijah. Look at this text.”

The GM looked up slowly from the iPad where he was going over reservations for the evening. “...Why?” he asked, taking the phone from Greyson’s hand.

“Just look. Tell mbe that’s ndot weird,” Greyson said, crossing his arms over his chest. Elijah looked down, confused, and read the text. He pinched his eyebrows together just a little, and read it again. “See? Isn’t that weird?”

“Greyson…” Elijah said, handing the phone back. “That’s not weird.”

“Seriously?” Greyson asked, reading the text yet again. “It’s bizarre. He’s ndot even a little mad? C’mon. That’s weird.”

“He’s being sweet,” Elijah explained, slowly, as though he were talking to a toddler. “Did you want him to be mad? Because that’s bizarre.”

“Ndo I don’t want him to be mad. I jus – HTSZHH-ue! HRRSHH!” Greyson wrenched to the side to sneeze, which sent him into a fit of hacking coughs. “I just figured he’d want to, like, yell at mbe or something. For canceling,” Greyson finished, his voice strained against another cough. Elijah didn’t respond, not at first, and instead pressed a hand onto the chef’s forehead.

“I think you’re sicker than we thought, because you’re acting fucking delusional,” he said as Greyson slapped his hand away. “Greyson, normal people don’t yell at each other for getting sick, or having to cancel a plan. That’s, like, really twisted.”

Greyson rolled his eyes. “It’s ndot twisted, Lij you fuckin’ drama queen,” he said, then held up a finger. “Onesec – hh! Hh...hnn.” Greyson sniffled, a let out a little irritated cough. “Lost it.”

“Go back to the kitchen,” Elijah said, pointing towards the swinging doors. “Sit down. Rest. Let your medicine kick in. I don’t want people seeing this -” he gestured to Greyson, as if to allude to his entire being – “when they walk past the restaurant. Alright? Text your boyfriend something nice. Not something unhinged.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Greyson muttered, turning toward the kitchen, his phone still open to the conversation with Reed. He turned towards Elijah again before pushing through the kitchen doors. “I still say that this is the unhinged thing.”

“Go to therapy, Greyson,” Elijah said, not looking up from the iPad. Greyson rolled his eyes, pushed into the kitchen, and regarded his phone once again.

Greyson

10:07AM

thanks, babe. it’s ok, I can take care of myself. it wont be a long day, ill just grab some nyquil omw home and sleep it off. ill reschedule our rezo too, don’t worry about that. im really sorry again for canceling. if I could taste the food id still go lol.

Figuring that sounded at least relatively normal, Greyson hit send. He sat down at his desk once again and placed his head in his hands. No way he’s not pissed, Greyson thought, and he really believed it. In all his years of dating, he’d never met anyone who would respond that way; they’d at least have a snippy remark about the last-minute nature of the cancellation.

Greyson’s phone pinged once again, and he couldn’t help but grab it right away to assess the damage.

Reed

10:08AM

honey, please don’t apologize, seriously. youre sick, it happens, its no biggie :) I already moved the reservation to next week but if we need to ill move it again. james at emp said to tell you feel better btw.

Greyson blinked, dumbstruck. He started typing without thinking.

Greyson

10:10AM

you REALLY arent mad? seriously?

Reed

10:10AM

im really not mad. who gets mad at someone for being sick…? is someone at work mad at you? am I supposed to be mad..? lol

Greyson

10:11AM

I mean its a last minute cancellation. id understand if u were mad.

Reed

10:11AM

welllll….im not. is that ok? haha

Reed

10:15AM

grey…? you believe me, right?

Reed

10:21AM

greyson..?

Then – Seven Years Ago

He was moving through molasses.

Greyson placed a sluggish hand to his own forehead – you can’t check yourself for a fever, dumbass – and blinked painfully. He’d made it to work, he’d made it through the day, and he’d made it back home, against all odds. Now, he was stuck on his couch, unable to even crawl to the bathroom for a thermometer.

It had all compounded on him, was his guess. The endless fourteen hour days for the better part of two years at his thankless sous chef job. The shitty Chicago-suburbs apartment with no heat, where he froze for the few hours a week he slept. The near-constant drinking. Sure, he was only twenty-five, but what was it they said about this industry? It ages you in dog years. Yeah, that was it.

“Hh-! Hh...ITSZHH-ue! HTSHHH-ue!” Greyson sneezed helplessly into the blanket he’d wrapped around himself, and groaned. This was not what he’d imagined when he moved here from Minnesota. He’d thought it would be glamorous, working as a sous chef at a high-end hotel in a big city. He thought he’d have friends, or a girlfriend, or something. Instead, he was trapped on his couch, benched by a sinus infection and seasonal depression that seemed to last the whole year round. Fuck this, Greyson thought. He couldn’t get off the couch, but he could reach his phone; Greyson pulled up Indeed and changed his search parameters.

Actively searching for work. Location: Any.

Now

“Um… Chef? What’s, uh… what’s going on?”

Greyson paused for a moment, a crate of spoiled food held on his shoulder. He turned towards Matt, keen to answer, but instead held the crate tighter and wrenched to the side. “HRTTSHH-uh!”

“Bless you,” Matt said, an automatic reaction. Greyson nodded, turned towards the dumpster, and dumped the food in before beginning the cycle anew: pick up crate. Turn to sneeze. Dump old food. Matt wasn’t sure if he should help his boss, or go inside for backup.

He chose the former, picking a crate filled to the brim with rotten tomatoes off the ground and hoisting it into the trash. “You gonna tell me what’s up?” he asked as the two of them continued gathering and tossing.

Greyson sighed, pulled a hand down his face, and shook his head. “I thingk Reed and I are over,” he said, voice soft and throaty. Matt’s eyebrows shot up.

“What? Seriously? What did you do?” Matt asked, prompting a stuffy laugh from his boss.

“I just don’t thingk it’s going to work,” Greyson said, shrugging. “I… I don’t want to, like, play gambes. I can’t do that again, ndot after Collin.”

“Chef,” Matt said as he gathered and tossed the last milk crate, “what are you talking about? Reed is, like, the most straight-shooting guy I’ve ever met. How is he playing games?”

Greyson, left without anything to occupy his hands, just shrugged and pulled out his phone. He handed it to Matt without explanation, and the sous quickly read through the text conversation Greyson and Reed had going. Matt furrowed his brow.

“I don’t get it,” he said, handing the phone back. “He wants to take care of you, what’s the problem with that?”

“He doesn’t want to take care of me, he wants to have the upper hand,” Greyson explained, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and sitting on the step just outside the back door. “Want one?”

“Sure,” Matt said, sitting beside his boss. “I mean, you shouldn’t be smoking if you’re -”

“HTSHH! Hh-! ITZSHH-ue!” Greyson turned into his elbow, taking a long moment to gather himself before handing Matt his cigarette.

“-sick,” Matt finished. The older man shrugged, and Matt plucked the lighter out of Greyson’s hand to light both of them up, not daring to push his boss any closer to the edge. For a moment, they smoked in silence, only Greyson’s sniffles and coughs interrupting the quiet.

“Boss,” Matt said, finally, “I think you need to talk to Reed.”

“I did,” Greyson said, stubbing out his cigarette. “You saw.”

“No, I mean actually talk to him,” Matt said. The two of them stood, looking at each other – a face-off without the malice. Matt continued. “Not ignore his texts and clean out the walk-in.”

Greyson scoffed. “Matt, just because you have sombe fairy-tale love story doesn’t mbean everyone else does, too. Okay? If it’s over between me and Reed, it’s fine. I’mb better off alone, anywaa – hh! Hh… Hhhii-!” Greyson stood with his elbow poised at his face, stuck in pre-sneeze agony for what seemed like an eternity. While he was incapacitated, Matt took his phone and typed out a message that his boss couldn’t see. Finally, Greyson lowered his arm and sucked in, fruitlessly, through his nose. “The fugck are you doigg?” he asked, snatching his phone back from his sous.

“If you’re not going to talk to Reed,” Matt shrugged, unapologetic, “I will.”

Greyson looked down at his phone, which buzzed twice in his hand. Reed’s face popped up on the screen. Call from: reed <3

Then – Three Years Ago

“HTSHH! Huh! ETZSHH-ue! HRTTSHH-ue!”

“Bless, bless, bless you. Allergies?” Collin asked, not looking up from his phone. Greyson sniffled in vain, and coughed painfully.

“Ndot exactly,” he croaked from the doorway to Collin’s living room. “Baby, do you thingk you could drive mbe to urdent care, actually?”

Collin looked up and slowly raised an eyebrow. “For what?” he asked, obviously annoyed. Greyson swallowed as best he could and placed a hand on his throat.

“I thingk… I mbight have strep. Or bronchitis, or sombething. I, uh… I’ve had a fever for like. A week.” Greyson had to stop to close his eyes and grab onto the door frame, a sordid attempt to keep from hitting the floor like a rotten sack of potatoes. Collin rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a drama queen. You seemed fine when you came over last night.”

“You were asleep whend I came over,” Greyson said, his eyes still closed. “Did you ndot notice that I haven’t been over in like five days?”

Collin shrugged. “I mean, yeah, but I figured you were busy with work. You’re always busy with work,” he said, the venom in his voice making clear that he wanted to fight.

Greyson, physically incapable of fighting at that moment, just slid slowly to the ground and nodded. “Yeah. You’re right,” he said. “Ndow I’m paying the price. Please, baby. Can you please just take me? I… I really don’t feel well.”

It was pathetic. He knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself; he was fairly sure he was moments from passing out. Collin turned and made himself comfier on the couch.

“I’ll call you an uber,” he said, pressing some buttons on his phone. “You barely make time for me, and now you’re asking me to be your chauffeur? Please, Greyson.” He showed his ailing boyfriend the phone. “He’ll be out front in five minutes. Better make your way down.”

“Okay,” Greyson said, pulling himself slowly to his feet. “Thangk you.”

Collin didn’t say a word as Greyson let himself out of the apartment. He made it downstairs, and into the uber, and into the waiting room at urgent care. He made it out by himself, too, with a laundry list of prognoses – strep, sinus infection, walking pneumonia – and a handful of prescriptions. When he texted Collin later to fill him in, his boyfriend didn’t text back.

Greyson fell asleep on his shower floor and awoke to freezing water pounding on him, and a courier pounding on his door. When he toweled off and answered it, chicken soup from the local bodega and a note that read feel better -c sat at his feet. Greyson breathed a sigh of relief; at least he had been forgiven.

Now

Reed had dated plenty of men is his thirty-five years of life, and had found that there were two general categories when it came to sick men: there was the Baby, and there was the Don’t Look at Me.

Greyson though, an enigma since the moment they met, seemed to fall into a third category, a category that was, to Reed, yet undiscovered: the You Hate Me.

