#Fast Visa Processing

[abcintern]

Quick and Hassle-Free E-Visa Solutions

Get fast and reliable e-visa solutions for your international travel. Enjoy a smooth application process with expert support.

[royalthorned]

why is getting to america so scary

[calyroco]

The portal isn't as funny as a door to door salesman curse

Aaaaand one more cos I'm having fun with the emojis

[egyptevisaonline]

Optimal Platforms to Obtain Your Egypt Visa

Getting a visa for Egypt should feel easy and secure. Let us show you the best places online where your visa application becomes simple, quick, and reliable.

Why Selecting the Right Visa Provider is Essential

Picture yourself experiencing Egypt with its ancient pyramids, colourful markets, and relaxing Nile cruises. But first, you need your visa. With Egypt having opened its eVisa system to 78 nationalities, paperwork can now be managed from home. However, portals vary: there are those that provide clear instructions and live assistance, and then those that slow you down with jargon and waiting. Hence, using the right platform for your application helps your holiday start off trouble-free. Speedy processing, efficient handling, and clear instructions are what you seek.

Here are the most recommended platforms that seasoned travellers trust for their Egypt visas:

Ranking Websites for Your Egypt Visa Application

Egypt-eVisa.net

Egypt-eVisa.net excels with its easy-to-use interface and helpful customer service. Completing your application is quick—usually under ten minutes. Just verify your details carefully, and you’re good to go!

Egypt-eta.com

Detailed instructions and frequent status updates make Egypt-eta.com popular. You'll always know exactly where your application stands, and their customer support is quick to respond and assist you.

Visa-to-Travel.com

Visa-to-Travel.com offers a hassle-free online application experience. Ideal for new travelers, their simple form and valuable travel tips ensure you're ready not just for visa approval but also for your Egypt adventure.

Visa2Egypt.gov.eg

Visa2Egypt.gov.eg, the official government portal, provides dependable and straightforward visa services. This official platform offers confidence and reliability directly from the Egyptian government.

Four Moves to Secure Your eVisa

Sign up. Use the exact passport spelling—avoid nicknames.

Attach files. Upload a crisp passport scan and recent photo.

Pay confidently. Confirm charges and keep the confirmation email.

Save copies. Email the PDF to yourself and tuck a printout with your tickets.

Essential Tips for a Hassle-Free Visa Application

Ensure your visa application is smooth:

Check passport validity carefully.

Have digital copies of necessary documents ready.

Monitor your email frequently after applying.

Looking for embassy addresses? Visit Embassy and Consulate Information quickly for accurate locations.

Field Notes 

“I have crossed Egypt’s borders more times than I can count. My latest application through Egypt-eVisa.net clocked in at eight minutes!” - Paul (United Kingdom)

At-a-Glance Visa Facts

Tourist eVisa = single and multiple entry options, 30-day stay. 

Select GCC and Asian travellers skip the fee.

Overstay fines accrue daily—better spent on fresh mango juice.

Frequently Asked Questions

How soon will my Egypt eVisa be ready? Typically within 5-7 working days.

Are these online visa services trustworthy? Definitely. These platforms are trusted by thousands of satisfied travelers.

What should I do if I spot an error after submission? Contact customer support immediately—they’re quick to help.

Can i make an overnight transit?  Opt for a tourist eVisa; transit visas cover eight hours tops.

Can I extend my visit after arrival in Egypt?Yes, visit the immigration office in Cairo to arrange an extension.

[kaurimmigration]

ਰਾਜਦੀਪ ਕੌਰ ਚੱਲੀ ਸਪਾਊਸ ਵੀਜ਼ੇ ਤੇ ਕੈਨੇਡਾ। ਪੱਤੀ ਸੱਲੋ, ਪਿੰਡ ਬੱਧਨੀ ਕਲਾਂ, ਜਿਲ੍ਹਾ ਮੋਗਾ ਦੀ ਰਹਿਣ ਵਾਲੀ ਰਾਜਦੀਪ ਕੌਰ ਪਤਨੀ ਪ੍ਰਤਾਪ ਸਿੰਘ ਸਿੱਧੂ ਨੂੰ ਕੌਰ ਇੰਮੀਗ੍ਰੇਸ਼ਨ ਦੀ ਸਲਾਹ ਨਾਲ 3 ਮਹੀਨੇ ਤੇ 22 ਦ��ਨਾਂ ‘ਚ ਮਿਲਿਆ  ਕੈਨੇਡਾ ਦਾ ਸਪਾਊਸ  ਵੀਜ਼ਾ। ਰਾਜਦੀਪ ਕੌਰ ਦਾ ਪਤੀ (ਪ੍ਰਤਾਪ ਸਿੰਘ ਸਿੱਧੂ) ਕੇਨੈਡਾ ਵਿਚ ਵਰਕ ਪਰਮਿਟ ‘ਤੇ ਹੈ । ਰਾਜਦੀਪ ਕੌਰ ਨੇ ਆਪਣ�� ਸਪਾਊਸ ਵੀਜ਼ੇ ਦੀ ਫਾਈਲ ਕੌਰ ਇੰਮੀਗ੍ਰੇਸ਼ਨ ਦੀ ਟੀਮ ਦੀ ਸਲਾਹ ਨਾਲ ਤਿਆਰ ਕਰਕੇ 9 ਨਵੰਬਰ 2024 ਨੂੰ ਅੰਬੈਂਸੀ ਵਿਚ ਲਗਾਈ ਤੇ 26 ਫਰਵਰੀ 2025 ਨੂੰ ਵੀਜ਼ਾ ਆ  ਗਿਆ । ਰਾਜਦੀਪ ਕੌਰ ਆਪਣੇ ਪਤੀ ਕੋਲ ਕੈਨਡਾ ਦੇ ਸ਼ਹਿਰ Edmonton, Alberta ਵਿਚ ਜਾ ਰਹੀ ਹੈ । ਰਿਫਿਊਜ਼ਲਾਂ(Refusals):- ਕੋਈ ਰਿਫਿਊਜ਼ਲ ਨਹੀ । ਪੜ੍ਹਾਈ(Education):- 2015 ਵਿੱਚ ਬੈਚਲਰ ਆਫ਼ ਆਰਟਸ ਨਾਲ ਪਾਸ ਕੀਤੀ ਸੀ। ਕੌਰ ਇੰਮੀਗ੍ਰੇਸ਼ਨ ਦੀ ਟੀਮ ਵੱਲੋਂ ਰਾਜਦੀਪ ਕੌਲ ਨੂੰ ਟਰੱਕ ਭਰ ਕੇ ਵਧਾਈਆਂ। #studyincanada #studyabroad #CanadaImmigration #studyinbritishcolumbia #studentrecruitment #kaurimmigrationservices #studentspousevisacanadatogether #spousevisa #studypermitcanada

[palaky]

Best Tips to Get Your Europe Tourist Visa Approved Quickly

Planning a trip to Europe? A Europe Tourist Visa is a must! "Best Tips to Get Your Europe Tourist Visa Approved Quickly" shares expert strategies for a faster approval.

[victusinveritas]

Story below the cut to avoid a paywall.

There was no explanation, no warning. One minute, I was in an immigration office talking to an officer about my work visa, which had been approved months before and allowed me, a Canadian, to work in the US. The next, I was told to put my hands against the wall, and patted down like a criminal before being sent to an Ice detention center without the chance to talk to a lawyer.

I grew up in Whitehorse, Yukon, a small town in the northernmost part of Canada. I always knew I wanted to do something bigger with my life. I left home early and moved to Vancouver, British Columbia, where I built a career spanning multiple industries �� acting in film and television, owning bars and restaurants, flipping condos and managing Airbnbs.

In my 30s, I found my true passion working in the health and wellness industry. I was given the opportunity to help launch an American brand of health tonics called Holy! Water – a job that would involve moving to the US.

I was granted my trade Nafta work visa, which allows Canadian and Mexican citizens to work in the US in specific professional occupations, on my second attempt. It goes without saying, then, that I have no criminal record. I also love the US and consider myself to be a kind, hard-working person.

I started working in California and travelled back and forth between Canada and the US multiple times without any complications – until one day, upon returning to the US, a border officer questioned me about my initial visa denial and subsequent visa approval. He asked why I had gone to the San Diego border the second time to apply. I explained that that was where my lawyer’s offices were, and that he had wanted to accompany me to ensure there were no issues.

After a long interrogation, the officer told me it seemed “shady” and that my visa hadn’t been properly processed. He claimed I also couldn’t work for a company in the US that made use of hemp – one of the beverage ingredients. He revoked my visa, and told me I could still work for the company from Canada, but if I wanted to return to the US, I would need to reapply.

I was devastated; I had just started building a life in California. I stayed in Canada for the next few months, and was eventually offered a similar position with a different health and wellness brand.

I restarted the visa process and returned to the same immigration office at the San Diego border, since they had processed my visa before and I was familiar with it. Hours passed, with many confused opinions about my case. The officer I spoke to was kind but told me that, due to my previous issues, I needed to apply for my visa through the consulate. I told her I hadn’t been aware I needed to apply that way, but had no problem doing it.

Then she said something strange: “You didn’t do anything wrong. You are not in trouble, you are not a criminal.”

I remember thinking: Why would she say that? Of course I’m not a criminal!

She then told me they had to send me back to Canada. That didn’t concern me; I assumed I would simply book a flight home. But as I sat searching for flights, a man approached me.

“Come with me,” he said.

There was no explanation, no warning. He led me to a room, took my belongings from my hands and ordered me to put my hands against the wall. A woman immediately began patting me down. The commands came rapid-fire, one after another, too fast to process.

They took my shoes and pulled out my shoelaces.

“What are you doing? What is happening?” I asked.

“You are being detained.”

“I don’t understand. What does that mean? For how long?”

“I don’t know.”

That would be the response to nearly every question I would ask over the next two weeks: “I don’t know.”

They brought me downstairs for a series of interviews and medical questions, searched my bags and told me I had to get rid of half my belongings because I couldn’t take everything with me.

“Take everything with me where?” I asked.

A woman asked me for the name of someone they could contact on my behalf. In moments like this, you realize you don’t actually know anyone’s phone number anymore. By some miracle, I had recently memorized my best friend Britt’s number because I had been putting my grocery points on her account.

I gave them her phone number.

They handed me a mat and a folded-up sheet of aluminum foil.

“What is this?”

“Your blanket.”

“I don’t understand.”

I was taken to a tiny, freezing cement cell with bright fluorescent lights and a toilet. There were five other women lying on their mats with the aluminum sheets wrapped over them, looking like dead bodies. The guard locked the door behind me.

For two days, we remained in that cell, only leaving briefly for food. The lights never turned off, we never knew what time it was and no one answered our questions. No one in the cell spoke English, so I either tried to sleep or meditate to keep from having a breakdown. I didn’t trust the food, so I fasted, assuming I wouldn’t be there long.

On the third day, I was finally allowed to make a phone call. I called Britt and told her that I didn’t understand what was happening, that no one would tell me when I was going home, and that she was my only contact.

They gave me a stack of paperwork to sign and told me I was being given a five-year ban unless I applied for re-entry through the consulate. The officer also said it didn’t matter whether I signed the papers or not; it was happening regardless.

I was so delirious that I just signed. I told them I would pay for my flight home and asked when I could leave.

No answer.

Then they moved me to another cell – this time with no mat or blanket. I sat on the freezing cement floor for hours. That’s when I realized they were processing me into real jail: the Otay Mesa Detention Center.

I was told to shower, given a jail uniform, fingerprinted and interviewed. I begged for information.

“How long will I be here?”

“I don’t know your case,” the man said. “Could be days. Could be weeks. But I’m telling you right now – you need to mentally prepare yourself for months.”

Months.

I felt like I was going to throw up.

I was taken to the nurse’s office for a medical check. She asked what had happened to me. She had never seen a Canadian there before. When I told her my story, she grabbed my hand and said: “Do you believe in God?”

I told her I had only recently found God, but that I now believed in God more than anything.

“I believe God brought you here for a reason,” she said. “I know it feels like your life is in a million pieces, but you will be OK. Through this, I think you are going to find a way to help others.”

At the time, I didn’t know what that meant. She asked if she could pray for me. I held her hands and wept.

I felt like I had been sent an angel.

I was then placed in a real jail unit: two levels of cells surrounding a common area, just like in the movies. I was put in a tiny cell alone with a bunk bed and a toilet.

The best part: there were blankets. After three days without one, I wrapped myself in mine and finally felt some comfort.

For the first day, I didn’t leave my cell. I continued fasting, terrified that the food might make me sick. The only available water came from the tap attached to the toilet in our cells or a sink in the common area, neither of which felt safe to drink.

Eventually, I forced myself to step out, meet the guards and learn the rules. One of them told me: “No fighting.”

“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” I joked. He laughed.

I asked if there had ever been a fight here.

“In this unit? No,” he said. “No one in this unit has a criminal record.”

That’s when I started meeting the other women.

That’s when I started hearing their stories.

And that’s when I made a decision: I would never allow myself to feel sorry for my situation again. No matter how hard this was, I had to be grateful. Because every woman I met was in an even more difficult position than mine.

There were around 140 of us in our unit. Many women had lived and worked in the US legally for years but had overstayed their visas – often after reapplying and being denied. They had all been detained without warning.

