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Tell a friend to tell a friend HE’S BACKKKK

[boozenboze]

Hello!You can call me Boze.I write for Male reader content only since there is enough Female content to come across.

Fandoms I Write For:

Umbrella Academy

All Of Us Are Dead

Alice in Borderland

Tokyo Revengers

Stranger Things

The Quarry

Other fandoms I’m part of

What I’ll write about

Angst

Fluff

Smut(Never done it before but I’ll give it a shot)

Oneshots

Head cannons

What I Won’t Write For

Rape/Sa/Non-consent content

Extreme Angst

Female Reader

That’ll be all Folks

[boozenboze]

Proven to me once again that the Duffers are cowards, confirmed on %100. Genuinely wtf was the point of all the buildup between Mike and Will since SEASON 1. What was the purpose of putting so much between the two if nothing was gonna happen at the end. They lied, I alr know the cast is prolly disappointed with how it ended too, cause imo neither Mike or Will got a truly happy ending. Also the way Mike was looking at Will’s binder on the shelf before putting his own next to it, he looked fuckin miserable. Anyways my favorite show is no longer it, but the characters will always be my faves, I just wish some of them got a written result because everything seemed so half assed

The scene im referring to with Mike looking miserable:

Also mind you when we see Will placing his binder down, guess what color was under his grey/white shirt. Blue. (But sure Will, he’s just your “Tammy”)

(I’ll have to go back and snap a pick of that too)

Apart from that, Mileven. Poorly built. El deserves much better. Even when knowing that your girlfriend was about to practically dissappear forever, you still can’t respond to her “I love you”. The kiss doesn’t even matter atp. You mean to tell me that the only time you can utter those words is when you’re about to lose something or someone or when you need her to focus because something else is on the line? Nah brotha. Not once in any of those response letters did he actually sign off saying “Love Mike”. It was always, “From, Mike”; repeatedly, without fail. El said it herself. In my own words, something as strong as an I love you can’t be uttered to someone you care about if you didn’t truly mean it. Same thing for an “I hate you”. That boy has never been able to tell that girl that he loved her when there was no strings attached. When there was no sense of obligation to say it.

Edit 1:

Another thing to note as well, a whole lot is still left unanswered. What about the painting? The 18 month timeskip before the main events, what the hell happened there? What was the point of Will asking Robin what are the signs someone wanted to date? What was the purpose of using parallels so excessively if they weren’t gonna mean anything at the end? All of that for what? I can already say for the clicks, but even with that logic it still doesn’t make since.

Side Note: Imma prolly keep adding to this the more I think back to some things, but there’s a whole lot missing and I am unimpressed by the work these conniving money hungry fucks put out.

[nadin2003]

🕊 Nadin’s Hope: A Mother, A Memory, A Future

Hello, my name is Nadin. I’m from Gaza. I’m a graphic design graduate, a wife—and now, a mother.

I finished my design studies just before the war began. I had dreams of starting a small studio, of creating art that told stories. I used to think about colors and fonts and the future.

Then, the war came. And the future became something we tried to hold onto, moment by moment.

On October 22, 2023, I learned I was pregnant when a missile destroyed my husband’s family home, killing 25 members—his mother, siblings, nieces and nephews—entire branches of our family in seconds.

We were displaced twice. Everything was gone—home, safety, routine, rest.

A few weeks later, I gave birth to our daughter. There was no crib, no celebration—not even stillness. But she arrived, quietly and beautifully. In her eyes I saw something I hadn’t felt in weeks: life that still wanted to grow.

Now, our days are shaped by decisions that could dismantle the future we are trying to build together.

Today, Israel’s government is discussing plans for a full military occupation of the Gaza Strip, including Gaza City and southern regions. The stated aim: to eliminate Hamas and later hand governing control to allied Arab forces—not Israel—but with no clear path to peace or normalcy.

The humanitarian fallout is devastating. More than 61,000 Palestinians have died in this war; hunger and malnutrition are rising sharply. Hospitals in north Gaza have shut down, and 193 people have now died of starvation, nearly half of them children.

Aid remains blocked, water is scarce, and many risk dying of hunger or disease long before future promises arrive.

We Don’t Know What Comes Next There’s no clear path forward—only uncertainty for our daughter’s life and our ability to survive another day.

Nadin’s Hope: Rebuilding Life for a Mother and Child

My name is Nadin, and I’m a mother from Gaza.

How You Can Help I’m asking for support—not for comfort, but for survival:

Help us meet basic needs so we can breathe, heal, and preserve a world for our daughter.

Support us as I try to stand again on my own feet—even a glimmer of stability matters.

If you’ve read this far, thank you. If you can give—thank you. If you can’t—just sharing this post is a lifeline I will never forget.

