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the fox and the hound | phillip graves x gn!reader

a/n: have i been away for a literal year... yes... but you guys lived through this past year with me, i think you can understand. my only content warnings are this post's spoilers for his storyline and my bending of everyone's characterization

♡ you meet after he turned on 141. when he comes back begging for a second chance.

♡ the others don't trust him one bit. who would?

♡ well- you, it seems. not because you're stupid or bright-eyed or naive. you listened to what the others have to say about him. you keep it in the back of your mind.

♡ but maybe you'd done something that made you need a second chance, too.

♡ so when you go up and call him "greenville" instead of "traitor-" phillip melts a little.

♡ "nashville isn't even in texas," he tells you every time, between bewilderement and amusement. but he doesn't really mind. because you always smile when you say it. and he thought, after years of dealing with texas' heat, that he hated the sun. but seeing the warmth and light that you exude make him think otherwise.

♡ the nickname doesn't take with the others. they just call him "graves," if they talk to him at all.

♡ but that makes it feel kind of... special. like it's just for the two of you.

♡ so, when "green" or "greenville" leaves your lips, he looks to you. already recognizing your voice and your face in the crowd.

♡ because you smile at him, like he deserves it.

♡ and he smiles at you, like you do, too.

♡ now, when you eat, when you walk to your barracks after lights-out, when the others turn away (remembering the wounds you two created)- at least you two aren't alone.

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would he fucking say that? let's investigate.

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sfw simon ghost riley x gn!reader headcannons

a/n: parts can be read as simon x johnny x reader, but is mostly simon x reader

♡ likes little touches. holding your pinkies together, a hand on the small of your back, and little pecks on the cheek or lips

♡ that’s not to say he doesn’t mind larger gestures! adores engulfing hugs or cuddling into the afternoon

♡ is usually the one begging you to stay in bed. he spends so much time away that he misses every aspect of you

♡ loves lazy days together- they remind him that he doesn’t have to work all the time, that he’s just as human as you and needs to take a break

♡ adores sitting on the couch and watching tv with you, you cuddling each other while eating whatever snacks you dumped on the counter

♡ it can be whatever documentary, reality show, or drama you’ve picked up since the last time he was deployed

♡ it can be reliable old sports or reruns or a movie you thought looked funny

♡ he truly doesn’t care as long as you’re in his arms

♡ has johnny over so often that he's like a permanent resident in your apartment

♡ it’s more often than not that you two bully each other, then whine to simon that “he’s/they’re making fun of me!!”

♡ it always amuses him, and he always replies, “you two stop that.”

♡ you never do.

♡ and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

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ghost's favorite medic pt. 3 | pt. 1, pt.2

wc: 237

a/n: something sweet to (most likely) wrap up this series!

cw: no caps!

you and ghost were never official, because official means commitment. it means naming the twisting feeling that makes your gaze soften as he stumbles into your tent, his callused hands soft as they wrap around you. and putting a name to it is as scary as the thought of ending it.

so as five more minutes becomes a few more hours, a few months of knowing each other turns into a few years. you mention it to price, once; how you and ghost always manage to end up at the same base. price just smiles, a twinkle in his eyes- the one old men always seem to have when they're up to no good.

(it's the same one simon has before he holds onto you and refuses to let go.)

and despite soap’s insistence that simon finally put a damn ring on it, he doesn’t. you don’t make him. he doesn’t make you. both of you yearn for the day when this is all over, but you also understand the cost of being in this field at all. it was never going to be easy.

yet, with him? it can be just a little more bearable.

(and when you’re finally given the opportunity to retire, you do. simon joins you- you would have been surprised in the first year you knew him. but now? now, you just smile and take his hand as you take him home.)

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asks for writers

they probably aren’t that odd….this time.

1. What’s your favorite part of the writing process?

2. Do you ever hand write any part of your story?

3. What’s your favorite emotion to write?

4. What kind of endings do you prefer?

5. Do you plan or jump right in, and if you plan, how much do you like to do before you start a story?

6. Do you have a favorite snack while writing?

7. Music, ambient noise, or silence?

8. Narrative or dialogue? 

9. Describing people or settings?

10. Show a piece from your current WIP/most recent story, up to 30 words.

11. What was the last color you used in your current WIP/most recent project?

12. Describe the last meal you included in your WIP/most recent story.

13. Ctrl+f: silver/gold/bronze–did anything come up in your WIP and if so, share it?

14. Do you make faces to help you describe expressions as you write?

15. What is your favorite detail to include while writing?

16. How often do you describe the sky?

17. Do ideas come to you in pieces or full?

18. How often do you forget stuff because “I don’t need to write it down, I’ll remember” syndrome?

19. What was the last number you used in the narrative of your story? Share the line?

20. How often do you describe the sea?

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"sometimes, i thought my father was a God. i loved him that much."