Reed was good with the first two categories; the Don’t Look at Me, you left medicine outside their room and texted them funny memes. The Baby, you laid in bed with them and spoon-fed them soup. Easy. Understandable. Truthfully, this was one of his favorite things about men: they were easy to crack. He figured Greyson would likely fall into the Baby category, which was fine by him – there was nothing he’d like more than to look after an ailing Greyson, to be honest. This third category he seemed to embody, though, was not something Reed knew what to do with.

“He didn’t answer when I called him,” Reed said into the phone receiver. “I just want to know what’s going on, I mean, did I say something wrong?”

On the other end of the line, Elijah sighed. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. This is just… it’s just Greyson being Greyson.”

Reed wasn’t about to take this lying down. “Hey, are you guys super busy tonight? I mean, I don’t want to be that boyfriend, but, like, can I come get him? We really need to talk, and if what Matt said is true he probably shouldn’t be, like, working anyway, right?”

While Elijah paused, Reed pulled the phone away from his ear and once again re-read the text Matt had sent from Greyson’s phone: hey reed, it’s matt. grey is sick as hell, so DO NOT take any of the crazy weird shit he says seriously, k? his temperature needs to lower by like 5 degrees before you do this, but u guys need to actually talk. he’s being stupid.

“Please,” Reed heard Elijah’s tinny voice on the other end and put the phone back to his ear. “Please, come and collect him. I’m begging.”

Reed stood from the couch and grabbed his keys. “Give me twenty minutes. I’m on my way.”

Then – Two Years Ago

“Heyyy, baby, cand I buy you a dringk?”

The girl leaned back, her face marked by disgust. “No, thanks. Save your money and get yourself some NyQuil,” she said, disappearing into the crowd. Greyson huffed out a sigh and coughed into his hand – a long, crackling sound that made the other bar patrons inch their chairs away.

“She’s right, you know,” the bartender – Skip, Greyson had learned his name was a few weeks back when he had started coming in every night – said, filling Greyson’s shot glass yet again. “You need to go home.”

“And yet you pour mbe another drink,” Greyson said, knocking back the shot. “The duality of mban. NGTXSH! HTSHH! Huh-! HRRSHH-ue!” Greyson covered his mouth lazily with one hand, wiped it on his pants, hand held the glass up to indicate ‘another’.

“Bless you,” Skip said, not pouring the shot. “Greyson, seriously: go home. You sound fucking awful.”

“Are you cutting mbe off?” Greyson asked, his rheumy eyes meeting Skip’s over the bartop. “Because unless you are, I’mb staying.” He coughed again, into his elbow; the cough was quickly becoming a problem. He’d had a cold two weeks ago; the symptoms had been mild, but the cough had hung around. When he caught whatever-the-fuck this was two days ago, the cough had turned from an annoyance to a pressing issue; he should go home. He should go to the doctor, he should take a day off, he should, he should, he should.

But he wouldn’t. He would stay, and he would drink until he was kicked out, then he’d pass out on the train and not make it home to sleep. He’d go to work at seven AM and stay until midnight and do it all again.

“I’m not kicking you out,” Skip sighed. “I’m just saying… you should take care of yourself.”

Greyson blinked slowly. He could feel his lungs, heavy with fluid, gearing up to cough again; his head, pounding in spite or because of the alcohol; his heart crushed into a million, Collin-sized pieces. Take care of yourself. It felt impossible, when you’d never been shown how.

“This is mbe taking care of myself,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll have another.”

Now

Greyson rested his head on a case of lettuce in the corner of the walk-in. He knew he should be continuing his madness of cleaning, but he’d accidentally sat down on his fifth trip into the refrigerator, and now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up again.

Fucking Reed, Greyson thought as he allowed the cold salad box to sate the fever he had burning in his brain. Why can’t he just be up front with me? If you’re mad just say it, don’t fucking torture me.

Perhaps deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous; Matt and Elijah were most likely correct. The simplest answer – that Reed truly was just a good guy – was probably the right one. But he just couldn’t get out of his mind all the times he’d reached out, needed help and asked for it, and been shot down. He certainly couldn’t allow himself to believe that the person he was dating was truly good; he knew he’d never deserve that.

“Greyson?”

Speaking of Reed, that sounded a lot like him – was Greyson hearing things? Had he, in his fever-addled state, conjured a hallucination of his boyfriend to have a fight with? Bizarre, Grey, he thought to himself. That’s really fucking bizarre.

“Grey? Elijah said you were in here but I don’t – oh!”

Either this was a really crazy hallucination, or that really was Reed standing over him, in the walk-in. Greyson blinked hard, then blinked again, and suddenly Reed was on the ground next to him.

“Babe...it’s really cold in here. Do you think we can, um, leave?”

Greyson furrowed his eyebrows together. “Leave… and go where?” he asked, his voice cracking. “I have to… work. What are you doigg heeee...HRTSHH-ue! Huh -! HTSHH! NTSHH! IGXTSH!” Greyson attempted to stifle over and over, until Reed gently took his hand and pulled it away from his face.

“That has to hurt,” Reed said, his voice quiet and calm. “You can just… sneeze, you know. Like, regular.”

“Tryigg ndot to get you,” Greyson croaked, his eyes glazing over once again. “Youbettermov – HRRETSZCHH-ue! ITSZZHH-ue! Fuck – NGTSHHZ-ue!” Greyson sneezed into his lap, then coughed until his lungs felt sore. Reed didn’t move; he came closer and rubbed Greyson’s back.

“Bless you, baby,” Reed said, eventually.

“Thangks. Sorry,” Greyson murmured, pushing his hair out of his face and turning to look at Reed. “Why are you here?” he asked, levity out the window.

Reed let out a little laugh. “Umm, why do you think?” he asked. “You’ve been ignoring me since this morning. I got worried, since Matt said you were super sick – no lie detected, by the way, you sound truly awful –”

“Sorry,” Greyson said again, wiping under his nose. “I kndow, it’s gross.”

“Please, Grey,” Reed said, taking both sides of his boyfriend’s face in his hands and looking him in the eye. “Please. Stop apologizing. It’s okay to be sick. I don’t understand why you think I’m angry at you. I’m not.”

Greyson swallowed, painfully, and gave a little nod. “Okay,” he said, finally.

“Okay,” Reed repeated. “Anyway. I called Elijah. He said to come and collect you.”

At this, Greyson couldn’t help but cough out a laugh. “Collect mbe?” he asked. Reed smiled a little.

“Yeah,” he said. “His words, not mine.”

They both laughed, softly at first, then ramping up to near-hysteria. They only stopped when Greyson started coughing again and couldn’t seem to stop.

“Let’s go get you some water,” Reed said, helping his boyfriend to his shaky feet. Greyson allowed himself to be pulled out of the walk-in, and given a bottle of water that was sitting on his prep station. Greyson drank until the fit subsided, then regarded Reed once again.

“So… you really aren’t mbad?” he asked, rubbing his goosebumped arms up and down. Reed shook his head and shrugged off his windbreaker. He draped it over Greyson’s shoulders.

“I’m really not mad,” he insisted. Greyson nodded, seemingly satiated. Reed sighed through his nose and slipped his arms around the chef.

“Life’s done a number on you, huh?” he asked, quietly enough that it could’ve just been to himself. Greyson huffed out a sad little laugh.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, baby,” he murmured, pressing his hot head into Reed’s hair. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

#whiskeyswriting #snz #sickfic #snzfic #coldfic #snzblr #snez #male cold #male snz #this was a fun one! #whump #h/c #but mostly hurt lol #i know it's a lot of dialogue. my apologies i just love to write dialogue and HATE to write exposition lol #which is Not Good Writing but whatever #this is my horn snz blog not my doctoral thesis lmao

[muldermuse]

this is kind of a ramble so bear with me:

thinking about sending two sinners!gator into an absolute tailspin when he shows up to your house to see everything in boxes and your clothes packed up in a few suitcases by the door

he’s like ????? WHAT IS GOING ON WHERE ARE YOU GOING???? and just casually saying “skipping town” and going to kiss him and he’s like ??????

i can only imagine the catharsis of telling him that “there’s nothing in fargo for me, most of the town hates me and the ones who don’t just wanna fuck me, you’re probably gonna marry glenda which will only make everyone hate me even more if they find out i’m the other woman. So I want to live somewhere else. I’m not happy here.” and he obv freaks out

and maybe you’re just going to stay at a friends house while your place gets painted, but maybe leaving was on your mind (it’s easier to sell a house with fresh paint👀), and maybe you wanted to see how serious he was about coming with you…but none of that is any of his business…

i’m usually not an angst girlie but i’m on my period and it’s probably a safer bet to be melodramatic and pick a fight with a fictional man than one i actually know 😭😭

ok this ask made me feral, i felt so ANGSTY writing it

thank u so much for sending it through angel <3

18+ only!! Angst below the cut!! Gator is mean and reader is maybe meaner. They're both terrible people. He calls her a whore, she calls him a lot of mean names. Mentions of smut but no actual smut.

Maybe, this is super far in the future for the two sinners fic or maybe it is not canon. who knows!!! not me!!!

You’re not sure how he found out. You’ve quietly handed your notice in at work and said goodbye to the few in this shitty town you care about. Jenson, Jax and Steve have been ghosted (but you know that they’d all come back with a simple ‘you up?’ text). You weren’t going to tell Gator you were leaving- he didn’t deserve a goodbye. You’d planned to go for 3 months as your place was going to get renovated in that time (you’d been saving up for years to make it more of a home). So, you thought that the months away would be an opportunity to become a new person. A better person. Someone who didn’t fuck pathetic Sheriffs. If anyone looked in; they’d think you were going forever. You’d decided that as soon as you left, you’d block Gator and when (or if) you returned, you’d avoid him like the plague.

The U-HAUL parked in your drive probably gave it away. Or when Glenda saw you filling up your truck and made a snide comment about what you were doing. Or maybe it was when you fucked him 2 days ago he made a passing comment about how empty your home looked. Since then, the entire hall area is covered in boxes filled with your possessions. You try not to let it depress you that your whole life has been packed up in a matter of days. You need a fresh start, you’re moving in with a friend a few towns over and you can be whoever you want to be for a few months. No one there has to know that you’ve been fucking a loser in a relationship for the best part of 2 years. You know it’s him as soon as he knocks on the door, no one knocks as loud as him and other people wait to be invited in. Gator lets himself in as you’re checking your backpack one final time.

“The fuck is all this shit?” He kicks a box that’s in his way and you’re thankful you don’t hear a shatter. “Saw the U-Haul and uh- Glenda saw you fillin’ up. Plannin’ a trip or somethin’?”. He tries to sound unbothered but you know him better than that.

You don’t look at him when you tell him, “Yeah, I’m leaving”. You tell yourself that it’s because you’re checking your backpack but really it’s because you can feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins and you’re trying to compose yourself before you lose your shit.