If someone is a criminal, I agree they should be taken off the streets. But not one of these women had a criminal record. These women acknowledged that they shouldn’t have overstayed and took responsibility for their actions. But their frustration wasn’t about being held accountable; it was about the endless, bureaucratic limbo they had been trapped in.

The real issue was how long it took to get out of the system, with no clear answers, no timeline and no way to move forward. Once deported, many have no choice but to abandon everything they own because the cost of shipping their belongings back is too high.

I met a woman who had been on a road trip with her husband. She said they had 10-year work visas. While driving near the San Diego border, they mistakenly got into a lane leading to Mexico. They stopped and told the agent they didn’t have their passports on them, expecting to be redirected. Instead, they were detained. They are both pastors.

I met a family of three who had been living in the US for 11 years with work authorizations. They paid taxes and were waiting for their green cards. Every year, the mother had to undergo a background check, but this time, she was told to bring her whole family. When they arrived, they were taken into custody and told their status would now be processed from within the detention center.

Another woman from Canada had been living in the US with her husband who was detained after a traffic stop. She admitted she had overstayed her visa and accepted that she would be deported. But she had been stuck in the system for almost six weeks because she hadn’t had her passport. Who runs casual errands with their passport?

One woman had a 10-year visa. When it expired, she moved back to her home country, Venezuela. She admitted she had overstayed by one month before leaving. Later, she returned for a vacation and entered the US without issue. But when she took a domestic flight from Miami to Los Angeles, she was picked up by Ice and detained. She couldn’t be deported because Venezuela wasn’t accepting deportees. She didn’t know when she was getting out.

There was a girl from India who had overstayed her student visa for three days before heading back home. She then came back to the US on a new, valid visa to finish her master’s degree and was handed over to Ice due to the three days she had overstayed on her previous visa.

There were women who had been picked up off the street, from outside their workplaces, from their homes. All of these women told me that they had been detained for time spans ranging from a few weeks to 10 months. One woman’s daughter was outside the detention center protesting for her release.

That night, the pastor invited me to a service she was holding. A girl who spoke English translated for me as the women took turns sharing their prayers – prayers for their sick parents, for the children they hadn’t seen in weeks, for the loved ones they had been torn away from.

Then, unexpectedly, they asked if they could pray for me. I was new here, and they wanted to welcome me. They formed a circle around me, took my hands and prayed. I had never felt so much love, energy and compassion from a group of strangers in my life. Everyone was crying.

At 3am the next day, I was woken up in my cell.

“Pack your bag. You’re leaving.”

I jolted upright. “I get to go home?”

The officer shrugged. “I don’t know where you’re going.”

Of course. No one ever knew anything.

I grabbed my things and went downstairs, where 10 other women stood in silence, tears streaming down their faces. But these weren’t happy tears. That was the moment I learned the term “transferred”.

For many of these women, detention centers had become a twisted version of home. They had formed bonds, established routines and found slivers of comfort in the friendships they had built. Now, without warning, they were being torn apart and sent somewhere new. Watching them say goodbye, clinging to each other, was gut-wrenching.

I had no idea what was waiting for me next. In hindsight, that was probably for the best.

Our next stop was Arizona, the San Luis Regional Detention Center. The transfer process lasted 24 hours, a sleepless, grueling ordeal. This time, men were transported with us. Roughly 50 of us were crammed into a prison bus for the next five hours, packed together – women in the front, men in the back. We were bound in chains that wrapped tightly around our waists, with our cuffed hands secured to our bodies and shackles restraining our feet, forcing every movement into a slow, clinking struggle.

When we arrived at our next destination, we were forced to go through the entire intake process all over again, with medical exams, fingerprinting – and pregnancy tests; they lined us up in a filthy cell, squatting over a communal toilet, holding Dixie cups of urine while the nurse dropped pregnancy tests in each of our cups. It was disgusting.

We sat in freezing-cold jail cells for hours, waiting for everyone to be processed. Across the room, one of the women suddenly spotted her husband. They had both been detained and were now seeing each other for the first time in weeks.

The look on her face – pure love, relief and longing – was something I’ll never forget.

We were beyond exhausted. I felt like I was hallucinating.

The guard tossed us each a blanket: “Find a bed.”

There were no pillows. The room was ice cold, and one blanket wasn’t enough. Around me, women lay curled into themselves, heads covered, looking like a room full of corpses. This place made the last jail feel like the Four Seasons.

I kept telling myself: Do not let this break you.

Thirty of us shared one room. We were given one Styrofoam cup for water and one plastic spoon that we had to reuse for every meal. I eventually had to start trying to eat and, sure enough, I got sick. None of the uniforms fit, and everyone had men’s shoes on. The towels they gave us to shower were hand towels. They wouldn’t give us more blankets. The fluorescent lights shined on us 24/7.

Everything felt like it was meant to break you. Nothing was explained to us. I wasn’t given a phone call. We were locked in a room, no daylight, with no idea when we would get out.

I tried to stay calm as every fiber of my being raged towards panic mode. I didn’t know how I would tell Britt where I was. Then, as if sent from God, one of the women showed me a tablet attached to the wall where I could send emails. I only remembered my CEO’s email from memory. I typed out a message, praying he would see it.

He responded.

Through him, I was able to connect with Britt. She told me that they were working around the clock trying to get me out. But no one had any answers; the system made it next to impossible. I told her about the conditions in this new place, and that was when we decided to go to the media.

She started working with a reporter and asked whether I would be able to call her so she could loop him in. The international phone account that Britt had previously tried to set up for me wasn’t working, so one of the other women offered to let me use her phone account to make the call.

We were all in this together.

With nothing to do in my cell but talk, I made new friends – women who had risked everything for the chance at a better life for themselves and their families.

Through them, I learned the harsh reality of seeking asylum. Showing me their physical scars, they explained how they had paid smugglers anywhere from $20,000 to $60,000 to reach the US border, enduring brutal jungles and horrendous conditions.

One woman had been offered asylum in Mexico within two weeks but had been encouraged to keep going to the US. Now, she was stuck, living in a nightmare, separated from her young children for months. She sobbed, telling me how she felt like the worst mother in the world.

Many of these women were highly educated and spoke multiple languages. Yet, they had been advised to pretend they didn’t speak English because it would supposedly increase their chances of asylum.

Some believed they were being used as examples, as warnings to others not to try to come.

Women were starting to panic in this new facility, and knowing I was most likely the first person to get out, they wrote letters and messages for me to send to their families.

It felt like we had all been kidnapped, thrown into some sort of sick psychological experiment meant to strip us of every ounce of strength and dignity.

We were from different countries, spoke different languages and practiced different religions. Yet, in this place, none of that mattered. Everyone took care of each other. Everyone shared food. Everyone held each other when someone broke down. Everyone fought to keep each other’s hope alive.

I got a message from Britt. My story had started to blow up in the media.

Almost immediately after, I was told I was being released.

My Ice agent, who had never spoken to me, told my lawyer I could have left sooner if I had signed a withdrawal form, and that they hadn’t known I would pay for my own flight home.

From the moment I arrived, I begged every officer I saw to let me pay for my own ticket home. Not a single one of them ever spoke to me about my case.

To put things into perspective: I had a Canadian passport, lawyers, resources, media attention, friends, family and even politicians advocating for me. Yet, I was still detained for nearly two weeks.

Imagine what this system is like for every other person in there.

A small group of us were transferred back to San Diego at 2am – one last road trip, once again shackled in chains. I was then taken to the airport, where two officers were waiting for me. The media was there, so the officers snuck me in through a side door, trying to avoid anyone seeing me in restraints. I was beyond grateful that, at the very least, I didn’t have to walk through the airport in chains.

To my surprise, the officers escorting me were incredibly kind, and even funny. It was the first time I had laughed in weeks.

I asked if I could put my shoelaces back on.

“Yes,” one of them said with a grin. “But you better not run.”

“Yeah,” the other added. “Or we’ll have to tackle you in the airport. That’ll really make the headlines.”

I laughed, then told them I had spent a lot of time observing the guards during my detention and I couldn’t believe how often I saw humans treating other humans with such disregard. “But don’t worry,” I joked. “You two get five stars.”

When I finally landed in Canada, my mom and two best friends were waiting for me. So was the media. I spoke to them briefly, numb and delusional from exhaustion.

It was surreal listening to my friends recount everything they had done to get me out: working with lawyers, reaching out to the media, making endless calls to detention centers, desperately trying to get through to Ice or anyone who could help. They said the entire system felt rigged, designed to make it nearly impossible for anyone to get out.

The reality became clear: Ice detention isn’t just a bureaucratic nightmare. It’s a business. These facilities are privately owned and run for profit.

Companies like CoreCivic and GEO Group receive government funding based on the number of people they detain, which is why they lobby for stricter immigration policies. It’s a lucrative business: CoreCivic made over $560m from Ice contracts in a single year. In 2024, GEO Group made more than $763m from Ice contracts.

The more detainees, the more money they make. It stands to reason that these companies have no incentive to release people quickly. What I had experienced was finally starting to make sense.

[mirasmaachennai]

"Fast Visa Processing in India"

"Dreaming of studying abroad, working overseas, or traveling the world? 🌏 Start with a visa consultant you can trust. Mirasvisa Services – #1 in Bangalore & Chennai for hassle-free visa solutions. Get your visa on time, every time!"

[arabiersdelhi]

Looking for a trusted visa agency to simplify your visa application process? Learn how to select the best visa agency, avoid scams, and ensure a smooth, stress-free experience. From tourist to work visas, this guide offers insights into services, costs, and essential tips for choosing the right visa agency for your international travel needs.

[shivangeasyvisa]

How Shivang Easy Visa Can Help You Get Your Visa Faster

[jksarchives]

volume 3

[ 35/35 ]

ᯓᡣ𐭩

❖ proposal — by @hansolmates

Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse. | 20.1k [f, a]

❖ magic stick — by @badbtssmut

Jungkook is kinda sad because he has never been with a girl who could take him balls deep because of his size, reader doesn't believe him and she wants to see, but he tells her that he can't atm bc he's not hard. She is wearing this kinda halter top style with no bra so she looses the top and shows her tits to him and let's him touch them. After he's hard he shows her his dick and she says she's willing to try to take it all and she rides him into the sunset. | ? [s]

❖ crazy — by @girlygguk

you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that’s when you realized... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook. | 15.5k [s, f, a]

❖ we are all dreamers — by @yoonia

Jeon Jungkook is a cocky bastard. Not only does he have the pride and insolence twice the size of his head, but he also has an anger that could open up the door to hell on itself. As he continues to refuse to believe on the soulmate system, he keeps on unknowingly hurting you, punishing you for what the universe has thrown at him in the past. Would he change his ways as he finally meets you? Or would you run away, giving him the exit that he had seemed to desire so greatly? | 16.5k [a, s]

❖ comfort inn ending — by @joonbird

“It was you who Jungkook gave his heart to- that is, until the day you broke it. And it is you now, hoping that some faultlines can be repaired, and that some broken hearts can be put back together again.” | series [a, s]

❖ angel’s trumpet — by @hansolmates

one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. | series [ a, f, s]

❖ the habits of a broken heart — by @softykooky

jungkook and you are soulmates. so says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. however, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak. | 26.3k [a, f]

❖ animal — by @cutaepatootie

series [a, s]

❖ a fallen bookmark on a thursday afternoon — by @cutaepatootie

He came to you like the air comes into the train station after the fast arriving of the machine. It comes fast and unexpected, making you hoist your head to look at the long vehicle and the people inside. It is so fast you can't even distinguish the different wagons. As the train comes to a stop, the wind that it creates plays with your hair, leaving you breathless. That's how Jeon Jungkook came into your life. | 19k [a, f, s]

❖ scattered stars — by @taegularities

It’s easy to despise Jungkook when your contradicting magic doesn’t allow you to touch each other without fatal consequences - but what if your eternal enemy turns out to be your soulmate with whom you, unfortunately, do fall in love? | 17.9k [f, a, s]

❖ welcome to the heartbreak show — by @numinousher

you’re in love with your partner in class that everyone fears (and loves) due to his stoic facial expression and the way he rejects girls rather harshly. as you get to know him, will he be able to handle your heart that you so willingly gave him to care for or, will he break it due to his hatred for people who are in love with him? | 28k [a, f]

❖ mutt — by @letsbangts

when you realize you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. | 6k [s, a]

❖ answer your phone — by @letsbangts

when the consequences of his actions come calling. — 12.8k [a, s]

❖ the love prognosis — by @awrkive

for as long as you can remember, you've always been a hopeless romantic. the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time. | series [f, a, s]

❖ lie with you — by @girlygguk

in which jungkook doesn't realize what he has until he just about loses it. | 8.4k [a, f]

❖ out of gas? — by @97kuu

It was a setup between Taejoon and Jungkook to get him to hook up with you in the car. However, his guilty heart and physical desire revealed that he wanted more than what he was willing to confess that night.. | 3k [s]

❖ ordinary things — by @lovieku

after a lost match, jeongguk’s only source of comfort is you. | 6.9k [a, f]

❖ cosmic balance — by @explicit-tae

Every universal realm has a positive and negative - good or bad. Jungkook manages to cross the portal from his dystopian world to your utopian one and decides that he'd do anything to stay with you. | 8.7k [a, s, f]

❖ seven storms — by @wintaerbaer

As a young woman of considerable wealth, it has always been your father's expectation that you would marry one of the local aristocrats once you came of age. Your family's stable hand? Certainly not an option. | 9k [a, s, f]