[boozenboze]

Make Him Purple

Summary: Make him purple

Ghost x M!Reader

Concept: In this story, people, including the individual viewing them appear to be the same color, their clothes included. (Excluding every day items; foods, drinks, etc) It varies, for example everyone including yourself could appear to be one color, though there’ll be that one person who’s a complete different color

MDNI

The Lieutenant's life was always a horror story. Childhood, to being tortured and buried alive, digging himself out, and placing a mask over his face. A shield that hid the man who, deep down, was hurt beyond repair yet continued to move like a specter. 6’4 worth the man, sticking to corners, presence alone being enough to make one’s knees buckle.

From all he could recall, everyone around him was always red. Perhaps resulting from how many of whom he meant drew blood from him. Many of the people around him have proven to be a threat, holding the potential to cause harm…to betray. Something he always knew was coming at some point, something he’d grown used to in his years.

The lads of the 141 proved to be trustworthy, though even that had taken time. Once that loyalty and trust had been built, the red hue that appeared on them all faded. They looked normal ever since. From that day forward, it never changed back…maybe because they didn’t fit into the category of those who caused him turmoil…nor those who hadn’t gained his trust.

Even then, he never relied too heavily on his team. He never could do that...Simon learned that’d get you killed a long time ago, hell, it could get someone else killed too. Dependence was always out of the picture, a luxury he’d never once been able to have, no matter who he was around.

Though a few months into being in the 141, a new Sergeant was introduced. M/n L/n: Hand-picked by Price like all the rest of them had been since the making of the 141. It made the Lieutenant uneasy, yes, but it wasn’t his place to question the captain's choices.

The guy was…wait.

“The hell…”

Standing in front of him…he was purple.

Not completely, at least, bollocks no. The red was still there, yes, but…it was faded… ombre-like. Hints of his actual skin color seeped through, looked…perfect. Too perfect. His eyes were-“Fuckin’ ell’

They seemed to be piercing in their own unique way. Sharp in their own right. When his gaze shifted towards the Lieutenant, an unfamiliar spark flickered deep down within him. It was filling, a type of serenity he hadn’t felt in…well, ever. A feeling that a piece of a puzzle had finally been found and potentially found its match.

From how it looked, it seemed as if whatever the Sergeant was seeing in his own perspective was different also, since he was continuing to cop glances at the larger man. Probably thought he was being slick, hell, Ghost thought he was being slick himself. You couldn’t even tell that he’s looking in the sergeant's direction, if it weren’t for the slight tilt of his head in that direction.

None of what Price was saying was registering, going in one ear, flowing out the other. Only the fragments of information about the lad clipping through his daze. His gaze, behind the black hollowed sockets of his mask, stayed engrossed on the man standing before him.

———————

Getting to know him was a process of its own. Like him, the sergeant was hard to get a read on. The best way to describe the guy was calm. Never seemed to stress, not during firefights, drills, spec ops, none of it. The two never interacted much, though when they did, figuring this guy’s color was easy. If you know basic color theory, red is to blue, and blue is to red. By God, had this man had to be the prettiest of blues, the purple his body reflected any time he was near the Lieutenant was always…perfect.

Hell, the color began to rub off on him, also. Anytime they got close, side by side, Ghost would notice the red hue on him would begin to recoil, turning into the same indigo purple the sergeant was when he got too close. Keeping distance should’ve been the plan; it always was with the other recruits brought on, besides the core members of the 141. But something kept bringing him back, like an invisible line that kept him coming back.

The guy was unique in his own right, didn't take shit from anyone; rank didn't seem to sway the way he responded to higher-ups. That "I don't give a damn who or what you are" attitude should've gotten him in trouble by now; that was part of the reason he was with the 141. In a way, he was similar to Price from a morally grey standpoint, not afraid to get his hands dirty.

M/n proved that on the first mission with them, they had zero problems with popping a supposed "civvie" in both thighs to get info on a target. Going so far as to empty the chamber of his firearm and only loading one bullet. Gave the poor man a chance to tell the truth or be removed from the system. It worked; they got what they needed. Though that confirmed why the last unit he worked with wasn't able to handle him, if the guy had no issue with that, then just how far would he go? Even with these considerations, it wasn't enough to make Riley go away.

He stuck by the man, not always speaking or giving clipped comments, just his presence. The sergeant never said anything about it; he wasn't inherently bothered by the larger man's presence. Hell, if anything, he kept hovering back too. Moments after missions, the Lieutenant would glance him over, no words said or exchanged. Though his intent was clear...he was just making sure he was okay. M/n could hardly understand why the Lieutenant decided to hover around him more than anyone else; again, not that he minded at all. Though it was still strange to have a 6'4 ghost watching over him, damn near 24/7.