“The fuck did you jus’ fuckin’ say?”

“Sorry, I’ll say it slower because you’re a fuckin’ idiot. I am leaving”. You draw out the last three words and stare at him. You can hear your heart thumping in your ears as you try to read the expression on his face. It’s a mix of anger, confusion, and sadness. A soft kiss his pressed to his cheek as you walk into the dining room to check your toiletries box. That’s the only pleasantry you’ll exchange with him today- or maybe ever again.

His boots stomp behind you as he follows you in. “Well, where are you goin’?”

“I’ll tell you when I’m there, Gator. Now you can fuck off back to Glenda and play fuckin’ happy families for the rest of your life”.

“Well- why are you leavin’? You’ve never mentioned this before”. His voice breaks as he speaks, either a sign he’s getting choked up or he’s getting really angry.

You can feel the anger rattling in your chest and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears becomes overwhelming. “Why am I going? Gator, everyone in this town fuckin’ hates me or thinks that I’m a total whore because of your fuckin’ bitch of a girlfriend. Who- by the way, you’re goin’ to marry because you’re too fuckin’ chickenshit to upset your crazy daddy…” You slam your hands on the table and take a quick breath, “Gator- I fuckin’ hate it here, I’m miserable and I can’t do it any longer- it’s killin’ me”.

He’s stood opposite you and fuck, does he look mad. He doesn’t move for a minute but then shoves your boxes off the table and kicks them when they hit the floor. After a few seconds, he kicks them again with more force and slams his hands on the table.

“Yeah, real fuckin’ mature Gator, breaking my shit beca-“

“What about this? What about us?” His voice is more muted than you’ve ever heard it. His breath is shuddering gasps. You’re unsure why it enrages you.

You laugh cruelly, “What us? What the fuck are you talking about? Gator, you have a fuckin’ girlfriend who you’re going to marry.”

“Yeah but when has that stopped you- huh? You can’t put this all on me. You’re jus’ as bad as me.”

He moves to stand in front of you. The energy in the room is charged, usually, when it feels like this between the pair of you, it would end in some angry sex where you’re both trying to dominate the other person but you both know that isn’t going to happen today. 

“You’re movin’ away to be a fuckin’ whore somewhere else... or because you’re jealous of Glenda. She gets all of me and you jus’ get the fuckin’ scraps”. His smile is wicked and his eyes look darker than you’ve ever seen them.

You take a step closer to him, “I couldn’t think of anything fucking worse than havin’ all of you. You’re a pathetic fuckin’ daddy’s boy who’s never won anythin’ in his life”. You get close enough to whisper in his ear, “you’re a fuckin’ loser, Gator.”

You hate how much you want to fuck him in this moment and by the red bloom that’s creeping up his neck; you know he feels the same.

He leaves your home silently. He kicks another box on his way out and you finally hear a shatter. His tyres spin as his car races off your front lawn. 

You should block his number and know that that is the end of this awful affair. 

But you both know that it isn’t.

#gator tillman fanfic #gator tillman #gator tillman smut #gator tillman angst #gator tillman fic #gator x reader #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x you #gator tillman x f!reader #fargofx #fargo s5 #fargo season 5 #fargo fx #fargo #fargoedit #joe keery x reader #joe keery smut #joe keery #joe keery angst #two sinners works

[a-5-m-0-d-3-u-5]

Compartmentalizing here because if it's in a note on my phone, it's gone and I wanna share my ideas

Zombie apocalypse scenario because that's how I got fuckin neck deep in this cod stuff to begin with and there aren't enough for male/gn readers or aren't super depressing (angst is fun but I'm a hurt comfort man)

Posting that price one shot I already wrote

Fulfilling a request (technically two but they're very similar so I may lump them into one? TBD)

Got a ghost thing I've got kinda scribbled out in a doc

Polyam ghoap where one if them is kidnapped instead of you (I know I said Johnny in my little blurb but also the antsy possibilities of ghost being napped instead is making me go wild)

More polyam stuff in general cuz four pretty boys all snuggling me and each other? Yeah

That price x loyal dog fic I wanna write. May very possibly make it a hybrid au thing cuz I see a lot of those but I make absolutely no promises on that exact detail happening lol

Also no promises but I do wanna continue my castlevania fic at some point. It's one of the most fun things I've ever written and I miss it

Edit: also royal au stuff too because ugh prince x knight forbidden/hidden love type stuff absolutely destroys me

I think that's it jfc writing brainworms really just go hog wild when you allow yourself to indulge huh

#male reader #ftm reader #trans male reader #trans masc reader #gn reader #castlevania x male reader #alucard x male reader #castlevania male reader #loz x reader #botw x reader #totk x reader #cod mw2 x male reader #john mactavish x reader #john price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #zombie apocalypse au #zombie au #ghoap x reader #poly!141 x reader

[iblameashley]

Paths

Military | Male | Gay

!!!MW3 SPOILERS!!!    !!!MW3 SPOILERS!!!    !!!MW3 SPOILERS!!!

4,700 words

Content: Angst, DMC Implied, Trauma, Depression, Alternate Universe, Alternate Ending, Gay Stuff, Love, Fluff, Poorly translated Scottish Gaelic.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley | John 'Soap' MacTavish | Ghoap

!!!SFW!!! (Mostly) !!!SFW!!!

Actions have consequences, and sometimes those consequences seem dire and life shattering. Do we really know the person we'll be in the moment? Or the moments after? Ghost just witnessed a horror he was never prepared for. He doesn't know what path he will take, but he does know the darkness is closing in on him.

-THE TUNNEL-

BANG!

It happened so fast that no one really knew what happened, least of all Soap. He felt an intense heat in his head and his ear rang, reverberating through him as his body went limp.

“Johnny!” Ghost yelled, his voice gravelly and hoarse as he sprinted towards his comrade. 

Soaps body hit the concrete with barely a thump, and blood began to spill across the floor. 

Price managed to regain his composure, having witnessed the altercation and having let Makarov escape. He rolled over and pushed himself to his feet, running to Soap in time to meet Ghost.

“Fuckin' hell, Johnny!” Ghost choked out, his voice cracking and raspy. He fell to his knees and slid the last few inches to Soaps side. He promptly ripped off a glove, discarding it without care and placed two fingers on Soaps neck.

“Price! We still have to disarm this bomb!” Gaz yelled.

Prices hands hovered over Soaps still body. He mouthed something inaudible before looking to Ghost. His Heart shattered.

Ghosts heart shattered. 

Price pivoted and ran back to where Gaz was and tried to focus on one task at a time. One dead soldier was still an unacceptable loss, but the whole team? He gave Gaz a nod and went to work.

Ghosts hand shook like it did when he woke up in cold sweats. When the nightmares consumed his mind. This was the worst nightmare he had experienced.

He didn't feel a pulse.

He looked into Soaps eyes, those pretty blue eyes were so full of life. They shimmered back at him like marbles now, but there was no life. There was no breath, no pulse, no hope.

Ghost pulled Soap into an embrace, cradling him as the darkness began to consume him. The tightness in his stomach was nearly unbearable, and the weight of the world pressed harder on him than ever before. 

His calloused hands caressed Soaps cheek. It was still warm. Soft. 

“Johnny...” Ghost mumbled.

The world had fallen around Ghost, he didn't hear the stressed words of Price and Gaz as they worked to disarm the bomb. 

The sound of the train passing was drown out by the voices screaming in Ghosts head that he had failed the one man who had truly made him feel alive in years. The one man who saw past 'Ghost' and looked towards 'Simon' underneath it all. 

With the bomb successfully disarmed, Price and Gaz took a moment to catch their breath. One crisis down... countless to go. 

Prices steps were cautious, fearful as he approached the sight. Ghost had never been this emotional before, and he feared in his grief, Ghost might lash out like a wild animal. “Ghost.” He mumbles as he knelt down beside his men. He reached out a hand and placed it on Ghosts shoulder, giving it just a momentary squeeze. 

Ghost was already applying medical aid, lost in a need to do something. Anything. The gauze was spilled everywhere and wrapped haphazardly around Soaps head.

The bleeding had stopped,  it seemed, but there was still no sign of life. 

Price was the first to break, his lips pursed and he felt the tears wet his cheeks as his head dropped. He swallowed the lump in his throat and gripped his radio. 

“All stations this is Bravo in the blind. Threat neutralized. Bomb is safe...” Price paused, knowing the words he would utter next would materialize a reality he wasn't prepared to accept. He grit his teeth and took a deep breath. “One KAI... we lost Soap.”

He finger released the radio before the pain in his words slipped through.

“Mate...” Gaz whispered to Ghost. He reached out, but pulled his hand back. 

Ghost wasn't having it. He wanted to crawl inside himself. He wanted everything to just stop. 

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-STREET-SIDE-

It felt like an eternity to get out of the tunnel, Ghost insisting on carrying Soaps limp form, still cradling him close. He lowered his masked cheek and pressed it against Soaps forehead as he walked, inhaled his lingering scent and looked at Soap with a duality that only Ghost could manage. Vulnerability and white-hot rage.

As they exited the tunnel, soldiers approached Price.

“The bomb has been secured and is being discretely removed from the site.” One of them advise Price who simply nodded. 

“Exfil trucks will be here in a moment, sir.” Another one chimed in.

Their gaze fell to Ghost and Soap, though neither dared to speak a word.

Blood had soaked into Ghosts mask and shirt, sticking to his skin. The metallic smell mingling with the lingering scent of gunpowder.

The tension could be cut with a knife. Ghost stood unwavering, holding the weight of Soap in his arms. He had dreamed about holding Soap... but never like this.  

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-EXFIL-

He lowered Soaps body into an exfil truck, leaving him in the care of the soldiers while he retreated into the second vehicle with Price and Gaz, though not without protest before retreaing further into himself. Simon was slipping away piece by piece, second by second. 

Price was on the radio, seemingly checking in with Laswell and updating her as necessary. 

“Rog,” Was the last thing Ghost heard from Price before he tuned it all out.

Gaz's eyes were downcast, examining his boots, his laces, anything but try – and fail – to offer any comfort to Ghost right now. His own stomach turned with sour grief.

Ghost didn't hear it come over the radio, too lost in his fading world.

“Repeat?” Price commanded into his radio.

It was just static to Ghost.

Gaz's head turned and eyes widened as he looked past Ghost.

“Repeat.” Price said, still not believing the words. “He's alive?”

Price's heart jumped in his chest.

“He's alive.” He mumbled.

“Just barely sir. We're going to go on ahead, get him to a medic.” A soldier crackled through the radio. 

“Rog. Step on it and get him treatment!” Price nearly yelled.

Ghost head finally turned, noticing the shift in the atmosphere. He stared at Price looking for answers.

“He's alive.” Price mouthed to Ghost. 

The ringing in his ears began to subside as he read Prices lips. 