❖ first class— by @girlygguk

in which you are just another spoiled, bitchy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby who has everyone at Yonsei University eating from the palm of your hand. and jeon jungkook, your spoiled, fuck-boy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby best friend, is always first in line to take a bite. | 25k [a, f, s]

❖ when she loved me — by @jungkookstatts

How does one live when life is bound to end? | 11.2k [a, s]

❖ staged for the season — by @voyter

Going back home for the holidays meant facing his ex — the one he still couldn’t let go of. determined to win her back and spark a little jealousy, he brought you along… as his fake girlfriend. — 18.3k [f, s, a]

❖ guilty as sin — by @gldrushh

You are stuck in time, and Jungkook doesn't stop running from it until he eventually does, and you learn that grief doesn’t wait for death, that love isn't all that dignifying. — 17.3k [a, s]

❖ mature — by @jiminrings

The good thing about professing your feelings to jungkook is that it'd be over with, whether or not he likes you back — the bad thing is that he rejects you, even if you haven't confessed. — 8k [f, a]

❖ 6 AM — by @neimaami

Jungkook wakes you up at 6AM for more than just morning cuddles. — 4k [s]

❖ year 22 — @rkived

‘‘I knew you’d be standing in my front porch light, and I knew you’d come back to me.’‘ — 11.5k [a, f, s]

❖ tangled webs — @ughseoks

Soulmates are tricky thing. Not everyone is lucky enough to have their destinies intertwined with their missing piece. Signs come in dreams for those fortunate souls; short bursts that are barely memorable when the sun rises. As for you? Flashes of red and blue are your only indicators to the identity of your other half. — 14.1k [a, f]

❖ fighting hearts — @kooktrash

Never living a life of luxury, Jungkook does what he has to do to make ends-meet. right now that means fighting in underground clubs, getting beat black and blue until he wins. he knows there’s a better life out there for him but he never let himself think about it. until you came along and suddenly a weight is being lifted off his shoulders letting you through his guarded walls. you’re everything he needed and you make him want to fight for more. — 15k [a, s, f]

❖ a thousand reasons why — @taegularities

After leaving to work towards his dream rather than the bonds that shackle him to home, you didn't expect to see Jungkook again years later at your best friend's wedding. And even less, for love to rekindle at second glance. — 43.1k [a, f, s]

❖ can’t be without you — @ahundredtimesover

One night you’re gushing over rom-coms and Jungkook’s cooking; a few nights later you’re tending to his beat-up face. But while it’s his stubbornness that’s saved you countless times before, it’s that same quality that constantly puts him in danger. OR your best friend just can’t let go of underground fighting and so, drama ensues. — 30.4K [f, a, s]

❖ tangled thoughts — @hongcherry

It wasn’t easy to leave your boyfriend of two years, but the constant lies made you question your relationship. You tried to move on, but you were somehow constantly tangled in his web. After being captured by an unknown, yet familiar, enemy, Jungkook wondered if he was doing the right thing by keeping his secret identity from you. Was it too late to come clean? — 10.5k [a, f]

❖ warning signs — by @hongcherry

Spider-Man is a beacon of hope for most residents in Seoul; although, it causes you to feel a little useless to society. With determination to be a change in the world like your masked boyfriend, you find yourself involved in a secluded organization meant to eradicate underground gangs. However, you’re deeper than you expected—leaving Jungkook trying to discover who this ‘new you’ is alone. — series [a, f]

❖ kiss me better — by @jaykaysthicthighs

Jungkook said some really mean things to you when you started coming home so late. when he realizes how horrible he was, he tried making it up to you. — 4k [a, f]

❖ disney+ & blast — by @1kook

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. — 13k [f, a, s]

❖ blackjack — by @kpopfanfictrash

Bangtan is one of the most vicious mafias on the west coast. Only six members are known by name though, with a mysterious seventh member dubbed only as ‘the shadow.’ When you become indebted to the worst of the worst – how, exactly can you find a way out? — series [s, a, f]

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[gholhuio]

Discovering China: My Experience with the 144-Hour Visa-Free Transit Policy

As a traveler always on the lookout for new adventures, I recently embarked on a journey to China that exceeded all my expectations. With the country's 144-hour visa-free transit policy in place, I felt an irresistible urge to explore this vast and vibrant nation without the usual visa hassles. Little did I know that this trip would not only broaden my horizons but also allow me to experience the warmth and hospitality of the Chinese people firsthand.

Arriving in Beijing, I was immediately struck by the city's unique blend of ancient history and modern innovation. As I stood before the Great Wall, marveling at its grandeur, I couldn't help but feel a deep connection to the history that unfolded there. The process of entering the country was seamless; I simply presented my passport, boarding pass, and a carefully crafted itinerary showing my plans for the next six days. The immigration officers were friendly, and I felt a wave of excitement as I stepped into this new world.

With my 144-hour visa-free transit in hand, I decided to explore Beijing and then head to Shanghai. The public transportation system was incredibly efficient, making it easy to navigate from one landmark to another. I hopped on the subway and found myself amidst locals and fellow travelers, all sharing the same sense of wonder.

In Beijing, I was eager to try the renowned Peking Duck. I ventured to Quanjude, a famous restaurant, and indulged in the crispy skin and tender meat, savoring every bite. Wandering through Wangfujing, the bustling shopping street, I tasted local snacks that ranged from candied fruits to exotic street foods. Each encounter with the locals left me with a warm feeling, and their eagerness to help made me feel right at home.

After soaking up the historical sites and cultural experiences in Beijing, I boarded a high-speed train to Shanghai. The ride was smooth and fast—truly a testament to China's advanced infrastructure. As I arrived in Shanghai, the skyline took my breath away. Standing by the Bund, I marveled at the juxtaposition of old and new, where colonial architecture meets futuristic skyscrapers.

In Shanghai, I found myself enchanted by the Yu Garden, where I strolled through beautiful rockeries and tranquil ponds. It was the perfect escape from the city's hustle and bustle. Of course, I couldn’t leave without trying Xiaolongbao—soup dumplings that burst with flavor! Dining at Din Tai Fung was a highlight of my trip, and I can still taste the delightful experience.

Reflecting on my journey, I realized that the 144-hour visa-free transit policy is a fantastic opportunity for travelers to immerse themselves in the beauty of China without the lengthy visa application process. This experience has ignited a passion in me to return and explore more of what this incredible country has to offer.

If you’re contemplating a trip to China, I wholeheartedly encourage you to take advantage of this policy. With a little preparation—such as booking accommodations in advance and having your itinerary ready—you can create unforgettable memories. China awaits with open arms, ready to share its rich history, modern marvels, and the kindness of its people. Trust me; it’s an adventure you won’t want to miss!

[kaurimmigration]

ਵਿਜ਼ਟਰ ਵੀਜ਼ਾ ਤੇ ਪਤੀ-ਪਤਨੀ ਇਕੱਠੇ ਚੱਲੇ ਕੈਨੇਡਾ |

ਵਿਜ਼ਟਰ ਵੀਜ਼ਾ ਤੇ ਪਤੀ-ਪਤਨੀ ਇਕੱਠੇ ਚੱਲੇ ਕੈਨੇਡਾ | ਗਲੀ ਨਹਿਰੂ ਗੇਟ ਬੋਹੜੀ ਚੌਕ, ਤਰਨਤਾਰਨ, ਦੇ ਰਹਿਣ ਵਾਲੇ ਦੀਪਕ ਕੁਮਾਰ ਤੇ ਨੀਤੀ ਸ਼ਰਮਾ ਇਕੱਠਿਆਂ ਨੂੰ ਕੌਰ ਇੰਮੀਗ੍ਰੇਸ਼ਨ ਦੀ ਸਲਾਹ ਨਾਲ ਬਾਇਓਮੈਟ੍ਰਿਕ ਤੋਂ ਬਾਅਦ 2 ਮਹੀਨੇ ਤੇ 10 ਦਿਨਾਂ ‘ਚ ਮਿਲਿਆ ਕੈਨੇਡਾ ਦਾ ਵਿਜ਼ਟਰ ਵੀਜ਼ਾ । ਦੀਪਕ ਕੁਮਾਰ ਤੇ ਨੀਤੀ ਸ਼ਰਮਾ ਆਪਣੇ ਬੇਟੇ ਦੀ ਕਨਵੋਕੇਸ਼ਨ ਸਮਾਰੋਹ ਵਿਚ ਭਾਗ ਲੈਣ ਜਾ ਰਹੇ ਹਨ। ਦੀਪਕ ਕੁਮਾਰ ਤੇ ਉਸਦੀ ਪਤਨੀ ਨੀਤੀ ਸ਼ਰਮਾ ਕੌਰ ਇੰਮੀਗ੍ਰੇਸ਼ਨ ਦੇ ਸੋਸ਼ਲ ਮੀਡੀਆ ਪੇਜ ਤੇ ਕੌਰ ਇੰਮੀਗ੍ਰੇਸ਼ਨ ਦੀ ਸਲਾਹ ਨਾਲ ਵੀਜ਼ਾ ਹਾਸਿਲ ਕਰ ਚੁੱਕੇ ਪਤੀ-ਪਤਨੀ ਇਕੱਠਿਆਂ ਦੀਆਂ ਵਿਡੀਓਜ਼ ਤੇ ਪੋਸਟਾਂ ਨੂੰ ਦੇਖ ਕੇ ਦਫ਼ਤਰ ਆਏ ਸਨ। ਦੀਪਕ ਕੁਮਾਰ ਤੇ ਨੀਤੀ ਸ਼ਰਮਾ ਨੇ ਆਪਣੀ ਫਾਈਲ ਕੌਰ ਇੰਮੀਗ੍ਰੇਸ਼ਨ ਦੀ ਟੀਮ ਦੀ ਸਲਾਹ ਨਾਲ ਤਿਆਰ ਕਰਕੇ 20 ਸਤੰਬਰ 2024 ਅੰਬੈਂਸੀ ‘ਚ ਲਾਈ ਤੇ 06 ਦਸੰਬਰ 2024 ਵੀਜ਼ਾ ਆ ਗਿਆ। ਦੀਪਕ ਕੁਮਾਰ ਤੇ ਉਸਦੀ ਪਤਨੀ ਨੀਤੀ ਸ਼ਰਮਾ ਕੈਨੇਡਾ ਦੇ ਸ਼ਹਿਰ ਵੈਨਕੁਵਰ , ਬ੍ਰਿਟਿਸ਼ ਕੋਲੰਬੀਆ ਵਿੱਚ ਆਪਣੇ ਬੇਟੇ ਕੋਲ ਜਾ ਰਹੇ ਹਨ। ਕੌਰ ਇੰਮੀਗ੍ਰੇਸ਼ਨ ਦੀ ਟੀਮ ਵੱਲੋਂ ਦੀਪਕ ਕੁਮਾਰ ਤੇ ਨੀਤੀ ਸ਼ਰਮਾ ਨੂੰ ਟਰੱਕ ਭਰ ਕੇ ਵਧਾਈਆਂ। ਰਿਫਿਊਜ਼ਲਾਂ(Refusals):- ਕੋਈ ਨਹੀਂ। #studyincanada #studyabroad #CanadaImmigration #studyinalberta #studentrecruitment #kaurimmigrationservices #studentspousevisacanadatogether #spousevisa #studypermitcanada

ਵਿਜ਼ਟਰ ਵੀਜ਼ਾ ਤੇ ਪਤੀ-ਪਤਨੀ ਇਕੱਠੇ ਚੱਲੇ ਕੈਨੇਡਾ ਗਲੀ ਨਹਿਰੂ ਗੇਟ ਬੋਹੜੀ ਚੌਕ, ਤਰਨਤਾਰਨ, ਦੇ ਰਹਿਣ ਵਾਲੇ ਦੀਪਕ ਕੁਮਾਰ ਤੇ ਨੀਤੀ ਸ਼ਰਮਾ ਇਕੱਠਿਆਂ ਨੂੰ ਕੌਰ ਇੰਮੀਗ੍ਰੇਸ਼ਨ ਦੀ ਸਲਾਹ ਨਾਲ ਬਾਇਓਮੈਟ੍ਰਿਕ ਤੋਂ ਬਾਅਦ 2 ਮਹੀਨੇ ਤੇ 10 ਦਿਨਾਂ ‘ਚ ਮਿਲਿਆ ਕੈਨੇਡਾ ਦਾ ਵਿਜ਼ਟਰ ਵੀਜ਼ਾ । ਦੀਪਕ ਕੁਮਾਰ ਤੇ ਨੀਤੀ ਸ਼ਰਮਾ ਆਪਣੇ ਬੇਟੇ ਦੀ ਕਨਵੋਕੇਸ਼ਨ ਸਮਾਰੋਹ ਵਿਚ ਭਾਗ ਲੈਣ ਜਾ ਰਹੇ ਹਨ। ਦੀਪਕ ਕੁਮਾਰ ਤੇ ਉਸਦੀ ਪਤਨੀ ਨੀਤੀ ਸ਼ਰਮਾ ਕੌਰ ਇੰਮੀਗ੍ਰੇਸ਼ਨ ਦੇ ਸੋਸ਼ਲ ਮੀਡੀਆ ਪੇਜ ਤੇ ਕੌਰ ਇੰਮੀਗ੍ਰੇਸ਼ਨ ਦੀ ਸਲਾਹ ਨਾਲ…

[lostintransist]

Tears of Dreams and Memories | AU

For anyone who needed a happy ending instead of my gut punch of an original, I apparently can be "bullied" by my friends into "fixing" my issues.

