Lmao???

Wesker in his fbi attire, exhausted and tired in the morning with his starbucks coffee c:

I really enjoyed your story a part two would be lovely but do not push yourself and have a lovely day

GHOST (mw2) X MALE READER (platonic) PT2

woooooo yeah baby, thats what ive been wait for, thats what ive been taking about, wwoooooo, another installment of my poorly planned fanfic

as perusual: sorry for any typos, and do not expect some grandiose writting, i am not that smart

CW/TW's: toture, gore, vomit, if i should add more just tell me and i will

I throw on a shirt. A button up. Not one I chose myself, but its not like I hate it. Its ugly but in a charming way. I put on leather boots, keeping the pants I wore to sleep on. Its not my best outfit, but considering how little sleep I got last night, I don’t anyone will care. I sure as hell don’t. 

I leave my room, entering into a hall. The cold concrete  below me tapping under my feet. I stop in front of ghosts room. I hear talking on the other side of the heavy metal door. Faint, but still there. The guards posted in front of the door ask me if I want in. I tell them no. I want to get somethings first. I wonder the halls. Looking for the stairs up. The building were currently holed up in (and have been for awhile) is some old abandoned hospital. When we first set up here, it was trashed. To this day  It still doesn’t look very homely, but its better then it was.

Ive been stashed away in the basement, Also where the interrogation room is set up. i find the stairs, ascending up to floor level. I make my way to the current medical ward. there are so many people. You wouldn’t expect this place to be so packed, but it almost always is. Most of the people here are good. Civilians. Simply people in need of doctors, but without the money to get any. Cant say the same for the people stationed in the basement.

“hey.” I try and get the attention of one of the makeshift medical staff. His name is Chester im pretty sure. “shit-“ he turns around, startled. he was tending to some random sick person. Cant tell why their sick though. “(reader)!” he sounds pleasantly surprised. Like meeting an old friend unexpectedly. Weve only really ever talked a few times. “I need bandages.” I tell him. He looks around, a but confused, “uhm…” he takes a second “do you mind if I ask why? Or is that.. uh.. can I ask why?” he lowers his voice into a whisper for the last bit, leaning in.

All the ‘doctors’ know who theyre working for. The same man im working for. But that’s about all they get to know. We bring them medical supplies so that they can help their towns people. in return, they fix up anyone we bring to them, no questions asked. It’s a covert deal, and they arent aloud to talk about us. If they did, my boss would probably anonymously tell the police what they have set up here. Only one of the doctors has a medical license.

“the bandages arent for me” he understands that he isnt gonna get much more then that, nodding and leading me away from his current patient. He takes me to a closet “bandages and stuff are in here,” he opens it, “can I ask what type of wound your bandaging?” he asks, leading me in.

“I don’t know.” It sounds like a copout, but I genuinely have no idea. It could be anything. Cuts, burns, chopped off limbs. “oh wow.” He looks worriedly, searching through the random supplies. He hands me a roll of white bandages, “here” and then he goes back to looking around. “what are you looking for?” I peek over his shoulder. “well your probably gonna need more then just the plain bandages, even if we don’t know what you gonna have to fix up.” he hands me some bandage tape. “thank you” I tell him.

we part ways, and I start back to the basement. Stopping on my way to ghosts new room to get a bucket of water, two rags, and a towel.

I stop in front of the door, there isnt any talking now, nodding to the two guards. They go to open the door, but its prematurely opened by someone else. Im greeted by a man covered in someone else's blood. The man with the cart of torture supplies. The butcher. “hi-“ my voice cuts off. “hello.” He looks down at the assortment of things Chester handed me. He grunts, pushing past me, dragging his cart behind him. Its bloody. Very bloody. there are a few loose teeth on it that werent before, and it leaves a trail of blood behind him as he leaves.

I enter the room, hastily met with the smell of blood and vomit. I turn my face, it smells fucking awful. The door is shut behind me. The table has been moved off to the side, and ghost to the middle of the room. Hes covered in his own blood. “hey..” I let out. I try not to let my concern waver my voice. Ghost groans, and then ends up in a coughing fit. His mask is off, but his head is dropped down, facing the floor, blood soaked in his hair. I go over to the table, dropping my supplies down, and picking up his skull mask. “would you like your mask back?” I ask, turning to him. He just coughs more. Im pretty sure he coughed up blood.

