#sharkyshitposts

[frogs-crackcorner]

It's nearly one am when Simon stumbles out of the bar. The team was in Berlin for an operation but they had wrapped that up yesterday. Their flight home wasn't scheduled till the next day so they had decided to enjoy the sights and activities. And you can't visit the beer capital of the world without getting a pint, Soap had pointed out. So they stopped by the pub. One pint turned into two, two turned into three. Now he was, staggering down the streets of Berlin with only one goal in mind.

He needed to get home to the missus.

Simon didn't get very far away from the bar before Soap noticed his absence. Soap gently steers him back to the bar. Simon loosely swats at him.

"She'll be u'set if 'm naw home," Simon slurs at him. Soap chuckles and nods.

"I know. But you canny just waltz out on us," he says, pushing Simon into a seat. Simon huffs and begins to stand again, wobbling just a bit.

"Sit yer ass down. We'll call the missus, right?", Soap offers. After fumbling his phone for a minute and trying to get the password typed in, Soap helps Simon call you.

"Hi, honey. How is it going?", your voice rings through the phone. Simon gives you a drunken grin.

" 'llo love," he slurs. You giggle at his love drunk expression.

"Hi baby. Had a bit to drink?," you chuckle.

"He near tried to walk himself home," Soap shouts to you. You laugh harder. Simon wrinkles his nose at Soap, still displeased with being kept there.

" 'm sorry, love. I won't be home in time for dinner," he rumbles. He looks so sad. Big brown eyes staring down at the phone, lip poked out in a small pout. You wipe a tear of laughter from your eye.

"Oh honey, I think it's past dinner time."

[frogs-crackcorner]

Sea Captain John Price is a fearsome man. A tall, muscle wrapped captain of a cut-throat crew. His quick temper was known across the seven seas. With a drinking problem and a sword strapped to his hip, Price ruled the ocean.

Sea Captain John Price, who constantly warns his crew about sirens. A terrible creature that hides behind a beautiful face. Their soft voices lure sailors into their clutches. "By the time their done with you, you'll wish you were dead." The whole crew is terrified of being dragged into the ocean and tortured.

One stormy night, as the crew patrols the deck, a shadowy figure climbs out of the waves and onto the ship. The crew watches in horror before they all go scrambling across the deck.

"A siren! A siren on board." One crew member shouts. Sailors scream as they make their way below deck. From his quarters, John hears the commotion. He grumbles as he gets up, grabbing his sword as he goes. He bursts from his office. Johnny is hot on his heels as they make their way top side.

"What's going on?," John shouts, striding across the deck. John stops in his tracks as he sees the problem.

"Hello John," you smirk.

"Cap, do you know her? Who is she?," Johnny asks. He stands just behind John, fidgeting with his hands.

You stand in the moonlight. Silver light bouncing off your salt stained skin. Your scales glitter and your eyes shimmer. You look exactly like John remembers.

Price stares coldly. "My ex-wife," he mumbles through gritted teeth.

His hatred for sirens makes much more sense now.

(Just a little thought. Might add more later)

[frogs-crackcorner]

An Angel All My Own

Simon Riley x reader

Cw: tooth rotting fluff

A thunderous sound wakes you in the middle of the night. You blink in the darkness, trying to get your bearings. Slowly, you flip on the light and look around. Everything seems to be in place. The thunder-like sounds come again, startling you. You quickly shuffle out of bed and down to the front door, flipping on lights as you go.

You get to the door as the person knocks a final time. It was such a ridiculously loud knock that you're sure it probably woke the neighbors. You open the door to reveal a worn down looking Ghost. He's still in his gear and has his go bag slung over one shoulder.

"It's four in the morning, Riley," you tell him pointedly, not having enjoyed being woken up.

"Barracks needed renovations, need somewhere else to stay," he grumbles. You sigh and open the door wider so he can squeeze past you. The barracks are fine and accommodations would have been made if they really did need to renovate them. This was merely a lame excuse to stay at your house. He always came with a bad excuse.

You slip into the kitchen to start heating up some leftovers and putting water on to boil. Simon heads to the living room, toeing his boots off and taking a second to relax. He leans back against the couch. Simon always liked your house, ever since you had the team over for a barbecue. That was over a year ago. He liked that you had warm lights, not the florescent white ones he was used to. He liked that you didn't have overhead lights, only cute little lamps and fairy lights. He liked that your house always smelled like milk and honey. He liked that your couch was soft and covered in blankets, not like the couch in the barracks that had holes the stuffing was falling out of. He liked that he felt safe.

