djunkiejunk

Latest Posts by djunkiejunk

so anyway i found my moms xfiles fanfiction from the 90′s

Writers on a random Tuesday: Sits down, locks in, giggles, writes 10k, does not sleep

Also writers on a random Tuesday: writes one sentence and then stares into the abyss for five fours

If you write romance, do your characters flirt in your head while you’re trying to sleep, or is it just me?

writing? oh, i’m definitely writing. in my head. during the most inconvenient times. like in the shower or when i’m about to fall asleep. actual typing? no, no, we don’t do that here.

me rereading a scene: omg why is she acting like that who wrote this? i wrote this.

anyway PRESENT MIC STILL DOES THE CHARACTER INTROS. PEACE AND LOVE ON PLANET VIGILANTES.

vigilantes TODAY did indeed sink in literally just now

Seriously y'all....it's his day off.

Haven’t had a writer’s block this bad since middle school

Paws and Effect Blurb

Read the full thing on: AO3

Paws and Effect - A Ghost/Reader/Soap Hyrbid AU fic.

Blurb - 4k words, Full on AO3 - 16k words (18+)

Summary: Soap was convinced that Ghost was hiding something. He was dead set on a secret missus tucked away in some flat in London. Nothing could have prepared him for the truth. A cozy little farmhouse, far removed from the chaos of their world, and a… fluffy cat? The biggest shock yet? The cat’s true identity.

Soap was certain that Ghost had a missus back home. His first clue? Ghost’s uniforms. They were always crisp and well-pressed. Don’t get him wrong, he was sure the big man knew how to use an iron, but there was something suspiciously meticulous about the way his clothes looked when he would come back from leave. Pressed to perfection, not a single wrinkle in sight.

Not only were they clean-pressed, but there was that scent that drove Soap’s nose crazy. It wasn’t just your standard laundry detergent, there was something warmer, floral, something… homey. Soap had sniffed every brand of detergent he could get his nose on, but nothing quite matched the lingering fragrance that was on Ghost’s clothes.

He tried asking once, tossing out the question casually. “So, you got a missus waiting for you back home, Ghost?”

The man barely spared him a glance, shaking his head. “Just a cat,” he said. His tone was even, but Soap swears he could see just the faintest twitch of a smile under his mask. 

What really got under his skin was how the rest of the 141 played along. When he pressed Gaz about it, all he got was a shrug. “He’s not lying, mate. He’s got a cat.”

Price wasn’t any better. “Sounds about right,” he said, offering nothing more. Soap wasn’t buying it though, because every so often he’d get another clue. 

Like when he overheard Ghost chatting with someone on base. He kept mentioning how she was doing, whether she was planning to visit soon and no matter how hard he tried, Soap couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t a cat. It was always just vague enough to be brushed off, yet it gnawed at Soap’s curiosity. 

The final clue was the phone calls. Ghost wasn’t the type to waste time on mindless chatter, but every now and then, he’d slip away with his phone, voice low and private. One night, Soap happened to walk down the hallway towards the rec room at the right time. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop… kind of. It just so happened that he could hear Ghost’s voice from where he so happened to be standing.

“Yeah… I miss you too.”

Soap nearly fell out of his pants. He finally caught him, but he couldn’t let him know. He needed something more solid and he had to find out just who this girl was.

Going back to square one, he decided to take another swing at asking questions. “So Ghost, what’s your cat’s name?”

Ghost barely looked up from his cards. Soap had figured the team’s weekly poker game was the perfect time to catch him off guard. It seemed like a solid plan so far, but Ghost was just as unreadable as ever.

“Callie,” Ghost answered simply.

Soap narrowed his eyes. “What kind of name is that for a cat?”

Price leaned back in his chair, gaze darting between Soap and Ghost. “Why do you care so much, Johnny?” he asked his tone a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“I don’t, I just-,” he huffed. “Look, I just know he’s full of shite, alright? There’s no way all he’s got at home is a bloody cat. And what’s worse is it that you lot seem to know it too.”

Across the table, Gaz snorted. “You sound jealous.”

Soap scowled. “I am not jealous. I just find it hard to believe.”

Before he could finish, Ghost’s phone buzzed.

The whole room went still.

Ghost barely reacted, checking the screen with his usual impassive air before typing out a quick response. Then, just as casually, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and placed his cards down with a satisfying ‘plap’.

“That was the cat,” he said flatly, revealing a full house. “Gotta make a call.”

Gaz nearly chokes on his drink, bursting out laughing. Price just sighed, leaning over to pat Soap on the shoulder. “Just give it up, mate.”

A month later, the task force was on the road, making their way back to base after a grueling week-long mission a few hours away. It was far too late for them to be out and exhaustion was starting to settle in. They had pushed to get back, desperate for their own beds, but the further they drove, the harder it was for everyone to stay awake.

“Why don’t we just crash at my place for the night,” Ghost offers, calm but firm. From behind the wheel, Price glances over, considering it for a second before nodding. 

“Sounds like a plan,” he says, speeding on into the night. 

Soap perks up immediately, practically bouncing forward to stick his head between the front seats. “Wait, we’re going to L.T.’s place?”

Ghost sighs, already regretting his offer. “On second thought…”

Soap playfully shoves his shoulder. “Aw, don’t be like that,” he grins. 

“It’s been a while,” Price cuts in, his voice carrying a note of familiarity. “It’ll be nice to visit again. Bet a lot’s changed since I was there last.”

Ghost doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he turns his gaze toward the dark scenery outside. “You have no idea…” he murmurs.

Soap blinks. “Wait, ye’ve been before, Captain?” 

Price nods. “A few times.”

From the back seat, Gaz casually raises a hand. “As have I.”

Soap reels back, scandilized “What?” he whines. “How come everyone else has got an invitation ‘cept me L.T.?”

Ghost cocks his head to the side, sizing up the Scotsman with an air of amusement. “You’re too rowdy. You’ll scare the cat.” 