I get up closer to him, placing down my bucket of water, his breathing hastens, he turns his face away. It takes a moment for it to click, “oh shit-“ I look at the rag in my hand, “im not gonna water board you bro, I swear.” I panic out, trying to make him less weary of me. 

It doesn’t work much, and he tenses everytime I move. Pulling up my sleeves, I dip the rag in water, and then start to clean out his wounds. There are different kinds. Some deep gashes, some circular holes in his skin, others bruises so blue youd think it hurt his bones. I don’t really get a good look at his face, even while I try and get blood off of it. he moves his face away everytime I try to touch it. its Understandable, but it makes things much more difficult. 

I give up on trying to clean his face, and just put his mask back on him. He immediately seems more comfortable, still incredibly tense, but less so then before. I continue to clean off all the blood on him. Its tiring. Eventually its done though. I wrap the towel around him, covering him and helping him dry all in one. I get up, and grab the bandages, and tape. i get back to him, placing both on the ground. I open the package for the bandages. 

I cover up most of the big gashes, and even a few of the smaller ones. Im covered in dried up blood now. I clean up around his chair too. Just getting blood up off the floor. Theirs vomit beside him. I begrudgingly clean that up too. I throw the second rag into the bucket. Taking a deep breath ones ive left the floor.

“thanks” ghosts voice sounds hoarse and it cuts out at the end. I go sit up in the table off to the side. “whens the last time you slept” I ask him the first real question of the day. Its quiet for a few minutes until he responds, “four days.” I mouth a ‘wow’ under my breath. I hold my breathing in thought, puffing out once I get to my conclusion. “ill let you sleep the entire time im here.. which should be..” I trail off thinking and doing math in my head, “two hours I believe, if you tell me what you guys know.”

He doesn’t respond. “what about a hint.” I smile at him. “no” his voice sounds more firm. The smile doesn’t fade. “fine, then you wont sleep for another day.” I hop off the table, and get onto the chair that was discarded next to it. Theres still paper and pencils, and so I start drawing. I draw him again. Its quiet in the room for nearly 20 minutes, I look up from my drawing every now and then to make sure he isnt asleep.

Hes falls asleep. I throw a balled up piece of paper at him. He startles up, looking around frantically to assess the situation. He drops his head back once he realizes it was just me. “if you had given me that hint I would have let you stay asleep” I taunt him. “fuck off” he blurts out. Hes getting comfortable, that hes just tired enough to not give a shit.

It gets quiet again.

“you know what-“ I look over to him, getting out of my seat and sitting on the table again. “if you tell me about your family ill let you sleep..” I pause, “that or your name” he looks me dead in the eyes, then up and down. Silence. “how’d you know about my brother?” he asks. A surprise for sure. “we made a little file on you, figuring out everything we could before we ambushed you. It was in that file… one of the few things about you in that file, and not just about ghost.”

“I am ghost.”

“you are a ghost.. you know how hard it was to find that out about your brother? That you even had a brother?”

“that’s the point.” He says in between coughs

I take a deep breath in and out. “I guess it is.” I say looking off.

A silence settles again. For about five minutes. He stares at me for three of them before looking away. “my brothers name was tommy.” I snap my head towards him. I didn’t actually expect him to tell me about his family. “is that so.” I inquire more. “he had a kid.” He continues. “and where is that kid now?” ghost doesn’t answer.

“and what about your dad?” he doesn’t respond, just like last time. I sigh. i want more, but technically he followed the rules I had. “you can sleep.” I jump off of the table, and get back to my drawing. Ghost gets as comfortable in his seat as he possibly can. Wasting no time to getting to sleep.

An hour and a half pass by. Ive filled the entire page with drawings. Ghost is sound asleep- the door starts to open. Shit. “HEY-“ I greet the person at the door loud enough to wake ghost up. “your back early,” I turn to the door. And ghost hurriedly wakes up. “(reader).” ‘The butcher’ greets me back, waving one of his hands stiffly at me. 