“Johnny's...” Ghosts voice quaked.

Without thinking, Ghost ripped the radio from Price's vest and held down the button.

“Soldier!” His gravelly voice yelled into the mic. “You do everything to make sure that man stays alive, do you understand me?!” 

There was a momentary silence.

“Roger that.” The soldier replied, his voice clearly laced with fear. 

Ghost leaned forward in the truck and grabbed at the drivers shoulder. “Get us to the fucking medic now!” He ordered. 

The driver didn't respond, just looked in the rear-view mirror, first at Ghost, then to Price.

“Do it.” Price said with a curt nod.

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-HOSPITAL-

It took four soldiers, Price and Gaz to tackle Ghost to the floor at the hospital. He had demanded to be let into the surgery room to be beside Soap, and that wasn't going to happen. 

“Let me fucking go you twats!” Ghost howled. He strained against his oppressors, trying to crawl towards the door. “Johnny! Johnny!” His voice shook.

“Stand the fuck down!” Price grunted as he twisted Ghosts arm behind his back. “Lieutenant Riley! I said, stand the fuck down! Now!” Price ordered.

A doctor intervened and sedated Ghost.

Ghosts eyes rolled in his head and slowly fluttered shut as his body went limp.

“Johnny...” Ghost whispered into the cold hospital tiles. 

Price propped Ghost in a chair before taking a seat beside him. He pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes as they all waited for news. 

There would be hell to pay for this, but it was a bargain if Soap survived.

“I've never seen Ghost like this.” Gaz mumbled. His eyes scanned Ghost who at least looked peaceful in the moment. 

“You don't know, do ya?” Price questioned. 

Price drew a long breath and held it before exhaling slowly. 

“He's in love with Soap.” Price finally offered. His lips twitched as he thought it over. He knew, for a while now. Of course he knew.

“Love?” Gaz's brow furrowed. The confusion was plain as day over his face.

Price nodded. 

“Soap had a way a bringing out Simon.” Price slowly began to explain in a calm, collected tone. “Regulations be damned, I couldn't bring myself step in or try and stop it. Simon deserved to be happy, to have a life beyond the mask of Ghost.” Price gave a shrug. He would be in deep shit if anyone had found out, now it seemed of little consequence. “Soap seemed to love him back.” There was an air of sadness in his tone. His eyes flickered to the doors to the surgical ward and then back to Gaz.

Gaz rested his elbows on his knees and pressed his hands against his chin. He thought about it for a moment. It made sense, really. He hadn't noticed at the time, but looking back? All the jokes, the looks, and touches... no one had that privilege but Soap. 

“I can't believe I missed it.” Gaz remarked with a breathy laugh. He shook his head and a smirk tugged at his lips.

“Took me a bit to see it too, lad.” Price reassured. “Just be glad you missed the late night rendezvous.” Price let out a gravelly chuckle. “I was – I am – happy for them. I just wish I had done more to protect them.” Price bit his lower lip.

“Not much you could have done that wouldn't have outed their relationship, Cap.” Gaz sat up and leaned back in the chair. “They would have also refused any offer you made.” Gaz nodded his head in agreement with himself. 

“Maybe you're right... but something needs to change now.” Price closed his eyes and tried to push all the thoughts flooding his head down. 

There was a long pause as both men thought. Sneakers squeaked on the tiled floor, doctors and nurses muttered and paced and the hospital went about its business as Price and Gaz weighed the options.

“What if --” 

“Son, don't.” Price interjected with a snarl. He hear the tone in which Gaz had spoke and was shutting that thought down. 

“When.” Gaz corrected. “When Soap recovers... you could force...” A knot formed in Gaz's stomach even thinking it. He couldn't imagine the one-four-one without Soap or Ghost, but right now it seemed the only viable option.

Ghost body slumped slightly to the side, coming to a rest on Price's shoulder.

“I wish I had told them both how proud I was of them, how happy I was for them.” Price murmured regretfully. A knot formed in his chest. “It would have meant more back then.” 

“Can't dwell on what would have been, now, Cap.” Gaz placed his hand on Ghosts shoulder and gave it a rub. “I'm worried about Ghost, though. Even when Soap recovers, this will have taken a toll on him. I'm not sure he'll be the same.”

“We'll be there for them both. Like we should have been. I'll take care of them, I'll take care of my boys.” Price feels the tears welling in his eyes. The words uttered a promise to himself more than to Soap or Ghost. 

“Mmm.” Is all that Gaz manages to mumble before they both fall silent. 

So many words left unsaid and now, trying to fill the silence felt like an insurmountable task.

After a half hour Price sent most of the soldiers along, back to base with only a truck left behind for them to use. 

Price paced and sat, then paced some more as Gaz watched over Ghost who now rested on Gaz's shoulder. 

“Captain Price?” A mans voice bellowed through the corridor. Price turned quickly to see the surgeon standing at the threshold of the doorway.

“That'd be me.” Price replied with weariness. He was bracing himself for the worst.

He took the few paces needed to come face to face with the  Doctor.

“I spoke with Mr. MacTavish's family before I came out.” The doctor beings. “They have given me permission to release his medical information to you and release him into the SAS's care... in forty-eight hours.”

Prices eyes widened.

“Soap – John is...?”

“Going to pull through.” The doctor nods firmly. “He suffered a bad head injury, there is a lot of damage to his cranium. We don't believe he'll suffer any permanent brain damage but...”

“Just tell me, Doc.” Price huffs, what could possibly matter more than Soaps being okay? He felt the itch that Ghost had – albeit a softer itch – and was desperate to visit Soap to see for himself. 

“Mr. MacTavish will never see out of his left eye again, might have some cognitive issues, and he'll have a nasty scar as well.” He clasped his hands together, "We won't know more about the cognitive issues until he wakes and we examine him."

Price let out a sigh of relief which surprised the doctor.  

He couldn't help but laugh at the doctors reaction.

“Doc, after everything that man has been through, this is a goddamn miracle.” Price smirked. “When can we see him?”

I doctor closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He thought about it for a moment. 

“A few hours. I want Mr. MacTavish to have a proper rest before we wake him and allow visitors.”

“Of course.” 

Price looked back at Ghost who was still slumped against Gaz. 

“Can I borrow a wheelchair?” Price requested.

The doctor looked to Ghost then back at Price.

“Of course.” He mimicked. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I'll have a nurse grab a wheelchair and let you know when you can visit.”

Price placed his hands on his hips and let out a long breath, a wave of relief really washing over him, finally. He looked at the floor for a moment, allowing the happiness to embrace him. Soap was alive and going to be fine. Mostly.

He gave the Doctor a firm pat on the shoulder and a slight shake before turning and returning to Gaz.

“Surgery was a success” Price informed Gaz who allowed himself to melt into the chair. 

He flopped his head back against the wall. “Sorted.” Was all he managed to say.

The air felt lighter now, somehow. 

A nurse came along not long after Price was given the news, with a wheelchair as promised. 

Price hoisted Ghost over his shoulder and spun around before dropping him a little less gently into the seat. 

“Fuck, I'm too old for this.” Price grumbled. He stood up, placing a hand on his lower back and stretching. He glanced at Gaz, “I'm hoping Soap will be the first thing Ghost sees.”

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-RECOVERY-

Ghosts head ached something fierce as the drugs began to wear off. His head wobbled and his eyes struggled to open. He let out a growl as his blurred vision slowly came into focus. 

“Fuckin' hell...” He growled again. 

He looked at his lap first, then to the bed in front of him. 

“Johnny...”

His body felt like a paperweight, but he force his head up.

A familiar hand with a hospital band wrapped around its wrist.

Ghosts eyes trailed up the bed sheets, the slow rising and falling of a chest.

As Ghosts eyes landed on Soaps face and his stomach twisted as he saw the oxygen mask and bandages wrapped around Soaps head. Over his eye.

Soap looked so peaceful, so beautiful and so fragile. It made Ghosts heart ache. 

“Johnny.” Ghost whined as he forced his body forward.

He should have been faster, should have never left Soaps side. He should taken a shot from further away. 

He should have done a thousand things differently.

He should have spent those late night rendezvous telling Soap, telling Johnny how much he cared for him. Instead he spent them trying not to pull away from Soaps loving touch. How many months had been wasted resisting? How many nightmares did Johnny quell when Ghost finally let him comfort him? Too many to count now.

Fuck. How deeply he craved that touch back then, even more so now.

He flopped onto the bed, his head coming to a rest on Soaps chest.

His hands gripped at the sheets as he fought back the overwhelming emotions swirling inside him. Grief, anger, confusion, relief. 

“I didn't deserve you.” He reminded himself. Reminded Johnny. 

All those things he had ever told himself about being undeserving felt so real and so true now. He had wasted so much time, and Soap kept giving him more. He couldn't understand why. How could Soap love him when he didn't even love himself?

Ghost was splintered. He was always that way, but this time -this feeling- was different. For the first time in... longer than he could remember he wanted to cry. He wanted to wail out like a wounded animal. He wouldn't, though. He'd never allow himself that weakness. 

But more than that, he wanted to pull his Johnny into a loving, warm embrace. 

He gripped angrily at his mask and pulled it off. Ghost was a failure. He crumpled the fabric and discarded it to the side of the bed. He looked at the mask and the empty eye sockets stared back at him, judging him. Simon was weak, ghost was a failure. The world continued to spin.

His arms wrapped Soap as best he could, pressing against him gently, afraid Soap would break if he pressed too hard. 

Ghost buried his face into Soaps neck, His lips brushed against the stubble, and he inhaled the remnants of sandalwood and smoke. He closed his eyes and simply listened to Soaps heartbeat, let the rising and falling of Soaps chest sooth him. 

“I'm going to make this right, Johnny.” Ghosts voice shook as he whispered his promise. “I'm going to end this and then I'm coming home to you.” were the last words he uttered before drifting off to sleep.

Fingers were tangled and brushing through his hair as Ghost finally stirred from his slumber. There was a blanket draped over Ghosts body. Someone had been here before he woke up.

He tensed for a moment, forgetting where he was. His head propped up, and Soaps hand slid down his head and over his cheek.

Soap looked at him through weary eyes and sported a lopsided smile.

“Mornin', LT.” He rasped in a thick Scottish accent. His thumb brushed over Ghosts cheek. “Ye look like shit.”

“Fuck you, Johnny.” Ghost growled before chuckling.

“Been tryin' tae get ye to do that fer months, LT.” Soap joked. Mostly. “What happened tae keepin' it tactical?” Soap asked.

Ghosts arms moved up Soaps side and then back down again to his waist. 

“Fuck keepin' it tactical.” Ghost hissed. “Once this is over...” Ghost trailed off.

Soaps hands found their way to Simon's hair again and weakly tousled it. 

“Aye? Gonnae take mae tae the beach an show mae those tan lines?” Soap raised his eyebrow curiously. 