Price and Ghost exchange a knowing glance, only adding fuel to the fire in Soap’s burning curiosity.

Soap huffs, flopping back into his seat with exaggerated indignation. “Unbelievable,” he mutters under his breath.

He turns his attention to the window, watching as the darkness of the countryside stretches endlessly around them. The road was essentially empty with vast, open fields on either side. Every so often, a streetlamp would flicker by, offering the briefest glimpse of the world outside before swallowing it back into the shadows.

Yet, despite the tranquil scenery around them, Soap’s mind was far from resting. If everyone had been to Ghost’s place before, that meant that there was definitely something worth seeing, something he was hiding. He was determined to be right. Ghost had a bird.

Further into the drive, Soap catches glimpses of distant lights moving across the fields. They bobbed and weaved in a uniform rhythm, eerily synchronized for lights, flickering through the darkness.

“Farmer’s dogs are out,” Ghost comments, his voice low and unreadable. “Must be chasin’ something.”

Before Soap could get a proper look at whatever something was, the car veered onto a narrow side road, cutting off his view.

“You live near a farm?” he asks, watching as the scenery shifts.

Ghost grunts an affirmative, offering nothing more. Before he could press any further, Price turns onto a long, gravel driveway, the tires crunching softly against the stones. 

Soap leans forward again as a modest yet charming farmhouse comes into view. A small porch light bathes the front of the house in a warm glow. It looked, cozy. Not how he would think one would describe Ghost’s home.

“That’s yer place?” he asks, heavy skepticism coating his tone.

Once again, Ghost merely grunts an affirmative. Then, with a slight edge to his voice, he adds, “Make sure you mind your manners.”

Soap smirks. “What, ye worried I’ll scare the cat?” Soap teases. 

The joke earns him a hard glare from the masked man, the kind that makes it very clear that he is treading on thin ice. Price parks up close to the house before anyone can say anything further. 

After stepping out, Soap takes a chance to look at his surroundings. The house was wrapped in lush greenery, flowers spilling over from well-kept garden beds and climbing trellises. It was once again a stark contrast to the man who owned it, comfy. And yet, it only fueled Soap’s suspicions.

They had barely grabbed their bags when a blood-curdling screech tore through the quiet night.

Soap froze, immediately on edge. “What the hell was that?”

A deep, guttural meowl followed and it felt long, drawn-out, and wrong. It echoes from somewhere near the tree line, making Soap’s pulse quicken.

Ghost barely reacts, simply glancing towards the forest. “Cat must’ve got out,” he mutters before heading toward the house.

Soap hesitates. That didn’t sound like any cat he’d ever heard.

Something about how Ghost said it so casually and dismissive sends a shiver down his spine. With a quick glance toward the others, he hurries after Ghost, not keen on lingering outside any longer than necessary.

Stepping inside, Soap was immediately hit with a wave of warmth and comfort. The living room was the exact opposite of what he had expected. Big, inviting couches piled high with plush pillows and blankets, soft lighting that cast a golden glow across the walls. Nearly every surface was adorned with plants, their vines spilling over shelves and trailing toward the floor in lazy curls.

And then there was the pet bed. It was huge, nestled in the corner like a throne. Soap stared at it, utterly surprised. “Just how big is your cat?”

Ghost’s answer dies on his tongue as another ungodly screech echoed from outside, this time followed by the unmistakable snap of jaws and a furious chorus of barking dogs.

Soap flinched, whipping toward the window in time to see three of the distant lights streaking past, tearing towards the forest with breakneck speed.

“Sounds like they caught whatever they were after,” Ghost says flatly, completely unfazed. 

Soap turns to him, concern plastered on his face. Slowly, Soap takes a step away from the window.

“Right,” Ghost continues as if nothing had happened. “One of you will need to take the couch. Guest bed’s not big enough for three.” 

Just as the words leave his mouth, a sudden noise comes from the kitchen. A faint but distinct shuffle, the sound of movement where there shouldn’t be any. Every head snaps toward the doorway. The team had faced enemy fire, brutal missions, and near-death situations. But after the week they’d had, their nerves were still wound tight, instincts sharp.

Suddenly, soft, quick footfalls break the silence, followed by a chorus of eager meows barreling into the living room. The team exhales, shoulders loosening as the true source of the “intruder” revealed itself.

“There she is,” Ghost says, his voice uncharacteristically warm as he kneels down.

A fluffy black cat, with a mosaic of white and orange splotches, practically launches into Ghost’s arms. Immediately a cacophony of loud, rumbling purrs fill the room as the cat chirps and rubs their head all over the masked man.

“There's my girl,” Ghost coos as he rubs a finger under the cat's chin. 

Soap swears he can see the damn cat smile, purrs growing even louder as it presses into the touch, completely and utterly smitten with the masked man.

“She's looking nice and healthy,” Price comments, watching the affectionate display.

At the sound of his voice, the cat perks up, ears twitching as it twists out of Ghost’s hold and trots over to rub against Price and Gaz’s legs. Both men reach down to scratch at its soft fur, their hands easily finding familiar spots.

“I forgot how soft you were,” Gaz chuckles as it twirls between them, soaking up the attention. Then, as if suddenly noticing the extra presence in the room, the cat pauses. Its bright green eyes land on Soap, studying him with a quiet curiosity. It tilts its head slightly, ears twitching as it takes a hesitant step forward. 

Soap freezes, glancing at Ghost who gives him a small nod.

“Let her sniff your hand,” Ghost instructs. 

Frowning slightly, Soap peels off his glove and extends his hand, palm up. The cat looks to Ghost first, as if waiting for some kind of confirmation. Ghost turns his attention to the cat, cocking his head to Soap. “That’s Soap,” he tells it, low and steady.

At that, its ears perk, and its tail flicks before it closes the distance, giving his hand a few, careful sniffs. Then, as if making its final judgment, it presses its head into his palm, purring into the touch.