“uh- can we have a few more minutes?” I rush out as the large man starts hauling in his cart into the room. He stops in his tracks. Slowly turning to look at me. “your time is up.” fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck “yeah but… i-I I was- I was starting to get somewhere with my… interrogation.”

“where?”

“he was starting to talk about his- uh his family and-“

“the boss doesn’t want to hear about his family.” He cuts me off

I look to ghost, and then to the man in front of me. “yes but-“

“why are you wasting my time (reader)?”

He cuts me off again.

I mumble and apology. I really shouldn’t have fucking done that. Shit, all cause I wanted to show ghost my stupid drawing.

He leaves his cart next to ghost, who has started hyperventilating. “you gave him bandaids.” He points out. “I didn't want him to bleed out.” I  had already thought of an excuse. “I didn’t say you could give him bandaids.”

“yeah but he was probably gonna die”

“I didn’t say you could give him bandaids.” He turns to me. “yeah and the boss didn’t say you could kill him,” I retort.

He picks up a pair of pliers, holding them so tight his knuckles turn white. Hes threatening me. Fuck. “im sorry, I just didn’t want valuable intel to die.” I soften my voice, trying to de-escalate the situation. He turns back to ghost. I start to leave. “your not aloud to leave.” He snaps his pliers a few times to emphasize.

“come on man-“ I turn around towards him, my voice breaking. I don’t want to be here. He hums a bit, snapping his pliers a few more times. He doesn’t respond. “ill get you those drugs you wanted.” He stops humming, and lets the air fill with silence. “alright, you can leave.”

I practically run out of there. I feel bad. I feel bad for ghost. I feel bad about having to steal from the med ward. Shit. I really wanted to show him my drawing. I bet he would have told me it was cool. I get to the showers upstairs, and I wash all of his blood off of me. Then I go to my room. I put the drawing next to the first one. Hopping onto my bed.

If I get caught stealing ill be as good as dead.

hiiiiiiiii i see you made it to the end again, blushes

if everything goes to plan there should be at least five chapters of this fic when im done

the lack of ethan/reader or ethan/oc on ao3 is criminal. how can y’all not love the moldy dilf

my name is phillip graves, yo

Self aware tsum tsum Wesker blurb idea from a friend :D

You just got your new little bean guy, and you’re so excited to have him. He fits in your hands and on top of your head, in your hoodie, in your shirt, in your pockets. Anywhere he fits, he sits. Work or study, he’s with you.

However you were not expecting a very loud response when you left in another room to grab something. It had you running back into the room wondering what made such a noise. Low and behold, it was the tiny Wesker plushie you now had. He seemed angry, although he did always look angry.

You blinked as he turned his little body to you. He wobbled side to side to walk, and it was so cute to see his already chubby cheeks puff up in anger.

You bent over to look at him better as he waddled over to you, nearing the edge of the desk you left him on.

“You left me here!” A very indignant tone called from the tiny plushie.

Blinking at him, you wondered if you really just heard your plushie talk to you. He huffed again as you stared down at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t just stare at me! Pick me up!” He demanded, almost childishly. You did as told and held him in your hands once more.

“Now don’t leave without me again.” He huffed, getting comfortable in your hands, like a small rabbit. Wobbling side to side to face the other way to see where you two will be going next.

Double Dutch

The twins walk in on you as you talk about your stupid, fit neighbor. Wonder who that is.

George Weasley x Reader (x Fred Weasley) | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, fred lives stfu, harry potter lore noob, fluff, rizzler!Georgie, typos, etc.

A/N: this is a continuation to Sweets & Sweeties but both can be read individually for the most part. GUYS IDK MUCH ABOUT HARRY POTTER LORE SO PLEASE KEEP CALLING ME OUT IF YOU NEED TO COS WHAT DO YOU MEAN I THERES AN UNLOCKING SPELL HAHAHAHAHAH | cross posted on ao3

"And they didn't just use Alohomora?"