This routine started shortly after the barbeque. Simon would show up on your doorstep after a mission, bruised and battered. You always welcomed him in, no matter how late or how early. You would make him tea and something to eat. Even though he has told you several times that it really isn't necessary. He likes that you're so reliable, that you never push him more than he's comfortable with. He's surprised and grateful that you have yet to turn him away.

You come into the living room, setting down a tray of soup and bread. It smells delicious and Simon sits up, his stomach rumbling. Maybe he was hungrier than he thought. You chuckle lightly at him. "What's your pick of poison tonight? I just dried a fresh batch of mint," you ask. Before Simon met you, he would have said earl gray. It's the only tea he drank for years. But after spending the night so often and you happily chatting about the newest herbal tea blend you made, he slowly came around to trying something new. His favorite, and yours, was peppermint. The warm, sweet menthol helped him relax.

"Mint please," he says, barely above a whisper, "with sugar."

You crack a smile and nod. Your disgruntlement at being woken up seems to have dissipated. "Eat up. Tea will be done in a minute," you beam, retreating back into the kitchen. Simon watches you disappear before picking up the tray. He takes a bite of the soup and can't help but sigh. It's warm and savory and it reminds him of a hug. This was his favorite part of staying at your house. Your cooking was always phenomenal to him, even if you said it wasn't your best. He loved everything you made.

One time, you made cookies and tea cakes for the 141. Price had put them in the common room, telling everyone you had made them treats. Johnny was the only one who managed to snatch a cookie before Simon commandeered the rest. Kyle had pouted for days. Not that Simon cared much, he was too busy scarfing down tea cake.

You come back to the living room, sitting down beside Simon. He was nearly finished with the soup by now. You set his tea down in front of him and curl up into the couch cushions. You knew he didn't like to talk much, certainly not if he was coming over after a mission. No matter what excuse he told you, you knew why he was here. You knew you would wake up to his screams tonight. You knew you would have to coax him into your bed. You knew you would spend the night running your fingers through his hair while he silently cried into chest. You always knew. And yet you didn't care. In fact, you started to look forward to getting a late night knock on your door. You hated that he couldn't let go of his demons, you hated to hear the pain in his screams. But you liked that he found comfort in you. You liked that he felt safe with you.

You gently reach over and start carding your fingers through his blond locks. A shiver runs down his spine before he begins leaning into your touch. He sets his tea down and lays down, his head in your lap. The warm light makes your skin seem to glow and you were being so gentle with him. He swears you might be an angel. No mortal woman could see such a scarred monster and still treat him with such kindness. Not after knowing all the blood he's spilled. But as his eyes begin to get heavy and he listens to the soft lullaby you hum, he knows he's willing to spill more if it means he can spend his nights here with you.

(I might make this into a full fic if it gets enough interest. This was inspired by a post from @bookished

Edit: I just posted chapter one)

[frogs-crackcorner]

Deeper than the Ocean

Pt1

(Sea Captain John Price x siren!reader)

Every sailor who boards his ship knows the risks involved. Every sailor knows of the terrible creatures that lurk in the deep. Krakens. Sirens. Giant eels. Horrific beasts of every kind. Every sailor knows just how treacherous the ocean can be. And none know it better than Captain John Price.

John Price was a broad, sturdy man. Sharp blue eyes scanned the horizon. With corded forearms and a deep tan, he was quite the sight to see. He was strong, handsome, and utterly ruthless. He was never seen without a Cutlass and a revolver at his side. John Price was the most feared captain in the known world.

And his crew was no less terrifying. His first mate, Ghost, was an Eldritch being of a man. Impossible tall and no less broad. His face covered by a mask carved from bone, Ghost was a silent assassin. His second mate was known as The Viking, a Scotsman named Johnny that Price had picked up in his travels. Johnny was an excitable lad with an affinity for explosions. Although Johnny seemed more friendly than his crew mates, he was no less deadly. His homemade cannon balls were as devastating as they come.

Finally there was Gaz, the ship's navigator. Gaz was a handsome man, with a sharp jaw and a honey gaze. Even though he could kill you with a smile, he had plenty of other ways to do so as well. Gaz was unbelievably fast when it came to combat. Stories say he killed 30 men in just four minutes. Gaz was a fierce fighter and loyal to a fault. All of the crew members were, at least to their captain.