From his perspective, Ghost was also purple. Yes, everyone else in the 141 also remained the same blue; everyone usually would be in his point of view. Seeing someone...different, it was refreshing. It was scary...and generally not professional in any way. That didn't stop the pull that seemed to keep them in one another's orbit. It didn't stop Ghost from cornering him when he noticed something was off, didn't stop him from hovering in the doorway of his quarters, watching him do his thing. It sure as hell didn't stop the Lieutenant from taking a risk...kissing him in the middle of an op while taking cover. As if the pull finally knotted itself and possessed Ghost's resolve. That moment led to more risque moves, kissing him in the darkest corners on base, sneaking him into his own quarters just to have him there. Ghost would even go to the sergeant's room just to be in his space. His larger frame took up room in the quaint space meant for one. That never seemed to stop him, not when M/n never told him to leave or fuck off, which he appreciated more than he'd say out loud.

It'd been that one night when Ghost had him pinned down beneath him, arms caging him in on both sides. His mask wasn't off, not yet at least, but the balaclava he always wore beneath the hard white skull was pulled up. His scarred lips were in view for the sergeant below him, waiting for permission to have what he wanted and ready to back off if needed. That hadn't happened, though. M/n never did push him back. Not when those lips brushed his neck, the stubble on the man's chin tickling his own skin, making him shudder under the contact.

The way Ghost kissed him was a contrast to his mask on the field, gentle, and damn near yearning for the one man that seemed to keep him grounded. With how much he's lost, the suffering, the scars, it felt that the one thing in his life that contrasted from all the rest in their own unique way kept him tethered down. The kisses he'd leave were a mark; the sergeant was his.

His to mark

His to claim

His to protect.

Whenever he would kiss the sergeant, that pretty shade of blue that was hidden beneath that purple would break past where he'd touched him. The color he'd long suspected him of being since the first time they locked eyes. Riley's life had always been consumed in red, an extension of the result of how the world treated him from early on. Only those he truly trusted had been stripped of that color. Though now, he'd met the one contrast to all the other reds in his life.

A guy who was purple all over from day one, who reciprocated his way of affection and swallowed him wholeheartedly.

_________________

(took way longer to do than I intended, sorry bout that…Gaz post coming next)

[boozenboze]

Sorry for the delay. As fall approaches my weak ass immune system decided to yield to the subtle weather changes. Posts will be out soon, gon need a minute tho since I’ve been feeling like crap🫡🥹

[boozenboze]

May have 1 or 2 things posted by tomorrow, depending how this evening goes

🧍🏽

[boozenboze]

"My Cure"

Task Force 141 x Ivan!Male reader

Summary: Remaining victim of his shallow emotions

A very strange fellow amongst the ranks. Zero reaction, little to no genuine emotion, simply existing. An enigma in the 141, someone that even Soap can’t really seem to get through to. The Scot remained friendly with the guy, in the best way he knew how. It’s like Soap understood him, yet, didn’t. Even then, Fang was always a respectable sergeant…even with his strange tendencies:

Sparring had gone sideways seemingly out of nowhere. One moment, Soap and Fang were sparring, and the next,it seemed they were fighting for some unseen dominance. For the first time…it seemed that Fang was actually enjoying himself; hell, the whole ordeal pulled a smile from his lips.

It took a while to separate the two, even with Price’s barking at them to stop.

___________

A while passed from then, and Johnny could still recall the fingers on his cheek. Prodding at the cut that Fang himself had left on him, he was now picking at it, causing blood to ooze out again.

“Aye! Mate, watch it!” Soap hissed, swatting the male's hand away from his face. The anger was swiftly shifted from annoyance to confusion, unable to understand why the man licked the blood that was left on his fingers. Soap swallowed hard, turning back to his food, damn near biting his inner cheek from how fast he started chewing in attempts to distract himself.

———————

The others were aware of where the lad had come from. Lived on the streets for a long while with dangerous people, later adopted into a business which had just been human trafficking, then into the government's hands when the main building in which operations were run had been bombed down during an attack. From what Price had been able to gather, the lad was always as obedient as a dog. Never complained, spoke out of turn, not even a blink less necessary.

Ghost never had an issue with him, the two often having stare-offs which often just ended with Fangs’ snaggletoothed grin. With Garrick, they’re… sibling-like? In a way, at least. Fang would do something that’d result in a hefty side eye from Gaz, or even just the reaction of him pretending not to be associated. Soap? Don’t even ask him, cause he’s unsure himself. It seemed that on day one, the lad was always…strange on him.

Never pushy, never that. But the guy seemed to lack the awareness of personal space, though even that seemed hypocritical for him to think. He himself always talked the others' ears’ off, so he was unsure as to why it felt so awkward to be close to this guy. Not to mention how…intense his stare would get with him specifically. It seemed as if no one else would notice that reddish hue that’d appear in Fangs’ eyes when he looked at him. A red hue that never appeared with anyone else, just with him.