You giggle as you momentarily lean on your mop to turn to your phone, "that's what I'm saying!"

Your friend snorts from the other side of the line.

"But," you continue mopping, "to be fair, even I didn't think of it in the moment. I was just glad they helped me get back in my shop when it felt like I'd be locked in forever."

Your friend groans, "you can be so dramatic. Why would you be locked forever from your shop?"

"Stop it. I was seriously debating throwing rocks at my window to get in."

"Wow," your friend laughs, just as the bell on your front door rings, "you're just as stupid as your neighbor."

You look over your shoulder mid-mopping, "sorry, shop's not..."

You grip your mop tightly as the tall man raises a hand, "mornin'."

"... open yet."

His smirk is lopsided as he raises a brow, "not even for your stupid neighbor?"

Your stomach drops and blood rushes up your neck.

"Bloody hell," your friend's voice on loud speaker reverberates in your empty bake shop, "did your fit neighbor walk in?"

The said man chuckles and you nearly whack your phone with your mop. You quickly end the call and grit your teeth in embarrassment, unable to turn back to the red haired man that was laughing yet again.

"Fit neighbor, huh?"

You clear your throat as you decide to put a brave face on and feign ignorance. You turn to him with a dramatic hair flip and shrug.

Fred or George Weasely smiles then hums, crossing his arms. Which one he was, you couldn't tell. "Glad to know you find me fit, love."

"I-" you clear your throat, "that wasn't about you."

His brows quirk and his lips part. He scoffs in offence but his smile is still visible, "don't tell me you think I'm stupid and brother's fit." He walks over, shaking his head, clicking his tongue, "you have terrible taste in men."

You snort to mask the feel of your face burning, then pretend mopping is more exciting you really think it is, "I-" you clear your throat as you clean the tiles in front of your cake display, "don't even know which one you are."

The sheer dramatics of his gasp forces you to look back at him. The Weasley has a fist on his chest, pretending he was stabbed. He grunts in faux pain, "you're telling me I look exactly like Fred?" He rests the back of his hand on his forehead and turns away, "the horrors."

The laugh he pulls out from you is dangerous. It's full and giddy. It's more than amusement, it's full blown endearment that makes your belly roll. You stifle your laughter with your sleeve, feeling warmth linger on your cheeks. Your heart races as he, as George, saunters in front of you, hands smoothly sliding into his pockets. He tilts his head with a sigh, "might have to get even for that terrible remark, my..." he looks around the shop, "sweet neighbor."

You look up at him, pursing your lips to withhold your smile. You shrug, "I doubt a boy named Georgie can do so much damage."

He snorts and shakes his head, "cheeky bugger."

You tense when he leans forward.

"Did you just dare me to do you some damage, sweetheart?"

You open your mouth, but a strangled gasp is all that leaves you because he places his hands atop yours as he takes your mop from you.

"I feel like you don't need anymore damage, considering you did just break a mug."

You stare at him as he haphazardly starts mopping around. Your belly reacts to how he circles around the mop and shoots you a grin. You gulp, "how did you know I broke a mug?"

"Pfft," he scoffs, straightening up, resting his elbow on the top of the mop. Damn, he was tall. "I heard it break. Why do you think I came over here? To check on you!"

Your brows furrow as he puts the mop aside, "how'd you know it was a mug though?"

Georgie shrugs, "well, cause I'm a genius."

You give him a look.

He mirrors your look, then slowly begins to lean forward again, "d'ya want me to prove it?"

Your heart races as you slowly lean back, "w-what? No?"

"Wicked," he grins, straightening up, "you think I'm a genius, do ya?"

"W-What?"

"I just called myself a genius and you agreed," he puts his hands in his pockets and moves towards your cake display. He points, "that looks really good."

You compose yourself by brushing your hair back, "shop's not open yet, genius."

Georgie turns to you with a grin. He breaks into a chuckle, "why not?"

"I'm still cleaning."

He looks around the room and pulls out his wand from his pocket, "I-"

"No!" you raise your hands, "I like cleaning!"

He lowers his wand.