As strong as John Price was, even he had his fears and he made sure to warn his crew of such dangers. And the one thing he seemed to be the most wary of were sirens. The crew heard never ending stories of the horrors that sirens bring. Bloodshed. Endless torment. Nightmares that will never leave. Sirens were merciless creatures that hid behind beautiful faces. With glittering scales and silky voices they would lure sailors to their demise.

"Get caught by a siren and by the time she's done with you, you'll wish you were dead," John warned during one of his many stories. He had a thousand stories about the sea monsters he had crossed paths with. But he never gave details about the sirens he met, just vague descriptions and harsh warnings.

"A siren will bleed you dry and leave you for dead," John would warn. Vampire-like sirens had to be terrifying.

Anytime the ship came across the fog John would call warnings to his crew.

"Stay alert now, lads! Watch your backs and whatever you do, if you see a siren, do not listen to it," John would shout across the deck.

After a while, his crew were scared out of their minds. Everyone's eyes shifting around nervously at night, watching for any signs of these horrific creatures. Even his top crew members were getting a bit nervous. Years of sailing together and this habit still persisted.

So the crew was understandably concerned when their captain would come out of his quarters every night to tie a line from the ships rail to a little row boat and row himself out to sea a little ways.

"Wonder what he does out there?," Johnny mused one night, watching his captain row away.

"Bet his tired of hearing you yappin," Simon quipped.

"Haha, yer funny. But seriously, what's he up to?"

"Dunno. Best not to ask, I figure."

Johnny sighs. John Price was a good and loyal captain but he sure was odd sometimes.

(Tags: @rip-cod-brainrot )

[frogs-crackcorner]

An Angel All My Own P-1

Simon Riley x reader

Cw: fluff, out of character moments, my ADHD really shines through, reader likes older men

Captain John Price has been a family friend for as long as you can remember. He was always a kind man. Ready to chase you around the garden when you were little or throw you into the pool as you got a bit older. He was practically your uncle and fun one at that. He was always coming over to your parents house for weekend dinners and birthday parties. So it only seemed fair to invite him to your house warming party.

You had finally saved up enough money for a modest home in the country. It was on a rather large piece of land, mostly forested with a big clearing around the house. It was a little unnerving at night so you were glad that you weren't too far away from town, only about 15 minutes or so. The house only has three bedrooms but that was plenty for you since you were living alone. It was a cute little house with a spacious kitchen and a wrap around porch. You had started renovations the day you got the keys. You painted the walls, polished the floors, and swept out the fireplace. You took down the old lights and added some rugs. You planned on turning into the perfect cottage.

With your house nearly done, you wanted to invite some friends and family over for a house warming party. You ran into Price as he was leaving your parents and invited him to come too.

"That's fantastic, lass. I don't suppose you mind if I bring my team along? We're shipping out that evening and will be together anyways," he grins.

"Of course not, the more the merrier. It was nice seeing you, John," you chirp back.

"You too, lass. And hey? I'm proud of you." He tips head to you before strolling off to his car.

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The day of the party soon arrived and you were a bit of a mess. You had spent the morning baking cookies and getting things set up. You had set up chairs outside near the fire pit. Fairy lights were strung around the porch. A table with toppings, chips, and drinks was set up near the grill and you had all the burgers prepped. Now all the was missing was the guests.

To your surprise, Price was the first to arrive. You were just setting the cookies on the table when you saw his truck coming down the long driveway. You walked over to greet them as he was parking the truck. John stepped out and gave you a quick hug. "Good to see you, lass. The house looks lovely," he greets. A young man comes around the truck, his skin gold in the light of the sunset. "This is Sargent Garrick," Price says, clapping him on the back, "we just call him Gaz tho."

You hear more car doors slamming and two more men step out of the truck. "And these two muppets are Sargent Mactavish and Ghost," Price introduced. You look over to see a smiling Scotsman and what you can only assume is a mountain in tactical gear. "Mactavish, ma'am. Pleased to meet you. Just call me Soap," the Scot drawled through his thick accent.

"What was that?" Gaz exclaimed.

"Price said I 'ad to 'ave good behavior with the little lass," Soap shouted back. Gaz started to laugh. "And that's your best?," he chuckled, "Sorry bout him. He's used to being a flirt so he's off his game. Nice to meet you, I'm Gaz." He gave you a dazzling smile, shaking your hand. You could feel your cheeks start to heat up.