Like the time when they had? That red pupil glowed like an ember…like a warning almost. He’d mentioned it to the others before, but anytime they’d look, they’d see…nothing. Not a thing at all, just the same practiced smile that Fang seemed to have mastered over time. Maybe during his time working in popular downtown bars, performing, and charming, it all blends together.

There were often those days in which Fang and he would sit very close to one another. Despite that part of Soap that felt the need to get away, he stayed. He felt the weight of the other males staring at him as he sketched in his book. The times in which Fang would be sitting somewhere in the distance, and Soap would find himself staring, subconsciously beginning to examine the man's side profile. The male's side profile ends up in different parts of his sketchbook.

——————

“Oi mate…what ya drawing there-?” Gaz trailed off as he approached Soap from behind. Seeing the man staring into the distance, gaze obviously focused on something. His own eyes found the target immediately, a small smirk appearing on his lips.

“Ah…he’s your muse, eh?” Gaz teased, london accent dripping in his tone. Soap’s head whipped around, hands fumbling his sketchbook like it held world secrets and conspiracies.

“Mind ya business, ye’ nosy…” Soap cursed, though his tone lacked any bite. Not that it usually did on field, that Scottish Gaelic toned down as if he was attempting to be quiet. Even when he’d jumped earlier, his eyes kept darting back towards the male in the distance. Fang seeming more…at peace, than what he’d usually be.

MacTavish couldn’t help but stare…hell, what else could the lad do? The guy was…something. Hell, he couldn’t form the words in his own mind. Just the simmering admiration for a man so…unreadable…

———————

A long while had passed since the last mission, but here they were again. Missiles are shooting through the opaque sky like shooting stars. It’d been beautiful if it hadn’t left destruction in its wake. Fang just watched from the rooftops, the light burning a shine into his eyes that’d never been there in those pitch black eyes. He backed away, mind flashing with the familiar appearance of a sergeant with a mohawk. Recognition flashed through his features as he turned to get him.

The panic on base was repetitive, sergeants, captains, recruits, and all scattering like ants. Ants that all crowded the enigma that was Fang. Where soldiers ran from harm is where Fang found himself being drawn to. Reaching the far back section of the base is where he found him, stuck, weighed down by a shelf.

He lifted it easily, pulling the man from under the crushing weight with ease. The two ran, hand in hand, with Fang leading the way. When they finally made it outside, Soap couldn’t help but be awestruck by the lights flashing through the sky. He almost kept going, but then…

Gaz…

Price…

Ghost…

He couldn’t just leave them, he couldn’t. The two made it a few more steps, almost away from the wreckage, before Soap’s hand slipped from his. It didn’t seem like Fang was planning on turning back, and a wave of guilt flashed over Soap’s features. Brows furrowed, lips pursed as he hesitated for a moment, only for a moment, before he fully turned and ran back. He needed to go back and get the others…those were his mates, his team, his family.

And it was in that moment too that Fang finally turned around to see him running back towards the chaos. His eyes widened, wind blasting around and lights flashing from all angles as he watched Soap run back. A moment of…sadness washed over him, a part of him wanting to yell and tell MacTavish to come on. But he didn’t. He stood there, a pained smile making its way onto his features as he watched the man go. Then, he himself followed, running right behind him. It wasn’t his place to make the Scot do what he wanted; he’d respected his choices…

Even if that’d cause him more sorrow…

—————

(This idea came to mind a little while after my most recent post…hope ya’ll like it...may take down later if not)

[boozenboze]

Hey uh, i dont mean to be a bother, but your description says your accepting requests, so i have one ya. Because i really really like your writing.

How about a TF141 x Reader, with a recruit with a callsign/nickname Spook/Spookie/Spooky because their always skittish, easily scared/caught of guard.

You can delete/ignore this if you dont feel like it, or for whatever reason. Please & Thank you.

"Jumping Jitters"

Summary: Our favorite jittery sergeant

Navigating on base with an abundance of different characters. Headstrong, cocky, overtly confident; the works. Meeting someone who's not fronting or fishing for attention from higher is hard to come by. But meeting Sergeant Jitters was a whole different spectacle. The lad was always so...unapologetically reactive. Price had worked with them a couple of times, and the Captain had taken notice of how jumpy they could be in relation to loud noises. Like the one time a recruit accidentally fired their rifle at the wrong time while everyone was in target practice. Price could recall the whole ordeal in full, and it still manages to pull a chuckle out: Sergeants and recruits alike were lined up on the range, rows of 5, 10 in each. The sergeant was reloading his ammunition, doing it exactly and steadily. Price had watched them line up their shot when a loud POP shot through the air. The squeakiest yelp shot out from the sergeant's throat, along with the lad jumping and pulling the trigger. The laughs that arose from the others from M/n's earlier yelp dialed down when his shot was shown to have gone through the target's head. The lad was still shaking, clearly still startled and embarrassed from their sudden reaction.