“Soap, this is Callie,” Ghost says simply. “Seems she likes you.”

Soap blinks down at her as she gazes up at him with wide, trusting green eyes. Any lingering suspicions, theories, or conspiracies vanish in an instant. Ghost was telling the truth. There was no secret missus waiting back at home.

Just this cat. 

Callie.

“She’s a beaut,” Soap admits, scratching gently behind her ear.

Ghost gives a short nod. “Yeah.”

After another moment, Callie stretches lazily and trots back over to Ghost. She lets out a long, dramatic yawn before hopping effortlessly into his waiting arms, nesting into the crook of his elbow with a satisfied purr.

“Looks like she’s had a long night,” Ghost remarks, stroking her soft fur. “We’re gonna turn in, regroup in the morning.”

A murmur of sleepy agreements passes through the team. Ghost gave one last nod before retreating toward the downstairs bedroom with Callie still draped in his arms like a queen.

There was some lighthearted bickering over who got the couch, but Soap eventually ends up being the one collapsing onto the plush sofa. The second his head hits the pile of soft pillows and blankets, sleep takes him. For the first time in a long, long time, everything feels strangely peaceful.

The next morning, Soap stirred awake to the low murmur of voices drifting from the kitchen. The warmth of the blankets still clung to him, and for a moment, he considered rolling over and slipping back into his peaceful sleep. The tempting scent of fresh coffee ends up winning out and he stretches with a groggy yawn. He pushes himself upright, blinking blearily at the cozy living room around him before making his way toward the voices.

As he stepped into the kitchen, he was immediately met with two pairs of eyes watching him. Ghost and Price sit at a small dining table, mugs in hand, their conversation cutting off when they see him enter. There was something unreadable in their expressions, as if they were waiting for something. 

Soap narrowed his eyes, suspicious. Then, movement out of the corner of his eye has him whipping his head towards the other side of the kitchen. When his head turns, his thoughts grind to a screeching halt.

A woman.

A stunning woman.

She turns toward him and for a moment, all he can do is stare, slack-jawed. She has warm, sun-kissed skin and striking green eyes that seem to glow under the soft kitchen light. Long, dark black hair cascades down her back, streaked with vibrant patches of orange and white. But that wasn’t what had him frozen.

It was the ears.

Perched atop her head were two pointed, fur-covered ears, flicking slightly as they registered his presence. Behind her, a long, bushy tail stood proudly, curling slightly at the tip. His eyes dared to dart lower. 

She was dressed casually, wearing an old tank top that effortlessly hugged her figure paired with sweatpants with a cutout for her tail. But it was her feet that made his brain short-circuit. At first, he thought she was wearing oddly realistic slippers, but no, those were definitely not slippers. 

They were actual cat paws.

Soap’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. His brain finally clicked everything into place and suddenly, it all made way too much sense. His expression lit up in triumph as he spun on his heel, jabbing a finger towards Ghost.

“A-ha!”

Ghost let out a long, exhausted sigh, bringing a hand up to rub his temples. “Please don’t yell.”

Soap ignored him, grinning like a madman. “You said you didn’t have a bird!”

“He’s not wrong,” Price mused, smirking behind his coffee mug. “She’s definitely not a bird.”

Callie grins wickedly. “I eat birds.”

Soap crossed his arms, doubling down. “You also said you didn’t have a missus.”

The woman let out an amused hum, raising a delicate hand. “Not a missus either,” she purred, lips curling into a sharp smirk as she turned to Ghost. “You were right, master. This one is funny.”

Soap’s brain screeches to a second halt.

“Master?!” he gawks, whipping around to face Ghost like he had just grown a second head.

Ghost exhales through his nose, reaching for his tea like this entire conversation was already giving him a headache.

Soap took another second to let things sit in, completely stunned. Of all the things he had expected to find at Ghost’s house, this was not on the list. “Right. Okay. Just, hold on a minute.” Soap pinches the bridge of his nose like that would somehow help process the absolute madness in front of him. “So, let me get this straight. Ye’ve been lying to me this whole time? Playin’ me for a fool while I went on and on about you havin’ a secret missus?”

Ghost gives him a look over his mug, eyes flat and unimpressed. “Never lied to you, Johnny.”

Soap’s jaw drops. “Oh, bollocks ye didn’t!” He waves a hand at the woman, who was now watching him with an amused gleam in her eyes. “What’s all this then?”

Ghost takes another slow sip of tea, dragging it out just to piss him off, Soap is sure of it. “Told you I had a cat.”

Soap gawks at him. He turns to Price, who is doing a terrible job of hiding his smirk. Turning to the woman, her tail flicks lazily behind her as she sips from her own cup, utterly unbothered by his existential crisis.

Finally, his eyes settle on Gaz, who walks into the kitchen. He takes one look at the situation before sighing.

“Finally found out, huh?” He turned to the woman with an easy nod. “Morning, Callie.”

“Morning, Kyle,” she responds happily.

Soap whirls on him. “You knew too?!”

Gaz snorts, grabbing a cup from the counter and starting to pour himself some coffee. “Mate, everyone knew.”

Soap threw his hands in the air. “What the hell is wrong with all of you? How is this normal? This is not normal.”

A soft chuckle draws his attention back to Callie. “Relax, Johnny,” she teases, stepping closer. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen a shifter before.”

Soap takes a step back, bumping into the counter. “A what now?”

She arches a brow. “A shifter?” At his blank stare, she sighs, setting her cup down before gesturing to herself. “You know… a hybrid. A morph. I think in Japan I’m known as a nekomata.” She flicks her tail for emphasis. “Any of this ringing a bell?”

Soap blinks. Looks at Ghost. Back at her. Looks at her tail. Then back to Ghost.

“That's what all that racket was last night,” she says with a huff. “Sorry about that, by the way, I hope I didn’t scare you. Had to shift into my bigger form to deal with this nasty fox that's been causing issues and eating my chickens. Finally caught the fucker, so I called the neighbor's dogs for some assistance.”