— Leila Chattis, "Muslim Girlhood"

ocean vuong, "someday i'll love" / sam fender, "seventeen going under" / the front bottoms, "father" / satanay, tumblr / clementine von radics / agustín gómez-arcos, "the carnivorous lamb" / ?

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ghost's favorite medic pt. 2 | pt. 1 here

wc: 619

a/n: i'm sorry for being gone for so long, but i knew i had to come back to do a part 2 for this, so here it is!! this is also very angsty bc i was in the mood for it, so be warned ♡

cw: simon's trauma holding him hostage, mentions of violence and weapons, gender neutral reader, overly dependent simon, no caps

he's never been a good lover, simon. not since he worried his father's rage was as genetic as his hands (too big and tough to hold anything fragile) and eyes (the dead, haunted look in them) and hair (blonde buzzed short so it would never grow long like his). so the hands that were (are) his father's are kept far, so they can never hurt anyone again.

(soldier boy, don't you know what you signed up for?)

he wasn't scared of hurting them all, though. not johnny or price or gaz, because they could beat the ugly thing the way simon beat his dad.

but he was always, always afraid of hurting you. you, beautiful medic, you. not because he didn't think you couldn't beat him. he's felt the knife strapped on your thigh when he holds you. he knows that you (beautiful medic, you) learned to kill so you could learn to mend.

it's about how close you've wormed into his heart. not just because you were pretty. [you were. the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. but simon was never one of those people who fawned over things just because they looked nice.]

(his father told him, more than a hundred times, how his mother was the most gorgeous girl in town. "until she had you lot. now look at her."

his mother was always pretty, when she would look at him.

maybe those dead eyes weren't his father's. maybe they were hers.)

it's about how you remind him that the ugly thing is just his father's shadow, and you turn on the light (you are the light) that makes it go away. he needs you, needs you to make him soft, make his hands gentle, his eyes excited and warm. puppy-dog eyes, johnny calls them, you giggling (harmony, melody, aria) when you overhear. it makes simon spare johnny from a smack to the head. you make him okay with the idea of growing his hair out. and he does. (but he makes sure to keep it short.)

simon's scared because he feels like a bull in a china shop, every piece a part of you he's trying not to crush. you're not delicate, and he knows, but he's bashed in enough heads to know he could bash yours in, too. it's been difficult. simon knows his own strength, and he knows yours, too. his burly body and your wits. he doesn't want to undervalue you, but he doesn't want to put you at risk, either. he needs you to remember who he can be. he needs you to be safe.

simon can't leave you, he knows, can't pull away from warm when he's so cold.

but you can.

so he tells you, one day- you're stitching a gash on his shoulder while he buries his head into yours- "'m not a good man t'have around, lovie. i'll ruin ya."

and you laughed (harmony, melody, aria). replied, "no, you won't."

he tried to put some bite into his voice, use that ugly thing, but it's never been able to show its face around you. "i will."

"you won't, si," you gently chastised, eyes never leaving your sutures and stitches (he's tried to listen when you explain what you're doing, but your voice makes him feel too warm to think. all he knows is that you're fixing him). "you're a good man. and even if you tried, do you really think you could?"

and you're right. because killing is one tug of a trigger, a slash of a knife, bloody fists. simon's strong enough to kill, but you're tough enough to mend. tougher than he'll ever be, you. beautiful medic, you. tough enough, it seems, to deal with him.

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hi guys! sorry i haven't been posting in a while, i've been pretty busy and demotivated to really write anything :( but i want to post at least one thing this week so i was wondering if any of you who see this had any ideas!

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They are already selling data to midjourney, and it's very likely your work is already being used to train their models because you have to OPT OUT of this, not opt in. Very scummy of them to roll this out unannounced.

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brahms with crocheter!reader headcannons!!

a/n: can be read as different fiber arts, but i mostly crochet so that's what i wanted to write for!