“Something like that, Johnny.” 

“Well, we'll ave all the time tae figure it out. Price has already informed mae I'll never work missions again.” Soap lamented. He clenched his jaw.

“Price can't...” 

Ghost stopped. Price could, he would and worse, he had to. And deep down, Ghost wanted him too, and would have pushed for it, even if it had meant hurting Johnny and ruining what they had. 

“Its okay, Simon,” Ghost eyes widened as Soap said his name. “I'll bae fine. I'll find new work an we'll find a way tae make this work. If ye still want.”

If? If? Ghost wanted nothing more than Johnny.

“I do still want this. You... us.” Ghost admitted. The rawness of the feelings scratched at his throat with the admission. 

“Good. I want this too, Simon.” Soap nodded.

He pressed Ghosts head down into his chest and played at the nape of his neck.

“They'll bae movin; mae tae the base later today. Then I'll start mae recovery.” Soap explained softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Once I have the all clear, I... I want tae go home to Scotland, see mae family. I want yae to join me.”

Ghost sucked in a sharp breath and  tilted his head up to look at Soap. His lips moved, but nothing came out. Soap had to have felt Ghosts heart skip a beat. He was serious! Not just about this relationship, but about meeting his family, going to Scotland. 

“Yes.” Managed to whimper out.

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-DECISIONS-

Six months of absolute hell had followed the tunnel incident. Soaps injury, recovery and forced retirement from missions; Ghost never leaving his side for long during any of it. Meals, sleep and even mission reports had all been done at Soaps side. 

Ghost slept, now. Soap gave him no choice, and Price encouraged him to keep doing it.

Price had offered Soap a desk job on base, wanting to keep him around for his invaluable knowledge, and maybe just so he could keep an eye on his favourite Scot. But Soap hadn't made any clear decisions about what he was going to do. He had to adjust to his new depth perception as well as some memory and cognitive issue that sprung up during recovery. 

After a lead had been found on Makarov, Soap pushed Ghost to go. “Stop him.” He insisted with a furrowed brow. “Make sure he won't hurt anyone else... and then come back to me.” Ghost would have gone anyway, he was just trying to convince himself he could stay.

So off Ghost went. He donned his mask once more for a mission and took off with Price, Gaz and they had called in Alejandro to assist. Weeks spent away from Soap, pinning for that comforting touch, those calming smells. That irritating Scottish voice. He cherished them all, and chats over video calls didn't cut it.

But the mission was a success in the end. Makarov was stopped and dead; Ghost made sure of that with six bullets to the head. Price called it overkill, Ghost called it  being thorough. 

It wasn't enough though. The pain and suffering Makarov had inflicted still ran deep, and even his lifeless body didn't bring Ghost the relief he craved. 

The team made it out in one piece, though the same couldn't be said for Makarov's men or stronghold. Ghost adorned a few new scars, and looked forward to showing them off to Soap when he got back.

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-SCOTLAND-

The SUV slowly made its way up the dirt driveway that lead to the farmhouse. There were kids playing in the field to the side of the house, screaming with joy.

Price and Simon rocked back and forth slightly with every bump they hit.

“Big step, meeting the family.” Price joked. He gave Simon a reassuring side-eye and smile. “I'm happy for you, Simon.” He added.

Simon just let out his usual growl and a nod. 

It wasn't that he changed his mind, not in the slightest. It was the unknown that scared him. He was about to take a leap of faith – and he had lost his faith years ago. 

As the SUV came to a stop at in front of the house, Simon stared at the door to the house.

Simon put his hand on the door handle and paused.

“Before you go.” Price reached over and grabbed Simon's arm. He gave it a squeeze before letting go and grabbing a manila envelope from the glove compartment. 

Simon knew what it was. Price had discussed it prior to agreeing to drive all the way to fucking Scotland with him. KIA papers, or rather copies.

Ghost was retired officially. Ghost was dead now. 

Laswell had forged the documentation herself, saying that Ghost was killed in action taking down Makarov. No one would dare have said otherwise.

“Open it.” Price nodded towards the envelope.

Simon briefly wanted to question Price, but instead just followed orders. 

He pulled the papers out, and as he suspected, it was the copies. But there was still some weight to the envelope

Simon peer in and saw some plastic cards and what appeared to be a passport.

He tipped the envelope and let the contents spill into his hands. New ID and a passport. And a bank card and birth certificate. 

“Samuel Riley, born May twenty-eighth, nineteen eighty-seven.” Simon let out a huff. “New life?” He asked rhetorically.

“New life. And don't worry... Laswell and I have your back. You'll still be getting a regular paycheck from us for a while. It won't be the same as you're used to, but we'd – I'd – never leave you high and dry, Simon.” 

Price reached over and gripped Simon firmly behind the neck. “I'm proud of you, Simon. You deserve this more than anyone I know. Just make me a promise, or two?” His voice was gruff, strained as he was saying his goodbyes to Simon.

“What do you need, Cap?” Simon inquired, his eyes flickering from the entrance to the house over to Price.

“Make the most of this life, yeah?” Price was almost pleading with him. “Promise me that.” His hand squeezed Simon's neck a bit tighter.

“...and promise you'll come home to visit me and Gaz.” He added as he fought off a frown.

“I'll promise you that if you and Gaz promise to visit on a holiday's once in a while.” Simon smiled. His  heart ached; there was the pain of loss, of losing what he was, certainly. But the ache also felt good somehow. He felt like he finally had a family.

“As his Captain, I feel confident saying, 'we promise'.” Price nodded his head approvingly. 

There was the sound of a door slamming closed and Simon's head spun to see Johnny. His breath caught in his throat and he swallowed hard. 

This was real. Somehow he felt this was all going to be a dream. But there he was.

Johnny stood only a few meters away. He was dressed in a handmade wool sweater and a kilt. He donned simple boots that thumped against the wooden steps. 

He was so fucking handsome. Even with the large scar that cut through his milky left eye. His mohawk had grown out and flopped to the side, waving in the soft winds.

“Best not keep him waiting.” Price remarked, giving Simon a gentle push. “Take care of each other, Samuel.” He said softly.

“Rog.”

Samuel exited the car slowly, and closed the door behind him. Price gave Soap a friendly nod before slowly pulling away and driving back down the driveway.

“Johnny.”

Samuel's hands reached out slowly to brush against Soaps. He closed the distance between them until Soap was nearly pressed to his chest. 

“Simon.” Soap replied.

Samuel shook his head, “Its Sam, now.” He corrected softly. “Thought you'd be sporting an eye-patch.” He added with a cheeky grin. The tightness he felt in his body began to loosen and unravel.

“Aye, ye like pirates now do ye?” Soap fired back. “An here I thought yae'd like my sexy scar. I got it just fer ye.”

“That so?” Sam's hands moved up Soaps chest and neck until he cupped Soaps cheek. “Johnny. I'm..”

Soap shook his head. “Dinnae dare apologize to me Si-- Sam.”

There was a pause between them as they simply stood there studying each others features, committing each other to memory.

“I'm not going to waste any more time, Johnny.” Sam rasped. With a shaky breath – and hand – he tilted Soaps head up ever so slightly before placing a long overdue kiss to the mans lips. 

His eyes closed as their chapped but warm lips pressed softly together. He wanted this moment to last forever.

"They're kissing!" yelled one of the kids from the field, before giggling and running off.

Soap laughed at his niece's comment. Their lips parted and Sam rested his forehead against Soaps.

“Tha gaol agam ort.” Sam mumbled in butchered with his English accent.

“Heh, English, LT.” Soap teased him.

Soaps hands loosely wrapped around Sam's neck. “I love ye too.” He confessed. 

The weight on both of them began to lift now that they could finally just be honest with each other. No regulations or missions to get in the way of things any more. No more mask to hide behind and no more bad guys that only they could stop. 

Just each other.

“Come now,” Soap mouths to Sam. “Time tae introduce ye to the family.”

He pulls away and takes Sam by the hand, slowly guiding him towards the house.

Family.

Samuel had a real family now, and he wasn't going to squander this gift.

#gay #lgbtq #call of duty #cod #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #mw3 #mw3 spoilers #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #price #john price #captain price #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #au #short story #story #fluff #angst

[arachnidsinavoid]

He committed felony, domestic assault isnt he so dreamy/ref

× Simon 'Ghost' Riley headcanons ×

Simon Riley general headcanons this is just me rambling (tw metion of weed and hallucinations vague mention of death)

I hc he can actually draw he just can't be arsed

This isn't s HC but thinking of him drinking tea from a sports direct mug is fucking hilarious to me

Dose drink coffee but genuinely prefers the taste of tea (fuckin Brits)

Kind of wanted to be a tattoo artists and did some of his tattoos himself

Almost forgot when his birthday was because he never celebrates it and he has never told anyone (only person that might know is price at least that's what soap thinks and and trys to pry it out of both him n Simon)

Often tries to use exercise to help with his insomnia but sometimes it doesn't work and he just exhausts himself he sleeps but he feels worse when he wakes up

Occasionally sees Shadow People when insomnia gets bad (same bro)

Is actually really good at cooking but just never has the energy to

I like to head cannon that he used to be a bit of a stoner (love stoner Simon I I'll write for him) but is scared to ever smoke regularly again after what happened to his brother

Genuinely cares so much about the people around him but he's just so used to not being enough and not being able to save the ones he loves

Loves being gifted more personal and meaningful gifts then expensive things

if you gave this man a bunch of different vials of dirt from places you've been he will marry you

Also is a little fixated on bones (sometimes picks up dead animal bones and takes them home)

Price allows it cuz it makes him happy but is like 🤨??

I personally think he's autistic my source because I fucking said so (I'm autistic)

Feels embarrassed about stimming so man stims WITH HIS FUCKING TOES!!!

He does it because it's enough to help regulate him but barely noticeable (but come on man)

CAN FLICK HIS FUCKING BIG TOE

Is extremely unhygienic occasionally because of his depression

Like will no shower for like almost a mouth when his depression is bad until someone comments on it most likely price while he also comments on how exhausted he is

On days like that unless Simon needs to do something price just get him to take a shower then sends him to bed

MAN PASSES OUT UNTIL NOON NEXT DAY

Only surfaces to piss and eat

Go straight back to bed and passes out for another hour

It annoys him when this happens a completely destroys his sleeping routine

Spends like the next week trying to fix it and still be productive

Is particularly protective over kids and is really good with them surprisingly (has prior experience from his nephew Tommy)

Loves to just be touching someone if in a relationship

Not necessarily in aversely affectionate things sometimes he loves just sitting super close or you resting your head on his shoulder

Loves resting his head on the top of yours if ur short enough

Will kiss the crown of your head

Doesn't always have a lot to say but will listen to every word you have to say

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod headcanons #simon riley fluff

[sage-green-matcha]

MAROON - ETHAN LANDRY PT. 6🍷🥀🔪

"And I wake with your memory over me. That's a real fuckin' legacy to leave” - Taylor Swift

Content includes: you being depressed! that's all

PT. 1 of Maroon I PT. 2 of Maroon I PT. 3 of Maroon |

PT. 4 of Maroon | PT. 5 of Maroon |

<3

<3

<3

You looked up, Danny Running into the police station with exhaustion on his face. "I came as fast as I could" "did you?" Tara questioned. He had become a suspect, not seeing him all day and now suddenly he appears, it was weird ."Guys, I'm scared" Mindy, who was always strong was scared, so the rest of you were horrified.

