#ㅤ⁰⁷ ﹐ 𝗣𝗛𝗔𝗦𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗨𝗠 … 𝙰𝚂𝙺 𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙽𝚂𝙴.

[phasmasum]

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .

𝗦𝗟𝗘𝗘𝗣   𝗪𝗔𝗦   𝗢𝗡𝗟𝗬   𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗖𝗘𝗙𝗨𝗟   𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛   𝗛𝗜𝗠.   Even   then,   sometimes   it   wasn’t.   While   Soap’s   mere   presence   was   often   enough   to   keep   the   night   terrors   at   bay,   there   were   some   evenings   where   the   anxiety   would   override   all   the   comfort   he   felt   and   betray   him.   But   there   were   more   good   days   than   bad,   which   is   what   mattered.   It’s   what   made   him   feel   safe.

❝ I like to watch you sleep sometimes. You look happier in your sleep, y’know, peaceful. I wish I could keep you like that. ❞ @siabann said.

There   he   laid,   white-blond   hair   dishevelled   to   shit   and   lids   still heavy,   gazing   up   at   the   other   man   with   a   palm   pressed   against   his   face.   Fingers   carding   through   Soap’s   hair,   barely   roused   from   his   sleep   but   smiling.  

ㅤ( 𝙶𝙾𝙳,   𝙷𝙴   𝚆𝙰𝚂   𝚂𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶.   𝙷𝙴   𝚆𝙰𝚂   𝙸𝙽   𝙳𝙴𝙴𝙿.   𝙸𝙽   𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴. )   

“ Fuckin' creep, ”   he   says,   voice   raspy   from   slumber,   reverberating   in   his   chest   and   deepening.   “ You   can   blame   yourself   for   that   one,   Johnny. ”   

His   other   hand   scaled   the   side   of   Soap’s   face,   gripping,   pulling   him   down   until   their   lips   met   in   a   kiss.   It   was   soft.   It   was   tender.   It   was   loving.   Until   it   wasn’t.   The   other   man   had   a   magnetic   pull   that   Ghost   was   powerless   against,   unable   to   touch   him   without   wanting   to   ruin   him.   He   deepens   the   kiss,   tongue   pushing   past   teeth,   breath   hitching   in   his   throat   trying   to   savour   the   taste.   Ghost   wanted   to   devour   him   right   then   and   there,   stalled   only   by   the   fact   that   he   couldn’t.   Not   yet.   Cockblocked   by   a   pointless   meeting   that   could’ve   been   a   fucking   email.   ( 𝙼𝙰𝚈𝙱𝙴   𝙷𝙴   𝙳𝙸𝙳   𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴   𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴   𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙼   𝙾𝙵   𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵   𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝚁𝙾𝙻   𝙻𝙴𝙵𝚃   𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽   𝙸𝚃   𝙲𝙰𝙼𝙴   𝚃𝙾   𝚂𝙾𝙰𝙿. )

With   a   groan,   he   withdraws,   keeping   Soap   clasped   between   his   hands   and   brushing   stray   curls   back   into   place.   “ Should   be   getting   ready   about   now, ey? ”

[phasmasum]

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . . 𝙵𝙾𝚁: 𝙺𝙸𝙲𝙺.

𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬   𝗦𝗢   𝗢𝗙𝗧𝗘𝗡,   𝗧𝗛𝗘   𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗦   𝗖𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗗.   A   weak   point   in   his   armour   that   exposed   vulnerable,   tender   flesh   beneath   polished   metal.   Hit   after   hit,   he   could   take   it   with   no   issue,   but   it   was   the   slow   moments.   The   lulls   in   his   day   when   there   was   no   task   at   hand,   no   imminent   danger,   where   his   thoughts   took   over.   Memories   flooding   his   mind,   sinister   internal   monologues   overloading   his   system   until   it   shut   down.   If   there   was   nothing   to   keep   Ghost   occupied,   his   mind   would   put   in   the   work   for   him.   Every   so   often,   the   impenetrable   Simon   Riley   had   nothing   left   to   protect   him   from   himself.   𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦   𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬.   𝘊𝘢𝘯’𝘵   𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯   𝘴𝘪𝘵   𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩   𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧   𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵   𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨.   