Price just stared, blank-faced, with a cigar between his lips as a small smirk tugged at his lips. He knew Jitters was a skilled fella, even with that nervous edge they always seemed to have etched in their being. MacTavish had been the one to start calling the Sergeant that. Started the first day the lad came on base. Being the camaerderic lad he is, he naturally gravitated to the sergeant. Originally just Sergeant L/n, no weird callsign or number, just their last name. That changed the day Soap first saw them, deciding to greet them in that loud Scottish Gaelic and friendly hand pound to the back. Watching the sergeant practically jump out of their boots, startling even him for a moment before a booming laugh left him. "Steemin' Jesus lad, ain't mean to scare ya!" Soap boasted, chuckling as the lad stared at him wide-eyed and still shaking slightly. The nervousness melded into a soft, awkward chuckle from the sergeant, to which Soap grinned in turn. M/n hadn't known at that time, but that was just the start of MacTavish's reign of terror on his nerves. In the mess hall, the Scot almost made them drop their food. Or the other time in which he came up behind him and poked their sides. M/n was not happy, but took it all in stride. Knowing the other sergeant meant no harm by it. But then the nickname started.

Jitters

It became casual, something Soap would just call them that, naturally, because of how jumpy they were. No matter the time or place, the sergeant was just jumpy... Jittery. That's how M/n got their unofficial callsign, and they just accepted it. Despite that name, their competence on and off the field always shone. Like how even when they'd get startled, they remained focused, whether they did it naturally or subconsciously. How, even when a sudden banging sound rang through the base, he remained steady and sharp, even when they damn near leaped out of their boots.

The Lieutenant watched them from afar, never confronting them directly. Just...observant. Seeing how they never really snapped at anyone, no forced bravado, cockiness, none of that. Just that normal human reaction that they couldn't help but let out. Many soldiers get used to the sound of things slamming, being fired, or exploding. Someone of Ghost's caliber definitely came to lack those reactions, with all he's seen and experienced in his life; it's unsurprising.

He's seen many soldiers lose part of themselves, sometimes so much that they can't come out of it. War breaks people, he knows that; he experienced that. So seeing a Sergeant around the same age as him, having joined around the same time as him, still able to express natural human emotions despite things that should've broken them...it gained the respect of Ghost.

Gaz and Jitters get along mutually. M/n's jumpy nature is endearing to him as it is to most on base. The guy is funny, being able to sit in complete silence with him until someone pops out of nowhere, making them yelp, is always entertaining to see. Not to mention the occasional times they’d cling onto the nearest thing, something Gaz has fallen victim to several times. Like the time Soap swiped the back of M/n’s neck:

Jitters was in the common room, going through some papers with Gaz that Price had given them. They had a rhythm going. Jitters would organize the documents, and Gaz would sign off on what needed to be signed. Moments passed before a hand suddenly tickled the hairs on the back of their neck. Jitters yelped out loud, leaping forward like a frog and landing halfway in Gaz's lap, papers still clutched in their hands.

"HAHAHA-! Bloody hell mate-! HAH...!" Soap laughed, struggling to keep it together when Jitters turned back towards him with this wide bug-eyed look, which only made the Scot cackle harder. Gaz rested his arms on Jitters' back, struggling to hold in a laugh of his own as the sergeant covered his face with the papers. Looking utterly mortified.

_______________

(yeah....heyyyy, how ya'll doing. I'm tryna find my rhythm again with my writing and usual flow...though that may be different since my writing style has changed a bit.... Anyways, hope you enjoyed this...about to start something else as we speak...)

[boozenboze]

So when I was scrolling and notice this thrilling post and read it, I loved it, your really good makin' stories, I don't now if you're still taking request now, hehe... can I request for part 4 of Tf141 x GhostFace! Male Reader, please.🥺

Oh. Oh goodness me 🧍🏽

[boozenboze]

Do you write for Rebelde?

Never heard of it, what’s it about?

[boozenboze]

If you get this, answer w/ three random facts about yourself and send it to the last seven blogs in your notifs. anon or not, doesn’t matter, let’s get to know the person behind the blog! 🩷

Well uh

I’m a Junior(HS)

My favorite colors are Green and Blue

I love reading

[boozenboze]

Do you still write?I cannot find a single male reader story at all

Planning on getting back to it, ya dude been in the land of non commitment and being burnt out to a crisp

[boozenboze]

hoe.. where have you been. it's almost gonna be a year.. I miss my fics. please.

Hey…ion know when this was sent but how u doing…?😄😅

[boozenboze]

2. Hound Dog

Tf!141 x Roberta!Male reader

Summary: Don’t mess with the people he holds to dear. He will get blood on his hands for them.