"I don't have anything to do before opening, and cleaning, you know..." you trail off and look away.

"No, I don't actually," he tilts his head in interest, "cleaning what?"

You shrug as you look back at him, "it gives me something to do."

He purses his lips and raises his brows, "wouldn't you rather do something fun?"

You chuckle and shake your head, "that's easy for you to say. You own Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

Georgie shakes his head and raises his hands, "that's ex-"

"And you have your twin brother."

"... so?"

"You have someone to have fun with. I bet you never get homesick at all."

"Oh," he lowers his hands, "distraction for the loneliness, is it?"

You purse your lips and shrug, "yeah."

He offers you a soft smile, "I'm not a genius actually," he points his thumb over his shoulder, "your broken mug pieces are on your counter."

You turn to said object and counter, feeling bashful that you forgot about it, "oh, that's-"

"And I didn't come here because I heard you break it," he buzzes his lips then rubs his ear, "I don't think my ears are good enough for that."

You raise your brows, "I mean, I figured. I don't think anyone's ears are good enough for that."

"I did come here because I wanted to spend time with you."

You freeze.

"Want," he corrects, "I want to."

You feel blood rush up your face.

"That is," he motions vaguely and shrugs, "only if you want to take back what you said about me being the stupid one and Fred being the fit one."

"You think I'm fit?"

You both turn to the front door, only realizing now the bell had rung. Your face was burning, "I-"

"This isn't about you!"

Fred walks in, "oh, ho, ho, I do beg to differ."

Overwhelmed by the two Weasley men who begin to bicker in front of you, you step back unable to do anything but watch for a moment. That is until George says:

"No, I told you I think she's cute."

Fred scoffs, "I totally said she was cute first!"

"Keep lying, you liar."

"I literally told you the moment she w—"

"SHOP'S STILL CLOSED!" you blurt, making them turn to you. You gulp as they turn to you, and exaggeratedly clear your throat, "though I appreciate you both," cough, "think I'm cute, I have to prepare things."

"What things?" they ask in unison.

You stutter, "t-things!"

"I can help," they say at once, turning to each other, "Jinx. Double jinx. TRIPLE J-"

"GET OUT!" you point to the door, "respectfully."

The twins visibly deflate. George smacks Fred on the chest, "this is all your fault."

"Mine?" Fred scoffs, "you're the one that-"

You cut their bickering off short by pushing them towards the door. They begin to protest but do not try to overpower you to stay inside. You huff once you manage to kick them out and wave them goodbye.

"I thought we could drop by at any time for a cuppa?!" George calls out.

Fred huffs and cups the sides of his mouth, "liar!"

You chuckle softly under your breath, face warm as ever as you give them a look, "later! Once I open!"

They both huff and turn to each other. Fred says, "that's not any time, now is it."

"No, it isn't," George agrees.

Ghost x Soap x Male Reader (Part 2)

Part 1

Sorry it took me quite long lmao TToTT School and work deadlines are killin' me.

Summary: Male Reader is traumatized and refuses to open up to 141. Soap found out something horrible going on with him and told Ghost about it.

Word count: 1910

Warnings: Smoking. Mention of attempts to self-h@rm.

The next morning you woke up with a throbbing headache. It was so bad that you felt like hundreds of needles were jabbed into your eye sockets and every time you blinked, those needles plunged into your brain, sending a sharp and chilling pain to the crown of your head. This was by no means a strange occurrence for you though, given the fact that every night the base celebrated a party you always indulged in this self-sabotaging habit. 

Still, no matter how bad the situation was, you still had training to attend to, tasks to get done, reports to compile, and a miserable life to live. You turned your head to look at the clock, silently praying that it wasn’t too late. 

It was 13:00 in the afternoon already. 

“Shit!” You threw an arm over your forehead. Nice, you missed the morning training session. It was your responsibility today to train the new recruits and now you messed up the whole Task Force’s schedule once again just because you could not handle your pathetic emotions properly. The thoughts of giving up flooded your mind yet again since it was no use in waking up anyway, it was too late to do anything useful. The other team members were already aware of how irresponsible you were as you continuously failed to be on time for training the newbies. And what about the newbies’ impression of you? Probably an unreliable man who was no longer fit to be a member of a special Task Force that was particularly famous for its efficiency. Or maybe you were never fit to be one to begin with. 