Price chuckles at Soap's pale face. “Starting to make sense now, isn’t it?”

Soap once again jabs a finger at Ghost. “You… yer dating a bloody cat girl and just didn’t think to mention it?”

Ghost shrugged. “Not my fault you wouldn’t drop it.”

Callie grins, stepping even closer to Soap, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Would it make you feel better if I purred for you?”

Soap blanches. “Do not.”

Ghost sighs and stands up to put a steadying hand on her head. “Stop winding him up, love.”

She huffs playfully, ears and tail flicking in satisfaction. “Fine, fine.” Then she leans up on her toes and gives Ghost a quick peck on the cheek, right over the mask. “But you do make it too easy, Johnny.”

Soap slumps against the counter, dragging a hand over his face. He needed a drink or a nap. Probably both.

Price stands up, clapping him on the back with a chuckle. “You’ll get used to it.”

Soap peeks through his fingers at Ghost. The same Ghost who could make hardened men freeze with a single look was letting Callie nuzzle into him.

The contrast was striking. His harsh demeanor softened as he ran a gloved hand down Callie’s back. The sight pulled something deep into Soap’s chest, something warm and unfamiliar. His initial resistance crumbled instantly, and the fight left him like air from a punctured tire.

And yet, what he’s most surprised to realize, isn’t his surrender. Rather, it’s the quiet tug of longing that settled in its place.

Despite how comforting the kitchen now felt, reality was quick to settle back in. Price was the one to break up the moment, clearing his throat to grab the boy's attention. 

“Sorry to break this up, but we're going to be needed back at base today to give a debrief. Why don't we finish our drinks and be wheels up in 10?”

Soap pushes off the counter, glancing at Gaz, who is now determined to finish his coffee before they return to work mode. “I'll go grab my stuff.”

Callie, still tucked against Ghost's side, gives a small pout. “So soon? You boys just got here.”

Soap scoffs. “Aye, and I'm sure you’d love to keep watchin’ me lose my mind, but we do have jobs to get back to, lass.”  

She smirks. “Fair enough. But don’t be a stranger, Johnny.” 

Something in the way she says his name is light, a little teasing, but oddly warm. It makes his ears burn, and he quickly turns on his heel before anyone notices.

“It was really good to see you boys,” Soap can hear her say with a purr as he leaves the kitchen. “Promise you'll stay longer next time? Give me a chance to properly host you all?”

He hears the captain respond, but Price’s voice is too low to make out. A few minutes later, the team has their gear piled up in the living room, ready to head out. Ghost disappears into the downstairs bedroom while the others get things sorted.

Soap takes another slow look around the cozy space, trying to shake the weird sense of homeyness it leaves in his chest. He hadn't expected any of this, and he sure as hell didn't expect to feel… jealous? No, that couldn't be right. Whatever it is, it settles heavily in his stomach as he watches Ghost reappear, Callie trailing behind him with an easy grace.  

As they step outside, the crisp morning air cuts through the lingering warmth of the house, jolting Soap back into reality. Ghost pulls the door shut behind them, lingering there for a moment. Callie takes the opportunity to lean up on her feet, brushing a kiss against the side of his mask. He murmurs something to her, too low for Soap to hear, before stepping back and heading towards the car.  

Callie waves lazily as they load into the vehicle. “Safe travels, boys.”  

Soap leans his head against the window as Price pulls away, watching as Callie stands in the driveway, tail flicking. She stays there until they disappear down the road.  

Only then does he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.  

Gaz nudges him with a knowing smirk. “What’s got you all quiet?”  

Soap scowls. “Nothin’.”  

Price chuckles from the front seat. “Give it time.”  

Soap had no idea what he meant by that. But as he watches the road stretch ahead of them, the warmth of Ghost’s home fading into the distance, he has a sinking feeling he’s going to be thinking about this for a long time.

A/N: Thought I would post a little snippet of this story here on Tumblr since I've noticed that's where I'm finding a lot of other hybrid things. I think the full story might be too long to post here so I've got the full thing linked below! Thank you for reading! 💜

Completed story on: AO3 (18+)

👻👻

i hate it when i cant even write a poem about something because its too obvious. like in the airbnb i was at i guess it used to be a kids room cause you could see the imprint of one little glow in the dark star that had been missed and painted over in landlord white. like that's a poem already what's the point

Paws and Effect Blurb

Read the full thing on: AO3

Paws and Effect - A Ghost/Reader/Soap Hyrbid AU fic.

Blurb - 4k words, Full on AO3 - 16k words (18+)

Summary: Soap was convinced that Ghost was hiding something. He was dead set on a secret missus tucked away in some flat in London. Nothing could have prepared him for the truth. A cozy little farmhouse, far removed from the chaos of their world, and a… fluffy cat? The biggest shock yet? The cat’s true identity.

Soap was certain that Ghost had a missus back home. His first clue? Ghost’s uniforms. They were always crisp and well-pressed. Don’t get him wrong, he was sure the big man knew how to use an iron, but there was something suspiciously meticulous about the way his clothes looked when he would come back from leave. Pressed to perfection, not a single wrinkle in sight.

Not only were they clean-pressed, but there was that scent that drove Soap’s nose crazy. It wasn’t just your standard laundry detergent, there was something warmer, floral, something… homey. Soap had sniffed every brand of detergent he could get his nose on, but nothing quite matched the lingering fragrance that was on Ghost’s clothes.

He tried asking once, tossing out the question casually. “So, you got a missus waiting for you back home, Ghost?”

The man barely spared him a glance, shaking his head. “Just a cat,” he said. His tone was even, but Soap swears he could see just the faintest twitch of a smile under his mask. 

What really got under his skin was how the rest of the 141 played along. When he pressed Gaz about it, all he got was a shrug. “He’s not lying, mate. He’s got a cat.”