Women/Female Aligned DNI

While going through the endless amounts of older articles and private information. Price hadn't found much significance in the writings, though there were a few things he took to mind. Some of the poorly taken photos were clear to be of M/n. However, there was something weird under the information. He used to be under an elite squad way before he joined the 141. The call sign he has now Teleiotís, wasn't even his original call sign. Having gone under the codename Hound. "The hell were you up to lad..?" Price murmured, eyes focusing on the name. It was another word for a dog, a wild beast. M/n wasn't like that, he'd always been the perfect soldier. Even if he did act robotic sometimes. Despite the decent amount of info that was given, there wasn't enough to piece many things together. Why was he so durable, strong at that. He'd met many other soldiers in his time, yet there was nobody like this. Nobody like him.

Going a bit further, he found a folder in the corner of the screen, the slightly hidden folder having caught his full attention. He clicked on it, watching the screen flash black, extracting a look of wary from his face. 0...13..26...45...60..76...89...95...100..loading.

A knock on his door swept his attention away from the screen, Price now looking towards the door.

"Time to start headin' out," Laswell called out, leaving Price to sigh in response. He still had shit he needed to do, that would have to wait. They still had a job to do. In the moments that Price put his hat on his head, and headed out the door, a description was shown of a man. In bold italic letters in red, showed something that could change a lot. The Blood-Hound of The Inner Circle.

—————-

Everything went to shit, leaving Soap beat up on the ground with Gaz tied up to Price, arms to their backs. They don't know what they'd done with Ghost, but he's a tough one so they try not to worry much about it. After almost acquiring what they needed, the whole operation having gone too smoothly for their liking ended with them being led into a trap. M/n was nowhere to be found, hell he hadn't even come on this run with them. If anything he should still be at the base, doing whatever work he does when they do go on a mission without him. "Watcher-1, do you copy?" Price grumbled, voice sounding hoarse and dry. He struggled against the rope, wrists having rug burn on them causing a stinging sensation. "Shit.., Soap...lad you alive?" Soap opened his eyes, having had them closed moments ago. He looked roughed up, having run his mouth more than needed towards the enemy. Left him with a bruised cheek and busted lip.

"Never been better sir.." Soap groaned, feeling the pain in his back as he sat up groggily. He pushed himself up against the wall, working his wrists only to feel that he was tied too. "Got this shit bloody fucking tight- ugh." Soap struggled against his restraints to no avail, his wrists beginning to sting due to his struggle. He leaned his head against the wall, sighing out of frustration. As far as they could tell, they were unable to hear anything going on outside the room, and the only thing there for potential escape was a ventilation system high up on the ceiling. They were stuck, no doubt, with no possible way of escape. A few moments passed, Soap lolling his head to the right, hearing the door to the room they were being held in being unlocked. Adrenaline rushed through their bodies, an unspoken sentence going through their heads as their eyes set heavy on the door. Be ready

The door creaked open, Gaz shifting in his seated position, fully being on edge. With the door fully opened, they found themselves staring into nothing. The hallway was completely dark, the lights occasionally flickering. "The hell..?" Price murmured, squinting at the dark abyss of the hall, attempting to land his gaze on something, anything. Then he saw it, the familiar sight of the red substance he and the rest of his fellow soldiers often got on their hands. It looked fresh, and as the lights flickered again he could see the extent of it all. An audible gulp was heard from Soap, which was understandable. They weren't able to hear or see...whatever the hell happened, but there was no mistaking the sight of Ghost walking past, the large man stopping when he found his team. "Bloody hell..." Ghost said under his breath, rushing to untie Gaz and Price from one another. "Well look at that, L.T. here saving the day." Soap cheered cheekily, though the look Ghost gave him shut him up. He let the man untie him, nodding his head at him once finished. The 3 took the chance to stretch, needing to be ready to move again. "Mind telling us what going on?" Gaz questioned, referring to the flickering lights and blood-splattered walls. "Dunno wasn't me though." Ghost replied gruffly, his gaze coming in contact with the others who held a look of confusion and a sense of uneasiness. If Ghost hadn't done this, that'd only mean one thing. Someone else was here

"Where were you-, what'd happened when they took you," Soap asked, shifting his weight to his right leg. Silence filled the room, Ghost just staring at each of them.

------------

Thwack

Thwack

Thwack

Blood was spat out of Ghost's mouth, and his mask had been ripped off his face, leaving him with his balaclava. He was being interrogated, his silence having ticked off the enemy soldiers badly. "Hell's it gon take to make ya talk eh?" The soldier said, the annoyance prominent in their tone. Ghost's head was to the side, his gaze to the ground.