Why didn’t the others wake you up? You had worked here long enough to know how scary and irritated Ghost could get when people missed his training session. There were even times when he immediately had the unpunctual soldiers pack their things and get sent to another department because he couldn’t fuckin’ stand people disrespecting his schedule. 

“Maybe they forget about my existence. Maybe I wasn’t that big of a part of this Task Force.” You mumbled to yourself, trying to pull your tired body out of the heavy blanket. As much as you wanted to give up, the desire to be important to someone, something, or some organization, …just anything, urged you to wake up and keep trying. You wanted yourself to be seen.

Upon opening the door of your stuffy room, you instinctively covered your eyes as they were attacked by rays of blinding sunlight. Your room was too dark and gloomy, doors and windows tightly shut all day and night, no wonder you would react so unfavorably to the bright sunlight that is often associated with positive moods by most people. 

The base was unusually quiet. You didn’t meet a single soul on your way to the kitchen to fill your hungry stomach. No Soap cracking stupid jokes with his heavy Scottish accent and laughing loudly to them himself, no Gaz cursing at his jokes, no Roach laughing at the two dumb manchildren, no Price sighing and telling them to at least be less raucous. You tried to shrug the nasty nagging feelings off, but it soon became unbearable when you walked into the kitchen and saw all the dirty dishes in the sink. 

“They have finished their lunch.” And they had it without you. The people you considered to be your own family, much closer than the biological family that you had cut all contact with, didn’t wake you up from your drunken sleep, totally forgot your existence, and enjoyed a meal together like there wasn’t anything missing. You knew damn well that you were overexaggerating the seriousness of the situation, but you just couldn’t help it. 

‘What am I to them?’ That question kept spiraling inside your brain, worsening the headache that you were already having. In a brief second, all the nagging feelings were anthropomorphized into a disgusting creature with multiple heads and mouths by your ailed mind, shrilly screaming out your deepest thoughts that were fraught with insecurities. Your legs were rendered weak and you collapsed on the floor. Supporting your weakened body with all four limbs, you took heavy breaths, trying to calm yourself down.

A few minutes later, you managed to put yourself together enough to stand up and get out of the base, on the way you didn’t forget to grab a pack of cigarettes. You felt stupid to resort to nicotine as a way to fight against all those feelings, but you didn’t know a better way. There were times when things were so bad that you had no energy left to hide your conditions from your teammates, and Price was concerned. He used to have you talk to some therapists, and not surprisingly to you at all, they could not handle you for long. No one ever could. 

You were now standing in the parking lot with a cigarette in your mouth. You sighed, clearly satisfied with how strongly its bitter taste stimulated your taste buds. When you first arrived here as the newest member of Task Force 141, Soap and Gaz always joked that you’d become Price’s smoking buddy, but that did not happen. The image of you standing with Price awkwardly because you two couldn’t find a mutual topic for a conversation made you feel too uncomfortable to even try, so you kept avoiding the older man or pretending to not hear his offer until he just stopped inviting you. It was so obvious that the men wanted to get closer to you, they wanted to earn your trust, to make you feel at home and be yourself among them, yet you kept pushing them away. And now perhaps they had stopped trying all together. It was not their fault. It was yours. 

But why it was so painful? You were supposed to feel relieved that they had given up so that you didn’t have to blame yourself every time you turned their kind offer down and saw the sadness drawn on their faces. ‘Why do I keep feeling like shit no matter what I do?’

Feeling that the intense emotions that were barely suppressed by the nicotine started to get out of hand again, you cupped your head with both hands, the half-burning cigarette fell to the ground. Suddenly, your eyes caught the red burning tip of it, together with how the paper wrapping around the nicotine was slowly burnt to black. At that very moment, a dark but familiar thought popped up in your mind. You bowed down to pick up the cigarette, blankly staring at it resting between the two fingers of your right hand. Then, your eyes turned to your left hand, examining your spotty lower arm. It was full of the small round scars that were caused by burning your arms with the burning tip of a cigarette. You had noticed Ghost looked at these scars of yours many times; luckily he never asked about them. The army was a place filled with people who had different background stories and bore numerous scars, so it wouldn’t be abnormal for you to have some that were a bit funny-shaped.