After a close call with some creeps, you are put forth by Ghost as the liaison for the 141. A friendship blooms with the whole team and leads to a work visa and a job opportunity with the 141. A job turns into a live-in situation with Simon and a betting pool as to when one of you will crack and finally confess.

AO3 | Original | Original on AO3

Special shout out to an IRL friend and @demothers-empty-blog for helping me get past my slump on this one.

You shouldn’t be running down the halls of the base. You know you shouldn’t be running. But fuck all if they weren’t right on your heels. The men had come back on base drunk and the creepy ones had searched you out. You choked down the sobs that threatened to escape. If you could just get far enough away you might be ab—

You slam into something hard. You had taken the corner fast, a hand still behind you on the wall to help you pivot. You look up, and up, and up. A hard skull mask stares down at you. Blackout paint hides everything beyond the whites of his eyes.

Maniacal laughter starts up from behind you. You can’t stop the flinch that wracks your body. Shifting your aim for the pocket of space between the man and the wall, your socks shift ever so slightly against the inside of your boots. His hand shoots out, grasping your arm before you pass him.

“Wait.”

The tone reeked of a command. No one gave commands on a base like this unless they knew they had the authority to back up the demand. The thump of steps against the thin carpet have you letting out a high-pitched keen and pulling against the bear paw holding you in place.

“Please, please, please let me go.” You barely understand the words tripping off your tongue.

Barbed wire is wrapped around your spine, it pulls tight when two men appear at the end of the hall.

“Ho ho! You found her! Our friend here owes us a good time tonight for bailing on drinks off base.” The blond sways only in his eyes, shifting over your breasts and ass.

The man with the black hair just leers, it’s almost worse.

The man holding you makes no move to let you go or tell off the men who followed you over half of the base for their ‘fun’. A change in the air occurs, a pin of a grenade hitting the dirt.

The hand on your arm tightens. The British accent surprises you, the base had been briefed that a unit on loan from the UK would be joining them for a few months. The line repeated to every man and woman below a certain rank is to leave them alone and if you have any questions submit them to the liaisons.

“Get back to your rooms, you have two seconds to get out of my sight or I will be having a chat with your base commander in the morning.”

They gape at skull man, their drunk minds stumbling trying to catch up.

“What?” The blond questions.

“One.”

Both men start to back up, and the menace in that single word tightens around your throat. You escaped two predators only to land with a stronger one.

“Tw—”

The soldiers take off, the threat finally processes past the alcohol. You pinwheel your arm as their boots disappear behind the corner. You break free of the grip on your arm and start forward away from this new evil. One step is all you can take before arms wrap tight around your chest. He caught your arms too, fingers dangling by your thighs.

All the fight in your body leaves, and your brain decides that there is no escape. Your head rolls forward, you don’t even have the energy to blink.

When your position changes your mind starts recording new memories. Looking around you find yourself on a chair in the kitchen connected to the mess hall. The beast of a man stands in front of you slowly adding hot water to a cup. Your breaths pick up speed, fingers curling on the edge of the chair.

Skull face turns and drops a knee in front of you. He looms close but doesn’t touch any part of you.

“None of that now, I am not here to hurt you. We are just having some tea and then I will walk you to your room.” He speaks with a slow tone as if coaxing a feral cat from beneath a car.

You can’t tell where his accent is from, England for sure but not the common one associated with the country in your mind.

“I..I…I don’t..don’t…like tea.” You stutter at him.

You see his brows draw down despite the mask.

“Well, I will give you a warm cup to hold while I drink my tea then.” His voice is as deep as it should be with the breadth of his shoulders.

He stays on his knee, looking you over until at some point known only to him, he stands. He removes the tea bag from both cups. He adds a splash of milk to both cups and an ungodly amount of sugar. He gives both a quick mix and hands you one. He pops a hip on the stainless steel counter. He’s so damn tall he has his left foot flat on the floor and still comfortably sit on the counter his right foot swaying slightly.

“Can you even,” deep shuddering breath, “call that tea with how much sugar is in it?”

“Can’t call it anything if you don’t try it,” he slips a finger below his mask lifting it enough to fit the mug to his mouth. He wears gloves too.

Once the mask cleared the edge of his jaw you slam your head down. You stare at the tea, the milk slowly swirling into the water. You turn away and take a sip. The idea of milk and water as a drink still didn’t compute but the sugar masked any issues you might have had.

You sip at the drink finishing only about half when the sounds of movement bring your head back to the scary man in the room with you. His hand is stretched out to you. Glancing up and down it you slowly place your cup in his hand. You don’t feel so adrift after the quiet company.

You stand, awkwardly holding your elbows while he rinses the cups and spoon, leaving them in the empty sink. When he turns back to you he motions with his fingers for you to head out of the kitchen. You do as instructed. He picks up the chair on his way out. You hold open the swinging door, manners ingrained from childhood. He nods his thanks, tucking the chair just so below the table.

You don’t move until he looks at you. You let the door swing shut and begin to lead the way back to your room. Once you clear the doors of the mess hall he falls into step with you. You walk the brightly lit halls, walls dotted with darkness for windows. He remains a steady presence at your side until you stop in front of a door that looks exactly like the others.

“Thank you for your help,” you stare at your boots, curling your toes inside them.

“Lock your door tonight.”

With that final command, he turns and walks away. You don’t know where the UK team is staying but it is nowhere near the dorms you slept in. You do as instructed, locking the door behind you after you confirm that your roommate is already in bed, snoring lightly. Sleep comes slowly, a skull mask haunting you behind your eyelids.

✮✮✮

Price stares down at his tea, blinking slowly. He sat in an empty officer’s room. The base commander was courting the 141. He had yet to come out with the goal of this collaboration. He wonders absently if the tip of a flask would make the morning meetings easier to handle.

A file is slapped down on the table in front of him. Ghost sits down, a seat between them.

“I want this one.”

Price blinks at the file, his cup, and then finally his lieutenant.

“It is too early for this. Speak clearly. What do you want?”

In lieu of answering Ghost reaches over and flips open the folder. It’s a personnel file. A neutral-faced woman stares out at him from the small photo.

“I am not helping you get a girlfriend, Ghost.”

His joke doesn’t land. Ghost snatches the mug of tea from his hand.

“Don’t be crass, I hate the team the base commander has given us to work with. I want this one.”

“You want a soldier right out basic who knows next to nothing about this base and has probably never even met the commander to be our new point of contact?” Price can’t keep the exasperation out of his voice.

Ghost slurps at the tea. Price sighs and massages right above his eyebrows. This would be a hard sell to the base commander.

“I’ll see what I can do, now get the fuck out of my face. I don’t want to see you until lunch.”

✮✮✮

The wrinkles on the base commander’s face absorbed light like a black hole. Price stood before the man’s desk, face neutral.

“You want to change from the team of our hand-chosen soldiers to accommodate any need you have on base for a baby? Am I understanding that right?” He flipped through the file Ghost had dropped on the table just this morning.

“My lieutenant has a tendency to eat anyone he doesn’t tolerate.”

“He eats people?” the commander cut in.

“I have no confirmation of if he actually eats people, commander, only that he will chew through any team you give him until they all beg for reassignment. To avoid that strain on your teams I am asking that you give us this one soldier who has been requested.” Price lays the facts out reasonably, tone hinting that the commander would be an idiot to ignore this request.

“How did they even meet? We have strict orders for most of our people to not interact with your team at all,” he tossed down the file on this desk.

“I tend not to ask questions that will only result in a dead-eyed stare. He won’t tell me even if I asked, I’ve learned to roll with what he gives me.”

The commander steeples his fingers, elbows resting on the arms of his office chair. Price noted the power move but was more concerned about what the mess hall would be serving for lunch. He wondered if he could put in a request for a clam chowder, the warm creamy soup would hit the spot.

“Alright, I will reassign your current team and give you this one soldier. The paperwork should be done by dinner. I will have her also move to your section as she will need to be on hand for your team.” The commander leaned back in his chair, “Is there anything else your team needs right now, Captain Price?”

“No sir, everything has been satisfactory. I have a few things to finish up, I will see you at the 1100 meeting.” Price extracts himself from the commander’s office, closing the door behind him.

Soap pushed off the wall falling into step.

“So we getting a new aide? Because Ghost requested one?” He groused. “Ghost who would have bit the aide from the last base if it didn’t mean removing his mask?”

Price smirked, “In all fairness that man was an areshole.”

“Aye he was, but why the request?” Soap pushed open the door they had come to. They were near the training grounds.

“Don’t know Soap. Why don’t we find out?” Price aimed for someone who looked to be in charge.

✮✮✮

You pause, looking around. You were almost sure that someone had just called for you. You look around and see a man waving you down from the edge of the training area. You check that you are clear to cross before jogging over.

“Good, come with me.”

You follow. When you finally slow you are presented to two men. They had to be members of the 141 with skull face. One man, taller than you but not by much kept a trimmed beard, crow’s feet around his eyes. The other man towered over you, almost as tall as skull face, the mohawk added several inches to his height.

“This the recruit you were looking for?” The man who walked you over pointed a thumb in your direction.

“Think so,” the bearded man said. He stuck out his hand, “Nice to meet you, you can call me Price.”

You shake his hand, twice up and down with firm pressure. You had to learn to ‘shake like a man’.

Mohawk man sticks out his hand next, “Soap.”

You shake his hand and nod, turning back to the man who walked you over.

“Is that all, sir? All of us low-ranking members have standing orders to not speak to any of the 141,” you infuse your words with an ‘I’m just doing my job’ tone.

Soap snorts out a laugh, covering it poorly with a cough into his fist.

The man before you stutters before Price jumps in.

“Thank you, that will be all.” He can’t help but smile as you nod and turn on your heel heading back to your task.

As you are walking away you hear Soap’s comment.

“I can see why ‘e wants her, much more spunk there than anywhere else on this base.”

✮✮✮

The news comes down the line of your reassignment to become the sole attendant of the 141. You scarf down dinner, they wanted you presented to the team at 1800. You speed walk to your room, the clock showing a measly twenty minutes to pack your life up to move halfway across base.

You make it, squeaking through the door exactly the time you were requested. The base commander stands, hands tucked in one another behind his low back. He stands looking out the window over a group of training soldiers.

He ignores your presence for a moment before turning towards you.

“Ah, come in. We have a few things to discuss before I introduce you to the team. One question before we start, do you know why you were requested to be our liaison?”

You answer honestly, “Sir, I have not even a singular idea as to why.”

He hums, “We need this to go well. We need to borrow from the 141 from time to time and can only do that if they agree. Your job is to do whatever is needed to secure their agreement.”

Your stomach turns sour at the word choice, do whatever is needed. The military is no different than a pimp, only difference is one gets cheers and free meals at IHOP.

“Of course, sir, I will do my best.”

“Good, now here is what you need to know…”

The meeting takes another twenty minutes; your brain a bit fried when you lift your bag to follow the commander.

You take stock of the nicer flooring and art as you enter the building just beside the commanders. He lived on base since his wife passed nearly a year ago. You enter a room, you would still call it a living room despite all the time in the military.

Soap and a man you haven’t seen sit on the couch intently focused on their game of Mario Kart. They raced along the Rainbow Road. Price and skull face sat at a table near the wall. Price worked away on a laptop and skull face held an e-reader. A fifth man reclined in a chair near Soap, clearly asleep. Feet spread wide, head tipped across the back of the chair, an arm thrown over his eyes.

“This is where you will be staying. Captain Price will be in charge of you until they leave in a few months time. I will leave the introductions of the team to him.” The commander claps a hand on your shoulder, knocking you forward a step.

Price looks up at the motion, pulling a small headphone from his ear.

“Ah, Commander. Thank you for delivering our new aide, we will take good care of her.” He stood, striding over and offering a hand again.

You shake it again, focused on the retreating sounds of the commander. Once the door clicks behind him you feel the tension release slightly from your shoulders.

“Welcome, let’s get you introduced to everyone and then get you settled.” Price smiled at you warmly, the crow’s feet showing it to be a common state for him. “You’ve met Soap, next to him is Gaz.”

Neither man acknowledges their name, too focused on the game. They are on their third lap, neck, and neck for the lead. Gaz drops back slightly and throws a blue shell, effectively taking first. Soap jumps to his feet, shouting.

“You feckin’ cheatin’ son of a whore! Not even Mother Mary will save you after this!��� His accent came out thick in his anger.

Gaz just laughed as he crossed the finish line. Soap rolled in at fifth. With their outburst done Price continues his introductions.

“The sleeping man is Roach, he doesn’t speak much so don’t worry if he doesn’t respond to you. And then we have our L.T., Ghost,” Price gestures to the masked man.

You can’t stop the words. They escape, your brain slowing down the embarrassment to exacerbate the stress.

“Ghosts don’t have bones.” Such a matter-of-fact tone. Fuck a duck, why are you like this?

Ghost stands. You swallow hard. He clears the space between you in three long strides. Mother-fucking giant of a man.

“What?”

He asks as if he hadn’t heard, not as if he were offended.

You roll your lips between your teeth, answering a bit louder despite his now closer position.

“Ghosts don’t have bones, so your mask is a bit of a silly choice.”

Every man awake busts into laughter except Ghost. You glance over and Gaz is hanging off Soap, struggling to breathe. Soap is curled forward hugging his stomach. Price smothers a chuckle next to you.