"I really don't wanna get hurt again" she mumbled. You took her hand into yours, placing your head on her shoulder. "Neither do I" Chads voice was shaky, cold, scared. The battle between the group and ghost Face was more than exhausting. You felt your will to live drain with every person you saw get hurt.

"I don't want you getting hurt again either, Chad" he rested his head on his twins shoulder, a soft "I know" escaping his lips. Sams was emotionless, eyes looking down as she thought, hard. "So what do we do now?" You sighed, Chads question going unanswered. None of you knew what to do, there was nothing you could do to make this stop. It was a never ending game and you weren't ready for the next level.

"Maybe he gets to win this time" Sam bit back on her lip, all of you looking up at her. "He wants to punish me, me. So maybe i let him" She stood up, defeat all over her face. "I'll just give myself up" she sniffed, shaking her head. You all looked at her with concern. "If this is what I have to do, to keep you safe. It's worth it" "No? We're not doing this, Sam. Alright? You loved back to Woodsboro to protect me, every singe day you make the decision to protect me. None of us would even be alive If it weren't for you" the three of you nodded, agreeing with Tara.

"You have to let us protect you this time" tears welled in her eyes, Sam shaking her head. "Yes, Sam...we're a Team? Remember?" You felt Mindy stand up, letting go of your hand. "Actually, we're a family" Chad smiled as he dragged you up, clapping. "Let's go! Fantastic 5! Come on" chad smiled at all of you, his face filling back with his classic smile.

"Fantastic five..yea okay" you felt bad for Danny, being excluded from the group. "It's an us thing" Chad added. "He's gonna keep coming after us" tears fell onto her cheeks, wiping them away with the sleeve of her jacket. "Isn't there somewhere safe we can just hol up in?" You almost forgot Quinn was still here, her presence not missed. "He's just gonna keep finding us" you answered, a sigh escaping her lips. "Great.."

"We could use that though..." you looked up at the group. "He keeps finding us, right? So what if we just go into a secure location and kill him...I mean it makes sense, we could use it to our advantage" the light bulb in your brain flickered with ideas. "Call Bailey" Tara grabbed her Phone, calling His Number.

"You want me to do what?" You could hear his confusion from over the phone, Tara going over the plan again. "And then what..?" You gulped, biting your lip with nerves. "We execute him" you waited for a response, scared that he wasn't gonna agree. "Are you gonna help us?" The silence was nerve wrecking. "Let's kill the son of a bitch" weight lifted off your shoulder, Chad patting you on the back.

"Now, I'm stuck here but Gale gave us the Key cards to the theater., It's got heavy surveillance and security cameras but we can use that against him. I'll tell Kirby to meet you there and I'll meet you kids as soon as i can" "Got it" you smiled, your plan already in action. "And remember, travel in public. The more people around you the less chance he has to take a shot at you before you get there" you chewed on the inside of your cheek, playing with the blood stained bracelets on your wrist.

"We should get going then" Quinn mumbled. "You guys really think this is gonna work?" You questioned your plan, everyone nodding. "Well it better, it's not like we have any better ideas" the walk to the Station was painful, crowds all over the streets of New York. Everyone was in costumes, what a fun way to spend your Halloween night.

"This plan feels junky" Quinn added, walking down the heavily crowded stairs. "You don't have to come if you don't want to" Tara spat. "So we just peel off and then the killer kills us off one by one? Yea, I think I'm good" "let's just get to the theater" you shook your head.

You followed Sam, taking a hold of her hand as she pushed inside the train. Chad and Tara followed behind. "Where's Mindy?" You furrowed your eyebrows, standing on your tiptoes to try and find her.

"Hey, Mindy! Mindy!" You watched as Chad tried to pull her in, blocked off by a stranger. "Fuck!" She banged against the door, a groan escaping your lips. "Well, we're fucked" you smiled awkwardly. "She's with Quinn right?" Sam asked. "Yea, great...shes alone with one of our suspects" chad mumbled.

"Shit..." you all looked at what Chad was looking at. Two masked figures mixed into the crowd. It was like a haunted house packed into a train, the masks varying from ghost face to jigsaw. "How many stops do we have?" Tara asked, Sam looking at the map. "Ten..." you all looked at each other again, heads shaking as you pulled out your phone. You opened Mindys text, reading it out loud. "Great, I'm stuck with gf. I'll meet you guys there" well, this plan is going really well!" You exaggerated. You began to question why you even brought up the idea. But it's not like anyone had anything better. It also just made the most sense.

The train made a stop, Scooting yourself back as you saw a ghost face mask walk towards your group. "Guys.." Cute boy stood in front of all of you, your paranoid states calming down as the mask man walked out of the train.

"Finally, come on let's go" You all walked out of the train station, Kirby waiting as you exited. "Hey, I talked to Bailey, we've got everything set up...where are Mindy and Quinn?" "They're 5 minutes behind us" you filled her in, walking into the dark alley to get into the theater. "Not you, Dan. Don't trust anyone...remember? We don't know you" it was safer if he didn't come, if he was ghost face than fuck, but if he wasn't it would be safer if he wasn't involved at all.

Your heart raced as you entered, looking around the familiar space. "I cleared the whole place before you got here, so this is the only way to get in it out. We've turned it into a kill box" "and...the weapons?" She pointed down to her belt. "One gun, and I hold onto it" Sam gave her a stare. "I'm the only one with a badge here, so that's the way it's gonna be, we're safe here"

"I'll check in with Mindy, see if they're close" sam and Tara took off their jackets. You tied Ethan's tightly around your waist, checking for the knife in your pocket. You started carrying one since Woodsboro, you knew it would come in handy.

You decided to wait upstairs by yourself, probably not the best idea but you knew you'd be safe. Chad and Tara wandered off, Sam in your eyesight as she stood on the stage.

You heard her phone ring, running up to the balcony before rushing down the stairs. "Sam" she turned, her eyes squinting as she took the call. "Get out of there Sam, you're not safe" You looked down at the phone in confusion, Bailey on the other line. "I heard from the Atlanta field office, they said agent Reeds has been on a downward spiral since the Woodsboro murders last year" "What is he talking about?" She shrugged, turning up the volume on her phone.

"They fired Kirby two months ago for being mentally unstable" You gave Sam a look, the both of you putting the pieces together. "She's no longer with the FBI" Your eyes widened before you ran towards the door. "No! Sam, it's locked, remember?" She tried to wiggle the door open, stopping as the lights shut off. "Where'd you get that knife?" "My dad's box.." she pulled your closer, holding the weapon out in front of her.

Your heart jumped as you heard a noise, a voice. Coming from the projector. There was a video playing on the ripped-up screen, no idea how it got down. "Oh...shit" it was a girl getting stabbed, murdered by someone in a ghost face mask. The two of you watched in horror, no words as the film continued to play.

"Could you put that thing down?" You asked and she shook her head. You heard a loud scream, glass breaking as you and Sam rushed towards the others. You swung open the door, scared as Tara screamed in pain. "Come on! Come on! Go, go" you panted as you ran, helping Tara stay up. "It's Kirby! She's the killer!" "No shit!" Chad ran towards the door. "That's locked!" You screamed, "She made this whole theater a kill box" you added, walking down.

"Hey! What about that? There's an Exit door! Maybe it leads to the roof or something?” You pointed, everyone, looking down at the ladder. "There's only one way to find out, come on let's go" "Baileys on his way by the-" You jumped back, Ghost Face waving his awful knife in front of you. “God, we’re fucked”

#ethan landry #fanfic #jack champion #scream #celebrities #cute #jack champion x reader #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x y/n #avatar #ethan landry x you #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry x reader #jack champion oneshot #jack champion x y/n #jack champion scream #ethan landry fluff #jack champion fluff #ethan landry angst #jack champion angst #jack champion fanfic #scream 6 #scream franchise #scream vi #ethan landry drabble #ethan landry fic #ethan landry scream #scream 6 smut #scream 2022 #scream movies

[perspectivestarters]

Perspective's Sentence Starters; MIDNIGHTS by Taylor Swift (Part I)

LAVENDER HAZE

"Meet me at midnight."

"You don't ever say too much."

"You don't really read into my melancholia."

"You handled it beautifully."

"All this shit is new to me."

"I feel the lavender haze creeping up on me."

"I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say."

"I just wanna stay in that lavender haze."

"All they keep asking me is if I'm gonna be your bride."

"The only kinda girl they see is a one night or a wife."

"I find it dizzying."

"You weren't even listening."

"Talk your talk and go viral."

"I just need this love spiral."

"Get it off your chest."

"Get it off my desk."

"I just wanna stay."

MAROON

"We lost track of time again."

"You were my closest friend."

"How'd we end up on the floor anyway?"

"I see you every day now."

"I chose you."

"So scarlet, it was maroon."

"How the hell did we lose sight of us again?"

"Ain't that the way shit always ends?"

"Carnations you had thought were roses, that's us."

"I feel you, no matter what."

"I lost you."

"Looked up at the sky and it was maroon."

"I wake with your memory over me."

"That's a real fuckin' legacy to leave."

ANTI-HERO

"I have this thing where I get older, but just never wiser."

"Midnights become my afternoons."

"My depression works the graveyard shift."

"All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room."

"I should not be left to my own devices."

"They come with prices and vices."

"I end up in crisis."

"Tale as old as time."

"I wake up screaming from dreaming."

"I'm the problem."

"I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror."

"It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero."

"I'm a monster on the hill."

"Pierced through the heart, but never killed."

"Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism?"

"I've realized all this time."

"Life will lose all its meaning."

"She's laughing up at us from hell!"

"It's me, I'm the problem, it's me."

SNOW ON THE BEACH

"I saw flecks of what could've been lights."

"It might just have been you."

"Life is emotionally abusive."

"Time can't stop me quite like you did."

"My flight was awful, thanks for asking."

"It's like snow at the beach."

"Weird but fuckin' beautiful."

"This scene feels like what I once saw on a screen."

"I've never seen someone lit from within."

"To hide that would be so dishonest."

"It's fine to fake it 'til you make it."

"I can't speak, afraid to jinx it."

"I don't even dare to wish it."

"Your eyes are flying saucers from another planet."