Price wasn’t any better. “Sounds about right,” he said, offering nothing more. Soap wasn’t buying it though, because every so often he’d get another clue. 

Like when he overheard Ghost chatting with someone on base. He kept mentioning how she was doing, whether she was planning to visit soon and no matter how hard he tried, Soap couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t a cat. It was always just vague enough to be brushed off, yet it gnawed at Soap’s curiosity. 

The final clue was the phone calls. Ghost wasn’t the type to waste time on mindless chatter, but every now and then, he’d slip away with his phone, voice low and private. One night, Soap happened to walk down the hallway towards the rec room at the right time. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop… kind of. It just so happened that he could hear Ghost’s voice from where he so happened to be standing.

“Yeah… I miss you too.”

Soap nearly fell out of his pants. He finally caught him, but he couldn’t let him know. He needed something more solid and he had to find out just who this girl was.

Going back to square one, he decided to take another swing at asking questions. “So Ghost, what’s your cat’s name?”

Ghost barely looked up from his cards. Soap had figured the team’s weekly poker game was the perfect time to catch him off guard. It seemed like a solid plan so far, but Ghost was just as unreadable as ever.

“Callie,” Ghost answered simply.

Soap narrowed his eyes. “What kind of name is that for a cat?”

Price leaned back in his chair, gaze darting between Soap and Ghost. “Why do you care so much, Johnny?” he asked his tone a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“I don’t, I just-,” he huffed. “Look, I just know he’s full of shite, alright? There’s no way all he’s got at home is a bloody cat. And what’s worse is it that you lot seem to know it too.”

Across the table, Gaz snorted. “You sound jealous.”

Soap scowled. “I am not jealous. I just find it hard to believe.”

Before he could finish, Ghost’s phone buzzed.

The whole room went still.

Ghost barely reacted, checking the screen with his usual impassive air before typing out a quick response. Then, just as casually, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and placed his cards down with a satisfying ‘plap’.

“That was the cat,” he said flatly, revealing a full house. “Gotta make a call.”

Gaz nearly chokes on his drink, bursting out laughing. Price just sighed, leaning over to pat Soap on the shoulder. “Just give it up, mate.”

A month later, the task force was on the road, making their way back to base after a grueling week-long mission a few hours away. It was far too late for them to be out and exhaustion was starting to settle in. They had pushed to get back, desperate for their own beds, but the further they drove, the harder it was for everyone to stay awake.

“Why don’t we just crash at my place for the night,” Ghost offers, calm but firm. From behind the wheel, Price glances over, considering it for a second before nodding. 

“Sounds like a plan,” he says, speeding on into the night. 

Soap perks up immediately, practically bouncing forward to stick his head between the front seats. “Wait, we’re going to L.T.’s place?”

Ghost sighs, already regretting his offer. “On second thought…”

Soap playfully shoves his shoulder. “Aw, don’t be like that,” he grins. 

“It’s been a while,” Price cuts in, his voice carrying a note of familiarity. “It’ll be nice to visit again. Bet a lot’s changed since I was there last.”

Ghost doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he turns his gaze toward the dark scenery outside. “You have no idea…” he murmurs.

Soap blinks. “Wait, ye’ve been before, Captain?” 

Price nods. “A few times.”

From the back seat, Gaz casually raises a hand. “As have I.”

Soap reels back, scandilized “What?” he whines. “How come everyone else has got an invitation ‘cept me L.T.?”

Ghost cocks his head to the side, sizing up the Scotsman with an air of amusement. “You’re too rowdy. You’ll scare the cat.” 

Price and Ghost exchange a knowing glance, only adding fuel to the fire in Soap’s burning curiosity.

Soap huffs, flopping back into his seat with exaggerated indignation. “Unbelievable,” he mutters under his breath.

He turns his attention to the window, watching as the darkness of the countryside stretches endlessly around them. The road was essentially empty with vast, open fields on either side. Every so often, a streetlamp would flicker by, offering the briefest glimpse of the world outside before swallowing it back into the shadows.

Yet, despite the tranquil scenery around them, Soap’s mind was far from resting. If everyone had been to Ghost’s place before, that meant that there was definitely something worth seeing, something he was hiding. He was determined to be right. Ghost had a bird.

Further into the drive, Soap catches glimpses of distant lights moving across the fields. They bobbed and weaved in a uniform rhythm, eerily synchronized for lights, flickering through the darkness.

“Farmer’s dogs are out,” Ghost comments, his voice low and unreadable. “Must be chasin’ something.”

Before Soap could get a proper look at whatever something was, the car veered onto a narrow side road, cutting off his view.

“You live near a farm?” he asks, watching as the scenery shifts.

Ghost grunts an affirmative, offering nothing more. Before he could press any further, Price turns onto a long, gravel driveway, the tires crunching softly against the stones. 

Soap leans forward again as a modest yet charming farmhouse comes into view. A small porch light bathes the front of the house in a warm glow. It looked, cozy. Not how he would think one would describe Ghost’s home.

“That’s yer place?” he asks, heavy skepticism coating his tone.

Once again, Ghost merely grunts an affirmative. Then, with a slight edge to his voice, he adds, “Make sure you mind your manners.”

Soap smirks. “What, ye worried I’ll scare the cat?” Soap teases. 

The joke earns him a hard glare from the masked man, the kind that makes it very clear that he is treading on thin ice. Price parks up close to the house before anyone can say anything further. 

After stepping out, Soap takes a chance to look at his surroundings. The house was wrapped in lush greenery, flowers spilling over from well-kept garden beds and climbing trellises. It was once again a stark contrast to the man who owned it, comfy. And yet, it only fueled Soap’s suspicions.

They had barely grabbed their bags when a blood-curdling screech tore through the quiet night.

Soap froze, immediately on edge. “What the hell was that?”

A deep, guttural meowl followed and it felt long, drawn-out, and wrong. It echoes from somewhere near the tree line, making Soap’s pulse quicken.