You look back at Ghost, his eyes squint slightly at you. You give an awkward smile.

“L.T. how has no one ever thought about that before?” Gaz is out of breath and falls back into laughter after his question.

Ghost blinks once at you.

“Follow me, I will show you to your room.”

You wince at his back, throwing a glance at Price.

“You’ll be okay, he won’t hold it against you,” the laughter in his voice didn’t reassure you.

You scurry after the man you insulted by accident, wincing at every sound you make. The only sound Ghost makes is the slight swish of his pants as they cross with each step. He leads you down a short hall, turning right at the first choice. There are two doors down this short hall. He taps the second one.

“This is your room. Mine is next door.”

“I am really sorry, I didn’t mean to make a joke of your mask,” you stumble over your words.

“Don’t apologize, it’s a funny thought and the men will take to you easier after the joke,” he replies evenly.

You wince again and look at the door.

“Is there anything I need to handle tonight?”

“No, other than we have a nightly debrief at 2000 in the main room.”

You blow out a short breath. “Okay, I can do that.”

Stepping into the room you are surprised at the single bed, dresser, and desk. Still all military issue but nicer. You drop your bag on the bed, looking over the space. You hadn’t truly been alone since you signed up, this might be an adjustment.

Turning back to the door you startle, Ghost is still standing in the doorway, arms crossed and eyes on you.

“Can I help you with something, lieutenant?” you ask, curious as to why he is still standing in the doorway.

“No. Feel free to join us when you are ready.” He turns away, the sound of his steps quickly fading.

You sit down on the chair at the desk. You put your head in your hands, elbows propped on your knees. How the hell did you end up here? Last night you were running for your life and now you are helping court a specialty group from the UK for the base commander. The only person from the team you spoke to last night had been Ghost. Did he have something to do with this change?

You eventually join the team back in the main room. The 2000 debrief had just been a fancy way of saying they all have a cup of tea before bed. Roach pulled out a deck of cards and you soon found yourself in a game of poker you would lose. You laugh more at the table with these men than you had in all the months you had been in the military. You fell asleep that night a soft smile on your face, the door locked tight.

✮✮✮

The months passed quickly, you became texting buddies with everyone on the team beyond Ghost. He watched you. You noticed but ignored it. He happened to be a grown man and if he had something to say he would have to buck up and use his words.

Roach comes alive through your text conversations, he is full of observations and quirky sayings. He is your favorite texting buddy.

As the time for the 141 to return come crept closer without a hard yes or no from Price about working with the base in the future the commander crept further up your ass. After a particularly unhelpful meeting where the commander ended up yelling at you, you stormed into your room. Throwing yourself face down on your bed, muttering curses.

“Can I help you?”

Your eyes blow wide in the darkness created by your face being compressed into the mattress.

Shit. Fuck. Dammit. You had missed your door and landed on Ghost’s bed. You pushed up from the mattress on your hands and one knee. The other foot already searched for the ground.

“Nope, sorry Ghost. I just had a bad meeting and missed my door,” you can’t help the blush overtaking your face.

One foot on the floor you pull your torso up, ready to turn and race out of the room once your second foot touches the carpet.

“Pause.”

You freeze finally looking up to see Ghost working at his desk. He has a soft balaclava on today, still a skull painted on but much more inviting than the hard mask. He has no darkening makeup on today, you can see dark brows and light, fair skin of England showing through the hole in the mask. You devour the peek into him.

“Sit,” he turns from you pulling open a drawer of his desk.

You shift to do as you are told. He has never been unkind to you, just the opposite actually. The two men who chased you across the base had been reassigned across the country shortly after you joined the team. Neither of you said it out loud but you know that only Ghost had been aware of what happened.

He spins his chair back towards you. He holds out his e-reader. This thing goes everywhere with him. Ghost could be called a voracious reader. You glance between the small device and his face, not touching the offering.

“Pick anything you like, feel free to stay until you feel better.”

You reach forward, fingers slow to grasp. Once you have a firm grip he lets go and turns back to his work. Starting the device a book opens halfway through. You back out to the main page and scroll through the options.

Several of the titles garner a raised brow.

“Didn’t take you for a smut reader, Ghost.”

The only response is a creaking of the chair as he shifts. Your lips twitch with a smile. You choose a title vaguely familiar and start from the beginning. You read sitting on Ghost’s bed until the nightly debrief. The next day you find yourself knocking at his closed door. You’re just going to ask to borrow his reader until you can finish the story.

When he opens the door what could be called a smile reaches his eyes. The edges of them shift together the barest hint.

“It’s on the bed, right where you left off.”

Bashfulness overcomes you, forcing your gaze to swing down to your boots. You slip past him, sitting against the wall feet dangling off the bed. Once the story has well and truly sucked you in you reach down and remove your boots, eyes not leaving the words as they thud to the floor. Ghost doesn’t say a single word as you end up stretching across his bed feet swinging through the air.

A knock at the door jolts you out of the story. Price’s voice comes after a knock slightly farther away.

“Debrief will be a bit late today, 2030.”

You lock eyes with Ghost, remaining silent. As Price’s footsteps walk away you flip to a sitting position and shove your toes back into your boots. You set the reader down, focused on getting the ties just right. Once they feel tight enough you stand.

“Thanks for letting me read, I guess I will come back when you have a moment you can spare it.” You can’t keep your fingers from digging into your pockets. You can’t believe you rolled yourself all over his bed while reading.

“You are welcome any time. If you are close why don’t you take it tonight and return it in the morning?” his head tilts ever so slightly.

“Really?” Your brows rise as does your voice with the question. “If you don’t mind. I can finish the book after debrief and return it before lights out.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” he raised a brow as a challenge.

“I’m not saying you do,” you glare at him. “Confirming your level of seriousness is not doubting you.”

“If you say so.”

You stick your tongue out at him.

“Careful with that thing, some could take it as an invitation.” He turns back to his desk as you gape at him.

Did Ghost flirt with you?

You snap up the e-reader, holding it close to your chest as you leave the room. You let the door hang ajar, knowing it bothers him.

You wander into the main room, tucking the small tablet into your side pocket. Setting the kettle to boil you prepare a cup for each man, dropping a preferred tea bag in each. As everyone settles in around the table you finish adding milk and sugar to mugs and passing them out. Ghost sits last.

“Sugar with tea for you,” you place the cup down in front of him and take the seat to his right.

Soap chuckled, “Go’ta say L.T. she’s got you pegged.”

“Too bad we can’t throw her in our luggage for when we head home,” Gaz chimed in.

Price leaned back in his chair, “Well now there’s a thought. How long do you have left?”

You finish your sip of hot chocolate, “Only about a year, but I am not planning on re-upping.”

“Wanna come work for the 141?” Price lifts a brow at you.

“Put that offer in writing so I can get a visa and absolutely,” you grin. With how much Price griped about paperwork you doubted he would follow through on getting you a work visa.

He glared at you, “You drive a hard bargain.”

“Have you known me to do anything less?” you challenge.

“Do the paperwork Price, or I will.” Ghost dropped the statement like a smoking gun to a criminal case.

You smirk down into your cup, taking a sip to avoid a comment. Ghost hates paperwork more than Price and is so meticulous with it because he hates when he has to redo the ‘fucking devil’s work’.

The men leave the table as their tea is finished, rinsing the mugs before settling into the final activity of the night. You stay at the table and pull out the e-reader. The book sucks you back in.

“Is that Ghost’s reader?” Soap’s shocked voice rips you from the climax of the story.

“What? Uh, yeah.” You settle back into the battle, your main character taking a knife to the ribs.

“Did he let you borrow it or…” he lets the question hang, a noose swinging in the wind.

Irritated, you put the tablet down. Turning to look at Soap you reply.

“Of course he let me borrow it. I’ve been using it for a few days.”

Soap’s brows shoot up his forehead, nearly touching his mohawk.

“Really? Well, that’s an interesting development.”

“I guess? Now my character just got stabbed so if there is nothing else I am going to finish this before lights out so I can return it.” You turn back to the table and get absorbed back into reading.

You return the reader to Ghost before bed and only use it in behind the safety of his door until they leave.

✮✮✮

The anticipation of pain has never once made the pain hurt less.

They are leaving, your friends are heading home to the UK. Price is the one who sat you down and gave you the dates. Two days, in two days you would walk them to their plane and have to move on like you didn’t find family in some of the scariest men you have ever met. You hold it together until you get out of his sight.

Tears slip down your cheeks, a silent testament of the love that has grown for them. You slip into Ghost’s room. He should be out right now, off training with Roach. He isn’t.

Asleep with his boots on, Ghost is sprawled out across his bed. One hand dangles out over the edge. You sit against the bed, his arm draping over your shoulder. You hold his large hand in both of yours. You know he is probably awake, but he does you the kindness of staying still. He isn’t wearing his gloves today. Ghost had many healed scrapes and scars to explore. You let your fingers drift over his hand, bumping over every ridge.

You sniff as tears continue to flow down your cheeks, splattering against your shirt. It’s hard for you to believe that you can love these wacky guys to the point of pain at their departure. You slid right into the dynamic of the crew as if they had held a place for you. Cutting off arguments between the 141 and everyone else had become your primary job. You could talk down any member from retaliatory action for both minor and major slights. You toed the lines between both Price and the base commander to find common enough ground for their agreement to be settled. You still didn’t know why they were here, only that an agreement had been reached with you as a go-between more often than not. Now they were leaving. Leaving you behind. Knowing they have jobs waiting for them, for missions to be completed doesn’t ease the ache in your chest.

You stay like that, fingertips drifting over the skin of his hand until the storm in your chest has petered out and the only signs it ravaged your soul are the tracks on your cheeks and the tears drying on your shirt.

You sniff once, sliding your fingers to fit between his.

“I know you’re probably awake, but thank you for letting me use you for comfort.” You squeeze his fingers once before standing.

Scooting out and away from the bed you take care to not look at him. This private comfort you stole from his sleeping form could only be that, private. Seeing his eyes would shatter the flimsy barrier to your heart and you couldn’t afford to lose any more of that worn organ to men across the sea. Your fingers stayed locked with his as you stood, reaching, touching until at last the kiss of his fingerprints whispered their goodbyes.

You close the door softly behind you, heading for the bathroom. Standing before the mirror with the bright white light illuminating your blotchy face you tuck away your pain to deal with in the dark. You scrub your face with cool water and redo your hair. When a soldier with a job looks back at you instead of a woman losing her family you leave the bathroom.

✮✮✮

Two days later you say your goodbyes. Your number is entered into so many new phones and you are repeatedly asked which secure platform you will use to chat with them all. Their flight is scheduled to leave at 0320, at midnight you are scouring the rooms they used confirming everyone has packed everything.

Ghost finds you ass in the air while your hand stretches for a book Gaz had been missing for three weeks. It had fallen between his bed and the wall. When you snag it you pull back triumphant. You see his legs first, glancing all the way up at his face.

“Oh, hi, Ghost. I am just checking everyone got everything before you all leave,” you smile up at him.

He doesn’t respond, just offering a hand down to you. You take it gratefully, pulling yourself up. Taking a step back you look him over. He is wearing his soft balaclava today, he tends to wear them when he needs to be more comfortable than scary.

“All ready to go home? I bet you are going to be glad for an overcast day and a good cuppa,” the happiness in your voice isn’t faked. Ghost has complained to you a few times about the terrible tea here.

“Ready to be home, not looking forward to the flight.” He looks you over scouring your face, his gaze scrapes like steel wool over your nerves. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

The husky tone of his voice catches you off guard enough that you comply without thought. Gaz’s book is lifted from your hands, leaving them empty.

As you stand you hear the buzzing of the bright light above you, the sound of Velcro opening, and the quiet sounds of breaths, both yours and Ghosts. The fingers on your cheek are a surprise, the callouses marking your skin as they trail from your jaw to your eye.

You push your face into the touch, savoring the contact. His thumb brushes against your lips. You flick the tip of your tongue against it, tasting the ridges unique to that finger. He slides away from your mouth, thumb and fingers curling around your jaw and tipping your face up. He kisses you then. Riots start inside your body. Part of you yearns to open your eyes, devour him, touch the breadth of his flesh. The other, stronger part of you screws your eyes shut tighter, taking the gift as it is given and demanding nothing more.

He kisses as if he bottles his kindness and doles it out only for you. The press of his lips against yours will keep you going. He pulls back ever so slightly.

“I’ll see you in a year dove, stay safe,” he says the words against your lips, pressing them together once more. He puts something in your hands as he steps away, his fingers still on your face.

You keep your eyes closed, waiting for some sign it would be safe to open them again. His thumb taps your jaw before drifting away.

“Open your eyes already you silly bird,” the smile in his voice is unmistakable. His fingers slip away as your eyes open.

This mask is down again, you smirk up at him.

“Why am I a silly bird for respecting boundaries you big oaf? If you wanted me to see your face you wouldn’t have asked me to close my eyes.”

He shrugs, “Didn’t think you would let me kiss you if you saw it coming.”

You can’t stop the full belly laugh that erupts out of you. “I don’t know how to respond to that!”

Shaking your head you look down and pause. Your head snaps up.

“You’re giving me your e-reader? Why?” your brows draw together as you look at him.

He shrugs again, shoulders shifting just enough to indicate he didn’t have a real reason to share.

“It’s still logged in, feel free to buy any book that piques your interest.” His hands lift to your face, cupping your cheeks.