Crawling,   more   like   lugging   himself   out   of   bed,   trying   to   reintegrate   into   being   a   person   had   been   …   a   battle,   to   say   the   least.   𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨   𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤.   You’ve   seen   more   combat   than   you   can   even   recall,   and   the   hardest   thing   you’ve   had   to   do   today   was   get   out   of   bed?   ( 𝙷𝙴   𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳   𝙵𝙴𝙴𝙻   𝙷𝙸𝚂   𝙱𝚁𝙰𝙸𝙽   𝙿𝙾𝚆𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶   𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺   𝙳𝙾𝚆𝙽   𝙰𝚂   𝙷𝙴   𝙿𝚄𝚃   𝙲𝙻𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚂   𝙾𝙽   𝙷𝙸𝚂   𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺.   𝙰   𝚄𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚂   𝙰𝚄𝚃𝙾𝙿𝙸𝙻𝙾𝚃   𝚂𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶. )

“ Your   shirt   is   on   backwards. ”   @pseudowar   said,   as   gently   as   he   was   capable   of.   

His   head   was   swirling,   clouded   as   he   felt   like   he   was   floating   above   the   room.   Zoned   out,   to   say   the   fucking   least.   The �� thick   layer   of   fog   that   dampened   his   senses   slowly   lifted,   the   sound   of   Kick’s   voice   acting   as   an   anchor   …   a   weak   one,   but   an   anchor   nonetheless.   

“ Hm? ”   Ghost   grunts,   gaze   flickering   down   towards   the   shirt   in   question.   Seams   exposed,   inside   out,   similar   to   the   way   his   own   edges   were   currently   and   rapidly   fraying.   The   tag   resting   just   beneath   his   chin,   backwards.   𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬.   “ Ah   …   didn’t   notice. ”   ( 𝙰𝙽𝙳   𝙳𝙾𝙽’𝚃   𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙴. )   

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ I’ll,   uh   …   fix   it   later. ”

𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵   𝘭𝘦𝘵   𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦   𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸   𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦   𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨,   𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺.   𝘗𝘶𝘭𝘭   𝘪𝘵   𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.

[phasmasum]

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .

𝗛𝗘   𝗙𝗘𝗟𝗧   𝗢𝗨𝗧   𝗢𝗙   𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗘.   He   looked   out   of   place,   too,   sitting   in   the   center   of   a   bustling   restaurant.   Normal   people   with   normal   lives.   𝘍𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴.   His   feet   were   planted   firmly   against   hardwood   floors   with   eyes   darting   around   and   scoping   out   every   entrance   and   exit.   Despite   knowing   he   was   the   most   dangerous   person   in   the   room at any given time,   he   grew   agitated   at   the   thought   of   people   unseen   walking   behind   him.

“ Umm,  sooo … ”  @peacedomain  starts,  scooting  closer   to  Ghost; finger   pointing   at  a  couple  two   tables   away.  “ They  were   talking  about  it  and   now  I'm  curious.  How   does   a  person  make  a  baby? ”

The   groan   that   leaves   his   lips   is   quiet   but   not   unheard,   head   dipping   as   he   meets   her   gaze.   He   supposed   it   should’ve   been   comforting   to   know   that   he   was   not   the   only   one   in   this   room   with   a   broken   family   dynamic;   she   was   sheltered   and   …   innocent.   𝘕𝘢𝘪𝘷𝘦.   The   product   of   a   lack   of   parental   guidance   and   isolation,   nobody   to   show   her   the   ways   of   the   world   in   which   they   lived.   The   exact   opposite   of   his   own   upbringing,   in   which   he   was   thrust   into   harsh   realities   and   had   learned   of   all   the   cruelty   humanity   had   to   offer   at   such   a   young   age.   On   his   own   and   terrified,   but   steeled   by   his   experiences.   It   should’ve   been   comforting   to   know   neither   of   them   had   ever   really   had   parents.   Never   the   chance   to   bloom   as   a   child.   𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥   𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦.   Instead,   he   found   himself   wondering   how   the   hell   he   ended   up   having   to   be   the   person   to   give   Elsie   the   fucking   𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘴   𝘢𝘯𝘥   𝘵𝘩𝘦   𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘴   talk.   

“ Uhhh   …   well,   when   a   man   and   woman   have   sex,   if   the   man   ejaculates   inside   of   her,   sometimes   ... you   end   up   with   a   baby. Grows   inside   the   womb for nine months,   then   she   gives   birth.   Pretty   fucking   basic   biology there, mate. ”   Ghost   turns   in   his   seat,   thick   arms   folded   across   his   chest   as   he   peered   at   her   inquisitively.   “   ⸺   Your   parents   really   never   taught   you   about   that   shit?   𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵 ...    Got   my   work   cut   out   for   me. ”

[phasmasum]

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .

𝗧𝗛𝗘   𝗥𝗢𝗔𝗗   𝗔𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗   𝗙𝗘𝗟𝗧   𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗜𝗧𝗘.   Hours   of   walking   with   no   end   in   sight   through   thick   foliage,   surrounded   by   trees   that   scraped   the   star   studded   night   sky.   No   stranger   to   navigating   the   dark   through   the   uneven   hellish   terrains,   survival   and   escape   heavy   at   the   forefront   of   his   mind   to   the   extent   that   he   had   forgotten   his   travel   companion   might   not   have   been   built   to   handle   this.   ( 𝚂𝙷𝙸𝚃. 𝙽𝙾   𝚂𝙷𝙾𝙴𝚂.   𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃.  )

‟ I don't think I can walk anymore ... ” It's a shy complaint, or rather an observation, from the barefoot angel, @peacedomain.

“ Mm. ”   Ghost   hums   and  pauses,   a   split   second   decision   rising,   and   then he’s   bent   at   the   knees,   crouching   downwards   and   beckoning   the   young   girl   to   climb   upon   his   back.   To   give   her   feet   a   rest,   because   he   could   shoulder   the   weight   for   the   both   of   them   with   ease   and   still   move   silently   throughout   the   forest,   onward   and   upward,   no   sweat   broken.   Unspoken   promises   to   protect   and   take   care,   until   she   was   truly   and   fully   safe.    

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ We’ll find a place to set up camp soon. ” ㅤㅤ

[phasmasum]

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .

𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥   𝗠𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗦   𝗜𝗡   𝗧𝗛𝗘   𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗗   𝗢𝗙   𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧.   Crammed   together   with   limbs   tangled   like   tree   roots   in   a   military   issued   mattress,   he   could   feel   Soap’s   warm   breath   creeping   against   his   neck   as   he   spoke   sweet   nothings.  

‟ Whatever happens, I want to be with you. ” @siabann whispers.

Ghost’s   lips   are   exposed,   balaclava   bunched   up   just   beneath   the   nose,   and   he   almost   smiles.   𝘈𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵.   His   heart   wrenches   itself   tight,   constricted   in   his   chest   as   it   almost   threatens   to   beat   out   of   rhythm,   and   he   can   only   hope   that   Soap   doesn’t   feel   the   palpitations   whilst   resting   on   his   sternum.   𝘐   𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵   𝘵𝘰   𝘣𝘦   𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩   𝘺𝘰𝘶.   𝘐   𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵   𝘵𝘰   𝘣𝘦   𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩   𝘺𝘰𝘶.   The   words   feel   almost   foreign   as   they   echo   in   his   ears,   rattling   around   his   skull,   response   poised   on   the   tip   of   his   tongue.   ‟ Good   thing   you   can’t   get   rid’a   me,   Johnny. ”   He thinks, there’s   nothing   in   this   world   that   could   make   us   part,   not   even   death   …   𝘐   𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥   𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭   𝘵𝘩𝘦   𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥   𝘪𝘧   𝘪𝘵   𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵   𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨   𝘺𝘰𝘶   𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳.   You   are   mine.   ( 𝗬𝗢𝗨   𝗔𝗥𝗘   𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘 ) 

All   these   things   he   wants   to   say,   and   yet   …   there   is   so   little   that   falls   out.   Dread   fills   his   chest,   a   silent   trepidation   as   the   intensity  of   his   emotions   renders   him   mute.   Maybe   one   day   I’ll   tell   you,   he   thinks.   One   day.

[phasmasum]

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . . FOR: ROACH.

'That’s a gruesome thought.' @pseudowar signed his words carefully - if only because he's not sure if he can get away with the sloppy shit yet. Roach's sign is naturally abysmal, usually shorthanded to shit, making him a difficult read. But with the Lieutenant, he actually tries. Sign incredibly proper despite the tilt to his mouth that suggests his amusement. 'You got any more morbid jokes or should we move on to the puns?'

“ HEY, WHAT’S   THE   DIFFERENCE   BETWEEN   ME   AND   CANCER? ”   There’s   a   pause,   deadpan   gaze   falling   upon   the   other   man   as   the   mental   drumroll   paved   way   for   a   bad   punchline.   