"Oi...speak damnit!" A loud thud was heard, the butt of a gun making contact with Ghost's skull. The soldier went in for another hit only to be stopped by the other soldier in the room with a hand to the shoulder. They scoffed, backing away and letting the other soldier have his turn. They turned on their heel, walking out of the room, leaving Ghost alone with the other soldier. The man stood there for a moment, looking down at Ghost who was also looking at him. A look of distaste clear in his gaze, moments going by with just this. "You're gonna have to talk," He stated shortly, the soldier, pulling a chair to now sit across from Ghost. He sat, lounging in the wooden chair casually, potentially trying to appear laid back. An often yet effective tactic. "And hell if I don't?" Ghost said back, hardened stare not leaving the soldier who visibly became uncomfortable under his gaze.

"Well, ya teammates seemed pretty worried bout ya earlier." The soldier said, staring back at Ghost with his newfound found hand. The fucker was holding the lives of his team over his head, and quite frankly. That's not something he'd want to happen.

He glared, the smirk appearing on the other man's face pissing him off with each second it remained. "Lay a damn hand on any of em and I swear I'll-" Ghost was cut off by the sound of a blood-curdling scream, followed by the sound of glass shattering. The enemy soldier stood up, pulling his gun up steadily. The screams faded out, a cracking sound echoing through the now silent hall. The soldier stopped in place, the sound of footsteps being heard making their way down the hall. With a shaky hand, he grabbed the doorknob, slowly opening the door and peeking out of it.

His breath hitched, at the sight of the soldier who was originally inside the room with his neck twisted where the back of his head should be. His mouth was ajar, blood spilling from his mouth, worse part about it being that he was still alive. He wasn't getting enough air, choking on his own blood while using whatever air he had left in his lungs to breathe. Or at least try...

The soldier backed away, the door creaking open on its own, enough for Ghost to see as well. He tensed, gazing hard at the now dying soldier. Not even a second later, a gun went flying towards the soldier in the room with him. The man got thrown back, the gun sending him flying into the wall, the head of the gun piercing the man through the mouth and out his skull. His body now hung from the wall, completely motionless.

The remaining man, Ghost stared at the whole scene. He couldn't move, gaze shifting to the doorway again to see someone standing there. He was locked in, being able to hear his own thoughts yet couldn't move a muscle even if he tried. His pupils dilated as the figure approached him slowly and tentatively. Upon closer look, he had a black surgical mask on his face, with a familiar uniform on his body. Was he worried about that at the moment though? Not at all.

Ghost's eyes lost their sight on him once they went behind him, feeling the enigma untie his hands. He still hadn't moved, yet a look of confusion was now held in his eyes. His breath hitched when he felt something land in his lap, relaxing when he saw his mask. He looked back up, about to say something only for the man to be gone.

------------

The three stared at Ghost, looks of equal confusion and intensity in their eyes.

"Let's move, can't risk gettin' caught up with whatever the hell's going on." Price said, quickly moving to lead the others out. They had to be quick, or else there'd be a possibility that they'd end up having the same fate as those other poor sods.

As they moved through the large building, swiping whatever guns or knives the fallen soldiers had on them. Gaz had to cover his nose at one point, the metallic smell of blood making him feel sick.

"Where we even goin'..., place s' like a labyrinth," Gaz murmured, staying close on Price's 6 while Soap stayed a bit further back with Ghost's imposing figure.

"Should be an exit somewhere-." Price held his hand up, the others stopping in suit. There were two people at the end of the hall, both throwing punch after punch at the other. With a quick and swift movement, the soldier who was clear to be the enemy lifted the other up, slamming him onto a table that was for some reason at the end of the hall.

"You really thought I couldn't recognize you...," An unfamiliar voice spoke, possibly the enemy soldier. The sound of a gun clock echoed through the quiet hall, the 141 members hiding around the corner, silently watching the whole spectacle. "I know how you fight, hell we were from the same regiment.

"Hmm, well I do recognize you..." The other voice spoke, Soap's ears perking up at the sound of it. If he wasn't dreaming, it was who he thought it was, despite his tone being so... different. A scoff of amusement was heard from the same man.

"Why don't you just shoot me eh? I see that look in yer eyes." The enemy spoke, glaring down at the other man. "You were an asset to our plans, yet you up and left us like an old toy. Boss wasn't very happy bout that..." Silence came back into the room, Gaz looking back at Soap who had a look of familiarity in his eyes. "What?" Gaz whispered, staying as quiet as possible. Soap held a hand up, a silent motion to tell Gaz to be quiet.

"Come back with us Hound, stop pretending to be some weak-ass hero. Come be the man you were before." The man pushed, smirk clear in his voice. The four men's eyes widened, their teammate? No, it couldn't be...how... "Markov would love to see this pretty face again y'know."

A low chuckle left the other man.

"Well...I am tired of it all, but once I'm done here, my job will be done," The voice spoke back, undoubtedly belonging to their teammate. The enemy backed away, gun still in his hands as he watched Hound intently. With the way his gaze lay on the man, it was clear there was something else he wanted. Hound, being the quick-minded man he was, sighed as he sat up a bit more on the table.