Your eyes flutter closed at the contact. His forehead connects with yours, his warm breath kissing your face as it filters through the mask.

“Don’t die before I get there okay?” You open your eyes, staring straight into his. This close you can see the variations of brown striping through them.

“Can’t promise nothin’, but I’ll do my best.” He sounds sincere.

You give in to the urge to hug him. He hesitates before returning the gesture. You stand with him, listening to his heartbeat until you have soaked in the pressure of his presence. You pull back first, wiping at your eyes.

“Let’s get you to your ride, Price will come looking for you soon.”

You grab Gaz’s book, tuck the e-reader in a side pocket, and walk with Ghost to the hanger. The silence between you is comfortable and tinged with the moments you have shared in silence before.

As you get close you wave the book at Gaz who jogs over.

“Where did you find it? I looked everywhere,” he takes the book gratefully.

“Everywhere but under your bed obviously.”

Ghost snorts, walking past you to join Price near the gangplank of the plane. You’ve said all your goodbyes at this point. You only stay to see them off. Everyone but Ghost gives you a hug or a pat on the back as they board the plane. You wave until the door shuts and watch until the dim lights of the wings are swallowed by the darkness.

You blow out a breath and speak into the darkness.

“One year, you can make it one more year.”

✮✮✮

Six months in you can tell things are getting bad for them. It takes longer and longer for replies to come into your messages and when Soap is willing to share what’s happening it is summed up in a single word.

Mole.

They go dark for another three months. Your days are filled with a background of worry and a foreground of doing what you are told.

Ghost is the one who breaks the silence.

>Your paperwork is through, your visa should arrive soon.

The cheer you give in the mess hall has every eye on you. Pinching your lips between your teeth you clean up your tray and slip outside.

>Anything special I should do after it arrives?

His reply comes quick.

>Pack.

You laugh. Some would miss the dry wit with which he pokes at you. You miss him, them.

>I have a few months left before I am out. Should I fly into Heathrow?

>Yes. Send Price your flight details and someone will come get you.

You send a kissy face emoji in response, imagining the eye roll that this would incite.

The final three months slip by like water. Your off time is filled with nailing down travel details and fighting with Price via email over the contract he sent you. He set up a fair contract, but he wanted you on his team so why not ask for a few extra vacation days?

✮✮✮

Soap is the one to pick you up when your flight lands. You drag your achy bones through customs, the clash of accents all around you weighing on your brain.

You set your bags down to hug him. He laughs.

“Miss me bonnie lass?”

You mumble your reply into his chest.

“I’m not anyone’s ‘bonnie lass’.” You nearly match his accent on the words.

“I donne believe you, but tis good to see you back. Let’s get you to HQ.” He looks down at your bags, “This all you have?”

You ignore the prick of judgment the question causes in you. There is nothing wrong with a transatlantic move that only has you bring a carry-on and a backpack.

“That’s it, I pack pretty light. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He gives you a heavy side-eye.

“Never said there was.”

Conversation falls back into familiar territory as Soap fights his way out of the airport, car inching forward until they are at last out of the city. You don’t fight the pull of your eyelids to meet in sleep as Soap sings along to the radio. A hand on your shoulder wakes you. Soap smirks at you from the other seat.

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty.”

You roll your eyes and focus beyond the windshield at an old barn. You glance at Soap, confused.

He chuckles as he replies, “England is old, we have to reuse what we can.”

“Alright, whatever you say.” You step out of the car, feeling odd to be leaving the left side as a passenger.

You leave your bags in the car. Soap wanted to introduce you to the full team before showing you to the shared flat you would be living in until you could secure your own lodgings.

He is talking about the area, waving his arms this way, and that pointing out the range and the picnic tables. He pulls open a person-sized door beside the massive barn doors.

“We’re home!” Soap calls into the large building.

You step through the door with a shiver, as if someone walked over your grave.

The building might have once been a barn, but industrial beams now held the roof aloft. To the right of the wide-open space a set of stairs led to a second level. A few small doors were scattered around the walls that did not hold the door you came through. The main space held a few long tables bracketed by chairs. Beyond them appeared to be an elevated platform where you could imagine staged fights occurred.

A stream of unfamiliar faces appears and greets you, all rising from the table where books and mugs lay scattered along the surface. Thankfully everyone returns to their task when done speaking with you. Roach catches your eye, he pulls you into a spinning hug.

You let out a squealing laugh as you pat at his shoulders.

“Put me down, Roach!”

He does settle your feet on the ground, hands settling on your waist as he bumps his forehead to yours.

Welcome home friend.

“I’m glad to see you again.” To break the tension, you ruffle his bright blond hair. Roach scrunches his nose and squeezes his hands once before stepping back.

Soap propels you deeper into the building with a hand on your back.

“Where is everyone else?” You glance at his profile, catching sight of a new bump along the ridge of his nose. “That’s new.”

He glances at you, “Price and Ghost will be in their offices, Gaz could be anywhere. And what’s new?”

You press a finger to his face. “This.”

Soap goes a tiny bit cross-eyed looking at the point you touched.

“Rookie caught me slacking.” He looks up and smiles at you. “Ready to see everyone else?”

“Lead on my lovely guide,” you gesture to the hallway before you.

The hallway must lead to a back building, though it sloped downward slightly. Several minutes pass with Soap pointing out bathrooms and kitchens and even your small office next to Price’s. He doesn’t knock as he pops the door open. Kyle is standing, finger-pointing at something on a desk while Price sits peering down at the same. Both men look up, dour expressions melting away when they catch sight of you.

“You made it!” Kyle pulls you into a tight hug that you happily return. “How was your flight?”

“My flights?” You emphasize the s on your last word as you step around Kyle to give Price a half hug along his shoulders. “All four of them were fine, some longer than others though.”

“Soap get you settled in yet?” Price asks as his arm snakes around you in return.

“Not yet, Cap. Figured she would want to say hello to everyone before I drop her off at the roulette flat,” Soap answers for you. You take the opportunity to step back into your own space.

“Roulette flat?” You glance between the three of them as they fight down smirks.

“We keep a flat for new transfers or men in hot waters with their birds who can’t go home. You’re welcome to stay there until you can secure lodgings you prefer.” Price shifts “Have you seen everyone?”

Shaking your head you reply, “Not yet. Still looking for Ghost.”

“Mmm, probably down in the shooting range. If you follow this hallway to the end you will find the range.” John pointed away from the direction you had already come from. “Soap would take you but I need his opinion on something.”

Taking the gentle dismissal you smile and nod, secretly grateful to be able to see Ghost without an audience. Pulling the door shut quietly you let gravity guide your steps further into the earth and this odd base John headed.

A thick metal door, wires encased in the single glass window near the top sat at the end of the long hall. The push bar chills your fingers as you step into the cool concrete room. Six little stalls, open above and below a rib-high counter lined the room. Ghost stood in the fourth one down, feet braced wide as he looked down at the shelf.

To avoid startling him you said something before the door shut fully.

“Hey there stranger.”

His shoulders stiffen as he turns, you watch his muscles relax as he takes in the sight of you. Searching him for changes you let the silence settle between you. He does the same.

You can’t bridge the gap. When tension layers the silence Ghost breaks it.

“How were your flights?”

“Long, my ass hurts from sitting,” you answer honestly.

Ghost nods. His thumbs settle in the top of his pockets.

“Misse—”

The door slams into you, flinging you forward as you fight to catch your balance.

“Bonnie? Aye, why are ye standing behind the door?” Soap looks at you around the door he threw into your back, perplexed.

“Because I like being assaulted with metal sheets,” you deadpanned.

Ghost let out a huff of a laugh. You shoot a glance at him.

“Ready to go lass?” Soap’s question pulls your gaze back to him.

“Where is she staying?” Ghost must not have meant to ask; his fingers tighten at his pants.

“Roulette flat,” Soap replies, happy to answer his L.T.

Ghost nods once and turns back to his shooting range. A series of metal clicks tell you he is readying another round.

You follow Soap from the room, eyes lingering on those broad shoulders until the door separates you. Several muffled bangs follow you to the surface.

✮✮✮

Roulette Flat lived up to its name. You had a new flatmate near every week; the time you came home to find a young member of the 141 having sex in your borrowed bed was the day you threw yourself into the chair opposite Price’s desk.

“I can’t keep living like this John!” You press the heels of your palms into your eyes as if that would wipe the vision of ass you had caught when trying to drop your bag after work.

You had fled the flat and spent the evening taking up a booth at the pub searching for a new flat. Nothing close enough had worked out when you sent off inquiries. Everyone had replied that any roommate positions had been filled or the landlord ‘conveniently’ had another call coming in when they heard your accent.

“My food getting eaten is annoying, but I can deal with that but this?” You sit forward arm flinging wide, “In my bed?!”

John looks sympathetic as you express your frustrations.

“What’s in your bed?” Ghost’s voice surprises you.

Glancing at him towering over you, you let out a huff and leaned back in the chair, defeated. He is wearing of soft balaclava sans eye black.

“Rookies having sex in the bed I am using at the flat.”

“You haven’t found a flat in the month you have been here?” One brow creeps up.

“No, by the time I get a response from any listing the spot is filled.” Frustrated you press hard on your cheekbones before rubbing out the pain.

John and Ghost had been having a silent conversation over your head. You can tell by the way Ghost sighs and folds his arms across his chest and John looks at him expectantly.

“I…Have a spare room.” Ghost drops his shoulders, forcing a face of calm, “If you wouldn’t mind staying with me.”

Smiling softly up at him you think over the offer.

“How about this, you give me a month. If, in a month, you still actually want to offer and not be bullied into it by Cap and I haven’t found a flat I will take you up on your offer.”

Ghost lets out a puff of air through his nose as he uncrosses his arms.

“Wanna go down to the range?” He tips his head to indicate the shooting range.

A deep sadness washes over you. It must show in your face from the way Ghost tightens slightly.

“I would love to do that, and if you aren’t busy tomorrow evening I would be happy to practice with you. Gaz, Soap, and Roach all asked me out for a drink tonight when I rolled in this morning. I would invite you, but I know you already told Soap you didn’t want to go out tonight.” The idea of missing time with him tugs your heart in your chest. You lock eyes with Ghost, warming in the subtle shades of brown in his irises.

Neither of you had found time or the gumption to start a conversation about how things were left a year ago. Frankly, you were worried and slightly devastated that he might not want to explore what might be between you.

John reminds you that you are in his office by a loud clearing of his throat.

Heat flashes through your chest as you snap your gaze to him.

“Much as I love these chats, was there anything either of you needed me for?”

“No,” you stand, pushing up from the chair. “I came by to bitch. Sorry.”

Ghost shakes his head. Both of you head for the door.

John watches the two of you leave his office, leaving a breath of space between bodies. When you clear the frame, you turn and look up with a smile for Ghost. It melts the poor bastard. He reaches out too slow, skeleton gloves barely miss catching your hand as you head for your own office.

Leaning forward John lets the creak of his office chair tell his lieutenant that he saw. Ghost steps back inside and shuts the door, leaning his head on the wood as his body curls around the hand still on the knob.

“Talking to her would resolve this tension for you, Simon,” John interlaces his fingers and rests his chin atop his touching thumbs.

By way of response, Simon slams his head repeatedly. A sharp whistle from John causes him to pause.

“Whatever messages you’ve been trying to send are being missed. If she moves in, then she will at least be close enough to let you have more than one chance at telling her.”

“You are more meddlesome than a matchmaking grandmother John,” Ghost growled to the door.

“Be that as it may, with the pace at which you are moving one of the rookies will try and put moves on her before you can say her name out loud,” John observed.

The hinges creaked under the force of Simon containing his emotions.

“Confirm shooting with her for tomorrow night. I will make that an order if it means you get out of my office and find yourself in hers.”

“Order it,” Simon growled.

John’s brows lifted but he gave the order. Simon moved the door as if its presence holding back the traffic from the hall had offended his entire bloodline. The knock from down the hall drifted followed by your surprised greeting.

God his lieutenant needed a kick in the ass sometimes. John saw how you watched Simon, the simmering feelings went both ways. Now if only someone would shift.

✮✮✮

Roach enjoyed spending time with you. The brightness you brought to the conversations and the way you always included him despite his low likelihood of responding left him feeling treasured. You had slipped away to grab another round of drinks for the table.

“Ah fuck,” Gaz pushed away roughly from the table. “Up, we need to save her.”

Soap and Roach stood, finding you quickly. You were in the face of a man, red in the face, who loomed over you. Your shouts could be heard across the bar.

“You wanna touch women? Real fucking classy of you. No. Don’t look at her. Look at me, the loud American who can happily kick your ass.”

Gaz is the first one able to cross the room and loop an arm around your waist, tugging you away from the confrontation.

They were nearly clear of the door when the man spat a nasty comment about one of the guys and you were gone. They forgot sometimes, that while you might not be SAS, you were a trained soldier. Two body shots, a forehead to the bigot’s nose, and a blow to his knee and he went down like a tree felled.

Spitting on the man who lay moaning on the ground you tossed £20 on the counter before stalking out of the pub muttering to yourself about assholes who needed to learn to keep their hands to themselves and pick up a fucking book.

Roach, Soap, and Gaz all shared a look before following you out the door.

Soap threw an arm over your shoulder as you stomped down the sidewalk.

“I don’t remember you being this feisty when we were in the States lass.”