Ghost barely reacts, simply glancing towards the forest. “Cat must’ve got out,” he mutters before heading toward the house.

Soap hesitates. That didn’t sound like any cat he’d ever heard.

Something about how Ghost said it so casually and dismissive sends a shiver down his spine. With a quick glance toward the others, he hurries after Ghost, not keen on lingering outside any longer than necessary.

Stepping inside, Soap was immediately hit with a wave of warmth and comfort. The living room was the exact opposite of what he had expected. Big, inviting couches piled high with plush pillows and blankets, soft lighting that cast a golden glow across the walls. Nearly every surface was adorned with plants, their vines spilling over shelves and trailing toward the floor in lazy curls.

And then there was the pet bed. It was huge, nestled in the corner like a throne. Soap stared at it, utterly surprised. “Just how big is your cat?”

Ghost’s answer dies on his tongue as another ungodly screech echoed from outside, this time followed by the unmistakable snap of jaws and a furious chorus of barking dogs.

Soap flinched, whipping toward the window in time to see three of the distant lights streaking past, tearing towards the forest with breakneck speed.

“Sounds like they caught whatever they were after,” Ghost says flatly, completely unfazed. 

Soap turns to him, concern plastered on his face. Slowly, Soap takes a step away from the window.

“Right,” Ghost continues as if nothing had happened. “One of you will need to take the couch. Guest bed’s not big enough for three.” 

Just as the words leave his mouth, a sudden noise comes from the kitchen. A faint but distinct shuffle, the sound of movement where there shouldn’t be any. Every head snaps toward the doorway. The team had faced enemy fire, brutal missions, and near-death situations. But after the week they’d had, their nerves were still wound tight, instincts sharp.

Suddenly, soft, quick footfalls break the silence, followed by a chorus of eager meows barreling into the living room. The team exhales, shoulders loosening as the true source of the “intruder” revealed itself.

“There she is,” Ghost says, his voice uncharacteristically warm as he kneels down.

A fluffy black cat, with a mosaic of white and orange splotches, practically launches into Ghost’s arms. Immediately a cacophony of loud, rumbling purrs fill the room as the cat chirps and rubs their head all over the masked man.

“There's my girl,” Ghost coos as he rubs a finger under the cat's chin. 

Soap swears he can see the damn cat smile, purrs growing even louder as it presses into the touch, completely and utterly smitten with the masked man.

“She's looking nice and healthy,” Price comments, watching the affectionate display.

At the sound of his voice, the cat perks up, ears twitching as it twists out of Ghost’s hold and trots over to rub against Price and Gaz’s legs. Both men reach down to scratch at its soft fur, their hands easily finding familiar spots.

“I forgot how soft you were,” Gaz chuckles as it twirls between them, soaking up the attention. Then, as if suddenly noticing the extra presence in the room, the cat pauses. Its bright green eyes land on Soap, studying him with a quiet curiosity. It tilts its head slightly, ears twitching as it takes a hesitant step forward. 

Soap freezes, glancing at Ghost who gives him a small nod.

“Let her sniff your hand,” Ghost instructs. 

Frowning slightly, Soap peels off his glove and extends his hand, palm up. The cat looks to Ghost first, as if waiting for some kind of confirmation. Ghost turns his attention to the cat, cocking his head to Soap. “That’s Soap,” he tells it, low and steady.

At that, its ears perk, and its tail flicks before it closes the distance, giving his hand a few, careful sniffs. Then, as if making its final judgment, it presses its head into his palm, purring into the touch.

“Soap, this is Callie,” Ghost says simply. “Seems she likes you.”

Soap blinks down at her as she gazes up at him with wide, trusting green eyes. Any lingering suspicions, theories, or conspiracies vanish in an instant. Ghost was telling the truth. There was no secret missus waiting back at home.

Just this cat. 

Callie.

“She’s a beaut,” Soap admits, scratching gently behind her ear.

Ghost gives a short nod. “Yeah.”

After another moment, Callie stretches lazily and trots back over to Ghost. She lets out a long, dramatic yawn before hopping effortlessly into his waiting arms, nesting into the crook of his elbow with a satisfied purr.

“Looks like she’s had a long night,” Ghost remarks, stroking her soft fur. “We’re gonna turn in, regroup in the morning.”

A murmur of sleepy agreements passes through the team. Ghost gave one last nod before retreating toward the downstairs bedroom with Callie still draped in his arms like a queen.

There was some lighthearted bickering over who got the couch, but Soap eventually ends up being the one collapsing onto the plush sofa. The second his head hits the pile of soft pillows and blankets, sleep takes him. For the first time in a long, long time, everything feels strangely peaceful.

The next morning, Soap stirred awake to the low murmur of voices drifting from the kitchen. The warmth of the blankets still clung to him, and for a moment, he considered rolling over and slipping back into his peaceful sleep. The tempting scent of fresh coffee ends up winning out and he stretches with a groggy yawn. He pushes himself upright, blinking blearily at the cozy living room around him before making his way toward the voices.

As he stepped into the kitchen, he was immediately met with two pairs of eyes watching him. Ghost and Price sit at a small dining table, mugs in hand, their conversation cutting off when they see him enter. There was something unreadable in their expressions, as if they were waiting for something. 

Soap narrowed his eyes, suspicious. Then, movement out of the corner of his eye has him whipping his head towards the other side of the kitchen. When his head turns, his thoughts grind to a screeching halt.

A woman.

A stunning woman.

She turns toward him and for a moment, all he can do is stare, slack-jawed. She has warm, sun-kissed skin and striking green eyes that seem to glow under the soft kitchen light. Long, dark black hair cascades down her back, streaked with vibrant patches of orange and white. But that wasn’t what had him frozen.

It was the ears.

Perched atop her head were two pointed, fur-covered ears, flicking slightly as they registered his presence. Behind her, a long, bushy tail stood proudly, curling slightly at the tip. His eyes dared to dart lower. 