"Nice to meet you too. All of you," you said shyly. Price shot Gaz a pointed look and Gaz let go of your hand. It appears they had been given strict orders not to flirt with you. It was a little disappointing. They were gorgeous men and didn't seem much older than you. Well, two of them were gorgeous. You weren't entirely sure about the third. He had on a baseball cap and a black surgical mask. Deep brown eyes stared back at you, a little sunken in with dark circles around them. They seemed to pierce your very soul. You drop your gaze and turn back to the other men.

"Well you guys are the first ones here. Feel free to make yourselves at home. I've got everything set up on the side of the house. There are snacks and drinks if you'd like. I just need to grab a few more things from the kitchen," you say, leading them up to the house.

"Let us help," Price offers, "then you can give us a tour of the place."

"Do you guys want a tour?"

"Of course, bonnie. Want to see all the work you've done," Soap chimes in.

You open the front door and let them all inside. "Okay, well, this is the living room. I restored the wood floors, upstairs and downstairs. I took out the overhead lights and added wall lamps instead. Most of the decorations I found at a vintage market and I made the rest."

"Here in the kitchen, I redid the tile. The old tile was chipping for some reason. I took out the old white sink and installed this copper one. Oh, I completely redid the porch. A lot of the old wood was rotting. You can see the string lights I added," you say, pointing out the kitchen window. As you do, you notice two more cars coming down the driveway.

"The guest and master bedroom are upstairs. The office and bathroom are just down the hall to the right. I would show you the rest but more guests are arriving and I still have a few things to get done," you finish, picking up a bowl of salad from the counter.

"What can I do? Have you started up the grill?" Price asks.

"Not yet. Would you mind doing it?," you reply.

"Not at all. Gaz! Mactavish! Help the little lady take the rest of the food out," he calls, his voice commanding.

Soap and Gaz turn from their spot in the conjoining dining room.

"Right Captain. What would you like me to take?," Gaz asks.

"If you wouldn't mind taking the burgers and ribs out. And Soap if you could grab the napkins right there," you directed. "Oh I forgot about the ice." You begin shifting the items in your hands around to be able to grab the ice. Suddenly, wordlessly, Ghost is taking the bowl of salad from you and following the others out the kitchen door. His giant frame seemed out of place in your quaint home. His large black silhouette a stark contrast to the usual green and gold of the kitchen.

Although he was mountainous and rather intimidating, there seemed to be something else in his eyes. He almost looked lost. Sort of sad. He was calculating but not callous. He seemed to be on edge, not because he was inherently violent but because he was forced to be. You supposed it was all too common in their line of work. No one has ever told you details of what John Price and his team did for work but you knew they were military. You weren't a child anymore, you knew the horrors of this world. You couldnt even imagine the things these men must have seen.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and went to greet the rest of the guests. Price has fired up the grill and was putting burgers on. The smell of smoke and summer grass hung heavy in the air. Guests milled around and chatted, several of them congratulating you on your new home. Your mother gave you a hug and told you how proud she was.

The night moved on without a hitch and soon most of the guests had gone home. You began throwing away the used cups and paper plates. "I got the grill all cleaned up for you lass," Price says, dusting off his hands.

"Thank you, you really didn't have to," you remarked.

"I know but it was the least I could do. We've got to get going, we have a plane to catch. Come on boys! Let's pack it out," he shouts.

"That's right! You're leaving. Hold on. Stay here," you urge, rushing into the house. You return with a brown box tied with twine. "Here. Thought you guys might want some treats for the trip," you offer. He takes the box from you.

"Thank you, lass. Though I don't expect these to last long, those muppets will have them eaten in the blink of an eye," Price smiles. Just then, Soap came running up.

"What's in the box then?," he asks.

"Nothing you can have right now. Get in the truck," Price chides. He's such a dad, you think to yourself. Soap slumps dramatically before giving you a cheeky grin.

"Lovely to meet you, bonnie. Hope to see you again soon," he smiles, kissing the top of your hand before jogging off to the truck. Price scowls at him as he disappears. Gaz and Ghost join you and price on the front lawn.

"Goodbye, love. It was wonderful to meet you," Gaz purred.

"You as well, Garrick," you tease. He gives you a quick wink before heading to the truck as well. Ghost goes to follow him before stopping and turning back to you. "Thank you," he mutters, his voice a deep rumble.