♡ he's pretty 50/50 about it.

♡ on one hand, he loves the cozy crafts and little plushes you make be strewn around the house, along with the insanely large collection of yarn, hooks, everything. brahms' room is a little messy, and he likes seeing that you enjoy mess as much as he does

♡ on the other hand- and speaking of hands- it keeps yours so busy that it's hard for him to get the constant physical attention he wants :(

♡ when you two watch movies, lounge around, eat meals, or basically do anything together, brahms wants to hold your hand or lay in your lap

♡ but you always having a project to work on makes that hard for him to do

♡ brahms often ends up whining for your attention, either like a child or literally whining

♡ "hold," he'll beg, holding your wrist so you can't work anymore.

♡ it makes working on your projects much slower. honestly, you can only work on something if there's some way for brahms to lounge against you and be lulled by your work

♡ it can be him sitting on your lap or you sitting in his, he doesn't mind as long as he can hold you and you can hold him.

♡ it was so much worse at the beginning, but brahms eventually learns that he can't have everything he wants all the time

♡ but it also means your body gets a lot more breaks than it used to, which is a plus in your mind!

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brahms heelshire headcanons: valentine’s edition!!

reader loves baking and valentine's day! no content warnings for this one, enjoy!

♡ brahms doesn’t really understand valentine’s day. he’s seen his parents mention it, usually as a passing mention, but they never celebrated it. so when you excitedly tell him about the holiday, he tilts his head in confusion.

♡ slowly, brahms has gotten used to all the holidays you've introduced to him. even though they’re all sort of the same to him, he loves seeing you get excited, and he adores anything

♡ so he was quite willing to help you decorate. not everywhere, of course, mostly just the entrance, the living room, your bedroom- even his little nook in the walls! he doesn't spend a lot of time there anymore, but brahms loves seeing how happy you are when you do it, so he lets you!

♡ on the day of, brahms wakes up to see the sun peeking through the curtains- unusual for his strict routine of being woken at 7am, sharp.

♡ "it's a special day," you told him, pressing a kiss to his masked forehead. "i wanted to let you sleep in."

♡ brahms, who was never as strict about some of the rules as his parents were, doesn't mind.

♡ the two of you cuddled in bed for about an hour, exchanging kisses until you heard his stomach growl, so you of course took (dragged) him out of bed for a breakfast (more like brunch, since it was so late) of pink pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream!

♡ brahms loves it! he loves anything you make, really, so is excited to learn that you plan to bake heart-shaped cookies for the occasion!

♡ the day mostly consists of you two doing just that. he helps you mix and roll out the dough, make different colors of frosting, anything you want him to do! it really shouldn’t have taken so long, but it was a messy process, and cleaning took a lot longer than usual

♡ not that either of you minded; you would take any excuse to spend more time with each other

♡ when the day was over, it found you and brahms cuddling on the couch while you watched some shitty romcom the heelshires had on tape.

♡ brahms’ eyes were already starting to droop closed, and you were feeling a little sleepy, yourself. so you lazily grabbed a blanket draped on the couch and covered you both.

♡ with a little smile, you reached up to give brahms his routine good-night kiss, quietly telling him, “sweet dreams, honey.”

♡ needless to say, brahms loved valentine’s day.

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sorry guys!! didn't know asks were off until now!!

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i’m gonna post something for valentine’s for sure, but i was wondering what you guys wanted to see! if you have any requests, feel free to send them in!!

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"they are yours to love and care for."

wc: 361

the aftermath.

cw: referenced murder, referenced suicide

everything had been been a bit of a mess since you learned of brahm's existence. first of all, you had to decide what to do with cole's body. you weren't bothered about giving him a proper funeral or anything- if anything, he deserved to be burned to a crisp, not even ashes left of him- but someone might report him as missing. he'd just been employed, after all, as he'd told you.

it was all a bit of a headache, but thankfully, a quick fingerprint test of the shard buried in cole's neck proved you had nothing to do with the crime. the simple explanation was that someone had broken in, fought cole, and escaped after. of course, it helped that you had covered up the hole in the wall with a new mirror.

second was the heelshires' suicide. you couldn't present the letter to the police, obviously, since it was already a few days old, and they would wonder why you hadn't checked the mail since then. all you said was that they had gone on vacation and were a few days late, with no notice at all.

it took quite some time for their bodies to turn up, pieces picked up by fishermen.