She was dressed casually, wearing an old tank top that effortlessly hugged her figure paired with sweatpants with a cutout for her tail. But it was her feet that made his brain short-circuit. At first, he thought she was wearing oddly realistic slippers, but no, those were definitely not slippers. 

They were actual cat paws.

Soap’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. His brain finally clicked everything into place and suddenly, it all made way too much sense. His expression lit up in triumph as he spun on his heel, jabbing a finger towards Ghost.

“A-ha!”

Ghost let out a long, exhausted sigh, bringing a hand up to rub his temples. “Please don’t yell.”

Soap ignored him, grinning like a madman. “You said you didn’t have a bird!”

“He’s not wrong,” Price mused, smirking behind his coffee mug. “She’s definitely not a bird.”

Callie grins wickedly. “I eat birds.”

Soap crossed his arms, doubling down. “You also said you didn’t have a missus.”

The woman let out an amused hum, raising a delicate hand. “Not a missus either,” she purred, lips curling into a sharp smirk as she turned to Ghost. “You were right, master. This one is funny.”

Soap’s brain screeches to a second halt.

“Master?!” he gawks, whipping around to face Ghost like he had just grown a second head.

Ghost exhales through his nose, reaching for his tea like this entire conversation was already giving him a headache.

Soap took another second to let things sit in, completely stunned. Of all the things he had expected to find at Ghost’s house, this was not on the list. “Right. Okay. Just, hold on a minute.” Soap pinches the bridge of his nose like that would somehow help process the absolute madness in front of him. “So, let me get this straight. Ye’ve been lying to me this whole time? Playin’ me for a fool while I went on and on about you havin’ a secret missus?”

Ghost gives him a look over his mug, eyes flat and unimpressed. “Never lied to you, Johnny.”

Soap’s jaw drops. “Oh, bollocks ye didn’t!” He waves a hand at the woman, who was now watching him with an amused gleam in her eyes. “What’s all this then?”

Ghost takes another slow sip of tea, dragging it out just to piss him off, Soap is sure of it. “Told you I had a cat.”

Soap gawks at him. He turns to Price, who is doing a terrible job of hiding his smirk. Turning to the woman, her tail flicks lazily behind her as she sips from her own cup, utterly unbothered by his existential crisis.

Finally, his eyes settle on Gaz, who walks into the kitchen. He takes one look at the situation before sighing.

“Finally found out, huh?” He turned to the woman with an easy nod. “Morning, Callie.”

“Morning, Kyle,” she responds happily.

Soap whirls on him. “You knew too?!”

Gaz snorts, grabbing a cup from the counter and starting to pour himself some coffee. “Mate, everyone knew.”

Soap threw his hands in the air. “What the hell is wrong with all of you? How is this normal? This is not normal.”

A soft chuckle draws his attention back to Callie. “Relax, Johnny,” she teases, stepping closer. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen a shifter before.”

Soap takes a step back, bumping into the counter. “A what now?”

She arches a brow. “A shifter?” At his blank stare, she sighs, setting her cup down before gesturing to herself. “You know… a hybrid. A morph. I think in Japan I’m known as a nekomata.” She flicks her tail for emphasis. “Any of this ringing a bell?”

Soap blinks. Looks at Ghost. Back at her. Looks at her tail. Then back to Ghost.

“That's what all that racket was last night,” she says with a huff. “Sorry about that, by the way, I hope I didn’t scare you. Had to shift into my bigger form to deal with this nasty fox that's been causing issues and eating my chickens. Finally caught the fucker, so I called the neighbor's dogs for some assistance.”

Price chuckles at Soap's pale face. “Starting to make sense now, isn’t it?”

Soap once again jabs a finger at Ghost. “You… yer dating a bloody cat girl and just didn’t think to mention it?”

Ghost shrugged. “Not my fault you wouldn’t drop it.”

Callie grins, stepping even closer to Soap, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Would it make you feel better if I purred for you?”

Soap blanches. “Do not.”

Ghost sighs and stands up to put a steadying hand on her head. “Stop winding him up, love.”

She huffs playfully, ears and tail flicking in satisfaction. “Fine, fine.” Then she leans up on her toes and gives Ghost a quick peck on the cheek, right over the mask. “But you do make it too easy, Johnny.”

Soap slumps against the counter, dragging a hand over his face. He needed a drink or a nap. Probably both.

Price stands up, clapping him on the back with a chuckle. “You’ll get used to it.”

Soap peeks through his fingers at Ghost. The same Ghost who could make hardened men freeze with a single look was letting Callie nuzzle into him.

The contrast was striking. His harsh demeanor softened as he ran a gloved hand down Callie’s back. The sight pulled something deep into Soap’s chest, something warm and unfamiliar. His initial resistance crumbled instantly, and the fight left him like air from a punctured tire.

And yet, what he’s most surprised to realize, isn’t his surrender. Rather, it’s the quiet tug of longing that settled in its place.

Despite how comforting the kitchen now felt, reality was quick to settle back in. Price was the one to break up the moment, clearing his throat to grab the boy's attention. 

“Sorry to break this up, but we're going to be needed back at base today to give a debrief. Why don't we finish our drinks and be wheels up in 10?”

Soap pushes off the counter, glancing at Gaz, who is now determined to finish his coffee before they return to work mode. “I'll go grab my stuff.”

Callie, still tucked against Ghost's side, gives a small pout. “So soon? You boys just got here.”

Soap scoffs. “Aye, and I'm sure you’d love to keep watchin’ me lose my mind, but we do have jobs to get back to, lass.”  

She smirks. “Fair enough. But don’t be a stranger, Johnny.” 

Something in the way she says his name is light, a little teasing, but oddly warm. It makes his ears burn, and he quickly turns on his heel before anyone notices.

“It was really good to see you boys,” Soap can hear her say with a purr as he leaves the kitchen. “Promise you'll stay longer next time? Give me a chance to properly host you all?”