‘Should I do this again?’ 

Maybe you should. It helped with the emotions. Well, temporarily, but that was good enough.

Just as you were about to press the burning tip into your lower left arm, someone threw their whole weight into you. You were hugged by two strong arms and the cigarette was again dropped to the ground.

“There you are! I’ve been finding you everywhere!” It was the Scot man. “Are you smoking? Gosh, I hate this smell! Price’s cigars are much better!”

‘The ones that smell good are never bitter enough.’ You thought to yourself.

“Have you had lunch, pretty boy?” Soap pinched your dumbfounded face.

“Not yet.”

“What? Unbelievable! Get to the kitchen with me right now, Sergeant.” The man literally manhandled you straight from the parking lot into the base, leaving you no time to object.

As you two arrived at your destination, Ghost was already sitting there, sipping some coffee. Soap forced you to sit down right next to him while he proceeded to walk to the fridge and pulled out a dish, putting it inside the microwave oven. 

“Here you are, babyboy~” He put the hot meal in front of you. You chose to ignore the pet name and his flirtatious voice simply because he had started doing it to you ever since you start working here. It was just one of his signature thing, you should not fall for it and mistake it as a sign of interest that could develop into romantic feelings. 

“Thanks, Soap.”

“Aw, don’t be so all worked up and formal, babyboy. Ya’ welcome~”

Silence fell over the three of you, until you just felt so awkward that you had to speak up, “So… how was this morning?”

“It was fine. Ghost stepped in your place and took care of the training.” Soap replied.

You carefully glanced at Ghost, just to find that the man already looked at you, which made you tremble slightly. The skull mask on his face made him too difficult to read, you couldn’t tell whether he was annoyed or he just gave up on expecting something greater from you. 

Soap laughed at your reactions, “It’s okay. You were drunk so Price agreed to let you sleep. Also, Ghost volunteered to help you with the training so he probably doesn’t hold a grudge. Am I right, Ghostie?”

The masked man didn’t answer; instead, he turned back to his cup of coffee.

You quickly finished your meal and left, saying that you should do training by yourself. The truth was you couldn’t stay there any longer, you didn’t want to disturb Ghost and Soap’s rare peaceful time together. You had already made too terrible an impression on Ghost, it’s best that you did not mess up again. As a result, you also missed their conversation. It was not intended for you to listen to anyway.

“You’re right. He did it.” Soap’s voice was solemn, with no sign of flirt or unseriousness like a few minutes before.

“You mean the scars?” Ghost looked up at him from the cup.

“Yeah, the round scar marks that you’ve told me many times.”

“It was just my guess. How do you know he really did it?”

“I found him in the parking lot. He was holding a burning cigarette and about to press it into his left arm.” 

A few minutes of silence passed until Ghost spoke up, “Fuckin’ hell.”

“I asked Price about his past, I know it’s a nosy thing to do, but I wanted to help. Unfortunately, Price knows nothing either. Y/n… the boy never opens up to us.”

The two men sat quietly, exchanging worried looks with each other. If only you could know how much they cared for you, maybe you would find it easier to accept their love and help. Yet, even if they told you, even if they desperately showed you so many times that they cared and loved you so much, would your brain allow your heart to welcome them just like how it used to welcome other people you had met earlier in your life, the ones who left you wounded and made you the way you were today? 

If someone asked you that question, you’d just offer them a weak smile and simply say: “No”. You're now too tired to hold on to any crumbles of hope left in your broken soul. You'd like to give up.

to be continued i guess :")

Taglist: @aphroditeslovr @prestigeghoul @edgyboi10000 @c0nny3917 @peter-the-pan @lovecats123451

Gf and legion sketch i forgot to post

I got a Wesker bean in the mail today he’s so shape