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ My   dad   didn’t   beat   cancer. ”

One   last   one,   just   for   the   hell   of   it,   more   truth   to   the   quip   than   he   was   willing   to   admit.   There   was   a   cacophony   of   bad   jokes   lodged   into   the   back   of   his   mind,   a   rolodex   of   the   worst   puns,   stored   for   a   rainy   day.   Ghost   thought   it   boosted   morale.   Everyone   else   would   happily   disagree.   ( YOU   MADE   THEM   ANYWAY. )

“ If   we   move   on   to   puns,   we’ll   be   here   all   night,   mate. ”   He   said,   a   hint   of   a   smile   brandished   against   thinned   lips.   The   two   were   sealed   away   in   the   privacy   of   his   seldom   used   office,   balaclava   tucked   away   carefully   inside   a   desk   drawer   for   a   later   time.   He   felt   …   exposed,   though   there   was   a   distinct   lack   of   judgement.   The   air   around   him   didn’t   feel   as   suffocating   as   he   thought   it   might.   “ You   want   a   drink? ”

[phasmasum]

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .

@siabann : ( QUIET ) FOR OUR MUSES TO GET INTIMATE WHILE AVOIDING GETTING CAUGHT.

𝗞𝗘𝗘𝗣   𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥   𝗙𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚   𝗠𝗢𝗨𝗧𝗛   𝗦𝗛𝗨𝗧.   That’s   what   you had   said,   hand   clamped   down   tightly   over   his   mouth   amongst   the   desperate,   cloth - covered   grinding.   Cock   straining   through   his   pants   paired   with   laboured   breaths   almost   too   heavy   to   conceal   under   the   cloak   of   darkness,   the   two   of   them   cramped   together   in   a   tight   space.   Soap   was   wound   tight   like   a   clock,   clamouring   up   against   Ghost   and   begging   for   just   any   amount   of   touch.   Silently   pleading   to   be   fucked   like   the   greedy   little   bitch   he   was.   Too   needy   to   wait   until   later.   A   lull   moment   on   a   mission   where   they   had   a   few   seconds   to   spare.   “ Shhhh   ⸺   ”   

He   wanted   to   kiss   the   life   out   of   him.   To   lap   at   the   sweat   and   the   salt   tainting   his   skin,   and   suck   the   air   from   his   lungs   until   he   was   nothing   more   than   a   feeble,   stilled   corpse   for   the   taking.   Nimble   fingers   reached   for   the   other   man’s   belt,   undoing   it   with   a   calculated   precision   and   shoving   the   coarse   nylon   webbing   into   Soap’s   mouth   for   good   measure.   Gagging   him   with   it   so   that   nobody   had   the   pleasure   of   hearing   the   foul,   sordid   sounds   meant   for   Ghost’s   ears   only.   𝘠𝘰𝘶   𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯’𝘵   𝘵𝘩𝘦   𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺   𝘰𝘯𝘦   𝘸𝘩𝘰   𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴   𝘩𝘰𝘸   𝘵𝘰   𝘣𝘦   𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘺.   

With   a   violent   and   hungry   tug,   the   lieutenant   yanks   Soap’s   pants   down   around   his   thighs.   Shamelessly   exposing   him,   and   soaking   up   every   second   of   it.   Ghost   undoes   his   own   zipper   …   just   enough   to   free   his   cock   before   closing   his   fist   around   the   both   of   their   lengths   to   stroke   them   together   in   sweet,   simultaneous   movements.   𝘚𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳   𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴.   The   layers   of   filth   and   grime - coated   lust,   luring   them   together   in   violently   inappropriate   situations   where   satisfaction   was   never   sure   to   come.   To   be   caught   at   any   moment   was   half   of   the   thrill,   half   of   what   made   it   that   much   hotter.   To   watch   the   pained   look   in   Soap’s   eyes,   traces   of   an   ache   that   could   only   ever   be   satiated   by   Ghost.   A   need   to   be   filled   and   destroyed.   

“ C’mere   … ”   he   mumbles,   as   softly   as   he   could,   hands   gripping   the   flesh   on   the   backs   of   his   thighs,   kneading   the   tender   and   abused   skin   as   he   pulls   him   into   his   lap.   The   tip   of   his   length   is   pressed   against   the   crevice   in   his   ass,   followed   with   a   languid   rocking   of   his   hips,   back   and   forth,   to   foster   the   budding   friction.   To   get   him   to   open   up   without   making   a   sound.   His   hand   acted   as   a   guide   as   he   pulled   Soap   apart,   sliding   the   head   of   his   cock   up   against   the   other   man’s   hole.   He   could   feel   the   fervent   warmth   and   the   coiling   tension   that   Johnny   emanated   only   for   him.   𝘕𝘰𝘸   𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘬,   he   tells   him,   wordlessly.   𝘐   𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵   𝘵𝘰   𝘴𝘦𝘦   𝘩𝘰𝘸   𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦   𝘺𝘰𝘶   𝘢𝘳𝘦.