all while you adjusted to taking care of a living human rather than a porcelain doll.

the first few days, you just tried to find some normalcy in the old routine. and you learned a few little things. brahms preferred "class" in bed or on the couch, where he could lay on top of you while you quietly read him poetry. he only liked the music loud so he could hear it in the walls, and winced when it was too noisy- something you could easily adjust to. he wouldn't eat when you were in the room because it meant he had to take off his mask.

and that every night, even though you always tucked him into his own bed, he always ended up knocking at your door. and every night, you always let him in.

at the least, it made it a hell of a lot easier to wake him up at 7am sharp.

a/n: i wanted to post something longer and brahms-related today but didn't feel up for it, so have something short in the meantime!

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i can’t stop thinking abt soft lethal company ♡

forest keepers who always scan the forest waiting for you to come back to their planet

dogs who have your footsteps and your voice memorized so they don’t attack you when you give them a pat on the head

brackens who watch you bc they don’t want anything bad happening to you, whose eyes literally light up when you make eye contact

loot bugs who you gave a particularly pricy or shiny item and who now have a pile of stuff waiting for you at the door

coilheads who hate when you look away bc you’re just so pretty

etc etc ♡

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♡

being ghost's favorite medic has to be the best feeling in the world. there's just something about being the only one allowed to touch him when he's at his weakest ♡

wc: 374

clingy ghost, ghost having the self-awareness of a scalpel

cw: no caps since this is just a drabble, mention of injury

every time he and 141 come back, ghost would be the only one hurt. it wasn't on purpose, he swore, even though he could have dodged that shrapnel or that bullet. he swore it was old age, alcohol, soap's nonsense, anything. not that anyone bought it.

sure, maybe price should have cared a little more about the puppy eyes ghost was developing for you, but it's the most pliant he's ever been about going to get patched up, so he keeps his mouth shut.

when ghost gets back from his missions, he's always ready to sink into you. you're soft and warm and so, so inviting, always willing to set aside for him unless you have a patient. and even if you do, no matter what, he'll wait for you. the other medics have stopped trying. they know the only way for them to get anywhere near him is for ghost to have passed out from blood loss.

when ghost gets back, he's always desperate to touch you and hold you again. his body would meld with yours as he wrapped his arms around your waist, nuzzling his covered face into your neck. in his desperation, through the mask, he would even try to kiss your skin. "simon, your wound," you would say, trying to get to it.

"'s not important," he would slur, already drunk off of you. but simon was never one to hold you like he would lose you. he was more scared of hurting you than losing you. "missed you."

and softly, though you always sighed, you'd smile. as you would turn to face him, simon's head would lift, like a dog's head as something caught his attention. and you'd give him the softest, gentlest kiss, then reply, "i missed you, too.

when ghost gets back, it always ends with you on his lap as he sits on the cot, because you can never get this man to detach himself from you for more than a few seconds. with him peppering kisses on you through the mask because only you get to see his face. with him grumbling and complaining (whimpering and whining) his way into you staying five more minutes, until five more minutes becomes a few more hours.

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stray cat pt. 2 | pt. 1 here (provides context!)

wc: 2,138

a/n: this one took so much longer than anything i've written yet, but i really like it and i hope you guys do too!!

cw: angst with comfort, past relationship issues, ghost learns how to be vulnerable for you, reader has they/them pronouns, no caps (at this point it's stylistic)

although it took some internal debate, you ultimately decided to try and lull the cat into joining you. "or i could jus' catch 'er," ghost told you, reluctant to let your hand go. "woul'n't be hard."

you smiled and squeezed his hand back. "she'd probably just run," you replied. "i'll be back in a bit, don't worry." but you pressed a kiss to his cheek before you left.

it took about ten minutes for you to convince the cat to come anywhere closer than a few feet away, and a minute for you to finally pet her. you began to lead her towards the truck, where 141 waits for you to start driving.

"mind tellin' your little lover to get us the hell out of here?" soap grumbled to ghost.

it earned him a sharper glare than usual. "you 'n' i both know they won' leave wi'out 'er."

and that was the best solution you all had.

finally, after a considerable amount of time, you coaxed your new companion onto the truck, into the passenger's seat with price. "'bout damn time," soap mumbled. he shut the back before ghost could give him another glare.

