GO SPORTS TEAM!

Why? Because he legit thought that being the dark hand of fate would allow the rest of society to live in their light. But he quickly finds out how easy it is to slip into the ugliness of it all. Hell, he was already there from the start of the games.

Because remember, his first conversation with Price is, "Hey, Dad, WHY CAN'T WE DO MORE VIOLENCE TO GET THE RESULTS WE WANT VIA ANY MEANS NECESSARY?!"

That's not someone who is good, or soft or scared to engage with the enemy. That's someone who absolutely believes "The ends justify the means."

So yeah, stop writing Kyle as some paragon of virtue. He's just as deeply flawed as the rest of them. And that makes him awesome, interesting and yeah, just as hot as the rest of the 141.

I despise how the fandom erases him or accuses him of being "boring" because he hides his cracks better than everyone else. The fact that he hides his commitment to violence so well that he comes off as completely normal if you didn't know any better? Yeah, THAT IS THE SCARY PART.

"Oh! Kyle, grab whatever you want, I wasn't sure your preference!" You smile when he freezes in the doorway of the dining room. The table is full of food, and it sides and main courses alike. Ghost is already sat, rumbling happily to himself while he butters some rolls.

And that's the thing about all the food that kyle can't quite wrap his head around. It's all...unhealthy.

Or. Maybe not unhealthy? But certainly not anything kyle would have had growing up in his childhood home. Rolls slathered in butter, pasta with a thick creamy sauce, cuts of ham glazed in honey. You smile tightly at the way he seems frozen in indecision, and gently offer "if it's not okay, I can make you a salad. But...simon always tells me you stare at his lunch. I figured..."

That's enough to have gaz snapping out of hid stupor, realizing his mouth is watering.

He pushes down his mothers voice talking about carbs and fats and addictive sugars, loading up a plate with a bit of everything. He misses the smile you and simon share.

The first bite has gaz practically moaning before he catches himself, embarrassed at such a reaction.

You just chuckle, leaning over the table to serve yourself "simon is the same way. Don't forget to leave room for dessert, though!"

Gaz genuinely does cry at that. The casual mention of dessert, the easy acceptance of food between you and ghost. It feels impossible to imagine he lived years eating almonds and fruits and avoiding "bad sweets" like they'd kill him.

You and simon pretend not to notice, and you make sure to note down the dishes he seems to favor for next time.

That night, gaz experiences his first proper food coma on your couch, passed out and unsuspecting when he sat down not five minutes ago. While you and simon clean up, you whisper "I see why you like him, si. He's cute."

"Mhm." Ghost nods, bent over the sink and scrubbing dishes "think we bring it up after a few more dinners?"

"Tempted to just skip the dating and buy a ring now," you joke, catching the soft smile of your husband "yeah, I think a few more. Need to figure out what his favorite dish is so I can make it for the announcement, yeah?"

Large, delicate wings sprout from your back. They twitch and flutter with your emotions, catching the light in striking shades of blues and purple. The sort of thing even war-hardened soldiers are careful to make room for in the hallways, a fear of accidentally destroying such natural beauty.

Of course you're no stranger to flirting, or even gifts from the bolder personel on base. Yet, you always turn them down. A stunning creature not of the world they live iin, covered in grime and dirt and wrong-doings while you glitter in the sunlight.

And somehow, ghost of all people manages to catch your fancy.

People can't believe it when they see you flocking to him the second he arrives back to base, having to calm your fluttering wings with a quick twirl in the air. Even still, your antennae are twitching from the second you talk to him to the moment he's finally pulled away to deal with post-op work.

No one understands it.

How a sweet, delicate thing like you could possibly want anything to do with the guy who has "accidentally" broken multiple recruits' fingers. Ghost is all death and blood and vile urges. He is war and he is violent. You should be disgusted by him.

The truth? You think he smells delicious.

Always covered in blood, or his gear never being fully cleaned of it. Others make the effort to get the smell out, but he let's it sit.

Drives your instincts crazy, proboscis tempted to unfurl in front of everyone so you can get a taste of the good stuff. It's hard not to associate ghost with good feelings when he always makes sure you're well-fed.

And sometimes fanfiction is, ‘Watch me do a fucking KICK FLIP off this cool sentence!! Also here's some sex'