[phasmasum]

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .

𝗦𝗛𝗘   𝗦𝗔𝗜𝗗   𝗛𝗘   𝗠𝗔𝗗𝗘   𝗛𝗘𝗥   𝗙𝗘𝗘𝗟   𝗦𝗔𝗙𝗘𝗥.   That   he   kept   the   nightmares   and   the   ghouls   trapped   beneath   the   bed   away.   The   startling   scarecrow   that   fended   off   a   sort   of   dread   that   only   paired   well   with   heavy,   tired   lids   finally   falling   shut.   Whether   or   not   they   fell   asleep   in   the   same   space,   she   somehow   always   winded   up   curled   and   tucked   away   in   his   arms.   She   had   always   looked   too   peaceful   for   him   to   even   consider   disturbing   her.

“ You   don't   have   to   sleep   in   your   mask,   you   know, ”      @peacedomain   says   quietly   as   they're   both   getting   ready   for   bed.   “ I'll   close   my   eyes  —   and   I   promise   I   won't   look. ”   A   pinky   finger   is   extended   towards   Ghost.   She   means   it.

The   suggestion   brings   him   to   a   halt,   head   lowered   as   he   stares   at   the   stack   of   blankets   he’d   been   unravelling,   breath   caught   in   the   fabric   of   the   mask.   𝘛𝘩𝘦   𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘬.   His   only   safeguard,   the   one   thing   that   separated   him   from   the   horrors   of   his   own   anxiety.   What   had   started   as   a   fear   tactic   had   turned   into   a   shield.   Something   to   push   the   deep   rooted   dysmorphia   onto   the   back   burner.   Churning   it   into   a   problem   he   no   longer   felt   the   need   to   confront   because   he   had   something   to   hide   behind.  

“   … That’s   gonna   be   a   negative,   princess.   Sorry. ”   Ghost   emitted   a   sigh,   and   though   he   didn't like   to   disappoint   her,   he   had   to   protect   himself   𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮   𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧,   first   and   foremost.   The   man   just   had   to   hope   she   wouldn’t   press   the   matter   any   further   as   he   continued   to   flatten   the   covers   down.   “ Sleepin’   with   me   tonight, yeah? ”

[phasmasum]

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .

“ Tonight is all about you. ” @siabann said.

𝐴𝑙𝑙   𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡   𝑦𝑜𝑢   …   there’s   a   raw,   unfiltered   determination   emanating   from   the   other   man,   causing   Ghost’s   breath   to   grow   thick   with   equal   parts   uncertainty   and   desire.   He’s   never   felt   so   centered   and   exposed,   never   been   one   to   put   himself   on   display   to   allow   his   own   pleasure   to   be   the   focal   point   of   someone’s   attention. His   brain   was   combative,   straining   against   the   idea   of   being   touched   (  𝙰𝙶𝙰𝙸𝙽  )   …   of   losing   control   and   handing   himself   over   to   someone   else.  

ㅤ( 𝙸𝚃   𝙷𝙰𝙳   𝚃𝙾   𝙱𝙴   𝙹𝙾𝙷𝙽𝙽𝚈.  𝙸𝚃   𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳   𝙾𝙽𝙻𝚈   𝙱𝙴   𝙹𝙾𝙷𝙽𝙽𝚈. )   

“ Right   … ”   Ghost   pauses,   maintaining   an   outward   composure   only   betrayed   by the   apprehension   in   his   gaze and the tension radiating through every muscle like an electric current.   Nobody   had   ever   cared   this   much.   Nobody   had   ever   cared   for   him   this   much.   Unable   and   unsure   of   where   to   place   all   the   love   he   harboured   in   the   cavernous   chest   that   protected   a   heart   that   had   been   squeezed   and   strained   and   broken,   over   and   over   again   since   childhood.   Now’s   not   the   time   to   think   about   that.   This   is   different.   𝘠𝘰𝘶   𝘢𝘳𝘦   𝘯𝘰   𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳   𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵   𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥,   𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥   𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦   𝘣𝘰𝘺   𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩   𝘯𝘰   𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭.   𝘏𝘦   𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴   𝘺𝘰𝘶.      