"keep your mouth shut, or i'll send her into the backseat with you all," you replied. for a moment, you watched the cat settle in. she seemed confused, sticking close to your legs. she let out a loud meow of disdain, though didn't try to leave your side.

"gotta step on it if we're gonna make it in time," price told you, making you remember that you were on the field, and nursing a stray back to health was something you'd have to do later.

"yes, sir," you replied, starting up the engine. it rumbled under your boots and made your entire skeleton feel like it was shaking. the poor cat below you started to cling to your leg. "shh, shh," you tried to soothe, even though you were already out and on the road.

it took an hour for her to settle down. finally, though she stayed firmly wrapped around you, she seemed to be sleeping. at the least, she wasn't moving. maybe it wasn't the best idea for you, the driver, to keep her, but nobody else seemed keen. "we need to give her a name," you said, mostly to ghost- your voice had taken on that tone that you only used with him.

"we?" he dryly replied.

you met his gaze in the rearview mirror with amusement. "what, she's just mine? didn't think we'd be doing shared custody this early in our relationship." you smiled, then turned your eyes back to the road.

shame.

"besides," you continued, taking as smooth a turn as you could in the "tin can running on hopes and dreams," as you so fondly called it, "i can't think of anything."

the truck grew uncharacteristically silent. the air was usually full of soap and ghost's borderline arguing, but soap had his moments of silence. or ghost was glaring at him in the backseat, silently threatening him to shut up.

both likely.

after a moment, he just said, "eva."

you thought about it for a moment. "eva," you said, rolling the name off of your tongue. "i like it."

"'course, you could just name her 'kitty,'" soap suggested.

"johnny."

"yeah?"

"shut the fuck up."

"you both shut the fuck up," price groaned.

and for another hour, so the ride went.

♡

the moment you touched down at the new base, you began coaxing eva out. while the rest of 141 starts to head where they're needed, ghost does the same, heading to your side as soon as he can. his arm rests around your waist as you try to get her to come to you. "think she wants to nap a little longer," you tell him, your voice a fond coo.

"mm, don't blame her," he replied. "could do with a nap, myself."

as ghost began kissing the back of your neck through his mask, you managed to get a (disgruntled) eva in your arms. "simon!" you giggle, trying to shoo him once his touch grows ticklish.

he can't help but chuckle at your reaction. "sorry, love," he replied, but he wasn't a bit sorry.

not that you minded. "just get me something i can wash her in," you told him, mimicking price's commanding tone.

"yes, commander," ghost quipped back. with a fond chuckle, he squeezed your waist, then went off to do just that.

♡

a few minutes later, ghost found himself employed with washing a very resistant eva. he held her while you used a bottle of baby shampoo to clean her off. “aww,” you cooed, delicately rubbing a ring around her neck. “you poor thing. how long

have you been alone?” 

simon tensed at the question. the room was so dark; if it weren’t for the moonlight draping over your face, he couldn’t see you at all. not that he would have needed it. somehow, he could sense where you were, and maybe that was the issue. “that obvious, eh?” he replied, trying to have a laugh at himself. 

trying. 

ghost shook himself out of the memory. he rapidly glanced at you, trying to see if you'd noticed. thankfully, you were too busy with lathering up little eva. her meows turned sharp in protest, so you cooed, "i know, i know, honey, but we gotta get you clean."

and given that her suds were coming off rusty brown, you were quite right. suddenly, eva began trying to shake herself out of ghost's hold, but he held onto her the best he could. "feisty thing," he mused.

it made you giggle, which made ghost smile. once she stopped flailing and accepted her fate, you kept washing her off

“-than you shoul' ever need to use.” 

the words make you frown, which makes simon want to hold you into his arms and smooth out the line between your eyes. he can't stand seeing you anything but happy. simon knew that was the part of him you fell in love with- the doting man instead of the soldier. because there can't be anything but the soldier. there can't be. he can't be a man, because if simon was truly a man, then that meant a man did all the things he did. not a soldier.

so he doesn’t even acknowledge you. instead, simon picks up his gun and starts to walk off.

maybe he should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

your voice is so small, but it seems to echo as you ask, “what do you mean?”

which makes simon want to cry. 