"Of course. You're welcome here anytime," you stutter.

As you watched them pile in and drive away, you had no idea how literally Ghost would take that offer.

(Let me know how you feel about the first part and any ideas you have, I'd love to hear your feedback)

[frogs-crackcorner]

(for this story, pretend your dad is a piece of garbage. Or maybe you don't have to pretend)

Simon Riley takes a shaky breath and knocks on the door. Why was he so nervous? He's never nervous. Until it comes to you. You're his whole world now and he's not prepared to give that up. He'd crawl to the ends of the earth if it meant he could hold you.

The door opens, interrupting his thoughts. A kind older woman answers the door. She gives him a large smile. "Oh, hello Simon! We didn't know you guys were coming to visit today," your grandma beams.

"Just me today ma'am. Hope it's okay I stopped by," he gulped, stepping into the warm house. Your grandma closed the door behind him, leading him farther into the house.

"Of course! We love to have you over. Would you like some cider?" she asks.

"No thank you ma'am. Is your husband here? I needed to speak with him," Simon rushes. He needs to hurry and speak with your grandfather before he loses his courage.

"He's in the living room." Your grandma points down the hall and turns toward the kitchen, leaving Simon on his own. Simon moves down the hall. His hands shake as he walks.

"Sir? I was wondering if you had a moment to talk," Simon calls as he enters the living room. Your grandpa looks up from his book.

"Hmm? Yeah, come have a seat." Your grandpa sets his book down and looks over at Simon who is now sitting on the couch feeling very small. This is a first for him. He never imagined another man could make him feel small but your grandfather had a way of doing just that. Your grandfather wasn't exceptionally tall but he was wise and carried himself with a well earned confidence. He reminded Simon of Captain Price.

"Well sir, as you know, your granddaughter and I have been dating for a few years now. And I love her in a way I never thought possible. I would go to hell and back if it meant that she was happy. I can't bear the thought of losing her. And so sir, I was hoping to get your blessing. I want to make your granddaughter the happiest girl in the world and I will do everything in my power to make sure she has the life she deserves," Simon blurts, stumbling a little.

He looks over at your grandfather, who simply nods and leans back in his chair. Simon is sweating. He can practically feel his world crashing down. This was a bad idea. He should have taken you to the courthouse and just eloped. No asking necessary. But he had wanted to do it right. He wanted your family's permission. Now he's sitting on an uncomfortably small couch regretting his decision. Finally, after what seems to be an eternity, your grandpa seems to have made his decision.

That night, Simon Riley is lying on his bed like a teenage girl, giggling lightly at his phone as he designs your perfect ring. Not that this was hard, he's had plans for this ring since the day he met you.

(this is extremely self indulgent but I couldn't get it out of my head. Edit: You guys actually like it?! Thank you!)

[frogs-crackcorner]

An Angel All My Own P-3

Simon Riley x reader

Cw: nightmares, fluff

The hallway is dark as you sprint down it. Your lungs burn but you can't stop. Screams echo down the corridor. You have to get away. You can feel the creature gaining on you. The screams get louder. You're running as fast as you can but you're still not fast enough. The thing claws at the back of your neck.

You jolt up in bed, scanning the dark room. Everything is exactly as you left it before falling asleep. There are no monsters. No need to run. It was all just a dream. Except, the screaming hasn't stopped. In fact, it was getting louder. You leap out of bed and rush downstairs, flipping on lights as you go. You stop just outside the guest bedroom door. Should you really go in? What if he wasn't really in trouble? What if he was mad that you woke him up? What if he slept naked?

You decide to take the chance. You swing the door open, hurrying over to the bed. Ghost thrashes on the bed, blood curdling screams pouring from his open mouth.

"Ghost! Wake up! Ghost, please," you beg, shaking him as hard as you could. Ghosts eyes snap open as his hand shoots out to grab yours. His eyes are cold. His grip on your wrist begins to hurt.

"Ghost, please. You're hurting me," you whisper. You try to tug your wrist back but he's too strong. Much stronger than you. This was a bad idea. You never should come down here, never should have let him stay. Something in Ghosts eyes changes. Like a switch was flipped. He drops your wrist before sitting up and hanging his head. He runs a hand over his face before sighing.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry if I hurt you. And I'm sorry I woke you up, love. I just," he trails off, "I was hoping tonight would be different. I was hoping they wouldn't come back."