"Still being cautious, understandable." The sound of a belt unbuckling made Price quickly move slightly from around the corner, ready to shoot the man. Without missing a beat, the lock on Hound's belt opened, revealing something other than a belt. The sound of shots firing made Price back, the enemy yelled out in pain, falling to his knees.

"You fucking!- AGH." The man was cut off when he was suddenly lifted off the ground, Hound landing a heavy blow across the soldier's face. "You think I'd lower myself down to your level again? Pig," Hound spoke, glaring down at the soldier who looked shocked. Another punch to the face, then the stomach. The enemy spat out blood, knees buckling yet Hound's hold on his shirt unwavered. Another punch was heard, only this time a loud crack was heard. Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost listened intently, an uncomfortable feeling in the pits of their stomachs to the sound of bones breaking. "I'd never go back, not when I have them," Hound spoke, voice void of any emotion towards the beaten and wounded soldier "They're my family and my loyalty...my protection...my love is for them. I'd be damned if I let them go, or have you try and take me back to that shit hole."

It was like a pang to the heart, despite how sinister his tone was coming off. It was refreshing, he really did care for them despite how he behaved. Though, they couldn't ignore the fact that...he'd been associated with Markov. (A/n: I tagged those who asked to be tagged or be made aware of when this came out in the comments of pt.1) @byakuren100 @d0wnwthecl0wn @thefanpov @sochigonzo

@hashslingingslasherofficial @hauntedapplefarm @incubusx @king825

[boozenboze]

Right In Front Of Me Kyle Gaz Garrick x M!reader

Summary: Gaz comes to a realization

Women/Female aligned DNI

Together from the very beginning

They had enlisted together, honing their skills to be the best pair the Military had ever seen. Starting off when serving the SAS domestic counter-terror program, before being where they were now. They made a pact, to stick together no matter what the other does. It couldn't be helped nor could it be fought.

Even after being alongside one another for so long, aware of how the other behaved, conflict was always in their midst. Despite that, they always found their way back to one another, even if they got on the other's last nerve.

This time, however, they had gotten into a petty quarrel and Kyle didn't feel like talking. M/n tried to initiate their interactions to no avail, Gaz being a sass lord and ignoring him. In other terms, he was being petty and caught up in his own feelings. Now, today was the day of the mission. Get in, get out, a difficult yet simple task. Everything had gone smoothly so far, till the unexpected ambush by the enemy. It had left Gaz to hardly hold on to consciousness. On the ground, gripping his side, trying his best to stop his bleeding, being lucky enough to not have the bullet that hit him hit any major organs. His hat had slipped from his head, and his face and overall stature were covered in the filth of the field. Laid on his back, his vision got hazy with his eyes half-lidded. The sound of gunfire seemed more distanced despite being so near. Footsteps approached his resting place, Gaz unable to shift his gaze from what was above. Chocolate eyes met the head of a gun being pointed at his head, Gaz sucking in what he suspected to be his last breath. A shot rang off, a thud being followed right after. He felt no other pain besides the shot he had before.

Something bumped him from his left, hands feeling all over his body, the same hands cupping his face. It was like an echo in a cave, a familiar voice calling out in desperation and urgency. His eyes flickered open, meeting a familiar pair of e/c eyes he'd never failed to end up staring back at. "Gaz....Gaz, shit- Kyle get the hell up, ya bloke!" The voice yelled out, the commandment in his tone making him groan. He felt M/n's hand pushing his clothes up to expose the injury. The man said nothing, lips apart and a look of life in his eyes. It was like he was seeing a new light, a realization that he never had come to mind. It was always him if not anyone else.

"C'mon, told ya ass not to wander too far from me!" M/n urged, pulling him up to his feet like many times before. With everything happening so fast, it was surprising for Gaz to feel like everything was in slow motion all of a sudden. His legs showed no signs of weakening, likely due to adrenaline. Even so, while being saved again, his eyes never left him. They somehow never did.

Nobody else would do it, no matter how close they were. M/n was always the one to care, listen, comfort, and put him back in line. Every damn time, it was him who'd be right at his side, even in a moment like this. It was almost like a dream, watching how he rushed him to safety despite there being risks of him being hurt as well. He always managed to be there. He was safe, he had what he needed. And he needed him, the one who'd been in front of him all this time, even if he'd never end up saying out loud. (A/n- Good night/morning loves)

[boozenboze]

Just a small thought I’ve been having 👀

Hope y’all have been well🧍🏽

(Might write a lil something, haven’t cooked in a while)

[boozenboze]

Hello beautiful people

I won’t be taking anymore requests as of now, but I do plan on posting again soon. I am busy and with parade season coming where I am, I’m gonna be busier. I have over 34 things that I’m planning on working on/finishing so stay vigilant!

Luv y’all ☺️