"there we go!" you said, placing the bottle of shampoo down. as you reached for eva, ghost let you take her. there was a layer of suds all the way from his fingertips to his elbows. but you looked far worse, so he didn't complain. you smiled down at the angry mess of fur and shampoo in your arms. "c'mon, honey, time to rinse"

eva yowled as you slowly lowered her into the bucket.

simon tries to walk on. tries to tell himself, make himself believe, that he can exist in a world where you don’t. 

but that’s the thing with simon.

he tries to stay away. he tries to believe he can live alone, like he always has. that he can go back to the life where you, sunshine smile and eyes brighter than any future he can think of, had nothing to do with him, or any of this. 

“si

mon?"

ghost glances up at you again. his eyes, though he hadn't realized it before, had been fully focused on eva. she was still in the bucket he had found, but was mostly rinsed by now. you looked a little confused, like you'd called him a few times, and he hadn't replied.

"sorry. you said som'in, love?" he asked.

"'s alright," you replied. you pressed a kiss to his cheek, which he gladly reciprocated. "could you get me a towel or blanket to dry her?"

although ghost usually would have wanted to cling to you, he felt like a walk would do him some good. so he said, "'course, love," pressed a kiss to your neck, then went to do just that.

he stops. your voice isn’t angry- sometimes simon thinks you've never been angry your entire life. but there's an exasperation there that he's never heard in you before.

"you don't get to leave because things got hard!" you tell him, your voice stronger than it's ever been, but still wavering. he knows how you hate to argue. "you don't get to have the good part of us, then give up because you're faced with the worst parts of you. that's not how this works."

simon's grip on his gun tightens. but it's not out of anger. he can't be angry with you without hating himself for it.

the longer he stares, the more your lip quivers. and then he's not staring, and neither are you. you both rush into each other's arms. he drops the gun in his haste, and the sound of it hitting the floor almost scares him, he's so scared he's going to hurt you. he's always scared he's going to hurt you.

ghost grabbed a blanket from his bunk as quickly as he could and walked back to you. this time, he did his best to keep his mind clear; the past was never a pretty thing. something he of all people knew quite well.

and all the way across the field, there you were. you smiled at little eva in a way that made ghost wonder if you had ever been sad in your life. he knew you had- he'd been with you long enough to see it for himself- but sometimes, you acted like nothing horrible had ever happened to you.

"'ere you are, love," ghost said, handing you the blanket.

you took it with an appreciative, "thanks, si," and another kiss to his cheek. "d'you mind draining the tub, too? sorry, i kind of forgot that you need two hands to clean a cat."

ghost let out a soft chuckle, already taking the bucket. he walked a few paces to empty it while you began to dry little eva. when he glanced back, he noticed how eva was noticeably lighter than before- cream white except her dark ears, paws, face, and tail- and how she shook. even in the hot desert sun, even in your arms, even with the blanket, there eva was, shaking

as he tried to hold you, tried to cup your cheeks and brush your hair away from your eyes. he just wanted to look into your eyes. "'m so sorry," he murmured. "'m so sorry, lovie, 'm-"

“simon,” you whispered, taking his hands so they stopped shaking. they didn't for a while. then you kept kissing his knuckles, nuzzling your face into his palms. for a while, you were silent. simon usually didn't mind it, but this time, he clutched your hands in a desperate attempt to get you to keep going. your voice was just so soft, such a derision from what he’s used to. he feels like a baby crying for his mother to keep lulling him to sleep.

so, ever pliant, you do. "i love you, si," you tell him, your voice soft. you lean into his touch, even though you're the one keeping him in place. "i love you. i love you, i love you. you understand?"

desperately, all simon can do is nod. he tried so hard to stop needing you. to stop loving you. but with his face in your hands, with his heart beating against your own, simon realized he could never live a life without you in it. the thought made him squeeze your hands a bit tighter.

and for the first time in a while, you smile. it makes him melt. but there's something else in your expression, too. expectation.

simon remembers your words. 'you don't get to leave because things got hard.' he swallows and gains some control over his fingers, pushing your hair behind your ear at least. "your eyes are so beautiful," he finally confesses. and it makes your beautiful little eyes soften. "you're so beautiful. god, sweet..."

ghost's blue eyes bore into little eva's. she had stopped shaking; you seemed to have lulled her into a sense of safety. "d'you want to hold her?" you ask him, giving him that smile he's never been able to resist. the one he wants to hold onto for the rest of his damn life.

he was never good at taking risks, not when it came to his heart. but ghost knew he would have to take a few plunges. for you. so he simply replied, "'course i do."