Even with his head down, you can see tears collecting in his lashes. This must happen a lot. You wonder what nightmares could be so terrible that a man like him woke up screaming. You're not sure you want to know. Trying to sleep must be hell for him. Who knows when the last time he felt safe enough to get decent sleep was. Your heart breaks for him. Before you can stop yourself, you're reaching out your hand and scratching the back of his neck.

"I don't know what you see in your nightmares. I don't know why you decided to stay here. I barely know you to be honest. But I do know that I'm going to be here. I'll be here as long or as little as you'd like. But I'm not leaving until you tell me you're okay. Okay?," you hum. Ghost is tense under your touch. His eyes dart between you and his lap. He swallows hard and you feel him relax a little. His body still shakes, maybe from adrenaline or maybe from fear.

"You don't have to do that. I'll be fine," he mutters.

"Too bad. Scoot over," you command. You're not sure when you got so bold. Ordering a strange man to share his bed with you. But you didn't really care. As tough as he looked, you could tell he was struggling. You knew he was only putting on a brave face for others. Ghost stares at you for a moment before sliding over. You climb on to the bed and tuck your legs up. You gently pull Ghost's head towards you. He tenses again for a second before letting you guide his head to your chest.

You adjust your hand and begin running your nails along his scalp. Ghost lets out a shuddering breath. His eyes flutter shut. You can't help but chuckle softly. He opens one eye and glances at you. "Sorry. But it's the first time I've seen you actually relax. It's nice," you smile. Ghost closes his eyes again and nods.

"It is," he agrees.

It goes quiet after that. You can feel Ghost's breathing get deeper and he lets out quiet snores. It was nice to see him get some real sleep, even if you had only just met him. You're not sure how long you had been down here with him but you decide it's probably time to get back to your own bed.

You gently shift your shoulder, trying not to let Ghost's head fall. You really don't want to wake him up when he was just getting some decent sleep. You scoot a little more. You're almost free. Ghost moves and you freeze. He readjusts his position, turning on his side slightly. His arm slides around your waist and pulls back into him. There is no getting out now. You huff a little. You need to be up early in the morning and that's not happening if you don't get any sleep. It's probably almost 3 am by now. Your eyes are heavy and you're blinking slowly.

You wiggle a little in Ghost's arms, whether to get out or to get comfortable you're not entirely sure. He's so warm and you're so tired. Maybe you could just stay here a little longer.

Taglist: @smileykiddie08 @iminlovewithjasontodd

[frogs-crackcorner]

An Angel All My Own P-2

Simon Riley x reader

Cw: brief mention of knives and guns, fluff

The day had been absolute garbage. It must have been a full moon because every customer that came in seemed to have a stick up their ass. You spent the day calming down entitled jerks and cleaning up after your coworkers. For working in a bakery, you would think they would know how to frost a cake.

When the end of your shift finally came, you couldn't have been happier to leave. You quickly grabbed your purse and jumped in your car. It was a bit of a drive back to your house but you didn't mind. It gave you time to listen to music and unwind. Once you got to the edge of town the houses got farther apart and trees got more dense. The long road to your house was dark and the wind blew eerily. The trees swayed, creaking and groaning. The moonlight cast long shadowy tendrils across the ground. This was the one downside to living out here. No one could hear you scream.

You push those thoughts down and turn into your driveway. You park on the lawn and lock your car. You practically sprint into the house before slamming and locking the door behind you. You flip on the lights. The golden glow of the lamps helps to ease your nerves. You hang up your bag and make your way into the kitchen.

It was nearly ten pm and you still needed to make yourself something for dinner. You rummage through your fridge and cupboards before settling on ramen. You have some leftover greens from a stir fry you made and decide to throw those in there as well. You put the broth and a few eggs into a pot to boil for a while.

With your food cooking, you head upstairs to get into pajamas. You find some cozy pants and a shirt that smells almost clean. It's good enough, you think as you pull the shirt over your head. You drag yourself back downstairs, your feet aching. "Once I have dinner, I'm going to bed," you say to yourself.

You flip on the television before shuffling your way back to the kitchen. The eggs are finished boiling so you turn the heat off and add in your veggies and noodles. You put the lid on the pot to let them steep a little. The tv gives you a decent distraction and you find yourself falling into the lull of your nighttime routine. You turn to grab a bowl out of the cupboard when an abrupt knock nearly makes you drop it.