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“   ⸺   Give   it   your   best   shot,   then,   sweetheart. ” ㅤ

[phasmasum]

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .

𝗧𝗛𝗘   𝗗𝗔𝗬   𝗧𝗛𝗘   𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗟𝗗   𝗚𝗥𝗘𝗪   𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗟𝗟.   With   eyes   like   glass,   flickering   and   falling   shut   as   the   heat   was   slowly   leached   from   his   body   into   the   blood   drenched   grass   beneath   him.   Fingers   twitching   and   aching,   clammy   below   the   tactical   gloves   that   adorned   them,   Ghost   still   reached   out   to   brush   up   against   the   other   man’s   hand.   𝘎𝘦𝘵   𝘶𝘱.   𝘎𝘦𝘵   𝘶𝘱,   𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘳,   𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦   𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳   𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯   𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴.   𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳.   His   breath   is   thick   and   staggered,   trapped   underneath   the   mask   as   it   clings   to   paled   lips.   Inhale,   exhale.   Just   keep   breathing.  

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ( 𝚈𝙾𝚄   𝙲𝙰𝙽’𝚃   𝙶𝙾   𝙾𝚄𝚃   𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴   𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂. ) Frayed   nerve   endings   and   sheer   willpower   attempting   to   claw   its   way   out,   tooth   and   nail,   like   a   rabid   dog   fighting   against   its   restraints.   You   cannot   be   caged   into   death.   His   body   fights   succumbing   to   the   draining,   bullet   and   flame   induced   stupor,   clinging   to   the   last   shreds   of   life   while   some   smaller,   weaker   part   of   his   mind   had   to   admit   that   there   was   an   unfamiliar   peace   layered   in   amongst   the   pain.   With   waves   of   calm   lapping   between   stinging,   searing   affliction,   there   was   almost   a   strange   tranquility   to   be   found   in   letting   go.   How   easy   it   would   be   to   just   …   let   go,   if   he   were   somebody   else.   Someone   with   less   resolve,   less   spite   that   fuelled   him   to   keep   going.   ( 𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴𝙾𝙽𝙴   𝚆𝙷𝙾   𝙷𝙰𝙳𝙽’𝚃   𝙵𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳   𝙰   𝙷𝙾𝙼𝙴   𝙸𝙽   𝚃𝙷𝙴   𝙼𝙰𝙽   𝚃𝚁𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶   𝚃𝙾   𝙺𝙴𝙴𝙿   𝙷𝙸𝙼   𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴. )

‟You have to get up. Please get up.” @siabann says.

𝗬𝗢𝗨   𝗛𝗔𝗩𝗘   𝗧𝗢   𝗚𝗘𝗧   𝗨𝗣.   It’s   the   only   thing   he   hears,   alarm   bells   ringing   in   his   head.   Or   maybe   it’s   the   lingering   sound   of   the   gunshots   piercing   his   ear   drums.   No,   you   will   not   die   like   this.   Not   here.   Not   when   Johnny   is   wrapping   his   arms   around   your   pathetic,   crumpled   body   trying   to   keep   the   half - dead   corpse   from   growing   cold.   𝘠𝘰𝘶   𝘢𝘳𝘦   𝘯𝘰𝘵   𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥   𝘵𝘰   𝘥𝘪𝘦.

𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬   𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴.   It’s   the   only   coherent   thought   that   crosses   his   mind   as   he   saps   the   last   of   his   energy   to   lift   open   heavy   lids,   limbs   churning   into   lead   that   won’t   move. Steeled   fingers   curl  around   Soap’s   like   a   vice   grip.   Blood   spattering   against   the   fabric   of   his   mask   as   he   coughs,   the   motion   sends   searing,   white   hot   tendrils   of   pain   throughout   his   abdomen.   Blackened   blood   seeps   through   his   clothing   and   sticks   to   burnt   skin.   𝘎𝘦𝘵   𝘶𝘱.   𝘎𝘦𝘵   𝘵𝘩𝘦   𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬   𝘶𝘱.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‟ Fuckin' hell, Johnny   ⸺  ”

Would   those   be   your   last   words?   The   wretched   concept   crosses   Ghost's   mind,   as   Soap begins to   shoulder   his   weight, acting as his other half.   𝘜𝘱,   𝘶𝘱,   𝘶𝘱.  

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤHe   can’t   wear   your   dog   tags   just   yet.

ㅤ

[phasmasum]

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .

‟ That   all   you   got   in   you?   Pathetic. ”   The   sweltering   heat   beat   down   on   sweat   soaked   backs,   a   thin   shirt   clinging   to   his   skin   as   his   shoes   dug   into   the   synthetic   rubber   running   track   beneath   their   feet.   Lap   after   lap   after   lap,   a   relentless   routine   that   would   make   any   man   drop   to   his   knees   after   long   enough.   Ghost   was   far   from   impressed   with   all   he’d   witnessed   today;   the   willingness   to   just   give   up.   

‟ You go on ahead. I'll catch up in a minute. ” said @fairesky.

‟ No   man   left   behind,   Fair ...   not   even the   weak   ones   like   you. ”      The   taunting   that   falls   off   his   tongue   is   tied   into   the   rigorous   process   of   whipping   subordinates   into   shape,   with   every   intent   to   mold   them   into   impenetrable   weapons.   Steeled   persistence   and   thick   skin.   A   firm,   gloved   smack   connects   with   Zack’s   shoulder,   shoving   him   forward   on   the   track. ‟ Now,   c’mon,   c’mon,   c’mon!   Six   more   laps,   so   get   fucking   moving! ”

[phasmasum]

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .

@pseudowar : It's a bug. It's a man. It's a Roach reaching up to pull Ghost down so he can kiss him through his balaclava.

Thinly   veiled   lips   press   against   Roach’s   with   ease,   suddenly   feeling   as   though   there   was   far   too   much   of   a   barrier   between   them   and   he   couldn’t   stand   it.   Gritting   his   teeth   as   soon   as   they   separated,   jaw   clenched   tight   as   he   took   a   moment   to   pause.   Letting   the   cogs   in   his   brain   whir.   Eyes   flutter   open   nearly   a   second   later,   blank   gaze   settling   on   Roach.   

“ No. ”   Ghost   states   simply,   lifting   the   bottom   half   of   his   balaclava   until   the   hem   reached   just   below   his   nose.   Shifting   his   body   weight   forward,   he   catches   his   lips   in   yet   another   kiss.   One   with   less   of   a   barricade,   a   tinge   more   vulnerable.   A   hell   of   a   lot   better.

[phasmasum]

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .

“Why do they call you Ghost, if it’s all actually skeleton attire?” @facesblind asked.

𝗔𝗡   𝗘𝗫𝗛𝗔𝗨𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗗   𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗛.   𝘍𝘰𝘳   𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬’𝘴   𝘴𝘢𝘬𝘦.   He   was   not   in   the   mood   for   this,   and   highly   doubted   he   ever   would   be.   Ghost   inhales   sharply   beneath   the   cover   of   his   mask,   even   the   gloves   slipped   over   his   hands   mimicking   skeletal   anatomy.   Dark   eyes   nearly   roll   to   the   back   of   his   head,   and   he’s   over   this   conversation   before   it’s   even   begun.    “ Clever.   Never   heard   that   one   before. ”   His   delivery   is   deadpan,   derisive   and   mocking.  

“ Nearly   died   and   came   back   more   times   than   you   got   fuckin’   fingers,   and   my job   sneaking   in   and   out   of   places   without   being   seen,   so.   Ghost.   Done   asking   stupid   questions,   or   is   being   annoying   your   whole fuckin' thing? ”

[phasmasum]

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .

@croftborn : LAP ... FOR THE SENDER TO SIT ON THE RECEIVER’S LAP.

There’s   a   sharp   inhale   sucked   between   his   teeth   as   Lara   eases   into   his   lap   with   complete   precision,   arms   draped   over   his   shoulders   as   though   she’s   on   the   hunt   and   he   was   her   chosen   prey.   His   chest   rising   and   falling   with   each   breath,   Simon   could   already   feel   something   undeniable   stirring   deep   in   the   pit   of   his   stomach.   It’s   mission   accomplished,   despite   the   fact   that   he’s   barely   been   touched.   All   she   really   had   to   do   was   look   at   him,   because   he   had   the   distinct   inability   to   ignore   his   attraction.   The   mother   of   his   child,   drawn   to   her   like   she   was   a   magnet.   Flame   for   a   moth,   flitting   around   and   desperately   aching   for   her   light.