“That? I had to do something while waiting out my last year. Used that time to work on standing up for women, and myself, more. I started taking more classes about, well everything really. Languages, more sparring, anything they would approve me for to keep me busy while you all dealt with your mole situation.” That brought your feet to a stop. “You did take care of that didn’t you?”

Roach nodded. He had been on that mission with Price, put down a few people who were telling tales that didn’t belong to them.

“Good. Can’t have someone hurt my guys,” you nodded firmly before setting off down the lane again.

“Your guys?” Gaz nudged you in the ribs with his elbow and a wink.

You roll your eyes and bump him back.

“You know what I mean.”

They did, they all knew. Claiming those in your care happened to everyone.

✮✮✮

You don’t wait at the door after knocking. Price had confirmed Ghost would be in his office filling out a shitload of paperwork he had been ignoring. The desk is facing the door, Ghost glancing up from his computer as you slam the door behind you.

No chairs other than the one he is using exist in the space. You sit on the floor with a huff, back against the wall nearest to him. Elbows on knees you focus on breathing and not murdering.

“Is your offer still open?”

The chair creaks as he turns to peer down at you.

“Yes.”

“Good. If it wasn’t I was going to end up playing Russian roulette when I got to the flat.”

“What happened?”

“My underwear have gone missing,” you force the words past clenched teeth. “I had to wash the pair I am wearing in the sink and go commando while they dried.”

He didn’t prevent the show of true emotion from flickering across his face. You caught the tail end of it as you glanced up at him. You might end up with more than you bargained for by letting that problem into the light.

“Would tonight after work be okay then? I need to pop by a shop and get new underwear,” you rest your head in your hands, utterly exhausted.

“I’ll get a bed there by tonight for you.”

He hesitates before resting a hand on your head.

“I bought that long romance series I have seen you slowly renting from the library,” his words are quiet.

His gloves catch on your hair as you look up at him.

“Why?”

A shrug drops his hand from you. He turns back to his computer.

“That’s all I get Lieutenant? A shrug?” You needle.

The side eye he gives you would have scared the recruits. You knew better. He would never hurt you. You send a wink up at him, smirking as he turns back to his computer.

✮✮✮

John took you to a pub for your employee check-in. You had been living with Ghost for nearly a month now. It worked out better than you expected. Ghost kept a clean space and there is a running list of groceries needed that you take turns picking up. On days when the timing allows you to ride into work with him you play DJ. He has a decent playlist on his cracked ancient phone.

You had asked about the phone once when you had been poking around his music.

“Why is your phone so old?”

“Still works,” he didn’t take his eyes off the road.

“Yeah, but it’s so old they don’t even make this charger anymore!” You pointed to the butt of the phone, “And it still has an aux port!”

He grunted in acknowledgment.

“Red light,” you threw out as you glanced up before going back to your perusal of his artists.

Ghost had a hard time anticipating drivers, especially when they were directly ahead of him. You joked that he needed glasses or contacts in front of Soap who immediately took great pleasure in telling you how looking through Ghost’s scope left him with a headache behind the eye he used. The man in question had glared at both of you before stalking off. If he started to use cheater glasses at home and the text size on his Kindle shrunk there was no use mentioning it.

“Still liking the job?” John questions as the waiter drops both drinks on the table.

“Loving it actually. It got a lot easier when I got out of the roulette flat. I was this close,” you hold your fingers apart to the point of a single piece of paper making it through the space, “To killing someone.”

“You moved in with Ghost right?” John takes a sip of his beer, the foam clinging to his mustache.

You nod as you take a sip of your cocktail, “He’s been leagues better as a roommate. No real difference than when you were all back on the base with me.”

A boisterous group of young men draw your attention to the front door. Clocking the way they scope out the room and find the pretty young women and sidle up to the bar around them.

“Any complaints about the work then? Do you think you’re ready to be thrown on rotation for on-site management if we need it?”

John is looking at you but you can’t tear your eyes from the scene before you. One guy is getting all up in the space of a woman who is clearly uncomfortable. She excuses herself from the bar. The monster drops something in her drink smirking to himself as it sinks to the bottom of the glass.

Cutting your eyes back to John you ignore his previous questions.

“Did Ghost ever tell you how we met?”

Confused by the jump in conversation his brows pull together but he replies.

“No.”

“He saved me the night before the transfer from two would-be rapists on base. I took the year I had to wait for my service to be over to practice being bold. There is a man at the bar who put something in a woman’s drink. I need you to watch for a confused woman and tell her what happened. I am going to try and get a picture of his ID and if I have to drink her beer drop me off with Ghost. I should have anywhere from ten to thirty minutes until it takes full effect.”

Standing you don’t give him a chance to argue about your plan.

Simon stands from the couch due to the knock at his door. Checking the peephole he is concerned to see you draped over John’s shoulder. Unlocking the door he pulls it open. John hefts you in, you stumble further into his side giggling as you do.

“The hell happened John? Thought you were going for a quick drink,” Simon grabs your other arm and helps settle you into the couch you had insisted they needed.

“It was supposed to be!” John snaps at him.

“Hi Si,” you coo up at him.

“How do you know my name?” He growls down at you. He should be kinder, you are off your ass drunk.

“I don’t know your name,” you look up at him and put your fingers to your chest in an affronted manner, “The credit card company does. I put the mail on your bed.”

That makes more sense. Those fucking vultures could find him anywhere he moved for longer than three months. He had seen the offer on his pillow and had already shredded it.

“The fuck happened John? She knows her limits,” Simon growled at his captain.

“She saw a woman’s drink get spiked and ended up drinking it in a bid to get a picture of the rapist’s ID.” John crossed his arms, feet wide as he stared down at you. You blanched and went slightly green. Before either man could react you had spewed the contents of your stomach across the rug you had bought to go with the couch.

“Simon,” your voice came out small between coughs, “I don’t feel so good.”

He doesn’t think. Scooping you up from the couch, leaving your puddle of sick where it lay.

“John, grab a sweater from the hook. We are taking her to the hospital,” his words come out harshly from his tight throat.

A captain gave orders, but he also knew when to follow them. He grabbed one of Simon’s hoodies and locked the knob as he followed Simon’s long steps.

“I’ll drive,” John unlocks his car from the fob once it is in sight.

Simon sits in the back seat, clicking you and himself in. He holds you: when the nurse checks you out, when they draw blood, when you fall asleep wrapped in his hoodie an IV in your arm pumping you with fluids. He holds on tighter when you wake up with a soft smile and words of thanks for him.

“Thanks, Simon. I knew you would take care of me.”

“Why did you do that?” His jaw quivers behind his black medical mask.

“You saved me when we met, I figured that the least I could do is save someone else,” the soft doe eyes you point up at him will be his undoing.

He rests his chin on the top of your head before your eyes undo more of the stitches holding his soul in place.

✮✮✮

Simon, as he let you call him off the job, made the worst jokes when grocery shopping. As you were perusing the wine aisle he leaned over the bar of the cart staring at you. When you finally glanced at him like you knew he had been waiting for he hit you with a pun.

“Grape deal on wine today.”

The deadpan delivery causes your lips to quirk even as you fight it down.

“This is not helping me choose a box to take home.”

“Dill with it. We also need pickles.”

That one caused you to laugh out loud.

“Come one big guy, we still have half a store to get through,” You smile as you wave him on, grabbing a boxed wine that wasn’t terrible the last time you tried it.

He loomed behind you, even as he curled over the cart.

“Hey.”

Looking from the eggs you find Simon pointing a thumb to the butter section.

“Butter believe these prices are getting out of hand.”

Snorting, you roll your eyes.

“Butter believe your puns are getting worse.”

“Butter believe you’ll put up with them anyways,” he shot back.

“Oh, will I?” You lift a brow at him as you settle the eggs in the cart.

“You love them,” he winked at you.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s call it unless you plan on selling a leg at check out.”

Simon follows you to check out, paying despite your instance to split the cost, and takes the bulk of the groceries on the way home.

✮✮✮

Roach wouldn’t mention the bet, which is exactly why Gaz brought it up.

Dropping onto the couch next to Gary who played Tetris on an old gaming console Gaz waited.

When Roach finally lifted a brow Gaz launched into his story.

“Johnny and I have a bet going on how long it is going to take for Ghost to make a move on our little liaison. Want in?”

Switching his console for a phone Gary sent money to Gaz with the note ‘Ghost won’t make a move’.

Staring at the phone Gaz hummed as he mulled over the thought.

“You think she is going to make a move?”

Roach shrugged before signing.

I know Ghost won’t make a move, that man doesn’t move unless he is sure.

“And can’t really be sure of someone’s feelings unless they say. I see your point. Johnny said it would take six months and I said it would take nine and a half months. Anyone else I should ask?” Gaz added Roach’s vote to the note app where he kept a running tally of amounts and guesses.

You ask John yet?

“Should I?” Gaz quirked a brow.

Man’s a gossip.

“I’ll go ask him now then. And this should go without saying but I don’t want to run laps until I vomit so keep this to yourself.”

Roach mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key. Gaz pushed on his head as both men laughed.

✮✮✮

When one year slipped by it started to look more and more likely that Roach would be correct.

After the second year tripped into the third everyone got their money back and the bet wasn’t mentioned again.

Everyone watched though, waiting for the seismic shift that would be visible from space.

Instead, the relationship changed by degrees; the frog being boiled when no one was watching.

✮✮✮

Simon poked your skincare bottles from his seat on the toilet. You had been telling him about your day when you stepped into the bathroom not pausing in your story.

Whack.

He glared up at you for smacking his hand.

“Keep touching my shit and I will make you wear it,” you send him a hard side-eyed glare as your fingers work the bubbles of your soap over your face.

Johnny had pissed him off today and the wanker had ducked out before Simon could force him to the training mat for a few rounds. He poked the bottle, the petty need satisfied as the small bottle fell with a sound.

You watch him for the count of seven before turning and rinsing both your hands and your face. Drying both you grab a package from the other side of the sink and bracket one of his knees. Unsure of your plan Simon watches as you peel it open and pull out what looks like a wet wipe. A cloying floral scent fills the room. Even through the mask, the scent is too much, Simon closes his eyes and scrunches his nose. That is when you strike.

A solid grip on his balaclava at the top of his head and one hard tug and his face is free. Exposed. Ugly.

Without a word you set about running the wet wipe over his face as if you hadn’t upended his world. The hand not wiping him holds his chin, tilting him to and fro. The firm pressure keeps him tethered to the reality of the bathroom.

“Damn Si, you need to wash your masks and your face more,” you mutter as you reach for a second wipe.

He searches your face, looking for fear, disgust, hate, anything more than concentration pulling at your brows as you study him.

“Close your eyes, this will take a bit since your eye black is ridiculously hard to get off sometimes.”

He does as requested, savoring the simple touches of your hands. You are gentle around his eyes. Each swipe of your fingers wipes away the darkness from his eyes and a bit from his soul.

Slowly, so slowly he wraps his large hands around your thighs, the give of the flesh before your muscles resistance solid and real under his fingers. He would remember this feeling as he palmed himself late in the night, thinking of you.

His breath caught when your lips brushed the bridge of his nose. Broken so many times it would take a surgeon and a miracle to straighten it out. His father had broken it first; he had been blackout drunk and mean that night. He had been mean every night. His mother set the bone as Simon had cried begging her to leave his father. The other times didn’t matter so much, men who died after they got one shot in.

Leaving his eyes closed Simon soaked up your ministrations, pretending each touch is filled with love and not only companionship.

✮✮✮

It was a known fact around the building that if you couldn’t find Ghost that he would be in the Liaison’s office. Some of the newer recruits whispered they must be together for how often they could be found on late nights sharing a blanket. Each used an armrest as a pillow and would wake the other to stumble home to their shared flat.

A new recruit who went by the name, Stevens, had the gumption, or the ignorance, to ask the liaison in the kitchen, in front of Ghost, if she was dating anyone.

“You got a man, Ms. Liaison?” Stevens swaggered over to the counter where you were preparing your lunch before turning and leaning against it.

You reply without looking up from your sandwich.

“Pretty sure I’ve got fifty-two of them right now.”

He leans into your vision, brow lifted.

“No, like a boyfriend.”

“Oh!” You laugh at your misunderstanding. You had counted the number of men you were in charge of in the group. “No. No boyfriend for me.”

Stevens glanced at Ghost who crumpled his canned drink, fluids spilling over his fist.

“Would you want to hit a pub tonight?”

“Mmm, I’d have to check my schedule to see what time I’m free. Can I get back to you?” You smile up at him. “Where can I find you later?”

Dragging his eyes from the promised death in Ghost’s face he smiled at you.

“I’ll be in the training room about three,” Stevens smiled brightly at you before pushing off the counter and sauntering from the room.

Three o’clock found you nearly getting run over by Stevens as he ran laps around the gym.

He holds onto both your shoulders as he slows down, mumbling breathless apologies.

Ghost’s voice ricochets off the wall behind you as he shouts

“Stevens! Keep running.”

The man winces and pounds his feet against the ground as he rounds the room again.

Understanding washes over you. Simon had seen Stevens ask you to the pub and had taken some kind of offense from it.

Stalking over to Simon you see a wince in his eyes as he catches sight of your face.

Years of living with the man informed your next decision. Reaching up you pinched his bottom lip between two fingers. The soft fabric of his mask did not stop you from pulling down from his towering height to be eye level with you.

Glaring hard into the brown of his irises you raise your voice.

“Stevens, get out of here and be in my office at six.”