"Can this be a real thing, can it?"

"It's comin' down."

YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN, KID

"Summer went away, still the yearning stays."

"I play it cool with the best of them."

"He's gonna notice me."

"We're the best of friends anyway."

"You're smoking with your boys."

"I didn't choose this town."

"I dream of getting out."

"There's just one who could make me stay all my days."

"I waited ages to see you there."

"I search the party of better bodies, just to learn that you never cared."

"You're on your own, kid."

"You always have been."

"I picked the petals, he loves me not."

"Something different bloomed."

"I'll run away."

"I called a taxi to take me there."

"My dreams aren't rare."

"I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this."

"The jokes weren't funny."

"I took the money."

"My friends from home don't know what to say."

"I saw something they can't take away."

"There were pages turned with the bridges burned."

"Everything you lose is a step you take."

"You've got no reason to be afraid."

"Yeah, you can face this."

"You're on your own, kid. You always have been."

MIDNIGHT RAIN

"He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain."

"He wanted a bride, I was making my own name."

"He stayed the same."

"All of me changed like midnight."

"My town was a wasteland."

"But for some, it was paradise."

"My boy was a montage."

"I broke his heart 'cause he was nice."

"He was sunshine, I was midnight rain."

"But for him, it's every day."

"All the love we unravel."

"The life I gave away."

"I guess sometimes we all get just what we wanted."

"He never thinks of me except for when I'm on TV."

"I guess sometimes we all get some kind of haunted."

"I never think of him except on midnights like this."

QUESTION...?

"I remember."

"We had one thing goin' on."

"I swear that it was somethin'."

I don't remember who I was before you."

"You painted all my nights a color I've searched for since."

"One thing after another."

"Fuckin' situations, circumstances, miscommunications."

"I just may like some explanations."

"Can I ask you a question?

"Did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room?"

"Then what did you do?"

"Did you lеave her house in the middle of the night?"

"Did you wish you'd put up more of a fight?"

"She said it was too much."

"Do you wish you could still touch her?"

"It's just a question."

"Did you realize out of time?"

"She was on your mind with some dickhead guy."

"It was one drink after another."

"Fuckin' politics and gender roles."

"You're not sure and I don't know."

"I just may like to have a conversation."

"Does it feel like everything's just like second best after that meteor strike?"

"What's that that I heard?"

"That you're still with her?"

"That's nice, I'm sure that's what's suitable."

#rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme #rp sentence prompts #sentence starters #sentence meme #sentence prompts #lyric sentence starters #lyric starters #music starters #rp meme #rp memes #rp prompts #ask meme #*mystarters #*midnights

[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

Heyoooo! I was wondering if the Iseo that you posted about Soap and reader drifting apart after they decided to have a 3some wit ghost was a 1 part thing? If not can their be another extremely angsty part 2?

Cheers, To Us | John "Soap" MacTavish | COD: Modern Warefare II

[ Original ANGST Post, Part One ]

Warnings. mentions of cheating/growing distant, unfulfilled relationships, lowkey toxic relationships

Reader. Fem!reader, female reader, reader has braids, reader is American (American coded? Can't fuckin remember lmao)

AN. I wrote this within the span of one hour and nearly 25 hours with no sleep. Pls enjoy

Tags: @rey26 @trash-important @l1anaisasasama @thatanonymouschocolate (I saw you were looking for part one so here's part two lol) @bbaengtan @corvusmorte @uwu-i-purple-you (saw you guys asking fkr the first one in comments and decided yall might want one AND two lol)

Rain falls, heavy and unforgiving, and your mood seems to dampen along with the ground. Curled into the window seat, the lamp light leaves a warm, dim, tone to wash over you, and a book in hand as your head rests against the lush pillows and curtains. You tried your best to move on, to find peace, and maybe allow yourself to find it as well. God knows you tried.

“Beba, you really gonna sit there and mope, or actually read the book?” Your friend calls out, breaking you from the beginning of a spiral into another descent of depression and anxiety, and a sigh leaves you as the book is shut and tossed to the nearest coffee table.

“Neither.” You groan, meeting her in the kitchen as groceries and necessities are unpacked and put away in the correct areas, allowing you to move and sit at the bar and watch quietly. The silence is comfortable, and your mind settles, something that gratefulness cannot even begin to touch as a description.

“So, you going back? Saw some emails from old friends…” She starts, deep brown eyes staring deeply into yours, before yours find the back of your head, and she only laughs at your antics. She's finished placing things away, and opens the cabinet, the clanking of glass makes you wince just a bit.

“Maybe, not too sure yet.” You start, before a glass comes to your countertop, a vodka bottle soon filling it before filling the cup further from you.

“But?”

“But, Laswell has a place for me through some connections. Intell is always needed, and some guy… eh what's his name?” You wonder aloud, moving to take a sip of the hard liquor, pursing your lips together as you get more… acquired with the taste once again.

“D-Day! That's his name… Wayne “D-Day” Davis” You’re proud of remembering the name.

“That's… a name. A real American, huh?” Your friend snorts, turning away quickly before coming back, leaning against the countertop and nearly finishing her drink there.

���Take it easy, girlie. You’re not the uprooted one here.” You laugh, and she continues on, shaking her head.

“Uprooted. How is that, by the way? Enjoying being back home, rather than Scotland?” It’s genuine, and your eyes still water at the name of your old… home. An old life. One broken away from, because of a stupid decision, one you hate, but had to move on from.

It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. 

“Come on, Hen. Talk to me, please.” His hands move to your hips, desperately trying to grab at you, gentle enough to let you leave, but firm enough to let you know he wants you in his hold. 

Stay. Please. He begs in his mind.

“Get away from me, John. I can’t do this right now.” You move from his hands, going to change out of your pajamas into clothing, ready to get things ready for the day. You’re exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally. You wanted to be free of this. Of him. Even if it’s killing you, and your soul would damn you for leaving a love like this behind, but the pain was too much- and you didn’t want this anymore.

It’s not like he’d care.

He has different… priorities.

“Well, when can ya? Ya never seem to have the time for me. Or us.” He’s choked up, and you can imagine the tears welling up in his eyes, but you didn’t find your heart weeping for him like it would have months ago.

You stop moving, tense, dead silent. John can only regret his words and actions so much, but when you’ve been acting like this, he feels more justified in his feelings for Ghost.

But he wanted you too, he wanted you back and normal again. Happy to see him, in love, always talking his ear off and eating the food he’d make for you. The happiness in the air whenever he came home from being gone for months on end at times.

Months… with Ghost. As much as he missed you, he was never as lonely as you were, huh? Never as loyal.

Maybe he should have expected this.

“Well you seem to have the time for Ghost. Why don’t you go to him? It’s what you’ve been doing anyways.” You grit through your teeth, moving across the room to finally change, deciding on what you needed to do first. From the embassy to the lawyer, your mind is running wild and John begging at your hip like a lost puppy isn't helping.

“That’s not fair, Hen…” He whispers, standing in the same place, watching you throw on your clothing and tuck your braids into your hood, desperate to keep warm from the chill. Lord knows “Johnny” wasn’t going to warm you anytime.

“It isn’t fair I lost my husband to a Ghost. Looks like nothings fair nowadays.” You go on, pushing past John to grab your phone and wallet from the nightstand, not responding to his small “goodbye” as you leave the room, and the house soon after.

Yeah, nothing seemed to be fair. Not for him. And especially not for you.

“I’ll be fine. Probably gonna focus on work… friends… family.” You mumble into your drink, deciding to mimic your friend's earlier actions and take a large swing of the liquor, needing to numb your mind for a quick second.

“But not yourself?” She mused, tilting her head, a sad smile gracing her face.

“You would know how to do that best, I’m guessing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Focusing on yourself, and only yourself, after a break up,” She rolled her eyes at you, finding irony in your words, before moving to grab the bottle of vodka and refill your cups of uncertainty and sorrow.

“Valeria.” You finished, and she perks up at her name, clicking her tongue against her teeth before continuing her questioning of you. There's a cheerful sway in her movements and it leaves worrying thoughts only to fester.

“Oh, I know very well. But, that's why you're here, no? To focus on you, and your own needs.” A sigh leaves you once again, and at least you know your lungs are working, while your brain short circuits in reasoning and logic.

“Yeah. My needs, a place to hide, a place that they’ll never find me. Until I go back, that is, a girl needs to work, needs her money.” You finish another glass, and your mind spins, Valeria finds glee in seeing your tongue loosen and speak your mind.

“Two birds with one stone. You get your privacy until you decide on what to do, and I have a piece to use against Los Vaqueros and their friends, a win-win.” Her smile is wide and your heart stutters.

“A piece against them? Or him?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not.”

Your glasses are filled once again, and clink to a toast, a promise is made and leaves you both satisfied after this night.

You both will get what you want and need, soon enough.

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #female reader #reader insert #x reader #queen.writing #fem reader #angst

[hearts401]

Hai :3 do u have any wacky wild michael hcs

oh do i!

both adult and teen. loser has been on my mind again.

He gets super fucking cold for no reason and blamed it on ghosts until after fnaf 6 where he brought it up as a joke and the ghost kids were like "...none of us did that" and now he's convinced theres a whole extra ghost after him. (it was cc he didnt mean to initially but cassidy thought it was funny)

He talked to the animatronics all the fuckin time. like he just. chatted with them. especially the fnaf 2 ones. charlie had to sit there and watch him talk to actual robots thinking they were kids. they werent and she told him that in fnaf 6 because she found it so fucking funny

clumsy as HELL i know that man was banging his knee in the SL vents and swearing under his breath

teen mike was also clumsy. probably split his lip on concrete all the time as a kid.

he was also the kinda kid to say "nah, check this out!!" and wake up in the hospital

this is a gross one but. he dealt with bugs a lot post scoop (especially. flies. and what comes with them. iykyk). he'd come into work on mondays smelling like a can of bug repellant. you wont believe what he showers with instead of water.

