#but like I’ve read through this nearmost 10 times

[libertys-lovers]

✨🌕Melody of the Night🌕✨

During a late night working, The Journalist hears mysterious music echoing across the RED Base grounds. What could possibly be the source of this tune?

SHIP: 🏜️📰One Shot📰🏜️ (Sniper x Journalist)

WARNINGS: Nyctophobia (the fear of the night/darkness) + Descriptions of suffering from Nyctophobia + Swearing

The nighttime never promised much to the Mercenaries. Not a single spark of action, but not really much peace either. After all, it may have been rare for the opposing team to attack at night, but that doesn't mean it was impossible for them to. The night, if anything, was a time for rest... or at least, it was supposed to be.

For The Journalist, nighttime was the only time she could really work. This wasn't necessarily a bad thing; all she had to do was rewrite her notes from the day into a proper report, maybe listen to some music while doing so. It wasn't anything she could complain about. She had worse things to worry about, such as the opposing Spy, who seemed to have an unhealthy fascination with both stabbing backs and stealing her notes. Tonight wasn't a scheduled interrogation night though, so she was spared from his unsuccessful shennanigans... or so she was sure, right? The more she thought of it, the more she couldn't remember. She was sure it was fine though. Her brain was always rather rude at night, making her worry over the smallest of details. And so, she'd dismiss the entire matter, throwing on her Deadbeats and focusing solely on her work.

She typed away on her desktop, spacing out to the sound of her keyboard fading into the music. Or, perhaps "spacing out" is too soft of a term; she truly got lost in these songs, finding backing sounds she never noticed before. One tune was especially outstanding to her; she couldn't identify what instrument it was, but it had a sudden entry into the song. It was faded, but still bombastic and energetic. It'd dance between the main rhythm, ending sporadically only to rebuild itself in the same fashion. It almost felt... out of place. Journals couldn't help but be intrigued by it; she'd rewind her music just to try to single out that piece...

But it wasn't the same as when she first heard it.

No, the vibes of this backing piece were the same, but these were definitely different notes, right? She'd rewind over and over again, and each time it was different. That’s when it hit her.

She took off her Deadbeat headphones, listening closely to the ambience around her. Sure enough, the faded song was still audible. In fact, it was even louder than before! She rose from her desk, unsure of exactly what to do. Her mind was racing through 50 different questions. What was the music? Who was playing the music? Who would've still been up anyway? Was it one of her teammates, or was it an opposing member who just comedically revealed themselves? Her speculative answers reawoke her worrying nature, and yet that only fueled her curiosity. She'd take a deep breath, and ultimately decide to let her inner "horror movie protagonist" shine. Donning herself with nothing more than slippers, a flashlight, and a jacket to cover her barren arms, she'd creep outside of her office to explore the base.

The base was already a winding mess of halls during the day, but at night it felt all the more hopeless to wander through. She'd lean her ear against plenty of the fort's doors, but to no avail. When she wasn't closely listening, her eyes were glued to the floor, though sometimes she'd take foolish glances through the windows. They only revealed a barren desert under a blanket of black, but that rarely made her feel better. It still felt like something could be hidden out there, watching through.

"Alright... alright fine... I'll just peak once... and then that'll be it. There's nothing out there, Liberty. Nothing at all..." muttered The Journalist, to untrusting ears.

Step, by step, by agonizing step, she made her way to the window. She was near one of the doors, probably a side door? She didn't come to this part of the fort that often, so she wasn't exactly sure where she was-. What she was sure of, however, was that the music had grown much louder. She didn't even realize it while walking; her freaked-out lil mind must've blocked that fact out. And though she saw nothing new through the window, it was definite that the sound was coming from outside. She froze, just wanting to close her eyes and breathe for a bit. Every sense was isolated, every sense but her hearing. Her focus made her realize another thing; the sound was all too familiar.

"Is that... that's gotta be a saxophone, right? I've heard this before... I know what this is".

She made her way to the door, trying as gently as she could to ease it open. She failed, of course, since every door there was both old and loud as hell, but it seems the sound didn't matter. She turned her flashlight off and looked in the distance, where the faint figure of a camper and its owner rested. There that owner was, sitting alone as he blasted his saxophone to the stars above. That was the source of the music, the source of Journals's troubles; it was just Sniper playing his damn sax.

Journals couldn't help but stand there and laugh to herself, letting her held-in tears of panic finally fall. She let herself get this anxious over a damn teammate doing band practice. Not even just a coworker, no, she had to get freaked out over the love of her life just minding his business. The nighttime was a beautiful state of the world for Journals. Hell, she'd consider it her favorite time of day, but she sure hated how irrationally it made her think sometimes. She couldn't be too mad though; she did walk out to a lovely sound, after all. Nobody could deny Mundy's talent for the instrument, even if it did surprise everyone when he first showed it off. Maybe she could stay here for a little while; she certainly didn't wanna walk through all the halls again.

She stepped through the doorway and closed the door... or at least tried to. The damn thing got jammed, and she resorted to leaning her bodyweight on it. Bad move; the thing crashed shut, and the sax solo immediately cut-off. Journals watched the shadowed figure put his instrument down, only to take hold of something else. A bright light popped into existence; thank god, it was just a flashlight. Journals got flashed right in the eyes though, truly a fate worse than death.