He hears the captain respond, but Price’s voice is too low to make out. A few minutes later, the team has their gear piled up in the living room, ready to head out. Ghost disappears into the downstairs bedroom while the others get things sorted.

Soap takes another slow look around the cozy space, trying to shake the weird sense of homeyness it leaves in his chest. He hadn't expected any of this, and he sure as hell didn't expect to feel… jealous? No, that couldn't be right. Whatever it is, it settles heavily in his stomach as he watches Ghost reappear, Callie trailing behind him with an easy grace.  

As they step outside, the crisp morning air cuts through the lingering warmth of the house, jolting Soap back into reality. Ghost pulls the door shut behind them, lingering there for a moment. Callie takes the opportunity to lean up on her feet, brushing a kiss against the side of his mask. He murmurs something to her, too low for Soap to hear, before stepping back and heading towards the car.  

Callie waves lazily as they load into the vehicle. “Safe travels, boys.”  

Soap leans his head against the window as Price pulls away, watching as Callie stands in the driveway, tail flicking. She stays there until they disappear down the road.  

Only then does he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.  

Gaz nudges him with a knowing smirk. “What’s got you all quiet?”  

Soap scowls. “Nothin’.”  

Price chuckles from the front seat. “Give it time.”  

Soap had no idea what he meant by that. But as he watches the road stretch ahead of them, the warmth of Ghost’s home fading into the distance, he has a sinking feeling he’s going to be thinking about this for a long time.

A/N: Thought I would post a little snippet of this story here on Tumblr since I've noticed that's where I'm finding a lot of other hybrid things. I think the full story might be too long to post here so I've got the full thing linked below! Thank you for reading! 💜

Completed story on: AO3 (18+)

Aizawa

Took a few days but I finished this! A study/heavily inspired by @/kuroshiro on Twitter/X. Hope you all enjoy!

I'm at that disgusting point of my writing where I cannot fathom writing any more of my story today... but it's all I can think about. 🙃

me writing the worst paragraph of my life knowing that a sexier, more hydrated version of me will fix it later

Writers be like: "I love my characters!"

Also writers: "What if I made them suffer horribly for no reason except my own entertainment?"

AIZAWA IN THE NEW VIGILANTES TRAILER AIZAWA IN THE NEW VIGIILNATES TRAILER AIZAWA IN THE NWE VIGILANTES TRAILER AIZAWA IN THE NEW VIGILANTES TRIALER

AIZAWA IN YHE NEW--

You, every night.

I think the funniest part of writing fanfic is trying to decide how a character says one word. Like I just got stuck on the word 'the'. Do they say it with an accent? Do I make it sound like 'ta' instead of 'the'? I spent 15 minutes scrubbing through material just for one word. 😂

#selfportrait

"dick" "pathetic" "moan" "pussy" "desperate" "wet" "needy" "cock"

me as a writer

Quick little 500 word New Year Soap blurb that was on my mind. Not the usual guy I write about, but I feel like he'd fit best in this scenario. Best wishes to everyone in the new year! ✨

~

This year had been a relentless storm of chaos. You cycled through two different apartments, three different jobs, and four heartbreaks with boyfriends who seemed to fit your life about as well as shoes two sizes too small. The year ended in a crescendo of disaster with a holiday shouting match between you and your parents. They lectured you about responsibility, stability, and your future, while you barely resisted the urge to scream back that life wasn’t a neat little checklist.

Needing an escape, you found yourself at a dimly lit, slightly sketchy bar for New Year's Eve. It wasn’t fancy, but at least it wasn’t crowded. The bartenders were surprisingly pleasant for people stuck working on a holiday, and their strong pours had done an admirable job numbing your frustration. 

You perched on a creaky barstool, your gaze drifting to the overhead TV broadcasting the glitzy Times Square celebration. The screen showed bundled-up couples and families huddling together, their faces glowing with excitement as the clock ticked down. "60 seconds to midnight," one of the anchors chirped.

Your stomach churned, not just from the booze but from the creeping melancholy that always seemed to hit when you least wanted it. A year of missteps and failed connections had left you longing for something, anything, to cut through the static of loneliness. Your eyes wandered down the bar, scanning the room like a radar looking for a friendly signal.

That’s when you saw him. A broad-shouldered man with a charmingly confident grin and a slightly rebellious mohawk slid into the seat next to yours. His presence had an almost magnetic pull, and when he turned to meet your gaze, his smile was warm enough to melt a little of the ice inside you.

“Happy New Year,” you offered, your voice light but tinged with hope.

“Same to you,” he replied with a playful edge, the kind that promised an interesting story.

As the bar filled with the sound of the countdown, the bartender appeared with two glasses of champagne, sliding one in front of you and the stranger. “On the house,” he said with a wink.

“You got a New Year’s kiss lined up?” the man asked, his grin widening.

You felt your cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and excitement bubbling up. “Not yet,” you admitted, glancing down as the countdown hit 10 seconds.

Something bold and reckless surged through you, the kind of courage that only a New Year’s Eve countdown and a few too many drinks could summon. You turned to him, caught his gaze, and leaned in. 5 seconds.

Your lips met his just as the bar erupted in cheers and shouts of “Happy New Year!” The kiss was electric, a jolt of warmth that cut through the haze of the year gone by.

When you pulled back, he looked momentarily stunned, but a snarky grin quickly spread across his face. He raised a hand toward you, palm up. Sitting in his open hand was a single Hershey’s Kiss.

Me after every conversation: Shit they’ll never wanna talk to me again.

My average writing experience:

"Alright I think I'm almost done actually-"

*Google doc grows second health bar and a choir starts singing in latin*

If you catch me doomscrolling instead of working on my fics, no you don't. ✨ thanks, hope this helps 💜

Happy birthday, Eraser Head! 🎂 💕

Happy birthday Aizawa🥳