He was williams least favorite but they had a weird relationship between him moving out and elizabeths death. like some days william despised him and michael just wanted to blow them both up with his mind and some days he comes home like "Hey mike whats up want some pizza for dinner tonight?" and michaels like "fuck yeah why not."

he's henrys favorite afton as a teen and he knows it. and he uses it. Henry fuckin loved that kid he had the man wrapped around his finger. William also notices it and he gets mad at henry over it.

in relation to that, henry was really gentle with michael which was. not helpful im sorry 😭

mike sleeps pretty casually. hes not a light sleeper but not a deep sleeper. unless hes tired. if he hasnt been getting enough sleep youll know because he sleeps like a ROCK.

he fucking loves italian food. for no reason. he just does

he unironically eats beans on toast. He tried it as a joke and then just. never stopped.

he still has his foxy mask it just doesnt fit him. he tries it on again and it hurts his head

cannot afford to go out to eat often and GOD does he complain about it. he is SO FUCKING LOUD when he complains about it. he wants his takeout man

Loves animals but they hate him. A crow tried to take a bite out of him post scoop once nad he had to fight for his life. bro saw his family for a moment there

he is so polite most of the time but if you talk to him after his shift he'll fuck you up. rudest bitch on the block and he was an asshole teen so he knows how to run his mouth

he plays solitaire.

does not know about the context but whenever hes depressed he says "tomorrow is another day" because time moves on anyways!!!! also idk i think its neat

he ate shit in the middle of his shift once and bashed his face on one of the counters and his coworker found the blood the next day and managed to start a rumor that someone died there until michael came in to work with his face bandaged up.

these are so rambly but funny so im gonna keep going

skateboards <3 totally tried to show off and ate shit until william told him if he went to the hospital again he'd take the skateboard. he still ate shit. just hid it better.

taught evan to do a lot. If he didnt feel like bullying him (for an array of reasons, but the biggest is just. boredom. or loneliness. or a mix) he'd teach him something just because he could. skipping rocks, flying a kite. michael doesnt remember it very well but evan does

cassidy kicked him in the knee so hard he was limping for an hour and so he found the golden freddy suit and kicked it too at one point. she didnt feel it tho. and jumpscared him out of spite.

he loves dogs and once brought evan to see one because his friends were busy and he hates being alone and the dog bit the shit out of evan. foreshadowing.

oh yeah i totally think he gets lonely btw. do not leave that guy alone he will get very sad and pathetic!!!

im capping myself here because jesus christ.

#me: ive been losing interest in michael #also me: SO ABOUT MICHAEL. #tzu rambles #tzu asks #headcanons

[red-elric]

davepeta...... the thing u gotta consider about them is the fact that homestuck is really explicitly a Narrative. like, sure, it sucks that davesprite couldnt have a satisfying story as his own person, but thats BECAUSE he was structurally a Less Important Dave in the storyline, and he knew that, and it made him really depressed. I love davesprite, but he was always always always going to be held in comparison to dave, and dave was always always always going to be the one more important to the living players, and the one getting real character development. there was no way forward for davesprite alone! which sucked

wrt nepeta..... she had been dead a long time. she was a ghost, she was pretty happy hanging out w her version of equius in the afterlife, and it was really awkward and shoehorned in to have her brought back as a sprite just to make jasprose happy. but u know what? her version of equius became arquius. and the x2 combo of a meowrails and strider bros reunion in arquius and davepeta makes me gd cry

the thing about merging into davepeta for davesprite especially is that it made them a distinct, relevant character again. something seperate from dave, something that could narratively have their own development and relationships. its similar to how rosesprite became much happier as jasprose; she didnt have to bow down as the alpha rose anymore, because she was something different now. neither of them felt relegated to the sidelines the way the sprites prototyped w only one person often do.

also like?? nonbinary icon made from the two coolest characters in the series??? sprite squared cat versions of the best siblings in the series???? kisses for jade?????? davepeta going to fight fuckin lord english??????? what an absolute gem. claw claw meowtherfuckers for real only issue is we didnt get more of them

#it me #davepeta #davepetasprite^2 #homestuck #also blah blah 'theyre not happy theyre on drugs' (<- actual thing someone said to me btw) #v much not true. a) davepeta seems sooo much more in control and less manic than jasprose from the start #b) I dont think EITHER of them were really 'on drugs' they both just like...... got an energy boost from becoming a more ascended being #jaspers' confidence and wild kitty hours had an effect on rose's personality its true #davepeta for SURE tho was just. two people. with an understanding of all that those two people could ever be that brought them some peace #honestly a lot of the happiness came from realizing there were versions of themselves out there that were ACTUALLY HAPPY #because alpha timeline davesprite and nepeta SURE WERENT THE THE HAPPIEST DAVE AND NEPETAS OUT THERE #anyway. love them

[serpentarius]

I'm on my S1 OFMD rewatch before I dive back into S2, and I'm only now realizing something.

So, we can pretty much all agree that Ed's transformation into the Kraken by the end of Episode 10 (and leading into 2x01) is an intense one, especially considering he's only known Stede for a few weeks. (I know the descent into detached violence is primarily egged on by Izzy, but for all intents and purposes, the pivotal trigger is Stede leaving Ed.)

Here's the thing though. Ed's depression and subsequent spiral into the Kraken isn't just about Stede the person. It's about all the things Stede represents.

Sure, Ed's fallen hard for Stede. And for any of us who have gone through a particularly hard-hitting breakup (or been ghosted by someone we really liked), we can easily understand the deep heartache. But there's so much more to it than just Ed's feelings for him.

When we first meet Ed in Episode 4, he's already at wit's end. He's fed up with life and searching for a new purpose. He's already reached legendary status as Blackbeard, so of course the question is: what's next? He even toys with the idea of dying ("Haven't done that before, have I?"), and actively acknowledges that his physical presence on a ship has become obsolete. Just the name and flag alone instil the fear of God into other sailors/pirates. And at this point in Season 1, it doesn't even seem like Ed's super keen on pillaging and plundering, except for when he and his crew get to go into teaching mode when they're showing Stede's crew how to raid. But even that scene goes to show that he only enjoys it when there's some larger purpose at play.

Ed wants to be known for more than the reputation that's currently out in the world. ("Is this what they think I look like? Fucking viking vampire clown with.... nine guns all over him?" & "I'm a ghost. There's no chaos, there's no drama, there's no fuckin' life!")

He's itching to be more than this. He doesn't want to be a ghost, or the "shell of a man" that Izzy later accuses him of being.

And Stede—Stede is the person who sees something more in him. Who allows him to be softer and sillier. A human; not the larger-than-life Mad Devil Pyrate Blackbeard. Ed feels seen, perhaps for the first time in his life. And he proceeds to spend a glorious, genuinely happy few weeks with Stede.

So then cut to 1x10 when Ed's staring into the flame of the candle, eating marmalade in his blanket fort and crying while wrapped in Stede's robe. He sees everything he's lost. He was on the cusp of something new, a chance to break free from the Blackbeard persona - but it was ripped away in an instant, ripped away before he even had a real chance to explore this path.

He desperately wanted to distance himself from Blackbeard, from the Kraken, and thought Stede was his ticket to this happier future. One filled with excitement (and warmth, and good food, and possibly even orgasms). Ed told Stede that the last few weeks were the most fun he'd had in ages, years, maybe ever. And now it's all gone; and he's mourning the loss of that hope.

Where does he go from here?

#thankfully we know the answer #and it's to a GOOD HAPPY PLACE WITH STEDE BY HIS SIDE #s2 is really recontextualizing a lot of s1 for me #I highly recommend a rewatch of the whole series #ofmd meta #our flag means death #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd season 1 #edward teach #blackbeard #ed teach #ofmd #ofmd thoughts #ofmd analysis

[oh-surprise-its-me]

Roy/Jamie Prompt: Slight AU to S2 where Roy and Keeley aren't together. After both Jamie and Roy come back to Richmond. The lads are still mad at Jamie and Roy ignoring him does help matters, it starts to take a toll on Jamie. After he gets battered by the guys during training and Roy makes a deeply hurtful and insensitive comment, Jamie is pushed over the edge. He disappears during lunch and everyone's annoyed while Ted's got this horrid feeling. Will comes running in hysterical saying Jamie's up on the fucking roof, standing right at the edge. Ted goes running with everyone behind him. It's a horrific sight, and Jamie says some truly awful things about himself. Ted manages to distract Jamie while Roy and Beard sneak up and yank him back to safety. Before he passes out, Jamie looks up at Roy and says something like " Why can't I stop fuckin' lovin' ya?... you hate meh." Roy is completely shattered, everyone is guilt-ridden because they took it too far, Jamie flinches whenever any of them try to get close to him, Ted is triggered because of his dad. Roy's gonna feel guilty forever for contributing to someone actually not wanting to live anymore but he's determined to make the effort to earn Jamie's heart back for real, as is the team.

Jesus. Yeah alright I can work with that *rubs hands together*

tw depression obviously, and fast and loose probably unrealistic mental health repair. 

Jamie is sitting on the floor of his house watching his mom cook. It’s been a long week, he forgot to take his meds for most of the week before, he hates when he does that. Never feels quite right. The guys treating him like he’s the same person he was when he left is horrible. He knows alright. He knows he sucks and is horrible.

He flashes back to the roof. God their faces.

God he told Roy he loved him.

He probably feels the worst about Ted though. Ted looked like he had seen a ghost.

There’s a knock at the door, “Jamie please, come on open the door I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Georgie goes and opened it. It’s Roy.

“Jamie is just now getting better, I shouldn’t let you see him but he said if you come by he’d want to see you.”

They walk back in, Roy sees Jamie sitting against the cabinets, he drops down to him even though Jamie knows his knee can’t take it. Georgie touches Jamie’s head on the way out, “be in the living room love.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jamie shakes his head, “you couldn’t have known.”

“Should’ve asked though.”

“All the guys wanna see you but I told them to wait until I asked if it was okay.”

Jamie curls his legs closer to his chest. “Depends on what they wanna say this time around.” Roy sits so he’s leaning against the island cabinet, they’re across from each other.

“I know how you feel. Which I know isn’t helpful but I get it.”

Jamie jerks his head up at that. He tilts his head. “After I knew I couldn’t play anymore I figured what’s here for me. Everyone liked soccer star Roy Kent. Not bum knee can’t run more then three miles Roy Kent. My sister snapped me out of it.”

“I never knew.”

Roy shakes his head, “no one did. Just like no one knew about you. And I’m sorry again.”

Jamie uncurls his legs, he takes a breath. “What about me saying I love you.” He has to know. Roy laughs, it’s a bit of a strained laugh. “Talked with my sister if she thought I could be bisexual, she smacked me and told me she assumed I was. Didn’t know I could like a guy. Didn’t know I was allowed.”

Jamie blinks. Oh. That’s not what he expected.

“So are you? Bisexual?”

Roy stretches his knee, it pops, “yeah, never really realized that’s what the feelings I had for a prick of a man who’s too good and too young for me.”

Jamie blinks again. Oh they’re doing this.

“I think I’ve loved you since I first put your poster up-” Roy cuts him off “while I appreciate the dedication please don’t tell me your specific age.”

Jamie crawls over to sit next to Roy. He reaches out and takes his hand. “We’ll be fine. I’ll be okay.”

Roy nods, “don’t do that shit ever again. I don’t think I can handle it.” Jamie realizes Roy has tears in his eyes. He wipes them away with his free hand. “I won’t don’t worry.”

They’ll be fine. It’s a long road but it’s one they have each other for.

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #roy kent #jamie x roy #royjamie #jamie tartt x roy kent #roy kent x jamie tartt #tw depressing thoughts and actions #thanks for the ask !! #stay safe y’all