"AH- Shit- Well hello to you too, Mundy!", shouted Journals, inbetween laughter.

"Libs? Crikey, is that really you down there?!".

"Yup! ...yup".

Sniper made his way down the camper, jogging over to Journals. He opened his mouth, a slight smile cracking through, before reshaping his entire expression with furrowed brows.

"Wait a minute- How do I know you're not one of those Spies?", inquired Sniper.

"Oh? Can they even turn into me? That'd be kinda neat... maybe a bit OP though-", responded Journals, devolving into mindless speculation of what the Spies could do as her.

Sniper interrupted her train of thought with a laugh: "Alright, you're definitely not a spy".

The circumstances they met under finally clicked for him though; it must've been 2 in the morning by now, and there was this woman, clearly dressed for bed with stains down her face, just standing in the desert with him. Mundy had one question for her, until he took a closer look at what sort of stains her face had: those dreaded tear stains. From that point, he had a few too many questions.

"But bloody hell sheila, what're you even doing out here? You look all sorts of shaken up! Did something happen in there? You're not hurt, are ya-?".

"No! Nonononono, I'm all good! I've been like this for a while now, don't worry about it!".

"Liberty...”, he called with great suspicion, “are you sure...?".

"Yeah man! I mean, I freaked out earlier, but it was stupid, I promise. Somehow your sax ended up scaring me".

"My sax? Now how did that happen?".

"Hell if I know; I guess I just get real nervous at night. I mean, I wasn't really expecting to hear a random saxophone outside my room tonight, ya know?”.

A single "hmm" made it through Mundy's lips. He nodded; he knew the sentiment all too well. Nighttime wasn't really easy for him, either.

"But... it did sound really nice... Gorgeous, even! I was actually just gonna sit here and listen for a bit... but THEN the damn door sabotaged me"; Journals couldn't help but laugh again, at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

She was expecting laughter in return, or at least a giggle! But no, instead she was met with the sight of Mundy rubbing his neck. If only the lighting was better, perhaps she would've noticed that it wasn't just sunburn making his face red.

"Sorry if I interrupted though-".

"No, don't be"; his intonation softened greatly, just as his body language did. He was barely a few stages above muttering at this point.

Silence quickly filled the space between two of them. Not once did their eyes meet, though many glances were taken from both sides.

"Well... if you wanted to listen still... I wouldn't mind ya joining me".

"Really? I don't wanna be an inconvenience or anything-".

Mundy paused, being caught rather off guard. "Now where'd you get the idea that you'd be an inconvenience?".

He decided to make his move; walking to Journals's side and softly grazing his hand across her back, he began walking her to the camper.

"Come on now, love. Unless you're afraid of heights too, there's no trouble at all with ya coming along", said Mundy, trying to hide his signature grin.

"Heeeeyyyy now; don't get all snarky with me, hehe~", muttered Journals, unsure if she wanted him to hear her wit.

Almost instinctively, Journalist leaned in towards him, nuzzling her cheek to his chest. Another restrained giggle rose from her chords, and just like that, Sniper's entire being was back to being stiff. Journals wasn't done with him just yet though. Rising to the tip of her toes and staring through his soul, she muttered those magical words.

"May I~?".

Mundy froze in his tracks. Somehow he never expects that question to pop up. But, of course, the answer wasn’t too hard for him to think of.

"You may".

Journals stretched upwards, as far as her body could reach. She'd sheepishly wrap her arms around Mundy's neck for balance, only so she could plant a kiss on his cheek.

"I love you, Mundy~ Thanks... for, well, everything. Even for bullying me about my deeply-rooted fears~".

She lightly tapped him on the arm as she spoke that final part, shaking her head and glancing at him with a taunting smirk. Mundy ever-so-lightly punched her shoulder in retaliation.

"Yeah, yeah~”: that was the most he could think of to say... until he realized he could give her something back.

“hmm... May I, Libs?".

Journals fell back to her feet, placing a finger to her cheek and glancing to the sky.

"Weeeeelllllllllllll... I guess soooo~", she teased, immediately rising back to her toes.

She closed her eyes, her smiling cheeks only growing stronger once she felt his lips upon them. She couldn't help but return to her basic stature and cup her face once it was over, though she took great care that her hand wouldn't taint the kissed spot too much. Mundy, all the while, couldn't be more entertained. He was almost tempted to ditch the saxophone gig entirely, but he couldn't deny his curiosity on what her expression would be during it. Would she be smiling as hard as she was now, or would her expression be painted with pure whimsy? He just couldn't wait to find out.

"I love you too, darling. Ya better keep that energy while I'm playing. I'm not sure how good you're expecting me to be here".

"Mundy. I heard ya earlier, and I can guarantee I've heard you a thousand times before. You're gonna be absolutely stunning, I just know it!".

Before they knew it, they had already arrived to his signature camper. Sniper helped his date climb to the top, where he was greeted by not just his newest audience member, but his trusted audience of stars. He grabbed his sax and prepared to blow, hoping with all his might that the night could last forever. Or maybe he was just hoping that Heavy wouldn't come out to yell at him to stop again; he wasn't sure which one it was, and frankly he didn't care. He just wanted to make the most of the night; to make the most of the opportunity that just waltzed in from the shadows.