His   hands   form   a   steady   grip   on   her   hips,   fingers   scaling   up   the   curvature   of   her   waist   with   a   delicate   touch.   Memorising   the   shape   as   he’d   done   a   thousand   times   before.   Darkened   gaze   locks   on   to   hers,   a   smile   latching   itself   on   to   his   features.   Involuntary,   but   welcomed   nonetheless.   “ Can   I   help   you? ”   

Bit   of   a   tease,   paired   with   some   follow   through   as   his   lips   make   way   to   her   neck   like   a   goddamn   vampire.   There’s   a   certain   tenderness   to   the   way   he   takes   in   the   taste   of   her   skin.   Before   it   inevitably   becomes   a   cacophony   of   black   and   blue,   like   flowers   blooming   beneath   the   surface.   Palms   squeeze   Lara’s   sides   before   sliding   towards   the   centre   of   her   back   to   pull   her   into   a   deeper   embrace,   and   there’s   a   need   ( 𝙽𝙾𝚃   𝙰   𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃 )   to   hold   her   captive,   as   close   as   humanly   possible.

“ Sammy’s   asleep,   so   I’d   say   we’ve   got   some   time,   hm? ”   Sultry   whispers   carved   into   the   collarbone,   spreading   kisses   down,   down,   down   …   along   her   chest,   with   the   intention   of   covering   every   square   inch   if   permitted.   God,   he   loved   this   woman. 

[phasmasum]

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .

“ No   way.   The   deal’s   off. ” @felinoir said.

“ 𝗗𝗢𝗡’𝗧   𝗕𝗘   𝗦𝗨𝗖𝗛   𝗔   𝗙𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚   𝗖𝗢𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗗.   Laswell   is   holding   up   her   end   of   the   bargain,   you   better   hold   up   yours. ”   

There   was   only   a   certain   threshold   of   respect   that   Ghost   could   maintain   when   it   came   to   Felicia   Hardy.   She   was   the   best   at   what   she   does,   there   wasn’t   a   soul   occupying   the   planet   that   could   deny   this,   even   if   she   was   the   furthest   thing   from   reliable.   Self   serving,   arrogant   at   her   core,   and   easily   spooked.   Ghost   could   practically   see   the   invisible   hairs   raising   along   her   spine   …   a   black   cat   hunched   over   with   fur   fluffed   up   in   fear.  

“ You   either   get   the   information   we   need,   or   we   cut   the   whole   deal   off.   You   got   a   hell   of   a   lot   of   resources   at   your   disposal,   there’s   no   fucking   reason   you   can’t   do   this. ”

Because   he   knows   for   a   fact   that   she’d   done   worse.   Heard   whispers   in   the   wind   of   her   contributions   to   whatever   cause   Laswell   had   tucked   away   under   her   belt.   𝘈𝘯   𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘵,   she   had   called   Felicia.   But   as   far   as   Ghost   was   concerned,   she   was   more   like   a   broken,   useless   pawn   too   frightened   to   make   a   move   across   this   landmine   of   a   chessboard.

Hell,   Ghost   had   done   worse   himself.   Seen   things   that   should   have   terrified   him   to   his   core,   and   it   had   all   rolled   off   like   water   off   a   duck’s   back.   He   never   left   a   stone   unturned,   never   gave   up   on   a   task   laid   before   him.   If   he   could   instill   even   half   of   the   willpower   he   possessed   unto   her,   she   might   be   a   little   less   fucking   agitating.

[phasmasum]

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .

“ … I don’t like priests. ” @facesblind says.

“ 𝗢𝗡𝗟𝗬   𝗚𝗢𝗢𝗗   𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦𝗧   𝗜𝗦   𝗔   𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗗   𝗢𝗡𝗘, ”   Ghost   speaks   with   an   impressive   ease,   his version of a joke   casually   falling   from   his   lips   despite   the   surrounding   carnage.   

“   ⸺   That’s   a   good   priest. ”   He   says,   gesturing   towards   the   corpse   splayed   across   the   floor,   collar   stained   with   blood,   eyes   tilted   up   towards   an   elaborate   ceiling   boasting   depictions   of   the   alleged   angels   in   Heaven.   𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦   𝘪𝘴   𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳   𝘎𝘰𝘥   𝘯𝘰𝘸?   He   wonders   if   in   his   final   moments,   the   man   took   the   time   to   pray.   To   beg   someone,   something   for   mercy   that   Ghost   was   unwilling   to   provide.   

One   extra   shot,   just   to   be   sure.   Square   between   the   eyes,   now   having   been   double,   triple,   quadruple   tapped   and   all   Ghost   was   left   with   was   an   empty   clip   and   a   sick   sense   of   satisfaction.   

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ Feel   better   now? ”