Light disappears from behind Simon’s gaze as Stevens scurries from the room.

“He only wants to fuck you.” He struggled to speak around your hold on his lip.

“I’m glad someone wants to, I am really tired of finding orgasms alone in my room.”

Any emotion you could have divined from his face is wiped away at your words.

God if you weren’t so scared of losing the easy connection you had with him you would kiss him right now.

Simon lifts a hand slowly to your hand still holding his lip, pulling it away before gently letting your hand rest at your side. Without a word, he walks away—taking your bleeding heart with him.

✮✮✮

“John?”

He gives a hum of a response, not dragging his eyes away from the dense email on his screen.

“Do you think Simon would get the message that I would like to be more than friends if I climbed into his bed tonight?”

The words before his eyes stop looking like anything he can read.

Slowly lifting his fingers to the bridge of his nose he pinches, hoping to head off a migraine this conversation will most assuredly cause. He had watched the two of you dance around each other for years now. He had hoped that when you took Simon up on his offer of living together that something would have shifted. If anything the two idiots seemed to retreat further into their corners.

“I am not qualified to give you an answer on that.” He ends his sentence with a sigh.

Looking up John is startled to find tears in your eyes. Oh damn. You were serious.

Settling back in his chair John folds his arms across his chest.

“Simon is cautious by nature, approach him like you would a street cat. He trusts you right?”

You shift foot to foot, before nodding once.

“If he were a street cat I could feed him, and give him ear scritches, but he shies away from anything more.”

“Scooping him up and carrying him inside would be the answer now, but Simon has at least three stone on you. Is there something you can do to get him to sit still long enough to have a conversation?”

Whatever skitters through your head is something he doesn’t want to know.

“Yeah, I guess there is something I could do.”

“Alright. Now was there an actual work reason you came to my office?”

“Oh! Yes,” you pass him the file from your hand and launch back into safer topics.

✮✮✮

Stevens appeared in your office at six as requested.

“Why did you invite me out, Stevens?” You swivel side to side in your chair, staring at your keyboard.

“Well, everyone said you were Ghost’s girl, but you wouldn’t have said yes to a date in front of him if you were,” he shrugged as if that logic explained the rift that had opened in your soul.

Sucking in a deep breath and slowly letting it out you feel a plan form in your mind. Your fingers crack when you release them from the tight grip they had on the sleeves of your shirt.

Flicking your gaze up you pin Stevens to the wall with it.

“I am not a girl first off. I am a grown woman. Second, who I am to anyone is my decision to make, not yours. I am rescinding my offer to join you. Now get out of my office and don’t pull shit like this again,” you stand pulling your things together to head to the flat you shared with Simon.

✮✮✮

You found him there, on the couch like his boots had betrayed him and stolen the floor beneath them. One arm thrown over his eyes as his head rested on the back of the couch. Slipping off your shoes and setting down your work bag you walk across the floor, avoiding the creaky spots.

Simon doesn’t say anything when you touch his thigh, but his breathing doesn’t change so you know he is awake.

A singular fortifying breath is all you allow yourself before you set your left knee into the cushion next to his hip and swing your right leg to his other side. When your body moves funny you sit hard on him, hands on his chest for balance.

“Oof.”

Beyond the involuntary sound, Simon remains exactly as before. Sliding a finger below the collar of his shirt you edge up the bottom of his face mask. Your other hand joining in you work it up, gently folding and lifting.

“I thought you were going out with Stevens.” His voice rumbles through you from the bottom up.

“You said he only wanted to sleep with me, so why does it matter?” You keep your tone light, and unassuming as you fold the mask another time, exposing his Adam’s apple. It bobs as you trace a finger over it.

“Why are you here?” The whisper belied the harshness of his words.

“This is my home. Should I go somewhere else?”

The arm not across his eyes shifts, hand settling on the thickness of your hip, holding you in place.

“Home?”

You fold the mask over his lips now, watching as the scar pulls taut at the word.

“Yes. It has my bed, my clothes, the man that I love. What else would I call it but home?”

He stills, a statue of flesh.

“Please,” his voice breaks on the word. “I won’t survive this being a dream.”

The glacial pace lets you see the tears catching in his lower lashes as first one eye and then the other is revealed. His free hand settles on your other hip, the width of his palm firm against you.

He watches you as if a goddess had dropped into his lap, the answer to his prayers.

“Simon.” You cup his cheeks as the ache in your chest escapes in your tone. “Do good things only happen to you in your dreams?”

He closes his eyes tight as if waiting for a blow.

“No, only bad ones do.”

“Let me,” you kiss the bridge of his nose.

“Make this,” trailing kisses down the shape of it.

“The exception,” angling his face up you put your lips on his.

Eternities could have passed in the seconds it takes for him to crumble beneath you, meeting you with the strength of a drowning man.

✮✮✮

Everyone could tell something had shifted. Simon no longer glared at men who talked to their liaison, and you wore a soft smile even focused and ignoring the chaos that drifted past your door.

“I’m proud of you L.T.” Johnny slapped him on the back.

Simon glared at his friend.

“The fuck for?”

Johnny pointed with his chin to where you stood laughing at the punching bag with Gaz.

“Letting yourself be loved.”

Twisting Simon fired off a punch to Johnny’s stomach. The Scot laughed as he danced back, avoiding the hit.

He tsked at Simon, “Careful now or I will have to tell the missus you’re being mean to me.”

Flipping his friend off Simon made his way across the room to you.

Hmm. The missus. That had a nice ring to it.

You relaxed into the hand Simon settled on your back, smiling up at him with a love to eclipse the sun.

He would have never allowed love to grow in him, but it grew around him until a neat little home housed his heart and sheltered it from the storm.

Your place in his home, his bed, his heart told him that however this story ended it would be happier than how it began.

Bonus scene:

Gaz stopped next to Ghost, noticing the hand placement on the lovely little liaison.

“So L.T. she finally make a move on you?”

Ghost glances down at him before fixing his gaze on the distant wall.

“Yes, I did,” you reply.

Cupping his hands around his mouth Gaz yelled to Johnny across the room.

“Looks like Roach won the pot!”

“Canne fookin’ believe it!” The Scottish accent came out thick from the man as he cursed at the floor.

A chill ran up Gaz’s spine as he caught sight of the glower from his lieutenant.

“Give them at least a head start yeah?” You smile up at Ghost.

“Three.”

Gaz takes off running, pulling Johnny along as they tear through the base looking for somewhere to hide from their incensed commanding officer.

“Hey, Simon?”

He turns from glaring out the door his sergeants bolted through to looking at you.

The crook of your finger has him leaning closer until you rub your nose against his.

“Happy hunting.”

He cuffs out a laugh, before bumping your forehead with his own and striding after some men who needed a reminder of what he could do.

Masterlist

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The Boston Globe: Rümeysa Öztürk: What to know about the Tufts student arrested by immigration officials

Rümeysa Öztürk is a 30 year old Turkish national. She had a valid student visa and until recently was pursuing her third year of doctoral studies at the Tufts University Elliot-Pearson Child Study and Human Development program.

Video source for gifs

Late on March 25, 2025, while on her her way to end her daily Ramadan fast with friends, Rümeysa was arrested by DHS agents (some in masks), and taken across state lines, without advance notification, despite a Massachusetts court order (although the DOJ claims she was moved before the court order).

If you haven't heard this slightly built woman cry out in fear, go watch this video. It is heartbreaking.

Rümeysa is currently being detained for possible deportation at the South Louisiana ICE Processing Center in Basile.

South Louisiana ICE Processing Center

Rümeysa's only "crime" seems to have been being one of four authors of a year-old op-ed in a university newspaper (The Tufts Daily) expressing dismay that the Tuft administration was being "dismissive of" some student senate resolutions calling upon Tufts "to divest from companies with direct or indirect ties to Israel."

Yet, the Trump administration, in its haste (and incompetence) to deport immigrants, appears to have incorrectly prejudged Rümeysa to be one of the "bad people" that Trump's administration claims they are rounding up to protect Americans.

Video source for gif

TRUMP: We're getting rid of a lot of bad people…. They’re being taken out. And we hope this court system that's become so active all of a sudden in trying to protect some very, very bad uh… people of crime. Uh, they have to stop.

We already know that the incompetent and cruel Trump administration, has sent innocent people to El Slavador's horrible CECOT prison, like Andrys, a gay, Venezuelan make-up artist who was mistaken to be a member of the Tren de Aragua gang because of his tattoos.

And yet, the Trump administration, as always, denies making mistakes and Trump rails against the judges who are trying to stop innocent people like Rümeysa and Andrys from the cruel excesses of the administration's (often incompetent) deportation practices.

According to CNN, Secretary of State Marco "Rubio suggested without evidence [that Rümeysa] was involved in disruptive student protests over Israel’s military operations in Gaza." Yet, her brother Asim, claimed that aside from cowriting the op-ed, Rümeysa did NOT engage "in any provocative or aggressive action regarding the Palestine issue." And, according to The Boston Globe, people at Tufts who knew Rümeysa said "that she wasn't necessarily a leader of campus activism at Tufts, though she did support Palestinian human rights."

According to a lovely tribute to Rümeysa written by her department at Tufts, she is studying child and adolescent development, and appears to be a caring individual who is highly valued by the Tuft's community. As such, she did not deserve to be spirited away to an ICE detention facility and potentially have her life and graduate studies derailed by an unfair deportation.

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And to think that many of Trump's MAGA followers cheer on this cruel behavior of ICE towards law abiding legal immigrants like Rümeysa whose only "crimes" are that they have chosen in the recent past to express opinions against the needless suffering and deaths of tens of thousands of civilian women, children, and men in Gaza.

STOP THE SIMPLISTIC BLACK-AND-WHITE THINKING: Just because people don't agree with the slaughter of the Gazan people does NOT mean they are pro-Hamas, or support the horrific Oct. 7th terrorist attack against Israel. It is this simplistic black-and-white thinking that Trump's administration and Marco Rubio's State Department are using as a justification for terrorizing innocent graduate students like Rümeysa.

Under Trump, America is being led down a dark path of hate and scapegoating that is limiting the rights of due process of many people in marginalized groups. Trump loves to talk about how his deportation policies are "getting rid of a lot of bad people." But if we as a nation do not ensure due process so that innocents are not swept up and unduly punished in Trump's efforts to control immigration, then we collectively are allowing our nation to become no better than autocracies like Russia and China.

[Below the cut are transcripts of The Boston Globe "Rümeysa Öztürk" video and of the captions in the above gifs made from the The New York Times Video of "Surveillance Footage Shows ICE Arrest of Tufts Student." Below the cut is also an excerpt from a beautiful tribute to Rümeysa from her department at Tufts.]

Above is a link to a truly beautiful tribute to Rümeysa from the people in her department at Tufts. Here is an excerpt from that tribute:

Rumeysa’s presence on campus has been missed, as her genuineness and care for others have been felt deeply here at Tufts. Her fellow students put it best: “Rumeysa is usually the first to arrive on campus: she boils water in the kettle and is ready with a warm greeting. Today, she is still everywhere with us. She is in the Turkish tea that we brewed this morning; she is at the top of our inboxes, planning the pastries she would bring to our iftar tomorrow evening; she is on the wall with her byline in an article about refugee representation in children's television and in a colorful Istanbul postcard; she is in the red swivel chair that she always sits in. Even in a department focused on human development, Rumeysa stands out as someone who reminds us daily of the importance of protecting children, cultivating joy, and connecting to our own deeper humanity. We are not the same without her steady, gentle presence”.

The Boston Globe "Rümeysa Öztürk" Video Transcript

GIULIA MCDONNELL NIETO DEL RIO (NARRATOR): On Tuesday, federal immigration authorities detained Tufts PhD student Rümeysa Öztürk, who is a Turkish national here on a valid visa, according to her attorney, and took her into ICE custody. Video obtained by the Globe shows plainclothes immigration agents approaching Öztürk as she's walking on the sidewalk in Somerville. Öztürk’s attorney has filed a habeas petition in Boston Federal Court asking her client to be released from ICE custody. Öztürk’s arrest comes as the Trump administration is cracking down on illegal immigrants here on green cards or visas, who have participated in some way or another in pro-Palestinian activism on campuses. However, those who know Öztürk told the Globe that she wasn't necessarily a leader of campus activism at Tufts, though she did support Palestinian human rights. Advocates and professors who knew Öztürk said they were absolutely shocked by the apprehension of her by federal immigration authorities. Questions remain about why Öztürk was apprehended as she was here legally on a student visa. Her attorneys and community advocates are pushing to get answers.

Transcript of Captions in Gifs Made From The New York Times Video of "Surveillance Footage Shows ICE Arrest of Tufts Student"

FIRST GIF CAPTIONS: A security camera captured the moment a Tufts University student was arrested by agents from the Department of Homeland Security. Rumeysa Ozturk, a Turkish citizen, had a valid student visa, according to a statement from her lawyer. SECOND GIF CAPTIONS: Ozturk, who is Muslim, was heading out to break her Ramadan fast with friends when she was detained. The university’s president said administrators were told that Ozturk’s visa had been terminated. The university is trying to verify whether that information is true. THIRD GIF CAPTIONS: Ozturk was listed as a co-author for an opinion essay that criticized university leaders for their stance on the war in Gaza. FOURTH GIF CAPTIONS: A spokesman for Customs and Border Protection did not immediately respond to questions about the case on Wednesday.