You make your way to the front door, grabbing a kitchen knife as you go. You weren't expecting any visitors. No one should be out here this late. You cautiously peer through the peep hole, a large dark frame filling your view. You flip on the front porch light to get a better look. Ghost glances up as you turn the light on. You breathe a sigh of relief and unlock the door.

"Hello, Ghost. Sorry, you scared me. Did something happen?," you ask, worried maybe something had happened to Price.

"I need a place to stay tonight. Price said you might have room," he grumbles. He seems nervous, shifting his weight back and forth. Price hadn't said anything to you about Ghost coming over. You made a mental note to chew him out for it later.

"Of course. Come on in," you welcome. Ghost steps into the house and stands awkwardly in the entryway. He glances over to see your still shaking hand holding a knife. He tenses briefly before seemingly remembering where he is and relaxing.

"You should really get a hand gun if you're going to be living out here alone," he remarks.

"I would but I don't have a safe. Besides, I'm not really sure how to handle a gun," you reply. He just nods. The two of you stand there in silence for a moment. You're not entirely sure what to say.

"Um, are you hungry?," you finally ask. Ghost nods again. "Well I just made some ramen if you'd like some," you offer.

"Yes please," he breathed.

"Feel free to make yourself at home. Change the channel to whatever you'd like. I'll go get dinner," you urge. You scurry back to the kitchen and grab another bowl from the cupboard. All you wanted was to go to bed. Now you're stuck playing host to a man you barely know. Why did life have to be so unfair? You dish out ramen into each bowl and add the eggs on top. You sprinkle on a little cilantro as a garnish before going to serve it.

"Careful, it's hot," you warn, handing Ghost the bowl. He's sitting in the chair near the corner of the room. Ghost gently takes the bowl from you. He seems to hesitate for a long moment. You watch as he brings a hand up to his mask and then lowers it again. Something clicks in your brain and before you can stop yourself you're blurting out ,"You don't have to eat with me if you don't want to. You can always eat in your room."

He shakes his head. He lifts his hand again and pulls down the mask. You feel your breath hitch. He had a deep scar twisting from the corner of his mouth up towards his ear. Another scar stuck straight down across his lips and down his chin. A third pulled at the skin underneath his left eye. You could see there were several smaller ones littering his skin.

He was stunning. He looked like something out of a Tim Burton film, in all the best ways. Soft pink lips that stuck out in a pout and long silvery eyelashes. His pale skin lined with purple webs, his deep brown eyes that seemed to notice everything. Like noticing you noticing him.

You quickly avert your gaze, your cheeks heating rapidly. You take a bite of noodles and try to clear your mind. He was hesitant to take his mask off in the first place, you staring at him probably didn't help. You guessed he was probably self-conscious of his scars. Based on the way he wore a mask and kept his head down, he seemed to prefer not to show them. You could understand why but they looked so beautiful to you. You thought he should show them off more. You briefly wondered what caused them. In all likelihood, they were won after countless brushes with death. Some part of you wanted to ask him how he got the scars. How he had eluded death. You wanted to know all his stories. You hardly knew the guy. You knew he couldn't be too bad, after all, Price trusted him alone here with you. But besides both of you knowing Price, you knew nothing about the man sitting across from you.

You watch him bring a spoonful of broth to his lips and gently blow on it before slurping it up. The two of you continue to eat in silence. The soft murmur of the tv fills the room. Ghost was so quiet you scarcely heard him breathe. You glance up just to make sure he really was breathing. You're shocked to see him finishing off the rest of his broth. He basically inhaled that whole bowl. Well, he was a big man and in the military at that. They probably don't get home cooked meals very often.

"Would you like more? I don't have any more ramen but I have some leftover chicken. I can heat that up," you suggest. Ghost seems to think about it before sheepishly nodding his head. You smile and get up to reheat the chicken. Maybe the barge sitting in your living room wouldn't be so bad. He seemed more like a shy school boy than a big, grown military man. You smile to yourself. He sort of reminded you of a Mastiff. They look mean but are about the biggest softies you can find. You plate the chicken and walk back to the living room. Ghost is looking at one of the small shelves on the wall, picking up the little trinkets and inspecting them. He nearly drops a little ceramic bunny when you come back in the room. He quickly puts it back and turns around. The tips of his ears begin to turn pink and you can't help but laugh. Yep. A big softie.

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